【 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.
[HA. GOT A WINCE. that's victory enough in Akira's book. he stops scrambling so much, not necessarily going slack in Kazuya's grip (because he isn't, his body is still tense and ready to spring into action, should the opportunity present itself) but. . . you know. taking a break]
[also head demons is a valid phrase, even if Akira is rolling his eyes at it]
I kind of gathered that, when you said your demons looked like my Personas.
[actually. . .]
I meant to ask you about that, but then we started talking about Gnosticism. [. . . a mutter] Tetrakarn is cheating, by the way.
( his social interactions outside of work are few and far between, squeezed in based on whatever gaps he'd managed to find at the time and the availibility of those around him. thus he doesn't fully catch the playful glint in her eye or the teasing tone to her voice, and he answers her with all the solemnity and sincerity of a man taking an idle question far too seriously. )
Simply because there are no cars in Fontaine. There are aquabuses as the primary means of transportation and the Antoine Roger Aircraft for those who simply wish to see the sights, but no cars. The functions in the cars were quite advanced, able to play music as well as adjust the nearby ambient temperature with just a single switch. Though I was unable to ride properly in one, I can only assume that a journey taken in one of those cars would be most pleasant indeed.
( though perhaps if he had actually been seated in the passenger's seat next to a reckless speeding maniac, he might have quickly changed his mind. )
[ And keeping that to himself is something Troy would understand. He may be an open book now, but he knows the weight of such subjects deserve time. Maybe after dinner or two, he jokes to himself. He nods, ]
That it is.
[ He points in agreement with the same hand holding his card, then flips said card to look at the question with a hum. ]
Well mine pales in comparison to yours, but "What memory do you revisit often?"
[Hayakawa Aki. It's a good name. Hawks lets his eyes linger at Hayakawa's face for a few moments, and then down his throat and body, head tilting slightly to the side, reading his body language as if he could get some kind of insight into him. He doesn't look nervous, that's the first thing he really notices. Hayakawa hasn't acted like this is weird or awkward or anxiety inducing at all, just maintained that calm demeanor, asked questions like he was investigating, enough that Hawks wonders for a moment if he's new here too or if he's been here for a while now.
Wonders if he's used to this, or if he's just that composed as a person. If he is just that composed, Hawks thinks for a moment that it's almost painfully attractive.]
What am I?
[Raising a brow, he chuckles softly, and shakes his head.]
Human being, but I guess you could call me a heteromorph, couldn't you? At least back in my world. The wings are my Quirk. I can fly and control the feathers.
[A little shrug, and the smile fades a little when Hayakawa says he looks injured.]
A little. It's just a light scorching.
[Waving a hand, he tries to brush it off, head still tilted and eyes half-closed, a smile on his face. Tries not to think too much about where he'd been before this, the fact he's not even sure he's alive back home anymore.]
They'll grow back. The feathers. They're already doing it a little, see.
[Twisting, he brushes fingers over his feathers, straightening them a little where they're crooked, shivering slightly at the contact.]
[Rude just shakes his head. Having to say it out loud just makes him realize how ridiculous it is for them to be debating that in the first place. Reno is definitely just trying to fluster him--he doesn't know why it always gets to him this much.]
A few years back. It did hurt for a little while. No there aren't any more that I'm hiding from you--Reno!
[He grabs his partner by the wrist, bending it a little at an awkward angle to wrestle him into submission. It's like muscle memory from when they used to spar like this, and it happens so fast that he forgets that he's naked as he's pinning the redhead down. Oops.]
[ Whatever a mermaid might be in the world of Arknights, it's surely a bit different than what most people mean (though the term is used, a quick google search confirms), so while Broca kind of understands what she means here...
He does have the question most people would probably have to that comment. ]
How would that turn you into one?
[ As far has he knows, whale stomachs don't usually change people's genetic makeup, but... maybe he's wrong?? ]
[As Tohsaka understands it, mages can recognize other mages and Servants recognize other Servants. And before Sakura, not one really showed up that she recognized. Which is why she spares no effort in concealing her mana output. Dangerous, perhaps, considering that it has once been said, "If the average mage has a mana generation of 25 units, then Tohsaka's output is 500." But why bother when there aren't any "true peers" to be found?
