#she’s basically just a feral

[abyssmarked]

so like, i haven’t really talked about neph’s experience at the brothel she was a slave at much ( and i don’t plan on going into any gruesome detail here, mostly just how i perceived the environment and the strict rules she lived by for a decade, but trigger warnings just in case ), but i imagine it was tailored to the higher class. the setting was a massive temple-like, stone building, multiple stories, cells in a dingy dungeon underground. anywhere where rich clientele might inhabit within the building was lavishly decorated— a common area where drinks and ‘live entertainment shows’ would be held, all of the rooms which could be paid for and used were better than a lot of the best inns in the realms.

it was crawling with guards. the girls’ personal sleeping quarters weren’t nearly as fancy, not in the slightest, but they were clean. they had to be clean, it was a rule. clean rooms, clean bodies— prim and proper. often there were four to six girls in one very small room, sleeping in bunk beds with thin mattresses and thin blankets. each girl had designated tasks, chores to have completed throughout the building, keeping it clean and looking presentable— making beds, cleaning blood, they were even responsible for a lot of the cooking, given limited resources to make enough food for each of them to survive.

regardless of having mostly free reign of the place, no place was private. someone was always, always watching, in every room, in every corner. if girls were seen trying to speak to one another in a secretive manner, or caught trying to plan some kind of escape, examples were made of them. the girls weren’t even allowed to become too close with one another, no touching, no ‘fraternizing’. the men in charge often would put some girls in positions of authority overs, these girls were treated slightly better— they found ways to make it incredibly difficult to build trust with one another. i also imagine nepharia was definitely one of the girls to climb that inner hierarchy of fuckery, anything for the slightest amount of relief, and maybe to try and build a rapport with the higher powers of the brothel— prove that she can be trusted, so they she might one day have some kind of upper hand, regardless of the girls she needed to throw under the bus to do it.

fuck, the other girls probably hated her.

on the business side of things, the doors would close to wealthy clientele at the beginning of the week, then reopen at the start of the weekend— giving the girls about five days to prepare for the next. every single girl is to be accounted for and dressed in the proper attire that was assigned ( usually, the attire was modest in nature, which somehow made it more disgusting in neph’s mind ) at the exact time the beginning of every weekend before the doors are opened. they’re already paid for in advance, waiting in assigned rooms for their client to arrive, and any girl that might be patron-less is assigned to the common area, to offer their services there.

if any of the rules were broken, or any of them got out of line in any way, the first warning is a lashing, then you’re sent to solitary confinement underground, in a small, windowless room, sealed with magic, only a small slot in the door to receive enough food and water to live for days, sometimes weeks, depending on the punishment. you sit with nothing but a bucket as a toilet that doesn’t get changed and cleaned the entire duration you’re there, and a mat on the ground for sleeping. the walls are thin and you’re close enough to where they send the really strong-willed girls who just couldn’t conform, and have to listen to their screams as they are tortured, healed, and tortured again. and if none of that works to break you?? well, they simply kill you.

after making a deal with a devil ( one of her regular clients, who only ever bought her to speak riddles at her ), and acquiring her warlock powers and learning of her true nature from said devil, he showed her what she could really do now. she didn’t immediately go ape shit, though. she was smarter than that. she had worked her way up, the owner of the brothel himself held her in high regard, well, as high as you can regard someone you literally keep as a slave. she probably used mad charm spells to convince him to take her out somewhere, away from the brothel, just the two of them. should would kill him quick, and his guards, and then just be so fucking elated that she can just…. go. be. she honestly probably doesn’t even go back to the brothel, not even to save anyone— she hadn’t made friends, but enemies. friends weren’t allowed. she might have tried to tell some kind of authority what was going on, and she just was unlucky enough to find the authority that was involved in keeping that place running— basically just murdering her hope that justice actually existed in the world, or that good men existed.

[ghosted-jazz]

Traffic Gals- Introducing Gem!

[tenderjock]

outstanding leadership, extraordinary initiative, & steadfast devotion to duty

Daniel&Jack&Peggy, and medals earned in wartime.

"You ever notice that Thompson doesn't talk about the Navy Cross?"

Peggy froze in the middle of adding milk to her tea. After a moment, she put the bottle down and stirred carefully, thoughts racing. Without turning to Daniel or letting her surprise inflect her voice, she said, "What do you mean?"

Daniel shrugged, a little jerkily. "I don't know. Everything's always bigger and better with him, you know? He'll tell you how much he earns or how long his - ah, you know, he'll brag. But he changes the topic every time it comes up."

