#fl lore spoilers

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

@fallenlondonficswap @alexis-royce I had a lot of fun writing up this fic for your secret swap!! I also had to trim it for the word limit

Mr Pages takes the Ex-Disgraced Academic out for a night at the theatre. Something is being planned.

Rating: Teen

No Warnings

Word count: 2,016(fic) + 398(oc credits) AO3 Link

It was later than typical when the letter arrived at the door. Mr. Cards had just changed out of its robe, and back into the Ex-Disgraced Academic. They were preparing to work on their Correspondence when it had slid through their mail slot. 

If neither the distinctive seal, nor name, had not indicated the sender, the address would. It was sent from the tower apartments directly above their own. Those which belonged to Mr Pages, Cards' greatest rival. The Academic broke the seal on the overstuffed envelope eagerly. Their good eye flew over the dense verbage contained therein. It posed no challenge to them, and they quickly deciphered the meaning of the letter. It was an invitation to a play. And yet, did the Academic not recall Mahogany Hall being closed that evening? Oh, something clicked. Rumors had been circulating in Bohemian circles for many years about a forbidden play, performed only with explicit permission from Mr. Wines, against direct order from the Ministry of Public Decency. So why would the Master of censorship, the very one who, if rumors were to be believed, tried to stamp this play out at every possibility, decide to take them along?

The best way to find out was to go. They would send confirmation in the morning, but through the night they would prepare for any likely schemes.

~

They agreed to arrive seperatly to avoid being seen together in public. A theatre box far above most was... still public, yes, but easier to mistake features in, or to not notice at all. So when the Academic arrived at their reserved box, Pages was already waiting. At least, they recognized it as Pages as soon as it opened its mouth to wish them an "Enjoyluminating" evening. The loquacious master was not wearing its usual ink-stained robes. It seemed to have even ditched its bandolier of pens and inks. Or, judging on the suspicious way the oversized robe fell, perhaps it was simple under the cloak. The cloak which, based on style and size alone, clearly did not belong to it. In fact, it looked as though it had stolen a spare robe from Mr Apples. It was ill-fitting on the current Master. Pages looked about to burst when the Academic did not immediately ask why it had shunned its typical robe. They took a seat to one side, and then took the bait.

"So, my eloquent acommpanyment, why the change in attire?"

Pages arranged its own chair. "You are possilikely aware of my disgustred for this... play. Thus, you are also aware of my multinumerous attemps to blot it from the history books. As such, the only actors that would perform in it at those with ireverice towards me."

"Ah, so if it were known that is was you... you would be rather unpopular for the night.

"Precisorrectly."

The red curtains raised up, and the audience turned their attentions towards the stage. 

An actor strutted onto the stage. Their costume was composed of deep blue and black feathers, contrasting nicely with hair the color of dark cinnamon. Flickering candles lit the stage. The light danced along the costume's wings to bring the iridescence to life. This was the role of the Raven.

Pages leaned over to whisper to its companion. "Jamie Awnings, a Poet-Laureate who writes the most horrendful poetry. How they were chosen I do not know, but I have had to step in many times to keep their work from the public."

The academic raised an eyebrow. One did not typically become Poet-Laureate while being horredful at the art. 

The actor's talent with words and meter became evident quickly however. The round Raven began to sing an aria, but the words had not matched entirely with the Academic's research. If it weren't for the research, they wouldn't know that any of the words had been changed. They had, however, but it was well keeping with the original intent, and far better suited to the rhythm and rhyme of the piece. 

Pages' attention was rapt and fixated. Pages was also clearly becoming inebriated by the music. Even the Academic was being affected. Still, now was the perfect opportunity to enact their plan. From a hidden pocket of a sleeve, they carefully slipped out a notepad, and a fountain pen preloaded with violant ink. The Academic has chosen their seat strategically, putting their writing side as far from Pages as they could, to hide their work. It was known for forbidding this play, and it was likely to try something tonight. Naturally, they could not be blamed for taking a transcript in shorthand.

The Raven continued their aria, setting the scene to fill in the minimal scenery. Something, however, caught the Academic's notice. Their box provided a good view of the stage, and importantly, the lightest of views into the wings to the side of the stage. The absence of visible stage crew told the steward that there was either a stage crew composed of only the actors, or that what crew there was knew well enough where to avoid walking to be seen. Perhaps both. So when someone in the Ministry uniform nearly stumbled onto stage partway through the song, it was an immediate tip off. Something was indeed going on behind scenes, something Pages had been planning. The rest of the song was performed without a hitch however. In fact, the Official seemed to be avoiding messing anything up as much as possible. Shouldn't he be trying to stop things? Still, perhaps the Academic's plans were compatible with Pages'. The music was working in their favor. It would addle the Curator's thinking, making it less likely to notice the gentle, soft scratching of pen on paper. They were a minute or so behind, but the Raven's personality had imprinted the details onto their mind quite nicely. It would make reconstruction easier later. A new character enters, their costume black and ragged. Tattered strips of cloth are woven into the spokes of their chair, and a shredded train follows behind them. Their stubble and bun were both intentionally left messy and unkempt. The overall effect was reminiscent of a wedding dress that has been dashed upon the zhoreline. A sense of love-sick duty weighed them down. The Messenger's sadness laid like Lacre on the stage. The Raven had been bragging about their singing not a moment ago, but as the raggedy Messenger approached, Raven deferred to the song of the Messenger. Pages scoffed. "That one has never been fond of me, always mooning for another. They have... circumvented my plans on multiple occasions." ~ The scene changed, with no sign of interference. ~ The play progressed, with no one noticing what had transpired, save one. Pages continued to interject comments at odd moments. The Academic continued to respond as well as they could while paying attention to the play and writing it all down. Suffice to say that it was rather difficult, and there were many unfortunate moments lost to Pages’ chattering. They wondered if it was deliberate, but that would require it to know what the Academic was hiding.

The Messenger, now played by a tall actress with manicured facial hair and a tattered groom’s suit, was holding council with the Owls. The Principal Owl had pale, tawny feathers that stood out from his dark brown skin. His head covering had baubles and trinkets that made a light sound as he trembled with fear.

Pages seemed particularly incensed by this scene.