As the dice come to a halt in their rolls, Rin checks the numbers and cross-references with the commands. Lick... thigh? Well, that's not so terrible. Especially since her dress has a "high-low" or "waterfall" cut where it's short in the front, and the back panel is much longer. Tohsaka waves away his concern with a dismissive gesture.]
What, you fancy yourself some kind of gentleman? In a place like this? I wouldn't be sitting here if I wasn't prepared to play the game as intended.
[ The resort is abuzz with talk of new arrivals filtering in from, of all places, the snazzy rides housed within The Golden Peacock's parking garage. Nosy as all get out and presently lacking the appropriate lackeys he'd typically employ to do the investigative legwork for him, J takes it upon himself to sniff out just who the resort has managed to kidnap next, more motivated than ever to rule out if anyone from his world has made an appearance. Those who find themselves pulled into the resort's clutches don't always end up becoming a permanent fixture, so time is of the essence. Incentive enough for him to slip into the parking garage with demonic senses attuned to any whiff of the familiar.
When that fails, what else is a bored demon with a mile-wide indulgent streak going to do in a parking garage but scope out the interior belonging to one of the gaudiest, most extravagant vehicles in the lot? With a shut of the door and a groan of the car taking on J's not-inconsequential size later, he's shimmed himself into the plush, leather-trimmed interior. Even as sizable wings, paws and the rest of him occupy one of the backseats of the spacious SVU, it miraculously doesn't even disturb Irene's little corner of the car with how massive it is.
Which might offer some explanation for why it takes the demon a hot minute or two to acknowledge the other occupant sharing the confined space. Done without a glance upwards as he scrutinizes a bottle of vintage champagne plucked from the vehicle's built-in bar. ]
Perhaps someone ought to rethink their life choices if being bagged, tagged and relocated to a comfy new cage like an animal is par for the course after one too many. [ Enjoy a helpful hint or two about what's going on buried within that pointed jab! ]
[He looks at the tattoo, nodding slowly since he thought it was purely decorative until this very moment.
He's not aware of the scratches on his back, but he has no recollection of who or when they might have been made either way. Rude tries to be as respectful as possible but he keeps sneaking glances at her, giving up on the search fairly quickly once she confirms his suspicions.]
Guess we've probably already seen each other naked. No point in modesty now. [It's what he has to tell himself before returning to bed with her, spreading the plates of breakfast foods around them so they can share it all.]
Now seems as good a time as any to ask your name, if you don't mind sharing it.
Geez, you're a whole bubbling-hot pot'a mess. What's your encore?
[ should've just lied and said you were in a fight, man, that's what cool guys do. in spite of his wry tone, the ribbing's at least all in good fun. maybe recent times have helped him see a difference between antagonistic (derogatory) and antagonistic (it's a charm point). or maybe it's the extra-strong drink, the atmosphere, something outside of his control? who's to say.
at any rate, it's his turn again and the picks are getting more and more precarious. going for the cards on top is the easiest answer, if not the cheapest. Fidelio falls silent for a few moments, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. picking off the top over and over won't leave him with any escape route if the game starts getting dicey; better to take the risk early, when he's still feeling relatively confident.
right in the middle it is, then. unconsciously, the tip of his tongue pokes between his teeth as he goes in for the two-finger grab again, palm flat, easy now, right between the tips of his little claws, and— several of the cards on top tumble down, but the remainder of the structure stays intact. the ref says it's not a loss, and Del almost forgets about the question on the card while he's grinning about his momentary victory. everything's great until a bystander reminds him. he flips the card over...
and there goes his face again. beet red. this time he places it on the table face-down. nope. ]
This is rigged. Why am I getting all the stupid ones?! You know somethin' I don't, don't you ye fuckin' weapon—you're cheating, pickin' all the easy questions. I ain't answering that!
