【 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 new inn for all new arrivals. Wildcards are invited to enjoy rest and relaxation while getting to know their fellow inn patrons. Current guests are encouraged to make reservations at the inn for some self-care. Prices are discounted to celebrate the new year.
All patrons have exclusive access to new additions at Crane's Respite and Heron's Retreat. The inn itself also provides a unique experience unlike anything else in the Golden Peacock.
We aim to have all guests moved into their suites as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience! 】
▶ BLANKET CW: alcohol; BDSM; body modification; competition; costumes; dubcon; group sex; petplay; public sex; punishment; sex toys; stripping; supernatural; transformation
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▶ 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!
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"Oh, there's plenty of people from my world I wouldn't mind being here. Honestly," he says with a scratch behind one ear, "I think Karen would love this place. And Ted?" He can't help a grin. It's a little easier to understand Sand's lack of confidence despite being a millionaire superhero when you take into account the BDE of one of his best friends; Ted Grant has been FWB with both Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Wonder Woman's mother... and Selina Kyle.
"It kinda makes me wonder why I'm here instead of them, frankly."
He... is an introvert movie nerd who was frozen in suspended animation for fifty years.
But the offer makes him visibly swallow.
"I-" he shakes his head, "I don't exactly-" his shoulders sink, "I appreciate the charity. But that's what it would be. I'm not-" Ughhhh. "I've never done... any thing. With anyone. Male or female. Though..." heh "that, at least, isn't really a concern for me. My preferences are... more about the person than anything."
Filing those names away for later. Even if they don't mean anything, even if there's a really solid chance of Sand not being around either once this ryokan disappears. It's information and Dodger wants all of it.
Something in his gaze sharpens, though, when Sand starts stuttering. It's that predatory instinct at work - he sees someone who needs guidance, who will owe him for helping out and will remember it when he asks them for something later. Kind people especially, people who aren't used to taking what they want by force, tend to be very easy to talk into being helpful. And this time he's determined to not get emotionally attached like he did for the last confused pretty-much-virgin he adopted.
After some thought, Dodger shifts closer, very boldly moving into Sand's space until their faces are inches apart.
"I think the House can tell when someone needs to catch a break. You've got an opportunity here - to relax, figure yourself out, experiment a little. Not worry about whatever was happening back home. Be a shame to pass that up."
He's not going to argue with this being 'charity'. It is, or at least he's not in a rush to volunteer what he's getting out of it.
Sand's gaze doesn't sharpen when Dodger's does, but it's noted. Immediately.
Sand is inexperienced when it comes to sex. and a good portion of that has to do with what his life has been and what it's become... but some of it also has to do with his duties. His job. That job being the legacy of Wesley Dodds, of the Sandman.
And what that means is that every time he sleeps, his unconscious mind connects with deviants, psychopaths, and sadists. It's his job to take what he gets from them to piece together the crime and prevent it before it happens. His prize for this? A few hours of uninterrupted sleep. No dreams, just darkness.
And he prizes those few hours. So he pays attention to predatory signs.
The moving into his space is just corroborating evidence.
He doesn't tense, but he does look... curious.
"That right?" A pause before he tilts his head the other way. "You have some experience with that? Stuff at home pretty... hectic?"
Dodger's eyes narrow slightly. He's noticed that he seems to gravitate toward people who have something in common with him... and he's starting to see it here. This man isn't naive, and that makes this a lot more complicated.
"Sure. Spent the last two years trying to stop humans from enslaving people like me. I earned a vacation."
This is a gross oversimplification, not just of the political climate but of Dodger's own personal life. A stranger who might be a mutant doesn't need to hear about Dodger's conviction that he's going to die if he goes home, or the fact that his hectic lifestyle came from being a domestic terrorist trying to channel his sadistic urges into something vaguely morally okay. That can come later, once his claws are already hooked in.
