#molly's menagerie

[kyoodledoodle]

MIGHTY NEIN TUMBLR

I have questions :D

favorite character?

favorite dynamics?

Favorite ship?

favorite antagonist?

favorite arc?

I’m just very curious lol :)

[fictionadventurer]

The Electrical Menagerie: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 13, 17

1 what got you into this story?

I don't remember, but I probably saw it discussed in the Christian indie fantasy circles, bought it on sale, and was shocked by how much I loved it.

2. describe it in one or two sentences.

A middle-aged starry-eyed small-time illusionist and his fast-talking young manager enter a competition that could save their show or end it forever--and find themselves in mortal danger from their competitors.

3. quickly list 3 things you like about the story!

The complex characters and the development of their friendship, the whimsical world, the wondrous illusions

4. assign this story a hyper-specific genre name

Edwardian stardust steampunk space fantasy show business buddy comedy murder mystery

5. do you have a favorite character? who?

How dare you make me choose between Carthage and Huxley? Carthage's idealism and sense of wonder, plus his fascinating blend of introversion and showmanship, might just give him the edge, but I also love Huxley's fast-talking practicality and his hidden homesickness.

13. tell me an out-of-context piece of worldbuilding or lore!

This world exists as a series of floating islands that exist in different points in space, and their climate is based on their position/elevation.

17. compare this story to your usual tastes. how does it differ from what you've already enjoyed?

It lines up almost exactly with the kind of fantasy and Edwardian fiction I already loved, but it's not often that I run into middle-aged heroes in those genres.

[randoimago]

Missing M9 hours 😔

God but Dorian and Fjord make me so soft 🥰

If requests are open and your comfortable with this ask, could you give your headcanons on how Fearne, Dorian, Ashton, Molly, Beau and Fjord would kiss reader please? Thanks 💖

ehehehehe

Fearne

Fearne, first of all, has no qualms about PDA or anything like that, so she’s very likely to just swoop you into a hug and kiss whenever she gets the urge

I also think she’s the type to lift you off your feet and press a million kisses to your face (you can protest all you like, she wants to sweep you off your feet)

Her favorite way to kiss you: scooping you up in her arms and then depositing you on a nearby surface, one hand cradling the back of your head while her other hand stays on your hip

Dorian

A romantic and a little shy, he almost Always asks for permission to kiss you

He does however easily kiss your hand throughout the day, whether that be a light brush of his lips across your knuckles or a kiss to the center of your palm, all while maintaining eye contact

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’re cuddling in bed and he can lean in and just enjoy some soft slow kisses, all while his arms are around you

Ashton

I’m not saying they’re shy but I think when it comes to you, who he has real full feelings for, that makes them a bit more nervous

I think Ashton would most often give you a kiss on the temple or cheek, especially around the others, and reserve actual smooching for a more private occasion

But! I think if the Bells Hells tease him about being shy or anything, he’d grab you, yanking you too him via an arm around your neck and kissing you in front of everyone (he’s flipping them off behind your head)

Their favorite way to kiss you: Ashton likes to pin you between him and anything (a wall, the couch, the bed) and just take his time kissing you, like dammit he’s gonna enjoy this as long as he wants! He likes resting a hand on your neck so he can feel your pulse with his fingers

Molly

Molly is all about enjoying what he has in life and the best thing he has is you, how is he supposed to keep his hands or his lips to himself?

Molly is the most likely to just stop and kiss you during the day, no matter what you’re doing, camp chores, shopping, fighting. If Molly gets the whim to kiss you, he will

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve been teasing and taunting each other and he finally caves, using his tail to catch one of your wrists, one hand catching your other hand and his other hand holding your chin, so he can kiss you

Beau

Beau honestly lets a lot be determined by her partner. If you’re cool with a lot of PDA, you can expect smooches a Lot through the day. If not? Shell reserve that kind of affection for more solitary moments

If she gets excited about something though, she won’t really be able to hold back. Finishing a tough fight or putting together an answer to whatever mystery she’s trying to solve, she’ll run up to you with a wide grin, grab your face in her hands, and kiss the fuck out of you

Her favorite way to kiss you: she loves coming home from work and greeting you with a big smooch, throwing her stuff to the floor in order to wrap her arms around you

Fjord

Gods bless this man, who tries so hard to be suave and collected but blushes hard anytime there’s a ~moment~ between you too

He can generally hold himself together if he’s just kissing the back of your hand but anymore than that and he’s obviously a little flustered

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve said or done something to fluster him and he’s trying to sputter out a response and you lean in and give him a quick kiss - but he grabs you by the front of your shirt and pulls you back to him

[utilitycaster]

I think a big reason why I can't take the "the Mighty Nein avoided everything and this is why I'm less into them" criticism regarding the early campaign to be true is that their choices are deeply informed by the characters, even early on. The idea that there's no plot is just false - their actions all follow pretty clearly from one another, it's all very "but and therefore" rather than "and then" - but in particular, the reason they leave Zadash on The Gentleman's mission is because the characters are all deeply realized already. Caleb absolutely doesn't want to go near anything for the Empire, and by that point Nott (also doesn't want to get involved with the Empire) and Beau are in on his secret, so they back him up; Jester wants to keep exploring and she and Fjord aren't even citizens of this country and have no reason to serve as mercenaries or work with the Augen Trust, and this won't help them in their goals; and Molly doesn't want to be tied down nor does Yasha (and they're not from the Empire either). Their refusal of certain hooks isn't an "no, I'm not playing"; it's a thoughtful "this is not what motivates my character", and probably most crucially, The Gentleman's jobs were among the options given, and they take them! And then they follow another hook to go to the Menagerie Coast, and then they follow news of Felderwin, and then they follow the lead on Yeza's abduction, and so forth. The plot hooks they pick up on are the ones their characters would be interested in doing, and you can only do that with strongly realized characters who are connected to the world and the places in which they exist; otherwise yeah, you'll look for someone else to tell you where to go.

