#i will tolerate plain or all dressed

[ketchupchipsaregross]

Were ketchup chips the weirdest/ grossest flavor of chips you've tasted? If not, what where they?

ranch doritos. with my entire chest, i hate those suckers

[shomatoriashi]

10/19/24; 06:53pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ they comfort you while you’re feeling insecure ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

warnings: dieting is mentioned in sylus’s story. if this is a major trigger for any of you readers, then you don’t need to read this story ♡

it was such a mystery why sylus chose to be with you, of all people.

deep down, you knew he could pick any woman in the entire universe-

so why did he have to settle down with someone as plain as you?

why did you feel like a sack of potatoes while standing next to sylus?

why did the haughty laughter that came from the usual women sylus made business deals with affect you so much?

a particularly bad memory resurfaces, and you bite down harshly at your bottom lip, recalling a time where sylus had invited you to a business dinner with him. while he spoke about plans of expanding onychinus, the mafia boss’ daughter sneered at you, her slender yet curvaceous body made you feel worse about your own self image. you barely picked at your plate of food, knowing that you were far from being slender, and you became increasingly aware of how the curve of your abdomen could be seen from your tight dress.

needless to say, you didn’t have much of an appetite after that meeting.

with the memory of that woman’s sneer still fresh in your mind, you decided to diet a bit while cutting down the amount of foods you ate. you no longer snacked on your favorite sweets and tried to eat more steamed vegetables, avoiding carbs and proteins altogether. you figured since vegetables were like a superfood, then you’d be able to drop down some pounds and obtain a much better figure-

one that was more suited to remain by sylus’s side.

a week into your new diet, you did feel a bit lighter, and as you watched the pounds decrease, you had plans of further decreasing your calorie count-

however, sylus manages to put a hard stop to it. while you were making a simple dinner that consisted of a plain salad, sylus was felt sneaking up from behind you, trapping your form from behind him. you gasp and look up at him, feeling the way his large hand encircles around your wrist.

“s-sylus? what are you doing?” your eyes were wide, watching as he remains silent all while holding your wrist within the palm of his hand.

“you’ve lost some weight.” sylus tells you with his eyebrows furrowed. he takes a hold of your chin and forces you to look at him, “and don’t think for a minute that i haven’t noticed the change in your diet. although steamed vegetables and salads are good for you, they’re not enough to sustain you.”

hearing the concern in his voice makes you break down immediately. the hunger pangs came back to you at full force, making you wince as you land against sylus. “s-sorry, it’s just… i always feel so bad when i stand next to you.”

tears were streaming down your face, and sylus merely hums in response, taking you in his arms while allowing you to vent about your feelings.

“i-i’ve never really been too skinny… because of my appetite. and i guess… it’s just, being next to you and seeing all the women that’s part of your world- it bothers me how i’m not like them, and-“

sylus then silences the rest of your words with a searing kiss. he would not listen or tolerate you speaking down to yourself ever again, and as your lover, it was his responsibility to make sure you felt beautiful every single minute.

once he was certain you had calmed down, he pulls away from the kiss first, resting his forehead against yours while saying your name in an almost exasperated manner.

“there’s a reason why i never wish to be with those women, and that’s because they can never be you. i wish you could see yourself through my eyes and realize just how beautiful you are to me.”

tears began filling your vision, making sylus smile sweetly at you as he gently caresses at your hair, “you don’t need to do anything- to change anything about yourself. what i feel for you is, and always will be, something unconditional. so please, don’t starve yourself and cut out the nutrients you need. you need to eat a thick steak to build your muscles and maintain your energy. pasta and bread can help with filling you up, and i know how much you love sharing ice cream sundaes with me as well.”

feeling so grateful at having such a wonderful boyfriend like sylus, you lean up to press another lingering kiss against his lips, all while telling him, “ah, a steak with some buttered rolls and a salad sounds so good right now.”

sylus lets out a rich chuckle, pressing a kiss against your hair before heading towards the stove all while rolling up his sleeves, “you got it, sweetheart.”

when you woke up this morning, you felt distracted by your reflection, feeling a shudder run down your spine at seeing the various acne that littered your face.

never one to have clear skin, you found yourself pouting at your reflection. as you looked at the new patches of acne settled against your cheek, you frown. it wasn’t like you didn’t take care of your skin. every night, after you showered, you always made sure to wash your face while keeping it moisturized while doing your usual routine-

yet that didn’t seem to be enough, as you always seemed to breakout at the most inopportune times. perhaps today was a bit more meaningful since zayne’s parents were going to stop by the house and have dinner with the both of you.

you had never met zayne’s parents before, and the fact that he invited them over just to finally meet you was both endearing and overwhelming for you. deep down, you were afraid that his parents would reject you, labeling you as beneath their son while harshly telling him that he could do so much better than you.

those self deprecating thoughts kept repeating themselves within your mind, causing you to panic. leaning closer to the mirror, you focused on the patch of acne and tried to pop each and every one of them. it felt like your hands kept clawing at your face, making your eyes water as you tried to get rid of the acne the best way that you knew how to.

you jump slightly upon hearing a knock at the door, hearing zayne’s voice calling out your name before entering the bathroom. he sees the tears in your eyes and how your fingertips were placed against the bumps seen on your cheek.

he frowns, shutting the door from behind him while taking quick strides towards you. “what are you doing?”

your lips began to tremble, giving zayne a defeated expression as you angrily wiped away at your tears. “s-sorry, i just… i feel so mad right now, with my face breaking out like this. and i’m going to see your parents soon, and i look like a mess. i’m terrified that they’re going to compare me to you and say that you deserve so much better-!”

zayne suddenly cuts you off by bringing you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight embrace while drawing comforting circles behind your back. you cling to him like a lifeline, allowing the tears to stain at the front of his shirt.

“don’t ever speak that way about yourself ever again.” zayne tells you in a whisper, pressing a kiss against your temple before framing at your face. he takes a moment to admire your features all while running the pad of his thumb against the patch of acne seen against your skin.

“these… don’t bother me at all. to me, you have always been achingly beautiful in my eyes. and that is never going to change. the whole reason i wanted to invite my parents over was so that they could meet you and know that i am serious about you- about us.”

he smiles down at you, taking in your cute pout before leaning closer to press a chaste kiss against your lips, “now, don’t pick at them anymore. give them some time to heal, and just make sure you wash your face every day to help.”

feeling immensely better now, you throw your arms around zayne, pulling him close as you giggled, allowing him to pick you up as he headed towards the walk in shower, “did you wish to shower together? perhaps then, i could show you just how beautiful you are to me.”

and truly, who were you to deny the love of your life?

to say you were amazed at managing to capture xavier’s heart would be the understatement of the century. in fact, how you both met was under some unorthodox conditions.

you had simply been running errands when an outbreak of wanderers were seen just a few blocks away from you. you had unknowingly stepped into danger, and when you were close to get attacked by one of the monsters-

xavier had appeared before you, slashing away at the wanderer with his weapon. he keeps himself in front of you, not daring to move away from you until the threat has been eliminated. throughout it all, you were in a daze, simply admiring how swift and deadly xavier’s movements were as he dealt with the rest of the wanderers.

only when the coast was clear did he finally meet your gaze. “are you okay?”

you could only manage to give him a nod, ready to thank him when a stern voice breaks through, “xavier, is everything alright on your end?”

you look back to see a stern, but beautiful woman taking quick strides the hunter you assumed was known as xavier. he sheathed his weapon and gives the woman a slight bow. “yes, i’ve dealt with the wanderers here on the eastern part of the city.”

“good. i’ll go ahead and assess the damage with the others.” she runs a hand across her sandy brown hair, leaving you alone with xavier. trying to ignore your own features and how plain you felt in comparison to the woman, you thank xavier for protecting you before telling him you would head home.

the young hunter prevents you from leaving him, gently encircling his hand around your wrist. “wait, let me escort you home, just to be safe.”

seeing the way his sapphire eyes were shining brightly against the sunlight made your knees feel weak for him. giving him a stiff nod, you allow xavier to walk with you back to your apartment complex, convincing yourself that this would be the first and last time you would see him.

so imagine your surprise when he walks with you up to your apartment all while sweetly asking you if you’d like to go out on a date with him sometime. of course, you were filled with shock, remaining flabbergasted as you struggled to find the right words to say.

yet at the end of it all, you accepted his offer for a date. and one date turns into two dates, then three-

and you found yourself remaining together with xavier for close to a year now.

you couldn’t understand what xavier saw in you, since each time you would see xavier work at the association, you became achingly aware of how gorgeous his female coworkers were. this left you feeling a little more than inadequate, wondering why you agreed to be with xavier when he was surrounded by so many girls that were prettier than you.

and such thoughts were enough to render you useless, making you lay in bed for the entirety of the day. as you wallow in your thoughts, you heard your phone go off with your usual text tone. curious as to who was texting you, you look at your screen and freeze, reading xavier’s text:

hey, i got off early. u wanna hang out together? i’m free.

pursing your lips, you leave his text on read, tossing your phone aside before wrapping your blankets tightly around your form. a few seconds later, your phone goes off at least 5 more times, and you were certain it was xavier trying to reach you once more.

you remain in bed, dozing off here and there while wrapped up in your cocoon. you lost track of time, and stiffen when you heard the sound of your front door opening. feeling panicked now, you quickly sit up in bed, hearing footsteps walk into your apartment, revealing xavier just a few moments later with a bag of takeout in his hand.

“hey, i got worried when you didn’t text or call me back, so i figured i’d stop by and check on you.” xavier was frowning slightly, settling the bag of food on top of your desk before sitting on the bed with you.

you run a hand across your tangled locks of hair, “uhm, how did you get in here?”

xavier hums, reaching into the confines of his sweater to pull out your spare key settled on a lanyard. “you gave this to me during our four month anniversary, remember?”

you felt your cheeks heat up in response, leaning forward to gently trace at it. “y-you kept this on you all this time?”

xavier nods, all while gently gripping at your hand, “what’s bothering you.”

“nothing’s bothering me.” you tell xavier a little too quickly, making his frown deepen in response. he ends up tightening his grip on your hand. “that’s not true, and i want you to be honest with me.”

meeting his gaze, you could see the determination shining in them before sighing. “i…i feel really plain in comparison to the women you surround yourself with at the hunters association.”

you watch as xavier’s eyes go wide at your admission, yet still, you continue to explain to him, “i just… i feel like im not pretty enough compared to them. and it- it really is such a mystery why you’re here with me.”

xavier shakes his head for a brief moment before surging forward, giving you a searing kiss as his lips were perfectly slotted against yours. you moan into his kiss, allowing your fingers to delve into his hair as he deepens it.

once he was satisfied with the kiss, xavier pulls away from you, all while flashing you a gentle smile. he frames at your face once more and rests his forehead against yours, “the reason for me being here with you is simple, really, and it’s solely because i love you. you make me so happy, and i love being able to protect you while keeping you in my arms.”

“to me, no other woman can compare to you… and i like you best when you have no makeup on and are in comfortable clothes.” xavier smiles and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, “to me, you’re beautiful at all times of the day.”

feeling your heart soar thanks to his honest words alone, you fling your arms around your beloved, holding him close while basking in his kisses. and when he moves his kisses away from your lips and towards your features, you allow xavier to kiss away every insecurity that you felt.

the whole world knew of how beautiful rafayel was-

and that was what sent your thoughts down into a spiral, with you wondering what he even saw in you to begin with.

your first meeting started out as nothing short of romantic. by some twist of fate, you and rafayel happened to frequent at the same café, and as you were scrolling through your phone while taking sips of your coffee, you became aware of a cute boy heading towards you from your periphery.

he smiles at you, amethyst eyes shining with amusement and mirth as he slides a torn piece of sketch paper toward you. on the paper was by far the prettiest rendition of your likeness that you had ever seen. you were honestly impressed by this young man’s talent and asked him if this was how he truly saw you.

he ends up nodding his head in answer to your question. “absolutely. you’re utterly gorgeous, and i knew i had to try and capture your features into my memories somehow. the name’s rafayel, by the way.”

despite your best efforts, you end up grinning widely at him while telling rafayel your own name. the young artist repeats it, as if tasting the syllables on his lips while leaning closer to you. “say, would you like to keep this sketch i made of you?”

“y-yes! i’d love to keep this!” you end up holding the piece of paper close to your chest, earning a rich chuckle from rafayel.

“if that’s the case, then you’ll have to pay for it; and the only payment i’ll accept is if you agree to go on a date with me.”

oh, this guy was a smooth one, and he had caught you-

hook, line, and sinker.

of course, you agreed to go on a date with him-

yet that one date was enough for rafayel to claim you as his girlfriend.

and you’ve been with him ever since.

rafayel was by far the sweetest, and most gorgeous man you had ever dated. sure, you had your bumpy moments-

but the love and happiness you felt with him was something that couldn’t be ignored. he was worth every ounce of your time, (even if he had a tendency to be moody and spoiled).

however, with your growing happiness when it came to being in a relationship with rafayel, there was a lingering sense of doubt as well. for starters, you didn’t look quite as perfect as rafayel did, with you having acne scars scattered throughout your body (mainly on your face and your back).

these lingering scars was what made you shy away from more loose fitting clothes, with you often wearing long sleeved shirts or sweaters to keep your lingering acne and scars hidden.

in fact, you hated them so much that you couldn’t stand to look in the mirror at times.

feeling anxious and unable to keep still, you decide to stop pacing around your shared bedroom, not wishing to distract rafayel as he painted his latest piece. grabbing a plush towel, you head into the bathroom and turn on the faucet of the walk in shower all while shrugging off your clothes in the process.

settling the towel off to the side, once you were bare, you get into the shower and remain beneath the shower spray, basking in the heat. you continue to remain motionless, all while resting your head against the slick shower wall.

you had no idea how long time had passed, and only jumped when you heard rafayel’s voice calling out to you.

“i heard you were in the shower for roughly half an hour now and got concerned, so i’m coming in.”

protests were heard coming from your parted lips, yet rafayel ignored every single one of them, tossing his clothes in a pile before entering the shower with you. his bright eyes remained filled with love for you when he grabs the bottle of body wash and places a significant portion on the sponge. with a hum of your name, rafayel slowly begins lathering the soap all across your form.

“what’s on your mind, princess?” you shiver, feeling your entire body relax as rafayel worked on cleaning your body. taking in a deep breath, you gather your thoughts for a moment before finally admitting to him, “i’m just… feeling really insecure. i keep thinking as to why you’re with me.”

rafayel stops washing your body to let out a scoff. “i’m insulted you feel this way. what do you even mean?”

