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aloysiavirgata · 3 months ago

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Fisher King prompt: dark crescendoing to light. Daniel Waterson and his baggage come back into her now-married life; maybe by way of the autopsy table. A dark case comes across Mulder’s desk. You pick. A happy surprise at the end to bring them both out of it?

Thanks, lady.

It is the dead nurse that catches his attention. Two days back from his honeymoon, attaboys and filthy jokes and cigars and a stack of manila folders on his dust-rimed desk.

Pendrell whistles when he sees Mulder, makes a predictable playing-doctor joke. He leers as though it obscures the soulful puppy wetness of his face. As though he hasn’t noticed Dana at crime scenes before, the autumn bonfire of her hair. Her tourmaline eyes.

Mulder thumbs the band on his left ring finger, spins it a little in the cool morning light. Flips them all off with good-natured grouchiness as he makes his way to the elevator. He thinks it might be fun to be an old man, to listen to the slap of his bedroom slippers on the grocery store linoleum.

The air in his office smells like cardboard boxes, like ghosts of lo mein and forgotten pizza. Copier toner. Pencil shavings.

His wife says, “Honestly, Mulder,” and makes chicken sandwiches from dinner leftovers, makes him salads with salmon and almonds and avocados and says he needs to gain eight pounds. He’s taken to her demands like a stray cat adjusting to life indoors. He’s growing glossy and sleek, full of essential amino acids.

Full of life.

***

There is no congestion in any of the organs. No petechiae in her eyes, no blood clots in the fragile slices of brain. Lips, mouth, esophagus free of corrosion, not an aneurysm the size of a poppy seed. The bruises and claw marks on her gray throat are her own doing. There are over a dozen witnesses.

Her nails are clotted with her own crumpled skin.

Dana pokes her finger into the aorta, sniffs the dead, butcher-shop air of Ludovica’s mouth. She prods at the lungs and hunts for lesions and surfactant. The nurse’s stomach contains a half-digested bagel and tuna salad. The muscular walls are in the very pink of health. She has lungs like freshly chewed bubblegum.

Dana huffs a strand of hair off her lip. She does not want to call him.

***

“What killed her?” Mulder asks, around a mouthful leftover quiche. God it’s good. She caramelized the onions, used two semesters of organic chemistry on the pastry and can declaim on the Maillard Reaction in a voice fit for Showtime.

“I’m working on it,” his wife says, brisk. “Thus far it seems to be nothing, which is a bit of a problem, medically speaking.”

“How embarrassing,” Mulder says, hunting around for another chunk of broccoli. “To die of nothing. You talk to this Waterston chappie yet?

Silence.

“Dr. Scully?”

A sigh.

Mulder’s brow furrows. “Dana Katherine, what gives?”

She sighs again. “You remember that med school professor I told you about? Funny story…”

***

He gazes at her the way tourists gawp at the Mona Lisa; not with a particular appreciation, just a bit awed that they can check it off their bucket lists.

Twice, for Daniel. A certain chumminess. A hint of inside jokes and favorite restaurants and that-lovely-inn-we-stayed-at. Of possessiveness. Territoriality.

Mulder shakes his head, just a twitch. Just enough to clear Daniel’s smug carnal knowledge of his wife away. Mulder’s fucked people’s daughters as well. People’s wives. There was one at Oxford, Honora, her husband a full professor and he -

Mulder doesn’t say this. He doesn’t say anything as Daniel stares at his Rossetti wife, undoubtedly thinks about the determined twitch of her twenty-one year old ponytail and her scuffed Keds and her slipshod Navy brat graces and her body like Artemis bathing by moonlight.

But Daniel’s alone and Mulder isn’t.

Dana isn’t alone either because, against all reason and karma, she’s married him, married Fox Mulder, like it was an absolutely sane thing to do, and her family simply went along with it.

“Tell me what you saw,” says Mulder, with the gentle absolution of a priest. “No judgement here,” he lies. She was hardly more than a girl, she was an innocent, she trusted you, you fucking asshole, you predator, you-

Daniel looks at Dana. Looks down at his surgeon’s hands. No ring on any of his fingers.

Daniel closes his eyes and looks at nothing.

“We began a midline sternotomy, absolutely routine, Suddenly Ludovica - Nurse Giordano - grabbed her throat and said she couldn’t breathe. She…she screamed Diavola! Said there was sulfur, said it was mustard gas, but none of the rest of us smelled a damn thing. But she was thrashing on the floor of the OR and our patient was-“

He looks around then, catches Dana’s eye, shyness in his expression. Shyness in his fatherly face. Dana had looked up at it for approval, no doubt. In what she probably thought was passion. Maybe even love.

Dana nods encouragingly and Mulder feels it then, the weight of years. He understands in that moment that time really is the fourth dimension; that it has a hot, heavy plasticity into which you can sink. He understands the realness of an event horizon, that they are all being pulled towards the unfinished thing between Daniel and his wife, Ludovica Giordano’s corpse included.

His wife was a physics major, his wife rewrote Einstein with the ebullient narcissism of the young.

He understands that his wife and Daniel speak the same primal, arcane language of science. He is a lowly psychologist, the major you pick when you can’t get into dental school but still want to Help Others.

Kepler’s Third Law tells us that intensity equals the inverse of the square of the distance from the source.

And he’s brought Daniel back into her orbit.

***

“I can’t believe you fucked him,” Mulder gasps into her tender seashell ear. An inch from her extraordinary brain.

“I was a child,” she hisses back. “Essentially. Don’t stop, Christ, don’t - I was a child, I-“

She was, she was, she was Eos newly born, she was radiant and young, she was Persephone to Daniel’s Hades, she was fresh milk at Ostara, and a sunrise over the Atlantic.

“Did you love him?”

Her thighs so taut and pale and quivering. Her wedding dress, her misty veil. Her palimpsest skin, on which he can rewrite himself.

“I thought I did but but it wasn’t this, it was never this, it was never you, I-“

Mulder comes in her, groaning, feels the tiniest sting of shame at how good it is to reclaim her from this other man.

***

“Dana,” Daniel says, heavy-tongued for Mulder’s consecrated, Catholic wife. He is hard; he shifts in the uncomfortable chair.

Mulder knows and Dana knows and the air is thick with this knowledge but strangely not unpleasant. The air is July just before a thunderstorm. The air is dense and verging. Primal, fecund, cataclysmic.

Hot.

Green.

Alive.

The air tastes like a 9-volt battery. He wants to put a baby into his wife.

“You were there,” Mulder says, his buckskin hands woven and laced. “What did you see?”

Daniel looks at Dana, Daniel is here for Dana, because he believes she is cold and lonely and alone in the way of the outer planets. He still thinks only he can warm her.

(He doesn’t know, Daniel, not really, that there is a solid core beneath the icy mist.)

She’s too distant and abstruse and Daniel doesn’t know.

***

Daniel smirks at Mulder, this old man who felt briefly alive in the hot juncture of his wife’s thighs; smirks as though he’s done anything real at all. They view the human heart so differently, he and Daniel.

Dana - Dr. Scully - rests her palms against her sharp tweed knee. She only wants to know what stops any human heart from beating. What shuts the brain down, from prefrontal cortex in a cascade to the lowly lizard stem.

“What did you see, Daniel?” She is poised and tensed. She is waiting. She is untouchable.

Mulder - Fox - is disarmed by the chill of her haughty face. Her Plutonian eyes are so very, very cold . So very, very far.

Ice could never be so warm.

***

“‘Maggie,” he breathes, into her amber light. Into her aura, in her husband’s office, after Mulder went out for their lunch order.

“No,” Dana says. “I don’t care. Tell me about the nurse.”

Daniel huffs. “I don’t know, it was nothing, Dana, Maggie said-“

“I don’t care,” Dana says, crisp. “I don’t care about your daughter. You certainly didn’t, when you brought me to your bed.

Daniel is appalled. “Dana, you were-“

“I know what I was,” she replies. “I knew what I was doing and I don’t regret it, not really. But I didn’t understand what you were, not then. And you should regret me, Daniel.”

He looks at her, his brows drawn.