[castiel-013]

Kingsley/Molly in episode 141 my Beloved. Going honk shoo by the river curled in a ball. Giving Yasha and Beau flowers. Is asked to juggle swords and fails. Confused. Goes on a walk and comes back to find the place on fire and the Nein fighting evil wizards. Then gets teleported to the menagerie coast to party with them

[dbmars]

Bram Stoker's Hannibal Chapters 74, 75, and 76

I DID IT.

We have, at last, reached THE MOMENT we've all been waiting for.

This moment:

I wrote all the way up to this moment and then slowly edited and released chapters just to make sure I covered everything I wanted to cover. Normally I just write a chapter, edit it, post it, move on. But I wanted to be extra careful that I didn't miss anything I wanted to include.

Chapter 74:

It's a Bottom Hanni chapter! Now, I know the top/bottom debate is always a thing, but I'm a firm believer in Bryan's designation that they switch. Normally I prefer to write bottom Will, but I also fully believe that Hannibal is a hedonist and would do anything that feels good, like getting railed by his mongoose. Also fun fact, being a vampire means you don't have to do much prep for anal because you don't eat food, and the immortal body can withstand plenty of abuse. So we do have some steamy bottom Hanni action in this chapter, as Will seems to search his lover's body for any evidence of... what exactly?

(I found this on pinterest, if you know the creator lmk this is perfection -- it has actually MAJOR Iliya and Hannibal vibes more than Will and Han)

Oh hey little known fact: Lenore from the brothel? It's Molly Shannon's character, the woman who collected "Lost Boys." Now she collects lost sex workers to make her perfect family of high-class courtesans. I didn't delve too much into this side story because hey, news flash, THIS FIC IS REALLY FUCKING LONG. But now you know who I was envisioning:

Chapter 75:

If you google Hetienne Park cowboy hat this is what you get:

Howdy partner!

Hetienne Park as Beverly Katz as Quincey Morris!

Anyway, Jack Van Crawford asks everyone to continue to help him in his mysterious quest, which is about to take an even darker turn. They're headed back to the graveyard to prove once and for all to everyone involved that Alana is UnDead. The gang heads back to Highgate and runs into the "bloofer lady" that's been kidnapping children and biting their necks...

I made this just for y'all. It's my attempt at photo manip LOL I know I'm not that good at it.

Now that they know Alana's undead, what's Jack Crawford's Scooby Gang to do?

Meanwhile, Hannibal and his wolf pack murder the zookeeper at the London Zoological gardens, who happens to be the Clark Ingram character. I didn't make him a serial killer in this AU, just a guy who likes to torture animals. I've always seen him as the anti-Peter Bernadone, who cares so deeply for every life large and small. So I thought it made sense to cast this motherfucker as the kind of guy who would beat caged wolves on the head with a wooden pole to make them compliant.

Seriously, fuck this guy.

Fun behind the scenes facts: The London Zoological Gardens were established as a place for the scientific study of animals, and to move the menagerie of creatures out of the Tower of London where they'd been kept since the 1100s. The Tower of London is haunted by the ghost of a bear that had been kept there.

Here are some time period pics from the zoo. You can see, of course, why the wolves begged Hannibal to help them escape.

All right, that's it for now! Here's a SMUTTY SIGN-OFF:

He has me pinned against the pillows and the headboard, my body rolling upward as he thrusts into me at an unrelenting pace, sweat gathering on his brow and dripping through his hair. His face is next to mine, buried against my cheek and the curve of my neck, panting and grunting in a lovely, beastial way. If I were human, I’d have to imagine this would hurt tremendously. It brings only the tiniest sensation of intimate pain, and I thoroughly enjoy it, whispering to him, encouraging him to let himself go. There is something desperate in the way he holds me so tightly, as if he could snap my bones; even after he comes, there is no break in his pace. Yet, the continuation seems more about spending something else besides his emission, and less about my pleasure. Grunting, he circles his hips, the slow grind teasing my inner rise, making me gasp. I touch myself, and he leans back, still rocking my body back and forth. Will puts his hand over mine, looking me in the eye, and a few strokes later I’ve tasted bliss, even as he keeps thrusting. 

XOXO DB

[notfye]

like yeah we are all a lost generation. thank you gertrude.

hot take that no one will like: the drops in kids iq scores and all the young women on tiktok being like “i’m a 22-24 year old teenage girl” and the girls my age who i kinda know who are like “i know i’m in the age group for a 26 year old to be hitting on me but i still feel 18” are all symptomatic of the shutdowns and as time goes on more things will prob pop out in that way. lost generation part two.

[arrows-unofficial-ocs]

arrow | she/her | isfp | hobby oc creator | a menagerie of ocs | no plans for fics

main blog: @unfortunate-arrow

⤷ find hp/wizarding world & bridgerton: next gen ocs, follows, and likes there

General Tags:

⤷ my aesthetic • my character profiles

Other People’s Amazing Work:

⤷ dividers • aesthetics • ocs

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐒

An AU of the Arrowverse where the multiverse wasn’t destroyed, both Zaris were able to exist outside of the totem, Ronnie Raymond and Earth-1!Laurel Lance are permanently alive, and Oliver Queen was relieved of his duties as Spectre in 2022 by another earth’s Oliver Queen, who had lost everything and everyone.

