TDM 011

[goldmods]

【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.

We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.

Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】

CAMPING

GETTING OFF THE GRID

As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.

A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!

NOT ALL TENTS ARE EQUAL

► High-rank guests are allocated spacious and luxurious tents. These elaborate mini-homes come with TVs, beds, heaters, and plenty of supplies. Provided camping gear is high quality, ranging from state of the art flashlights to designer backpacks. It can't quite be considered roughing it in these tents, but glamping is camping too!

► Mid-rank guests are allocated moderate tents that comfortably fit up to three guests. These tents come with cots or sleeping bags, as well as standard camping gear to make their time living off the land fairly comfortable. While these tents lack the bells and whistles of the high-rank accommodations, they are more than enough for a comfortable but realistic camping experience.

► Low-rank guests are allocated the shabbiest tents. These sagging accommodations can shield one guest comfortably, but that doesn't stop staff from pairing low-ranking guests together in order to save space. Their 'sleeping bags' are a single blanket and hay bale pillow. There are no other included amenities aside from sex toys and a single lantern.

► Last but certainly not least: our Wildcards! All Wildcards have been randomly assigned. Whether they end up in a glamping tent or sleeping beneath a propped up sheet is left to chance. Wildcards also may find themselves waking up beside a current guest or another new arrival.

► Guests that "go camping" will discover that the door connecting the Vale to the rest of the resort has mysteriously vanished. Uh oh! Looks like there's no going back to the comfortable life anytime soon. Don't worry, the door will return when it's time to pack up and head home.

LET'S GET CRAFTY

► New characters still wake up naked save for a robe, as is standard for the Golden Peacock. This round’s robes are flannel gingham to embrace camping and autumn aesthetic. Some of these robes are much shorter than others; watch out that the lake breeze doesn’t reveal more than you wanted.

► Unlike the standard, there are no racks of clothes waiting for new arrivals outside of their tents. You're roughing it out in the woods, remember? Instead of clothing, Wildcards will find an assortment of raw materials to make clothes.

Fabric rolls, hemp, buckets of leaves, leather, and other assorted goods are waiting to be cobbled into something new. The staff have been kind enough to leave some small hunting knives and wooden needles to make crafting a bit easier. Of course, they won't stop anyone that wants to embrace the wild side and strut around naked.

HOME ON THE RANGE

Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!

Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!

DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO COOK?

► On the first camp morning, guests will find barrels of ingredients and cooking utensils left beside the central fire pit. These barrels are stocked with fruits and vegetables that won't spoil quickly, many of which are seasonal to autumn. They have also been left a few protein options like eggs, jerky, and canned ham. These ingredients are communal and limited. Once they run out, guests will have to hunt and gather in the Vale to collect more.

► Guests must prepare their own meals while camping. Not even the high-ranks are given any special treatment on this! While oil and firestarter are included in the initial supply, these too are limited and won't be replenished after use.

► Staff would never let their precious guests go without a sweet treat. A generous supply of hot cocoa and all the fixings for s'mores has been left behind as well. While none of the other food will be replenished, the hot cocoa and s'mores goodies seemingly never run out. A night around a campfire without roasting marshmallows or sipping cocoa would be too cruel to subject guests to.

SUPPLIES RUNNING LOW

► Guests will have to hunt and gather once ingredients dwindle if they want to eat. The wooden shed is home to a selection of tools that can be used to hunt: bows and arrows, hatchets, axes, fishing poles and line, etc. All tools are rudimentary and can break if not taken care of.

► The Vale is lush with wild fruits and vegetables. However, much like in reality, not all vegetation in the Vale is safe to eat. While some berries and mushrooms are consumable, others are toxic or psychedelics. One must also not forget that they're in the Golden Peacock: some unusual plants that grow in the vale may trigger arousal. Watch out that you don't eat something funky by accident!

► Before 'leaving', staff will explain that guests can fish or hunt small game running throughout the Vale. One particularly enthusiastic staff member will suggest guests track down the snoggleboffs, as they're extremely delicious after roasting on an open fire.

