【 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.
[ Cuddle. The guy who looks like he could probably suplex a truck likes to cuddle. Fuuta bites his lip and for once resists the urge to make a snippy comment, instead wearily dragging his hand down his face. ]
H ... hickeys? Uh -- [ And only now, he thinks to look down at himself. Pro: he is still dressed! His clothes are on, both shirt and pants. (Who knows where his suit jacket's gone.) Con: his clothes are a mess, shirt buttons misaligned and the front of his pants undone. Sex cannot be ruled out.
Fuuta gives a mortified squawk before hurrying to try and fix his clothes, the flush in his cheeks deepening. He is not going to be checking for hickeys, thank you very much? Especially since he actually has a better idea. ]
No -- look. The Watches. They record everyone you do it with, right? So we just gotta check that -- see if it's registered anything. [ Still blinking dizzy swirls out of his eye, Fuuta pops the remaining painkillers in his mouth, swallows, and clears his throat before looking to his Watch, already starting to flick through menus and options. ] What's your rank.
[ This is a fidgety little guy, isn’t he? Beowulf can’t help but slowly lift his broad eyebrows as Fuuta readjusts himself. It’s really fine; he doesn’t seem concerned either way. He’s in a little less clothes: just an undershirt and a pair of striped boxer briefs, but that’s just how it is when you wake up in a casino after a party.
He looks locked in. Like he completely understands what Fuuta is saying (he does not.) There’s even a long pause before he actually gets to it and looks at the watch. This is a fancy thing though, isn’t it? Pretty high tech to him since he’s from the 1940’s. He taps at it idly to try and figure it all out. ]
— Wait, you’re saying this thing has a record of who has been getting down and dirty with me?
[ That’s kind of invasive? Yet despite his response, he’s into it. ]
You know, the media has been chasing me for years trying to get the skinny on who I’ve been boning. Kinda crazy this little thing has it all right here if what you’re saying is right.
[ ok but he’s not answering the question because how do you get out of locked screen mode.. help.. ]
Normally, Fuuta would be a lot more demanding about this, snipping about how none of that answers his question. But for one thing, his head's still killing him and he doesn't even really want to hear his own shouting echoing in his ears, and also -- there's something more important to address first, probably. ]
Are you new here. [ Since he doesn't seem to know much about his Watch. ] Yeah the Watch records all that stuff, but it's only the stuff that happens here. Not anything to do with where you're from, so the media --
[ Hold up. ]
Wait. Are you someone famous.
[ Did he potentially sleep with someone famous. That just feels like it could potentially be a headache, somehow. ]
[ He's nowhere near brave enough to actually punch a guy who looks like he could snap him in half, but Fuuta does bristle like a cat that's gotten spritzed with a water bottle, cheeks pinking from the embarrassment of feeling like he's asked a stupid question. ]
Yeah I'm being fucking serious! Why the hell should I know you, huh?! You think you're such a bigshot just cause you're, what, some gymbro influencer with a few thousand followers on Onstagram or something? Get real!
[ Yes, rationally, he knows that this guy's probably not actually that, but it was just the first thing that came to his little internet-pilled mind ................... ]
[ It doesn’t offend Beowulf— and maybe he does actually think he’s kind of cute for not knowing. As for him, he’s from an era before social media or even the internet was a thing, so again, yeah, he’s not following anything Fuuta is talking about. ]
I’m the best of the best in the wrestling ring, baby! The undefeated Beowulf! Ringing any bells?
[ He knows that somewhere, out there, there exist people that are out of touch with the wrestling scene, but his incident with Grendel definitely made the papers if nothing else.. even if it wasn’t something he is proud of. It hasn’t even occurred to him that he’s possibly on another plane of existence altogether because that requires more than one brain cell, which he doesn’t have. ]
If we did a little dirty tango last night with each other, it’s definitely something you should be bragging about!
I don't watch wrestling. That stuff's all fake. If I wanna watch sports I'll watch something real, where people actually compete.
[ And then, without giving poor Beowulf a chance to combat that incredibly dismissive statement, he bulldozes on. ]
-- and even if I did, people here come from all sorts of places, you know. Even people who say they come from the same country might be coming from different versions of the same country -- like, one has superpowers and the other doesn't. Stuff like that. Even if I watched wrestling back home, it might've all been different people than anyone you know. So no, I've never heard about you.
