saltburnmods: (Default)
π–˜π–†π–‘π–™π–‡π–šπ–—π–“π–™ π–’π–”π–‰π–˜. ([personal profile] saltburnmods) wrote in [community profile] draino2024-11-09 08:00 am
Entry tags:

ππ‹πˆπ’π’, ππ‹πˆπ’π’, ππ‹πˆπ’π’ β–£ NOV TDM





NOVEMBER 2024 TDM: RENAISSANCE


Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β€” dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.

Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.







WELCOME TO SALTBURNT


It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isn’t, stay in bed and wallow β€” eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe it’s normal for you. Maybe it isn’t.

You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β€” have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Haven’t you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?

EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.

That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 π‰πŽππ“π˜: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 ππ„ππ„πƒπˆπ‚π“: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 π’π‡π€πŠπ€π’π‡πŽπ”πŠπ€: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 π’π˜πƒππ„π˜: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
πŽπ„π”π…π’ ππ‘πŽπ”πˆπ‹π‹π„π’: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
π’ππ€ππˆπ’π‡ 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
𝐄𝐆𝐆 πŒπ‚π’π€ππƒπ–πˆπ‚π‡: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.

THE SWEETS

❖ momofuku's "cereal milk" ❖
❖ fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss ❖
❖ a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping ❖
❖ a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling ❖
❖ poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection ❖


If you want to leave, you’ll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as he’s as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, there’s no reason why you can’t just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesn’t want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they can’t make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, though β€” this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?

Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, it’s all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.

"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."




2 GIRLS 1 CUP

CONTENT WARNINGS: nudity, potential for nsfw.

Over the past few days, a bit of construction has taken place on the grounds of the Saltburnt estate, and while it's difficult to piece together what exactly is being built, it's clear to see: whatever it is, it's massive, taking up a huge percentage of the grounds with multiple included structures. On the outside it seems almost like a neighborhood is being sprung up β€”Β new houses for people to live in, maybe? New shops, disconnected from the manor at large? All is revealed on opening day, when upon entry all are greeted with cheery hellos from jauntily clad persons shouting, "Huzzah!" and "Hail and well met!" For the more medieval and fantasy inclined among you, it might feel like stepping somewhere familiar and homey. To the rest, you know β€” you've just walked into a Ren Faire. Costumes are expected.

Not sure what to wear? Those born between SEPTEMBER to FEBRUARY are dubbed part of the Unseelie Court, which is associated with darkness and decay, generally dressed in deep, dark colors. Those born between MARCH to AUGUST are part of the Seelie Court, which is associated with stars and sky, in lighter, brighter colors.

On either side of the split path, you're assaulted by the scents, sights, and sounds of any ordinary Ren Faire. Vendors pawn off garlicky mushrooms and full turkey legs, or flower crowns and juggling sticks in exchange for a kiss, a secret, a lock of hair, or something of equal nonsensical value. Step inside a shop and see sellers offering crude jewelry and satchels of loose leaf tea, fudge sold by the ounce and porcelain ocarinas. Essentially, if it's kitschy and thematic, you can find it here, being sold to you by people in costume who refuse to break character.

Shopping not quite your style? Fear not! If you're lucky in your wanderings, your might spot the Unseelie Queen ALICENT HIGHTOWER or her counterpart and opposed Seelie Queen LAURALAE carried on palanquins towards the very back of the faire, where the real heart of the show takes place in a small stadium for entertainment purposes β€”Β a tourney for distinguishing yourself as the best among your peers in the manor. Prior to the tourney, all characters are given a favor of some kind ( an embroidered handkerchief, ribbon, garland, or piece of jewelry ) to give to a person of their choosing, be they a competitor or not, to show their support. Strangely, this favor seems to link them through an empathetic, sensation-based bond, so they feel everything their chosen competitor experiences. Mutual favors result in a mutual bond.

