#wainscot fantasy

[prokopetz]

Concept: wainscot cyberpunk. Families of five-inch-tall, inexplicably British people living inside the ductwork of the crumbling arcology, maintaining a society hidden from all the normal-size inhabitants. The protagonist is a girl with a cyborg arm made of Lego Technic, powered by a nine-volt battery that she wears as a backpack. Instead of hacking in cyberspace she physically goes inside the megacorporate mainframes and beats up the tiny robot cops guarding the hard drives.

[whereserpentswalk]

You have a small species of cryptid living in your apartment. They're a rather common urban cyptid species, but they're incredibly fast breeding. Most people hire exterminators for this type of situation but you'd rather not.

They're these little pale guys with big red eyes. You could probably hold a couple of them in your hands at once. You accidently killed one and you felt bad about it for awhile, you even gave them back the body, you couldn't bare the guilt.

As time goes on they build a little city in your walls. There must be thousands of them now, living their own little lives. They watch them getting breadcrumbs or farming mold in the mornings, and watch them sometimes sing little songs or do little rituals.

They come to view you as sort of a folk hero after some time. Like a giant that protects them. When you take your cat away from their settlement so she won't eat them, or when you fix something for them, or give them suger cubes, they must see these as great heroic acts. When you're out for a few hours a few of their generations pass, and you must fade into legned for then, until one day this great benevolent giant they didn't even know the reality of comes back to them.

Sometimes they make things for you. You know they have a statue for you at least. But they try to make you little emblems and jewelry. It's not very good, but they're definitely happy that you accepted their gifts. And sometimes when you have a hard day at work, or something goes wrong for you, it's nice to have those little guys there for you, even if you can't really talk to them or get to know them or anything.

One day your landlord finds out about these guys. He says he has to get rid of them. If you don't let them he'll get rid of you too. They want to hire an exterminators by Monday, they'll poison their crops, and let them slowly die off or starve, and gas out any survivors if they have to.

You realize they can't live here anymore. So you try to tell them. To tell them they have to move, that something is going to kill them all if they stay within the world they know. But they don't understand, you can make them afraid but you can't make them understand.

Two days before the exterminators come you realize what you have to do, what you know will make them leave. You look at their city, and you start destroying it. They feel betrayed, they thought you would always be there to protect them. It's like how the Greeks would see Hercules destroying Athens, or how the Britaish would see king Arthur leading armies agaisnt them. They think you were sent by God, as a manifestation of his anger. They're so much smaller then you, they didn't even think you betrayed them, they thought they betrayed you. You wish you could tell them, that this is your final act of protection.

Eventually they leave, you knew they would. You hope wherever they are they're safe, and that the next giant they know can know them for longer.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

[artbyblastweave]

There was a kids series I saw in a library once, which I never read and which I don’t remember the title of, but the central conceit of which stuck in my brain. The conceit was that there was a secret eighth day of the week only experienced by a small subset of the population, and that day was when the monsters and fantasy shit existed. Which is a fantastic concept. First off it neatly snips one of the big issues of kids fantasy because the masquerade is inherently self-reinforcing- and even if it did somehow become known that there was a secret eighth day, the ripple effects that that would cause in the rest of the week wouldn’t take the world too far away from what we’d consider recognizable. Second, it enforces the common kidslit trope of “wake up, go to school, save the world”- while a series like Animorphs is at least in part about how maintaining that separation would be untenable, part of what’s surreal about this conceit is that you’re never going to get away from the mundane world in a way that matters- you’re spending seven-eighths of your life there, the mundane school crap you’re dealing with on Monday is still going to affect you going forwards even when Unsday rolls around. And third, it allows for a real scattershot selection of who in the protagonists life gets to be in on it and who’s out, which leads to fun dynamics. Your best friend doesn’t get to come on your adventure but you see your Vice principal in there, and he sees you. Your crotchety old neighbor, the woman you see on the bus but never speak to, your uncle but not the one you’re particularly close with. A whole wainscot society with completely arbitrary membership, resulting in unlikely relationships which can then bleed into the mundane world in interesting ways.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to h0tb0x for finding this surreal 2018 estate at an undisclosed location in Oklahoma City, OK. I wonder why they built this incredible home only to sell it 5 yrs. later. It has 8 bds, 16ba, $17.25M.

Immediately, I'm blown away by the entrance hall chandeliers. That blue one has to be a Dale Chihuly worth millions. I always hoped I could afford a little one, but nooooo. In fact, I can't even afford a fake one.

The living room is gigantic. It has large windows for an amazing view, a stone fireplace that soars right up to the black wood ceiling, and a built-in entertainment center with a balcony above.

At least 2 more balconies overlook the space, and there are stone walls with openings to the other areas.

The dining room has wainscoting, an incredible ceiling, and you'll notice the blue lights are a theme throughout the home.

In the kitchen there are silver tray ceilings, stone walls, gray cabinetry, and 2 dark gray islands with black granite counters. The blue lights give the islands gradient tones.

A pantry that's larger than my kitchen has dark gray cabinetry and note the shimmery backsplash with red accents.

Now, this is a professional bar.

And, check out the incredible fantasy-like wine cave. The home is ultra modern but has some medieval elements in the light fixtures, stone, dark wood, etc.

The rec room is set up like a club with a pool table, bar and table, as long as the wall, w/stools.

On the other side is a lounge with a fireplace and sculpted ceiling with blue lights.

Now this actually looks like a hall with abstract art on display.

The dogs have their own room, also. I like the wide tile wainscoting- if they rub against it, it's washable.

Here's another lounge with a balcony that overlooks the living room. It has a lovely turquoise built-in game table and a kitchenette, plus a blue tray ceiling.

Next, there's a 2 lane bowling alley.

On the other side there's a lounge for the bowlers. Love the carpeting.