“i-i mean, look at me, rafayel. i have lingering acne scars on my back, and i don’t have a face that would make people turn their heads to get a better look at me. i’m no ravishing beauty-“

rafayel then presses a lingering kiss at the back of your naked shoulder, making your breath hitch in response. he continues kissing you, trailing his lips softly against your skin as you felt his every touch on your back. as evident from his movements, it was clear that he was kissing at the acne scars that marred your back.

“do you remember the day we first met, and i had given you that sketch?”

you shiver in response, managing to nod in reply to his question. of course you remembered that day, how could you possibly forget what had to have been the happiest day of your life?

“that day, when i first saw you and how you casually sipped at your coffee, i was drawn to the soft and natural beauty you had. i don’t care about models or any other beauty standard that girls tend to follow. what drew me to you was how you seemed to exude a hidden kindness… and just… knew then that i had to capture your features and forever immortalize it in that drawing.”

he places one last kiss against your back before turning you around so that you could face him. tears were seen welling up in your eyes, and you couldn’t stop them from cascading down your face when rafayel frames at them. he caresses at your cheek while telling you, “you have always been the light of my life… and that’s never going to change, because in my eyes, no one would ever be able to compare to you.”

you clench your eyes shut and give him a nod, unable to speak to him due to how much your throat was felt clenching up in response. giving you one last smile, rafayel leans in to quickly give your lips a chaste kiss.

“now, how about we finish this shower, then later on, we’ll order your favorite takeout while watching a movie together.”

more than ready to experience such a fun and relaxing night with him, you give your beloved lumerian a nod before leaning even closer to his touch, allowing him to spoil you as his reverent caresses against your skin makes every insecurity you felt disappear in an instant.

end notes: don’t mind me, i was feeling pretty low about myself and how i looked, and wrote a little something to help with comforting me 🥹 if any of you readers have similar insecurities, then i hope this fic comforted you as well ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[aphroditelovesu]

The Lost Queen - XVI

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,503.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23 .

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 16

The silence of the night was broken only by the soft sound of the wind blowing over the plains where the Macedonian army was encamped. Inside his tent, Alexander was studying the maps on his table intently. The King's face was lined with fatigue and dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes.

It was then that the calm voice of Hephaestion, his closest friend and confidant, resounded through the tent, cutting through the silence. "There is someone who wishes to see you, Alexander."

Alexander slowly raised his head, looking away from the maps. His eyes, tired but still intense, fixed on Hephaestion. He trusted his friend's judgment, but the question arose inevitably. "Who is it?" He asked, his voice thick with a weariness he could barely hide.

Hephaestion hesitated for a brief moment, as if the name was foreign to his tongue. "Aslan." He replied, almost as if testing the pronunciation. He knew that the identity of this visitor was not the most important point at that moment, but rather the urgency of what he brought with him.

Alexander sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to dispel the tiredness and worry that consumed him. "Let him in." He ordered, his voice low but full of authority.

Hephaestion nodded firmly, stepping down from his post at the entrance to the tent and allowing the mysterious visitor, Aslan, to enter. The man was tall, with a presence that commanded the room. His steps were firm and resolute, and his eyes, a deep, dark hue, met Alexander's. For a brief moment, the king felt as if he were staring into an abyss, an unfathomable darkness that evoked Hades himself.

Aslan bowed slightly before Alexander, a gesture of respect that, although not a Greek greeting, the King accepted without reservation. There was something about the man that captured Alexander’s attention, something that made him tolerate the cultural difference without question. In fact, he was flattered by the show of deference.

"Can I help you with something?" Alexander finally asked, looking away from the imposing figure and returning his attention to the maps, as if trying to maintain a facade of indifference.

Aslan stepped forward, approaching the table where Alexander sat, his eyes still fixed on the king. Hephaestion, who had been watching the scene closely, felt his body stiffen at the stranger’s approach. His hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to defend his friend at any cost. The tension in the tent was palpable, and the atmosphere held the promise of violence should any suspicious movement be detected.

However, Aslan seemed completely oblivious to the danger he was in. With a disconcerting calm, he stopped before Alexander and finally broke the silence. His voice, deep and grave, carried an accent unfamiliar to Macedonian ears, but the words were clear. "I have information that will certainly interest you."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the man before him. "What kind of information?" He asked, his voice a menacing whisper, thick with suspicion.

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, an almost feline gesture. "About your wife."

The impact of these words was immediate. Alexander’s body stiffened, and his expression, previously weary, became fierce. The mere mention of his wife sent his mind into a whirlwind of emotions. His jaw clenched, his posture changing to something more menacing. "Do you know anything about her whereabouts?" His voice rose, filled with an almost desperate urgency. "If you do, tell me now!"

Aslan was unfazed. His dark eyes held Alexander’s gaze with impressive calm. "She is currently in the city of Babylon, accompanied by Greek mercenaries, Persian soldiers, and... Your general, Perdiccas."

The revelation fell like a thunder on Alexander and Hephaestion. The shock was evident in the King's eyes, but he quickly hid it under a mask of skepticism. "And how can we be sure that you are not lying?" Hephaestion's voice broke into the silence, firm and full of suspicion. He still kept his hand on his sword, prepared for any eventuality.

Aslan crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze growing colder. "I have no reason to lie." He replied with a cutting calm, as if the mere suggestion of lying was an insult to him.

"Hephaestion is right," Alexander interjected, his words sharp as a blade. "You appear out of nowhere, without any introduction or assurance of your loyalty. Why should we trust you?"

A barely perceptible smile curved the corner of Aslan’s lips. He was clearly enjoying the situation. "You have no reason to trust me, that is a fact." He admitted, his voice soft but firm. "But I suggest you waste no more time with fruitless searches and unanswered questions. Time is not on your side, my dear King."

Alexander frowned, his fingers gripping the map so tightly that the paper began to tear. There was something about Aslan’s presence, a conviction that he could not ignore, even though every instinct in him screamed not to trust this stranger. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the possibility of finding his wife was an irresistible temptation.

Aslan leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Alexander’s, his voice now a dark whisper. "I suggest you send someone to confirm what I am saying, for, my King, I speak the truth."

For reasons he could not explain, Alexander felt a surge of credibility in Aslan’s words. Perhaps it was the growing despair in his heart, the pain of being separated from his wife, or perhaps there was something about this enigmatic figure that made him believe. Either way, he could not allow himself to ignore the information. If his wife was truly in Babylon, then every second lost could cost him everything.

"Fine." He said finally, looking away from Aslan and dropping the map with a heavy sigh. "I will believe your words, but on one condition." He looked straight into Aslan’s eyes, his voice lowering to a menacing tone. "You will remain with my army. If I discover that you have lied, I will personally ensure that your death is slow and painful."

Aslan nodded, seemingly unfazed by the threat. In fact, a satisfied smile played on his lips, as if he had been expecting this exact answer.

Hephaestion, however, remained uneasy. He watched the conversation unfold with a growing sense of unease. The tension in his posture was evident, and the grip on his sword only tightened.

Alexander, noticing his friend's uneasiness, gave him a meaningful look, followed by a brief nod. Hephaestion understood the message and, with quick and determined steps, left the tent.

There was a mission to be accomplished. It was time to recover his Stolen Queen.

When you opened your eyes, the world around you had changed completely.

You clearly remembered going to sleep in the luxurious room of the Palace of Babylon, exhausted after the long journey through the ancient city. The journey had been difficult, and every muscle in your body was begging for rest. Even though you needed a bath, exhaustion got the better of you, and you threw yourself onto the bed without hesitation, sinking into the soft mattress. The sheets were silk, cool and smooth against your skin, and the heavy blankets brought a comforting warmth that made you fall asleep almost instantly. You vaguely remembered a servant trying to serve you, but you waved him away before falling into a deep sleep.

When you finally woke up, after what seemed like hours of uninterrupted rest, something was deeply wrong. The ceiling you were staring at was not the same ornate and luxurious ceiling of the palace. Instead, you saw a white surface, simple and... Modern. A sense of disorientation washed over you, sleep still heavy in your eyes. You sat up slowly, realizing that you were no longer in the luxurious bed you remembered, but in an ordinary bed, without the comfort you expected.

The room around you was familiar in a disturbing way.

The furniture, the arrangement of the objects, everything was the same as your room… But not the room in the palace, but your old room, in your home, in your time. The same feeling of nostalgia and discomfort hit you hard. Every detail was exact, from the closet next to the door to the thin curtains that let the daylight in softly. Your heart began to beat faster. You were back? How was this possible? What had happened? Had the gods finally decided to end your torment and return you to your old life?

You desperately wanted to believe it, but something was terribly wrong.

A sense of anguish washed over you, your chest tightening as confusing thoughts raced through your mind. Maybe it was a dream, but it all felt so real. You forced yourself to stand up, pushing away the blankets that were still keeping your body warm. As you placed your bare feet on the cold floor, a shiver ran down your spine. Every detail seemed real and vivid, from the texture of the floor to the faint, familiar scent that filled the air. You looked down at your own body, and a wave of panic washed over you when you noticed the slight swelling in your belly. The pregnancy was real. This was not a dream.

Fear began to mix with confusion, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

You got up from the bed, your feet hesitantly touching the floor, feeling the cold that contrasted with the warmth you still felt in your body. The room around you felt claustrophobic, each object carrying an emotional weight that pulled you back, to memories you would rather forget. You slowly walked towards the door, your breath held, each step increasing the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. With one last look at the room, you opened the door, expecting to find the hallway of your house. But instead, an intense white light momentarily blinded you.

You blinked, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness, but the brightness was overwhelming.

For a moment, you stood paralyzed, your mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. There was nothing but that light, a white void that stretched on forever. You knew you should go back, close the door and get away from this weirdness, but something urged you to keep going. Against all your survival instincts, you took a step into the light. And then another. And another. With each step, the feeling of unreality intensified, but you couldn't stop. Your feet began to hurt, but you kept walking, aimlessly, as if you were being pulled by an invisible force.

Time seemed to distort.

You didn't know how long you had been walking, but the brightness was no longer blinding you as much. Your eyes adjusted, and you began to notice a shadow in the distance. It was a human figure, a male silhouette that seemed to be watching you, motionless. Fear returned with full force, but still, you forced yourself to continue. The closer you got, the more distinct the figure became, until suddenly it disappeared, disappearing into the void.

Frustration and despair took over you.

Without strength, your legs gave way, and you fell to your knees on the invisible floor, feeling more lost than ever. A growl of frustration escaped your lips, but before you could do anything, a deep, dark voice echoed around you.

"Our dreams can say so much about ourselves, can't they?" The voice reverberated in the void, cold and threatening. Your body reacted instantly, your eyes searching the space in search of the owner of that voice, but there was nothing but white emptiness.

The laughter that followed was hoarse, disturbing, and you could almost feel the presence of someone beside you, caressing your cheek with disconcerting tenderness.

"It's not time to go home yet." Shock and fear froze your body. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what was happening, but before you could react, Aslan appeared before you. His figure was imposing, his gaze cold, and without warning, he grabbed your face tightly, forcing you to look at him.

The pain was real, intense, but what terrified you most was the mocking smile on his lips.

"Wake up." He ordered, snapping his fingers with an ease that seemed to defy reality itself.

The sensation of falling hit you like a blow.

Your body was pulled downwards, as if you were plummeting from a great height. Terror took hold of you, and although you tried to scream, no sound escaped your throat. Aslan's face, with that malicious smile, was the last thing you saw before everything faded into darkness.

When you opened your eyes again, you were back in your room in the Palace of Babylon.

Your body was shaking, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as if trying to prevent yourself from falling. A scream escaped your lips, loud and desperate, before you could control yourself. The bedroom door opened with a bang, and the guard on duty rushed in, his eyes scanning the room for any threat.

Nothing was out of place, except you. As it should be.

He approached slowly, a mixture of hesitation and concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, ma'am?" His voice was soft, almost cautious, as if he was afraid of scaring you even more.

You tried to answer, but your mind was still stuck in the nightmare.

Every beat of your heart was painful, your breathing was labored, and cold sweat was running down your forehead. "Y-Yes..." You mumbled, your voice cracking. Your lips were dry, and you licked them, trying to moisten them.

The guard continued to watch you carefully. "Do you want me to call a doctor or a slave?" He asked again, his concern evident.

You shook your head, trying to sound more confident than you actually were.

"No. I... I'm fine, I just want to be alone for now." Your voice came out a little firmer this time, and the guard seemed to understand that it was best not to insist. With a nod, he left, closing the door behind him.

Relief and fear mixed within you as you observed the room around you.

You were back. It had all been a dream... A terrible and confusing dream, but a dream nonetheless. You ran your hands over your face, trying to erase the memory of Aslan's brutal hands, but the feeling was still there, throbbing. Your thoughts were in chaos, trying desperately to understand what had happened. Was it just your mind playing tricks? Had the fatigue of the last few days built up to such an extent that your psyche had rebelled?

But then, something made your heart stop.

As you got up from the bed, you noticed something strange on the sheets. A dark, red stain. Blood.

The shock paralyzed you for a moment.

— lady l: kill me if you want, but that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any theories or comments, feel free to send them! Forgive me for any mistakes. :)

Love you guys! ❤️

[gemsofgreece]

How to follow a Mediterranean Greek diet

The Mediterranean diet naturally expands throughout the coastal countries of South Europe, North Africa and the Middle East but there are some small differences between their cuisines. So here I am writing specifically about the Greek version of the Mediterranean diet, known for its delicious, natural flavours and its significant health benefits.