Abigail “Abby” Cohen-Stein

Natalie “Nat” Constantine

Ethan Goldberg

Alyssa Harper

Roberta “Bobbi” Harper

Brian Hart

Henry B. Heywood

Sonia Heywood

Diana “Di” Lance-Sharpe

Quincy Lance-Sharpe

Rebecca “Becca” Lance-Merlyn

Quinley Lance-Merlyn

Carson Palmer

Tristan Palmer

Elowyn “Ellie” Palmer

Thomas “Tommy” Queen

Adalyn “Ada” Queen

Lucas Queen

Elena Ramon

Lizzie Raymond

Albert “Al” Raymond

Asa Watanabe

Raiden Watanabe

Joseph West-Allen

Ben West-Allen

Dawn West-Allen

Morgan West-Wells

Canon Character Interpretations

⤷ Ronnie (Cohen-)Stein • Connor Hawke • JJ Diggle • Sara Diggle • Martina Jackson • William Clayton • Mia Smoak-Queen • Nora West-Allen • Jenna West

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘’𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Caroline Darling | intro

Arianna Fitzherbert | intro

Nova Fitzherbert | intro

Percy C. McLeach | intro

Kalani of Motunui | intro

Molly Poppins | intro

Timothy “Tim” Radcliffe | intro

Jean Radcliffe | intro

Nicola Radcliffe | intro

Julia Radcliffe | intro

Ian Radcliffe | intro

Edward Radcliffe | intro

Harriet Radcliffe | intro

𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Delaney Ballard

Ricky Gilmore

Levi Powell | intro

Plot Bunnies

⤷ Josh Ellis • Aaron Weatherford

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐂𝐒 (post-series)

Will Gordon — jim & lee’s son

Canon Character Interpretations

⤷ Barbara Lee Gordon • possibly other batkids

𝐌𝐂𝐔 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Grant Barnes — bucky’s son

Jo Rogers — steve & peggy’s daughter

Jamie Rogers — steve & peggy’s daughter

Carter Rogers — steve & peggy’s son

Riley Wilson — sam’s daughter

Canon Character Interpretations

⤷ Cooper Barton • Lila Barton • Nate Barton • Morgan Stark

Plot Bunnies

⤷ Dani Watson

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Patrick Joseph Mallon | intro

Plot Bunnies

⤷ Aoife, daughter of Ramandu • Emily Bastable • Charlotte Thompson • George Thompson

𝐏𝐉𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Valentina “Val” Flores | intro

Ivy Gao

Eloise Kittredge | intro

Landon McCallister | intro

Florian Mostyn

Harmony Reyes

Arlo Stanhope

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Maddox Solo | intro

Tullia “Tully” Nash | intro

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Isaac Mayfield | intro

Missy Sinclair

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐂𝐒

Bridgerton

⤷ Martha Barrington • Susannah Baxter • Alex Rokesby • Liza Stickland • Robert Wynn

Heartstopper

⤷ Theodore “Ted” Ainsworth

Ted Lasso

⤷ Megan Armstrong

[dr-albertwesker]

Do you see any point in having pets? (not for experimentation!!)

What kind of pet would you have if you had to own one?

Maybe a cat or a doberman would suit you.

"Pets are incompatible with my lifestyle. I work fluctuating shifts and wouldn't have the time to spare to care for one properly. Although with my wages, I could afford a menagerie but that is not what you asked. We are speaking of ifs. Hypotheticals.

A cat needs very little in ways of affection and sustenance. A single stroke would do, a click of the tongue to tease the feline's auditory perception, a speck of laser light across a surface to slake innate predatory urges, a dash of catnip to iron out the edge of mundane existence spent napping incessantly as if time were an afterthought. Aloof, a touch sadistic...No wonder they were once worshiped as gods.

A doberman, although a delight to train, would be too demanding — the pack animal mentality is one reason. Canines require an alpha to lead them, else they misbehave. The prospect of myself acquiring a pooch for pleasure is slim to none. However, the intelligence combined with a nearly worshipful loyalty has its uses. Here at Arklay Laboratory, the groundskeeper tends a kennel of them for the purpose of security. They watch the mansion's perimeter. You should visit sometime. I hear the dobermans are in need of exercise, something about boundless excess energy, unruliness that soured to surliness. Beware, they are rather — high-spirited.

As for a pet of my choosing —

When I was a boy, I was required to visit Spencer in England, often during holidays, sometimes for summer vacation. In those golden years, Lord Spencer was collecting exotic animals, some I admit were illegal. It was a fancy of his, a passing fad, expensive, mere pocket change for him no doubt. One summer, the butler (I can't recall his name) introduced me to the newest addition to Spencer's "ark", a ring-tailed lemur. A beautiful creature, rare, with large eyes the color of citrine . . . A she. Molly was her name. I spent long summer afternoons meandering throughout the labyrinthine courtyard, playing childish games with this lemur. The following Christmas she was gone, having perished from some incurable disease. Unfortunate, but such is nature's way. Only the strong survive while the weak diminish unto death, and such was dear Molly's fate. May she rest in peace."

[mareastrorum]

WIP Wednesday: The Fool and the Soldier, Ch. 8 (Apricots)

The Fool and the Soldier is now up on AO3, updated every other Friday (usually). Work got in the way this past week, but we are back on target for a chapter next Friday. Enjoy this juicy WIP scene to tide you over.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the Mighty Nein's encounter with the Iron Shepherds on Glory Run Road, but a short time later, a spirit began hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

The midnight sky was fairly cloudy, obscuring most of ambient light from above. A handful of lanterns still had some fuel at a few intersections, and Caduceus lit the tip of his staff with a soft pink glow for those who could not see in the dark. As they took a night walk, the Nein passed several armed patrols, though there was no uniform. Apparently, the Revelry shirked most visual displays of authority, other than the butchered bodies on display to the Plank King’s throne.

Darktow was the haven of piracy in the Lucidian, but it was still just a town. Less than half a century prior, it was another city of the Clovis Concord. Because of its location, it had been one of the central port stops for an overwhelming majority of the trade routes. Once the Revelry took over, the denizens had the choice to join or die, and unsurprisingly, most of the people chose to live.

So the town was colorful, diverse, and deceptively normal. The Sundry Square lay empty, a pavillion full of empty furniture and stalls waiting for the merchants to return the next morning with their wares. The patrols did not even look twice at the Nein, and the only times they said a word was to shush loud drunks or get trouble-makers to move along. If not for the blatant display of power at the port or the Plank King’s vicious welcome, it would have seemed like any other port town in the Menagerie Coast.