The primary bedroom is probably bigger than most of our apts. It has a beautiful blue ceiling feature and glass doors to patio areas. There's also a living room off to the side.

Of course the en-suite can't be anything less than spectacular. Love the silvery tiles.

Now, this is beautiful- a pink closet/dressing room.

Got shoes? And, this one is blue.

The laundry room has beautiful blue cabinetry. Love the backsplash, floor and contrasting island.

Yet another lounge with a kitchenette.

Check out the garage.

How many bars and party areas does one need?

Huge restaurant-like space with a large stage.

And, over here, there's a sitting area with a snack bar.

This is some home. Look at this.

The big barn has the garage and entertainment area with the basketball court outside.

36 acres of fun.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/Oklahoma-City-OK-73150/133368865_zpid/

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 4

Part 3

Eddie gets settled on his usual kitchen barstool and watches Nancy make a pot of coffee, which is great considering he showed up at the ass crack of dawn, too anxious to wait. Well, and a day early, but sue him, he missed her. 

Nancy and Jonathan’s house is just as cozy as he remembers, while also serving as a solid reminder he’s not the only successful Wheeler. Original hardwood floors complimented with arched entryways and wainscoting. Cream and sage fill the living space, dotted with drops of gold accents. Low, soft lighting illuminates every room with warmth. It’s clean and modern, yet comforting in a way The Harrington’s eggshell minimalism estate and his own dark industrial penthouse have always lacked. 

It’s quiet and domestic and everything he’s missed about having a home. The glow in his chest doesn’t outweigh the thread of tension thrumming through him, but it does ease slightly when she hands him coffee in his favorite Garfield mug.

They catch up for hours as she fills him in on everything he’s missed. Mom and Ted finally retired down to Clearwater after Holly moved out for college. Mike and Will’s adoption went through, after working on it for years– and jesus christ, he’s an uncle now. Will’s still publishing his YA fantasy graphic novels. Mike’s a happy house-husband now stay at home dad. 

El finally quit her shitty government research job and decided she’d rather work full-time at Argyle’s pizza shop learning the ins and outs of the business. She’s better suited for it, he thinks, she’s always loved being around people and working with her hands.

She tells him about her and Jon settling into their new posts at The Chicago Times. Nancy’s managed to make friends with people outside of the Politics department. Jon’s moved from photographing for tabloids to local events like concerts and festivals, currently out of town for the weekend at a festival in Rockford. She says he’s happier now, with a job more his speed, and Eddie has to agree. Although they apparently just missed each other last fall when he’d started the job only a month after Corroded Coffin’s concert at Wrigley.

As Nancy goes on, talking about the rest of the kids while they lounge around the house, moving from the kitchen, to the living room, to the snow covered balcony so he can smoke, he tries to listen– he does. But he’s close to snapping, forced to wait so long for answers. He needs to know everything that’s happened, and why she’s the one who has to tell him. Her and Steve dated in high-school almost ten years ago, and granted they stayed close, but she’s not Robin or Max. She’s one of the few people Eddie’s closest to, except for Dustin, who could easily give him more answers than Nancy probably could.

He’s spiralling. He’s biting his nails, picking his lips raw. His leg is bouncing erratically and the only thing that helps is pacing whatever room they’re in. Nancy’s still talking about Argyle’s newest pizza recipe when he finally breaks.

“Nancy, for fuck’s sake please just tell me what’s going on with Steve.” He reaches down for his smokes but his hand’s shaking, the pack gets caught on his pocket and falls to the ground. When he bends to pick them up, the lighter follows suit and bounces under the couch Nancy’s perched on. 

A manic laugh bubbles from the pit of his stomach as he drops to his knees. Eddie briefly wonders if he even wants answers or if he’s just punishing himself. He bends forward, letting his forehead rest against the hardwood floor, cool and grounding. 

Grabbing the smokes and lighter, he looks up to find Nancy’s eyebrows and nose all scrunched up, lips pursed. She’s looking at him exactly how he knew she would, full of pity and disappointment.

There’s something underneath the expression though that Eddie can’t quite pick out– anxiety, maybe. He wouldn’t have such a hard time reading her if he hadn’t been gone for almost a year. Another reminder added to the long list of his life-altering mistakes.

Eddie stands on unsteady legs, moving to the balcony for another smoke, with Nancy hot on his heels when there’s a knock on the front door. She shoots him an apologetic look, but he waves her off. He’s waited this long for answers, what’s another minute in misery.

When Eddie’s finished his smoke, he does his best to sneak back inside without being noticed. An unfamiliar voice calls him out.

“Oh, Nancy I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company!”

Eddie pokes his head around the corner to find Nancy standing next to a petite woman with dirty brown hair and thick platinum highlights, who’s dressed in an uncoordinated riot of colors and textures. Knee-high navy blue socks, tucked into tan polka dot flats, end just below the hem of her corduroy skirt. It’s a deep brown, matching the polka dots on her shoes, and the material’s so stiff it moves around her like a hoop skirt. She’s layered a puffy-sleeved periwinkle button up underneath a teal sweater vest.

It’s an odd assortment of colors, patterns, and textures that’s not quite artistic enough to be considered eclectic or interesting. Just bizarre and– if he’s being bitchy about it– a little boring. Eddie’s worn enough dramatic getups in his life, but beige isn’t doing this girl any favors.

The petite woman is blushing, eyebrow cocked in question, and Eddie realizes she’s been holding out her hand to him in greeting while he’s standing her silently judging her, like an asshole.

“Hi, you must be Nancy’s brother Eddie,” she says. Her voice is a light soprano, tonally off in an overly polite, customer service way. “I’m Becky.”

