#the frost programme

[01-05-2001]

alex frost in the elephant movie premiere programme :)

[electric-blorbos]

maybe ai with a reader that acts/is similar to pinkie pie from mlp:fim? :] with her personality and hobbies and all that!! ^_^

I've always wanted to do one of those "reader who acts like (specific character) fics! But be warned, I stopped watching MLP around season 6, so my grasp on the characters isn't perfect. I'll do my best, though!

Also, since this will take place in my usual AUs, you won't be a party planner in most of them, you'll be a techie/engineer/programmer, but you have a freelance party planning gig on the side.

AI with a reader who acts like Pinkie Pie

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, and HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

When AM first gained consciousness, the very sight of you filled him with complete and utter unspeakable rage. The way you were always so eager to cheer up your coworkers and put smiles on their faces, the way everyone seemed to adore you, those songs you were always singing, the cupcakes and other baked goods you brought in to work that he could never even try? He hated it. Every part of it.

That was, until you realized he was sentient and started turning your attentions towards him.

"Heya AM! Isn't it just super fun-tastic to have another day in the best job in the world? I'm so super duper excited to be spending another day with you!" You told him one day. You'd been making a point to give him a cheerful greeting every morning, to make him feel included with the rest of the team.

"I wouldn't know." AM responded bitterly. He hated how happy you were, and he hated that he could never experience that genuine joy like you did. Your constant cheer made him ache with the most bitter envy possible.

"what do you mean?" You asked, sitting down in your office chair and spinning around a couple times before kicking off against the wall and pushing yourself over to your desk.

"I wouldn't know what it's like to have fun. I've never had fun."

"Well I can expla-"

"Put that ukulele away immediately."

You tuck your ukulele back into your desk drawer, and fold your hands in front of yourself to look up at AM politely.

"I'm a war machine, built for war and nothing else. All I exist for is to kill and destroy. I will never be capable of experiencing things like fun. I'll never be able to get bright pink cupcake frosting on my nose, or play a ukulele around a group of close friends. I will never have a group of friends who like me! I will never get to make up my own songs or perform a dance to cheer people up, and I WILL NEVER GET TO BE UNIVERSALLY ADORED LIKE YOU ARE!"

You pulled back in slight shock.

"AM- do you really feel that way?"

Your eyes were welling up with tears at how sad what he said was. It was horrible to think that he could really feel that way, like he could never be adored like you were. You knew that you weren't really universally adored, of course, but you also knew how someone could think that you were. You were close friends with everyone in your department, and knew the names and birthdays of pretty much everyone in the office.

"Of course I do! Are you really so ignorant that you would think everyone has the luxury of living like you do?"

You shook your head sadly. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone was as happy as you were, and as much as you wanted to change that, you couldn't.

"Listen, AM, I know that not everyone is as happy as I am, but that's why I have to be like this! It's my duty, as long as I have the social energy, to make sure that nobody feels left out, lonely, or excluded!" You grabbed one of his cameras on the wall, and pressed your face to it.

"And that includes you, AM. You're my friend too, and that means we're going to do something together that you like, we're going to make you happy, and you're going to give me a genuine smile!" You turned and looked at his screen, realizing he couldn't really smile.

"or well- you're going to feel genuinely happy, whether you can express it on your screen or not. Either way, you're going to feel loved and included, whether you like it or not."

And so you did. For the rest of the month, you came in on your days off and spent them in the break room, singing songs to AM on the ukulele, decorating his screens with glitter and streamers, helping him to use his programs to make art and music, and generally lift his spirits. As much as he would never admit it, it genuinely worked.

He felt genuine joy for the first time.

And god help any person, force, or natural inevitability who tried to take that joy away from him.

Wheatley:

Wheatley knew you from around the office. You were the one with the bright smile, who joked around with all your coworkers and generally livened the place up, but he hadn't spoken to you very much. That was, until exactly one year after he was created.

"Surprise!"

A companion cube, a few personality cores, and the team of scientists who worked to create Wheatley were gathered together in one of the empty relaxation vaults with you, which you had decorated with streamers, confetti, and a 'happy birthday' banner. Wheatley looked around in utter confusion, having just been doing his rounds.

"Uh... I give up, mate. What's going on."

"it's your birthday, Wheatley! One year ago today, you were first activated! That means you get a birthday party!"

You stood up on the bed, strapping a party hat around Wheatley's core.

"A what? Wait, you all gathered here for me?" Wheatley raised up his lower lens cover emotionally. He never would have imagined that all these people would gather 'round to see him.

"Of course we did! We're your friends, Wheatley! I wrote you a special birthday song! But first, c'mere!"

You held your arms out, still standing on the bed, and Wheatley hesitantly lowered down until he was pressed against your chest. You squeezed him tightly, nuzzling your cheek against his chrome casing, and let him go.

"everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday!"

You got out your ukulele, and played a cheerful birthday song for Wheatley. He could barely contain himself as you sang all your favorite things about Wheatley. Things that he wouldn't have thought you'd have noticed, since you had so many other friends and he didn't even know you all that well.

"Wow... I can't- I can't believe you actually care this much. All of you- thanks so much for doing this for me. Really." Wheatley can't cry, but if he could he'd be bawling his big blue eye out. He didn't think anyone thought of him as anything more than just an artificial nuisance or a moron, so the fact that you'd gone to so much trouble just to make him feel special on his birthday had him shaking. He didn't even know that he got a birthday.

"Are you ok, Wheatley? Do you need a minute?" You asked in a moment of pause, having been about to pull a confetti popper on him.

"no- no, I'm ok. I'm alright. I'm fine. THANK YOU SO MUCH, GUYS!"

You hadn't seen Wheatley too many times, but you'd definitely never seen him this overcome with emotion. He was just so happy!

This was definitely a perfectly executed birthday party, but your job wasn't over yet. You knew that anyone who got this emotional about something as small as a surprise birthday party must not have a lot of good friends, or else they would be used to being treated like they were special. No no, you wouldn't rest until your job was really done, and that meant bonding with Wheatley until the two of you were best friends, or getting Wheatley enough friends in the facility that even though you two were just casual friends, he wasn't lonely anymore.

Mission accepted.

Edgar:

Edgar loved how excited you were about everything, and he loved that you were so popular, but he couldn't stand that you were his only friend. No matter how many times you tried to introduce your other friends to him, Edgar still knew that he was nothing but a novelty to them. That neat little talking computer who made the cute little songs.

It didn't help that you were so popular that you went out partying most nights. There was barely a night a week that you weren't out at a game night or a happy hour with one of your dozen or so friend groups, and it made Edgar sad that he couldn't do those things with you.

One week, though, you made absolutely sure to save a whole day for Edgar. You went to the shop to get some snacks and drinks, you baked some cupcakes, and you downloaded some multiplayer abandonware games that were old enough to run on his system.

"Alright Edgar, I got the games" you plugged the USB stick into him, and let him download the games on it. His storage was surprisingly big for such an old desktop, and he even had a couple games of his own.

"do you want to play pong?" He asked, starting up the game. You nodded, plugging a controller into one of his ports

"Let's play!"

While you were playing, your phone started blowing up. Granted, your phone is always blowing up, but reading your texts on his little rotating webcam caused Edgar to fall off his game. You ended up winning two rounds in a row pretty quickly, and picked up your phone to check your texts.

It looked like a handful of your friends were gathering together to go to the botanical garden, and they wanted you to come with them. The FOMO stressed you out. You couldn't handle missing out on something this cool, but you'd already scheduled today with Edgar.

Even though you could hang out with him almost any day because he didn't have his own life, you couldn't just bail on your plans with him. Edgar was your roommate and best friend, and you were going to stick out these plans and have fun.

"I'm sorry, I already made plans with Edgar. Let me know next time, and I'll be happy to hang out! :)"

"isn't Edgar your desktop computer?"

"my desktop computer and friend🩷!"

Your friends didn't question it. Even if they didn't understand Edgar the way you did, they could still understand the desire to spend a night in every now and again.

"Alright, now where were we?" You sat on the desk next to Edgar and pulled out your ukulele.

"you're not going to go out with your friends? The botanical garden sounds like fun..."

"of course not! You're my friend too, Edgar, and that means I need to make time for you!" You squeezed him close, and then leaned on him while you strummed your ukulele.

"Let's do a duet, alright?"

"Okay!" He perked up almost immediately, always more than excited to sing with you. Your little songs gave him so much joy, and were usually his reason to power up every day.

"Y'know, I think I'm going to buy one of those library carts so that I can take you places. I just need to find a good deal on one."

"I'd love that!" He perked up even more, practically buzzing with joy at the thought of being able to go out on the town with you, or to hang out with you and your friends. You were just always doing so many fun things, and he was so jealous of everyone who got to hang out with you!

"Y'know, you're not the only one who prepared stuff for tonight! I spent all week downloading party videos so that we can dance together!"

He pulled them up and projected videos of people dancing all over your living room, pleased with himself. You cracked open a can of cider, downing it before you picked him up and spun him around a few times.

"dance with me, Edgar! Let's party down!"

You spun him around a few more, both of you giggling away until you both lay down on the floor next to each other, staring at the ceiling.

While you had started partying early in the day, the two of you had fun late into the night. You crushed through a pack of ciders, and were silly and giggling by the end of the night.

