#something something Terry sees a better path in Scary

[icy-book]

Something something trans femme Scary finding out Terry Jr used to wear dresses and go by she/her and wear makeup, and only stopped outwardly identifying as a woman because he had to deal with the end of the world and didn't have the energy to keep putting active effort into his gender expression, so just let everyone think he was a guy

[merv606]

“Are there any other details you can give me - so I can have a better idea exactly 🤔”

Well I was thinking pure smut. 😂

But perhaps it could be a cross parallel to Distant Thunder and TKK3 — in that Daniel is visiting in an attempt to reconnect with his estranged father when Terry sees him and takes him.

He at first tries to trick Daniel into going with him but he’s not falling for it. So he has to take him by force.

Like TKK3, Daniel escapes him after a few weeks, finds his way home and tries to forget what happened to him. Calls the cops of course but not much they can do.

It ends with Terry deciding his boy only left because he isn’t made for forest living. So he does something he swore he’d never do: he reintegrates himself into society and city life — just for his boy. Because he won’t let him go.

Turns out he is Terry Silver, the billionaire who went AWOL over ten years ago for reasons no one could figure out.

Imagine Daniel’s shock when he sees an extremely polished and well groomed Terry Silver on the cover of a magazine three years after his ordeal.

Pure smut?! 

What kind of blog and writer do you take me for 😂 

I am shocked and appalled 😳 scandalized even! 

I ended up sticking more to the first? response to the original ask

PS Would love it if there’s a scene in which after being taken Daniel comes to in Terry’s cabin (and bed) dressed only in one of Terrys shirts — with this very large and very scary looking man looming near.

Your idea above was brilliant but nothing was coming to mind but this story did when I looked at the other response.

So I hope this will still suffice.

The weather had come up out of nowhere.

Daniel had wandered off from the path he normally took to find more berries. The yield hadn’t been great this year and the bushes he normally picked form had been cleaned off all viable berries. He had wanted to make more jam upon returning back to their home, perhaps store it for the winter. 

So engrossed in what he was doing, only looking up as the sky suddenly darkened before realizing he had lost his bearings, not entirely sure of where he was or how far off the path. Then the rain had started, and he had become even more disoriented.

This is LONG and NSFW

Quickly becoming soaked to the bone and so very cold. Luckily he found a cave, some shelter from the weather.  

Daniel hoped he would be able to find his way back, once the rain stopped, because no one would be looking for him; no one would know he was missing. His father was off god knows where. Until such a time, when the weather broke enough to venture back out, he sat in the cave, back to the wall, hugging his knees for warmth.

A loud noise wakes him, and he manages to scramble back in enough time to not be crushed by the rocks that fall down, blocking off the front of the cave; blocking off his freedom.

He starts to walk, nothing else to do. He certainly can’t move any of those rocks. Luckily enough, when he reaches the other side of the cave there is a smaller entrance. His luck seems to have run out though as when he edges out and looks down, and what he sees is a sharp embankment down. 

Still, he can’t go back into the cave and hope for another exit. Making it here through the almost pitch dark cave was frightening enough, and painful. He knows he’s covered in bruises from all the falls in the dark. He’s also beyond freezing now, chilled to the very bone, his clothes stuck to him. He realizes now, that maybe the rock slide had been good thing. 

The cold settled into his body, however, proves to be his undoing. His hands and feet are too numb to hold onto anything on his attempt to descend and he quickly looses his footing. 

That turns into falling down the rocky side before hitting his head hard enough that he lies stunned, his ears ringing and eyesight blurry. 

Daniel thinks he sees though, when he looks up, a figure. An extremely tall figure coming down the way he just fell, fast approaching him, and a sort of terror invades his chest, but before he can truly get caught up in it, darkness envelopes him. 

Terry makes his way down quickly - hoping the boy isn’t too hurt. Even from here Terry can see the small body isn’t moving.  

Terry had been out checking traps and while he could tell weather was coming, he too was surprised by how quick it had started, figuring he had more time. 

He had also taken refuge in the cave, although he had come in the back way. When he heard the footsteps reverberating through the cave, getting closer and closer, Terry had hidden out of view, unsure of what was coming, although he could tell the steps were light.

Terry had watched as he made his way out and over the side, and then as the boy lost his footing and fell.

The boy who is currently not moving. Terry bends down, putting a hand under his nose, grateful when he feels faint breath and then checks the pulse.

Steady and sure. Terry is sure he has knocked himself out cold is all, and will wake with a hell of a headache.  

Checking to make sure nothing seems broken or that he’s too injured to move, although it’s not like Terry can leave him out here. If the elements didn’t get him, there were plenty of things out here that would consider him a tasty morsel.   

Terry himself does, just not in the same way. The boy is beautiful, beyond beautiful he realizes now that he can clearly see his face. Terry’s had only himself for company for quite some time, but still, the boy is safe in his hands. 

He let’s out a painful moan when Terry applies pressure to his left wrist so he is extra careful as he easily picks him up, surprised at how little he weighs, cradling him close as he walks back to his cabin as fast as he can without jostling the boy too much. 

They arrive back ar Terry’s cabin. His home. 

First thing is first; his clothes are not only ruined but he’s soaked, and he is freezing cold. 

Sitting him down on a chair in the bedroom, the limp body against his, his face smushed against Terry’s chest as he divests him of his wet clothes. 

Next checking for any cuts or bruises. For that though, Terry moves him onto the bed, laying him there so he can spread out the boy’s arms and legs. 

Bruises cover him, all fresh from the fall, but nothing feels broken when he presses in, just more pained moans. The few cuts he finds aren’t worrisome, save a couple, so he goes outside into his garden picking the right plants to make a a salve - even small cuts can get infections that can turn bad fast. 

Next Terry wraps the wrist. He’s sure it’s not broken just badly sprained. 

Extra blankets from the closet are fetched to help warm him up, Terry tucks him in tight.

Grabbing extra wood, Terry builds the fire in the room, larger than normal before grabbing the rock from under the bed, placing it close to the fire.

Once that’s warm, Terry wraps it in a towel, testing to make sure it isn’t too hot, should he come into contact with it, before placing it on the bed with the boy to help warm him. 

The cabin is well made and insulted, Terry had been the one who built it, but this will help. 

In the next hour Terry comes in twice, checking his fingers and toes. Satisfied by the now healthy pink of them, when before the nail Ed’s had begun to turn blue, he moves the rock from the bed, but keeps the blankets tight to keep the heat in. 

Terry returns to the kitchen to finish the soup he had started. 

Daniel wakes, so damn warm he’s sweating. He tries to move but realizes he’s trapped in the blankets.

Blankets, he thinks. What? He remembers the cave and falling down a hill. Why is he in a bed?

A bed that is also not his. This much he knows, even if the room is dark. The window offers the only small amount of light coming in, although it’s only coming from the moonlight shining in.

The door creeks open slowly, and he holds his breath, wondering if he should feign sleep. 

Now more room light comes from the candle the man is holding, and Daniel can see, from the little light it gives that the man is huge - taking up most of the doorway. 

“Good, you’re awake. I was starting to worry.” Terry had been dozing himself, out in the room, and had heard the noises of someone stirring. 

