#malintilde

[johnnyfoursandco]

Dressed For Departure

- A less-than-willing departure from his long-time home with the other urchins. Happy sweet 16th, Malintilde.

@neathyfashioncoalition

[backstage-themerrycircus]

I finally did up my nude studies! Also I need you to imagine Hellena and Jonathan looking at each other? Okay? Okay.

(Many bushes and scars under the cut)

[johnnyfoursandco]

Because we're doing new polls and I love polls :

Which (fake) Exceptional Story would you play featuring my OCs?

The Small Big Top (Entire Merry Circus)

The Ailsman (Johnny Fours)

Tea and Weasels and a Little Bit More (Helimeri)

A Competition of Arms (Hellena)

The Blasted Ticking (Malintilde)

What Cannot Be Rewritten (Homer Otto)

Voting ended onOct 5, 2025

• The Small Big Top : Keeping a hand at the pulse of London is the duty of any true resident of the Neath, and as of late, you've noticed a murmur, a thump in its works. Movements of mysterious shipments between Veilgarden and Watchmaker's Hill, talk of a 'circus with no tent', and nobles with rather high security measures being robbed without so much as a wink of disturbance. If you didn't already have your own suspicions to consider, a Paranoid Socialite does, and she'll pay you quite well to get to the bloody bottom of it and get her grandfather's cufflinks back. She fears that there is a growing criminal organization afoot. She may very well be right. This story features : the Urchins, Society, Criminals, and the Docks, and may unlock an optional companion of your choosing.

• The Ailsman : Unlucky you, convered in bruises without the rosygold to spare for even the dockers' experimental hands. Well, at least you have enough for some sort of drink at the Blind Helmsman. You arrive just in time to catch the cacophony of boos and jeers of other patrons as a man dances across the counter, dodging thrown glasses and silverware, flinging about what appears to be a dead rat. Oh, wait, it's someone's hairpiece, actually. Not his. Presumably, it belongs to the burly, balding gentleman that picks him up and throws him out. Unfortunately, you were standing in the doorway. Now, in a heap in the streets, you watch as the man takes his good old-fashioned time to dust off his pants, give you a once-over, swigs the last dredges of a bottle of vigor, and trots off like a schoolboy. Now, maybe, if you're a saint, or you were having a slightly better day, you'd shrug the matter off. But now you feel indebted to some bloody answers. Namely, who was that, and what's his fucking problem?! This story features : the Docks, the Correspondence, and a horrible (admittedly effective) detective.

• Tea and Weasels and a Little Bit More Besides : A strange new fad is about; nonleathal weasel hunting! Apparently, it is quite the hit amongst the timid and morally superior. And of course, they're using only the finest, domesticated salt weasels! Look at them with their little belled collars! Through a friend of a friend, you've managed to snag an invitation for yourself to this month's meeting and, therefore, a grand opportunity to make your acquaintance with its magnanimous hostess, the Unsuitable Socialite. Surely, she is a right church bell, but, do the rumors really have the proper angles of things? Not many people are as they pretend to be, in the Neath. This story features : Society, the Bohemians, and Criminals. You may earn an exceptional companion via your efforts in weasel hunting.

• A Competition of Arms : Down at the Dept. Of Menace Eradication, there's a rather intriguing game going on amongst the hunters. One tells you it started with a bet between them and one of the greenhorns, but things 'somehow' got so out of hand that it's brought about a full-swing competition of prowess. They'll give you 150,000 rosygold, outright, if you can beat one of their newest members in one of only five challenges! Well, you didn't have anything better to do this morning, so you sign away and put your own tribute towards the rewards pile, as expected, certain you'll win. What's the worst that could happen? This story features : the Dept. Of Menace Eradication and Monstrous Anatomy. You may earn an exceptional weapon.

