【 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.
Gen's foot bounces lightly against the chair leg the minute Hank makes a comment about this place making him do things. Here in the casino section there's a lot of free wheeling and dealing, but most of the games don't seem to make people do anything, even if they punish them monetarily for failing to comply, but he can't make any promises for the type of coercion that's tossed the old guy's way later down the line.
He stops the soft tapping of the back of his heel against the chair when Hank makes up his mind, whether the goading accidentally worked, or the man came to the decision on his own is hard to say, but this time Gen's laughter is barked out instead of a quiet snort.
There's a quiet grunt as he adjusts himself, sliding his legs to the side so he can amble out of the chair. Standing at a nice slightly above international average, Hank won't have to lower himself that much to reach it, which is good, because Gen doesn't look all that eager to properly present himself as he turns around and stretches his arms over his head, fingers interlocked, before resting his hands behind his head and standing there casually facing away from Hank.
"There's no chance in hell I'm presenting myself for you. You can manage it like this."
He is, admittedly, still kind of presenting himself for Hank this way, but not in a way that shoves his ass embarrassingly up in the air. His giant ego can tolerate this.
Hank whistles as Gen actually does what he says — this sure is new — and he even lets himself ogle a little. Who can blame him? He’s gotta know what he’s in for with the whole smacking thing.
“This sure is some kinda place, huh?”
He stands. Moves around the table. Hank does wonder for a brief moment what the hell he’s doing — how easy it is to want to let loose — but now he has one hand on the small of Gen’s back. To steel himself, maybe.
Then, with his other hand, he’s pulling back. Sucking in a breath through his teeth before he just goes for it: smacking this stranger’s ass with a loud slap. Could he have done it more gently? Sure. But he didn’t.
“Jesus.” Hank shakes out his hand before returning to his chair. “The prizes here really worth all that?”
He shouldn't get used to that particular part of it, though there's no shortage of more agreeable men and women here in the resort who will comply without needing a competition to motivate them into action first.
Though even without Gen having a ton of concern for his physical appearance, a little bit of admiration doesn't hurt as a motivating factor either. He's far from the bulkiest guy here, but despite the unprofessional demeanor he is still military, and he has put a lot more effort than he'll ever admit to into training. He's svelte, but there is solid muscle there still, and he'll glance over his shoulder as Hank finally gets up and rests a hand on him.
There's a comment on the tip of his tongue about this place, but it gets cut short by the startled yelp when that hand makes contact. From having holes punched in his body, to a vice captain who will knock him about when he's not pulling his weight, Gen's definitely experienced far worse pain than that. The sting was felt, but was just mild enough to not be... entirely unpleasant, which is a thought he will be shoving deep down and not dealing with at the moment.
No, the problem here is the surprise of it all, because while he was expecting a little tap or even a joking swat to move them along in the game, Hank gave him a lot more than he bargained for. Gen's reaching back to rub his ass, looking mildly disgruntled at how loudly he reacted to that.
“How about you” — Hank pushes the dice across the table — “shut the fuck up and roll?”
Fingers crossed for something that isn’t too out there. But Hank’s already going around and slapping people’s asses, so who knows? Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It feels like some sort of fever dream, although Hank knows that isn’t right. Everything feels too real for that: the lights, the clatter of dice. The sting in his hand after he gave Gen a spank.
No, it’s all too real — whatever this is. But what will the repercussions for his actions be? Only time will tell.
“Figured I may as well give a good slap. Dunno how this place works.”
Gaze sliding down to the dice. Suspicious little fuckers.
“Didn’t want it not to count, y’know. Since you went all that way and presented yourself for me.”
With an agitated click of the tongue, Gen starts to bend down to scoop up the dice, though he freezes mid-grab. The pause only lasts for about a second before his fingers curl around them, and he's standing back up, uncurling just one finger to jab in Hank's direction.
"Let's make one thing clear! I did not present myself for you!"
He more or less did, but he's bristling immediately at the insinuation here. For a man who lets himself get spanked by a stranger, it sure is something small that seems to rile him up.
"And you better hope I don't get to slap something after that threat," he adds, as he lets the dice drop gracelessly back onto the table. Though as they clatter to a stop (and google's rng coughs up a result), he'll be forced to scowl a little at the lack of proper retaliation he's getting.
The nice present something that requires a lot less use of force here: fondle nipples.
