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clumsiestgiantess · 9 months ago

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Here’s the short story I mentioned earlier for day 2! The aesthetic is very similar to the live action Beauty and the Beast, and the figurine characters are actually based on the characters in this music video

My father had always claimed he could create life with his machines. The town thought he was mad to say such a thing. I thought it was sweet of him to view his creations like that — little living things he’d given a piece of himself to. To him, they are alive. But however strange my father seemed, no one could deny he had artistic talent beyond belief. People traveled from everywhere to buy his machines. He mostly delves in exquisite clocks, but his range expands to all things with cogs and springs. In fact, his most prized piece was not a clock at all, but rather an intricately-designed music box, created for my mother. It sat in a glass case in the center of his grand shop, glistening in its gold-furnished beauty. Its stand was carved with gold-plated oak, and a crank stuck out at its side. The top was a glass globe, its bottom lined with white cloth made to look like snow.

The most amazing part of the music box wasn’t even its outer radiance. Many a customer became entranced by what was inside long before they noticed the carvings throughout its exterior. The globe on top of the wooden creation held the dancing figurine of a ballerina. Her movements were so fluid one could swear she was real if not for the obvious gleam of her porcelain skin. Another figure stood in the music box’s hollow base. She was carved of the same wood as the base itself, and served to wind up the box from within. The two figures working in tandem was quite an awe-inspiring sight. People always asked my father how much he was willing to sell it for, but he would kindly reply that the music box was not for sale; it simply meant too much to him. No matter the amount offered, he would always turn the offer down.

I’ve tried to follow in his footsteps; I truly have. I’m not quite as good with the mechanical parts, but I’ve been told that I’m quite the exquisite woodcarver. In fact, I have a small piece of my father’s store all to myself to sell my carvings. Sometimes I’ll be cleaning up the storefront or my own wares, and I’ll hear my father talk to his machines. He cherished them with as much love as you would living beings. Many believed he used his great love for his machines to patch the hole in his heart, created by the loss of his wife, my mother.

I never knew her, she died a few months after I was born. Despite this, for most of what I remember my father seemed as happy as he could be, and he always told me that he loved me twice as much as everything in his shop, which was quite a lot. However, he would slip into bouts of mourning and anger once in a while, especially around his and my mother’s anniversary of their marriage, and of her death.

We lived in a townhome on the second floor of my father’s store, so I rarely had reason to leave. I was practically living a storybook life. It’s a bit unconventional, but I wouldn’t trade it for much else. Technically, my father owns a large farmhouse on the outskirts of town too, but we have no livestock, and it’s barely been touched in years. This was the house my father bought for my mother 28 years ago. He rarely visits it anymore. “We have a perfectly fine house right here in the shop,” my father would say every time I mentioned it. “I ought to sell it.” But he never did.

Thankfully, he didn’t have the heart to let the old place go, as my life was about to suddenly and dramatically turn upside-down in one night. The storefront next door is a barbershop. Often, customers strike up quite the lively conversation, which sometimes led to disagreements that ended in a brawl outside the store. These nonsense brawls were quickly settled by the barbers at work, however. On one particular afternoon, a few drunkards on the street got mixed into the fight. Words and drinks were spat. All it took was one person’s cigar falling onto the alcohol-covered walk, and suddenly, the place was in flames.

The wooden storefronts mixed with the windy day caused the fire to spread quickly, and soon it burned its way through the barbershop, straight through the wall of my father’s store. He was away the day it happened — off in the neighboring town to see a doctor. Nothing too serious, just a normal checkup, so he insisted I stay behind and run the shop myself. I was at the front register, checking a customer out, when the fire started. Racing around the store like a chicken without a head, I managed to get everyone and myself out before the fire burned through. However, it was only after the place was ablaze did I remember my father’s prized music box. It was still inside.

Racing back into the building, I flinched at the scalding heat that radiated off everything. I dodged my father’s burning works of art and headed for the center of the store, where at last I found the box. Horrified, I scrambled to the pedestal that previously held it perfectly pristine. Now, the case was smashed wide open by fallen debris. Fate was thankfully with me then. The covering was only shattered on the side, leaving the music box with only a few scratches.

I reached out to grab my father’s beloved creation, but stopped short as something stumbled out from behind the box. I stared disbelievingly at the wooden figurine. Instead of turning the crank dutifully, it threw itself to the ground and smothered a part of its arm that had caught fire. “Harley?” I gasped in shock. The little figurine shot straight up, looking over at me in a mixture of terror and uncertainty. “H- How did you-?” “There’s no time to explain, get in the pocket!” I called urgently, opening a pocket of my dress and stepping closer as the roof groaned awfully.

Harley backed away from me, glancing over at the globe on top of the music box. Both of us flinched as a piece of the ceiling came crashing down. “Wait,” she gasped, “Th- There’s someone else..” "Oh, right! Liana!" I'd heard my father call them by their names before, but I always assumed he made them up. I never would've imagined these two being real. All they did was the same dancing and turning day in and day out. How were they never this animated before? The two figurines had always seemed life-like, but never truly real. Both of them still had tracks they were set to — motions they repeated over and over again. I'd have to figure all that out later, though. A burning building creates enough confusion for one moment.

The small figurine scrambled up the base of the music box, slamming her fist into the side of the glass, but it didn't so much as crack beneath it. Harley glanced desperately up at me as something else came crashing down further back in the store. The ballerina figurine, Liana, was curled up tight in the center of the glass globe. Unlike the wood that Harley was made of — which was only in trouble if it caught fire — Liana's porcelain could crack at any sudden change in temperature. She was in dire need of an escape. In fact, all of us needed to get out of there. The roof kept making awful noises as if it might cave in at any moment.

Grabbing an unlit splinter of wood, I quickly bashed away a hole big enough for me to reach into the case. I swept the wooden figurine into my pocket, grabbed the music box, and fled the hellish remains of my and my father's shop. Firemen had just arrived the moment I scrambled out of the burning building. Seconds afterwards, my home on the second floor caved in. It fell into the first floor with a raucous crash that only fed the growing flames. They billowed outward and rose higher into the air.

Even as the firemen set out to tame the flaming beast that had consumed yet another storefront, I continued my escape, rushing down the street and all the way to the roadway into town — the music box clutched tightly to my chest. Finally, I stopped to catch my breath on the porch of a closed feed store. My thoughts raced, and I could feel my heart practically beating out of my chest. The clink of two glassy surfaces colliding woke me from my panicked daze. I held the music box in front of me with shaking hands. Inside, the figurine had backed off to the opposite side of the globe.

I studied her for a moment while I waited for my scare to dissipate. She didn't look as though she'd cracked, but I didn't have time to do a full evaluation of the piece like my father had taught me to do. After a few steady breaths, I picked myself up and headed down the road to the old house. There was no point going back to the shop. Almost everything my father and I made was carved from wood. The fire would likely ravage it all. I was lucky enough to have saved the music box.

As I walked the cobblestone road that quickly tapered off into a dirt path, I pondered my father's knowledge of the music box. He must know the figurines are alive. How else would he know their names? Well, he did create them, too. He also talked to them; did they only come to life while he was around? It couldn't be. I've caught him talking to the music box before, and both figurines were lifeless even then. My father's precious creation was baffling to me. Hopefully, I could get answers from the figurines themselves. That is, if I wasn’t hallucinating the whole ordeal in the first place.

The moment I stepped in the door of my father's old house, I rushed to the dinner table and lightly placed the music box on its surface. Dust billowed off it in a large plume and I gagged on it for a second or so. Sitting down roughly, I stilled for a moment, too shocked to do much of anything else. Suddenly, I felt subtle movements from the pocket of my dress. I hesitantly reached inside and pulled out the figurine. She froze in my hand, eyes going wide. How is it even possible for wood to make such human expressions? I placed her down on the table beside the box, letting her dangling legs safely settle on the table’s surface before letting her go.

Immediately, she stood up and backed away from me, glancing between me and the globe as if she wasn't sure whether she was willing to run away from me and leave the other figurine behind. It was incredible how life-like her movements were. I had to ask how they came about. "What.. What are you?" was all I managed to say. Harley stopped her retreat and stood a bit straighter. "You don't know about us…" she whispered to herself, "Right." She cleared her throat, which is a strange thing for a figurine without a throat to do. "First off, we aren't machines. Your father didn't create us, he only carved us before we were alive."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "That isn't possible," I answered, as if on command. "Wood and porcelain can't come to life. And if my father didn't bring you to 'life' by creating your machinery, who did?" It was meant to be a rhetorical question. I didn't expect Harley to have an answer, but she gave me one in an instant, like she was stating the obvious. "Your mother."

For a long moment, I sat at the table in hushed silence. "No," I whispered. "Yes," Harley replied sternly. "She used a charm to give us life. Your father wanted us to seem like living people, so she abided, neither of them realized the consequences until it was too late. The charm took her own life and gave it to us instead." Fury seized my chest. I stood up suddenly. My chair scuffed backwards across the floor with an awful screech. "YOU STOLE MY MOTHER'S LIFE!?" I cried in outrage, reaching for the wooden figurine.

Before I could snatch her up, the second one cried out in her defense. "No, wait! We didn't take anything! Your mother gave her life to us! It was an accident!" I turned angrily on Liana, and she flinched backwards in fear. "Why on Earth does my father care so much for you!? You took-!" I stopped mid-sentence, realization silencing me. These figurines are the last remnant of my mother's life. Of course my father cherished the music box. It was, accidently, her last gift to him. Here I thought it was the other way around.

Slowly, I fell back into my chair. "So.." I began, a bit dumbstruck, "If my mother gave you life, why weren't you always this life-like? At the store, you seemed to work like machines. Albeit, very intricate ones." The figurines glanced at each other, having a silent conversation with their expressions alone. Eventually, Harley spoke up. "Your father resented us at first," she explained, inching slightly closer, "He reacted.. almost exactly like you did. He claimed we'd taken his wife from him. His animosity forged the casing we've been trapped under for so long. He carved it from the hexed wood that made up his wife's own coffin. As long as we were in that case, we were forced to move like machinery, like how your father wanted us to be: life-like figurines, not truly alive."

I inhaled a sharp breath, "The pedestal in the store.. was enchanted?" "Cursed," Harley corrected me. "The curse was broken when it was shattered in the fire, so now we're finally back to our true selves." I took a moment to process what the figurines had told me. My mother hadn’t died of some strange illness, she’d died through some sort of spell. My mother knew magic! Was my father ever going to tell me the truth about her, or would he have hidden her real death from me forever? I’m sure he had to lie to everyone else about it too, which made me feel both better and worse at the same time.

A dull clink brought me back to the present. Liana pressed her hand into the side of the glass globe. On the other side, Harley did the same. Watching them together, I realized they had a stronger bond than I first thought. Harley noticed I’d been watching them, and turned to face me. “Can you get her out of here?” she asked, gesturing to the globe. “I wouldn’t ask anything else of you. We’ll leave if you want. Just let her out of this thing.” “Leave?” Liana echoed, “And go where? You’re made of wood, and I’m made of porcelain. We wouldn’t get far before one of us breaks.. and it’ll probably be me.”

Harley looked slightly stricken; she stepped back a ways and looked between me and Liana. “What if she gets angry again?” she asked, pointing at me. “What if her father puts us under another curse? We have no choice; we can’t stay here.” “I won’t let him,” I said suddenly, accidentally causing them to flinch. “He shouldn’t take your lives away because of something out of your control. That isn’t fair.” Liana nodded, smiling, while Harley offered her shocked thanks.

“I told you she wouldn’t be so harsh,” Liana said knowingly to Harley. “You told her? But, weren’t you both stuck as machines?” I asked confusedly. “Yes, but we could still communicate,” Harley explained. “We could hear each other’s voices, though no one else could.” I pictured a younger version of the figurines — when my father first cursed them. They could cry out to the people gazing in at them, beg passersby to release them from their endless cycle, but the only reaction they got was from eachother. No wonder they seemed so close.

I shuddered, “That must’ve been awful.” Both figurines glanced at each other. “Well, it was better than thinking we were alone,” Liana mused. The two shared a grateful look as I brought my chair closer. “I can take the globe off the music box, if you like.” Liana nodded and stepped to the small platform in the middle of the snowy floor of the globe. With expert care, I took the music box in my hands, gripped the top of the globe, and slowly twisted it off the base. The circular shell fell off the music box with a few more twists. The jerking motion of the top unscrewing off the bottom lurched Liana backwards; she fell off the platform and landed in my lap with a yelp. Quickly, I placed the box and globe on the table and carefully scooped up the porcelain figurine. She stilled in my grasp, clearly not used to being held. Though she certainly seemed alive, her skin was as ice-cold as normal porcelain.