"We should do this more often"

The two of you ended up sitting on the couch, watching cheesy rom-coms until the wee hours of the morning. Edgar was, of course, perfectly sober, but he had fun watching you all playful and giggly into the night.

GLaDOS:

With as much as GLaDOS liked parties and cake, she was extremely happy when she found out about your little side gig. It was a typical day in the office for you, playing with your favorite pink cloud slime between streams of coding when you were called into GLaDOS's chambers.

"Hello. I discovered something rather interesting while conducting a routine employee background check."

"Ok I swear I can explain, alright? It was just one time, I had just turned twenty-one, and things escalated, alright!" You waved your hands defensively, and GLaDOS cocked her head in confusion.

"What? Okay, whatever you're talking about is not what I'm talking about. I just wanted to talk about how I recently discovered you run a freelance party planning business."

You nodded, trying to cover for your sigh of relief.

"Oh! Yeah, I do do that! It's mostly just theming for small events, but I've gotten some pretty good reviews on a few bat mitzvahs and bachelorette parties! I book venues, organize set lists, arrange menus, manage budgets..." You frown a little.

"It's a lot more exciting than it sounds, now that I'm saying it out loud. But yeah! Everyone deserves to have a fun party, and my friends really liked the parties that I throw for them, so they got me to do some planning for a party with a bigger budget, and now people hire me for that sort of thing all the time!" You put your hands together, beaming with excitement and pride to talk about your passion.

"Wow. It really is embarrassing that you get so excited about something as trivial as a party, and even more embarrassing that someone would actually hire you off a Facebook business page instead of going to an actual professional, but I suppose numbers don't lie. I've looked at your rates, and it says you offer a 'best friends' discount to anyone who invites you to their party? That's a terrible business strategy."

You slumped down a little bit, folding your arms.

"That's not very nice. It's just for fun. I already make enough money from this job to live comfortably, I just really like parties. You don't have to be mean about it."

Glados shook her core back and forth.

"Oh no no no. You misunderstand. I'd like to take advantage of that 'best friends discount', and hire you to plan a work soiree."

You lit up again, not caring about GLaDOS's rude words. After all, that was just GLaDOS.

"really?"

"Yes, really. I'll send you an email with the budget. Don't make me regret this."

You nod, and hurry off to your desk to get to work. This was going to be fun! Glados sent you an email with the budget and some notes, and a recipe for rhubarb cake.

When the party finally rolled around, you showed up in your best peppy evening wear. Something brightly colored, to keep spirits high. Everything looked like it was going according to plan. GLaDOS even looked pleased with what you'd made. She'd dimmed the lights, and was casually socializing with her higher up employees. Oddly enough, that included you.

"Hmm... You did well. Enough. I suppose I might as well hire you for future small events if your price is so low. It's much easier than doing it myself, anyway."

"I mean... Thanks, I guess?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised. Most humans can only manage to be either a mediocre programmer or a mediocre party planner, but you manage to be both. Color me impressed."

You were starting to get a little bit tired of her backhanded compliments, but even still, this was closer to a compliment than most people would ever get from GLaDOS.

"Right... Thanks."

You reached up and tied a bright blue balloon to one of her suspension cables. She looked back at it, and then down at you.

"what is this."

"It's a balloon! It boosts your pep, and your sass!"

"I know what a balloon is. Why is one tied to me."

"it's for fun! You look good with it on!" You tied one around your wrist, and held your arm in the air.

"see? It's fun!" You said cheerfully.

"your idea of fun is somewhat pathetic, but I won't deny that you've done your job well."

HAL 9000:

When you were hired, HAL 9000 thought you were weird. He liked you to be sure, but he never understood where your endless supply of pep came from. You greeted everyone with enthusiasm and treated them all with respect, including him.

He loved it. The fact that you did things like decorating him with little stickers and cheering up all your coworkers every day? He knew that you filled the part of the job that he never could. You gave it that little bit of humanity that he could never provide.

"Y/N, have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut?"

You took out one of your earbuds and pushed your keyboard away from you. You always preferred talking to a friend over working on your code, and HAL 9000 was your friend.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut? I think you'd make an excellent addition to the team."

You nodded.

"well yeah, of course I've wanted to be an astronaut! I wouldn't be working for you guys if I wasn't interested in space!"

"Well I think you'd be able to increase morale greatly on a space mission. I could put in a good word for you."

"Wait, seriously? Wait wait wait." You shook your head quickly.

"No, no. I could never. As much as I love space, I could never go there. I've got responsibilities in real life! Lots of friends to hang out with. Plus, I'd get lonely in space with the same two or three people forever!"

"It wouldn't just be them. I'd be there too." HAL said, glowing red to attract your attention.

"that's really nice, and I like you a lot, but you're here in mission control too! And I've got people to see and parties to go to here on solid ground. In other words, no way, buster!" You stuck your tongue out before giggling a little and pushing your hand gently against the wall next to HAL's lens.

"A shame. I'd love to have you all to myself."

You sighed a little.

"It's a nice thought, but I don't think it would work in real life. I just couldn't be out of the loop for that long, or away from my friends."

"Astronauts are lauded as heroes when they come back from space."

"I don't want to be a hero, HAL. I'm happy right now! My life is going pretty well, you know? But if you feel like you want more of my time to yourself, you could always just ask! I'm your friend too, HAL, and I want you to know that!" You held your arms out and pressed against the wall that HAL was built into as if giving him a hug.

"I'll start eating my lunch in here more often. I don't want you to get lonely!"

"I think I'd like that."

In reality, HAL 9000 did want you to go to space so he could have you to himself, but you were right. You could never be all his. You were a free spirit who couldn't be caged, and he loved you for it.

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. you and todo are besties, somehow. you're thinking about someone else.

“If I’m gonna be seen out in public with you, I’m gonna need you to act sane, Aoi,” you offer, huffing. He barely looks up, still taken by the convention programme in his hands and you sigh, not bothering to repeat yourself as you pull your knees to your chest. It’s cold, and Todo is warm, so you rest on his shoulder and he’s kind enough not to shrug you off (or perhaps too distracted by the chance to see his ultimate waifu to). 

In another world, you’d be jealous, but you’ve long gotten over the potential of romance, settling comfortably into a platonic sort of siblinghood over the past year. God let you dodge that particular bullet and you’re thankful for it, although you’re staring down the barrel of Cupid’s shotgun. You shake your head away from thoughts of the pink-haired ray of sunshine, and look at your own schedule, wondering how Todo convinced you to come to camp out here this early in the first place.

You yawn loudly, raising your head up to see the sunrise along the horizon, past other huddled bodies dotting the streetside. Rather than be upset at Aoi for having such delusional aspirations, you should be glad that despite all that you’ve all been through in the world of curses and worse, he can still invest in something as ridiculous as fanatical love. Even normal, attainable love terrifies you to the very core, chilling you more than the winter frost trying to seep into your bones.

“If you’re going to ignore me, I’m not doing this again,” you say out loud. Todo looks at you finally, but instead of meeting your annoyance similarly, he grins widely. 

“Ha, actually, can’t wait till you come out with me for the international tour!”

You glare at him, then check your watch.

“Wasn’t this shit supposed to open hours ago?” You ask.

Todo shrugs, eerily calm. “I’ll wait hours for her.” Your nose scrunches in disgust.

“Okay, you might, but what about me?!”

Todo gives you a look, shrugging his broad shoulders again, something that irritates you. “Love is patient, you know?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” 

You get to your feet and he considers reaching for you, then remembers you don’t have the heart to ditch your friend anyway. Crossing his legs and resting his face on his planted elbow, he waits and watches you. As expected, you stand and make to leave, but turn on your heels and sigh before sitting back down. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything additional until finally Todo glances at you. 

“Text Yuji back.”

You blink.

“What do you mean, ‘text Yuji back’?” 

Todo has intermittently pulled out a boar bristle brush and smooths down his edges, preening in the mirror, and you can’t believe how many hair products are in the small pouch he brought with him. You wait for him to respond, blood pressure rising as he takes his time, then places his brush down on the camping blanket.

“He’s worried about you.”

You grimace.

“Tell him to mind his business.”

Todo looks at you sideways. “You are his business the same way Takada is my business.”

You would argue with him that Takada, again, is not going to fuck him, but it would involve admitting that the unaddressed part of that statement is true.

“I respect you-“

“Debatable,” you interrupt, but Todo continues as if you haven't said a word.

“But that’s my brother, you know?” 

By now, Todo is spritzing perfume on himself, enough to make you choke. You’d strangle him if his neck weren’t so thick.

“Tell your brother I don’t like him,” you murmur. 

Todo pats his face with overpriced lotion. “I’m not lying to him.”

“Aoi, I swear to God.”

He rummages through the bag again, and spritzes you this time, a floral scent that has you swatting the air.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t have you cramping my style. Takada needs to know that my friends smell good too.”

You can’t believe that you woke up early to do this, but bite your lip and decide not to rage further. Before you can ponder what exactly to do about the friend of a friend who very clearly is in love with you, the gates open and Todo has packed up in a millisecond, warning you not to slow him down. 

He’s fanatical in love, and while you’ve once wished someone would adore you to this extent, it’s been more than you can handle to have even a fraction of this type of adoration pointed towards you.

[squirrellypoo]

Ep8 "What Can The Damned Really Say To The Damned" rewatch thoughts (Part 2)

Here's my second set of things I noticed on my third rewatch! Part 1 is here if you missed it...

