【 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.
[ before he pulls away completely, she cups his face in her hands and kisses him once more, firm but sweet. ]
You, too. [ her thumbs smooth gently over the rise of his cheekbones, fingers lightly framing his jawline. ] Anything at all, whatever you need. If it's something I can give you, I will.
[ it isn't until she lets her legs back down again that she registers the burn and ache, the dampness of sweat and slick and everything else. she longs for a bath, especially since she's seen the size of the tub in the adjoining bathroom—it could easily fit the two of them, she thinks. before she can think to ask him about it, he beats her to it, rolling onto her side closest to him. ]
I'd like that. [ she presses her face against his shoulder, hiding her smile there. ] If you haven't gotten sick of me yet.
[ his hips lift to press deeper into her and she rises with them, biting her lip at the hot flood of his come immediately after, coating her insides as he's done so many times before. she feels each jolt of his body, each shudder and gasp, the intensity of it feeding into her own to drag out the pleasure slow and sticky like hot honey. her hips twitch minutely, savoring the last few pulses before he slumps back down with her following closely.
she reaches up to free his wrists, a simple tug undoing the knot as the rope falls away off the side of the bed. it doesn't look like there was any chafing, but she rubs her palms gently over his skin anyway, rubbing down his forearms to encourage circulation from where he'd kept it above his head the whole time. there's nothing, however, that could prepare her for that little smile on tseng's face when he opens his eyes again, warm with affection and satisfaction. he's always soft in the afterglow, but something about this feels a little different—sweeter, maybe, more indulgent, and she finds herself momentarily gripped with an overwhelming surge of fondness.
she bracing her elbow against the mattress to hold herself up as she gently brushes his hair from his face, leaning down to kiss him. ]
[ He's surprised by that, he's not the type to want to lose but... being offered this is quite good. He'd win, get some money, and then owe a favor to someone who might be good fun to be around later on. It all seems like a win-win to him. ]
[ He's not surprised by the lack of reaction to that, because he had the same thought too — why else would he be summoned?
But what Xue Yang says next does surprise him, and get under his skin a little. Okay, so, that confirms that Xue Yang doesn't know that Wei Wuxian had a hand in his death. (Ha, hand.) That's... good. Probably. Maybe? Geez. ]
That's... not wrong, I guess. [ Ugh. ] Would you really not trust a natural rebirth?
[It's cute, not that Aak is the type to actually say his praise aloud for it. He just smiles coyly when he turns at the desk and sees the older man with toys in tow. His tail swishes and he seems quite pleased to have the room covered and everything.]
[(Right now, it's just a simple pleasure, since he doesn't know he'll be skimping on luxuries to make up for some of these bad decisions.)]
[Aak dumps what remains of the toys on a coffee table and starts doing a quick inventory of what was there and what was on the nearby chair.]
... 's bigger than my room, maybe I should use these more often. [he can't help but notice, ear flicking a bit in irritation before going back to the task at hand]
Of course I wanna use all of 'em! But you don't get a balanced dish by just throwing all the extras on top and acting like it's gotta be good...
[Ankle cuffs, blindfold, ball gag, those all paired well... while Aak moves them off to the side he's playing with the idea that you always start negotiations with a bit more than you want. That way you can shave some off without really losing anything. The cock ring, the anal beads...]
Hmm. [Interesting. Suspicious, really. So the key must be in there—either that, or something else Gojo doesn't want him to find, though he can't think of what that could be.]
If that's off limits, remind me what we're doing in here.
[But he withdraws his hands, leaving that pocket alone uninvaded. He won't push it. Instead he lifts his unlinked arm, reaching up to loosen his own tie and remove it with smooth, practiced motions that come from having done so one-handed many times before.]
Go on, then.
[Once his tie is out of the way, dropped on the nearby table, he gives the okay for Gojo to undo his buttons. Normally he would probably reciprocate and start doing the same for him but, in case that would be groping too, he simply waits. Gojo can either do it himself or ask for his assistance if he's done playing coy.]
And drink Meng Po's soup? [ He gives a derisive scoff. ] I don't want to start over again. Having to listen to cultivators to learn cultivation was a pain in the ass enough the first time.
[ Do you have any idea how many Jin Sect cultivators he had to put up with and not kill or even maim?? It was awful. ]
[ So tragic, for you. He feels so bad. Sooooo bad. ]
You might risk cutting yourself off from the cycle of rebirth by doing something like this though. If it fails, you'd be fucked. Your soul would be destroyed.
