#the avaricious meddler

[the-avaricious-meddler]

I like this version better

[waterlogged-detective]

There's only two types of Imp: The Thing in the Attic (@the-avaricious-meddler) and Mountain Dew Baja Blast. There's no middle ground.

[the-avaricious-meddler]

Namkuzu is physically fine enough with cold- they've modified their body to handle most temperatures well. They're not a fan of it, though. They much prefer warmth. It's probably one of the reasons they like parabola, they enjoy the feeling of the sun on their skin, even if it's a cosmogone imitation.

Alana hates the cold. Hates it. Catch her bundled up in 70 coats when it's a bit chilly. She loves having a luxurious boat because it has!! Heating!!! And thick, warm blankets!!!! That's why she wears such covering clothing- she has no qualms about showing off her physique, it's just cold and miserable outside all the time.

Villanelle will tolerate the cold, as long as it's not too cold- but she doesn't just prefer the warm, she prefers the hot.

Rowan lives in a cold wet marsh and regularly travels to Stormbones for hunting. 'Nuff said.

Convo on discord made me think; how well does your fallen london OC react to the cold? Do they bundle up or try to brave it?

[voidilite-singulartis]

Take my cringe meme

[thedeafprophet]

Reel Against Your Body's Borders

for @the-avaricious-meddler for the @fallenlondonficswap. With the request for light fingers content and my knowledge of interests, I thought a Clarabelle POV fic with The Hybrid would be a good topic. Hope you enjoy, and happy 1899!

Summary: "Emotions came in swirling waves, crescendoing to sudden peaks of rage swirling in with sadness, to the indescribable feelings that tugged at her mind, before they crashed once more beneath the shore of the fatigue. Her mind had so often felt muddled, as if trying to recall a song that had not graced your ears in many moons - thoughts and feelings so familiar, yet the words kept escaping her grasp. "

In the aftermath of the impossible, Clarabelle has much still to reconcile.'

Words: 1,390

Author's Note: this fic is about Clarabelle following the birth of the hybrid. While I do not dive deep into the triggering elements within light fingers in explicit detail, there is obviously some allusions to the emotions of it all, as this fic is focused on Clara's thoughts and feelings. Please keep that in mind before reading.

Also on ao3!

Exhaustion.

Above all else - the conflicting emotions, the shuddering aches, the anxiety that hounded at every step she took - Clarabelle felt exhaustion. It weighed like an unwanted blanket, heavy and all consuming, threatening to weigh her down forever.

She was just so, so tired. 

She understood, of course, that it was to be expected; that it was reasonable to still be sluggish and disoriented. 

That did not make the frustration any easier to deal with. That did not dissuade the bubbling anger at this result that came from no plan of her own.

Emotions came in swirling waves, crescendoing to sudden peaks of rage swirling in with sadness, to the indescribable feelings that tugged at her mind, before they crashed once more beneath the shore of the fatigue. Her mind had so often felt muddled, as if trying to recall a song that had not graced your ears in many moons - thoughts and feelings so familiar, yet the words kept escaping her grasp. 

A sudden trill broke Clara from her thoughts, noise piercing through the otherwise silent tent. 

The baby hiccuped a sudden sob from within its glistening cradle; a cry that set Clara on edge, an unknowing anxiety pulsing through her. Whether that was basic instincts, or a sudden reminder, physical reminder of all that transpired, she didn’t know. 

Is that what a human baby sounded like? She had so little to compare to. It had been so long since she had been around a child to begin with, let alone ever planned to have one. It’d be a funny sort of irony against her long decree of being destined a childless spinster, if it didn't make her chest go tight and her palms sweaty. 

Dr Vaughan and the thief had done so, so much to help. Had done everything. More than she had ever got a chance to do herself. A bitter wave of resentment pulsed through her, of others left to make choices when she could not. Was she to be left languishing at the side, control and choice forever out of her grip, only to be pitied and judged for the matter?

She wanted to cry.

She was so tired of crying. 

As if sensing her own feelings, the infant began to cry in proper, a despondent wail, a screaming noise that gave clear indication of life. Look at me, it says, I’m alive. 

Clara pushed herself up from the bed, moving with great effort back towards the glim shaped cradle. She knew she could call on Dr Vaughan at any moment if need be, but no matter how the doctor would act otherwise, Clara knew she needed rest too. 