Cautiously, I put her down on the table. The moment she got her balance, Harley raced forward and pulled her close. I realized that neither of them had been able to see or feel each other all this time. They could only hear the other’s voice through magic. Even when the curse was broken, they were still separated by a wall of glass. “Thank you.” Harley’s voice wavered as though she’d been crying, though she physically couldn’t. I nodded and glanced over the table at the door. Questions for my father spiraled in my head. He would get quite the stern talking-to when he returned. In the meantime, I welcomed my tiny, enchanted guests into the house. As long as I had a say, I would ensure that both of the figurines stayed alive and together.

#unfortunately this is just a oneshot #but I had to post it because it fits well with the trope I wanted lol #‘if I can’t have it I’ll make it myself’#g/t #giant/tiny #GtWAC

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ghost-in-the-hall · 2 months ago

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Posting Update!!

TW: mentions of weight loss (positive) and body dysmorphia, past trauma non-specific just mentioned, personal junk rant under the cut, above is general information about the posting update

Hello hello! I have finally returned for an update! Things have been crazy for me recently, so I apologize for the delay in the new chapters, but they are still being worked on! I don't have a definite posting date for anything yet, but I'm shooting to have something out by next week! If you would like to hear a little bit more about what's been going on in my life that's below! Just under the cut so no one is caught off guard by the TW's above, it's also a little long because I'm a rambler lol, but overall a lot of exciting stuff is happening on my end!

I go to see Powerwolf in 3 days, which as some, if not most, of you probably know if you've been around here for a while, is my favorite band of all time. That, paired with the fact that this is the first big event I'll be going to since I started my hot girl glow up last year has been making me a little insane lol.

August 19th, 2023, I saw Ghost live, which absolutely changed my life. I remember vividly I had just recently found out I was the heaviest I had ever been in my life, and as someone who's constantly had to deal with body dysmorphia for as long as I can remember, it really made my self esteem take a huge hit. I had this whole plan to dress up and be all hot and sexy for the concert, which I did, but all I could focus on was how much weight I had put on, it was super frustrating and if I hadn't gotten VIP passes I honestly might have gone home because I was just not feeling it. But, we went, I made it all the way up to the barrier. I had an amazing time flirting with Phantom and Sodo (I'm sure they weren't flirting back but I like to let my delusional little brain believe lol) and throughout the night my heart felt so full, it was amazing. There was one point Papa came out singing He Is (my personal favorite) and, again probably delusional but whatever, there was one point where he walked over to my side of the stage, and I was reaching out for him and our eyes met, he reached his hand back out to me and something in my head clicked... This man preaches about acceptance, treating others with kindness, would Papa treat me the same way I treated myself? The answer was absolutely the fuck not. So, from that point forward, I made a conscious decision to treat myself better, I wanted to become so hauntingly beautiful that I would be able to catch Papa's attention if I ever make it back to the barrier for one of their shows lol. That really started to ramp up when PW announced their US tour.

I bought these tickets in February, I fully stopped in the middle of whatever I was doing at the gym to go camp out in the locker room for the pre sale at like 9 in the morning, got the tickets for the front floor because my friends and I are once again trying to make it to the barrier, and went of my fucking God, Falk. In my mind, I had an end goal now.

From that point forward The Hot Girl Glow Up truly began. I'm down 40 lbs, I've put on a shit load of muscle from going to the gym a few times a week, I've recently picked up yoga and I LOVE IT! But, it went so much farther than just the weight loss. I've been a lot kinder to myself, I have a lot of things that happened to me in the past I still need to heal from, and that scared, hurt younger version of me is still trying to find a soft place to land in my mind so she can rest. And a big part of my journey so far is really getting to the root of why I'm holding all of these bad feelings towards myself, which has been its own web that needs to be carefully unwound. Because getting healthy and losing weight is great, but I don't want to get there by bullying myself. The body heals through compassion and stillness, we cannot heal a body we hate. That's something I picked up in yoga the other night, think I'm gunna keep that in my pocket for a bit.

I know I don't owe anyone any explanation for why it takes me so long to get updates out, but I'm not posting updates not because I don't want to, that's the farthest thing from the truth. To put it simply, I give a shit about myself now. I can't spend all day sitting in front of my computer, staring a blank screen, waiting for the ideas to come while I shove nothing but fast food in my face and don't take care of myself physically, mentally, or emotionally, that's where I was at before all of this. So, I do apologize for the lack of updates, I promise just because I've slowed down doesn't mean I'm stopping any time soon lol.

Hopefully after PW I'll be back to a more consistent schedule. Between all of my classes, and the gym, and work, and trying to sew the last part of my concert outfit and make jewelry, and do practice makeup, and hair trials, and meeting up with my friends to plan their outfits and makeup and so we can go shopping for all of this, I've just been very busy lol. But, the update is still coming, we just gotta get there!

#ghost speaks #��️#👷‍♀️#🍎

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victorluvsalice · 6 months ago

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-->They immediately arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm! *facepalm* I SWEAR, every time I travel... I promptly got the weather machine out of Build/Buy, stuck it on the right side of the lot (where it seemed least likely to block Sim traffic), and had Smiler set it to “clear skies” while Victor and Alice amused themselves with some chess (Alice won, to Victor’s slight annoyance XD). Smiler was successful and went to chat with them as the weather slowly but surely cleared up (though the game took its price by busting their umbrella), then – once the skies were blue and everyone was out of their wet clothes and into nice dry warm weather outfits – I had Victor challenge Smiler to a match while I sent Alice off to a nearby easel in the world to paint some of the benches and trees in the frankly very pretty cherry-blossom tree park behind her. :) Victor managed to win the game against Smiler – guess he was determined to make up for his loss to Alice. XD Once I was sure they were done, I had Smiler head to the front of the park and drink a plasma fruit to make sure they weren’t thirsty, then had Victor hit them with the old Scruberoo to make sure they were clean –

-->And then had Smiler set up the snack stand and start a food sale! Featuring Alice’s strawberry fizz cupcakes, pumpkin spice waffles, blueberry pie, and remaining banana split waffles from the last sale (which – I THOUGHT the game had said were spoiled when I first looked in Smiler’s inventory, but then they were fine again after I started moving items into the stand? O.o Game, what – actually, I won’t complain about you unspoiling my food, carry on) and Victor’s everything bagels. Things were a bit slow at first, so I left Smiler tending the table and instead focused on keeping Victor busy with collecting insects (a couple of locusts fluttering around the park) and making a digital painting of a bench by the big circle fountain a little ways away (which ended up being a masterpiece, nice). Once Victor was sufficiently occupied, I checked back in on Smiler, but only one potential customer had shown up – dude named Patrick who I recognized from the last update at the grocery store. Well, at least that suggested he would buy something! I had Smiler give him a sales pitch, which didn’t seem to do much unfortunately –

Then realized Victor was already done with his painting, whoops. Forgot the ones on the digital sketchpad go WAAAY faster than the ones on the easel! I had him come back and plant a bluebell in the public planters in the park, then tend the plants and before settling in for a bit of cloudgazing while I went back to Smiler. A few more people had shown up by this point, including Marcus Flex and L. Faba from the Magic Realm. Smiler greeted and made insta-friends with Marcus Flex, as is their wont, picking up a new like for High-Energy Sims in the process (seems legit). I kept an eye on them and tried to have them hit as many Sims with sales pitches as they could –

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #WHY IS IT ALWAYS STORMING WHENEVER I'M TRYING TO DO SOMETHING SPECIFIC OFF LOT #seriously Sims 4 sometimes it feels like you absolutely LOVE thunderstorms #and before anyone tells me I know there's an option to turn them off #but I don't want them gone ENTIRELY #I just want them not to be raging every time I'm attempting a thing in another world #*grumbles*#hooray for the damn weather machine is all I'm saying #but yeah once the weather cleared up it was a very nice day for the trio #the views around Hare Square are quite pretty I must admit #even if the lot itself is a bit 'bleh' because it's so small #you'll see Victor and Alice's paintings later #they practically seem to glow they're so bright :)#and yeah bit of a slow start to the food sale #but then again we often have slow start at the grocery store too #you can probably tell where THAT is going :p #queued

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rogue-taxidermy-of-sarina-brewer · 2 years ago

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With the vernal equinox now under our belt I thought a spring lamb would be apropos. This might be my all-time favorite taxidermy piece that I’ve made. If not my favorite, it’s definitely the most personal.

TITLE ~ Ewe Time: Lamb-enting the Passing of Childhood Delight(s)

My husband found this lamb frozen to death while he was hiking a remote rural road in South Dakota. It had somehow wandered from safety and ended up outside the pasture fence where it couldn’t fend for itself, miles away from its home. It was a moving reminder about the harshness of life. It was also a story about crossroads; how every decision affects the course of your existence. The lamb’s story was such a powerful one that it needed to be woven into the layers of this piece.

I mounted the lamb in a serene standing pose on a monument-like base; its shape and feel intended to evoke the feeling of a statue in a cemetery. The lamb is standing in bright green artificial turf atop the base. On the front of the base there is a small chrome plaque engraved with “R.I.P.” The lamb’s emotionless mirrored eyes reflect its surroundings, while around its neck a tight collar bears the weight of a ticking timepiece. Another ticking clock has replaced the spot the lamb’s heart should occupy. The title of this piece is a play on words and alludes to a dark and melancholy autobiographical story about sacrifice and the loss of innocence. The lamb is intended to be reminiscent of a child’s stuffed plush toy, while the clocks are a metaphor for the passage of time. With age carefree days disappear. And soon time itself begins to disappear – the time you had to yourself before you had adult responsibilities. “You time” becomes a scarce commodity. Adult responsibilities bring hardship, and hardship brings disenchantment; the disenchantment that all professional artists will experience at some point during their career as they struggle to survive solely on the income from their art sales.

I chose the title for this piece before I had actually begun work on it. Little did I know that it would live up to its name. This piece represents the most career stress I have ever experienced due to a string of events that included (among other things) a painfully expensive shipping fiasco and the gallery giving the person who bought this piece a discount without my consent. All of which contributed to me taking a financial beating on the sale because I had also underestimated how much time needed to be devoted to the project. And devoted I was. So much so that when I was working on this piece circumstances necessitated bringing it along on a roadtrip to an out-of-state family holiday gathering because I was working under such a horrendous deadline. The process of tanning an animal hide requires the hide to remain in a bath of chemicals for a number of days so I couldn’t postpone it until I got back from the trip or I would run out of time to complete the project. So a white 5-gallon bucket containing tanning chemicals and a lamb skin was among the luggage on the trip.

Garishly colored animals were among the very first taxidermy pieces I ever created and remain among my signature works. They were a prominent strain of my work when my colleagues and I launched the genre of Rogue Taxidermy in 2004. Dyed taxidermy has since become a popular practice among other artists and it’s among my contributions to the genre that I hold dear. This makes my dyed animals even more special to me and I will be sharing more of them with you in the coming days. If you enjoyed this post I encourage you to follow my account for more related stories. I also encourage you to learn more about the often misunderstood and misrepresented art form of rogue taxidermy. Link here to read about the birth of the genre and what types of work it encompasses. It’s likely not what you think.

#ContemporaryArt #PopSurrealism #LowbrowArt #TaxidermyArt #TaxidermySculpture

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nutraexperts · 3 days ago

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Getting Started With The Proextender System

First things first, pull out that ProExtender manual.

This little booklet is your best friend when starting out.

Don’t worry; it’s straightforward and easy to follow.

Here’s what you need to do:

Assemble the Device:

Take all parts out of the box.

Follow the diagrams in the manual.

It should be pretty intuitive—if I can do it, so can you!

Adjust for Comfort:

Once assembled, put it on.

You want a snug fit but not too tight.

Think of it like wearing a supportive pair of shoes.

Find Your Routine:

Aim for at least 3-6 hours daily.

Start slow if you’re new.

Gradually increase wear time as you get used to it.

How To Use Proextender System Like A Pro

Now that you’ve got the basics down, let’s talk about how to really make this work for you.

Here are some key tips:

Stay Consistent:

This isn’t a one-and-done deal.

Consistency is crucial for seeing results.

Use It While You Go About Your Day:

You don’t have to be stuck at home.

Wear it while watching TV or working from home—just keep moving!

Monitor Your Progress:

Keep track of how long you wear it each day.

Take measurements every few weeks.

Celebrate those small wins—they add up!

Referencing The Proextender Manual PDF

If you prefer digital formats, don't forget about the ProExtender manual PDF available online.

Having access on your phone or tablet makes things easier when you're on the go.

Just remember:

Check back with the manual whenever you're unsure about adjustments or settings.

It has troubleshooting tips that can save your day if something feels off.

Following The Proextender System Instructions

Finally, let’s touch on some essential instructions straight from the ProExtender system instructions:

Clean Regularly:

Hygiene matters! Clean your device regularly with mild soap and water after each session.

Take Breaks:

If discomfort arises, take a break! Listen to your body—it knows best.

Hydrate and Stretch:

Drink plenty of water and stretch before using the device. This keeps everything loose and comfortable during use.

