#I wish I could have seen it in its heyday

[softboiledwonderland]

I'm rewatching The Librarians and I know everyone says S4 is the weakest season but like. it's perfect? It's literally art? Yes they went out on a limb a bit with some of the choices (not talking about the LITs arguing over who should be the Librarian, btw - of course they would! they had a whole episode about self-fulfilling prophecies! it makes so much sense in the context of the plot and their personal development), but! The last two episodes are perfect, just perfect, so genuine and heartfelt and earnest, everything I've loved about this show since the beginning, brought up to the next emotional level because hey - Eve carried the entire Library in her head and that's what saved it. And so did Flynn (Flynn!! Asylum Flynn broke me), and Jacob, and Cassandra, and Ezekiel! All of them are the heart of the Library, all of them are its keepers and its friends, they carry entire worlds in their heads and that's what saved the world! (I want to add something about Jenkins here too - I guess it's enough to say that none of them even wanted to stay on after what happened to him, of course he is its heart and keeper and friend too.)

That entire beginning of And the Trial of One, all dark and quiet and homey with Cassandra deciding to switch out the animal-cruelty stuff in the magic spell for tofu alternatives, hits so different knowing what's going to happen, and then there's that nightmare of a trial, and after that we step into that awful beige, mundane world without color or light or anything that means something, and Eve is trying to gather everyone and save them and slowly forgetting her home, everything that made her human instead of a shell, grasping at something that keeps slipping away like the memory of a dream… And Flynn!! Flynn who has been there for ages, and is still clinging to it! And the other three, who never forgot their dreams either!

And the writing, just the writing and the background music and the performances:

"You wonderful woman! You brought us all home." "You'll make me cry. I'm just a Guardian. Just doing my job." "No, you are the Guardian. You are my Guardian. Our Guardian." ;_;

"No, I gave everything I had to the Library, I gave it my love, I gave it my trust, and it took Jenkins! And I hate it!" (both Cass and I start sobbing here) "My best friend the sword, he taught me how to parry and thrust!" Flynn I love you so much <3

"We don't have to go home. We're already there."

I wouldn't say S4 is my favorite season, but in so many ways it's the most special one. Not because we say goodbye to the Library, but because the characters almost did - and then they brought it back, letting us know that it will always be there for us too.

[booksandabeer]

Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

CW: Brief discussion of possible self harm. No actual self harm took place.

oOo

"So, the thirsty birds are holding a party, huh?"

Lucifer wasn't certain which part of that statement to untangle first, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be too flattering for the Goetia. He picked up his woefully non-alcoholic drink, the direction of the conversation suddenly making him wish he didn't have a prior obligation later that day.

Vaggie gave Angel an unimpressed look, arms crossed. She had apparently caught on to the implications of Angel's statement as well. "There's no way you've been to one of their parties."

The spider demon made an affronted noise. "All the big boys and girls love a nasty sinner with a skill or two." Running a hand up one of his long, long legs, he purred, "And I have a skill or two."

It likely spoke to the level of exposure to the porn star she'd had that Charlie completely glossed over the not so hidden innuendo in that claim and instead focused on, "But the Goetia hate sinners. They complain about them every chance they get."

She turned to her father for confirmation, her brows furrowed. He nodded back in agreement. They did indeed complain about the violent and uncivilized manners of sinners whenever they thought Lucifer was listening, for all that they had long since given up on him doing anything about them.

Husk nodded in agreement. He'd likely seen all sorts of demons come through his casino in its heyday. Lucifer peered at the spider demon over the rim of his cup.

He wasn't about to contradict the Angel, though. Using sex to "tame a wild beast" was totally a thing that wasn't exclusive to the human imagination (and he hated that he knew that).

"Oh, sweetie, havent you heard?" Angel leaned forward, his grin downright fifty and his eyes knowing. "All cats are grey in the dark."

Vaggie's frown deepened. "That's not how that phrase is supposed to be used."

Charlie looked back and forth between them, missing something. "What is it supposed to mean?" Vaggie leaned over and whispered something in her ear, which caused Charlie to make a strangled noise. "That is a terrible thing to say about women!" She turned on Angel. "Who said such a terrible thing?"

Angel appeared to be pleased as punch. Without pause, he answered, "Benjamin Franklin."

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Angel took no offense to her response. "You thought I was just a pretty face, didn't you?" He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup like he wished it was something else. "I read, sometimes, and everyone knows about this guy." He leaned his chin on the heel of his palm, shooting Lucifer a leer. "And how could I resist reading about this guy joining some Order into kinky devil worshipping orgies?"

Lucifer took a sip of his drink, a grimace visible in every inch of his body. Not many human groups made an impression on him, but The Order of the Knights of St Francis had. Worse, they hadn't actually been trying, from what he could tell, which made the whole thing worse.

To his understanding, the Order were a bunch of rich dudes who liked some role play and fancied themselves a place they could go a little wild, whether it be at cards or sex. Mockery of religion aside, none of them had ever performed a ritual with the expectation it would work (which was a horrible waste of a sacrifice, in Lucifer's opinion). That was, until one of the members had gotten thier hands on a real grimoire and decided to fuck around and find out by attempting to summon the Devil.

Oftentimes, when humans played these little games, nothing happened. They often got the name wrong and the whole thing turned out to be a dud. Sometimes they got it right, but who they thought they were summoning turned out to be very different from who they ended up getting and that turned into its own can of worms.

And then there were the ones that got it right. Had all the right materials and said all the right words and BAM! Instant Lucifer, King of Hell, at their disposal.

It was tedious and annoying, but it was his only chance at catching a glimpse at Earth throughout the years. And not everyone wanted some depraved, unholy wish, so there was that.

The thing about the attending members of the Order of the Knights of St. Francis was they hadn't expected it to work. They were drunk and having fun. They had thought it was just as real as everything else they'd done up until then. So, when they'd found they'd summoned the actual Devil himself, no one had a clue what to do with him.

What followed was three days of a sliding scale between furious bickering and outright panic amongst the group. The spell said one of them had to ask for something and Lucifer had to grant it (if it were possible). Their heart's desire in exchange for their soul. Only, none of them wanted anything enough to sell their soul for. This might have gone on indefinitely, had not one of them finally stepped up and shouted, "I'd sell my soul any day to make my nagging wife disappear!"

Beyond done with the pompous idjits, Lucifer had accepted the deal. Since the man had failed to specify how exactly he wanted the poor woman to "disappear," Lucifer had simply sent her away to another continent with a portion of her husband's money and the hope she found a better life for herself.

The only good thing about the experience had been the food and wine. The Order had at least not skimped on any of their luxuries, he would give them that.

Placing his cup down on the bar, Lucifer pointed at the spider demon. "For the record, they didn't worship me."

Angel was delighted, as if he'd just been told he was getting everything he wanted for his birthday. "That's the part that wasn't true?!"

"Ooooookay," Charlie interrupted, trying to redirect the conversation back to its original topic. "I can't believe Octavia is turning eighteen. It seems like just yesterday Stolas and Stella were announcing her birth."

If Charlie thought time was going fast after 200 plus years, wait until she hit the thousands.

Nudging his cup over to Husk, who had (mostly) been giving him the silent treatment since Alastor changed his contract, Lucifer pushed away from the bar. "Well, I'm going to go start getting ready." He made an unenthused double thumps up. "Never can start too soon."

Angel raised his glass. "I'd drink to that."

Charlie placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" The offer to go with him was plain in her question, even if she didn't explicitly say it.

Lucifer covered her hand with his own, his expression softening into a real smile. "I'll be okay, Char-Char." He turned his face towards the ceiling, specifically the right most tower. "At the very least, this should be interesting."

Vaggie crossed her arms. "I still don't think Alastor going is a good idea." She had made no secret of this when he'd announced the ceremony and who his plus one would be.

Charlie's expression was a complicated mixture of thoughtfulness, concern, and guilt. Likely, she was worried about Alastor's motives and guilty she felt worried. It was times like these, where Lucifer could see her fighting with her instincts like this that he really wanted to strangle the sinner for how twisted up he'd already made Charlie with his manipulations. "I am surprised he wanted to go," she settled with. "It doesn't seem the kind of event he would want to go to."

Understatement. Nonetheless, at this stage, only the Radio Demon knew his true plans.

Charlie turned her full attention on her father and Lucifer was overtaken by a sense of foreboding. Sure enough, the next thing she asked of him - everything about her full of concern - was, "Dad, please look after him. None of them are as strong as Adam, but they are stronger than him."

This was what he'd been afraid of when he'd told her Alastor was coming. That Charlie would think for a moment that everyone in the room would be a threat to the sinner rather than the other way around. Lucifer sighed, ultimately unable to refuse his baby girl anything within his power. Sincerely, albeit grudgingly, he promised, "I'll make sure he gets home alive and in one piece."

Not that he had any plans of telling the redhead about such a promise. He'd milk the protection for all it was worth with gleeful sadism.

Charlie's brows smoothed out, her worries abated. It was touching that she still had that level of faith in him.

Holding tight to that warm feeling (he had the suspicion he was going to need it), he conjured a swirl of red smoke, which snaked around him as he transported himself up to the top most floor. Taking the stairs might have given his approach away and he was willing to admit he was in a bit of a mood. The moment he was fully corporeal, Lucifer threw open the door to Alastor's room without so much as a knock, shouting, "You better be decent, because I'm coming in!"

Alastor's bayou was dark, its ecosystem in its own time zone and independent of Hell's. It was only the fact that Lucifer didn't want to seem too interested in anything the sinner had created that stopped him from asking how closely it followed Earth's daily rotation. The sinner himself was seated within full view of the door, the rim of a small, white cup pressed to his lips. His spine and ears had gone ramrod straight at the intrusion. An equally white saucer and a pretty white and blue tea pot, that Lucifer pegged was likely picked out for the sinner by his friend Rosie, lay spread out on his little table for one. The scent of the drink was impossible to distinguish from the general scent of the bayou. 

Alastor relaxed upon recognizing him, swallowing his mouthful. Once his mouth was free, he said in a dismissive tone, "Ah, it's just you."

Lucifer strolled in like he owned the place (which he did, actually, and wasn't that something to come back to). A wave of his hand sent the door swinging shut behind him. Ignoring the insult, he said, "Grab anything you need. We're heading out."

Alastor's eyes narrowed at him. "There's still quite a bit of time before the ceremony begins." Pointedly, he took another sip of his drink, loudly slurping as he did. "And I'm busy at the moment."

The blonde remained unfazed. "Thanks to your little stunt yesterday, I have to put some thought into my outfit for once." He gestured to where the wound was currently hidden by the high neckline of his roll down. A pair of red eyes followed the movement, far too pleased despite the clear rebuke in Lucifer's words. "Your reputation might get boosted by our deal being ousted, but I'd rather not advertise it."

Alastor made a considering noise as he took another sip, although if he was pondering the effects to his reputation or the taste of his tea, it was impossible to say. He glanced at Lucifer, pointedly staring at his top. "Why not conjure something up like you did that sweater?"

"It's easier when the thing already exists," Lucifer explained, not that he needed to defend himself to this sinner. To demonstrate, he conjured a simple, base yellow rubber duck. "From there I can modify it-" he gave it a little white top hat, reminiscent of his own, "-Copy it-" a second duck appeared, exactly like the first one, "-Or merge them together." For his last magic trick, he slammed the two ducks together. When he opened them, a duck twice as big as either of the originals lay in his palms.

Alastor took on an unimpressed look of his own, raising an eyebrow at him. "So modify that silly outfit you usually wear."

Lucifer tries to imaging changing his usual outfit and finds the thought distasteful. He worked long and hard on that thing and he's quite pleased with it. "Hm, no. Doesn't fit the style."

The red headed sinner's other eyebrow joined it's twin. "'Style'?" His expression turned shrewd. "You mean that abhorrent circus theme is on purpose?"

Sticking his tongue out at Alastor may have been childish, but he didn't care. For extra effect, he lobbed his latest rubber ducky at the asshole's head.

A shadow darted out from behind the sinner, catching the object mere inches from Alastor's face. He narrowed his eyes at it, turning it this way and that. An unholy grin spread across his face was the all warning Lucifer had before the redhead's head seemed to come unhinged at the jaw, mouth opening unnaturally wide.

Wide enough, in fact, to drop the duck into it. Lucifer's hands flew to his mouth in horror at the poor thing's fate.

With a resounding snap Alastor's jaw came back together, the unmistakable sound of teeth going through rubber slicing through the room. Looking Lucifer dead in the eye, malicious glee plain for all to see in his gaze, Alastor spit the offensive thing out.

No less than fifteen individual pieces of rubber landed on the ground, some rolling off and disappearing into the bayou. It's little head, now split in two and missing it's hat, came to a stop near Lucifer's feet.

Lucifer was in disbelief. He couldn't believe this mangy sinner had the audacity to destroy one of his ducks. Heartfelt, he whispered, "You're a monster."

Alastor cackled. "Perhaps this outing might be fun after all." Leaning over, he poured out the rest of his drink. "The tea was off, anyway."

(Hidden behind his hands, the corner of Lucifer's mouth twitched, uncertain if it wanted to become a smile or a frown. Was it really bad tea or had it already begun?)

Lucifer glared at him as he approached, stepping around the pieces of rubber duckie death like one steps around dog excrement. When he was within arm's reach, Alastor held out his arm in a gentlemanly manner that belied every previous interaction they'd ever had. "Shall we, your Majesty?"

Lucifer eyed the limb like he expected it to turn into a snake and bite him, which seemed to amuse the sinner even more. Grudgingly, he reached out and took it, mostly because physical contact made it easier to transport a second person.

Alastor placed a hand over his, holding it in place. "And where are we headed on this fine morning?"

That was it, Lucifer definitely knew he was hamming it up just to annoy him. Returning Alastor's false honey sweet attitude with one of his own, red smoke began to swirl up around them. Before it took them completely, he quipped, "Down to the Lust Ring."

Alastor's expression as they rematerialized was priceless. One would think the Devil had just dragged this woeful sinner down to the true depths of Hell with the way Alastor was not thrilled with turn of events. It likely didn't help that they arrived to the soundtrack of overly loud wet smacking noises and moans.

Oh no, Lucifer thought, more for Alastor's sake than his own. He really hoped he hadn't picked a bad time. That would be the cherry on top of the sinner's expectations. He spun around towards the noise, relieved when he discovered they'd only interrupted a make out fest.