“What do you do among my spires?” questioned the Messenger.

“Why, great master, we watch, we wait, we consume” he responded. “You watch, and wait, and consume, you say. And yet, is there not one who will consume you as prey?” On cue, another Owl stalks out from the shadows.Their hair is stark as fresh blood, the beak of the mask sharp. Their cane makes little noise as it lurks around the others. Their large feather tufts reveal their true nature. They are a Great Horned Owl Hunter. “Great Master, protect us so we will be free from their shrieks always, and we will serve you loyally the rest of our days!” She adjusts uncomfortably. There are many beats of conflicted silence, until she speaks again with a sigh “oh, were it only my unfettered choice. But alas, I owe them their hunts and the joys of their voice.” She left, and the Owls were left alone with the Hunter, who grinned behind their mask. Most of the actors were on stage at this point, distracted by the hunt. Another enforcer! Behind the curtains, nearly tripping on something, and carrying a large stack of papers. The Academic could not get a closer look however, for when they tried to shift closer, an ink-stained talon came to rest on their thigh. The intermission began, the curtain smothering any other chance. With its other hand, the Master made a sweeping gesture to the stage. Ice blue eyes turned towards their box from across the auditorium. Wines, who had bribed the Ministry to allow the play for the night. Their attention snapped back to Pages. “-these actors perform this play as an act of rebellion against me. They revel in this illegalbidden display. It is done to spite me, and undermine my authority”. It spat the sentence with less-than-figurative venom. “I will ensure they acknowledge my position as Paramost Poet and Auteur. And you” it turned towards them with luminescent eyes. They slid their writing out of sight. “You shall bow as well, Mr. Cards”. Was the blood rising to their face from anger? Or from the darker, more intense emotions that often defined the two of them. Those emotions had become so entangled of late. The Academic had been thinking of a clever retort when the brief intermission ended. With a personality that filled the stage and beyond, the Phoenix would not permit distraction from their soliloquy. The reflection of candle flames danced across their round lenses. Instead of the Phoenix's typical dress, this one opted for a tuxedo with the train of a peacock and the color of their fiery hair. “I am so very tired of flames, I will drown myself in snow and emerge in perfect serenity. Or not at all”. “What’s that? You have no more use for flame?” the Messenger reappeared and rolled towards the Phoenix. The scene went without hindrance. Even the final ‘immolation’ of the Phoenix in ice went as planned. It aroused the Academic’s suspicions. ~ When his cane made contact with the stage, it cracked like thunder, and reverberated against the proscenium arch. The gray streaks of his bright hair conjured to mind the storm clouds of the surface. His expression held little pity for the Messenger. Though she was taller by far, her presence was miniscule next to the Dragon. “You again,” she whimpered. “Yes. I remain the servant of you Master, as must you. He awaits the delivery.” “Do not! I beg you, do not! He cannot hear the message yet, he cannot hear what i have to say!” her voice turned frantic, fervent. The Dragon’s voice had little care. “You have a little time yet. Should this place fall, two will remain”. The booming of his cane grew distant as he left. She fell to her knees with a wail. ~

The play ended as it always must, message undelivered, crimes judged, and with Time devoured. The curtain fell, and then rose again for the final applause. “So, why did you invite me to see this play? Should you not have stopped it?” Pages stood to loom over them. It swayed slightly. “Have I not already stopped it? It would be rather difficult to perform without a script!” “The cast could perform-” “Oh certainly! Alone in their cells of New Newgate!” With gritted teeth, the academic stormed off. ~ They found Mr. Wines, and with pulled string, favours, and promises, convinced it to stop the Neddy Men from making arrests. The scripts however, were still missing. ~ Weeks later, new scripts of the Seventh Letter entered circulation. Lines and music had to be reconstructed from memory and missing gaps, but it was rather accurate. Most importantly though, Mr. Pages had not managed a score over Mr. Cards. ~~~~ OC CREDITS.

CURTAIN RISES. The last to ENTER is the PRINCIPAL OWL, with the MINOR OWLS FLOCKING behind him. He has dark brown skin, and near-black hair. He is still wearing his head covering. He is short and slight. He is The Theological Caregiver, created by @moonstruck-stormy. He bows with pride, then MOVES STAGE RIGHT.

The HUNTER ENTERS next. A step forward, ready to extend and ki- a pause. They had forgotten to leave character. A shift, and it is once more Harper Faraday. Light-olive skinned, with spectacles, and hazelnut shell hair. Their cane is light and practical. They were created by @the-insouciant-scientist. They bow, sheepish, MOVE STAGE LEFT. The PRINCIPAL DRAGON ENTERS with the presence of a rumbling Storm. His cane clicks are distinct and pronounced. He hais fair skin, large round glasses, and hair like a cloud rimmed sunset. The PRINCIPAL DRAGON is played by Orsinio Elderwood. He was created by @house-of-mirrors. The MINOR DRAGONS EMERGE from the WINGS to FLANK him. They bow together, then MOVE STAGE RIGHT.

The PHOENIX ENTERS from the East. At first look, they are similar to Orsinio. They share glasses and skin tone and hair color. On second look, they are different. The Partial Performer is taller, and has no cane. They were created by @thedandy-detective. Their bow has been practiced, with calculated flair. They MOVE STAGE LEFT. ENTER the RAVEN. Tonight, he is a stocky actor with russet hair and many freckles. They are short and fair-skinned. This is Poet-Laureate Jamie Awnings, created by @thedeafprophet. He makes a grand, sweeping bow, and MOVES STAGE RIGHT. The two halves of the MESSENGER STEP and ROLL to CENTER STAGE. They clasp hands. The MASCULINE HALF is tall, thin, and pale, with a well maintained mustache and goatee. Her hair is dark and short, and she wears glasses. She is Irving Merritt, created by @the-insouciant-scientist. The FEMININE HALF uses an elegant wheelchair. They have long hair, dark but greying, in a bun. They have stubble, and small glasses. They have fair skin, and are plump. They are Elias Leroux, created by @the-dye-stained-socialite. They bow with much drama. The CAST MOVES towards CENTER STAGE and form a solid line. They JOIN HANDS where possible, and raise them together. They swing forward into a final bow, then slowly raise back up to applause. CURTAIN FALLS.

