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lovemecharlie · 6 years ago

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Five Months In.

Charlie's Gender Reveal x Kristina the FreakyThief finds a new love 💕

Charlie felt like she was on her period almost, but without the blood and once her belly had grown to a noticeable size, suddenly everyone in her life was an expert on pregnancy and babies, feeling the need to tell her everything they'd ever half-read or heard. Her parents had stories about her childhood for days, odd stories that only Erik wanted to hear so that he could look at her and laugh. He wanted to get slapped, Charlie had the suspicion that he got off on it especially since she'd been a bit more temperamental than usual. Her moods changed quicker than Bastion's outfits. Her clients had helpful tidbits at times, but mostly empty aww's, nosey digging questions, and general knowledge. Nothing for the swelling, constipation, or bloating. She was grateful for the consideration and well wishes, but she wished people would mind their own business in the most polite way possible while keeping their hands to themselves. They weren't at the Apollo and her stomach was not a block of wood people could rub for good luck. Anyway, that was neither here nor there, the day of her gender reveal had arrived and she was determined to have a great day. She felt energized and there was a party to prep for.

"Need help," Erik asked waltzing into the room. He never knocked, he'd always just barge in.. often not even saying anything, just staring out of the window. Sometimes she'd stand next to him and he'd hug her. Those were the times she wondered if he was really okay, though she never asked, she just stood with him. "Nope, I'm feeling pretty decent so I've got this," Charlie smiled casually lifting from the bed to take her shower. Erik walked to her west facing floor to ceiling window. Nearly all of her walls were replaced with windows tinted from the outside. Thick glass stretched horizontally across the room, giving a magnificent sky view, property view, and beyond. He could see everything from her windows, the perfect high perch.

"You know this used to be my office before we met? I used to come in here to think when life, Wakanda, the center, Hennessy, Angéle, Kimora, and that damn Davita," he smirked, "..would get to be too much." He paused looking out and Charlie made her way to his side to stare out as well. "Sometimes they would really raise a nigga blood pressure to the point where I could either snap and do something terrible that I'd regret or I could walk away. It's like the same decision has been presented to me over and over again my whole life and because of the love implanted in me by my father, I've been forced to face these situations head on. Because I loved my wives, I couldn't hurt them like I'd hurt someone else. I'd lock myself in this room and look out these windows reminding myself of why I chose this road. Why I ain't give up in Wakanda? Why do I still push for these folk who act like they don't give a damn when I do it for them? Why I let myself fall in love?"

Charlie simply listened as Erik was transported back in time through his thoughts.

"I want you to know that no matter what happens in this house, you're special to me like this room is special to me. I'm safe with you. Don't think I don't appreciate it and all the times you spent right here with me while I was going through it."

Wordless, Charlie wrapped her arms around his waist, her head against his bare chest. He smelled good.. clean and fresh like rain. His fingers absentmindedly played in her curls as they stood there in silence.

"Can I be your safe place," he asked suddenly, catching Charlie off guard and causing her to realize that other than prayer.. she didn't really have one. She didn't trust anyone enough to be that vulnerable. Did she even trust Erik? She had to think about it. No, she didn't, but if she was going to stay with him, she needed to start. There was a long silence, since she refused to give him a yes that she did not mean and he was patient as he said he'd be.

"..Yes," she finally whispered into his raised skin answering the spoken and unspoken questions between the two of them. On her return to the household, she'd promised she'd try to make the marriage work and this was taking a giant step in the right direction. She hoped she wouldn't regret it.

The shower was exactly what her body needed and when she emerged towel-wrapped and hair wet, Erik was still there at her window. She approached and he did a double take, taking in the wet curls draping over her shoulders and her glistening skin. As if forgetting the thoughts he'd been tangled in, he tilted her head back kissing her on the forehead and lips before halting her with his hands in the air. "Wait here, I'll be right back," he stressed before jogging off. When he returned a minute or so later, she was sitting on the bed, waiting. He held out a garment bag and what he unveiled was a jumpsuit. An iridescent champagne colored jumpsuit with a long bejeweled train glowing from the waist. It was beautiful.

"This is for me?" Charlie leaped inspecting the garment. It was precisely her style.

"Try it on," Erik grinned full of pride, helping her into it. It was a perfect tapered and comfortable fit with space for her growing belly. She looked in the mirror, her smile wide as he stood behind her adding a chunky diamond choker set in more diamonds in rose gold. "Don't worry," he rushed watching her expression, "I'll return it if you don't wanna keep it, but for today let me ice you out. Then you can trade it for a mountain of haircare products or whatever it is you splurge on."

She laughed. She splurged on gifts. The Kompound was bougie and fancy as hell. Diamond this and that, cars on cars.. She couldn't buy them Calvin Klein. Calvin Klein??? She'd be shot! No, she saved her coins and splurged on holidays so that she could afford the big brands.

"I'm a spoil my lil monster when she comes. She finna be the iciest baby all because her mama wanna be plain."

"You can spoil our SON however you wanna spoil our SON, HE's our SON," Charlie grinned.

"Like I said, my PRINCESS will get the south pole around her neck."

"Poor polar bears," Charlie chuckled admiring her sparkling reflection. She needed to beat her face and throw on some heels, although her feet were swollen. She wondered if she could jam them into some heels.

"Just wear flats," he chuckled dropping some sparkly flat shoes near her feet.

"I want heels. This look needs heels!" Her hands posed on her hips, she was feeling herself, standing on her toes.

"As clumsy as you are without them? I don't need a reason to worry. Angel's pregnancy stressing me enough."

"How are you holding up?"

He looked at her like he had just run a marathon and was out of breath, shaking his head.

"Damn," she grimaced. "It'll be worth it. Once the twins get here and she's given birth, she will heal and you will too. You'll be able to show her all the love you've been afraid to and the twins will help you."

"I'm scared, Charlie. I need her around. I don't know what I'll do if... I can't.. I can't do this shit without her-"

"I know. She'll be okay," Charlie smiled holding his chin in her hand, "She will!!! You'll be okay. You'll look back on all of this and it'll be another segment of your crazy life that you've fought through. You're Killmonger! If anyone can make it through this rough stage, it's you. Positive thoughts. In fact, let's go see Angel right now."

---

The time had come and Charlie's face was finally beat, her hair twisted with added hair in a long ponytail. She felt like a badass intergalactic fairy. Erik wore white, his vest accented with the same champagne iridescent material. The wives, Kristina, and Davita wore variations from the same color family from champagne to white to silver to lavender.. as did the extended family for the most part. Diamonds dangled all over and everyone was beautiful. The event was in the massive backyard near the lush garden where the large gazebo stood overgrown and taken over by flowers. The DJ mixed oldies like Frankie Beverly and Earth Wind & Fire with new music from the likes of Sango, H.E.R, Khalid, MNEK, etc. There was even a sprinkling of some lit gospel, something for everybody. People drank, laughed, danced, and feasted on a spread produced by the mansion's kitchen staff. Of course, Josphine and Kristina had to contribute a few gems like cobblers and pies because they had a specific way of making them that couldn't be duplicated.

When the games came, the guests got even louder and Charlie was grateful that Erik owned so much land, the neighbors were far away. "It's a boy, her stomach is low!" "She a little fatter in the middle, it's a girl." "It's gotta be a boy!" "No, the baby's too high, she's a girl!" Charlie earhustled as the loud debates went on and Erik being the hustler that he was took bets causing Charlie to roll her eyes. Nakia insisted that the baby was a girl siding with Erik while T'Challa refused to comment. Nakia's sideeye kept him from disagreeing. The wives refrained from comment too, already aware of the baby's gender since they'd set up the reveal.

"Travante!" Charlie yelled, waving excitedly when she noticed the chocolate man appear in white and silver, his smile the whitest of all.

Erik's brow raised as he watched the exchange from a short distance away, his ears listening hard as he watched her lips trying to read them. He decided to trust that Charlie knew what she was doing while he socialized, but he still stayed close.