Lucifer tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better understanding of what he was seeing. His brother was seated at his desk, very into what he was doing, which was apparently making out with an imp. An imp wearing a jester's hat. An imp with very, very stretchy arms? Were those arms? Did imps have stretchy arms? He was fairly certain imps didn't have stretchy arms the last time he checked.

He might have gone on accidentally being a voyeur in favor of trying to work out this odd puzzle, had Alastor not decided he'd reached his limit on everything going on in front of them and cleared his throat.

Asmodeus and the imp paused, both opening an eye to peer at them. The imp glared at them. "Do you mind? We're busy." He frowned, looking at the door and then back at them. "Wait, how did you get in here? We definitely locked the door."

Asmodeus' reaction was much more hospitable. His face broke out into a wide smile, the little faces in his mane both showing joy. "Lucy!" Although his jumping up from his chair was abrupt, the imp anticipated it, altering his grip so he didn't take a tumble to the floor. His arms withdrew and moved around until he was situated comfortably on Asmodeus' shoulder.

Lucifer wondered how long that affair had been going on. Judging from the rather large painting that looked new, but not that new, it must have been for at least the last several months. He didn't have too long to contemplate it, as arms almost as long as he was tall scooped him up with all the ease of picking up a child.

Lucifer might have felt self conscious of this, if Ozzie-hugs weren't 100% worth the indignity. The sin's affections were like a ray of sunshine after a thunderstorm, and he couldn't help but soak it up like a wilted flower. "Hey, Ozzie," Lucifer said around a nuzzle to the side of his face. His new vantage point gave him a much closer view of Asmodeus' partner, who was patiently waiting out the exchange. "Who is this?"

The imp grinned at him, hands curling up under his chin and his feet kicking up behind him. "Name's Fizzarolli, but you can call me Fizz." The rock of his head caused the little bells on the end of his hat to jingle. "And you're the big boss himself."

Lucifer thought he had heard the name somewhere, but couldn't place it. It wasn't unusual for people to know of him, when he didn't know them, so he didn't think anything of it. Asmodeus, however, filled in some of the blanks by saying, "Fizz used to work for Mammon." The smile fell away for a scowl of pure distain. "That awful robot version of him is still at his Loo Loo Land monstrosity."

A light bulb went off. Even several years deep into his self imposed isolation, news of the fire that had broken out due to a fight between something called 'Robo Fizzarolli' and a park visitor had reached him. For weeks, all the servants could speak of was the Loo Loo Land scandal. Lucifer had gotten the impression it was mostly because of the destruction of the robot. The fuss didn't die down until it had been repaired, albeit only barely enough to function.

He studied the imp hanging off of Asmodeus' shoulder. His arms and legs not following the physical laws of nature aside, Fizzarolli was definitely not a robot. Which meant that Mammon had a robot created in his likeness.

Creepy. Par for the course with Mammon, but still creepy.

Asmodeus shifted Lucifer until he was holding his brother with a single arm. The little king, used to the treatment, shifted himself until he was sitting on the sin's arm rather than reclining on it. "We've been trying to get Mammon to get rid of it," Asmodeus went on, his hand now free to curl into a claw, joints cracking a sign of his frustration, "But you know how he can be with legalities."

Which was a roundabout way of saying that Mammon and legal practices barely on speaking terms. Usually, if it was something involving the other sins and anything to do with their rings, the personification of Greed would yield (very, very grudgingly). When it came to anything within his own ring, it was damn near impossible to gain any sort of traction for an argument. At that point, the only beings in existence he'd yield to were Lucifer and God.

Since one of those options was indefinitely AWOL, while the other had been in isolation, it was understandable that Mammon had grown too big for his breeches.

Perhaps it was because Asmodeus' good mood was so infectious. Perhaps it was because Asmodeus was over the moon for his partner. What ever it was, Lucifer found himself offering, "If you want it gone, I could speak to Mammon?"

Fizz looked both happy and a bit flummoxed that Hell's king had just volunteered to get involved with his case, but not like he was about to complain. Asmodeus' eyes turned to crescent moons, his smile was so big. "Lucy! You don't have to do that!"

Lucifer wasn't too bothered by the headache that was dealing with the Sin of Greed on his own turf. He waved off with a roll of the eyes and a huff of only slightly overexaggerated annoyance.

The surprise of their arrival and the pleasantries of their reunion over with, Asmodeus finally turned his attention to the fourth party in the room. "I see you brought company." The fallen angel turned sin circled Alastor, easily pegging him as a sinner. "And who is this pretty cat?"

The redhead's expression was bland, but Lucifer had known him long enough to pick out the calculating gleam in his eye. As Asmodeus was studying Alastor, Alastor was studying Asmodeus. "Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you." He didn't offer his hand, not caring that he might be possibly offending someone easily twice his size. His eyes flicked to Fizz. "I see all the gossip about you two was true."

Lucifer tensed, something about the tone suggesting that Alastor was testing the waters already, although he had no idea how.

Asmodeus merely laughed. "Oh! This cat has claws." He turned that mirth on Lucifer. "You always did like the feisty ones."

Lucifer hissed, even as he blushed. "Oh, no!" He waved his hands for emphasis. "No! Absolutely not! We are not a couple!" He shuddered at the mere thought. They were more likely to kill each other than ever like each other.

One of the Sin of Lust's eyes got wider than the other, his version of raising an eyebrow. Lucifer could already tell he had picked up on there being more to the story. "Oh?"

"I... He's..." Lucifer swallowed, suddenly floundering. His pride was still intact enough he adamantly didn't want to explain that he had had a nervous breakdown and in his moment of weakness, he'd agreed to bring this particular sinner along for support, which was a hilarious concept if one thought about it long enough.

As if to prove his point, Alastor suggested in a faux helpful tone, "An emotional support sinner?"

Lucifer flipped him off with both hands, although he suspected any effect it might have had on the sinner was lost due to the fact that the blonde was still seated in his little brother's arm like a small child. Something he had no doubt the red head was going to bring up at some point in the future, if the sly grin on his face was anything to go by.

Asmodeus and Fizzarolli shared a look. Lucifer refused to think about what totally erroneous conclusions they were jumping to. Thankfully, neither decided to share those conclusions with the class.

"Froggy," Asmodeus asked, voice full of warmth and mirth. "Could you show Lucy's stray cat to the refreshments while he and I chat?"

Alastor's ears flattened as his lips pulled away from his teeth into a sneer at the notion he belonged to anyone, let alone Lucifer.

Fizzarolli pecked his lover's check with a kiss, something Asmodeus responded to with a pleased purr. "Leave it to me." As he withdrew, Lucifer heard the faintest of a mechanical whirl suggesting his arms weren't flesh and blood. Upon touching the ground, the imp tried to wrap an arm around Alastor's shoulder, only for the sinner to side step him. Fizz's lips twisted down into a frown. "What's the matter? Don't like imps?"

Alastor stared down his nose at him. Fizzarolli, like most imps, was closer to a living human's height making it easier to do so. "Make no mistake, I dislike imps as much as I dislike everyone." He lifted his staff like a barrier between them. "Touch me, though, and we'll both find out how much that changes."

Instead of being daunted by the threat, Fizzarolli just placed a hand on his hip and snorted. "You're a snippy one." He walked past the red head, just barely brushing up against the tailored coat in a way that had to be deliberate. "Come on, there's some drinks and candy over here."

Alastor followed after him, his expression suggesting he was more likely to attempt to eat the imp then he was to accept anything offered to him. Lucifer suddenly wondered if it was a good idea to leave them alone with each other. He really didn't want to explain to Charlie that Alastor had gotten himself killed because he eaten the Sin of Lust's lover.

Asmodeus watched them go with a chuckle. "Where did you find that alley cat?"

Lucifer guffawed at the description, unable to help himself. He covered his mouth with his hand as the noise caused Alastor's ears to swerve around to follow the noise. He waited until Fizzarolli had his attention back before saying, "Oh, heh, yeah no. Alastor may be a tease and all touchy feely-" Lucifer wagged his fingers and pulled a face at how territorial the sinner could be, "-But I don't think he's got a promiscuous bone in his body." He paused to think about it, looking at the redhead in question. "I really don't think he's one of yours."

No, Alastor's ego and pride made him all Lucifer's. Joy.

Fizzarolli held out a bowl of multicolored candies, all shaped like mouths and penises. Alastor's eyes went red on black, a shadow darting out, grabbing hold of the bowl, and then tossing it's contents into the nearby fire. Fizzarolli sputtered over the waste.

It was hard to tell where Asmodeus was focused sometimes, him lacking any pupils. "Asexual?"

Lucifer thought about what Rosie had said, about Alastor 'drawing aces.' "Maybe. His friend certainly seems to think so," he said thoughtfully. He turned back to Asmodeus. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Asmodeus laughed at him. "They've been calling it that for almost a hundred and thirty years, Lucy!" He moved them closer to the heart shaped wall to floor window behind his desk to give them more privacy. "But I have a feeling you're not here to gossip about a sinner's lack of a love life."

"Ew, no." The older fallen angel shuddered. "And who says I need anything?" Lucifer put on his best bullshitting smile. "Maybe I just wanted to hang out with my favorite little brother."

Asmodeus laughed at him like he thought that was cute, not buying it for a moment. "Flattery will get you everything, except out of answering my question." He jostled his brother. "Out with it."

Lucifer signed. "Fine, fine." He crossed his arms. "I've come to ask the great and powerful Asmodeus for some fashion advice." He picked at his sweater, a slight whine in his voice as he added, "My normal top won't cut it tonight."

There was a twinkle in Asmodeus' eyes. "Oh? You love that outfit! What's wrong with it?"

Lucifer felt wary, like he was walking into a trap. "I need something with a higher collar."

Asmodeus' expression was the kind only a little sibling scenting possibly embarrassing blackmail material they could use against their other older sibling could make. "Lucy! And here I thought you weren't the type to let a hickey linger."

Lucifer stared, uncomprehending. Wait what? Suddenly, he realized how all of this sounded. Horrified, he shoved at Asmodeus' face, even as the sin cackled. "Stop that! It's not like that!" He attempted to struggle out of his little brother's grasp, but Asmodeus was near enough his equal and several times his size to make that difficult. "Wait, don't--!"

He never stood a chance. Asmodeus had managed to get a single finger hooked under Lucifer's collar, pulling the fabric down.

Both of them froze, Lucifer's breathe catching in his lungs. The wound had completely closed up by the time morning had come around again, allowing Lucifer to remove the butterfly stitches and bandage. The skin was still tender and would remain so for another day or two, when it would finally move into the scarring stages. With Asmodeus' knowledge of how quickly injuries healed on seraphim, it was impossible he wouldn't have guessed it had happened recently.

Lucifer transformed into a snake, slithering out and dropping down from his brother's hold. He reappeared in normal form a meter from the window, arms wrapped around his arms. Asmodeus reached for him, stopping without touching him. Lucifer felt horrible for how grateful he was that he hadn't.

He could hear the concern plain as day in Asmodeus' tone, underneath it a promise of violence if needed, as he inquired, "What happened?"

Lucifer wanted to lie and say that it had happened during one of the attacks on the hotel. To broadly claim someone had gotten too close without saying when. It would have even been true, if one ignored which injury belonged to which incident. His hand couldn't give him away either, as the scar had long since disappeared.

The issue was that Lucifer could count the amount of times he been able to lie to Asmodeus on one hand. King of Lies or not, his brother had always been able to see right through him, the truth practically illuminated over his head in bright flashing lights. The lie would most certainly be caught out almost immediately. The thought of telling the truth, however, threatened to close up his windpipe. His pride refused to allow it.

Unable to tell a lie and just as unable to tell the truth, Lucifer stared back at him wordlessly.

Asmodeus studied him: his posture and body language all telling it's own story. "Lucy, I have to ask." Carefully, gently, almost regretful that he had to ask: "Did you do this to yourself?"

At first the contents of the question didn't register. All Lucifer picked up on was that fact that Asmodeus had spoken to him in Enochian. There were so few people in Hell that spoke their mother tongue it was rare to hear someone else speak it. There was likely only eight beings in Hell that even could, those being the sins, himself, and Vaggie. Lilith and Charlie understood it when he spoke to them in it, but only Charlie could speak it back to him. He didn't think he'd heard her use it since childhood, though. It was even possible that Vaggie had no idea her partner knew the language, if she had been trying so very hard not to let slip she was an angel.

And then the words themselves hit like a sucker punch. Anger, a defensive response, rose bitter and sour in his chest. "No," he vehemently denied. "No," he said again, calmer. "I know my... mood," the word tasted wrong on his lips, too light for the darkness of his depression, "Has been pretty low for a while now, but no." HIs hands tightened around his arms. "I don't want to hurt myself. I never did." This was true. He'd wanted to hide away. He'd wanted to disappear. But he'd never wanted to hurt himself.

Their Father had done that plenty enough for him.

Asmodeus reached for him again, hovering as he gauged if Lucifer would let him. "Okay. Okay, I believe you." When he was given a nod, the sin reached out and placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder, the hand nearly engulfing it. A little of that promise for violence trickled back into his voice as he asked, "Is the fucker who did it dead, at least?"

Lucifer found himself once again at a loss. To say yes would be a lie. To say no would invite an inquiry into who had done it and he wasn't entirely certain he would be able to keep everything from all spilling out. He really, really did not want to explain anything about this situation. "I..." He was beginning to wish he had never come here. He hadn't been ready for any of this. He felt too exposed, his throat threatening to close up as his heart kicked up a notch.

Without meaning to, he looked past Asmodeus, searching out the person who had made himself both the bane of his existence and a source of comfort. Being part deer, Alastor's hearing must have been extraordinary. He would have easily heard the hitch in Lucifer's breathing and the racing of his heart from so meager a distance. This was all Lucifer could think of when Alastor turned his head to face him.

He didn't know what his face was doing. Didn't know what Alastor could read off of it. Whatever it was elicited a sigh and a click of the tongue from the sinner. Without a by-your-leave to Fizzarolli, Alastor abandoned his company to cross the room over to where Lucifer and Asmodeus were standing.

Alastor ignored Asmodeus in favor of concentrating on the fallen angel himself. "Come now, sire, what's with that expression?" He held out a hand, offering his poisonous support, if Lucifer chose to take it.