Real User Experiences

Hearing from others who’ve used this device can be inspiring too. Here’s what one user shared:

“I started using ProExtender three months ago at age 28. At first, I was skeptical but decided to give it a shot after doing my research.” – Jake, Age 28 “Now I’m seeing results I didn’t think were possible! Just stick with it!”

Another user chimed in:

“Wearing this while working from home made things easier for me! I’m more confident now than ever.” – Sarah, Age 32

These stories remind us that we’re not alone in our journeys towards self-improvement.

The bottom line?

Using the ProExtender device doesn’t have to feel overwhelming or complicated.

Stick with these steps and listen to your body along the way—you’ll be amazed at what happens next!

So why wait? Dive into this journey today and start experiencing life differently!

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER FOR GUARANTEED RESULTS

Proextender For Sale

Thinking about getting the ProExtender?

Let’s break down where you can grab it and what you’ll pay.

The Price of ProExtender

When it comes to the ProExtender price, you'll find it's pretty reasonable for what you're getting.

The original kit usually runs around £200.

That might sound like a lot, but think of it this way:

You’re investing in something that could potentially change your life.

I mean, how much have you spent on things that didn’t deliver?

With ProExtender, you get a solid product backed by science and user testimonials.

Where to Buy ProExtender

Now, if you're ready to proextender buy, the best place is straight from their official website.

This ensures you’re getting the real deal—the ProExtender original.

You don’t want to risk picking up a knock-off version, right?

Plus, buying directly often gives you access to exclusive offers or bundles.

Finding ProExtender Coupon Codes

Who doesn’t love saving some cash?

Keep an eye out for any proextender coupon code floating around online.

Sometimes they offer discounts that can shave off a good chunk of your total cost.

A little search can go a long way here!

What’s Included in the ProExtender Kit?

When you order the ProExtender kit, here’s what you can expect:

The main device

Adjustable rods

Comfort pads

Instruction manual

Everything's designed with ease of use in mind.

No complicated setups or confusing instructions—just straightforward assembly.

And trust me, once you've got it set up, you'll feel confident using it daily.

Why Choose ProExtender Deluxe?

If you're looking for something extra special, consider the ProExtender deluxe option.

It typically includes additional accessories like enhanced comfort parts or extended rods for more flexibility in sizing.

Sure, it costs a bit more, but if you're serious about results, why not go all-in?

Real User Experiences

Let’s talk about some folks who took the plunge:

“I was skeptical at first but decided to give it a shot after reading reviews.

After three months with my ProExtender, I saw noticeable changes!

It was worth every penny.”

— Mark, 34

Or this one:

“Honestly didn’t expect much at first.

But now I wish I’d bought my ProExtender kit sooner!

It changed how I feel about myself.”

— Jake, 29

These testimonials highlight just how effective this product can be when used consistently.

People are seeing results and feeling more confident—what could be better than that?

Final Thoughts on Buying ProExtender

So there we have it: clear pricing info and where to snag your own ProExtender for sale.

Remember:

Investing in yourself is always worth it.

Don’t let hesitation hold you back from something that could really make a difference in your life.

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER TODAY FOR LASTING CHANGE

Proextender Parts

Let’s talk about what makes the ProExtender system tick.

You might be wondering, “What exactly are the proextender parts I need to know about?”

Don’t worry; I’ve got you covered.

Understanding Proextender Accessories

The beauty of the ProExtender lies in its simplicity and effectiveness.

But it also comes with some nifty proextender accessories that can enhance your experience.

Here’s a quick rundown:

Comfort Straps: These are designed to provide extra comfort during use.

Silicone Sleeves: They help reduce friction and make wearing the device more pleasant.

Extension Bars: For those looking for a bit more length, these bars are essential.

I remember when my buddy Tom first tried it out. He was skeptical at first, but once he got his hands on those comfort straps, he felt like a new man.

He said, "It’s like wearing nothing at all!"

The Importance of Proextender Replacement Parts

Over time, wear and tear is inevitable.

That’s where proextender replacement parts come into play.

Keeping your device in top shape is crucial for optimal results. Here’s what you might need:

Replacement Straps: If your current ones start to fray or lose elasticity, don’t hesitate to swap them out.

Adjustment Screws: These tiny components can wear down too. Keeping extras on hand ensures your device remains functional.

Base Support Pieces: If you notice any wobbling or instability, check these pieces first. A solid base means better performance.

A friend of mine had an issue with his adjustment screws after months of use. Instead of panicking, he ordered replacements and was back in business in no time!

Exploring Proextender Rings

Let’s not forget about the unsung heroes: the proextender rings.

These little guys play a big role in how well the system works for you.

Here’s why they matter:

They help maintain tension during use.

Different sizes allow for customization based on personal needs.

I once spoke to Sarah, who shared her experience with these rings:

"I switched to larger rings after a few weeks, and wow! The difference was incredible."

Her enthusiasm was contagious; she couldn’t stop talking about how they made her feel more confident.

Why Choose ProExtender Parts?

So why should you invest in these parts?

Because they’re designed specifically for enhancing your journey with the ProExtender system.

You’re not just buying accessories; you’re investing in your confidence and well-being.

Imagine having everything you need right at your fingertips—no searching around or settling for less quality products from other brands.

With genuine ProExtender parts, you're ensuring that you're using high-quality materials tailored for this specific device.

Plus, maintaining your equipment means longer-lasting results and less hassle down the line.

Final Thoughts on Proextender Parts

Getting started with the ProExtender system is just one step toward achieving what you want.

Understanding its parts is crucial for maximising benefits and getting great results over time.

Whether it's upgrading to new accessories or replacing worn-out components, staying proactive will pay off big time!

If you're serious about making changes, don't wait around—get equipped with all necessary components today!

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER AND UNLOCK YOUR POTENTIAL

Proextender 3rd Generation

When it comes to enhancing personal health, the ProExtender 3rd generation stands out.

I get it. You’re looking for something that really works without all the gimmicks.

Let’s break down what makes this version different.

What Sets Proextender 3 Apart?

The ProExtender 3 isn’t just a rehash of previous models.

This one’s got some serious upgrades.

Improved Comfort: The design has been refined for better fit and comfort.

Enhanced Durability: Built with stronger materials, you can expect this device to last longer.

Greater Adjustability: Fine-tuning your experience is easier than ever.

If you’ve tried other options before and found them lacking, this might be your answer.

Watching the Proextender System Video

Ever thought about how a product works before diving in?

The ProExtender system video gives you an inside look at how this device operates.

It walks you through:

Setup

Usage tips

Maintenance advice

Seeing it in action can ease any concerns about using it yourself.

Plus, who doesn’t love a good visual guide?

Where to Find More Information: Proextender Net

Curious about more details? Check out Proextender net.

It’s packed with information on:

User testimonials

Detailed specifications

FAQs that address common worries

Having access to all this info helps you feel confident about your choice.

Visit the Proextender Official Website

Want the latest updates or promotions? Head over to the Proextender official website.

They often share:

Special offers

Product enhancements

Customer stories that inspire trust

Staying connected means never missing out on what could be beneficial for you.

Availability in Proextender USA

For those in the States, knowing where to buy is crucial.

You’ll find that the Proextender USA option ensures quick shipping and reliable service.

No waiting around forever just to start your journey toward improvement.

Real Stories from Real Users

Let’s talk real-life experiences.

Here’s what some users have said:

“I was skeptical at first, but after using the ProExtender for three months, I noticed real changes.” — James, 28

“Comfortable and effective! The third generation was definitely worth it.” — Mark, 35

These aren’t just random quotes; they reflect genuine satisfaction from actual users like us.

Why Choose ProExtender 3rd Generation?

So why should you go for this model?

Because it's designed with user experience front and centre.

With its focus on comfort and results, you're not just buying a product; you're investing in yourself.

Whether you're looking to enhance confidence or improve personal health goals, this device delivers without fuss.

In a market flooded with options, make sure you choose wisely—choose what works best for you by going with the proven track record of the ProExtender 3rd generation.

So if you're ready to take that next step toward improvement, check out their official site or watch that system video today!

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER NOW FOR EXCLUSIVE BONUSES

Proextender Scam

When it comes to products like ProExtender, I get it. You have questions.

Is this a real solution or just another gimmick?

Let’s break down the noise and focus on what matters.

What Are People Saying About ProExtender?

I’ve seen plenty of reviews floating around.

Some folks rave about their results while others raise eyebrows, questioning its effectiveness.

Here’s the thing: ProExtender isn’t magic.

It’s a system that requires commitment and proper use to see results.

But does that mean it's a scam? Not necessarily.

Understanding ProExtender Side Effects

Like any product, there are potential side effects to keep in mind.

Discomfort during initial use.

Skin irritation from prolonged wear.

Temporary changes in sensitivity.

These aren't unique to ProExtender; many devices come with similar warnings.

The key is knowing your body and listening to it.

If something feels off, don’t ignore it. Adjust usage as needed or consult with a professional.

The Importance of Authentic Reviews

I always say, look for genuine testimonials.

Here's one that stood out:

“I was skeptical at first but decided to give ProExtender a shot after reading some real success stories.” — Mark, 34

Mark's experience wasn’t without bumps, but he saw progress over time.

He put in the effort and didn’t expect overnight miracles.

That’s the mindset you need if you're considering this device.

Spotting Red Flags

So how do you know if you're looking at a ProExtender scam? Here are some signs:

Too Good To Be True Claims: If someone promises miraculous results overnight, run for the hills.

Lack of Transparency: A reputable seller will provide clear information about the product, including possible side effects.

Fake Reviews: Watch out for overly generic testimonials that lack detail or specifics about personal experiences.

Always do your homework before making a purchase decision!

Why Choose ProExtender?

What sets ProExtender apart from other options? It’s all about quality and user satisfaction.

This isn’t just another gadget gathering dust on your shelf; it’s designed for those who want real change without invasive procedures.

Think about it: you’re investing in something that could enhance your confidence and well-being—worth considering! Just remember to manage expectations along the way.

Wrapping It Up

In the end, whether you consider this device or not comes down to personal choice and research.

Stay informed about potential side effects, read authentic reviews, and be cautious of red flags that scream "scam."

If you decide on ProExtender, approach it with an open mind but realistic expectations.

With dedication and patience, you might find yourself pleasantly surprised by what this system can offer!

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER TO JOIN THOUSANDS OF SATISFIED USERS

FAQ

What are the ProExtender reviews like?

ProExtender has garnered a mix of feedback. Many users report positive experiences, noting improvements in size and confidence. Some share before and after pics that show noticeable changes. Others have concerns about comfort or results taking time. Always look for genuine reviews to get a balanced view.

How do I use the ProExtender device?

Using the ProExtender is straightforward. Start by adjusting it to your size. Wear it for a few hours daily, gradually increasing the time as you get used to it. It’s crucial to follow the instructions closely for best results. If you're unsure, check out the manual or online guides.

Where can I buy the ProExtender?

You can find ProExtender for sale on various websites, including its official site. Sometimes retailers offer discounts or coupon codes, so keep an eye out for those deals! Make sure you’re buying from reputable sources to avoid scams.

What parts come with the ProExtender system?

The ProExtender kit typically includes the main device along with accessories like extension rods and comfort rings. If you need replacement parts later on, they’re available separately online as well.

Is there a 3rd generation of ProExtender?

Yes! The 3rd generation of ProExtender offers improved features over previous models. Users often mention better comfort and effectiveness in their reviews compared to earlier versions.

Are there any side effects associated with using ProExtender?

While many users report no side effects, some might experience discomfort if not used correctly or if worn for too long at first. Always listen to your body and adjust usage accordingly. If you have concerns, consult a healthcare professional before use.

Can I find a manual or instructions for using ProExtender?

Absolutely! The ProExtender manual is usually included in your purchase package. You can also find PDF versions online if you misplace yours or prefer digital access.

How much does the ProExtender cost?

The price of the ProExtender varies depending on where you buy it from and any ongoing promotions. Generally, it’s priced competitively within its market segment, so shop around for the best deal!

Are there any accessories available for my ProExtender device?

Yes! There are several accessories available such as extra extension rods and comfort rings that enhance your experience with the device. Check online stores or their official website for options.

Is there a risk of falling victim to a scam when purchasing ProExtender?

Like any product, there are risks involved if you're not careful about where you buy from. Stick to known retailers or the official website to reduce this risk significantly and ensure you're getting an authentic product.

👉 BUY PROEXTENDER AND BOOST YOUR CONFIDENCE

0 notes

crsauto888 · 1 year ago

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idungoofed · 2 years ago

Text

The Inheritance

JavierPeña x Y/N

Ohhkaaay, so here’s a new Javier Peña fic I started working on while having writers block for my Mando wip. It’ll be multiple parts but this first bit is mainly the set up, and I’ll warn you now Javier doesn’t make an appearance till the end, BUT there will be much more of him in the next parts! This is my first time writing anything lengthy (hehe) for Javi, and as usual I’ve read this through so many times I’ve no idea how it actually reads, so any feed back is appreciated!