He looks away, back through the years. Dana, all sharpened Ticonderogas and her mouth an unplucked apricot. Skin like fresh-churned butter.

“She was…she was gasping,” he says to the wall of of clippings. To the Flatwoods Monster and wendigos and little lost girls and stills from the Zapruder Footage. “She was clawing at her throat, she…diavola.”

Diavola.

Daniel looks at the ceiling. “She clawed her throat to ribbons,” he says. “She said our patient was full of demons, she said…” He shakes his head and looks at Dana again.

Dana knows. Dana has seen. Has read and wondered and wondered, considered the Gerasene demoniac in the synoptic gospels. Tooms at her belly on the chilly tile of her bathroom…

It will do no good. Whatever her husband says, the truth is not always a panacea. The patient has lived and Ludovica has died and all anyone wants is official paper with Dana’s name at the bottom.

A reckoning, now. A choice.

“Anaphylaxis?” Dana murmurs, in the perfume and cashmere of a different rich man’s wife. She puts a little throatiness in her voice now, like she did after Dr. Waterston spoke to her in private about Starling’s Law. She can give him this. She can give Ludovica’s family this.

Diavola.

Mulder is right, Mulder is almost always right. But Mulder is right in his own time and Ludovica’s family needs her home.

Daniel catches the lifeline she throws, grateful.

Humbled.

Daniel, when his gaze returns, is a bit smaller in her eyes. “Yes,” he says. “It must have been.”

***

They’re eating dinner at the Peruvian chicken place on the corner because Dana is hollow and Mulder has moderately weaponized his own culinary incompetence.

“Ansel died today,” she says, poking at her rice.

Mulder nearly chokes on a mouthful of black beans. “What?!”

“Died. Massive coronary at his desk. Dead within seconds.”

Mulder gapes. Ansel Jordan, Chief Medical Examiner in DC; the alpha and omega of the unexpectedly dead in the District. “He ran marathons.”

Dana nods into the middle distance. “He ran marathons. He had a treadmill in his office. He was 57 and he was my boss and I split his chest apart with a Stryker before his body had even cooled this morning. My god, I forgot what warm tissue feels like.”

She looks up with her wide, delphinium eyes. “They asked me, Mulder.”

They asked? He is appalled. “They asked you to autopsy him? That’s really fu-“

She shakes her head. “No, nobody asked me that. No one would ever. I volunteered, it was the right thing to do, for my colleagues. For Ansel. We were hardly close but I had tremendous respect for the man.”

Ansel was a runner. He ate well and drank in moderation. He cared for his body like a classic car; starting to slow down but with lots of miles left.

The human body is strange and unpredictable.

“Are you okay?” How do you cut open a man you know? He cannot believe she didn’t call this morning but also of course she didn’t call this morning. She is an eternal riddle, a beautiful enigma.

“I’m surprisingly fine,” she says. “I mean, it’s horrible and pointless and tragic. But the process of an autopsy…it soothed me. I knew what to do and there was a…a checklist.”

He smiles, soft. “You’re always a doctor first.”

Dana shrugs, fluid and dismissive. “I guess.”

He realizes then, awed. Adoring. “They want you to… to step in, to be Chief. Dana, that’s incredible, that’s a huge honor. I’m sorry it’s come at the cost of Ansel, but Christ. It’s tremendous.”

He will never achieve this in his own career and is delighted that she can.

Dana nods slowly, a blush creeping up her fine, pale cheeks. She spears a plantain and examines it on the end of her fork. “It’s obviously not a formal offer yet, my god, he’s only just been released to the family, but yes. It’s tremendous.” She bites into the plantain.

He thinks back to that feeling of wanting a baby, wanting her to have it, and knows that the new Chief Medical Examiner of DC will have other pressures, other concerns.

She’s expressed interest in babies in a vague sort of way, but doesn’t want them like he does. Dana grew up with hand-me-downs and home haircuts and spaghetti the last week of every month. She knows that babies grow into scraped-kneed children who need lunch money and trombones and French tutors and football uniforms.

He’s rich enough for it all, for night nurses and nannies, but he knows her body is not a rental property. He wants a baby, he does, but he also doesn’t care if it means this for her. He doesn’t care if her star can rise.

“I love you,” he says, raising his plastic cup of horchata. “And I’m so goddamn sorry about Ansel.”

She lifts hers back, his wife, her old-master face and her slapdash smile. “Thank you,” she says, still pained. “And slaínte.”

“L’chaim,” he replies. To life.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #prompt #daniel waterston #the fisher king #coffe shop au

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mrsportgas · 1 month ago

Text

The Neightbor. Chapter 5

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

TAG LIST: @buggsclownie @commanderfreethatdust @nocturnalrorobin @candy1277 @bluetokie

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

I hung up the phone and, for a moment, I stood still, feeling my heart pounding. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I had played with fire, challenging Shanks in a way I’d never imagined.

I checked the time. I had to leave immediately. I grabbed my underwear from the floor and put it back on. It was true I had said that to Shanks, but I couldn’t go to a final presentation like that. I’d figure out how to handle it later so he wouldn’t notice.

With my project folder under my arm and a deep breath to calm my nerves, I headed to the university. As I walked through the campus, I could feel the energy of the event already buzzing in the air. The decorations were nearly finished, and the organizers were moving around, making sure everything was perfect. But my mind kept wandering between Shanks' words and the pressure I felt about the presentation.

“Focus,” I whispered to myself. This is important.

I arrived at the auditorium where I was supposed to meet Beckman and tried to shake off the last remnants of distraction. As I entered, I saw him sitting at a table, reviewing some papers with his typical serious yet friendly expression. Beckman had always been a mentor, someone I could trust to give me his honest opinion, without sugarcoating.

“Y/N, right on time,” he said, glancing up and giving me a slight smile when he saw me enter.

“Hi, professor. Is everything ready for tomorrow?” I tried to sound relaxed, but my nerves betrayed me.

“Everything is in order,” he replied, gesturing to the chair in front of him. “Let’s quickly go over your presentation. I want to make sure you’re not missing anything and that you’re completely prepared.”

I sat down, pulling the documents from my folder. I was confident I had done a good job, but Beckman’s approval was key to putting me at ease. Over the next few minutes, we reviewed every slide, every key point of my presentation. Beckman nodded frequently, making small corrections here and there, but he didn’t dwell too much on the details.

Finally, he set the papers aside and looked at me with a smile of approval.

“Perfect, Y/N. You’ve done an exceptional job. I have nothing more to correct,” he said, crossing his arms. “The only thing left is to prepare for the social part—the party.”

I returned his smile, feeling more relieved than I expected.

“Thank you, professor. It really means a lot to me.”

“I know,” he replied, his tone more serious. “But remember, getting an investor isn’t just about a good presentation. The most important part happens at the party, when you have the chance to speak with them directly. That’s where you need to be smart.”

I adjusted in my seat, paying close attention to every word.

“The key is to make the investors feel comfortable with you. Don’t overwhelm them right away with too much technical information. That will come later. First, connect with them. Talk about yourself, your passions, why this project is important to you, and how it could make a difference. If you get them interested in you as a person, they’ll be more willing to listen to your idea.”

I nodded, mentally noting every piece of advice. I knew Beckman was right. Having an innovative project wasn’t enough; I needed them to see me—the person behind the project.

“And above all, don’t get discouraged if you don’t secure something tomorrow. Sometimes the seeds you plant today don’t bear fruit until much later. The important thing is to make a good impression,” Beckman concluded with an encouraging look.

“Understood. Thank you again, professor.”

Beckman stood up and gave me a light tap on the shoulder.

“Trust yourself, Y/N. You have everything you need to succeed. Just remember to enjoy it, too.”

I left the auditorium feeling more prepared, but still with that mix of nerves and anticipation.

I glanced out the hallway window, not really expecting Shanks to have shown up. I walked through the parking lot from top to bottom, and… there it was: his Range Rover parked at one end, right in the front row.

Nervousness shot through my body. Had he really come? Was it just because of the challenge, or did he actually want to see me?