If it's going to be like this though, Gen thinks he can still one up this man, maybe make him back out and give him an easy victory when it's Gen's turn to act out the dice order.
Hank looks up, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
“Heh. Right. Didn’t present yourself at all. Ass just kinda fell that way. Not looking for a proper spanking at all.”
This second roll isn’t terrible. More annoying, Hank thinks, as he sighs. Loosening his stupid casino-assigned tie before unbuttoning his very plain dress shirt. Might as well unbutton it all the way down, although he keeps his shirt on. Parts the fabric a little, at least. He’s not trying to make things difficult, and he’s not exactly shy, but it’s just weird. Letting himself get all handsy because of a pair of dice.
Hank pushes his chair back, kicking his feet up on the table. Raising his hand to gesture toward his chest in a dramatic sweep.
“Fondle the fuck away. All nice and presented for ya.”
Seems like he’s gone and irritated the guy, so Hank’s not sure what to expect. If their roles were reversed, Hank might take one look at his old man chest and nope right the fuck out. Or he might actually go and do it just to be contrary. To win.
The bristling is relatively silent, but it's visible as an irritated grimace of a grin twitches at the corner of Gen's mouth at the suggestion that he was, in fact, presenting himself for Hank. He can behave himself for now though, planning on getting a little petty revenge with this next move while Hank unbuttons his shirt, maybe a little twist involved in the fondling.
But then the man has to go and make that comment a second time, and something in him snaps just a little.
The initial plan was to barely fondle before twisting like a shitty kid bullying on the playground, but now he has to win. He needs to absolutely embarrass this man.
So with Hank making himself nice and comfortable with his legs stretched out on the table, Gen swings one of his own legs over Hank's, straddling him for just one second, before sitting down heavily right in his lap. He himself is not exactly the heaviest guy in the world, but he tries to put a little force in there to make it slightly uncomfortable at first as he makes himself right at home, warm palms immediately resting against the other man's chest.
"Since you're that desperate for it."
At no point did Hank even remotely suggest that he was, but Gen's breezing along anyways, hands sliding down to rest underneath Hank's chest, thumbs reaching up to rub lightly across Hank's nipples, actually bothering to play the game right in a bid to pull some sort of response out of Hank.
Hank looks up at Gen with a very ‘what the actual fuck’ expression as he sits in his lap. Eyes thinned and jaw dropped ever so slightly.
“Oh, yeah. That’s me. All desperate for it.”
He’s good at talking bold when he has something to hide, and now is no different. Even going so far as to exaggeratedly raise his shoulders in a fake shiver.
“I presented for ya, all right.”
If Gen’s going to be cute about this, Hank might as well roll along with it. Maybe it’ll weird him out enough before Hank gets too into it. Hank was feeling pretty high and mighty as he unbuttoned his shirt, but he’s a little more wary now. So he slides his hands down to Gen’s hips: not to hold him in place, just trying to match his energy. Their weird game of chicken.
“You got your fondling all done?”
His expression is stoic, his voice the same lazy drawl as before. While he knows it’s pointless to ask his body to react — or not react — in any particular way, Hank still tries. Fingers squeezing round Gen’s hips as if to ask his nipples not to get hard, thank you very much.
For a few seconds, the touch isn’t enough. And Hank is almost grateful for that — right up until he feels his nipples hardening, and... goddamn.
It’s not as if he’s really lost their game, though. Who can blame an old man for liking his nipples touched?
Unfortunately for Hank, Gen's spent too long here among people who have made a game out of being obnoxiously flirtatious with him to get a rise out of him. A little sarcasm in response to his own obnoxious comments isn't going to be nearly enough to chase him off, and if he's relying on his age to be a deterrent for Gen...
He's spent a decade obsessively trying to gain the attention of a man not that much younger than Hank. There's nothing about him that's going to chase Gen off, especially not when Hank is carefully plucking at his competitive nature.
And right now? Gen feels like he's starting to win this stupid game of theirs. Between Hank's fingers digging into his hips, and the feeling of him stiffening under the pads of his thumb, it really feels like victory is close at hand. His grin stretches wide, his thumbs still moving in tight circles.
"Bet it counts for the game, but you sure you want me to stop? Seems like you're having a good time here."
“That’s what nipples do, kid. They get hard if you touch ‘em like that.”
As if that explains the shuddery breath Hank tries to quietly suck in.
“Thought we had to keep rolling to win the game. Or” — meeting Gen’s grin with his own — “is this winning to you? Groping an old man’s chest while you sit in his lap?”