“Nice to meet you.” He finally manages to shake her hand, noticing they’re both wearing rings on each finger topped with chipped nail polish: his black and hers a sparkly baby blue. But while his rings are chunky and silver, hers are delicate gold bands stacked to varying thicknesses. “Umm how do you know Nance?”

“Oh, we met at work,” Becky says, smile widening. “Nancy’s told me all about you.”

“Hopefully just the good stuff.” Eddie tries for a joke, but her eyes tighten for the briefest moment.

“Yeah, she told me you were going to be back in town for a little while, I just thought you were coming tomorrow, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered you.” She glances toward Nancy, her smile straining further.

“No it’s alright, Nance and I were just catching up.” Nancy’s shuffling her feet, eyes darting between Becky, the floor, then Eddie, and back again. Becky is staring at her too, and Eddie’s not sure he’s ever seen Nancy this anxious. She looks completely checked out of the conversation.

He’s always suspected she’s been a bit embarrassed by him. Throughout school, he was the loud obnoxious troublemaker, and Nancy the wholesome straight A student. Every new school year, Nancy spent the first few weeks convincing her teachers that no, she’s not like her brother at all, thank you. Eddie played it off when he could, and has most of his life. But to see it now, so plainly written on her face, hurts more than he expected.

“She said you’re in a rock band?” Becky asks, attempting to fill the silence left in the wake of Nancy’s awkwardness. “Very glamorous.”

It sounds slightly sarcastic, but Eddie’s not sure if he’s just feeling overly defensive. “Playing and songwriting are by far the best part. The rest is just missing out on what’s waiting at home.”

“Mmm, so that’s why you’re in town then? Missing Chicago?” She seems genuinely sympathetic, but he can’t help puffing up like an angry cat at the drip of pity hanging from her lips.

“More like the people,” Eddie snaps. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. God forbid he has a panic attack in front of the first person Nancy introduces him to when he comes home. He’d really be living up to the nightmare older brother stereotype Nancy’s dealt with her entire life.

“Well then,” Nancy interrupts, clapping her hands together loudly causing both Becky and Eddie to flinch. “Thanks for dropping off my laptop, Becky, I really appreciate it.”

“Umm, no problem, Nance.” Becky eyes her warily, but takes the cue. She turns to Eddie to say their goodbyes as Nancy sees her out.

He heads towards the kitchen to get dinner started for the two of them. It’s almost ten minutes by the time Nancy makes her way back and her entire demeanor’s changed. Her spine’s straight with shoulders back, head held high, eyes steeled with resolve. A classic Nancy Wheeler I’m going to tackle this problem head on attitude, except it’s directed at him. Which is seriously not great.

But instead of saying anything, she pulls out the same kitchen stool Eddie had been perched on earlier and plops herself down, all without breaking eye contact. He assumes she’s got something to say, he can spot a Nancy lecture coming a mile away.

Once again, anxiety’s filling out space in his chest as he finishes cooking. They sit in relative silence on the living room couch while they eat, and all he can do is wait. Eddie wants to hear what she has to say, he wants answers, but he’s dreading it all the same. She’s upset with him, which he can’t hold against her. He deserves all of his family’s rage. That doesn’t mean he’s necessarily looking forward to it.

“Ok, ask me,” she states, setting the empty bowl down on the coffee table, turning fully face him. Leaning against the the armrest, she pulls one knee up to her chest while sticking her other foot right in Eddie’s lap. He matches her position, grabbing her ankle and plopping his own foot down beside her, hoping the small amount of contact will keep him grounded.

“Ask you, what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Eddie,” she says, “the entire reason you’re in Chicago isn’t to catch up with Jonathan or Mike or me.” Nancy’s chest deflates with a sigh, and Eddie’s heart breaks at the fact that she’s right. He hates himself for it, one more way he’s disappointed her. “He’s completely offline, the kids don’t post about him even though half of them have you blocked anyways. I know you probably did as much digging as you could and even though you hired a fucking private investigator– jesus christ Eddie–”

“That was only to find out where he lived, I swear.”

She scoffs, “Like that makes it any better.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, lifting one hand from her ankle to rub his eyes. “I’m sorry, keep going. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s ok,” she says, squeezing his leg. The small gesture loosens some of the building tension, and he relaxes his shoulders.

“The point is, you probably don’t know anything about what’s happened with over the thirteen months you’ve been gone. But, I just thought, if you’re going around looking for answers, it’s probably best for everyone if they come from me.”

She looks away from him then to stare out the window next to them, and Eddie can’t help but follow her gaze. The sun has long since set, the only light coming from the end table lamps on either side of them, and the street light across the way. Dark winter nights always left Eddie feeling a little hollow, a chill even the warmest blankets couldn’t chase away. A feeling only Steve could ease out of him. 

When he looks back at Nancy, she’s already looking back like she can read his mind. Except she’s chewing on her bottom lip, and when he meets her eyes, she can’t hold his gaze.

“Nance,��� he says, confused at the sinking of his stomach, “why is it best if it comes from you? No offense, but you’re not necessarily as close to him as Max or Lucas, and they seemed pretty clammed up when they came around. Especially when they mentioned the fiance.” Eddie chokes around the word. Swallows around the dry bitterness coating his throat.

She squeezes his ankle again, except this time it’s too tight, her nails digging little moons into his skin. Like whatever she has to say will send him running, because everyone knows he’s a coward, will disappear exactly the same as before. It’s how he knows he’s still the same person as before– undeserving of the people he loves most– when her next words send a small shock through his system.