"I'm glad you could make it," Charlie grinned giving Tre a loving side hug and dragging him to meet the other wives. "Y'all this is THE Trevante. Trevante, this is Hennessy, Kimora, her sister Davita, Bastion.."

"I've seen you before," he pointed to her and she grinned, swishing her dress, flattered.

"This is Aly'Sha, Ryley, Angel.."

"Wow! I've heard about you. I'm glad you're doing better.. and you look stunning. You strong as hell," he gaped and Angel's warm smile made him smile.

"Aight nigga," Erik spoke in warning stepping back to Angel's side in her tricked out Chanel inspired black and gold wheelchair. He was being extremely patient and Charlie was proud, giving his hand a squeeze as she smiled at Tre. Tre nodded, calm and understanding.

"And this is Josephine, Homie, and where is... oh there she is!" Charlie grinned. Over by the dessert table was Kristina making sure everything remained presentable and attractive. She wore a champagne sequined one- shoulder dress that fit her like a second skin, her cleavage sparkling and her full and flowing. "Kristina," Charlie yelled waving her over. The second she spotted Trevante, her eyes focused in on his face and she swallowed.

"This is our little bee, Kristina. Little bee, meet Trevante," Charlie gestured. Kristina's face flushed and Trevante grinned. It was an instant connection that Charlie felt. She could see the chemistry creating bonds on their eyes. It made her feel like playing Cupid.

"Aow SHIT," Charlie yelled dropping her glass of sparkling cider. It shattered and Erik pulled her away quickly from the glass. As he was about to bend to pick it up, she gripped him hard pausing him. "Tre, would you mind going to find a staff member to clean this up? Check in the house. Kristina, could you escort him so that he knows where to go? I'm so clumsy, wow. I can't believe I did that.. Sheesh!"

Watching the two walk away toward the house, Charlie saw the visual herself and Erik in the early stages and it made her smile.

"Okay, Cupid," Erik grinned, "I see you."

"See what happens when you trust me," she mused.

As the festivities continued, the moment everyone had been waiting for finally came. Charlie was so anxious with excited energy that Erik had to rub her arms and he was just as antsy. "Are you excited, are you excited, are you excited?" Charlie bounced.

"AHH," good his eyes widened before he shook his head laughing out the excess energy.

"Look at you, you shook boy," Hennessy teased. "We already know the gender, it's fun watching you sweat," Ryley laughed enjoying the flustered Erik. He put up a playful middle finger, pacing and Charlie could see him taking deep breaths. "As long as it's healthy," she mouthed and he nodded picking up the bedazzled handgun and aiming it at the target set up free and clear in the distance, a large white balloon with 'Charlie & Erik' written on it in black script. She picked up the identical gun laid out for her and aimed it at the large black balloon with the same writing in white.

"You ready, C?"

Charlie made sure her aim was on point. "Let's go get'em!"

The guns fired simultaneously and both balloons popped flaring into two pink explosions. Erik dropped the gun, not knowing what to do with himself as his arms swung across his body.

"TOLD YO ASS," he grinned with an aggressive index pointing, eyes wet. Charlie wiped his eyes nodding. She was speechless, her own eyes wide in shock. She really thought it was a boy, but she was happy regardless. Nakia could be heard in the crowd telling M'Baku to pay up and all of the wives congratulated the happy couple one at a time followed by the party-goers, some of them very drunk. It was a perfect moment.

"Daka," Charlie whispered in Erik's ear with a humored expression once they caught a break, "Where did the little bee and Trevante go? Did they ever come back?" Erik grinned rubbing his beard and shaking his head before looking to the house. They'd been MIA for a while.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @trevantesbrat

#the kompound #fics #charlie #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik stevens

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circusglass · 6 years ago

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DRABBLE. ‘please’ in infernal.

Timeline. With the Fletching & Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities.

Notes. Everything in italics is Infernal. Wanted to write about Molly and this language of his (convoluted answer: as someone who is ESL, I’m fascinated by our relationship with language and how it can shape our identities, whether by presence or absence of it). Ended up with the origin to his moon horn charm. Two birds, one stone! Not the most gracefully written thing, but I really like the energy of it.

Also, I have it in my head that structurally, Infernal does not contain contractions, so it sounds...formal?

Word count. ~1700

Warnings. None.

The first time Molly sees another tiefling, it’s plural, a pair—a grandfather and grandson, both the grainy color of red agate, with horns that sweep up and away from their brows to lay back against the crowns of their heads in a flourish like one of Gustav’s calligraphied letters. The grandfather’s beard is patchy against his cheeks, eyes like pale beer. The boy’s hands are too big for his body, end in surprisingly threatening claws capped with some kind of dull, water-warped metal, blunted at the ends. To keep from catching, Molly suspects, though the thought is sudden, unbidden. They’re selling odds and ends in the market—or would be, if the afternoon crowd would stop long enough to look.

It’s the first time Molly’s ever heard Infernal, too, passed between old man and boy, a lesson, perhaps, if the boy’s expression is anything to go by. The language scratches at Molly’s brain like a file rasping over his nail, like it’s scratching to be let in, so he relents, and the knowledge rearranges itself there in the street as he realizes: I know that. I know those words.

When the old man notices him staring, his face remains guarded, but he offers a reluctant nod in greeting. Molly glances over his shoulder and seeing no one else, smiles and draws near. He knows well enough how to slip into conversation now without butting in, how to speak like a buyer, and not just a salesman; he can turn them on and off. He gestures absently at their spread of wares.

“What’s a good recommendation for a traveler?” he asks, as if he has any intention of buying.

The young boy doesn’t smile, but his tail swishes and curves high, and Molly thinks, my tail does that too sometimes, with a dense, syrupy wonder. The boy looks to his grandfather, who nods.

“I like this one,” he says in Infernal, finger pressing into the face of a small stone like a cut ruby. It doesn’t escape him that the stud is near enough color to the boy and his grandfather’s hue. He doesn’t think it’s real, must be glass, but it’s pretty, fractures water-wine light across the white linen tablecloth and he knows at once he’s going to buy it. Molly doesn’t touch it, but his claws fall near enough to claim.

He turns over the soft susurrus of the boy’s words.

“I like this one,” he mimics, slowly, then after a beat adds, “too.”

Infernal coalesces in his brain in plumes of gray-blue smoke, rallying together on his tongue. Excitement eddies against the edges of his brain, the shape of the words clawing over one another. Molly swallows. The grandfather looks at him searchingly. His face is square, cheekbones taut and high, though his cheeks sink, his jaw edging on jowls.

“Do you travel, then?” The old man says, quietly, as to not attract attention, gaze scanning the market, but no one looks their way any more than usual. His voice is a low, grating purr. Molly frowns. Gustav told him this would be likely one day, and yet—

“Yes,” he begins. “With my troupe.”

This garners a small smile, but perhaps it’s a trick of the light, “A bard?”

Molly shakes his head, fangs gleaming, “A circus.”

The boy bounces on the balls of his feet. Or—Molly glances over the table—no, the boy has hooves, little cloven things that are due for a clipping.

“Fletching and Moondrop,” the child says in perfect Common, and Molly snaps his fingers and points at him with a flash of fangs. The boy’s gaze swings towards his grandfather and it’s a loaded look, a can we go look. His grandfather doesn’t answer, simply brushes a large, tender hand over the sweep of the boy’s blunt horns.

“Moondrop, moondrop,” the old man muses, scrubbing at his sparse beard. He turns away from them without another word to sort through the stack of wooden boxes that make a wall at the back of their stall. The little boy grins up at Molly.

“What do you do at the circus?” He has two rows of pointed teeth. Molly only notices because one of his incisors is missing, revealing the second row.

Molly cocks his head from side-to-side. Bouncing and barking would be boring for the boy ( he’s still learning the cards, learning to read and trust them ), so he says, “I am on the rope,” and walks his fingers across the tablecloth. “High above the crowd. But my ankle. I am recovering. Very clumsy.”

Those pale eyes glitter, tail slithering through the air. “Tightrope! I want to be on the trapeze. Watch what I can do!” And then the boy is flipping the table skirt up and scrambling underneath, tumbling out on Molly’s side. He shifts from one cloven hoof to the next, then does a back handspring as well as any of the carnival’s girls, spinning around to beam a grin.