[ clorinde kisses him, then kisses him again, and for a long moment all tseng can think is that this must be what bliss feels like: warm and shivery and a little intoxicated, drowning in the sweetness of her body and her smile.
reality must set in eventually, of course. tseng's higher brain functions come online one by one, little by little, beginning with the pinpricks in his hands as circulation begins to flow again. she'd tied him well, his wrists don't ache at all, but there's only so much that can be done against the inexorable work of gravity. tseng lifts his arms and brings them around clorinde's waist instead, stroking gently down the sway of her back. ]
Very good, [ he admits without shame, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ] Surprisingly exhausted, considering I barely did anything at all.
[ well, that's probably where the exertion came from. it takes more work for him to be still than for him to move. tseng tilts his chin up so their lips touch again, a soft ghost of a kiss. ]
Yeah, I know that. That's why I'm gonna refine it first. [ Every demonic cultivator worth half their salt understands that they're working with forces that could fuck them over the moment their footing wavers, and the ones who are good at it don't survive long enough to get that way by treating it haphazardly. Xue Yang may be a delinquent, but he's not stupid enough to test these things out himself before he's confident in them. ] I'm not nearly as infamous as you are, Senior Wei. I can't trust that someone will think of my name first when they want someone to help with their revenge so bad they would die. I can figure out how to set this up, and it won't fail.
[ And he might wind up killing a person or twenty along the way, but that's such a small number, isn't it? ]
( the immediate, kneejerk reaction, as stupid as it is--is to slap bakugou's hand away, but he's already trying to measure his weight on one arm, the other hand occupied, movement flexing the vibrator in and out of his hole; the shiver that latches his shoulders together, forces his breath to compress and narrow in his chest, is only because of bakugou's fingertips, a lewd movement that he's never felt before, never even considered feeling before. sex isn't really something that's ever been on the forefront of his mind: it lives in the peripheries, dragged out into the open every once in awhile by some lewd comment from himeno, denji, or both. what's the point of the experience, of enjoying something when his life is all about something else? death would come sooner than he would, certainly. but here he is, smothered into some love hotel bed with a guy he barely knows--and a foreign hand on his dick, making it obvious that he's hard, and bakugou knows it.
fucker. there's a faint tick of his breath, almost a laugh, but he doesn't want to let it out. )
Anything, then. ( he agrees, his voice quiet, a little wheezed with breath--and there he pauses, wrist a dull movement if only so that he can rearrange his grip on the toy. his thumb presses down, feeling for the ribbed rise of the buttons, and without warning, he turns on the main vibration, the setting low, just fast enough that he can feel it working through his own hand, and bakugou's insides, all the same.
he waits, a moment, poised: adjusting, before he flicks on the next. he would have waited a little, maybe even fucked bakugou in with just the one part vibrating, as though to slowly work up to it--but if bakugou wants the challenge, who is he to deny him? lips pursed, it's the little pink bunny ears that turn on next, vibrating, rolling in a slow circle as he braces his palm to the base and pushes in again.
this time, there's both more resistance and more acceptance at the same time--the vibrator works a little deeper, but he can feel bakugou's walls clench in around it, and he sits, waits, lets the toy work against his grip before he dips it in further. )
Like this? ( softly, as he cranes his gaze back down to bakugou's face--intent, calculating. ) Faster? More? Say something.
( it's definitely a tease: because he expects it's likely hard for bakugou to even formulate the words to start. )
( and is that the problem, in the end? it doesn't feel like she's taking advantage of anything except their proximity, when her fingers lift, teasing buttons out of their holes; it doesn't feel like he's afforded her some kind of overextended kindness, when the steady beat of his heart, beneath his shirt, feels just as bared as the fabric that's starting to slip apart with her movements. had he always just been afraid of the same thing? that no one would willingly walk into some kind of agreement, like this, without some measure of pity, kindness, some kind of burden that would fall onto their shoulders? he can't read the expression as well in her face, when she's touching him; mostly that's because he feels thoroughly distracted by the heat that's threatening to pool up into his face at the thought.
the step backwards, and the next, feels like they're tethered together; his fingers flex, squeezing at her waist, and if she's guiding him back towards the bed, he doesn't mind it. doesn't feel like he's on the offensive, but rather, more at her mercy. )
Would it help... ( he starts, then thinks against it---rather than leave his touch at her waist, both of his hands lift, a calloused shadow over the back of her hands; his fingers run over hers, sliding down her knuckles, gripping in at her wrists if only so that he can use the guidance to start encouraging her to pull his shirt tails out of the waist of his slacks. ) ...to tell you that you're pretty?
