【 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.
[There are far better prospects — and far worse, in consideration of all possible options (Aventurine) — to find sharing his bed. At least the Doctor is a more reasonable, level-headed individual by his past dealings with the man. His loyalties, on the other hand...
As if loyalty is a matter in question, given where they are. This thought runs through Sunday's head only to find the tired, dead-end reminder that they are no longer in Penacony, and he is no longer the head of anything, and Ratio is — just a man. In his bed. (Is it his bed? He doesn't recall lying down here, worrying in the lack of memory.)]
Don't assume. You must have come in during the night after I had fallen asleep. [Yet the doubt remains, because logic hasn't proven useful here so far. Also, Ratio looks so cozy with his eye mask and pajamas?] Penacony was never... this. It never demanded or forced anything.
[His defense isn't hard-toned, though, and he's quick to move on.]
( rather than immediately follow sunday's suggestion, ratio merely takes the time to check the watch: 8:14am, supposedly. unsurprising to discover he's slept in so late after an endless party, though it still feels no better even knowing the cause for it. thus does he acquiesce, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to sit up, and—
oh, what's this. he leans down, discovering none other than a pair of ducky slippers, perfectly placed and slightly tucked under his side of the bed. how convenient. yeah, he'll put those on. )
If you compare the state of our clothing, as it were—don't you appear to be the invader in this situation far more than I do?
( the eyemask is removed, carefully folded and placed on the bedside table. whether or not he'll actually return to this room remains to be seen, but it still wouldn't do to make a mess regardless. one thing they can surely agree on. )
Help me make the bed. ( he picks up one of the errant feathers here, pauses, and then lets it gently fall into the trashcan. mr. sunday, you're such a messy bedmate... )
[It isn't inaccurate to make that call of judgment, Sunday's eyes turning down to his own appearance in a moment of self-recrimination — his hands attempt once more to smooth and flatten the wrinkles of sleep. As Ratio tucks his feet into a pair of ducky slippers, he sees his own glossy dress shoes, which can only mean...
He slept with them on, in bed.
Disgusted with himself, Sunday turns away in time for that request to reach his ears. His brow furrows, a headache beginning to form in hairline cracks of pain at his temples.]
If neither of us recall the situation last night, then we ought to share the blame. [Please...] I would never have gone to sleep in this state. It's unbecoming.
[Acquiescing with great reluctance, first he goes to the pillows — circling around the other side of the bed to get out of Ratio's way, of course — and begins plucking up his own feathers. Don't touch them? This is his mess to clean up?]
Am I to understand you've also arrived in this place against your will, then?
filthy
As if loyalty is a matter in question, given where they are. This thought runs through Sunday's head only to find the tired, dead-end reminder that they are no longer in Penacony, and he is no longer the head of anything, and Ratio is — just a man. In his bed. (Is it his bed? He doesn't recall lying down here, worrying in the lack of memory.)]
Don't assume. You must have come in during the night after I had fallen asleep. [Yet the doubt remains, because logic hasn't proven useful here so far. Also, Ratio looks so cozy with his eye mask and pajamas?] Penacony was never... this. It never demanded or forced anything.
[His defense isn't hard-toned, though, and he's quick to move on.]
You should get up.
no subject
oh, what's this. he leans down, discovering none other than a pair of ducky slippers, perfectly placed and slightly tucked under his side of the bed. how convenient. yeah, he'll put those on. )
If you compare the state of our clothing, as it were—don't you appear to be the invader in this situation far more than I do?
( the eyemask is removed, carefully folded and placed on the bedside table. whether or not he'll actually return to this room remains to be seen, but it still wouldn't do to make a mess regardless. one thing they can surely agree on. )
Help me make the bed. ( he picks up one of the errant feathers here, pauses, and then lets it gently fall into the trashcan. mr. sunday, you're such a messy bedmate... )
no subject
He slept with them on, in bed.
Disgusted with himself, Sunday turns away in time for that request to reach his ears. His brow furrows, a headache beginning to form in hairline cracks of pain at his temples.]
If neither of us recall the situation last night, then we ought to share the blame. [Please...] I would never have gone to sleep in this state. It's unbecoming.
[Acquiescing with great reluctance, first he goes to the pillows — circling around the other side of the bed to get out of Ratio's way, of course — and begins plucking up his own feathers. Don't touch them? This is his mess to clean up?]
Am I to understand you've also arrived in this place against your will, then?