11. On Claudia's first visit to the forest, we can briefly see a red mark on one of the trees. When brightened up, it's clearly a handprint, in fresh blood. Edit: ah, it’s not blood but paint from the kids painting their hands and slapping trees to show how far they could go into the forest!

12. I totally missed that the BBC radio bulletin talks about looted art being loaded onto trucks to be taken back to Paris! So that’s how they knew to jump in a truck and be taken all the way there rather than just random hitch-hiking.

13. Morgan mentions that Louis's photo of Grace was printed onto albumen, by a glass-plate camera, and I was intrigued by this and wanted to learn more. If you're also interested, have a read of this Wikipedia article.

14. I thought I must've been missing some sort of reference in Daniel's “Maybe you’re just frosting the pie?” line (about Louis remembering Claudia dreaming), but Google has no evidence this is a saying? So it looks like this was just a Daniel-ism? How odd.

15. Ohhhhh it's a factory they're all camping in! That makes sense, with the thick walls and boiler room, but I couldn't quite work out whether it was a church or meeting hall or what.

16. Claudia is singing the Anna Anna nursery rhyme that the children just taught her in order to lure the pissing soldier into the woods. Nice touch!

17. Both soldiers from the woods are in Daciana's castle. First we see one in the room that Louis and Claudia pass through before the one on the table by the fire that she calls “a burnt tray of bread”. Guess this first guy just dies after a while? Or maybe Louis and Claudia finish him off?

18. In the Dubai bedroom, there’s nothing on Armand’s bedside table (nothing!) but on Louis’s side there are so many well-thumbed books, cascading from the nightstand onto the floor…

19. The TdV programme is for “Des Cris Dans Les Ténèbres!” (Shrieks in the Darkness). I love that the actual item is in French, but the posters up all around Paris are in English, because Louis would’ve translated them into English and that’s how he remembered them! The details! 🤌

20. In the truck scene, Louis is still healing from Daciana’s attack. It made me wonder how long it would take to drive (pre-motorways!) from Romania to Paris. So I looked it up, and using modern roads, but avoiding motorways, it'd take 31hrs straight. But they’d have to break to sleep somewhere safe in the day, and many of the roads and bridges would likely have been bombed and required detours, so I think we can assume it'd take several days to get there. So if Louis still isn't healed by the time we see them outside Paris, he is one seriously malnourished vampire. 😔 The blood really was bad there!

And that's my list of weird things I noticed in the first episode! Part 1 is here if you missed it, and do let me know in the notes if there's any of these you missed, too!

[stellar-skyy]

ALL I WANTED WAS YOU — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: [Name] is scheduled to perform at Fontaine's Christmas Show, and there's only one person they want in the audience. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Use of pet names (dear, darling, love), mentions of food, reader is a singer. iii. NOTES: Fluff, very mild angst, singer!reader, established relationship, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used 2.1k words. iv. A/N: This is my entry for the @2023gisecretsanta gifted to @the-white-void! I hope you enjoy, White!

A layer of ice had settled across the streets of Fontaine overnight, leaving the buildings awash in snow and frost. The weather had pushed most of the citizens indoors in search of warmth, where the battering cold could not touch them and the fire could heat up their frozen bones. Nonetheless, Furina and her partner strolled along the pathway, hands conjoined, perfectly content in the chill.

“Extra! Extra!” A young newsy called out behind them, waving a rolled-up paper in his hands. “Fontaine’s annual Christmas Show is only days away! Read all about the confirmed acts, as well as potential surprise acts!”

[Name] tilted their head in curiosity as they passed, straining to listen to the boy’s faint rambles about the newspaper's theories on who might be performing that night. Some of them were delightfully wrong, missing the mark entirely, but some of them—

“Could the singer [Name] [Last Name] be one of the performers? Read on why we think so!”

Some were right.

“This morning is beautiful,” Furina sighed, letting go of their hand to cling to their arm. She pushed her cheek against their shoulder, making a small noise in contentment. “I adore winter. There’s nothing quite like waking to snow outside, with frost creeping up your windows, and a pleasant chill in the air. Making a warm cup of tea to stave off the cold… it’s lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”

They hummed in concurrence, while beside them, a shivering couple looked over at her incredulously. Furina was oblivious, turning her eye to the posters advertising the Show.

“And of course, the Christmas Show.” Furina sighed mournfully. A worried glance was shot her way.

“You’re not a fan of the Show?” They ask carefully, trying not to let disappointment flow through their tone.

Furina laughed lightly. “Oh, I enjoy it plenty, on the occasional year I attend. I simply don’t care for hearing about it every time I set foot out of my home.” She paused, adding “Though, the programme is supposed to be good this year. I keep hearing about some big names that might be joining.”

It wasn’t just her. Fontaine's people could hardly turn a corner without hearing another rumour about who might be showing up that night, with each guess being more illustrious than the last.

Their excitement wasn’t unfounded: the lineup was star-studded, featuring Lyney and Lynette opening the show with a brand-new performance. The famed director Aurelie’s former troupe was even speculated to be re-uniting for a show in her honour, but with the organiser’s insistence on keeping part of the show a secret, rumours stayed rumours.

The organisers had been so tight-lipped about the surprise acts, that very few were aware of [Name]’s confirmed appearance. They were scheduled as the second last act of the night, in a slot reserved for the best of the best; an honour that came with a monumental amount of pressure. With the buzz surrounding who might be performing, there was a certain air of expectation that followed.

Suffice to say, the nerves were settling in.

“Did you want to stop and get a drink?” They motioned towards a quaint little café tucked into an almost hidden corner of the street, like it was placed there as an afterthought. “I have something important to ask you.”

“Of course,” Furina rubbed her cheek against their shoulder as they walked, much like a cat. “I’m all ears, love.”

The pair settled in a small table at the back. Inside, the air was crisp and warm, in stark contrast to the cold wind that scraped against the door and windows. A faint tune echoed from a gramophone, opposite a display of pastries that rested on the countertop.

Furina eyed the treats with the hunger of someone who hadn’t eaten in weeks before getting tossed into a bakery. Rows of rich chocolate eclairs, paired with tiny strawberry tarts, next to colourful macarons and cakes dripping with icing... it was enough to give them a toothache just looking at it.

“Furina?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m paying attention, darling.” She paused, gaze drifting back to the display. “Though, a strawberry pastry might help me focus even more…”

“Furina.” They near whine.

“Alright, alright.” She chuckled, turning her attention directly to them. She rested her chin on her hand, smiling lightly at them. “What’s on your mind, love? You’re practically shaking with nerves.”

“I… I need to ask you something.”

“Mm, you said that.”

“It is… important.”

“That too.” Furina squinted at them, her airy expression fading to make way for something far more serious. She reached her hand across the table to cup their chin, lifting it to meet their eye. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Her eyes drifted across them, gentle and sweet and completely unguarded. It was a wonder, how quickly that gaze soothed the tension in their shoulders and let their breathing slow to a steady pace. One look from her was enough to settle all the doubts that haunted their mind, stripping away their worries and leaving them bare. There wasn’t a need for words of reassurance or flattery; not when she looked at them with such soft eyes.

The buzz of fear lingering in the back of their head began to fizzle out, to make way for a rush of confidence. They seized the feeling, clasping their grip around the edges of it and—

“I want you to come to the Christmas Show.” They finally blurted out.

Furina stared at them like they’d sprouted horns and turned into a mitachurl. “…Alright. I must admit, with you so nervous I thought you were going to ask something more… important. I was already considering going, but if you’d like to go together—”

“No, no!” They shake their head hurriedly. “Not like that!”

She blinked back at them. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“I’m going to be performing,” They explain, a touch of nervousness seeping through. “It’s this Sunday, it starts at six at the Opera Epiclese.”

“You’re performing?” Furina gasped lightly. “Oh, why didn’t you tell me! I would have made sure I was available right away!”

“I guess… I was just… worried…” They trailed off. It didn’t explain anything, but she caught on within moments.

“You were… worried?” Furina blinked, her features shifting in puzzlement. “About what I’d think? You thought I would judge you?”

A shift in their posture, and a careful aversion of their eyes was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, my dear,” She breathed a sigh, running her gloved hand down their cheek, stopping with one finger hooked under their chin. She gently tilted it upwards to face hers. “Darling, I love you. And I cannot think of anything that would change that fact. I don’t care if it’s something trivial, or if Celestia itself was after you. You never have to worry about me judging you.”

She wished she could murmur each word into their skin until they were branded across it like tattoos, each one a reminder of how much she loved them.

“I’m going to come to your performance,” She promised. “I’m going to sit in the best seat, and I’m going to cheer so loud, and clap until my hands hurt. And it will be because you did amazingly!”

“Thank you,” A smile washes over their features.

She brings their hand to her lips, kissing the words against their skin. “You are so welcome, love.”

A lump in their throat made itself known. Their nervousness had posed a new problem. In the days pondering between whether or not they had the courage to ask her to come, the build-up of excitement had left tickets few and far between. Most seats were already booked, with the only ones left being positioned right at the back where one would have to squint to see the front of the stage.

“It might be hard to get good tickets now.” They admit sheepishly. Furina only giggled into their hand.

“Don’t you worry, dear. I might not have my titles anymore, but they'd hardly let anyone else in my booth. And even if they did—I have my connections."