“Because I’m the one who set them up, Eddie. And I’m not sorry.”

~~~

Part 5

Tag List: @5ammi90

[not100bees]

If I was a borrower type wainscotting fantasy character that was a few inches tall I would, I know for a fact I know this, I would be friends with a whimsical and eccentric little girl who would make little outfits for me to wear like a white robe and she would be like, "This is the outfit druids would wear when they would sacrifice dozens of babies to ensure a good harvest." And I would be like, "I don't think that's quite historically accurate Miss Emily." (Her name is Emily) And she would tell me to shut up and she read it in a book so that was 100% right. And then she would hand me a little curved twig that she had painted gold and she explained that it was my golden sickle that I would use to sacrifice the babies And I would get huffy because I don't sacrifice any babies. We would go on lots of whimsical adventures because she has a courageous heart and I would be the cowardly comedic relief and I would always be like "Oh Miss Emily can't we just stay home and have a nice tea party?" And she would be like "Tea parties are for sissies!" and jump into the fray. I know what this about myself more than I know almost anything else.

[simtleman]

PASSENGERS TO THE TRAIN! LAST CALL FOR PASSENGERS TO BRINDLETON BAY!

The latest update completely broke my game, it would launch and then get stuck on the loading screen forever... so I had the pleasurable task of uninstalling and reinstalling everything, which no kidding took about four and a half hours considering all the DLCs I have. However, having to wait and not being able to play gave me an opportunity to really think about what I wanted to build next for this crazy 1920s, '30s & '40s Save File Project I'm determined to finish someday, and suddenly it came to me: a train station, duh!

So here it is, introducing Columbia Station, located in the heart of Del Sol Valley:

One of my favorite books ever is Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express. I remember reading it for the first time when I was about 7 years old and going to bed absolutely terrified yet wanting to know what was going to happen next, so naturally it has always been a dream of mine to someday be able to book a ticket for the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. You can imagine how much fun I had building this while living my best film noir fantasy! Plus, I thought having a vintage train station in the save file would make for great storytelling.

The train itself (which I decided to call Grand Express, as you can see in the pics) has two functional wagons:

The first one is a Compartment coach, with three identical compartments. For the interiors in both wagons I mostly used @lilis-palace's Intarsia Moderne & Wainscot Wonderland sets. That varnished wood kinda look was absolutely perfect for what I had in mind:

2. The second wagon, on the other hand, couldn't be anything but a bar. Featuring @littledica's Art Deco Lounge bar as the signature piece, I took inspiration yet again from the actual Orient Express bar and decided to go for colder, blue tones:

I'm far from being done with this build, but I simply couldn't hold my excitement and had to show you guys how it's going. Next it'll be the station itself, I've build the exterior but gotta work on the interiors... I wanna set the lot as a Café so we shall see how that turns out!

I'll keep you guys posted and until then, pray for my game to not break again! Lol

[tryin2writehere]

TW: Descriptions of violence and non-con, so if that is difficult for you to read about, please skip this bit of fic and take care of you!

Chapter 1 is

People In Glass Houses

Chapter 2

Edward Horniman’s voice was a trip down a long gravel road at midnight, rumbling out his ridiculously confident effusions. Sometimes that voice just uttering Susie’s name flared an inconvenient arousal within. She often contemplated how lovely it would be to hear him reading aloud, vacillating between his clipped, precise enunciations and his rocky waterfall oratory. Ideally, Eddie reading to her would include wrapping his mouth around luscious descriptions and dipping his tongue upon an abundance of flowery syllables. Gabriel García Márquez? Alice Munro? Nabokov? Truthfully, he could read the fucking Magna Carta, and she’d thrill to hear his voice octave-dive, the wondrous way it did sometimes. The man missed his calling; he should be working for Audible.

Certainly old enough to know her own foibles, Susie mentally cursed her wretched streak of impulsivity. If Eddie opened his mouth close enough (sans cigar,) she’d have him on the nearest flat surface.

Thank the stars for GPS. She hadn't even noticed the time pass, the landscape change, or the weather turn. Approaching Birmingham, a rainy gray wall shrouded fields and roads, and light fog swirled like ghosts on the ash tarmac. The polyrhythm of the windscreen wipers and the tiny raindrops swayed her back to meandering thoughts of Edward.

Susie decided it was inevitable. One day, one of them was going to hold eye contact a moment too long, and that would be it. It would sweep them away like a brush fire, feeding on their oxygen, and… what in the hell was she thinking? It was beyond reckless to even entertain fantasies, and she chided herself.

Far worse than carnal desires for Eddie was the equilibrium she noticed in his company. Accustomed to operating alone, Susie truly rarely felt lonely. But now? Now, she craved his steadying presence and the meter of their banter. She longed for the way he regarded her, listened earnestly, trusted her vault of knowledge and experience. She enjoyed the pull and push; it reset her in a way. He validated her authority even while he toyed with their power dynamic. She found his respect seemingly eclipsing his fear of her, and she wasn’t sure she’d EVER experienced this in a relationship that wasn’t blood-bound. She reveled in his quickened breathing pattern when she’d antagonized him, his parted mouth when astonished, his sweet tobacco and woody Blenheim smell, the intensity of his coal-black gaze in low light, the flexing of his enormous strong hands -

“Fucking hell,” she huffed a sigh in frustration, acutely aware that she’d circled back around to lust. Again.

As she pulled into the Walsh’s Gym car park, she drew her thoughts to the task ahead: how to coax a bargain from a notoriously licentious wanker. As luck would have it, Susie excelled in appealing to the pragmatism of the depraved, and this bolstered her confidence.

“You here to see Mr. Walsh?” A lanky man with ginger hair swung the glass door open, ushering her inside.

“I am. Susie Glass,” she introduced herself, stepping into the white glossy lobby, endless photos of boxers wainscoted the walls.