And some things, Clara wanted - no, needed - to be able to do herself.

Alone. Not with the concerned scientific gaze of Dr Vaughan over her shoulder. Not with the pitying, disgusted look of her sister. Not with the well meaning, fretting hands of Hephesta. She needed to do things herself. 

The swirling, fretting tune of her shifting emotions came on all the stronger, as she looked down at the squalling child, mandibles wriggling as it let out its keening cry. Being near it pulled at forgotten memories, of fears that still cling to her very being, heart racing with adrenaline she couldn’t place.  A fear that is only triumphed by the swell of anxiety that comes from being parted, that even being in a separate tent from the infant brings with it a swelling wave of threat. As if at any moment she would look and it would be gone, stolen away by all those who wanted to cultivate it. 

Clara leaned down to scoop up the swaddled infant, pulling it close to her chest. The moon silk protected its fragile casing, even as the child's swaddled segmented limbs tried to wriggle beneath it. Did the encasing of the swaddling calm it, as it was supposed to do to human infants? Where in that mind did the separation lie within, the call between man and monster. 

It needs a name, still. 

Isn't that what a parent is meant to do for their child? Give it a name, guide it through life, and then, somehow, let it go? 

She made a shushing motion at the babe, pulling it close and swaying as she could. She was so unsure about patting the back of the infant, on how to hold it, with its shell yet to grow in,the mottling of its skin,  half afeared that one wrong move would injure the child. 

She had heard Dr Vaughan speak, through the haze of delirium and exhaustion; of the weakness of its heart, the shallowness of its breath.  How weak and fragile her child was. She can’t even comprehend what it would do, to feel responsible for any harm that would befall it. 

It had seemed a simple plan, in the moment, to aim for a future where she could set it free. One step at a time, to look to the child before figuring what to do herself, as if that would keep the foreboding march of time at bay.

The reality of being here with the baby was a whole other. Alone, thoughts could swirl. Alone, she was left uncertain. 

She moved back to the bed, the infant in arms, exhaustion creeping up once more from the strain, every inch of her demanding rest despite the agitation of staying still. It was hardly the graceful movement she once had on stage, a question hanging in the air of if that return was ever possible. She stifled the creeping thoughts before they threatened to build.

The infant wiggles where it's held, the edge of its inhuman form peaking out through the wrap, glistening delicately in the single remaining lamp light. 

An arm under the babe, the other reaching to hold it steady, gently moving to cup its head. It coos in delight at the contact, nestling against Clara where she holds it. The clattering of its mandibles do nothing to change that oh-so human noise, as Clara’s heart feels like it might break into a million pieces, as if there was still something left to break. 

“Such a tiny little thing you are, hm?” She speaks softly, gently, whether for her sake or the child’s, she doesn’t know. “All that time the others spent on that crib, and you’d much rather be here, would you?” She bops it lightly on the nose, and though she didn’t believe the child could understand her, it giggled in delight. “I don’t blame you, I'm rather particular myself. Perhaps you’re set to follow in my footsteps. ”

Would the child take after her at all? Has it set to be cast in her shadow, as much as the thiefs, as much as the distant, sparkling world that loomed high above them. Part of her dreads it, the constant reminder of the way it came to the world. But oh, it was hers, wasn't it? No matter the origin, no matter who set this in motion. 

It had no say in any of this. Innocent, of any ties, of any knowledge. If it grows to think, its mind as human as the parts that make it up, what would it come to think of all that has transpired?  

What a burden placed upon the back of one so young. What an injustice, above all else, to have to bear the weight of that existence. So much suffering for its creation, all aiming to use it like a pawn.

No.

Her hold on the infant stayed firm. She would not let anyone harm the child. Never again, if it was the last thing she did. For her sake, for the infants, for all that may stand to be lost, and to make sure that all that had been done to her would never come to its fruition. 

It couldn’t.

There would be no profiting from this. No harm to her child, no cultivation from her pain. They could not use people as pawns and toss them away and come out on top. Not anymore, not ever again. She moves her arm slightly, holding her child close. If it senses her increasing emotions, it doesn't show it, nestling closer to her, eyes drifting back to sleep. 

“You’ll be safe, I promise.”