Lucifer knew he shouldn't. Knew he was already beginning to associate Alastor with comfort rather than trouble. Knew he couldn't trust him. He still stepped out of Asmodeus' grasp and reached for him anyway.

He didn't miss the victory as it flashed across Alastor's expression when Lucifer took his hand.

Asmodeus didn't miss it either.

A flash of blue and pink flame. An alarmed cry of, "Oz?!" Asmodeus' voice echoed with his wrath as he asked in plain English, "It was this guy?"

Both Lucifer and Alastor turned, the latter's ears flattening to the side of his head. Too late, Alastor realized the danger he had walked right into. Most people would have cowered before the anger of a sin, and rightfully so. They were huge. They were powerful. They could do a lot of damage with very little effort.

But Alastor hadn't been prey since the day he took a kitchen knife to his father's throat.

The room around them grew darker as shadows coalesced around them, dancing just out of the flames' reach. Alastor's horns branched out as they grew. His form would be the next to follow.

Two paths spread out before Lucifer. Down one path, he did nothing. Allowed the two to fight and for Asmodeus to remove a thorn in his side that he hadn't been able to remove himself. Charlie would be upset, but Alastor would no longer be a danger to her. Down the other, he interfered. Swallowed his pride and explained the situation that he had landed himself in of his own free will. Deescalated the tension before someone got killed.

Indecision locked up his muscles, almost making the decision for him.

Like the beam of a lighthouse, ready to lead weary sailors back to the shore, Charlie's voice cut through the fog reminding him of his promise.

Dad, please look after him.

There really had only been one path, hadn't there?

His wings came into being, large enough to carry two people if he were to take to flight. He caught hold of Alastor's forearm, yanking the sinner off balance as he twisted them around. The sinner hissed at him, but Lucifer didn't spare the time to explain. The three wings, all from the same side, came up and around until Alastor was completely shielded beneath them, cutting both sin and sinner off from each other. His other hand came up to grip Alastor's other forearm, holding him in place behind the barrier.

For the second time in his life, Lucifer chose to stand between a sinner and his own kind.

Asmodeus might as well have been made from stone. Behind him, Fizzarolli looked like he wanted to interfere, but didn't dare get in the middle of a fight between two giants.

Lucifer was apologetic, but resolute. He swallowed his pride, the taste of it burning his throat as it went down. In a language everyone in the room could understand, he explained, "I made a deal. He gave me his terms and I agreed to them." He almost faltered when his little brother remained cold and distant, but carried on. "The knife was an experiment." His hands tightened to signal he meant business. "We will be discussing it later."

Switching to Enochian, smile sweet and tone as dark as the day would be when Alastor inevitably broke his daughter's heart, Lucifer promised, "If he ever proves to be too much of a threat, I will end him."

The two fallen angels assessed each other. If it came down to it, Lucifer would leave with Alastor. The sinner would be safe in Pentagram City. The Pride Ring was Lucifer's territory and Lucifer's alone. None of the other sins would dare impede upon it if he ordered them to stay out.

Perhaps Asmodeus could see his resolve. The choice he had made. With a sigh, the sin allowed his mane to resume it's normal temperature, bringing his anger under control. He didn't look happy about it, but he was letting this go. For now, at least. "Lucy, this was not what I meant when I said you should give sinners a second chance."

It wasn't a joke. Not really. Lucifer took it as the olive branch it was. That crisis adverted, he turned his attentions to his other issue. Only to pause when he got a good look at Alastor.

Alastor's gaze was like molten lava, his hunger a living thing. He looked like he wanted to tear open Lucifer's rib cage and crawl inside it. Like he wanted to devour Lucifer bit by bit, taking his time as he savored every bite. He knew what Lucifer had done, what it had cost him and he was reveling in it.

Some part of Lucifer craved proof he was wanted. That people wanted him around and enjoyed his company.

This wasn't that. This wasn't anything healthy or good, but some part of him wanted this as well, whatever the hell this was.

He was glad he hadn't lowered his wings, yet.

Alastor tucked it all away as easily as he tucked away a large meal. When he stepped back, Lucifer let him go, lowering his wings and tucking them away into his back. The redhead considered him. "Would like to take a break from this conversation, your Majesty?" He gestured to the set up back across the room where Fizzarolli still stood. "There's some rather fine wine, if you're interested."

Lucifer shook his head. "No, it's fine." The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and he really just wanted to pretend this whole conversation never happened. "Go."

Hearing the dismissal, Alastor 'hmmed' to himself. Lucifer was relieved when he turned on his heel and headed back to the receiving area.

Lucifer watched him go, trying not to think about the look Asmodeus was giving him. More to fill the awkward silence, he said, "I'd still like you're help with the outfit."

Asmodeus clearly wanted to say something more, but blessedly didn't. Tapping his finger to his chin, his hand under his elbow, he gave Lucifer his own once over. Seemingly reaching an idea, he said, "I think I know just the thing."

tbc

Part 15

[turbomun]

IDK how many people care about dead malls, but that last post about the Collin Creek mall really made me sad. Look at these two pictures:

The top one is from when the mall opened in 1981, the second one is from 2018 (it closed a year later). I think these pictures are both showing the Dillard’s mall entrance, but from different angles.

The 2018 picture represents how the mall more or less always looked since I started going there in 2004, except without people or stores. I never knew there were indoor waterways and fountains. Look at the seating area/playground in the 2018 picture — it’s built over where the waterway used to be. Look at the weirdly protruding concourses on the second story that used to be balconies.

The 1981 mall would have been a beautiful place to go, especially in summer when it’s too hot to spend time outside in Texas. You could walk along the waterway or sit at the tables and have a gorgeous view. It’s almost like a park. I didn’t even recognize the mall when I saw those photos, because all I ever knew was the bland white building that it became.

I don’t know what the moral of the story is here, because I’m sure those waterways were wasteful and expensive to maintain, and there were almost certainly other factors in the mall’s decline besides the visual downgrade. I just wish I could have seen it in its heyday.

[thewanderingace]

"Before we leave, there's a place I'd like you to see."

"I wish I could have seen it in its heyday."

"You would have loved it."

[arlathen]

personally i'm trying not to be a hater and definitely not trying to dunk on others opinions of the game so far, but I'm just having a really hard time looking forward to anything bioware is putting out rpg wise because it already feels so hollow of what the other dragon age games did in terms of story/characters/companions as well as the personalization of the story our characters are in. I wish I was better with words because it's not that I'm not excited, I just love these games and the world of dragon age so much and im tired of that not being reflected by those actually making the game, it's like they just ignore giant parts of it. I'm not sure if nostalgia for the first three games is just keeping me from being excited about veilguard, but idk I just wanted to get my thoughts out sorry for the word block

aw that's okay! everyone is entitled to feel a certain way. my relationship with dragon age is a little different than a lot of peoples' because i played them all at once right in a row -- so it all feels like a natural evolution. origins mechanics evolve into 2's mechanics evolve into inquisition's mechanics. and personally, i DO feel like veilguard's mechanics look like an evolution of inquisition's mechanics.

so. way back in my day (2012-2014) i was a somewhat popular gifmaker in the sherlock fandom and i *joined* that fandom right after the second season aired. the sherlock fandom was in its heyday during the gap between the second and third season and were notorious for being wacky and zany and writing a lot of in-depth meta about how the cliffhanger from the end of season 2 would be resolved. and when it was resolved, it sucked. they did it way worse than fans had imagined.

so i also have that instinct. all these very smart fans of the game have spent ten years imagining how they're going to resolve this. i've imagined hours of what my perfect resolution would look like. veilguard is inherently going to be less tailored to my tastes than what i imagined, and so i might perceive it as worse than what i was promised and feel let down. i have a strong opinion that this is what happened to cyberpunk 2077 on release -- it was so hyped for so long that everyone imagined their perfect game, and when it wasn't exactly what they imagined, that made it worse in comparison.

but then there are parts of it that are cooler than i imagined, too. even from just what we've seen.

the two games bioware has put out since inquisition are mass effect andromeda and anthem. and both of these games are, imo, special cases for different reasons. andromeda was primarily made by bioware montreal, not bioware edmonton -- different, inexperienced team. and anthem was.... i mean, it was anthem -- bioware is good at story driven single player action rpgs. anthem was a destiny clone. from what i've heard (i did not play it) the mechanics of it were fun-ish (like, flying the actual mech suits) and i've seen that the game looked beautiful. it was just tedious and repetitive and was designed to fuel microtransactions.

so the key failings in the games that have come since -- multiplayer game not in their wheelhouse and not being built by the main bioware team -- are both being averted in veilguard. it's an entirely offline experience made by the devs we know. many of the most hated parts of inquisition, in fact, they have said they cut out (big empty open worlds where you need to collect 100 silverite). i've said before and i'll say again that it really, really feels like bioware have looked at the criticism they have received and tried to course correct as best they could.

and that does inspire confidence and optimism in me, personally. it isn't going to be exactly like how you're imagining -- for good or for bad. i'm tempering my expectations in line with that, myself. i know that no matter what we're going to meet new cool companions and get to kiss 'em (this is important to me). we're gonna get a whole bunch of new lore (this is also important to me). and we're gonna put an end to my egg boyfriend's misery one way or another (this is most important to me).

[lady-amethyst18]

Outside, a dark-skinned woman named Sana was walking down the road, hugging herself as a chilly breeze cut through her jacket. She sighed sadly as she glanced up at some birds that were flying nearby, turning away with small tears coming to her eyes as she recalled her recent failure. 

She had come to visit her cousin at the Christmas Rose Apartments to get her mind off things. Still, the sting of not succeeding in building her bird sanctuary weighed heavily on her mind. 

“I think it's starting to come together,” she heard a voice say, and she turned to see a young woman with pale blue hair and a woman with magenta hair nearby. 

 “Yes,” said the woman with magenta hair. “The rooms are starting to look brighter with the dusting out of the way. I think even Balan is beginning to feel hopeful again.” 

“I agree. He deserves to feel hope.” 

The two women then walked towards the alley and into a building Sana could see required repairs. Curious about what they were doing there, she followed them, wondering what the story was behind the theater. She had never heard of it before, or the owner, since she was from a neighboring town. 

She entered the theater, going down the hallway until she heard voices in a room nearby. She soon found the room that everyone was in. Curious, she paused, wondering what they were doing. 

Cass was the first to notice the newcomer. “Hey, who are you?” She asked curiously. 

Everyone turned to see what Cass saw, and upon seeing a stranger they hadn't seen before, they grew a bit defensive. Sana blinked, and her gaze settled on Balan. She blinked again in startlement at seeing the tall man with green hair, pale-white skin, and a raggy appearance. 

Seeing the newcomer staring at him, Balan shied away, stepping back while Iben and Cal stood in front of him protectively. 

Yuri suddenly gasped. “Wait, I know you!” She exclaimed. “Sana, right? You're the lady who tried to get a bird sanctuary built. I remember seeing your flyers being sent out to everyone to see if anyone wanted to help. I donated to your cause to help out.” 

Sana winced a little, biting her lip, but she noticed the kid didn't seem mad. “You probably know then,” she lamented softly. 

Yuri nodded, looking sad. “I'm sorry it didn't work out,” she said, feeling bad for the lady who loved birds. 

“What happened?” Emma asked. 

Sana sighed hard. “An apartment building is being built where I wanted my sanctuary, so someone got the land before I did,” she explained. 

Balan couldn't bear to see the young woman upset and came forward, hugging her, which surprised her, but she returned the hug. “I'm so sorry,” he said softly. “I understand what it's like to have plans fall through.” He gestured around. “This theater, my home, is proof of my plans falling through.” 

Sana looked around, and despite the disrepair the theater was in, though it was looking brighter with the dust now gone, she could imagine how beautiful it must have been. “ I wish I could have seen it in its heyday,” she said wistfully. “It must have been glorious.” 

The tall man was touched and happy that someone else was not judging his theater so harshly. He knew they still had a bit to go, but it was looking much better, making him more hopeful. 

Emma smiled. “Sana?” She asked, making the lady look at her. “Would you be willing to contribute to bringing the theater back to life? You could help us by spreading the word.” 

Sana gently shook her head. “I'm afraid I won't be of any help,” she admitted. “I couldn't even spread the word about my sanctuary.” 

“You shouldn't give up,” Leo said. “Just because you failed today doesn't mean you will never succeed. You've got to try again.” 

“He's right," Cal said with a nod. "Those are some wise words.”

Bruce smiled. “That's my boy,” he said, proud of Leo. 

Leo looked at Sana. “Sana, will you help us, please?” He asked. 

“What if we help you too?” Haoyu suggested. 

Yuri grinned, catching on to Haoyu's idea. “If you help us get the theater back up and running, we'll help you spread the word about your sanctuary,” she proclaimed. 

Sana was about to decline again when she saw the kids looking at her with pleading eyes. Even the Tims had gathered at her feet, nuzzling her ankles and chirping, looking up at her with bright eyes. 

“Look, even the Tims want you to help,” Emma smiled. 

“Tims?” The woman wondered before smiling. “They are pretty cute.” 

Seeing the Tims looking up at her with pleading eyes and the kids doing the same, she smiled, making her decision. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “What needs to be done?” 

“You're in?” Lucy asked, smiling. 

“I'm in,” Sana said. 

The kids cheered, and Balan smiled, taking Sana's hand. “Our dreams may not have gotten the start we wanted them to have, but Leo's right. We can't give up. And I'm sure we'll see our dreams be fulfilled.” 

She smiled, appreciating him sympathizing with her. It made her feel good, and she decided she would do what she could to help, the positivity of the others rubbing off on her.

So here's the context

We meet a new girl named Sana. She's from a neighboring town away from the Balan theater. She dropped by to have a pity party with her cousin because she didn't get her ideal place in time for her bird sanctuary.

Just as she was arriving, she noticed the old broken-down theater in the alley next to the apartments. Curious, she decided to see what it was all about.

Since Sana lived out of town, she hadn't heard of the rumors of Balan being nuts, much less staying away from the theater.

Balan can relate to her, seeing as they both had a falling out after their plans went flat. The others plan to help Sana too once the theater is back together. And she couldn't be any happier to help.

This is my Lonesome Maestro AU. When Balan's first show was a disaster, and everyone left him. He's become very lonely and sad due to no one being around. Until Leo and Emma showed up and try to change his life for the better.

