#London: Task

[fizzy-dizz]

I dont remember which component it was, but there was an exchange like this that made me giggle so i had to draw it out

Big boss and their goons

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Birthday to Fallen London; My favourite British people beefing it with bats simulator.

[lilynotdilly]

If I was to posture that Price & Gaz could double for Nightingale and Pete from the Rivers of London books, would any of you reprobates know what I was talking about?

[thegreatyin]

poor edward fallen london is awesome. what if there was a guy and you could put a collar and leash on him

[elliseleven]

Andy Zaltzman in the fortune cookie task

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

(and special guest) at the Headline Gala screening of "We Live In Time" during the 68th BFI London Film Festival.

(X)

[archerygun]

There really are two options for dying and becoming Jack Frost huh

[morethangodlovesthem]

I have a fitzier fic idea. I have it. Is it very good? Couldn’t say. Will it be sensible to the characters? Likely not. Will it give me something sweet and creative to do to fight against this latest wave of Big D Depression? Yeah. Yeah, I think it will.

[alexis-royce]

Anyway I wish I were being productive but here I am, writing steadily more unhinged Fallen London fanfic.

The ship tag for this one is. Well. It’s a combination of letters that will be new to the English language!

[3416]

watching people overhype easton cowan is driving me nuts. like he's doing so well, just leave him alone and cut the expectations, jfc. will never understand or respect the overinvestment in the teenage levels of this sport.

[peliginspeaks]

5 and 10 for hallowrove!! - @letheology

5. What is your OC's preferred self-endulgent snack?

Hallowrove's favourite food is a meat pie that can be eaten on the road, but if you asked them to indulge.... Any sort of honey-soaked pastry, especially if it also involves almonds. I haven't yet figured out if this is a thing they would've had in childhood or if they tried it in travel somewhere, but they are a big fan of that combination.

10. What is your OC's favorite stim?

He has lots! One of the most fun is letting Sneeve do a sort of ladder climb over his moving hands, usually while sitting and waiting for something (like the train). Other common one is spinning something between and across his fingers - like a coin, or a pen, or a knife, although the chances of that last one being interpreted as an unintentional threat keep it mostly out of public. Foot tapping is another really common one Hallowrove does, though I wouldn't call it a favourite so much as just a sign of boredom at best and unease or discomfort at worst.

[the-insouciant-scientist]

@fallenlondonficswap @oleworm For the general swap :-) I saw you'd like to read about Parabolan weirdness and Zailing and I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy! Downed and Drowned and Never Found Zee Captain and Zailor OCs, general rating, 1621 words.

The Judicious Boatswain’s knuckles went white as he gripped the railing. They were still zailing at a fast pace, headed back from the Khanate towards London with a heavy load of cargo, but… Would it be in time? He flinched hard as his Captain swept past him, his nerves having been frayed nearly to bleeding. “Captain, we need to talk. The crew is uneasy, and I hear there’s been talk of-” He called out to her back. She turned, and he regretted saying anything nigh-immediately. Her gaze was a thousand metre stare that cut into and through him like a scrimshander knife, eyes wide and empty. “Talk of what.” She said flatly. The Boatswain’s grip tightened a fraction further. “Nothing, Ma’am. Go rest. I’ll make sure it’s handled.”

The Captain did not move or breathe or blink for long enough that the Boatswain started to hold his own breath out of fear, but eventually she grunted in assent and turned her haunted gaze elsewhere. The hems of her coat dragged as she curled into herself and turned the corner, shambling out of sight. The Boatswain shivered. A young zailor ran past and he caught them by the arm, ignoring their cry of fear and surprise. “Find the First Mate and tell them they’re to act as Captain until we reach port. And for G-d’s sake, to make sure everyone gets extra rations. If the Quartermaster complains, tell him I said to shove it.” He ordered. The zailor nodded fretfully, gave a squeaked-out ‘yessir!’, and then bolted back in the direction they came from. The Boatswain sighed, shaking out the stiffness in his joints as he followed after his Captain. He already had a very good idea of what he would find, but it was nothing less than his duty to make sure. A knock went unanswered. So did a concerned greeting. Finally he steeled himself and shouldered the door open, one hand on his pistol just in case something went very badly. 