Daniel really doesn’t know what to say to that except, “where am I?” He hopes he kept his voice steady. Strange men are not to be trusted. 

“My cabin. You had a nasty fall and hit your head. You remember?”

Daniel nods.

“You found me?”

“Yes.”

“And you brought me back here.”

“No one would have survived out there in this. Especially in your condition.”

“Thank you,” he says although still a bit weary. 

Finally managed to have loosened the blankets enough to wriggle himself free enough to sit up he does, although his head swims. 

“Careful now.” The man approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Try not to move so fast.”

“Good advice,” Daniel smiles. He notices then, a too big shirt hanging off him. He’s also pretty sure he has no underwear on. 

“Where are my clothes?”

“Still drying. You were pretty wet and very cold.”

Not like he could be put in the bed wet, he thinks. Still, that means the man …. 

“Are you hungry? There is some soup I can heat.”

He doesn’t think he is, but if on cue, his stomach rumbles at the mention of food.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” 

When he returns however, the boy is asleep, head turned to the side against the pillow he rests on, clutching the blankets to his chest.

Terry fixes the blankets around him more securely, but taking in the sweat of his forehead and flush of his cheeks, removes the extras. 

He stands in the doorway, compelled to watch as the boy’s chest rises and falls. It’s been so long since there has been another body in his bed. So long since he’s held someone, and his arms remember the feel of this beautiful boy in his.

He closes the door gently, only the sound of the click on the still air in the cabin. 

Terry realizes, as he settles back on the couch that he didn’t think to ask the boy’s name. 

——————————

The next day he seems well enough to join Terry for breakfast in the kitchen, and Terry finally introduces himself, learning the boy’s name as well. 

Daniel had tried to put his clothes on that morning but they were ruined from the fall. He ended up wearing some of Terry’s old clothes that he never threw out. 

“Glad I didn’t now,” the older man had remarked laying them down for Daniel. 

So if Daniel even if they are a bit roomy.

“They’ll do until we can you back at least.”

Daniel offers to do the washing up but with his wrist wrapped it would not be wise. He does however dry the dishes, leaving them on the little wooden island for Terry to put away.

Terry pretty much avoids him after, giving him space, sensing he is a bit weary, and that night he shows Daniel how the bedroom door locks from the inside before going to the couch. 

He is far too big for it but insists Daniel take his bed. 

“All we need is for you to hurt your wrist more than it already is.”

The next few days he starts to relax, sensing the genuine kindness in the man. The man always seems to be making himself smaller for Daniel, bending down or leaning close. Trying to make his sheer size less intimidating. 

They chat about their lives and everything in between.

Terry finds out the while still young, the boy is older than Terry had suspected, having just graduated. 

He relays the issues with his father and how while what had happened had brought them together, his father was once more gone for months on end. 

How lonely the time between is for him.

Terry realizes, for the first time, how lonely he too has become. 

The boy brings him company and an easy companionship he told himself he no longer needed, and he dreads already, having to give the boy up. 

Luckily though, the rain doesn’t let up. It hammers the land relentlessly. For days.

The flooding prevents him from returning Daniel back to his home, as promised. There is a river they must cross and it is just not safe. 

In the meantime they fall into a sort of routine. Terry refuses to call it domestic. 

A week passes in this companionable union they have created and Terry finally deems his wrist well enough to undo the bindings. 

Daniel takes more chores on, and insists on taking the couch now that he is, “fully healed.”

Up until now, Terry would not hear tell of Daniel  sleeping anywhere but the bed, no matter how much the boy protested. 

“I’ve been taking your bed from you.”

“You were injured.”

“Well, I’m not now.” He waves his arm in front of the older man’s face. 

Terry gently catches it, putting it to Daniel’s side. 

“I do not mind sleeping out there.”

“Terry would don’t even fit in the thing.”

“Your comfort and continued recuperation are more important.”

“I’m recuperated. We’ve been over this.”

The boy crosses his arms, heavy pout in place on his face and Terry sighs. 

“How about we share?”

Fair enough Daniel thinks. Besides, it would be like when he was younger and his friends were on sleepovers. 

Another week passes and they both go to the river to check it’s progress and Terry can tell the water rose over the embankment and did damage beyond.

When they return home he fishes out the old radio as Daniel starts cutting vegetables they had farmed from Terry’s garden earlier in the day, cleaning the rabbit from his traps as Terry had taught him. 

“What are you doing?” Daniel asks, wiping his hands as he does so. 

“Old radio. Hopefully it still works.”

Terry had given up keeping on top of the news of the nearby town and the world in general. 

He does go into town a couple times a year, to get supplies when necessary. A few pelts of fur and he can easier get what he needs if he cannot obtain it with his own two hands.  sometimes he’ll catch up on the news there but for the most part finds he can no longer be bothered. 

The static crackles as Terry fiddles with the antenna and adjusts the knobs to find the right frequency. Surprising himself that he remembers the right frequency for the local station.

They sit through the music until the news comes on and it is confirmed that the river had flooded the surrounding area and flooded it badly. 

The easiest, and safest route back has been washed out. With summer on its way out, fall fast approaching, and the weather is always colder this deep in the woods, there are no plans to make it passable until after winter.  

“That’s that then,” Daniel says but he won’t meet Terry’s eye.

He returns to the kitchen, and Terry frowns. Daniel has been taking to life out here like a duck to water, Terry was sure of it. But then again, Maybe Terry has been deluding himself about that though.

“Wash up,” Daniel says. “Food’s almost ready.”

They sit in silence for nearly the entire meal. Such an odd thing - Terry can normally not even get a word in edgewise with Daniel around. 

“Are you going to be alright? Your supplies … with me here?” He asks finally breaking that silence. 

“Is that what was bothering you?” He rumbles, relief going through him. It’s not that Daniel is desperate to leave this place, leave Terry. He’s just concerned. 

“Well, you like planning and I sure wasn’t planned for.”

This is true but Terry always over prepares for winter. Better than being under prepared. He learned that the hard way in the beginning. 

“I have more than enough. I will always make sure you have what you need.”

This is also true - the boy has become very important to Terry, and very quickly at that. 

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“Come with me.”

Terry shows him the room off the cabin with a freezer full and then the old root cellar and all the stored food. 

Next is the wood, which, if need be, he could cut more during the winter on those drier days. The drums of gas to run the generator. 

“Truth be told, I’m happy for the company. The winter can be,” he chooses his words carefully, “very lonesome.”

“Well, I can help with that.” Daniel smiles.

Terry knows he can. He has been. Without even knowing it. 

That night, the generator humming in the background, Terry puts some old vinyls on. 

Daniel looks up from his book, one of Terry’s. There is a bookshelf that takes up an entire wall of the cabin. 

“Care for a dance?”

Daniel takes the outstretched hand and they circle the room, not stopping until the record does. 

———————

The next day is Daniel’s first official fishing lesson and with Terry’s help he catches a few. Beaning with pride, Terry loads up their supplies to head back and then a thought hits him.

Just down from the stream is a small pond and Terry quickly stripes off down to his underwear before taking though off, standing fully naked. He notices how quickly Daniel averts his eyes.

“Are you crazy! We’ll freeze.” 

“Trust me.”