Summary: Set in the late 1990’s. You have an Aunt who you used to visit on school holidays at her ranch in Laredo, although haven’t seen or heard from for almost two decades when your parents cut contact due to an unfortunate incident with 8y/o you and one of her horses. Now with your aunt passing, and you being her sole beneficiary you’re called back to the town you thought you’d never see again.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, canon? Haha no don’t be silly. Swearing, Alcohol consumption, Loss of family member. No smut - YET, although maybe a little hint hint there could be at the end and in next part? Under 18s dni, bye-bye!

Word count: 6k +

______________________

The rain poured from the grey sky of London as you hurried out the tube station, and you prayed the cardboard box containing five years of desk junk would hold out at least till you got home.

There wasn’t anything you actually needed or wanted in the box, but when they handed it to you after your boss fired you, you felt obliged to fill it. Dumping in half used note pads, paper clips, desk tidies and a variety of pens that were running out of ink. Plus the husk of the cactus you’d got to make your work space more ‘homey’, but managed to kill by over watering.

Head down and eyes planted on the floor in front of you, you left the office; your coworkers whispered guesses of why you were let go chasing you as the door swung shut behind you.

The reason for firing you? You’d struggled to hear over the ringing that had started in your ears when your boss said those three words, “let you go”. However you’d managed to catch the gist; lack of enthusiasm, poor team work, not enough commitment.

You couldn’t say you were surprised either. You’d got the sales job 5 years ago, fresh out of university, and it was only meant to be a stop off while you searched for jobs you could apply your Fine Art degree to. Although soon you found your self being sucked into the endless cycle of work, sleep, eat. Any motivation to dream job hunt on the weekends exhausted by the work week.

You were eager when you started working there, had the drive to do a great job, but years went by with no end in sight. You found yourself losing that spark you started with, disinterested with the work and indifferent to your performance. Which obviously hadn’t gone unnoticed by your boss.

The rain hadn’t let up when you finally reached the bottom of the porch steps that led up to your shared ground floor flat.

The box was bulging at the bottom threatening to spill its contents, looking into it one last time, you wondered why you even bothered to lug it back home. You didn’t need it sitting in your living room as a reminder, and before you can think twice you turn and up-end it into the rubbish bin beside the gate.

It was still morning as you unlocked the door to your flat, one shared with your best friend, Anna. You’d met on the same uni course, instantly clicking, and sharing your first house together in second and third year. When graduation rolled around and you’d both dreamed of moving to London, so it was a no brainer to stick together.

These days, however, you’d seen less and less of Anna, who was spending more and more time at her boyfriends flat, leaving you to work through a once shared bottle of wine and ready meals in the evenings alone.

Anna was your oldest friend, but recently you could feel each other growing apart.

You barge through your hallway, slapping your keys down on the small table usually littered with junk mail, and beeline your way to the fridge to make a start on the bottle of white that was meant to go with your dinner tonight.

Because how else are you meant to spend your suddenly unemployed day??

Three glasses down, blasting music, your mood is already on the up, maybe not happy, but angers better than sadness.

“Fuck youuu!” You shout at no one. “I don’t need that pissing job anyway!”

Oh that felt good. You think, letting out a slightly hysterical giggle, pushing down the thought that your last statement isn’t entirely true.

Your pour yourself a fourth glass.

______

The letter box clangs as your post is delivered, making you jump awake. You must of fallen asleep after starting your second bottle, although passed out would be a more honest description. You check the time on the wall clock and are surprised to see it’s only just past 1 o’clock in the afternoon.

Dragging yourself off the sofa, swaying slightly, you go to collect the mail.

You slump heavily back on your sofa, and start flicking through the envelopes. A couple are for Anna, some bills for both of you; but when you get to the last letter addressed to you, the American postage stamp piques your interest.

Ripping open the letter you focus your eyes on the header, your brow wrinkling in confusion.

TAYLOR AND MARTINEZ LAW FIRM

Your eyes drift down the page, reading and then rereading till tears start to blur the words in front of you.

We regret to inform you… death of Elise Thompson… brain aneurism… please contact at your earliest convenience…

Your eyes sting as they pool with tears and you let out a sob. You hadn’t heard from your mothers sister, Elise for years - decades even. She lived in Texas in a small town called Laredo where she owned a ranch which you visited every summer as a child, but you hadn’t been back there since you were eight. Due to an unfortunate incident involving unsupervised you and one of her horses made sure of that. You play back the memory in your head.

You’d sneaked out the ranch house to brush one of the horses manes while your parents and aunt prepared dinner.

It would be an understatement to say you had been horse mad as a kid; brushing and helping to muck out the three horses your Aunt owned was one of your favourite things about visiting her ranch.

Crossing the yard towards the barn you spotted the neighbours son fixing the fence surrounding the grazing field next to it. You had a silly childhood crush on him though - you couldn’t even remember his name now, but at the time that was also one of your favourite things about being there.

He glanced up at you with a bored expression, and you’d quickly looked away, jutting your chin out and putting your shoulders back, hoping you exuded an air of nonchalant adultness.

Which looks ridiculous on a eight year old kid by the way.

You’d walked through the red barn doors, picking up a soft brush off the shelf and head towards the nearest stall holding your Aunts newest horse; a brown arabian, it’s glossy coat beautiful but unbeknownst to you, the horse still skittish around new people.

The next part gets hazey in your memory.

Flashing images of the horse rearing up, it’s hoof smashing into your arm you’d flung above you in defence. Your scream that brought the neighbours kid running. He’d scooped you up as you whimpered in pain, clutching your arm to your chest, and brings you to the yard where your parents horror stricken faces met you.

The rest you’d pieced together from your parents. They’d been furious. Although not at you, it was your Aunts fault in their eyes. You’d tried to tell them it was you who snuck out, you who had decided to brush the horse; but they wouldn’t listen. After your trip to the hospital where you had acquired a cast due to a broken arm, you stopped by your Aunts ranch.

Your parents had told you to wait in the car while they packed. Not soon after, the front door hand burst back open, your dad dragging your suit cases while your mother had hurled insults at a stricken looking Aunt Elise.

Through the cracked car window you could hear her apologising profusely from her porch steps, but your mother wasn’t listening, slamming the car door shut behind her.

The car wheels kicked up dust and dirt as your dad floored it away from the house and your tearful aunt.

Your last memory is turning to look through the back window, giving Elise a small wave, and her returning one with a sad tear streaked smile.

That was almost 20 years ago now, and you’d always wondered how Aunt Elise was getting on. You wanted to call her over the years to check in, but your mother claimed she didn’t have her number or address anymore, completely cutting her off from your lives.

You’d even managed to get your hands on an American phone book, but it seemed your Aunt wasn’t listed. You gave up after this, hoping she would reach out to you instead, but she never did.

Your heart aches for your Aunt, how abandoned she must have felt- your mother was her only family, and she hadn’t married or any kids as far as you knew.

You look at the contact number for the Law Firm, and your stomach twists into a knot. You’re not sure what to expect, you’d never had to deal with lawyers before - let alone being contacted by them about a death in the family.

You check the time, and it’s almost 2pm, making it almost 8am in Laredo, Texas. Just about the time businesses start to open for the day.

Before you can talk yourself out of it you grab the landline on the side table and punch in the number, nervously twiddling the phone cord around your fingers while you wait for it to connect.

It rings four times, before a bored sounding Latina woman answers.

“Good morning, you’re through to Taylor and Martinez Law Firm, how may I direct your call?”

“Uhhh…” words fail you as you try order your not-quite sober thoughts into a cohesive sentence.

“Hello?“ The woman asks with a sigh.

“Hi!” You cringe at how loud your voice sounds. “My names Y/N, um, I got a letter from you about my Aunt… she’s passed away, and I’m meant to contact you?” You say, swallowing around the lump in your throat from saying it out loud.

“I’ll put you through to Mr Taylor…” She says flatly.

You don’t need to wait long, when a booming Texan accent bursts through the receiver.

“Ms Y/L/N! I’m Mr Taylor, but please, call me Charles, I’m so glad you called, you got my letter, yes? I am so sorry for the loss of your Aunt. Elise was a wonderful woman, wouldn’t take no crap from no one, and ran that ranch as if she was a true Texan!”

You open your mouth to reply but Charles barrels on.

“Now we have some important matters to discuss, with you being her sole beneficiary, and I, as her administration of estate, must start the process of transferring her estates to to your name. I-“

You cut him off, before he can continue his speech, “Woah, I’m sorry, sole beneficiary? Estates…?

“Yes, I’m sure Elise discussed this with you when she was writing her will, but you are the only person she included…“

Your ears begin ringing for the second time that day. Your Aunty Elise had left /everything/ to you??

“I’m sorry,” you say stopping him again, “there must be a mistake, I haven’t seen or spoken to Elise since I was eight! You’re telling me she’s left me everything?”

There’s an uncomfortable silence where you can only hear Charles’ heavy breathing.

“…Well, yes! I have it in black and white in front of me, the ranch is to be yours, along with the house and animals - which the neighbouring ranch owner, Chucho, has been so kind to keep fed and watered till you can get here yourself! Now what’s the earliest you can get a flight over to Laredo?”

You stare at the receiver for a second, trying to wrap your head around this new information, causing it beginning to thump with an early hangover.

“Are you still there, Ms Y/L/N?”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice even and make the snap decision. What’s holding you back anyway?

“Yes I’m here, I’ll need to go to the travel agents about the flight, but… I could get there by the end of the week?”

“Perfect! Please let me know as soon as possible when you will be arriving, and I will prepare the paper work for you to sign. Now not to worry, Elise has left strict instructions to settle any of her debts or outstanding payments before you gain your inheritance. I’ll look forward to hearing from you!”

You barely remember to say goodbye, although the line is already dead by the time you do.

You sit in silence for a minute.

Is this what shock feels like? Because I’m definitely shocked!

The phone is still in your hand and starts that piercing beep when you don’t hang up. You slam it in the cradle before picking it up again and dial your parents number.

Your mother answers. “Hello Y/L/N residents?”

“Mum, it’s me, I have some news about-“

“Oh, darling! I’ve been meaning to call, I bumped into my friend Samantha the other day, you remember her, the one with the limp?”

You do not remember, but that doesn’t matter as your mother continues anyway.

“Well she was telling me about her nephew, who’s recently divorced from his horrid wife, and we thought it would be a charming idea to set you both up! Isn’t that exciting?! I’ve passed on your phone number anyway so you should expect-“

“Yeah, yeah, sure whatever, mum.” You say rolling your eyes. “Listen, I have some news about Aunt Elise. I’m sorry mum… but she’s passed away, I’ve just got off the phone with her lawyer.”

“She was still alive?” Your mother gasps down the phone. “I thought all that fried food they eat over there would of got to her years ago!”

You press your mouth in a hard line, while your mother continues to bitch and make unfair assumptions about her dead sister. You don’t know why you thought she would care after all this time.

“She must of been sitting on a nice sum of money with that ranch of her’s, never had any kids or husband to drain the funds, did the lawyer mention about any inheritance?” Your mother asks hopefully.

Although you hadn’t seen your Aunt since childhood, you still loved her dearly; had always thought it was harsh of your mother to cut her off like that, and you unfortunately knew your parents well enough to know money was always at the top of their list.

“Yes, they did mention it actually, she’s donated everything to charity. I’ve been asked to oversee this and will be travelling to Texas by the end of the week.”

The lie fell easily from your tongue, and you didn’t feel bad for it.

“Oh, well I’m not surprised, she always was selfish my sister.” The disappointment in your mothers voice turns your stomach. “Anyway I better go, I’m meeting your father at the golf club in half an hour…”

You grit out your goodbyes and hang up.

You shouldn’t be surprised at your mothers coldness, she could barely show her only daughter any warmth.

Growing up there was always something to criticise with you, whether it be your fashion choices, weight or the rare boyfriends you bought home, it was never good enough. That’s why you moved as far from the pomp of North London as possible, to the ‘dirty south of the river’ as your mother had let slip once.

Grabbing your jacket and purse, and head towards the door to make the short walk to the travel agents on the high street.

______

You run through Heathrow Airport, dashing and darting between holiday makers, and at one point almost trampled a toddler, his father snatching the child out your way. His face contorting in anger, although you didn’t hear his yelling behind you, instead focused on the airport PA system announcing the last call for your flight.

When you booked the trip at the shabby travel agents, you had to pick your jaw up off the ground at the price. You’d paid it nonetheless, digging into your meagre savings.

When you’d called Charles back to confirm that you would be arriving Friday morning he sounded overjoyed on the phone, but didn’t say much else other than making sure you had the firms address, and wished you a safe flight.

Not knowing what to expect when you arrived you decided to wait till you got to Laredo to book a place to stay.