ACTIVITIES

TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT

Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.

At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.

IN CAMP

► Guests that don't want a cold shower should make their way over to the shower stalls quickly. These outdoor showers hold very little hot water and run cold after about five minutes. First-come first-serve!

► A wood-chopping competition begins around lunchtime. There are two goals: to split as much wood as possible and looking sexy while doing it. Guests that chop wood unsexily immediately fail! Alternatively, sexiness with a pathetic number of chunks is more acceptable, but still a loss. Those that achieve both goals will instantly win a large payout. Failing to sexily cut wood won’t have any penalties associated with it, and you can always try again tomorrow!

► Bear hunting is a popular activity that even the spoiled long-standing guests are getting in on! No, not hunting real bears. That would be insane. Peacock's version of bear hunting involves hunting down bear-like guests and capturing them! Any guest that fits the criteria of big, thick, and strong may potentially be assigned the role of bear. Hunters who manage to tie up, handcuff, net, or otherwise 'capture' a 'bear' will instantly receive a large payout.

THE LAKE

► This sparkling lake is rich with fish. Enjoy sitting back on the long pier with a fishing rod or take one of the wooden boats out for a row around the lake. It's also safe to swim in, for guests that would like to take a dip and rinse off the sweat of camp living! Don't mind the random swim trunks or drink umbrellas that pop up now and then. This water is definitely fresh and not recycled from the summer beach extravaganza.

► Guests that do decide to take a dip may encounter a familiar friend. Fernando the tentacle monster is camping too! This randy tentacle monster is as horny as ever, eager to embrace guests and stick slippery tentacles into any reachable orifice.

► Once the sun goes down, many of the long-standing guests strip off their shoddily crafted clothes and sprint into the water for skinny dipping by moonlight! What's a camping excursion without a lake-side orgy? The best way to drown out those erotic moans from the lake is to head to the central fire pit and join in on some campfire songs.

OUTSIDE CAMP

► Those that head out of camp for a hike or hunt can enjoy any of the Vale's usual wonders. With autumn, shiny apples dangle from the trees and pumpkins pepper beneath their protruding roots. Along with autumnal fruits and vegetables, canned beef and ham have been mysteriously left in pockets close to the campgrounds. A little act of kindness from the staff; not everyone is cut out to hunt their own game!

► For those interested in hunting down some fresh game, walking around the forest in the morning may come with a stroke of luck. Strange little creatures the size of an adult's fist are active during this time. These hairy beasts come in brown and white, and screech, "Scrun scrun screeee!" when agitated.

Yes, these are the alleged snoggleboffs! Don't feel bad about hunting them, they're an invasive species that are unfriendly and eager to steal from unsuspecting guests. Their main strength is their speed, but once caught, they don't put up much of a fight.

► Guests that explore deep into the Vale may find a dark cave mouth that leads downward into a damp chamber. The ceiling glitters with stalactites and, along the wall, they'll find a horizontal crease with what seems to be... hair? If touched, this crease will creak open, revealing a large eye that darts back and forth before focusing on whoever woke it. Black pupils and iris bleed into one endless abyss.

Those that gaze directly into the eye will freeze. Their mind will remain active while their body locks in place, not unlike sleep paralysis. This trance will break once the eye blinks, which it will do after some time... but it can also be forced into blinking by force if there's someone who hasn't made eye-contact around to help. Frozen guests will be overwhelmed with the fear of abandonment for the duration of their paralysis. This fear will fade after the connection is broken, as if it wasn't their fear at all.

Like a regular eye, dirt or debris can force a blink. If this route is taken, the eye will go bloodshot and shut, refusing to open again. Any guest that inflicts damage to the eye may find that their suite, upon return, has been trashed. As if someone or something threw a big tantrum in there while they were gone. Wonder why that happened...?

HOWLING

CALL OF THE WILD

Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.

The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.