[ Then you lose! ]
And who asked you, meff? I said I'd play a card game, didn't say nothing about getting humiliated in front of some binno that broke his face with a damn bottle.
lighter lorenz — zenless zone zero — new character/current player
[ Genuine curiosity cuts above the general uproar of the parking garage once everyone starts waking up to whatever vehicular blessing or curse might have befallen them. For his part, he's relatively unscathed. He's also opted to take a look around at what the place's got to offer, finding the rides here above and beyond what he'd see even in the most well-to-do districts of the city. His verdict is...
...he has several questions, actually. ]
Or the wear on the tires? Can you actually take these guys anywhere?
[ He's new and Not Understanding the scope of what's happening just yet. This is also highlighted by his choice ("choice") in outfit: he's gotten ahold of a robe that isn't see-through, but the trade off is that it's an abhorrent tiger print. He's also sporting a bright red feather boa and shutter shades. As you do.
Glancing aside, eyes somewhat obscured, he clears his throat and pushes the glasses higher on his nose. So yes, he is wearing these on purpose. ]
...Don't stare, alright? I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding between me and that NPC back there.
[ Lighter. ]
— PHOENIX CASINO HALL.
A. (FOR AT THE DOOR): [ Alright, so. Basic rundown as Lighter, Champion of the Sons of Calydon understands it: he's trapped in the sex dimension, which also happens to be a hotel, which also happens to be a casino. A real high roller's place, at that. As someone chronically addicted to ignoring his own desires and also someone who is chronically broke, this is honestly a nightmare.
But he's real and here and awake, so what's he going to do about it? It seems ill-tempered of him to try and fight his way out when every next guy seems intent on him just having a good time. There's no one to get on him about moping, so once he's finally stuffed into a suit nice enough to make the cut for the hall (still wearing his shades and boa btw), he sort of... gets heckled and pushed along by a couple of ghost hands, which he's also opting to not question. He does swat at them here and there, irritability simmering low and behind a veil of contemplation.
That is, before a pair of hands gets too handsy, just giving him a full double-cheeked assgrab by way of a push forward. Grunting, Lighter freezes, then whirls on his heel with fists balled towards the next guest behind him. Honestly kind of menacing? But that's when he realizes it's for nothing, because. Ghosts.
He heaves a beleaguered sigh, staunching the flow of traffic by standing there and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. ]
Tell me you saw that.
B. (FOR BUBBLY): [ Nowadays, Lighter isn't much of a drinker or a smoker. While that's kept his head good and well on his shoulders so far, he knows how fast things can change if he's not on his guard. Still, he can't help but gaze upwards at the ornate ceilings of the place, expression (what's visible of it) hovering between awe and pity. If he manages to catch the attention of anyone having a rough time of it thanks to the bubbly, he'll lift a hand upwards. ]
Can you, uh... swim to me? I think I can pull you down if you get close enough.
[ He's tall and sturdy looking, ungloved hands battered with scars. Surely he can handle one (1) person's weight. ]
— GAME ROOMS.
[ Here stands Lighter, cutting a striking figure before of the big glitzy wheels that'll determine your near fate based on how hard or well you spin it. Here stands Lighter, looking ridiculous (as always) and feeling ridiculous (that's new), because a confetti canon has just gone off, dousing him in little shiny paper bits as he holds the prize he'd spun for:
A tiny golden g-string, held aloft so delicately on his index finger. He is wincing. ]
I don't think this is my size. Can I go again?
[ His whole reason for even trying is he's seen the insta-prize, the one with the designer clothes and accessories. That would fix him, even if only a little. Canting his head towards whoever's next, he ventures: ]
Wouldn't happen to have a lucky charm of some kind on you, would you?
— HANGOVER AFTERCARE.
[ Try as he might have, even he couldn't completely escape the vacuous pull of the party atmosphere. How he's feeling right now seems really incongruent with the amount of partying he actually did, he thinks... he's a wallflower, an observer, he's too cool for school, and...