A human couple jerks away from the tiefling pair, gaze darting from red to purple to red again. They tear their eyes from them and hurry along. Molly claps enthusiastically.

“Let us see, let us see,” Molly muses, finger tapping against his lips in a mockery of thought. “You are much better than I, I am afraid.”

Then with little warning himself he folds in half to plant his hands flat against the earth, kicks his legs straight into the air, proceeds to walk a circle around the boy, who crows with delight. Molly’s legs split one way, then the next, before he gently drops back right side up. He holds his arms out, twirls his wrists as he makes a show of bowing.

“Get out of the street, Bealabor,” the old tiefling grunts, waving them back. Bealabor ducks his head and scurries underneath the table once more, practically taking the linen on his horns. Molly’s laugh is a raucous bark.

Many of the baubles have been pushed aside to make room for a long, flat box, though the red stud, he notices, has been set in the open, presumably so he won’t forget it. Grandfather has undone the latch and retrieved a charm from it.

“A charm for a Moondrop traveler,” he says, holding it up to frame one of Molly’s horns. It’s the size of a coin, a silver crescent moon, a drop of blue stone dangling from the bottom—and it’s a stone, definitely, carries a depth of color that does not yield so easily to the sunlight, but reflects it with a brilliant sparkle. It’s mesmerizing, and there’s something about it that makes Molly think of magic. Of Gustav’s Moonweaver. It makes him feel similarly, a pleasant pulse just under his skin.

“Is this enchanted?” he asks, tripping back into Common.

The old man shakes his head, answers in kind, “Simply ornamental. But—” he pauses to look at it. “—if you are superstitious—”

“Very,” Molly chuckles, though he isn’t at all.

“—Ah, then, it has always given me good luck in my travels. Protection from bigotry, strength to push on. The moons know all my secrets and keeps every one. Good to wear close to the temple,” he taps his head. “I think it will give you good luck, too.”

“If it’s good luck on travels, you should keep it,” Molly says. The old man chuffs a laugh, shakes his head.

“Child, I do not travel anymore,” he says. “I am too old now. The moons know exactly where I am.”

Molly has to give it to him, he’s one hell of a salesman. Bealabor rests his head on his folded arms, stares between them with a look of utter boredom.

The moon is warm to the touch and Molly finds that he likes the weight of the trinket in his hand, drapes it on the curve of his horn and tilts his head this way and that. It feels good, feels right.

“Alright. I will take it,” he says, then leans over to tap the stud. It rolls beneath his finger, looks all the world like a pomegranate seed. “This one, too.”

Bealabor perks up at that. Molly winks at him.

Grandfather wraps the charm and earring in bits of soft cloth, passes them across the table even before Molly’s fished his coin purse from his coat pocket. Perhaps it’s the horns, the language, that garners trust. It makes Molly feel a part of something, which is a strange conclusion to come to when he thought he’d been a part of a great many things already.

“Four silver,” he says, and Molly bobs his head.

What little coin he has still manages a merry jingle in his purse. He pulls out four silver, then hesitates, digs into the bag once more. He drops the silver, as well as his only gold piece, into Bealabor’s hands.

“That is too much—” the older tiefling begins, brows wrinkling. It makes Bealabor keep his hand wide, uncertainty flashing in his pale eyes. Molly lays a hand over his, light, and he’s warm, warmer than Molly is himself. He smiles gently at Bealabor’s grandfather, searches for the words he needs and places them end-to-end, like tiles across a board.

“It is the exact amount,” he says, unflinchingly. His tail sways. “You have given me more than I came to find. Please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it, Molly observes. Is there more to the word in Infernal? A depth and weight to it, maybe, that he’s not aware of? He’ll ask Gustav—maybe Ornna. The roots of her language are closer to Infernal if the sound of it is anything to go by. Grandfather makes a fist around the coin. Though the older tiefling doesn’t smile, his tail curves, sways calmly through the air, and that’s enough to make Molly grin.

“One condition,” Molly says, holding up a finger. Grandfather tilts a brow, and he’s sure this time his lips are curving.

“What is that?”

Molly tucks his charm and pouch away in an inner coat pocket. “The extra is so you come to the carnival. So I better see you both there.”

Bealabor’s smile is the flint spark that takes, bright and crackling and joyful.

#tried to convey that his spoken infernal is stilted #fell in love with my own OCs #what's new #( DRABBLE. )

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ribbonism · 7 years ago

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Dream Weaver Guide

Idk why I wrote this.

Dream Weaver is a resource-hungry feature (unless you have 5k or more items and unlimited materials), although it could be done casually. It’s not as annoying as crafting Black Stunning Beauty and Grice tho. As usual, please pardon my grammar.

Dream Weaver is a place featuring the NPC/Dream Weaver personal data and background/stories (Dreamland). Although generally open, some Dream Weaver’s Dreamlands are locked until the player gain Spirit of Sheen from Event or finish another Dreamland. Each Chapter of each Dreamland also locked until some requirements fulfilled.

Dream Weaver is also the only way to obtain Miracle Soul/Spirit items that can raise certain Style Attribute point.

Will be updated depend on my game play and our publisher’s patch

Warning: long and lots of images

Warning (2): might contain spoilers

In case someone still wondering: yes this is from English version; no this is not Love Nikki version

In General, You Will Need:

Any exchange currency: Golds, Diamonds, Crystal Roses, Crystal Shoes, Starlight Coins, etc

Stamina, of course

Dyes, lots of dyes, like, lots and lots, seriously

Textiles, lots of it

Clothing Materials, a lot

Certain Wardrobe Items

Dreamland will not consumed the items

Institute Request will consumed the items

Fluorites (will be consumed)

Stone of Love, Stone of Sky, Stone of Dream, and Stone of Night, are obtainable through Institute Request and Dreamland

Stone of Dazzling and Stone of Brilliance, are only obtainable through Floating Dream Island

Spirit of Sheens (will not be consumed) for some Dreamlands

DREAM WEAVER MENU

You can poke the Dream Weaver but they will not appreciate it.

Btw I suggest to do all Lunar’s Dreamlands before doing Chapter 15 ;;w;;

Recall Dreamland

Recall Dreamland is where you can access the Dream Weaver’s stories aka Dreamland. It will look like this:

The publisher will update the Dreamland of each Dream Weaver whenever they want.

Institute Request

Your best source of Stone of Love, Stone of Sky, Stone of Dream, and Stone of Night! You can get the stones from Dreamland too but it’s not drop-able like Main Story’s Stages/Maps.

The 3 requests are free per day, and cost 50 Diamonds to refresh it. Mostly will cost Clothing Materials, and cheap drop/store Wardrobe items. The item left works like Decomposition feature. Always check the upper right button!

Star Dictionary

Designer Profile

The blank box will automatically filled each time you reach certain Chapter of Dreamland related to the profile.

Gallery of Appearance

Still Coming Soon. But you should now what it will contain of.

Visit Others

I don’t know why they translate them as ‘designer’ since not all of them is one. Basically just to change the Dream Weaver.

> Current Dream Weavers: Lunar, Orlando, Louie, Yvette, Kimi, Chloris, Fu Su, Sofia, Mela.

> Future (Current China’s) Dream Weavers: Bobo, Airi, Zhong Li Zi, Royce, Yue Qian Shuang, Bai Yong Xi, Zhu Yu Xian, Ming Shui Yuan

(Floating) Dream Island

Please ignore the bad text format. Dream Island is the only way to get Stone of Dazzling, Stone of Brilliance, and Spirit of Sheen. It can be explored for free once per day.

Once in a while, a trace of Spirit of Sheen will be seen in the small island (the publisher will make it as a ‘Floating Dream Island Event’). Nikki needs to reach that place to get it (the Explore thing contain random number of steps). The problem is... the Event will appear in a limited time, so waiting for free attempt is futile (unless you’re blessed with RNG luck). There will be a ‘luck bar’ available during the Event. Every time Nikki exploring the island, the bar got higher. Higher the bar, higher the chance to get the Spirit of Sheen.