Dodger won't be surprised to see the empathy in his eyes, but there's still a wariness. There's a lot of ways to 'stop humans' from doing things and one of those ways is to kill all of them. He's certainly met the type. But the empathy is still there.
"I'm a metahuman, yes," he says easily enough, because being made of silicon and all of his 'powers' are not the same thing. He holds up his hand, turning it this way and that for a moment before it starts to dissolve into sand and then dissolves further into a swirl of sand particles. Then it starts reforming into his hand as the fingers waggle a 'hello'. "A geo-morph, to be more specific."
A slightly teasing grin.
"What about you? What're you packing, Dodger?" A pause before- "Teleporter?"
It's a guess. But he'll pause before adding- "Or some kind of probability manipulator?"
Dodger's eyes light up - it's another foreign term, like quirks, but it's familiar in that odd way that tells him some version of him has heard the word before. And more importantly, the term geo-morph is familiar. It's a blessing, getting to heard about powers that actually make sense to him.
"Teleporter, yeah. Among other things."
Augmented stress responses is a fucking mouthful, which is why he always sticks to calling himself a firestarter. But if the teleportation is the first thing he's confirming he'll just stick to that.
"I'm a mutant. Powers are pretty common here, but there's only two mutants around. I think you might be the only 'metahuman', too."
Although he suspects, like quirks, that they're functionally indistinguishable. The real thing that makes it matter that only he and Scott are mutants, is the years of distrust and othering from humans.
"Which is a trip all by itself, honestly," and he does mean that, because he's not used to being around 'normal' people other than when he's working. And then, well, he's working. "Are mutants a genetic offshoot of humanity or something completely different, just for reference?"
Honestly 'next stage of evolution' wouldn't surprise him either. Do enough time traveling and you learn that shit gets weird on quite a few timelines. But regardless, he takes the information with a nod.
And then his eyes open like he's just been burned. He's not unaccustomed to being jostled or nudged; he's a New Yorker. He might not travel on the subway himself (or at least not the kind that has a train since he has his own 'sub way' badum ching but he still walks on the streets. But Dodger has greatly underestimated how much of an effect a touch on the thigh like that to someone touch starved to the degree he is.
He doesn't get pushed away but it's obvious that Sand has no idea what to do and he looks down at it like it might change while not actually moving or indicating he wants it to? And then he clears his throat.
"They're- meta humans are those with an activated meta gene, a genetic factor present in about 12% of the population but only brought out by extreme circumstances in most cases or through artificial means, like chemical treatment or radiation of various kinds. While it was originally thought that, say, a lab accident might have given someone their powers, it turns out that it probably would have just killed them if they didn't already have the Metagene."
And it's amazing that he said all of that sounding calm and collected. Also without the earth shaking at all. Then-
"Did you know your hand is on my thigh?"
He doesn't sound upset about this. Just... curious.
Honestly, impressive that Sand can say all that while Dodger is feeling him up. Dodger can appreciate that, just like he appreciates the explanation.
"Huh. So different, but not far off."
His fingers are moving idly, shifting to feel along Sand's skin while he talks with a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
"Mutants are more like... 20, 30% of the population? We're born that way, the mutant gene activates on its own when we turn eight or so. That's when you get to find out if you're normal, or you're going to spend the rest of your life getting treated like a ticking time bomb. And being damn lucky there's no way to test for a mutation unless it's physically obvious. And yes, I know where my hand is."
His hand moves up a little further, stopping just short of touching Sand's dick.
Sand has given a full ass speech while tied to a floating pedestal by the supervillain who traumatized him as a teenager as said villain's eldritch master seemed to eat their biggest gun. This? Is cake.
And yet-
"Not... sure at the moment," he reports with surprising clarity. Then he looks to meet Dodger's eyes.
Dodger tips his head to the side. He's meeting Sand's gaze steadily, and without really thinking about it he takes a tone like he's explaining something to an idiot.