Beyond sceptical but he does trust the older man. With his life. Actually, Daniel owes his life to him. 

It’s not like Terry hadn’t seen him in his underwear, but still Daniel feels a bit awkward as he undresses. Something between them has been changing as of late. Something he’s not really sure of. 

When he looks at Terry Daniel feels like he does when he looks at a pretty girl. He may not be very experienced but he’s not ignorant. He’s heard of that sort of thing - men lying with other men. It’s just, he’s never felt it before, and he wonders if it’s just because it’s the only the two of them here. 

Daniel normally takes himself in hand when Terry isn’t around or when he’s cleaning himself up in the bath. He often wonders if Terry is doing the same. 

There has been many mornings when he has woken up in Terry’s arms, feeling how hard Terry is against him. Has maybe wondered what it would be like to push his underwear down and …

Water hits his face, and he hears Terry laugh. “Hurry up.”

Daniel finishes undressing. Unlike Terry, Daniel keeps his underwear on. 

Terry is right. Despite the chill in the air the water is warm. 

“It’s had all summer to heat,” Terry explains, “and the break in the canopy there,” he points up, allows for a lot of sunlight to shine directly down on the water.”

When they get back he shows Daniel how to cut and clean the fish they caught and how to salt some for storage. 

They make a stew, Daniel warming the bread he baked yesterday over the flame of the stove. 

Everything is as it should be when they retire for the night, but a loud knock on the door a few hours later in the dead of night rouses them. 

Well not so much a knock as the clear sounds of someone trying to break in. 

Terry rolls out of bed with ease, grabbing his hunting rifle. 

“Stay here. Close the door and do not come out. No matter what.” Daniel watches the broad back as he goes to their bedroom door. 

“But ….”

“Daniel,” a hand on his face, and for a man that size he is amazed at how damn fast on his feet Terry is. “I need to know you’re safe.”

Sounds of a scuffle, Daniel sits in bed, heart in his throat. 

He can make out, under the moonlight, Terry and another man fighting. Terry has more hunting rifles but they’re kept locked up - with only one always by their bed on Terry’s side. He wonders if …. A gunshot rings loud and clear and Daniel’s word stops. Then, it kicks back into lotion and before he realizes it he’s throwing open the bedroom door, running to the kitchen to grab a knife. 

The sound of the door swinging open, and Daniel turns. 

Standing there in a black tank, blood on his face is Terry. 

Alive.

Alive and unharmed.

Well, mostly, there is also blood coming down his arm.

Daniel drops the knife running to Terry who hold shim close with his other arm.

“Are you okay?” Terry asks and Daniel has to keep from laughing. 

“You’re asking if I’m okay?! You’re the one bleeding. I heard a gunshot. You weren’t shot were you,” small hands pushing up the tank top to check.

“I wasn’t.”

“Your arm?”

“Surface wound. He had a small knife,” Terry reassures. 

“A small knife, yeesh,” Daniel mutters before commanding Terry to, “let me see.” He guides Terry to the kitchen chiar directing him to sit before going to the bathroom to grab their first aid kit.

“All done,” Daniel announces as he cleans up the bloody gauze and everything else he used. 

“Think I’ll live?” He jokes to try and lighten the sudden tension. 

“You might have a scar.”

Tears then and he turns away but he can’t hide the sniffle. 

“Come here. Are you okay?” Terry asks again. 

“Yeah just … I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

Daniel clings to him, his fact in the older man’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. 

“I’d be all alone again,” he whispers. “If something were to happen to you.”

“Would you go back?” Terry finally asking the question. The flood gave them time but Terry has been too afraid to ask, if he wanted to stay here, even if he had sensed this thing forming between them.

“I wouldn’t know how.” Truth is he means that in every way. He physically does not know how and mentally he doesn’t think he could go back. 

He had done everything he was told. Studied his ass off and made valedictorian. Even had a great school lined up but he wasn’t happy. Far from it.

All he felt was lost. 

Here though, here he is happy. Happy in a way he hasn’t been since he was a kid. Happy with this man who at first had terrified him, even if he had been nothing but kind. How wrong he had been and how glad he was that Terry was the one who rescued him. Because now Daniel feels found - like he is where he’s supposed to be. 

“I‘m happy here with you. If you’ll have me.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Daniel surges up, kissing him and Terry freezes. Daniel shrinks back.

“Sorry. Sorry …. I thought ….” Has he fucked this up? Did Terry means as friends? 

But before he can retreat back - run and hide like he wants - the older man growls, grabbing him and Daniel gasps. 

Lifted up, he wraps his legs around Terry, his back hitting the wall as Terry consumes him, his mouth on his. 

He can feel how fucking hard the older man is and okay, they are doing this. 

“Have you ever,” Terry pants, getting his boy’s shirt off. “…. with a man??” His own tank following.

“No, I … never ….”

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.”

“No.”

Terry stops.

“I didn’t mean stop I mean … I’ve never with anyone.” 

A hand grabs his wrist, pinning it above his head, Terry grinding their hips together. Daniel can feel even through Terry’s underwear and pants the bulge. 

Terry gets his pants undone … lining up so both of their swollen lengths rub against each other. 

Daniel gasping, breaking off the kiss to cry out.

“We can go slow,” Terry groans, the boy jolting against the wall and the larger body holding him to it as they continue to writhe and thrust against each other like animals. 

“No. I  don’t want that …. I want you.”

Terry bites down, hips pistoning faster and faster. 

“Oh god …..” Daniel wails as he comes, coating his cock and Terry’s. 

His feet finally touch the ground, the wall keeping him up as Terry takes himself in hand shooting onto Daniel’s smooth stomach.

A finger swipes up through the mess Terry left on him and Daniel brings it to his lips, tasting it. 

“You keep that up and ….”

Terry looks down and the boy is hard again already, although Terry can feel he’s not far behind.

“Wow,” Daniel breathes. “That was ….”

Terry chuckles. “There is more, or course”.

“More?” Daniel parrots. 

Terry nods. 

“Like blowjobs?”

If girls can put a guy’s cock in their mouth Daniel figures so can he. 

“Yes but not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?!!”

“Turn around on your stomach for me.”

He does. 

“There we go.”

Daniel feels two thumbs separate his cheeks and he gasps, hole clenching. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

Terry wanders to their bedroom, returning with the little pot of oil he makes that he uses to keep his hands from drying out and the skin splitting. 

A large hand on his stomach pushing his ass out as Terry sinks back to his knees. 

Terry’s mouth on him there, Daniel moaning like something in heat, pushing his ass back, humping Terry’s face. Daniel is ready to blow another load already, but then a finger slips suddenly in and, “holy fuck what was that,” he shouts coming against the wall without even so much as a hand on his dick.

“That is what will make this worth your while.”

“What? A finger up my ass.”

“No, my cock.”

Daniel looks to Terry’s cock and back to Terry’s face. Then back to his cock. His very well endowed cock. His very well endowed cock which is currently becoming more and more endowed as it hardens up again. 

“Trust me. It may be a bit uncomfortable at first and I shall do everything I can but you’re going to love me inside you. My cock hitting that spot instead,” he says, finger back in prodding that bundle of nerves, his soft cock hanging limo but giving an interested twitch. “Just let me have you, darling. Just tell me yes.”