I used 1200 Diamonds when tried to obtain Fu Su’s, and 900 for Sofia’s. Yeah, greedy MiraLand travel agency.

The Event usually will come again, so don’t worry if you missed one. I don’t know whether you could obtain it again if you already has one (but what for?).

SPIRITS

Or Miracle Soul.

Completing the early chapters of each Dreamland or gaining a Spirit of Sheen will get you the basic Spirit. It need to be evolved through the Dreamland.

Evolving normal Spirit will need amount of Stone of Love, Stone of Sky, Stone of Dream, and Stone of Night.

Evolving Spirit of Sheen will need amount of Stone of Dazzling and Stone of Brilliance.

Player will get total 4 Spirits from each Dreamland. It will not disappear even after you evolve it. Each Spirits has Style Attributes, and can increase a certain Style Attributes point.

The Spirits has wide variation of forms, not limited as fashion items only. Some of it can be used in View Mode.

THE DREAMLAND’S REQUIREMENTS & PRIZES

To ascend next Chapter, generally you will need:

Possession of certain Wardrobe Items (ugh)

Upgrading the Spirit and/or Spirit Style Attributes (consumed Fluorites)

Styling

Answering question with multiple choices

Regarding the Styling, there’s only Pass or Failed. I've passed with S, A, or B, and there's no difference. The score standard also lower than usual.

Regarding the Question, the Dream Weaver will told player that 'fate will become divergent from here’. However, it’s unknown what the differences between each option since the story still heading for the same direction. The dialogues will be different tho. You can pick different answer even after you already completed the chapter/Dreamland.

Completing a Dreamland usually will get you one hidden suit (I usually post it in tag /hidden-suit?), although sometimes that one suit will be scattered in several Dreamlands (of certain Dream Weaver; So far only happen in Lunar’s).

Fluorite number is (amount you have) / (amount you need)

If the image is too small, open in new tab and change 500 to 1280

Please don’t copy/save and re-publish it to any other media

Current Progress: Finish 12 from 18 Dreamlands

1a. Dreamland of Lunar ~ Millennium Dream

Silver Jasmine was from Recharge Diamond bonus suit, now available in Clothes Store

1b. Dreamland of Lunar ~ Hidden String

Midnight Hat is a prize from Dreamland of Orlando ~ Immortal Glory

1c. Dreamland of Lunar ~ Blue Phoenix’s Letter

*screen-shot process*

Blackcurrant Tea is a prize from Dreamland of Yvette ~ Conventional Magic

2a. Dreamland of Orlando ~ Immortal Glory

Dustless Pounder was from Festival Event, now available as Recipe

Star Parasol was from Login Bonus

2b. Dreamland of Orlando ~ Officer & Wine

*incomplete*

Blackcurrant Tea is a prize from Dreamland of Yvette ~ Conventional Magic

2c. Dreamland of Orlando ~ Cat & Yard on Sunday

*incomplete*

3a. Dreamland of Louie ~ Nameless Knight

*incomplete*

Need Spirit of Sheen

4a. Dreamland of Yvette ~ Bunny in March

Macchiato Art is a prize from Dreamland of Yvette ~ Bunny in March

Eden Bunny Hat, Pink Bunny, and Pink Bunny Balloon, were from Festival Event, now available in Clothes Store

Moon Elf(s) were from Festival Event, now available as Recipe

Rabbit Hole is exchanged from Room of Mystery

4b. Dreamland of Yvette ~ Conventional Magic

Macchiato Art is a prize from Dreamland of Yvette ~ Bunny in March

Magic Broom, Halloween Hat, Halloween Lamp, and Little Witch were from Halloween Event, now available as Recipe

White Swan Earrings was from Troupe Event, now available as Recipe

Locco’s Bowknot is exchanged from Room of Mystery

4c. Dreamland of Yvette ~ Time Magic

4d. Dreamland of Yvette ~ Sugar Coating Fairytale

*incomplete*

5a. Dreamland of Kimi ~ Time Flame

*unlocked*

Need Spirit of Sheen

6a. Dreamland of Chloris ~ Starry Reunion

Butterfly Flower was from Achievement

Extraordinary Elf was from Midsummer’s Night Dream Event, now available as Recipe

Princess Azhar was from Festival Event, now available as Recipe

Love of Rose was from Valentine Event, now available in Clothes Store

6b. Dreamland of Chloris ~ Forest’s Watch

Pigeon Crest is a prize from Dreamland of Chloris ~ Starry Reunion

6c. Dreamland of Chloris ~ Fate in Mirror

*screen-shot process*

Breeze and Flower is a prize from Dreamland of Chloris ~ Forest’s Watch

7a. Dreamland of Fu Su ~ Past in Flower Field

Need Spirit of Sheen

7b. Dreamland of Fu Su ~ Garden Glass

*incomplete*

8a. Dreamland of Sofia ~ Blade Dance

*screen-shot process*

Need Spirit of Sheen

9a. Dreamland of Mela ~ Tender Night

*incomplete*

Need to finish Dreamland of Lunar ~ Hidden String

10a. ~ TBC

#奇迹暖暖 #Miracle Nikki #Nikki UP2U #guide #wip

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glympsis · 7 years ago

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Honey was flushed.

She had been in this banquet hall many many times before, during the quarterly report to the queen, where captains, thieves, spies, and whole crews reported their spoils thus far in the year. Queen Elia wasn't particularly picky, if you had a priceless gem you wanted for yourself, she was more than willing it take its weight in gold and let you keep it. Honey had seen many a captain report that they wanted the largest jewel for themselves or their lover at the time, and then report that they'd doubled down on the Queen's "gift" to compensate. Queen Elia would nod, or sometimes pout, but she was always fair, as long as you didn't lie.

That was a mistake that many tried, but few repeated. The Queen's concubine, a taller man with lanky arms and quick, knowing eyes, would lean from behind the throne and grace the Queen's ear with his breath, and what you had been holding back the queen knew then, instantly.

They said that he was some sort of spy master, and many paranoid captains believed that he had an ear in their crew, but no one could ever prove it. Honey didn't know what she believed, just that she didn't like the way his eyes moved, like he was paying attention to conversations and signals that no one else could hear.

She didn't trust it.

The queen however was.... different. She moved like a person who not only had riches, but deserved them. She seemed to have no qualms about loaning out the Riches of the Silver Shores to its crews, as long as they came back with a bigger prize, or whatever you had borrowed back again. It made the Riches seemed shared between its captains, and it made Queen Elia their patron saint, keeping their gold safe and secure and letting them live within the walls and dock without fear of searches or legal retribution. There was no pretense as long as you declared your cargo, paid your crew, and paid the queen her due.

Honey had lived her whole life in this city, and she knew that they talked of the queen as though she were a benevolent force, a young upstart with shining eyes who's luck never ran out, who had never fallen on hard times or let her crews fall either. She had been known to sail to other countries to pay off bails and sign release papers for captains unlucky enough to be caught by the guards and navy of other kingdoms, and some said she'd even returned some treasure in order to get her people back alive. They all said she was a young queen, but Honey remembered times when the half smile had straightened, and the look of disappointment seemed hundreds of years old.

Honestly, Honey knew you could never truly tell with elves. The purple skinned queen smiled and joked like any young pirate, but Honey had seen the Crimson, the legendary ship of the Silver Crown, seen its black wooden mast and its deep red sails, seen it float from the mist like a live, flying thing, back from Fortuna. She had felt the fear of the Captains around her when they had all seen the Queen, hanging from the rigging with one hand, her fingers moving and the fog clearing as if by magic.

Honey's face heated at the memory, her cheeks turning a faint pink as she ducked her face, focusing instead on the beer in front of her, the same brand she'd been drinking since ten years old, that she'd be drinking every day if the queen provided it. Elia always seemed to care for each captain and crew immensely, knowing the captains by name and their crew at least by faces. She always hosted a feast for the crews who had been away from home for a length, giving them a suite near the castle and proper food, wine, and concubines, soothing the beasts who had been caged at sea.