That didn’t mean Fjord wasn’t keeping an eye out for trouble or pickpockets.

But the Nein had a reprieve from Avantika’s eyes and ears, hopefully. And they needed to sort out what the hells they were going to do during this walk, then return soon or Vera would probably report their prolonged departure. Oh, and Avantika had hinted to Fjord that he should come by her room. Right. He was going to ignore that for now.

First, they agreed to code names. Avantika was Tiffany, the sphere or eye was the apricot, and that was all that really mattered.

Nott—still in her halfling disguise—piped up, “Our intent is to get off this island without Tiffany, correct?”

Beau hummed. “Well, I think it’s less about getting off this island without Tiffany and more about getting to that shipwreck first.”

“I think that’s the highest priority,” Fjord agreed. “The only thing that we haven’t discerned from Tiffany is if she knows where the next…” he trailed off. The orbs were apricots, so what would be obvious for the temple? But not too obvious? “Where the next apricot tree might be.”

Nott showed a surprising amount of confidence and leadership as she listed their options. They could follow Avantika around Darktow the next day, while she was supposedly gathering supplies and equipment necessary to retrieve the final eye at the Diver’s Grave, where she suspected the Tide’s Breath had sunk. Or they could try finding Alyson Paij, the captain that had seemed rather hostile to Avantika back at the Bloated Cup. They could also try to get information from Avantika’s crew now that they had taken shore leave. There was also Sorris Cade, the gnome Jester had won over by having a friendly bar fight with him—he also knew of the Diver’s Grave and Dashilla, the monster that lived there. They could try to sabotage Avantika’s ship in the hopes that it would buy more time in Darktow to come up with something. Finally, they could try to frame Avantika for some crime with another pirate somehow.

Molly elbowed Fjord in the side and whispered, “If you don’t watch out, she’s gonna take that captain job from you.”

Fjord chuckled and whispered back, “Pretty sure that all I have to do is point out the water, and she’ll give it back.” Molly snickered.

“Well, she’s not currently at her ship,” Beau noted. “I’m assuming a lot of her valuable information is locked away in her captain’s quarters somewhere on the ship. Notes or a journal or a ledger. If we can get the information to the next apricot tree, then do we need Tiffany anymore?”

Fjord thought that over while Nott, Jester, Beau, and Caleb discussed a potential strategy to sneak into Avantika’s quarters with a new spell of Jester’s.

“I get the feeling we’re not going to be able to just take our own ship and leave without A— uh, without… Tiffany?” Caduceus drawled quietly.

Yasha shrugged. “We can fight our way out.”

“Not so sure we can take on a whole island of pirates, dear,” Molly countered. “Whatever we do, the best plan is not to get on the King’s bad side while we do it.”

“Molly’s got a point,” Fjord said, and the tiefling practically inflated with smugness. “Don’t let that go to your head. But, really, the reef out of here is difficult to navigate, and they’ve got all those defenses and ships. There’s no quick way out of this port. If we do somethin’ here, it’s gotta be subtle. And if we are planning to leave without her, that means she’ll give chase— I mean, I hate to even suggest it, but I’d rather not have someone hot on our tail.”

Caleb seemed to be listening to both conversations and took that opportunity to hop in. “That leads me to a question I have which is, instead of discussing the short term which we want to do, I want to ask you about the long term.” The side discussion quieted down. “If we ditch Tiffany, and we find the apricot tree, what happens then? Like, what is your plan with this apricot? I think we have ideas about what could come from it. She’s done what she did at the first tree and you got the next tree, and maybe she races to the— What happens next, Fjord? I know you are curious, but what is the plan?”

Jester piped up, “Should we be using your name or should we call you something else right now too?”

“We’ll call him Honda,” Caleb decided.

“I’m lost,” Caduceus whispered to Molly. The tiefling pat him on the shoulder and nodded.

Fjord sighed. “Well, as Honda, I would race to the apricot and seize it so that she can’t pick that fruit. Keep it for ourselves in our fruit basket, and make off and decide if we’re going to make marmalade later or not.”

“I like marmalade,” Caduceus noted. He and Molly immediately were distracted by discussions of whether they could make marmalade from the fruit from the temple.

Caleb continued prodding, “Do you know how, at the first tree, an apricot was picked and things shook, something happened there. This place was all about drei, the number three, so you want to go pluck another fruit and that's two out of three and what happens once the third—”

Fjord interjected, “We actually don't know where the other tree is yet, that’s the thing. We just know where the fruit is.”

“Personally, I feel more comfortable with Honda controlling the supply of apricots than Tiffany,” Beau chimed in.

“I am not telling any of you, especially you,” Caleb said to Beau before turning back to Fjord, “what to do here, but an alternative plan is to get rid of anyone who knows about the location of the tree and bury the tree.”

Molly cut in, “Magic man, as much as I know you love taking the long-term into consideration, it’s late, we might be leaving tomorrow, and we’ve only got so many hours before we get dragged off to a literal ship graveyard.”

“Actually, it’d be a cemetery,” Caduceus noted. “Unless there’s a church somewhere out next to it.”

“Ship cemetery,” Molly corrected.

“So let’s do my plan and look for something in her quarters,” Beau argued.

Molly grimaced. “I don’t really like the idea of us doing the Pl— the Cat Prince’s work for him. He’s a con man.”

“Yeah, and?” Jester prodded. “You do cons, Molly. Caleb and Nott did too.”

“Sure, and he’s even conveniently looking for dirt on Tiffany,” Molly conceded. “But why didn’t he get it himself?”

“Kin— Princes get lackeys to do their work for them, of course,” Nott responded.

“Exactly!” Molly barked, emphasizing with his hands. “And we’re excellent lackeys—most of the time, when there’s good coin on offer—but we’re outsiders. He’s in charge of the whole damn island, so he’s never wanting for lackeys. Why does he want outsider lackeys to do it? We’re new to her crew, so it’s not like he’d have a reason to expect us to know much about her.”