… As expected. The Captain’s quarters were entirely empty. No sign of her beyond a scattered pile of increasingly illegible papers, some old scratch marks at the corners of her windows, and a needlework prayer to Stone knocked to the floor. The Boatswain blanched and returned it to its place on the desk, unwilling to risk a zee-god’s anger on top of their already precarious situation. With luck, She’d be waiting for them in London once she recovered. —

Somewhere beyond the mirror, a form moved slowly through a jungle, gliding through the underbrush as easily as water. A wheel jutted from her spine, spokes spinning as she maneuvered. Steam and coalsmoke billowed from the corners of her mouth with every breath. “Call all hands to man the caps’n, see the cable floked down clear.” A tinny phonograph recording sang within her chest, keeping her on time. Capstan shanty. Raise the anchor. “Heave away an’ with a will boys, for ol’ London we will steer.” Her anchor lifted, bit by bit, and she picked up her pace as it no longer dragged behind her. Ships don’t have voices with which to sing, per se, but song has a way of coming through anyways. Her wooden boards creaked as she stooped under branches. “Rol-lin’ home, rollin’ home, rol-lin’ home across the zee.” The phonograph insisted, crackling softly. Her wheel spun as she turned gently to starboard. Home. Had to come home. No North Star to guide her down here, but her compass-heart knew the way all the same. As sure as Stone’s warmth. “Rollin home to dear Old London, rollin’ home, fair land, to thee.”

A rustling in the undergrowth had her shifting her stance onto her stern, movements slow but deliberate. A gun-arm was raised, and the soft glim-lamps of her eyes narrowed in focus. A tiger padded out from behind a tree, vegetation whispering against its fur. She lowered her weapons. No threat. “Well, aren’t you an interesting sight.” The tiger purred. When she didn’t respond or move, its tail flicked. “What are you doing out here?” “Heave away, you rollin’ king! Heave away, haul away! Haul away, oh hear me sing! We’re bound for London ci-ty.” Her phonograph played, a gentle static hiss clinging to some of the words. She swayed in an invisible current. “Ahh, I see.” It said, stretching languidly. She tilted her head, the ropes and lines of her hair pulling taut against their cleats. “I won’t keep you long, then. I wish you fair winds and following seas.” After a long moment, she nodded, a slow dip of her bow. The tiger disappeared back into the greenery without a sound. Smoke puffed from her mouth as she exhaled, angling herself port and starting on her slow, steady journey once more. Home. She was going home, as all ships do when a voyage is through. Her keel would keep her upright and true. She travelled like this for centuries or seconds until a familiar sight came into view. A mirror in an intricate frame, containing an image of a gas-lit hotel within. A sign that she was nearly home. Her bow breached the glass like a hand through water, and she passed through. The Devoted Captain took a deep breath as she pulled her coat taut around her. She paused for a moment, getting her bearings, when her eyes fell on the fountain in the middle of the lobby. Not the zee-water she craved, but water nonetheless. She trudged over and knelt by the edge of it, trailing a hand in it to bring some to her lips. She drank deeply, like this. Her throat felt like she had been smoking, perhaps, but she couldn’t recall why that would be. A tall and smiling man approached, and sat on the edge of the fountain next to her. She regarded him balefully. Interrupting my drink, she thought to herself. He leaned down to rest a bearded chin in one hand, tilting his head at her. “Are you here to check in? A wind of Fate in your sails has blown you right into my lobby, after all.” He said. The Captain just barely held back on telling him where he could shove his lobby. A sudden ripple of laughter through his shoulders anyways made her wonder if maybe she hadn’t thought that as quietly as she had meant to. She settled for staring at him while pointedly (and loudly) sipping at another handful of fountain-water. “Hm. Very well.” He sighed fondly. “Another red-sky morning, perhaps.” She wiped the extra water off her face with the back of one sleeve and snorted. “Doubt it.” She said, standing up and shaking the wet from her hands. “I’m leaving.” The Manager smiled even wider. “Fair winds, Capstan.” The Devoted Captain turned to him, brows furrowed. “Capstan?” “Hm? I believe that’s a part of a ship, or a variety of shanty pertaining to it. Isn’t it your job to know that, my dear?” He teased, eyes crinkling. “No, you… Urgh. You called me Capstan. The hell did you mean by that?” The Captain near-hissed. “I called you Captain, you must have misheard. Perhaps you have some zee-water in your ears?” The Manager insisted. She clenched her fists by her sides and took a very deep breath to keep herself from doing something very inadvisable, and then turned and stalked out the door. The Manager waved to her retreating form with an airy laugh. Ah, no matter. He’d convince her to stay eventually. —