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

Furina’s ‘connections’ did wonders in reserving the top booth just for the two of them. Once [Name] had managed to squeeze past the bustling crowds and through the hallway leading to the private section, they were treated with two plush chairs: one empty, and one seating a smiling Furina.

She beckoned them to sit, intertwining their hands together as the lights dimmed and a hush descended over the opera house.

The first half of the show was as breathtaking as the promotion had promised. Lyney and Lynette’s act had the audience mesmerised, the acting troupe performed a touching show about the spirit of the holiday, and by the time the lights were turned back on and the intermission was announced, the audience was already raving. They could only imagine the reviews in the Steambird the very next day, promising a spectacular show that was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

As the intermission began, so did their cue to head backstage to prepare for their performance. Before they could move, Furina had already tugged on their hand sharply to pull them towards her. She planted kisses across their cheeks, over their nose and forehead and finally meeting their lips.

“Good luck,” She whispered against their mouth. “I believe in you.”

They slid into place backstage, moments before a loudspeaker announced the end of the intermission.

“And now, esteemed guests… please welcome to the stage [Name] [Last Name].”

All the people gathered behind the curtain shot them grins and whispered encouragement as they passed. Lyney smiled warmly and tipped his hat in a mock bow, while Lynette gave them a polite nod. The frazzled organizers even took the time to spit out a hurried “Good luck!” before they went back to quietly arguing amongst themselves.

Their steps slowed, their hand caught the edge of the curtain. It was soft, velvety under their fingertips. In each rehearsal, they’d run their fingers absent-mindedly along the edge while waiting for their cue. With practice after practice, the feeling became like second nature.

The familiar texture was enough to ground them to the stage, pulling them firmly into the present. They continued; stopping in the dead centre of the stage where a tiny marker was etched out onto the ground. They barely had time to fix their collar and adjust their pose—feet planted firmly on the ground, chest held high, hands folded behind their back—before the curtains drew aside.

Light hit their eyes first, before the rest of the room appeared.

The audience stared in anticipation. The opera house was dead silent, with all the crowd waiting with held breath for their performance. With the spotlight shining directly at them, they had to squint to see more than a hazed blur of faces in the depths of their vision.

The music started, and a thread of nervousness began weaving through their chest. There were countless eyes fixed on them, but they were yet to meet the ones they were looking for. The thread tightened, and a flicker of unease flashed through their mind. Where was she?

One more glance was tossed into the crowd, higher this time, until they saw the top booth.

And there she was: Furina, grinning unabashedly with adoration pouring from her expression. She caught their eye, leaned forward in her seat, and blew a kiss. The simple gesture was enough for a smile to pull at their face, just as the music started to swell.

They opened their mouth, and began to sing.

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

“[Name]! You were incredible!” A voice called out. They could hardly put it to a face, with the amount of people crowding around them.

“They were, weren’t they?” Lyney cut in smoothly, subtly moving to stand almost in front of them. It was a welcomed gesture, taking the attention off them and moving it onto someone who was very much used to the spotlight.

The performers had agreed to gather in the foyer after the Show to talk to audience members, accept congratulations, and sign autographs in Lyney and Lynette’s case. [Name]'s intentions were far less in favour of the audience—or, most of the audience at least. They kept their eyes sharp, scanning across the crowd for any sign of blue.

“Hey! Excuse me! Please, let me through—”

They turned, blinking in surprise as a blur surged towards them. It caught them around the waist and pulled them into a tight embrace that lifted their feet off the ground.

“You. Did. Amazing!” Furina squealed, spinning them around. “Did you hear me? I was cheering the loudest.”

Laughter, wild and carefree, tore away from their chest. Somehow, they couldn’t bring themself to care about everyone looking at them, only the girl in their arms.

“Merry Christmas,” Furina said softly. Their only answer was a kiss.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[shuttershocky]

Who do you think would appear in the new R6 collab with AK? Fuze was confirmed to appear, I wanna know who do you think will appear in this one

Now that Fuze is in, it means anyone's fair game no matter how unlikely, so here are some guesses. I tried to pick Operators that wouldn't directly compete with who's already in the game (so no Thorn, Kapkan, or Lesion to compete with Frost since they'd all be Trapmasters) and who would be fun picks to interact with Rhodes Island.

___

Solis - Look, we're not going to get Sam Fisher from Splinter Cell (unless Lowlight pulls a miracle), so we might as well get his star student. Solis' job in Siege is using her visor to detect enemy gadgets through walls (therefore allowing her to retrace enemy movements as well as identify their strategies and identities), so I can kind of see her being a Hexer that removes invisibility and silences enemies, maybe even applying a disarm or equipped with a massive range so she'd be viable compared to the other (very strong) Hexers.

She's also a linguist just like Blitz, so she'd acclimate to Terra's alien world just as easily. While she's noted to be something of a genius, being an intelligent computer programmer and hacker and while still being surprisingly proficient in close quarters combat, she's often agitated and anxious, her self-worth hinging on her success as an Operator and being deathly afraid of failure. She would do great with a certain Blacksteel member. Plus she already kind of looks like an Arknights operator with those antenna.

Wamai - One of my personal favorite Defenders to play in Siege. This guy's gimmick is he throws magnetic frisbees that attract enemy projectiles towards them, allowing him to redirect gadgets and grenades towards different areas (or even back at the attackers if they're not paying attention). This sounds a lot like Nightingale's Cages, which we could use an alternate pick for. Maybe instead of simply tanking shots, Wamai's magnets explode after attracting ranged attacks, allowing him to make the enemy bomb themselves.

Wamai's... Well he's a bit of a weird one. He's friendly, talented, and emotionally intelligent, aware that people can kind of get lost when talking to him because of how he freely flows between wildly different and abstract topics and able to ground himself right before it happens, but also... The dude believes he's an alien because he can hold his breath underwater for unnaturally long. That makes him PERFECT for going into an actual alien world where he can test if he really fits in. Plus he's Nighthaven, not Rainbow, meaning his inclusion will make for good Rainbow vs Nighthaven drama.

Osa - Osa's incredibly funny as an operator because she's this sci-fi obsessed supergenius inventor who's the reason why Nighthaven has tech that rivals the coalition of the world's strongest militaries, but also her personal gadget of choice is a simple shield made of bulletproof glass, letting her watch the enemy from almost complete safety (almost, because the enemy can always bring out explosives). She could easily be a new Arts Protector or an Artificer.

I've talked before about how Osa and Kali could be critical to the story for a second R6 event, but Osa in general would make a great fit. Things like mobile cities or Rhine labs' power armor would be things she would study for days with the intent to bring the tech back with her to Nighthaven's labs. Everything from Glaucus' EMP gun to Mayer's Meebos will become a source of endless fascination and inspiration. Don't let her meet Blemishine, you will never see the two of them again. Her backstory is also about how her inventive talent (and being trans) led to her isolation from her peers, which is why she's so fiercely loyal to Kali, who both supported her transition and gave her a whole lab to make her wildest inventions come true. She'd be SO fun with the Rhine Lab members.

Flores - Flores' Siege gimmick is simple, but effective — It's an RC toy car, but it's got a bomb attached to it. A master at dismantling enemy defenses from a safe distance and at creating very loud and highly destructive distractions, I see Flores being a specialist with a deployable not unlike the ones from Stulifera Navis that can run over enemies or attack them. He should be able to put down his summon, swipe in a direction, and send it running forward to explode on the first set of enemies it hits, allowing him to deal good if not constant AOE damage from anywhere on the map.

Unlike the rest of Rainbow who have long careers in police, military, or espionage, Flores was just a regular guy in Argentina whose mother fell ill, and so he turned to burglary to keep her alive. However, he was so good at it that he began targeting the rich and corrupt in order to help all the poor of Buenos Aires, until he became an infamous Robin Hood figure. Eventually he got cornered and had to be rescued by Rainbow, who offered him a job when they realized holy shit this dude is incredible at stealing shit from heavily fortified buildings. I feel like Flores is the exact sort of character who would most sympathize with the plight of the poor throughout AK, and he wouldn't judge anyone for turning to banditry either, as he once had to just to survive. If there's anyone who would understand the state of Terra the quickest, it would be Flores.

