【 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.
[ yep, that sure is a lot of orange, the color somewhat softened by the morning sun's rays streaming through the window behind her. it would've been an ethereal image to wake up to if it weren't for the fact that it's ishmael of all people. ]
Huh. Funny. I don't see your name on it.
[ tbf this might really be heathcliff's room and she just didn't know, but she's not about to let him have the satisfaction of being right anytime soon. ]
The last thing I want for us is to split up in such unfamiliar territory. We have to figure out what's going on here first. [ still on top of him, she reaches over to the bedside table to grab some toast. ] Hungry?
'Course they haven't got our names on 'em, they're the bus doors...
[ But Heathcliff can't be stupid forever, and as his eyes watch her reach to an unfamiliar bedside table, in an unfamiliar room, with a very unfamiliar piece of toast, he gets the sinking feeling that Ishmael, once again, might be right.
He turns his head, winces — all right, maybe the liquor wasn't a dream — and pushes the toast away grumpily and twists around a little, looking at the room. ]
[ GROANS. ] Took you long enough to realize. Does this look like any of our rooms back on the bus?
[ for one, it's not storming outside, reflecting both of their respective inner turmoils. it's bright and sunny. one might even hear birds outside if they're delulu enough. but no, they're both not delulu enough for any of this. ]
That's what I'm trying to figure out. Unless we're somehow in a District where sex and erotica is what fuels their Singularity, we're all but fucked either way. Like, literally. [ finally, she slides herself off heathcliff and reaches for a mug of coffee with her free hand. ] Here. You really need to wake yourself up for this.
[ Look, it might be a side effect of going through a shitton of character development, but Heathcliff kind of feels bad? Maybe a little? about Ishmael getting all huffy about being right, again. Maybe it's because he still doesn't take her at face value after all this time when he really ought to try and trust her, especially when she's proven time and again that she'll put her all into watching out for th the team. Maybe because he DOES want to think that people change, himself and Ishmael included, and that he doesn't have to be so snippy all the time when the Sinners have proven themselves to at least be safe, even when he's murdered more than one of them in dramatic and messy ways. Maybe it was kind of nice to have her weight on top of him. Maybe!!!
You know what, scratch that last thought. Wings no. Never mind.
He sits up and grabs the coffee out of her hand, sipping and wincing as it hits his tongue too fast. Hot. He swallows anyway. ]
Ugh. Fine. Shit. Oi, honor student, fancy giving the class dunce a recap?
[ she watches him drink the coffee a little too fast, frowning slightly at his casual comment. it's not that heathcliff is stupid, and she knows better than to press his buttons about it now after seeing what he'd gone through at wuthering heights. it's none of their faults why they ended up the way they were before the golden boughs had shown them the way to redemption. but at the same time, they can't force themselves to be all buddy-buddy together just because they'd seen the absolute worst of themselves and how they'd mirrored one another. it's weird.
although, all of this is weird, tbf. so why not do as the romans do? (ignore the fact that she doesn't know what romans are). ]
Honestly, I'm probably as clueless as you are. So don't sell yourself short, Heathcliff. [ munch. ] Let's tackle this one at a time. What's the last thing you remembered before waking up in this world?
[ The kindness gets... Well, it gets a rather cautious look, as though he's waiting for the backhanded portion of the comment to no avail. When he realizes it isn't coming, he shakes himself a little like a dog. Was he tense? Sure, he has no idea what's going on, but this is... decently normal Ishmael behavior, except with maybe a fraction less bickering. No one said there was a bickering quota for the two of them. She can be nice if she wants to. He could too, if he really felt like it. So there.
... Wait, there was a question, wasn't there? He walks back and is silently grateful that it was relatively straightforward. ]
Simple. I was in my room on the bus, sleepin'. Or about to sleep. We just got back from the Railway, I was right knackered.
[ munches impatiently on her piece of toast. no seriously, wtf. she's going to need more than that to determine where they are and how they stand with each other? as much as she doesn't mind bickering with heathcliff until the dawn rises, she's gonna want to get some shit out of the way first before doing just that. ]
Gonna give me more details than that. What was the last significant thing you remember in the City before retiring for the night and waking up here? For example, mine was...
[ hmm. ]
We acquired the most recent Golden Bough. In P Corp. Does that ring a bell? [ me trying to keep it vague until you get to don's chapter 🥺 ]
[ Heathcliff gives Ishmael a funny look. This is all backwards and forwards... ]
You feelin' all right? We ain't been outside T. corp in a minute. We're lucky to be anywhere near leavin' with our bus, what with that debt them loonies tried to saddle us with.
[ Did the stay in their mercifully air-conditioned holding cell make Ishmael snap or what...? Can't be too different from being cooped up on a ship for months, can it? ]
[ t corp?? that felt like ages ago, especially with what happened in the WARP trains and all. it might confuse heathcliff even more if she tries explaining it to him, so -- ]
...Okay, then. T Corp. Fuck, that place was a shithole.
[ even worse than the mystery resort they've now found themselves at. ]
Anyway, I'd inquired around the long-term guest of this resort, and they'd mentioned playing a certain card game by having sex with people. If you win the game by having enough sex with people, it might be our ticket out of here.