[ Pause. And then, just because it feels important for him to clarify: ]
And I wouldn't have bragged, even if I knew you, and even if we did anything! I ain't into that sort of trashy gossip. You're supposed to keep that stuff private to yourself. What kind of person do you think I am?!
[ Oh, -1hp, -1hp, -1hp. He just keeps going! And before Beowulf can't interject and explain that not all of it is fake, Fuuta keeps going and.. he's getting lost again. He thinks he understands and gets it, but it's something for him to stow away for another day. What is more important is this guy seems really pissed off now, and, despite his humongous size, Beowulf has a gentler approach. Maybe in another scenario he would have argued and defended his career, but he's concerned more about the fact that Fuuta seems insulted. ]
Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. That's, well.. I guess that's just not how I see it. I wasn't trying to make an assumption about ya or anything. Nothing wrong about being private about it. In fact, I won't bring it up again!
[ He leans forward slightly, trying to read Fuuta. ]
That better? It's my first night here.. wouldn't want somebody already mad at me, you know.
[ For all his bristling and yapping, at least Fuuta's aggression burns out fast. It doesn't hurt, either, that Beowulf tries to assuage him instead of snapping back at him; anything that he can construe as a 'win' is enough to cool his temper.
Though he'd briefly sat forward, shoulders raised and posture tensed like a bristling cat, Fuuta relaxes a smidge as soon as he hears those gentle words. And when Beowulf leans in, he leans back warily, eyes narrowed. After another moment of cautious staring, he gives a soft 'hmph' and looks away. ]
... I'm not mad. It's just annoying when people make assumptions about me. [ The bed creaks when he crawls over to blearily poke through the remainders of the hangover kit and breakfast trays. -- ugh, the sex toy (a bright pink knobbly dildo) gets tossed side, and Fuuta squints at the other boxes of pills. ] S'not like I'm unreasonable or anything. ... I get how confusing it is ending up here. It sucks.
[ A pause as he glances over the ravaged remains of the breakfast trays, then looks back to Beowulf. ]
[ It doesn't cross his mind that he's dealing with a textbook tsundere here and sputtering and bristling is part of their love language. If Fuuta says he isn't mad, then he isn't mad, which means he isn't annoyed either. Everything is peachy keen here in Wulftown, so he's not gonna worry about it; the simplest of all creatures.
He does slap on his knees and return to a standing position, heading over to where the instant coffee is. ]
I've got it for ya, bro, just sit tight.
[ And while it's brewing, he's gonna mess with the watch again, and finally he figures it out. ]
... Says here I'm a wildcard, and hell yeah, I am! How'd they know that? Did we get kidnapped by some gods or something? That's hot. [ what does it mean when he calls himself a wildcard, the world may never know.. ]
[ ... is this guy genuinely relieved that he's not mad at him? It's not often that people take his anger seriously, and while it's not like he would have done anything just 'cause he was mad, it still placates him a little, to know he's not being looked down on.
Hmph. It's just that this guy seems like one of those types that's hard to get mad at. It doesn't mean anything deeper than that. ]
A wildcard, huh. So you really are brand new, then. You'll probably get a rank later, then. But for now ... [ Sure enough, a scroll through his Watch gives no hints as to what happened last night. ] ... yeah, I still can't tell if we did anything.
[ And just as he's about to try and raise some suggestions of how else's they can solve the mystery, he finally finishes processing what his not-bang-partner said. ]
-- wait. You think we got kidnapped by gods? And you think that's hot? Are you serious? Why d'you sound so calm about that. Don't tell me this is part of your wrestling backstory or something.
Maaaan, I'm telling ya. Check your body for hickeys. I'm a biter. ♡
[ The coffee is finished brewing, and it's enticing scent fills the air. He delivers the drink to Fuuta and even provides little packets of cream and sugar. He doesn't know how this guy likes his coffee and he doesn't seem too interested in figuring it out. ]
Look, bro, I'm not religious, but a bunch of folks back home are, and all the imagery of the gods-- goddesses they worship-- they're hot women. If they exist and they're responsible for all of this, I'm okay with it.
[ He's not even going to dignify that with a response, because he's a no-fun-allowed dour little hater. Sorry Beowulf, you deserve better than the withering stare Fuuta just directs at him before deadpanning: ]
Actually I don't care. Never mind.