He has a blinding headache. Groaning pathetically, Lighter oozes deeper into the mattress, holding a pillow clutched over his head. He thought Nitro-Fuel was bad. What skin peeks out from the blankets runs hot, tough and well-loved by violence, by sunlight. ]
Ugh. I've been hit harder in the ring...
[ oh how he protests. ]
— WILDCARD/ETC.
( just here to have a good time and make his life difficult tbh. m/any, 17+, kinks are bring it on. )
I said your personas look like my demons. You have that backwards.
[Just so he's aware. Demons came first, thank you!]
There's another guy with your head demons here, by the way. His name is Narukami Yu. You'll probably end up running into him if they make you stay here, and no. Tetrakarn isn't cheating.
[ fuck's a Turk, then almost comes out of his mouth, but listen, far be it for him to be an ignorant little smartass and insult someone. someone that didn't deserve it, that is. instead, he opts for a gently smaller amount of sass. ]
Aye, you're rude alright. Never heard of Midgar, that a city? No paripus, huh...
[ what, did they... round them all up? ship 'em off somewhere? execute them all? it's baffling, really. he's heard of other tribes being uncommon, but unfortunately his happen to multiply like r...abbit....dog...animals, so that's not usually the case. then again, it dawns him—he did already hear this place isn't like where he's from. it isn't even anywhere close. so maybe there really is such a thing as a city with no paripus, or even one without tribes. imagine that.
eh, well. the other half of that meat pie gets shoved in his gob and he mulls things over for a moment while he chews. ]
Someone told me earlier this place is a long way from home. I think they meant for everybody, not just me.
[ of all the things he thought might happen, it definitely wasn't any of that. the whistle is one thing, but the ghost—it makes his fur stand on end and goosebumps break out on his skin, threatened in a way he's only ever felt once or twice before. it's kind of a surprise to him that nothing dangerous ends up happening; just an open door and a response from Wei Wuxian like it's exactly what he intended on happening.
Del's mouth hangs open, at a loss for words. or rather, struggling with which ones to say. a lot of "what the hell was that," for one thing, but when all is said and done, there's only one thought that ends up rising above the others and making it out of his mouth. the dim shock fades from his expression, which falls flat with a different sort of disbelief. ]
Why didn't you just say you could do that in the first place?!
[ In some ways, Wei Wuxian is a better man than Broca, even if the unique history of their own worlds may have different stories on that front. Either way, if Broca had rolled the dice this time, he probably would have followed them pretty to a T without giving it much thought.
So this probably worked out for the best.
Broca braces himself, eyes closing again and nose wrinkling a little as he waits for a real smack, and--
And that's not at all what happens.
He opens his eyes, ears twisting out to the side in confusion. ]
Red is trying to identify exactly who or what J is; at first she just notices wings and so it's perhaps not a surprise that her hackles go up, considering the war she's fresh from. But a moment later he's speaking up and she takes a moment to just stare. What is her life? Why is she here? There are so many questions and she is not at all sure what she's going to do to answer them. ]
It's not. And I don't drink that often anyway-!
[ She snarls and clambers half upright, clinging to the back of one of the seats. ]
[Wriothesley merely grins in response.] You would know if I've been going easy on you. As if I can hide that from you in the first place.
[Kizuna has him wrapped around their finger, practically melting into that kiss with a pleased sound in the back of his throat. Pupils blown wide when they pull away from the kiss; Wriothesley obviously only had his eyes on the other at this point. The crowd? The eyes? They're just a quiet echo when Kizuna fills all his senses.]
You lead or I? [It's unfair how breathless he sounds already.]
Even if he knows it's stupid and meaningless and probably just a thoughtless gesture, that wink still gets his cheeks flushing just a little hotter. Fuuta just glowers at Hawks -- what kind of name is Hawks -- for a moment before growling, "Fuuta. Kajiyama Fuuta."
Then he huffs out a hard exhale before standing from his seat so sharply that his chair legs scrape against the floor. There's the scuff of sneaker-soles as he steps forward, then he leans forward to brace his hands on the chair's armrests, boxing Hawks into his seat.