[ emphasis on might. ]
That's all I got for now. Anything on your end? Please tell me you didn't steal shit here too. [ wow ]
[ After a few seconds of narrow-eyed glaring wherein Heathcliff tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, he sighs. Okay, maybe this is a mirror version of Ishmael, or some weird time shit happened while they were at T Corp. Whatever. This Ishmael's good enough. Or at least close enough to make him sputter about a crime both of them remember him committing, which he does redfaced and with indignation. ]
For the last time, I needed to look smart when I went back. I ain't about to pinch whatever I can get my hands on for no reason, I ain't that daft...
[ Heathcliff grimaces, then finishes the coffee in one spiteful gulp, then puts it to the side. ]
I wasn't payin' much mind, that's for sure. Figured I was dreaming, got right plastered, and that was about the end of it.
[ Instead of getting anywhere near the sex part of their situation because it's insane, he scowls, reaches out, and swats one of her sidebangs. ]
Ain't all to report for you, though. What's happened to that hairband of yours, eh? Stolen? Gambled away?
Yeah, but I don't get why you had to look smart. Not like there's someone there waiting for you, right?
[ hehe. guess who doesn't remember jack shit about █████████ at all. though to be fair, heathcliff just hasn't gotten to [REDACTED] yet after t corp, but they would've been even in this case if they both knew what they missed out on :)
anyway! she mirrors his grimace when he mentions her headband, and she grabs his wrist with an iron grip. ]
That's also what I wanted to know. But apparently the house has taken it away for further incentive that I play their games. [ she swallows. the hand around his wrist slightly trembles despite her cold expression. ] I have to get it back, no matter what.
[ it's the only thing she has left of her, after all. ]
... Had to make a point to whoever was left. Anyway, it's over now.
[ No amount of arguing was going to make anyone remember anything, Dante excluded, and as rockheaded as Heathcliff can be, he knows how to put down a fight that he's done with.
Heathcliff stares at her for a second, scowling. ]
If it's a choice between finding whatever the hell's keeping this Singularity propped and your headband, I ain't makin' promises. But if we're stuck here anyhow...
[ ... A long suffering sigh. His arm goes limp in Ishmael's grip in surrender. ]
Well? Out with it, then. How do we get it back? Is that a sex thing too?
[ ishmael purses her lips together in thought, before letting go of heathcliff's hand, her own arm returning to the side. she clenches her knuckles, then loosens them as she makes her conclusion. ]
Looks like it. I might need chips to get it back -- it's the currency they use in this world. And every time you have sex with someone, you get paid a small amount.
[ she falls silent, her bangs covering her eyes. then, with another long-suffering sigh: ]
Listen. I know we've got our... differences [ biggest understatement of the fucking century ] so we don't have to fuck if you don't want to. I'll just go find someone else to do it with.
[ should be easy enough... hopefully. the only problem is that she knows nobody here other than heath, but maybe that's a good thing. no need to get any more attached beyond sex, and all.
and maybe, even now, ishmael still thinks he's too tenderhearted for a place like this. this is for her own good, and for his as well. totally. ]
[ It's only now that Heathcliff even registers that Ishmael is not wearing trousers. He looks down, then looks up, like directly at the ceiling, because even if Ishmael doesn't have her mace, he does not want to get smacked, thank you.
(Heathcliff, for his part, has his boxer briefs on, but isn't wearing a shirt. Holy scarred up tits ahoy.) ]
I'll be honest, I was thinkin' about us buggerin' other people...
[ But that's mostly because, until just now, he wasn't living in a world where Ishmael would ever consider fucking him. Why should she? He's just Heathcliff, world-class failure. ]
... You? With me? Why? Ain't you, like...
[ He makes kind of a vague gesture with his arm, still looking stubbornly at the ceiling. Well, he saw Queequeg. A strapping woman about the size of Mephistopheles, sure, but he's Not Queequeg. Not by a mile.
... He risks a look out the corner of his eye at Ishmael. Sunrise, huh. He can see that. Not that he has many sunrises to compare it to — the Heights did indeed Wuther — but it seems. Soft. Like sunrises ought to be. ]
[ to be fair, none of them were living in a world where they'd ever consider fucking each other. then again, ishmael doesn't really see herself fucking around with the other sinners either. she's too much of a hater, and apparently people still think that she's still attached to queequeg and the people who'd left her behind at sea.
which isn't really false. ishmael won't be able to forget queequeg anytime soon, even with the loss of her headband. after all, her own hair is enough to serve as a reminder of what she should be doing right now instead of feeling sorry for herself like heathcliff here. doesn't help the fact that heath is almost as built as queequeg and have half as much scars as she did, but...
she puts her mug of coffee back on the table, and just... nudges his shoulder with hers, like she's helping him snap out of his melancholy somehow. ]
Aren't I what? Out with it. This isn't like you, Heathcliff. It's just me.
[ just ishmael, the woman who he can't help but raise his voice and fists at in every opportunity. he shouldn't let their state of undress stop him from doing just that. ]
Come off it, woman. You ain't. I ain't. Blimey. I ain't your first choice in all of this, is all. 'S obvious, innit?
[ Although if Heathcliff had to ask the same question of himself, which one of my coworkers would I recreationally fuck given a relatively high stakes situation, Heathcliff would be hard pressed to come up with an answer himself. He's attached to his coworkers, sure, but when half of them would kill you as soon as look at you and the others are frankly off, it becomes less of a matter of taste and more of survival. Rodya would be the most pleasant about it, maybe, but even she comes with her risks. ]
Imagine if I, what? Tossed you down right now. Tell me that you wouldn't knock my block clean off my shoulders. I ain't bothered about it, it's just what you do.