Eat daily:

Olive oil: the pillar, the liquid green gold of the Mediterranean Greek diet. Olive oil should be used ideally exclusively for all purposes. It's dressing salads, it's used in cooking and in fact it's traditionally what is used in frying too. Replace all types of oils, butter and margarine with olive oil even when making pastries. The only problem here is that outside of the Mediterranean basin olive oil can be pricey, however that's the foundation the diet is based on. If you are interested in following the traditional Greek diet for taste or health purposes, it is good to really incorporate olive oil in your daily cooking. If it’s not possible to afford buying olive oil all the time (although you could balance it out by not buying other oils and butter), a non-Greek-typical but equivalent alternative could be avocado oil. However, I doubt avocado oil or any other oil can remotely compare to olive oil in health properties, taste or in any other positive quality 🫒

Vinegar: Just like olive oil, vinegar is a very important ingredient and is also used in natural remedies However, it can hurt a sensitive GI tract if consumed in large portions. A little bit of it added to meals frequently is very healthy. Apple cider vinegar is also very loved and used in salads often 🍇

Vegetables: no portion can be too much (wild greens, garlic, onions, cauliflowers, cucumbers, eggplants, beets, peppers, spinach, artichokes, zucchini, peas, lettuce, the list never ends). Tomatoes and broccoli are recent additions to the Greek diet however they were integrated perfectly to the Greek cuisine. In general, all vegetables can be enjoyed freely with some moderation in the potatoes, especially when fried 🥗

Fruits: grapes, berries, apples, melons, cherries, figs, prunes, sour cherries, peaches, pomegranates are the most historically loved fruits in the Greek diet. Since the middle ages citruses like the orange, the lemon and the mandarin are more and more loved. Greeks nowadays use lemon almost more than vinegar and both have become integral components of the Greek diet. Obviously, tropical fruits like, say, banana, mango, grapefruit are not present in the traditional Greek diet, however all fruits are good fruits and you can enjoy them freely 🍎

Legumes. Eat freely to the tolerance of your body. Legumes can be too heavy for some GI tracts. Legumes are a great source of protein and fibre. Choose brown lentils, white beans, fava beans, chickpeas, giant beans and black eyed peas the most 🫘

Nuts, seeds: almonds, walnuts, sunflower seeds, peanuts etc. Eat as much as your body can take, because everybody is different 🥜

Mushrooms: mushroom it up! A great healthy way to have them is grilled with herbs and plain or apple cider vinegar dressing 🍄‍🟫

Whole grains: this is the traditional way to eat grains. Brown bread, oats, whole wheat pasta 🌾

Fish and seafood: find and eat them fresh. Instead of buying them deep frozen from the big markets, find local fish stores if your place is coastal and has them. Eat both large but especially small and medium sized fish. Some fish like salmon and tuna should ideally not be consumed daily due to their high levels of mercury and fats 🐟🎣🍤

Herbs and spices. Feel free to use as much as you want however if you are interested also in the flavours of the Greek diet besides the health benefits, a tip is that Greek dishes do not contain extremely hot spices 🌿

Water: A lot of water daily and, mind you, plain clear mineral water. No flavoured water, definitely not sparkling water and ideally no other liquids in place of the water. I mean, sure you can have liquids but you should ALSO have plain water 💧

Eat a few times per week:

Poultry: Poultry and lean meats entered the Greek cuisine mostly after the Middle Ages however they are nowadays enjoyed as part of the Greek Mediterranean diet because they are tasty and healthier than other types of meat. Chicken has become especially popular in the Greek cuisine. Other birds are the pheasant, the quail, the turkey and more sparsely the duck 🍗

Eggs: eggs are healthy and should be consumed a few times per week but not daily because they can cause a rise in cholesterol levels 🥚

Dairy: Greeks LOVE dairy products, especially the various types of cheese, however they are often irritating to the GI tract and they are linked with rises in the level of inflammation in the body. This is why you should ideally limit them to a few times per week. One exception is the yoghurt, which is fermented and can be perhaps consumed more frequently due to its beneficial properties. Important note: if you want to follow the Greek diet, you should ideally opt for milk and other dairy products from goats and sheep! Cow milk is not traditionally used in the Greek cuisine often and sheep and goat milk are significantly healthier and more nutritious. The only drawback is the stronger smell, however if you can get past that, it is strongly advised to switch to those instead of cow milk. Another note: what is known as “Greek yoghurt” in western countries is not in fact a true Greek yoghurt. What you call Greek yoghurt is to us simply a strained yoghurt, a yoghurt from which the whey has been removed. Sometimes in western markets (and in Greek “modern” dessert yoghurt products) butterfat and powdermilk is added to them and they are mostly made of cow’s milk. Again, a traditional Greek yoghurt is made of sheep, goat milk or a mix of both and is unstrained. It also has a trademark thickened skin on its top (dunno if this is the actual term lol) which is in fact the part of the yoghurt that contains the most nutrients and personally it’s the tastiest part of the yoghurt but apparently it is not for everyone. As an example, a study showed that an unstrained sheep yoghurt has more protein, more omega-3 fatty acids and minerals yet fewer calories and fats than a strained cow yoghurt 🍦🧀

Wine: in small portions, like a small glass up to a few times per week and always in combination with your meal. You don’t drink it to get hammered, you drink it for the health benefits it has in very moderate quantities and for the reasonable mild euphoria it causes before it becomes harmful. The GI tract is linked to the brain and is detrimentally influenced by negative emotions. This is why it is important to try to be in a good mood, relaxed and peaceful when you sit down to eat. A sip of wine now and then can be good for that 🍷

Eat once per week or ideally less:

Red meat like pork or beef. In fact, beef should be the one most avoided not only because it is indeed the rarest of the common meats used in traditional Greek cuisine but also because you can’t separate the fat from the meat as easily as with pork. To follow the Greek style in a healthy way opt for goat, then lamb or pork and make beef your most occasional meat dish 🥩

Processed meats should be eaten rarely. If you are in a mood for it though, opt for Greek style sausages with herbs in or bacon at most. Cured meats like ham are better to be avoided but turkey is the healthiest of them. They are not a part of a traditional Greek cuisine though.

Refined grains can be enjoyed weekly but should not replace whole grains

Pastries. What’s new, pastries are not ideal for health. However, if you are yearning for something sweet, if you want to keep it healthy as much as possible in the “Greek way”, opt for desserts made of healthy ingredients like honey, nuts, olive oil and fruits. Chocolate came to Greece in the 19th century, however it has become an integral part of confectionery since then. Opt ideally for dark chocolate, combined with nuts or fruits such as oranges and prunes. Greeks especially love chocolate combined with nuts.

Soft and sugary drinks. Avoid them overall, especially the processed products in the markets. If you need a sweet drink really bad, you can keep it traditional by making your own sweet lemonade, sour cherry, pomegranate etc drink at home. You could also enjoy small quantities of lemon or mastic liquors which are good for digestion.

BONUS TIPS & PHILOSOPHY:

Try to find mastic if it’s available where you live. The mastic is a resin produced from the mastic tree, a species endemic to the Greek island of Chios and a small part of the opposite coast of Turkey. It has numerous beneficial properties, especially for digestion and gut health, and it combines them with a very pleasant fresh and sweet flavour. You can find it in gums that boost digestion, in drinks, in pastries and even in non-edible products like toothpastes. Learn about it and give it a try, no matter if you are interested in following Greek diet or not.

Greek cuisine does not go berserk on as many ingredients as possible (however Greeks typically add more ingredients than, say, Italians and perhaps fewer than the Middle Easterners). Don’t worry about adding as many foods and nutrients in one single dish. The most important thing in Greek cuisine philosophy is to pick the finest ingredients. Avoid deep frozen or precooked and processed ingredients. Pick whole fruits and vegetables from your local small grocery store. For example, don’t buy a watermelon slice in a zelatin bag from the supermarket. Take the whole freaking watermelon home. You heard me right. It’s heavy, yes, but you would be surprised how much tastier and healthier it is this way. Go to the butcher for meat. Go to the specific cheese shop for cheese. Go to the fisherman for fish and seafood. Go to the pastry shop and get a nice dessert instead of buying candies from the market.

Remember that in moderation you can eat most of the foods you desire, especially if they are not processed foods. There is nothing about the Greek diet that is restrictive in terms of its philosophy - historically the intake of various foods was regulated only based on availability and price. There are no foods you should limit due to any perception of them being “bad” and you should never feel guilty the moment you are actually having the food. Just work slowly and progressively by building gradual appreciation for healthy foods and prize less nutritious foods as occasional taste bud rewards.

As said above, a good mood is crucial when you sit down to eat. In the history of the Greek society this translated into eating with friends and / or family, maybe with the occasional sip of wine, ideally in a pleasant environment and always taking your time with your food. If some of these are less feasible than others, try alternatively to improve the setting in which you eat, to eat in an environment that calms you down. Schedule your meal so that you won’t eat in anxiety or hurry, if this is possible. Think of pleasant memories and feel grateful for your food. Cheers! Or, you know, εις υγείαν!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency! Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader) Chapter 2 Sneak Peek

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: (Regency! Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Author's Note: Someone ( @randomdragonfires 👀) helped get a little bit of inspiration kickstarted for this.

“Did any of the young ladies catch your interest, Aemond?”

His hand froze, hovering over the stem of his half-full glass. He swore that if his grandfather brought up the question of a woman one more time, he’d banish the old man to the shabby cottage deep in the woods, where he’d never have to hear that damnable question again.

He had sworn the same the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

One day, he may actually follow through on it.

That night, though, he simply seized the bottle of port again, filled his glass to the brim, and downed it all in one gulp. The burn in his throat was far more tolerable than any of the simpering women at the ball.

The Tully girl with the lifeless eyes of a dead fish and equivalent intellect. The Lannister could do little else but bat her eyelashes and assault the ears around her with her tittering laugh. The four Baratheon girls, each utterly vexing in her own unique way. And many, many more besides.

“Aemond?” Otto asked again. The false joviality vanished from his voice.

Damn, he’d waited too long to answer. Perhaps he could still pass it off as being consumed in thought?

“Why even ask?” Daeron half-laughed as he swirled his sherry. He always had to swirl it around for several minutes before he deemed it acceptable to drink, but gave no reason for it. “He only ever looks at them long enough to notice their flaws.”

Aemond filled his glass again – only halfway this time. “If their flaws weren’t so significant, I may have looked longer.”

“Every young lady there was well-bred and well-accomplished. Several of them were even charming, by my estimation. Any one of them would have made a perfectly suitable wife.” His grandfather leaned forward in his chair, steepling his hands together. It was what he always did when trying to use reason to get his way. Oftentimes, it worked.

But not with this.

“I have neither the need nor the desire to find a wife, as I have made quite plain.”

“Every man of our station is in want of a wife, grandson.”

Aemond huffed. “I have no true station. I am nothing but an ‘ordinary man.’”

[storm-angel989]

Hiya! If you still have requests open can I get a Velvette x reader one shot, angst to comfort.

Reader having had enough of her attitude and lack of care/effort so they decide to end the relationship and leave. She starts off fine like nothing is wrong and they'll come crawling back, but she starts to notice not having someone supportive around and ends up missing them. See if she can win them back.

Hi there!

I wasn't QUITE sure where to go with this one, but I decided to stick with platonic reader x Velvette. If you were looking for something different, please let me know! For now- enjoy the story!

She honestly didn’t think she would miss her. 

Velvette couldn’t be sure when she first noticed her presence- or more specifically, her lack thereof. Nor could she pinpoint the exact moment that reader became a presence in her studio. 

It started off small. A shy little thing that turned bright red when asked to change outfits in front of others. Someone whose hair had never been trimmed, let alone styled. Who, unlike all the other highly acclaimed models that sauntered in and out as if they owned the place, barely made her presence known. 

Hard to believe this overly modest creature was the alleged future princess of hell. 

When she first arrived, the big man himself visited the three of them- he offered both money and  threats to keep reader happy, but more importantly, to keep her safe. It wasn’t a stretch to believe that the Vee empire was the safest place in all of hell. And between Voxtech, Valentino’s sex dungeon and her studio, the obvious safest place within for her to be was with Velvette. 

What a pain, she had thought, when she first met reader. Even for an angel she was plain- her only real defining feature was the blonde hair- unheard of in hell- and those baby blue eyes. The rest of it? 

Really not much to work with. 

But not impossible. And with reader being who she was, Velvette couldn’t exactly turn down the opportunity. Reader was lucky to be here, to be fixed at her hands. Slowly, painfully, she transformed reader into something beautiful- a face and body worthy of the future princess of hell. 

Velvette wasn’t one to coax, and she certainly didn’t tolerate complaining. The fashion industry was cutthroat, after all. Something reader didn’t seem to understand. 

It was more so her attitude than her looks that made her one of Velevttes hardest cases. Modesty was the core of her beliefs, and it took a good six months before she would allow herself to be photographed in anything less than long sleeves and pants. And almost a year before she could dress her with skin showing just to walk into Vox’s office, or  out to Valentino’s clubs. 

She supposed she had Valentino to thank for some of her relenting.  After all, he was doing her- practically unheard of for an angel, but true nonetheless. 

Not that that changed the fact that at the core, reader was stubborn, outright defiant, and outspoken in a way that reminded Velvette of herself. But unlike Velvette, she bent more easily than she broke, and Velvette would finally have her way, come hell or high water.

Until she didn’t. 

“I’m not being photographed in that,” reader snapped as she tossed the skirt and top aside. “What will the citizens of hell say?”

“That you have style? Oh come on reader, enough of this modesty shit you have going on. Show some skin.” Velvette snapped back. It had already been a long day- and the last thing she needed was this refusal. 

“No. You need to respect my boundaries, Vel.”

Velvette swore she saw red. Boundaries? If she maintained her boundaries she would have never looked as good as she she currently did. It was Velvette’s encouragement, Velvette’s hand that created her beauty. Reader owed her. 

“I made you,” Velvette’s words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. But it felt good, with each statement she spewed the rage and frustration she had been biting back all day. “I took you from ugly little, scrawny thing, hid those nasty scars and fixed your features in a way only I can do. The very least you can do is shut the fuck up and show it off.”

The look on readers face showed she had pushed her too far. Instantly, Velvette felt a tinge of regret. Wordlessly, reader stepped off the stage and walked towards the hallway, slamming the door behind her. 

She dared walk out on her for telling the truth? Fuck her too, Velvette thought. She didn’t need her. She didn’t need anyone. Not now, not ever. 

Velvette busied herself in her work. After all, even without reader she had a magazine to put together. One that wouldn’t wait for anyone, not even her. 

“Vel, what happened?” Valentino’s voice came from behind as she scrambled to stitch the last bit onto what was supposed to be reader’s outfit. With each move of the needle her anger grew- she even made sure to accommodate her curves, and reader couldn’t even be bothered to wear them. 

“I got sick of her shit, that’s all.” The words were out of Velvette’s mouth before she could stop them. “She’s an overdramatic, crybaby bitch.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Valentino responded easily. He blew a puff of his signature red smoke and looked around the studio. “You know she grew up in a different world than which we live, amicico.” 

“She’s been here long enough. And besides, she’s not welcome down here anymore. Princess can go to hell for all I care.” Velvette snapped back. 

Valentino shrugged and turned away. “Moot to point out that she’s already here. Your choice, I suppose.” 

Velvette glared as he sauntered away, probably to go comfort the little cunt. She turned her attention back to her work. Fuck her, and fuck him too. 