Back in the airport your gate was in your sights. Sweat was running down your back, and not for the first time today you cursed your clothing choice of a blouse and pencil skirt for restricting your legs. No one was queuing and it was obvious you were the last to board.

You could see the gate staff shrugging their shoulders, hands reaching for the belt barrier as you charged towards them.

“WAAAIT!!” You scream across the terminal, waving your hands that clutched at your boarding pass and passport. Inwardly cringing at what a mad woman you must look as families and business men throw stunned looks your way.

You’re meters from the gate now, and you slow down to a jog as the surprised faced of the gate staff watch you panting for breath towards them.

“I’m…” *gasp* “here…” *gasp*, and you slap your ticket down on the counter.

Other than the disgruntled looks you get from your fellow passengers for being late as you board the plane, the flight is fairly uneventful.

You change at Houston Airport. Thankfully this time with more than enough time to get to the right gate, board your second flight and settle in, only now feeling like you could relax slightly being on the plane bound for Laredo.

_____

You relaxed too soon.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?!” You exclaim to the tired looking airport staff.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we aren’t able to locate your suitcase as it wasn’t checked in on your connecting flight.” The woman behind the desk explains again. “I suggest you call Houston Airport, and they should be able to locate it if it was on your first flight.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “If it was on my first flight?”

The staff member nodded grimly at you, and handed you a card they’d hastily written the number for Houston baggage claim.

Taking the hint of being dismissed, you turn around and with nothing else to do but continue on to Laredo town you head towards the exit.

Luckily you’d also taken a carry on with you, so you had a spare pair of underwear, make up and the contents of your purse on you.

The Texan heat is stifling as you step out the airport, instantly reacquainting you to the sweat patches you gained in your airport sprint back in England.

At least I’m not lugging round a suitcase in this heat - small mercies! You told yourself dryly.

You make your way to the shuttle bus station, double checking the time on the stand. Still five minutes early despite your issues with luggage.

You squeeze into the sliver of shade behind the timetable, desperate for some relief of the heat despite only being subjected to it for mere minutes.

The bus arrives (thankfully) on time. You get on, paying the driver for your ticket and finding a open seat by the window make yourself comfy for the short ride to the centre of Laredo.

Fields and their respective ranches stream by the windows, buildings and small homes slowly taking over the landscape as you near the town.

You pass a lonely rundown motel and bar you would of thought abandoned if it weren’t for the blinking ‘VACANCIES’ sign, and all too soon you were pulling into the bus stand marked as ‘Downtown Laredo’.

You step off, thanking the driver, and pull out the crumpled map you’d picked up in the airport, along with the small notebook you’d scribbled down the address Charles had given you.

It was only a short walk and you found the small red brick building easily enough, located in the middle of the Main Street.

As you head through the door a bell chimes overhead, and you step into a small reception area holding a wooden desk and a bored looking receptionist you guessed was the same you spoke to on the phone.

There are two doors at the back of the room, each marked with a gold name plate of the two Lawyers of the firm, ‘Taylor’ and ‘Martinez’.

You can hear loud but muffled voices coming from behind the one marked ‘Taylor’.

The receptionist greets you with a small smile, and a “How can I help you?”. You introduce yourself, and as the lawyer is evidently engaged, you’re directed to one of the chairs to wait.

You’d not sat for long before the ‘Taylor’ door bursts open, and a woman storms out followed by Mr Taylor himself.

Her pretty face was twisted in a scowl, obviously pissed about something.

She made it about halfway to the door to outside, before turning to face the lawyer who seemed to shrink under her glare.

“This isn’t over, Charles. That ranch is mine! My father had no right selling to that outsider all those years ago, and I want it back!” With that she turns, shooting you daggers before she puts her nose in the air and slams out the exit.

The man is left there, wringing his hands together, looking concerned at the door way the woman just vacated, before he notices you sat in the waiting area. He physically shakes himself, stretches his mouth into a smile, although his forehead is still wrinkled in worry as he turns to you.

“Ms Y/L/N I presume! I’m Charles, glad to see you arrived in Laredo, at last! Please, come through!” He says, ushering you into his office.

Charles takes a seat behind his desk that’s scattered with a number of documents, as you sit in the small chair opposite.

“Now, Y/N, as we discussed on the phone, your Aunt Elise has left you as the sole beneficiary to her estate. This includes the ranch, home and all her belongings on the property, as well as any funds in her bank account. I have the amount here if you would like to see?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you to answer before sliding the piece of paper towards you. You feel your eyes bug out as they fall on the significant amount of money stated at the bottom of the page. Enough that you could wipe your debts, and live a fairly comfortable life.

As you’re staring at the paper in front of you, you can feel Charles start to shuffle in his seat, and clears his throat.

“Before we continue, I must tell you that this money does come with terms that Elise has set. I did try and advise against this but she was insistent. She was requested that you only receive half the money now…”

You raise your eyebrows at this, wondering what sort of terms your Aunt could possibly have.

“… and to receive the full amount, you must stay at the ranch for a minimum of two months, run the ranch, tend the animals, and at the end of this time you will receive the rest of your inheritance, and may do so what you wish with the property.”

You blink at the man opposite you.

“Mr Taylor-“

“Please, call me Charles”

“Charles, I… Elise really left all this to me? And all I need to do is live at the ranch for two months? That’s it? Did she say why?” The questions all come at once.

Charles leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and weaving his fingers together. “Your aunt was well known in this town, there was no denying she loved it, and although kept to herself for the most part was loved by many, but she never married, nor had kids. She did not specify why she has made these terms- and I admit they are a bit strange, however I believe she hopes you’ll fall in love with this place, as she once did.”

You nod, and once again words escape you.

Charles smiled at you kindly, and sits back in his chair.

“Please, take the weekend to decide, come by Monday with your decision. Oh! And before I forget, I have these for you.”

He moves to open one of the draws on his side of the desk, and pulls out a number of different coloured envelopes - there must be at least twenty of them bound together with a plastic band.

You take the stack he hands you, and you peer at the address neatly printed on the front. They all had your name, but with your parents address underneath, each stamped with ‘return to sender’ and your aunts address scribbled on the back.

Opening the envelope on the top of the pile reveals a child’s birthday card of a teddy bear holding a balloon with a number 9 on it. You open the card, already knowing what to expect - it was from your Aunt. She must of sent it the year after your parents had cut your holiday short and decided to stop contact, and it seems she sent one every year after that.

Anger swirls in your gut at your parents who’d evidently kept this from you, who denied you of a relationship you didn’t know you could of had with Elise.

You stuff the pile of cards into your bag, and stand, thanking Charles and telling him you’ll think about your Aunts proposal, and make your exit.

_______

After you’d left Taylor’s and Martinez’s, you’d walked to the cafe a few doors down that you’d spied on the way, ordered a coffee and baguette, and sat with your many thoughts.

It was hard to pin down exactly how you felt after your meeting with Charles, and the jet lag that was finally creeping up on you didn’t help.

You felt sadness for the loss of your Aunt Else, anger at your parents for keeping the cards she’d sent over the years from you, and confusion for what to do about your inheritance. Did you want to stay?

Unfortunately for you, there were more pressing matters, such as where you were going to sleep tonight. Plus you could really do with a shower.

Finishing your drink, you leave the cafe, and consulting your map again you start searching for a hotel.

_____

The sun is at its highest point in the sky now, and as you walk you can feel the heat beaming off the sidewalk.

The first couple hotels you find are nice enough, but all the rooms had been booked out for the weekend. Not letting that deter you, you carry on walking the streets. However each hotel you come to is either fully booked or out of your price range, and with each place you’re turned away from the more disheartened you become.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re fully booked this weekend, down to some festival they’ve put on for the kids.” Says the man behind the desk in a thick Texan accent. “Should’a booked before you came, pretty much everywhere is full!”

“Yeah, no shit.” You mutter, shoulders slumped in defeat, you walk back outside.

There was only one more place in your mind you knew had vacancies - the combined motel and bar you passed on the bus this morning. Although you really didn’t want to go there, there didn’t seem to be much other choice.

With a resigned sigh, you hike your bag up your shoulder, which had felt increasingly heavier from carrying it in the Texan heat, and walk back up the road leading out of town, accepting your fate.

______

Although the outside of the motel wasn’t much, if anything to look at, the inside could of been worse.

The room was small and sparse, but clean as long as you didn’t look too hard, and consisted of a double bed complete with a lumpy mattress, a small box tv, and had its own en-suit.

The decor was dated, with a shag carpet and wall paper you weren’t sure was meant to be brown or had just turned that hue in old age.

After you’d checked in and tipped the clerk, when he’d insisted on taking your bag and showing you to your room, you made use of the old phone on your bedside table to call Houston Airport about your luggage.

They had it, although it would take a few days to arrive, so you gave them the address to the motel and hung up.

After taking a shower, you finally gave in to playing through what you’d learned today with your mind. Thoughts you’d been pushing to the back in your quest to find a place to stay came rushing to the forefront.

Your mother had been lying to you about your aunt all these years. You’d asked for her address many times before you gave up, not knowing that your mother had been writing it on your cards before posting them back to Texas.

You pick up the phone, punching in your parents number. The anger from earlier had come back full force, your stomach knotted into a ball as you listened to the ring.

Your mother answered, “Hello,-“

“Mum, how could you?!” You cut her off, fighting to control the shake in your voice.

“Y/N? What on Earth are you talking about?”

“You’ve had Elise’s address this entire time!” You explode down the phone. “You’ve lied to me for years saying you had no contact!”

Your mother huffs down the phone as if your call is a mild inconvenience, which only gives fuel to your vexed state.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-“

“I’ve seen the cards you’ve been keeping from me, all this time Elise’s tried to contact me, /and you kept them from me!”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t be so dramatic. Yes I’ve sent back some cards over the years, it’s really nothing to get so upset about.”

Your mother actually laughs then, as if you’re just overreacting about something silly. The phone creaks under your grip.

“Some cards?! There are enough here to take us all the way up to my last birthday!” You take a deep breath, and decide for the first time you’re going tell your mother exactly how it is. “I can’t believe how selfish you are- actually no, wait, I can! You left her here to be alone, you cut off any family she had, and you didn’t even care when I told you she was dead! Only thinking of what money you could get from her, you selfish, thoughtless, old woman!”

You hear a gasp of shock before you slam the phone down, knowing calling her old probably offended her above all else.

You pace the small room, trying to quell the adrenaline pumping through you after talking to your mother like that. You’d never so much as spoken back to her, always doing as you’re told, but finally, having your say felt good.

As you pass the window you notice the sun had set while you were in your room, and the lights and blinking neon signs from the bar catches your eye.

A drink is definitely what you need right now.

You grab your room key and head out into the warm night air.

_____

Your heels stick to the wooden floor as you enter the run-down establishment. The other customers scattered around are middle-aged men wearing varying shapes and sizes of moustaches and stetsons.

As you walk towards the bar and perch on one of the cracked red leather stools, you can feel them giving you the side eye to see who the newcomer is before swivelling their eyes back to their pints.

A barmaid stands behind the bar shining glasses, and you catch her attention with a small wave.

“Hey, what can I get ya?” She asks, flashing a warm smile.

Your only goal right now was to drown your thoughts and residual anger as quick as possible, stumble back to your room and pass out.

“Three tequila shots, please” You say.

The barmaid raises her brow, but pours your shots and lines them up in front of you before being called away to another customer.

You down the first shot, barely wincing, and go to take the next one.

“Someone’s had a rough day.” You hear a deep gravely voice say from down the bar.

You glance over to a man sitting three seats down with a measure of whiskey in front of him. He’s wearing a deep red shirt paired with blue jeans, and assessing you with dark brown eyes that matches his wavy hair. His moustached mouth set in a small smirk.

You huff noncommittally, downing your second shot before answering, “Something like that.” You say turning in your seat towards him.

“So what brings a beautiful women to a bar like this? Boyfriend trouble?”

Smooth.

You let out a quick bark of dry laughter, “No boyfriend, try an unbearable mother.”

He nods, eyes unwavering as he stands and slides his whiskey along the bar to the seat next to you, and gestures in a way that asks if he can sit.

“Sure.” You shrug, taking your last shot as he takes a seat on the stool.

Javier pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lights one. “So, your accent tells me you’re not from around here?”

You can feel the tequila starting to take hold now, working quickly on your empty stomach, giving your voice more sass as you smirk back at him. “What are you, a cop?”

He chuckles into his glass as he takes a sip, and repeats your earlier words back to you. “At one point, something like that.”

You can’t help the half smile that twists at the side of your mouth. “No, I’m not from around here, just… visiting.” You say, not wanting to start talking about why exactly you were in Laredo. Besides, you came to the bar to forget, not discuss with a stranger.

“I’m Y/N.” You say, holding out your hand for him to shake, and hoping to direct the conversation away from why you’re in this town.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful face, I‘m Javier.” He grips your hand in his, and you can’t help notice how it dwarfs yours.