I mean, obviously. Especially if you catch me off guard. That's just what we do. [ a shrug. ] But we can't kill each other off now, not without Dante here. And...
[ ugh. how would she put this without coming off as a total softie. she wishes she drank alcohol instead of coffee just now. ]
I did say that we're better off having sex with total strangers if we're to survive here, but honestly? I'm not comfortable with the idea from the get-go. We both came from a world where shit like that is only talked about behind closed doors, and now this place expects us to normalize that? It's insane.
I'll have to commit to it at some point, if I want to get out of here or at least get my headband back. But... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want my first time in this place to be with someone I know jack shit about.
[ her hand hovers over heathcliff's wrists, debating if she should hold it or not. not gonna lie, she did kind of like the idea of heathcliff tossing her onto this soft bed without the expectation of rage-induced murder. she did like the feeling of his weight on her. but while she's always been known as someone who often speaks her mind, she's utterly speechless when it comes to this.
but fuck it, she's going to wrap her hand around heath's wrist for reassurance. ]
If anything, you're the only one around here who knows me best. [ she admits quietly. from this angle, she hopes he doesn't see her face slowly going red with every word. ] And you know it, don't you?
[ sometimes the person who knows you the most is the worst guy ever. which sure says a lot about her, doesn't it? ]
[ The thing is, Heathcliff's come a long way from the man who would sooner break heads than hold hands, as it were. He's learned how to listen to people when he can and ignore them when he can't. He can keep his temper down to a smolder, his fuse harder to fully ignite. He leaves Don alone as long as she leaves him alone, and even when she doesn't, the lass isn't the worst person to be around. Just loud.
So no, Heathcliff doesn't twist his arm out of Ishmael's grip. At some point, it suddenly struck him that these people are his home now, and he doesn't leave family behind. Not usually, anyway. ]
Wish I didn't know half the shite I know about you. Never had much choice, though. Neither of us.
[ He does catch Ishmael's ear growing pink from this angle, briefly wonders if he should point it out, then remembers that Dante isn't here to put his head back on if she rips it off. Heathcliff then wonders who should make the first move. He is... embarrassed. Mortified. He stands outside the metaphorical chamber door.
Daft animal. You didn't make the first move last time, and neither did she. Look at where that landed the both of you. Nothing to show for it. Not even her memory. ]
Well. Time's awastin'.
[ He takes another slice of toast from the plate, folds it, and shoves half of it into his mouth. He isn't all that hung over, but at the very least, he needs his stomach stable for this. While still chewing, he readjusts, slipping around until they're facing each other more than they are sitting side by side. He doesn't move away, though. They're going to have to be close for this anyway, right?
Heathcliff grabs the now slightly less scalding cup of coffee and washes the toast down. ]
Lemme finish this and we'll get started.
[ And he shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth like the goddamn creature he is. His cheek is bulging out a bit, he's got crumbs on his face. Once again: the worst guy Ishmael knows. Once again: Sorry. ]
[ why did he have to put it so clinically? like he's being forced to do this at gunpoint. although when you think about it, it does feel like the both of them have guns trained on their heads at this very moment. the City may be a special kind of hellscape, but they've never been coerced into doing something this intimate -- mostly because that place all but tries to discourage emotional attachment in order to continue surviving in it.
but they're human, so they can't help but get attached to people anyway whether they like it or not. ishmael may acknowledge that she and heathcliff have had some differences, but she cannot deny the fact that he's her only friend left in this unfamiliar sea of strangers. and she'll hold on to that familiarity while everything else continues out to spiral out of their control.
she watches him continue to chow down, wondering if he's stalling for time. she gets it, though. she can't imagine herself to be the most exciting partner to have in bed either. heathcliff would've wanted to choose someone else in the bus if the others were here, and vice versa. yet she pulls herself up to her knees on the bed and reaches an uncharacteristically gentle hand out to wipe the crumbs from the corners of heathcliff's mouth anyway. ]
I may as well get this out of the way now before we embarrass ourselves. Have you ever had sex before?
[ damn
but before he smacks her for asking that, she presses onward. ]
'cause don't expect me to know all these things either.
[ It's the emotional stuntedness. He's working on it!
At some level, though, Heathcliff's already caught that he picks on Ishmael because they're the same person in different circumstances. Identities in the same mirror world. He hopes she can change for the bat's chance in hell that people do change, that he does change, that it doesn't always take a clock ticking to help him find his way. Sometimes it's a revised message on a bat. Sometimes it's a hand on the snout of an abandoned hound. Sometimes it's ripping a hole into gross white whale gristle to pull out the pisshead wanker inside. ]
Tosser. No, I don't know what to do either. I just know what I like, and so on.
[ Heathcliff gives her kind of a flat look when she wipes his face — he isn't a child, she isn't Nelly — but holds still until she's done, sipping the rest of the coffee down and brushing off his hands over the tray. Good, full stomach. Head's not too bad. Could be better, but could be much, much worse. ]
Lay down.
[ He nudges her back with a hand to reinforce the command, and he'll move back to make room for her if she does. Regardless of whether she does or not, he'll reach out for the bottom of her shirt and begin unbuttoning it, aiming to see stomach skin. He has to confirm a few things, and he's a hands on sort of guy. The only way to find out is through direct confirmation.