Disaster after disaster delayed her the rest of the shoot. It was well after ten by the time Velvette trudged into her bedroom and kicked off her stilettos. She threw herself into her bed, and tossed and turned as she went through the events of the day, her mind unwilling to shut off. Why was she so upset by this? It made her life easier, honestly, not having to tailor everything to fit her weird size, or mix foundation to match her pale ass complexion. So why was she so bothered by it? 

Her bad mood followed her through the next day, and the day after that. Slowly, her anger began to fade as she realized just what a clusterfuck this entire thing was. Gone were dinners together, the four of them. Gone were late night talks, and the pacts to stick to each other. Hell, gone was her bathroom buddy- girls never did, go alone. 

Without a clue on how to handle things, Velvette made it a point to stay late each night, simply so she didn’t have to face reader. 

“You could just apologize, you know.” Vox suggested when Velvette approached him. “Even for you, that was pretty nasty. And it’s not like you pay her- she’s your friend.” 

The word pinged Velvette’s heart. A friend. Flashes of them giggling together over silly jokes, of commenting on the boy’s hobbies and habits that only they were privy to. Of collapsing on each other's beds to complain about the boys in a way only girls could. 

As she stood in the studio later that night, she realized just what had gone that week. It was the smiles, the inside jokes that she and reader shared that made her job bearable in a way it had never been before, and certainly wasn’t now. 

But apologizing was never her strong suite. She wasn’t even sure where to begin. 

“At the beginning,” Vox had suggested. “Just start with sorry, that’s your foot in the door.” He had shrugged. “One simple sorry. And go from there. You’ll be fine.” 

Locking her office door behind her earlier than she had all week, Velvette took a deep breath. The ride to the top floor was agonizingly long, and right up until her fist hesitated outside of readers bedroom door, she worried. 

What if she ignores me?

What if she doesn’t accept my apologies? 

What if she doesn’t want to come back to my studio?

Or worse, what if she didn’t want to be her friend anymore? 

The thought sent a sickening feeling through her body. Only one way to find out, she supposed. After all, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

“Hey, Vel.” Reader said softly when she answered the knock. She didn’t meet Velvette’s eyes. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I fucked up. And I’m sorry.” Velevtte rushed the words out. “I was mean, actually, really mean and I pushed your boundaries and I’m sorry. I suck at apologizing but I mean it, I’m sorry, I-“

“Vel, it’s alright,” reader answered. She wrapped Velvette in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Velvette froze. She wasn’t used to being embraced, and she certainly didn’t expect her to accept her apology that fast. 

“I missed you too. You make living with those two, doing this job, doing this life, more tolerable.” She admitted as she embraced reader. “Come back tomorrow, usual time? I promise I won’t…push your boundaries again. At least, not like that.” 

She gave her a wink, “deal.” She leaned back and took Velvette’s hand. “Now come on! I have to tell you what Val did this morning, my god men are weird…”

As reader broke into an excited chatter, two thoughts crossed Velvette’s mind. 

It was good to have her back. 

It was even better to have a friend.

[ghostsnugget]

I've finally gotten time to start my story. I know it's not much but I hope you like it

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Getting Started

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The helicopter hit the pad with a loud thunk. Sand and dirt swirled through the air as the helicopter's blades slowed down. Hand over your eye to block out the sun, you step out of the chopper and move towards the door to the inside.&nbsp;

"Hurry up temp, we don't have all evening." You hear a loud gruff voice call out. Temp he said. Falling out of your long ride stupor you remember you're a temporary transfer. You look up and see Price's stern face looking down at you as you step inside, the door latching behind you with a loud kerchunk.

"Remember, you're only here for a couple weeks. Temps live in a different hallway than my team so I'll show you that way now." He hands you a key card and turns on his heel, going down a short set of stairs to the ground floor. You can't help but notice he has a slight bounce in his step. Following close but still a step behind him he continues his thought from the roof.

"Currently there is no one in your hall so no one should disturb you. You will drop your things off and unpack before making your way to the chow hall. It's almost time for lunch" he says with a slight smirk on his face and a hand on his stomach. Seems he's excited.

Finally making it to your room he leaves you without saying a word, still you feel you shouldn't dilly dally. Quickly you unpack, put your bags away and change into your new uniform. It's less of a uniform and more of a dress code; A pair of black boots, socks and pants, a plain dark blue or black t-shirt, hair at least brushed and no makeup.

Once you're dressed you grab your key card and step into the hall. It seems longer now that you're alone. All the doors are closed and the walls are painted a drab sandy color. Thinking maybe it won't be so eerie once you're around others you follow the plaques on the walls to find the chow hall.

Entering the chow hall only slightly alleviates your unsettled feeling. Grabbing a tray of food you turn around and see Price waving you over to the table he and his team were sitting at. You place your tray down and take a seat, all eyes are on you.

"Temp, this is my team; Ghost, Gaz, Soap and now you. You should get acclimated well, it's not too hard to stay here but keep in mind I won't tolerate any bullshit. on and before I forget, what should we call you?" He looks over expectantly, waiting for your call sign.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I hope you enjoyed reading it, take a look at my next post for what you want the call sign to be. I haven't decided where I want this story to go but suggestions are always welcome. Please give me your feedback and how you feel I might be able to improve.

[benjineedssleep]

even more stardew valley headcanons (the list goes on in endless fervor)

when will the headcanons end? never! when these characters are all you think about, you kinda don't run outta fuel XD

ALSO-- lots of sam today but we do have some special friends here. special friends as in alex and leah and harvey :3 almost forgot... pt 1 // pt 2

whimsigoth abby, grunge/midwest emo sam, scenemo sebastian. i rest my case. sebastian's style varies the most out of the trio. he can go from merely jeans and a hoodie, to a million accessories, to a more dressy outfit with loose button ups and slacks. the latter only when he's feeling Extra Pretty though. (tbh he's always pretty to me. he's a pretty boy...) abby, on the other hand, really loves the style, but is more often than not dressed down because of her general messy/down to earth nature. her true style is pretty much saved for special events and gatherings and even then she can still get down and out (further tearing her stockings, mesh shirts, and any lace she has on). sam's the chillest and most consistent of the bunch with a copy-paste kinda style. he can just go in his closet and pull something out and it'll (probably) match whatever he pulls out next. makes it real easy on his already frazzled brain.

sam's extremely confident when he likes someone until his actions can no longer be passed off as platonic or you know how he feels. at that point, all of the confidence leaves his body. he starts rambling, can't get his thoughts out, and will probably stare blankly (super flustered at that) if you flirt back. it always takes him a second to register that hey, they feel the same but once he does, he's back on his bullshit. he's too big of a touchy feely fool and lover boy to let his nerves get to him all of the time.

haley is a secret rock/metal enjoyer. she loves the girly pop music everyone thinks she's into (charli xcx, chappell roan, etc.) but she's also very much into heavier genres. when she's not yelling out her window for sam to stop blasting music or practicing so loud, she's getting ready for the day secretly enjoying what he plays. her favorite days are when sebastian's over and gets to choose the music.

branching off of that, haley and sebastian are definitely concert buddies. one day he mentions he has plans to see one of his favorite local post-hardcore/metalcore bands and haley is like "SEBASTIAN, BABE, CAN I COME WITH???" and sebastian gets absolute whiplash. after much begging, he let's her tag along and is baffled at how much control she has in platforms in the pit. she genuinely invokes the fear of yoba into 6ft men and has created safe spaces for other girls to mosh due to her immense aura LOL

leah introduces alex to tofu for the first time when she makes a dish for one of the festivals/feasts and he's intrigued by it. she explains to him all the finer details (alex latching onto the high protein part) and even gives him a few recipes to try. while he does make and enjoy the recipes leah shared with him, he often elects to eat the stuff straight from the package. he'll only eat it with a sauce after evelyn catches him inhaling it plain and is horrified.

alex and sam would totally be friends, i don't make the rules. i bet they bond over shitty jokes and showing off all their battle scars from sports and being irresponsible (e.g. having zero coordination and falling off curbs, logs, etc.) as kids. sam takes the cake for battle scars and anytime alex finds a new one he tacks it onto a terribly kept mental list like it's a competition. and speaking of competitions, everything is a competition between those two. some of them even end up leading to new battle scars--

robin has a bit of a temper (canon, i know, keep reading) and one of the ways you can tell sebastian and maru are her kids is by their tempers. maru's the least easily triggered, but only because she can tolerate a lot. once the threshold is crossed, though, she can and will snap. robin's the middle ground, often passive aggressive instead of outright mean or aggressive. sebastian's obviously at the very top. he has next to no patience for bullshit but, as touched on in a previous post (linked up top), his lack of control over his own emotions blows a whole lot of minor shit out of proportion.

speaking of maru, i don't think she swears! she's very particular with her word choice and, honestly, the shit she says can sting a lot more than name calling. with her more pacifistic outlook on life, when she does say mean things, it's purposeful and the truth. unless she's joking around. but that's also scary. she only comes out of her shell a bit with playfully mean humor when her and sebastian start getting along better. "i hate you" and "you suck" and annoyed grumbling becomes a whole ass part of her personality because of him XD

not sure if i've mentioned this but sebastian 100% curses around robin. usually it's when he's frustrated, so she doesn't mind, but she won't tolerate it if the energy is directed at any given person (or living thing in general). he does avoid cursing around demetrius but only 'heavy' stuff like fuck or shit. hecks, hells, and damns are almost always okay. sebastian's a dick though and will sometimes substitute a random thing that sounds a lot like a 'heavy' swear just to watch demetrius get tense. "what the frog" is a fan favorite and makes both robin and maru laugh.

neither sam nor abby curse in front of either of their parents. caroline and pierre already think abby's a bit too... different so she tries to uphold whatever remaining 'good girl' standard she can. sometimes it slips but they tend to forget about it in a week. sam, on the other hand, finds it insanely amusing how his mother reacts to vincent trying to swear (see previous post) and will sometimes egg him on, but won't swear himself. he feels immense shame when he accidentally swears around jodi specifically but around any 'adult' in his life too.

i have no idea how i haven't mentioned this yet but sam is totally the type to do his own piercings. it's a random skill he has and he'll do them for other people if they want. he's only okay with certain stuff though and will say no to seemingly simple stuff if he feels any kind of way about doing it. (the rest of this point is totally a headcanon explicitly from my fic and its timeline so ignore it if you want.) i feel like maybe he learned the skill from the older sibling of a friend back in zuzu city. like he just hung around them in their shop enough and asked a ton of questions and learned about anatomy and stuff. it was probably a hyperfixation for a little while and he just hasn't forgotten anything.

on the topic of sam and body mods i feel like he'd have a couple of random stick and pokes. he treats them like stickers on his instruments and doesn't take them seriously at all. i bet he proposed an ass trio stick and poke where each of them tattooed a different symbol on each other's body. not sure what it would be but something everyone does super differently like stars or hearts. it was a silly thing at first but they definitely get them touched up at a later point so they don't fade =( /pos

okay so i'm a firm believer in the ass trio + haley + alex (+ farmer, sometimes) friend group too. usually only when paired off as ships but even so they'd probably join the tattoo line up too if they're close enough. i do feel like ass trio would get a little weird about it since it would be so many years after their original tattoos and instead suffice for everyone having the same kinda thing. and it would be super dumb like a spoon or a shopping cart or something. so yeah, ass trio stick and pokes and then a separate big group matching tattoo hehe

sam is a trinket kinda guy. he likes those stupid little sticker and plastic jewelry machines at supermarkets, gashapon, claw machines, and spending $100 in an arcade for a $5 plushie. and while he'll sometimes keep his little prizes, i like to think he gets them for other people to show them he's always thinking about them/loves them. like a crow!

i feel like harvey is similar to sam with that, in a sense. but instead of being a trinket guy, he likes souvenirs. he's the kind of guy to get one specific thing from every place he goes. i have a family member that does this with hot sauce (don't ask lol) but i think harvey would be a mug kind of guy. he also does it with tiny toy planes if he can ever find them, but that's obviously not as common as a mug. omg first harvey headcanon on the list(s)? i'm diversifying? omg!

emily is a keychain girlie. i do not make the rules. this girl sees a cute keychain and she's snatching it up. even better if it's from a small business. she has so many that she ends up rotating the keychains on her lanyard (yes, she has a lanyard) to match whatever she's wearing. she's the kind of person that, if an art teacher/fashion professor, would jingle in the hallways. you can hear emily a mile away because of those keychains just like you can hear haley because of her heels and winter soldier ass stride.

good lord i have... so so SO much more but this is like... too damn long. i think the longest one too. i'll continue at a later point. and hopefully stray a little further away from ass trio next time too. i do love the other npcs, i swear. i just have brain rot DFISHADFLH

[hennyjwrites]

The Game: Chapter 1

Summary: Finding out her relationship was a joke to everyone but her, Y/N realizes one thing. Since everyone wants to play, she’ll have to win the game. One thing about it, this game is dangerous and that’s how she likes it.

————————————————————————

Being married to a known member of the Mayans left no question of the dangers that lurk around every corner. That’s part of the reason why you don’t hang around the club anymore, there is too much violence and too many single men for a beautiful woman. Your husband, Manny warned you about all that lurked around the border and why he didn’t want you coming around as much. You typically listened, that being the one thing you both agreed on, but tonight was different.

“C'mon bitch, everyone’s going to be there.” Your best friend of 10 years, Lola begged. She wanted you to attend a party at the club tonight but you had already told Manny you were staying in tonight. Not only was the club going to be filled with drunk Mayans but also drunk members of the Sons of Anarchy. “Security’s heavy tonight we’ll be fine.”

You sighed from your bed as she and your other friend of a short year, Mica, went through your closet. “It sounds like fun Lo, but I already told Manny I was staying home tonight.”

“Bitch fuck Manny!” She yelled from the deeper part of your closet. She never really liked him but then again she doesn’t like Mica that much either. Lola always claimed there was something off about her but she tolerated her.

Mica walked out the closet first holding up a cute but plain dress that you never wore anymore. “This looks cute mami, you wanna go plain or extravagant tonight?”

Lola walked out after her with a tighter, sexier purple dress that showed off everything you had. “Bitch don’t try and make her look like someone’s abuela.” She mugged mica who flipped her off and walked back to the closet. “Here throw this on so we can go.”

She sensed your slight hesitation before sighing. “Girl, if Manny is already there you think he won’t protect you if something pops off? You need to have a little fun. I miss my best friend.” she pouted. She missed having fun with you, going out getting so drunk that neither of you could do anything but dance in a drunk ass circle.