Honey had always wanted a feast like that, wanted to be seen by the Queen and told she had done well as any other pirate, but now that the time had come, all she wanted was to sink into the floor and never be seen again. The dress she had gotten was the prettiest she'd even owned, and she had gotten it for the Queen to see, but the thought of those emerald eyes looking at her, no distractions, no people around to buffer, made the rogue want to slip under the table, into the shadows, and turn invisible.

Usually, Honey was smooth. She could talk or fight or sneak her way out of anything, but the Queen was a better thief, because she robbed her of that ability.

She never felt as human as she did when the Queen was around.

Luckily, she didn't see her often. When she and Slee came to pay their dues, it was a fifty fifty chance that it would just be the concubine that met them in the treasury, who looked them over and asked the questions, who seemed to know too much. It was easier when she was with Slee, when she could default to being the cool and strong and silent, and could watch for the Queen without judgement.

Now though, with Lagra and Khiva and the goblins, she was the only member of their group from the Silver Shores. She was the representative that had to report to the Queen if anything went wrong. She also had to give her percentage, and report any magical items to the concubine. She knew he was a decent warlock at least. Or perhaps simply good in bed. Either way, Honey figured the Queen had to have SOME reason to keep him around.

Giving a sigh, the rogue smoothed her hands over her dress, glanced around, and quickly decided that this was a situation that she was going to get through only if she was completely sloshed. She was finishing her third mug when a voice spoke beside her.

"I need a double shot of rum."

The seat beside her wasn't empty anymore, and Honey turned to tell the person to move away, only to find herself staring instead. Her deep purple hair was cut just below her chin, and she wore a starched white loose shirt that tied all the way up, left open at the top to reveal a large golden coin on a string that rested just beneath her collarbone. Her shirt was tucked smartly into pinstriped trousers, and those into clean black boots that laced up to mid calf. Her sleeves were loose from the shoulders to the elbows, and two simple golden bangles tinkled on her left wrist. Honey's gaze roamed from the coin, to the outfit, back up to the hair, and caught in the gemstone green eyes of the Queen, and suddenly she was choking, unable to breathe around the beer she had decided to let into her windpipe.

The Queen, for her part, looked more concerned with ordering the double, and had already shot it back before Honey remembered how to breathe.

"So, do you have a name?" The queen asked, licking her lips and turning to her.

Honey was finding it increasingly hard to breathe, like she was choking all over again.

"No." She said immediately. "...Yes. P-probably?"

The Queen, tilting her head, just looked curious.

"I've seen you before, hmm?" She asked, reaching and picking up a few grapes and popping them into her mouth. Honey forgot how to swallow.

"I- uh- y-yeah- I-"

Queen Elia smiled, and Honey shut her mouth. Suddenly, the room around them was much louder, and the Queen's gaze slid away into middle distance, her head tilting like she was listening for something.

"Crap." She said, underneath her breath, and Honey froze as the Queen's gaze focused on her again. "You got two more of those?"

Honey slid two more double shots of rum across the table, watched the Queen down them like they were mere cups of water, and then stand.

"Nice dress, by the way."

Honey immediately went red from chin to forehead, though the queen moved away before she saw. The wood of the table was suddenly much more interesting to the rogue, and she didn't even notice Lagra beside her until the large orc woman placed a hand on her shoulder

"Don't worry, we've all been there." Her words just made Honey's face burn brighter, and she didn't even have to turn her head to know the concubine was there. She could feel his smugness through the air the way she was sure they could feel the heat from her face in Fortuna.

"Smooth." He said, and Honey could do nothing more than reach her hand out, and press it gently against his face, pushing him slowly from his stool and onto the ground. She was robbed of her comfort by his laughing eyes and knowing grin, and thanked the Storm Father that her two companions left a moment later to take part in the royal ceremony welcoming the Lords of the Sunset Isles.

Sitting alone, Honey allowed herself a quick, private smile. The Queen had liked her dress! The Queen had smiled at her! The Queen had talked to her!

Holding her hands against her cheeks, Honey shifted down in her seat, grinning like a fool.

The Queen had recognized her!

#c: gold #wip: la amor de fortuna #c: concubine #c: sugar #she's so gay and i love her

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celestialcourtesan · 8 years ago

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Striking a Bargain (1/6)

In a room filled to the very brim with people, it was unsurprising that a single pair of violet, glowing eyes went utterly unnoticed. Night after night, these same eyes stared, watching every last move of a certain Kaldorei through the walls of the tavern. It didn’t matter what corner of the inn the former priestess found herself in; Wherever she was, the eyes seemed to follow her, equal parts studying and admiring. Even on the rare occasions that the former Sister found herself wandering out of the brothel, those same eyes followed, carried along by heavy paws that, despite their weight, made no sound as the giant saber crept through the shadows, remaining out of sight.

This same behavior seemed to go on for days, without Alaeah having so much of an inclining that she was being watched. She went about her literal business as usual: Bending over banisters and draping herself over tables and chairs as men and women alike paid to use her cunt for a few moments of pleasure. While sometimes the coin was plenty worth the sub-satisfactory treatment she received, other nights the former priestess found herself sighing as she retreated to the back of the inn to count her coin, wondering how might she afford to feed herself if her luck did not pick up, and more wallets did not open for her.

This just seemed to be one of those nights. For the past thirty minutes, Alaeah found herself draped over the railing that split the room nearly in half, clutching it and feigning moans of delight to satisfy the ego of the customer that had paid to make use of her body. Just as quickly as he had gotten started, it seemed as though he were done, giving a low groan as he gripped her hips, demanding the priestess admit to ‘loving his cock’--to which she obliged, proving herself to be a rather talented actor as she humored the man with a convincing enough tone to have him groaning. Seconds later, it seemed as though the fluttering walls and violet expanse of her cunt were finally enough to do the fool in, at which point he thrusted into her a final time, suddenly releasing hard into the priestess’s depths, no doubt under the illusion that he might be the lucky soul to sire a child in the widely loved Kaldorei.

Before she knew it, an emptiness took over her core as the man pulled out of her. There was a slight rustle, seconds before she caught sight of a small pouch of coins, dropped just beside her head on the banister. It seemed that the man was content to depart without a word afterwards--not that Alaeah seemed to care. Quite the contrary, in fact. She threw a quick glance behind her, snorting as she saw the man walking away, adjusting his belt with every step. She quickly snatched up the purse before standing, moving her free hand to begin fixing her ensemble back along her form, before turning to make her way across the tavern, towards the bar to fetch herself a drink.

Those same violet eyes followed her entire move, narrowing slightly to watch as the priestess found herself a seat, pouring the coin from the pouch to count the coins. The eyes easily picked up the shifts in the girl’s expressions, from apprehension to relief, then soon back to uncertainty.

Enough was enough.

With a low growl and a heavy huff, the massive saber finally rose from its spot in a dark corner of the tavern, somehow slinking through the crowd unnoticed despite its size. Paying no one it passed by any mind, the saber slowly closed the distance between itself and the priestess.

The creature was only steps away from the girl before their form suddenly began to shift. Fur seemed to shed and fade from existence, and metal armor plating relocated and morphed to fit the elven limbs that replaced the feline ones. Thin, flicking ears turned elven as well, as the feline’s ebony mane straightened and shortened into a shaggy cut that hung around the Kaldorei’s shoulders. It wasn’t until she moved to take her seat across the table from the priestess that her violet eyes faded to silver, however seeming to maintain the same sharpness that they held before.

“That man,” the once violet-eyed Kaldorei began, her gaze locked with the now-startled priestess’s own, “How much did he pay you?”

The sudden appearance of the unknown elf had Alaeah gasping in surprise, her deep purple brows lifting high as she gawked at the woman. While she certainly was not unused to people being bold and approaching her out of the blue, she was far more accustomed to a person’s boldness being in the form of a grope, slap, or full-out sensual assault on her body, not a question that pried into her business.

“...What?” She could think of no other immediate response as she blinked at the other elf, her head tilting slowly to the side out of sheer confusion and curiosity alike.