(The panties are good, though. Are those freckles on her thighs? He's looking. He's very focused.) ]
[ he's never had sex before, yet he knows what he likes. it's the opposite with ishmael, who had sex once (1) before she became a sailor in an effort to feel something in the midst of her ennui. it was forgettable enough not to count in most cases, but she can't pretend that she's still a virgin either. unlike him, she doesn't know what she likes in bed. she's been rolling with the punches this whole time, like how she deals with the dangerous doldrums at sea.
still, she lies down as instructed, her shirt hiked up to her waist and revealing her plain cotton panties. nothing too exciting there. but perhaps the one thing she has over most people here are her freckles -- from her inner thighs to her chest and shoulders that are usually heavily covered with clothing, with a smattering of moles on her stomach and on various locations on her skin like dark paint splattered onto canvas. the faint scars that criss-cross over her body are hard to miss as well, but every person in the City would have had their shares of those. it's nothing special.
this is nothing special, ishmael insists. yet her heartbeat picks ups as heathcliff makes quick work of her shirt, looking pointedly away when he finally unbuttons the last one and his eyes focus in on her nakedness. she's exposed her chest a couple of times during those stupid card games previously, but this is the first time anyone's seen her in her panties, and it's... a little daunting, not gonna lie. ]
Don't tell me you're just going to stare at my crotch all day.
[ yet she's going to give him a better look by putting both her ankles on his shoulders, as a way to entice him. if he wishes to check, she... isn't wet yet, but how can she when they're starting this off so awkwardly............. ]
[ Meanwhile, Heathcliff is slowly melting down. The freckles, the moles, the space between her thighs, the way her muscles disappear under panties... The legs on his shoulders are completely unnecessary at this point, and he shifts his way right through them to settle himself on top of Ishmael, his crotch pressed to her ass, where she can certainly feel his cock swelling hard through two thin layers of cotton. Fuck, that's good. He rolls his hips. That's good too. Less thinking, more doing.
Heathcliff's flushed at this point, but the way he pins her down, one hand pulling her hair out of the way and the other grabbing her jaw, is far from embarrassed. He has the frustration of a man trying to keep this particular bus together long enough for both of them to figure out if they even enjoy this. ]
Do you ever think, with that gigantic brain of yours, that there may be things that are much better when you shut the fuck up?
[ He wasn't planning on following up with a kiss, but her face is right there, and they're very close, and the heat between her legs feels so good, and it's a productive way of keeping her mouth busy. Even she would probably admit that if Heathcliff's mouth wasn't in the way.
Is it the greatest kiss in the world? Hell no. But Heathcliff continues to grind against Ishmael, grunting a little through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, really far too busy feeling out what he likes about Ishmael's body to notice that he's just pressing his lips to hers without any real pressure. It might actually be better than trying too hard, though. It leaves his mouth slack, tasting of coffee, softer than Heathcliff is used to being, and the lack of attention placed on doing anything right gives him an opportunity to do whatever feels best in the moment.
Which was the point of getting started in the way he did, of course. He's better at performing when there's less thinking to do, and he knows it. Sex is one of the least cerebral pursuits known to man. He knows he's got this as long as Ishmael doesn't distract him with logistics and communication... Which, you know, will happen eventually, but he figures she'll do it whether he likes it or not. Better to get his kicks in now before she turns the tables on him. ]
[ if heathcliff's all flushed then ishmael is even more so, with the way her blush blossoms across her chest as if to give more emphasis to her freckles there. she's trying to sound casual for her own sake and his, in some paltry attempt to make this less embarrassing that it already is, but the way his hips rut up against hers gets her to gasp as sparks travel up her spine. it's only now that she realizes how small she is compared to him, and it's... comforting somehow. he's no queequeg, and he's never going to replace her in ishmael's heart, but it's enough for ishmael to put up with him in this awkward foreplay.
still, her brows are furrowed when he forces her to face him, and she does have one more witty comeback up her sleeve only to be silenced with his mouth on hers. she groans and grunts with every rut of his clothed cock, her legs falling off his shoulders and landing on either side of him to provide him better access between her legs. the friction is dizzying, enough to get her worked up down there, but he's not even trying on the mouth department at all, is he? like he's never been kissed before.
...
it's not that she pities him at all, but she may as well show him how to do it while they're still here. she picks up the slack by licking into his mouth, tasting coffee and bread on his tongue and teeth, her hand coming up to pinch his chin the same way he just did with hers. she's no expert in kissing either, but unlike the couple of times she's forced to make out with people during those games, this time she's going to take her sweet time with him. assess what he wants to do, spreading her legs out wider the more insistent his thrusts become, and even shifting beneath him so that he's outright grinding against her hardening clit. it's hard to stay rational during sex, but she's going to stubbornly hang on to it anyway -- at least until she can't take it anymore, which won't be very long anyway. heathcliff just has that effect on her, for better or for worse. ]
H-Heath... [ she pants against his lips, lowkey cringing at how pathetic she sounded just now. ] Just-- Just take it off already...
[ take off what? that's for him to decide. shouldn't take a genius to figure that out, with how soaked her underwear's become. ]
[ He feels her get wet against the damp of his own underwear. He's surprised by the kiss, actually jerks back, but slowly eases back down as he realizes that she isn't trying to get his face away. He tries mirroring what he does; he may not be a brainiac, but he can follow a lead when he sees one. He closes his eyes. It feels... Weird. Warm. Ishmael makes a small sound, and it sends thrills all the way down to his cock. He supposes that means it's a good kiss. ]
Why... the fuck... didn't you drop 'em... before you got so bloody close?