You smiled at her before standing up. “Let me go fix my hair and we can go.”

-

Walking in the club, the music was blasting as drunk members of both of the clubs were having as much fun as they possibly could surrounded by hyenas and other known women from around the city. Security was posted at each entrance letting everyone drop the weights off their shoulders.

“Let’s go take some shots!” Lola cheered walking with you to the bar. Mica had already disappeared into the crowd when you first showed up.

Sitting at the bar you took shot after shot with Lola, slowly becoming more tipsier quicker than you ever had before. That’s the effect of not getting drunk in years. Somehow you and Lola ended up grinding on each other in the middle of the club, draw

Angel walked up to you, grabbing your attention. “Hey cariño, you finally made it out.” He cheered, clearly more drunk than usual. He pulled you into a hug, whispering in your ear, “guess you finally decided to join in on Manny's fun?” He chuckled, pulling away with a wink. You looked at him confused but didn't have a chance to respond as he turned his attention to Lola.

Manny's fun? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Speaking of, where the fuck was manny. You didn’t have a chance to wonder as another prospect offered you a drink which you gladly accepted and downed it easily feeling the slight burn slide down your throat.

You spent the night drinking with Lola until she ducked off somewhere with Angel. You tried to find mica or manny but you were too drunk to even stumble around correctly.

You drunkenly danced with a random club member and hyena before you were pulled away. You instantly whined. “Woah calm down.” The familiar voice was none other that Coco Cruz. “Manny let you take a pick this time huh?”

Why do people keep saying that to you? “W-what?” You drunkenly hiccuped, confused. Take a pick? What the fuck does that even mean? Coco laughed at your drunken behavior. “C'mon let’s go lay down and wait for tu marido.”

Coco guided you to an empty room, laying you down in the bed. He did mean to find Manny, but he got distracted by a woman walking past him with an obvious look in his eye. He told a prospect to watch the door you were in as he went after her. You on the other hand held no objective as you passed out in the random bed.

-

You rose from the bed, wishing you were dead as the horrible headache took over. You groaned, knowing you got sloppy drunk last night and forgot about the two women who you even showed up with. Walking out of the room you were met with bright lights, passed out bikers and others who were still drinking.

“You look horrible.��� Ez laughed loudly before receiving several groans and others telling him to shut the hell up. Of course Ez was on drunky patrol. “I feel worse than I look.” You sat at the bar and placed your head down.

Ez slid a cup of water to your side. You took a sip before looking over to see Angel and Lola in the same predicament as you. They were clearly fucked out and drunk but they still were cuddled up together. They made you think of you and manny. Turning your attention to Ez you asked, “where’s manny?”

His face held a genuine look of confusion. “They weren’t in the bed with you?”

“Who the fuck are you talking about Ezekiel, now’s not the time for jokes.” You whined, annoyed, dizzy and ready to go home. The sound of a door opening and the face Ez made, had you turning around.

There, your husband held the hand of another woman, leading her out the door. “Manny?” You questioned catching his eye. His eyes widened as he stared at you with his mouth dropped. He dropped the woman’s hand who looked at him confused before she turned in the same direction. “Mica?” You spat.

They both stared at you as you stood up. Lola stood up as well ready to back you up.

“Oh.” You laughed angrily. “Y’all got me fucked up.”

[penig]

Behold the dress that kicked my ass.

After finally perfecting the empire waist dress I was of course sick of sewing it, so I went through the patterns inherited from a friend's mother (friend doesn't sew, mother was about my size and had a significant stash of projects she never got to start) and found a cute one that would do for my purposes. I should have dug out my muslin (I found muslin for $0.99/yard once 20 years or so ago and have been lauding my own wisdom in buying the bolt ever since) but instead I thoughtlessly pulled one of the fabrics from the inherited stash. Because I am smart enough to use stuff I have paid little to nothing for the first time I make a pattern.

I have never altered a dress with princess seams before.

There was absolutely no leftover fabric of that black; there wasn't even enough for the sleeves. Fortunately, I also overbuy solid colors in plain fabrics on sale and had quite a lot of a green that coincidentally match the palm trees. That button plaquet was not supposed to be a button plaquet, it was supposed to be facing, which I turned into a button plaquet when the front panels wouldn't meet across the portion of my anatomy that shakes when I laugh like a bowlful of jelly. I misjudged where and how much the flare needed to be changed to accommodate that and I couldn't think of a good way to make the scraps into a gusset to fix the problem. The button plaquet mostly solves that; but I didn't consider how much it would widen the neckline, and when my first try-on came I found myself with an off-the-shoulder dress and a really deep decolletage.

And that was when I entered one of my "what are shapes?" phases. I'm not good at rotating shapes in my head at the best of times; sometimes, I cease to be able to parse them at all. They become like numbers and make no sense. There's nothing I can do but tuck the problem into my backbrain and give it time. As usual, this method didn't fail me, and when I finally saw the leading edge of how to deal with the problem I started picking away at it one small task at a time.

This is still a shade too wide at the neckline (my hair's over my shoulders so the bra straps don't show) and there are seams that any seamstress as good as people think you need to be to make your own clothes would not tolerate for a second - but I happen to be a crappy seamstress who makes her own clothes anyway, and today I reached the point at which I could say: "That'll have to do; hem the thing."

I can't be said to have learned the pattern, either, due to the jiggerpokery with the facing/plaquet. Next time (which will not be tomorrow! Or even next month.) I will definitely call on my faithful cheap muslin. But it actually is kind of cute, and if I can learn to alter princess seams to my shape properly - well, that's a whole new world, isn't it?

Anyway, consider this encouragement to do any project you think you're not good enough to do, and to see it through. Whatever it is. If I can do it, you certainly can.

[ashwhowrites]

okay this but like the roles are reversed.

Oh definitely

Eddie hated people

Just that plain and simple

He'd easily ignore anyone that talked to him

That included teachers

He'd glare if anyone even looked in his direction

The very few people he tolerated still got told to shut the fuck up

He still hated them, just a little bit less

But the one person Eddie absolutely could and would never hate

Was his quiet and shy girlfriend

He adored the way she giggled behind her hands he yelled at someone

Or how she always looked so lost with her big eyes

She was sweet and nice

Way too kind for the people they were forced to share a world with

She got taken advantage of

So Eddie made sure that ended real fast

When anyone had the nerve to even talk to her

Eddie was glaring over her shoulder

A glare that no one felt comfortable with it on them

Y/N never understood why people would say hi, look behind her and run

"Eddie. Why do people keep doing that?"

"I don't maybe. Let's go get ice cream"

If anyone said one mean word to her

He was already screaming

If it was a boy, easily having him shoved against the wall

If it was a girl, well he made sure to look as tall as possible as he stared down at her

Refusing to blink, watching fear circle around in their eyes

He doesn't handle people getting her shit wrong well either

It was her birthday dinner

She sat gorgeous in a new dress

Hair and make up done

So excited for her pasta dish- extra sauce and extra spice

Eddie laughed as she danced in her seat

Just patiently waiting and waiting

When it arrived she digged in quick

Quickly realizing the pasta was not what she ordered

She didn't want Eddie to freak out so she tried to choke it down

Eddie watched as she slowly munched on her dinner

"sweetheart?" He asked lightly

"yes?" She squeaked. Drowning the taste of the fishy pasta down her throat

"it's fish isn't it? Not the chicken?" He asked, trying to lean over the table to see her plate

She quickly pushed the plate closer to her

"no it's chicken!"

"no it's not"

Seconds later the waiter asked if everything was alright

"oh yes"

"no"

They both looked at each other

She kicked his leg under the table

"she doesn't like fish, and asked for chicken. Can she please get another one?"

She smiled proudly as he used his manners

Usually he jumps straight down the person's throat

"I'm sorry but Im pretty sure she asked for fish"

"I'll eat it. Baby it's fine" she said. Already panicking as the waiter decided to argue with Eddie

"I'm sorry but I think I know my girlfriend and her order a lot better than you. So she'll take chicken" Eddie growled picking up her plate and handing it to the waiter

"she already ate some of it"

"who gives a fuck? She ATE it and realized IT WASN'T WHAT SHE ORDERED!"

One thing Dustin found hilarious was how fast he changed around her

"GARETH KINDLY SHUT YOUR MOUTH" Eddie screamed, pounding on the table

"Eddie let's calm down" Mike tried to say

"WHEELER I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN"

Mike shrunk in his chair

Gareth was dead silent

The atmosphere was so thick

Then she came bouncing in with a huge smile

Dropping the second she saw everyone's attitude

"something wrong?" She asked

"absolutely not baby. Come here" Eddie's tone switch 180°

His voice was soft and no trace of annoyance whatsoever

She cuddled in his lap

But it wasn't long until he was getting heated again

"DUSTIN ROLL THE FUCKING DICE. I DON'T HAVE ALL GOODMAN DAY!"

"Eddie baby let's calm down"

"okay"

Eddie sat silent and took deep breaths

Kissing the back of her neck as she played with his rings

Apologizing to Dustin for his harsh words and continued the game

"wait when I say it you want to murder me and she gets a "okay baby. Anything for you? " Mike mocked

A deadly glare sent in his direction caused him to shut up real quick

Eddie hated people

But he definitely didn't hate her

[demialwrites]

Sand Through Fingers Ch 1

AO3 Link

You and Rufus Shinra have been in a weird and messy master/pet relationship for years when he calls you up out of the blue after rising to President. You've both always maintained a comfortable distance but he seems to have other plans now. (I wouldn't even call it good or realistic pet play, either. Pet Play Lite, is what I'd call it)

When you accepted Rufus’ call to come to Junon with him, it was more to sate your curiosity than anything. And if it was boring, you could always enjoy yourself on his dime while there. In fact, it was expected. It was part of the dynamic of your relationship. When Rufus told you that he required you to dress nicely for the helicopter ride over, you got annoyed. But you had already agreed to go.

You chose a long dress, casual enough to not stand out too much, but with a little embellishment to let him know you put some effort in. You almost regretted it when you realized this dress needed heels. You actually couldn't picture a woman standing next to him in public without heels on. You disliked fancying yourself up for strangers but you could just take it off the first chance you got. He promised you it wouldn't be long.

You had never been ma’am’d and miss’d so much in your life on the way to that helicopter. You had never been perceived so much in your life. You couldn’t fault these individuals’ earnest politeness, though. No, you could fault the person who invited you. As soon as the last polite someone shut the door to the helicopter, you could breathe. Mostly. There were still two sitting in front, piloting. One of them had helpfully placed your overnight bag next to your feet. Rufus sat next to you in the row of seats in the back. His arm squeezing your waist dulled the prickling of your irritation. Also, you didn't get to go on many helicopter rides so you were somewhat excited. You could ask for more but that would probably mean getting involved in the company, especially since Rufus was now the president.

He never once asked about your loyalty to the company as a resident of the plate, even if it was what he desired. You had the impression it was something he wanted you to come to on your own. Maybe that would change in the future but your company, however sporadic, seemed to be more than enough for now.

After the helicopter lifted into the air, Rufus unzipped one of his breast pockets. He slid out a card and placed it in your waiting palm.

“Don’t let me down, Master,” he said, smiling with eyes glancing over your face.

The card was plain black, except for the Shinra logo in red on the front in the upper left corner. You bent down to slip it into your bag. That was for spending later.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asked with a smirk.

“A little,” you replied. That was all you were planning to concede.

“I hope so. Because Public Safety is greeting us.”

“What? So?”

“All of Public Safety.”

“Rufus!” you wanted to yell but downgraded to an angry whisper.

He laughed. “Now, Master-”

“Don’t you ‘Master’ me!”

He wrapped both arms around you while you fought him like a squirming cat. He was excited about today and none of your grumpiness was going to ruin that, apparently.

“We’re almost at Junon, Sir,” called one of the pilots over his shoulder.

You sheepishly took your hand down from Rufus’ face, no longer pushing it away. The reminder that you weren’t alone made you reluctantly behave like a normal person. Of course, he was enjoying your reactions or he wouldn’t be tolerating it. When you met his eyes, he gave you another smirk. You would have liked to pinch his nipple through his clothes but you chose to punch him in the side, instead. He chuckled. He knew you were going to behave but he also was counting on you to. Or he wouldn’t have asked you to come.

You spotted the amount of people on the Junon runway and you only had time to curse under your breath one time before you had to follow Rufus out of the helicopter.

You planted your hand on his outstretched palm. You stepped down with his help, managing to not get your heel caught on the lip of the helicopter doorway. You’re panicking on the inside but you kept your facial features carefully schooled on the outside. Your back straightened–hopefully in an elegant manner–as he turned to face the columns of uniformed troops and their commanders standing in front. He paused to sweep his eyes over them all. You fiercely fought the urge to grimace and elbow him away. Doing that in front of all these people would be crossing a line you couldn’t return. Also, you might as well let him have his moment. He would probably be happier and more obedient later for it. Call it an investment for the future for when he’s on his knees.

Rufus must have been pleased because he began to walk forward. He leads you by closing his hand around yours, which you tolerate. You felt like his professional girlfriend. Which you were not. Darkstar was out in front so you had something to keep your eyes on as you concentrated on not twisting an ankle. These people were probably trained to keep their eyes forward but if you met anyone’s gaze, the thin veil would have dropped.

Once inside the adjacent building, Rufus leaned in. “I have a prior engagement but I’ll take you to the room first.”

“You better,” you mutter in reply.

Once the hotel room door shuts behind you, you let out a loud sigh. “Fuck me. What the fuck was that?”

You ripped your heels off and threw them on the dark red carpet. There were already red lines cut into your feet. The dress landed on the floor next to them. You sat on the bed. Then you immediately flopped back on it once you felt how comfortable it was on your tush. You did your best to will the tension from the walk here to diffuse into the mattress. Rufus came to stand next to your knees, looking down at you.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.” You sat up and frowned at him, lips curling in suspicion. “Why am I here?”

He gestured to the room. “I wanted you to see me in my element.”

The room was the best in Junon. The theme was red and yellow-cream. Paintings on the walls, a large, framed mirror propped on the side table. A second room off to the side, no doubt some kind of living room, but with a fancier name. The balcony is three times the size of the other rooms. The whole thing was overly decorated, with red filigree carved into the trim on the ceilings. You spied a thick fabric canopy on the bed while lying on your back. This environment is so different from what you’re used to that it’s a shock at first.

You eyed him. “I don’t like your ‘element.’ That’s the point.”