Wolfstack Docks. Almost there. The Devoted Captain’s boots thunked heavily against wood as she scanned the piers for her ship. She broke into a run when she spotted it, a little worn around the edges but not much worse for wear from her absence. Her First Mate snapped to attention first, then the rest. “Cap’n! We were hoping we’d find you back here. We got all the crates from the Khanate unloaded already, but we’ve been waiting for you.” They said, clasping her hand in theirs to shake firmly. “I owe you all an apology. Things got bad at zee, and I am sorry about that. But right now, I want nothing more than to get back on board my ship. Anyone who needs shore leave can take it, but I…” She gazed hungrily at the deck. “I need to feel her boards under my boots again.” The Judicious Boatswain studied her, not unkindly, before laughing gently. “Well, don’t waste time on our account. Go say hello.” He said. Some level of tension eased in his shoulders as she grinned. The Devoted Captain hauled herself up onto her ship, forgoing the gangplank entirely. Once up she immediately took to running her hands over the railings, relishing the wood under her skin. She was home. More than that, she felt like she was whole again, like some part of her own body had clicked back into place with her return. Her crew returned a few at a time, mostly just trying to keep out of her way as she did her rounds. A good few were taking up her offer of shore leave, it seemed, but not so many that they couldn’t zail. The Fidgeting First Mate joined her at the wheel, hands clasped behind their back. “So where are we off to next, Captain?” She laughed. “How about the Court of the Wakeful Eye? It’s been a while since we’ve paid tribute, and with luck, Stone’s light will bless us as we pass.”

The First Mate inclined their head with a smile. “Sounds like a good enough idea to me.”

The Captain curled her fingers around the wheel, took a deep breath, and prepared to zail once more.

[thegreatyin]

Also is there anything like. A phone widget that shows FL actions or an API I could use to make such a thing? The games energy system being so small is bad for my brain but being able to ping myself when I'm nearly full would be better than checking all the time

Alas, there's not any widget that I know of! There might be an API for it- I know a few exist for FL, though I play almost exclusively on the mobile browser, so I wouldn't have any experience with that myself.

There's not really any advice I can give besides simply getting used to the action economy and how it operates. It's by far the game's biggest hurdle in terms of onboarding, and it's one of the many reasons why FL isn't a game for everyone. It may sound like a moot point, but in my experience, the best I can say is just accepting that you need to take your time- Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was the Scoundrel, and neither will your own FL blorbo. Checking in hourly or bi-hourly is kind of the ultimate strategy to success as far as FL is concerned. Embrace the ability to step back for awhile. The Neath will still be there when you come back.

[the-masterless-press]

betty's just trying to get a few warblers, chill

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

at the Headline Gala screening of "We Live In Time" during the 68th BFI London Film Festival — talking and flirting with his Flo cardboard cutout.

(X)

[dicketysplit]

i am going to do my Recycling. i am going to put away my Laundry. i am going to house my Snack Stocks. i am going to Shave. i am going to Wash My Hair. i am going to Eat Lunch. and then i am going the fuck Out