"Well I was planning to put it on your dick but I figured you needed a warning first."
That's clearly not what he was expecting, but whatever alchemy goes on inside is probably not what Dodger was expecting as he reaches down and very gently takes the hand from his thigh. But he doesn't toss it away. Instead, he holds it like he's considering kissing the knuckles.
He doesn't, but his hold is thoughtful.
"Your world have 'dinner'? Or 'drinks'? What about 'movies'? Any of that?"
Dodger's gaze strays down to their hands. He's letting it happen, but... he doesn't really know what to do with it. Clearly, it's not what he was expecting from this either.
"If you want to get out, dry off, get dressed, go somewhere, spend money, talk for an hour, go back to one of our rooms and make less money from it than we would from fucking around in the baths. Then sure, I've heard of all those."
He does do dates, surprisingly often considering his own preferences. Sometimes they even go well. But Dodger is keenly aware of the fact that they also significantly hamper his chances of getting someone in bed. Talking to him for long periods of time just has that effect.
Sand grins, and there's something bright in there despite the raccoon eyes and even the awkwardness of all of this, some shadow of the Gold that's never entirely faded from him.
"Great."
And the hand around his will disintegrate into sand before swirling into a form on the floor outside of the bath. He's naked, unabashedly, and for all of his awkwardness, there is nothing to be ashamed of there.
"Out. Step one done. Dry. Step two done." And he reaches over for his yukata, a teal and gold affair that has hourglasses on it that he slips on easily enough and begins to tie. "And step three: complete."
Dodger whips his head over to follow the sand, looking bemused for a second before it settles into something along the lines of mock-frustration. God damn it... of course he gravitated to another brat.
Well, fine. Dodger's form bursts apart into flames with a loud pop, and reforms a second later at the edge of the bath. Still dripping wet, until he heats up his skin enough that it starts to glow briefly and dries him off in a burst of steam. That leaves him patting his hair back into place, and checking that his wrist bandages are okay before he goes to pull on his own yukata. Dark blue, with an art deco pattern in gold across it.
"If this is what we're doing..." He huffs, "What's your moral disposition on stealing?"
Because he doesn't want to go somewhere public and have this man see how nervous he is in crowds. Sometimes a date is stealing alcohol from the common room and wandering around the resort proper to avoid the staff noticing where it went.
He catches the flames and he can't help a grin at that.
"So not just teleportation. Neat."
But he takes the question about 'stealing' seriously, considering it for a moment as he finishes tying his clothing. He'll .
"Well, given the fact that I'm pretty sure they 'stole' you and me both, stealing from thieves is just following the cultural norms of our new home. Thus." Shrug. "No arguments here."
"Good, then we're on the same page. Go check out for the day, I'll meet you outside Heron's Retreat."
With that, he disappears. No particle effects this time, he just isn't here anymore - although he's just invisible and Sand will probably be able to hear his footsteps heading toward the common room. Off to pilfer a bottle of awamori for each of them, before heading over to that meeting spot.
Hear, feel, tempted to trip up: all of the above, but he's not about to share all his tricks quite yet. Instead, he just throws off a salute with a laugh as he moves to head to where he said to meet him.
Theft is low-risk when you can turn invisible. It takes Dodger about as long to get his heist done as it would to just leave the ryokan, especially since he teleports to get past the front desk. And sure, it means he didn't give himself time to grab his more comfortable clothes, but that just leaves them both on equal footing.
Dodger appears with another burst of sparks in front of Sand, and offers him a bottle of awamori.
"Here - no clue what this is, but the ABV's above 35, that's all I need." He tips his head. "Let's take a walk, we'll see where we end up."
It's probably going to be an hour of wandering that ends in a Mating Season pod, knowing Dodger.
Sand will take the bottle and read it before turning it to show the label.