At that moment, our conversation and my underwear came to mind… I had to make a decision, and honestly, walking through the university without them felt a bit bold, considering my skirt barely covered the essentials. I decided to take the risk and ran to the bathroom, slipping them off and tucking them deep into my bag, so Shanks would never find out.

I stepped into the hallway carefully, walking slowly but confidently, heading toward the parking lot with deliberate steps, trying to keep calm as my heart raced. With each step, the reality of what I was about to do washed over me. Seeing Shanks in person, after everything we had talked about, and on top of that, without the underwear I had just stashed in my bag, added a level of tension I was struggling to control.

There it was—his Range Rover, parked in the front row, just as I had seen from afar. Shanks was sitting inside, his arm resting on the window, a carefree expression on his face. As I got closer, his eyes met mine, and his smile widened in that playful way, as if he already knew the effect he had on me.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure as I approached the passenger door. The moment I opened the door and got into the car, I could feel his gaze on me, like he was assessing every move I made. I couldn’t help but feel my skin tingle under his scrutiny.

Shanks was wearing a white shirt with a few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his muscular chest. The shirt was tucked into jeans that paired nicely with some sleek dress shoes. I couldn’t help but take in his whole figure—he was handsome, too handsome.

“Shall we go?” Shanks asked in that casual, flirty tone he always used, accompanying his words with a playful smile. “I had to swing by work, but now I’m all yours.”

I buckled my seatbelt, trying not to let my face betray the mix of nerves and excitement I felt. I turned to him, trying to appear more confident than I actually was.

“And where do you plan on taking me?” I replied, keeping my tone neutral but with a suggestive smile on my lips.

Shanks chuckled softly as he started the car and began to maneuver out of the parking lot.

“I have a place in mind,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

The car moved off smoothly, and as we left the university behind, my mind kept racing. The sensation of being without underwear kept me on edge, but it also gave me a rush of adrenaline I hadn’t expected. The atmosphere in the car was thick with that tension that always lingered between us, but this time it felt more intense, like every word, every look carried a different weight.

Shanks drove with the same confidence he always seemed to carry in life, one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on the window. Every now and then, he’d glance at me quickly, as if enjoying watching me try to keep my cool.

“I love it when you get all serious like that,” he said, breaking the silence. “I can almost see your mind racing a thousand miles an hour.”

I couldn’t help but smile, though I tried to hide it.

“And what makes you think I’m thinking about you?” I replied, raising an eyebrow, teasing him with the idea of a challenge.

Shanks let out a short laugh and shook his head.

“I don’t need to think it. I know it,” he replied, his tone confident, without a trace of doubt. “But don’t worry, tonight you don’t have to think about anything. In fact, I need to unwind too.”

The car turned onto a side road, taking us away from the city’s hustle. Soon, trees began to line the road, and the streetlights faded, leaving only the moon and the car’s headlights to illuminate our path. The atmosphere became more intimate, more secluded, and I could feel the anticipation building in the air.

After about ten minutes of driving, the car began to climb up a steep road. I knew we were nearing something, but I had no idea where he was taking me. Finally, after a few more minutes, Shanks parked at a small lookout, surrounded by trees and nature.

“We’re here,” he announced with a smile as he turned off the engine.

I looked around, and my breath caught for a moment. The view was breathtaking. In front of us, the city lights stretched out in the distance, glowing like stars beneath the night sky. The scene was spectacular, and the silence around us, broken only by the soft sound of the wind, made everything feel even more magical.

Shanks turned toward me, quickly unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Spread your legs,” he said in a serious, almost demanding tone.

I couldn’t help but blush, my face burning at his words, and my heart began to race.

I did as he told me and opened my legs. With confident movements, he slid his hand between my thighs as he leaned closer to my ear. His hand explored my intimate parts.

“So it was true, you went to the university without anything on,” he whispered flirtatiously in my ear. “I didn’t think you’d be capable… of letting just anyone see my precious… pussy.”

Mine? Had he really just said it was his?

I bit my lip, the tension building with each passing minute, Shanks’ hand unmoving, and my breathing growing heavier.

He licked his lips. “Get in the back,” he said, pulling his hand away and unbuckling his seatbelt.

I opened the car door, trying to pull myself together, and opened the back door, slipping inside. Shanks followed, undoing a few more buttons on his shirt and looking at me intensely.

Once he got into the car and sat down, he took my hand. “Come here,” he said with a big smile, and in one swift motion, I was sitting on his lap.

His hand ran over my body from top to bottom, finally reaching my thighs, slowly moving upward. I leaned in to kiss him as my breathing quickened, and his lips curved into a smile. “So needy already.”

I shivered at his words. The truth was, I had missed him, and the desire to be with him was betraying me. I smiled slightly and moved closer to his lips, pressing them together in a passionate kiss. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs until they reached my intimate parts, exploring again until one hand found its way to my clit.

Shanks began to make small, perfectly coordinated movements. He already knew exactly where my weak spots were, where he needed to touch. With every movement of his fingers, his name slipped from my mouth, whispered directly into his ear. Suddenly, he gently but decisively slid two fingers inside me and paused for a moment, waiting for my response.

I jumped slightly from the surprise and sensation, and Shanks let out a soft chuckle. “Good?”

I nodded, and he gave me a small kiss on the forehead as his fingers began to move.

My moans filled the space; it was clear he knew exactly where to touch, and he was putting special care and effort into it.

“You know, darling? It drives me crazy how my name comes out of your mouth. Now I’m the needy one.” Shanks pulled his fingers out of me and brought both hands to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, giving space for his now prominent bulge. His eyes met mine with a challenging look. “Fuck me,” he said, trying to imitate my voice and gestures from the other night when I had said the exact same thing.

I stood up as best as I could, giving him as much space as possible, gesturing for him to lower his pants.

When I took them off, I quickly placed myself on top of him again, feeling his member on my lower parts. I pulled back a little and took his cock in my hands, massaging it up and down. While Shanks let out all kinds of grunts and clung to the seat.

After a while when he had reached his peak, I withdrew my hands to get closer to him, approaching his neck to bite him fiercely while he introduced his member inside me. While we were both breathing hard.

"Fuck.. you always so tight darling?" Shanks' breathing was getting heavier.

I gave myself some time to adjust to him, and began to move, increasing the speed and intensity more and more, while Shanks licked and massaged my breasts when the moans allowed him.

We were both enjoying it, and I decided to go a little further, doing it slower and harder, doing small thrusts and moving my body in small circles. We both began to moan, the ecstasy did not allow us to say anything at all, it seemed that Shanks for the first time had been left speechless, and I would not last much longer.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to cum…"

Hearing that, I positioned myself closer again, increasing my speed a little more and letting myself be carried away by the pleasure. As soon as he noticed my juices and convulsions, he let himself go, exploding with a loud growl.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, Shanks put his clothes back on, got out of the car, and to my surprise, I saw him pull a thick, dark-colored blanket from the trunk. He folded it over his arm and shot me a knowing look. "Come on, I want to show you something."

I quickly got dressed and stepped out of the car to find Shanks. Leaning against the car door, he waited calmly, a casual smile on his face. He jumped up onto the car hood and spread the blanket over it, offering me his hand to join him. I settled next to him, and we both lay down, gazing up at the sky. The air was crisp, and the silence of the place wrapped around us like an invisible blanket. For a few minutes, we stayed like that, simply watching the stars, until Shanks broke the silence.

"Look, there's the Big Dipper," he said, pointing to the sky. "It's one of the easiest to spot. And right there…" he leaned a little closer to me, his fingers almost touching mine as he pointed to another spot in the sky, "…that's Orion, the hunter."

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, his profile softly illuminated by the starlight. His expression was serene, but there was something in his tone, in the way he spoke to me, that made me feel like this moment was more than just a simple astronomy lesson.

"Have you always been a fan of the stars?" I asked quietly, trying to break the growing tension between us.

Shanks turned his face towards me, his smile reappearing.

"I've always liked clear skies, but…" he paused, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something deeper, "…tonight the stars have some tough competition."

Before I could fully process what he had just said, Shanks leaned in and kissed me. It was soft at first, but soon the kiss grew more intense, more assured. My hands found their way to his chest, and for a few moments, I let myself get lost in the warmth of his body, in the way his lips fit perfectly with mine.