The challenges are set: ARCHERY/KNIFE THROWING, SWORDFIGHTING/HAND-TO-HAND, and a BARD'S TOURNEY. In addition to the more ye olde flavor of competition, there are also challenges for COUPLE TENNIS, HORSE POLO, and CHESS. And, in true Saltburnt fashion, there is also a somewhat lewd display of voyeuristic NUDE WRESTLING, where the first person to have an orgasm loses. (You can sign up for these competitions HERE.) To every challenge there is dubbed a winner, who in the old Westerosi tradition gets to crown a chosen "maiden" with the title THE QUEEN OR KING OF LOVE AND BEAUTY and an extravagant wreath of flowers, their victory dedicated to the lucky lord or lady. These wreaths are both fashionable and functional β€” while wearing them, no one can resist following whatever queenly command your character gives. Additionally, winners will receive prizes courtesy of Saltburnt, all to be determined upon victory.

Whichever queen has the most winners at the end of the tourney is crowned HIGH QUEEN OF THE FAE. The Queen is paraded around and celebrated by all, and while tribute is not necessary, it certainly is appreciated!






RING AROUND THE ROSEY


CONTENT WARNINGS: potential for nsfw.

The Ren Faire fixture runs adjacent to the tree line of the forest, which one can enter through a booth manned by THE GREAT WIZARD ARCHIBALD, who warns you to be prepared to enter the Realm of the Fae beyond his backdrop curtain, before handing you a flower and a pair of antlers (or a head piece from your fauna choice) for your journey to the beyond. Upon entering, you are greeted by a forest that bears no resemblance to the woods you've grown to expect in your time at the manor, everything more exaggeratedly lush than it had been even a day or so prior. Plump fruits with slightly glimmering skins grow fat on the vine, every leaf on every tree vibrant and healthy despite the changing of seasons, gone orange and red with the cold. Despite that, it's surprisingly balmy in the forest, everything illuminated by glimmering fairy lights and strung up lanterns. Flowers bloom under your feet, alongside perfect little red mushrooms, everything so idealistic it almost borders on discomfort.

Despite any reservations, there is a wild compulsion to everyone who enters the forest. The flower the wizard gave you is pungent enough to dizzy your head, leading you to the instinct of frolicking β€” or if you're not the type to frolick, then wandering β€”Β through the woods, to find some counterpart to your particular flower in a very innocent (or not so innocent) game of cat and mouse. Once you find them, a simple kiss will serve as enough to claim your prize and ease the compulsion. Unless, of course, you want to give a little more. It couldn't hurt, right?

Wander further through the seemingly never ending woods, drawn on of the beauty of faerie, and find yourself at a somewhat rundown chapel surrounded by foliage, the roof and walls broken down with age, invaded by exploring plant life that crawls and vines through every crack and opening. While the stone altar of indeterminate denomination seems like it hasn't been seen for hundreds of years, let alone cleaned, there's the distinct impression you are walking on hallowed, sacred ground when you move to inspect it. Those clever among you might note different runes etched on what appears to be a wooden tabernacle on an ancient pillar at the back of the chapel. Looking into it, there's a word from an unknown language carved inside, complimented with a cheat sheet bit of yellowing paper which reads F. M. K., with further explanation: FRIENDS, MARRY, KINK.

What could it mean? Well. You and whoever you entered the chapel with, or whoever enters next, are stuck until further notice unless you complete one of the proffered options. FRIENDS, it's time you bury the hatchet, let bygones be bygones and accept our faults moving forward, together, to the future. MARRY, let's seal our bonded union with the trees as our witness, in a church of our own making. KINK, if the altar can't be used for the former, it can certainly be used for the latter. Nothing vanilla will do β€”Β kink up or shut up.

Once completed, you're free to leave and roam around the forest at your leisure. If you wander far enough you might hear a distant, organic sound whirring and clicking from the trees, but don't worry. Whatever is watching you probably doesn't bite.




DIRECTORY


dead_tongue: (mmmmno)

welcome | ii

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-12-21 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh honey, no."

Cigarette in one hand, mimosa in the other, bundled up in what looks suspiciously like a velour tracksuit under a puffer coat (hot pink and black, respectively) Iggy takes a seat on one if the garden benches.

"I've got my hands full. And this might shock you, but I'm not athletic."

