#light fingers

[thedeafprophet]

Clara: "why would you ever go along with that farce of a wedding!!???" Alex:

[shazzbaa]

NIGHTMARES IS INCREASING...

Samuel is dealing with the horrors just fine! hes fine. just needs a lil laudanum to take the edge off. Just a little, tiny, several bottles of laudanum,

wheezes and collapses HI HELLO I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED..... THIS!!!!.... I don't know what possessed me to make this out of pixels but im v pleased with how it came out!!

[Everyone has been extremely cool abt this!! but just to be sure: no Fallen London spoilers/suggestions/hints in tags, replies, etc. please! I'm still in the middle of some of the stories referenced here and I'm excited to discover it all for myself! ]

Nightmare sources referenced here:

A small, velvet-lined box from Light Fingers

The coiling spire bit from Light Fingers

Poor Edward from Light Fingers

I Shot the Albatross from the southern wind zee dreams

and of course, the Comtessa

At some point during Light Fingers I finally grabbed some laudanum to help with nightmares before some zee trip or other, and discovered that once you're Important, taking laudanum gives you "A Less Than Laudable Laudanum Habit" and that the initial, normal result is locked once your habit gets over level three. Naturally, I HAD TO KNOW.... WHAT HAPPENED AT OTHER LEVELS.....

I'd also decided to finally do the rest of the Watchful MYN at University, which I'd already heard about from several friends as a place where you are constantly going insane from the mundane stress of just, like, uncooperative witnesses while trying to solve a murder. The timing ended up perfect -- Samuel just coming back from the horrors of the Orphanage in Light Fingers and Trying To Be Normal And Hold Down A Normal Job For A Bit, and maybe just a lil laudanum to keep it together for class, and when withdrawal is ratcheting up everything, some annoyances like "can't find info for your murder investigation" might just tip you over the edge,

hilariously he hit level 8 on the laudanum habit -- helpfully labelled "a wretched slave to the hellish stuff" and the point where it stops working altogether -- IMMEDIATELY before running into a step of light fingers where you have to get rid of all your nightmares before you can proceed. HAHA OOPS.

ANYWAY HE STILL HAS IT BECAUSE IT TURNS OUT, IT TAKES A REALLY REALLY LONG TIME, TO KICK A LAUDANUM HABIT...... i, uh, dont recommend giving urself a laudanum addiction but narratively im having a great time lmao

[asleepinawell]

jasper and frank best comedian duo in the neath

[cardiacechoes]

Uh oh...

[mmelchor]

[the-ardent-dilettante]

Several weeks behind the trend! But uh. I was inspired to make this after recent Ambition events. What is anything involving Poor Edward if not a disaster?

[incorrectfallenlondonquotes]

BAL Player: [noticing a pocket watch] Hey, I had one just like that.

Light Fingers Player: Yeah, your dead body was buried with it.

BAL Player: You stole that off my dead body?

Light Fingers Player: Well, your dead body wasn't doing anything with it.

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Happy National (U.S.) Adoption Month!!!! Remember to stop by your local Orphanage today!

[jane-d-ankh-veos]

Having only one Fallen London account yet multiple OCs (for example, originating from Sunless Sea/Skies) may lead to that an Ambition ending is for another of them entirely. Or a Destiny. Or some significant story choice which my "main" character would never make – but it fits somebody else of them too well.

Is it the same for any other players, I wonder? Share your stories 👀

As a result, sometimes I simply imagine them having adventures all together. (Thank goodness I don't have Light Fingers, because two or three persons in a single coffin would be comical.)

[writ-in-violant]

In the opera-halls and honey-dens they're still settling on a name for her. The Fanciful Frenchwoman, perhaps; the Dignified Dilettante. Lady Celestine Lupin, she calls herself, and while nobody's sure she's really of high station, she carries herself like it and dresses well, so what's the point of arguing? In the alleys of Spite and the roofs of the Flit, though, among the criminals and some few of the devils, they use other names: Ciel, if they need a first name, or the Comely Cat-burglar, if they need a title. As for her opinions on those more secret names...well, she mostly smiles and waves off any questions. Although, she notes, she prefers weasels to cats, but that is less charmingly alliterative.

Celestine! She is most certainly not a lady, but with a nice enough dress and nice enough jewels and a good enough lie, who's to know? I pulled from some 1890s dresses for this outfit (although I'm rather downplaying the sleeves) and I'll tag for @neathyfashioncoalition, even though I want to do a more ornate Celestine outfit later.... well, we'll see.