Hank isn’t a fan of the whole kidnapping angle this resort has got going, but damn. If this is what he has to look forward to here, he might as well let guys — much younger guys, at that — touch him like this. Hell knows no one outside this weird resort wants to touch him.
“Don’t particularly want you to stop, no.” Hank can at least admit this, especially once his nipples are fully hard. No denying that. “This what you wanna hear, hmm?”
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.
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.
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.
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
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He stops the soft tapping of the back of his heel against the chair when Hank makes up his mind, whether the goading accidentally worked, or the man came to the decision on his own is hard to say, but this time Gen's laughter is barked out instead of a quiet snort.
There's a quiet grunt as he adjusts himself, sliding his legs to the side so he can amble out of the chair. Standing at a nice slightly above international average, Hank won't have to lower himself that much to reach it, which is good, because Gen doesn't look all that eager to properly present himself as he turns around and stretches his arms over his head, fingers interlocked, before resting his hands behind his head and standing there casually facing away from Hank.
"There's no chance in hell I'm presenting myself for you. You can manage it like this."
He is, admittedly, still kind of presenting himself for Hank this way, but not in a way that shoves his ass embarrassingly up in the air. His giant ego can tolerate this.
no subject
Hank whistles as Gen actually does what he says — this sure is new — and he even lets himself ogle a little. Who can blame him? He’s gotta know what he’s in for with the whole smacking thing.
“This sure is some kinda place, huh?”
He stands. Moves around the table. Hank does wonder for a brief moment what the hell he’s doing — how easy it is to want to let loose — but now he has one hand on the small of Gen’s back. To steel himself, maybe.
Then, with his other hand, he’s pulling back. Sucking in a breath through his teeth before he just goes for it: smacking this stranger’s ass with a loud slap. Could he have done it more gently? Sure. But he didn’t.
“Jesus.” Hank shakes out his hand before returning to his chair. “The prizes here really worth all that?”
no subject
Though even without Gen having a ton of concern for his physical appearance, a little bit of admiration doesn't hurt as a motivating factor either. He's far from the bulkiest guy here, but despite the unprofessional demeanor he is still military, and he has put a lot more effort than he'll ever admit to into training. He's svelte, but there is solid muscle there still, and he'll glance over his shoulder as Hank finally gets up and rests a hand on him.
There's a comment on the tip of his tongue about this place, but it gets cut short by the startled yelp when that hand makes contact. From having holes punched in his body, to a vice captain who will knock him about when he's not pulling his weight, Gen's definitely experienced far worse pain than that. The sting was felt, but was just mild enough to not be... entirely unpleasant, which is a thought he will be shoving deep down and not dealing with at the moment.
No, the problem here is the surprise of it all, because while he was expecting a little tap or even a joking swat to move them along in the game, Hank gave him a lot more than he bargained for. Gen's reaching back to rub his ass, looking mildly disgruntled at how loudly he reacted to that.
"You really don't hold back, do you, geezer?"
no subject
“How about you” — Hank pushes the dice across the table — “shut the fuck up and roll?”
Fingers crossed for something that isn’t too out there. But Hank’s already going around and slapping people’s asses, so who knows? Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It feels like some sort of fever dream, although Hank knows that isn’t right. Everything feels too real for that: the lights, the clatter of dice. The sting in his hand after he gave Gen a spank.
No, it’s all too real — whatever this is. But what will the repercussions for his actions be? Only time will tell.
“Figured I may as well give a good slap. Dunno how this place works.”
Gaze sliding down to the dice. Suspicious little fuckers.
“Didn’t want it not to count, y’know. Since you went all that way and presented yourself for me.”
A smirk, then: “Coulda done it harder, y’know.”
no subject
"Let's make one thing clear! I did not present myself for you!"
He more or less did, but he's bristling immediately at the insinuation here. For a man who lets himself get spanked by a stranger, it sure is something small that seems to rile him up.
"And you better hope I don't get to slap something after that threat," he adds, as he lets the dice drop gracelessly back onto the table. Though as they clatter to a stop (and google's rng coughs up a result), he'll be forced to scowl a little at the lack of proper retaliation he's getting.
The nice present something that requires a lot less use of force here: fondle nipples.
If it's going to be like this though, Gen thinks he can still one up this man, maybe make him back out and give him an easy victory when it's Gen's turn to act out the dice order.