“Oh come on, does that usually work on all the girls?” A laugh escapes your lips while bat away his compliments.

A crinkle forms between Javier’s brows for a moment before he shrugs and his face breaks into a full and challenging grin. You note the cute dimple that appears when he does so, and you feel your stomach do a little flip.

“So, Javier, what are you doing here?”

He takes a long pull on his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ash tray in front of him. “Honestly, this is the only place I can drink without the towns people fussing over me.”

You hum, feigning a thoughtful expression, “So, from what you’ve told me so far you’re a local cop celebrity?” He grimaces for a second before you earn another flash of that smile that makes you stomach twist again.

Javier leans towards you, “Careful, or these guys will be bugging me for autographs.” While nodding towards the table of stetsons who obviously couldn’t care less about your conversation, causing you both to break out into laughter.

“Can I get you another drink?” Javier asks nodding at the empty shot glasses in front of you.

You accept, deciding to switch to a vodka soda. The tequila was still buzzing through your system but you could at least sip on this one.

As Javier orders from the bar maid you take in his profile, letting lost in mapping his strong jaw line with your eyes. Suddenly a spark of recognition hits you, but with the drink fogging your brain the thought slips away quickly.

He turns back to you catching you in the act and making a blush creep up your neck.

“So, if you’re just visiting, where are you staying, Y/N?” Javier asks.

You pick up the room key off the bar next to your drink and jiggle it in your hand, “I’m the proud occupant of room 105 in the fine establishment next door.” You say dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hmm, I’ve never had the pleasure, always wondered what inside that place looked like.” His eyes that seemed to darken before you, darting from yours to your lips and back again.

You raise your eyebrows, knowing where this was going, and didn’t want to stop it. It had been a long time since you’d had a man in your bed, and although you’re not the type to make rash decisions there was something about the one in front of you that sparked something in you.

Well this could be interesting…

The bar maid sets your drinks down, and you take a few deep gulps as you decided what you were to do with this information.

With the alcohol aiding your confidence, you hold Javiers gaze with your own, and before you can think of all the reasons not to, say “Well do you want to find out?”

Javier’s eyebrows shoot up at that, a surprised expression crossing over his features before he schools it into another smirk. “Lead the way.”

You each down your drinks and head out the door, only making round the side of the building before you feel his strong hands on your hips. His moustache tickles your neck as he trails soft kisses down it causing you to let out a whimper.

You turn in his arms, entwine your arms around his neck and crash your lips against his, tasting the whiskey and cigarettes. His hands kneed at your hips, his thumbs grazing under the hem of your shirt finding skin.

Javier pulls back, his pupils blown wide find yours. “Fuck, where have you been?”

You kiss him once more, take his hand and lead the way back to your room.

Thanks for reading!

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prof-peach · 3 years ago

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Hi, I know this isn't technically your expertise but anyone else I've tried to ask about this has drawn a complete blank and I'm at a loss. I'm currently challenging the Pokemon League in the Unova region. However, the lower air quality of Castelia City caused my Sirfetch'd's leek to start to wilt. I can tell it's starting to affect his mentality and I'm worried what will happen if it fully wilts. Is there any way to restore it?

It’s this species tradition to retire when their leek sword wilts entirely, it’s pretty common to see in older individuals, but if yours is young, and you otherwise see no issue with them continuing to battle, then you can indeed purchase different leek varieties with different stats and styles. These can come fully grown, usually setting you back quite a bit of money, or you can grow your own for considerably cheaper, though the outcome can be varied depending on the care you can give the plant growing your new leek. Only the finest leeks can become swords for this species, you’ll be looking to buy a prize winner, blue ribbon leek, and it’s not something you the trainer usually picks out. Each sirfetch’d will have various preferences, so let them decide if you choose to purchase a new one. It sounds like you’ll need something tougher, more durable, and perhaps a bit bulkier than your Pokemon was once use to, but it’ll withstand the shoddy air quality due to its thicker layers, and dense structure. You may need to change your training routine to compensate for slightly higher damage, and a little less speed, but this is a small price to pay for gear that can withstand your areas conditions.

A withered leek isn’t the end of the line, sometimes it just happens, especially if the environment around it is too damp or a bit grubby or dark, you said castelia city? Yeah that salt air will be a nightmare for the vegetation. Some times you just get unlucky too, and a bad airborne spore or bacteria settles into a damp crevice, and all of a sudden you have a damaged bit of gear. It’s ok, though the dex likes to state this Pokemon retires when this happens, it doesn’t take into consideration the nature of the individual Pokemon. Some are not ready to give in, and some do not follow the species tradition. It’s up to them, and from the sounds of it, all you gotta do is get a gear upgrade. Chat with local poke centres, farmers, even local garden clubs, people grow these plants to show, not just for sale to trainers, there’s a lot of love for the hobby, so you’re bound to find someone who’s got a few ready to look at.

If this is what you choose to do together, then allow the Pokemon two full weeks of training with the new sword before returning them to a pokeball. This time will bond the new gear to the Pokemon, and you’ll be able to return them both without issue.

While you wait, spend lots of time keeping your buddy’s spirits up, their leek is a very personal item, they’re probably feeling pretty low about it all. Reassuring them that a new one might help, or that perhaps you could grow one together (it would make it all the more special), is a good place to start. You’re their trainer, you’ll know what to say that’ll make them feel much better about this all. They do not sound ready to throw in the towel yet, but that old leek has got to go.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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cerastes · 3 years ago

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Why do you think Doctor is popular amongst AK fans, Drimo? Is it solely because of the typical insert self thing all gacha protags have in common, or is it Being Into War Crimes and Silly Shit? Or a mix of both?

A number of factors, in my opinion.

Arknights is more of a niche game in terms of appeal and presentation when compared (and contrasted) with the rest of the market, and indeed, while it doesn't have the sales of products with potent, established IPs behind them (IE: Fate) or products that have a more mainstream appeal to them (IE: Genshin), it still does pretty well in terms of revenue because it has leaned into its niche and has succeeded in it.

You could consider Doctor a reflection of that design philosophy and output: A good deal of mobile games sort of force the angle of "you are a young person, not an adult yet" to the main character. Or it goes completely unaddressed and people just fill in the blanks however they see fit. With Doctor, the possibility of not being an adult is, well, astronomically low, but never outright impossible. This is not done by assigning an age or age range to the character per se, but rather, because of how the world treats them, and here is where I think Doctor, as a character meant to be our point of view into the world of Arknights, succeeds and ends up more interesting than practically everyone else: Doctor is part of the world's mystique, not a mere visitor to it.

Doctor is not a rando that got pulled into something bigger than them and now has to scramble and make allies to deal with it. Even from second one, when one might get that impression, it's immediately established that Doctor had their hands in the pie since a long time ago, these people aren't just getting to know you now, you are surrounded by a mix of characters that know you closely and others than have heard the stories. Amiya and Ace have already gone through thick and thin with you, Dobermann has only heard you're this absolute monster of a tactician, Scout knows you so well that he can lament what has become of you. Your character, Doctor, is not a visitor, a foreigner, they are, from second one, DEEPLY involved in the overarching story, with ties to several characters from the get go. The way the player is eased into the world from such a character is amnesia, which organically allows you to "relearn" the world, your duties, and what's going on.

The war crimes and silly bits, as you put it, are a big fruit born from the fertile soil detailed above, but it's not the war crimes and silly bits in a vacuum that make Doc universally popular, but rather, the way they are treated as building blocks of an ultimately more important facet of the story: Doctor is in fact part of the world, and not a mere visitor experiencing the world, and they have the characterization, loose as it may be in some regards (the silly bits and the bits open to interpretation) and rigid as it may be in others (the war crimes, the ties to Amiya, Kal'tsit, Flamebringer, W, and other veteran RI personnel, and other such bits that are NOT fully open to interpretation). Few things about Doc are set in stone in a way that you can't do whatever you want with them as a self-insert, while at the same time, there are some things that are inexorably tied to Doctor's role as a character, which are not merely informed, but rather, are built upon and developed constantly, intrinsically and extrinsically. That last bit there might have been confusing, so let me posit an example: If they were merely informed, we'd be told Doctor did some very very bad things in the past, but that's ok! You can be better now! It's the future that matters, we'll change from here on! But it is not merely informed, it is built upon and developed, we're told Doctor did some very bad things, but not to the character directly at first, rather, we hear discussion about Doctor's past, then it's ambiguously suggested to the character proper (usually, it's Kal'tsit that does this) that they were godawful in the past, and no one in earshot really denies it, but they weren't just godawful, they also had some very personable aspects to themselves, such as Scout saying that even after they'd become a beast of logic and warfare that treats the loss of life like a game of chess, Doctor still took time to have a drink with the likes of Scout and Ace, talk with them, hang out, to be supportive to Amiya beyond just the role of a combat commander, and other such things. The war crimes, thus, are not there to just say "Doc was Bad And Cool", it's treated in a tragic, solemn manner that has characters still try to find the good in them, and the effects of which still affect the characters to this day.

Doctor feels much more like a character than the usual self insert without really stripping away the freedom that comes with having a self insert.

To make a comparison, Mr. Sawyer, creator of Fallout: New Vegas, addressed a more self-contained but similar example in a bit of introspection regarding the game, particularly about how people liked Courier Six more in the DLCs rather than the base game. He rationalized that it is because Courier Six in the DLCs has a lot more humanized dialogue that allowed certain things to be set in canon, so long as you said them, about their backstory. Little things, peppered throughout the DLCs, such as having kids or having been to a certain state before coming to the Mojave, as well as far less generic dialogue, such as colorful insults and other such more personable lines of dialogue or expressions of surprise compared to the very bland and direct Courier Six of the main game, whose dialogue they made with the intent of being a blank slate and thus had to be as uncharacterized as possible so people would fill their own blanks. In relation to what we were discussing about Doctor, you could say that Courier Six in the base game feels more like a visitor to the world, while Courier Six in the DLCs feels like they are part of the game mystique and the game world's, like another character in the narrative over whom you have control more than a complete blank slate over which to project into.

The market trend always favors self-inserts, it always has and this likely will never change, especially in anime style games, given the very self-referential nature of media from Japan and its influence in its neighboring countries (such as Arknights in this case, being a game made by a Chinese developer), but one cannot deny the impact and resulting popularity from self-insert characters that are still a part of the world's mystique rather than being mere visitors to it, as this has an audience as well, a specific subset of the self-insert, if you will. I think Doctor belongs in this category, and enjoys the benefits that come with it, thanks to being well written.

#paragon arthur #long post #ended up a bit longer than I wanted but hey #arknights #doctor

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notwiselybuttoowell · 2 years ago

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Celebrating its 75th anniversary this year, the fringe began as an accessible and affordable alternative to the international festival. Today, it still offers the chance to perform every day, to experiment and collaborate. But whereas once you could arrive in Edinburgh with big ideas and little else, many feel the festival now effectively runs a “pay to play” model.

While big-name comedians do perform, the “spirit of the fringe” is about undiscovered acts catching a break. As Jon Richardson told the Guardian in 2019: “I would rather people saw someone new than me doing a show I’ve already done on tour.” Performers attend in the hope of becoming the next Fleabag, Mighty Boosh or Garth Marenghi. But many comedians say the fringe has become more like a corporate festival for established TV names, rather than the showcase of hot new talent it once was.

Tensions peaked earlier this month when it was revealed that this year there would be no fringe app, which is seen as vital in generating on-the-day ticket sales. This prompted more than 1,500 people to sign the Live Comedy Association’s open letter to the Fringe Society, stating: “We feel little has been done to actively improve the fringe experience for participants – and now it’s becoming increasingly difficult to justify the expense of taking part.”

Donagh Horgan, from the University of Strathclyde, has been investigating the fringe as part of European Commission research into the impact of tourism on social exclusion. Researchers conducted focus groups with performers and hospitality workers. The results surprised Horgan: rather than benefit from the festival’s growth, he says, performers have become its main customers. “They are paying for themselves – and putting themselves in unsafe positions. The landlordism has got worse.”

Landlords, including the city’s universities, let out buildings for both performances and accommodation, but no one regulates costs or conditions. “A lot of infrastructure around the fringe,” says Horgan, “happens in the context of low accountability and profit-making.” A 2018 Fringe Society survey found many workers were paid below the minimum wage, while one firm, C Venues, was denied the right to run a university-owned venue in 2019 after allegations of exploitative working practices.

Claire Stone attended the fringe as a director in 2017. When the actor she was working with received rude responses after questioning venue fees, Stone started the Cost of Edinburgh project. “I set it up to ask, ‘What are people paying?’ No one could tell you whether there had been a year-on-year increase in venue fees. There is no oversight. That is problematic. Nobody really knows where the money is going. It’s not going to the performers: very few break even, even fewer will be a huge success.”