She will make it so. 

[neathyingenue]

thanks to @the-avaricious-meddler's journal i can now explain just a few reasons WHY this es is so bad!!! brought to you by my not-even-that-extensive knowledge of maya history (my dad is central american, i majored in spanish, and i spent a semester in mexico)--

(1) the jaguar is not a villain just because it's a carnivore! it's a symbol of power and beauty made even more poignant for indigenous people in the wake of the conquista!

(2) the lords of xibalba weren't seen as these great guys! in fact, the popol vuh, the mayan creation myth, features the heroes defeating the lords of death (xibalba) in a ball game!

(3) yes, there were ritual killings in the pre-conquista americas, but they were way rarer than colonial history would have you think. also like literally every culture has ritual killings, it doesn't make a culture inherently violent

(4) holy shit the idea of a deferential indigenous leader who turns out to want your blood is so pervasive in racist conquistador accounts (if you haven't read hernan cortes's journals, don't, they are disgusting) holy shit

tl;dr the es puts its own assumptions onto maya culture! like thinking jaguar=scary=bad, or existence of underworld gods=people worship those gods=people worship death=people are bloodthirsty, or colonial-era accounts of indigenous people=how it actually was back then. at best that's ethnocentric, at worst, it's white supremacist!!

(anyway i'm a sensitivity reader on the side so failbetter hmu if you want to do BETTER and not FAIL (ba doom shh) )

[the-avaricious-meddler]

Rowan was born pre-fall and is in her 60s-ish. Both Vil and Namkuzu are beyond human lifespan- however Namkuzu appears in their mid to late 30s, and Villanelle appears in her 40s-50s.

All my curator OCs are beyond human lifespan, as are The Violet/The Orchidous Regent, The Grey/The Spiraling Monarch, and The Tower of Ash and Graves.

Glaszen (Namkuzu's failed attempt to create an artificial fingerking) and The Forgotten Meddler (weird Irrigo clone) are younger than Namkuzu but still beyond human lifespan. The Forgotten Meddler resembles Namkuzu when they were about 40 (albeit as a silhouette). The Dream-Watching Showman is in his late 30s.

The Overworked Assistant/The Overworked Enforcer, one of the POV characters in you are loved by the city, is in his mid 50s.

And The Not-Drowned-Zailor (SSeas PC) was in his 40s when he became a drownie.

How many people here have ocs that are over the age of 30?

Doesn't have to be a PC, can be any character within the universe

[im-ej-arts]

first three of my bag a legend lineup! this i would like to affectionately call "doesn't matter if they're out of their prime they will kick a millennia old bat's ass"

more to come soon!

individuals:

rowan asher, the frigid-hearted professor, owned by @the-avaricious-meddler

samuel weatherbee, the laconic captain, owned by @house-of-mirrors

and finally; betty horvat, the bumbling pugilist, owned by me!

[toffee-biscuits]

Artfight piece for @the-avaricious-meddler! Why the [-----] face?

[artisanoftheredscience]

Incident Reports From An Unidentified Revolutionary

@fallenlondonficswap @the-avaricious-meddler

Hi Void! I'm the person who got you for the Secret Swap! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, so I hope you enjoy the fic! :) I've also posted it to A03, which you can find here. The fic will be under the cut. Enjoy!

Prompts Used: The Masters, Revolutionaries, Light Fingers related content, Games

Incident Report for March 18XX 

Writing this from an undisclosed location. Please destroy your copy of this once you’ve read it. Can’t afford to blow my cover. 

I’ve ingratiated myself into a Ministry’s internal affairs department. I won’t say which, for security reasons, but let’s say that it has provided me with much closer access to the Bazaar. I hope to study their movements and provide clearer information about the suspected activities of MF.  MF’s sudden interest in certain industries must mean something, though as of yet I cannot determine what. I am under the impression this may be an attempt to encroach on MSP’s territory- infighting, perhaps?  Given that MF and MSP have not been outwardly hostile before, I can only imagine there is more going on there. 