She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup. "Perhaps he -" She broke off, struggling for the words that would turn Daniel's attention away from the issue. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to talk about things that happened over there. We've all been there; it's never anything like the medals or newsreels seem to say it was."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "It just doesn't seem like Thompson to not tell everyone he knows about it."

"You don't talk about your Purple Heart," Peggy pointed out, not ungently. Daniel stiffened.

"That's different."

"It is," Peggy agreed. "It's different for all of us."

A pair of familiar footsteps joined them at the office commissary before Daniel could respond. Peggy glanced back down into her cup and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

"I see my top agents are spending their workday productively," Jack remarked, his smirk a sharp line in his face.

Peggy shot him a rather arch look. "I see Chief Thompson is having an equally productive day," she said. "Have you admitted defeat yet?"

Jack made a face. He'd been fighting, along with Agent Faut and some rather obnoxious pencil-pushers, to balance the New York SSR's budget for the better part of the week. Most of his morning had been spent in a meeting with the senator's aide.

"I got 'em on the ropes," he said. Daniel clears his throat, rather judgementally.

Peggy isn't quite sure who he's been more upset with recently: Jack, for taking the promotion, or her, for not being bothered by it.

His attitude was a bit annoying, to be honest. Frankly, she was never going to receive a Medal of Honor or the position as New York Chief, no matter who advocated for her or what evidence was presented to the U.S. government. Daniel had to know that, too; the man wasn't stupid. And he had to realize that having Jack in charge, where they could keep an eye on him, was better than any alternative.

"We were discussing wartime medals," Peggy said instead of all that. Jack stiffened; Daniel noticed; Peggy rolled her eyes. "I once knew a man who earned an Order of the Bath for strategic actions in battle." She considered the memory. "He had terrible teeth."

"Order of the Bath?" Jack said, disbelieving.

"For conspicuous heroism taking place in a sauna," Daniel said. Both men laughed. Peggy sniffed. They had no respect, these Americans.

"What about Carter?" Jack asked, still laughing.

Peggy blinked at him. "What about me?" she said.

"What kind of awards did Agent Peggy Carter deign to accept?"

"I didn't earn any," Peggy said stiffly. "Women aren't combatants."

That's a bit of an oversimplification, she will admit in the privacy of her own mind. There were a few medals she could have theoretically earned, from the Americans and her own government, had circumstances regarding her service not been so, well, unique.

Some Englishwomen had received medals, but their service had been different than hers - usually as pilots or somesuch, not the covert missions she had in occupied France and Nazi Germany.

She may have qualified from the U.S. Women's Army Corps Service Medal, although it perhaps would have required Colonel Phillips to pull a few strings. Peggy had occupied a strange place in the war: a woman, first of all, and therefore not allowed in combat or eligible to receive medals for heroism under fire. But she had also been a spy, someone who technically didn't exist; and a British operative working for the Americans. Both sides had simply sort of - cut her loose, after victory was obtained and she was no longer useful.

It was only due to Colonel Phillips' recommendation that she had this job in the first place. Peggy pursed her lips, then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Only to find the two men staring at her like they had just been dunked in ice water. It was a bit unsettling. She took a sip of tea.

"Anyway," she said. "I actually do have work to do. Daniel, try to keep in mind what I was saying."

Jack was frowning at her. Daniel was frowning, too, but his gaze flicked to Jack once when she spoke, before he nodded.

"Sure thing," he said, and shifted on his crutch out of her way to let her back to her desk.

: :

Peggy frequently found herself the last person in the office, nowadays, with the possible exceptions being Daniel and Jack. Right now, Daniel's dark head of curls was bent over his desk and Jack's light was still on in his office, although the blinds were drawn.

They've all been working in a companionable silence for the last two hours. Daniel was eating something that smelled hot and spiced at his desk; little noises kept coming from the Chief's office, the sound of a file cabinet being opened or the desk chair being pushed back.

For Peggy's part, she's been combing through reports of gun sales to women matching Dottie's description in the tri-state area. She has found three that warrant a closer look, and was just about to get herself another cup of tea and really settle in when Jack's door opened and he slouched out.

He stopped in front of her desk. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a second, looking troubled.

"Yes?" she ventured, when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything to her.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, rather abruptly.

Daniel was looking at them now. Peggy drummed her fingernails on her desk, then nodded and followed Jack into his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He then proceeded to stand at his desk, hands braced against the wood, staring blankly. Peggy was honestly starting to get worried, not that she thought letting Jack know that was a good idea.

"Chief Thompson?" she said. She didn't touch his arm, but it was a close thing.

Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. It looked like a large jewelry box and was made of navy blue leather, with gold detailing. Peggy didn't need to ask what was inside it - even if it hadn't had the name of the medal printed on it in little gold letters, she would have known.

"You should have it," Jack said. His face was grim and set.

"Jack!" Peggy said, shocked.

"You should have it," he insisted. "I don't - it shouldn't be me, anyway. And you deserve it, Peggy. We both know that." Jack glanced at her, then glanced away. "I was going to put it out on my desk but - I couldn't. I can't. You should have it."

Peggy stared at him, feeling like her heart was in her throat. Jack Thompson was a liar, and a fraud, and a self-serving, arrogant pain-in-the-arse to work with, but sometimes he still surprised her.

And, anyway, it would do no one any favors to make this into a bigger deal than it already was. She nodded, and carefully took the box and tucked it under one arm.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly. Then, more briskly, "Do you want me to brief you on the progress I've made in the Underwood case?"

"Christ," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. He laughed, a little wetly. "Yeah, that'd be great. Tell me you got something."

They talked for a few minutes. Jack agreed with her that there was meat in the rumor of a bank robbery being planned, although neither of them could fathom why a notorious Communist would want to rob a bank. When Peggy left his office with the Navy Cross in hand, Jack was pouring himself a Scotch, looking exhausted and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel looked up as Peggy fastened the clasps of her purse and got her coat. "You leaving?" he asked, and then considered her more closely. "Are you okay, Peggy?"

"Yes," she said. "Just, you know." She looked at Jack's office door and clutched the rectangular shape in her purse tighter. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you out," Daniel said, still watching her. "I'm just about done here anyway."

Peggy waited while he grabbed his coat, hat, and briefcase. She had to watch her pace a bit when she's walking with Daniel, but the company was usually worth it. Tonight, she was tired and a little shaken and a bit too reflective, and she appreciated the distraction of having to make small talk with Daniel as they walked to the subway station together.

As they were waiting for her train - hers was due in four minutes; Daniel's, in six - Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I guess I just never expect Thompson to care enough about anything to feel, I don't know." He looked across the platform blankly. "Shame or guilt or, or loss. Or anything."

Peggy looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said.

"You know why he doesn't talk about the Navy Cross." It wasn't a question. Daniel wasn't looking at her.

Peggy tucked her heavy purse tighter to her torso and breathed out slowly. "Yes," she said. Just yes, and nothing else.

Daniel nodded, still staring across the empty platform. "Is it something I should know about?"

She gave that some thought. "It's not something I'm going to tell you," she said finally. "Not without Jack's permission, which I don't think he'd give. But it doesn't change who he is, not really. It might explain some of what he's done, recently." Then, because she wanted to be honest with Daniel: "Although you may not like the explanation."

He dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright," he said, then again, quieter, "Alright."

Her train arrived, and Peggy boarded, wishing Daniel a good night. Peggy observed him through the car's dirty, cracked window, a dark figure braced on his crutch, looking down at the concrete beneath his shoes. Peggy put one hand into her purse, pressing her palm against Jack's medal as she watched him.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Daniel seemed to shake himself and turned toward the opposite tracks, where his train going the other direction was arriving.

[hecksupremechips]

Can we talk about mitsuham I think we should talk about mitsuham yes I’d like that very much

Imagine Mitsuru her life has been planned out for her by a bunch of men her choices are not hers to make every move is political she is nothing but a tool forced to fight as a child never allowed to burden anyone with her feelings. Her life isn’t hers, it’s never been hers for a second, she exists to further the careers of the men around her. The first two friends she makes are both boys and she was in charge of leading them, using them just to further the Kirijo agenda. Genuine friendship did blossom between them, but things fell apart pretty quickly. Shinjiro can’t control Castor, something is seriously wrong with him, he kills someone, then he leaves and the Kirijos cover it up. Was it to protect him, or to protect themselves? Mitsuru certainly doesn’t know anymore but she’s lost a friend and can’t reach him again, he’s too traumatized by personas and Akihiko is still there but he’s always so stuck on Shinjiro and Mitsuru feels like she failed both of them. Just more men for her to let down by not being good enough

Then there’s Kotone. Sweet, strong, clumsy, talented Kotone. She’s so bubbly and friendly, but behind those warm smiles is horrible loneliness. Pain. But she’s never ever gonna let anyone see that. She busies herself by taking care of everyone else, listening to their problems and never burdening them with her own feelings. She can just fix everything and make everyone happy if she works herself hard enough. She just has this way about her, so reliable and so kind

And Mitsuru watches Kotone from above. Trusts her to be the leader, or maybe she just wanted to push a burden onto someone else for a change. Someone who’s able to take on burdens with a smile for fucks sake. And Kotone leads, seemingly effortlessly, and is able to recruit several members in a short time and achieve just so much more than Mitsuru could in her entire lifetime. Just, perfectly. Without even possessing any prior knowledge of the dark hour or personas. And she does this while being so emotional, so social, so weird, so fucking cute, it’s absolutely nauseating. This should be fine, right? It’s what Mitsuru’s always wanted, for someone else to ease her burden. And hell, it’s a woman too, a woman who’s perfectly capable of doing it all without a bunch of men helping her. It’s inspiring, isn’t it?