[ Then he shuffles to sit up, starting to turn around on the bed. ]
I'm gonna check for -- ... [ hickies ] -- if there's anything, so stay there for a second.
[ Yes, he knows it's kind of prissy for a guy to be self-conscious about being seen shirtless, but he has his reasons, okay. Fuuta sighs as he starts undoing the topmost few buttons of his shirt to peek down under the fabric. ]
We'll see about that! Give it time. I'll warm up to you soon enough.
[ He hears that Fuuta has told him to stay there, but he's awfully curious. It doesn't seem fair that Fuuta is keeping some little secret (?) from him. He does introduce himself, which is weird because typically he has no introduction. ]
My name is Beowulf, undefeated wrestling champion! AROO!
[ yeah, we know that already.... but now curiosity has gotten the most of him and the weight on the bed shifts as Beowulf joins behind Fuuta to try and peek. Sure enough, Fuuta has several markings along his chest and collarbone. ]
[ Oh, yup, those sure do look like some hickies along his collarbone.
Fuuta can't help giving a weary groan at the sight of them, because ... really? Did he really have sex and then completely forget about it? Granted, he's sure he was drunk, but even so. Even if this place is starting to mess with his head after a year, isn't that kinda -- crass? Sure, it's 'just sex,' but to have zero memory of it still feels kinda messed up ...
And distracted by those thoughts, Fuuta's a second late to respond to realize the bed's jostling because Beowulf is peeking over his shoulder. In an instant he whips around and scrambles back an armslength, hurriedly pulling his shirt's top closed once more with his face red, looking very much like a shy maiden trying to hide her bosom. ]
Wh -- I told you to stay there!
[ In truth, though, it's less that he's trying to hide his chest (scrawny, nothing to see anyway), and more ... what's on his skin there. Because Beowulf might have caught a glimpse of some severe bruises discoloring his skin a bit lower down, splashed over his sternum and extending beneath his shirt.
Fuuta, of course, tries to pretend nothing's amiss, just giving a huffy grumble as he does the buttons of his shirt once more. ]
But yeah, there's h -- marks. So. I guess. Maybe we ... did.
Aw, hell yeah, I'm sure it was great! [ he's so..... dumb.... but apparently he can't recall anything either. ]
I just had this sorta feeling.. maybe it's 'cause you're kinda my type! For a guy-- small and cute. I love it! [ what does that mean... his type.. but it's really hard to tell if he saw anything else besides his familiar love marks. ]
Do people give you a hard time here because of that? [ because of being twinky, he means.. ]
[ Of course all Fuuta can think to do for a hot second is sputter out that indignant squawk. On the one hand, he's glad that Beowulf seems to be paying zero mind to the fact that neither of them(?) remember their little tryst(???) since that's not really any sort of drama he's willing to endure. But on the other -- 'small and cute.' What kind of guy wants to be called 'small and cute'??? E-even if ... it's followed up by that oh-so-casual and seemingly earnest 'I love it.' Who the hell says that???
He's gone red all the way up to his ears in an instant, and the only thing keeping him from barking about how it's fucking rude to call anyone 'small and cute' is the fact that this guy seems so entirely well-meaning that it's hard to be mad. Fuuta instead settles for scuffing a hand over his face to try and quell the thudding in his chest before he grumbles, ]
... I mean ... I guess not. You're not the only one that's called me -- [ ughhh ] -- 'cute.' [ You can practically hear the air quotes around that word. ] But it's not like I want to be short, you know. It's more that you guys are unfairly huge ... though it'd make sense a place like this'd mostly want tall and built and conventionally attractive people, though. Guess you fit the bill in that way.
[ He pauses in his griping to finally tend to the coffee, opening one of the sugar packets to dump in. And before he takes a sip, he does muster the manners to mumble, ] Thanks for the coffee, though.
[ He is not going to dignify any of that advice(???) with a response. Also, he tolerates the hair-ruffling for all of two seconds, and only as thanks for the coffee, before craning his head back and trying to swat Beowulf's arm away with his free hand. ]
Whatever, it's not like I'm gonna try to get taller at this point. I just gotta deal with it. And anyone who gives me shit about it can get bent -- people who judge people just based on that stuff are trash anyway ...