( no, that sounds juvenile. another embarrassed breath goes through his nose, irritated at himself. )
You're not unattractive. ( that's even worse. he continues. ) You're very attractive. I'm sure you've heard this before.
( his grip loosens; his hands slide, a brief touch along her upper arms before he drops away, leaving the rest of his shirt at her mercy. )
So it isn't 'taking advantage'. ( it feels--a little stupid, saying all this, but it's not going to change anything; it's not like it's some kind of weakness to admit it, or maybe it is, but he's willing to take the loss if it comes to it. ) I'm interested.
Is it? [ A glance around at the size of the room is enough to give Keita a sense of what Aak's rank must be like, even if it can't quite narrow down a number. ] Then we'd better get our money's worth, hadn't we.
[ It's a good thing Aak is ambitious. Would he be disappointed to have access to a room nicer than his own if it was just going to be a quick one-and-done event? Keita can't help but smile slightly at the image, even as he steps up idly beside Aak to examine the selections he's making of the toys.
Speaking of ambition. Keita's brows lift as he considers the cock ring, then the cucumber. Only recently did he become acquainted with the idea of food being used during sex, and that was a wholly different context than a cucumber. Flavored condoms aren't so bad... he does reach out to touch one of the anal beads lightly, curious. ]
( ... somehow, for the blip of that shared awkwardness, it does actually help.
somehow. anyhow. even when, yes, it is a little silly. even when, yes, there are his long fingers caging each of her bird-boned wrists, and somehow she can sense his calluses through the fabric of her gloves as he maneuvers — not ungracefully — to get her to ruck up the fabric of his shirt.
it helps because he's still steady, his heartbeat even, even when hers is somewhere up in her throat. and it especially helps because he keeps running through his words until he trips up, and it tells her that he isn't as impassive as his expression makes him out to be, his cards and consent laid out on the table for her to do with what she will. )
... thank you. Though I'd hoped you were, at least a little.
(that depends, he'd tried teasing once. is the willing participant in the room with us right now?
she must be one in this narrowing space, in the end. her lashes flick down as she trails over the lean muscle of his body, considering the bare sight with soft, sudden attention. her hands drift then, less hesitation and more curiosity as she marks the lighter outline of an old scar, some splotchy keloid where the flesh and blood must have stitched over something terrible, making a path over his bare skin without much warning, without permission, without fanfare. but at least her gloved fingers are soft over the indentations between each of his ribs. there's just no way for her to know if that does anything for him.
well. except the one. )
Otherwise I don't think we'd be in this room together...
( later, if aki were to ask what was done to him, then robin would tell him the truth. that she's no devil, but that she can read his mind, that resonance sometimes feels like the sudden passing of a headache — clearing, clear-mindedness, and a multi-colored sensation like you're light-headed and standing up too quickly.
maybe that only sharpens the sensation of everything else: how she presses her thumbs against the crests of his hipbones until he might try to squirm away, or thinks about it, or literally anything until she digs her fingertips into the junction of his hips instead, guiding him back until his legs finally hit the edge of the bed. )
[ Wei Wuxian feels like he's made a terrible mistake here. He's not sure if he should try and convince Xue Yang of a different direction (doubtful he'll be able to) or if he should just let him do his thing and wash his hands of the venture. It's a little hard to figure out. Shit.
Then again he can't really do much here, can he? He's not sure. He's still figuring this place out and trying to understand the rules. Is demonic cultivation an easy hobby to have here? ]
Okay, yeah, well. I guess I'll leave you to it then. Can I have my arm back?
[ Demonic cultivation is a very easy hobby to have if you're focused on the ghost part and almost completely impossible if you're focused on the corpses part. Not that Xue Yang has tried to kill anyone or otherwise witnessed a near death to find out what happens in this place around that, but. There are ghosts. There were walking corpses, once. There's things to work with.
Xue Yang looks down at Wei Wuxian's arm, then back up at Wei Wuxian, his expression looking very much like someone thinking hard about a major decision. ]
If you stick around, Senior Wei, we'll definitely see each other again.
[ A promise, and a threat.
He squeezes the arm a little tighter for emphasis, then lets go. He's gotten a satisfactory amount to chew on from this conversation. ]
[... He has been touched like this before, although it has been a very long time, years of his life spun away like so much thread underfoot, transformed into an unrecognizable experience. He was a child back then, but instead it was his sister's hands in his hair gently combing away snarls, chattering in his ear about the day's events.
