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TDM 001
| TDM 001: TFLU |
 ( 1 ) After leaving the teleportation chamber, you are gently coaxed out of the hospital and encouraged to find a place to stay. Maybe you've had time to check out your A5 app. Maybe you're just settling in. It's cloudy, overcast, cold -- you'll want to seek out someplace warm. Also, your device is beeping. A lot. The tech on the island works, it just doesn't work right. You can't seem to send a message to the correct person. It's time for... Texts From Last Universe( 2 ) What's this? Your bingo card has just been beamed to a stranger's inbox...?! ( sample A5 cards -- NSFW, may contain triggering content, please feel free to use/ignore as you see fit) ( 3 ) And now you're receiving messages from other users that they don't remember sending: Nice shirt. It would look better on my floor. 10/10 would ride it into the sunset. This user thinks you're attractive. u up? 🍆 ( 4 ) Once you figure out that the robots have been hacking your devices, it's no easy feat to track one down and demand they stop. "So The Augur wills!" they wail in a monotone. "So it is done!" Any attempt to actually contact The Augur and get back into the hospital will be met with beefy robot bodyguards, who suggest taking a gentler approach to fix your devices. If you know what they mean. Wink. (This is your overt kink prompt. Please label any threads accordingly.) Note: All prompts are optional. The theme for this TDM is "malfunctioning devices." They can be fixed by indulging in the squares on your cards. For the sake of the TDM, you can use one of the pre-generated examples or a wildcard from the kink list. This can be used as a free bingo square completion once you have been accepted into the game. Players are welcome to wildcard their own TDM prompts; we only ask that you try to stick to the theme. N A V I G A T I O N |
you just tagged a main antagonist, son, set sail for ARDYN
[Oops, that quiet judgment might backfired a bit. At least McGillis has the courtesy to look amused, and wouldn't have been offended anyway; he doesn't care what Prompto thinks, doesn't care what anyone thinks as long as he finds a way back home. Even this world's secrets meant nothing in comparison to the greater goal.
Although it wouldn't hurt to know them, especially before anyone else.]
And you're not connecting anything with that outdated junk. Utilize another method.
[The cruel hits just keep on coming...]
LMAO GOD...... i should've known with a name that LITERALLY has villain in it. either way, nice
but thinking about going home... Prompto should be more worried about that very thing, but the road back is inlaid with a lot of things that were left unsaid and a plethora of guilt of what had went down. some Crownsguard he ended up being.
regardless, he sucks in air through his teeth.]
I'll have you know, this is a state of the art media transfer cable.
[it's a usb cord.
he can't impress a 7-star general with that.]
Too bad they're gonna have to stay here on my device.
[he turns the camera mode back on, and then points it up towards McGillis, snapping a shot.]
Whoa. I think I'll name this one... "jerkward in his natural habitat."
[it's beautiful. belongs in an art gallery. stunning. flawless. 10/10.]
you be the good blonde, I'll be the bad blonde, it's all gravy
Ah, but I'm already a controversial figure, so I've heard it all before.
[An international fugitive and a war criminal, to be exact. But hey, details, right?]
Are you giving up so soon? Your youthful vigor has its limits, I see.
please look forward to their buddy cop movie
Definitely going to sell this to the local "Sexbot Times," if you really need to know. The telling exposé will reveal everything.
[nothing looks as intimidating as the hard light from the window shining on those 7 aligned stars, all neatly arranged on his uniform. it actually is a kind of neat picture, trolling aside. too bad there's no way to transfer... as far as he knows. he looks over and smiles, somewhat.
would it be really weird to ask---]
Let me take a few more?
[as youthful and vigorous as it gets, all wrapped up in a blanket package, dude.]
Show me some military poses. [he eyes the room around him- there's a certain ambiance to capture here. the glory of the military, surrounded by the ruins of a decayed building! that's pretty fire for an aspiring photog, like Prompto.
and, also, he's kinda good looking. there's always that.]
wheezes as I wake up... thank you, stranger
But eventually he does rise, to full height, revealing himself as very, very tall and very, very broad in the shoulders. There's a lot of muscle under that uniform, enough to crack someone's skull open, though he's mannered in his approach as he comes to loom over Prompto. Take a few more? Well, of course. He could take as many as he cared to.