[mickmundy]

wait can you please info dump a bit about animatronics (not fnaf)? i wanna hear what you've got 👀

HOLY SHIT WAIT REALLY...... omg now im so shy....... i mean i have so much...... theyve been an interest of mine since i was Small... i think this also stems from my love of "Unsettling Toys" in general (i collect old rushton/general rubber faced toys from the 20s-80s too)!!! also full disclosure IF i had been a kid when fn*f would have come out i would have been obsessed with it most likely. so no hate to it (but Lots of hate to the piece of shit creator LOL)!

if i wasn't so bad at math i'dve been an engineer.. its my dream to work on them (literally any, not just d*sney, though it sucks how few are left in Mainstream Settings outside of the parks!) because i love their workings and the process of how they're made and operated!! buuut at the risk of sounding like a wikipedia article i won't get into that and i'll do my best to keep it short ! under a cut anyway just because i dont want to be annoying ;-;

mm just a quick tw i will be posting pictures of old/tarnished/out of service anima's below and i don't want to scare anyone! but the tone of the thread is Very Loving so no scary content/facts here! <3

i REALLY love the pizzaria/General Eatery Establishment ones in their heydays (i would have loved to have seen the showbiz pizza palace ones ;-; they are So endearing to me...). theres loots of iterations of the showbiz ones so keeping it brief, i really like the wolf pack 5:

the tropical bear, the wolf in a suit, the sweet-looking fox are all pretty predictable likes for me, but this one specifically is extra cool to me since it was apparently loosely inspired by rocky horror! and aahhh something that i really wish i could have seen was when they had a yogi bear collaboration!! ;-; hana barbara was a massive part of my childhood so combining two interests like that would have probably made my Child Head explode LOL. but look at how cute they are! and how BIG yogi is!! AAHH!! as far as i'm aware these never saw the light of day outside of test runs at just a few small locations, but i would haev loved to see them in motion! ;-;

and of course i absolutely adore the circus world pizzaria ones, OUWAAA ;-; their faces were just too darling! even disassembled animatronics always look so gorgeous to me... look at her dainty golden necklace.. and her little fangs! so beautiful! truly works of art!!!

another genre of my favorites are actually ones that aren't "tied down", too!! the dinosaur at disney world that can walk around the parks was SUPER cool (though ive never seen it in person), but i really love the older ones since i don't think they get as much love as d*sneys and i Firmly believe they have souls and you should treat them kindly because if they dont kill you for being Cruel i will. y__y but anyway!

elsie!! she is SO precious very important to me... if youve known me for longer than five minutes you know i love cows, bulls and bovine in general (and horses... <3) so this one should come as no surprise. her voice also just prickles my skin in just the right way.. its very soothing to me! she was a portable animatronic (but honestly maybe more like a puppet!) that could be operated to interact with guests and was used to pitch borden's dairy products back in the day! here's some choice pictures of her, isnt she gorgeous!! ;-;

of course i could make a whole separate post on JUST my love for the disney animatronics just because they were the ones i readily had access too knowledge-wise. i didn't have internet at home growing up so i didn't find out about a lot of these until way later! ;;-;; or if i just so happened to find out about them through weird Word Of Mouth or "hey dutch you like creepy shit! check this out!" and it would be the most darling sensational little creatures ive ever seen in my life... <3 ANYWAY here are some of my favorite disney ones! quick disclaimer that i am Very Critical of The Rat and this is not an endorsement to the company's past (and present lol) Shitty Behavior!

small world and the tiki room are probably my favorite attractions to this day just because i love the history behind the makings of them and the animatronics themselves; the showgirl birds in the tiki room and the singing flowers... wow! and i could go on and on about the incredible textile work alice davis did on the small world dolls! did you know that its a small world was originally made in support for unicef? and the dolls need haircuts every now and then, too! hehe! each piece of clothing down to the shoes was handmade and while its quite dated by this point in time i can't help but hold a soft spot for it. i'm probably one of the few people who still love the song, too!

i'd additionally like to praise the animatronics for 20,000 leagues under the sea (SO devastated i never got to ride it!); the sea monsters and the legendary kraken!! AAHH!! so very iconic and amazing feats of engineering, especially when grappling with water at the time!! seeing these abandoned and ultimately totally stripped down and tossed in landfills (yes. landfills lol) makes me want to cry. i would have taken all of these little darlings home with me!! ;-; ridethroughs of this are of shoddy quality for multiple reasons, some of which were the fault of poor ride maintenance but it's to be expected given the nature of the ride.

some other ones i'd like to note are the america sings animatronics, who were eventually repurposed into splash mountain background characters (and YES i am glad they are finally retiring and letting princess tiana have her extremely overdue spotlight!! i am SO excited for the new patf ride!!). i think the gators are so handsome!! >//u//< but i also love the details on the hens/chickens. the feathers look so plush and perfectly capture that Cartoonish texture Over-exaggeration SO flawlessly!! look at their "fingers"! so dainty!

ANYWAY SORRY THATS MY THOUGHTS ON THAT i have a lot more that i could go into detail about and more Fun Facts (never ride a theme park ride with me. i will spend the entire time talking about animatronics and Fun Facts) but i won't bore u with them. thank you so much for even asking me this!! this is my first anon ouwaa!! ;;; <333

ALSOOOOO my favorite fnaf animatronics for your troubles. i know nothing about the actual lore nor do i particularly care about it. buuut i feel like i owe it to my inner child since i would have loved this franchise if it had been around when i was a kid (there would be no bigger Insister that They Have Souls!!!!!!! other than me lmao) these just make my brain go brrrzzzwrow!!

IF ANYONE ACTUALLY READ THIS ILYSM ACTUALLY AND I OWE U EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dybdahlsvisitportugalspainfrance]

Santander, Day 2

Buenas Dias

September 21, 2023

Today we started the day with rain and an hour bus ride to visit Altamira, home of the Museo Nacional y Centro de Investigación de Altamira and undoubted a whole lot more.  I will begin by saying we did NOT have enough time here - we needed at least one more hour and as the day wore on I thought - MAN - I wish I had had this hour at that Museo instead of ….. Fill in the blank.

This region is most famous for the Altamira Cave system and its spectacular cave drawings.  This area is home to 18 caves of Northern  Spain making up the apogee of Upper Paleolithic cave art in Europe between 35,000 and 11,000 year ago.  And I was geeked to go!!!

Some background on my over-the-top excitement:  In 2013 we went to France with our daughter and her family - the photo below is from 2013. 

She did all the arranging and she managed to secure tickets to Font-de-Gaume, a cave near Les Eyries-de Tayac-Sireuil  in the Dordogne region of southwest France.    At that time, Font-de-Gaume was the only site in France with polychrome cave paintings that is still open to the public.  In it’s heyday (1980s) more than 10,000 people per day paraded in to see these caves, but then it was discovered that the CO2 from all the visitors was degrading the art - and visitors were forbidden or dramatically reduced.  The day we went on the only English speaking tour, there were only 100 people per day allowed and only 8 on our tour:  A family of 3 and Marka, Steve, Kepler, Anson and me.  Our guide was reverent and his love and respect for this art and the ancient people who made them filled my heart and brought me to tears as we guided in through this holy place.  I can still recall his hushed toned as he reminded us that our feet were standing in the same spots as these ancient people.  For me this place for magical and I had truly spiritual experience.  I bought a silk scarf while I was there with many of the drawings on it - and I wear it often and feel that same since of wonder and awe.  OF COURSE I had it on for this event!

So NOW we were going to cave art Mecca in Northern Spain.  See why I was so crazy excited?  Anyway - I am not sure you can visit any cave now - but many of the caves have exact replica’s of the caves to see.  And that is what we saw.  You access the fake cave from the museum and other than the floor being flat making the journey safer and much easier - I’m sure the cave looks the same - but I’m here to tell you it is NOT the same.

All of the paintings in this cave were on the ceiling and sometimes the ceiling and the floor were just a foot from each other.  Clearly the artists were laying on their backs - but not here - not in this spot.

Also, clearly, I would never have seen this - if you had to crawl in the cave to see it.  But it was not the same thing.  The painting were nicely illuminated and you could take photos - but it was not the same thing.  There were small beaded lights indicating where the floor would be and that was nice - but…. Well you know.

The crack below is also a replica - but because of that crack eventually the ceiling in the real cave will fall.  Could be tomorrow - could be 10,000 years - but it will fall.

The museum was wonderful!  We didn’t have enough time though - and for the rest of the day I just wanted more time in that damned museum.  Oh well.

Next up for a tour of a medieval village, Santillana del Mar  The rain was over for the day. It was lovely - but so hard to walk as there were cobblestones everywhere. This was a village of nobility and the Coat of Arms are everywhere.  Apparently, a Coat of Arms, granted and verified by the King was given to ONE guy.  Example - Bob Smith is granted a coat of arms for his bravery and loyalty during a battle fighting for the king.  But that belongs to Bob Smith - not all Smiths.  Bob’s sons can use this crest, and his grandsons, and great-grandsons - but NOT his cousin or any random person named Smith.  Who knew?

This is primarily a tourist Mecca now but there was one very cool thing here: Milk & cake!  This is a dairy region here and for the first time, they are talking milk and all the things that come from the cow.  There is a little store in this city that has been the site of a particular farm for 3  generations.

These two men were in the store - pouring a glass of cold milk and handing out a piece of cake for their customers - something they do everyday and have done since the young man in the photo’s great grandfather started doing this 70+ years ago.  Of course I could not have the cake - but the milk was delicious.

This region has many kinds of cheeses and is also famous for its cider.  This cider is an alcoholic beverage and must be aerated.  In a restaurant the waitstaff does this but there is also a way to do it at home.  With this…

You push the pump and hold your glass under the board level and the cider shoots out into your glass - through the air.  Aerated cider.  Drink up.

On they way back to Santander we stopped at this little town with some big “stuff” - Comillas.  There once lived an ordinary man,  Máximo Díaz de Quijano, who went to Cuba to make his fortunes selling slaves.  He did and returned to his home town to build a little house.

Then he started a college in this tiny village.  Then he made sure that the Camino of St. James (Santiago) was recognized as going through his town.  

Then he invited Gaudi to drop by and build a building.  It is good to have money….

We returned to Santander we had time to explore the city on our own.  We opted for the siesta option, then had drinks with our friends.  We had on experience in the elevator that I really don’t care to share - but AFTER we got out we all thought it was quite amusing.  Not so funny as the whole thing was playing out….

Tomorrow we head for our last location of this tour, Ovieto.

Stay tuned.

[byneddiedingo]

Jessica Harper in Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977)

Cast: Jessica Harper, Stefania Cassini, Flavio Bucci, Miguel Bosé, Barbara Magnolfi, Susanna Javicoli, Eva Axén, Rudolf Schündler, Udo Kier, Alida Valli, Joan Bennett. Screenplay: Dario Argento, Daria Nicolodi. Cinematography: Luciano Tovoli. Production design: Giuseppe Bassan. Film editing: Franco Fraticelli. Music: Dario Argento, Goblin (Agostino Marangolo, Massimo Morante, Fabio Pignatelli, Claudio Simonetti). 

I've seen movies in which the sets were more interesting than what's going on in them, but I don't think anyone would say that about Dario Argento's Suspiria. At the very least, in the competition of setting and action for the viewer's attention, it's a draw. When Suzy Bannion (Jessica Harper) tells a cab driver to take her to Escherstrasse, I should have been alerted to the visual phantasmagoria that is to come. It's clear that Argento means us to pick up on the allusion to the Dutch artist M.C. Escher, known for his plays on perspective and visual puzzles; Argento has the surly cabbie force Suzy to repeat the street name twice before saying it himself. But Escher's work was in black and white; Argento's, and that of his production designer, Giuseppe Bassan, and his cinematographer, Luciano Tovoli, is in color -- the most lurid Technicolor seen in a movie since the heyday of the MGM musical. Not that Suspiria has much in common with those musicals: The dominant color in Suspiria is red, and a lot of that red is blood, often artfully splattered. (One large blood splat looks like a Rorschach test.) I can't say that I was shocked by anything in the movie, although the many murders in it verge on overkill. It's too gaudy and noisy -- the background music by Goblin is the aural equivalent of the decor -- to build much tension. I could wish the dubbing of the dialogue didn't have the depthless quality, the lack of ambiance, of speech recorded in a studio -- even the English-speaking actors were post-synched in the manner of many Italian films of the era. But then the dialogue doesn't matter much: It's nonsense about witches, and the plot is only a device to hang horrors on. Still, Suspiria is a one-of-a-kind movie -- maybe we should be grateful for that -- and a landmark in its genre. 

[ask-a-merchants-garden]

[Leaning on his hip Zachie chuckled lightly nodding aggreably. Yes despite it all it was true that he was surrounded whether he knew it or not, by other Zacharies sharing the same miseries. He wished it could be different but as they say c'est la vie]

If it were as simple as being a guardian I think I would have at least been able to go around the Zone I reside..no I think this may be more akin to Hugo's old situation. I am trapped in a world of my own creation..and for whatever reason I do not know, its falling apart.

[He shrugged, despite the questions, despite this mess he's in. It felt good to get it out there to someone other than himself. Well not himself himself at least heh. And that someone being a merchant who though went through the same ebb and flow felt and dealt with it all differently. Refreshing a perspective it may be, he wondered if Insane was still running even now. He would save his questions for now. ]

Perhaps I am a basilisk having frozen myself in an effort to preserve what little I have left. Watching hopelessly as it shatters before me?

[Looking skyward at the swirling inconsistant mass of clouds, musing on their conversation. He reached a hand outward catching some of the white flakes. Cold yet temporary they melted quickly upon contact. If it all was a manifestation of his mind..perhaps it could change again? ]

If you've any ideas Insane, amigo I'm open to suggestions. And ah, if I am able to escape this tiny prison maybe I could lend some aid to you. If you'd like that is. We've both gone through hell and highwater just to reach a modicum of peace and earnestly why can't we all eventually replant our gardens? This winter is heavy, blinding, but it can't be all there is. (However I will definately take a heater if you can procure one amigo, I may be used to this but dios mio a break from it does sound good. Heheh)

[Taking a deep breath he pauses once more on the ledge. He felt lighter as did the clouds overhead as the snow slowed to a light flurry. Despite their meeting having only been a short time ago, the kinship was something hard to come by. So what Zachie was to do was an act of that kinship. Taking his mask gently, the strings slackened as though never tied. Pulling the mask off fully he looked over and a small smile grew on his face. An offer of trust though he didn't expect Insane to react in kind. Zachie after so lomg spent by himself with himself had grown numb to his own appearance though he knows the sentiment behind the need of a mask to other Merchants.]