[thegreatyin]

current fallen london fandom experience feels like im standing at the corner of a party holding a sippy cup going. i thought firmament has been pretty fun and intriguing so far

[everyframeapainting20]

Bob Harris, alone in an opulent yet sterile bathhouse, framed by cold marble. The shot isolates him, a man adrift in a foreign land, physically and emotionally distant. Bob is submerged—half-hidden, half-exposed—lost in thought. A moment of quiet detachment that says everything about his loneliness.

[szilverer]

happy holidays flumblr. have a silly doodle that got out of hand

[thedeafprophet]

random thought. so like, the king with a hundred hearts is polythreme and all that, yea? But we see him still clearly capable of having a Self among it all and taking on an individual form while still being The City

but with the railway cities:tm:, they dont seem to function in that same way, re: the having the statue avatar of the self still, and only communicatable on an abstract level

sooooo does that imply with the level/amount/the how of the diamond heart replacement affect these matters in transformation 🤔🤔🤔

[esteemed-excellency]

[warabola]

Did you notice the Commodore just, casually mentioning The Nadirq

I missed this ask but YEAH! I SAW THIS!

Like, is that public knowledge amongst the Admiralty? How many men did you send down there, Commodore? The implications of this are wild too because somehow this insinuates the water isn't going into the Nadir naturally, and they'd have to redirect it in despite... well, allegedly the rest of the Neath also flooding?

Loving the mental picture of just flooding the Nadir as well. Get flooded, Lilac.

[starryeyed-seer]

(This is my friend telling me about someone else)

sicko voice: hahaha... yesssss

what's funny about the amount of people I've influenced towards fallen london because of my suncrab posting is that. as much as suncrab is a huge lore spoiler for fallen london, it does not goddamn prepare you for FL in the slightest.

it's an undercurrent and the inciting incident, but... the forbidden ship is one of the least notable things going on in that cave. by far

[crow-caller]

Upd8:

I've been losing a fistfight to mental illness lately but am making progress:

-Bethany's sin review is in progress! I don't think it'll be very long (atm I'm 2k in, my guess would be 6k length, so half an hour?) but who knows.

-my fallen london lore vid (part 1) is MOSTLY done. The main issue is deciding when to call it finished— a lot of admin choices about how much info to give when, what order stuff should be in, etc. I want to strike a balance between spoilers and cool info— "if I wanted to tell a pal about FL, how much lore would I spoil to intrigue them?" Stuff like the Masters being capitalist space bats is technically a big spoiler, but also a huge draw to get peopleto check the game out! Later I hope to do a part 2, part 3 and actually get in depth on the more esoteric aspects of the world, but I want this to be a layman's introduction.

-after these, I still do not have a next book/series picked out. I have so many options and suggestions.... my instinct though is that it is time I read The Cage, aka That YA Book Trilogy About A Human Zoo. That sounds fun.

[thegreatyin]

i went digging for a bit and stumbled across the echoes for uncle archibald's legacy- it's an old (dated 2012) fallen london story that was only available to One Person as a reward for backing the original silver tree kickstarter, and it doesn't really have much beyond a few tidbits of seeing veils' perspective via red honey dreams. i think the most notable thing about it is that it was the original source for veils being the vake, way back before BaL was finished and that was all made very evident and very publicly accessible.

anyway. i say all of this because there is one (1) echo from this story that i'm mildly obsessed with:

divorce real.

[szilverer]

bleeding heart, stormy eyes, teethy smile. the clawed captain of the Starlight.

me: damn reisz might get another bout of depression after all this... the delight made the orphanage seem cute, they're feeling That Weight again, and worst of all, they're the type of person that could get addicted to the rose-coloured vision the shattered mask gives & want to live wearing it....

storm himself, god of the zee (??): gotchu fam. worry not. thunder euphoria be upon ye.

me, who only stopped by london to read letters: :0

man. it feels so good when rng gives me major character developments at the most fitting points... finally reached stormy-eyed for the first time right after my ghostie Finally started zailing around & begun getting enamored with the danger of piracy (due to all the explosions, the fire, the chase making them feel their heart beat i.e. feel alive. which is what they crave the most)

So! Evolution.

Evolution has not been treating them well and i love it so much for it lmao. In many aspects it has been like reliving Light Fingers which was. Mildly traumatizing by the end, yeah. I don't think saying goodbye to the Naturalist is gonna hurt as much, but they can't deny they started to care about the guy & they'll be affected by it.

I need to emphasize: Reisz is, deep down, incredibly lonely. Good ol' "lonely in a crowd" syndrome. Ever since LF they were left with a boosted sense of alienation, losing the (already little) ability they had to relate to the average londoner. It's not everyone who goes through something Like That after all. There's like 3 people they can talk about it but they only feel comfortable bothering one.

they foresaw this, ofc, it's exactly why they kept edward alive. alas it's not like escapism bullying him in the nightmare castle instead of going to veilgarden or a pub is gonna fix their alienation issues. prob made them worse actually.

So?? To meet a guy that's going through some fucked up otherworldly shit?? To feel like they're not the only one constantly tossed around by events beyond their control, someone that in in-game terms seems to be playing through an ambition. Someone they can relate to. This is important to them. This friendship– they like to think they're close enough to call it that at least, after all they've been through– is surprisingly important to them & they genuinely want to help this guy instead of feeling forced to do so.

Looking forward to see how this is gonna end 🤭

[yanderes-for-everyone]

Title: Side Characters Deserve Love Too

Status: Completed

Synopsis:

Geumja Kim is the biggest (and only) fan of Kyle du Vilteon, a side character in the fantasy novel King Maker. Her never-ending search for Kyle content is forever changed when she dies while rereading the book… and somehow awakens in Kyle’s bedroom to a new life within the novel’s pages! She is then shocked to learn that Kyle can also hear her thoughts—luckily, only if she thinks of his name. Still, there’s no time for this fangirl to daydream because Kyle is doomed to die. Can she save the apple of her eye... and in the process, become his? (Tapas)

My Thoughts (No Spoilers):

I love this one. It has a pretty classic premise, but the way it's executed makes it so fucking good. You get invested in almost every single character; you really like the characters you're supposed to like and you absolutely hate the ones you're supposed to hate lol (which imo is one of the most important factors to making a romance good)

The fl is absolutely obsessed with the ML (she channels the audience's energy lol). She's very funny and charismatic and is amazing at pulling people in. Watching her not give a fuck and be able to seamlessly bounce off of other people's energies is wildly entertaining.

