#the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel

[the-insouciant-scientist]

All your craft supplies are increasingly red and gold...

Jumping on the Manager Plush train, here's a crocheted doll of him for @thedeafprophet! Done with sport weight yarn and a 2mm hook, this little fellow took me almost two months to make (LOTS of trial and error), but I couldn't be prouder. He's very poseable, has the sweetest smile, and will absolutely watch you while you sleep. (I should know, he's been doing it to me ever since I gave him a face.)

Well, at least that's pretty accurate to canon!

Patterns used under the cut for anyone who's interested! Feel free to message me if you have questions, though, I freehanded quite a bit here but I'm very willing to share my notes. :-)

Main body pattern (minus head, which I freehanded) - https://boosty.to/olyaradost/posts/6a40dd5f-35b5-4c61-a7e2-cbf21b1bb468?share=post_link

Ears - https://www.oldbaycrochetrental.com/blog/2017/3/1/human-ear-crochet-pattern but sized down slightly, using sc's instead of dc and only doing 6st in the magic ring/4-5sc around (i forgor, just do as many as seems correct)

#fallen london #fallen london fanart #amigurumi #crochet #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #art #the scientist scribbles #the manager

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Here they all are! My Plushies for @thedeafprophet ! The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem, The Captivating Princess, and their tiny (yet delightful) OC, Jamie Awnings!!!

I made mistakes, I learned from those mistakes, and I now have hunger to make even more!!!

Pattern is from CholyKnight on Etsy!

#fallen london #fallen london ocs #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #may of the calander council #the captivating princess #plushie making #dye stained art #id in alt text #fallen london fanart

[thedeafprophet]

What Dreams Will Bring

“ You need to stay away from them. You're a danger.” The Manager's smile is gleaming. “Oh, my deepest apologies, I hadn't realized you were their keeper.” “That's not-” “Though I must say, if that's the case, you have been doing an utterly terrible job.”

'The dynamic between Alex and Jamie still exists on shakey foundations, but effort is still made between the two to try and restablish their friendship. The matter of a now mutual acquaintance however, is something they still cannot agree on.'

Word Count: Just below 4.8k

Category: Gen

Rating: Teen

Read here on ao3!

#ive been siting on these drawings for like a week and wanted to post them so here we go XD #i got tired of writing so it is done now o7 #fic time #fallen london #fallen london oc #my art #my writing #oc: alex #oc: jamie #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #fic

[zeebreezin]

…how did you even get this??? Give the man his hat back! The stats can’t be worth it!

Remember how I was supposed to be like figuring out how to draw this guy in my style. Well… I drew part of him? Partial credit.

#zeeposting #my art #fallen london #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #I really just wanted to render feathers tbh #for reference- it’s a combo of sparrow dove and raven feathers #bc those get referenced in the epic of Gilgamesh after the great flood #woo baby #lore and shit

[alexis-royce]

Shame the Academic doesn't like Parabola much. I imagine that's exactly what they'd see in the war against their reflection, right? The one that had the cards. It'd be so sad.

Their eyes are better, brighter. As The Academic stands before something that isn’t quite a lush dinner table, and almost is a looking-glass, the eyes of the person seated across from them are what The Academic notices first. The eyes and the brightness in them.

It’s only after that when they notice the second eye.

The second eye is a vivid green yellow: shapeling arts, no doubt. Such an easy fix, and both are protected behind tinted spectacles. It’s confusing, because the rest of this body does not match the gleam in the gaze. The cheeks are lean; belonging to someone who has been stepped on time and time again. The frame is thinner and the arms have less muscle-the reflection has been skipping meals- and their clothes belong at the university; lab coat stained with ink and whatever they’ve been too absent-minded to clean. This person clearly no longer lives at The Bazaar. They’re back in a townhouse, or-god forbid, some unfashionable remote address.

The reflection’s eyes aren’t meeting The Academic’s; instead, they’re responding with their own appraisal. They take in The Academic’s opulent garments with amazement, and The Academic begins to swell with pride. But as soon as their lip curls and a fang emerges, the reflection blanches; a wholly uncalled for spot of judgementallism. The claws cause them to turn away in disgust; scholarly curiosity sated, the answer repellent.

The hair on the back of The Academic’s neck is standing up, and their clenched throat easily climbs to a high-pitched, inhuman timbre.

“What. Have you suddenly drawn a line in the sand, you hypocrite?” Fists clench. “Wasn’t there some bit about removing the board from your own eye before commenting on the mote in your neighbor’s?” There’s nobody in this dream but the two Academics, and the feeling is decadence itself, unleashing the Curator voice without the robe.