Celestine's full background is below the cut, like with Blake.

Celestine lies about a lot, but she is in fact from France. She never knew her father, and her mother -- unable to care for the child alone -- dropped Celestine at a catholic orphanage, so her child would be raised right and Catholic even if they couldn't be raised by her.

That...didn't entirely work out. Celestine, even then, was drawn to feminine fashion and affectation in a way that was seen as ungodly; the orphanage was also underfunded and poorly-run. It was in short a shitty victorian-era Catholic orphanage, and Celestine was a troublesome young transgender girl. Celestine grew up painfully aware of the fact that the same people who treated her terribly went on to preach about kindness and charity from the pulpit, and firsthand experience of this hypocrisy led her to conclude from a young age that the world was cruel, virtues and morals are things used by the powerful to cover up their own crimes, and in the end the only person you could trust was yourself.

When she was an adolescent she stole several valuables from the parish attached to the orphanage and ran away, selling them and stealing more for money as she flitted from town from town, leaving whenever she started getting too close to getting caught. Eventually she ended up in England, which I'm willing to bet has somewhat lower scrutiny because their government is by and large underground, and set up her usual set of cons and thefts there. While there, she ended up falling in with a music-hall singer, Julianna, and the pair not only had a fling but helped each other pull off cons. Eventually Julianna and her sister Clarabelle went to try their luck in the Neath, and Celestine remained on the surface...for a time.

But when Julianna wrote of the Neath, of the ease of recreating yourself there and the riches that could be found...well. What thief wouldn't try to take the opportunity?

[geraldofallon]

Fallen London’s True Identities

William Holman Hunt as the Ginger-Haired Painter

[thedeafprophet]

I think Edward is cringefail at stalking actually. I think he does All Of That and still learns jackshit about the PC

[contrast-paradox]

The fact that I know

In character

Exactly how CoPa is going to accomplish this

:/

[asleepinawell]

has mr fires seen a cow up close I wonder? it should gaze into the big beautiful brown eyes of a cow and maybe then it'll calm down

[cardiacechoes]

Hey wait a minute. If the Recap says that the bottle I smashed was Moon Milk, and that causes obsession...

Did I poison Poor Edward into being obsessed with me? I just wanted to shiv him!

[angst-fairygodmother]

Darkened Hearts (The Umbrella Academy)

It’s been ten years of trying to move on. But when Reginald Hargreeves’ death sets off a snowball of events leading to the end of the world, you may as well throw in reuniting with an ex. But can Diego and Y/N set aside their difference and fix things, before the countdown ends and the world blows up the same way as their marriage?

CHAPTER 1: BAD IDEA

Word Count: 2293 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x (fem)Reader Warnings: Drug references, references to canon-typical violence, canon-typical language Rating: T Cross-posted to AO3: here

A Sequel to Light Fingers

There were still days when your bare ring finger felt wrong, naked and exposed, or like a piece was missing. Today was one of those days, and you wished you knew why, the foreboding in your stomach heavy and almost painful. But you forced yourself out of bed anyway, forced yourself to put on your uniform and go to work for a double-shift and pretend that everything was just fine. 

~

“Hey Y/N,” one of the busboys called from where the rest of the kitchen staff were all crowded around the small television set, “Hargreeves. Isn’t that your ex’s last name?”

You frowned, setting down the cup you had been drying off and joining them. 

“The explorer and intellectual, perhaps best known for his controversial adopted children, The Umbrella Academy, was found in his home after a complete heart failure and cardiac arrest,” the reporter continued, reading from a sheet of paper. 

“Well damn, who knew he even had one of those?” you muttered, watching the images flashing on the screen as the woman continued on cheerfully, describing Reginald’s various accolades, glossing over or ignoring entirely his flaws.

“Authorities pronounced him dead on the scene, and the world now watches with baited breath for what happens next? Will the estranged young superheroes return for their father’s funeral, and will any of them claim his place as patriarch and headmaster of the once-famed Academy?”

You wondered if you should call Diego. What would you say? He wouldn’t want your sympathy, if anything he’d be glad the man was dead. But it seemed crass to suggest getting a drink together, for old time’s sake, to celebrate. 

You shook your head, forcing your eyes from the staticy screen. Probably best to do nothing. 

~

An hour or so later, the doorbell chimed as someone came in, despite the fact that the door should have been locked.

“We’re closed,” you called, not looking up from your task refilling boxes of sugar packets. 

