Here be dragons

Didn't do a proper WBTB due to my comfy bed. Bad bed, no blanket for you. Tonight I'm drinking a big glass of water before crashing in, that'll make me get up

I'm in a brothel that is in a small castle/manor, everything is in perfectly restored and look brand new rather that antique. The period is Louis XIV, very intricate and lovely, if overbearing, the saving grace being that everything save for the sparse furniture is in very light, delicate color, pastel blue, pink and orange, with long windows covered in veils. It's dark outside, probably at night, but I can see the flash of car light from time to time. The employees of this fine etablissement are all wearing period clothes, it's gorgeous. The owner is in a pale blue dress that span for at least 3 meter on each side of her, with a powdered wig full of ringlets. She is not paying any attention to me, probably becaue she's very flushered about the arriving of a man she call "the king" and about the girls she want prepped for him. I'm wary of this man, and my feeling are comfirmed when a man in tight and a pale golden valet uniform ask her want's going to happen if one of the girl started denying him or being mouthy. She tells him with a mix of coldness and incaring-ness "There will be a bit of a beating for the bitch, even if it's not dinking night."
I suddently know that I'm infiltrated here, probably to dismantle this brothel, but I need to protect the girls. I walk in the room they are prepping for the king, with is very large with a hight celling and a lovely embroidered cloth wallpaper in a arious soft hues of green, the same cloth used for the bed canopy and sheet the armchairs. I ask the girl present to give me a dress. She show me a closet and keep making the gigantic bed, looking a little fratic. I open the closet, which is absolutly packet with dresses that look really modern, but I pull a dark green one with golden embroidery. On the hanger it's knee-lengh, slightly fitted with a ronded collar and short sleeves, but when I put it on it turn into a period dress. I strat putting on air and snobbily ask a male employee where the hair dresser is. He promptly start panicking and run off to find him. I walk out behind him look as brattish as I can, and right outside is a small, graying, bended over man that look a little like a frightened mouse in his dark outfit. I toss my hair*, and tell him "You better not be late!" before walking in a bathroom. I start searching it, looking for something that could help me protecting the girls, then I woke up.

* As my hair almost reach my knees and are thick and curly, he looked even more scared, which is the usual reaction I elect in hairdressers

I do look a little like Charlotte La Bouff from the Princess and the Frog, with long brown hair and pale skin.

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Got to sleep after a small anxiety attack linked to last year training period. Didn't have a nightmare about it thankfully, but instead of hypnalogic imagery I got auditory hallucinations that made me get back up to check the house's doors.


I am a FBI agent working in the BAU with the Criminal Minds team. Garcia is showing us a amateur video shot in night mode (everything is in green shades and we cas seen the flashlight halo) from her lair, so her voice is rolling other the video but she's not with us. It's a video sent by a unknow suspect and everyone is on edge. We can see an corridor the unsub is walking in, he is inside a small house or a appartement with light-colored walls and tilded floors. they stop in front of a light-colored plastic-looking door with two long panel of frosted glass. The camera is aimed pretty low, and when the door open we can see the legs and feet of a soaked wet woman. Her legs are chubby and she's wearing hight-heeled, sparkly sandals and her toesnails look painted. We can faintly hear rain. The camera pan slowly up to revel that the woman is Garcia, who look out of breath and disheveled, then the video is cut. Everyone react in horror and we hear Garcia gasping.
Later, I'm going undercover in the mafia. I am with the leader of this particular branch, dressed to the nine in a short, tight silk dress in deep red and a pair of styletto, my hair in a complicated bun doted with shininhs gems high on my head, and the man I'm being all arm candy for is in a sharp charcoal suit and is cultivating his ressemblance with anthony Hopkins. We're in a anonymous room, sitting around a cheap round table, though he is sitting in a velvet and dark wood chair and smoking a cigar. An other man with dark hair and slightly chinese features is with us, in a crumpled suit and nervous behaviour. the mafia leader is interviewing him about his entry in the group. After a little conversation, the candidate is accepted. I hand him a pen and a pile of contracts he have to sign while the mafia leader take his almost finished cigar off his mouth and cut of the chewed on tip to hand the still smoldering other bit to the man. He have to place it on the webbing between his tumb and his other fingers and press down hard, as a final test of passage. Interestingly, I don't have anyburn marks on my hands; I'm clearly a secretary/pretty thing and nothing more for the leader.


Man that dress was pretty. Barely-covering-my-croch level of short, but pretty.