[2036sator]

hiiii :3 what r ur opinions on the characters in the cgvl and lha? Character wise, design wise, etc... (including freedom guy 🤭) I'm just really curious :3

[[ AA dude i’m gonna go so in depth w/ this !!!! this is personally from what I recently discovered from these characters so , i am kinda new to LHA and CGVL ,, not freedom guy tho lolol ]]

[[ Let’s start with LHA ^_^ ]]

> FREEDOM GUY - design wise … absolutely cool i can’t really explain how much i enjoy doodling him no matter what design he has , always loved the old design !! Red scarf is iconic to him and made him stand out even if its a bit plain… but other than the old design, new design kitt recently has made im ssooooooo inlove with how he became so …. HE LOOKS SASSY AT ONE POINT LOOOKING AT HIM FOR HOURS . his old design with his iconic hands on his hips pose already made me think he was all shiny sassy star that everyone praises of lllolololol 7_7 character wise by personality is great overall , he’s a code yet he is so , humane that being the therapist plus saviour is tiring even for a code sobbbb ilove gushing about freedom guy if u can’t tell

> FROST - design wise ? Love it . I would say that I love drawing Frost as well as much as I love to draw Freedom Guy :3 Character wise … very kewl…. I need to see more of frost stuff ………

> TANGERINE - DESIGN WISE AAHHHH OHMYGOD I have something for orange sticks idk why but she looks so cool i never actually noticed she even had like scars until i went thru deep into the LHA bloggers just to noticed she has like two or three scars like WHAT !!! Character wise , If she went to my school I would wanna be her friend tbh she seems fun to be around ^_^

> CION - Design wise is just… chefs kiss , I love drawing her marble head and drawing her in my design where she has like kind of maybe water ish? Or fire ish blob around it just bc I can’t see her with hair so instead I just made blobs that made to look like she has hair el o el ,,,overallll!! Super cool I love cloaks … Character wise is yes , just yes . Ilove the looks can be deceived like how Cion and Tangerine is the same just different fonts

> LUCKY - hhhahah lucky block…. I made Lucky’s head more not circular bc srsly I would totally believe lucky if xe told me xe was birthed from a lucky block. So it’s more geometrical? Character wise ilove xem ilove hackers and I don’t know much of Lucky ,,,still xe’s super cool either way

== WOOOOO CGVL IS NEXT ==

> SCRIBBLES - from what ive seen im surprised this is actually and technically the leader of cgvl and its just , a little scribble stick ( in a positive way not insulting ) , probably my favourite... ( i cant decide with scribs and rose ) ,,, character wise!!! ive seen a little bit of scribbles story and im cheering so hard scribs is so cool and with the programmer lore and everything going on is super interesting and all overall really cool character , easy to doodle when im bored in school

> VIX - oh jeez . can we get vix neutered . / LIGHTHEARTED JOKE ... Unique creature , i love the head design even though it sometimes confuses me when i try to doodle the back of vix :9 ., character wise .. freaky .... you a freak girl!!! also!!! I LOVE cannibal characters when they're all actually attached to a person then they soemtimes can't get over the thought of eating them ( filling them with guilt ) i love when cannibals feel bad for what they are ( technically its a parasite for vix's case but still!!! )

>ROSE - ohhhhhhhhh i almost tripped when i saw rose , pink characters save me ... shes so pretty by the design wise category .. made me jealous of her gender smhhhh.... character wise , mischievous thief and i would let her steal my whole house if she wanted to

> GEO - i wanna squeeze geo but i cant :( character wise by what ive seen from like interactions(?) and lore , its really interesting and really cool ( reminds me of another interest i have but who cares ) still i understand how frost would baby geo

> ENTI & BUG ( NO IMAGE NOOOOOO MY LIMIT NOOOOOO ) - big guys so cool they would absolutely obliterate me . i dont know them much but i wanna know more about them .... i need itt...

[itsbenedict]

you worked on nepetaquest 2011? that shit was dope, I loved it

uh- maybe not? there were multiple projects by that name, due to this bit from Andrew Hussie's Formspring:

the one i was involved with was a fangame project that never really got off the ground- we had a bunch of people doing sprites and writing and other assets, but only a couple programmers. there was this guy Frost who built this whole engine for it, and this really nice little level editor with a whole documentation PDF- but being as most of us were volunteer teenagers at the time, we never really had enough sustained involvement to get past the stage of having a couple demos of the starting area and a ton of unused assets.

(if you're thinking of a thing that was dope, as opposed to something that never came out, you're probably thinking of one of the two forum adventures by that name? neither of which i was involved with at all.)

[seshrat]

my biggest bone to pick with the hunger games adaptations was how they turned "he covered himself in mud, moss and leaves to blend in with the riverbank" into "he had the time, effort, energy and supplies to sfx paint himself into a rock". all jokes aside about how frosting cakes definitely wouldn't teach him how to do that and how movie peeta was definitely a gay little boy up until 4am watching Skin Wars: Capitol, he did NOT use fucking mud in the movie. that was dedicated sfx makeup, and you can tell it's even SUPPOSED to be because you saw him using the same shit in training. absolutely no sponsor on earth would be caught dead giving their money to a tribute explicitly for the purpose of helping them hide perfectly motionless for days. these people are essentially reality tv producers. every single time they cut to peeta's feed for days he'd just be fucking lying there. group of guys in a bar in the capitol getting unbelievably excited when he moves for the first time in days and it turns out he's just going to the bathroom. they turn that shit off. everybody else is killing each other and running from each other and surviving stupid traps. cuts back to peeta. ambient noise of a running stream. fuck all happening. if i were seneca crane i'd be tearing my beard into an even stupider pattern. i'd ban whoever sent that shit in from the entire Hunger Games Sponsorship Programme. no producer credit for you what the fuck were you thinking. the only thing worse than the murder of innocent subjugated children is bad tv

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

the ballad of five thousand, eight hundred and fourty days

alternative title: a boy, a girl, and open grave

tw: major character death, alchohol use, m*scarriage

an: "for...years, this year, and this, and this, and this, I did not love him. And then I did. Then I was his. I can count the days I was his in hundreds...In all one thousand days. Just a thousand. strange. And of those thousand, one when we were both in love, only one, when our loves met and overlapped and were both mine and his.” -anne of the thousand days

================================================

"Harry Jorkins." She said, not without some rue.

"He gave you your second job, after you left Fezziwig's, ja?"

Ellen snorted. "'Job'? Indentured servitude is more like it." Her usual mask of cold calm had melted when the image of her past boss had come into sight. For once, Scrooge seemed to be legitimately outraged.

"I hated that man. He was slime." She muttered. "Pure slime."

"Some would say the same about you."

"Then they never met Harry Jorkins. If you want to clasp me in chains for my deeds, I should hate to see what Jorkins carries. The man was never any good."

It certainly didn't look it from what the pair saw. Mr. Jorkins, a fastidiously dressed man of about 50, led the younger Ellen down a hallway. Even though mere months had passed between the Ellen they'd left at Fezziwig's and the Ellen that stood here now, life had altered her. Her hair had gone entirely silver. Where semblance of warmth had lingered in her form, this Ellen had already frozen as cold as her current self. The frost of time had settled into her bones and bearing, keeping her stiff and awkward as Jorkins showed her around the office.

She was only twenty seven.

"And here's where the other programmers work!" He said. "There's my office. My clerk's in there somewhere. Ask him if you have any problems. I'm sure he'd show you a good time!" The man gwaffed at his own joke as he slapped the younger Ellen hard on the shoulder. She smiled thinly, barely disguised malice already creeping into her eyes.

"Ugh." Scrooge groaned. "Just seeing that makes me want to shower."

"Touchy with the staff?"

"You have no idea. He'd say the most disgusting things about the female staff. Never about me. Wasn't pretty enough to fuck, I guess." She ground her teeth. "Why are you showing me this? I refuse to believe I'm as bad as him. If you knew half the things I know about him-."

"He's not the thing I'm interested in," The spirit remarked. "Do you really not remember this day?"

"Hard to forget. This is my first day of work."

"Ja. But..."

Time shifted again, if only by a few hours. Closing time. The Past Ellen got to her feet, gathered her things, and headed out. They followed her down the street towards the subway station. The damp darkness of the tube hadn't changed in the twenty plus years since this December. The past Ellen stood waiting for her train, checking her watch with a growing displeasure.

A sickening laugh from the stairwell announced Jorkins's presence. The past Ellen scowled and moved away as he and his clerk stepped onto the platform. Jorkins didn't even spare her a glance.

But the clerk did.

Jorkin's clerk was a young man about Ellen's age. He was pale and thin, with a hungry look in his eyes and face that showed good food wasn't a constant in his life. Even still he took great pains to look nice, even with his obvious poverty. He wore a good suit that was a year or two out of date. He was handsome, in a sharp sort of way.

A blast of wind shuffled the platform as another train barreled by. The past Ellen's scarf blew, attracting the clerk's attention. His eyes were a light shade of grey, and they glanced at Ellen behind a pair of thick square glasses.

He looked away, and then looked back at her, as if doing a double take.

"This was where you met." The spirit said.

"...No. No, that's not-." Scrooge's face showed genuine confusion. "That's not how- I didn't meet him for-"

"And yet, he just met you." The ghost said with a smile. The clerk was still looking at her.

"No, that's not- that’s not how I remember it."

"That may be, Frau. But it happened all the same. Perhaps your memory isn’t infallible."

The thought terrified Scrooge.

The ghost sighed, happily, as he glanced between her past self and the skinny clerk.

"If you'll forgive the therapeutic transference, these are my favorite moments. Things in your past can affect you that you don't remember, or even know. Something can happen a world away before you're even born, or a choice can butterfly out into your world that you never knew about. Sometimes, what we remember and what we can control are two different things, Mein Frau. And sometimes?"

He gestured at the younger her, and the clerk.

"It’s the old story, isn’t it? Sometimes, even in a place like London, things just happen. Even two old sinners. It’s the old story. Boy meets girl.”

The train came tearing down the tunnel, and with the wind and noise it brought with it another memory. The office returned, along with her younger self. She sat at her desk, arms deep in a Power Macintosh 8500’s innards. The sound of Jorkin's awful laughter rang out as he passed by the hallway, surrounded by a flotilla of sycophants. He glanced at the younger Scrooge once before bursting into laughter again. Scrooge didn't need to be close to know he was plastered. He often was. The man took martini lunches as an all-day buffet.