THE WEATHER TURNS

► Along with chilly nights, the last few days of camping feature inclement weather conditions. Clouds overtake the sun and rain falls, alternating between light mist and heavy downpour.

► Winds pick up, with speeds threatening to whip away the less stable tents. Guests that don't hunker down and add additional support to their tents may end up chasing them into the storm. Other loose items around the campgrounds may end up blown away as well.

BLOOD MOON

► Wild instinct rises with the blood moon. As crimson moonlight beckons, some guests may begin to feel ... strange. As if they need to claw their true selves free. Those that answer the call to bathe in the light of the blood moon will undergo a transformation.

► Basking in the light of the blood moon triggers a were-transformation. While the standard were that the blood moon inspires is the classic werewolf, guests may transform into any kind of were. Along with hybrid transformation, the blood moon stirs mating and sex impulses in these new weres. Remaining humans are at risk of being eaten... in the sexy way.

► Transformation into a were is not mandatory. Other guests may step into the blood moon's light and not experience any kind of transformation or impulse. These guests are now actors in a sexy horror scene, given the task of surviving the night surrounded by monsters! At least they're sexy monsters? Giving in and fucking on the wild side may be more fun.

PACKING UP

► After the crazy weather and horny werewolves, the staff judge that it's high time to wrap this excursion up. Guests will once again openly see these diligent workers the morning after the blood moon. They come flooding into the site with clothing, snacks, and other comforts while praising everyone for surviving for so long without the resort's usual luxuries.

► A first aid tent and cleaning station are swiftly erected. All guests that volunteer to treat injuries sustained over the course of the camping experience or help clean up the site will be compensated with a large payout.

► Every guest that participated in the camping event, regardless of whether they help wrap things up, will be issued a spa voucher. Go relax, you've earned some pampering after all of that hard living!

OOC NOTES

INVITES | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence

▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.

▶ 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.

▶ 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.

NAVIGATION • LOG • NETWORK • OOC • MEME

Comments

[greatestworks]

The prod to his forehead is a line drawn and Phainon reads it as a chide; a diffident smile starts halfway at the corner of his mouth as Phainon's head is nudged back, reminding him on which side of it he belongs. "Right," he relents, a little sheepishly, "None of my business."

He's misinterpreted Quincy's remark about the sensitivity of his gemstone. In hindsight, given everything he's observed about the place everyone keeps calling 'the resort', perhaps he shouldn't have dismissed it as something so simple as sharing the same sensitivity as the rest of his hand. He had only meant to convey that he wasn't put off by the abnormality. When Phainon lowers his eyes, leaning his head into that welcome touch, he sees more of him - the swell of impressive pectorals, the ripple of abdominal muscle, and-

The sheer shape and size of him. He isn't imagining it, Phainon realizes, a fresh punch of arousal sinking into his gut: his cock is beginning to plump up with interest. He's gazing for too long, golden pupils swollen in the blue sky of his irises, hand clasping the back of the one preoccupied with his hair. Kind makes him swallow around the lump in his throat.

His lashes lower, his scoff gentle. "Don't give me too much credit," Phainon says quietly, and as his chin lifts, he noses at the curls of golden hair along his brow. His arm, pillowing the space between the bed and his pillow, bends, weathered fingers sinking into his hair.

He smells good. Masculine. The wood seems to have saturated him in its aromatic riches, the scent of earth and sweet rain. "For someone so rugged," he observes, a laugh in his whisper, "You're surprisingly gentle. It's," he sighs, struggling to describe this aching gratitude, "Nice."

Nailed it.

Just basking like this, Phainon might be content, except the signs of Quincy's interest are a temptation that his eyes keep returning to in hunger. "...Tell me not to touch you," he wets his lips, his longing to do just that is clear, "And I won't."

[comfypillow]

He isn’t, really, Quincy thinks to himself. He’s purposefully chosen not to grant Phainon the epithet of lustful, not oblivious to the hungry way that the other man’s gaze sweeps along his body. Not that it’s necessarily negative in connotation—Quincy is quietly amused by Phainon’s immense level of virility—though he’s made the assumption that he’s this way in general.