"Awamori. Traditionally consumed in the Okinawan prefecture of Japan, though they've switched to mostly using rice from Thailand." He smiles ruefully at the bottle. "Shame I left my kara-kara at home." But he heard Dodger loud and clear. "This bottle looks like it's about 80 proof so that should serve for you."
Not gonna do shit for him, but what else is new? He likes to experience things. That's what it's for. And on the principle.
"Any particular destination we're heading for?" A pause. "I heard there's a hookah lounge?" One of his vices, surprisingly.
Dodger rolls his eyes while Sand is explaining it - he is listening, it's interesting, but he does want to sell the idea of being too cool to care about this. Sometimes nerds have to over-correct.
"It's booze. It's strong enough to work on me. That's what matters."
And he's about to waffle about their destination, but... ugh, the hookah lounge. Dodger tenses a bit, and his smile gets strained. Rather than going straight for his own bottle, he pauses to pull out his cigarettes and light a new one. Snapping his fingers to light their tips on fire, and holding that up to the tip.
"Not the Smoked Egg. Smells god-awful in there. Why don't we swing by the shopping center? I'll get you something to wear that isn't... that... and you can pay me back after."
He raises an eyebrow, but he nods and agrees by gesturing for Dodger to lead the way.
"I'm good with this, but I don't mind knowing where the shopping area is. Not sure I'm going to have much to spend any time soon, but still, good to know."
"Not with that attitude." Dodger shrugs. "But visit me a couple times and we'll raise enough chips to more than make up for it."
He probably won't actually spend enough money to need multiple payouts. He just wants them.
Regardless, though, he takes off in a direction while he's working on getting his awamori open.
"And no, not really. More of a jeans and bomber jacket kinda guy. This feels like wearing a dress." Which is a fate worse than death, but he's managing it just to not having to fight the staff.
"I bruise your ego, hotshot?" He asks with a good-natured smile. Then he shakes his head but he doesn't touch him. He just dips towards him. "Come on, Dodger. You're attractive, to be sure. And I'm here, aren't I?"
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peacockstop2026-01-15 09:00 pm
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"It kinda makes me wonder why I'm here instead of them, frankly."
He... is an introvert movie nerd who was frozen in suspended animation for fifty years.
But the offer makes him visibly swallow.
"I-" he shakes his head, "I don't exactly-" his shoulders sink, "I appreciate the charity. But that's what it would be. I'm not-" Ughhhh. "I've never done... any thing. With anyone. Male or female. Though..." heh "that, at least, isn't really a concern for me. My preferences are... more about the person than anything."
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Something in his gaze sharpens, though, when Sand starts stuttering. It's that predatory instinct at work - he sees someone who needs guidance, who will owe him for helping out and will remember it when he asks them for something later. Kind people especially, people who aren't used to taking what they want by force, tend to be very easy to talk into being helpful. And this time he's determined to not get emotionally attached like he did for the last confused pretty-much-virgin he adopted.
After some thought, Dodger shifts closer, very boldly moving into Sand's space until their faces are inches apart.
"I think the House can tell when someone needs to catch a break. You've got an opportunity here - to relax, figure yourself out, experiment a little. Not worry about whatever was happening back home. Be a shame to pass that up."
He's not going to argue with this being 'charity'. It is, or at least he's not in a rush to volunteer what he's getting out of it.
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Sand is inexperienced when it comes to sex. and a good portion of that has to do with what his life has been and what it's become... but some of it also has to do with his duties. His job. That job being the legacy of Wesley Dodds, of the Sandman.
And what that means is that every time he sleeps, his unconscious mind connects with deviants, psychopaths, and sadists. It's his job to take what he gets from them to piece together the crime and prevent it before it happens. His prize for this? A few hours of uninterrupted sleep. No dreams, just darkness.
And he prizes those few hours. So he pays attention to predatory signs.
The moving into his space is just corroborating evidence.
He doesn't tense, but he does look... curious.
"That right?" A pause before he tilts his head the other way. "You have some experience with that? Stuff at home pretty... hectic?"