Puff. Sip.

"You can't leave, you know."
morrer: (111)

[personal profile] morrer 2024-12-22 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
sounds like you gave her your heart and she didn't call you back
maybe next one, tiger
masticated: (pic#17567226)

[personal profile] masticated 2024-12-22 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
technically it was some of my intestines ♥
that was years ago. next one's come and gone and came again.

get it?
longlegs: s n (338)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-22 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
you're reading?

[ is that mean. ]

you know this house as a million of those right
it's gonna take me forever


[ it's like the point is to not tell her where he is or something ]
masticated: (pic#17567220)

[personal profile] masticated 2024-12-22 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
no, i'm in a room with a bookcase in it.
lotta rooms like that

you have a phone. just text me every ten minutes and if you hear the tone go off you're getting closer. or is that like

hard?
morrer: (087)

[personal profile] morrer 2024-12-22 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
Wherever I go, I feel I'm meant to be.

[Some sort of cosmic joke, if nothing else - sure, it messes up his poker plans and separates him from sweet, sweet Delphine, but he doesn't have any strong fix for anywhere in particular. His whole deal is that he wanders, going where he's beckoned, everywhere and nowhere all at once. There will always be death where there is life, and so he'll have something to do.

He cants his head to the side thoughtfully.]


Technically I was already here, long before I arrived. It's hard to explain.

[The Everything and Nothing. He's quiet a beat, before pivots topics abruptly. He's got a habit of doing this:]

What'd you do exactly, that keeps you immortal?
longlegs: s (213)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-22 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
i need some motivation to do all that
you got snacks or something?
masticated: (pic#17567226)

[personal profile] masticated 2024-12-22 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
[what the fuck]

seeing me isn't enough??
longlegs: s (084)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-22 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not worth getting snacks for?

i have cigarettes
semicharmed: (downward facing smile)

[personal profile] semicharmed 2024-12-22 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Matt's gaze flicks lazily between Lauralae's fingers and her face, then back again. He inhales deeply, holding the breath at the top, and lets it out to follow her stroking hands.

His mind is skittering ahead to instructions he might give her, to wondering if his spell will hold and how it'll feel. But once Matt realizes he's holding onto those thoughts, he decides to let them go. To give himself over to her touch and focus purely on relaxing. Lauralae's hand dips between his thighs, and Matt heaves a warm sigh. His hips hitch up slightly, legs spreading, to allow her better access to his ass. ]


I feel good, [ he sighs. ] The important thing for anal is to make sure your partner's relaxed and loose ... these muscles like to tighten up. [ Again, there's an asterisk for rough stuff, but Matt'll save that for later. ] That's why it's so nice to have you touch me for a little bit first.

[ He breathes gently for a moment, head lolling to the side as he regards her: her face, sweet in concentration, his magic jutting from above her sex. ]
semicharmed: (welp)

wildcard - you're tearing me apart lisa aka the room

[personal profile] semicharmed 2024-12-22 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ahh, November TDM time. We were young and innocent back then, and Matt hadn't yet defaced any wallpaper or grown way too many wings. There is a feather stuck to his sweater, but that can't be a harbinger of anything.

Anyway.

He's looking down at his phone, scrolling through photo after photo of very similar-looking drawing rooms. None of them exactly resembles the room he finds himself in now, which means he should probably photograph this one and measure it out for the manor model project.

As he considers where to begin, a young woman appears in the doorway. Matt's about to offer her some friendly, anodyne greeting, when he notices for the first time that the door to this room has a weird-looking sort of clock above it. It seems to measure just one hour. Before he can say anything at all, the door swings shut behind her and the clock shifts to 59:59, 59:58, 59:57 ... ]


Oh God, I doubt that's good, [ he mutters. ]
morrer: (060)

[personal profile] morrer 2024-12-22 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
cute.

no long term squeeze?
masticated: (pic#17567216)

[personal profile] masticated 2024-12-22 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
yeah you're worth getting snacks for sooo
i'll get you some ;)
masticated: (Default)

[personal profile] masticated 2024-12-22 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
kinda gets old when they get old and i stay the same.



no. either they get tired of me or i kill em cos i get tired of them.
there's nothing long term about me. doesn't stop them from loving me, though


[he likes to share]
morrer: (007)

[personal profile] morrer 2024-12-22 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
hey
that's not fair
bhaalist: (16)

@magicincarnate

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-12-22 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
I'll take out your heart.