[ Heathcliff huffs, face flushed and cock hard, but he lifts her hips with both hands, then pulls her panties down before he can get in his head about it. He only realizes how hard he's breathing when his head starts spinning. The wet of her panties left a small, glistening smudge on the inside of her thigh. ]
Fuck. All right.
[ Suddenly, trying to keep from coming seems like insanity. He leans over her, gets his own underwear down and over his feet, then immediately tossed away and forgotten. Her skin against his cock feels... probably a better word than fine, but Heathcliff can't think of it. Thinking of bigger words to use is Faust's job. Yi Sang, if you want puns.
Those thoughts flow in and out of his head with no real beginning or end. He hikes up Ishmael's hips again, discovers it's easier to angle himself in the right place when her hips are higher, yanks a pillow to stick it under her ass. Okay. Learning a lot. Fuck. ]
You... need to tell me. Where it goes.
[ Heathcliff looks furious about this because he is. He doesn't know which part is which, or what goes where, and a lack of knowledge keeping him from what he wants makes him want to tear his hair out when what he wants is right there. And that's not even touching the fact that he has to admit this to Ishmael, of all people... but what else can he do? There's no one else to ask. She's the expert, here. ]
[ because! she wanted you to take them off for her!! you idiot!!! but there's no point yelling at him about then when he's already doing it anyway. their little makeout sesh did get her a bit wet, but that is hardly enough to get her going, and heathcliff knows it.
or... does he? he's conscientious enough to tuck a pillow underneath her for better leverage, but that's all he knows, apparently. the conflicted emotions that show on his face aren't really the ones she should be seeing to get herself turned on for this, nor does his words inspire some confidence at all, but she doesn't laugh. at all. if she does, he might either flounce and leave her hanging, or just straight-up kill her in sheer humiliation. she would know. she could've done the same thing if she knew nothing about all this.
instead, she takes in a deep breath, and exhales as she takes his hand in her gentle hold and brings it between her legs. ]
...Here. [ hold on, she's going to sit up for this for a better look. she readjust his hand, circling his calloused finger around her wet slit. ] You have to tease me first. Stimulate me until I get wet enough.
[ she then carefully slides his finger inside her, drawing out a soft gasp from her alone. it's odd, though, the more she thinks about it. nelly would've at least given her some basic sex education, but then again heathcliff is probably a visual learner, huh........ ]
You can also touch other places. Like here. [ she takes his other hand with her free one, places it right on her breast. hold it please, ty. ] Just don't... don't think about it too much. Go by your instinct. That's what you're good at, right?
[ that should be enough for him to take the hint, she thinks. if this doesn't make him ravage her in bed with sheer animal instinct, nothing will. ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
for now...
Huh. Funny. I don't see your name on it.
[ tbf this might really be heathcliff's room and she just didn't know, but she's not about to let him have the satisfaction of being right anytime soon. ]
The last thing I want for us is to split up in such unfamiliar territory. We have to figure out what's going on here first. [ still on top of him, she reaches over to the bedside table to grab some toast. ] Hungry?
🫢
[ But Heathcliff can't be stupid forever, and as his eyes watch her reach to an unfamiliar bedside table, in an unfamiliar room, with a very unfamiliar piece of toast, he gets the sinking feeling that Ishmael, once again, might be right.
He turns his head, winces — all right, maybe the liquor wasn't a dream — and pushes the toast away grumpily and twists around a little, looking at the room. ]
... We ain't on the bus. Where are we?
[ ... Wait. Was the horny casino not a dream? ]
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[ for one, it's not storming outside, reflecting both of their respective inner turmoils. it's bright and sunny. one might even hear birds outside if they're delulu enough. but no, they're both not delulu enough for any of this. ]
That's what I'm trying to figure out. Unless we're somehow in a District where sex and erotica is what fuels their Singularity, we're all but fucked either way. Like, literally. [ finally, she slides herself off heathcliff and reaches for a mug of coffee with her free hand. ] Here. You really need to wake yourself up for this.
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You know what, scratch that last thought. Wings no. Never mind.
He sits up and grabs the coffee out of her hand, sipping and wincing as it hits his tongue too fast. Hot. He swallows anyway. ]
Ugh. Fine. Shit. Oi, honor student, fancy giving the class dunce a recap?
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although, all of this is weird, tbf. so why not do as the romans do? (ignore the fact that she doesn't know what romans are). ]
Honestly, I'm probably as clueless as you are. So don't sell yourself short, Heathcliff. [ munch. ] Let's tackle this one at a time. What's the last thing you remembered before waking up in this world?
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... Wait, there was a question, wasn't there? He walks back and is silently grateful that it was relatively straightforward. ]
Simple. I was in my room on the bus, sleepin'. Or about to sleep. We just got back from the Railway, I was right knackered.
[ ... A deeper frown. ]
What? You remember something different?
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[ munches impatiently on her piece of toast. no seriously, wtf. she's going to need more than that to determine where they are and how they stand with each other? as much as she doesn't mind bickering with heathcliff until the dawn rises, she's gonna want to get some shit out of the way first before doing just that. ]
Gonna give me more details than that. What was the last significant thing you remember in the City before retiring for the night and waking up here? For example, mine was...