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"Sure. Spent the last two years trying to stop humans from enslaving people like me. I earned a vacation."
This is a gross oversimplification, not just of the political climate but of Dodger's own personal life. A stranger who might be a mutant doesn't need to hear about Dodger's conviction that he's going to die if he goes home, or the fact that his hectic lifestyle came from being a domestic terrorist trying to channel his sadistic urges into something vaguely morally okay. That can come later, once his claws are already hooked in.
"Got any powers? Or are you human too?"
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"I'm a metahuman, yes," he says easily enough, because being made of silicon and all of his 'powers' are not the same thing. He holds up his hand, turning it this way and that for a moment before it starts to dissolve into sand and then dissolves further into a swirl of sand particles. Then it starts reforming into his hand as the fingers waggle a 'hello'. "A geo-morph, to be more specific."
A slightly teasing grin.
"What about you? What're you packing, Dodger?" A pause before- "Teleporter?"
It's a guess. But he'll pause before adding- "Or some kind of probability manipulator?"
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"Teleporter, yeah. Among other things."
Augmented stress responses is a fucking mouthful, which is why he always sticks to calling himself a firestarter. But if the teleportation is the first thing he's confirming he'll just stick to that.
"I'm a mutant. Powers are pretty common here, but there's only two mutants around. I think you might be the only 'metahuman', too."
Although he suspects, like quirks, that they're functionally indistinguishable. The real thing that makes it matter that only he and Scott are mutants, is the years of distrust and othering from humans.
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So is 'next stage of evolution' but he does have to be careful about how overt he is about the mutant supremacy. Especially around other superhumans.
While they talk, though, Dodger is... inching closer. Idly resting his hand on Sand's thigh. Just seeing if he gets pushed away.
"Is that what metahumans are?"
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And then his eyes open like he's just been burned. He's not unaccustomed to being jostled or nudged; he's a New Yorker. He might not travel on the subway himself (or at least not the kind that has a train since he has his own 'sub way' badum ching but he still walks on the streets. But Dodger has greatly underestimated how much of an effect a touch on the thigh like that to someone touch starved to the degree he is.
He doesn't get pushed away but it's obvious that Sand has no idea what to do and he looks down at it like it might change while not actually moving or indicating he wants it to? And then he clears his throat.
"They're- meta humans are those with an activated meta gene, a genetic factor present in about 12% of the population but only brought out by extreme circumstances in most cases or through artificial means, like chemical treatment or radiation of various kinds. While it was originally thought that, say, a lab accident might have given someone their powers, it turns out that it probably would have just killed them if they didn't already have the Metagene."
And it's amazing that he said all of that sounding calm and collected. Also without the earth shaking at all. Then-
"Did you know your hand is on my thigh?"
He doesn't sound upset about this. Just... curious.
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"Huh. So different, but not far off."
His fingers are moving idly, shifting to feel along Sand's skin while he talks with a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
"Mutants are more like... 20, 30% of the population? We're born that way, the mutant gene activates on its own when we turn eight or so. That's when you get to find out if you're normal, or you're going to spend the rest of your life getting treated like a ticking time bomb. And being damn lucky there's no way to test for a mutation unless it's physically obvious. And yes, I know where my hand is."
His hand moves up a little further, stopping just short of touching Sand's dick.
"Do you want me to stop?"
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And yet-
"Not... sure at the moment," he reports with surprising clarity. Then he looks to meet Dodger's eyes.
"Why is it there?"
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"Well I was planning to put it on your dick but I figured you needed a warning first."
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He doesn't, but his hold is thoughtful.
"Your world have 'dinner'? Or 'drinks'? What about 'movies'? Any of that?"
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"If you want to get out, dry off, get dressed, go somewhere, spend money, talk for an hour, go back to one of our rooms and make less money from it than we would from fucking around in the baths. Then sure, I've heard of all those."