Infighting could be good for the cause, but I worry too much will destabilise London before we are ready to deal with the consequences. Total liberation cannot be achieved if half the city is obliterated by a tyrant’s temper tantrum. Again. Back to the usual reporting- today under the guise of delivering permits, I snuck into the back of one of MF’s processing plants and witnessed an unusual altercation. MP had apparently been visiting; abnormal behaviour, as MF and MP are not allies as far as we are aware. We may need to look into that- I will see if some recent censorship has MF’s grubby fingerprints on it. The Ministry of Public Decency has been used for governmental overreach by other Masters before. Perhaps MF needed something covered up. Then again, no such conversation was had. It was mostly pointless, unnecessary bickering. Perhaps the two have some dispute. I will have to ask those who keep a closer eye on MP if it has been acting strangely lately. Perhaps something to do with the printing presses? They are technically machines- MF may have some claim, whether real or imagined. That could be an interesting angle to work if we wanted to pit them against one another. 

Regardless, the conversation was mostly whispered, so I did not get a clear picture of what exactly they were arguing about. I have a feeling it may come in handy to get a better idea later.  I will have to ask around and see what I can find. 

I will report with more information later. For now, au revoir. May the month serve you well. 

Collected Notes on The Frigid-Hearted Professor

I have been hearing reports through a mutual associate that there has been reported engagement between MW and The Frigid-Hearted Professor (henceforth abbreviated Professor FH). Professor FH is not usually the type to become involved in any of MW’s ventures, which is why this stood out to me. 

His history is much easier to find than I would have expected. Respectable background, sudden and intense fall from grace alongside the fall from the Surface, a rocky history, a brief period of something resembling a normal life, and then he completely fell off the map. It’s a tale as old as time, down here. The Neath takes as much as it gives. In this case, it has definitely given more than it has taken. I will admit I feel a bit sorry for the poor fellow. I cannot imagine the isolation is doing him any favours. Well, I would feel sorry for him. He has been, according to various sources, buying up a great deal of Black Wing Absinthe. Which is likely not a good sign. I am not as familiar with the stuff, but I have a contact who has dealt with past Vake Hunters. They are… not the easiest people to get along with. Something about that one specific bounty drives people to lengths most would consider untenable. The reward money is a great deal of money, enough for most people to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, and for future generations to do so as well.  Still, I don’t think I believe that is what is drawing Professor FH to this particular hunt. From what little I’ve learned about him, I don’t think money is a particularly strong motivator. I mean, he lives in the Marshes. I can think of few places worse to live in than those awful, awful marshes. 

I digress. When I discovered the issue of the Black Wing Absinthe, I presumed that MW had been keeping an eye on his purchases and was perhaps monitoring the situation itself. Which would be unusual, but alcohol of all kinds does fall under its domain. Perhaps MW suspects some sort of illegal smuggling? Given Professor FH’s history of (admittedly petty) crime, that is not entirely unlikely, though I doubt it would have been enough to warrant such personal attention. MW is not the kind of Master to do its own work. It has servants for that. 

Perhaps some other plot of its has Professor FH as a key element? Who knows. It may very well simply have hired him for some sort of work. It would not be the first time for such things. Either way, I suggest we keep an eye on their interactions until we can know for certain. Whatever Professor FH and MW are getting up to, it could be troublesome. I would not like to have to work around the two of them if they were in league with one another. 

Either way, however, there’s nothing much I can do for now. I will send a follow-up if I learn more. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for May 18XX

I’m sending this letter more as a warning than a formal report. Please follow standard protocol with this missive once you’ve read it. 

MW and MSP are fighting again. It appears to be more viscous than their usual fare, which leads me to believe it will begin to bleed out across several areas of London. Commerce, at the very least, will likely be tense for some time. I’d also suggest informing any operatives working closely under/around either to take caution. Now seems like a very good time to get one’s head severed from their body for minor offences. MW and MSP were spotted in a small stretch of processing facilities in Spite; I believe there was disputed Ministry territory nearby, and they had come to sort something out, only to end up in a conflict. They left the area rather disturbed- I believe that factory will remain abandoned for some time. 

I managed to get close enough to record their conversation. Below is a transcription of their conversation. Read at your own risk. 

MW: We think you are being purposefully obstinate to get a rise out of Us, and We will not be falling for the bait. We have better things to do than feed into your delusions. MSP: I’m the delusional one? Me? You must have hit the bottle too hard today. I am being perfectly rational in my demands. 

MW: We will concede nothing! You have not won. You are the one insisting that We give up something that is rightfully Ours. 