Odd to find a volunteer.
thirsted: (pic#16740285)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-22 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The question, ultimately, is less what Lestat wants from him so much as what Astarion wants from Lestat. He's not compelled into anything, here β€” at least, not in this particular context, a sufficient distance from Archibald and the fae forest β€” and so the question of personal want and desire muscles its way to the forefront. When he meets Lestat's gaze, there's only the faintest veil pulled over the impression of a deer caught by a hunter's lamp; the illusion of confidence, however poorly drawn it may be, sketched out for the sake of avoiding a more complete surrender to uncertainty.

He allows himself to be drawn closer β€” to peer more closely into Lestat's unnaturally blue eyes, into the apparent utter confidence that Astarion finds magnetic and an object of envy, in turns β€” though he knows, even without stepping into such territory, that overtures toward anything further will have him scampering away.
]

Mon Γ©toile, [ he repeats, searching Lestat's features as though he could divine the words' meaning that way. (He and his kin, such as they are, have a way with words, don't they?) And it's a pause, besides, from addressing the more forward offer Lestat has placed between them. ] I don't know that I've heard the term before.
khaosmos: (z032)

[personal profile] khaosmos 2024-12-22 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Awesomen, so how do you plan to do it? Magic tendrils, sawed off shotgun? Or the good old reliable fist through ribcage?

Well, I love trying new things.
bhaalist: (13)

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-12-22 07:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, since you're asking, you should have a vote.

Localised lightning bolt, cut out by an ice knife, or standard telekinesis? I'm open to any.
thirsted: (Default)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-22 09:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's been interesting, picking up bits and pieces about other systems of magic. How they all coexist here, he has no idea β€” something to do with universal language as it applies to the manipulation of energy, he supposes, though such theorization is better left to more studious minds. ]

Don't push yourself too hard, [ is the thought he settles on, besides. ] Especially after ...

[ He shrugs, figuring he doesn't need to make his point any more explicit. Koby's practical enough to get it β€” he's only just recovered, and he'll be of no use to anyone, let alone himself, if he overextends too far. ]

I can pretend I'm less concerned, [ he says, teasing (another ingrained reaction to earnestness), ] or act disappointed it wasn't worse, if that makes it easier to bear.
thirsted: (Default)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-22 09:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's easy, with Louis β€” he laughs, and Astarion smiles, shrugging slightly at the charge of thievery. His demeanor only shifts at the change in topic, the line of his mouth drawing into a thoughtful moue.

Feeding is a loaded subject, to say the least. He's only really spoken about it with Hawk, who, speaking ofβ€”
]

I've had an offer, [ he begins, speaking slowly, ] which is to say, I've made do.

[ He looks sidelong at Louis, then. ]

Is it common practice, in your realm? For vampires to feed upon each other?
sonatinas: (bridgertons3ep1-15)

[personal profile] sonatinas 2024-12-22 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[She feels the grip he uses on her hands, and she is softer when she holds them back. As if it is all okay. His response makes her smile, and look up at him as if perhaps this is a real wedding, and what she might look like if she as looking at her husband to be.]

Should you like to kiss me?

[It is isn't traditional, but she does like when he kisses her, holds her, and if it is the manor doing this, well a kiss may not be so bad right now.]
longlegs: n (426)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-22 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
About… a month and a half?

[ She's making a face like she's bracing for impact. Or looking digging deep for a memory. Por que no los dos. ]

I thought I'd be out of here by now, but … I guess RaΓ­z is taking her sweet time. And I don't think we're gonna make it back in time for Christmas.

[ Yikes. ]
longlegs: s (438)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-22 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
there we go!
i'll come find you then
see how easy that was
viver: (110)

[personal profile] viver 2024-12-22 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
I know, right?