A woman sat in one seat of an ice cream parlour, slowly consuming an obscenely indulgent chocolate ice cream milkshake that in another world she would have saved for her daughter's wedding night. Her laptop sat besides the milkshake. Her right hand's thumb rested on the spacebar, irregularly tapping the key.

Now and then the woman tabbed away to a Workflowy document to add to her growing collection of notes, with the most important items collected at top.
parks at nighttime AVOID
names like Nrvnqsr Chaos exactly as bad as they sound
Catholic Church AVOID
psychiatric screening ALL household maids
NEVER VISIT JAPAN
...

In a brief glimpse, Winifred saw through the shop's window her naked, bejeweled daughter trussed up in phallic metallic tentacles, next to a teenaged girl dressed like a sex worker and held by more tentacles, and a blanket-wrapped cocoon likewise held with two male feet sticking out. The tentacles were sprouting from a huge pack worn by a fully dressed girl. Other metallic tentacles from the pack were slamming into the ground with heavy chunking sounds, propelling the assembly forwards.

The woman looked back down at her laptop and took another sip of chocolate.

"Well, that's reassuring," Winifred said under her breath. "Either she really is inside a different genre, or I am playing Tsukihime completelywrong."