[ He's trying so hard to sound blase about this, but he is very bad at it.
-- at least Beowulf is rewarded for tolerating all this bitching and griping with some (semi-)useful information -- ]
And things are stupid here. It's quiet a lot, and then the resort decides to pull some bullshit, and then it's chaos for a week or so. [ A slurp of coffee as he looks Beowulf over, then adds deadpan: ] You'll probably be fine, though. Going by how you look. [ Pause, as he realize how that might sound and hurries to add, ] I mean. You look strong. There's been monsters and stuff before, so at least that won't be a problem for you, probably. I don't just mean you'll be okay with the sex stuff.
If anyone ever gives you shit about it, just leave it to me. I’ll take care of it.
[ is that a threat.. he sure is pounding one fist into his hand. But wow, what an incredible gullible guy who is easy to take advantage of. This place might actually eat him alive in that regard.
Though, he does perk up at the mention of monsters. ]
How big of monsters are we talking about here?
[ Because on top of being from a world that coincides with monsters, he’s definitely killed them with his bare hands. Not exactly his proudest moment anymore, but it was at the time. ]
You don’t gotta hide it, man. I have plenty of sex appeal and I know it!
Most people wouldn't stay that about themselves, you know! Even if -- I mean, regardless of if it's true or not!
[ Of course he can't let that slide without a snippy retort, but there's no real venom in his delivery. It's hard getting properly at a guy who sounds so earnest, after all. What kind of guy so openly offers to watch out for other people like that? Ugh, he's probably one of those overly friendly, overly trusting idiots.
Fuuta takes another long swig of his coffee then starts picking himself up off the bed. Regardless of if they did anything or not, he can't linger here forever. He looks around for any traces of his lost suit jacket while continuing: ]
Those monsters weren't that big, and I also haven't seen them in a while. But knowing this place, there's probably more dangerous bullshit that'll show up eventually. -- and be careful, alright. Even if you're a good wrestler, those monsters were real monsters.
Whoa, whoa, easy there! What, you think a guy like me can’t fight? Come on, bro, lighten up.
[ He realizes what Fuuta is looking for and also scans the area for the rest of his clothing. ]
Look, man, you can think and feel about wrestling all you want, but that isn’t everything about me, believe it or not. There’s plenty of monsters I deal with everyday back home. I won’t hesitate if any of’em come after me.
[ a beat, and then: ]
OR you, for that matter.
[ He could gloat all he wants in regards to killing Grendel’s mother, but for whatever reason he leaves that achievement out of this conversation. ]
[ Well. Fair point. The guy does look like he could probably rip a car in half with his bare hands; the crawlers from before would probably easy enough for him to fend off even if he's 'just' a wrestler.
It's that, and that easy offer of help that has Fuuta staying his tongue until he finally does find his jacket scrunched up into the base of a large decorative plant. Fuuta sighs as he fetches it, unscrunches it, and slaps the dust off it before folding it over an arm. Then he tromps right up to Beowulf. ]
Show me your Watch.
[ Said as he points at the other's wrist, then holds out his hand, like he's waiting for a dog to do 'paw.' ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
no subject
H ... hickeys? Uh -- [ And only now, he thinks to look down at himself. Pro: he is still dressed! His clothes are on, both shirt and pants. (Who knows where his suit jacket's gone.) Con: his clothes are a mess, shirt buttons misaligned and the front of his pants undone. Sex cannot be ruled out.
Fuuta gives a mortified squawk before hurrying to try and fix his clothes, the flush in his cheeks deepening. He is not going to be checking for hickeys, thank you very much? Especially since he actually has a better idea. ]
No -- look. The Watches. They record everyone you do it with, right? So we just gotta check that -- see if it's registered anything. [ Still blinking dizzy swirls out of his eye, Fuuta pops the remaining painkillers in his mouth, swallows, and clears his throat before looking to his Watch, already starting to flick through menus and options. ] What's your rank.
no subject
He looks locked in. Like he completely understands what Fuuta is saying (he does not.) There’s even a long pause before he actually gets to it and looks at the watch. This is a fancy thing though, isn’t it? Pretty high tech to him since he’s from the 1940’s. He taps at it idly to try and figure it all out. ]
— Wait, you’re saying this thing has a record of who has been getting down and dirty with me?