By comparison, Genya is so quiet. Close your eyes. That much is easy to follow, but isn't trust another matter? He is new to this place, and there's so much he still does not understand about its inner workings, it feels as though it might take an age to truly become comfortable enough on his own. Not the mere handful of time since his arrival. Yet, by the treatment of this young man, it seems he's found his way into an encounter that isn't so — obscene. Isn't primed to put him into an unsavory situation.
The path of the comb is soft, practiced, carefully done. He finds his head inclining slightly forward, bangs feathering over his eyes in the almost meditative state of that feeling. Only the question draws him out of it — a stirring of attention, unaware of the quiet little sound in his throat until he emits it as those fingers brush back his bangs.
Embarrassing.]
It's... yes, it feels fine. [Even his voice sounds almost drowsy.] I admit, it isn't what I — expected, but... you are good at this.
[His posture has even slightly relaxed, shoulders rounded forward.]
( it's an odd feeling, to have to think of so many different places at once. most of his fighting has been centered around two points--curses, and himself. the attacker, and himself. keeping secrets from humans is easy when they're not involved; it's easy to get rid of something when he only has to focus on getting rid of it. usually spaces are evacuated by the government before they step in, so there's no reason to risk any lives. even in trainings, in classroom exercises, he hasn't done nearly as well at saving others than people like suguru or shouko, more acclimated to the idea of saving those weaker than them; he's never really thought he should bother trying. it's a frustrating idea, trying to protect the weak, because they're the ones meant to survive: he can even feel it pulling at him now, as the six eyes clock all possible issues. the doors. the people. the broken furniture and general destruction. he doesn't care about the resort.
but the people in it--well, maybe it's wrong to say he cares, but he knows that it's his duty to care, one way or another. whatever the resort's done to him, whatever punishment it's reaped onto him from the beginning: he shouldn't let that affect the way that he's been trained, the teachings that yaga has tried to beat into his head for years.
maybe his heart is weak--he wouldn't even argue that. but he does see where those blasts are going, from a weapon materialized out of nothing; a split second, an infinite stretch of time for him, caught between two places--he's there with his hands on the man behind the bar just quick enough for those blasts to never quite connect, dispersing around the limitless bound of space caked around the both of them. with a soft breath, he quickly makes short work of wood and plaster, helping the man up so that he can scramble away; that's the easy part.
his gaze tracks, moves across the resort, and then settles again on the faceplate of that helmet: he can joke around all he wants about it, but if he doesn't start taking things seriously, then there's going to be trouble. )
Stop you? ( loftily, as he clears the rubble of the bar, again, closing the distance between them. ) Or kill you? Which one do you want~? This place won't just let you go.
( it's tricky. he can't necessarily track the little monsters that have spawned out across the room, since they don't have cursed energy--but he can tailor his sight to them, his energy, as both hands lift, a crackle of bright blue that bubbles up between them; it's still tricky. he has to keep in mind the weight and mass of the people, versus the furniture, versus the creatures that his new friend has deployed: which means that some of the broken tables, chairs, drink glasses and chips, come spiraling in to the center of the infinite black hole he's creating, along with all of vanitas' deployments, ripped away from floors and doors and tables with the impending pull of a void. this center, he pushes out away from him with his hands, lets instead vanitas become the bright blue center: meaning that all of his monsters, all of the stray furniture and debris, caught up in a spiraling mess of depth, come crashing in around vanitas--to either crush him, or stop him.
he can't really tell, past the whipping of the air around their little vacuum--a convergence that means he can't quite see through everything smashed together. a part of him wants to laugh: maybe this will crack that helmet for him after all. maybe he'll kill him. is that good, or evil? is that a weak heart, or a strong one? he's not caring too much about that. )
( he looks, waits, pleads with the round blue of his eyes, but there's no punishment--well, no outward punishment, as far as he can tell. rather, shouko laughs, and he can't tell if he enjoys it, can't tell if it's something that he should laugh along with, or if it's more that he's the butt of the joke. reflexive, he does at least smile, scrambling for his ego like a sheet to throw up in front of him, a magician quickly rearranging his cards; beaming, he straightens back up again, hands climbing onto his own hips with a laugh.
beaming, he continues-- ) Done! Best licking you'll ever get!