MSP: You are such a sore loser. One would think with how often one has lost in all things, that you would have gotten used to it by now. MW: We are- no. We have already said our piece. You are pressing your luck. You always do this! You always insist on being covetous- first with your encroachment on our territory, and now with this petty dispute of yours. It is a bad look on you. MSP: You are just too frightened of facing the consequences of your own failings. I suppose I cannot have expected better from you of all people. Your own failings got you stuck down here, and you’d rather play at being allies than actually-

MW; We are done with this conversation! We have nothing else to say to the likes of you. If you wish to whine some more, we suggest finding someone who will care to listen, because it will not be us. 

MSP: You are running away with your tail between your legs! Again! Upset because I am right-

MW: Good day!

After this exchange, MW stormed off and MSP began to look a little twitchy, so I made the decision to get out of the building before it started on a rampage of its own. As you can see, something has definitely happened between the two of them. I am unsure as to what, but it spells terrible things for London’s immediate safety. I will report back with more information once I’ve determined what has caused such intense conflict.

May the month serve you well. 

Compiled Notes on The Avaricious Meddler 

Recently I’ve received reports of rumours involving supposed fighting between The Avaricious Meddler (henceforth abbreviated AM) and MF. This intrigued me, so I have decided to do some digging into the matter.

The first thing I ought to note is that it is extraordinarily hard to pin down a consistent history for AM. Frankly, I could not even tell you how old they are. It does not help that AM has a decent enough cover-identity that discovering what they are up to at any given moment is near impossible. Though, I do find that particular skill of theirs highly intriguing. Would that half the people I know were so good at blending in. We’d lose far less operatives, surely. 

Regardless, what I can tell you is that they appear to be causing MF a world of trouble. I have never seen MF so obviously irritated. Well, more so than usual. MF is always irritated. I cannot speak to what AM is doing to cause this- I have noticed one of MF’s usual henchmen, whose name I dread even abbreviating in case it summons him like an evil spirit, has been suspiciously active. Not in his usual ways- activity at the Docks has slowed down considerably. No, something else is going on there. I would bet both my arms that it has to do with AM’s sudden uptick in activity. Perhaps AM has stolen something? Foiled some plan? Skipped out on coal taxes one time too many? I will have to ask around some.

Perhaps I will ask around the University. There has been some kind of hubbub in those circles as of late. I cannot say for sure any of these facts are connected, but one never knows? In this line of work, I’d not rule anything out. 

And until I get confirmation on just what AM is planning, I will have to discreetly keep an eye out for them. I wonder if I can get into some of their usual haunts. I’m not one for the rooftops myself, but they have been spotted around Urchins a number of times. Maybe one of them will speak to me. That is all I have to share for now. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for June, 18XX

I witnessed today an encounter between MH and MV that may be another sign of the increased infighting between the various parties in London. 

MH and MV are not a pair I usually see in my observations. MH is not the most sociable of them, from what I have gathered, or at the very least keeps odd hours, and MV is volatile enough that most of the others avoid it. And yet there they were, outside a set of factories in Spite, conversing. If I did not see it with my own two eyes I would not have believed it. 

I immediately set myself up to continue observing. In Spite, pretending to be engrossed in the fabric market is an excellent way to keep oneself faded into the background. I did end up having to buy several yards of cheap linen, but it was worth it to get a sense of what they were talking about.

It seemed to be a rather heated argument of some kind. I couldn’t get enough of it to compile a transcript- MV speaks rather low at times- but the gist of it seemed to be about a debt to be repaid. Perhaps those rumours of MV’s struggling factories were not too far off. I ought to look into it. Another project for the list. Whatever the case may be, the reminder seemed to upset MV, worse than usual. MH was as jovial as ever, perhaps moreso. It must be owed a great deal. Or it delights in causing its companion grief. 

It said something further to its companion, and this seemed to be some sort of tipping point. MV got in extraordinarily close, and then it appeared to bite MH.  Admittedly I nearly blew my cover out of shock. I know that MV has never been the most sociable of the Bazaar, but I never in my life would have expected to see it bite another of its fold in public. It must be under a special sort of duress. 

Whatever this debt of its is, it must be causing a great deal of trouble. Perhaps we can use this. I will endeavour to find out what is going on so that we might use it to further our own goals. Until then, may the Month serve you well.