“Ah,” Caleb said as he began wagging a finger. “You have a point, there, circus man. He wants whose who are unaffiliated, expendable, or both.” He fidgeted with his fingers as he seemed to tune the rest out.

Fjord frowned. “Shit. Didn’t think of that.” Had Wyatt intended to fuck them over as soon as they brought him what he wanted? Hells, that seemed pretty likely. Then he’d have two new ships, all the treasure on them, and several problems out of the way.

“I dunno, man,” Beau added. “He seemed real excited at the idea of getting some dirt on Tiffany.”

“He could tell you were a snitch at fifty feet,” Molly teased. Beau scrunched her face at him.

“Then, perhaps we should up the ante, so to speak,” Caleb said. “I suspect that perhaps he is testing us, to see if we can expose Tiffany for violating their pirate code without getting him involved. And we must do this without violating it ourselves.”

“Without getting caught,” Molly added. Caleb nodded his agreement, as did Beau.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Fjord said as he looked over the group. To his surprise, they all waited at attention. “Alright, so I think you’re right that there might be somethin’ worth takin’ from her quarters. She, uh, wouldn’t let me take a look around when I was last in there—” Molly began miming something obscene to Nott and Caleb. “Molly, stow it.” The tiefling gave a shameless grin, but put his hands down. “She acts like she trusts me, so if there’s somethin’ she’s hiding from me, I bet it’s somethin’ that’d get her in trouble.”

“That was my plan, thank you,” Nott preened.

Yasha had her arms crossed, skepticism plain on her face. “But how do we get that to the Prince without getting in trouble? He told us not to steal, and it would be obvious we stole it.”

Fjord continued, “That’s the rest of it: I want to find Cadmus Leeland or Sabian.” A few of their faces fell to confusion, but Caleb and Beau understood. “We heard rumors in Nicodranas that Sabian was working for Cadmus, and I know of him. Masquerades as a merchant, but his usual way of business is stealin’ from his clients, and that went south for him some months back. I’d bet good money Cadmus joined up with the Revelry and that Sabian came with him. If either of ‘em are in town, they’d be perfect.”

“Ah, I get it,” Caduceus chimed in finally. Fjord felt a little guilty about the code names; that seemed like too much for the firbolg. “Do you believe either of them would take dirt to the, uh… Prince to sabotage Tiffany?”

“Yep,” Fjord answered. “Cadmus is a bastard, and Sabian’s worse. Sabian’s always been the kind to sleaze his way up the ladder, and if he gets the idea in his head that screwin’ over Tiffany would win the Cat Prince’s favor, he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Hungry,” Molly added, his tail swaying mischievously.

“Always,” Fjord agreed.

“If we are leaving tomorrow, that does not leave much time,” Caleb noted. “So, presuming we are able to steal some sort of proof, we must take it and get it to Sabian or Cadmus to take to the Cat Prince, all without Tiffany knowing. If necessary, we must delay our departure.”

“What if we don’t find them or any proof?” Jester asked.

“I don’t think we’re gonna find either of ‘em this time of night,” Beau said. “Y’know, if we’re out of options, maybe we can try Alyson again. She was pretty angry at Tiffany, so I think she’d take the dirt or maybe even find some. Or make some.”

“And that, ah, undead fellow was displeased at Tiffany’s actions in that apricot tree,” Caleb added. “I know some of you have your reservations, but we may have aligned interests.”

“Do we really need a scapegoat?” Nott whined. “Besides, who’s to say they won’t just rat us out that we gave them whatever we find?”

Molly smiled wide and leaned over until he was at Nott’s height. “What if we didn’t hand it over? What if Tiffany’s jealous right hand did?”

Before long, the same grin had spread to half the group.

[not100bees]

5. Are most of these from your RPG campaigns?

5! Anne Verteuil is a princess who captures a unicorn and keeps it in a menagerie and it keeps asking for her to let it go but she keeps saying she'll do it when some impossible thing happens but they keep happening but anne just moves the goalposts every time. it saves her life when she marries a cruel prince who was going to kill her and she lets it go. it was going to be a short story i was going to write for a magazine but it ended up not happening. actually i made this first and made up the story later mostly i wanted to do a unicorn design and thought it was a bit boring by itself so i added her. she was specifically modeled after molly in the last unicorn

it's about like half RPG characters i've done or want to do and about half characters in things i'm writing with a couple of the ones like this one where i just wanted to make a character to test out some new feature or something

[isfjmel-phleg]

3 & 7, please?

A book published within the last ten years you wish more people would read.

The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict by Trenton Lee Stewart. The Mysterious Benedict Society series is well-enough known, but I haven't seen as much love for the prequel, which works quite well as a stand-alone too. It's implied to be set in the late 1940s and has the feel of a classic children's book. Good characters and good themes. It's one of my favorites of the series, right next to the first book.

...this was actually published eleven years ago, sorry, but I'm going with it anyway.

A self-published book.

The Electrical Menagerie by Mollie E. Reeder is delightful. I need to read it again soon.

[fictionadventurer]

Story asks, for The Electrical Menagerie: 3, 17, 18, 19

3. quickly list 3 things you like about the story!

The characters and their friendship, the world of flying trains and floating islands, the character arcs

17. compare this story to your usual tastes. how does it differ from what you've already enjoyed?

I think it almost perfectly fits my previous tastes, actually. I don't tend to read many stories involving middle-aged male protagonists, but that's less by choice and more because they don't tend to star in the genres I usually read.

18. compare this story to your usual tastes. what parts of it are exactly the kind of thing you've always loved?

The whimsical imaginative world, the Edwardian steampunk aesthetic (that doesn't have the smoke that usually turns me away from steampunk), the friendship, the light religious element, the tone that makes it suitable for people of all ages, the exploration of the creative process, people who are dealing with separation from family and are haunted by past failures, the sense of wonder

19. pitch an idea for a sequel or spinoff novel for this story!