When we finally pulled apart, Shanks looked at me with a playful yet tender smile.

"I knew you'd like the stars," he teased, his voice soft, though his eyes were serious.

The drive home was quiet. We got back quickly, the lookout wasn’t far.

Shanks got out of the car, walking over to my door and taking my hand. "Good luck tomorrow, princess. See you on Saturday," he said as he kissed my hand, then turned to walk to his own door.

I stepped inside, my mind still spinning from everything that had happened, and just as I was taking off my shoes, I saw Nami sitting on the couch, looking at me with a knowing smile.

"Well?" she asked, her tone playful. "How was the 'meeting'?"

I flopped onto the couch beside her and sighed.

"It was… unexpected."

Nami raised an eyebrow.

"Unexpected, huh? Come on, spill."

And then, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face, I told her everything. From the moment I saw Shanks at the window to the kiss under the stars.

"Y/N, you two slept together and you’re excited over a simple kiss? You’re so strange," she laughed.

“It’s in those moments that my heart tells me maybe it’s not just about sex, that I mean more to him. But I still don’t know.” I replied with a smile, glancing at Nami.

However, something about her expression made me realize she was lost in her own thoughts, uneasy. She was nervously playing with her hair, something she only did when dealing with something important.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to get her attention.

Nami stopped twirling her hair and sighed deeply, as if searching for the courage to say what was on her mind.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

I sat up straighter, my senses on alert. Nami wasn’t one to lose her composure easily, and when she did, it meant something serious was happening.

“Tell me, what’s going on?” I urged gently.

She bit her lower lip, clearly struggling with her thoughts. After a long silence, she finally spoke.

“It’s my supervisor,” she whispered.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. I knew she had been spending a lot of time with him, preparing for her presentation, but she hadn’t given me many details about their relationship. Something in her tone, however, told me this was much bigger.

“What about him?” I asked, sensing something unexpected was about to be revealed.

Nami took a deep breath, closing her eyes as if bracing herself for a confession she had been holding in for some time.

“He kissed me.”

My eyes widened. That wasn’t what I had expected to hear.

“What? When did that happen?” I asked, still in shock.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and looked at me, her face a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“It was yesterday, after one of our work sessions. Everything was normal, we were going over the final details of my presentation. But when we finished, he got closer than usual, and before I realized it, he kissed me.”

I sat there, processing the situation.

“And what did you do?” I asked, needing to know every detail.

Nami smiled, but it was a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

“I kissed him back. I didn’t push him away or stop him. In fact… I liked it.”

My mind paused for a second. I knew Nami to be professional, always maintaining boundaries in difficult situations, so this surprised me.

“Wait, do you like your supervisor? So what you said at the party on Saturday wasn’t a joke?” I asked, trying to piece it all together.

She nodded slowly, her cheeks flushing.

“Yeah… and I don’t know how to feel about it. He’s a bit older than us and he’s my mentor, which complicates things. But, Y/N, I really like him. I’m not sure how it happened, but the more time I spend with him, the more I realize I’m attracted to him.”

I was stunned. I’d never seen Nami so unsure about matters of the heart.

“And what about him?” I asked cautiously. “Did he say anything after the kiss?”

Nami nodded, her eyes shining with a hint of hope.

“After the kiss, he apologized, but not in a way that made me feel rejected. He said he couldn’t help it, that he’s been feeling something for me for a while, but he didn’t want it to interfere with my work or my future.”

I could see the conflict in her face. She was torn between the professional and the personal, a dilemma that wasn’t easy to solve.

“Nami, this is complicated,” I said, trying to find the right balance in my words. “I understand that you like him, and it’s clear he feels something for you too. But you need to think about how this could affect you, especially with your presentation so close.”

She nodded, her eyes focused on her hands.

“I know. That’s why I’m so nervous. Tomorrow’s the presentation, and I don’t want this to distract me. But I can’t help thinking about what all this means for afterward… What if it goes further? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“You can’t have all the answers right now,” I said gently. “What’s important is that tomorrow you focus on your presentation. Do your best, and after, once things have calmed down, talk to him. Clear the air about what you both feel, but don’t put too much pressure on it.”

Nami looked at me, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“You’re right. Right now, I need to focus on my academic future. I can’t let this distract me… but I can’t deny I want to see where things go with him.”

I smiled, relieved to see her more determined.

“You’re incredibly strong, Nami. I know you’ll do great tomorrow, and afterward, you’ll have time to figure things out with him.”

Nami smiled back, though still a bit nervous.

“Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“We’re a team,” I replied, squeezing her hand gently.

We sat in silence for a moment, both reflecting on what lay ahead. Nami had a mountain of emotions to deal with, but I knew she could handle it. Tomorrow would be a crucial day for both of us.

It was the afternoon of the big day, and nerves coursed through every inch of my body as I mentally reviewed my presentation. I was confident in what I had prepared, thanks to Beckman’s guidance, but the pressure of securing an investor was overwhelming. Everything was ready: slides double-checked, words memorized… yet the anxiety lingered.

I was in my room, organizing my papers, when I heard the sound of the door opening. I looked up to see Nami walking in, a mischievous smile on her face and a large package in her hands. The box was a creamy color, elegant, with the logo of Éclat Boutique, the most expensive shop in town.

“What’s that?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

Nami approached and placed the box on the table, gesturing for me to open it.

“It’s for you. It just arrived at the door,” she said, her smile growing. “There’s a note, too.”

I stared at her, confused. “There’s been a mistake. I didn’t order anything.”

“Open it,” Nami chuckled.

With trembling hands, I opened the box, and instantly, my eyes widened in amazement. Inside was a dress… but not just any dress. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A soft crimson red, perfectly cut to fall just above the ankles, elegant and sophisticated. The fabric seemed to flow like water, with a slight shimmer under the light. It was a dream dress, the kind you only imagined wearing on a special occasion, and it came from the most exclusive store in town.

“This can’t be real…” I whispered, stroking the delicate fabric.

Amused, Nami pointed to the small card next to the dress.

“You might want to read the note,” she said, crossing her arms and waiting for me to open it.

I took the card in my hands, still feeling a mixture of surprise and nervousness. As I opened it, my heart skipped a beat.

“As soon as I saw it, I knew it was for you. Good luck. I know you’ll shine.”

“Shanks…” I murmured, a wave of emotions rushing through me.

Nami, who had been watching my reaction with a mischievous grin, let out a small laugh.

“This is too much…” I mumbled, still processing what had just happened.

“Come on, Y/N. This dress is perfect for you. And when was the last time you treated yourself to something this nice?” Nami said, stepping closer to admire the dress.

“You’re right,” I replied, smiling. “It’s perfect.”

Nami looked at me with a mix of excitement and complicity.

“Well, don’t get too sentimental now. Go try it on and make sure you’re ready to dazzle everyone at that event.”

I stood up, still feeling the flutter of excitement in my stomach. I took the dress to the bathroom, and as I put it on, I was surprised at how well it fit. It was as if the dress had been tailored just for me. The way it fell, the color—everything made me feel different, more confident, more like myself.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Nami’s jaw dropped.

“Wow, Y/N… you look stunning.”

I laughed, but inside, the nerves of seeing him that night were still there, mixed with the pressure of the presentation.

Nami and I had spent the entire afternoon getting ready. She was just as nervous as I was, though she tried to hide it. As I looked at myself in the mirror, adjusting the final details of the red dress Shanks had sent, I still couldn’t believe it. The simple fact that he had sent me something so spectacular gave me a small boost of confidence I desperately needed.

We got in the car, and as we drove to the auditorium, my mind was focused on every word I had to say, every point I needed to emphasize. I knew I couldn’t let my nerves get the best of me. I had to stay composed, remember Beckman’s advice, and trust that I was prepared for this opportunity.

When we arrived at the auditorium, the pressure intensified, but Nami, always optimistic, gave me a quick hug and looked at me with determination.

“We’re going to nail this! Let’s go!”

We entered the auditorium, and the magnitude of the event hit me. There were more people than I expected. The other speakers seemed so confident, so focused, as they prepared for their own presentations. I was up first, so I didn’t have much time to dwell on my doubts. The minutes flew by, and soon I was called to the stage.