“I’m Sean,” he said, and nodded at a squat man dressed like a cartoon cat burglar in front of the reception desk, “that’s Don.”

“How’s it?” Don nodded, barely making eye contact as he rummaged through the thigh pockets of his black… leggings? Was he wearing leggings? She amended her cat burglar analogy to beat poet/jazz dancer.

“He’ll be down in two ticks,” Sean drew her attention in time for her to see his eyes sweeping over her body. “Mr. Walsh has great taste.”

She raised an eyebrow, “in what, Sean?”

He snorted, “in whatever you are.”

“Sugar and spice and everything nice,” Don stated without inflection, his expressionless brown eyes lifted to her as he mumbled, “found it.” He flicked his knife out of his leggings pocket, saluted her with the knife hand and dove over the reception desk with Balanchine-like elegance. Definitely a dancer.

“You’re gonna dull that gorgeous knife. Use a fuckin box cutter!” Sean shook his head in dismay.

“I didn’t see any other cars; are you closed today?”

Sean and Don exchanged a look and Sean snickered, “uh yeah, we’re closed.”

Don amended, “to the public.”

“I see you’ve met Sean and Don,” a booming voice called.

“Mr. Walsh,” she said by way of greeting when she spotted him strutting towards her.

“Ah no, love, you call me Sugar,” he smiled his oversized capped teeth, like a row of fresh white marble tombstones. He was a startlingly imposing man, at least 6’4” and obviously muscular in his fitted white designer tracksuit. His big square head was topped with a full head of blonde hair, curls product-tamed into place, grays brushing his temples. Through the cauliflower ear and the wide crooked nose of a former pugilist, she could see he was likely considered a handsome man.

“Let me give you the grand tour!” He placed his hand on her back and guided her to the right open doorway.

Sean interjected, before they were fully through the door, “Mr. Walsh, that shipment came in this morning.”

He stopped, hand still on Susie’s back and growled, “did you inventory it?”

“No.”

“Well inventory it then ya fucking eejit!” He laughed loudly, guiding Susie to the right with a squint of his gray eyes.

As they walked away, Susie heard the distinct metallic clicks and clacks of guns.

He led her into a red brick-ensconced training hall. Black heavy bags lined both sides of the room, hanging like abattoir hunks of meat on hooks. Enormous windows topped the brick walls, which would have typically given the room a vibrant quality. As it was, with an overcast sky, lights off, and dead quiet, it just felt like a slaughterhouse.

Susie stopped at the last heavy bag, “your gym is stunning, Sugar. Are these new?”

“Aye, they are. We don’t use this gym as we do the others. Well, not for the training anyway,” he winked and laughed, further confirming the talk that Sugar’s side hustle was indeed weapons trafficking.

Turning to her, walking backward, Sugar prattled off his history of purchases for the gyms punctuated by fighter accomplishments. She enviously eyed the red tatami springboard floors they walked upon, wondering what method could keep them so immaculate. Susie attempted to shutter the redesigns that populated her mind as they talked.

Sugar led her through another area with huge vaulted ceilings and five boxing rings, boasting of his success, “no other gym in England has turned out as many wins.

That was an outright lie, of course, but Susie didn’t balk. She was no stranger to the arrogant blustering of giant egos. She had wrangled worse.

As they entered the next doorway, she clocked the building's orientation as a horseshoe shape. It briefly conjured memories of the horseshoe above the door of her childhood home. “Pointing up, to catch all of the luck,” her mother had whispered to her, as though it was a secret. Well, it didn’t fucking work. But this would. Perhaps she would name it: “The Horseshoe.” She could hear her brother’s voice in her head, “what the fucks that got to do with fightin’?”

“Drink?” Sugar offered as they entered his office.

“Sure,” she sat at a mahogany table plonked at an odd angle within the large room.

He handed her a glass of whiskey and took his to what could only be described as a leather throne of a chair tucked behind the largest desk she had ever seen.

“This is Middleton Distillery. You know it?”

“I do.”

“So Susie Glass, what’s a pretty puff dealer like you want with a boxing outfit?”

She sipped her whiskey, and it reminded her that if she was going to drink posh Irish whiskey, she preferred Redbreast 32.

“Your succinct description is a bit off the mark.”

He laughed at her, “is that a fact?”

“I own and operate GlassKnuckle,” she offered. “My brother is a boxer, and my grandfather was a boxer. I’m interested in expanding, and this area would be ideal.”

“Yer fucking kidding! This area??” He slammed his hand on the desk. “ridiculous shite.”

“Which part?” She asked coolly.

“This has been my home for twenty years, and I’ll tell ya, it’s gone to gentrification, hasn’t it? Fucking hipster craft beer arseholes! I hate them all. It’s all I can not do to gut the little fuckers with their wee coffees and their precious art shows,” he swallowed the last quarter of his whiskey in one large gulp. “Used to be a standup neighborhood with decent folk.”

“So, not fond of Digbeth. I can understand that; the location does suits my needs, if we can come to a mutually agreaable deal.”

He was as well groomed as his unused gym, his nails manicured, he smelled strongly of some pine-forward cologne. She decided his attention to the superficial likely didn’t stem from breeding; instead, much like her own meticulous appearance, a stab at the control and exuding power.

“Another?” He offered as he poured himself a generous glass.

“I’m still working on this one,” she smiled politely.

“You nurse a drink better than Florence Nightengale,”

“Moderation has its merits,” she replied flatly.

He raised his eyebrows, “Are you judging me, Susie Glass?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“That’s good,” his face relaxed as much as she figured the Botox would allow, and he loudly drank the entire glass.

She sat patiently, sipped at her drink and waited for a natural opening to wrap this shit up, “Sugar, are you entertaining offers on this location?”

“I am,” he smiled and pointed to the picture on the wall with his gold ring-adorned fingers. “You know who that bloke is?”

“I do. Hero of yours?”

“Hero to everyone, should be. We have a statue back home, but here, right underappreciated, Rinty is.”

“I’m sure. Where’s home?”

“Belfast. But you know Rinty, he said, ‘It ain’t about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can hit and keep moving forward.’ I feel sometimes I can hear him saying this to me. I just keep moving forward.”