[ hmm. ]
We acquired the most recent Golden Bough. In P Corp. Does that ring a bell? [ me trying to keep it vague until you get to don's chapter 🥺 ]
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[ Heathcliff gives Ishmael a funny look. This is all backwards and forwards... ]
You feelin' all right? We ain't been outside T. corp in a minute. We're lucky to be anywhere near leavin' with our bus, what with that debt them loonies tried to saddle us with.
[ Did the stay in their mercifully air-conditioned holding cell make Ishmael snap or what...? Can't be too different from being cooped up on a ship for months, can it? ]
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...Okay, then. T Corp. Fuck, that place was a shithole.
[ even worse than the mystery resort they've now found themselves at. ]
Anyway, I'd inquired around the long-term guest of this resort, and they'd mentioned playing a certain card game by having sex with people. If you win the game by having enough sex with people, it might be our ticket out of here.
[ emphasis on might. ]
That's all I got for now. Anything on your end? Please tell me you didn't steal shit here too. [ wow ]
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For the last time, I needed to look smart when I went back. I ain't about to pinch whatever I can get my hands on for no reason, I ain't that daft...
[ Heathcliff grimaces, then finishes the coffee in one spiteful gulp, then puts it to the side. ]
I wasn't payin' much mind, that's for sure. Figured I was dreaming, got right plastered, and that was about the end of it.
[ Instead of getting anywhere near the sex part of their situation because it's insane, he scowls, reaches out, and swats one of her sidebangs. ]
Ain't all to report for you, though. What's happened to that hairband of yours, eh? Stolen? Gambled away?
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[ hehe. guess who doesn't remember jack shit about █████████ at all. though to be fair, heathcliff just hasn't gotten to [REDACTED] yet after t corp, but they would've been even in this case if they both knew what they missed out on :)
anyway! she mirrors his grimace when he mentions her headband, and she grabs his wrist with an iron grip. ]
That's also what I wanted to know. But apparently the house has taken it away for further incentive that I play their games. [ she swallows. the hand around his wrist slightly trembles despite her cold expression. ] I have to get it back, no matter what.
[ it's the only thing she has left of her, after all. ]
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[ No amount of arguing was going to make anyone remember anything, Dante excluded, and as rockheaded as Heathcliff can be, he knows how to put down a fight that he's done with.
Heathcliff stares at her for a second, scowling. ]
If it's a choice between finding whatever the hell's keeping this Singularity propped and your headband, I ain't makin' promises. But if we're stuck here anyhow...
[ ... A long suffering sigh. His arm goes limp in Ishmael's grip in surrender. ]
Well? Out with it, then. How do we get it back? Is that a sex thing too?
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Looks like it. I might need chips to get it back -- it's the currency they use in this world. And every time you have sex with someone, you get paid a small amount.
[ she falls silent, her bangs covering her eyes. then, with another long-suffering sigh: ]
Listen. I know we've got our... differences [ biggest understatement of the fucking century ] so we don't have to fuck if you don't want to. I'll just go find someone else to do it with.
[ should be easy enough... hopefully. the only problem is that she knows nobody here other than heath, but maybe that's a good thing. no need to get any more attached beyond sex, and all.
and maybe, even now, ishmael still thinks he's too tenderhearted for a place like this. this is for her own good, and for his as well. totally. ]
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(Heathcliff, for his part, has his boxer briefs on, but isn't wearing a shirt. Holy scarred up tits ahoy.) ]
I'll be honest, I was thinkin' about us buggerin' other people...
[ But that's mostly because, until just now, he wasn't living in a world where Ishmael would ever consider fucking him. Why should she? He's just Heathcliff, world-class failure. ]
... You? With me? Why? Ain't you, like...
[ He makes kind of a vague gesture with his arm, still looking stubbornly at the ceiling. Well, he saw Queequeg. A strapping woman about the size of Mephistopheles, sure, but he's Not Queequeg. Not by a mile.
... He risks a look out the corner of his eye at Ishmael. Sunrise, huh. He can see that. Not that he has many sunrises to compare it to — the Heights did indeed Wuther — but it seems. Soft. Like sunrises ought to be. ]
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which isn't really false. ishmael won't be able to forget queequeg anytime soon, even with the loss of her headband. after all, her own hair is enough to serve as a reminder of what she should be doing right now instead of feeling sorry for herself like heathcliff here. doesn't help the fact that heath is almost as built as queequeg and have half as much scars as she did, but...
she puts her mug of coffee back on the table, and just... nudges his shoulder with hers, like she's helping him snap out of his melancholy somehow. ]
Aren't I what? Out with it. This isn't like you, Heathcliff. It's just me.
[ just ishmael, the woman who he can't help but raise his voice and fists at in every opportunity. he shouldn't let their state of undress stop him from doing just that. ]
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Come off it, woman. You ain't. I ain't. Blimey. I ain't your first choice in all of this, is all. 'S obvious, innit?
[ Although if Heathcliff had to ask the same question of himself, which one of my coworkers would I recreationally fuck given a relatively high stakes situation, Heathcliff would be hard pressed to come up with an answer himself. He's attached to his coworkers, sure, but when half of them would kill you as soon as look at you and the others are frankly off, it becomes less of a matter of taste and more of survival. Rodya would be the most pleasant about it, maybe, but even she comes with her risks. ]
Imagine if I, what? Tossed you down right now. Tell me that you wouldn't knock my block clean off my shoulders. I ain't bothered about it, it's just what you do.