It just wasn't going to come cheap.]
How unfortunate. But we did have a deal, so...
[He's very good looking, thanks for noticing. All the easier to appreciate when he's leaning in with a crisp smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]
...pull up your device. Your other device, the one around your wrist.
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yeah, that much was absolutely true.
but then McGillis comes in front, too close, with all the finesse of a cat meandering into a crowded zoom call, and Prompto pulls away to look past the window behind the shutter. what is he up to?]
Huh? I thought our relationship was a like a mullet- business in the front, party in the back.
[what in the ever loving fuck?
Prompto raises an eyebrow, the blanket shrugging off around thin shoulders as he obliges, reaching up to bring his wrist at eye level. the lump in his throat hardens a little bit. okay, dude, that's a little too close for comfort. he can see pores. gorgeous pores, but pores, nonetheless. Prompto suddenly feels a lot more self-conscious about the light freckles splattered like constellations around his nose.]
What can I do you for?
[phrasing.
he definitely doesn't have enough gil for that.]
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[Bossy, bossy. At least there's no imminent threat, not yet, just the implied weight of a command. Of an order, which he expects to be obeyed. On his end, he sifts through his own bracelet, searching for the card in question. His fingers are swift, refined, and strangely delicate for a man of his stature.]
You also received one, I'm presuming. You're going to complete one of those squares for me.
[Not enough gil in the world to afford this prima donna, but that's fine. They'll talk in a different kind of currency.]
Now or later, that's up to you. But I will get this technology working, one way or another.
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but, also.
well, okay, this wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing in the world to happen, right? under no uncertain terms, the robots had basically said that privileges will not be restored until the banging resumes, and as much as Prompto has been pushing that aside, it's probably a stark reality that one or two of those things are going to have to get done.
the only thing is- there are items on that card that are enough to make him want to fade away into non-existence, no matter how gung-ho he could be about some of them. sharing the list with people just opens up doors to uncomfortable situations, like, for example, the one they're having right now.
ah, to have the good old days of grindr back, when the fate of an entire world didn't rely on getting your dick sucked.]
Uhh...
[okay, okay. give him a second to orient.]
Maybe a little mood music first?
[what? he just wants what any semi self-loathing post-pubescent guy with hormones wants. but he senses the request just isn't going to fly with McGillis, and sighs as he pulls up his b-card. he can still back out if he wants to, but there's admittedly.
something kinda sexy about a man who knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it?
don't shame him.]
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Except for one square. Truly the most wretched of preferences, the foulest of kinks, the square that reveals Prompto as the sick son of a bitch behind that cheery smile. It could only be...]
Cuddling...?
[McGillis just raises a thin blonde brow, equal parts skeptical and suspicious.]
That's your sweet spot? Being held like some sort of deprived child?
[So much shaming, son. All of the shaming.]
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[as if he's actively trying to deny that cuddling isn't on his own personal top ten. what a sick fuck. never mind the blossoming leather daddy potential that his b-card could be spawning right now. he ought to turn his face away from McGillis. no one so filthy should look upon the gaze of such an esteemed general.
but yes, absolutely. please hold him. he's so touch starved and an absolute mess otherwise.]
... but what's wrong with having an emotional, tender moment between two consenting adults?
[DEPRAVED.]
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Goodness, I just got up.
[But lucky you, you perverted bastard, here he comes. At least he's shrugging off that heavy coat so he doesn't crush Prompto in all the weight of those sacred seven stars, but it still means he's getting scooped up like a sack of potatoes and dumped on that accommodating lap. And isn't the sweet? They wound up sharing the blanket after all.
McGillis, once again, seems unfazed by by this development, even as he drapes arms over Prompto's shoulders and starts fiddling with his device.]
Hm. Does it specify the length of time...?
[No big deal. Totally normal, getting swallowed up by the Great Wall of McGillis.]