“Yes,” Daniel moans, unable to agree to anything else with Terry’s finger inside him, fucking him open. It feels too damn good. 

“We need our bed for that.”

Lifted again, Terry carries him the short distance  to their bedroom, never breaking their kiss as he leans over their bed, laying Daniel onto it.

“Hands and knees would be best for your first time.”

“Can I … I want to see your face. Want to see you when you have me like that.”

“Fuck baby,” Terry moans. 

Kisses to distract, wet mouth trailing down a freely offered throat, circling around two small dusky nipples, down down down, taking Daniel’s cock into his mouth while he fingers his ass open. 

One two three and four. 

Each one difficult, each one his boy opening up to accept as gospel; his body reforged for Terry to worship. 

Then, a cock at his entrance instead. 

Terry’s cock pushing inside, fat head breeching his body. 

Terry’s cock slowly but surely opening his ass.

Terry’s cock in a place nothing has been before save his fingers. 

Inch by inch until there is no more to take - every bit of Terry inside Daniel. 

It feels like he’s being spilt it two.

It feels like he’s being hollowed out. His insides rearranged, made to fit for Terry. 

It feels like he can taste Terry is his fucking throat. 

He’s panting like he’s run a mile when he’s just lying there, his legs pressed right to the older man’s side, a large hand holding one of his thighs up. 

“Are you okay?” Terry smooths his other hand down his face.

“Yeah. Just,” he grimaces as the cock shifts inside him.

“I’m pulling out.”

“Don’t you dare. I just need a minute is all.”

Terry cradles his face, his elbows on either side of his head.  

His hole feels stretched too damned wide. 

His body too open. 

The thick cock unrelenting inside him.  There is no where it isn’t filing. It’s all consuming heat and pressure.

“That’s it,” Terry soothes. “Just relax for me. Just like that.”

Daniel  circles his hips at the same time Terry pulls back just a bit, nudging his cock back in and ….. 

Nails racking down his back as Daniel’s eyes roll

back and he screams as the cock nails his spot.

“There we go,” Terry groans. Daniel’s ass fits his cock like a glove but how it responds each time Terry so much as grazes that bundle of nerves is impossibly tight. 

“God you’re so responsive.” 

They lie there, face to face, sharing the same air. 

“Okay … move now,” Daniel says shakily.

Terry does. 

Not pulling back too much, his cock never leaving Daniel’s body - getting him used to it inside him. Terry rutting in. 

“Oh fuck. Right …. right there …. oh fuck,” he chants his ass already blisteningly tight is like a vice on his cock every time he nails his spot. His legs tightening where they squeeze against Terry’s side.    

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

This is sweet agony. 

“Touch yourself.”

Daniel takes himself in hand and he doesn’t even get two full stroke sbefore he’s coming - come hitting his chin and his ass spasms around the iron length inside him.

“So fucking tight,” Terry grits. “I’m going to come in you. Going to ….”

“Yes yes please,” Daniel pleads. “Want to feel it. Want to feel you come in me … how full I’ll be ….”

Terry grabs his hips, a few rough dirty thrusts before he buries himself deep, cock pulsing and throbbing into Daniel, filling his ass with come for the first time, as he begged. 

When he’s finally finished, and his boy is as full as he’ll ever be, Terry pulls out and the wet squelching of his ass as he does is obscene in the quiet of their bedroom.

Terry grabs a washcloth but waits. He wants to see … 

“Is that … is that your come?” Daniel asks, feeling something coming out of him, dripping down. 

“Where else is it going to go?” Terry laughs. 

Terry careful cleans him, inspecting too, the once tiny little hole now gaping obscenely, clearly well used and fucked open. 

“I feel kind of open down there,” Daniel says, frowning. Like he has to clench his ass for it to fully close. It’s not a bad feeling just very unique to how it normally feels. 

“You will for a bit, but don’t worry. It won’t stay like that.”

He makes a noise through his nose as Terry continues. 

“Clench tight.”

 Daniel does and his face burns as what feels like a glob comes out as a result, the fucking noise it makes as it does. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Terry laughs, helping to finger more out. “I won’t always come inside you either. Next time I can put out.” 

“I kind of like it,” Daniel admits. 

No point denying it now. There are no secrets between them. Not since they met it seems. 

“There’s a lot you’re going to like. Trust me.”

He does.

He did.

It’s why they’re here.

Satisfied, Terry gathers Daniel into his arms. 

Glad it was Terry who found him.

Grateful for this life of theirs. 

Knowing Terry is right - there is so much more and he cannot wait to experience it all, with Terry by his side. 

Visual aids

A similar ABO mountain man fill

[thevioletjones]

34 for prompt list thing! 💖

Thanks! 💜

Prompt 4: “I might never get another chance to say this.”

Now to War

Ian understood why Mickey was still in the closet. That was never really the issue. He was aware of the deeply scary, tyrannical nature of Mickey’s father, and how his horrible ways had left a lasting impression that was hard for him to shake. However, Ian had eventually started to feel a burden that he was frankly sick of bearing.

He’d never asked or expected Mickey to openly date him in front of his own family, but he would've appreciated some kind of quiet commitment where maybe they could at least let Ian’s family in on the secret (Lip already knew, but Mickey didn’t know he knew). Ian’s family had always been supportive when it came to Ian’s orientation. He knew they’d be supportive of Mickey too, even if they didn’t fully understand him, or even like him. They just wanted Ian to be happy.

But Mickey couldn’t even give him that much. He still fucked women to please his dad; still worked as his right-hand man doing illegal shit, instead of forging his own path; still stayed under that disgusting, oppressive thumb with no plans to ever get out from under it. Mickey still just didn’t believe that he could do or be anything different; had resigned himself to this depressing fate of constantly repressing himself for the rest of his life.

Ian just couldn’t stomach it anymore. Part of that was selfish, because yeah, he wanted to have a real relationship that wasn’t full of darkness and drama all the time. But the bigger part of it was about how deeply he cared for Mickey. He hated witnessing what he considered Mickey’s slow demise over a long period of time. If Ian couldn’t convince him that he deserved better, then what exactly was he doing sticking by Mickey’s side? He couldn’t just let himself be a doormat and get treated like shit just because he was in lo—no, he had to stop thinking of it that way.

What was done was done, ancient history style. The last time shit had fallen apart and Mickey had kowtowed to his dad, tossing Ian’s heart in a blender in the process, Ian had ended things. For good. Probably. He was as terrible at staying away from Mickey as Mickey was at staying away from him. He couldn’t even count how many times they’d renounced each other at this point, but he was doing what he could to make it stick.

That’s why Ian had to go and force things to be different now. He couldn’t risk just falling back into the same old toxic pattern with his wayward ex. There were so many good qualities in Mickey that no one else really got to see, but at the end of the day, they couldn’t outweigh the bad enough to strike a fair balance when it came to Ian.

So after much consideration of options, Ian had finally done what he’d always intended, professionally speaking, and signed up for the army.

It had been nearly 8 months now. Basic and AIT had gone well, considering all his years of ROTC, and now he was back home for a brief visit before being deployed for the first time. He was excited to finally be fulfilling his lifelong dream of being active military, but if he said he wasn’t nervous as shit too, he’d be lying. There was a definite fear there in the background of his mind, but he’d always kind of lived for danger in a way. He liked conquering it.