“The man. The one that just paid you for use of your cunt. How much did he pay you?” The unknown Kaldorei elaborated, her words surprising the priestess no less.

“I... Five-hundred. He paid me five-hundred gold. Why?” Alaeah’s brows furrowed once more as she eyed the other woman, finally taking a moment to glance the other over, taking in her appearance. This Kaldorei was quite clearly her elder, if only by a few hundred years, perhaps. Scars seemed to litter the other’s flesh, with a few faded cuts marking the woman’s face, namely down one of her cheeks and along her jaw. Her hair was as dark as night--darker, even. It certainly was not a color that Alaeah was accustomed to seeing on her fellow Night Elves, and yet it seemed to fit this stranger perfectly. The woman’s form was completely clothed from the neck-down, starting with a thin scarf that hung loosely around her neck, the color far darker than blood, and matching the accents on her otherwise sleek black leather armor. Silver plating, nearly identical to that which she wore as a feline, wrapped around her hands, arms, shoulders, and feet, baring the crescent moon insignia of the Druids in varios places, each one glowing with the same bright violet that her eyes once did. All in all, the stranger was a sight to behold--both a welcome one, and an almost frightening one.

The girl’s question of ‘why’ was not met with an immediate explanation. Instead, the dark-haired Kaldorei gave a gruff snort as she shifted in her seat, nose flaring slightly as she looked the priestess over in turn. She had yet to be this close to the girl in all her days of watching her, stalking her. She took a moment to slowly inhale, managing to pick up on the girl’s scent from over a foot away. It made her jaw clench tight behind her lips. While the scent of sex nearly overwhelmed her senses, she could still pick up the underlying aroma of something sweet--berries, perhaps. A fitting perfume for the priestess, she thought.

“What a waste,” she finally uttered with another heavy snort, shifting slightly in her seat to lean back, allowing her own gaze to finally take in the other’s form, her tongue slipping out to lap at her lips a single time. “You are worth far more than a measly five-hundred gold,” she said dryly, her glittering silver orbs snapping upwards to lock with the girl’s own.

Alaeah’s brows lifted in surprise in response to the other’s words, her ears perking cutely as she allowed her mind to repeat the Kaldorei’s sentence once more in her mind, to ensure she comprehended the other right. Only then did a little grin flicker across her lips, a nearly musical laugh escaping her a moment later.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes.”

“Are you saying you would offer me more, then?”

“Yes.”

Alaeah’s brow perked a little higher, another laugh pouring from her lips.

“Would you, now? And tell me, beautiful; How much would you pay for the chance to make use of my.... services?” She asked cooly, leaning forward in her seat as one of her elbows came to rest atop the table, her cheek dropping into her palm almost lazily as her opposite hand began to trace around the edge of one of the gold coins on the table.

“Five-hundred thousand.” The Kaldorei responded almost immediately, not so much as taking a breath or considering her words.

Alaeah had only just plucked the same coin from before off of the table to toy with it between her fingers, before it was slipping out of her grasp, dropping back to the table with a soft clang and a low whir as it rolled back into place. She couldn’t help but to gawk at the other, her eyes blinking repeatedly in surprise.

“Five-hundred thousand?” She echoed incredulously, staring long and hard at the druid, searching her eyes for any sort of humor, but there was none to be found. “Honey, for five-hundred thousand gold, I would let you have your way with me as many times as you want, however you want, wherever and whenever you want,”

“Good.” The druid then stood from her seat, her response making the priestess blink in surprise. Smoothly, the midnight-haired elf turned, putting her back to the priestess as she lifted a hand, giving the girl a quick wave of her hand, motioning her along. “Come with me, then. I have plans for you.”

“Wait,” Alaeh found herself staring slack-jawed at the other once again, her ears pinning back as one of her hands moved to begin pushing her coins into a pile, her eyes never once leaving the back of the elf’s head. “You’re serious? Five-hundred thousand gold?”

“And then some, but only if you come with me now. I would like to speak with you, but not here. Now, come.” The druid began to walk then, not giving the priestess a chance to respond as she began making her way towards the door leading out of the tavern.

Alaeah took only a few short breaths to try and comprehend the proposition she had been offered, meanwhile making quick work of pouring her coins back into their pouch before finally all but flying out of her seat. Without a second thought, the priestess followed after the druid, the allure of more than enough gold to survive driving her to follow the other’s footsteps out of the inn, and to the unknown.

Next Page >

#ic #alaeah x kala #alaeah #kala #bargain

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fxgacious-blog · 8 years ago

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really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. @vrepit-sa TAGGING. @viridisleonis, @techspecialistofvoltron, @lothcir (won’t let me tag you but whatever, idgaf), and anyone else who wants to

BASICS.

FULL NAME : tixxis zharor NICKNAME : tix AGE : two hundred and sixty three BIRTHDAY : never celebrated it and does not remember, was never raised to consider birthdays significant ETHNIC GROUP : kariian (go look at @vrepit-sa‘s kariio posts, they’re rad af and the source of this headcanon) NATIONALITY : empire-galran, subrace-kariian LANGUAGE / S : primarily central galran & kariian, but has a familiar and more than working knowledge of many alien languages on a first-hand basis (without need for a translator and does not have one) for the sake of more accurate cryptography and encryption SEXUAL ORIENTATION : pansexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : grey aromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : single and wholly uninterested HOME TOWN / AREA : – CURRENT HOME : qewreka high-security apartments, aoria t-42 PROFESSION : arms dealer

PHYSICAL.

FUR: varying between violet and lavender, kit markings still noticeably prevalent (varied in color; mauve, plum, lilac, byzantium) EYES : canary yellow FACE : high cheekbones, facial symmetry, generally narrow, strong jaw LIPS : full, cracked, and scarred in two places from being deeply split COMPLEXION : heavily freckled under fur BLEMISHES : n/a SCARS : extensive scarring on right cheek in the form of claw marks, earned from continuous insubordination; deep and uneven keloid scarring along her throat, inflicted by another fighter in the arena as a result of lack of focus; many scars from various lacerations earned in the arena, training, and missions; several small facial scars as well as a crooked nose as a result of a break that did not heal properly TATTOOS : n/a. HEIGHT : 6′0″ WEIGHT : 142lbs (has considerable muscle for her size, but is technically underweight and relatively small) BUILD : athletic, lithe, lean FEATURES : noticeably smaller than average, large ears ALLERGIES : n/a. USUAL HAIR STYLE : just a mess of poorly managed mane hair, kept relatively short as a result of scarring on left side preventing proper hair/fur growth USUAL FACE LOOK : pissed keeps fur around face properly trimmed for the sake of personal comfort – letting it grow without care generally leaves it long enough to get in her way and make her uncomfortable USUAL CLOTHING : when out of her normal attire (pre-aoria, armor – aoria verse, bodysuit and eighty layers of jackets), 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 are examples

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEARS : being touched, small spaces, insignificance, irrelevance, being forgotten ASPIRATIONS : to give herself a purpose, to be remembered (whether it be fondly or with anger), to better herself, to earn her own pride POSITIVE TRAITS : ambitious, innovative, confident, adaptable, methodical, analytical, cerebral, intelligent, imaginative, self-assured, exploratory, thorough, resilient, adventurous, athletic, brave, careful, charming, determined NEGATIVE TRAITS : aggressive, bossy, cynical, envious, greedy, impatient, manipulative, cruel, impulsive, insecure, possessive, sarcastic, selfish, unstable, lustful, vengeful, deceitful, suspicious, vindictive, callous, obstinate, fickle, hateful, egotistical, corrupt MBTI : istj -- the examiner ZODIAC : unknown TEMPERAMENT : choleric SOUL TYPES : warrior, strategist, engineer ANIMALS : snake VICE HABITS : drinking, lip biting, growling, foot tapping, cracking knuckles, jaw clenching, eye-rolling, head tilting, humming, promiscuity FAITH : n/a GHOSTS ? : n/a AFTERLIFE ? : n/a REINCARNATION ? : n/a ALIENS ? : definitely not POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : aligns with jack shit, does not care EDUCATION LEVEL : extensive

FAMILY.