The ML is equally great. He is suspicious of the fl at first (especially because he could read all of her pervy thoughts about him lol), but eventually warms up to her. I would say for the first arc he is mostly a Tsundere, but as the story progresses he becomes more unhinged (I will say that his jealousy and possessiveness are mostly played for laughs, but it definitely reaches yandere level imo.

Lastly, I think the author takes a unique spin on a pretty over done concept. We actually get to know how the Fl gets into the world and I think the lore gets to be pretty intresting.

Overall it's a pretty lighthearted read (mostly comedy), but I you like yandere's I think you'll be satisfied with Kyle.

Yandere Rating*:6.5/10

Overall Rating: 9/10

*meaning the yandere's intenseness

[thedeafprophet]

I said I wasn't doing evolution and I stand by that, but I clicked a post and saw Massive Spoilers and I'm just sitting here like "what."

[esteemed-excellency]

Hiram couldn't help anyone during the fall because he was too busy 1) clinging to the most stable building in his proximity, 2) desperately trying to sprint away from said building's collapse zone once its walls gave way, and 3) having the worst panic attack of his life after the ground sank beneath his feet. After that, he tried to return back home to his family but his entire street wasn't there anymore.

So, needless to say, Le Précipice de la Tombée is offering him some interesting possibilities, such as actually managing to know what to do. He wants to be better prepared for the next time disaster strikes. Or maybe, if he can play a great enough game, there won't be a next time.

[pruneunfair]

Women who deserve better, both in story and writting. *Spoiler warning*

Isabella de Mare

Shes who I think of when someone asks me which character has the most wasted potential. She's a horrible human being with no other qualities but that was fine because she was set up at first as this conniving mastermind behind it all, her whole monologe about not putting all your faith in men was pretty badass and she even knew Ceasre would fall out of love with her eventually, girl just wanted that power. Unfortunately authors didn't want her to be smarter or even as smart as the FL so they dumbed her down into a spoiled green tea bitch with a low intelligence stat.

Rhyse Sinclair

Honestly she's one of the better green tea women I've seen, I like that instead of her immediately trying to mess with Edith she's trying to be her friend and actually does a good job playing the role of the sweet saint while dropping hints of her new rotten nature. I think she was originally a sweet girl who wanted the best for Edith until the Author started to influence her more and more.

Iris Van Conrad

Correct me if I get something wrong cause i just started reading this one. While Iris is annoying and just the typical punching bag designed for the FL to basically say "I'm not like other girls." I kind of pity her, she's getting humiliated every which way. In the beginning the FL pours wine on her for insulting her dress and a comment said that was classy? That's literally the opposite of how to handle a situation with class, she's not hard to dislike but not hard to like either, I want to hope she'll become a real threat but it's unlikely

Rashta Ishka

Ah, the iconic Rashta and probably one of the most famous green tea bitches. This girl was done dirty by both the story and the writting. She's the anti-sue to Naviers Mary sue. She was a slave sold by her father, was taken advantage of by one of her masters and got pregnant, her child was then taken from her by her master and he gave her a dead baby he claimed was hers and that's only a slice of what she goes through.

Nobody really likes her, she's regarded as a stupid slave who barges in on the empress, Sovieshu happily takes advantage of her to try to make Navier jealous and her only friend is manipulating her into ruin, all while any chance at her being complex is destroyed by the writers who turn her from a smart grey character/Villainess to another wicked punching bag to be used as a stepping stone for Navier and Heinrey.

Aisha

Basically Rashta but even worse. She never succeeds in any of her plans or schemes and is always one step behind the girlboss protagonist Robelia. Aisha exists to be the "other girl" fans can make fun of. The moment the protagonist shows up, the ML (who I'd beg to differ is the sole conflict and not her) ditches her to be with Robelia now that's she's "interesting" leaving Aisha to basically throw childish tantrums as she fails to be better than the FL and worse yet, the writer justifies Alexandros cheating and is viewed as misunderstood while Aisha still a pick me concubine who's only personality is trying and failing to win over Alexandros.

Minthe

The only one who's not from a manhwa. Minthe is proof to me that no one on webtoon really cares if your a mistress just as long as your the protagonist. She is one of the few character in lore olympus written with acknowledged flaws and reasons to be upset, Hades gets in an emotional affair with Persephone and apparently she's evil for not sucking it up and being reasonably upset, she's often a victim of prejudice by the other characters and is literally called "nymph trash". Even the fans would ridicule her for being upset and getting in the way of the creepy ship between Hades and Persephone to the point of bodyshaming her and being overly happy when Persephone turned her into a plant. In the end Minthe gets a half-assed arc and leaves the story forever.

Diane Poitier

One of the other well written women in historical manhwas. She's treated pretty badly by everyone including her brother and the Emperor who she tries desperately to keep by her side and she wrongfully takes it out on the protagonist Adelheid but whats different between her and other concubines in other media, Diane was there before Adelheid so it gave a reason why she was defensive (not an excuse but a reason). Seeing her break down when Adelheid actually cared about her broke my heart and really showed just how little worth outside of the Emperor she really has for herself and makes some pretty nice character development for herself and died realizing she blamed her problems on the wrong person.

[silviakundera]

the 'big surprise' cdrama for me in 2023 that clearly didn't hit for anyone else but strangely I was all about it: Love You Seven Times

"This way, in the next life, and the life after that, you'll be able to find me."

"I may forget who I am, but I will never forget you again."

tbh 80% of the times I enjoy myself a xanxia but by the end I don't ship it. The couples torment each other too much and I emotionally disinvest. I started out already prepared to not care too much about the Love You Seven Times relationship, before one of them starts stabbing the other in the heart while marrying someone else. And then these bastards kept... not doing that? They sucked me in!

(Spoiler-heavy review)

When we are introduced to the 2 leads, they seem like your prototypical xanxia main characters. She's a super young cloud spirit. He's a jaded, cold & arrogant god of war who is impatient and derisive towards her hapless accidents & naivete.