[ That’s kind of invasive? Yet despite his response, he’s into it. ]
You know, the media has been chasing me for years trying to get the skinny on who I’ve been boning. Kinda crazy this little thing has it all right here if what you’re saying is right.
[ ok but he’s not answering the question because how do you get out of locked screen mode.. help.. ]
no subject
Normally, Fuuta would be a lot more demanding about this, snipping about how none of that answers his question. But for one thing, his head's still killing him and he doesn't even really want to hear his own shouting echoing in his ears, and also -- there's something more important to address first, probably. ]
Are you new here. [ Since he doesn't seem to know much about his Watch. ] Yeah the Watch records all that stuff, but it's only the stuff that happens here. Not anything to do with where you're from, so the media --
[ Hold up. ]
Wait. Are you someone famous.
[ Did he potentially sleep with someone famous. That just feels like it could potentially be a headache, somehow. ]
1/2
[ … … … ]
no subject
[ feel free to punch him, Fuuta 😔 ]
no subject
Yeah I'm being fucking serious! Why the hell should I know you, huh?! You think you're such a bigshot just cause you're, what, some gymbro influencer with a few thousand followers on Onstagram or something? Get real!
[ Yes, rationally, he knows that this guy's probably not actually that, but it was just the first thing that came to his little internet-pilled mind ................... ]
no subject
I’m the best of the best in the wrestling ring, baby! The undefeated Beowulf! Ringing any bells?
[ He knows that somewhere, out there, there exist people that are out of touch with the wrestling scene, but his incident with Grendel definitely made the papers if nothing else.. even if it wasn’t something he is proud of. It hasn’t even occurred to him that he’s possibly on another plane of existence altogether because that requires more than one brain cell, which he doesn’t have. ]
If we did a little dirty tango last night with each other, it’s definitely something you should be bragging about!
no subject
I don't watch wrestling. That stuff's all fake. If I wanna watch sports I'll watch something real, where people actually compete.
[ And then, without giving poor Beowulf a chance to combat that incredibly dismissive statement, he bulldozes on. ]
-- and even if I did, people here come from all sorts of places, you know. Even people who say they come from the same country might be coming from different versions of the same country -- like, one has superpowers and the other doesn't. Stuff like that. Even if I watched wrestling back home, it might've all been different people than anyone you know. So no, I've never heard about you.
[ Pause. And then, just because it feels important for him to clarify: ]
And I wouldn't have bragged, even if I knew you, and even if we did anything! I ain't into that sort of trashy gossip. You're supposed to keep that stuff private to yourself. What kind of person do you think I am?!
no subject
Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. That's, well.. I guess that's just not how I see it. I wasn't trying to make an assumption about ya or anything. Nothing wrong about being private about it. In fact, I won't bring it up again!
[ He leans forward slightly, trying to read Fuuta. ]
That better? It's my first night here.. wouldn't want somebody already mad at me, you know.
no subject
Though he'd briefly sat forward, shoulders raised and posture tensed like a bristling cat, Fuuta relaxes a smidge as soon as he hears those gentle words. And when Beowulf leans in, he leans back warily, eyes narrowed. After another moment of cautious staring, he gives a soft 'hmph' and looks away. ]
... I'm not mad. It's just annoying when people make assumptions about me. [ The bed creaks when he crawls over to blearily poke through the remainders of the hangover kit and breakfast trays. -- ugh, the sex toy (a bright pink knobbly dildo) gets tossed side, and Fuuta squints at the other boxes of pills. ] S'not like I'm unreasonable or anything. ... I get how confusing it is ending up here. It sucks.
[ A pause as he glances over the ravaged remains of the breakfast trays, then looks back to Beowulf. ]
Did you already finish the coffee?
no subject
[ It doesn't cross his mind that he's dealing with a textbook tsundere here and sputtering and bristling is part of their love language. If Fuuta says he isn't mad, then he isn't mad, which means he isn't annoyed either. Everything is peachy keen here in Wulftown, so he's not gonna worry about it; the simplest of all creatures.
He does slap on his knees and return to a standing position, heading over to where the instant coffee is. ]
I've got it for ya, bro, just sit tight.
[ And while it's brewing, he's gonna mess with the watch again, and finally he figures it out. ]
... Says here I'm a wildcard, and hell yeah, I am! How'd they know that? Did we get kidnapped by some gods or something? That's hot.
