【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system. We have arranged for a selection of basement suites to temporarily house new arrivals until reservations have been processed. We hope you'll join us in giving our new guests a warm and loving welcome.
We have an exciting announcement! The house will be hosting a carnival for all guests to celebrate the Golden Peacock's birthday. Please look forward to food, games, and attractions in the Cloud-Dwelling Garden. The carnival will be available for guests to enjoy for seven days. Happy birthday week, Golden Peacock*!
We hope you are as thrilled as we are! And, as always, we hope you enjoy your stay.
*Please note that this is an arbitrarily chosen date for the Golden Peacock's birthday, which is unknown. 】
▶ 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 and this TDM acts as the game's July event. The carnival will run July 15th - July 22nd.
▶ 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. We also have a summer 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.
[ It's true, really; it takes a lot to shock someone who's family history consists of kill counts and torture chambers. Perhaps it's the thing that would shock him that would seem out of place; for all his visceral fantasies and bloodstained history, Yugamu is a frighteningly earnest person in some regards. He'd love to cut past the flesh and muscle, hold someone's beating heart in his palms and feel each pulse against his skin, but he'd want it to be wanted. For someone to look at him with eyes full of adoration, acceptance, a mutual bloodlust filling their eyes that linger on their life quite literally in his hands. Maybe they'd even take the scalpel to him next, and they could press chest to chest, hearts beating in tandem with no skin between them.
A heavy fantasy, he knows. But he's satisfy himself with the little things; a bit of gore, a wayward test, the sight of someone's fingers digging into the soft flesh of their neck and splitting it so sweetly— ]
You're the boss. Just so you know, though, don't blame me if just one ends up not being enough for you.
[ Pain and pleasure are one in same, especially in tandem. Someone coming at you hard and fast may be unpleasant, but there's something special in measured doses, careful and calculated, going bigger and bigger to increase the tolerance like you would a drug. Association fallacy, in a way. The scalpel may have been disagreeable as a child, cutting into flesh to alter and improve, but now it's practically his best friend...in more ways than one. Yugamu has confidence he could do the same to someone else, given enough time, although he can understand the hesitation. Not everybody is born the same, and he's a rather extreme example.
The quiet as Makoto struggles to keep up with the string of questions and enthusiasm is adorable by itself, but the way his skin flushes just so as if unused to the attention...he was right. He's just so, so cute, in the way a cute animal instills a form of cuteness aggression...albeit, the aggression is definitely more pronounced. He wonders if any other parts of him would peel and rip so easily like his pretty neck, and absolves to figure that out as soon as possible.
Probably...later, because he'll be a bit occupied, but it's food for thought—far too much, if the way his eyes light up even further at the confirmation are any indication. ]
You're walking around with someone else's body? All that time, and it's never healed? [ But, ah, the wound would make sense? He's never really seen this sort of thing before, but it also beggars the question in the back of his head ( if he sewed someone else's head to another's body, how would they come back in the revive-o-matic? messed up, a strange fusion, two brains—? ). Considering what he's seen here, who knows? Just the thought has him practically shuddering in place. ] Oh, I could sew it up, alright. You've got such pretty skin, the fact I'd get to get inside it and put a needle in it after is really just the cherry on top...!
[ He wants to know, oh, he wants to know! What makes him up, how much can he push, is a few stitches all it truly takes to keep a head attached in a way that isn't a broken attempt at Frankenstein's monster? If he had the capacity to do that, he'd be abusing it like crazy without an ounce of shame.
But, they've made a deal. Yugamu has to force his thoughts to calm down, whatever excitement only lingering on his features in the form of a dusting of pink flush. If his hands shake too much, how is he supposed to make good? ]
I wouldn't count me out just yet. [ He grins back, a little sharper. ] After you!
[ And Yugamu is a man of his word, if albeit messy ones. His senses are sharp and his reflexes even sharper, which makes winning against some of the more heinous attempts at cheating a breeze. The organ-bag they've acquired has gotten rather fat, and he finds himself sneaking glances everytime they get a new one in a mild form of admiration for the accuracy, even in stuffie form.
Yugamu is leaning against something, idly flexing his fingers. They've gotten quite the workout tonight, all that throwing. ]
A simple towel with do, although some water will help. [ They could find those around here...maybe from the water balloon booths? It'd be a shame to wash off that blood from such nice skin, but it would not be the best sticky fluid to wander around covered in. Still, Yugamu is peering at Makoto with that look in his eyes, gaze moreso locked on those tantalizing stitches before they flicker up when he deigns to speak. ] Although, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to take your shirt off to save some of the trouble. Not that I'd be checking you out or anything...