But what's eventually revealed is that you aren't seeing the beginning of their story. These are actually the second incarnations of the essential characters - an immortal couple who are absolutely ride & die for each other, come hell or high water - and who cannot be kept apart or made to betray each other, no matter what tribulation they transmigrate into or how their memories are restricted.

We get:

* their original rom com to tragedy story, where they are wronged by the villian but never wrong each other

* a god arc [the story's bookend] where they are both missing their memories but come together again

(reborn as baby animals 🐯)

* mortal arc where she is transmigrated into a story and he is trapped in-character

* mortal arc where he transmigrated into a story and she is trapped in-character

* body swap mortal arc where they are both aware transmigrators

* demon realm arc where they are deep undercover and lie to each other while trusting implicitly

* a secret 8th thing, cause their love never dies

Usually the 'love trial'  arcs get a heavy fast forward from me. But here you have to invest or not watch at all. And I got interested because while per usual the mortal personas are Not Them... They then carry the collection of personas with them. Those experiences change them and actively linger. And the way the couple occupies these stories is fun - playing it straight, playing along, role swapping, cat demon petting...

This xanxia's lore says that the person's essence, the heart of them, is present deep-down: regardless of the outline proscribed by the Fate Book. And these guys are so very extra that they skew every trial they participate in. I liked how near the end, FL says do you know who I am? and ML lists all of her different identities she's carried. In Eternal Love, I was super annoyed by Ye Hua telling Bai Qian that I know you, you're Su Su. Sorry but to me Su Su has nothing in common with Bai Qian. But here, by the end, I did feel like all of those people are a part of FL and she feels that too.

"Who are you this time?"

For these two, I can believe it doesn't matter.

[neathbound-fiends]

A Spoiler-light Guide for Fallen London

A couple friends have recently started playing FL, or were curious about the game and setting, and I thought it would be handy to try and put together a little guide to the basic setting and lore that ground you into it, and. well. brevity is the soul of wit, but it is neither a virtue nor a friend of mine. So I figured I would post it for other people to enjoy as well!

I don’t really delve into the mechanics too deeply, and also avoid a lot of the really lore-heavy stuff (Ambitions, Parabola, the Railway, etc), and have kept it pretty narrowed on Fallen London in particular

If you see any glaring errors, let me know, and if you find it handy, consider giving it a reblog! Guide beneath cut

Fallen London is a text-based role-playing/interactive narrative browser game with gothic overtones, in the gaslamp fantasy and alternative history genres. There is art for icons for characters, for banners, and two different interactive maps, and social options with other players to help/hinder them in certain aspects, but the gameplay itself is entirely text-based and is single-player. The central conceit of Fallen London is as follows:

Forty years ago, in December of 1861, Prince Albert dies. In our timeline, his wife remains in mourning black for the rest of her life. In this timeline, however, she is approached by shadowy figures, referring to themselves only as the ''Masters of the Bazaar'', or occasionally simply the ''Masters''. They offer her back her husband's life, in exchange for one thing: the city of London. She accepts their terms, and in the beginning of 1862, the city disappears overnight, swallowed by a cloud of bats. London, now referred to as Fallen London by its inhabitants and much of the rest of the world, now resides quite cozily in a vast subterranean cavern referred to as the Neath. The above world is referred to simply as the Surface to any of the Neath's citizens

BASIC GEOGRAPHY OF FALLEN LONDON

The Neath itself is quite vast, enough so to contain an ocean of its own, and is located in rough proximity to a variety of interesting locations, which will be touched on further below. The city itself, referred to as the Fifth City, as it's the fifth to be swallowed into the Neath, has been rearranged terribly, with all the streets twisting and labyrinthine, leading to the Bazaar at the center of it, wherein the Masters conduct their business, and which is their main focus of power. Beneath the Fifth City lies the Fourth, beneath that the Third, the Second, the First. When a new City is stolen purchased, it is simply dropped atop the previous one, crushing it. There are remains of previous Cities to be found if one looks hard enough

The Fifth City itself is divided into various neighborhoods, each of which carries its own reputation, notable locations, and faction(s) it caters to. The main areas of the City are as follows:

These places, for the most part, correspond to the names of locations in their prelapsarian counterparts, but have had their names changed due to the outlawing of their continued use (along with the confiscation and ban on any former maps, or of the street signs that once made the City more traversable on the Surface.) Ladybones Road was once Marlyebone, Veilgarden was once Covent Garden, and so forth. Most of the new names are, roughly, analogous, or able to be parsed somewhat from their old ones

+Spite, a district which is known for its rookeries, its silk weavers, and primarily its Criminal elements, and housing Mahogany Hall, the notorious venue of magicians, stageplays, operas, and other forms of theatrical entertainment, the Orphanage, one of many but most notorious for something going on there, and Doubt Street, where the City's newspapers are printed

+Veilgarden, the Bohemian center of London, which is home to drug dens, brothels, bookstores, one of the most notorious pubs in all of London, and housing, on one end, the University (itself divided between Benthic and Summerset Colleges, which cater to any and everyone, including women and the infernal, and the much more posh and well-bred of Society, respectively)

+Ladybones Road, haunt of spies, Devils, and detectives, housing Moloch Street Station, which runs a direct train line to Hell, the Brass Embassy, Hell's Embassy in London, Concord Square, the base of the Constables, and the notorious home of the Honey-Addled Detective

+Wilmot's End, the true haunt of spies playing the Great Game, and housing little more than a large quantity of statues, memorials, etc, as well as the Foreign Office, an office catering to those with interests beyond London

+The Flit, knotted rope bridges and rickety platforms of scrap wood and metal, and the haunt of the orphan gangs, Revolutionaries, and housing the court of the mad beggar known as the Topsy King, and his ''court'' the Raggedy Men, used as a safe haven from the Constables who won't chase you that far

+Mrs. Plenty's Carnival, home to the City's carnival and a neutral ground in which to meet the major factions of the game (detailed further below), with the dangerous House of Mirrors, and housing Madame Shoshana's fortune telling tent