[ what does it mean when he calls himself a wildcard, the world may never know.. ]
no subject
Hmph. It's just that this guy seems like one of those types that's hard to get mad at. It doesn't mean anything deeper than that. ]
A wildcard, huh. So you really are brand new, then. You'll probably get a rank later, then. But for now ... [ Sure enough, a scroll through his Watch gives no hints as to what happened last night. ] ... yeah, I still can't tell if we did anything.
[ And just as he's about to try and raise some suggestions of how else's they can solve the mystery, he finally finishes processing what his not-bang-partner said. ]
-- wait. You think we got kidnapped by gods? And you think that's hot? Are you serious? Why d'you sound so calm about that. Don't tell me this is part of your wrestling backstory or something.
1/2
[ The coffee is finished brewing, and it's enticing scent fills the air. He delivers the drink to Fuuta and even provides little packets of cream and sugar. He doesn't know how this guy likes his coffee and he doesn't seem too interested in figuring it out. ]
Look, bro, I'm not religious, but a bunch of folks back home are, and all the imagery of the gods-- goddesses they worship-- they're hot women. If they exist and they're responsible for all of this, I'm okay with it.
[
As for my wrestling backstory...
2/2
[ he acts like... he has some great backstory..... but he does not. anyway how would fuuta prove this anyway, beats me.. ]
no subject
Actually I don't care. Never mind.
[ Then he shuffles to sit up, starting to turn around on the bed. ]
I'm gonna check for -- ... [ hickies ] -- if there's anything, so stay there for a second.
[ Yes, he knows it's kind of prissy for a guy to be self-conscious about being seen shirtless, but he has his reasons, okay. Fuuta sighs as he starts undoing the topmost few buttons of his shirt to peek down under the fabric. ]
-- so is that your name, then? Wolf?
no subject
[ He hears that Fuuta has told him to stay there, but he's awfully curious. It doesn't seem fair that Fuuta is keeping some little secret (?) from him. He does introduce himself, which is weird because typically he has no introduction. ]
My name is Beowulf, undefeated wrestling champion! AROO!
[ yeah, we know that already.... but now curiosity has gotten the most of him and the weight on the bed shifts as Beowulf joins behind Fuuta to try and peek. Sure enough, Fuuta has several markings along his chest and collarbone. ]
Well?
no subject
Fuuta can't help giving a weary groan at the sight of them, because ... really? Did he really have sex and then completely forget about it? Granted, he's sure he was drunk, but even so. Even if this place is starting to mess with his head after a year, isn't that kinda -- crass? Sure, it's 'just sex,' but to have zero memory of it still feels kinda messed up ...
And distracted by those thoughts, Fuuta's a second late to respond to realize the bed's jostling because Beowulf is peeking over his shoulder. In an instant he whips around and scrambles back an armslength, hurriedly pulling his shirt's top closed once more with his face red, looking very much like a shy maiden trying to hide her bosom. ]
Wh -- I told you to stay there!
[ In truth, though, it's less that he's trying to hide his chest (scrawny, nothing to see anyway), and more ... what's on his skin there. Because Beowulf might have caught a glimpse of some severe bruises discoloring his skin a bit lower down, splashed over his sternum and extending beneath his shirt.
Fuuta, of course, tries to pretend nothing's amiss, just giving a huffy grumble as he does the buttons of his shirt once more. ]
But yeah, there's h -- marks. So. I guess. Maybe we ... did.
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[ he's so..... dumb.... but apparently he can't recall anything either. ]
I just had this sorta feeling.. maybe it's 'cause you're kinda my type! For a guy-- small and cute. I love it!
[ what does that mean... his type.. but it's really hard to tell if he saw anything else besides his familiar love marks. ]
Do people give you a hard time here because of that?
[ because of being twinky, he means.. ]
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[ Of course all Fuuta can think to do for a hot second is sputter out that indignant squawk. On the one hand, he's glad that Beowulf seems to be paying zero mind to the fact that neither of them(?) remember their little tryst(???) since that's not really any sort of drama he's willing to endure. But on the other -- 'small and cute.' What kind of guy wants to be called 'small and cute'??? E-even if ... it's followed up by that oh-so-casual and seemingly earnest 'I love it.' Who the hell says that???