( he stands there for a moment, basking in the sun of his own praise, before he realizes she's offering out the cigarette--he relaxes, reaching into take it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it to take an experimental breath.
naturally, it comes out in a muffled cough; one hand waves in front of his face, while the other passes the cigarette back as though in disgust. )
Don't have anything else--better to do. ( he wheezes, softly, before he swallows down the dramatics; instead, he drops an arm around shouko's shoulder, casual, as though to both express his interest in coming along and to provide her something of a barrier, in case anyone gets too interested and tries to drag her in along the way. ) Remind me, what are we getting~?
( his lip juts out, as though he wants to make a case for the tie--like that he should have been the one to loosen it, given that it's part of the whole shirt deal, but he keeps his mouth shut, keeps his complaints quiet. testing, he lifts their joined hands, first; there's little resistance, there, which means that both of his hands are meeting up at nanami's collar, working nimbly at the buttons there, running down the length of his shirt.
he's trying--and failing--to think of some kind of smartass remark; it's playing out across his face, a little ghost of mischief, before he gives up on it. more important is the way his hands gently move to tug at nanami's shirttails, pulling them up out of his trousers so that he can finish unbuttoning.
long fingers can't help themselves, fanning out across nanami's toned stomach, dipping beneath the open fabric. )
Why don't you tell me what we're doing here. ( his gaze bats up again, hands blindly sliding down to start to work nanami's belt open. ) In detail, so I don't go too far.
[poor fool. did he never get training to deal with hordes of enemies all at once? too many issues to take care of. too many risks and dangers. wasn't forced to fight waves of flesh-clawing beasts until his muscles screamed and his blood stained the ground from one bodily gouge after another. only to look up and find his eyes filling with the visage of something far stronger, far worse, approaching before his exhaustion had a single chance for addressing. a crash of blades, metal grits to metal, sparks fly below his leering face. that damn gravelly voice mocking him for not being strong enough. how the hell could he be strong enough after he fought through a goddamn army!? without a break, without respite?! lying on the floor, gagging on his own blood as pain began fading into sweet numbness, barely able to feel his own flesh ripping. nah, he doesn't care one iota of whether or not this brat's able to handle everything. it's far more entertaining to watch him fail.
oddly, frustratingly, he feels no surge of panic exuding from this clear-eyed person. not the fright of a hero despairing over a multitude of suffering victims. not the anger of some misplaced sense of justice over how "wrong" such an assault is. not even annoyance at the unfairness. irritation needles under his skin and prickles at his nape. a weak heart or a closed one?
how did he... suddenly gone.] Hm? [where- oh, there he is, at the bar. picking the single victim first before his body and bar went up in flames. flames veer to the side and up, all three suddenly changing course and detonating well away from their target. a force field? likely. even taking the time to help the man up an on his way.] That's one. [fingers curl, a hand bobs, gesturing in general callousness towards the chaos behind them. more of those unversed ramming into other guests, picking on the weaker ones when stronger begin fighting back. someone's attacking the rampaging brute it seems... guess this guy's not the only strong one entombed in this place. one of jellyfish-like unversed spurts into darkness, which only rushes in a sinewy blur back into his body. absorbing, pulsing, laying another spike of strength inside his muscles and core. meeting those aqua-glass eyes, he deliberately summon two more unversed, replacing-- doubling --the one so recently vanquished.]
You got a mouth on you. Sure this is the time for telling jokes? [both jellyshades squirm and bloom before soaring towards the man fleeing, intent on rendering this would-be-hero's efforts meaningless.] Better hurry up and kill me. I'm getting impatient.
[hurry up gojou does. his cocky stance shifts, blade dropping slightly and hand falling a bit as blue light blooms into existence. there's a lot of power collecting in the man's hands. something scrapes, he feels the tapestry of his waistcloth drag forward against the back of his thighs. gravity? or magnetism? plastic meets metal in a harsh clank, a chip bounces off the back of his helm, and sails towards gojou's azure ball. compressing, pushing, deepening. his head pivots on his neck, momentarily startled to find the air a swirling mess of debris and his unversed. only his unversed. this bastard's somehow managed to prevent the people from being caught up in his own vortex! flood, jellyshades, even the bruiser. he instantly seeks out other guests, grunting in vexation as their bodies scramble through the doorways. they're escaping.] You bastard...
[swelling power roars and he whips forward once more, dropping into a prepared stance as this pest shoves the entire burgeoning black hole towards him. legs brace and he shoves backwards from the floor, one hand behind him, his keyblade in front to fend off the approaching swirl. flames burst into being on his keyblade's tip and fire out, far more testing than defensive. it's fast. too fast. swallowing his unversed and debris, flames vanishing inside. he's seriously trying to crush him in the gravity!] You wish!
