【 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.
[Hank is muttering this as he touches the trunk, very obviously feeling someone trying to kick their way out. But it’s not like he has a key, which would probably make things too easy.]
I’m gonna — [he jerks a thumb toward the car, as if whoever’s trapped might be able to see] — check the car, okay? Try to pop the trunk.
[Luckily, and perhaps too easily, the doors are unlocked. Swinging out all fancy-like, which has Hank rolling his eyes.
He gets the trunk opened, though. A little apprehensive as he rounds his way back to make sure the person is okay.]
( while the voice on the outside isn't the most assuring, the fact that her potential kidnapper was willing to help her set her at ease. for now. )
Ah okay-
( without being able to see much, she began to move around in the trunk, squirming and smacking her head in the process. before she could complain about being in pain, the trunk suddenly opens, flooding her vision with bright lights.
when hank finally comes back around to find her, she's clearly frazzled by the entire situation with her hair a mess, the robe nearly falling off of her, and her eyes squinting at him. )
I’m just Hank. [He raises both hands, palms out.] Didn’t do any kidnapping. I woke up here too, same as you — although luckily I wasn’t in a trunk, I guess. Whoever set this place up has got a weird sense of humor.
[Hank averts his gaze, because while he’s far from a gentleman, he still has some manners. Like “don’t stare at a girl when her clothes are falling off” — that sort of thing.]
There’s a weird guy with clothes running around.
[“Weird” has become Hank’s default when describing this place.]
Got whole racks of ‘em. I could, uh — [eyes darting back, slipping over the woman’s shoulder] — go flag him down. If you’re okay.
[Is she okay? Hank has no idea. Are any of them really okay here?]
( far from modest given her own sexual depravities, she at the very least can sense when someone is feeling awkward because of the way she is, or rather the way she woke up here. once her vision cleared up and the man before her came into focus, she pulled up the robe to cover herself completely and she began to swing her legs to the edge of the trunk.
slowly, she gripped the sides of the car and lifted herself up. immediately she nearly toppled over the man before him and groaned out in pain. )
First of all, sorry about that. Secondly, yes let's get into some real clothes. I'd hate to think what they've done with us if we both woke up like this...
( well she's at the very least convinced he didn't do this to her now. )
[Hank is reluctant to put his hands on her because, for one: she didn’t ask for help. And two: she’s barely dressed, which adds all sorts of complications.
Still, he reaches out to steady her. Hand on her shoulder.]
Nothin’ to be sorry about. If I were you, I would’ve been hollering, too.
[He looks around for that creepy valet guy. Who was just around a second ago, Hank swears, but he’s probably got a lot of kidnapped people to dress and soothe.]
There. I think. [Hank raises a hand, pointing in the distance through a line of cars.] Hear that fucker rattling around.
[Turning back, he asks:] Are you... okay? Do you wanna sit down?
I figured I had been kidnapped for ransom or something far worse...
( the touch was far more gentle than she had been expecting, and despite his rougher language, he seemed like a genuinely kind person. that was enough for her to trust him and rely on him for the time being. though she was eager to find out why exactly they were in what looked to be a parking garage and nearly nude. )
Ah I feel like I've been banged up in there, I'll have to take a seat while you get him. I'll wear anything really, just nothing too tight.
( for now she's weaving her head around to look for a place to sit. it seems like her options are either to sit back in the trunk, sit on a car, or sit inside of one [or the floor but she's far too delicate for that]. )
Doubt you’ve been kidnapped for ransom. Seeing as how, y’know. [Hank doesn’t even bother gesturing to himself.] I’m here.
[And Hank has nothing. A house, sure. A dog. And he’s pissed enough people off over the years as a detective.
But if someone wanted something from him that could only be accomplished via kidnap, they wouldn’t stock up the bar in the car he woke up in. Taking his clothes, sure — some sort of power play — but all that free booze? Just ready and there for the taking?
This is something else. Something, as Hank has become fond of saying, weird.]
Sure. You go and sit in the car. Might as well, right? I’ll go get that — [fucker] — guy.
[Hank does manage to track down the skittering valet, who ends up on the receiving end of his vitriol. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you especially” — that sort of thing. Maybe it’s uncharitable of him, but he can’t help but feel like the valet is in on whatever this place is. And if not... well, it sucks, but he’s the one here for Hank to take his anger out on.
He gets the valet to squeeze his racks of weird clothes — because of course they’re all mismatched, and things nobody would ever want to wear — back to the Maserati.
At least they have clothes to browse now, even though most of the pants have weird patterns on them — stranger than the shirts Hank usually wears, even.]