"You can touch me.” Quincy is not a man that plays games, the sort who speaks straightforwardly and makes his intentions clear. A request for consent and permission given. Quincy pulls the tangle of their hands toward his chest, pressing Phainon’s palm over a firm pectoral, right above his heart, so the man can feel its steady but quickened beat.

“All living creatures deserve respect. You, too…. I wouldn’t treat you carelessly.” Voice lowering, Quincy nuzzles inward to brush his lips and nosetip into Phainon’s downy hair, warm breath tickling against the shell of his ear, “And good things should be cherished.”

Hand still folded over Phainon’s, Quincy interlocks their fingers before slowly guiding it southward. He slides Phainon’s palm over his nipple and down the shelf of his chest, smoothing it along the contours of muscular abdomen, pausing the journey below his navel.

Quincy exhales, nerves tingling from even just that much. Eyelids flutter and lips move in a quiet sigh. Drawing back an inch reveals the dusting of blush across his cheeks and throat, richer in the tones of firelight glow.

“… You’re warm.”

[greatestworks]

Deservedly, Phainon has been called worse.

It's a kindness, that Quincy grants permission but makes it into something Phainon can tell himself he wants, a hand pulling his against his own body. Under him, Phainon's bicep flexes, the fingers in his hair curling against his scalp, a slow wind-up of tension as his hand cleaves to the warm meat of his pectoral. His thumb, his fingertips divot his flesh as he squeezes, briefly, his breath stuttering.

Quincy's breath is warm and the intimate words he speaks against his scalp make gooseflesh pinch up all over his feverish body. The soft-hard scrape of the man's nipple, when it perks up against the calluses on his palm, invites another curl of his fingers, thumb flirting with the edge of that nub.

His cock stirs, helplessly filling as his hand drinks up every furl of muscle knotted beneath taut skin, and as Quincy draws back, Phainon lifts his head enough to peer up at him through the twin veils of his lashes and pale hair. They're brighter for the expansion of his golden pupils, in the firelight, they burn.

The shape of the man's cock is near enough that he can feel the warmth of his body on his wrist, and he burns.

Phainon's thumb finds the shallow crater of his navel; his little finger, the furrow that runs from hip to groin, and he burns.

"Take it," he rumbles, the gentle fist in his hair his guidepost, as he leans close to press a kiss to the corner of that mouth, "All the warmth I have." There's another, firm and full on his mouth if he isn't dissuaded.

[comfypillow]

Phainon’s lips, too, are warm.

It isn’t the searing burn of the sun. His kiss is the hazy glow of fireflies in the dusk of the forest, a gentle brilliance that illuminates pink and red hue when cupped between palms. Quincy’s closes his eyes as their mouths meet, welcoming that kiss with the tilt of his head. Wavy blond falls across the pillow and against Phainon’s knuckles as his combs a hand through, no longer damp from the storm.

Leaving Phainon’s hand against his abdomen, Quincy’s own slides over the man’s hip to caress along tailbone and up the length of his spine. A tickle of blunt nails and rough fingerpads trail, drawing circles and lines into the other man’s skin when not tracing the outline of any scars or marks he comes across. Gentle, reverent, as if Phainon is a creature as delicate as a firefly landed on his fingertip. He is not—there is strength beneath Quincy’s sliding palm—but he cherishes the other man no less.

Turning onto his side, Quincy presses forward into that kiss with a hint of urgency. Lips move, relishing friction, rolling click into click. His tongue flicks against the seam of Phainon’s lips to ask for more as his hand dips south again, this time less innocent in its exploration. His breath hitches with excitement when cupping over Phainon’s ass, giving it a playful squeeze while nipping the man’s bottom lip. A pinch that he soothes with a lick after.

Quincy draws back a centimeter, panting lightly, to answer, “I can … accept all of it.”