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really.
the two are a match for sighing, as he feels a little uncomfortable, even swept up and kept in McGillis' lap. this is so procedural, it's almost like it's a tick in the general's social calendar. wake up, salute the stars, get dumped into an foreign universe, sweep an unsuspecting civ into his arms, and then go home to a glass of whiskey and some smooth stylings of military marches on his finely kept 12" player. he rests the side of his head against him, in a slow realization of defeat.
he should probably go, right? like, this is actually getting a bit much. just take his new blanket and skedaddle. but now that he's checking the filth stats, there's a resounding "nope" coming from its unmarred box. that's not going to fly. and for a moment, instead of thinking this is kind of dumb and pointless and a little goofy, maybe this guy's just never had a really good cuddle? sucking in the sides of his cheeks, he looks upward to stern facial features, thin lines of brows, and peak physical perfection in its finest.]
Dude. I don't think we're gonna get anywhere like this. You've got the inner warmth of a king cobra. Loosen up a bit.
[hm.]
Mind if I, uh. Help you out here?
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He glances down at his catch, with no small amount of irritation, and almost seems offended. Except it's a little half-hearted, because he might've been caught out of his element.]
Isn't this sufficient?
[And that's no joke. He really doesn't know any better, thanks to less than fortunate experiences in the past.]
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but not really, he just likes being close to people by proximity. it's nice to held by someone, even if he's not about to get into the fine details about that with a.) a total stranger and b.) someone who probably doesn't care either way. underneath everything, it makes him feel more like a person and less like a not-person, if that makes any sense.
making a sourpuss out of McGillis, though, that's probably just going to tip their robot overlords further toward the scale of "not legit."]
Probably not. But, hey, man. It's okay.
[he takes it failure isn't something the other blond is used to. not that it's entirely a failure? it just needs some leg room. like a picture, just. maybe taken at the wrong angle.
he sidles in a way to lean more against the general, less relying on his arms to prop his position up. for all his impatience, Prompto's still a pretty gentle person, and he's just as such when he tries to move his arm so that the pose is way more natural, touching more of Prompto than treating him like a sack of potatoes.
start small. it's what he told himself when he started taking running as a hobby, back when he was a kid.]
Tell me, uh. Talk about something that makes you happy. People usually relax a bit when they do.
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What made him happy...? Not much. Not much appropriate for this kind of setting, anyway. It takes him some time to think, working through it aloud.]
...birds. I couldn't find any, when I first arrived, which was unusual. Surely birds exist in any kind of world.
[Did they all die? Were they exterminated? Did they migrate? McGillis frowns, lost in his own train of thought.]
Turdus merula, Cyanocitta cristata, Zenaida macroura... all absent. No other animals, either, or plants that I could tell. Everything is dead or dying.
[Such a sad state of affairs. And he's not exactly happy, pretty far from relaxed, but keeping his brain active means he's distracted from other things, like tensing up or crushing his companion. His fingers are pliant, and touch softly to Prompto's arm, where they naturally fell. This was a dangerous man, but... it's harder to see that, talking about robins and doves.]
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okay, that's... definitely better. it's a little surprising to Prompto, at least at some level, that he's talking in a way that doesn't lead to demands or implementations. there's a hint of sadness behind the diction here, and as he listens, he imagines an entire field of chocobos running in an empty field. he gets it. they're kind of beautiful- birds. they can go where they please. they're the owners of the skies, unburdened by conventions or barcodes or notions about what they need to do.
in any case, if it's not the intended effect he wanted to bring to the table, it provides a better, and less rigid option. a hulking, brooding, presumably much stronger man with someone relatively weak boned and fragile in his arms. it wouldn't be the first time that Prompto's been likened to a bird himself, but that's weird imagery to conjure up here.]
Back in my home world, we have these birds that are bigger than you can imagine. You can actually ride them. They're really... like. These gentle things, soft and warm, and so powerful. They're beautiful.
[as the grip around Prompto softens a little, he shifts an inch or two to pull out his camera, again, for the umpteenth time since they met, as he flips through with a single flick... 100's of photos back, to show him what a chocobo looks like as it rests happily at a post, nestled in on itself.]
See?
[he tilts the preview window up so the other can see it. they're definitely not extinct where he comes from. and as he shows him, he nestles his head closer up against him, his wild hair threatening against his jawline, if only to let him get a better view of what he was talking about.
almost cuddling.]
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dat thirst, boi...
Of course, he isn't blind or deaf to what's going on, to what's happening. He's alert and attentive, as any man from his background would be, but he's shedding a few of those nastier layers. Not the physical kind, but the kind that seethed and glared and stopped short of calling Prompto a complete idiot. He's just doing as directed, for as long as it pleases him.