I'm just going to pitch the actual sequel, which is in an Edwardian carnival setting and is apparently finished but she's stopped talking about it and I'm worried that we're never going to get it.

[mollydsails]

April 20 - Part 2. Anchored at Reedy Island. As soon as we exited the C&D Canal and entered Delaware Bay, the wind honked!! We had ZERO wind coming up the Chesapeake. Suddenly it was blowing in the upper 20s. As you can see in the photo, the wind was blowing 22 when we anchored. Now the wind is 11 gusting to 16. Always happens!!! Happy to be anchored. Today’s travel was just shy of 10 hours. We had to dodge sticks, branches, limbs, sections of tree trunks, 4x4 pieces of wood and logs all up the Chesapeake. When we got to the bridge in Chesapeske City, we did a port to port pass with a tug towing a barge towing a dredge all being followed by another tug tied to the stern of the dredge. Right behind this menagerie of boats was a barge being side towed by a tug. Not enough excitement for Molly D though. She had to cool her prop while a railroad bridge (usually raised) lowered to let a very slow moving freight train cross. We are settled in now. Taking a breather before reheating tonight’s previously made (and frozen) supper of a sausage/onions/potatoes medley.

It’s going to be a cold night. 41 at 6 am! I’ll just bask in the warm sun a while longer.

[theamethystofficial]

The Amethyst & The Prince: Volume I - chapter four

A/N: hey! sorry for the wait on this. both my beta reader and i have been having a bit of hectic stuff going on in our lives. but we're here again with the next chapter! please enjoy. (:

ao3. | chap one. | chap two. | chap three. | hub post.

They’re not sure how much time had passed since Fjord and his first mate had left to speak with their crew. It’s a nice enough day as they wait with Yasha by the gates of Port Damali that they don’t mind terribly. When they hear the sounds of conversation drifting towards them, Mollymauk turns to nod at their guests with a pleasant smile.

“Tell you what, I didn’t expect the mead to be that good,” Beauregard’s saying. “Pretty good, but nothing like what we got on an island that one time. Remember that place, Fjord? And the beekeeper.”

“How could I forget?” Fjord chuckles. “It’s surprising, the kind of people you meet on the water. Even on the islands just off the coast, everything’s always a little different from the mainland. It’s wonderful.”

The tiefling feels a twinge of wanderlust as they listen. In their brief stint as the voice of the Ruby, they’d never traveled anywhere by boat. Always on land, as that was where their work took them. Maybe one day they’d get to travel across the sea.

“Oh,” says Mollymauk in surprise. “Marion must’ve sent a carriage for the return trip.” They regard the trotting horses pulling an ostentatiously painted thing, gilded and sparkling in the Menagerie sun. Glancing to Fjord and Beauregard, they nod and wave them forward. “After you two.”

Beauregard’s only just started to step into the velvet interior when the sound of a whip cracking draws everyone’s attention. The human woman barely has enough time to dive inside the carriage before the horse rears back with a startled whinny. With a soft curse Yasha chases after the carriage, leaving Mollymauk and Fjord in the clearing.

They’re not sure what to make of the figure standing in the clearing. His coat is red and short on one side, with the faintest hint of embroidered details. They can’t make them out that well from where they stand, but they’re not concerned with that. What they are concerned about is the fact that he’s a purple tiefling, with striking red eyes like theirs. Abruptly they freeze in their tracks as he points a finger in their direction.

“Mollymauk,” declares the tiefling. His accent is quite similar to theirs, if not a touch rougher. “Been looking everywhere for you, you slippery motherfucker.”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” asks Mollymauk. “I think I’d remember someone as loud as you.”

The other tiefling laughs, and it’s a raucous noise. “Oh, you always did your best to be funny when things got hairy. Not a bad joke. Of course you know me.” He steps forward with wide arms, as if going in to hug them.

WIth surprising swiftness, Fjord steps in front of them. A flash of seafoam green precedes the appearance of a dripping falchion in his hand. Briefly they’re taken away from the bizarre claims of the person in front of them to look at the curious blade.

“Seems the Amethyst doesn’t know you,” says the half-orc. “I’d suggest you keep your distance – and drop whatever disguise spell you’re using.”

“Oh, I promise you, this is no spell. I’m just naturally this handsome.” The tiefling runs a hand over his short hair. The same shade as their own violet locks. A flash of red on his palm catches their attention. “There’s no reason to start trading blows. You seem nice enough, friend. Let’s keep this civil, yes?”

Gently Mollymauk places a hand on Fjord’s arm, stepping forward with what they hope to be a charming smile. “While the resemblance is striking, I’m afraid I have no brother. Or any siblings, for that matter. You see, I was the only child my mother gave birth to. From what I hear, she died soon after pushing me into this world. Quite tragic, really, but what can you do?”

That makes the other pause for a moment. “Molly,” he says with a well-mannered shake of his head. “You’re an amazing liar, but – really, this isn’t where you should be using it. I know who you are. I grew up with you.” Something crosses his face. After a moment of hesitation he takes another step forward. “You really don’t remember me? Kingsley?”

“I really don’t.” Panic starts to well up in their chest. He’s really not giving this up, huh? “Is there anything that I can help you with? Do you need gold? Are you interested in doing business with the Ruby of the Sea? What can I do to help you?”

Disbelief crosses Kingsley’s face. Disappointment follows, before he shakes his head with a wry smile. “No. No, I don’t want gold or a favor from your Ruby. I want to talk to my sibling.”

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong tiefling,” says Mollymauk with a deep sigh. “I don’t have a family. Not one made of blood.”

“Alright, this is getting annoying.” Kingsley rolls one of his sleeves up, and Mollymauk’s heart jumps into their throat at the sight of a red eye on his palm. They say nothing, though, even as he cracks his whip across his skin without barely a wince. Blood starts to trickle as flames envelop the length of his whip. “If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you’ll get.”