Though that's as far as he gets for the moment! Hovering in that awkward position, he tries to maintain eye contact, feigning strong as he tries (and fails) to keep his voice from wobbling.
"I'm only doing this because of the stupid dice, alright. So. Tilt your head. And get your shirt collar out of the way."
[ oh great this guy's one of those. little shits with the fucked up powers he still hasn't made full sense of. this is—different from that, a little, but it gives off a similar vibe. it's just too bad he's busy chomping on Yu's hand and being chomped on to really give this a deep and meaningful ponder.
on the upside, he sure as hell wasn't expecting to be bitten right back, and while it's not enough to elicit a cry from him, he does let go, whipping his hand back with a mixture of surprise and outrage. important to note: throughout all this biting drama, his plate of meat pies survives entirely. ]
Oi, don't pull that Archetype shite with me, you grimy bellend. That was cheap!
[bakugo narrows his eyes in response to that flat expression aimed at him. not even gonna repeat it, only give his fingers a small stretch splay to indicate he isn't changing his mind. this guy put that bottle to his face in the first place! he can demand it when he wants it! sheesh. could've left it on the bed or something...]
There's medicine in the bathroom behind the mirror. [unless there's something for headaches and other aches in the basket. bakugo catches the bottle, uncaps it with a twist, and chugs half of it in one go. nope, more than half. the whole damn thing, throat flexing and dipping with each swallow as he sucks the liquid down.]
GUH! [sounds like he came back up from near drowning. whoa, that's a rush. it's not gonna make him puke (that'd require salt) but hopefully it'd work some kind of diluting.] I haven't seen you around. You new?
[ well fuck him he guesses, that's what he gets for asking: an honest answer. not sure if it makes him feel better or worse. b...etter? maybe?
what really makes him feel better is discovering that this guy who doesn't know an animal from a paripus evidently knows exactly where they are. or at least what they're in, even if all of the words he uses to explain it to him are words he's not entirely familiar with. parking clicks, so he decides this is akin to a gauntlet runner. which means it can move. which means... ]
Hang on, if it's parked that means it can move, right? Can you move it? You know how to pilot one of these things?
[ his eye lights on the front seat—and the steering wheel. looks like a turny gadget to him, and he points it out like that means something. ]
If you're sure we're in the... garage, and this runner's runnin', then you can make yourself useful and get me outta here.
[ Nights out drinking were usually spent with Broca and Aosta having to play nanny to Chiave before the night was over. It was rare that Broca actually drank enough to truly get more than buzzed, much less enough to get a hangover. Even here in the resort where he didn't have to worry about playing minder to someone who didn't know when to quit while he was ahead, he tended to drink on the more responsible side.
So it's been a hot second since he woke up with a pounding headache, the sort of dull but painful throbbing that makes it impossible to just roll over and go back to sleep.
With a grumble, Broca ignores the reassurance, and pushes himself groggily out of bed. The fact that he's in his underwear doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest as he starts to trudge around the room, looking for glasses or bottles of something not so alcoholic to start downing for the hydration of it all. ]
[It's a little surprising when Dabi drops his hand and stops touching him - he'd expected the other man to keep doing it to keep him on his toes, uncomfortable, to play some kind of mind game. Instead, Dabi simply lets him lead the way to the bar and then orders them two beers. Calls him pretty again.
Dabi's been here for nearly a year, and there's been an incarnation of Hawks himself here during that year, and Dabi is repeatedly calling him pretty. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to put together what might have happened between them before in a place like this. The thought of it sends a flush of heat through his body, at the same time as the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stand up, like a prey animal in the presence of a predator. He pays, mouth pursed, from the few payouts he'd gotten from playing games so far.]
Why would you have any idea what kind of pervert I am, Touya?
[It comes out breezy and light, and he takes his beer, lifts it to his mouth and sips from it, gold eyes locked on Dabi, watching for his reaction at being called by name so shamelessly. He listens to Dabi explain the place in that hoarse voice, how you have to fuck to accomplish anything, to get by, to get home. That flush of heat goes through him again at the explanation.]
That's about what I was told, though not in so many words.
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