[convergence and burst! blue light buries in on itself, pulverizing it all into nothing. whatever pieces hadn't yet made it to the center clatter to the ground as soon as the energy dies away. unless he plans to absorb the entire room into his attack.
only for a faint breath preceding a circle of darkness and a lance of fiery light from behind gojou. not speed, not strength. he wasn't going to outrun a blackhole from that close proximity. so he teleported. blinked out from that space and warped elsewhere. handy for getting out of combo attacks, much to other keyblade wielders' ire. boots clomp down atop a table and he stands up again, resting his keyblade on his shoulder after flicking a chip off it.] Not bad. You're better than you look.
[~bloom, bloom, bloom~ one after another, more unversed appear from the air, demonic hourglasses fluttering dark wings and bobbing back and forth in perfectly-timed seconds. darkness builds up behind him, swelling into an orb of wisps and curls before melting down into a new unversed, a weird scholar with book and robe.] If you're so big on making friends, you don't mind if I invite a few more.
[this time, he's going on the offensive. those chrono twisters have limited power over time, able to cast a time-freezing spell on a area and anything/one within it that lasts anywhere from a few seconds to a full minute, depending on how fast the other person's able to escape. he's curious to find out if that shield of gojou's handles anything or only direct assaults.
as for the book... well that's preparing something extra nasty.]
[Aak considers his room good enough for just himself. He rarely invited people over and was familiar with the lower floors' shared baths. When another person got involved the amount of space that was necessary just ballooned. He would be disappointed if it was quick, though, simply because of his nature. When someone makes a stamina-enhancing drink it makes sense that they enjoy playing as long as possible.]
[The Feline is comparing the on-display lubricant flavors when Keita's shoulder brushes against his and he examines the beads.]
Oh, yea, [he reaches over, briefly brushing their hands together before picking up the toy and dragging his thumb over the silicone beads.]
It's supposed to feel good coming out, like... not just one big in and out but a bunch'a small ones. Think y'might be sensitive to that~?
[his tail swishes over to rest against the side of Keita's far leg]
( ugly scars, bared now with the parting of fabric, feel like shame beneath her feathered touch--the light, airy fabric of her gloves feels almost silken against him, a promise of something that he doesn't deserve, or maybe has never deserved, pressed against the sins of battle. it's easy for a devil's body to knit itself back together again; easy for a hybrid to pop their arms back or slurp up their innards. human devil hunters don't fare so well, which is why the death rate is so high: and though he takes care not to endure anything beyond what is necessary, the path he's made across his body is obvious. it's a means to an end, a vessel to carry him to revenge, and nothing further; the scars that she wonders over have no grand story, like a hero who's been off fighting a dragon for the sake of the town. he fights to protect the people, but they sure as hell don't know anything about him.
neither does she. is it a kindness to spare her those details? to not bother with a name, in case she thinks of it later and regrets it? is it easier for her to forget about him if he just leaves her with all the grimy, filthy details--that he fights devil, that he'd thought her a devil, that he's unkind and lacking charm and tact?
it's somewhere near where her hands connect down near his hips, where her thumbs push in near the crests of his hipbones and his knees jerk, like they might just buckle at the contact; no one's ever touched him there, and the ticklish feeling, spiraling up into the pit of his stomach, is foreign and uncomfortable. his legs hit the end of the bed, but his weight teeters, well-balanced between his heels, before he stops himself from toppling backward.
a strange, warm feeling: like his head is swimming. )
It's Aki. ( maybe this is the part where he's decide he wants to leave a mark on her after all. ) My name. Hayakawa Aki.
( she might want to do it herself; he stands his ground, practiced hands moving to his belt to start working it open, a crackle of metal and leather as it gets tugged and pulled apart, dropped near the end of the bed.
he doesn't know if expectation means he should reach for her, too: or how to even maneuver her out of her skirt with all the fancy trails and enticing fishnets; but he does at least make an attempt, reaching forward so that he can feel for her waistband, trying to circle it with long fingertips to find some zipper or latch. )
[ It's not that Broca really enjoys losing as much as it is he's not overly fussed with having to win. Besides, he's in a comfortable enough situation even without this game going to him as it is.
So he'll give a small nod at that question, glad that this guy knows how to accept something like this without kicking up a fuss. ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
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