Lesser beings on the chain can feel the danger standing before them when a Master speaks. Even before the claws and the neddy-men and the aerial attacks, a human body simply cannot argue with their betters-

In the mirror, a gloved hand reaches lips, and those lips laugh, and it’s horrible how beautiful the sound is. It couldn’t be heard when they were speaking timidly, but their voice is low and rich. It’s such an ordinary transformation, so terribly mundane in comparison. One needn’t rearrange organs or grow new ones or defy the chain, and the soft, gentle sound belongs in Veilgarden.

“My apologies.” Their face is far from pure; that’s contempt in the tilt of the brow, the pinching of the cheeks. But there’s a softness too. Pity.

The Academic can feel their chest tightening. Lungs shuddering.

“It really is quite a thing you’ve accomplished.” And there’s no irony, no smirk, just more of that bold-faced speech, as though the thoughts in their head need no massaging(messaging) or preparation before reaching another pair of ears. “I assume it’s not quite done yet, but it really is remarkable.”

The Academic’s knees are locked in place, spine rigid. If they loosened by the slightest fraction, something would give. “Thank you,” they push through gritted teeth, “it has come with lessons. They have been generous.” The push too much, and a vicious grin slips out: “Pages’ collection has been particularly enjoyable to peruse.”

The Academic’s pride is a dirigible, an Obliterator-class, looming and bold and another stifled bit of mirth escapes the lips of the reflection, and the hit explodes the ballonet. Would to god it were a precision strike; but it’s not Veils tittering and choosing an insult meant to chill. It’s not Pages, artfully striking in a way meant to wound and enrage and spur on revenge twofold. It’s just a sorry little human, one who spills anything on their mind, who shares precious truth and intel with the unwashed masses like so much spare change, tossed into an urchin’s sooty mitts.

“Those books must be interesting!” Two eyes, wide with scientific curiosity. “What have you learned about the stars?”

“Why, a fraction of everything, my good fellow!” The Academic grins and adjusts their monocle. “The sailing patterns of wings which catch solar winds! The secret laws of sunlight! The wisdom of minds which stretch back millennia!”

And they are lying, for the answer is nothing. The Academic has learned nothing from their ascent into a new form. The Masters are a bickering cluster of glorified bats, they are outcasts from their kind, the lowest of the low, tricked in turn by immortals and humans alike, turning on one another in desperation. The lessons they teach are vapid and empty and as cheap a payment as legally possible, as befits their spendthrift nature. The future they promise is cold, and however magnificently a human excels among his peers, a runt of a Curator will never, ever be accepted. There is a future with The Masters on their journey home; but once they arrive the loom of fate runs out of thread. It refuses to show another stitch. Perhaps a new exile with an unfamiliar cast of rejects. Will Cards even make it one city before it meets its end? Will it even get a well-burial, or is even that indignity too good for a glorified ape?

What has The Academic learned? They have seen the frozen space between spaces, the precious meaning in the space between meanings and hearts. They have charted portions of the Zee three hundred times over, stood at the very peak, and done battle on the Neath’s roof. They have put their hands on the loom of fate, tasted the futures available to London, and assisted a colleague in breaking the boundaries of the concept of death and fate in one strike.

But none of that required the assistance of The Masters.

“Breathtaking!” If the reflection senses a hint of untruth, there’s no sign of it. “I did want to know what you’d learned.”

The Academic’s hand rises to the clasp around their neck. Via the language of dreams, they could share their self-knowledge with the reflection. They could pass the robe through the mirror. Give the reflection a taste of what it turned down.

To consent, or to deny?

The reflection turns away. Beechwood is standing there, and things click. The Academic is The Academic who became Cards.

The reflection is The Academic who threw The Marvellous. They recognized the limit of The Masters’ abilities, that the buy-in was as more costly than the entire pot. Their eyes were open during that final, fateful(fatal) hand of the match, and rather than be blinded by another chance at victory, the reflection saw the desperate bid from Beechwood. The subtle signs from one brilliant scientist to another, the moment to turn the game around on The Masters, to play a much greater game.

If The Academic were to pass the robe through the glass, would the reflection pass Beechwood though? Would The Academic get to read a thread of fate where that mind had survived?

Hands quivering, they go to unclasp the lock, to step away from the scaffolding-

But the reflection has already turned away. “I did want to know what you’d learned. But I’ve already read those stories, myself.”

And The Academic realizes that they never really had a choice, the reflection is denying them, it was the reflection’s dream, and they return the smallest smile-

Before lunging headlong at the mirror, fists beating again and again onto the surface, shattering it, their reflection multiplying. One who had ascended to the top of the social order, a crown atop their head, and no respect withheld by the masses. Another was studying arctic ice flows, publishing papers on the surface, a vital link between two worlds. One stared The Masters down, paperwork in order. They shook hands with poets in Balmoral, and their Violant pen protected London with red law and legislative fury.