I took a deep breath, remembering that everything I had worked for culminated in this moment. I walked to the center of the stage, my heart racing, but with the conviction that what I had prepared was good enough. More than that, it was brilliant.

I started my presentation with a shaky voice, but little by little, I found my rhythm. The words flowed smoothly, my ideas well-structured, and I could feel that I had captured the audience’s attention. As I progressed, my confidence grew. Beckman had been right—I was ready.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke the silence in the auditorium. The main door swung open, and all eyes turned toward the entrance. I tried not to get distracted, but when I saw who it was, my heart nearly stopped.

It was Shanks.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair slightly tousled but with that signature air of confidence. He walked in with a relaxed stride, as if time and space adjusted to his rhythm. He made no effort to conceal his entrance or apologize for interrupting the presentation. The door slammed shut behind him, and for a moment, the entire auditorium fell silent, waiting.

“What is he doing here?” was all I could think. My mind was in complete disarray. I was momentarily speechless, completely stunned. But what shocked me the most was where he went.

Shanks, with all the calm in the world, walked directly toward the VIP section—the area reserved for the city’s most important investors and businesspeople. He sat comfortably in one of the front-row seats, as if he belonged there. He nodded to a few of the attendees, and everyone looked at him with evident respect.

The entire auditorium was even more expectant, including me. Who was Shanks, really? Why was he sitting in the VIP section? What on earth was happening? Questions swirled in my head, and that awful ringing started in my ears, the kind that signaled everything was about to fall apart. But I couldn’t let panic take over. I had to keep going. I was in the middle of my presentation, and I couldn’t let his arrival throw me off.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. I felt the nervousness creeping in, but I closed my eyes for a second, recalling Beckman’s words and the confidence I had built up until that moment. I had to keep going. I couldn’t let his presence ruin everything

NEXT CHAPTER

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yourfandomfriend · 4 months ago

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Gravitation || IwtV Meta

While doing my bookkeeping, I was pleasantly surprised to find I'd left some shippy meta lying around for these yaoi-ass mother fuckers and didn't post it. Yeah, you know I've got it bad for a series when the analysis spills over into other folders.

** SPOILERS** for Interview with the Vampire, Season 2 & The Vampire Chronicles **SPOILERS**

And Then What?

One of my favorite aspects of this series is the way it takes meta to the next level.

Anne Rice used the "interview" aspect of the novel to sew the tiniest seeds of doubt in her readers' minds, the idea being that the story could be true and Louis was out there somewhere. But then she retconned a lot from the book to justify making its villain, Lestat, the hero of the series. So any adaption of the book with a greater story in mind would basically be saying, "Yes, this story is all true! …Only it's not, this man is a liar. And his rebound is a psycho bitch!"

Meanwhile, with the benefit of decades of hindsight, the series doesn't just say, "The vampire story happened, it was an interview by some Boy." It treats the story with respect by interrogating it as if it can stand the sunlight.

"So if the first one was a pack of lies, as later books insist, then why didn't The Boy notice? And why did Louis lie? Why go to the trouble of telling his story to a reporter if he was just gonna lie about his boyfriend all night? And how come he didn't notice that Armand guy was an unhinged puppet master, hoaxing his ass for years?"

Well! Not only is the interview itself split apart -- between the year of its release and the time of the series -- but Daniel Molloy himself is split and now becomes the way in which the series reconciles the first book with the rest.

Daniel becomes a brave and skeptical interviewer, buying the premise of vampires, yet daring to ask -- if the story was true -- then why This and why That? Many fans of the books react to this as an insult. "Are you calling the first book stupid? The people who loved it stupid?" As if that was the only explanation for treating the material as though it could hold up to scrutiny.

Agency

I really love the idea of the series closing out Louis' story with his revelations. He has the truth now and is finally able to take control of his life. To accept himself completely in a way he never could before and stand on his own.

No longer forced to forget Paul, Claudia, and Lestat. No longer pretending he isn't a monster or a very human creature. No longer trapped in limbo, no longer an object at the mercy of the universe.

And can we all agree that Lestat got the best arc? One that wasn't possible in the books? Learning to respect Louis' autonomy and let him go with love instead of lying, cutting off his escapes, blackmailing, or breaking him? I'm way more impressed with the writing of the show here, for making Lestat learn his lesson instead of pretending, "Oh, no, he was perfect all along!"

Also, his behavior is juxtaposed with Armand's. We'd love to think he's the villain for the part he played in the Trial, but so many characters had done the wrong thing that led to that point --

Claudia for rushing (against all logic and advice) to join a cult created by the guy she "killed," thinking she could BS her way through it forever. Louis for ignoring Claudia when she reported her red flags, telling her to sit in the choice she'd made, choosing a guy he'd just met over her, refusing to join or even be kind to the coven, leaving bodies in the open to piss them off, and playing carelessly with the heart of an ancient demigod vampire he barely knew, who he just happened to have shared a suss ex-boyfriend with --

Lestat for keeping his fledglings weak and ignorant, abusing them and refusing to let them go, destroying the Paris coven and remaking it in his image then abandoning it, crossing the ocean for revenge he didn't deserve, and using his power to save Louis, but only Louis.

No, Armand's pertinent villainous act was The Lie. He didn't just allow Louis to believe the conclusion he'd jumped to, he created an alternate universe where he was Louis' savior and nanny and made him live in it for seventy-five years. And it's not even that he was dishonest, per se -- they all lied to each other -- but that his dishonesty was fueled by a desire to limit Louis' movement.

Like the rocks in that coffin. As if he'd never taken Louis out of it.

He would give his lover all the power in the world, submit to him in any and every way imaginable, and put his life in Louis' hands… but never give him the freedom to leave. That was the power and control Armand exerted behind a mask of innocence and deference.

It's the mask Lestat wore on more than one occasion, not realizing his guilt until the Trial's ludicrous, victim-blaming narrative inadvertently threw his cruelty, tyranny, and vanity in his face.

Which means that, as different as they were, Armand was used in the series as a Shadow Self of Lestat. Not the easy, shapeless alternative he was in Book One, nor the convenient scapegoat he was in Book Two, but a desperate, lonely, unaccountable Brat Prince playing with precious things that don't belong to him and breaking them.

Armand is more underhanded and tightly wound, but his greed and capacity for disaster are at least identical to Lestat's -- because they're godlike. No one can stop them, except themselves.

Gravity

But now, the love triangle has been thrown into daylight and all parties are finally free of one another. Louis can visit Lestat to reconcile and greave and embrace without either being sucked into each other's orbit... For now.

And what of the unmasked Armand? He didn't ask to be set free from either of their orbits or did he? and without the chase of Devil's Minion, he has no one to satellite now. Poor babby, all his friends are dead and everyone else thinks he's a hardcore bitch. Can he ever be happy alone, especially when there's no outside force to shake the shit out of him?

To the ancient texts!

In the books, Armand's relative wickedness was transparently both AR's alibi for Lestat and a way to keep him from undermining her OTP -- once he was no longer a threat to either, he was free to be as happy and lovable as a thing like him could be. So if Show follows Books, Armand is free now, too! Free of the toxic polycule! (And taking most of the toxins with him, but hey.)

The Bachelor Armand

A whole lot of fans who go from Armand in Book Two to Armand in Book Three have their minds blown by how… well? Cute and lovable and domestic he eventually becomes. You know… the further he gets from Louis.

Of course, Armand is never the healthiest, most stable character, but at least he's allowed to move on eventually. To finally grow and change. But must Show!Armand be lonely until that change happens? And if he's alone and won't introspect, what's the catalyst? Doesn't romance/love/the chase change him in the books? Why would anyone love him now that he's outed as horrible?

Well... all the other characters think he's a hardcore bitch... but one of them might think that's more a feature than a bug.

In the books, Daniel, the one remaining threat to loustat, is nerfed by AR throwing him to Armand like a wind-up cat toy. And as it turns out, he's a lot more into the evil nut-jobbery part of dating a vampire than the cute shit. Actually, he seems to find the cute shit annoying.