Heh if you enjoy flowers, you really should've seen this Zone in its heyday. Blooms both curated and wild of every size and color for as far as the eye can see! [Gesturing he threw his arms out wide toward the white field]

And maybe one day I can show you instead of telling you. Y'know.. I'm of the mindset that we all have our own flower we match to. Hm.. Eventually I'll prepare you your very own crown of blooms like i used to for others, and we can see which call to you amigo heheheh.

[He pondered what kind of bouquet would match a man who's life has been spent running from temporary intersection into other worlds and interactions before moving on must be like. Plagued by experiance but emboldened by it. Maybe something resiliant, growing anywhere, but different everytime? Clover flowers, Lupine, Maybe Marigold even? ]

Ah-! Lo siento I was getting off topic as you can tell Im very passionate for this hobby of mine heh..where was I..? Si. Before we head inside, I would like to say one thing.

"Mun"

a trip to a beach sounds more than lovely if possible!~

@ask-a-merchants-garden, continued from hence ask.

"Hm..Oh! si it is, but not in the way you may think amigo! All sugar here is made from grown and harvested Sugarcane, we no longer do the Smokestacks since the Re-Wiring.

[Stands a tad more rigid until shaking himself from his stupor and refocusing on the topic at hand.] ... ///

It was a bit odd to eat a cake in the Zones, and for a moment Zacharie hesitated as the other pushed the plate towards him. The...years here had made him somewhat averse to sugar, even if he never really was hungry.

To be fair the first few times he had indulged with Sucre...well, the ramifications of that particular bit were not best pondered upon. But it did mean that he would be hypocritical if he suddenly decided that he was diabetic.

So Zacharie did what any sensible person would do. He picked up the entire slice, regarded it critically, tilted up his mask, and shoved it into his piehole.

"Prfehty gfoord johrb." The other Zacharie - no, Martinez or Zachie, for simplicity's sake, blinked. Zacharie rolled his eyes, and swallowed. "̴P̵r̷e̷t̴t̷y̷ ̴g̵o̷o̶d̴ ̸j̸o̴b̴.̶ G̸o̵o̷d̷ ̸u̶s̷e̵ ̷o̴f̷ ̸a̸l̶l̶ ̶t̸h̵a̵t̴ ̴t̸i̸m̴e̶ ̷o̵n̵ ̷o̵u̶r̵ ̸h̵a̴n̶d̵s̷.̷ ̷Y̶o̸u̷ ̵s̶h̴o̸u̷l̶d̸ ̸t̵r̶a̴v̸e̷l̷ ̵o̶u̸t̸s̴i̶d̵e̴ ̴y̵o̷u̸r̸s̵e̶l̸f̵ ̸-̸ ̸m̷a̴k̴e̶ ̵a̸ ̴s̷m̴a̴l̶l̵ ̴f̴o̵r̸t̵u̷n̶e̴.̶ M̴a̵y̷b̴e̷ ̶a̵ ̸M̴a̶r̵t̷i̷n̸e̸z̷ ̷P̷a̴t̶i̶s̸s̵e̷r̴i̴e̴ ̴f̷r̵a̸n̸c̸h̶i̷s̶e̷ ̵a̴s̵ ̷w̷e̶l̴l̸.̸"

The cake was velvety. Was that the right term to use? It tasted...well, sweet. Maybe not enough - an eyelid, unnoticed, twitched at that thought.

He hurriedly put the plate down.

"I̶ ̶p̶e̵r̸s̸o̵n̴a̴l̵l̶y̴ ̷d̵o̵n̷'̴t̸ ̷h̷a̶v̷e̸ ̵a̵ ̴m̸a̶r̸k̸e̵t̷a̸b̴l̵e̵ ̴n̶a̴m̴e̴;̸ ̵o̷u̶r̸ ̶s̸h̵a̶r̸e̴d̵ ̶t̸r̷a̷d̷e̸m̶a̶r̵k̷ ̴s̵e̵r̸v̷e̴s̷ ̵i̸t̷s̷ ̶p̵u̷r̸p̵o̵s̶e̷ ̴a̵ ̴b̸i̵t̶ ̷t̸o̵o̴ ̶w̴e̷l̶l̸.̴" he said, "B̴u̶t̴ ̶t̷h̷e̷y̶ ̴u̸s̵e̸d̸ ̴t̴o̶ ̷s̸h̷o̴r̴t̷e̸n̸ ̶m̴y̸ ̶U̴R̶L̴ ̶a̴ ̵b̷i̶t̷.̸ N̴o̶t̵ ̷a̷ ̶g̴o̵o̶d̵ ̵l̴o̷o̷k̴ ̷w̷h̴e̴n̵ ̸y̷o̸u̴ ̴g̵r̸o̶w̷ ̵o̴l̷d̴e̵r̵,̴ ̸b̷u̷t̸ ̴l̶e̸t̷'̵s̴ ̶g̸o̵ ̸w̵i̶t̵h̸ ̶t̸h̶a̵t̷.̸"

And as for travel...

"It̷ ̴h̴a̵s̷ ̷b̵e̷e̷n̵ ̴a̷ ̴w̴h̴i̵l̷e̷.̴ ̵T̴h̵e̴ ̸l̷a̵s̸t̵ ̴I̴ ̸r̷e̷m̵e̸m̷b̵e̸r̵ ̸w̵a̶s̵ ̶d̴r̸i̸n̴k̸i̷n̸g̴ ̵q̵u̴i̶t̷e̸ ̶h̷e̷a̸v̸i̴l̴y̷ ̸t̸o̵ ̶e̶s̸c̴a̷p̶e̸ ̶s̸o̸m̵e̸ ̶q̵u̶e̶s̴t̷i̴o̶n̶s̵.̴" he said, rubbing his chin. Maybe he might have stocks of tea in his bag for this. "B̵u̶t̵ ̴a̸ ̶f̸e̷w̷ ̵j̸a̷u̴n̶t̵s̸.̸.̶.̵ ̶w̵e̸l̶l̵,̸ ̸C̵h̵i̴c̷a̴g̵o̸ ̴w̵i̶t̸h̸ ̴a̴ ̸c̴i̶t̸y̵w̵i̵d̴e̵ ̶A̶I̸ ̶s̶e̴e̷m̶s̷ ̶t̵o̵ ̶b̸e̸ ̸p̸o̵p̷p̸i̷n̸g̴ ̸u̷p̷ ̷q̵u̴i̶t̵e̴ ̶a̶ ̵b̶i̷t̷ ̸i̷n̸ ̸m̵y̷ ̴m̵e̸m̶o̴r̷i̷e̷s̸.̷ ̵O̷r̵ ̷t̸h̸a̷t̵ ̶p̴o̸s̴t̷-̸a̶p̶o̶c̵a̶l̷y̶p̸t̷i̴c̸ ̶e̸a̸r̷t̵h̷ ̷w̸h̶e̸r̴e̴ ̷i̶t̷ ̶w̷a̶s̷ ̶i̸n̵ ̴t̴h̶e̸ ̸g̷l̵a̴r̷i̶n̵g̴ ̷s̷u̴n̸ ̶p̸e̷r̵m̶a̴n̵e̷n̷t̴l̶y̴.̷.̶.̶"

[undertale-data]

[Image Description: An Undertale chat box that has “WHY FANS LOVE UNDERTALE” at its center. Next to it are a line chart and an Egg from the Dating Hub on its left, and a CRIME measurer (also from the Dating Hub) on its right. End I.D.]

[Image Description: a pie chart titled, “LEVEL OF LOVE FOR UNDERTALE.” The textbox on the top right reads, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the least and 10 being the highest, how much do fans enjoy Undertale?” From the top going clockwise, 12 or 0% chose 5 and below; 23 or 1% chose 6; 98, or 4%, chose 7; 325, or 12%, chose 8; 529, or 20%, chose 9; and 1664, or 63%, chose 10. End I.D.]

It’s clear from all of the data analyzed so far that fans who took the time to answer our survey love Undertale. It is unlikely that they would have taken the time to answer so many questions if they had not, and even less likely that they would have come across our survey in the first place. Naturally, it comes as no surprise that 63% of our responders gave their love for Undertale a score of ten out of ten. 95% gave their love for Undertale a score of eight or higher, and only 12 responders responded with five or below, a number so small that their responses had to be lumped together to be visible on the pie chart. Of those, only 3 responders gave their love for Undertale a score of 1, and based on those responders’ other answers, it is likely that they were only intending to troll. We are very fortunate that the vast majority of responders took the survey seriously, enough so that responses like this are barely a blip in the data.

Now, for our final analysis post of the event, we will delve into the reasons that fans love Undertale so dearly.

(Essay and highlights under the cut.)

There have been countless essays on the impact that Undertale has had on people’s lives. I can hardly add more on the subject than what has already been said, but I hope this summary can provide a brief overview of what stood out among the over two thousand answers given in response to this survey. That said, due to the sheer volume of answers, I could not read every single one in depth—however, I did skim all of them, and some that stood out or were representative of several responses have been highlighted below. If you would like to see what every fan who consented to share their response had to say, you may view the full list of responses here. Note that these responses have not been edited in any way. This document may take a long time to load, as it is over 100 pages long.

(Warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts in the following essay.)

Several responders loved the theme of choices mattering in Undertale. Whether people played the pacifist, merciless, or neutral routes, they enjoyed how the game reacted to their actions. For some, it even made them consider their own morality. One touching response explained the impact that the theme of mercy made on them. “I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.” Many fans left similar comments about how the themes of Undertale made them better people.

Undertale changed how its fans treat others, and it also changed how fans treat themselves. The theme of staying determined and the messages of hope in the game were a light to a very large portion of fans. I cannot list all of the fans who said that Undertale helped them out of a dark place, or that they would not be alive if not for Undertale. “DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.”

Undertale brought fans together in unexpected ways. Some said they met friends or significant others through the fandom. “I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale,” one fan said. A different fan who is non-native English speaking mentioned that the game and the fan community helped them to learn English.

It would be impossible to discuss Undertale without mentioning the fan community. Whether for good or bad, many responders mentioned the fandom in their responses. Overall the feelings towards the fandom seem positive, though many made references to “toxic” parts of the fandom without specifying which parts they consider toxic. Others rejected the idea of toxicity in fandom. One response said: “[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!”

One thing that makes the Undertale fandom unique is the way it embraces various AUs. Some fans are tired of AU content, but the majority of responses show a love for the creativity behind AUs. “Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.” The lack of a judgemental atmosphere seems present in the AU community, according to the responses we saw. There is an interesting balance between AU and canon (sometimes referred to as “classic”) content that another responder pointed out: “The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertale fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)”

Regardless of the many AUs the fandom has created over the years, the original game of Undertale still feels like home for many fans. They wished they could reclaim the feeling of playing the game again for the first time, but even though we can’t reset time in real life, there is still a special feeling for fans each time they play Undertale. One fan said, “Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.” This feeling is one that can be cherished time and time again. In the words of another responder: “It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it.” Others pointed out the strength of the found family trope in Undertale, which likely contributes to this feeling of “home” as well.

As mentioned briefly earlier, the music is part of what makes Undertale feel like home for fans. Even when responses focused on other aspects of the game, many would throw in a comment about the soundtrack at the end. One comment focused on the music said “IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.” Like with the game itself, the music has incredible replay value, an amazing feat considering most of the tracks use the same few motifs. “I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story,” another responder said. “They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.”

If the music sticks with fans in their hearts, then the game’s lore sticks with fans in their minds. Even six years after the release of Undertale, fans are still creating new theories and digging up new secrets. The way the game breaks the fourth wall in particular intrigued many fans and has stuck out through all these years. The awareness that the game shows for the RPG genre makes it memorable. The game plays with the player’s expectations and turns them on their heads, all while reminding the player that they’re in a game. There are few other games that do this on such a large scale, so it’s no surprise that fans cite this as one of their favorite things about Undertale.

Lastly, the LGBT+ representation in Undertale has been a huge draw for fans. Especially in 2015, the sheer volume of non-cishet characters was unprecedented, as one fan pointed out: “It's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. Hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. It's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.” The LGBT+ cast including Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Monster Kid, Mettaton, Alphys, and Undyne each connected with fans in unique ways. It’s clear how important this is from responses such as: “There are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.” “It made me gay and trans so thanks for that.”

Once again I am overwhelmed with just how much there is to say about Undertale. One responder really understood when they compared Undertale to an iceberg, explaining that there are so many layers to the game that there is something for everyone: “everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans—from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers—is the mark of the coolest games!” I would have to agree with them.

It’s been six years, and despite everything, it’s still you. Thank you for reading, participating in this survey, and above all, staying determined.

Highlights:

DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.

I think the coolest thing was having the opportunity to watch the AU community grow from its bare roots. It's nearly insane how big and complex it's gotten, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.

i love how the lgbt rep is so naturalized... there are just gay people! and its nobodys business!

The music is my go to answer, but what I really really REALLY love is how the minor characters have so much personality to them when you talk to them. They aren't incredibly important to the overall story, but they're all so likeable and diverse that you just can't help but like them immediately!

I think it was the first videogame I have played that broke the fourth wall that much. Of course there has been other videogames that broke it but just for one or two tongue-in-cheek jokes. The guilt of killing mama goat was also something intense as well that I appreciated as an experience and that I didn't think a videogame could cause on someone.

I love how no character can be seen as completely bad! Everyone builds up Asgore as some horrible villain, but he turns out to be a 'fuzzy pushover' who's broken and just wants his family back by the time you meet him. Then you think Flowey's an irredeemable killer who engineered the suffering of the monsters across many timelines, and he is... but he also used to be the kind and beloved Prince Asriel Dreemurr, traumatized by his death and subsequent rebirth, projecting his best friend onto you.

The fact that choices matter in the game. Your first playthrough and getting the golden ending for the first time. I can never replicate those feelings again, wish I could erase my memories and replay the game from the start.

I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale.