With a curse, Mollymauk draws their own scimitars. They try not to think too hard about the similarities between them as they slide their own blade across their chest. Ice forms along their right blade; in an instant they fly at him.

They’ve never fought someone with a whip before. It’s something they realize maybe a touch too late. It’s not too long before one of their scimitars is wrapped in Kingsley’s whip. Mollymauk lurches forward as he tugs them along, nearly falling onto the ground in the process. With a growl they roll onto their back, scrambling to their feet. Kingsley’s grin, despite everything, has a playful quality to it.

“Wow, you’re really rusty,” he says. “Can’t blame you, though. The whip’s new. D’you like it? Commands quite a lot of attention.”

“Oh, that’s a plus,” quips Mollymauk. “Why am I not surprised?” They leap at him, attempting to disarm him. See how well he does without that blasted thing.

It seems they moved a touch too slow. With ease Kingsley side steps them, leaving his foot out to trip them in the process. This time there’s no graceful roll to allow them to save face; they receive a mouthful of dust as they fall face-first.

“Runs in the family, I suppose.” Mollymauk rolls over to see Kingsley shrug. “Being raised by performers does that to someone. Hard to stay out of the spotlight. Isn’t that right, Amethyst?”

He jeers the title at them in a way that makes their blood boil. With a growl Mollymauk lunges for him again. Their arms wrap around his legs, effectively toppling him to the ground with them. When they put the blade of their scimitar to his throat a look of surprise crosses his face, followed by genuine terror.

Mollymauk, please don’t.

They don’t hear him say it; the thought appears unbidden in their mind. They freeze above him, nearly dropping their scimitar. As if they’d been burned they move away from him. They try not to think about how the eye markings all over their body itch.

“What–”

“Alright, alright, no need to get hostile.” Kingsley lifts his hands in surrender as a shadow falls over Mollymauk. “It was all just – a misunderstanding, I swear! I wasn’t going to actually hurt them.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Fjord’s voice is a growl above Mollymauk’s head. “Now, why don’t you make like a rabbit – and hop the fuck out of here.”

“Gladly!”

Neither Fjord nor Mollymauk move until Kingsley turn a corner. Faintly they register the sound of something blinking out of existence before a green hand is offered to help them up. They murmur their thanks as they take it. Fortunately no questions follow, just a soft clearing of Fjord’s throat.

“Let’s see if we can’t find the other two.”

[gazrgaley]

A Day at the Park (chapter 16)

As the memory dissipated, another took its place. Grendel saw through the eyes of an older man. Richard's frown lines were etched into his skin and the retreat of his hairline had culminated in surrender. The freak show had become the circus Grendel knew well, a curious menagerie of animals and acrobats who astonished an audience with their act as much as their appearance, with Richard in sparkling white sequins at its head.

Richard walked with confidence, much of his old pain gone or well hidden. He wandered past his workers as they idly practiced their fire juggling and acrobatics, deftly dodging a pair of youths racing from one beast to the next with buckets of meat and grain in hand, paying no mind to their conversation. A few bound pages were clutched in his hands. He found the ledger to be a soothing companion; there were few better ways to relax before a show than to spend some time balancing the books.

Finally he found a quiet spot behind the tents in a little copse of pines. The noise was at a minimum and the shade was a welcome respite after the morning's work. He sat against a tree and readied his pen.

He was pulled away a moment later. "Um... Do you mind?" said a voice that tickled his memory.

Richard looked up and blinked, then looked back to his notes. "What do you need?"

Standing before him was a small woman, glaring at him with her hand on her hip. She was clad only in her underwear, a loose, silky garment draped around her shoulders and a small belt of lacy fabric that reached from waist to mid-thigh. Her long, bleached hair shone in the sunlight. "I need to not have some man gawking at me while I practice," she said sharply, her cheeks flushing as she spoke.

Richard recognised her. Molly was the new contortionist. They had brought her aboard somewhere in France a month prior. He stared at her in confusion for a moment, at a loss for words. "I didn't realize you were here," he said finally, turning back to his papers. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to concentrate. I'm sure you can find a space behind a tree if my presence is that much of a bother."

Molly cocked her head and watched him scratch away with his pen. He truly seemed uninterested in watching her. Throwing her false modesty to the breeze, she wandered to his side and sat beside him with her legs crossed, trying to see what he was writing. "What are you doing?" she asked.

His pen paused mid-stroke and he spared her a glance. "I'm balancing our finances," he said, "and planning our next move."

"How so?"

They were innocent questions, but the more she asked, the more uncomfortable Richard became. The fact that she crept closer after each answer, close enough to touch, didn't help. Soon he slapped the ledger shut with a huff. "Why do you care so much about any of this?"

Molly wilted under the heat of his glare. "I don't," she confessed, "but... Most people, most men, at best they only want to flirt with me. Most don't even bother with that! They are content watching me, like I am something they are entitled to." She smiled and looked up at him. "Maybe I wanted to see what it would be like to have a real conversation, for a change..."

His attention was back to his papers. She let out a sigh and pushed herself to her feet.

"What do you want to talk to people about?" Richard asked, not looking up.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Anything, I guess." She made her way toward the next tree, leaving him to his work. "I just want to be seen as more than just my body."

"Maybe you should look into other hobbies, then," he suggested as she left. "Something that isn't about your body. Give yourself something interesting to say."

Molly vowed to do just that. Each town or city taught her something new to share, from the philosophy of her home country to the rumors of beasts across the southern sea to whispers of taboo arts practiced in alleys out of sight.

She shared it all with Richard. To her delight, he never seemed to be distracted by her clothes, which was a small miracle in itself; her hatred of the expectations every man had for women of all stations was growing by the day, and surely one layer was more than enough to cover the important parts. He would sit and listen patiently, at times with half an ear, as she spoke at length about whatever had caught her attention that week.