• The Blasted Ticking : A rush of burglaries has come upon Veilgarden, extending to even the Shuttered Palace! The Constables and all sorts are alarmed, dismayed, outraged, late to all their obligations—no one can tell the time! All of the clocks are missing...! The collective ransom for the suspected scoundrel, the Masked Toygetter, contains enough echoes to raise a Master's brow, and, plenty of regard to be earned besides. Race against several other detectives to apprehend the up-and-coming rogue of Spite and vye for the glory. Or, offer your aid to the theatrical villain, and find yourself joining a newfound celebration of performance art in the Flit. This story features : Criminals, Society, and the Constables. You may earn an exceptional hat.

• What Cannot Be Rewritten : The Repentant Deacon is a recent friend of the Honey-Addled Dectective, and one, according to the detective, in dire need. Someone has stolen his most prized possessions, locked safe and all, and apparently, the materials within are utterly without price. Is it a matter of scandal? Jewels? Religious artifacts? A weapon? Information on the Church? He promises to give you anything and everything he can to see them returned, so, no matter, you can always work out the exacting of your compensation once the deed is done. He has the key, you just have to find the safe. Embark on an adventure with the Repentent Deacon and learn more about him and his past. This story features : Criminals, Rubbery Men, and the Church. You may earn an exceptional weapon.

[johnnyfoursandco]

I'm not the happiest with it, but I had to sketch SOMETHING now that they've invaded my mind. @brine-patchfelt I'm so sold on them being strange together...

[johnnyfoursandco]

Imagine you're a man of the cloth. You've been accused of a murder you cannot recall committing and for months you've been having red-tinted dreams where you know and feel like someone is living in your skin that isn't you, but like a visitor stealing plates and forks out of your cabinets, except your dishware is your mind and you're getting more and more confused by the day. You've forgotten what your mother's face looks like.

They drag you underground to the pit of beasts and scum, into the lost city of sin. They throw you into New Newgate and your cellmate, your only company for your foreseeable punishment, is a really, really buff woman that towers over you and says absolutely nothing, ever. You're praying your keister off for some sign of absolution, and as a man of the cloth, you offer to pray for your cellmate, not knowing her crimes. She smiles at you. You've been in New Newgate for three days. On the third day, the really buff woman who has been watching the guards come and go, *rips* the cell door off its hinges, picks you up, and stars booking it onto an airship. She throws the pilot overboard. You're hysterical. She tries to drive the damn thing. Crashes into the roof of a seedy bar. You both become indebted to the owner, a supposed 'Cheery Man' who is *not* very cheerful at all, and have to labor and work for free to repair the roof so he doesn't kill you. You suck at building and being a bouncer. Your only good fortune is that your companion is built like a stone chimney and she happily lets you do the talking for her so you actually have some sort of purpose. You're still having red-tinted nightmares, the halls of your mind being wandered through by an intruder.

The buff woman seems to be taking this all in stride. She makes you tea and finally talks about coming down here to find an old friend and her sister, both of whom she shows you pictures of. In one, a young man that looks very much like her is standing by a shorter young woman that looks nothing like her, but is, apparently, her sister. You wish to tell her about your life, but you cannot remember much and stutter a lot, slipping up on details. She never interrupts you, and is very quiet, nodding only when you finish your point. You become involved with the Constables, trying to clear your name and debt by trusting the law, and become a watcher for them. You are tipped off about a smuggling socialite called 'Hell Mary', a masked master thief, 'Malintide' and other shady figures to keep an eye on and give reports about.

You go to try and find your first target by posing as a servant at a socialite gathering. You recognize your target as your companion's sister. You now have a choice to betray your only real ally and companion in the Neath, or lying to the law which would be morally terrible of you and ruin your chances at being returned to the surface a free man.