He supposed every soldier went off to war thinking they wouldn’t be one of the ones to die or get severely wounded, and maybe he was an idiot for believing it, but despite that inevitable fear, Ian truly knew he’d be okay. He trusted his instincts and reactions to volatile situations (thanks, Gallagher family trauma), so he had to trust himself. Maybe if he believed in the idea of coming out the other side of combat unscathed enough, he would manifest it.

Still, no matter his sixth sense, there was that feeling of wanting to make sure that he left everything in his life back home in a nice, neat place, just in case he was terribly wrong and never set foot back on American soil again. He needed all of his important relationships to be appropriately cemented. It was easy with his family (well, the siblings portion of it, at least), but Mickey was a whole different story.

Despite having broken it off months ago, the idea of leaving that whole thread hanging felt terrifying. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel closure with Mickey, but he had to try. There was a good chance he’d either get mocked, or socked in the face for making overtures, but he had to try anyway.

He felt resolute as he walked toward the Milkovich house, but once it came into view, his insides were consumed with nerves until his gut twisted with the weight of his apprehension.

What if Mickey wasn’t there? What if Terry and a bunch of Mickey’s idiot brothers were laying about? What if Mickey had done the unthinkable and married some random whore so he could pretend he was straight to please his dad? Ian would hope that either Lip or Mandy would’ve informed him of such a development, but since Ian liked to bury things and not talk about them, maybe they’d just decided not to bring it up?

He took a deep breath, muttered, “Fuck it,” to himself, and made his way to the front door. All he could do was try. If Mickey was gone, or had forgotten him, or didn’t care anymore, then he’d just have to accept it and move on.

He gulped thickly as he knocked, hoping that at least Mickey would be the one to answer, and that the ability to form words based on coherent thoughts would manifest as needed.

He steeled himself for whatever might happen, standing with his back straight as an arrow as the door wrenched open.

The moment those ice-blue eyes met his, every single thought flew out of Ian’s head, feeling breathless as blood rushed to his head. Without a doubt, he’d never seen Mickey so surprised before. His ex wasn’t the type to be at a loss for words, but his mouth hung open, and the full irises of his eyes were exposed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there studying each other in silence before Ian gained the courage to speak.

“Hi, Mick.”

“Gallagher.” Clear uncertainty permeated his tone.

“Hope it’s not a bad time. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute?”

Mickey crossed his arms and widened his stance, walls going back up. “Been a long fuckin’ time. What, you find out you got an STD or some shit? Come to do the whole benevolent legal disclosure thing?”

One corner of Ian’s mouth lifted in a sad attempt at amusement. “Nah, nothing like that. Can I come in? Or if someone’s home, we can sit out here I guess.”

Mickey scanned him from head to toe, so Ian took advantage and did the same. “Never known you to come over for a conversation before.”

Ian nodded. “Look, I won’t stay long. I really just have something I need to say. Then, if you never wanna see me again, you won’t. I’d just rather not do it awkwardly standing in the doorway if possible.”

Mickey shrugged and walked into the house, leaving Ian to follow. “Whatever, man. No one else is here right now. Terry’s in the slammer, so he won’t barge in or anything.”

“Cool,” said Ian, closing the door behind him.

Mickey sat down on the couch, but Ian had no idea whether to follow or not. Didn’t know how close to get. He hated feeling so weird around Mickey. In spite of everything, he’d always felt a strange sense of comfort and belonging when they were together. Like he could just be himself. Well, a somewhat ‘withholding of affection’ version of himself, but the rest felt natural.

“You gonna sit the fuck down and spit it out or what?” Mickey demanded.

“Right…” Ian took a seat on the sofa, leaving the entire middle cushion between them. “Uh… I don’t really know where to start now that I’m here.” He chuckled nervously.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you fuckin’ dying or somethin’?”

Ian grimaced, unable to tame that tiny pessimistic molecule inside himself. “No. Well, I hope not. Uh, I enlisted.” He looked up from his lap to gauge Mickey’s reaction, pleased to find his expression slipping into something more serious and less put-upon. “I’ve been away training. Shippin’ out tomorrow. Last night home and all that.”

Mickey exhaled raggedly. “Fuck, Ian. The fuck’d you do that for?”

“You know I’ve always wanted to, Mick. Childhood dream and all that. Finally found a reason to bite the bullet, so to speak.”

Mickey ran a shaky hand over his face, snickering derisively. “Wow. So you came here to tell me you’re runnin’ off to get shot, and that it’s pretty much my fault too? That’s real swell of you, Firecrotch. Real nice.”

Ian shook his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s not a guilt-trip. I just needed you to know, in case…”

“In case what? You don't come back? You fuckin’ die?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Mickey shot to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his black hair, and worrying his pink lip. “So what? Now I'm s'posed to lay awake worryin’ about your stupid, army-go-lucky ass every night? That’s not a fuckin’ guilt-trip?”

“No, Mick, it’s not. It’s not really about you, but I couldn’t just leave without seein’ you again. I miss you, okay? I stand by what I did, leaving… still feels like I had to do it… but that doesn’t just turn the feelings off. I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

“Christ, Ian, what are you talkin’ about? Just stop.”

Ian stood up and walked toward Mickey, forcing him to meet his eye without laying a hand on him. “I won’t. Not this time. I might never get another chance to say this, and it would be great if you could just shut the fuck up for once in your life and listen. I don’t care if you have nothing to say to me in return, okay?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, looking very uncomfortable.

“There's a lotta reasons I left,” Ian continued, “but that doesn’t mean that I wanted to, as much as I needed to. You just never let me tell you what I was feeling. Which is fine. I always knew what you were about, and I know why you’re not out. I didn’t want to punish you, I just had to do it for me. Cuz I can’t live like that—”

“Why are you sayin’ all this shit to me now? It’s in the past.”

“I’m just trying to get to the point, fuck. Maybe I’m rambling. I just mean… I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I have to say it just once, and then I’ll go…” Ian took a deep breath, steadying himself for this ridiculous, sincere proclamation. “Mickey Milkovich, I love you. More than anything. And I’ll be thinkin’ about you while I’m over there. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll fade from your mind soon enough, anyway. But I'll remember you. The good stuff, you know? And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but now you know.”

Ian smiled dimly and put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, giving it a short squeeze. “Maybe this was selfish of me,” he added. “It feels good to get it off my chest, though. I hope you get to live your life the way you should one day, Mick. Just, you know… bein’ yourself. Not pretending. Happy; or something close to it. You deserve it.”

Mickey was as still and silent as a statue, probably completely unequipped to deal with all the shit Ian just threw at him, so Ian patted him on the cheek, moving to walk past. Which was fine. He hadn’t expected much more. The point was that Ian had said what he thought and felt, and now he could take that knowledge with him. Hopefully one day, Mickey would get it. Maybe take Ian’s words to heart. Maybe break away and live his truth in some way. And Ian would find his own path too. He was doing what he could to search for it.

He only made it a couple steps, though, before he felt Mickey’s hand slide around his wrist, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he heard Mickey say softly.