+Watchmaker's Hill, a haunt of no one in particular, and home to the Department of Menace Eradication, the base out of which the monster-hunters of all stripes take contracts, the notorious pub the Medusa's Head, run by a Criminal kingpin known as the Cheery Man, and an observatory which employs only the blind; the secret fight-rings, run by a self proclaimed Prince, are also operated out of here, though they take place in various locations across the City

+Wolfstack Docks, home to Zailors, dockworkers, and factory workers, and home to the notorious pub the Blind Helmsman, and a large quantity of the City's factories, as well as the offices of one of the Masters

+Bazaar Side-Streets, the crowded and elite establishments which cater to the well-heeled and well-connected enough to have earned a spot with such obscene rent, including a large number of social clubs, the most fearsome law firm in London, Baseborn & Fowlingpiece, Solicitors at Law, and other businesses which cater to Persons of Some Importance

+The Forgotten Quarter, ruins of the Fourth City which serve as the haunt of outcasts of all stripes, including Devils, Tomb Colonists, and Rubbery Men, and home to nothing but a Base Camp one can establish for expeditions and ruin diving, and the Temple Club, a mysterious club whose entry is nearly impossible to gain

+The Shuttered Palace, the home of Her Enduring Majesty, known most commonly and widely as the Traitor Empress, and the Court within caters to Society types, Constables, the Church, and those connected to the Duchess, and barred to anyone who's displeased the Empress or Prince Consort

BASIC ECOLOGY AND WEATHER

The Neath, due to the lack of sunlight, and owing to the nature of being a cavern, also lacks the majority of weather. It does maintain seasonality, somewhat, with the False-summer being exceptionally hot and humid, and also being the season for ''spore-fever'', when the majority of the fungal and mycological life sporulates, and is described as a City-wide allergy season. There is also a winter, in which the City is bitterly cold, and paths to lodgings are blocked by the ''snow'', an oddly textured slurry that smells of ammonia and is considered dangerous for the soul, and lasts about a month. The rest of the time, the weather is fairly consistent; a bit cold, often damp, with a tendency towards thick fog at the Docks, and along the edges of the City. Occasionally it drizzles lightly, and seldomly it will open in a violent downpour that matches the ferocity of a true rainstorm as one might encounter on the Surface

Due to the lack of sunlight necessary for most plant life, the Neath is primarily filled with species that have adapted to this. Algae blooms, insects with bioluminescence, and a vast array of mushrooms and other fungus which thrive in the dark and damp, and have been converted into all manner of commodity and service. Fabrics made of strange pelts, or woven from the silk of massive tarantulas, or feathers of the few birds that can be caught. Food made of all forms of insect, of zee-creature, of meat of questionable origin, of mushrooms turned into nearly any delicacy you can imagine. The people have adapted to the darkness as well, with an extensive use of candles, gas lamps, lanterns, and, rather sparingly due to the immense cost, electric lighting

NON-HUMAN CITIZENS

One of the changes in the animals of the Neath, aside from the physical changes which are adaptations to their new surroundings, are that cats and rats have both gained the miraculous (if obnoxious) gifts of speech and sentience. Cats guard the secrets of the City, and rats have formed their own industries and societies beneath the streets and in the forgotten corners of the City. They are granted some of the same rights as humans, though not fully. One of the former mayors of London, the very last one before the position was abolished, was a cat

In addition to rats and cats, the Neath also boasts several other species of nonhuman inhabitants imbued with sentience milling about. These are:

Clay Men, (note that not all are men), a species primarily created for the purpose of cheap labor. They do not require sustenance, can be repaired with mud, and are generally obedient. Those who are freed are free to pursue other avenues of employment, for themselves, though they are met with harsh backlash from the City, as well as their own kind. Unfinished Men, Clay Men who lack something physical or metaphysical, are often hunted for being dangerous. Notable Clay Men include Jasper and Frank, enforcers for the Masters, and the Familiar Footman

Rubbery Men, who are almost exclusively considered non-men, but are considered Rubbery. They are squid people, or at least something near to it, who are unable to speak human/humanoid languages, with a deep affinity for amber, and who are reviled by polite society, though they all appear to be incredibly mild mannered, and often skittish. They occupy an obscure and nigh inaccessible locale known as Flute Street. Notable Rubbery Men include the Tentacled Entrepreneur

Devils, who are discussed in more detail in a further section. Notable devils include the deviless Virginia, former Lord-Mayor of London

THE BASIC FACTIONS

There are twelve factions with whom you can gain Favors (used as a currency to spend using their connections for rewards), and Renown (a system ranking one's closeness to any given faction, and occasionally used as a check for certain options, and can grant special items upon reaching certain levels). There are also several additional factions that don't grant Favors/Renown, but are instead measured through Connected:, a level which you can spend points of like Favors but lacking in the special Renown items. The major factions of Fallen London are as follows:

THE UNTERZEE

+Bohemians: the artists of Fallen London, primarily through sculpture, paintings, written forms, and fashion. Known as being rather outre, and less than respectable. Often associated with criminal elements to a lesser degree, and with drugs, alcohol, and hedonism

+Constables: the law of Fallen London. They form the police force, and are often considered to be in the pocket of the Masters and the rich. They occupy Concord Square, run the prison of New Newgate, and have a large outpost in late game content

+Criminals: the organized crime of Fallen London. There are numerous heavy hitters once can back behind, running conflicting and overlapping enterprises, and in innumerable different varieties. The biggest names in the Fifth City's crime are the Cheery Man, the Gracious Widow, and the Topsy King, though it is difficult to cross any part of the city without encountering a Criminal

+Hell: the infernal denizens of the Neath, and frequent visitors to Fallen London, touched on in a later section

+Revolutionaries: the anarchists, the pamphlet-pushers, and the counter culture of Fallen London. They run contrary to the Masters, to the Constables, and to anyone else attempting to oppress them. Their influence is felt most in shadowy areas, though many of them can't agree what it is they should all be fighting for. Factions within, falling beneath different organizers and goals, leads to infighting--and bombs

+Rubbery Men: the tentacles outcasts of Fallen London, touched on briefly above

+Society: the wealthy, privileged elite of Fallen London. They are respectable upper crust, who are mostly old money (though some new), and who hold sway within the court of public opinion. Many of them are found in exclusive salons, or in the Empress's Court, and who frown upon any unseemly things (the impoverished, the outre, the daring, etc)