You, not thinking clearly, run into a nearby tavern to clear your head, hoping for water. You meet a man so stinking of honey, he makes you nauseous. He's the friend your companion is looking for, you recognize him from the second photo of two young men in the army, arms around each other. He blabbers a lot but offers you some of his substances, which you pointedly don't take, and asks for your name. You recall a pinch of 'Homer', but also have a slight silver of 'Otto' leave your mouth. He ends up calling you his 'Horatio', mishearing your mangled answer, and drags you off to his shabby shack in the marshes, which he randomly offers you the key to, as long as you answer a number of odd questions he has. You now have a home. But he also asks you about your ailments, and you end up confessing your nightmares to him, the loss of verses, loss of memory.

Suddenly, he is not honey drunk anymore and suddenly you are being raved to about some 'red honey business afoot' and how he is here to kill someone, someone who could very well be the same person invading and ruining your mind, or, at least, involved with that same someone. As a priest, your compassion spurs you to try and stop his clear descent to ill-gotten vengeance, even as you may be pleading for the life of your own tormentor. The man challenges you to do just that, continuing to call you his Horatio and a 'good sport', and now you have some kind of sick moral and pride-based obligation to it, therefore becoming entwined with, what happens to be, you find out, a whole criminal gang consisting of : the vengeful, honey-sipping, dishonored, temporary professor of the Correspondence; an impassioned and emotional socialite poet, whom owns the meanest dog you've ever met and is definitely involved with the Gracious Widow, and is DEFINITELY one of your assigned targets; your quiet ex-cellmate who loves weasels and punches teeth down people's throats and wants to kill some kind of mythical beast; your SECOND target who is apparently both and neither man or woman but definitely ticks and is a known 'new riser' in the criminal empire of the Neath.

And the longer you spend with these people the more you realize you should've gone to the Constables immediately about them all being in cahoots, because now the sister has given you your dearest beetle and she is so lovely to share tea with, your ex-cellmate is showing you how to throw your punches, the man who still calls you 'Horatio' is teaching you chess and getting you into more trouble than you already are, and you're teaching and relearning Latin with the masked burglar who writes you note cards for things you don't want to forget, simultaneously practicing her poor penmanship.

You're a balding, 55 year old man and somehow you've been adopted by four twenty-something idiot criminals that you feel responsible for the souls of, just a little bit more than you should. And the Constables still want their answers and you feel compelled to confess to the church, your involvement, for you are in such a tight, crushing position.

You're 'Homer Otto', the Repentant Deacon. And if you truly did kill that poor man, you will save another to make use of your stained, unworthy hands. You will save the soul of Johnny Fours. You will save what you can of your mind, and put your body to work. You will write.

You will write everything.

[johnnyfoursandco]

Since we're doing polls and I really enjoy the idea going around :

Which member of the 'Merry Circus' would your OC be in a situationship / relationship with?

Malintilde

Hellena

Helimeri

Johnny

Homer Otto

Honorary Third Wheel Johnny AND Hellena Option

Voting ended onOct 2, 2025

Explanations in the tags would be greatly appreciated, do not hesitate to add them! I love reading tags!

Propaganda under cut :

Malintilde, the Masked Toygetter

Do you like your darkly-dressed rogues with a bit of intrigue, humor, and glitz? People who wear stilts under their shoes so their height changes frequently? Are you in any way interested in being left gifts such as contraband diamonds, Neathly wines, and free (stolen) tickets to Mrs. Plenty's Carnival, under your door and in your cabinets where you absolutely did not put them? How'd he get in? Would you enjoy a fair person of distinction playing the thieves' equivalent of footsy by leaving with one of your various accessories every time you meet, seeing if you'll notice? Are you okay with having a mural of your fine self plastered on a wall at Veilgarden, as a grand gesture of devotion? Can you stomach dead rats over candlelight?

Then this fair sort, who is occasionally a man and occasionally a woman with a wardrobe fit to burst at both ends, is just the cut purse for you! She's looking for a partner in crime, but you needn't get your hands dirty if you can keep a secret or two and store him (sometimes) in your pantry when Constables go chasing after. Of course. Be not turned away by his high Heartless, he does have one—and it can belong to you solely for the small cost of your ethics and morals!