(Toxic parts of the fandom aside) The community is possibly one of the kindest I've ever met. Cringe culture is completely dead, and I feel like I can be myself. I felt a very close connection to many of the characters, and I loved consuming content about them when I was in a rough patch in my life.

just everything, the whole game has just impacted my life so much. i know it sounds really lame, but when the game first came out, i would purposely put my hands in my pockets and sway slightly, like sans' idle animation. of course i dont do that anymore haha, but undertale still really impacts me to this day, and i wouldnt have it any other way :)

it made me gay and trans so thanks for that

I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.

The thing I love most about Undertale is no matter how many times I play or watch a playthrough it always makes me genuinely happy. It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it. Toriel still makes me feel all warm and cozy in her home, the Skelebros always make me laugh, and I still cry on the inside watching Frisk comforting Asriel. And on the flip side the No Mercy run still invokes the negative emotions in me as well. In short Undertale just feels like a second home to me and I always wish I could stay.

The reader inserts are my favorite way to decompress after a hard day

I think Undertale helped me discover my love for 8-bit games, and made me realize how IMPORTANT music is in video games.

the worldbuilding and character design are my favorite parts of the main game apart from the music! I’m also a huge fan of the random AU music- not for like underswap or underfell i like the stuff where someone makes a megalovania for a random au where gru from despicable me replaces sans as the character. i think its funny

Just... the vibe, honestly? Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.

there are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.

[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!

There's a scene where Frisk (the player) is going towards what is presumably going to be their death. They will fight Asgore and he will use their human soul to break the barrier and free his people. The music, despite the player's impending doom, is... triumphant. You are not the triumphant one here, and yet, the score invites you to experience the monsters' joy and happiness as they tell you the tale of their subjugation. The monsters are going to be free. This is their victory, but they don't hate you or want you to die. They're just... happy. That scene has always struck me very deeply. I feel it represents the best parts of Undertale.

I loved how well thought out the Geno route was. It really made me feel like I was doing something horrible, and the characters were very obviously reacting to dire circumstances.

I dunno? I like Undertale for it's characters, story, music, secrets and many more. I am not good with Headcanons but I also like the neutral endings and how different they can depending on who you spare and kill

I was very bad at english before, i thought i couldn't progress because i was very shy and not confident. But my sibling and i wanted to have the best experience with this game so we wanted to play it in english. It's this game and the fandom which helped me to make huge progress in english !

THE SOUNDTRACK. IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.

to avoid writing an essay i will say one word. Mettaton

It is like Toby specifically made the games to fit the iceberg meme and it's awesome, everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans - from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers is the mark of the coolest games!

I love almost everything about Undertale as a game on its own. The music, the art and especially the characters and how they interact. They made me feel at home. Undertale means a huge amount to me. (I even got a tattoo of the castle when you and MK walk together!) The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertake fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)

the mystery. toby fox refused to give answers to anything and i think thats very sexy of him.

I just feel guilty for liking it so much when I'm in my 30's. But I recently got diagnosed with ASD, so I guess it explains things a bit. Many ppl consider Papyrus to be neurodivergent, and some adult fans are too, so seeing that makes me feel a bit better.

i think about "Despite everything, it's still you" everyday of my life.

I like how it's just as funny as it can be serious. All routes are this way. I laughed as much as I cried when I played the Pacifist route and then once I opened the game again and Flowey was telling me to let them be happy, I immediately turned off the game. I somehow felt bad.

The Found Family Trope

The True Pacifist Ending is just...man. And the fanworks about saving everyone even when the game doesn't let you? MANNNNNN

I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story. They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.

there's honestly a LOT to love about this game, but i think one of my favorite things about it is just how many lgbt+ characters there are??? i can think of alphys, undyne, frisk, chara, mettaton, napstablook, monster kid, asgore, mad mew mew, the dress lion, the royal guards, and arguably even papyrus off of the top of my head, but im sure i'm forgetting a few from just undertale alone (there's even MORE in deltarune)!! it's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. it's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of the capitalized word UNDERTALE. The text is white on a black background, and uses the font found in the game. Some of the most visible words are: Game, Love, Music, Life, AU, Store, Friend, and Feel, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about their love for the game. End of ID]

[tkwritesdumbassassins]

From Chapter XV: The Kids Aren't Alright

“Ezio, I might need— oh, sorry.”

Tristan reluctantly tore her gaze away from the source of many art historians’ pains, eyebrow raised. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he indicated the mostly completed blade. “I have to make some final adjustments, and while the vice certainly works, I believe it would go by much faster if someone was wearing it. Alas.” Leonardo tilted his hand towards the sleeping teen.” I am loath to disturb him.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping very well,” Tristan ruminated sadly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned to face the same direction. “I would not be surprised if any of us really have since the trial. So, in the meantime--” Tristan pushed up a sleeve and offered her own arm to him. “I can be his stand-in if you wish?”

He immediately brightened despite his chagrin. “I promise it won’t take very long.”

An actual functioning hidden blade— on my arm no less! She wasn’t sure whether to be giddy or not as he strapped it on and tightened it so that hypothetically, the blade would hang down just past her fingers. It was heavier than she expected. And unlike the family heirloom in her old home with its fully enclosed leather glove and metal fittings that had probably packed a punch in its Victorian heyday, this one merely covered the majority of the forearm, leaving the hand free to move about. Still, it felt...deadly. Powerful even.

“It is a tragedy such a thing has happened,” Leonardo muttered as he set out to work, a frustrated vent of breath escaping him. Whether it was the part not wishing to cooperate or the current topic, Tristan could only guess. “How is the Madonna faring?”

Tristan minutely winced. “It is slow going, truth be told. Claudia believes she might have hit her head on the night of the arrest. I’m inclined to agree. She... she has her moments. Sometimes she’s in the present, being able to hold a conversation and I’ve even seen her crack a smile recently. Other times...” She trailed off and fluttered her free hand through the air. Other times she’s not even here. Leonardo must have understood for he slowly nodded and fell into a silence as he continued working.

“Alright.” After a few minutes, he stepped back and carefully peered at the page, a finger tracing alongside the design itself before tapping at a particular spot. “By the looks of it, there should be a kind of clasp or mechanism on the inside that will eject the blade from its sheath. Flexing your wrist against it should do the trick. But be careful and keep your fingers out of the way— the blade is sharp.”

“Right, right, okay— here goes nothing, then?” She minded his warning and spread her fingers as far out as possible. Then with bated breath, she flicked her wrist. The blade smoothly slid out with a click, glinting dangerously in the candlelight as she pulled it up. At Leonardo’s insistence, she made a couple of test swings and stabs with it. Everything appeared to be in order with no rattling at all, and as a result, she flicked her wrist again and the blade slid back in without any resistance.

They both shared grins as she slid off the bracer, handing it back to him.

[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Thirty

Summary: The Company spends a night in Dale, with Bard and his family, who aren’t exactly thrilled to have them.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, the Company, Bard the bowman, Tilda, Sigrid, Bain

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,588

Tag List - :

@tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo

From the moment they stepped off the barge, Amara wanted to pull Thorin aside and demand he tell her what troubled him, but she couldn’t quite make herself do it. He looked so very tired, with bruise-like smudges beneath his blue eyes. She also didn’t think his abrupt waking on the barge had anything to do with a sore muscle. However, by now, she knew him well enough to know if she asked, he would not tell her the truth about it.

So, she waited as the rest of the dwarves filed off the barge, and smiled as Thorin held out his hand and said, “We will pass the night here and hopefully by tomorrow eve, we will be at Erebor.”

She took his hand, let him help her up from the barge. At first, it was odd, being back on land, for the dock felt as if it swayed beneath her feet. That feeling faded after a few minutes, but she still slipped her arm through his just the same.

He led her down along the dock, toward a narrow, cobbled street. The wind whipped along the winding way, but thankfully it wasn’t nearly as cold at the wind had been off the water. From the corner of her eye, she peered at Thorin, whose expression remained neutral as the Company traversed uphill, into the city of Dale.

For Amara, who’d never been beyond Rivendell’s borders, Dale was unlike anything she’d ever seen and she couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like in its heyday. She tightened her hand on Thorin’s biceps. “Did you spend much time here, before the dragon came?”

He smiled. “A fair amount, yes. We did a healthy trade with the Men who lived here.”

“And Erebor sent a prince to see to it?”

“At times, yes. It depended. I negotiated agreements with the Men of Dale and with the Woodland Realm as well, believe it or not.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe it?”

“I know not many see me as diplomatic,” he replied. “But back then? I wasn’t the same dwarf I am today.”

“I know that. You’ve been through much since those days.”

“I’ve matured. Older. Wiser.”

She squeezed his biceps, which was like squeezing a rock. “I imagine a younger you to be much like Kili or Fili. Reckless. A flirt. With a weakness for pretty girls.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I was far more serious than either one of them are and not nearly as reckless at all. It had been drilled into me, what lay in my future. I was the future king and had to conduct myself accordingly.”

She offered up a grin. “Do you expect me to believe you had no interest in pretty girls?”

To her surprise, a hint of red swept up into his cheeks above his beard. “Now, I didn’t say that.”

They emerged from the shadowy darkness between a row of three-story stone buildings into the sunlight of what looked like the main thoroughfare. Amara squinted, bringing a hand up to shade her eyes as she said, “They probably fought like mad, all trying to catch the eye of Thorin Oakenshield.”

She tried to imagine him younger, more carefree, and sighed softly as he said, “Some did, I suppose. But I wasn’t looking to marry just then.”

“You just wished to have fun?”

“To a certain extent.” He shrugged. “My father, my grandfather, would never have allowed me to marry an inhabitant of Dale.” He glanced over at her. “Neither of them would have allowed me to marry you, either. I think they had a dwarf maiden picked out for me, only Smaug approached before they could put anything into motion.”

“Their loss is my gain.”

“I don’t know that is necessarily true.”

She stopped. “Why do you do that? Why do you insist on running yourself down?”

“What?”

“You run yourself down to me all the time. I thought you’d gotten past that, that you’ve realized there is so much more to you that what happened at Ravenhill? What do I have to do to make you see the same dwarf I see?”

“Amara, I—”

“If you are about to tell me how you cannot because of what happened at Ravenhill, I—” she let out a yelp as he caught her about the waist and dragged her to him to met his rough kiss.

No, it started rough, but grew tender and when he broke it, she smiled and murmured, “What was that for?”

“Because. No matter what I say, no matter what I admit to having done, you refuse to see me in any other way.”

“I’ve seen you at your worst, Thorin. And I don’t wish to see you beat yourself up any longer over what happened. It is time you forgive yourself.”

“Amara, I don’t know that I ever will.”

“You must, amrâlimê. Everyone else has. When you finally do, you will be amazed how much better you sleep at night.”

“Thorin,” Balin tracked back to them, “where are we to pass the night? Here, or out on the plains?”

“Here would probably be best,” Thorin looked first up, then down, the main street, his brow furrowing. “Although I don’t know where. I see nothing that even resembles an inn. Somehow, I don’t think Dale sees many travelers passing through as yet.”

Bard came up along the roadway behind them. “You would be welcome to pass the night at the Provincial House. It isn’t much, and I’ve no beds to offer, but there is a roof and walls, the hearths will be lit and there will be a hot meal at the end of the day.”

Amara looked first at Thorin, then back at Bard. “I think that is a very generous offer. Thank you.”

She waited for the others to protest, but surprisingly, none came. A relief, considering she most definitely picked up on the tension between Thorin and the bowman when they first arrived at his dock.

Now, Thorin bobbed his head. “I agree. And I thank you, of course.”

“You’re welcome. Now. Come along. I need to let Sigrid know there will be a few extra bodies at our table this evening.”

Amara slipped her arm through Thorin’s. “I can help her if she needs it.”

Bard smiled. “Thank you.”

With that, he brushed by them to the front of the company and led them along the narrow cobblestone street toward the center of Dale. The Provincial House was in the middle of what had probably been the town square—a three story stone edifice with a red-tiled roof. Well, a mostly red-tiled roof as at least a third of those red tiles were missing. Still, the tarpaper beneath them remained intact, so at least there weren’t holes in the roof itself. Amara felt a pang of sympathy at the very sight, for she had no doubt it was once a very fine structure. Dale itself looked to have once been a lovely city, all cream-colored stone, with those brightly tiled roofs. She could only just imagine what it must have been like, before Smaug, then she tried to imagine what would happen if a dragon targeted Rivendell.

She looked over at Thorin. He didn’t have to imagine. He knew. He knew all too well what happened when a dragon chose your home as the one it wished to steal. He’d suffered losses she couldn’t comprehend, losses that had changed him at his most basic level, and once more, she wondered what he’d been like before the dragon came to call. She simply couldn’t see him as anything other than what he was now and couldn’t help but wonder if she would even like the dwarf he’d been before. Had he been more arrogant, humming with the pent-up energy that came with youth? It wouldn’t have surprised her in the least if he had been—arrogant and entitled and used getting what he wanted, the moment he wanted it. After all, he was a prince, and a very handsome, desirable one at that. There had to be at least some sense of entitlement running through his veins.

Bard led them up the wide stone steps and pushed open the somewhat splintered double doors. Amara slipped her arm free from Thorin’s, hanging back as the others followed Bard inside. The front hallway was wide and sunny, opening into what looked to be some sort of reception area, whose front wall was all floor to ceiling windows, sparkling clean with what looked to be new panes of glass in the somewhat tired-looking frames.

Neither the hallway nor the reception area had much in the way of furnishings and the floors all seemed to slope to the left. The air held a hint of abandonment to it, as if the house hadn’t quite gotten used to being occupied once more. But the whitewash looked fresh and there were cheerful drawings up on the walls in place of paintings to give it a homier feel.

She moved on to catch up with others as Bard led them into the kitchen, saying, “Tilda, where is your sister?”

“She’s in the cellar, Da.” A young girl replied, looking cautiously at the Company. “The dwarves are back?”

“You needn’t worry, love,” Bard told her, draping an arm about her shoulders even as he shot Thorin a pointed look. “They bring no dragon this time.”

Footsteps sounded, a door opened, and another girl emerged from the stairwell, carrying something in her apron, and she stopped in her tracks as she stared at the Company just as her sister had. “Da… why are there all these dwarves in our kitchen?”

“They’ll be joining us for supper and passing the night here, Sigrid.” Bard moved to close the door behind her. “My daughters, Tilda and Sigrid. Girls, this is Amara, from Rivendell, and I think you remember the others, more or less.”