But there’s the pain. The envy. Kotone is perfect and she doesn’t even have to try. Mitsuru on the other hand has been shaving herself down to nothing just to be allowed a place. She makes the perfect grades and wears the beautiful clothes and applies the fucking makeup and is mature for her age and never speaks out or feels anything that could possibly make her be seen as a human, a filthy fucking human. So why does a woman as unashamed as Kotone get to have it all? And why is Mitsuru still here, still acting as the Kirijo tool, still doing whatever she possibly can to hurt herself to make a man feel better? Why isn’t she useful anywhere? It’s not fair

And then when she actually spends the time with Kotone she’s trying so hard to be that wise and mature figure she’s always been, trying so hard to force herself to smile through the pain, but she’s talking to someone who can see right through that shit cuz Kotone Shiomi invented lying through her teeth to make others feel better. It’s annoying really, how Kotone is supposed to be the childish one, yet it’s Mitsuru who can’t get it together and can’t seem to look into those bright eyes without breaking. And Kotone isn’t disgusted by what she sees, even though Mitsuru is being unreasonable and emotional and talking about wanting to run away and how much she hates her life and how she’s not only eating fast food but enjoying it, letting herself enjoy an indulgence that won’t make her pretty anymore. No, Kotone sees this and listens and encourages it and celebrates it, celebrates how utterly human Mitsuru is. She holds her hand and says "let me take on your burden". And it’s horrible, this kindness, Mitsuru hasn’t even broken all her bones to make Kotone happy, so why is she being so fucking nice? And then something breaks, and Kotone defends her. Stands up for her against a man. Lets herself once again take a hit to protect someone else. And it’s just too familiar, too much to fucking bear, and it pisses Mitsuru the fuck off. And she is able to tell a man to go fuck himself, because no one gets to fucking talk to this girl like she isn’t the most amazing person ever to exist. Not after everything she’s done, everything she still does, not after giving her all and never once asking for anything in return. And in standing up for Kotone, Mitsuru is able to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. And she looks at Kotone and says "let’s take on each other’s burdens"

Oh and also they watch a scary movie together and hold hands and ride a motorcycle and Mitsuru calls Kotone adorable I mean that’s pretty gay man

[mx-legend-of-faye]

Don’t piss off the person in charge of your meals.

Forget copious amounts of goron spice, if the chain really pisses off Wild they’re making either dubious food, rock hard food, or monster stew. What’s the rest of the chain going to do, cook a 5 star meal to avoid the purposefully icky food? No way, the most elaborate meal they can make is absolutely nothing compared to what Wild makes for them when he hasn’t been pissed off by them.

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

hi hi! kinda new to the helpol crowd so i was wondering: what is it like when a deity contacts you? do you see an image of them? hear a voice in your head? or do you have thoughts that are distinctly not your own? are their messages more direct or indirect? what are the messages usually about? how do you feel when you recieve them? which deity do you get contacted by the most?

Heyo! So, first, obligatory UPG disclaimer: this is all only my own experience, and has no basis in mythology or anything like that. Also for the sake of transparency; I'm not a Hellenic Polytheist. If you've been around my blog and you vibe with the way I work with deities, then cool! But I do feel the need to say that I'm a witch who works primarily with Hellenic deities (and then there's Loki) so I don't follow the same traditions as some of the helpol community! (The best example being the concept of miasma. Some helpol people swear by it, others don't, and as for me it makes me wildly uncomfortable.)

Disclaimer aside, I'll just answer all these as best I can! Thank you for the ask^^

When it comes to how exactly I receive whatever they're saying, I feel like it's... a weird mix of all of your examples. Sometimes, especially if I'm not particularly tuned in, it's absolutely a thought that just isn't my own. Sometimes I even mistake it for my own at first, and then go "I have absolutely no reason to think that what the hell was that about-?" (ex. naming Loki's playlist "Loki's shit music taste" or giving an offering that has no association with them, pausing bc what the hell no, and then realizing that was them.) Other times I get words and images, although now that I think about it I'm not sure they have distinct voices? I "hear" them in my head, and some of them have clear voices sometimes, but it just depends on how I'm feeling. They essentially communicate however I'm able to receive it at the moment.