That should have been an insult to anyone else but he just smiled. You grabbed his gloved hand and attempted to pull him onto the bed. He held firm.

He chuckled. “Sadly, I don’t have time for that. I have to get ready to greet the world.”

Fine. He could “greet the world.” But now that you're here, you don't know what it had to do with you and why you had to be here. You could have watched this on the TV from the comfort of your apartment.

“I came all the way here and you’re going to be a bad pet?” you asked, astonished. Then you snorted angrily.

He dipped his chin slightly, the only acknowledgement that he was being naughty.

“Fine, Fine,” you said, having had enough of being annoyed. You inclined your head. “Show me.”

Rufus pulled down his dark grey shirt collar to give you a peek at a second collar hidden underneath. It was black with short spikes protruding from it, matching Darkstar’s harness.

“That’s the least you can do,” you said.

“You can watch from the balcony. I ordered you room service. Something to drink.” He knew you preferred to pick your own food. He ignored your sigh. “Will you be here afterwards?”

“Someone has to watch your pup.”

He gave you a toothy grin. “You’re so good to me.”

You huffed out of your nose. He was finally starting to sound like the good boy he was supposed to be. Rufus signalled to Darkstar that he was to obey you until otherwise ordered. The hulking beast got up from his spot on the carpet and stretched the first few steps. He flopped down at your feet, harness clinking. You smirked at him. He knew he was in for a lazy time with you around and was getting a head start.

“It’s a little busy downstairs with the turnout to see my inauguration. It’s better if you remain here.” You looked ready to snap at him again so he continued, “I just…know how you are.”

“Do you? I had to parade across that huge runway just to get here,” you said, pointing down at the bed. “You’re going to pay for that later.”

“Good.”

“Asshole,” you said. Now you knew he did it on purpose to get a punishment later.

“Until later, Master.”

And Rufus left. You felt slightly abandoned but only because you hadn’t been to Junon in years. You considered going against his advice and going downstairs with Darkstar as company. The pup looked immensely comfortable trying to meld with the carpet so it was a tough decision.

[digenerate-trash]

Yoo some Apocolypse sydney faction ideas!

• The reason sydneys faction is so important is because of the books and clothes! The schools water system is too old to rely on electricity, so it's basically an unlimited but controlled recourse. But it didn't take long for the electricity to go out, removing the schools lighting and heating/ac entirely. Thanks to windows being dangerous, places with lots of them are considered either dangerous or are covered up so that the turrets aren't alerted. That leaves everywhere really dark (how rogue kylar lives. Bitch can see in the dark and sleeps in lockers) and very cold at night. That's where sydney comes in- before the apocalypse, he already had the keys to the school and the library due to coming in and leaving late to open and close it, and he keeps them extremely close. His books and even his clothes are used as tinder for both lighting and heat, which is essential, although he is extremely stingy- he chooses what books are allowed to be burned, and his lambs are punished if they burn books friviously, and he also drives a hard bargain. His main import is water- one full bucket in exchange for 3 books, and a 3 days rations for clothes. People mostly use clothes as replacements if theirs are too damaged (they usually pay robin a ration of water to mend clothes, but sometimes they are unable to.) And as mostly bedding these days, due to how limited the resource is.

• The library itself is locked at almost all times, making it impenetrable. It's very dark, and almost fully silent. People sleep on clothing beds between the library's aisles, and sydney's quarters are behind his counter, where he has his chair covered with clothes as a bed and the under counter where he keeps his favorite books. The changing room is mostly storage, but also where he punishes his straying flock.

• Sydney is extremely strict with his sheep, and keeps his group extremely small and close. You have to prove to him you belong, and if you mess up, he punishes you in the churchly fashion- pain. Fire is the only good method for it. If you act out minorly, he puts the fire close to your skin and let's it redden and become painful, but if you steal or betray him.. you are burnt and cast out into the rest of the School with a brand. It's why it's so hard to get spies into his faction- hard to tolerate without the proper conditioning that his loyal flock receives. You get bedding and good food and water, but you have to lose your individuality- you have to follow every rule- you have to lose all contact with the outside population. While most students outside of this faction have given up on staying clean, Sydney demands it- it's why he trades for so much water. All of his children and himself are as clean as possible given the circumstances- hair brushed, washed and combed through in the bucket, and bodies washed of any blood or grime. If you try and sequestered water or stay unwashed, you are punished. Yes I like giving them a god complex </33

• When you're sent out to trade with the rest of the School, you are not allowed to speak. A piece of paper covers your face with the resource you're trading, and it's impossible to tell who you are. It's both isolating and it keeps you safe- Whitney can't target you personally when all of you look the same, when they can't even hear your voice. They also have a dress code- plain grey School Cardigan, and long black school skirt/pants. All in the name of avoiding vanity and keeping safe and anonymous for Sydney.

I imagine being sydneys favorite sheep in the herd would be rather suffocating> :3c

- Dolbog! (Will be making ocs for this au)

OMG EVERYONE FUCKING LOOK

I gotta say I love it when yall contribute to my whack ideas-

Sydney facing into his deepest religious teachings to keep himself safe crating structure for his faction as well as making a system that ensures he's safe as well.

Also sydney making sure that paper over the face to hide identities is smart.

Plus you know that if you're sydneys favourite little lamb you're kept so far away from the rest of the rifraff.

[whumped-by-glitter]

Chapter 1 Part 3: Late

⚠️CW: Institutional Slavery, Food Whump, Bullying, Blood, Beating, Minor Whumpee, Implied Nudity (Non Sexual, Caretaking), Imprisonment, Dehumanization..... If i missed anything, please let me know.

A special thanks as always to @3-2-whump for the beta read and tolerating the endless drivel as I work through all of my threads and ideas.

Story under the cut:

⏮️ Previous

Dog looked over and saw that Boy was still asleep. The kid was only about 13 and was also never given a name. Nobles preferred to name their slaves themselves, so slaves his master bought to train and resell as silver bands were rarely named.

He couldn’t just let him sleep like that. He shook his head. He knew that the two silver bands were kept more separate, but Dog didn’t understand why no one would have looked out for the child even a little.

Dog walked over, gently shaking him. All Boy did was roll over. ‘This would be so much easier if I could talk’ he thought, inwardly rolling his eyes.

“Why are you bothering with that failure?”  Zan laughed, but Dog completely ignored him.

He slapped Boy harder, turning his cheeks red. The kid reacted but did not wake up. Boy had been on food restrictions for 4 days now and was just exhausted Dog figured. The older slave scooped him up to carry him into the washroom.

“Hey! Don’t just fucking ignore me!” Zan spat as the dog brushed past him.

Dog had practically raised him. Boy had been bought at the age of 3, Dog had been 12 at the time. Corvius couldn’t be bothered with things like potty training and teaching him how to speak, so Dog was put in charge of that.

Hauling the kid to the washroom and setting him on the floor, he splashed some cold water on his face, which finally startled the younger slave awake.

The mutt quickly scrubbed him down and braided his black hair so that it wouldn’t stick to his neck while working. He also took a mental note that it probably needed to be cut this evening.

Dog quickly patted him dry and dressed him, just in time. The latch being opened echoed through the outbuilding, he quickly tied his blindfold over his eyes before helping the kid up. It was time to begin the day.

By the time he finished dressing him and they returned to the common area, breakfast had already been distributed. It was no surprise to Dog that he didn’t have a tray, since he was fed separately because everything he was allowed to eat was laced with various poisons to work up his resistance. The mutt, however, found it concerning that there was as still nothing for Boy. It was beginning to get dangerous, especially with the amount of extra work being piled on him.

Dog didn’t even feel the crime fit this level of punishment, or even made sense with the offense. From how he understood it, Boy was cleaning the mirror on Balor’s dresser and accidentally pushed too hard and cracked it. It wasn’t like the mirror isn’t easy to replace. What Balor was angry about was the old superstition that if a mirror is broken, its owner is cursed. Balor was convinced, because of this, that Boy had tried to kill him.

Balor was the Master’s son. He was lazy, dimwitted, and sadistic, nothing like his father. At least with the master, the rules were clear, and everything had a reason. Most of the slaves and even servants avoided him, however he seemed to take a particular shine to tormenting Boy, and Dog, of course, but that went without saying.

The Mutt sat Boy down next to Ruby. “Please look after him,” he requested in a quiet, gravelly voice, now allowed to speak. His voice had been shot a long time ago from screaming in pain, the poisons, and just plain disuse.

“I’ll get him going,” she grunted, slipping the dazed boy a piece of her toast.

Mutt headed off towards the main house to report to their Master.

 As he walked up the hill to the mansion, he noted the sun was a little higher than usual. This was becoming an all too frequent occurrence; this particular servant would often delay unlocking the door.  She would use the trip to the slave house as an excuse for a smoke break. It didn’t really affect anyone except for him, who had to report to the master right away, but it was getting old.

As he reached the door, he tried to push his worry for Boy aside. It would be a distraction, which wouldn’t help the situation. He was really hoping to perform well enough to request his master interfere in his son’s punishment of Boy. He took a steadying breath and opened the door.

“What took you so long?!” his master snapped as a greeting, well… at least an acknowledgment of his arrival. The mutt inwardly winced. Today was going to be one of those days, he could tell already.

“This mongrel deeply apologizes,” the Drar dropped to his knees, bringing his forehead to the floor in an almost worshipping bow. He knew better by now than to try to explain.

Balor provided a sharp kick to the slave’s ribs; he could tell by scent and sound it was him. Additionally, Balor always wore a special pair of shoes that came to a metal covered point which made his kick pretty distinct. A second blow came, and he did the best he could to not react as he could feel a bit of blood trickle across his ribs under his loose shirt. Facial expressions were off limits for him and would only make things worse, as was moving and making sounds.

He conjured the feeling of the small warm hands, calming himself, they were the reason for this right? He was held to impossibly high standards for them. ‘I am just a tool, tools don’t feel,’ he told himself, just like he did every time. It was a reflex at this point, as natural as blinking. It was easier to convince himself that he didn’t feel the pain than to try to cope with it.

“That’s enough!” the mutt heard Corvius snap.

“Father, I can beat it for wasting your time,” he heard Balor say.

“I don’t need your help,” his master said in a pointed tone. Sometimes he almost felt sorry for Balor, he tried so hard for approval his father never gave.

“Fine,” Balor sulked, giving the mutt another firm kick in the ribs before walking out. He almost felt sorry for him…

“Up,” his master ordered harshly. “Follow.”

@whumpsandbumps, @whumperofworlds, @skittles-the-whumpee, @wounds-seen-and-unseen, @generic-whumperz

@emptycalories-splitlip, @pigeonwhumps, @i-eat-worlds, @starfields08000, @onlywhump

@snakebites-and-ink, @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

As always, if you want to be added or taken off my taglist, just let me know!

Also, my asks and DMs are always open, and I more than welcome interactions!

Masterlist

Next ⏭️

[siilvan]

OC File: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

gorgeous renders by the amazing wonderful phenomenal lovely @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot <33

finally posting my oc to cope with mw3... i've had her since november '22, didn't even mention her name to anyone until august lol. i've never had the confidence (or skill) to do this, so i'm thanking all of my mutuals with their wonderful ocs for giving me the strength to do it, even if they don't know it <3

note: despite petra being reader's callsign in bloodsport, it is not intended to be my oc. so far, the only fics that petra properly appears in are desideria and fortuna redux. i know it's confusing and i'm sorry 😭 more of her (and others) in the future!

very long post BTC...

edit: completely forgot to include this— credit to cptnprice for the file!!

GENERAL

Name: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

Nicknames/Aliases: Petra, Doc, Bravo 0-5, MEDINT 5, Leni (by friends/family)

Rank: Lieutenant (since 2015)

Gender: Female

Birth Date: June 29, 1990

Nationality: Dutch

Affiliations: Royal Netherlands Army, Korps Commandotroepen, Task Force 141, Coalition (Warcom), SpecGru

Birthplace: Rotterdam, Netherlands

Current Residence: The Hague, Netherlands

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Golden Brown

Eye Color: Blue (right), Green (left)

Height: 5'7" (1.70 m)

Weight: 160 lbs (72 kg)

Build: Athletic, hourglass (hips. That's all.)

Blood Type: O-

Marks: Various tattoos (pictured below), scar on cheek

Faceclaim: Rianne Haspels (Carlotta Champagne for body)

DETAILS

Sexuality: Unlabeled (prefers men)

Languages: Dutch (native), English (C2), Spanish (A2), French (B2), German (C1), Danish (C1), Russian (B2), Arabic (B1)

Education: Biochemistry BS from the University of Amsterdam, Biochemistry MSc from the University of Copenhagen

Preferred Hairstyles: Low bun or Dutch braid for missions, 3-strand braid or loose for everyday

Preferred Mission Attire: Anything from jeans and a turtleneck, to slim cargos and a tank top, to proper combat fatigues. Dresses for the weather, but hates anything baggy. Prefers to wear black and green, occasionally wears white, tan, or blue. Very athletic style.

Preferred Civilian Attire: Usually dresses fairly casual. Jeans, cargos, leather pants, leggings. Plain t-shirts, henleys, turtlenecks, off-shoulder tops. Wears bomber jackets or hoodies. Mostly wears black, green, or white. Likes feeling comfortable but cute when she's off the clock.

Favorite Color: Evergreen

Favorite Flower: Magnolia

PERSONALITY

Myers-Briggs Type: ENFJ-T. Extraverted, intuitive, feeling, judging, and turbulent. Petra prioritizes the better of the group over personal benefit and strives to have a positive impact on the world and the people around her. Happy to lead or follow, but preferring to guide others, she is a self-identified humanitarian with a pipe dream of world peace. Reliability, tolerance, passion, and altruism ultimately conflict with overthinking, stubbornness, perfectionism, and indecisiveness – Petra is both helped and hindered by the idea of what things can be or could have been.

FAMILY

Father: Colonel Hendrik "Chimera" Scholten de Ridder. Former KCT commander and military legend-turned terrorist. (deceased)

Mother: Johanna Scholten de Ridder (née van den Bos). Former MEDINT analyst for the BVD and MID. (deceased)

Brother: Sergeant Emiel "Nightfall" Scholten de Ridder. KCT operative and specialist in anything covert; never misses a shot. Ally of TF141, rarely stays in any one place for long due to the nature of his assignments.

Uncle: Unnamed paternal uncle. Father's younger brother, civilian military engineer. Lost his life in a terrorist attack in the mid-1990s. (deceased)

Aunt: Special Agent Merel "Songbird" van den Bos. Mother's older sister, former agent for the BVD and MID. Specialist in foreign relations and espionage. May or may not be living in the USA and married to Frank Woods (spoiler: she is).