But that first reflection was in facet after facet. A broken glass zoetrope of sated curiosity, to pity, and ultimately, head turned away in indifference.

The Academic couldn’t hear their own voice but they were sure they were screaming, claws raking, straining to render those shards into powder, but something held them back- a hand on their shoulder and a cloying tone. A stovepipe hat and buttons that gleamed like eye- no, eyes that gleamed like buttons- wait, that wasn’t right either- coat flapping in the golden mean and an endless fractal of fingers curling, curling around and around The Academic’s arm-

“D__n!” The Academic swore. Their voice had wandered back, but it still felt far away. “Another reason why I hate this place.”

“Parabola isn’t all bad,” The Manager replied, “why, one meets the most charming people there.”

The Manager gave The Academic a friendly pat on the head, and even though the sun had set, it didn’t quite seem to be ending. They coughed up a volley of cards, the posterboard thwaking out a shuffle as all 54 hit the ground and scattered.

The Academic gave an ineffectual tug with their bound arm. Either the Manager was still holding onto it, or a very impermanent straight-jacket was crawling onto The Academic’s body. If they didn’t stare very closely at it, it was going to eat up The Academic’s hands, and then their arms, and The Royal Beth was a wretched place to go about armless.

Another pat on the head, too many fingers curling around the now ragged locks of hair, gripping and pulling the whole person away, “But we can’t have you harming yourself, now can we? It’s much better to disarm someone, especially when they can cause so much havoc with even one hand.”

#fallen london #the ex-disgraced academic #ocs #fallen London spoilers #had this in the drafts for a while #if I can manage to copy it cleanly maybe I’ll toss it up on AO3 #Nightmares have reached 8! #anyway thanks for the prompt anon it’s been on my mind for a while now #parabola #the Royal Bethlehem #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel

[j-a-m-e-s-s-i-l-v-e-r]

dear Fallen London fandom.

1. please, please stop erasing a canonically Chinese character by saying that the King with a Hundred Hearts is 100% Enkidu

2. for y'all who complain that May doesn't look middle eastern enough in Mask of the Rose cuz something something NO BEARD and BRIGHT EYES and SMOOTH HAIR and that he simply must be Black cuz in fact you don't care where Mesopotamia or any other foreign land is...... behold:

indigenous Assyrians whose hair is even straighter than his indigenous Chaldeans, no mandatory beards Kourosh Sadeghi - Iran Farhad Mosaffa - Iran Alexander Uloom - Iraq Omar Borkan Al Gala - Iraq Madiha Knyvany - Syria Enas Taleb - Iraq and some Insta dude

and anyway how dare his authors decide how to design their own character? unthinkable! /s

#Fallen London #Mask of the Rose #Failbetter Games #Asian erasure #PoC #Middle East #MotR #May #The Manager of the Royal Beth #The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel #The King with a Hundred Hearts #Heart's Desire

[geraldofallon]

Fallen London’s True Identities

Gilgamesh as The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel

#fallen london #my post #true identities #fallen london’s true identites #gilgamesh #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #merry gentleman #first city

[artisanoftheredscience]

In honor of a the Manager posting on my timeline lately (and getting a stylus finally): Dr. Stone's theory about the manager. Because he can never seem to recall his face but he does recall that fucking hat.

Image description in alt text.

#fallen london #ocposting #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #managerposting #art

[jane-d-ankh-veos]

If I would have turned the Handsome Townhouse into an Orphanage:

Governess: "Children, say your thanks to this kind soul who has given you a home"

Children: (bring little handmade Christmas cards)

Player character: "How adorable... And who is this together with me in your drawing?"

Children: "The mister who usually stands beside your bed when you sleep"

Player character: (slowly stops smiling)

The Merry Gentleman: (looking from behind their shoulder) "Awww..."

Player character: (shrieks)

#fallen london #failbetter games #manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #my OCs

[test-tubes-and-theatrics]

So, here have we, an entire page of insanity (and mostly nightmares.)!

I don't know how the fuck I want to draw the confounded The Merry Gentleman. Help he's invading my pages.

