【 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.
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?
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?