Grandfather: General Emiel Scholten de Ridder. Paternal grandfather, former commander of the Royal Netherlands Army. Yes, her brother is named after him. (deceased)

SKILLS

Fighting Style: Adaptable, but prefers to keep her distance. Studied kickboxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Krav Maga in her youth – CQC is influenced by these.

Weapons: Can use whatever is available. Is oddly talented with a quarterstaff despite none of her training involving it.

Preferred Weapons: M4 (Hightower 20" Barrel, Schlager PEQ Box IV laser, Cronen Mini Pro optic, Corio Precio Factory stock), X12, Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife, karambit, throwing knives

Special Skills: Specializes in MEDINT analysis, trauma/medical care, chemical warfare, hostage rescue, asset protection, and foreign military assistance. Can act as a translator. Has received training in sniping, espionage, and stealth combat from allies. Is notorious for her strong fortitude. Very versatile.

Hobbies: Art, cooking, baking, reading, sports (baseball, climbing, kickboxing, swimming, ice skating), music (drums), studying languages

Former Hobbies: Did ballet and gymnastics in her youth. Still enjoys both, doesn't have the time to practice either. Has decent equilibrium thanks to them.

TRIVIA

The name Mylène can mean "merciful", Scholten refers to a schout (government official that handled administration of justice), and de Ridder means "the knight".

Her callsign Petra means "rock, stone" and is not implying that she's a stony person! She earned her callsign due to her high tolerance and endurance; she's also uniquely durable, often recovering from or withstanding injuries that would leave others in worse condition. It's a bit supernatural, don't worry about it.

Was introduced to drumming by her Uncle Frank when she was little. It's canon to me.

Mylène looks like a carbon copy of her aunt, sans some details like hair and eye color. She's also more well-built than her aunt thanks to being in the military.

Has a bunch of small rituals, habits, and very specific ways of doing things thanks to her OCD – nothing too crazy (she has no choice but to manage these thanks to her career), but you'll start to notice them if you're around her enough.

Has polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). She's learned ways to lessen the symptoms and has an IUD that helps immensely, but it's why she still has a decent amount of fat on her body despite working out religiously. (Not projecting my issues shh)

Doesn't date often due to her career and personal reservations. Prefers someone older, though. (I'm not projecting shh x2)

Keeps a journal on her at almost all times. Inside of it is anything from basic medical info for her allies, random drawings, important notes, etc. Likes to pretend it's organized, but it's not. At all.

Skipped a year in primary school, hence why she graduated at 17 instead of 18 despite attending a VWO school.

It was painfully obvious that she learned her Russian in school before she met Nikolai. After he laughed at her, he taught her how to sound more "natural" – AKA, he taught her almost exclusively profanity.

Bouncing off that, she's Mrs. Worldwide. Petra's unintentionally picked up so much slang from her coworkers.

Her favorite genres of literature are romance and philosophy. She can read outrageous smut with a straight face, but blushes and grins over fluffy stuff. Tries to read books in other languages to practice, too!

Will not touch any drug with a 10-foot pole. Same goes for tobacco, she's the type to dramatically cough if the team smokes around her. She's very health-conscious!!

TATTOOS

source 1 source 2

Tattoo One (Hands) I'm not going to lie... originally gave Petra the tattoo (two, actually – she has it on both hands) because I loved Freya's tattoos in GOW and the design is inspired by those. From an in-universe standpoint, it was her first tattoo (age 17) and she just wanted something simple that could be hidden under her gloves to prevent fading. Has to get them touched up every now and then.

Tattoo Two (Right Arm) Full sleeve of willow branches, florals, and butterflies. There's a lot of symbolism in this one. The butterflies represent transformation, hope, and rebirth; the willow branches symbolize a new life, protection, flexibility, and adaptability; the flowers embody anything from growth, joy, transience, hope, love, and death.

source 3 source 4

Tattoo Three (Left Bicep) Two-headed snake with flowers! I don't think I need to rhapsodize about the florals again, so I'll skip to the snake. Depending on the culture, a two-headed serpent can represent wildly different things. It's a symbol of rebirth and resurrection, with each head representing earth and the underworld. It can symbolize indecision and conflicting ideas. Duality, balance, power, healing, insight, and deeper awareness; snakes were often seen as a spiritual messenger, and the dual nature of a two-headed serpent represents learning from both positive and negative experiences. (if I see any "heehoo konni" comments, I will blow up the sun, this ain't about him babygirls 😔)

Tattoo Four (Left Inner Forearm) Compass with an arrow! The symbolism is pretty obvious, I think... Direction, guidance, and navigation; the compass arrow combines the arrow's representation of direction and forward movement and the compass' symbolism of finding your way and staying on course. Together, it represents the idea that, no matter how far away you are, your arrow will always hit its target – even when losing your way, you'll always be able to overcome adversity and find your way back.

BACKGROUND

⋆ CW: themes of child abuse, violence, SA (marked with ***) and overall mary sue levels of tragedy

Born on June 29, 1990 in the city of Rotterdam, Netherlands, to Hendrik Scholten de Ridder and Johanna Scholten de Ridder, Mylène had a normal – if not privileged, thanks to her family's prominent histories – early childhood. At the age of 3, her brother, Emiel, was born. Known to be a clever, compassionate girl, Mylène took to the "big sister" role with ease.

Her father was a captain from a distinguished military family with the callsign "Chimera", who ascended to the rank of colonel and commanded the Royal Netherlands Army’s special forces unit, the Korps Commandotroepen. Her mother was a medical intelligence analyst for the AIVD and MIVD (then-known as the BVD and MID) with a family history in government and politics.

In the late fall of 1999, when Mylène was only 9 years old, she came home from school and discovered her mother's corpse, having been killed by enemies of her father originally seeking to hold the family for ransom. This event, paired with the traumas he sustained over his years in the military, drove her father to "near insanity" as he became consumed with paranoia and grief. The rest of her and her brother's adolescence was defined by the trauma of her father's abuse; he subjected the siblings to rigorous physical and psychological training in order to mold them into "perfect soldiers" and prevent any further loss.

Despite this, her father was publicly viewed as a war hero. He would often leave the two alone when he was on deployment, forcing Mylène to care for herself and her brother with nothing more than a roof over their heads and grocery money provided. The siblings developed an unbreakable bond during this time that would extend into their adulthoods, rendering them a synergic duo both at home and in the field.

After finishing secondary school at 17, Mylène enlisted in the Royal Netherlands Army. She also studied at the University of Amsterdam – taking online classes – and eventually graduated with a BS in Biochemistry. She spent 3 years serving in various military hospitals, clinics, and field units under the 400 Medical Battalion, until she joined selection for the KCT in 2011. She was swiftly recognized for her high tolerance, natural interpersonal skills, and advanced aptitude for MEDINT analysis; she passed selection with top marks, setting several records during the infamous "hell week" exercise.

Mylène operated as a combat medic until August 2013, when she worked with the British SAS's Unit Bravo under the command of Captain John Price. Despite the joint team being greatly reduced in number and separated after a series of heavy artillery attacks from enemy forces, Mylène managed to provide emergency medical care and calm leadership as her party made its way to the rendezvous point that Price's group was defending.

After the joint operation concluded, Price took an interest in her, deciding to train her as a sniper and teach her how to better use her skills in combat. The two quickly developed a close relationship built upon mutual trust and a desire to fight for what's right, regardless of rules or orders. At some point after this, her unflappable nature and composure when faced with challenging conditions earned her the callsign "Petra".

*** By 2014, Mylène was in a several year-long relationship with a National Reserve Corps (NATRES) NCO named Florian Van Aller. On February 14 of that year, he suddenly came to her with an idea that left her speechless: "sharing" her with his unit. Despite his insistence and attempt to pressure her into it, Mylène refused, ending the relationship. They met on base the next day after Florian messaged her claiming to want to apologize – when she came face-to-face with him and his mentor, Captain Jozef Daalmans, she realized what she had been told was a lie.

*** Although the captain's only involvement was restraining her and watching, Mylène felt violated by both men. She was left at the scene, battered and ashamed, until the last person she expected to help found her – Colonel Hendrik Scholten de Ridder. In a rare act that she now describes as "the last time she ever saw her real father," he comforted her and took her to the hospital, where Mylène received treatment for the injuries she sustained in the assault. She never spoke of the incident afterwards, leaving herself, her father, and her attackers as the only people privy to it.

In early 2015, an assault team led by Chimera and Petra on an enemy submarine revealed that there was a traitor within the unit. The entire team, save for Chimera and Petra themselves, was killed onboard the vessel. The traitor was eventually discovered to be Chimera himself, with Petra as the only witness to his admission and subsequent attempt to bury her, and any incriminating evidence, at sea. With her father in the wind and knowing that her word alone wouldn't be enough to implicate him for his crimes, Petra contacted Captain Price, telling him: "You're the only person I can trust."

An unsanctioned operation to capture or kill Chimera was planned by the two, with the help of her brother – now a KCT operative nicknamed "Nightfall" – and Nikolai, a trusted contact of Price's. The small team managed to track the Colonel and his supporters to a base deep in the Alps, where they successfully wiped out the entire group and killed Chimera. After this mission, Petra felt indebted to Price and Nikolai, considering them two of the few people she could trust implicitly.

From then on, Petra lent her services to various humanitarian groups in an effort to provide protection and medical care on missions around the globe. With expertise in frontline trauma and medical care, hostage rescue, asset protection, medical intelligence analysis, chemical warfare, and the training and advising of foreign military units, Petra proved to be an elite operative capable of remaining calm in even the most dire scenarios. She’s been awarded the Military William Order, the Bronze Lion, the Bronze Cross, and the Cross of Merit for both covert and overt operations, establishing herself as a minor legend within the elite commando corps.

However, a little over a year after the unsanctioned operation in the Alps, Petra was captured and imprisoned by Ultranationalist forces. She was regularly tortured during her captivity, often by Vladimir Makarov, whom she now sarcastically describes as "a lovely man."

Sometime in mid-2017, Petra was yet-again assigned to a unit led by Price, tasked with infiltrating and securing an Al-Qatala base located in Kastovia. Another member of the unit was Nightfall, serving as the team's scout sniper. During the mission, while providing overwatch, Nightfall's radio was suddenly cut off. When the rest of the team finally reached his location to investigate, several IEDs planted in the area went off and forced the group to retreat. Petra attempted a rescue, but was prevented from doing so by Price, as it was too dangerous. Demolition teams cleared the area the following day. Once it was safe to extract Nightfall, however, the recovery team found nothing.

With her brother declared dead in absentia, Petra chose to abandon the special forces. She went back to school and earned an MSc in Biochemistry at the University of Copenhagen, refusing to contact any of her former allies so as to avoid being dragged back into the military.

In April 2019, Petra was tracked down in Denmark by Price, who informed her of Vladimir Makarov's plans in Verdansk and urged her to join the SAS team being sent to stop him. After thorough convincing, she agreed to come back for one more mission, seeking revenge against the man that tortured her years ago.

Petra was later handpicked for the task force Price established alongside CIA Station Chief Kate Laswell following the death of General Roman Barkov in November 2019. She was once again sought out by Price – and Nikolai, who was the "final nail in the coffin," according to Price – and convinced to join the team as a commanding officer.

About a month later, Laswell pinpointed the location of a prison in Georgia believed to be used by Al-Qatala to hold POWs. Reconnaissance of the prison confirmed this and the identity of several of the prisoners; Nightfall was identified as one of the POWs. Petra, leading an elite KCT unit, raided the location shortly thereafter, securing the captives, Nightfall, and intel about Al-Qatala's plans.

Between the invasion of Verdansk, Las Almas, and a burgeoning war with Konni group... Petra has fully committed herself to Task Force 141, willing to save the world or die trying.

[avatar-anna]

prof buying lingerie to impress h and being super shy?

sure! i imagine this being towards the beginning of their relationship (after they've made up and everything)

The Professor series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's Harry Styles' girlfriend?"

You wished the girl hadn't said it so incredulously.

You weren't sure if she thought you couldn't hear her, or if she knew you could and didn't care. Either way, it stung.

The urge to sprint out of the clothing store was great, but you tried to ignore it, not wanting to bring more attention to yourself. You could picture the girl and her friends giggling as you walked away with your head hung with embarrassment. So you kept rifling through stacks of clothes, not really wanting to shop anymore.

"She dresses like a grandma. Or a librarian."

"She dresses like her mom still picks out her clothes!"

"I thought Harry only dated models? Why the hell is he with her?"

"I don't know, she seems nice."

"You need to be more than nice to date someone like Harry, don't you think? I don't know she just seems so...plain."

"She must be a great fuck. She has to be looking like that and keeping his attention that long."

The last comment had your ears burning. You knew you weren't exactly Harry's type, that statistically, he did go for a certain body type and look in the past. That didn't diminish how he felt about you, though, and you didn't know why being an outlier in your boyfriend's dating history made people think that way, or how your sex life was anyone's business but your own.

You'd always had a blunt way of speaking, but these teenagers were absolutely brutal. As calmly as you could, you moved to the opposite end of the store and out of earshot.

Only when you were good and ready and decided there was nothing in the store that you liked did you leave. You walked through the mall, passing by a storefront that displayed posters of models in bras and panties, each more revealing than the last. Looking down at your patterned sweater, corduroy pants, and mismatched socks, you frowned, even moreso when you remembered the plain nude bra you were wearing underneath. Did you really dress like a grandma? You never spent much time with your own grandparents growing up, but from the little you did see of your grandmother, she didn't dress the way you did. And the comment about librarians was simply misinformation, you decided.

In a split-second decision, you went inside the lingerie store. Just to check it out, you told yourself. Besides, there was no such thing as too much underwear, you thought.

The first thing that you noticed was lace. Lace in all different colors and floral patterns, lace covering the top of a bra or fanning out over the waistline of a pair of underwear, lace that seemed dainty, and lace that seemed...domineering? You took in everything, trying to determine which sets seemed the most like you, but nothing really stood out in that regard, which was probably the goal of the store. The models wearing the store's garments sent a message of unattainability to its consumers. Try all you like, they all seemed to say. You'll never look like us.

You never understood the plight of body image issues and body dysmorphia more than you did staring in the middle of the store right then. You'd never struggled with your appearance much. Physical attraction could actually be traced back to math and science, proportions and angles and all that. You didn't fall into that small percentage of people who fit into the equation, and you were perfectly okay with that. You had many more interesting things to offer than what big corporations such as the store you were in deemed attractive or desirable. Or "tolerable" as Mr. Darcy would say.