I feel like right now, it's more direct than indirect. Obviously this isn't the case for everyone, and I feel the need to say that it's not something anyone should ever feel bad about. It's not better, it's just different. As for what they talk about when they do... uh, everything? I don't know how to word it any better XD Sometimes it's about offerings, sometimes about genuinely serious stuff, but usually it's just... them popping in because they have something to say about whatever I'm doing. My work with them is fairly casual, so it ranges from "YOOOOOO your sleep schedule is so good right now I'm so proud!" to literal memes and no I'm not joking. But that's less the Hellenic deities I work with and more Loki.

(Although, I am reminded that Aphrodite and Loki are an absolutely wild comedic duo. They all do have a sense of humor lol.)

So for the most part, as weird as it might seem since I'm talking about deities that a lot of people view as above humanity, I.... just feel like I'm talking to friends most of the time. Maybe parental figures, since I literally call Hades and Persephone my "underworld parents" lol. For the most part, it's just a nice feeling like chatting with someone I know and care for and that I know cares for me.

And last but not least, right now Loki- although I know they're not a Hellenic deity, so they may not be the answer you were looking for lol- is the most active in my life. They're very loud, very much so prone to the clearest signs and clearest direct communication as well. Apollo and Aphrodite are a close second, though. Apollo has been fucking thrilled that I'm starting to finally successfully change my sleep schedule, and Aphrodite has really been nudging me towards self-care lately.

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

for the ippikki au card redraws!! haruka's 'this placed ive returned to" trained? :0

this angle is impressively difficult to draw at, but i made it work! the kitty :3

[deer-with-a-stick]

I think someone should just throw all of the BG3 companions into Dungeon of the Mad Mage. Just take the post-canon generally considered "good" endings and throw em in there.

Why? Because it would be hilarious to me and also that's like the one official module that goes up to level 20.

I won't lie and say the only thing I can think of is the team trying to kill an angry mechanical purple worm while screeching at Gale because "what do you mean we're in Waterdeep and you know the bastard who owns this death trap?? I was perfectly alright in the damn Underdark thank you very much I did not sign up for this"

[lonelimbless]

So, I remember saying myself about the idea of feral fairies in the Meadow and I wanted to design one. I enjoyed the thought of them wearing wooden carved masks or skulls.

[sweettifalockhart-archived]

// I still have… thoughts and feelings about rebirth so I’m just praying for some angst-ridden threads with Tifa. I want her to rage, be forced to make decisions, get MAD AT PEOPLE, sort through her FEELINGS.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Like just single dad space cowboy Lance au, that keeps rotating in my head, absolute bullshit but just know it is inspired by Smokin Joe Rudeboy by Tom Cardy

[hecksupremechips]

My ass was trying so hard not to jump up and down with glee playing yttd with my sister and getting to the shin reveal I was like MY GUY MY FUNNY LAD MY SILLY RABBIT

[fastfists]

...you know, if I hadn't told myself 'no more RP accounts', I'd probably want to RP Amaryllis from High Guardian Spice. I do not care for High Guardian Spice it was...bad...but Amaryllis is such a gremlin feral girl and unapologetic about it, I love it.

[highlifeboat]

Love the concept of the Dimitrescu's respective partners knowing how fucking terrifying and evil they are and just being chill with it.

Actually love the concept of their partners lowkey having corruption arcs. Like they love the power of having powerful girlfriends (Some more than others) and will use it to their advantages. They still love their respective girlfriends very much but like they gotta go a lil mad with power too cause they can just do shit now and it has very little consequence.

I want them all to be a little fucked up and evil is what I'm saying.

[birdinabowl]

god this fic was so mean to Connie (it was for character development though)

[bunnyb34r]

Lmao so NewLady hasnt been there at all this week (either sick or sick of work, either way I get it) and I was the only one in clothing yesterday while RC was in another area

They were sick today, NewLady was out sick, the one lady who is supposed to work our area but conveniently always has other areas to do was off today. I almost called out (only went in bc I remembered I had liquidations to pull and was like eh I guess I could use the cash) and NetflixCoworker almost called out sgdggdgdgd

We were both like "I was so close to calling out too..." like that wouldve been so funny like just absolutely no one in clothing, the recoverer wasnt in last night either, so it was a fucking mess EVERYWHERE, and like no one was there to cover our shifts in our section had we all bailed 😭 but it'd have been so funny