He's gone red all the way up to his ears in an instant, and the only thing keeping him from barking about how it's fucking rude to call anyone 'small and cute' is the fact that this guy seems so entirely well-meaning that it's hard to be mad. Fuuta instead settles for scuffing a hand over his face to try and quell the thudding in his chest before he grumbles, ]
... I mean ... I guess not. You're not the only one that's called me -- [ ughhh ] -- 'cute.' [ You can practically hear the air quotes around that word. ] But it's not like I want to be short, you know. It's more that you guys are unfairly huge ... though it'd make sense a place like this'd mostly want tall and built and conventionally attractive people, though. Guess you fit the bill in that way.
[ He pauses in his griping to finally tend to the coffee, opening one of the sugar packets to dump in. And before he takes a sip, he does muster the manners to mumble, ] Thanks for the coffee, though.
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[ Fuuta better look out, because a big ole hand is coming down and ruffling all that red hair. EMBARRASSING.]
Anytime, bro! Having a lot of sex can also build muscle if you're worried about being smaller.
[ where are these stats coming from.. ]
Guess there's nothing else to do but embrace the life here. How would you describe it?
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Whatever, it's not like I'm gonna try to get taller at this point. I just gotta deal with it. And anyone who gives me shit about it can get bent -- people who judge people just based on that stuff are trash anyway ...
[ He's trying so hard to sound blase about this, but he is very bad at it.
-- at least Beowulf is rewarded for tolerating all this bitching and griping with some (semi-)useful information -- ]
And things are stupid here. It's quiet a lot, and then the resort decides to pull some bullshit, and then it's chaos for a week or so. [ A slurp of coffee as he looks Beowulf over, then adds deadpan: ] You'll probably be fine, though. Going by how you look. [ Pause, as he realize how that might sound and hurries to add, ] I mean. You look strong. There's been monsters and stuff before, so at least that won't be a problem for you, probably. I don't just mean you'll be okay with the sex stuff.
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[ is that a threat.. he sure is pounding one fist into his hand. But wow, what an incredible gullible guy who is easy to take advantage of. This place might actually eat him alive in that regard.
Though, he does perk up at the mention of monsters. ]
How big of monsters are we talking about here?
[ Because on top of being from a world that coincides with monsters, he’s definitely killed them with his bare hands. Not exactly his proudest moment anymore, but it was at the time. ]
You don’t gotta hide it, man. I have plenty of sex appeal and I know it!
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[ Of course he can't let that slide without a snippy retort, but there's no real venom in his delivery. It's hard getting properly at a guy who sounds so earnest, after all. What kind of guy so openly offers to watch out for other people like that? Ugh, he's probably one of those overly friendly, overly trusting idiots.
Fuuta takes another long swig of his coffee then starts picking himself up off the bed. Regardless of if they did anything or not, he can't linger here forever. He looks around for any traces of his lost suit jacket while continuing: ]
Those monsters weren't that big, and I also haven't seen them in a while. But knowing this place, there's probably more dangerous bullshit that'll show up eventually. -- and be careful, alright. Even if you're a good wrestler, those monsters were real monsters.
[ Since. You know. Wrestling is fake. 😔 ]
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[ He realizes what Fuuta is looking for and also scans the area for the rest of his clothing. ]
Look, man, you can think and feel about wrestling all you want, but that isn’t everything about me, believe it or not. There’s plenty of monsters I deal with everyday back home. I won’t hesitate if any of’em come after me.
[ a beat, and then: ]
OR you, for that matter.
[ He could gloat all he wants in regards to killing Grendel’s mother, but for whatever reason he leaves that achievement out of this conversation. ]
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[ Well. Fair point. The guy does look like he could probably rip a car in half with his bare hands; the crawlers from before would probably easy enough for him to fend off even if he's 'just' a wrestler.
It's that, and that easy offer of help that has Fuuta staying his tongue until he finally does find his jacket scrunched up into the base of a large decorative plant. Fuuta sighs as he fetches it, unscrunches it, and slaps the dust off it before folding it over an arm. Then he tromps right up to Beowulf. ]
Show me your Watch.
[ Said as he points at the other's wrist, then holds out his hand, like he's waiting for a dog to do 'paw.' ]
C'mon.
[ This is so rude!!! ]
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