“Don’t what?”

“Just… don’t.”

And then Mickey’s lips were on his for the first time in months, and he couldn’t believe it was happening. His sense memory activated, and he put everything he had into the kiss, in case it was all he got.

It wasn’t all he got, though, because Mickey’s passion matched his own in that moment, and their mutual understanding of each other’s bodies took over. The clothes were coming off before they even made it to the bedroom.

Ian hadn’t expected goodbye sex on his last night in town, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy to receive it… or give it, as it were. What he expected even less than that was Mickey suddenly becoming verbal again.

He was letting him stay the night, and they were practically sharing a pillow, just staring at each other. Not something that had usually been on the menu when they were together.

“Why’d you have to come say all this shit now?” asked Mickey. “When you’re just gonna leave again, maybe for good this time?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you’re good at the army bullshit, alright? I’ve seen you shoot. Seen your nerd-ass training. But no one can control bullets and bombs in a war zone, Gallagher. Plus, even if all goes well, you might still settle down somewhere else, right? Go full army life and live full-time on a base somewhere.”

“Are you saying that if I were here you’d want things to be different?”

Mickey sighed, running a thumb over Ian’s cheek in a way that was almost gentle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Mick—”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do. But…”

“But what?”

“Since we’re talkin’ fuckin’ life and death and all that heavy shit… I should say… that I feel it too.”

“Feel what too?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and smacked Ian’s cheek. “You know what.”

“I really don’t,” said Ian, biting his lip with a mixture of anxiety and glee.

Mickey sighed very loudly, huffing and puffing like saying the actual words would kill him. “I…”

“You?”

“God, I hate you. But I love you. I love your stupid, freckly, gingery ass. And I don’t fuckin’ want you to go off to war, okay?”

Ian’s grin stretched across his entire face. “You mean it?”

“No, I'm fuckin’ lyin’, cuz admitting warm and fuzzies is my favorite sarcastic pastime, asshole.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey tenderly once more. “Will you wait for me?”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face now, dipshit.”

“Will you?”

“Fuck no!”

“Yeah you will.”

“I really won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

“I think we can squeeze a few more in.”

“You got the shittiest timing of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ian shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Gallagher curse.”

“You stupid motherfucker. Better not die.”

When Ian got on the bus the next afternoon, he felt so much lighter. And the future was something that he looked forward to. Whatever came.

[kurtty-drabbles]

The Omen au ( part 12)

N/A: Ok here we go. I have this idea for a while. Mike does not like to be pitied and Hela does not like to be the second-best.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead

When you think of Hela, whatever the reason behind such action may be, the image of the fearsome and powerful God is what comes first and foremost on everyone´s mind. She´s Death, well, one of the Death Gods and is good to never forget where she stays and what she plans to do, however, if you linger on Hela´s image on your mind for much longer, people will realize she´s also a woman and even she is cable of falling in love.

Sadly, she falls for someone that is not the prince Charming and has no interest in bringing the best out of everyone. Hela falls in love with Thanos and a relationship blossom among them, however, Thanos and Hela are far from gone from a happy ending.

Hela arrives in Etheria to see, the love of her life, the one and only Thanos, on his knees proposing to DEATH. The real one. The Outer God of Death who rules over Hela and everyone else.

"THANOS. What the meaning of this?" Hela asked furious seething as her weapon materialized on her hands. DEATH has a blank expression on her human mask and quickly withdraw her hand from Thanos as the mad titan is gazing upon Hela with hate in his eyes.

"You dare to interrupt my propose to DEATH?" and his eyes are glowing and soon fight issues and DEATH is slowly leaving the two face their issues alone.

__________________________________________________________________________

Terry Pryde is sure having a field trip in every meaning of the word as she just rescues a child from an Asgardian´s god and is about to meet her father, Thor, and really, there´s nothing preparing Terry for this meeting.

Clea Strange is with Terry as she gives instructions in regards to the situation. "Remember, keep the child safe and well protected, Thor can´t be here right now for reason I´m not allowed to disclose, however, Thor knows the child is free and now, a real fight will begin with no holdback" Clea concludes thoughtfully and Terry nods until something clicks on her mind.

Veella is sleeping in her arms and Terry can see how malnourish the child is, in fact, it breaks her heart to see such child in this poor condition and makes her think of Kitty and the many what-ifs that plague her mind at night.

"And my daughter? What´s going to happen to her?" Terry asked realizing that if Thor fought Hela...wouldn´t this mean the Ragnarok is close by? Can her daughter survive among this fight? and...what about the world?

"I sense many questions in your soul, Teresa Pryde, and many of those questions will open a dangerous answer for you, however, life is nothing but a path to explore" Clea begins and states. "Your daughter saved the antichrist and many, many people are after said antichrist and soon your daughter will have to make a choice. Either she is on his side or she is against him..."

Terry wants to enter in contact with her daughter asap and consequences to be damned, sadly, Clea is not letting her making this decision.

"Dr Doom and others Avengers are on the make, Terry if you went up there...they´ll kill you and will further their agenda on Kitty Pryde, but, if you truly want to save your daughter, then stay here" Clea warns Terry and the woman is not really listening to such advice.

"Then you´re not a mother, you can´t know...how can you ask me to stay here while my daughter is alone? No, I´ll go after her and ...the rest is not important" for a moment, a very scary one, Terry thought Clea would do something with her. Cast a nasty spell or curse on Terry, instead.

"The portal is open. She´s with the X-men, but, careful Terry, there are forces outside your control manoeuvring everything and there´s no problem in disposing of paws as you...or me"

And off Terry goes to see her only daughter.

________________________________________________________________________

Michael Darkholme spots Kitty leaving the room as Scarlet Witch concluded the lesson of today. Learning seals is quite easy and for some reason, the fact Kitty is learning the very same thing that locked Micahel for so many years is more than enough to make him jittery. And to top this all, Michael does not know Wanda very well and for all intense and purpose she could be badmouthing him to Kitty...and what if she believes.

(Wanda talks to Michael too. Makes questions about his life, his past and Michael can give vague answers out of politeness, but, is tempted to give something worse than vague answers if provoked)

Michael remembers one episode of Hanna Montana where the protagonist corner one of the characters and forced him to confess his feelings about the problem and Michael don´t see anything wrong in this idea.

"Are you having fun with Scarlet Witch?" Michael asked corner Kitty, but, is far from being a frightening image as his hands shiver and his golden eyes look crestfallen. "Are you...Do you prefer to be with her than with me?"

"Michael!" Kitty is a bit peeved about that. "We talked about that. I´m not leaving you..."

"My mother said the same thing and she left on that attic for days" is half a lie, and half the truth and whatever can be used here to make Kitty see his reason is worth. And it works as Kitty stops fuming and looks at him heartbroken by this revelation.

"Michael...I can´t spend 24/7 with you. Yet, this does not mean I think any less of you. Two people don´t need to stay glued together to enjoy each other´s company" she replies and Michael back away.

"I...I don´t want to be back to the attic and I don´t want to be left alone...but, I don´t want you to only pity me, and no, don´t deny it, I know you feel this towards me and I don´t want ...pity" Michael confessed and Kitty nods.