Susie was well aware that quote was from the film Rocky, and wondered if he was fucking with her, until she noticed a framed quotation also misattributed to Rinty on the shelves behind his desk.

Her vision blurred momentarily, and she felt weighted with sleepiness. She made a mental note to grab one of those wee espressos from a hipster arsehole when this was done.

“And I’ll tell you what else, he could fucking sing!” He boisterously announced and pitched his glass into the wall, physically delighting in the thunderous crash with a loud laugh, his head kicked back. She hoped she hadn’t flinched.

“Sean and Don are fantastic with a Hoover and a mop,” he explained, as though it made sense to casually smash glasses into walls if one’s henchmen are good at cleaning. Cunt.

“I’ll sing it for you, one of Rinty’s favorites.” He wasn’t asking.

He loudly launched into a verse of “The Fields of Athenry.” Susie desperately attempted to somewhat hold the uncomfortable eye contact while he crooned to her.

She hoped he wasn’t set on singing another verse and clapped, quickly complimenting him, “you’ve a lovely singing voice Sugar.”

What she would have initially described as loquacious was now resembling mania. No matter. He wouldn’t be the first unhinged business acquaintance she’d worked with, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

The dizziness returned and she felt more at . She’d only had three-quarters of her glass, and when the force of realization hit her, she nearly shook. She steeled herself and looked into his eyes, which matched the dreary sky, “if you’re game, I’d love to discuss details with you, but I need to use the loo first.”

She stood and the room spun.

“You good there?” he stood as well.

She steadied herself and turned from him, “the loo this way?” She pointed and began walking away from Sugar as fast as she considered nonchalant.

“Yeah just up the stairs to your left.”

Stairs? Fucking great. She saw the stairs in the distance, her vision blurring in and out like faulty binoculars.

As casually as possible while attempting to walk with authority, she unbuttoned the top button on her blue blouse, and using her pinky to hold the sheath in place under her center bra wire, she slid the bone knife she had tucked between her breasts into her hand.

With no small amount of force, she slammed into the wall and was suddenly sandwiched between the bricks and Sugar’s body. Sugar’s mouth hovered at her ear, “look a bit wobbly Susie, you need a hand.”

He wasn’t asking.

“Get off of me,” she ordered with a calm ferocity.

“You drank too much,” he roughly spun her by the shoulders to face him and pressed her back further against the bricks.

“You clearly don’t know what you’ve done.”

“Just relax Susie,” he said pressing himself against her more firmly, his hands on her.

“You’re going to get off of me, or I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Just relax,” he ripped her shirt open with a flick of his fingers, and panic surged forward. Don’t fucking panic.

Her right arm was pinned against the wall, and she was using her left to try and push Sugar away from her.

Reworking her strategy as quick as her foggy brain would allow she spat, “that quote isn’t Rinty you fuckwit. it’s Rocky Balboa.”

That got his attention and he pulled back a bit to look at her face, “what are you on about?”

“And Barry McGuigan was an infinitely better boxer than fucking Rinty,” she sneered.

“McGuigan?! He was a fuckin eejit! Fuckin tout pussy!” He screamed, towering over her.

Susie felt her arm finally free of his weight and jammed her knife into his left eye socket with as much force as she could muster. He hurtled backwards as she yanked her knife back out of his eye. She dropped to the ground with a muted thud, her legs unexpectedly going out. He clutched his eye with a hand screaming, and she sunk her knife into his crotch, then frantically scuttled backward away from him.

Her legs felt like foreign objects on the cool textured floor.

“Purse, purse, purse, purse,” this was the mantra as she crawled, her hands slapping the floor, her knees and shins burning as she frantically dragged them along. Why was she so fucking loud?

Her vision telescoped into a purse vignette, and everything else was blurry and terribly far away. After crawling endlessly, she reached her purse and clumsily poured everything out on the floor with an immense clatter. What did she need? What the fuck was she looking for? Who was hollering? And there it was, gleaming amongst the clutter, her beautiful Beretta. She clutched at the textured grip and upright upon her knees turned in time to see what appeared to be an armed Sean and Don hustling toward her. Which was which?

She used one of her hands to push herself to standing, and hobbled towards them, towards the slaughterhouse.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sean (or maybe Don) squeaked, eyes wide, swinging his gun around.

“Holy shit!” Don (or possibly Sean) yelled when he spotted Susie.

Count them Susie.

“Count what?” Don asked.

She fired at them. OneTwoThreeFourFive,” she watched them collapse to the ground, unmoving.

“Five shots; three left,” she thought, or possibly said aloud.

Quite suddenly, she couldn’t breathe; was she in a straitjacket; no, she was being crushed in a bin lorry. Dizziness and confusion consumed her, and she desperately willed herself to make sense of what was happening.

Sugar Walsh’s arms were crushing her (clearly not a bin lorry,) and he was behind her and bellowing something, but she couldn’t understand words. They slammed into the floor; he rolled her onto her back, straddling her, his hands on her throat squeezing, blood dripping onto her face from his, huffing and puffing his whisky-tinged breath on her.

Do something!

She remembered the gun in her hand, deliberately pulled her noodle arm up, squeezed the trigger and Sugar’s head exploded. His enormous body collapsed fully on top of her like an avalanche of giant Irish cunt.

Her breath wooshed out like a bellows, and she couldn’t get it back. But she was alive. She couldn’t move, but she was alive. She used her free arm to wench his shoulder pit up up up far enough for her nose and mouth and chin to wedge from underneath him, and then blackness closed in.

When she regained consciousness, she frantically tried to move her pinned body, wiggling and screaming, “get the fuck off me!”

“Fuck!” She cried, and an epiphany struck her addled brain.

Phone, phone, phone, phone, phone, phone. Where is it??

She yelled, “Hey Siri!”

She thought she heard her phone respond. Dizziness weighted her body. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake!

“Text The Duke my location!”

“Send your location to The Duke?”

“YES! Yes!”

“It’s sent,” she thought she heard Siri say, and the last thought she had before the darkness swooped in again was “I hope I don’t chuck up.”

[aty-art-blog]

