Lady Grey is one to dedicate herself with impressive stubbornness to the most disparate of activities, from cryptozoology to revolutionary causes, to game nights at the Blind Helmsman, to baking and occasional womanising.
Her distaste for polite society suggests a working class background, which would explain the chain of events that led her to inheriting her late husband’s title, as well as a tireless quest to avenge him. In doing so, however, she’s beginning to feel at home and build a new life for herself in the Neath.
Bellamy De Winter, the Charming Deserter
23- they/he- French-German
A dashing young fellow armed with an immaculate smile, Bellamy De Winter waltzes their way through London between piano recitals at Mahogany Hall, society soirees and less than legal activities that the Foreign Office of London should probably not know about.
Bell is easily bored and easily swayed with promises of freedom and excitement, which is usually bad news for someone in their line of work. So far they’ve gotten by with their charm and guile, but for how much longer?
You started me on bat HRT we are literally next-door neighbors in the same apartmentcrab don't try to pretend you thought you were just breaking into some rando's apartment
Finally got the itch to give Samuel some sort of ref thing so that I could mention the King of Tales and some of Sam's other circumstantial appearance quirks for artfight... I'm sure this could be neater but I'm actually pretty happy with how all the little pieces came out!!!
samuel makes only good decisions and also he definitely learns from them. he died in the law furnace 4 times
For folks who don't go here, this year's summer event in Fallen London involved the laws of reality getting overwritten (long story), so at one point we had to borrow the devils' Law Furnace (its a thing they have, don't worry about it) to forge new ones. After working at it for a bit, you'd catch a glimpse of Something Shiny inside the furnace -- there's a way to get it, but if you hadn't worked out the solution to this puzzle yet you'd only have the option to leave it there for now, or CLIMB INTO THE LAW FURNACE AND BE INSTANTLY DISINTEGRATED.
it turns out, for some reason, a lot of my friends saw an option that said "climb inside the furnace: this will disintegrate you and achieve nothing" and did not immediately click it,
samuel makes only good decisions and also he definitely learns from them. he died in the law furnace 4 times
For folks who don't go here, this year's summer event in Fallen London involved the laws of reality getting overwritten (long story), so at one point we had to borrow the devils' Law Furnace (its a thing they have, don't worry about it) to forge new ones. After working at it for a bit, you'd catch a glimpse of Something Shiny inside the furnace -- there's a way to get it, but if you hadn't worked out the solution to this puzzle yet you'd only have the option to leave it there for now, or CLIMB INTO THE LAW FURNACE AND BE INSTANTLY DISINTEGRATED.
it turns out, for some reason, a lot of my friends saw an option that said "climb inside the furnace: this will disintegrate you and achieve nothing" and did not immediately click it,
Creatures of Heaven reminder post: it can be read on Ao3 here.
It also exists as a comic! The comic is composed entirely from CC art assets and is very experimental graphically in a way that's been extremely fun.
Creatures of Heaven is a telling of the story of the Bazaar and the Sun, the rise and the fall. It's about language, truths spoken and not, autonomy and self, and something that may or may not be love.
Snippets of text and comic below as a sample!
Text from chapter 3:
How bright is the molten clay Earth, upon which His garden lays! On every journey, it is He the Messenger chases, but there are two lights in her vision. So small at His feet, yet wreathed in fire.
He is reading the words she carried bit by bit, word by word, His fingers tracing and pulling each layer of meaning from her skin. As He does so, her gaze repeatedly shifts to His planet. A fetter of light connects the two: a project such as this must be shaped and fired and shaped again.
“Such flames you give— has the land awoke?” The Messenger asks.
He is quiet. Then. “Yes. In its infancy, yes.”
“She shines as if a Daughter,” The Messenger continues. “A core of molten, a pyroclastic skin, and such life! Every layer of her lives.”
“No.” It is a firm word, one marked by the quiet around it as much as the word itself. “The fire will fade. The Garden will spread.”
“Is she not so blessed? She lives, you say. She burns. Life shall pour from her, fire-light eternal in her heart.”
“This is a table.”
“I see, My Lord.”
He corrects her often, for she knows little of the things He most wishes to discuss. But rarely has a correction felt so sharp.
(It was a very foolish thing to speak of. All life born comes from Him: That which creates is a tool, what which is created is His. This young-land is incomparable to a young star. This land will fade, grow, change.)
(But how the light burns.)
(He is giving it, so much of it, crowning clay with heat. Granting it. Divinity pouring down, His light flowing down, raising nothing into something.)
(Ah—)
(There we are.)
He has finished His reading. She still gazes out below from His lap. Her feet wriggle. “Messenger, what hides within your mind?”
“It is You, of course. It is your work. Once, this was rock. Now it is a dinnerplace. You have shaped something lowly into something of use. You have elevated—”
“All do this.”
His interruption quiets her. His face warns her she should be quiet. He does not make her be quiet, so she is not.
“I am jealous.”
“Of furniture?” It is a statement of jest with none of the levity.
“Of fire! Of flames!” Words well and spill. “You are the forge of all flesh, you are the eye which defines us all. You.”
“Yes.” Expectant.
For a moment she wishes to wrest herself away from Him. Pull back to the border of His kingdom, where He is nothing more than a distant bright spot. Then she could face Him, stare at all of Him, pretend they are comparable.
“What of me?”
“You? You know your place. You know your shape.” Then, with softness she despises, “You know The Chain.”
“Did the Earth know these things, before your embrace?” She speaks. The temptation to clatter her claws is one she works to overcome. “My place is among the dark, among the dusk-roads, among the night-beasts. The ice you cannot taste, the hungers you shall never hear. Yet you dance with me. You have stolen me already. You have given me such light.”
fallen london lets you send Fate to other players, which is good, but i wish i could send specific stuff. oh, you wanted to spend this Fate on action refreshes and useful items? too damn bad. youre getting Five Minutes to Midday and you're gonna like it
which OTHER ambition would you choose for your player character
bag a legend
heart's desire
light fingers
nemesis
Remaining time: 2 days 12 hours
i've been thinking a bit about nemesis for stanisław. what if his eldest daughter was murdered and he decided to abandon his family to go on a wild quest of revenge
areudirty
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