"Alright. Shirt up then."
no subject
Hank looks up, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
“Heh. Right. Didn’t present yourself at all. Ass just kinda fell that way. Not looking for a proper spanking at all.”
This second roll isn’t terrible. More annoying, Hank thinks, as he sighs. Loosening his stupid casino-assigned tie before unbuttoning his very plain dress shirt. Might as well unbutton it all the way down, although he keeps his shirt on. Parts the fabric a little, at least. He’s not trying to make things difficult, and he’s not exactly shy, but it’s just weird. Letting himself get all handsy because of a pair of dice.
Hank pushes his chair back, kicking his feet up on the table. Raising his hand to gesture toward his chest in a dramatic sweep.
“Fondle the fuck away. All nice and presented for ya.”
Seems like he’s gone and irritated the guy, so Hank’s not sure what to expect. If their roles were reversed, Hank might take one look at his old man chest and nope right the fuck out. Or he might actually go and do it just to be contrary. To win.
no subject
But then the man has to go and make that comment a second time, and something in him snaps just a little.
The initial plan was to barely fondle before twisting like a shitty kid bullying on the playground, but now he has to win. He needs to absolutely embarrass this man.
So with Hank making himself nice and comfortable with his legs stretched out on the table, Gen swings one of his own legs over Hank's, straddling him for just one second, before sitting down heavily right in his lap. He himself is not exactly the heaviest guy in the world, but he tries to put a little force in there to make it slightly uncomfortable at first as he makes himself right at home, warm palms immediately resting against the other man's chest.
"Since you're that desperate for it."
At no point did Hank even remotely suggest that he was, but Gen's breezing along anyways, hands sliding down to rest underneath Hank's chest, thumbs reaching up to rub lightly across Hank's nipples, actually bothering to play the game right in a bid to pull some sort of response out of Hank.
"And since you insisted on presenting for me."
no subject
Hank looks up at Gen with a very ‘what the actual fuck’ expression as he sits in his lap. Eyes thinned and jaw dropped ever so slightly.
“Oh, yeah. That’s me. All desperate for it.”
He’s good at talking bold when he has something to hide, and now is no different. Even going so far as to exaggeratedly raise his shoulders in a fake shiver.
“I presented for ya, all right.”
If Gen’s going to be cute about this, Hank might as well roll along with it. Maybe it’ll weird him out enough before Hank gets too into it. Hank was feeling pretty high and mighty as he unbuttoned his shirt, but he’s a little more wary now. So he slides his hands down to Gen’s hips: not to hold him in place, just trying to match his energy. Their weird game of chicken.
“You got your fondling all done?”
His expression is stoic, his voice the same lazy drawl as before. While he knows it’s pointless to ask his body to react — or not react — in any particular way, Hank still tries. Fingers squeezing round Gen’s hips as if to ask his nipples not to get hard, thank you very much.
For a few seconds, the touch isn’t enough. And Hank is almost grateful for that — right up until he feels his nipples hardening, and... goddamn.
It’s not as if he’s really lost their game, though. Who can blame an old man for liking his nipples touched?
no subject
He's spent a decade obsessively trying to gain the attention of a man not that much younger than Hank. There's nothing about him that's going to chase Gen off, especially not when Hank is carefully plucking at his competitive nature.
And right now? Gen feels like he's starting to win this stupid game of theirs. Between Hank's fingers digging into his hips, and the feeling of him stiffening under the pads of his thumb, it really feels like victory is close at hand. His grin stretches wide, his thumbs still moving in tight circles.
"Bet it counts for the game, but you sure you want me to stop? Seems like you're having a good time here."
no subject
“That’s what nipples do, kid. They get hard if you touch ‘em like that.”
As if that explains the shuddery breath Hank tries to quietly suck in.
“Thought we had to keep rolling to win the game. Or” — meeting Gen’s grin with his own — “is this winning to you? Groping an old man’s chest while you sit in his lap?”
Hank isn’t a fan of the whole kidnapping angle this resort has got going, but damn. If this is what he has to look forward to here, he might as well let guys — much younger guys, at that — touch him like this. Hell knows no one outside this weird resort wants to touch him.
“Don’t particularly want you to stop, no.” Hank can at least admit this, especially once his nipples are fully hard. No denying that. “This what you wanna hear, hmm?”
no subject
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.
no subject
“Helping a guy out, huh. That what this is?”
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.
no subject
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.