Before you know it, the spares are paired, Daniel is turned, and Armand is transformed from a severe, obsessive, sadomasochistic ascetic, to a soft, obsessive, sadomasochistic hedonist. He's still a hardcore bitch, but now he's the hardcore bitch Daniel's always dreamed of.

Suspicious? Yes. AR showing her hand? Undoubtably. But they seemed so happy, I don't have the heart to question it. And if that Chuck Tingle book cover come to life is Armand and Daniel's fate in the show, I'll cheer them on so loudly.

#iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand iwtv #armand the vampire #devil's minion #loustat #long post #spoilers #meta

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instructionsnotincluded · 3 months ago

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Can we get a snippet from true north that takes place a bit further into the story?

Further into the story, you say? 👀 I could do that…

18+ MDNI | References to sex

“I also know you were born in Manitowoc, Wisconsin,” Lieutenant Haussmann’s smile unnerved Bucky tremendously, his teeth gritting just a little harder, “squadron, 418th. Group, the 100th Bomber Group. H for Heavy…headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts. You’re not married…” His much too beady eyes lifted and Bucky forced himself to remain unmoved as the man flipped a paper, “but you do have a sweetheart. Captain Stella Frank…ferry pilot for the Air Transport Auxiliary, from Texas but relocated to California before joining the ATA. She is beautiful.” Bucky hated that he knew her name, hated that she was in a folder that the Nazi’s had access to, hated that they would even think of bringing her up to him and had the nerve to comment on how she looked. Absolutely despised the fact that the man before him had seen a photo of her—kept a photo of her in his file. “Is Stella back from London, John? Or is she still staying with a…George Davidson?”

Bucky kept his breathing even, despite his heart beginning to race as he stared blankly back at the man. He knew this was coming, he was in interrogation with the Nazi’s, of course they would use her and Bucky wasn’t sure what he hated more, that they were trying to use her or that it was slowly working. Thoughts of London drifted into his mind, memories of them in bed together, making love and trying to create a life. The way she felt up against him, the way her lips felt on his, the way she tasted as he feasted on her, lips dragging along her skin and over her curves, the one place he wanted to be so badly right now.

His heart cracked just at the thought of her being pregnant. It would be too soon—she wouldn’t know herself yet and if he missed that he would never forgive himself. Never be able to get that time back, to watch her grow from his seed, watch her glow and experience something he knew she also wanted so badly. He needed her, his heart needed her. It beat for her, in time with hers, she was his and he was hers and he wanted nothing more than to disappear into her embrace, have her fingers glide through his hair, kiss his wounds and make love to him all night long, whisper her love into his ear as she had done a few days ago, promising him forever.

“Major?” Bucky’s attention, despite his eyes having never left the Lieutenant, snapped back to the man, “Has Stella arrived back at RAF Ratcliffe yet?” He blinked in a startling way and Bucky hoped his face remained passive, “Or has she been relieved from duty?”

“A thicker blanket would be nice.”

#mota-chats #fic: true north #john bucky egan fanfiction #masters of the air fan fiction #masters of the air fanfiction #bucky x frank

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noodlebelli · 9 months ago

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Sims 2 Stardew Valley Challenge

Toshiro Sim's Pelican Town from Stardew Valley as a neighborhood combined with the Planting Overhaul I came up with some gameplay rules to somewhat simulate playing Stardew Valley in the Sims 2.

(I'm also playing it Tues and Thurs over on https://www.twitch.tv/noodlebelli)

Rules

Your sim cannot stay up past 2am. Once your sim is in bed, they cannot wake up until 6am.

If they happen to wake up for puke or pee or something and they are too awake to sleep, have them relax and not do anything until 6am.

If you need to do any maintenance on other households because of story progression, you can do it while your farmer is asleep, until 6am.

No Job! You left that life to connect with nature. Sources of income include:

Fishing

Harvested produce

Found beach treasures

Digging for treasure.

Any other crafts that you can get your hands on.

You can sell the rocks and trees on your land for some cash in a pinch, but foraging and farming should be the primary sources of income.

After every season, at the beginning of the next, delete all current crops still in growing stages. .

If there are some in harvest state you can still sell them.

Note down which seeds you still have left in your inventory.

Save your game and switch out the seed folder for the current season folder.

Put a copy of the extra seed packages you noted down from the old season folder to the Winter folder.

Put the winter folder in your Downloads so that your sim keeps their extra seeds.

Sprinklers and ladybug houses are allowed if you can afford them. The greenhouse is not allowed to be used until Winter.

The winter folder should have all the extra seeds that you noted down in rule 13. You can use those seeds in the greenhouse, but you are not allowed to buy more!

Once Winter is over, sell any un-used seeds and when you are switching out the seed folders delete all seeds in the Winter folder.

No Gardener! Unless there is a default replacement that turns them into a Junimo blob, you don’t get help from a gardener.

Romance whoever you want, Heck even WooHoo. But NO Try for Baby until the Level 3 milestone.

Read the full article which includes recommended mods and milestones on https://noodlebellisimsandthings.blogspot.com/2024/02/sims-2-stardew-valley-challenge.html

This challenge is bound to grow and change, so I'll try to update the blog post and rules as I go.

#Sims 2 #Stardew Valley #Challenge #Gameplay #Rules

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crowandmoonwriting · 7 months ago

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Crow's Worldbuilding Process 🐦‍⬛

(This post will probably be very long lol)

The first thing I do is an overall conception of the world. This sounds like a big thing, but it’s really just figuring out what kind of setting it will be in the broadest terms. Will it be a high fantasy world with a Tolkienian setting? Will it be a sci-fi world filled with aliens and cyborgs? Will it be a steampunk world with airships and glittering clockwork cities?

Once I’ve made that decision, I come up with a name to fit that conception. This is important for a few reasons. It gives me a base for a language, maybe. Are there multiple names for the planet, or just one? I also try to convey the mood of the world through the name, through the sound of it. Flowing syllables for a fantasy world for example, sharper consonants for a sci-fi world for example. But one of the main reasons is that I need something to name my folders and worldbuilding documents lol.

Once I have the name, I do a preliminary map sketch. This is soooo important for me, especially if I don’t have a story seed yet. If I do have a story seed, I do this too, but I focus on one country pretty quickly after the world map sketch.

I keep the sketch digital, in a multi-layer format, so I can edit it quickly and overlay different maps for climate, natural features, political boundaries, etc. But I don’t worry about those for now. I just get a few landforms (if the planet has landforms!) down, and come up with scale. I keep scale pretty loosey-goosey, as I am woefully deficient in all forms of math. I usually look at it in terms of how big it is in terms of Earth—bigger or smaller, by however many times.

Then I start working on a few things at once, organically, going from here to there. I come up with region names, climates, major natural features like large mountain ranges, rivers, lakes, etc. If I have a story seed, I focus on one or two countries, whatever will be most relevant to the story, and just kind of rough out everything else.

From here, story seed or not, I dive into a country or particular region. This is where it gets more intense lol, and it tends to vary immensely. Sometimes I start with the culture, sometimes the resources, sometimes the government. When I start with any of them, they inform the others, so it flows from there.

For example, when I was just starting to build a snowy northern country (like Merovyn, from my main fantasy world), I looked at what weather and resources might be found there, and how it might shape the culture of the people. The people and animals there are hardy, built to withstand immense cold and relative scarcity of food supply. So what does grow up there? Here I did some real-world research, looking at countries in our world with similar climates and seeing what resources exist there. This can be used to build communities, which form around areas where resources can be harvested. Fishing villages, mining towns, etc. So I went back to the country map and added dots here and there for villages, towns, cities, how they reached each other (roads, riverways, etc), and how resources move through the country. It’s a fairly quick way to develop a base for the economy.

This is just one way to start up a new world, and from here it gets very complicated lol. Culture-building is so much more in-depth, and I do a lot of real-world research here too. Resources can affect culture immensely, but also vice-versa. I discuss a bit more about food in particular here, and how that can inform worldbuilding. But it doesn’t have to be all geography and research! I like making aesthetic boards, on Pinterest usually, where I compile images of the countryside, the people, their clothing, or gather research links and even recipes. It’s very important for me to develop a list of sensory experiences related to a setting. Merovyn for example is biting cold, the kind of cold that sinks through your skin to make your very bones ache. It smells of pine and cherry mead; it sounds like winter wind, like crackling fire, like a held breath. The skies are cool grey, pale blue, pure white, never a rich blue. Slowly, the setting starts to come alive. It’s much easier to write about when I have a good idea of the kind of sensory experiences my characters will have.