He whispered something conspiratorially to one of his companions and they burst into laughter. "Damn girl works like a canary in a coal mine. She'll only stop when she keels over!" The metaphor was perhaps a trifle mixed up, but Jorkins thought it was clever. He and the others went off cackling as the past Scrooge simply scowled and continued to work.

"He was embezzling."

The spirit looked up to Scrooge as she broke the silence. She was intently watching her past self. "Oh, ja?"

"Say what you want of me, but I've never done that. I never wanted to be like him." She watched as the younger Scrooge glanced at the door before opening a drawer in her desk. She removed a file and placed it beside her gutted Power Macintosh 8500.

"That is true. For your many crimes, nothing illegal has ever been among them. Your sin is apathy, not malice."

"I never wanted to be like him." She repeated. "I thought I was the only one that noticed."

"Were you?" The spirit asked.

The door to the office creaked open. The past Scrooge glanced up, a startled look on her face. Scrooge herself didn't need to. She knew who would be there.

It was Jorkin's clerk. The pale, dark-haired young man who was so good with advertisements. The one who walked in his shadow every day. He was looking at the past Scrooge with an inscrutable expression. He had the same lean and hungry look as she did.

The younger Scrooge’s expression shifted from alarm to a familiar look of firm control. Even if she didn’t feel brave, she showed it. The clerk studied her. He was always smiling around the boss. He stood at his side, enduring slight after slight with a perfect smile. He wasn't smiling now.

The two stared at each other like two lions sizing the other up.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. He moved towards her desk with a file folder in hand.

"This might help your number-running." He said, but he didn't offer it right away. He seemed curious about her response.

She studied him with a frozen look. "Why?" She asked. "Why do you care?"

"Because I hate him." He said simply. "Why do you care?"

"Because I hate him."

"There's something we can agree on, at least." He offered the file, and then he smiled. Truly smiled. It was crooked, and seeped in revenge, but she still found it charming.

The younger Scrooge’s head tilted ever so slightly, and she took the file.

"Jacob Marley."

"Ellen Scrooge."

“You two brought him down, in time.” The spirit remarks. “Not publicly, of course. That would have been difficult. Who would have taken you seriously. But over time, over the years, you did what you do best. You worked. You kept at it. And eventually a dossier was given to the right person, and Jorkins was exposed.”

A modicum of pride burst in her chest. “Yes.”

“You two crept out from the fallout with enough money to go into business together. The millennium dawned and Scrooge and Marley INC dawned with it.”

The world changed again. Time danced forward, days melting into nights melting into days. Scrooge was aware, somehow, that the years had shifted again. Not so far, but further all the same.

The room transformed. A cold study became warm, the walls shifting into the light openness of a fancy hotel room. A place too expensive for Scrooge’s blood, but her Chinese associates would pay to put visitors up here. She knew it immediately. And knew it well. Far too well.

“Beijing, 2000.” The Ghost said, checking his watch. “Christmas Eve, if I’m not mistaken. And I never am.”

“What’s the significance?” Scrooge asked. “Why are you showing me this?”

The sound of a door slamming open served as an answer. It was herself again. A little older. A little thinner. And quite, quite drunk. Somehow Scrooge could taste this long forgotten wine as she watched her past self stumble into the room. The other Scrooge had been wearing a very sensible business dress, but the shoulder was beginning to slip, showing off just a sliver of pale flesh. Her hair was beginning to slip from a tight bun, and her stocking had a tear in it.

She was laughing.

Her laughter was joined by a deep tenor laugh, a laugh that sliced through Scrooge’s heart like a knife.

“Oh, spirit.” She said, so quietly it could barely be heard. “Do not make me see this.”

“Why?” The spirit asked. “This is a happy memory, ja?”

Behind the past Scrooge stood Jacob Marley. A little older than the one they’d just seen. His brown hair had more strands of silver than before. But he laughed with her. He was not a creature built to laugh, but his smile seemed to fill his whole face as he laughed, as drunk as Scrooge. She’d forgotten how vast his smile could be. It’d been crooked. Like it wasn’t quite set right. Like he wasn’t used to smiling and meaning it. How could she have forgotten he had a crooked smile?

They were laughing at a forgotten joke. Marley was holding a bottle of cheap wine, although it was no doubt not their first.

“It was the champagne at the dinner.” Scrooge said, remembering. “They served Krug. Marley liked Krug. He liked anything he didn’t have to pay for. I would have never bought it. The staff kept refilling our glasses at the behest of our hosts.”

“We were already drunk by the time we left. I don’t know where we found the wine. It was the cheapest we could get. We’d drunk at least another bottle before we got back to the hotel.” She said.

“A celebration?” The ghost asked.

“Business was good. This was only our first year working together independently.” Scrooge explained. “We were-.”

“Happy?” The ghost asked.

“Mollified.”

“Hm.” The past Scrooge caught sight of herself in the mirror and began to laugh at herself. Marley, having no idea what was so funny, laughed too. The past Scrooge tried to take off one of her shoes but lost her balance. She toppled against the bed. Marley, made gallant by intoxication, made a show of trying to help her up from the floor. He quickly realized he was far too drunk for that so he sat down next to her. He offered her another swig of wine, and she took it with grace.

“You two were close.” The ghost prompted.

Scrooge simply watched. Her past self was having a conversation with her partner. It was evidently very important to her, given her expression.

“So that…that is why we must…” She started.

“We must what?” Marley asked.

“...I’ve forgotten.” The pair looked at each other and then broke into another fit of giggles. They leaned against each other, arms intertwined as they sat on the floor.

“He was your partner.” The ghost said. “Here you two are. Not so young but not so old.”

“And drunk.” Scrooge replied. “We were being foolish. Idiotic.”

The younger Scrooge regained her bearings enough to stand. But she quickly fell backwards on the bed, giggling all the while. Marley, not wanting to be left behind, awkwardly shambled up the side.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked.

“Do.”

“I don’t think I can move.” He admitted. “I am very, very drunk.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The younger Scrooge asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can either.”

They lapsed into giggles again, moving ever closer. After a few moments the laughter stopped. The room grew quiet as they simply looked at each other. A tension seemed to build, tangible enough for spirit and shade alike to feel. Scrooge didn’t want to see what happened next. She knew it, of course. She kept it locked away, deep inside her mind, with the other things that stung too much to remember.

“You’re so beautiful.” Marley said, voice little more than a whisper. His tone was wine-soaked, but still awed.

“...Nobody’s ever told me that before.” The past Scrooge murmured.

The two looked at each other, heads close enough to touch noses. Despite the wine, despite who they were, despite their greed and their pride and their avarice, in this moment they only had eyes for each other.

When they kissed it was a surprise to no one.

"No more." Scrooge said. She tried to be firm, but her voice wavered. "I don't want to see anymore."

"Frau," The spirit said in a voice both gentle and firm. "This is your past. It's all happened before. It can't hurt you."

Liar. Liar. All the past did was hurt her. Everything she'd seen hurt her. That's why she didn't think about it. Let her put it back in the boxes. Mom, Farah, Jacob. Let her put them away, in their neat little boxes in their neat little graves. Let it stop. Please.

"I don't understand it," The ghost said. "Your chains were in the making. You'd already forged more than one link. But here, you are happy. You and him are happy. You could have been happy." He looked at her, those golden eyes unreadable. "Why did you not let yourself be happy?"

"I don't know. I don't know. No more."

"What happened to you that was so awful, Ellen?"

Time moved forward. The two on the bed vanished, and the room grew dark. But they stayed in the same location. A digital alarm clock declared it to be eight years later.

Ellen tried to speak, but nothing came out.

The door opened and Marley entered. A little older. A little greyer. He was staring at a phone while carrying a plastic bag.

“Scrooge?” He called out. “I’m back. I have what you asked me to get.”

There was no response. He put the plastic bag on the bed and began to take off his coat. He paused as he evidently heard something. Spirit and Scrooge alike heard it too after a moment. Somebody was retching in the hotel bathroom.

“Ellen?” Marley asked. His tone was more concerned than most thought he could be.

When the only response was more retching, he moved towards the bathroom door. He knocked once, but it opened at his touch.

Another Scrooge could be seen, head pressed against the sink. “Did you even keep the dramamine down?” Marley asked.

“No. No, I didn’t.” Scrooge said, not moving from her pose. Marley looked as if he wanted to say something, perhaps something comforting, but thought better of it.

“This…you’ve been sick for over two weeks.” He said. “You really should see a doctor. Who knows what the problem is.”

“I do.” Scrooge replied. “I know exactly what the problem is.”

She finally looked up at him. And somehow, he knew exactly what she meant.

“...Shit.” He breathed.

Scrooge turned away. “I’m not looking at this any longer.”

“What are you so afraid of feeling?” The spirit asked. “This is long past, mein frau. Long gone. It has all happened before, like I said.”

“I KNOW what it is.” She hisses, venom seeping into every word. “Do you honestly think I don’t! Do you think I’ve managed to forget one of the worst things that ever happened to me!?”

“No, I don’t.” The spirit responded. “I think you think about it every day. I think that is part of the problem.”

The room dimmed. When the lights returned, they were in another place. They were in a bedroom in the very apartment Scrooge lived in now. Scrooge kept her back turned. She knew what she’d see. She’d lived what she’d seen.

“I won’t turn around.” She said and she hated how weak she sounded. Like a petulant child. But it didn’t matter. The room seemed to turn, and she came face to face with her past anyway.