+The Church: the clergy of Fallen London. This is, very notably, the Anglican Church. They are opposite of Hell as a faction, and are generally regarded with a mixture of veneration and scorn, depending on one's opinion of ecclesiastical matters, and there is noted tension between the Bishop of St. Fiacre's and the Bishop of Southwark

+The Docks: the maritime workers of Fallen London. They are the stevedores, the zailors (discussed in the next session), the captains, and any other maritime occupation, and are mostly centered around Wolfstack. They are highly superstitious, and their favor is capricious with it. Many are known to, or suspected of, engaging in smuggling as they represent the connection to the Surface

+The Great Game: the spies of Fallen London. The Great Game represents powers from every country and every continent, and its agents and actors are often known for their ruthlessness with their fellow spies. They are often noted for using the game of chess as a motif, and perhaps as a more direct usage of their power

+Tomb-Colonists: the elderly, and the ugly of Fallen London. When one has gotten too old, or gained too many scars to be fit for polite society, they are exiled to the Tomb Colonies, a series of Quiet Cities which serve as a retirement community of sorts. Dusty and ancient, they are wrapped in bandages like mummies, and know the secrets of Cities past. The most famous Tomb Colony city is that of Venderbight

+Urchins: the orphans of Fallen London, who are commonly located between the roofs themselves and the Flit. They've formed several notable gangs, who wage warfare with eachother and against the people around them. The named gangs are the Regiment, the Knotted Sock, the Fisher-Kings, the Noughts, and the Crosses (the most bitter warfare is between the latter two)

Touching London, and the purpose of the Docks, is the Unterzee, often shortened to the Zee, a massive brackish lake originally explored by Dutch sailors, who gave it its name. Zailors, those who ply their trade on the water, are often given to dropping a nautical Z into their speech (though an overuse of this is a sure sign of a landlubber who's trying too hard). The Zee itself has numerous islands, and several ''continents'', as well as other landmarks and dangers within it. Pirates, brawling monks, and Devils are just some of the other people along the waters who will hinder your progress and pose a threat to the merchants and private vessels that plow through the dark waters of the Zee. Maps are notoriously useless in the Neath, but especially so when zailing; the geography occasionally opts to rearrange itself in a vast shifting of land, though it stays somewhat consistent as to allow experience to be a guide, and to help correct the inconsistencies

In the waters, some of the zee-beasts one might encounter include vicious seals with armored hide, massive crabs with a penchant for malice and murder, feral crocodiles, and massive icebergs that consume and destroy everything in their path. Some of the less hostile zee-life take the form of starfish with a massive eye on each of the arms, some type of aquatic life with beautiful rainbow fins, some horrible aquatic spider-adjacent creature that spits webs on you, and massive jellyfish. Also in the waters, neither animal nor human, are the Drownies, who are the victims of drownings and who are alive...sort of. They're drowned corpses, who are animate as much as any other person, but whose bodies tend to retain the dimples from being touched, who are always frigid and shivering (and complaining), and who are keen on drowning others to join them. They serve an entity known as the Fathom-king

Zee captains are the only way in which you can receive any goods from the Surface, as their heavy black cloth draped vessels navigate the canal that connects the two, at great expense. Fresh goods are prohibitively priced due to the cost involved in getting them down to the Neath, so only the wealthy enjoy anything that isn't native to the Neath

HELL

Not quite touching London, but near enough to the west to have grabbed London's attention, lies Hell. There is debate among theologians whether or not it's the Hell spoken of in the Bible, or some other region that contains some of the fanciful elements, and the Devils themselves are no help. London entered into a war with their infernal neighbors, intent on conquering them, and were defeated so terribly that the infamous Campaign of '68 still has scars on the surviving veterans and forced the City to make some concessions

Chief among these was the establishment of an Embassy in London, and a railway that runs back to Hell for any hardworking Devil to return home after a long day's work. Those who don't have apartment in the Embassy, and along Moloch Street are a number of establishments by and for the infernal, including Dante's Grill, and Abbadon and Bael (a trading company). The Embassy is also known for its extravagant masked balls, for its floors of molten brass, and for the thriving soul trade that runs through it

The nature of souls is also much debated. Souls are physical things that can be extracted, that can be sold, melted, consumed, or otherwise changed. The soul trade is strictly regulated through the Bazaar; Hell imports souls, and charges its Devils with, first and foremost, gathering them from the residents of London, and in exchange, Hell exports brass, hydrogen, devilbone, and other little odds and ends. Souls possess different qualities, and different flaws, which correspond to the appearance, as well as to the taste, of it. More experienced Devils are able (or at least claim to be able) to discern the person a soul came from just based on examination of it, and are regarded and referred to as sommeliers for this purpose. Living without a soul is perfectly manageable, though you may find yourself barred from certain well-respected establishments and persons, as they don't associate with the soulless

The Devils themselves are somewhat of an anomaly. They are not human, certainly, but they are quite humanlike. They eat, they sleep, they breathe. They possess eyes that range from shades of yellow to amber to dark orange or red, sharp teeth, and a faint but noticeable aroma of roses, rot, and brimstone. Despite persistent rumors, they don't actually have horns, nor do they have tails, but they are almost painfully hot to the touch, and their saliva and tears are both hot enough to burn

With a propensity towards law, they regulate their soul trade through the use of contracts, and can be terribly charming when they want to be. They appreciate art, they appreciate cuisine, they appreciate lavish and flashy lifestyles. They are all fake. Their affection and attentions only run so long as there is something to be gained. Their vengeance is patient, as they will inform you that the oldest among them are thousands of years old, that they will eclipse your lifespan by tens or hundreds of times. They are ruthlessly efficient, often hedonistic, and value the worst traits of people. To be beloved by the Devils is to be reviled by the upper echelons of Society, and one must be either foolish or reckless to seek their company

Just as there is regulated soul trade, there is also unregulated soul trade, which is referred to as spirifage. Spirifage, practiced by spirifers, are almost exclusively humans, who tend to steal the souls of the desperate and downtrodden in order to sell them directly to Hell for a better rate, as they're able to avoid all the tariffs and the red-tape that one encounters when going through the legal channels of the Bazaar. They often work for Hell, under the auspices of a Devil with questionable goals or needs, as anyone caught engaging in spirifage is severely punished, so as to prohibit the lucrative trade from being outside of the control they hold