( well that self-depreciating comment certainly left a small smile on her face. she wasn't quite sure of what to think of this man truthfully, but for now she would just see how things played out. )
I wonder what this parking garage is for...a hotel maybe?
( it seemed similar enough to one, and given she was a traveling singer, she had seen a wide number of hotels in her life. they were home at the end of the day, as depressing as that sounded. )
Alright, I'll wait here, try to be careful?
( and that's all she could really say before he headed off to deal with that 'fucker' as he had called him. as he went off to bring the clothes, she sat in the car and looked around to see the booze and other amenities inside. she lifted up a small bottle of whiskey and opened it up, giving it a sniff. so far it seemed to be safe, but before she could test that theory, he was already back. )
Woah what kind of clothes are these? Don't tell me this is everyone's clothes they've taken?
[A hotel, Hank thinks, is a good guess. Some fancy, five-star place where rich people dump their cars and go off doing whatever. Maybe the whole kidnap thing is part of that — entertainment for the wealthy — and maybe there are even cameras scattered around.
Hank imagines he makes poor entertainment for anyone, though. Hasn’t punched anyone yet. Hell, he’s barely even swearing. Yet.]
Godawful clothes, is what they are. [Hank thins his eyes at the valet.] That your thing? You kidnap people and take their clothes, like some pervert?
[The valet shrinks back, insisting that the clothes are from “storage,” whatever the hell that means. Some sort of lost and found hoard?
Regardless, Hank looks through the clothes. Hangers clacking on the rack.]
Don’t see anything of mine. [Grumbling.] And maybe someone took it, but I can’t really see anyone wanting to take my shirt.
[Hank’s shirts are oddly patterned. Stripes zigzagging in random directions. Unflattering color palettes — that sort of thing. Loud, but not eye-searing.
The clothes on the rack are weird. Hank takes one shirt off the rack — a shiny red shirt with a storm of ruffles along its collar and sleeves — and clucks his tongue.]
( while hank berated the valet, reira couldn't help but stand back and watch the scene unfold before her with a curious expression. she should probably be angry about the situation as well—
but she never was the temperamental type, at least not in regards to anger. sadness and having emotional outbursts was more her thing. yet it felt right to watch this man be angry, even for her behalf in a way too.
once he was done combing through and pulled out a shirt for himself, she finally moved closer, placing the bottle of liquor she had in the pocket of her robe. she reached for something shiny, a leotard from the looks of it. one that would draw far too much attention to her. )
Well given the terrible clothes on this rack, maybe someone took it just to have something normal. Did you wake up in a trunk as well? Or in one of the cars?
parking garage
Listen, I dunno who the fuck Takumi is.
[Hank is muttering this as he touches the trunk, very obviously feeling someone trying to kick their way out. But it’s not like he has a key, which would probably make things too easy.]
I’m gonna — [he jerks a thumb toward the car, as if whoever’s trapped might be able to see] — check the car, okay? Try to pop the trunk.
[Luckily, and perhaps too easily, the doors are unlocked. Swinging out all fancy-like, which has Hank rolling his eyes.
He gets the trunk opened, though. A little apprehensive as he rounds his way back to make sure the person is okay.]
no subject
Ah okay-
( without being able to see much, she began to move around in the trunk, squirming and smacking her head in the process. before she could complain about being in pain, the trunk suddenly opens, flooding her vision with bright lights.
when hank finally comes back around to find her, she's clearly frazzled by the entire situation with her hair a mess, the robe nearly falling off of her, and her eyes squinting at him. )
Where am I? Who are you anyways?
no subject
I’m just Hank. [He raises both hands, palms out.] Didn’t do any kidnapping. I woke up here too, same as you — although luckily I wasn’t in a trunk, I guess. Whoever set this place up has got a weird sense of humor.
[Hank averts his gaze, because while he’s far from a gentleman, he still has some manners. Like “don’t stare at a girl when her clothes are falling off” — that sort of thing.]
There’s a weird guy with clothes running around.
[“Weird” has become Hank’s default when describing this place.]
Got whole racks of ‘em. I could, uh — [eyes darting back, slipping over the woman’s shoulder] — go flag him down. If you’re okay.
[Is she okay? Hank has no idea. Are any of them really okay here?]
no subject
slowly, she gripped the sides of the car and lifted herself up. immediately she nearly toppled over the man before him and groaned out in pain. )
First of all, sorry about that. Secondly, yes let's get into some real clothes. I'd hate to think what they've done with us if we both woke up like this...
( well she's at the very least convinced he didn't do this to her now. )
no subject
Oh, Jesus. Do you need...?