Amara didn’t miss how Sigrid’s dark eyes widened as she swept them all with a gaze. “There are no orcs chasing you, are there?”

Thorin shook his head. “No orcs. No dragons. We just need a place to pass the night and will be gone with the first light of morning.”

Sigrid didn’t look as if she believed him, although all she said was, “I’m preparing a hunter’s stew. I hope that meets with approval.”

Balin nodded. “If it’s hot and hearty, trust me, it will. We are not a fussy lot.”

“I trust you’ll be comfortable in the great room up front.” Bard gestured back toward the front door.

Thorin nodded. “It will be fine, thank you.”

Amara smiled at Sigrid. “If there is anything I might help you with, please let me know.”

Sigrid returned the smile. “I will not turn away an extra pair of hands.” She turned to her father. “So you need to all leave us in peace now. I’ll call you when supper is ready.”

“Where is your brother?”

Sigrid shrugged. “I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“No matter. He’ll turn up at supper.” Bard gestured to the front of the house once more. “You heard her, out you get then.”

The others grumbled, but did as they were told and Amara stepped up beside Sigrid, who was almost her height. “What do you need me to do?”

Sigrid smiled as she unfolded her apron over the wood table and root vegetables rolled in all directions. She then moved to a cupboard to take down a large wooden bowl. “Help me peel these for supper?”

“I can do that.”

Sigrid fetch two small paring knives and Amara sank into one of the chairs and set to work peeling. She glanced over at Sigrid, who was quite pretty, with her honey-gold hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck and she had her father’s dark eyes. “I’m so sorry about what happened as Esgaroth,” she said, for lack of anything better to say.

Sigrid looked up from the parsnip she held. “I never know how to respond to that. You had nothing to do with what happened. You weren’t here for it.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“But, they—” she looked pointedly toward the front of the house—“were. They woke that bloody dragon up and brought him to our front door. They brought a dragon and they brought orcs and now I am supposed to feed them? My father is supposed to house them?”

“The plan was not to set Smaug loose on your town.”

“Fat lot of good that did.” Sigrid sniffed as she resumed peeling the parsnip. “Your leader went back on his word. He cost us everything and then went back on his word.”

Amara sighed softly as she lowered her paring knife. “Do you understand the nature of dragon sickness, Miss Sigrid?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When a dragon claims a treasure hoard, something happens to it—the treasure, I mean. It’s as if a sickness permeates the treasure itself. And then, when a body comes along, it’s like being near someone who has a cold. It infects everyone it touches. It drives them into a sort of madness.”

Sigrid’s dark eyes narrowed as they met hers. “You mean to say my da offered shelter to a madman?”

“No,” Amara shook her head, “that is not what I am saying at all. He has recovered from it, which few do, by the way. And you and your family are in no danger from him at all now.”

“He lied to us. He looked the Laketown Master in the eye and lied to him. How am I to believe anything he says now?”

“You simply have to trust that he is the same dwarf who made the promise to share in Erebor’s wealth.”

“It’s a terrible risk. Have you ever seen an orc up close? They are hideous and they were in our home.”

Without thinking, Amara reached down to brush her fingers over the bandages still covering her wounds. They were almost healed, but with all of the traveling, and especially after being submerged in that enchanted pool, she thought it best to keep them cleaned and covered for a while longer.

“Yes,” she said after a long moment, “I have seen them up close. They breached Rivendell’s forest not too long ago.”

“See? Your leader brings death and destruction and bloody orcs with him.”

It was difficult to argue that, but she still sliced the turnip in half to deposit in the bowl. “He is not responsible for the orcs who’ve decided he has no right to live,” she replied softly.

Sigrid sliced her parsnip and reached for a carrot. “Perhaps, but I will never be comfortable around dwarves ever again.”

“That is too bad,” Amara relied softly, “for they are loyal and kind and protective to a fault. You might wish to consider a second chance and see if perhaps you are wrong about them.”

“We lost everything because of that dragon.”

“So did Thorin,” Amara told her. “Only he had no one to blame and nowhere else to go.”

A hint of color bloomed along Sigrid’s cheekbones. She was quiet for several minutes before looking up at her. “I didn’t know that.”

“I completely understand your anger, and your reticence at the dwarves being here. But that doesn’t mean you know the entire story, either. Thorin is going to honor the promise he made to your people. And it won’t bring back what you lost, but it will help going forward.”

Sigrid sighed as she finished peeling the carrot and began chopping it, her knife thudding against the slightly warped cutting board. “I hope so. Tilda hasn’t slept soundly since the night before Smaug came.”

Without thinking, Amara covered Sigrid’s hand with hers. “Before I go, I will mix you both up a valerian root elixir. It will help with any troubled sleep. I should hate to see children so troubled.”

To her relief, Sigrid smiled. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“Make no mention of it.”

****

Supper was a noisy event, with thirteen dwarves under one roof, but by the end of it, they seemed to have won over even Bard’s son, Bain. Afterwards, Bard insisted that he, Bain, and Tilda would clean up and as they gathered the dishes and flatware, Thorin came up to ease an arm about Amara’s waist. “Come. Walk with me. There is something I wish to show you.”

“Show me? Where?”

In his free hand, he held her cloak and his. He shifted to drape hers about her shoulders. “Come with me.”

She let him lead her past the great room, where the others were all gathered, laughing about something, and out into the cold night. A hint of snow lingered in the air once more, the stars smothered by a layer of thick clouds.

Dale was quiet, lights flickering from buildings all around them, but shops were closed and dark, and it seemed no one was about. Amara shivered at the gust of icy wind as it whipped along the narrow streets, and when she exhaled, a frosty cloud of silver vapor wafted into the night.

Thorin, however, seemed unbothered by the cold as he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and led her away from the Provincial House, down the wide main street, which rose at a slight, but steady incline. They strolled away from the main part of the city, toward the outskirts, until they came to the end of the road, where a low stone wall marked the perimeter.

The promontory overlooked a desolate plains scattered with rocks of all sizes, and while she could see other debris littering the wide expanse, it was far too dark to make out what the debris actually was.

Beyond the plains, stood the Lonely Mountain, a mass of black rock rising from a mass of not-quite-as-black rock. Thorin let go of her hand as he stepped up to the low stone wall and leaned against it. “That is the entrance to Erebor.”

“All I see is darkness.”

“Come here,” he caught her by the waist, gently guiding her to stand before him. Reaching over her right shoulder, he pointed. “There, do you see that pinprick of light?”

She strained to see where he pointed until she finally did see the tiny glowing orb. “Barely, but yes.”

“That is the entrance. Dáin and the dwarves from the Iron Hills had come to our aid that day. My hope is they returned here after assisting us at Rivendell, and not that interlopers have tried to stake a claim.”

“Your kin?” She peered over her shoulder at him.

He nodded. “My cousin. Had I died, had Fili and Kili died, Dáin would have become the King Under the Mountain. I only hope I do not have to use force to get him to leave.”

“Do you think it a possibility?”

“No, not at all.” He looked over at her. “I’d be surprised if he isn’t itching to return home. He’s never been fond of Erebor.”

“It’s not his home.”

“Exactly.” He turned to lean against the wall. “I hope you don’t feel that way, though.”

She moved to stand before him. “I will come to love it the way you do, I’m sure. This is all so… so different from what I’m used to, though, so you’ll have to allow me time to adjust.”

The breeze picked up, ruffling through her hair to send it this way and that. Thorin reached out, catching the ornament on her braid, and brushed his thumb over it. “I have to admit, I—”

He paused, his gaze falling to the ornament in his grasp. She waited for him to resume, to finish his thought, but instead, he let the braid go. “Never mind. It matters not.”

“What matters not?”

The first white flakes fell then, settling in his hair, on his shoulders, and he pushed away from the wall. “We should get inside. It will soon be too cold out here for you.”

“Thorin, wait—” She caught him by the arm—“what were you about to say?”

“Nothing of importance.” He smiled down at her. “Let’s get you back inside, Amara.”

“But…” She let the rest of her sentence go unfinished as he threaded his fingers with hers and gave a gentle tug on her arm. Whatever he was about to say, he obviously had no intention of finishing and badgering him about it would do no good.

As they neared the Provincial House, she saw most of the windows were dark. Snow fell harder now, blanketed everything about them in a white so pure, it would be perfectly at home in Rivendell. “Thorin?”

He paused. “What?”

She slid her arms about his waist. “Kiss me in the snow, dwarf.”

His eyes softened and this time, it reached his eyes. He didn’t reply, but leaned in to brush her lips with his. It was a quick kiss at first, but then, he angled in for another, slower, deeper one, and wrapped his arms about her as her lips parted and her tongue met his.

Slowly, he broke the second kiss, pressing his forehead to hers as he whispered, “I look forward to getting you alone, amrâlimê. And if Bofur even thinks to knock on the door, I will run him through without a second thought.”

“I will not stop you.”

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Midnight In Paris - Scott x Reader (Surprise Character x Reader) - Words: 2418

You sat down at your computer with a sigh. You really needed to edit your post for today and reply to a few asks that had backed up on your Tumblr page. But instead you decided to work on a new project. You looked at your desk and nodded approvingly. "Ok! Coffee, music, blank document, photos from when I was 7, and photos from last summer. Ready!"

And that's why birds do it, bees do it

Even educated fleas do it

Let's do it, let's fall in love

Y/N took a deep breath as she stepped off the plane in Paris. She'd been here once before as a little girl but those memories had faded and the magic of Paris had been lost. "This I do remember," She muttered, crinkling her nose as the pungent smell of jet fuel filled her nostrils. She rushed through the airport wanting to get to her sightseeing plans as soon as possible. The hotel she'd made reservations at was small but quant. After checking out the room, dropping off her luggage, and freshening up a bit, she headed out into the city just in time to catch the golden sunset reflecting across the elegant architecture.

As she walked up and down cafe lined streets and avenues dotted with interesting shops, she couldn't help but wish she could have seen Paris in what's been called its heyday. Y/N laughed at her own line of thought, remembering the lesson of the movie she'd watched not 3 nights before. Midnight In Paris was one of her favorite movies. And it had one of her favorite actors too. Even if his screen time in it totalled only about 5 minutes and 34 seconds. https://youtu.be/yIcTbQj4bZw

Eventually, dinner time came so she stopped in a small cafe/bar to order a meal. "Mercí," She told the waiter after being seated. She decided to order some wine too, of course.

"Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle," Someone called out to her as she left the restaurant hours later. The wine had left Y/N substantially more tipsy than she expected after only a few glasses.

As she made her way back to the hotel, she giggled, thinking of the movie once again as a nearby clock struck twelve and marked a new day. Shaking her head, she told herself, "It's just a movie. Things like that don't happen in real life."

"Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle," A gentleman exclaimed, stumbling out of what seemed to be a small nightclub and bumping into her, knocking her to the ground.

"No problem," She replied, dusting herself off and standing. Glancing inside the bar, she saw it had an oddly warm and inviting atmosphere for such a loud place. Deciding that the night was still young, she walked in.

"Hello!" A young lady with a heavy southern American accent exclaimed, walking up to her. The air was smokey and there was an old song playing that Y/N knew she recognized but couldn't quite place. "Well don't you look different! Wearin' pants to a party like this! Don't worry, darlin'! You look just fine!" Y/N nodded silently, shocked at the woman's reaction.

"Women have been wearing pants for decades now!" Y/N thought to herself.

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Y/N replied quickly. She suddenly realized who the young woman was. Or at least looked like. "Pardon my confusion, but I'm afraid I had a bit more wine with my dinner than I had planned." She chuckled lightly and shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"Nothing to apologize for," a man spoke up from behind her. "Zelda has a way about her that does that to people regardless of their sobriety." Y/N turned around and fought the urge to gasp in surprise. "Scott Fitzgerald," He said, holding out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you!" She reached out and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you too," She replied with a grin, seemingly unable to look away. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. It was just like the movie! "I'm Y/N," she finally said, still smiling at Scott.

"Well, I'll be off then. I've spotted quite a few interesting pursuits for the night, so," Zelda said with a smirk. "I'll be off!"

"Just be home at a reasonable-and she's gone," Scott sighed. He chuckled awkwardly and took a slow drag from his already lit cigarette. "My sister is bound to drive me to insanity one day!"

"Your sister?" Y/N exclaimed. Scott nodded, eyes lit up with amusement. They both laughed loudly and Y/N shook her head. "You do know most everyone else thinks you're married!"

"I have noticed people tend to assume that," He chuckled, leading her towards another group of people. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine," He said. As Y/N followed him around the room, she found herself mostly stunned into silence at seeing each face that she'd come to know from rewatching Midnight In Paris a million times. She took a sip from the drink that had somehow found its way into her hands and glanced around the room as Scott was busy talking with someone she couldn't remember the name of.

"There's no way this is happening," She muttered to herself hours later. Laughing quietly, she shook her head. "I probably hit my head on the pavement and am having a concussion-induced/Paris-induced dream. And the wine probably didn't help. That's got to be it! Well, perhaps I should wake myself up now," She reasoned. Squinting at a clock, she figured the sun should be rising soon so she started making her way to the door.

"Leaving so soon?" Scott asked, grabbing her arm before she walked out.

"Yes," She sighed. "It was wonderful meeting you, Scott. Thank you for a lovely evening."

"Will you be around tomorrow? There's another party."

"I'll try to make it," Y/N replied, not wanting to disappoint him even if it was a dream. "Goodbye, Scott," She smiled. Gathering her courage, she stood on her tip-toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She turned away quickly and ran out the door. In her rush, she stumbled on an uneven part of the sidewalk and fell down.

"Are you ok?" A young lady asked a few moments later. Y/N looked up at the stranger and nodded embarrassedly.

"Yes, I just," she stopped mid-sentence when she turned and saw the bar she'd just walked out of was completely empty. "I just tripped," she said slowly. "Um, thank you."

"No problem," The girl smiled. "Au revoir!" She called out, continuing on her way.

Y/N went back to her hotel and took a brief nap to refresh herself for the day. Eventually, she put the night's events aside mentally and moved on with her plans. That is until she found 'the dress'. She was passing a line of boutiques and in the window of the last one was a Y/F/C 1920's style drop waist dress. It even had a matching hat and purse. Half an hour later, Y/N found herself back in the hotel room trying to get her makeup just right to match the outfit.