[ If there was a more obvious lie in the world, they've yet to find it. ]
( it’s just a shame that makoto’s stubborn nature would likely work against them both, in that regard. he’s a peculiar and prideful creature; if asked, he would attempt to explain himself in strict and inflexible terms, but the truth is far more vague than that. as much as he would bristle at the prospect of being placed in the role of recipient of any of his macabre and sadistic kinks, adamant that his only place should be in performing them instead, he’d still been the young man who had been flustered into outright arousal when J had teased him with the prospect that what he’d truly wanted all along during the course of their contract had been for someone to do everything that he’d done to J to himself instead. he’d argue against it until his dying breath. he’d snarl and spit and dig in his heels—and he’s not exactly wrong, because it’s true that there’s something in him that feels a natural aversion to the thought of it. but makoto’s perversion is so pervasive that, again, it works against him: he’s so innately turned on by anything he perceives as “subversive” that sometimes it even seems to include those lines that he would really prefer not to cross.
whether or not he got to a point of willing curiosity to allow those lines to be crossed at some point is more up for debate. as it is… he remains prideful and bull-headed. it takes a lot for him to entrust so much control over him to anyone, considering it’s mostly only been used against him in the past.
yugamu brings up a good point that makoto hasn’t really thought a lot about himself. ) I—I don’t think it’s “someone else’s” body… ( this is hard to explain while he’s attached to it. it tends to lose some of its anatomical detail when he’s not attached; quite frankly, he has no idea what it is. he doesn’t know how this whole thing works. maybe if he’d remained in hell longer, he’d have figured it out, but he doesn’t have too many answers as it is. ) J just… ordered it from somewhere.
( like from hell’s version of Amazon, or something.
well, at least the guy is willing to help sew him back up, though makoto has been improving at doing it himself. he doesn’t like the idea of always being dependent on others in that regard. he doesn’t really enjoy it now, either, though he does think the chips he will save from how many attempts it might take him to win any of these games is a sound enough deal. he might have gone completely broke in order to fill the bag as full of plushies as it ends up. as it is, he has more than enough to buy the items that yugamu suggests outright—a decorative towel, commemorating the carnival… a bottle of water… he turns to face the other young man with narrowed eyes at his last suggestion. his knee-jerk reaction is to reject it outright, though… considering it further, he glances down at his shirt, remembering how many chips it had cost. ugh. it’d be so much work to get extensive blood stains out, and it might not even work.
he mutters in low, bitter undertone, ) I would like to avoid ruining this shirt, if possible.
( a quick burst of breath leaves him in an annoyed sigh. he shoulders his bag once more, gathering everything else he’d gotten from the carnival, and turns away from the crowded, well-lit avenues that served as its primary arteries. )
Come on.
( he doesn’t even lead them fully out of the area set aside in the Golden Peacock for the carnival, though the music and noise of the crowd has long since dulled to a distant hum by the time makoto believes he’s found a space out of the way enough that it’d be shielded from curious, prying eyes. he sets his bag of prizes down against a wall before reaching up to begin undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt. he strips it off, folds it, and sets it down on the bag with perfunctory casualness; really, it’s not that the partial nudity fazes him, but it’d just been that he tends not to want to give others what they want from him unless he was gaining something from it. in this instance… not ruining his shirt and having to walk around like he’d just emerged from a haunted house as its victim was enough of an incentive. )
Okay, ( now it’s his turn to lean against something, towel folded and held in his arms against his chest. despite the wound on his neck, his pale skin is otherwise perfectly unblemished—not that it’s never been blemished, mind. it’s just another weird quirk of this body. no matter what happens to it, it tends to return to this state, given a day or two. now, usually makoto would think to split open his stitches himself as an act of temptation, to elicit darker natures out of others… in this instance, though, he very much doubts that’s necessary. he leans his head back against the wall, baring his throat, eyes lidding heavily. ) I assume you’d be interested in doing the honors…? ( he blinks, thinking for just a moment before adding, ) Just don’t break too many of them… Like, this, ( he raises one forefinger to highlight a section perhaps two or three inches wide, ) should be okay.
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peacockstop2025-07-15 09:00 pm
cw: gore mention
A heavy fantasy, he knows. But he's satisfy himself with the little things; a bit of gore, a wayward test, the sight of someone's fingers digging into the soft flesh of their neck and splitting it so sweetly— ]
You're the boss. Just so you know, though, don't blame me if just one ends up not being enough for you.
[ Pain and pleasure are one in same, especially in tandem. Someone coming at you hard and fast may be unpleasant, but there's something special in measured doses, careful and calculated, going bigger and bigger to increase the tolerance like you would a drug. Association fallacy, in a way. The scalpel may have been disagreeable as a child, cutting into flesh to alter and improve, but now it's practically his best friend...in more ways than one. Yugamu has confidence he could do the same to someone else, given enough time, although he can understand the hesitation. Not everybody is born the same, and he's a rather extreme example.
The quiet as Makoto struggles to keep up with the string of questions and enthusiasm is adorable by itself, but the way his skin flushes just so as if unused to the attention...he was right. He's just so, so cute, in the way a cute animal instills a form of cuteness aggression...albeit, the aggression is definitely more pronounced. He wonders if any other parts of him would peel and rip so easily like his pretty neck, and absolves to figure that out as soon as possible.