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called dramatically. “I thought you’d be here, you workaholic you.”

“Klaus?” you startled, looking up to stare at him as he sauntered in. “What are you doing here?”

“Well. I was on my way to dear old dad’s funeral. I’m sure you heard that he croaked. And I thought, hm. I should bring a plus one, and who better than my best friend in the whole world who used to be married to my brother til he was stupid enough to let you get away.”

“That’s a long winded way of saying you’re trying to cause trouble on purpose.”

“No. I’m saying, don’t you want to see Diego? You can offer him...comfort?”

“I can’t do that Klaus. Diego and I have to stay out of each other’s lives.”

“Why?” his voice took on a whiny quality. “You’re like the only person he’s ever actually liked. I’ve never seen Diego smile before. Or since. Just when you two were together.”

You felt your resolve wavering before you swallowed those emotions back down. “It’s like...heroin.”

“What?” 

You motioned for Klaus to take a seat on one of the stools across from you, already pouring him a cup of coffee from the pot the staff had made to get through cleanup. 

“When a person gives up heroin, it’s because they know they’re addicted. They need it and rely on it, and quitting is acknowledging that’s a problem. It’s not healthy or safe or good for you.”

“Diego wasn’t safe? Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him if he did.” Klaus’s brows knit together, studying your face carefully. Despite his usual peacefulness, something in the way he said it made you believe him, and it sent a chill through you. 

“No. That’s not...stay with me here okay, please? Even once you’ve acknowledged those things and given it up, it’s not gone just like that.” You snapped your fingers. “Right? You miss it, and mourn it, and...crave it. But you can’t give into that feeling. You can’t let yourself surrender. So whenever you feel that itch, that hunger and heartbreak gnawing at you and determined to leave a hole in your gut you...chew a piece of gum or whatever instead. To distract yourself.”

“You replaced my brother with gum?” his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “No. I mean there may have been an attempt to with the cute girl from--” you shook your head, interrupting yourself. “It’s a metaphor Klaus. The point is that you can’t go back to the heroin. You can’t call it and check up on it and see how it’s doing. Or go to its father’s funeral and offer your condolences. You can’t apologize or say you made a mistake and gave up the best thing in your life and that losing it was the worst pain you’ve ever felt and I know it’s my fault and can we please please start over and try again.” 

You were near tears and turned your back to your friend to try and hide them. 

“With this conversation? Absolutely. I’m confused.” His voice had a teasing lilt that grated in the wake of how serious you were trying to be.

You growled in frustration, turning sharply back to him. “Clearly using a drug metaphor with you was a bad idea. I thought it’d help you understand but you’ve never willingly quit one in your life.”

“Hey! I’ve gone to rehab…”

“By force or for the convenience of a bed. And stole pills from the nurses’ station usually.”

“You’re being very mean.”

“You can leave whenever you want.”

“He needs you, Y/N. Not that he’ll ever admit it.”

“Klaus, please…” you sighed, closing your eyes. When you opened them again, he was gone, empty coffee cup the only trace he’d been more than a figment of your imagination.

~

Diego knew it was all bullshit, most of what Luther ever said was, but he couldn't stop thinking about it anyway. "It was personal" "someone with a grudge." And his own conclusions that there were no signs of forced entry or struggle. Not many people had both motive and means to pull it off: Reginald's five remaining children, only three of whom were in town and able to get to the Academy; maybe Pogo, although he'd never seen anything to think the chimp thought less than the best of the old man; and her. His ex-wife hated his father, maybe even more than he did, for everything he had done, directly or indirectly. And she was an expert thief, if anyone could get in and out undetected it would be her. He wanted to believe the coroner's report, to believe that at the end of the day Reginald was human enough to die of something mundane. But even if he did, Number One never would, and Y/N would be the top of his suspect list.

It would almost be for the best if it was her, if the other options were his siblings. That's what he tried to tell himself anyway as he threw a dagger to land between the eyes of a looming water buffalo. For the split second between when the blade left his fingers to when it thunked into place, he even considered how easy it would be to point Number One in that direction and let him go. 

“Diego, please. I’ve told you this already, but I’ll keep saying it until you believe me,” her voice rang in his ears, one of the few, failed attempts to sit down and work things out. “I wouldn’t have been sad if your father had been caught in the crossfire. In fact I probably would have gotten a pinata with his face on it. But I swear. On my mother, on my brother, on my father’s grave. Luther was not supposed to be there. And I never wanted anyone to get hurt.” 