So that’s it! At least, that’s it for now lol. This post is getting very long.

If there’s a desire for it, I can do a part two, where I go more in-depth about creating specific cultures, languages, governments, etc. for particular countries.

I hope you found this useful, or at least fun to read! Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday!

#worldbuilding #worldbuilding wednesday #wbw #writing help #writing tips #writing advice #high fantasy #fantasy #fantasy worldbuilding

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marlynnofmany · 4 months ago

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Me: *working on cover art*

Me: "These green-glass edges look like asparagus."

Me: "That sounds like magic. What if--"

Me: "New story ideas later; finish art now!"

#don't worry I can detour to the story seeds folder then get back to work #and doesn't glass asparagus sound properly fairytale?#the cover art is for an anthology I'm doing with some writer friends #Shatterlore: Myths of Past and Future #I wrote a cyberpunk Orpheus & Eurydice story #and one where Narcissus is a vampire who wants a reflection #it's gonna be a great book #writer life

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magic-is-something-we-create · 6 months ago

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WIP Title Game!

Thank you for the tag, @illarian-rambling!!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

My writing folder is a bunch of nested folders for each draft of each WIP with 30+ documents each because I keep chapters separate BUT within that writing folder, we have:

THE MILLENNIUM SAGA (Firebreathers drafts 1-4, Echoseers drafts 1-3 (draft 3 is slowly being edited at the moment), and Goddess-Touched drafts 1-3 (actively rewriting for draft 3))

WHISPERS (2 drafts with minuscule differences)

EHLVERSE TTRPG (separate documents for character creation and elementalism mechanics are all i have right now)

THE LOST SCRIPT (and a few past attempts at The Lost before i determined it would be better as a comic than a novel)

DEITY COMPLEX (scattered bits and pieces in about five different documents that are a mix of drafting and brainstorms)

and in rapid-fire:

the messenger Marked Ursa Riyon's Guide to Worldwalking by birth SHORT STORIES (The Traveler, The Man Who Burns, Seeds of Regret, and about sixteen others you could not pay me to put online from my highschool days)

i'll make the executive decision to say that's 9 WIPs since the short stories are all complete, so i'll tag...

@indecentpause, @writeblrfantasy, @ashen-crest, @lanawritesalittle, @blind-the-winds

@authoralexharvey, @radley-writes, @calicohyde, and @revenantlore

As always, absolutely 0 pressure to play, and feel free to join in if you'd like!!!

#aboutthewarlord #tag game

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centrally-unplanned · 9 months ago

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To recount a twitter story, Kenny Lauderdale posted this very normcore review of the English release of Gainax VN Princess Maker 2 from the May 1996 edition of the (Michigan) Times Herald:

It includes some great quotes, like Japanese professor Etsuko Yamashita believing its existence is a step back for feminism - very amusing given how gender-equal the player base for these games is today! Time marches past us all. Sometimes for the better - it cost $140 in Japan on release!?

But what I found interesting was the art featured - because that isn't Princess Maker 2?

This is PM2, that girl above is not our player-named protagonist.

Turns out that is art is from Princess Maker 3:

You can see specific scenes like the beach as well, in case you had any doubt. This is weird though because, well, Princess Maker 3 came out in January of 1997? More than half a year after this article was published! Which means they somehow had access to promotional material for Princess Maker 3? Which to be clear absolutely did exist at the time - in fact, Princess Maker 3 was bought up by Sony as a limited release for their brand-new console the Playstation. PM3 was actually featured on the cover of the first ever volume of the Dengeki Playstation magazine, released in January of 1995 (the PS1 coming out in December 1994):

Alas I haven't found a copy of this scanned online, so I can't say what it contained. This being two years before the game's release does honestly point to some development hell drama, the timeline for a game back then should not be that lengthy. Man, wonder what was happening at Gainax in 1995 that might have been a distraction...

Still, we have a question of how this American newspaper article got their hands on them. It also seems worthwhile to note that this article is syndicated - it was published in a dozen newspapers across the country around this time, but with different titles and photos to fit each paper's needs. And other papers do have correct Princess Maker 2 screenshots on them!

I have no grand answer here or anything, sorry guys, but I think we can infer it. The article itself actually mentions that a "third one" is now in the works, which is something they would have learned from the publisher of the English version, IntraCorp (they weren't reading Japanese press magazines in 1996!). IntraCorp likely wanted them to mention it because they themselves were going to hopefully license it, assuming the first (well, second) one was successful - this was their first foray into this specific licensing niche, previously making action games like Witchaven II: Blood Vengeance. In early 1996 they sent out copies & press kits to reviewers, and I am guessing that copy almost certainly included - perhaps poorly labeled - promotional material for Princess Maker 3 as well that Gainax had provided them, so they would mention it in the article and seed hype. The harried layout editor at The Times Herald opened the wrong folder and threw them on the page by mistake - after all the author didn't work for him, he worked for the Associated Press. He had no experience with the game to know his error.

We will never know because this is a niche curiosity from almost 30 years ago, sure, but we will also never know because the game being reviewed above...was never released! IntraCorp declared bankruptcy soon after the publication of this article. They were not the localizers themselves - a team of 4 people called SoftEgg were - but their contract with them was binding enough that it left the virtually-finished translated copy in perpetual legal limbo. Eventually it was leaked onto the internet as a form of abandonware a few years later. The hard-working men of America never got to be "Sim Dad" in 1996 unless they were intrepid enough to be UseNet Forum users hunting down and running Japanese-language romhacks.

Which is not a hypothetical, that was occurring. I will leave you all with the opening quote from the rec.arts.anime group's User Manual for navigating your Nihongo copy of Princess Maker 2, preserved still in the roms you can download today:

We all know of Gainax as being the wonderful company that brought us Wings of Honneamise, Otaku no Video as well as multitudes of garage kits and other paraphenelia. However with the release of Princess Maker 2, one might think that their true calling is in computer software! This band of self described otakus which managed to lose almost all their profits in the anime business have come back by releasing several computer games (some of which were on display at Anime Con).

...written, of course, in 1994 :)

#princess maker 2 #Ash Obscure Anime History Annals #gainax

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simmerianne93 · 1 year ago

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- Halloween Accessories and Objects -

Hello guys!!

I made some accessories and objects using the debbug pumpkins from "Spooky stuffpack" so I'll be sharing them with you 'cause you will need some of them for the 10th posepack of my Simblreen2023.

Even tho I didn't use them all for the pack, maybe in the future I'll be using them for more poses.

Pumpkin objects come in different "stages": Uncut, Seeded, Empty, and in cutting progress. I also made an object with the pumpkin lid.

You can use the objects to decorate your scenes if you are making a story or just for fun gameplay, and if you are a posemaker and want to make some poses with them all, you can do it as well. The only thing I ask you is to redirect people to this post if you use them for your own creations.

I'm not an expert at creating objects, but I tested them in-game and they work fine.

I hope they are useful to you.

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Accessories:

[Simmerianne93]BigSpoon_PoseAcc (Adult, Child and Toddler Version)

[Simmerianne93]PumpkinLid_PoseAcc (Adult, Child and Toddler Version)

Objects:

[Simmerianne93]ClosedPumpkin_Object

[Simmerianne93]OpenPumpkinEmpty_Object

[Simmerianne93]OpenPumpkinInProgress_Object

[Simmerianne93]OpenPumpkinWithSeeds_Object

[Simmerianne93]PumpkinLid_Object

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Download it now here --- FREE FOR EVERYONE.

⬆⬆⬆

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TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

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If you want to support me: Patreon | Ko-fi

For more poses: Pinterest | Wix

My socials: Twitter | Instagram | BlueSky

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I really hope you like them and I will say on advance: Thank you so much for use them.