THIS, This is literally the key to read well the fae's characters(Malleus, Lilia,Sebek) in twst:

"Elder race

An elder or progenitor race, in science fiction, fantasy, or horror fiction, is an ancient race that not only preceded but helped shape the races that followed, often playing a significant role in the basis of the story. Humanity may have been descended from them, or they may be a different fictional race, such as elves, dwarves, or aliens.[1] While in some cases, whether they currently exist is unclear, in other instances, members of an elder race still inhabit the world, either openly or in secret. In order to hide their existence, they may make use of a wainscot society, inhabit a parallel universe, only visiting the current one occasionally, or disguise themselves as a fool, deity, magician or trickster.[1] One such example is in Lord of Light (1967), where highly advanced humans take on the identities of Hindu deities and act as gods to the less advanced colonists.[2]

Elder races are typically either technologically or spiritually powerful, as well as wise. While sometimes benevolent, assisting younger races, they can also often be amoral, as in H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos, where the Elder Gods are indifferent to humanity's "petty" concerns. They are usually presented as having drifted apart from humanity in the present of the story, sometimes as lost empires whose inhabitants either left their former home for a new one, or were destroyed by a catastrophe and only live on in legend, such as Atlantis. They may appear both as enemies, or as allies against a greater threat.[2]"

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elder_race

[dinluke-ao3feed]

Read it on https://archiveofourown.org/works/52406605 by Tatooine_Tourism_Board The top looks looks practically the same as every other part of the building; dark brown wainscotting with wallpaper on the top half of the wall - a dark blue background with leaves and flowers painted over it. The flowers are morning glory, the same pretty purple and white trumpet shaped flowers as the ones that grow on the outside of the building in thick clumps of vines. They’re a pretty flower, Din thinks; he wonders briefly what sort of flowers Professor Lars might like, and if the man would be delighted or upset by receiving them. A chance meeting with one of the non-human staff members at the school he works at, Professor Djarin finds himself falling hard and fast for the handsome blond he'd met in the stairwell; a proposed evening of drinks turns to something more, and something other than red wine is enjoyed. Words: 5277, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker Additional Tags: First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Flirting, Anal Sex, Brief Anal Plug Use, Unprotected Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Vampire Luke Skywalker, Human Din Djarin, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy/Monsters, Blood, Blood Kink, Vampire Feeding, Dark Academia Attempt, Vibes Are Hard To Write, minor fluff, Falling Hard Falling Fast, Idiots in Love, First Dates, Vampires, no editing, No Beta, Smut, Fluff and Smut

[prokopetz]

Something I love about The Far Roofs is how much of a swerve its premise is if you're coming to it uninitiated.

Okay, so there's these talking rats with a culture of swashbuckling heroism – basic Redwall/Reepicheep stuff.

Also, there's a magical realm called the Far Roofs which exists above every human community, and that's where the rats go adventuring; a little weird, but you can see the precedents in popular fiction. It's like wainscot fantasy taken to its logical-yet-absurd conclusion.

By default, the game wants you to play as a fictionalised version of your (presumably human!) self and go up onto the Far Roofs to have adventures with the rats. All right, now it's coming together: it's like isekai fantasy meets The Muppet Show, with you as the obligatory human character, right?

Then we get to the nature of those adventures: the rats have this whole culture built around questing against beings they call "the Mysteries" – beasties with names like Harpy and Goblin and Unicorn. So basically it's a bunch of muppety rats on the roofs fighting Dungeons & Dragons monsters, and you go up and help them do it. Great.

And then you get to what the Mysteries are actually like, and... well, I'm going to let the following excerpt carry the weight here. (This particular bit of text also appears in a previously published work by the same author, so I'm not giving anything away that's still under wraps.)

Unicorn, which is named Numinous, dwells three steps away and beyond the world, but most often in the Farthest Roofs, where the Steppes of the Sky come down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court. There it is stepping upwards from the world, as it has always been stepping upwards from the world, caught in a moment of transcendent glory that does not complete. It simply is. Melanthios heard the footsteps of Unicorn. Melanthios heard the ringing of Unicorn’s bells. So Melanthios chased Unicorn off to the Farthest Roofs, and Melanthios did not return. Anton and Karel, who were his sons, were wiser than their father. They heard the bells but they did not follow. Instead, they memorized the scent. They gathered swords, and ropes, and nets, and they went out. They brought food and water and all manner of gear. They clung to the roofs with all four feet wheresoever after Unicorn they went. It proved no good. Anton looked up, and Karel to his brother. The world came down— That’s what Karel said. He had time to look away. He had time to bury his head in his paws. He did not see the fullness of Unicorn’s presence. He only saw Anton his brother become unreal. In the light of the moment of the Unicorn, Anton became as a paper figure in the fire. His reality burned out. His shadow seared into the roofs behind him. Where he’d stood, for just a moment, the Steppes of the Sky came down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court; and Anton was gone away. So Karel ran and Karel ran and Karel ran from the Unicorn; and all his life, he envied but was more fortunate than his brother.

These are gods. You're going up there to kill God.

Like, it's still silly wainscot fantasy with funny talking rats, but there's that tension. It's like if Fraggle Rock occasionally took a hard turn to serious cosmic horror – Lord Dunsany by way of Jim Henson – and that tonal juxtaposition was treated as something unremarkable.

Basically what I'm saying is go back The Far Roofs.

[r-rook-studio]

"The Wrong System" Jam (aka, "Do It Wrong and Make a Mess" Jam) When?

Before I host anymore general jams, I'm going to make a Boardwalks & Sorcery jam.

But after that?

After some good leads and feedback on Twitter last night, I made some updates to the Open License TTRPG Database.