One of the most notable things about the Devils, aside from their inhuman nature, is that they are also, undeniably, anachronistic. Fallen London takes place in the 1890s (perpetually. The current year is 1901 1899 III, due to a decree that the new century has been canceled indefinitely.) The Devils, however, possess fashion, technology, turns of phrases, tastes, and other features associated with the American 1920s. Their architecture and clothing are described as shockingly modern, from a time which has yet to pass, their music featuring a lot of brass, their accents thick (New Yorkers, the lot of them). The reasons behind this are rather lore-intensive, but this is worth noting (in my opinion) nonetheless

THE MASTERS

Up until now, I've been relatively vague regarding the Masters, and mentioning them but without actually explaining anything about them. They are massive cloaked figures, standing at 7+ feet, even hunched as they are, who speak in shrill voices and regulate the trade in London strictly. Despite the Parliament and the Queen, they are undeniably the ones in charge, though they tend to involve themselves mostly with infighting and legislation. The Masters, and their domains of trade, are as follows:

Some Masters are seen often, others rarely, and each, in addition to its own whims and personalities, also run various other enterprises. They range from stalls or shops in various parts of the City, to schemes with and against eachother, to factories and businesses. Regardless of one's feelings towards them, it is impossible to avoid some aspect of London which they have put their gloves hands on.

+Mr. Apples, who governs the trade over wood, fruits, breads, and immortality, among other things

+Mr. Cups, who governs the trade over tableware, crockery, relics, and clocks, and collects garbage interesting trinkets through its Relickers and their carts

+Mr. Fires, who governs the trade over gas, candles, and coal, as well as maintaining the majority of the factories along the Docks. It frequently dispatches the Neddy Men, their personal enforcers, as strikebreakers, and manages the dirigible systems

+Mr. Hearts, who governs the trade over meat, bones, organs, and other exotics

+Mr. Iron, who governs the trade over printing-presses, engines, tools, and weapons, among other entrepreneurial pursuits in the Zee

+Mr. Mirrors, who governs the trade over in glasswork, most notably mirrors and windows. It is rarely seen.

+Mr. Pages, who governs the trade over the written word, and also manages the Ministry of Public Decency, censors who confiscate offensive and dangerous materials from the public

+Mr. Spices, who governs the trade over honey, spices, and smokes, and is in vicious and contentious competition with Mr. Wines for control of dreams

+Mr. Stones, who governs the trade over minerals and gemstones of all varieties, as well as a preoccupation over "value" itself

+Mr. Veils, who governs the trade over cloth and clothing, and who resents the notion that it may be in charge of the ladies of the night attributed to it in zailor's songs

+Mr. Wines, who governs the trade over drinkables, ranging from wine, to medicine, to coffee, to other more sinister potables, and, curiously, excluding water. It is in charge of the prostitutes of the City, and is in contentious competition with Mr. Spices over the domain of dreams

Being that they are excessively large, cloaked head to toe, and speak in shrill whispers (aside from Mr. Iron, who never speaks, and only writes), the general consensus is they are inhuman, though no one is quite sure what they might be. It's unwise to be caught speculating. Their gender, also, seems to be iffy at best. No one seems to really think they consider themselves men; the title ''Mr.'' appears to be a formality

DEATH AND ITS FORMS

Death as a concept is something that is rather complicated in Fallen London, owing to the fact that it is, rarely, permanent. Most people have died at least once, some more than others (and some much more than others), but you wouldn't know it aside from perhaps a novel and dashing scar, or a story surrounding the circumstances of it.

Temporary death lands one on a slow boat in a river, headed by a skeletal man (known, quite simply, as the Boatman) who carefully steers away from the hungrier parts of the river and away from the banks. There are a number of ways for one to return to life, whether you choose to steal the breath of your fellow passengers, to play chess against the Boatman, or to think very, very hard about being alive again, or a few others

There is no consensus as to what exactly your body in the slow boat is, because your body--your real one, perhaps--is still located where it fell. People may rummage through your pockets, or do you a good turn and patch you up a bit, or drag you off to someplace less obtrusive until you return to it, but it is very much present wherever it was

Temporary death, the kind that is the most abundant by orders of magnitude, is achieved through a great number of means. One could die in the fight rings, or receive a fatal wound from an overzealous player of Knife-and-Candle, the boyish game of murder, or have caught the wrong end of Jack-of-Smiles--or, at least, one of his many incarnations; the ways to meet your end in Fallen London are many, and the consequences are generally negligible. Those who acquire too many deaths, and in so doing too much scarring, are exiled to the Tomb Colonies

Though inconvenient to die (it really doesn't feel good at all), it's regarded by the general populace as being no more inconvenient than a few bee stings, or other such troubling but trifling circumstances. Pain, and much of your day lost to attempting to recover, but little else otherwise

The biggest consequence of a death is that your first one guarantees you will belong to the Neath, forever. You will never again be able to return to the Surface, because contact with the sunlight will kill you permanently. This is also true, of course, if you have spent long enough in the Neath, but the timeline is hazy at best. No one can say for certain that it's been too long unless you attempt it, and that's a risk rarely actually taken beyond in one's daydreams. With a death, however, there is no longer any doubt about the situation. You know, for certain, that you have officially lost your chance, and that this is your new home, now and forever

As mentioned above, there are a few methods of permanent death. For example, there are a select few poisons capable of killing you permanently, though they're rare and expensive. You could be exposed to sunlight (and, in fact, some Tomb Colonists, when they feel they've lived long enough and are ready for it, will return to the Surface to allow themselves to be consigned to the sunlight and witness it one final time.) If you're chopped apart properly and dismembered, or sustain a few truly grievous injuries that destroy your body too terrible to render it repairable, you will be permanently dead

Permanent death is such a rare visitor to the Neath that there are often vigils held for the permanently dead before being interred, just to ensure there is truly no chance of their coming back. Surgeons pay citizens who are capable of lying quite still and can tolerate the pain to allow themselves to be cut open to demonstrate to their students