Incident Report for July, 18XX

I am going to quit this life and flee back to the Surface to raise goats in some far-flung mountain. 

I have been investigating the aforementioned incidents that have been plaguing London as of late. It’s tedious, stressful work, wading through records about trade and any odd rumours about their activities. It’s been a lot of work, but I hadn’t made much progress. Until today. I met up with someone who works rather closely with one of the Masters. They’re by no means a confidante, but they hear much more than the average Londoner. I chanced asking them about my research, and they looked rather tired for a moment. They then proceeded to explain that for the past several months, the Masters have all been at one another’s throats over a disagreement. I asked what kind, and after a long period of silence they explained that the Masters had, in a moment of unexpected levity, deigned to play a game of cards together. This had, apparently, gone horribly. As in, broken furniture, bones, and alliances horribly. Some of them are still not even speaking to each other. Every Ministry has felt the effects of their terrible moods. 

Hearing this admittedly made me want to slam my head through the table. Which means all of this infighting, all of these strange shadowy movements, all of the anxiety I have experienced in the past few months, all of it was because of a game of cards!? And not even one of the important ones!?

What a waste of time. Well, at least now we know what has been happening. Perhaps they will get over this petty squabble soon. Perhaps something new will have them all taking sides again, and the cycle will keep continuing until the next city falls on our heads. It doesn’t matter. All we can be sure of is that they will continue to be a problem until our plans succeed. 

I don't even know who will read this. My lines have been dead for weeks. I may be the only one left in this circle. No matter. I will keep doing my job. I will keep my eyes on the shadowed movements of our oppressive tyrants and my fingers in every plot to thwart them. For all of London’s sake, the show must go on. May the month serve you well. 

[the-avaricious-meddler]

Alizaben is 'close' with hell, in a sense- but they're not overly attached, using the devils as much as the devils are using them. Just another faction that can be courted and discarded as needed. They've been going through the 'intimate of devils' storyline for a good while now, but they're under no illusion of there being actual affection there. It's business with a satisfactory layer of pleasure.

We're always wanting to talk more about our OCs but it can be difficult to figure out where to start sometimes. Sitting on my porch, I got the idea to run a weekly prompt thing. So here we go!

Week of August 27: How does your oc feel about hell/the devils? How much interaction are they willing to do?

[the-avaricious-meddler]

Wretched thing

Equipment featured: Strange-Shore Parabola Suit Loomweavers Kingscale boots Nuncian pocketwatch

[waterlogged-detective]

Artfight attack towards @the-avaricious-meddler of their very normal character Namkuzu who is very normal. So normal.

[voidilite-singularis]

Finally making a pinned post

Hiya! I have blogs. I am blogs. Good day.

Mostly reblogs. Like 99%.

Art blog: @voidilite-singulartis Aroiis blog (unreality tw): @aroiisbelladonna Star Circuit bracket (unreality tw)(hiatus): @starcircuitultimatebracket Fallen London blog: @the-avaricious-meddler ClanGen challenge blog: @lotusclan-extended-universe

Artfight Toyhouse Ko-Fi Redbubble YouTube Itch.io

[maskofenigma]

(tags courtesy of @the-avaricious-meddler)

honestly kind of surpised i didnt pick up on this when i first write this!!!!!! but yeah absolutly these are motifs of corrupted love and the danger it brings. i daresay its the major subtextual conflict in Light Fingers, between the alien love of London held by Mr. Fires, anything to do with moon milk, and the genuine love between the protagonist and their allies and child (or the toxic love of wealth if thats how you roll). its also pointed that this is one of the places where you can learn about the bazaar's connection to love stories and the importance on the plot. tbh this has kinda reframed how i view Light Fingers, giving my favorite fallen london plotline even more significance. I dont know a ton about red honey or the presence of it in BaL, but i dont doubt its present here. maybe it could even extend to the stuff with the bazaar and the sun but idk im not there yet

further, you pointed out an area of analysis id totally forgotten. i may not know much, but i have been spoiled as to the Mr Wines aspect in BaL and that definitely factors in here, even if its more comradery than romance . so uh yeah thanks for pointing this out ^^