Stone conducted a survey of 368 artists in 2018. Nearly three-quarters described the costs of performing at the fringe as unfair. Accommodation and venue were the two biggest expenses, on average totalling over £4,000. Beyond ticket sales, self-funding was the most common way artists covered costs. Participants ended the month with an average £812 loss.

This, said 65%, had a negative impact on wellbeing. Two respondents reported feeling suicidal. “Ultimately,” says Stone, “only certain people can afford to take that risk. You’re not going to get working-class artists taking work to the fringe. Then, because so much work is programmed there, that’s going to have massive impact on industry diversity.”

Jenan Younis, who started doing standup four years ago, thought comedians had to do the fringe to be taken seriously. “I’ve spoken to producers and commissioners, and without thinking twice they say, ‘You must do Edinburgh.’ When I ask why, they can’t give me a good reason.”

It was a daily slog to fill the room and, without industry connections, she felt “lonely” – something other comedians echoed, telling me that being working class, neurodivergent or a non-drinker can also hinder networking. “Long gone are the days where you can go up as a nobody and come out with contacts and opportunities,” says Younis. “There’s a myth around Edinburgh in comedy – that it’s necessary.”

Docksey says the fringe can trap performers in a “weird life cycle” of saving for, performing at, then recovering from the festival. “This year, I don’t have the resources. But also, I didn’t want my whole year to revolve around Edinburgh.” Evans says comedians with day jobs find themselves “saving money and days off for the fringe. The tendrils of Edinburgh go into the rest of your life.”

The Fringe Society unveiled its development goals last month. Among these is the target to be an “equitable fringe”, meaning “who you are and where you are from is not a barrier to attending or performing”. Shona McCarthy, chief executive of the society, tells me: “I don’t disagree with any of the things the artists are saying. It is expensive to stay in Edinburgh. The fringe is a risk.” Making the festival more accessible will require “a massive collective effort”, she adds. The society has lobbied on such issues as exploitative working practices and accommodation costs, leading to some wins – including capping charges for 1,200 rooms for performers at £280 per week.

"The Fringe Society can only do so much,” adds McCarthy. “We’re a small charitable organisation ourselves. The collective Edinburgh festivals are a major global event and I still think that that’s not taken seriously enough.” Whereas the Olympics receive major public investment, that does not happen for the fringe. “People expect us to behave like we’re a curated arts festival with huge amounts of public funding. That’s not what the fringe is.”

Nevertheless, she believes performers can still get a lot out of a fringe run: “It’s still an extraordinary leveller. This is still a festival where people come to be discovered. The fringe does represent a place where people can express themselves freely, among a respectful community. There’s nothing else like it on the planet.” But performers need to understand the costs and risks. “People do have to come into it with eyes wide open and weigh up the risk, because it is not cost-neutral. It’s better for people to make an informed choice and say, ‘I’m not ready’ or ‘This isn’t right for me.’”

Many more individual anecdotes in the link, I've edited for length.

#edinburgh fringe #fringe festival #comedy #british comedy #stand up #entertainment industry #landlords

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ohmygoodnessgraciouss · 4 years ago

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Reality Check - Chapter 2

Oh my Odin! I can not thank you all enough for the love you gave Reality Check’s first chapter. Each and every comment has brought a smile to my face. Thank you so much. Seriously. And I can’t wait for you all to see where this goes. We’re only going up from here on out, so buckle up.

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023. The two bonded over the loss of their partners. It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend. Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be a part of it!): @dpaccione

Missed the first part? Read it here!

Running through the eternal palace halls to hide from the God of Mischief seemed like an impossible task. You had to find a hiding spot soon. Unfortunately, the halls were open wide. The golden pillars were large, and wider than three men, so maybe you had a chance behind them. You could give it a try since you had nothing to lose.

With the book gripped tightly in your hands you ran behind the pillar, leaning your back against it. It wouldn’t be much longer until you could hear his footsteps approaching. As long as you run around the pillar at the right time you should be able to escape him.

His footsteps came rushing towards you and then stopped suddenly. You held in a breath, fearful that he could hear even the slightest noise right now. If there’s one thing you could remember at the palace halls, it’s that a pin dropping could echo through them. You tried it once.

You started to look to the left, taking a glance around the pillar. You didn’t even hear him approaching you from behind. His hands quickly stole the book from your hands as you jumped, turning around faster than lightning to look at him. He was smirking at you. “If you’re going to steal my book, at least don’t get caught walking out the door.”

“Well maybe I wanted to get caught. If I hadn’t, perhaps you would never come out of that library.” You huffed, causing him to laugh.

“Oh come now, I’ve only been in there for a few days. It hasn’t been that long at all.”

“Only a few days? Loki, you’ve been in there for a week. There are three hundred thousand books in that library and I guarantee if anyone has read every single one, it’s you. What are you doing in there?”

“Reading, isn’t it obvious?” You rolled your eyes at the response.

“Why are you shutting everyone out and simply reading all day every day?”

He hesitated before answering you. You knew him well enough by now, after several decades together being each other’s confidant. “It’s nothing.”

“If it were nothing you wouldn’t seem so determined to return to that library as soon as possible. Is it about the coronation?”

“In a way, yes.” He couldn’t lie about the situation to you. If anyone deserved to know the truth it would have been you. “Don’t worry about it, love. There’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.” He said it almost as if he was trying to convince himself that it had no effect either.

“Do you promise there’s nothing on your mind?”

“I promise.”

______

“Are you sure you’re alright, Loki? I’m worried you’re going to make your fingers bleed at this rate,” You said, watching him practice a song on the guitar for the hundredth time in a row.

“I’m 100% sure that I will be fine once I’m able to perfect this song.” You raised an eyebrow at his statement as he tried to restart the song again, this time ending up with a broken string. The canned laughter you heard in the back of your head was (for once) hidden by your own stifled laughter. Loki glared playfully at you.

“This is just a talent show, you know. You don’t have to be incredible. The fact that you’re willing to do this at all is admirable.” You smiled.

“If I’m going to do it I may as well be the best one in it, darling.”

“It’s just a talent show for the children!” You exclaimed, laughing at his ability to make anything a competition.

“And the children deserve only the best.”

“Yes, well I doubt the children will care if you mess up a single note. Your wife, however, will care if you manage to hurt yourself by the end of this.” You walked up to him, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. “How about this? I’ll go down to the store to pick up some new guitar strings for you while you focus on… Anything else.”

He pretended to contemplate it momentarily while you grew impatient. “Well considering I can’t exactly play with a missing string I suppose this will have to do.”

“Alright, Hank Williams, go work on the car or something. I’ll be back before you know it.” You kissed his cheek and walked out of the house. You spun around quickly to see Loki smiling softly at you as you closed the door. Despite the fluttery feeling you had in your chest by his reaction, a sense of dread was quickly replacing it.

You began to walk across your lawn, taking a glance at the neighborhood. It seemed slightly different than yesterday. Newer cars? New designs for your homes? You couldn’t tell exactly, but it was just enough for you to wonder. Maybe you weren’t the most observant person in the world, but you assumed you would be able to take note of someone getting an upgrade on their house.

As you started making your way down the street and to the store, you spotted Agnes across the street with Wanda. It looked like the two were politely chit chatting about something before you saw Dottie walking closer to them. You internally groaned at the idea of having to talk to Dottie. She always seemed pompous and uptight to you. You’ve never had to deal with her face-to-face thankfully, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear about her from neighbors who knew her.

You decided to walk past them, waving to both Wanda and Agnes. Agnes smiled brightly towards you and it almost froze you in place. Agnes out of everyone here frightened you the most. She was too nice, too neighborly. It seemed like all she ever did was try to butt in to everyone’s lives. There was something off about the look in her eyes. She looked at Wanda with an almost kind of sadness when she said something. Wanda seemed to be amused by whatever she had said, so why did Agnes seem so disheartened?

Perhaps it wasn’t your place to ask. You had to get to the store. Talking to Wanda and Agnes could wait.

You walked into the store and were greeted by no one. At least the world was working in your favor for that one, you didn’t have to dodge people left and right just to grab a few things.

As you walked down the seemingly endless aisles of the store you could find a couple people every once in a while. They seemed to be stuck though. They would just stare at a single item as if it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. It sent chills down your spine as you passed by them, not a single word being spoken. You don’t even know who these people were. None of them looked like they wanted to be there.

Fortunately, there was no one in the music section of the store. The section had countless musical instruments including guitars, flutes, and drums. Each one was uniquely designed, with price tags on every single one of them. When you tried to read them, you couldn’t figure out what they were saying. The numbers were blurred and blended in with one another.

Maybe they were removing the tags because there was a sale going on? You looked around for any indication of that and found nothing. Maybe water got on to the tags and the ink leaked, but there was no damage or any sign of a leak anywhere around the store.

That’s when you noticed the bright red guitar pick on a shelf. It was an electric red, far brighter than anything else in the room. You walked towards it, confused by the color. When you picked it up, it slowly lost its color. The red that seemed to radiate off the pick faded until it was a dull grey.

“Excuse me, miss-”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice. You turned towards the man, noticing that he was the one you bumped into only yesterday. Once again his green eyes were what caught your attention. He was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back. “Oh! I’m so sorry, you startled me.” You laughed breathlessly.

He smiled politely. “No, I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just wondering if I could ask you a question or two.”

“Of course you can! Although I believe a proper introduction may be needed beforehand, especially after I ran into you. I’m Y/N,” You held your hand out and smiled.

“I’m-” He stopped himself for a moment before shaking your hand, “I’m Scott.”

“A pleasure to meet you Scott!” You smiled. “It’s nice to know more people around here. Are you new here?”

“Well, it seems like it. I don’t really know if you could call me new to the town though. I just know that I feel out of place here. They all seem to cast me out before I can even have a chance to introduce myself,” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I understand that feeling. Right now it seems like something’s changing around here. I can hardly keep up with it!”

“It’s nice to know I’m not alone then,” He smiled.

“Agreed.” A brief moment of silence was shared before you remembered he wanted to ask something. “So, you said you had a couple questions?”

“Oh yes, but I would prefer if we talked about it outside. The walls have ears around here, you know.” He said it with such a serious tone that you were almost afraid to question him. His eyes held a level of somber that you hadn’t seen in anyone in years. Whatever he wanted to discuss, it had to be something that you wouldn’t forget.

“Who’s going to want to listen to our conversations?” You laughed, attempting to lighten the mood a little.

“You may not want to know.”

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor #avengers #marvel #loki x reader #fluff #angst #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #wandavision spoilers #Reality Check Masterlist #scarlet witch #fanfic #fanfiction #romance

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acandrewswriter · 2 years ago

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Why would you affiliate yourself with Amazon? Is there another place people can buy your books?

Hi disasterhimbo: Because a huge majority of indie LGBTQ authors have little choice but to use Amazon to publish. When you are an indie author, your choices are to go "wide release" through a company like Ingraham Spark (which can theoretically land your book at Barnes and Noble, etc), or to go Amazon exclusive with enrollment in Kindle Unlimited.

Here's the thing: Every author I’m friends with, including quite a few who are making a full-time living writing MM romance and MM fantasy, who has tried wide release has regretted it and gone back to Amazon.

Most books sales these days are ebook sales, and 90% of that market is Amazon. So if you go "wide release," what happens is that you only gain a tiny sliver of marketshare and available audience for your books, but you end up losing out on what turns out to be massively important boosts that Amazon adds to its KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) authors.

Those benefits are:

Higher royalties: Amazon exclusive books earn 70% royalties, as opposed to 35% on Amazon for wide-release books, and much, much lower on other platforms- traditional publishers tend to max out at paying 15% royalties at most. Coupled with Amazon's dominance of the ebook market, that makes wide-release a losing proposition, financially, for any indie author who isn't going to sell millions of books (which is most of us).

Kindle Unlimited: Amazon exclusive content is made available through Kindle Unlimited. Of the thousand or so readers my first book got, 60% of them were on Kindle Unlimited. Without that boost, I would have made even less money on a book I lost money producing. So I would have had 60% fewer readers, and been earning only half the royalty rate.

The effing algorithm: Amazon boosts your sales during the first 90 days of publication by putting your new release higher on search results and category lists. The more sales you make within a short period of time, the more the algorithm boosts the visibility of your book.

It's far more expensive to do wide-release (because, for example, you have to pay out hundreds of dollars to buy ISBN numbers- while Amazon gives them to you for free), and it is never made back in sales (Wide release results in massively lower royalties- a financial loss that is not made up for by the wider release- because Amazon dominates the market). Worse, it is a lot more work to manage- and those of us working full time while trying to write only have so many spoons to go around (especially when we are our own promotion team, our own ARC team, - we are basically doing all the work of a publishing company ourselves).