A very big lion, holding a tiny little bird. How appropriate.]
Ah, it seems happy.
[Happy, like Prompto told him to be. He can't, but this was a decent start, and it has him looking down to dryly note:]
It bears a striking resemblance to you.
what are you talking about this is a strictly ecological arrangement
the door's been slightly opened from the locked tight position that was McGillis just a few moments ago, and as he teases, Prompto sees a sliver of a sense of humor peaking out from behind the curtain. it wasn't the first time he was told that; and he's protested enough to it in the past, but it doesn't bother him as much as he lets on.]
I'll take that as a compliment.
[he smiles, arrogant in the way he eats the attention up.
he's not sure that there's a way to bring back birds and flora and fauna and the like just by getting intimate with people. that much just seems so far-fetched from reality that he'd have to see it to honestly believe it. but if there is a legit way to make it happen, he decides that he'd like to see it too. for this guy's sake, at least.]
It's the hair, right? [he smiles, and then, not-so-subtly puts himself out there. which is weird, because he's kind of awful at this sort of thing. with a little lull in his voice, in a tone just below challenging and a little above inviting he adds-] I don't usuuuually offer, but I've heard mine is just as soft. You can touch it if you want.
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Being a creature that prided itself upon arrogance, he sniffs it out right away in others. It's a poor look for someone so clearly on the chipper end of the spectrum, and McGillis calls it out—although it's more akin to thinly veiled teasing. He's arrogant enough to get away with it.]
Fishing for praise, are we?
[McGillis rests his weight a bit more heavily upon Prompto. Although he took those lessons to heart; proper cuddling sequence has been engaged.]
That's a strange thing to ask on another man's lap. Perhaps you should try for the corner square, instead.
[Kissing? Oh, my. Fitting with the scandalous theme here.]
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[which is absolutely true. leave that stuff to the crowned prince, codename: Mr. Gar. he knew his way around a rod or two, and a wealth of far more inappropriate sex pun fishuenndos, you know. as he's wont to do. there's a little lift to his voice, when he says it, enjoying the borderline-teasing that's going on. that sort of stuff puts him right in his comfort zone, a place where he falls back to often enough to hide a mass of other hiccups that imply his actual lack of self-faith.
but the most important thing to note here is that it feels like this is actually beginning to work- Prompto's a lot more comfortable, and he can't quite tell if McGillis is too, but the way he exerts more of himself on Prompto, the more he gets a positive reinforcement that they're heading in the right direction. actually, he might not be too bad at it, after all? he knows the general would never agree to it, but would it really be the worst thing in the world to fall asleep like this? in the arms of a kind of dreamy man?
gross.
here's the rub, though. and it's kind of awful, because Prompto thinks "corner square?" and kissing's not the one that comes directly to mind. mostly because, well, the other guy seems kind of unreachable and Prompto doesn't have the gusto to go for gold. instead, he blinks, opens his mouth, and then closes it. alright, dude. you asked for it.]
Uhm. Okay. We can try that. [shifting, a little, he brushes his fingers across McGillis' arm.] Y'know, I-I... I, uh. I've never really been with a guy before. This doesn't make me gay or anything, right?
[he's not very convincing.]
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You most certainly have. Though I'd question your experience, given your relative youth.
[He throws Prompto a bone with "relative" as opposed to calling him a child, though he still looks so very young. But that's fine, he figures. And if he came this close, and continued to linger, continued to push the envelope, it suggests that consent has been granted—and he can guide this interaction a little more appropriately.
Kissing was on his card too, but as with their cuddling endeavor, he wonders how much was necessary to earn that golden check mark.]
At any rate, that makes no difference to me. Open your mouth.
[And whether he does or doesn't, McGillis has more than enough gusto to spare. You're getting kissed, little bird, with a proper tilt of the chin to boot.]
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he has to wonder. is this the type of presence he always commands? it went from a terse meeting, a negotiation about blankets and pictures, to feeling honestly a little too warm under them now- and Prompto hasn't fussed much along the way. the envelope gets pushed, for sure, and this is getting farther away from teaching him how to cuddle. his inhibitions and guardrails are brought down. but he doesn't really need the bingo card excuse. he'd probably be into this without even having a clinical reason to do so. that might be easy enough to read off of him, though, as he looks upward, freckle faced and soft hair and all.]