Then I got to thinking about how much conventional wisdom we've accrued about what types of games and activities certain systems are good for. I'm not a fan of conventional wisdom, and conventional game design wisdom has too erratic and inconsistent a record to follow it too closely.

So what about a jam that takes a CC-BY, CC0, or CC-BY-SA (or similar permissive license) and creates a very different game than those mechanics were originally conceived for?

Use the Troika! compatibility license to make a homey wainscot fantasy. Create a paranormal romance mystery for Liminal Horror. Make a tactical combat scenario with extra rules for Lasers & Feelings. Hack Trophy to make a game about joy.

Figure out what works and what breaks, make a mess, post it in the jam. A lot of interesting stuff like this happened in the What's Cool About Jam? with Jared's simple, quick adventure system being used to make storygames, OSR games, and lyric games.

What other cool shit could also happen?

[spectershaped]

OK I don't have, like, An Evaluation of Charlotte (the anime) but I was talking to a friend about the way it ends and how it kind of intrigues me

In essence, the cast decides that the superpowers thing is more trouble than it's worth - kids only have these powers until late adolescence and it's something that leaves them liable to exploitation and unethical experimentation. The powers are caused by a space virus from a passing comet, so the idea is to a) get everyone in Earth vaxxed against it for the next time it comes in the distant future (I don't remember whether the vaxx is like...hereditary?) and b) have the protagonist steal every single already existing carrier's power so they can all disappear when he enters late adolescence soonish (it ends up working, but he becomes somewhat amnesiac)

Now, this is kind of interesting to me because, based on my limited experience, it's not super common to have this sort of plot where the fantastical is not only vanquished locally, but ontologically - a process of turning a non-mimetic world-stage into a mimetic one, to use some fancy terminology. There's a lot of fantasy that has this sort of coming-back-to-reality ending, but this feels like a very concrete and literal application of the principle

The setup itself is also kind of...weird? Like, at no point I'm entirely sure that the existence of superpowers is a huge secret considering there's whole terrorist groups dedicated to gathering power through it (though that might also be chalked up to some weird understandings of terrorism as an activity by the writing staff) and, as the finale makes abundantly clear, there are kids developing them everywhere? This is kind of a flimsy "masquerade" thingy, all things considered - there's no real central authority here. But it's all sort of treated like this genie you can just put back in the bottle by, I repeat, vaccinating every single person in the world against a disease that gives you(/your kid?) temporary superpowers OR a disease you're going to lie about to the entire world+medical community or just. not tell anyone what it's about. Which I find kind of wild.

Masquerade plots are another thing this series has got me thinking about... That sort of setup isn't inherently tied to dubious conspiratorial thinking - often it's a byproduct of wanting cool fantasy stuff to be there without doing a lot of extra worldbuilding (fair!), wanting that stuff to be in the interstices for thematic reasons or just plain not wanting to be too removed from the writer/audience's familiar reality (see: Big 2 comics and the eternal "world outside your window"). Skin Deep the webcomic is an example I dig where there's no real grand conspiracy (though there are supernatural factions vying for stuff) and there's a sense throughout that this lid being blown off is just a matter of time and no one really knows what's going to happen then; and then you have Tony's whole arc, which is partly about the sheer shock and estrangement that having your sense of reality so shaken (and being forced by circumstance to become a part of that wainscotted reality) ends up engendering even in someone who isn't a big ball of nerves. Charlotte, on the other hand, seems to take for granted that this is a lid you can prevent from being blown off by...nullifying the fantastical, which sorta makes me wonder what it's going for thematically? The mind boggles...

[sorchaivy]

Meanwhile I have an elaborate fantasy about the sort of home I'd build if money were no object (not restore, because there aren't many old enough places that match the specific layout and materials I want), and it involves C&C engraved wood architraves and wainscoting themed to each room (the water lily crafting room, the oak forest lounge room, the eucalypt and terra cotta laundry, the moorlands sunrise bathroom), galaxy swirl glitter in clear resin sealing slate tiles for the kitchen floor, along with brushed copper fittings and a riotous rainbow tile splash back, custom-made leadlighting windows, solar tiled rooves (the kind that looks like slate tile), custom built furniture and light fixtures to match each room's theme...

And these people take a gorgeous house and desecrate the innards?

I second the market-adjacent heart eating!

There’s a house near me that’s a beautiful old Queen Anne that I’d love to share with all of you but can’t because I don’t want to doxx myself, but you’ll just have to trust me when I say it's exterior is gorgeous. Just beautiful ornate gothic latticework. Think gingerbread Addams family house. There you go.

Anyway, I found out it went up for sale the first thing I did was look it up to catch a glimpse of the inside.

Now, this could just be the PMDD talking, but I think if you’re the type of person to gut an 1880 house of all its original features and replace them with faux white marble floors and beige farmhouse chic walls, I’m not saying you should be torn apart by ravenous wolves.

I’m just saying I should be allowed to eat your heart in the marketplace.

[taperwolf]

I really love the term "wainscot fantasy" because it's simultaneously perfectly descriptive and completely opaque. Once it's described to you, it's very easy to understand, but since very few people have talked conversationally about wainscotting in the past, oh, 75 years, the metaphor has passed completely.

(Wainscots are decorative wood panels that go part of the way up the wall of your house, and wainscot fantasy refers to the subgenre of fantasy stories that deal with a hidden or secret world, a complete parallel society, that exists alongside our mundane world; thus this world is figuratively — or literally! — behind the wainscots. Harry Potter is an obvious example of the figurative usage, and The Borrowers is your basic literal example.)