Fallen London's recurring topic of Love is really interesting to me as a sort of throughline between various stories and i want to ramble about discuss that briefly. i dont call it a theme because thematic statements are usually more complex than a single word, at least in my mind, but a lot of Fallen London's storylines incorporate love into their themes.

there's the obvious things ofc; the Manager and the King, the Duchess and the Canigaster, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, the Bazaar's whole situation. Love is a common motivator that many people can relate to, so it's no surprise that it appears in this capacity. Even so, these instances also underpin a lot of the setting's character, particularly the latter two examples, explaining why the neath is the way it is. but if we broaden our horizons just a bit, you can start to see it appearing all over the place (though maybe thats just confirmation bias lol).

the youthful naturalist loves discovery and life, and evolution in that context is a story about what one is willing to endure and sacrifice for that love. Love is a constant theme in the Light Fingers storyline, between moon milk and poor Edward, but also shows in Mr Fires's love for London (strange and deleterious though it may be) and the protagonist's love for either the Hybrid they protected or the diamond they'd been after. I don't know as much about the other ambitions (yet), but Nemesis is all about avenging a loved one by any means necessary, and you could see Bag a Legend as a love for the hunt or a love of fame, though even i’ll admit thats a bit of a stretch. Idk about Heart's Desire i’m still working on it but there's probably something. Its literally about what your heart desires but there’s absolutely a deeper connection with the Marvellous and stuff. No spoilers i'm still working on it :3

i dont know a ton about SMEN's story either, but i know from a ludonarrative perspective that it tests the players love for their character, forcing you to ruin this silly victorian who you are presumably quite attached to in the search for knowledge (perhaps another kind of love?) With what little i know of it, i’d honestly be shocked if there wasn’t anything there. if ao3 has taught me anything, there was definitely some kind of love going on between those two space bats, but im not sure if ao3 is a reputable source in this specific instance

The Flukes are literally sick with love for lost Axile, and a lot of the Masters are shown yearning to return to the High Wilderness. Many of the Irem Destinies regard love in this way, love for the sun, for the liberation, for ones partner, for london, for the people of the neath, and on and on. im not very far along with the railway but im 100% certain itll crop up again there, whether with Furnace Ancona or the Efficient Commissioner or the masters or whatever else. same goes for the Exceptional Stories and the myriad tales ive yet to unlock. Weve started to see a glimmer of it in firmament, with the imminent lucifer fire guy, but i wasnt really sure what his deal was. the idea extends to the other Sunless games from what i know, though ive yet to play those. Mask of the Rose is a romance, so thats pretty clear cut; sunless skies seems to have a lot of content relating to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; and sunless seas seems to have it present in a few storylines, though i couldnt point to anything specific at this time. even small things, such as the way that the railway steel seems drawn to Hell and the sorrowful properties of sphinxstone, makes for a setting that is inundated with longing and heartbreak in a fascinating way.

viewed through this lens, fallen london's perspective on love is tragically earnest: love is painful and unfair and yet so very necessary. as someone who's aromantic and a hater, i call that an L. but from a thematic perspective its very interesting how often this occurs and how it connects a lot of fallen london. In so many other narratives, love is a conclusion, a reward or climax. In fact, mass media seems allergic to depicting an active and healthy relationship, and instead relegates such matters to a single ceremonious kiss. But for fallen london, a game where kisses are currency and romance is taxed, the concept of love is afforded such an interesting amount of care and reverence. Fitting for a setting wherein the insisting incidents all relate to love in some way or another

it may be comedic and at times quite absurd, but fallen london to me is a game deeply concerned with love and its influence on people. and idk i think thats interesting. if you're looking for the theme or message of a given fallen london story, look to love, always.

does that count as a thesis? i certainly dont know

[thedeafprophet]

@the-avaricious-meddler I'm on my phone right now so perchance to the formating but yea! The whole concept of Laundry Day is a thing because Laundry quite literaly took a whole day. It was a whole process starting in the morning (usually done by the labour of women in the household) and was a major endeavor! There were varying chemicals invented and sold to aid with it in the 19th century, esp as commercialization rose. New technology came about to help with the manner, but a lot of it was done with a spoon and a big pot beating the fabric.

The concept of a clothing iron then was a literal piece of metal heated in hot coals that was used to dewrinkle clothes!

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