[greatestworks]

Most people are not built to withstand loneliness, some manage years, even a lifetime of it. Not multiple lifetimes, not eons. Not epochs carving a bloody path through everything and everyone he has ever loved for the sake of deliverance.

This body has yet to amass more than a single lifetime of scars, little imperfections, lessons writ into his skin from the training field to the battlefield. It has amassed not the cracks and fissures of a man hollowing himself out with the ferocious blaze of divine fire but the unseen scars of immense solitude.

Diligence and discipline have given him a hard and rugged body, and the muscle that meets the playful squeeze to his ass is no different. His breath gusts from his nostrils against Quincy’s cheek, a huff of a laugh at the pinch of his lips. Even a centimeter seems too far apart; Phainon almost chases his mouth, halted by his answer.

He’s aware of how desperate he must seem, how untoward, but Quincy doesn’t seem to mind and Phainon is too starved of touch to bear the idea of restraint. Urgency doesn’t rob the moment of its significance; with his eyes catching the glow of firelight in Quincy’s eyes, tasting his words and breath through the air he sips between parted lips, he very briefly nods, a motion felt by the brush of his nose just scarcely glancing against his cheek.

He swallows around his own desire and audacity, the heel of his palm first tracing the curve of Quincy’s cock as it strains against underwear once translucent with damp. Emboldened, golden pupils swollen in the retreating blue sky of his irises, he hooks his thumb into its waistband, peeling the film of fabric back.

The monosyllabic word that falls from his lips carries a hard consonant on one end, something in a dead language; Phainon looks, because of course he has to, at the great shape of his cock as his callused hand wraps around its naked shaft.

Kephale really broke the mold on this one.

There’s nothing shy or uncertain about the way his fingers familiarize themselves with the shape of the other man’s shaft. How they squeeze the full, warm shape of him, the knowledge in the twist of his wrist, the press and flick of a thumb. Given an inch and he’s already taking a mile, with quickened breath, he glances back up - doubtlessly to check in - and along the way, his attention snags on the ribbon of Quincy’s lip, and hungrily leans in to lick his way into the seam of them.

[comfypillow]

Everything about Quincy is large. The hands that roam, the chest that rises and falls, the legs that stretch beneath their shared blanket, and the cock that stiffens in Phainon’s palm. Weighty, thick, rippled with delicate veins along the shaft and up to a flushed head. A shiver of breath escapes Quincy’s parted lips as callused fingers stroke; there are few men who dislike this kind of touch, but Quincy’s cock has always been particularly sensitive. It earns a low moan in his throat, a thin and sweet sound chafing as his adam’s apple bobs.

The expression Phainon looks up to check is one of pink cheeks and dazed gaze. Quincy’s brow furrows, pinched in pleasure, as he’s temporarily rendered breathless under that teasing squeeze. His erection fills out, ten inches from root to tip I’m so sorry he’s from a BL game and noted as having a huge dick even by BL world standards. Precum beads at the head, smearing from slit into the pad of Phainon’s thumb. Hot and cold prickles, Quincy’s nipples pebbling as they meet and shock excrement through body.

Stirred up, Quincy meets Phainon’s lips just as hungrily. A wandering hand slides with a light scratch of nails, wanting to pull Phainon in closer, seeking his warmth. Their tongues meet as he welcomes Phainon’s in, allowing the other man to explore before sucking, just as eager to taste. It’s a kiss that Quincy lingers in, relishing the slide of Phainon’s mouth and the numbing sweetness that comes with every wet grind. Kissing a beauty like Phainon is a pleasure worth indulging in; if it ever seems like the kiss will break, Quincy leans in to roll into another.

With Phainon’s hand between them, he moves his leg instead, nudging forward to slide his thigh up. Fingers graze along nape before fisting into the softness of Phainon’s hair. Then tugs, silently encouraging the other man to push his knee over and loft above, a position that would allow Quincy better access to Phainon’s throat and chest—because he’s hungry to kiss those, too.