Back then, he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second. But now…something just didn’t feel right. He was still contemplating the theory, turning it over in his mind like he frequently turned a knife in his hand, spinning it to the tune of the music drifting through, when a sound like thunder crashed and the room went dark. All thought of his ex and his father’s death left his mind in a rush as he rushed out to the courtyard, following the direction of both the noise, and the metal which all seemed to be suddenly magnetized toward its adjoining walls. 

~

It had been a few hours, but Klaus's words still plagued you. In many ways, he was right. You missed Diego, more than you could find the words for or even wrap your thoughts around. You had just pushed those feelings down further and further, a dammed tide as resentment and time became a wall between you. But there were still floodgates, and the mechanisms might be rusted to hell but a little grease could open them, in theory.

This was a unique opportunity. And you were concerned about what the loss, and the reunion with his siblings, might be doing to his head. It was just the nice thing, the right thing, to try and reach out.

It was a flimsy excuse, but you let it carry you and played it over and over while you toyed with the end of a sleeve and dialed the number on the old, faded post-it.

You almost hung up on the first ring, sucking a deep breath through your nose and steeling yourself when no one answered. 

The phone kept ringing, and you were just about to give up entirely when a voice you half-recognized answered.

“Hello? Who is this?” they asked.

“Uh. Hi. I’m looking for Diego Hargreeves. I’m a...an old friend, and I heard about his father…”

“He already left. I don’t know if he’ll be back for you to leave a message.”

“Oh. That’s okay. Am I speaking to one of his siblings then?”

“Yes. This is Luther Hargreeves.”

‘Shit,’ you couldn’t help thinking. ‘Of course it would be the sibling you most wanted to avoid.’

“Oh. I...I’m sorry for your loss then. I won’t take up any more of your time…”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I...didn’t. I’m Y/N…”

“Y/N? As in--” you hung up the phone in a panic before he could finish his question and then sat, staring at the phone as if afraid it would, or daring it to, ring.

He had already left. He hated his father and that house. There was no reason to linger now, so he would have wasted no time. He was probably back at the Lion (you briefly considered calling there too, but Al was terrible at forwarding calls in the best times) or out on patrol.

You scrubbed your hands tiredly over your face and laughed bitterly at yourself. The whole idea had been so stupid.

~

Klaus rushed to follow his brother as he walked off. This day had been a laughable disaster, and it was probably a good thing that Y/N hadn't come after all. But he still wanted to do something. He missed happy Diego (he missed all of his siblings, Diego especially. Other than Ben, he had lost track of all of them a bit, or maybe more aptly lost himself. But this wasn't about him. It was about doing something good for once, and fixing Diego and Y/N's relationship, for them).

As he climbed into the back of the car over protest, he made a comment, something flippant and off-color and out of nowhere that he forgot as soon as it left his lips, and smiled when Diego cracked a smile in spite of himself. That was good, that was a start. 

They turned down dark side streets in silence while Klaus gnawed on a hang nail and tried to think.

“Hey, about what you said to Allison, the failed marriage thing,” he started suddenly.

“I don't want to talk about it Klaus,” Diego growled. “Just tell me where I'm dumping your ass so today can finally be over.”

“It's just…it felt like projection. And I'd know all about that. Do you want to talk about you and–”

“No Klaus, I just said I don't want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It's over. It's done.”

“But–” Klaus yelped as Diego turned a sharp corner and he was nearly knocked into Ben's spectral lap. He gritted his teeth as he sat back upright. The direct approach was out then, time for plan B, in this case standing for Breakfast. Or maybe it should be D for Diner? W for Waitress? 

Not long after, they were parked down by the water, Diego doing something that involved a lot of staring and brooding, which was not unusual, but left Klaus uncomfortably alone with his thoughts, which were not being very productive. The only remotely helpful thing he remembered thinking was that the diner would be closing soon, and if they didn’t get there, it would all be wasted, take two, and he wouldn’t get a third try.

Klaus heard the vague crackle of Diego's bootleg police scanner but decided not to pay much attention to it, since through the closed door he couldn’t hear what exactly was said.

“Diego, thank you for joining us, we have decided on…drumroll…” he tapped tapped a rough pattern on the back of his brother’s seat, “wwwaafflllles.”

“I’m gonna drop you off at the bus stop. I gotta get back to work.”

Klaus's heart sank. And then somehow sank again when Diego slipped his old mask on, a sure sign there was no chance of changing his mind.

So much for a reunion.