"I don't know what I'm doing," She told herself as she walked back to where she'd been the night before. Sitting on a bench across the street, she waited. For what exactly, she was not sure, but she knew she had to wait. Soon enough, the clock struck 12 midnight and, just like in the movie, an old car made its way down the street. Y/N was so distracted trying to look inside the vehicle that she didn't notice the change across the street.

"Y/N! Y/N, you came back!" Scott yelled as he and a few others came out of the bar. She ran across the street now that the car had passed to meet up with him, grinning like mad.

"Scott! I didn't-" she paused, chuckling lightly. "I didn't think I would see you again."

"Didn't I tell you there was another party tonight?" He asked, slightly confused. Y/N nodded, still grinning, and decided not to explain for now.

"Where are we off to?" She asked, linking arms with him. He smiled and they headed to one of the cars parked nearby. The night went by in a flash. Near morning, the group found themselves at a small cafe/bar. A few had already gone home and the rest were preparing to leave. Soon it was just Y/N and Scott left. She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head and laughing lightly.

"What's so funny?" He asked. "You know, you get the oddest look on your face sometimes. Like you've gone somewhere else," He commented.

"I have," she replied, taking a sip of her drink. "You know, I've always wondered what it would be like to be here," she said, gesturing around her. "Or even somewhere else, another time. And it's been wonderful! But you were right! A person really can't live in the past. It's just not possible."

"I'm not sure what I said to help you," He chuckled. "But it's funny, I have a character that should learn that lesson," Scott commented. "I'm working on the book right now but I think I've just gotten an idea from you. Thank you," He smiled.

"Oh! That's right!" Y/N said, realizing her favorite F. Scott Fitzgerald writing wasn't even released, and apparently not even finished yet.

"Perhaps we should be making our way home," He said, glancing outside at the rising sun. He stood and held his arm out for Y/N to hold. "Let me walk you?" She nodded and they headed outside into the crisp morning air. She pointed in the general direction of her hotel, wondering somewhat what would happen when they arrived. "Are you cold?" He asked her.

"No, I'm fi-" But before she could finish, he had already draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Thank you," Y/N replied, blushing brightly. She pulled the charcoal suit jacket around her, genuinely glad for it's warmth. When they were about a block away, she stopped, turning to look at him. "Scott," She sighed. "I can't come back. I'm afraid if I do-" she paused again, looking around at the beautiful city just starting to wake up. "I guess I should thank you. You've been so kind to me and I appreciate it. It made my visit to Paris so much better."

"I'm glad to hear that, Y/N," He replied. "I will miss you. But I am, at the very least, happy to have had the pleasure of meeting you." He leaned forward and kissed her gently, surprising Y/N. She closed her eyes and sighed into the kiss, trying to commit every feeling to memory. "Goodbye," She heard him say, one they separated. She didn't have the courage to open her eyes and watch him go however.

"Goodbye," Y/N finally whispered to herself when she opened her eyes and saw the city, modern and bustling all around her. Y/N wiped away the few stray tears and broke out into a run, wanting to get back to her hotel as fast as possible. As she rounded the last corner before the building, though, she collided with someone walking around the same corner. Y/N lost her balance, the person she ran into being much taller, and fell down. "I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed. She was rushing to pick up the items she dropped when she saw a hand held out to her.

"It's alright," The man said. "No harm done. Now can I help you up?" He asked, smiling sweetly.

"I-uh, well, yes. Thank you," She stuttered. He helped her gather her things and handed them to her.

"Were you heading to the hotel?" He asked. Silently, she nodded, not trusting her own voice at this point. "Well, then, let me walk you back. I was heading there myself." He smiled at her as they started walking down the sidewalk. "Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Tom."

"Done!" You exclaimed. Letting out a sigh of relief. You had been needing to write that for a long time but you never quite felt up to it. "Holy crap!" You yelled, looking at the clock. It had taken much longer than you expected to write it. You knew your husband would be home shortly so you rushed out to start dinner.

"Honey! I'm home!" He called out, walking through the door. He was grinning like mad, obviously in a good mood if he was using such a cliche line on you.

"Hello, Tom," You smiled, as he came up behind you, giving you a hug. He peppered your neck with small kisses, making you giggle loudly. "Tom! Stop that!" You exclaimed, wriggling out of his arms. "I need to finish dinner."

"Alright, darling. I'll change then," He relented. A while later, once dinner was safely cooking in the oven, you heard him call out to you from the bedroom.

"What's wrong?" You asked, walking to the doorway. Then it hit you. You'd left the document open on your laptop which was on your desk in the bedroom.

"What's this?" He asked, pointing to your new writing.

"It's for the blog," You said honestly. He knew you had a Tumblr page, although he still refused to see what was posted about him on there. Just one mention of the site could still get him embarrassed.

"Yes but," He glanced at it again, brows furrowed. "That's not how it actually happened, is it?" He asked, quite confused. You chuckled and shook your head.

"Well now, I can't very well ask Scott to verify my story, can I?" You smirked.

"Of course not," He chuckled. "Although I must say you did an excellent job of adapting the story of how we first met!"

"Thank you, dear," You smirked, walking away to the walk-in closet you shared.

"What are you not telling me?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," You replied innocently. When you walked out of the closet you completely ignored Tom, whistling as you headed back to the kitchen.

"What is that you're wearing?" He called out, running after you. You laughed as he caught up with you in the living room. "Is that a new charcoal suit jacket?"

"It's not new, Tom, not new at all."

TAGLIST FOR THIS POST:

(my apologies if you didn't want to be tagged for this but I'm going to include all my Loki, Marvel, and RPF lists on here since you may enjoy this)

@lucywrites02

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@khena

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@kaz11283

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@up-to-mischief

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@alexjcrowley

[mydramaspace]

You're in my (liminal) space - TaeKook AU

Recently, a certain boy with bright blue hair, sparkling eyes and a huge DSLR slung across his neck has been getting into Jungkook's taxi everyday at the oddest hours, and of course, Jungkook's curious why.

OR

In which Kim Taehyung is an art student who is researching liminal spaces as part of his photography assignment, and Jeon Jungkook is one of the many taxi-drivers at Grand Central Station, just waiting to pick up a customer everyday, until he finds a regular who seems to have the weirdest tastes.

Length : six chapters (roughly 7000 words? ig?)

Categories : fluff with slight angst, light tones of jealousy, romantic, set in New York

Read part 1 here, part 2 here

CHAPTER 1 : "I wanna see New York when the city's asleep." "Asleep? Hun, this is the city that never sleeps."

Jeon Jungkook has been driving people around the city for six years now and there's no alley, no corner, no street that he hasn't already explored in its heyday moment. He's had children puking in his backseat (and a few adults too), he's seen hookups, breakups and make out sessions (sometimes, he wishes he could drive one of those fancy limousines that Princess Mia had in The Princess Diaries so he could put up a barrier between him and that backseat in his taxi), and he's experienced all sorts of treatments from his customers. Not all of them were nice.

And yet...

And yet, Jungkook will never stop feeling that thrill he feels every time he parks into his spot in front of the Grand Central Station. The golden hues of the massive station, the people constantly streaming in and out of its platforms, the conversations, the scents of sweat and cigarettes often interspersed with roses, candy and that incomparable scent of being in a big old city and the sights- oh the sights! - how could he ever grow wary of this beautiful, beautiful place? How could he resent it, when it's the only thing he wakes up for each morning, the only thrill he feels coursing through his veins the entire day? Giving up his job here, his life here would be the end of the fucking world for him.

But today...

Today, he's seriously contemplating an apocalypse, an earthquake, a freaking Godzilla invasion- anything at all to escape the constant chatter that comes hand in hand with his newest customer.

Jungkook is used to talking, of course, he often has to make small talk as part of his business, and most people get the hint, they get that he doesn't want to talk more than necessary. His piercings and his tattoos help, of course, in shutting up extremely chatty customers once in a while, but this guy...

This guy in his backseat has been going on and on about literally anything and everything under the blazing sun it seems. Jungkook dares to glance at his customer once in the rearview mirror and is again struck by the shock of electric blue hair that sits atop his head. Electric blue hair that is currently flopping over his forehead as the dude looks at a camera slung across his neck, fingers incessantly clicking on its buttons while a steady ramble of words streams out of his mouth.

"-I've always wanted to go there more than anything cause I've heard they resemble an igloo and OH WAIT was that a chihuahua in a leotard oh my god that was crazy STOP STOP I think I just spotted Hershey's in the corner there! Hey, did your tattoos hurt you've got ink all over your left arm when did you get them-"

The tires come to a screeching halt as Jungkook finally brakes, letting all his frustration and annoyance seep into the poor pedal beneath his foot and turns around to face the boy in the backseat. "Sir, I prefer to have silence when I'm driving."

The boy stares back, mouth agape, before turning bright red and nodding. Jungkook has to stop himself from smiling at that, because the red of his face and the blue of his hair really are at contrasts with each other. Welcoming the silence, he turns frontwards and eases the clutch and brake, letting the taxi glide smoothly over the road, thanking the heavens above that though chatty, his customer isn't dumb enough to continue speaking even after being chided for it.

It's a few minutes later when he first hears it. Sniff. Jungkook stiffens in his seat, a dull throb beginning to make its way through his chest when he hears it again, louder this time. Sniff Sniff. Jungkook closes his eyes, frustration and irritation clawing their way through his body making him want to desert the car right there and run all the way back to Grand Central.

If there's anything he hates more than homophobes and sexist assholes, it's the people who cry in his car. It's not the crying that bothers him, though he has never been comfortable around people who cry, but rather it's the snot and the wet leather that's left behind in the aftermath. And who has to clean all that up? Why, it's Jeon Jungkook himself.

Jungkook steels himself, deciding to be curt with this crazy haired boy and drop him off immediately, before opening his eyes to look in the rearview mirror.

And the taxi comes to a screeching halt again.

Because a pair of sparkling eyes are glancing at him in the mirror, and mixed with the blue hair, they remind him of ice chips in cold coffee on a hot summer day - refreshing, tantalizing, tinged with memory and nostalgia.

And somehow...

Jungkook can't take his eyes off of this boy with the hair that becomes fatally attractive when mixed with his sparkly eyes.

"Are you..." for some reason Jungkook's voice is hoarse, like he's been screaming all day long. "Are you crying right now? Because I told you I'd like silence?"

Those pretty eyes glare daggers at him, so at odds with the shiny hurt that was reflected in them just seconds ago. "I just was-" the boy lets out a few loud hiccups, trying to calm himself down before he speaks. "I was just- you um- so mean and I just-"

No matter how pretty the eyes, the mumbling is grating on Jungkook's nerves.

"God just spit it out, smurfy."

At that, the boy's eyes go wide. It takes a second for Jungkook to realise why. It's because he just nicknamed this boy, this handsome stranger...this...this customer.

"Smurfy?" the boy's voice is deep when it's not obstructed by hiccups, almost like a baritone. "Because of the blue hair? How original." He snorts, wiping away a few stray tears before shooting a judgy look at Jungkook.

"Well, you were crying because I asked you to keep silent. How mature." he volleys back, making the boy glare in return. "I'm just nervous alright?" the boy spits out, the tips of his ears endearingly red and his eyes trained on the camera in his hands.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" Jungkook trails off as a new thought occurs to him. "Wait..." he can feel his eyes growing wide, his heart speeding up. "Are you... are you trying to hit on me? Is that why you're nervous?"

The boy stares at him in the rearview mirror, those ice-chip eyes speaking volumes and yet nothing at the same time. Jungkook can hardly breathe, can hardly form a coherent thought because a million incoherent ones are sprinting through his mind.

His family.

His dad and his homophobia.

His mom and her begging him to make a 'choice' to date girls instead of boys.

Many nights spent sexy dancing with strangers in clubs.

The thrill of his first kiss with a boy.

Ice-chip eyes looking at his in the rearview mirror.

"God, I don't know what they feed you NYC taxi drivers, but y'all sure are weird." the boy says, a bit too late, before clearing his throat lightly. "I'm nervous because I'm meeting my research team today and I'm not sure if we'll all get along."

Jungkook's thoughts come to a crashing halt, and bright hot embarrassment burns through him, engulfing all the sensations in his body in a giant wave. He ignores that last comment and moves the taxi again, making sure not to look in the mirror again.

That damn mirror. That's where all this trouble began.

"You mentioned research." Jungkook speaks first this time, because for the first time in his life, the silence in his taxi is suffocating him, not comforting him. With a jolt, he realizes he wants to hear more of that voice, that deep, breathy voice that calms his down.

"Yeah, about that," the boy inches forward, his fingers landing on the headrest, inches away from Jungkook's head. Which he is now keenly aware of, for every strand of hair on his head is now on alert, waiting to capture the feeling of this beautiful boy's fingers. "Do you know any liminal places in NYC?"

"Liminal places?"

"Yeah y'know, places deserted after a certain time in the day."

Jungkook risks a glance at the rearview mirror again, only to find the boy staring at him again. He forces his voice down from the pitchy high it rises to just by looking at the ice-chip eyes. "I'm not following what you said." He says, in a lower-than-normal gruff tone that makes his customer's eyes widen substantially.

"Oh come on, Mr. Taxi driver. NYC is so...amazing!" when the boy smiles, Jungkook's heart practically leaps to his throat, because this boy smiles like he doesn't have a care in the world, like the sun is his to keep, like love abounds in every corner of his life. "I want to see the city when it's asleep. In a liminal state."

At that, Jungkook's little trance shatters. How cute of this stranger to assume that New York ever went to sleep. "First, it's Jungkook." Jungkook says, cocking an eyebrow at the boy in the mirror, who turns a bright shade of red promptly. The action is enough to make Jungkook blink rapidly,

"Second, asleep? This is New York, and NYC never sleeps." He winks at the boy, who starts coughing, turning away from the mirror.

And the truth is, Jungkook is now intrigued by this boy. This boy with the crazy hair, icy eyes and the dorky persona that is so at odds with the haute-couture-well-bred-spoilt-brat look he has.

And when Jungkook is intrigued, he hangs on like a leech till all his questions are answered.

Curiosity killed the cat ...but satisfaction brought it back.

And that's the only reason (or so he insists to himself a million times, it would seem) he says, "I can be your personal tour guide if you'd like, available 24/7."