I.... I mean, bingo card aside, and everything. Older men are kinda hot.
[there, he said it. no fire in his stomach or intense feeling of embarrassment to go along with it, either.
and then it goes to show that he was way, way off about which square he was talking about- as the other presses a kiss into him. whoa. okay. cool. okay.
the room's definitely kind of spinning.
a stranger's kissing him, and he bathes in the unique feeling that he's the most important thing in the room right now. even if it's not entirely true, it feels pretty goddamn fantastic, as he closes his eyes, and parts his lips as directed. McGillis has effectively wiped Prompto clean of any possible objection or wariness in the process. which is honestly? a pretty big feat for just about anyone.]
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He's cute. McGillis can admit that to himself, quietly. Eager and full of an infectious sort of energy, which he has little doubt he's forced onto others in the past. In this context, though, it's fine. He's getting what he wants, and he can justify it later, when he's sifting through all those pictures he's earned. He'll do what he has to, in order to survive. He'll use people and toss them aside, just like other people will use him in turn. That's simply the way of things, and being thrown ten thousand worlds away won't change that.
Still, he's curious to see how far Prompto will go. He pries those lips open a bit further, with the expertise of that charming older man but also with the insistence of a predator. Fittingly, a game of chicken, to see how far is too far, how much more he can push back before he's had enough. Though he's in trouble, and on multiple fronts.
Because McGillis was, most definitely, in his element here. And he's a very gifted orator... so his tongue proves, slipping in and slipping past Prompto's sassy little mouth.]
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it doesn't escape him that McGillis has a certain way about him either. the type that not only demands perfection around him by his mere personal aura, but also commands a certain charismatic insistence on getting what he wants done. and it's not like Prompto hasn't been on the receiving end of a deep kiss before, or given one for that matter, but it was infinitely more arousing when the other party didn't flounder around with the desire to do it. the blond is swept up by it, taken in by the undertow, and no matter the level of trouble he's in, he's always been one to accidentally skirt the line of between safe and dangerous.
simply put, he's wandered willingly straight into the lion's den.
Prompto shifts, then, his body knowing what to do in the warmth of the moment, if McGillis permits it- as he comes undone from his useless sack of potatoes position and into a more active one. his lap becomes a seat, and although he's a grown ass man, the weight of his body is probably a blip in the radar. he raises his hand upward to touch his cheek, guided in location by the juxtaposition of their lips tangled together. Prompto accepts the entrance towards his own mouth, as he presses his tongue upward and against the general's. the contortive sweeps that McGillis makes inside Prompto stir him, as he feels blissfully helpless to the game of chicken that they've made. with a rising gradation of effort, he tries to keep himself a contender, so as not to be eaten whole by McGillis' intentful presence.
and somewhere around his wrist, a little mark on a box is checked off. if this wasn't enough to bring birds home to roost in this world, at least the one sitting in McGillis' lap is content enough to let his cage rattle a bit.]
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He doesn't really care what happens to Prompto, whether he likes it or dislikes it. But he's not immune to intimacy by any means, even though anyone dragged into his bed just wound up spat out. When he's touched on the cheek, almost tenderly, he leans into it. When Prompto shifts, he shifts to accommodate, spreading his legs a bit wider, tightening his grip a bit more.
And as Prompto responds, he starts to move, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling them closer together. It's bold, but it's still civil. Still polite, although what they're doing is dipping into the territory of sexual as opposed to simply intimate. He's a man, at the end of day, and men react predictably to this kind of attention. He's starting to stir, and in a very obvious way.
Which was punctuated by some muffled sound, something like a huff. It melts into a moan, as he forces himself to pull away. Just not too far, just in case.]
Perhaps our devices will function properly, now.
[He found his voice but it's a bit strained. And his eyes are dark, pupils a bit blown. Arousal evident. He peers at Prompto, breath heavy and slow.]
You're starved for this, aren't you? Is that what you want...?
[Obviously, this was no longer about the cards. His own device chirps happily, conditions fulfilled. But just as Prompto was caught in McGillis' orbit, McGillis surrenders to the pleasure of the act itself. And ever cognizant, asks in so many words, shall we continue? Because even a beast could bow to consent.]
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