This had gone on for six months before, sitting across from him at a small table in one of the quieter tents, she pulled out a deck of cards borrowed from one of the women in their troupe. She shuffled the cards and passed them to Richard, who cut the deck with trepidation. Focused as she was on remembering the woman's words, Molly didn't notice his discomfort. Her words stumbled over each other, as did the advice she tried in vain to offer. Three of Swords, Queen of Cups, Four of Batons. Past, present, future. It should have been simple enough. She tugged at her hair as she started over for the third time. The woman had made it seem so easy.

Richard slapped a hand upon the table, jerking her out of her thoughts. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. There was an anger in his voice that she had never heard before. "Every week you come to me and..." He gestured to the cards. "Every week is something new. You have never seemed very interested in anything you've brought, so why bother?"

Molly growled in exasperation and stood, reaching across the table to sweep the cards into a pile. "You said I need to know more things!" she said. "You said to find interesting things to say, so people would take me more seriously!"

"That's not what I meant," he said tiredly. "Sit down."

She did as she was told, glaring at the tent flap all the while.

"You have shown me so much," Richard began, "but you don't care about any of it. You can't expect people to care about what you have to say if you don't care about it yourself. You need to do what makes you happy, Molly, not what you think others want from you." His eyes softened. "God has given us all a gift. It would be a sin to squander that potential."

Molly's neck could have snapped as she spun to stare at him. "You're a god-fearing man?" she sputtered.

"Of course," Richard replied. "Considering everything I have witnessed in my life, I would be stupid not to be."

Her hands lifted to cover her bare skin. "I thought— I mean, I had heard that circus folk were all heathens." His eyes narrowed, and she bowed her head. "I was clearly wrong."

"Yes. Clearly."

Something slapped against the tent flap. A wide-brimmed hat with an elaborate fringe poked through, followed by a portly man in a green and gold suit with matching fringes lining his chest and cuffs. "Are you in charge here?" the man said in a voice like spoiled honey. He made his way smoothly to Richard with the aid of a walking stick. He blinked in dismay at Richard, who wore not his performance clothes but a pair of worn-out trousers and a once-white blouse with no jacket. "I was told the ringleader would be here."

""I am," said Richard, mimicking the man's confident posture with ease. He knew the man's type and had never been fond of them. They were the people who had always looked down upon him, not for his abilities but for his station—or his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for someone. A whore." He spoke with disinterest, letting his eyes roam the room with disdain. "She ran away from home some months ago and her family wants her back."

"Oh, I see," Richard said. He too looked around the little tent, but only saw the intruder and himself. "Well, it seems we don't have any whores around tonight. I'm sorry to have wasted your time." He gave the man a crooked grin as he sat back down at the table and thumbed open a nearby book. "If you head back to town, I'm sure there is a brothel there that you could check... You know, for the family."

The head of the walking stick slammed down across the book in his hands. "This woman was found in bed with several different women," the man continued. Richard sighed; he would have to find a better way to let people know he didn't want to talk to them. "We can turn a blind eye to this once, maybe twice, but this woman is obscene and I tell you she must be dealt with."

"And I tell you," Richard said, back on his feet and matching the man's tone, "I cannot help you."

"How would you know?" he spat. "I haven't even told you what she looks like!"

Richard turned his back on the man. "Perhaps you should have led with that."

"Her name is Vivienne de Lévis, but she is likely traveling under a false name. She's a small girl with long black hair. Twenty years old, or thereabouts. You would not forget her if you saw her."

"Well, that changes everything," he muttered.

A smirk formed on the man's face as the sarcasm went over his head. "Really?"

"No, but I'm sure that information will help you find this girl in the future." Richard faked a polite bow and pointed to the tent flap. "You know, for her family."

He watched the door for a long moment after the man left. Eventually he walked across the tent to a few small containers in the corner. He looked down to see a tightly curled young woman looking up at him from where she lay folded up at the bottom of one of the barrels. "Miss de Lévis, I presume?" He extended a hand toward her. "I believe your friend is gone."

She still didn't meet his eyes as he helped her out. She stood with her hands tightly clasped upon her stomach, as if holding herself together. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll get my things and leave."

"I certainly hope you won't!" The words came out more harshly than intended. "Where am I going to find another contortionist before tonight's performance?" He paused, watching her fiddle with her hands. "You know, it's not easy to find someone with talents like yours." He gestured toward the little barrel she'd packed herself into. "You should be proud of what you can do, even if others can't see the talent in it."

She still stood frozen in the same pose.

"I'm trying to say you can stay as long as you want," he sighed. He took a step toward the tent flap.

"I can explain!" Molly grabbed his arm. "I can't help it! I know it's wrong. I know it's a sin. I know I'm doing the devil's work." He tried to fit a word into the conversation, tell her that he didn't care, that it wasn't his concern, but she overrode his protests. "It's like my body has a mind of its own," she said breathlessly. "I see these pretty girls and I can't help but— I just need to—" She deflated, tears spilling from her eyes. "I don't expect you to understand," she sobbed, "being a man of God, but..."

"I do understand." He no longer looked at her, or for a way out of their conversation. He looked to his past, to his youth as a demon child in the orphanage, to years spent taking in the evils of man as a sin-eater in Wales while he tried to find his place in the world. "He gave us each a gift, Molly, and He put us on our paths for a reason."After a moment he pulled her hand from his arm and squeezed it. "Stay, Molly. I'll protect you as long as I can."

He was about to walk away when she flung herself into his chest, weeping and thanking him for his kindness. It surprised him, but it surprised him more when he found himself hugging her back.

Grendel awoke with a huge yawn, still on the ground in front of their bed. Molly was still wrapped around Richard. The room was silent, as it had been all week. Suddenly Richard rose up with a gasp, knocking Molly off of him.

"Finally," Grendel said with a smile as Molly cried out and smothered her husband with kisses and tears, "some peace and quiet."