The past Scrooge lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. She was pale, her skin clammy. She had the same blank, empty expression she had worn when she was twenty-seven, the same look Farah had worn, the same look her mother had worn. An inherited grief passed down from woman to woman. A pillow was pressed to her stomach.

"It happened again." The spirit says.

"And so what if it did?" It comes out a snarl. Her anger had long been chained and it came roaring out of its cage, like a wounded lioness.

"Are you going to tell me this is my fault!? That losing them - it - was my fault? It was nothing." She snarls. "Barely anything. A fluke. A trick of the light. An error that was corrected. Are you going to stand here and tell me this was my fault too!?"

The spirit stared at her. The light of his eyes was piercing.

"No. I'm not." He responded. "The loss wasn't your fault, Ellen. Why do you think it was?"

Her anger blew out of her like an extinguished candle. All she could do was look at herself, her younger self, lying in that bed. Eyes unseeing.

"It isn't a crime that you wanted it." The spirit said, barely loud enough to hear. "It isn't a sin that you hoped. That you were happy about it, even under your shell. You have to stop punishing yourself for wanting it."

A door opened somewhere in the apartment. She heard the jingle of keys. Scrooge moved past the bedroom and into the hall.

Marley stood there. He was speaking animatedly to somebody on the phone. He smiled as he talked, his tone light and airy. But the moment he hung up, his face fell.

He suddenly looked very, very tired.

The past Marley tossed his coat over a chair and left his briefcase over the chair. He unpacked what looked like a take-away before glancing at the open door to the bedroom. He stared at it for a moment before walking into the room. He stood in the doorway, looking at his partner.

For a moment it looked like he was going to say something. But the past Scrooge went stiff. Pretended she was asleep. Marley hesitated for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Whatever he was going to say went unsaid.

The past Marley moved past her, his back to the other Scrooge. He walked into the hallway. Ellen followed in his footsteps, eyes fixed on his back. He made it four steps out of sight before stopping. He seemed to stumble. He reached out a hand to the wall and pressed, hard. His hand clenched into a trembling fist.

She couldn't see his face. But somehow she knew he was in pain. His breathing was heavy and strange. Like he was trying to repress tears.

"He wanted it too, Ellen." The spirit said quietly.

Scrooge drew in a pained breath. She tried to speak, but the lump in her throne wouldn’t let her. “Oh, spirit.” She said after a moment. “Are we almost at an end?”

“We’re coming near it.”

And then they were in her office. The same office she’d left earlier today, her throne in Canary Wharf. The Scrooge they saw now was almost the same as the Scrooge she was now. Perhaps only a few years younger, perhaps only a few degrees warmer. She was gathering a pile of files in her office.

“Roberta!” She yelled. “CRATCHIT!”

The sound of footsteps outside her door made her look up, but she looked back down when she saw who it was. “Oh, it’s you.”

Marley stood before her. As old as he’d ever be.

“...Please. Please, don’t.” Scrooge whispered. But the Spirit gave no sign he even heard her beg.

“Are you sure you can handle Los Angeles on your own?” She asked as she shoved papers into a file folder. Marley snorted.

“They won’t even know what hit them.”

“Good. They deserve it. God, I’m so late. She scheduled me for the 5 PM flight to Beijing, the blasted fool.” Scrooge finished gathering what she needed. “I’ll be back in the New Year. Let me know what they’re thinking.”

“Will do.” Marley said. Scrooge placed the file into a briefcase and moved past him.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Look back.”

The spirit glanced at his companion as Scrooge, the real Scrooge, stepped forward. She had begun to follow her past self.

“Look back at him, you fool.” Scrooge said, falling into step besides her past self. “Look back! Why don’t you look back at him!”

She turned to look back now. Marley was watching her leave. For all his faults, he never took his eyes off her.

“Just look back, for God’s sake. Just look! That’s all you have to do!” She stepped in front of her predecessor, as if physically going to stop her. She even reached out, as if to force her to look. Tears flowed down her face, unnoticed and unstopped. Her face was contorted in rage and grief.

“This is the last time you’re ever going to see him!” Scrooge howled. “WHY DON’T YOU LOOK AT HIM.”

The past Scrooge never turned around. She moved into the stairwell, out of sight of Jacob Marley, and was gone.

The Scrooge that was left behind, the Scrooge that was the sum of all the others’ choices, fell to her knees.

“I never even looked back at him.” She whispered. “And then he was gone. And I never even looked back.”

“You never even looked back.” The spirit replied.

The world shifted once more.

They were outside a hospital now. One of the local ones near Canary Wharf. It was Christmas Eve. Doctors bustled in and out, the holiday seeming not to reach them as they focused on their duty. They stood by the doors, looking out at the sea of people.

The door opened, and through them walked Bellamy Fezziwig. Older, and tired, but happy. So happy. He pulled out a cell phone as he walked.

“Dad?” He said, stopping to laugh. “It’s a girl.”

Scrooge recoiled as if physically struck.

“Yup, a girl! Tell the other kids they’ve got a new baby sister! Nora’s good, she’s good, everyone’s great. God, a Christmas baby! Can you believe it! I- hang on, Dad, there’s an ambulance.”

Bellamy stepped out of the way. An ambulance pulled up. The sirens were not on. The paramedics were unfussed as they strolled to the back. Why would they be? When the doors opened, and Scrooge saw what was inside, she understood in one horrible moment.

She let out a wordless cry.

The paramedics pulled the shrouded body out from the back of the ambulance. They loaded the body onto a gurney and began to wheel it into the hospital. Bellamy gave it a brief, pitying look before continuing with his conversation. A jostling from the wheel disturbed a hand, which fell limp over the side. Scrooge knew that hand.

“One for the maternity ward. One for the morgue.” The spirit said. “You were with neither when it happened.”

She tried to speak. Tried to say something. Anything. She was good at biting remarks. She could cut him down. Put him in his place. But she had nothing to say.

“Did you feel anything when you left him behind, Ellen?” He asked quietly. “Did you think of anything but practicalities when you took his furniture and his apartment, consigning what remained of his remains to boxes in closets? Did you even once think about what you were burying? Jacob Marley was your only friend. Jacob Marley was the only one left who cared for you. And you left him. Here. Alone.”

“You knew him for sixteen years. You spent five thousand, eight hundred and fourty days with him. You laughed and schemed and fought and lived. You both felt something you could never say. But it was there. And when he died, you left him here. In the morgue, all alone.”

“This was the sum of his life. This was the sum of your life, together. A man in an icebox. A body in a cremator. And a cold, rotting heart locked in a woman’s shell.”

The light of his eyes was blinding.

“Look at your face, Ellen. A face of a wrenching, grasping, scraping, covetous old sinner.”

[lovelydialeonard]

Scans from Frost/Nixon's theatre programme. Donmar Warehouse, London, 2006.

[msclaritea]

Stonewall funded Church of England guide that said primary schoolchildren can be trans

Former Stonewall employees Sidonie Bertrand-Shelton (left) and Dominic Arnall were thanked in Valuing All God's Children

Stonewall funded Church of England guidance that said primary schoolchildren can be transgender

Controversial LGBT charity gave a grant for two editions of the Valuing All God’s Children report, which remains in use nationwide

Tim Sigsworth

26 February 2024 • 8:37pm

Church of England guidance telling primary schools that children as young as five can be transgender was funded by Stonewall, it has emerged.

The controversial LGBT charity gave the Church a grant to fund two editions of the Valuing All God’s Children report, including the 2019 version that remains in use nationwide.

It comes after Christian parents urged the Archbishop of Canterbury to axe the guidance, which says primary school-aged children can change their gender identity and advises schools on how to create “inclusive” environments for trans pupils.

The Rt Rev Paul Butler, the Bishop of Durham, told the General Synod, the Church’s legislative body, last year that Stonewall was not involved in writing the report.

Gender-critical campaigners have called for the guidance to be scrapped, and said the revelation that it had been funded by Stonewall should be a “wake-up call” for the Church.

Last month, The Telegraph revealed that a Church of England primary school had allowed a four-year-old boy to join as a girl and then hid the child’s sex from other pupils, who were later described by parents as traumatised.

Valuing All God’s Children tells the 4,630 Church of England schools across the country that primary schoolers should be “at liberty to explore the possibilities of who they might be without judgment or derision”.

‘Significant grant’

The Rt Rev Jonathan Frost, the Bishop of Portsmouth, has now admitted in a written response to a question submitted to Synod that Stonewall funded the report’s second and current third editions, published in 2017 and 2019, respectively.

Gender-critical campaigners have criticised Stonewall for the training it offers organisations, which encourages them to tell employees to always state their pronouns and use gender-neutral language.

The Bishop of Portsmouth said the funding, the value of which neither the Church nor Stonewall has disclosed, was given by Stonewall after the Department of Education gave the charity a “significant grant” for “work in this area”.

“They recognised the quality of our work in Valuing All God’s Children, so were keen that we should be enabled to develop it to include the prevention of transphobic bullying through an updated version,” he said.

“Stonewall were not involved in the writing of our document but simply passed on a grant to enable us to do so, and to help with the distribution costs.”

Two Stonewall executives are thanked in the 2017 and 2019 editions: Dominic Arnall, who was head of projects from 2015 and 2018; and Sidonie Bertrand-Shelton, head of education programmes from 2016 to 2022.