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[ ugh. how would she put this without coming off as a total softie. she wishes she drank alcohol instead of coffee just now. ]
I did say that we're better off having sex with total strangers if we're to survive here, but honestly? I'm not comfortable with the idea from the get-go. We both came from a world where shit like that is only talked about behind closed doors, and now this place expects us to normalize that? It's insane.
I'll have to commit to it at some point, if I want to get out of here or at least get my headband back. But... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want my first time in this place to be with someone I know jack shit about.
[ her hand hovers over heathcliff's wrists, debating if she should hold it or not. not gonna lie, she did kind of like the idea of heathcliff tossing her onto this soft bed without the expectation of rage-induced murder. she did like the feeling of his weight on her. but while she's always been known as someone who often speaks her mind, she's utterly speechless when it comes to this.
but fuck it, she's going to wrap her hand around heath's wrist for reassurance. ]
If anything, you're the only one around here who knows me best. [ she admits quietly. from this angle, she hopes he doesn't see her face slowly going red with every word. ] And you know it, don't you?
[ sometimes the person who knows you the most is the worst guy ever. which sure says a lot about her, doesn't it? ]
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So no, Heathcliff doesn't twist his arm out of Ishmael's grip. At some point, it suddenly struck him that these people are his home now, and he doesn't leave family behind. Not usually, anyway. ]
Wish I didn't know half the shite I know about you. Never had much choice, though. Neither of us.
[ He does catch Ishmael's ear growing pink from this angle, briefly wonders if he should point it out, then remembers that Dante isn't here to put his head back on if she rips it off. Heathcliff then wonders who should make the first move. He is... embarrassed. Mortified. He stands outside the metaphorical chamber door.
Daft animal. You didn't make the first move last time, and neither did she. Look at where that landed the both of you. Nothing to show for it. Not even her memory. ]
Well. Time's awastin'.
[ He takes another slice of toast from the plate, folds it, and shoves half of it into his mouth. He isn't all that hung over, but at the very least, he needs his stomach stable for this. While still chewing, he readjusts, slipping around until they're facing each other more than they are sitting side by side. He doesn't move away, though. They're going to have to be close for this anyway, right?
Heathcliff grabs the now slightly less scalding cup of coffee and washes the toast down. ]
Lemme finish this and we'll get started.
[ And he shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth like the goddamn creature he is. His cheek is bulging out a bit, he's got crumbs on his face. Once again: the worst guy Ishmael knows. Once again: Sorry. ]
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but they're human, so they can't help but get attached to people anyway whether they like it or not. ishmael may acknowledge that she and heathcliff have had some differences, but she cannot deny the fact that he's her only friend left in this unfamiliar sea of strangers. and she'll hold on to that familiarity while everything else continues out to spiral out of their control.
she watches him continue to chow down, wondering if he's stalling for time. she gets it, though. she can't imagine herself to be the most exciting partner to have in bed either. heathcliff would've wanted to choose someone else in the bus if the others were here, and vice versa. yet she pulls herself up to her knees on the bed and reaches an uncharacteristically gentle hand out to wipe the crumbs from the corners of heathcliff's mouth anyway. ]
I may as well get this out of the way now before we embarrass ourselves. Have you ever had sex before?
[ damn
but before he smacks her for asking that, she presses onward. ]
'cause don't expect me to know all these things either.
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At some level, though, Heathcliff's already caught that he picks on Ishmael because they're the same person in different circumstances. Identities in the same mirror world. He hopes she can change for the bat's chance in hell that people do change, that he does change, that it doesn't always take a clock ticking to help him find his way. Sometimes it's a revised message on a bat. Sometimes it's a hand on the snout of an abandoned hound. Sometimes it's ripping a hole into gross white whale gristle to pull out the pisshead wanker inside. ]
Tosser. No, I don't know what to do either. I just know what I like, and so on.
[ Heathcliff gives her kind of a flat look when she wipes his face — he isn't a child, she isn't Nelly — but holds still until she's done, sipping the rest of the coffee down and brushing off his hands over the tray. Good, full stomach. Head's not too bad. Could be better, but could be much, much worse. ]
Lay down.
[ He nudges her back with a hand to reinforce the command, and he'll move back to make room for her if she does. Regardless of whether she does or not, he'll reach out for the bottom of her shirt and begin unbuttoning it, aiming to see stomach skin. He has to confirm a few things, and he's a hands on sort of guy. The only way to find out is through direct confirmation.
(The panties are good, though. Are those freckles on her thighs? He's looking. He's very focused.) ]
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still, she lies down as instructed, her shirt hiked up to her waist and revealing her plain cotton panties. nothing too exciting there. but perhaps the one thing she has over most people here are her freckles -- from her inner thighs to her chest and shoulders that are usually heavily covered with clothing, with a smattering of moles on her stomach and on various locations on her skin like dark paint splattered onto canvas. the faint scars that criss-cross over her body are hard to miss as well, but every person in the City would have had their shares of those. it's nothing special.
this is nothing special, ishmael insists. yet her heartbeat picks ups as heathcliff makes quick work of her shirt, looking pointedly away when he finally unbuttons the last one and his eyes focus in on her nakedness. she's exposed her chest a couple of times during those stupid card games previously, but this is the first time anyone's seen her in her panties, and it's... a little daunting, not gonna lie. ]
Don't tell me you're just going to stare at my crotch all day.