FATHER : kolir zharor (deceased) MOTHER : aravra zharor (unknown) SIBLINGS : n/a EXTENDED FAMILY : n/a NAME MEANING / S : n/a HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : n/a

FAVORITES.

BOOK : tixxis has read every book she has ever found, no exaggeration. as such, it’s hard to narrow down favorites; they generally include topics like psychology, sociology, tactical analysis, engineering, mathematics, history (mostly military), cryptography studies, criminal case studies (preferably unsolved), foreign languages, and technical/mechanical diagrams. while it’s seemingly unlike her, however, she also has a fondness for poetry -- especially in foreign languages, as she finds the cultural differences interesting. MOVIE : n/a 5 SONGS : n/a DEITY : n/a HOLIDAY : isn’t particularly interested in galra holidays, but likes researching the significance of foreign holidays MONTH : n/a SEASON : n/a PLACE : her drawer-bed and ‘balcony’ (if you could call it that) on aoria t-42 WEATHER : cold, not humid, still, quiet, calm SOUND : welding torches, footsteps in snow, liquor poured over ice, clatter of coins and jewelry, beeping (in the ‘nothing is wrong and this is the noise my tech is supposed to make’ way, not the ‘help me everything is going wrong and these are your last warnings’ way) SCENTS : hard liquor, blood TASTES : see above FEELINGS : silk, smooth metal, precious stones ANIMALS : tixxis pretty much enjoys any animal, generally from a scientific and analytical perspective, but likes fish both for taste and hunting and appreciates the challenge of hunting larger prey (and the company of animals with similar temperaments to her own) NUMBER : n/a. COLORS : purple, black, red, navy blue, gold, silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS : mechanics, engineering, cryptography, programming, scientific research and development, invention, long-range combat/sniping, infiltration, manipulation, tactical analysis, martial arts BAD AT : close combat, subordination/accepting authority, physically overpowering another with strength alone, handling anger TURN ONS : domination, submission (occ.) begging, biting, bloodplay, electrostim, humiliation, exhibitionism, choking, dirty talk, gagging, forced nudity, hair pulling, iceplay, bondage, titles (master, sir, etc.), knifeplay, marking, praise (receiving), scratching, spanking, teasing, stripping/putting on a show, whipping, blindfolds, collars, degradation, rape play, slapping, servitude, leather, lingerie, lace, orders, orgasm/pleasure control, punishment/reward, competition, fireplay, beating, objectification, someone stop her TURN OFFS : weakness, inexperience (although taking innocence is fun for her -- she just gets bored of it quickly), lack of confidence HOBBIES : sparring, programming, engineering, crpytography and creating her own codes, learning languages, binge drinking, weapons development, sex, target practice, hunting TROPES : arms dealer (former reds with rockets for sale/gangland gun runner), bad samaritan, the baroness, beta test baddie, black cloak, the chessmaster, chronic backstabbing disorder, combat sadomasochist, complete monster, the corrupter, even evil has standards, the gadfly, asshole victim, hope crusher, magnificent bastard, manipulative bastard, smug snake, you have outlived your usefulness QUOTES : “ you know how wives, no matter how cleverly their unfaithful husbands lie, almost always see through them? why do you think that is? it’s because they make excuses, that’s why. humans are creatures that are extremely sensitive to artificiality. so if a husband who never talks about work suddenly starts complaining about staying late... that unnatural-ness makes the wife think there’s something more to it, and so on. it’s the out of place words uttered to hide the truth that actually expose the lies even more. so do you know how one can make someone think the truth is a lie? by boldly, unreservedly offering up the truth. ” --- “ sometimes, if he possessed the right information, he neither had to do the job himself nor pay to have it done. a lot of people lived with secrets that could destroy them, and if you knew their secrets, you could manipulate them to do things for you that reduced them to the condition of puppets. ” --- “ please, don’t torture me with cliches. if you’re going to try to intimidate me, have the courtesy to go away for a while, acquire a better education, improve your vocabulary, and come back with some fresh metaphors. ” --- “ most people tend to think the best of those who are blessed with beauty; we have difficulty imagining that physical perfection can conceal twisted emotions or a damaged mind. ” -- “ stop what? cheering you up? or is life supposed to stop because you did something horrible? i’ll tell you the real, horrible truth. no matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. life doesn’t give a fuck that you’re sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. life just goes on, and you gotta go with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself -- and i don’t see you doing that. ” -- “ when it comes down to it, i let them think what they want. if they care enough to bother with what i do, then i’m already better than them. ” --- “ if loving someone is putting them in a strait jacket and kicking them down a flight of stairs, then yes, i have loved a few people. ” --- “ if you have nothing, then you have everything, because you have the freedom to do anything without the fear of losing something. ”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about ? A1 : it would be space alien catch me if you can. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : anger and unrepressed sexual tension. Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : because i can’t watch something with aliens without making an alien. Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4 : alien, asshole alien, pretty and strong asshole alien. nah, but developing her with the freedom to use the vastness of the vld universe was pretty much what attracted me the most. Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : i would fucking hate tixxis in person. Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : lack of morals, sarcasm, we’re both fucking tired Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : she’d probably both relate to me and want to kick my nose into my skull Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : sendak and pidge are my faves so far. Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : music, quotes (as you can see from the eighty seen above), my own emotions, (re) watching vld, etc. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : toof cuking long

#headcanons #closet #DAMN IT REILLY

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expressandadmirable · 8 years ago

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Femslash February week 4: Favourite Trope

The first time they met, it was mid-afternoon.

Officer Sol Feldryn -- formerly Major Sol Feldryn of the Royal Cornerian Guard, and other names and other titles before that -- had forgotten how meditative walking a beat could be. Corneria was quite a beautiful city when you stopped to look at it, and the best way to do so was on foot. She had also been fortunate enough to land a route that centred around one of the larger parks in the city: a vibrant, sprawling green oasis hemmed in by tall brick and stone. In truth, she suspected it was not luck that had given her this route, but her superiors hoping to ease her back into the routine after so many years of active duty overseas. Whatever the reason, she was grateful.

The weather was warm and clear for the first time in days and the park's wide pedestrian walkways bustled with activity. Vendors with hand carts hawked wares and food and drink, artists created elaborate chalk drawings on the stones or invited patrons to sit for caricatures, musicians and dancers claimed small patches of performance space and blended their disparate music into one constantly shifting soundscape. Sol allowed the distance between herself and her younger partner Brash to widen as they meandered, confident she would not lose track of a nearly-seven-foot Dragonborn. She let her focus wander, theoretically scanning for suspicious characters but largely just people-watching. It had been a pleasantly uneventful day so far.

As she approached the plaza at the centre of the park, its fountain guarded by the bronze statue of a long-dead hero, a single clear melody rose above the din. It took Sol's long ears a moment to locate the source: a violin, tucked against the neck of a tall, willowy Tiefling woman standing at the base of the statue. Her gold-streaked purple hair was pulled into a short, loose braid that looked as if it was fighting her with all its might; with each tilt of her head, new strands shook themselves free, giving her a wild, almost feylike quality. Her black clothing reminded Sol of an apocalyptic dancer: a loose, flowing tunic and fingerless knit gloves paired with ripped jeans tucked into combat boots. Sol found that she had stopped walking, distracted by the notes of the Tiefling's instrument and the way she swayed in time with the music she created. She debated for a moment, glanced ahead to make sure she could still see Brash, then leaned against a lamppost. Call it part of the job, she reasoned. Protecting citizens. Sure.

The Tiefling attracted a small crowd as Sol loitered, each person eventually stepping forward to drop coin in the open violin case at her feet. She smiled and dipped her head at each benefactor, sometimes winking if they seemed particularly shy. She seemed perfectly aware of the enchanting effect her music produced and she revelled in it. In time, the piece she played came to its natural conclusion and she lifted the bow from her strings. The crowd applauded respectfully. She grinned, bowed slightly, allowed people to disperse, and started another.