This scoundrel is looking to build an empire and bathe you in riches...! And she may be terrified of ever being poor and alone and powerless ever again so they're keen to overcompensate with grand displays of affection and violence against your enemies—but we don't talk about that! In fact, they're a *little* lacking in emotional sincerity so if you enjoy the act of an actress playing the part to show you she cares, and the sound of egotistical monologing, look no further!

Hellena Misit, the Silent Pugalist

For starters, 8'2 solid brick shithouse of muscle that was in the navy for a few years, fed well, and can pick a man up with one hand, by his face. Woman who pulls monsters apart with said hands. Woman who is very, very often covered in blood that is not hers and has RBF. Woman who is chasing the Vake not because of the bounty, but because she's heard rumors about being able to turn herself into a fanged monster. Onto the finer details.

Hellena has a quiet, competitive, and rough exterior that can be incredibly intimidating at first, but underneath, she is rather magnanimous and sensitive, a weasel lover through and through.

She often dresses for practicality considering her job as the group's collector, bodyguard, mercenary, and occasional emergency ladder, but loves quiet evenings to gussy herself up and enjoy a little piano or reading. Averse to drinking and big, loud crowds, she'd probably bring you out to enjoy the false stars under the marshes with a picnic in hand. Not very good with knowing how much eye contact is enough eye contact. Definitely more than a touch socially awkward. Does prefer a partner who doesn't mind speaking for her from time to time in more polite company, given they know her enough to properly do so.

You might also have to deal with whatever she has going on with Johnny Fours, unfortunately. He will be interrupting your nice evenings by crawling through her window, looking like something the Constables' dogs had the most spectacular fun chewing on. They also kiss and have an off-again on-again sort of romance that is ill-defined and full of pining.

Also just be aware that if you hurt her, you'll have to deal with all the other people on this list making your life hellish. Forever.

Helimeri, the Unsuitable Socialite

A peculiar member of the Neathly crust with both mother and father issues and a little more besides in terms of not trusting people or enjoying vulnerability, Heli is a great choice if you don't respect yourself!

A very fashionable and poetic soul, Helimeri is known to have directed quite a number of ballets, plays, and the like in the Empress's court. She's also known to have fancied as many people as she has written plays, and still find the plays more entertaining. If looked at a touch too closely, you may find reoccurring themes of poking more than fun at her entire peer group, whom in private she finds absolutely disgusting despite her own power plays to reach the heights of the cream for herself!

A public Master sympathizer and a pillar of the status-quo, you'd never guess who gave the angry, particularly violent Revolutionaries all that wonderful information about which of her trysts keeps their doors unlocked and what times they'll be home!

It is exceptionally difficult to be of any real note to her, or to bypass her usual persona of the ditzy, fluttering thing that weaves her true opinions through the kind of nonsense that gives less patient folk headaches. If you can do either of those things, you just might become someone she views as both a tool and threat in obtaining her desired end, to become a force of power all her own. Either you rival her in wit and perception, or, perhaps, you'd prefer to submit yourself as a footstool. Both options just might do something irreparable to her. Bonus points if you're a touch greying.

Very briefly sought the seeking, might still be eating raw meat and have some very questionable tastes in people. In very, very private company.

Johnny Fours, the Unright Ailsman

Don't. There are better options here, okay? You don't have to pick this one. You're worthy of love and care and you don't have to fix other people to feel worthy. I can't stop you from trying, but please. You don't have to pick him. There are other options.

Ugh. Fine. You must like them mean and wet and self-destructive, I get it. Hellena, at least, has an excuse, maybe you're trying to find one. Or maybe you just enjoy the scandal of getting involved with one of London's most detested (though undeniably effective) detectives and egotistical bachelors. He wouldn't blame you, he is quite the talk of town, isn't he? Hell, if you asked and gave such a reason as 'for the reactions', he'd fake-date you for free.