"Ok, no more pity, I can give you friendship if you accept you´re no longer in the attic and will never be there. Also, you should seek help too because you´re still stuck in the attic, at least, mentally and that´s not healthy. Michael, I´m here for you, but, you need to face your own skeleton on the closet and open up to more people" Kitty concludes calmly and Michael nods trying to not cry and Kitty smiles at him.

Kitty is his friend here. She´s not here to fix him(in fact, no Disney Prince ever truly fix a princess.

"I´d not know what to do now..." now, that´s 100% honesty and is a bit ironic that Michael is using this to make sure Kitty won´t leave him alone like he desperately fears.

"You can start by asking yourself: What Michael wants to do now?"

"I...want eat something sweet"

Meanwhile, Wanda watches the scene and has more to tell to Doom as Kitty Pryde is very closer of the antichrist than she imagined. Does Kitty know about what Michael truly is?

__________________________________________________________________________

When Wanda arrives on Doom´s designated location to give the information, Doom is more than happier to take as this will prove to be a key element in his plans. "So, Michael Darkholme is very attuned to this Kitty Pryde..." he trails off much to Wanda´s dismay. "Even better, let´s test their bond. You say the girl cares deeply for him...you think she could love him?"

Wanda pauses for a moment. "Yes, I think so. She does seem to adore him and help him escape from the attic, is a strong possibility" and the why is implied not that she expects an answer.

"Her mother, Teresa Pryde, is going to the mansion via the portal. Clea informed me that will take some time for the dearest mother to find her precious daughter and when it comes down to...will Kitty listens to her dear mother or stay with her newest friend?"

"...will you hurt any of them?" Wanda asked looking at his very soul and Doom is not one to intimidate easily, but, Scarlet Witch has this power.

"Doom has no reason to hurt little girls and their mothers. Whatever she chooses, I´ll not hurt any of them."

"Good...now, the matter of Thor, if comes down to it, I´ll face him down...I´m the strongest avenger after all, but, the Avengers may come after you"

"Wanda, you speak as if I´m not prepared for Thor or any other Avenger or X-men. I´m ready, the question is. Are they ready for Doom?"

[meepmorpperaltiago]

Whatever Happens, We’ll Make It Through

Ok, so this fic pretty much arose from me being an idiot and misreading an anon reply from @fourdrinkamy, where she said that Amy could potentially deliver their baby in the evidence lockup - for a good 20 to 30 seconds I took that literally and that’s where the idea for this fic came from, so thank you so much to both her and the anon for starting this whole thing off. Also, thank you so much to @dancingwithwind for checking over parts of it and for all your advice. Hope you all enjoy it!

From Jake’s analysis, the morning of the 7th annual Halloween Heist seems totally ordinary. He wakes up extra early with a spring in his step, as he’s done every 31st of October since he and Holt made the bet that started it all so long ago.

He eats a breakfast of gummy worms, because Amy’s still asleep and can’t stop him. He showers. He thinks about how much he’ll miss her, like he misses her constantly now that she’s on maternity leave, an ache rising in his chest the minute he steps out the door every time, like a piece of him is missing. He thinks about the next time they’ll go into work together, as parents.

That gets him thinking about their little girl, only a few weeks away from being born and he has to stop while he tears up a little, looking at the newest ultrasound picture that’s been stuck to their fridge since last month. Then Amy gets up and everything gets a little better, like it always does when she’s around.

But then as he’s leaving for work, she tries to follow him out the door.

“Uh, babe, what are you doing?”, he asks tentatively, stepping back into the apartment.

“It’s Halloween”, she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, whilst staying outside of the door and slowly crossing her arms. 

Then Jake has a thought that honestly frightens him a little, considering Amy’s current condition.

“Wait… you’re not planning on competing in the heist this year, are you?”, he asks, the worry in his voice growing. 

He will admit that over the course of Amy’s pregnancy, he’s become maybe just a little bit protective. Ok, he’s become way too overprotective. He knows that it’s started to annoy her more and more over the past few weeks, so he treads lightly with this particular argument.

“Well, yeah I was – do you have a problem with that?”, she asks, with an aggression in her voice that he knows only comes from pregnancy hormones rearing their (slightly scary) head.

“What – ah, no, I just think, that maybe …. possibly it might not…be the best idea, considering…”, he says in a rising tone, nodding towards her bump and then immediately regretting it after the look she gives him.

“Look, it’s not like I’m on bed rest and if anything comes up I’ll just let you know right away”, she says in a gentler tone, reaching out to touch his hoodie affectionately.

“Ok”, he says, going out of the door. “But are you sure that –

“Yes, I’m fine, now let’s go!” she says, with a clenched jaw. Ah, there are those hormones again.

“Wait, Amy what are you doing here?”, Rosa says with a bemused tone the second they get out of the lift.

“I’m here for the heist”, she responds casually, strolling across the Bullpen like nothing is amiss.

“Are you sure that that’s-“ Rosa begins to say, before the force of a small hurricane sweeps past her.

“Amy, what are you doing? You shouldn’t even be here, let alone running around in a heist!” Charles screams with a force and a speed that most wouldn’t even expect from a Terry sized person, let alone a Charles sized person.  

The withering look she gives him makes him quickly stop in his tracks.

“You know, on the other hand, maybe you should be in the heist, maybe it’s not such a bad idea, it might even be good for you to get outside, I’m sure it’ll be fine, I’m sure it’ll be totally fine, it’ll be great, it’ll be-“, he babbles before Jake gives him a signal that clearly means ‘cut it out’.  

“Maybe we should all just head to the briefing room?”, Jake suggests, trying to diffuse the situation before anyone aggravates Amy further. Sometimes it’s best to pick your battles.

“Where’s Terry, by the way?”, he then asks, noticing the Sergeant’s absence now that the tension in the room has faded a little.

“Cagney’s sick and Sharon’s out of town”, Rosa responds casually.

“Ok, so that’s just one less competitor, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool”, he responds as they head into the Bullpen. 

Amy could tell that Jake was relieved when she agreed to team up with him, which was incredibly sweet – but the amount of times she’s had to snap at him that’s she’s fine is starting to get on her nerves. All she wants to do is focus on finding this year’s prize (it’s another crown this time) but it’s hard when all Jake wants to do is check up on her every five seconds.

Being almost 9 months pregnant is difficult enough, without being slowed down constantly by an overly cautious husband, however good his intentions might be. She can also tell that the others are going much easier on the pair of them, even Holt, who often takes the Heist more seriously than any of them. Jake claims it’s an advantage, but she honestly just feels patronised.

When they’re on their way to the evidence room to see if there are any hidden details they might have missed, he asks again and she finally snaps.

“Look I’m fine, I don’t need you to…check up on me like this!”, she exclaims, her hands in the air, the frustration in her tone bursting out from weeks of suppressed irritations and yes, she will admit, hormones.

“Look, babe, I’m sorry, it’s just…”, he sighs, taking her hands in his, “I love you and our baby so much and just the thought of anything bad happening…”

“I know”, she says, her tone growing softer in accordance with his as she steps closer to him, putting their foreheads together as much as she can with her bump in the way.

“But you don’t need to worry. I’m ok. We’re both ok. Like I said this morning, if anything was happening, I’d tell you right away.”