Still, it was hard to remind yourself of that as models with toned bodies and perfect, perky breasts smiled down at you condescendingly.

"Can I help you find anything?"

Startled out of your thoughts, you turned to see a woman around your age smiling at you.

"Um...No, I'm just looking, thank you," you said.

"Any occasion in particular?" the woman pressed, a smile that said, please let me help you I need the commission, written on her face.

You found yourself saying, "I guess I'm looking to...branch out a little?"

"Well, you've come to the right place," the woman said. "Do you need to be sized today?"

From there, the woman piled up different colors, and cups, and cuts into your arms. You owned maybe three or four thongs and one push-up bra, and had no opinion on any kind of style, so you let her grab whatever she wanted for you, though the more she plucked from drawers, the more overwhelmed you became.

"That should be a good place to start," she finally said, setting a lacy one-piece complete with a garter belt on top of your small mountain of lingerie. "Let me open a fitting room for ya."

You followed dutifully, thanking the woman as she shut the door. Finally alone, you set the pile down, unsure of where to start. "Just work your way down," you mumbled, picking up the one-piece.

You tried on bra after corset after g-string after cheeky fit, but nothing really stood out to you. You looked fine in them, you supposed, but none of them seemed special enough or worth buying. As you were trying on a black number that was mostly see-through, there was a soft knock on the door.

"How are you doing in there?"

Looking in the mirror, you shrugged. "Fine. I'm not really sure if I like any of them, though."

"Need a second opinion?"

Thinking it couldn't hurt, you put on a set that was less revealing and opened the fitting room door. The woman gave you a onceover, then told you to turn around so you could see yourself in the mirror.

"I mean, you look great. What don't you like about this one?"

While you appreciated the compliment, you just didn't like the set, a deep red one with little bows on the hips and the middle of the bra. "I don't know," you said with a shrug.

"Well, is there anything you do like about it?" she offered, going for a different angle.

You tilted your head to the side. "I guess...I like that it isn't so harsh. It's...sweet...I guess? Does that make sense?"

"It does," she said. "I can work with that. Anything about the others that stick out to you?"

"I think I like it better when my ass isn't completely out," you said.

"Okay. Noted," she said, clearly amused, but not in a way that you found antagonizing. "I'll be back."

You went back into the fitting room while the woman traversed the store to find something for you. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a picture and sent it to Harry.

You: What do you think?

You slipped into a couple more and sent a few more pictures, trying to see if Harry could give you some insight. He had an eye for fashion. He would be able to guide you.

Before you could send a fifth, he called you.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Uh...no? Are you driving? Sorry, I'll stop texting you."

Harry choked on a laugh. "It's not that I'm driving, which I'm not, by the way. You're sending me pictures of yourself half naked."

"Oh. Right. Well, I was just walking past this store and I thought I would try a couple things on, but I haven't liked anything, so I thought I would ask for your opinion, but if you're busy—"

"I'm not busy," he said in a rush. "Well, I kind of am, but now I have to wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Y/n. You sent me four pictures of you in very revealing lingerie, and now I'm hiding in the studio's bathroom. What do you think I'm waiting for?"

"I don't—Oh," you said, his predicament finally dawning on you.

"Yeah 'Oh.'" he said, but you could tell he wasn't really mad. "So you'll be happy to know that I think you look to die for in all of them, but they don't really feel like you, you know?"

"That's exactly what I thought! Here, what do you think of this one?"

You sent another picture, and you could tell Harry had seen it by the harsh exhale that escaped through his nose. "Now you're just teasing me because I told you I was hiding in a bathroom."

"But what did you think?" you pressed on, ignoring his comment.

"You look great, love, I always think so. But...you know you don't have to wear all that to impress me or anything like that right? I love the stuff you already have."

"I know. This isn't for you explicitly, I just wanted your opinion."

Harry laughed. "And here I thought I was going to be a reassuring boyfriend."

"I mean, I've always found it kind of odd that women have to go out of their way to dress up for their partners. I understand it to some extent, but you don't see men going out of their way to get all dressed up, do you? Why do we have to wear the uncomfortable underwear and itchy lace to impress you? And by you I mean the male population, of course."

"Of course," Harry replied. "You make a good point, love. Buy whatever the hell you want."

"Thank you."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "Did you still want my opinion or are you all good?"

"Mm...Yes, but objectively. And since we are dating and I do like doing nice things for you, I will take into consideration color preference and perhaps a part of my body that you might want to see accentuated."

"I greatly appreciate it," he said, his voice mock-serious. "Well, I'm not sure I can be objective, but I suppose like when you wear pink, and...Oh! You have two little freckles just above your right hip bone. As long as I can see 'em I'm good."

His answer had you blushing from the crown of your head all the way down to your neck. How did that make you blush more than any comment about your breasts would? "You're a charmer."

"One of my best qualities according to my mum," Harry said. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a situation that this conversation is in no way helping and a song to record, so I will see you at home."

"Okay, sorry about the situation. Love you!"

Harry responded in kind and hung up the phone. Once the call ended, you opened the fitting room door again, surprised when the woman was there. You could tell she'd just been standing there for a while, listening to your phone call.

"Sorry," she said blushing. "I had your things, and then I was curious. My grandmother always called me a chismosa growing up."

"It's fine," you said, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

"I think I found something you might like," she said, then handed two garments. "It's sweet, like you said you liked, and it covers up more than some of the other ones, if that's more the route you want to take."

The material was gauzy and pink, with ruffles cinching the top and bottom of the bra. And instead of underwear, the bottoms were ruffled shorts made of the same material. The woman was right, you decided. It was sweet with its pink satin bows and over-the-shoulder design.

"It comes with a matching garter, but you don't have to wear it if you don't want to," she said.

Your eyes lifted to hers appreciatively. "Thank you."

Once again inside the fitting room, you tried on the final set. You knew that it was either going to be this one or nothing, so you shimmied into the shorts, straightened out the neckline of the top, and considered yourself in the mirror.

It was perfect. You didn't feel so exposed or like you were way outside your comfort zone, but you felt good too. Sexy, even, something you never went out of your way to feel. And just as Harry hoped, the two freckles on your hip were visible, so he would get something out of this after all.

"I think I like this one," you said through the door.

"Oh good! I'll be at the register when you're ready to check out."

Looking at yourself in the mirror one last time, you debated sending Harry another picture. He'd joined you on this journey so far, but you didn't want to pull him away from his work again. And you had to begrudgingly admit, there was a part of you that wanted to see his eyes light up in person when he saw it on you for the first time.

Once you were back in your clothes, which you determined were not what a grandma would wear, you went to the register to check out.

"Thank you for helping me," you said. "I...find it hard to dress in a way that's conventionally sexy and still feel like myself."

"Happy to help," she said with a grin. "And I know I'm outing myself as an eavesdropper again, but I liked what you said about not having to dress up for anyone. My boyfriend always likes to see me in all this stuff, but he's not going out of his way to impress me, so why should I?"

You smiled. "Exactly. And I don't mind dressing up for my boyfriend, but he's not the only one, you know? I'm dressing up for me. Him liking what I wear is just a bonus."

"And he's fine with that?" she asked, almost like she couldn't help it. It made you realize that you had very different boyfriends.

You made a note to let Harry know how much you appreciated him forever never telling you what to wear or how to dress. Those girls in the other store had their opinions, but what they didn't know was Harry loved the way you dressed, and even if he didn't he loved you for you, not necessarily the clothes you wore. Why they thought he was so shallow was beyond you. Harry never came across that way, you didn't think.

"I mean, I'm no model and I dress like this and he loves me anyway," you said with a shrug.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with the way you dress," she said. "It's cute in a quirky kind of way. And being a model is overrated."

You'd never had much in terms of friends. You were much younger than all of your classmates growing up, and before Harry, you mostly kept to yourself. But you thought if you did have a friend, this was how conversations would go. It felt nice to speak so openly with someone. Besides Harry, obviously.

What the woman said was true, you knew that. Though no matter how much you knew that, or how many books on feminism you read, sometimes being insecure was inevitable. Especially when comments about your appearance came from judgy teenage girls.

"Thank you. I'm Y/n, by the way."

"I know. I watch your videos a lot," she said. "I'm Samantha."

As you left, you hoped to bump into Samantha again. She was nice and someone you could see yourself getting along with. Another friend you made all on your own.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Okay, you can open your eyes in three...two...one!"

"Wow."

"What do you think?"

"I think the fishnets make your legs look great," you said, taking in Harry's "surprise."

You'd come home shortly after leaving the lingerie store, eager to show Harry what you finally decided on, but before you could even set your bags down, your boyfriend was tugging you by the hand and into your bedroom. He'd been in a robe, which wasn't totally out of place. He lounged around in them a lot when he was at home. What wasn't typical was when he sat you down on the edge of the bed and told you to close your eyes.

He was in fishnet tights and a pair of leather shorts, the rest of his body free of clothing. Your eyes took in the sight, from the top of his head right down to the ruffled socks that covered his feet.

"I thought about what you said," Harry told you by way of explanation. "About men not having to dress up in the bedroom."

With a small smile, you said, "Is that what this is about? You didn't have to—"

"I know, but I wanted to. I don't think I'm comfortable wearing lace underwear, not yet anyway, only time will tell, but I still had this from a photoshoot I did a few years ago, and I thought, well, I thought—"

"You look really handsome," you said.

"Really?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You know you do."

Harry grinned down at the floor, though you weren't sure if he felt as bashful as he looked or if he was playing it up a little. "Yeah, but I like hearing you say it."

"I'd be happy to tell you all the things I find physically attractive about you," you said honestly. Patting the spot next to you on the bed, you said, "Come sit."

Harry did exactly that, and you had every intention of making good on your promise, but seeing him up close made you falter. He'd smudged eyeliner in the corners of his eyes, a little messily, as if he wasn't really sure how to put it on. There was something glittery on his cheeks and collarbones, and he smelled absolutely divine.

"You..."

"Yeah?"

In a move that surprised even you, you pushed Harry back onto the bed, one hand in his hair and the other on his torso as you kissed him hard. Harry made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but he was quick to recover.

"You look really pretty," you said, kissing the shell of his ear all the way down to his jaw. "And I like the tights, but I would like to take them off now."

Harry grinned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed your lips traveling down his neck. "Okay. Give me a moment, and I'll—"

"No. I'll do it," you said, bringing your head up toward his for one last kiss before moving to rid him of the shorts and tights.

Harry leaned on his elbows, lifting his hips up so you could take his shorts off. They were still suspended in the air, but you had yet to take the tights off. "Love?"

"I—I think I want to keep kissing you with them on for a little bit," you said.

"Fine by me. Kiss away."

"But first." You stood up and grabbed the little shopping bag you brought to your room. "Let me change."

Harry raised his brows at you but didn't say anything as you disappeared into your bathroom. You quickly shed your day clothes and put on the set you bought. You felt just as good as you did in the store, which you marked as a good sign. But when your hand reached for the doorknob, you hesitated.

"H?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you close your eyes? Please?"

"Of course."

You knew you looked good, and you knew Harry liked the way you looked, fancy lingerie or not. But there was something so vulnerable about showing yourself off in this way. The anticipation of it all made your stomach flip. You weren't the type to draw attention to yourself with clothing, you just wore what you liked. It kind of felt like you were performing for him, and the longer you waited, the more the excitement converted into nerves. But Harry went out of his comfort zone for you, and while you knew you didn't have to, you wanted to. Just because.

So, stepping out of the bathroom, you quietly padded over to where Harry was still waiting on the bed, one hand covering his eyes, you returned to him, legs draping over both of his hips.

When you told him to open his eyes, they didn't go wide the way you had anticipated, the way yours had. They were quite hooded as he took everything in. He didn't say anything for a full minute, like he was processing each stitch and bow. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over the two freckles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine.

"So...can we kiss now?"

Harry chuckled, but his eyes raised to yours anyway, and you found only fondness there. Okay, maybe a little lust, but it was mostly fondness.

"Yes, I would very much like to kiss you," he said. "I just wanted to tell you that you look—"

You couldn't wait any longer. You kissed him, perhaps even more aggressively than before. Harry had no problem with that, though. His hands held onto your waist, pushing you closer to each other until there wasn't a sliver of space between you.

Later that night, you were laying on your sides so you could face each other. His hand was on your hip and playing with one of the satin bows while yours was in his hair and combing through his curls idly. The Emperor dozed between you while Faye Winter was curled up by the window, enjoying the midafternoon sun.

"What brought all of this on, anyway?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not every day that I get texts from you in different kinds of lingerie or that you buy stuff like this. I'm just curious to know what led you to...do all of this."

"I..." You wished you could say you bought it because you just felt like it, that it had nothing to do with what you'd overheard in a different store. "I'd overheard some girls talking..."

You explained how your day played out. From going to a store to browse at clothes to what those girls said about you, to your adventure into the world of intimates.

"I know you like the way I look, and I know that I don't need any sort of validation, or that I have anything to prove to anyone about my body, but..."

"People get insecure, Y/n. It happens," Harry said gently. "Just know that I love you for you, inside and out, body and mind and soul and all that, okay?"

"I know."

Harry laughed at your blunt delivery, and you laughed too. "Of course you do, but I was kind of hoping you would reciprocate the sentiment."

Eyes widening, you said, "Right, right, right. I love you too. Top to bottom, inside and out."

Harry grinned, his eyes crinkled in a way that told you he couldn't be more content than he was in that moment. Reaching for the Emperor, he set him down on top of his stomach to make room for you at his side. You shuffled closer immediately, your leg slotting between his as your cheek rested on the spot between his shoulder and chest.

"So, you were right. Sarah loved Persuasion," Harry said.

Leaning up a little, you smiled wide. "Oh, she did?"

"Yep. I'm beginning to think you have a knack for finding the right book for the right person. We might have to start a book club when we start touring."

"Very rockstar of you," you said.

"I'd like to think so," Harry agreed. "Anyway, she said she's ready for the next recommendation whenever you are."

Your face lit up like Harry knew it would. "I have so many. She can obviously keep going with Austen, or if she wants something more contemporary, she can read..."

Harry kissed the top of your head, but that didn't stop you from rattling off titles of books, even if they weren't for him and you could tell Sarah your book recommendations yourself. Once you got on a roll about books, it was hard to stop you. But he didn't mind. He was just happy to hold you against his side, his fingers tracing patterns on your hip while he continued to listen.