Nonetheless, be warned that he is crass, rude, casually insulting, and smells constantly of honey and vigor. His apartment is, peculiarly, a mess on all surfaces except the floor, and he owns exactly, in terms of dishware : a bowl, spoon, fork, knife, and plate. Singular. He is constantly on the move doing god-knows-what and constantly injured to some degree, because he sees a 12% chance and the gambling addict in him thinks breaking a bone is a small price against possible, instant victory.

That is not, unfortunately, to say, that closeness to him is without some kind of compensation, such as his mediocre violin playing, enjoyment of chess, endless speculation about the Correspondence and other scholarly matters, and a man who will drop himself onto any possible assailant of your person like a human sand bag. If you give chase, he will run and bite and holler, if you are of interest to him and try to get him to go away, good luck because he will now follow you to the ends of the earth simply to study and annoy you. Such is the duality of man.

You may also directly tunnel into his sad little aorta via expressing grief of your own lost loved one, or by being involved in any way in Nemesis. Will do anything in his power to help you find the guy responsible and still fist fight you with his teeth for the right to make the first blow.

Oh, and he already has a thing going with a very tall woman who can pick him up by the scruff of his neck and holds him down to disinfect his injuries. Occasionally, they bite each other. Don't mind that. None of your business.

Homer Otto, the Repentent Deacon

An old-fashioned, religious campaigner and ex-watcher for the Constables and Church, who holds the position of the eldest member of the group at 59 years old. Graying, balding, and very fidgety, he is very polite when able but not without a touch of temper. For what is a man of cloth without his passion to preach?

He doesn't *like* criminals and sinners and perverts. But somehow, he's surrounded and just kind of stuck with them now, so he might as well tolerate you. Kind of in a weird spot where he accepts that people can change their genders and is alright with it, but believes having gay sex is 'a choice' because he doesn't realize he's asexual and sex-repulsed and that isn't the norm for everyone else ON TOP of growing up incredibly devout which, skews some things. A little slow to the party, but like that one non-conservative, not-quite liberal uncle, he's trying his best. Y'know. Fine with violence in defense of animals and women, but condemns murder in all circumstances. Believes the church should pay taxes to the state, but also that it has the right to hold room in government. Doesn't mind drag, but doesn't get it either. Will genuinely hear you out in discussing these things, but largely set in his ways. Wasn't completely popular with other deacons on the surface.

Much of his new life in the Neath is spent trying to help others while also simply trying to get by, often to the effect of getting himself stuck between his growing care for his new and only companions, and his moral and societal obligations to the law and his faith. Frankly trusts the Church too much, and it can not be said he wouldn't confess to them about your unpleasant activities with the genuine intent to 'save your soul', just as he confesses his own.

Homer experiences memory loss, visual, and audio hallucinations due to his long-term, mysterious situation with what Johnny suspects is, likely, red honey poisoning by an unknown party. He finds the physical world and touch, grounding, and this makes him prone to suddenly needing to lay down on the floor or hold onto something nearby. He deeply appreciates people who can have patience with him and do not worsen these already hard moments. He also, hence, carries several journals with him, one for each of his close companions, to log their time together and immortalize his favorite memories or details he doesn't wish to lose.

He is also an avid bug-lover from a childhood spent shooing and carrying out all manner of creepy crawlies out of the pulpits, saving them from flying heels and swatting hats. His closest companion of all is a beetle he named Dymphna, for whom he built her own enclosure with some portions being stained-glass. Yes, he made her a little church. Yes, there is a tiny baptismal he puts her water in. Yes, he talks to her like she is a baby, she is not, she is sassy and she bites everyone but him.