#🌊The Vehement Verdant #That's a Sun obsessed Captain going insane in a dream #📜The Vigilant Viper #Robin repeatedly topping off several bottles of the confounded Tincture and his Darkdrop Coffees #he's presently severely nightmare plagued. He's a point away from getting kidnapped. #🎬The Swindling Spieler #Robert was sent to a state of some confusion before Rob spontaneously tried gaining nightmares in Bob's absence. #Blame the Light Fingers ambition (I don't know what I'm getting into but I'm contemplating if I should pick THIS or Heart's Desire oops—) #[I picked Rob and Bob's Ambitions on a whim.] #It took me like—several damned days to return to London. #I kept purposely gaining Nightmares in spite of wanting to return. #CURSE YOU‚ MY ABILITY TO DESPERATELY TRY TO STAY IN CHARACTER! #I only managed to leave AFTER I berated The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel. #(Which I had complimented on their smooth running mere days ago. #That was also one of the reasons for the delay.) #I'd gotten free like—an evening before December strook. (striked?) #🛎️The Sojourning Bellhop #Theeen there's The Merry Gentleman tormenting my PCs. #As in—practically appearing when I least expect him and jumpscaring Rob and Syr. #(Syren drew this card straight after pushing an old lady out of a hansom cab‚ that's why they're in one #unfortunately I cannot draw one.) #Robin greeted The Merry Gentleman then #Unfortunately: high watchful. Result thar be Walls Incorrectly Placed. #Then the below doodle is a reference for myself so I didn't f_ck up the one for Robin. #Theennn the ones below are all updated or previous versions that I liked so I kept them but didn't bother to edit them in. #I like to pretend The Merry Gentleman is taller than Robin. #And Rob's the tallest FL OC I have (that is human.) so that says a handful. #The Merry Gentleman #The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel #eyestrain

[freefromlightandlaw]

My (belated) work for @fl-revs-appreciation!

For Dream and Reflection, who better than October, our nightmarish councilor?

Doubles and Ice made me think of January, with her two-faced mask and her study of the Discordance. I hc her as Mexican, so I took a little inspiration from calavera designs when drawing her mask. And that isn't a Discordance sigil on her forehead. >;)

Fear made me think of our dear Merry Gentleman and how most people would react to his habit of lurking behind their mirrors.

For Time, I chose December's pocket-watches. Important things tend to come in twelves, don't they? Twelve hours on a clock face, twelve months in the Calendar, twelve Masters of the Bazaar...

#fallen london #estelle draws #january of the calendar council #october of the calendar council #december of the calendar council #manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #he speaks

[the-insouciant-scientist]

I cannot in good conscience recommend you read ~800 words of Freud/May crackshipping, but let's be honest. Curiosity will be the death of all of us.

#happy april fools i hate everything about what i just wrote dkshjsbdks #maymo #fallen london #freudpocalypse 2024 #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #freudposting #a copy of your bazaarine tale

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

cannot find the related post, but i got the successful text for asking the manager to bring rain in the beth and oh ;-; him

#fl text #fallen london #may #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #HIM. THE FACT THAT HE STARTS CRYING. AUGH

[thedeafprophet]

@neathyingenue well The Manager probably has experience dealing with his own hair 😌, so it probably started from that XD

Stealing nightmares from properly groomed heada! This is a place of *refuge* after all, one must provide the needed care products :-)

#i wonder if the beth has a hotel spa #it should #the manager of the royal Bethlehem

[zeebreezin]

I do love Shaw because he has the incredibly rare trait (in my characters at least) of being mercilessly self aware, especially concerning his own emotions and like… why he does things? The problem is that knowing why he wants something or why he feels a certain way has literally never stopped him from doing anything ever. He’s gonna do it even though he knows it’s probably not a good plan and he’s gonna hate himself for it after. King of knowing he has a martyr complex and never changing bc he needs to Suffer actually.

Like why the hell would you get the red honey tattoo Shaw. Shaw you named your boat after your dead daughter. Shaw you’re obsessed with helping this one amnesiac to feel like you can help someone even a little bit. Shaw you’re still in love with your ex-wife despite them being so deep in a villain era and also Hating You. Shaw you’ve developed a mild sexual-hate fixation on the Hat Man because he’s the only person who can regularly make you take a break.

You’re aware this is all so bad for you and you’re changing nothing. My Dude.

#zeeposting #august shaw #I love him you understand. #b #vivian fitzpatrick #the manager of the royal bethlehem hotel #lenore shaw #in the blood #(un)loveable hand #detective duo #cuneiform curses

[the-masterless-press]

speaking of the royal bethlehem, do you think the guests and regulars know about the suite on top of the hotel?

like from the map you cant tell there is a suite there, but the card art is a bit different, implying that you could tell there is a special suite there?

art aside, how would they react to seeing someone descend form nowhere with no possible reason to stay at the royal beth? what if they become a regular at the bar? does the manager care? does the person living in this suite affect the rest of the hotel?

#fallen london #fl #the royal bethlehem hotel #would he care about betty (since she lives in the top suite) bringing dates or one night stands?