He does do dates, surprisingly often considering his own preferences. Sometimes they even go well. But Dodger is keenly aware of the fact that they also significantly hamper his chances of getting someone in bed. Talking to him for long periods of time just has that effect.
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"Great."
And the hand around his will disintegrate into sand before swirling into a form on the floor outside of the bath. He's naked, unabashedly, and for all of his awkwardness, there is nothing to be ashamed of there.
"Out. Step one done. Dry. Step two done." And he reaches over for his yukata, a teal and gold affair that has hourglasses on it that he slips on easily enough and begins to tie. "And step three: complete."
He gives Dodger a challenge in a smile.
"Catch up, slowpoke."
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Well, fine. Dodger's form bursts apart into flames with a loud pop, and reforms a second later at the edge of the bath. Still dripping wet, until he heats up his skin enough that it starts to glow briefly and dries him off in a burst of steam. That leaves him patting his hair back into place, and checking that his wrist bandages are okay before he goes to pull on his own yukata. Dark blue, with an art deco pattern in gold across it.
"If this is what we're doing..." He huffs, "What's your moral disposition on stealing?"
Because he doesn't want to go somewhere public and have this man see how nervous he is in crowds. Sometimes a date is stealing alcohol from the common room and wandering around the resort proper to avoid the staff noticing where it went.
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"So not just teleportation. Neat."
But he takes the question about 'stealing' seriously, considering it for a moment as he finishes tying his clothing. He'll .
"Well, given the fact that I'm pretty sure they 'stole' you and me both, stealing from thieves is just following the cultural norms of our new home. Thus." Shrug. "No arguments here."
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"Good, then we're on the same page. Go check out for the day, I'll meet you outside Heron's Retreat."
With that, he disappears. No particle effects this time, he just isn't here anymore - although he's just invisible and Sand will probably be able to hear his footsteps heading toward the common room. Off to pilfer a bottle of awamori for each of them, before heading over to that meeting spot.
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Dodger appears with another burst of sparks in front of Sand, and offers him a bottle of awamori.
"Here - no clue what this is, but the ABV's above 35, that's all I need." He tips his head. "Let's take a walk, we'll see where we end up."
It's probably going to be an hour of wandering that ends in a Mating Season pod, knowing Dodger.
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"Awamori. Traditionally consumed in the Okinawan prefecture of Japan, though they've switched to mostly using rice from Thailand." He smiles ruefully at the bottle. "Shame I left my kara-kara at home." But he heard Dodger loud and clear. "This bottle looks like it's about 80 proof so that should serve for you."
Not gonna do shit for him, but what else is new? He likes to experience things. That's what it's for. And on the principle.
"Any particular destination we're heading for?" A pause. "I heard there's a hookah lounge?" One of his vices, surprisingly.
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"It's booze. It's strong enough to work on me. That's what matters."
And he's about to waffle about their destination, but... ugh, the hookah lounge. Dodger tenses a bit, and his smile gets strained. Rather than going straight for his own bottle, he pauses to pull out his cigarettes and light a new one. Snapping his fingers to light their tips on fire, and holding that up to the tip.
"Not the Smoked Egg. Smells god-awful in there. Why don't we swing by the shopping center? I'll get you something to wear that isn't... that... and you can pay me back after."
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"I'm good with this, but I don't mind knowing where the shopping area is. Not sure I'm going to have much to spend any time soon, but still, good to know."
His mood is positive enough.
"Not your style?"
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He probably won't actually spend enough money to need multiple payouts. He just wants them.
Regardless, though, he takes off in a direction while he's working on getting his awamori open.
"And no, not really. More of a jeans and bomber jacket kinda guy. This feels like wearing a dress." Which is a fate worse than death, but he's managing it just to not having to fight the staff.
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He keeps walking and his tone is wry.
"But I'm a virgin, not a kid."
cw: dodger having predator thoughts
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