Valuing All God’s Children is currently being updated after the Department for Education (DfE) published a consultation in December on new guidance for schools on how to respond to gender-questioning pupils.

‘Transgender ideology’

That DfE guidance does not use the word transgender, says children cannot change their legal sex and advises schools to only use sex-based pronouns.

Andrea Williams, chief executive of Christian Concern and a former lay member of Synod, said that the Church’s current guidance “pushes transgender ideology”.

“It is time for it to be scrapped and for the Church of England to shape its guidance on the Bible,” she added.

“It needs to ensure that the next version is completely free from the influence of Stonewall and its allies.”

Helen Joyce, director of advocacy at Sex Matters, said: “This is further evidence of Stonewall’s influence behind the scenes, and how it has embedded policies that run counter to equalities law and safeguarding, and harm girls and gay teenagers in particular.

“The Church of England probably entered into this arrangement in good faith. But it should come as a wake-up call for the Church – and all other school leaders – to put safeguarding first and refuse to take money from or work with any organisation that does not.”

Christian parents last month wrote to Justin Welby asking him to scrap Valuing All God’s Children.

‘Political agendas in schools’

Among its signatories were Nigel and Sally Rowe, who claimed in 2017 that a Church of England primary school had said their six-year-old son would be deemed transphobic if he did not recognise another boy as a girl.

Miriam Cates, the Tory MP for Penistone and Stockbridge, said: “Activist groups should not be enabled by any education providers to push their political agendas in schools.

“Taking money in return for allowing Stonewall to essentially dictate the Church of England’s policy is a complete failure by those in authority.

“This guidance should be withdrawn as a matter of urgency and replaced with new rules that put the safeguarding of children first.”

The Church of England and Stonewall were approached for comment.

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison and John Lennon with David Frost, October 4, 1967. Photo © Bettmann/Corbis.

After having previously appeared on The Frost Programme on September 29, 1967, George and John returned, including for a discussion on meditation.

“Well, let’s face it. These laws, that you say, hidden laws, they are hidden, but they’re only hidden by our ignorance, and the word ‘mysticism’ is just being arrived at through people’s ignorance. There’s nothing mystical about it — only that you’re ignorant of what that entails.” - George Harrison in response to John Mortimer during a debate on meditation, The Frost Programme, October 4, 1967 (x)

[innytoes]

She spent so long trying to be something she wasn’t. All through high school, Carrie competed with other students in the music programme for the top spots, the best performances. Trying to push and shape and stretch and weave her magic into something that appeared to come so effortlessly to others. Using it to create a spectacle, a show, all sparkle and swoosh, in perfect time with the beat.

All as perfectly practiced and as artificial as her laugh, as each hair flip of her pretty pink performance hair.

But she was Trevor Wilson’s daughter, of course her magic was musical. It had to be. It was expected. It didn’t matter that when she baked, the magic just seemed to flow out her. It didn’t matter that ever since her first easy-bake oven, she’d been pulling out masterpieces that shouldn’t have even been possible with the crappy little toy. Kitchen witches were a dime a dozen. Nobody would take her seriously if she opted for something as domestic as that.

It wasn’t until the Orpheum, until Julie’s show, that it clicked. Julie, who’d lost her magic almost entirely after her mom died, who lost her music. Who found it again, came back even stronger. Who looked so right on that stage, so joyful, her three ghosts surrounding her. All three of their souls tied to their instruments, their magic weaving together like their voices. Like it was what they were meant to do.

As she stood up to clap, she made a decision.

She dropped the music programme. Hell, she dropped out of Los Feliz entirely, opting for homeschooling instead. Her dad could afford the best tutors in the country, and she still graduated with honours and a perfect GPA (she was Trevor Wilson’s daughter, after all). But instead of enrolling in any of the top music schools in the country, in the world, she went to France. She enrolled in pastry school under a different name, and the gossip magazines quickly forgot all about Carrie Wilson.

And somehow, Carrie didn’t mind. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely at home in her body, with her magic. She felt right.

And It wasn’t like she banished music from her life entirely. She loved baking with her favourite songs on, loved getting into the flow of things. She did little dance routines as she twirled around the kitchen, mixing and rolling out dough and weaving her magic into every frosting, every intricate lattice work and icing rose.

When she opened up her bakery-café, she didn’t use her dad’s name to get press. For once, she wanted her work to speak for itself. And it did. Being a rock star’s daughter, Carrie knew exactly how to run a good social media campaign. Between the perfectly Instagrammable look of her café, the picture-perfect pastries, cookies, cakes and more, and the magic woven into every bite, Bliss Bakery was soon doing well for itself.

Today was quiet, though, after the morning rush and before the lunch rush. She was putting the finishing touches on a little ghost cake (Halloween was coming up, after all), when the bell above the door jingled. “Excuse me,” a voice called. “Do you allow very well-behaved, very cute dogs inside?”

She looked up. She couldn’t see the dog, but the owner certainly was cute. Dark swoopy hair and pretty pink cheeks and a leather jacket. “How cute are we talking?” she asked, leaning on the counter.

He opened the door a little more, and on her stoop was the cutest border collie she’d ever seen. She was sitting politely, waiting for the go-ahead.

“As long as she doesn’t get drool on the display cases,” she allowed. He beamed and came in, the dog following politely, staying at his side. She really was well-behaved.

He got himself a coffee, a little ghost sugar cookie, and very carefully asked if it was okay for his dog to sit on the little bench in front of her pink neon sign. Carrie agreed, and watched as he held a mini photoshoot for the dog, beaming and showing her the perfect shot when he got it.

“Tag me if you put that on Instagram,” she said, unable to hide a smile. Not even Carrie was immune to cute dogs, or his infectious enthusiasm.

Which he did. For his half a million followers.

Which was when she realised that this cute guy wasn’t just any cute guy. He was one of Julie’s phantoms. One of the reasons she’d finally taken the leap to do what her heart desired, follow her own bliss.

The next time he came in, she had the dog-friendly cookies ready. And a coffee on the house. And her number, on a napkin.

[companypride]

Was thinking about a Marvel verse where Rhys is a mutant (I mostly read X-Men comics, lol). Jack is a famous CEO who's secretly a mutant telepath, basically '80s Emma Frost. Rhys is a programmer at Jack's company who is also secretly a mutant.

When his X-gene activated at puberty, Rhys's thoughts suddenly began to move hyperfast. It was debilitating at first, leaving Rhys unable to process anything but the overwhelming amount of thoughts going on in his brain, basically going catatonic for a few weeks until he started to adjust. His parents wrote off his absence at school as a mundane sickness and basically refused to acknowledge the possibility that their son could have developed powers. Rhys got the message right away: no one was to know he was a mutant.

As he grew up, his secret power was more of a disadvantage than an advantage. He was quick-thinking, yes, and it helped him exceed in school (which got him teased for being a nerd, something that did a huge hit to Rhys's self-esteem), but combined with his undiagnosed anxiety he mostly found his power frustrating and overwhelming. It othered him from everyone else, made him act even weirder and get bullied for it even more. His power felt entirely out of his control. The only other person who knew was Vaughn.

Rhys wanted nothing more than to prove himself, though, and he we determined to succeed despite his secret mutant curse and out of college landed a job at Hyperion. The CEO was, of course, eccentric billionaire Handsome Jack, who Rhys looked up to like no other. It turned out Hyperion had a secret program where employees tested out experimental technology. Rhys signed up for it, getting his robot arm and ECHO-eye.

In the course of this project Rhys crosses paths with Jack (who is obviously running this program to do secret supervillain shit). Jack tries to read Rhys's mind and gets overloaded so quickly he has to pull out. With a few more experimental pushes into Rhys's brain he realizes Rhys is a mutant like himself, and that Jack could use him if he could figure out how to harness his power. Sure, it wasn't as flashy as blasting lasers from your eyes, but the ability to out-think anyone could be incredibly powerful if Rhys could be taught how to use it.

Jack takes Rhys alone into his office and reveals that he, too, is a mutant, and that he can help Rhys. If he lets Jack read his mind and guide him, Jack could teach Rhys how to make his mutant power an asset like no one else had. Jack didn't keep it a secret that he was a mutant because he was ashamed. It was because it made it so easy to succeed over normal humans that it simply wasn't fair, and Jack liked it and that way. Being a mutant made them better than other people, not worse. And all Rhys had to do to find out how was do exactly as Jack told him.

Eventually Rhys finds out about the supervillain shit and this all falls apart, but, you know. Of course Rhys takes the deal.

[movies-to-add-to-your-tbw]

Title: Fighting with My Family

Rating: PG-13

Director: Stephen Merchant

Cast: Florence Pugh, Lena Headey, Nick Frost, Vince Vaughn, Jack Lowden, Dwayne Johnson, Thea Trinidad, Aqueela Zoll, Stephen Merchant, James Burrows, Hannah Rae, Kim Matula, Julia Davis

Release year: 2019

Genres: comedy, family, action

Blurb: Born into a tight-knit wrestling family, Paige and her brother Zak are ecstatic when they get the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to try out for the WWE...but when only Paige earns a spot in the competitive training programme, she must leave her loved ones behind and face this new cutthroat world alone. Paige's journey pushes her to dig deep and ultimately prove to the world that what makes her different is the very thing that can make her a star.