@ts4-poses

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sanddusted-wisteria · 11 months ago

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Reintroducing Wisteria!

Since we're all putting our OCs out there again, I might as well reintroduce Wisty! She's just here to build and be silly :> After a rather dull interm period after her old workshop in Highwind shut down, she's here in Sandrock to try and make a proper name for herself and to rekindle the zeal she had for building. And maybe the enthusiasm from a certain space nerd might help...

(And if Mint goes to Portia and finds another builder with the same name, face, and voice as the woman his best friend's dating...well, that's a story for another time...)

I have a bunch of WIPs of fanfic with Wisty that are sitting in my writing folder that I hope to get out sometime, but so far I have a mini-series with her and Grace (that I'm still working on too lol)! I also wrote a couple lines for her if she was an NPC in the game below...

[template is by @/cxs-workshops!]

Intro:

"Oh hey, you're new here? I'm new here too! I'm Wisteria. Or Wis. Or Wisty. Your pick. I'm still getting used to getting around here, but maybe we can learn together."

Regular Dialogue:

"Ughhhhh, this heat. Whyyyy did I move to the desert...?! Oh hey, sorry. I'm just busy dying... Ughhhhhh...."

"Highwind's a nice place. Not a great time to be a builder, though. Too many of us in one place means barely any business."

"This isn't the first Fresh Pines, by the way. The first one was back in Highwind, by a lovely conifer forest. The logger there always had the best pine wood. It smelled so nice!"

"I keep running out of water... No, not with the machines, it's my garden. Think I got a bit overzealous..."

"Everyone in my Pa's family's named after plants! A long standing tradition. No, nobody knows why it is. But it's fun, so we keep it. I was adopted, but they kept my name since it was a perfect fit!"

Birthday:

"My birthday? Fall 26. Born just before the end of the best season. Yes, fall is the best season. Objectively true."

On other NPCs:

"Making friends with Qi? Oh, it's not that hard. Just give him some tea and relics and power stones, and uh... a 500 pound telescope, and... build him a giant robot... Uhh..."

"Nia sends me a bunch of seeds every so often for my garden. We're calling it 'research' on planting, but we're basically just throwing seeds at the sand and seeing what grows, heh."

"Hey, pro tip. Lunch time on Wednesdays is Grace's 'trial' period for new recipes. Best find somewhere else to eat. Your stomach will thank you."

"Sometimes I see one of Unsuur's rock stacks around town and I try to add a rock onto it. Once I accidentally knocked one over. I felt really bad, but he was pretty cool with it. All he said was, and I quote: 'That's okay, that happens sometimes.' I wish I had that much chill."

"Oh, I love Yan. I love him so much that I'd love to strangle him until the light in his eyes disappears...! Hm. Maybe shouldn't say that with the Corps uniform on..."

#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas oc #mtas builder #wisty is my player character for basically any game with a custom player char #so yes there's a wisty in portia too!#since mtap and mtas are in the same universe i had to come up with some kinda in universe explanation #mtas wisteria

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lydiahosek · 10 months ago

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Reconnection

[My contribution to the @inklings-challenge Christmas challenge, and a follow-up to my 2022 story "Connection". Thank you for hosting and merry Christmas!]

“…Hi everyone. Merry Christmas! At least, it should be Christmas by the time you get this. Right now it’s November 15th.”

In fact, it was December 27th when Arlo Connors’ transmission reached his family back on Earth. The first days had been spent by the Connors with the vague concern for him that always regrew in the back of their minds between messages. In a consolatory sort of coincidence, though, it arrived smack in the middle of the annual Christmas party, and the entire extended family (minus two strep-stricken cousins at home in bed) gathered and hushed to hear his voice.

Ever the dutiful son/brother/grandson/nephew/cousin, he first addressed the high points of the last transmission he received from them. He wished Jessamine well in her audition for the role of Claire in her school’s production of String Bean Salad Summer, complimenting the snippet of “One Tiny Seed” she had sung into the receiver. Jessamine shifted in her seat – she had ended up in the ensemble and was still a little stung about it. He advised Aunt Sybil on the glitch with her smart microwave that she had described. Sybil had to be stopped from bustling off to the kitchen to try the repair at that very moment. He congratulated Tim and Nadine on their one-year anniversary. They smiled and clasped hands – he would be an uncle in five months and didn’t even know it yet.

“Everything up here is going mostly according to plan. The biology team says the plants aren’t doing as well as they thought – something to do with the artificial atmosphere. But Alonzo and the rest of the techs’ gadgets are all working fine. A few might even get adapted for commercial sale…We passed Pellonia about a month ago. For once everyone just dropped what they were doing and stared. It looked like a big, cloudy orange. I tried to take a picture, but you know. It’s not the same.

“The big news is that I actually took a spacewalk last week.” Arlo described the simple but urgent malfunction with the ship’s thruster that required his direct attention, the process of being dressed in the spacesuit, and the combination of wonder and dread that filled his heart as he moved along the edge of the ship, his tether to it, to humanity, no wider than a garden hose. Several of his audience hung on his every word with little technical understanding but agonized suspense, forgetting that the account itself was proof that his time outside the ship had ended without incident.

“It sounds silly, but I kept thinking of the first time I jumped off the diving board at Uncle Harold’s pool. The same sense of something exciting, somewhere new to explore, all by myself, but also having to be alert, not get lost in it or…disaster. I was talking about it with Val…that’s Valeria Munroe, if Mom still has the article with the group picture saved…What am I saying, of course she does.”

Hetta had already whipped out her comm pad, opened her “Saved” folder, and retrieved the news article announcing the mission with its accompanying photo of the entire crew. She hovered her cursor over a few different faces before a text box appeared over one with the title “Valeria Munroe” and a brief biography. She smiled to herself and nodded. “She’s pretty.”

“Mo-oomm!” Arlo’s siblings chorused on his behalf.

“Anyway, it got me thinking, and I know it’s really early to say this, but…this trip’s going to be my last.”

A wave of confused, dismayed whispers swept through the room, followed by one of harsh shushing.

“I…I had always thought about the things I had made that I was sending up there…up here…that something my hands had touched was going to be sent past other planets and asteroid fields and onto worlds I had never seen and couldn’t even imagine. And even more than the pay bump and the…I dunno, ‘prestige’ as opposed to being a ground guy, I wanted to see for myself what I was working for. And now I have. And it’s not like…I don’t regret it, but I know I can’t maintain it. Just like I couldn’t stay outside any longer than it took to do what I had to do. It was beautiful, I was closer to it all than I’ve ever been, but the connection back was so thin, just like…sorry, I…”

Here they heard an unintelligible voice in the background and Arlo’s, muffled, saying “No, I’m fine.”

Then his voice was clear again. “I, um…I really miss you. I guess, is the point. And the sky and the trees and…traffic and barbecue smoke and those crummy slushies from Burger Beanie.” He made a noise between a laugh and a shudder. “More than anyone else here does, or did, it seems. The ones who’ve made a career out of this. Maybe they were like this too their first time and just forgot, but…I don’t want to forget. So…yeah.”

Hetta could be heard sniffling off to the side. “Mom,” one of Arlo’s sisters cooed softly, placing a hand on her arm.

Arlo clapped his hands loudly. “So! Now that I know that, I am going to try to strengthen my connections to whoever and whatever I can up here. And you will hear about it all! Sorry this message is so short, but I promise the rest won’t be. ��Cause when I’m back down there, for good…I don’t want to forget, either.”

He left them with a few more pleasantries, Christmas wishes, and words of love, and then the room was silent. It remained so for the better part of a minute, until Sybil offered to start slicing up the gingerbread cake.

Someone hit the “Play” icon on her comm pad, and peppy, harmonic voices resumed singing. Gradually new conversations began, and gradually they were about topics other than the absent son/brother/grandson/nephew/cousin/uncle-to-be. He would hear all about them, though, in about two months. The best gift he could get, as he and those below continued the wait till the mission's end for the best gift he could give.

#inklingschallenge #Christmas #family #homesickness #pregnancy mention #drowning mention #genre: space travel #story: complete #my writing #short story #science fiction #my ocs #reconnection

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