[johnnyfoursandco]

Giving Mal an obsession with being youthful and hairless but not Hesperidean Cider is. An interesting choice of mine. Kinda less a choice though, it feels more like the character screaming something at me about what Mal thinks, for one, they deserve, and secondly, that before Treemeri occurs, he actually doesn't *want* to live forever.

Mal just doesn't want to age. The idea of never dying, never ceasing, is actually terrifying for her.

[johnnyfoursandco]

Is there anyone the Circus would consider friends? What are their thoughts on them?

Several, actually!

- @neathbound-fiends : For one, Warren is absolutely beloved by both Mal and Heli! Mal is a bit of a sucker for trying to act like an older sibling figure to younger people, and they love getting up to mischief and scamming people with Warren. Loves her blunt wit.

"Oh, that one'll be jus' dandy-like. Bright. Don' fink half o' London could dim 'er."

Heli enjoys projecting a bit of herself onto Warren, which generally includes spoiling her and trying to encourage her to be more aware of useful society skills. She is not exactly successful because this is Warren and her society-related hang-ups we're talking about, but, she tries. Definitely protective of her and, doesn't always realize when she's being misguided in her efforts to show Warren care.

Elliott is also, technically, Helimeri's 'friend'. If you count like. Very politely terrorizing someone to get your way and sometimes doing decent things for them, a friendship. Uses his worst fears against him to have more time with Warren and is really fascinated by his wet dog energy. Would defend him against public ridicule for his fashion sense, but would also shove him into a chair and berate him.

"He's... Lovely. In a sense of the word. The way salt weasels are."

Jonathan is also very fascinated by him, but like. How you study a frog in a terrarium and accidentally get attached to it by losing your soul in how it sits there, all blinking and soggy. He was initially super rude with Elliott, but then the guy started to do the Things He Does, and now Jonathan is stuck in a perpetual state of 'why are you like this'. Man who hates eye contact suddenly has a weird change of heart for exactly two people alive, one being his wife and the other being Elliott because he's staring at that guy.

He desperately wants to see Elliott pop a blood vessel, just once, but has stopped pissing with him because it just makes Johnny feel bad. There's something... perpetually safe, in his mind, about Elliott? Unless you're Heli, who is mean to some capacity to everyone she loves, Jonathan will immediately throw fists for this man, life or death. Might also be in part that he reminds him of his older brother.

"They say all the good folks die early—I agree. So keep your bloody head on your shoulders."

- @lordlawson : Hattie Lawson is a rather fond companion of Jonathan's, not that he'd ever, y'know. Admit it. Definitely admires its intelligence and looks up to their exploits. He reserves a bit of a soft spot for her in tiny gestures while pretending to be inconvenienced by doing them, or just 'happening' to be nearby. By the time Hattie's eyes changed, Jonathan never knew they used to be more vibrantly green. He sees them now, though.

- @the-discombobulated-devil : Jonah is like catnip to Heli, okay? Okay. Definitely sees it as one of her special people and was very quickly taken with him for its class, generosity, and shared interests. Enjoys mutual gift-giving and outings spent hunting together. Don't ask about what kind of game is involved.

Totally doesn't lie awake at night in her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way it smiles. Totally has never fallen down her stairs from rushing to recieve a letter from it, no. Her maids absolutely do not catch her feet going back and forth really fast while she's doing her hair. Perfectly well-adjusted activities. Just like very angrily packing and sending Jonah's partner very helpful medicine in a fashion so aggravated the maids are wondering if it's NOT actually poison, is also perfectly well-adjusted.

There's something deeply wrong with her, but honestly, she could be worse. Like as an inevitability and a hypothetical. Hellena and Jonathan are both keeping an eye on her about it. Mal thinks it's funny as fuck, Heli has one little giggle to herself and loses 99 Dreadful on impact, to him. Makes fun of MAL for getting stupid happy, proceeds to get stupid happy her damn self. Mal hope she trips on the stairs again.

Otherwise, everyone's still getting pretty acquainted with their neathy neighbors.