Sol pushed off from the lamppost as the song ended, suddenly aware she had lost Brash completely. With any luck she could catch up to him further along their route. She left the plaza and continued on, her pace slow, keeping an ear on the violin for as long as she could before it faded into the background.

"Hey!"

Sol turned. A young Human man was running full tilt across the plaza in her direction, clutching a very familiar violin case, closely followed by a very familiar Tiefling. As Sol calculated the best course to intercept him, the Tiefling unleashed a string of furious words in a guttural tongue. The man stumbled, his eyes wide with surprise and pain, providing Sol with just enough time to step into his path and send him sprawling to the ground. He looked up at her, dazed. She raised an eyebrow.

"That's not yours."

"No, it's most certainly not," agreed the Tiefling as she caught up to them. She took a moment to catch her breath as Sol rolled the man onto his stomach and handcuffed him, then retrieved her case and stowed her instrument and bow. "Am I going to get in trouble for the spell? I was defending my property. That's my drinkin' money right there."

Sol shook her head and tried not to smile at the Tiefling's odd commentary. "No ma'am, you're all set. This fellow is coming with me." She hoisted the man to his feet and he scowled at her.

The Tiefling grinned. "Works for me." She was even taller up close than Sol realised -- and more striking. Her braid had given up completely during her sprint, a mane of messy purple hair now framing her face. Silver studs in her nose, lower lip and eyebrow shifted with her expressions. Her gold eyes met Sol's. "Thank you for taking him down."

"Thank you for the assist," Sol replied with a slight smirk. She paused. "Your music is beautiful."

"Oh thank you! I thought I saw you listening." She smiled and Sol felt her chest tighten slightly, as if she had been caught. "This is one of my favourite places to play. It's got the best acoustics in the city."

"Do you play elsewhere?" Sol held onto the handcuffed man but did not move to take him away just yet.

The Tiefling nodded. "Here and there. Bar gigs and basement shows, mostly. Haven't hit it big quite yet. Still a ways to go."

Sol opened her mouth to ask another question, but the handcuffed man wriggled in her grip and brought her back to her senses. "Alright you, let's go." She started to push him in the direction she knew Brash would be, then addressed the Tiefling once more. "I hope I'll get to see you play again sometime."

The Tiefling smiled again. "Maybe you will, Officer..." her eyes flicked to the nametag on Sol's dark blue uniform in a gesture that may or may not have contained a once-over, "Feldryn. I'm Lux. Look for me when I'm famous. You can say you knew me when." She winked before she walked away.

Sol set off to find Brash, feeling something she had not felt in a long time.

* * *

The second time they met, it was evening.

Sol blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the bar. It was a dive, but it was the precinct's preferred dive, and Sol had promised Brash she would make it out eventually. She nodded to him as he played darts with a Dwarf, then made her way through the press of people to lean against the bar and wait for the Human behind it to notice.

A low, rich voice from the tiny stage at the back of the room caught Sol's attention. She craned her neck to peer over the sea of heads and felt her pulse quicken. Lux was perched on a high stool, barely visible in the low light, an acoustic guitar on her knee and a microphone hovering on a stand before her. Her makeup was heavier, dark and smoky, and her song spoke of a woman in mourning as her lover wasted away. A roar erupted as she finished, and she smiled and thanked the crowd.

After a moment of consideration, Sol asked the bartender what the Tiefling onstage was drinking and ordered one sent to her. She waited. At the end of Lux's next song, a waiter made his way over. Lux accepted the presented glass, confused, and conferred with the waiter for a moment. He gestured at the bar; Lux followed his gaze. When Sol knew she had been seen, she lifted her own drink. Lux's confusion turned to surprised delight and she raised hers in return. She took a sip, set the glass on the small table beside her, and began another song.

Sol watched Lux's entire set, any interest in making small talk with her coworkers quickly dissipating. Brash came to check on her and she assured him she was fine. It was only when Lux disappeared backstage that she turned back to the bar and debated ordering another ale.

"Officer Feldryn! My hero!"

The corners of her mouth curled slightly as Sol tilted her head to look up at the Tiefling who had just materialised beside her. "I'm off duty. It's Sol."

"Well, what a coincidence! I'm off too. What are you drinking?"

Sol held up her nearly empty glass. "But I wouldn't want you to spend any of your drinkin' money on me."

Lux grinned, her dark eyeshadow lending her a coquettish edge. "It would be my pleasure. You rescued it, I figure I can buy you at least one."

One drink became several, and they talked the entire rest of the night. The conversation flowed with an ease that rather surprised Sol, as she had never considered herself much of an honest talker, and she sensed the same was true of Lux. They appreciated many of the same books. Sol asked about music and composition and Lux waxed poetic on the topic. They disagreed on the superior breakfast cafe. Lux had grown up in Corneria, while Sol had moved to the city later in life. They both liked Dwarven food. Sol spoke of her time in the service. Neither enjoyed hiking. Lux revealed her first name to be Aviva, which was not something she generally shared. Sol said she thought the name was beautiful, and was fairly certain the Tiefling blushed a few shades darker.

Last call came and went, and all too soon it was closing time. The bartender reminded Lux her guitar was still backstage and she grumbled that she knew. She looked apologetically at Sol. "I've got to go. Rented studio space to try and record an EP tomorrow. We'll see how it goes."

Sol nodded. "Save me a copy. When you're famous, I'll say I knew you when."

"Of course," Lux replied, her smile coy. "See you around, Officer."

* * *

The third time they met, it was morning.

Lux dragged herself through the doors of the coffee shop with an exhausted groan. Day four of recording was due to begin as soon as she could make it to the studio, but she'd be damned if she was going to do anything without coffee. She had followed Wilhelm's orders and drunk nothing but water for days -- and she would never, ever make such a grievous mistake again. The barista asked if it would be the usual and she responded with a dull nod, willing herself not to rub her eyes and further smear yesterday's makeup. The day was going to be a trial.

In blessedly short order, Lux's breakfast was ready. She retrieved it gratefully and turned to find a seat at one of the myriad small tables dotting the cafe. The morning sun streaming through the windows glinted off something pale in the corner of her eye, and when she squinted over to see what it was, she suddenly found herself very much awake.

"Officer Sol!" The Drow was out of uniform, clad instead in a dark flannel over a tank top and jeans. Lux offered a quick, silent prayer to anyone who might be listening that her makeup still looked somewhat presentable. "We have to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk!"

Sol closed the book balanced on her knee and looked up at Lux with a small smile, the sunshine turning her white hair into a brilliant halo. "I'd rather let them talk."

Lux eyed her, intrigued. "What are you doing here?"

"Hoping to run into you." Lux seemed momentarily taken aback, which amused Sol. So she could be rendered speechless after all. "You said this was your preferred place, I figured I'd see what the fuss was about."

"Well, you've certainly caught me at my most glamourous." Lux gestured to her unkempt appearance with a sleepy grin. "Welcome to the secret life of musicians."

"I think you look lovely." Lux blinked, once again at a loss for words. Sol tilted her chin toward the empty chair across from her. "Do you have time to sit?"

Lux immediately moved to set her breakfast on the table, then stopped mid-motion. "I actually don't think I do," she said, transferring her coffee to the other hand so she could pull her phone from her pocket. She checked the time and made a face. "I don't. I'm sorry, I wish I did. Wilhelm will have a conniption if I'm late; at this point I'm pretty sure he survives purely on caffeine and his own neurosis." She paused and thought for a moment. "But if we keep on schedule, I'll be free tonight. There's a Dwarven place up the street from here." She pointed the direction with her phone. "You interested?"

"Absolutely. What time will you be out? Actually, how about this--" Sol held out a hand for Lux's phone. When Lux passed it over, Sol typed in her number and saved it before giving it back. "Just let me know. I'll be there."

"It's a date." Lux beamed. "Enjoy your coffee, I promise it's worth it. See you tonight, Officer Sol." She left the shop with an extra spring in her step. Turned out it was going to be a very good day indeed.

#Dungeons and Dragons #AU #Modern AU #Original characters #Femslash February #AU Lux

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