Probably...later, because he'll be a bit occupied, but it's food for thought—far too much, if the way his eyes light up even further at the confirmation are any indication. ]
You're walking around with someone else's body? All that time, and it's never healed? [ But, ah, the wound would make sense? He's never really seen this sort of thing before, but it also beggars the question in the back of his head ( if he sewed someone else's head to another's body, how would they come back in the revive-o-matic? messed up, a strange fusion, two brains—? ). Considering what he's seen here, who knows? Just the thought has him practically shuddering in place. ] Oh, I could sew it up, alright. You've got such pretty skin, the fact I'd get to get inside it and put a needle in it after is really just the cherry on top...!
[ He wants to know, oh, he wants to know! What makes him up, how much can he push, is a few stitches all it truly takes to keep a head attached in a way that isn't a broken attempt at Frankenstein's monster? If he had the capacity to do that, he'd be abusing it like crazy without an ounce of shame.
But, they've made a deal. Yugamu has to force his thoughts to calm down, whatever excitement only lingering on his features in the form of a dusting of pink flush. If his hands shake too much, how is he supposed to make good? ]
I wouldn't count me out just yet. [ He grins back, a little sharper. ] After you!
[ And Yugamu is a man of his word, if albeit messy ones. His senses are sharp and his reflexes even sharper, which makes winning against some of the more heinous attempts at cheating a breeze. The organ-bag they've acquired has gotten rather fat, and he finds himself sneaking glances everytime they get a new one in a mild form of admiration for the accuracy, even in stuffie form.
Yugamu is leaning against something, idly flexing his fingers. They've gotten quite the workout tonight, all that throwing. ]
A simple towel with do, although some water will help. [ They could find those around here...maybe from the water balloon booths? It'd be a shame to wash off that blood from such nice skin, but it would not be the best sticky fluid to wander around covered in. Still, Yugamu is peering at Makoto with that look in his eyes, gaze moreso locked on those tantalizing stitches before they flicker up when he deigns to speak. ] Although, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to take your shirt off to save some of the trouble. Not that I'd be checking you out or anything...
[ If there was a more obvious lie in the world, they've yet to find it. ]
no subject
whether or not he got to a point of willing curiosity to allow those lines to be crossed at some point is more up for debate. as it is… he remains prideful and bull-headed. it takes a lot for him to entrust so much control over him to anyone, considering it’s mostly only been used against him in the past.
yugamu brings up a good point that makoto hasn’t really thought a lot about himself. ) I—I don’t think it’s “someone else’s” body… ( this is hard to explain while he’s attached to it. it tends to lose some of its anatomical detail when he’s not attached; quite frankly, he has no idea what it is. he doesn’t know how this whole thing works. maybe if he’d remained in hell longer, he’d have figured it out, but he doesn’t have too many answers as it is. ) J just… ordered it from somewhere.
( like from hell’s version of Amazon, or something.
well, at least the guy is willing to help sew him back up, though makoto has been improving at doing it himself. he doesn’t like the idea of always being dependent on others in that regard. he doesn’t really enjoy it now, either, though he does think the chips he will save from how many attempts it might take him to win any of these games is a sound enough deal. he might have gone completely broke in order to fill the bag as full of plushies as it ends up. as it is, he has more than enough to buy the items that yugamu suggests outright—a decorative towel, commemorating the carnival… a bottle of water… he turns to face the other young man with narrowed eyes at his last suggestion. his knee-jerk reaction is to reject it outright, though… considering it further, he glances down at his shirt, remembering how many chips it had cost. ugh. it’d be so much work to get extensive blood stains out, and it might not even work.
he mutters in low, bitter undertone, ) I would like to avoid ruining this shirt, if possible.
( a quick burst of breath leaves him in an annoyed sigh. he shoulders his bag once more, gathering everything else he’d gotten from the carnival, and turns away from the crowded, well-lit avenues that served as its primary arteries. )
Come on.
( he doesn’t even lead them fully out of the area set aside in the Golden Peacock for the carnival, though the music and noise of the crowd has long since dulled to a distant hum by the time makoto believes he’s found a space out of the way enough that it’d be shielded from curious, prying eyes. he sets his bag of prizes down against a wall before reaching up to begin undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt. he strips it off, folds it, and sets it down on the bag with perfunctory casualness; really, it’s not that the partial nudity fazes him, but it’d just been that he tends not to want to give others what they want from him unless he was gaining something from it. in this instance… not ruining his shirt and having to walk around like he’d just emerged from a haunted house as its victim was enough of an incentive. )
Okay, ( now it’s his turn to lean against something, towel folded and held in his arms against his chest. despite the wound on his neck, his pale skin is otherwise perfectly unblemished—not that it’s never been blemished, mind. it’s just another weird quirk of this body. no matter what happens to it, it tends to return to this state, given a day or two. now, usually makoto would think to split open his stitches himself as an act of temptation, to elicit darker natures out of others… in this instance, though, he very much doubts that’s necessary. he leans his head back against the wall, baring his throat, eyes lidding heavily. ) I assume you’d be interested in doing the honors…? ( he blinks, thinking for just a moment before adding, ) Just don’t break too many of them… Like, this, ( he raises one forefinger to highlight a section perhaps two or three inches wide, ) should be okay.