[Hank is reluctant to put his hands on her because, for one: she didn’t ask for help. And two: she’s barely dressed, which adds all sorts of complications.
Still, he reaches out to steady her. Hand on her shoulder.]
Nothin’ to be sorry about. If I were you, I would’ve been hollering, too.
[He looks around for that creepy valet guy. Who was just around a second ago, Hank swears, but he’s probably got a lot of kidnapped people to dress and soothe.]
There. I think. [Hank raises a hand, pointing in the distance through a line of cars.] Hear that fucker rattling around.
[Turning back, he asks:] Are you... okay? Do you wanna sit down?
no subject
( the touch was far more gentle than she had been expecting, and despite his rougher language, he seemed like a genuinely kind person. that was enough for her to trust him and rely on him for the time being. though she was eager to find out why exactly they were in what looked to be a parking garage and nearly nude. )
Ah I feel like I've been banged up in there, I'll have to take a seat while you get him. I'll wear anything really, just nothing too tight.
( for now she's weaving her head around to look for a place to sit. it seems like her options are either to sit back in the trunk, sit on a car, or sit inside of one [or the floor but she's far too delicate for that]. )
I'll sit in this car then?
no subject
Doubt you’ve been kidnapped for ransom. Seeing as how, y’know. [Hank doesn’t even bother gesturing to himself.] I’m here.
[And Hank has nothing. A house, sure. A dog. And he’s pissed enough people off over the years as a detective.
But if someone wanted something from him that could only be accomplished via kidnap, they wouldn’t stock up the bar in the car he woke up in. Taking his clothes, sure — some sort of power play — but all that free booze? Just ready and there for the taking?
This is something else. Something, as Hank has become fond of saying, weird.]
Sure. You go and sit in the car. Might as well, right? I’ll go get that — [fucker] — guy.
[Hank does manage to track down the skittering valet, who ends up on the receiving end of his vitriol. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you especially” — that sort of thing. Maybe it’s uncharitable of him, but he can’t help but feel like the valet is in on whatever this place is. And if not... well, it sucks, but he’s the one here for Hank to take his anger out on.
He gets the valet to squeeze his racks of weird clothes — because of course they’re all mismatched, and things nobody would ever want to wear — back to the Maserati.
At least they have clothes to browse now, even though most of the pants have weird patterns on them — stranger than the shirts Hank usually wears, even.]
no subject
I wonder what this parking garage is for...a hotel maybe?
( it seemed similar enough to one, and given she was a traveling singer, she had seen a wide number of hotels in her life. they were home at the end of the day, as depressing as that sounded. )
Alright, I'll wait here, try to be careful?
( and that's all she could really say before he headed off to deal with that 'fucker' as he had called him. as he went off to bring the clothes, she sat in the car and looked around to see the booze and other amenities inside. she lifted up a small bottle of whiskey and opened it up, giving it a sniff. so far it seemed to be safe, but before she could test that theory, he was already back. )
Woah what kind of clothes are these? Don't tell me this is everyone's clothes they've taken?
no subject
[A hotel, Hank thinks, is a good guess. Some fancy, five-star place where rich people dump their cars and go off doing whatever. Maybe the whole kidnap thing is part of that — entertainment for the wealthy — and maybe there are even cameras scattered around.
Hank imagines he makes poor entertainment for anyone, though. Hasn’t punched anyone yet. Hell, he’s barely even swearing. Yet.]
Godawful clothes, is what they are. [Hank thins his eyes at the valet.] That your thing? You kidnap people and take their clothes, like some pervert?
[The valet shrinks back, insisting that the clothes are from “storage,” whatever the hell that means. Some sort of lost and found hoard?
Regardless, Hank looks through the clothes. Hangers clacking on the rack.]
Don’t see anything of mine. [Grumbling.] And maybe someone took it, but I can’t really see anyone wanting to take my shirt.
[Hank’s shirts are oddly patterned. Stripes zigzagging in random directions. Unflattering color palettes — that sort of thing. Loud, but not eye-searing.
The clothes on the rack are weird. Hank takes one shirt off the rack — a shiny red shirt with a storm of ruffles along its collar and sleeves — and clucks his tongue.]
no subject
but she never was the temperamental type, at least not in regards to anger. sadness and having emotional outbursts was more her thing. yet it felt right to watch this man be angry, even for her behalf in a way too.
once he was done combing through and pulled out a shirt for himself, she finally moved closer, placing the bottle of liquor she had in the pocket of her robe. she reached for something shiny, a leotard from the looks of it. one that would draw far too much attention to her. )
Well given the terrible clothes on this rack, maybe someone took it just to have something normal. Did you wake up in a trunk as well? Or in one of the cars?