[ yet she's going to give him a better look by putting both her ankles on his shoulders, as a way to entice him. if he wishes to check, she... isn't wet yet, but how can she when they're starting this off so awkwardly............. ]
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Heathcliff's flushed at this point, but the way he pins her down, one hand pulling her hair out of the way and the other grabbing her jaw, is far from embarrassed. He has the frustration of a man trying to keep this particular bus together long enough for both of them to figure out if they even enjoy this. ]
Do you ever think, with that gigantic brain of yours, that there may be things that are much better when you shut the fuck up?
[ He wasn't planning on following up with a kiss, but her face is right there, and they're very close, and the heat between her legs feels so good, and it's a productive way of keeping her mouth busy. Even she would probably admit that if Heathcliff's mouth wasn't in the way.
Is it the greatest kiss in the world? Hell no. But Heathcliff continues to grind against Ishmael, grunting a little through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, really far too busy feeling out what he likes about Ishmael's body to notice that he's just pressing his lips to hers without any real pressure. It might actually be better than trying too hard, though. It leaves his mouth slack, tasting of coffee, softer than Heathcliff is used to being, and the lack of attention placed on doing anything right gives him an opportunity to do whatever feels best in the moment.
Which was the point of getting started in the way he did, of course. He's better at performing when there's less thinking to do, and he knows it. Sex is one of the least cerebral pursuits known to man. He knows he's got this as long as Ishmael doesn't distract him with logistics and communication... Which, you know, will happen eventually, but he figures she'll do it whether he likes it or not. Better to get his kicks in now before she turns the tables on him. ]
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still, her brows are furrowed when he forces her to face him, and she does have one more witty comeback up her sleeve only to be silenced with his mouth on hers. she groans and grunts with every rut of his clothed cock, her legs falling off his shoulders and landing on either side of him to provide him better access between her legs. the friction is dizzying, enough to get her worked up down there, but he's not even trying on the mouth department at all, is he? like he's never been kissed before.
...
it's not that she pities him at all, but she may as well show him how to do it while they're still here. she picks up the slack by licking into his mouth, tasting coffee and bread on his tongue and teeth, her hand coming up to pinch his chin the same way he just did with hers. she's no expert in kissing either, but unlike the couple of times she's forced to make out with people during those games, this time she's going to take her sweet time with him. assess what he wants to do, spreading her legs out wider the more insistent his thrusts become, and even shifting beneath him so that he's outright grinding against her hardening clit. it's hard to stay rational during sex, but she's going to stubbornly hang on to it anyway -- at least until she can't take it anymore, which won't be very long anyway. heathcliff just has that effect on her, for better or for worse. ]
H-Heath... [ she pants against his lips, lowkey cringing at how pathetic she sounded just now. ] Just-- Just take it off already...
[ take off what? that's for him to decide. shouldn't take a genius to figure that out, with how soaked her underwear's become. ]
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Why... the fuck... didn't you drop 'em... before you got so bloody close?
[ Heathcliff huffs, face flushed and cock hard, but he lifts her hips with both hands, then pulls her panties down before he can get in his head about it. He only realizes how hard he's breathing when his head starts spinning. The wet of her panties left a small, glistening smudge on the inside of her thigh. ]
Fuck. All right.
[ Suddenly, trying to keep from coming seems like insanity. He leans over her, gets his own underwear down and over his feet, then immediately tossed away and forgotten. Her skin against his cock feels... probably a better word than fine, but Heathcliff can't think of it. Thinking of bigger words to use is Faust's job. Yi Sang, if you want puns.
Those thoughts flow in and out of his head with no real beginning or end. He hikes up Ishmael's hips again, discovers it's easier to angle himself in the right place when her hips are higher, yanks a pillow to stick it under her ass. Okay. Learning a lot. Fuck. ]
You... need to tell me. Where it goes.
[ Heathcliff looks furious about this because he is. He doesn't know which part is which, or what goes where, and a lack of knowledge keeping him from what he wants makes him want to tear his hair out when what he wants is right there. And that's not even touching the fact that he has to admit this to Ishmael, of all people... but what else can he do? There's no one else to ask. She's the expert, here. ]
Don't fucking laugh. Don't you fucking laugh.
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or... does he? he's conscientious enough to tuck a pillow underneath her for better leverage, but that's all he knows, apparently. the conflicted emotions that show on his face aren't really the ones she should be seeing to get herself turned on for this, nor does his words inspire some confidence at all, but she doesn't laugh. at all. if she does, he might either flounce and leave her hanging, or just straight-up kill her in sheer humiliation. she would know. she could've done the same thing if she knew nothing about all this.
instead, she takes in a deep breath, and exhales as she takes his hand in her gentle hold and brings it between her legs. ]
...Here. [ hold on, she's going to sit up for this for a better look. she readjust his hand, circling his calloused finger around her wet slit. ] You have to tease me first. Stimulate me until I get wet enough.
[ she then carefully slides his finger inside her, drawing out a soft gasp from her alone. it's odd, though, the more she thinks about it. nelly would've at least given her some basic sex education, but then again heathcliff is probably a visual learner, huh........ ]
You can also touch other places. Like here. [ she takes his other hand with her free one, places it right on her breast. hold it please, ty. ] Just don't... don't think about it too much. Go by your instinct. That's what you're good at, right?
[ that should be enough for him to take the hint, she thinks. if this doesn't make him ravage her in bed with sheer animal instinct, nothing will. ]
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