Even with the support Amazon gives to KDP authors, I'm still not breaking even doing this- I pay out money to produce my books, hire editors so my books aren't awful (dev and copy editing typically costs around $2k dollars), hire out professional artwork for decent covers (around $800), pay sensitivity readers among my beta reading team (again, hundreds of dollars), etc. And none of that covers the costs of promotion, which is the single most expensive thing in the whole process- more than all of the above combined. In short, to have any prayer of breaking even you need higher sales and higher royalties, and Amazon is the single best chance of either.

I am lucky that I have a full time job that pays enough that I can afford to do that (a privilege that too many LGBTQ writers can't afford at all). Until I got a higher-paying position at my workplace just before the pandemic, I couldn't afford to do any of that then either. It was a dream out of reach.

If it weren't for Amazon, these books-and a lot of other excellent indie LGBTQ content- literally wouldn't exist. The cost of publishing would be too high, and the returns too low to offset it (let alone make enough actual profit to make a meager living as a starving writer).

Sure, Amazon is the evil empire- and frankly, it treats its KDP authors in shitty ways a lot of the time (the Amazon marketing platform is a joke, designed to mostly get you to throw your ad money at Amazon while getting almost nothing in return for it- and Amazon frequently jerks authors around without much transparency- we basically can exist as authors only at Amazon's mercy, and that does suck).

That's also why traditional publishers are kind of a joke now- because only the most wildly successful authors stand to gain anything from having a trad publisher (of course, they still have enough clout to “create” wildly successful authors). Small presses force you to do your own promotion (literally, two of my best friends wrote a novel with a trans protagonist published by a Simon and Schuster imprint, and the company did *no promotion at all*, no ARC services, nothing... like, if you are a trad publisher, what's the point of you then? To give an author a lousy 7-15% royalty in exchange for literally nothing except having a publisher's name on spine? wtf?).

Amazon has, smartly and evilly, made itself the only financially viable game in town for niche indie authors.

There are a lot of indie LGBTQ authors on Amazon. A lot of trans authors, queer authors, gay authors, non-binary authors, getting their books published because Amazon/KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) makes it affordable for them to do...

Like most things in the world, Amazon's evil is a mixed bag, and sometimes it's hard to pry apart the good from the bad. Long story short: If you like or want to read more indie LGBTQ books, Amazon is still evil but it’s also your best bet.

#amazon #@disasterhimbo #disasterhimbo

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lis-likes-fics · 4 years ago

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Second Chances (Ending 1)

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Warnings: Mention of death? Sorrow? Idk, what for the second ending. Author’s Note: I got bored and wanted to write something, so, here you go. Prompt comes from @maxkirin. Thanks! :)

~~~~~

"Hey, promise me. Promise me you'll move on."

"You know I can't do that."

"Say you love me. Can you do that, please?"

"You'll get to hear it forever."

"Carlisle, I love yo-"

...

Three years.

It had been three years since he lost her.

Carlisle tried to move on, he did. Losing her was the hardest thing he ever had to experience in his very long life.

His family supported him, they tried to help anyway they could. They were the only reason he was still holding on, they needed him so he would be there for him.

But it wasn't enough to keep him alive. Even his new granddaughter, Renesmee could only bring so much light into his life. Everyone knew of who he lost, everyone knew why the excellent doctor of the town wasn't as radiant as he used to be.

But no one would understand his loss. No one would understand his pain. Even Jasper, who could feel it.

Even now as he drove to work, using the same route he did everyday, he missed her with all of his being. He couldn't help the emptiness that threatened to seep into his skin again as he thought about the times she decided to join him on his way to work. She would claim its "on the way", but she just wanted to spend the morning with him before turning around and heading the complete opposite way to get to her workplace.

He felt like a small smile was supposed to be threatening to creep onto his face, but all he felt like doing was crying at the memory.

All he had to do was tell her that he loved her too. But he didn't, he didn't even get to say that to her before she was gone.

He sucked in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, his eyes scanning through his windshield, glancing over at the trees surrounding the road he drove on alone. His eyes caught onto a strange sign peaking out of the trees. He'd driven down this road hundreds-- thousands of times, and he'd never seen that sign there. He looked closely at it:

"For Sale: Second Chances"

He blinked at it, his brows twitching. Before he could pass the sign, he turned into the strange natural path the sign stood next to, driving into the trees and parking his car. He stepped out, looking down the path.

Carlisle narrowed his eyes, tapping into his hearing to see if he could get a clue as to what this was. He sighed and started walking down the path, extra careful of his surroundings to make sure there wasn't some threat lurking in the shadows.

After walking for a few minutes, he came up on a small shack. There was an open sign hanging on the door spray painted on a piece of wood. The windows were slightly dimmed, but he could see through just fine. There were shelves with empty and filled jars, little boxes, and much more.

He lingered at the door for a moment before opening it and stepping inside. He look around the slightly dusty place with curiosity. What was this place? The items on shelves and sitting on the floor along the walls were strange, but they seemed mundane enough.

"Hello?" He called, filling the silence with his smooth, velvety voice.

An lady peaked her head from a door behind the counter with a smile. She seemed to be in her early forties. She wore a hippie dress, a scarf tied around her head, her lips glossed. Her hair was white, but her skin was a rich, youthful brown. She wore gold hoop earrings, and her hands were decorated with rings. There was an excessive amount of necklaces hanging from her throat, but it somehow worked.

But it was her eyes that caught Carlisle's attention. They held an antiquity to them, like she was older than she looked. But she wasn't a vampire, he knew this.

The woman gave a warm smile, a kind of radiance in it, "Hello, how may I help you?"

He formed the question in his head before saying it out loud, "Who are you?"

She shrugged, her smile never faltering, "Just a shopkeep. Did you come in for our sale?"

Carlisle thought again, he was still confused and curious about everything, so he didn't exactly know how to answer, even with a mind as quick as his. "What is the sale?"

"Our Second Chance Sale," she shopkeep said, tilting her head politely.

"What is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. A second chance. Is that what you are in search of? A second chance?" She asked, fluttering her lashes, folding her hands together in question.

He hesitated, "A second chance at what?"

"You tell me, dear," she shrugged, "What is it you wish to fix?"

There was only one thing that came to mind, one thing that was always on his mind every second of every day. He would trade in his life to make things right. But this could easily just be some cruel joke.

But, if it was, the worse that could come of it would be the painful thought that he could have made things right but didn't.

He gave a nod, "I would save her."

She smiled again, holding her hand out to him, "Give me your hand."

Again, he was hesitant. He didn't know what to trust about this. In fact, he should have just gone to work and avoided the contact at all, but he hadn't. He felt a strange pull to this place, to something within it. Some feeling.

He handed her his hand, laying it in her palm as he held his breath. She looked down at it, flipping it over in his hand to reveal his palm. She looked closely at it for a while, as if seeing something more in the lines and creases than just lines and creases.

She nodded, grabbing a jar off the counter and opening it without breaking eye contact with his palm. She took a handful of the contents of the jar, the unknown powder being sprinkled in his hand and then the excess powder being discarded on the floor with little to no thought from the woman.

Carlisle watched the shopkeep worked as she closed his hand over the strange powder, kneading his fingers into his palm firmly. When she opened his hand again, the powder had completely disappeared. She looked back up at Carlisle and said, "In a few moments, your second chance will present itself to you."

Carlisle spoke, "What is the cost?"

She shrugged, "Whatever comes of it. If you succeed, the cost is your pain. It will disappear and you shall be happy again. However if you fail, the cost is your happiness. It will never be seen again."

Carlisle gave a solemn look, understanding with each second the graveness of the situation. This wasn't just for her, this was for him. He couldn't fail, he couldn't.

She gave him a stern nod before speaking in a firm voice, "Go."

Carlisle's eyes focused on the newspaper in his hands, sat in his home by himself. His children were out hunting, he had stayed back. He looked around, confused and surprised. What had happened?

All he remembered was the shopkeep, how did he end up here?

His phone rang during his quest to understand what was going on. He looked at it and picked it up. 'Alice'

He breathed in deeply before picking up the phone and bringing it to his ear, "Alice?"

Her voice was frantic, disturbed, as she spoke, "Carlisle? Y/N's in danger. She's going to be taken by Victoria."

Carlisle was suddenly hyperaware of everything. Those were the words Alice said to him when he called her that night. This was her second chance.

"How long do I have?" He questioned quickly, already in his car in the garage as he rushed out of the drive.

There was a beat of silence before she answered, "About five minutes. They're at the treaty line."

"Meet us there," Carlisle had no time to elaborate as he hung up, throwing his phone to the seat next to him and rushing to her. He already knew where she was. He'd lived it before. He would not live through what came after again.

He wasted no time in stopping the car with the screech of the wheels against the ground, getting out in no time and seeing the redhead standing with the love of his life. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. He hadn't seen her in so long.

"Y/N," he breathed. If he were capable of it, tears would have sprang to his eyes.

Victoria growled, "It's not as good as Bella, but I'll get to her in time." She was inching over to the edge of the line, closer and closer to the small trench where the river divided the territory.

Carlisle spoke in a demanding voice, "Stop this, Victoria! You won't hurt her."

She redhead sneered, "And why is that?"

"I won't let you, not this time," he muttered the last part mostly to himself. He had his hands held out in front of him.

Y/N looked at him only, her eyes flooded with tears, "Carlisle."

He looked at her, a burning in his throat from sorrow and not hunger. He just needed to save her. "It's okay, my love. You'll be okay."

Victoria yanked her back again, closer towards the edge where she threatened to drop her. Carlisle turned back to Victoria, fury in his eyes that seemed so unnatural on him. She taunted, "Might as well say goodbye."

"Not today," he told her, his tone of voice also sounding foreign on him.

"You made the mistake of keeping her human," Victoria laughed wickedly.

"Hey," Y/N said softly, "Carlisle, look at me."

He did, he would always have his eyes on her as much as he possibly could, especially after losing her for so long. This was his second chance, he would not mess this up.

She, on the other hand, wasn't so confident in making it out alive. She swallowed hard, tears staining her face, "Hey, promise me. Promise me you'll move on."

The words hurt him, they cut like a knife as he heard them again. He would not lose her, he couldn't. Not again.

"I don't have to," he told her just as gently.

She looked him in the eyes with a deepness that touched his soul. How he missed her eyes. "Say you love me. Can you do that, please?"

He nodded, he could do that. "I love you, Y/N," he told her. He hadn't told her this last time. He should have.

She smiled, "I love you, Carlisle."

Carlisle's eyes widened as he reached out as things seemed to move in slow motion, even for him. Victoria scoffed and shifted, moving to throw Y/N over the edge and over where the river was. That's how she died the first time. She'd hit her head on one of the sharp rocks by the river.

But that wouldn't happen again.

Carlisle did something this time that he hadn't done before. He relied on his family for help.

Jasper, at the speed of light, lunged forward and caught Y/N in his arms. He held her close, shielding her head by tucking it in his chest as he curled around her. He fell to the dirt ground, cushioning her fall with his body.

The other siblings appeared from the trees, in hot pursuit of Victoria as she darted the other way for her grand getaway. They ran after her, save for Jasper and Carlisle, who were still with Y/N.

Jasper pulled away from Y/N and Carlisle was by her side in no time, looking over her quickly to make sure she was okay. "Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need help?" He drowned her in questions as he looked her over three hundred times.

Y/N nodded, "Carlisle, I'm fine." She smiled widely, throwing herself in his arms. Carlisle froze for a moment, but not long enough for her to register. She had her arms thrown around her in a flash, holding her a little too tight, afraid that if he let go, it would all end up being some dream.

Tears would have stained his face as well if they were able to. He brought her close, inhaling the scent he missed with all of his being, feeling the body he missed holding. When he allowed himself to pull back enough to see her, he was immediately lost in her eyes and in her smile. He never thought he would see her again, and here she was in his arms.

He captured her lips in his, a searing that rocked his world. It was like gravity didn't exist, like she was the only thing keeping him to the ground. He hadn't felt so free, so alive, in years. It felt like longer. Losing her was the most horrible experience he could ever have gone through.

Y/N was left breathless from the kiss. She giggled lightly, still clearly shaken, "I know you almost lost me, but that was something else. Are you okay?"

She laid a hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, a smile on his face. His face contorted into a look that told her he was wanting to cry. One of his large, cold hands covered hers and held it to his face. "I missed you so much," he whispered, pulling her into another hug he couldn't resist.

"Missed me?" She wondered, confused by his choice of words.

He sighed contently, "I'll explain later. Right now, just...let me hold you."

She wrapped her arms back around him, holding him impossibly close, "Okay. I love you."

If his voice could crack, it would have there as he responded with so much sincerity that the whole world seemed to shake slightly from the truth in his words, "I love you, too. I love you so much, more than anything in this world."

She smiled, kissing his cheek and continuing to hold him.

His children came back, their looks tense and disappointed. Emmett spoke, quite angry from the news, "She got away, jumped over the treaty line."

Carlisle nodded, "I know." But he didn't care. He would later, though. Right now, he would hold the love of his life forever, he would never let her go again.

He got his second chance.

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