“Hey, you’re a poet and you don’t even know it”, he responds with a smile.

“Really, Peralta? You can’t come up with something more original?”, she says, stepping back and laughing.

“Hey, that line is a classic!”, he responds as they head into the evidence lockup. 

Disappointingly, they fail to find anything, but they’re both in a much better mood as they start to head out of the evidence lockup.

But then Jake accidentally sweeps the door shut. And then he realises that it’s somehow locked itself. The panic starts to set in and increases even more when he hears a cry of pain from inside the room.

“Jake… I think I just had a contraction” 

They say that in significant or traumatic moments, the world slows down. From both sides of the door, both Jake and Amy’s worlds practically screech to a halt when they realise that neither of them can get the door to open. And then Amy’s waters break.

“I would say I told you so, but…”

“Don’t you dare!”, she yells from inside the room as another contraction rips through her.

“Look, it’ll be fine, we’ll just get the maintenance people, they’ll come and take the door down and we’ll go to the hospital”, Jake says, in a surprisingly calm tone.

“Ok, that sounds like a good plan”, she says genuinely starting to feel a little less panicked about this whole situation. 

“Ok, so the maintenance people are on strike and Terry’s not here, so I guess we won’t be able to break the door down”, Jake says, using a too-chilled voice Amy knows Jake only uses when he’s reached maximum stress level.

She feels the panic start to set in, gripping her heart as she desperately tries to think of a way out (both literally and metaphorically). But then she has a thought. She knows it’s insane, she knows it carries a million risks. Heck, probably more than a million. But for now, it’s the only light she can see in the darkness.

“Ok, this might sound like a crazy idea but…I know how to deliver babies, I’ve done it before. If I can’t get out of this room, I could deliver our baby myself?”

“Ames…”

“It might be the only option”, Amy reasons with him.

“Ok”, Jake says, seeing no other choice in front of them.

After making sure that Amy is ok for the moment, Jake goes back upstairs to update the squad on the situation and then heads back down again. When he thought of this day, it’s safe to say that his wife being trapped and alone on the other side of a far too heavy door was not what he had in mind.

Possibilities race through his mind, a million thoughts rush past, each one leaving behind its own painful cuts until he can’t take the pain anymore, until his chest starts to tighten, until he can’t hear anything but his heart thudding in his chest. If the universe isn’t on their side, he could lose one or both of them tonight. And the universe has been so rarely on their side since they met.

Nope, that’s a dark path he doesn’t want to go down. Their past doesn’t matter now. And neither do thoughts of the future. What matters is the present and even if he can’t physically get to Amy, she still needs him. So he goes back down to the door that’s keeping them apart, with as calm and clear a mind as he can manage in the circumstances and asks Amy exactly what she needs.

As the hours tick past, as the gravity of the situation truly hits them, Amy tries to block it all out. The pain coursing through her becoming faster and faster as time goes on, made all the worse as there’s no one to hold her hand. The fear, of the unknown, of her isolation, of what they’ll do if there are complications. The almost eerie silence, the only sound, her one comfort, being Jake’s voice on the other side of the door.

She grips cold metal. She brings to mind everything that she knows, tries to think rationally about what she would do if this was someone else’s baby. She thinks of their daughter, so close to coming into the world. And she thinks of every other moment they’ve had in this very room, thinks of how it’s almost poetic that she’s born here.

Eventually, after hours of hearing Amy’s cries from the other side of the door, of being able to provide nothing but comforting words, Jake hears a different cry and their worlds shift forever.  

When they finally burst the door open, when the paramedics make it through, Jake is the first to rush into the room. In spite of all the people who are now around them, all Jake can see is Amy and the tiny bundle nestled in her arms. Their beautiful, beautiful daughter. He looks at his incredible, strong, brilliant wife, who just did the impossible against all odds, and they share astounded, tearful grins. Their girl is finally here. 

As they sit in the hospital room, still waiting for Amy to be officially cleared to go home, they can’t stop staring at her. Olivia Karen Camila Santiago-Peralta. She has Jake’s curls and eyes and Amy’s nose and mouth and she’s absolutely perfect.

One day, she’ll come back to the room where she came into the world, when her dad just needs to pick up something he left in there before they go home and she’ll have no idea of the dramatic events that transpired just a few years prior. Another day, they’ll tell her (and her brothers) about her memorable entrance into the world and she’ll listen avidly, as if it’s the most exciting book she’s ever read (she’s 100% Jake personality wise, but she still takes after Amy in some ways). One day, she’ll know how much the people staring down at her now love her. But for now she just sleeps in her mothers warm embrace, at the start of everything.

[heartthorned-archive]

( minatozaki sana, cis female, she/her, ace attorney ) * &. i know it must be scary for you, dahlia hawthorne, after not surviving the takeover. to turn into someone like dahlia miyanagi, a twenty-one year-old literature student at ivy university and clerk at the sacred grove, right here in castle town. just remember that you are as charismatic as you are manipulative, and to be wary, be safe, be true to who you are : villainous through and through. ( liv owo whats this )

HOOOO BOY ITS DOLLIE TIME

(suicide, death and murder tw. a lot of murder)

BEFORE CASTLE TOWN.

Yeah i’m too lazy to do this in paragraphs

Dahlia was born into the Fey clan, a family of powerful spirit mediums. Her father was a jeweler, who divorced her mother and took Dahlia and her twin sister Iris with him. He later remarried and Dahlia gained a step-sister, Valerie. Already manipulative and selfish, Dahlia convinced her father to send Iris away to a temple.

Most likely she wasn’t treated very well in this household, as she began to hate her father and started to plot for his money. She used Valerie and Terry Fawles, her tutor that was in love with her, to stage a kidnapping so could steal one of her father’s rare diamonds. She disappeared after this and was presumed dead, while Terry was accused for her ‘murder’.

Five years later Valerie wanted to come clean about the crime; this resulted in Dahlia killing her and pinning the crime on Terry. Mia Fey, his lawyer, was close to proving his innocence; however, Terry committed suicide through poison before it could happen, claiming he promised Dahlia to do so if he ever doubted her innocence, leaving the case unsolved and Dahlia free.

Diego Armando decided to investigated Dahlia on her cases. Scared of being found out, she slipped poison - obtained from her boyfriend, who was a pharmacology student, and put into a bottle necklace -  into his coffee. Diego was put into a coma from the poison, while Dahlia gave away her bottle necklace to Phoenix Wright as a gift of ‘love’ in order to rid of the evidence. 

Dahlia wanted to kill Phoenix so she could get her necklace back, the remaining evidence left that linked her towards her crimes. Iris begged her not to do so, resolving to pretend to be Dahlia and date Phoenix herself in order to try to take the necklace from him.

Iris was unsuccessful, however, and after eight months Dahlia was out of patience. She attempted to kill Phoenix by slipping poison, stolen again from the pharmacology lab of the university, into his cold medicine. Before her plan could come to fruition though, she saw her ex-boyfriend warning Phoenix about her and her stolen poison. She killed her ex and tried to frame Phoenix for the crime; this time, however, she was found out by lawyer Mia Fey (her cousin lmao) and was convicted, sentenced to death.

Five years later she was reunited with her mother, Morgan, in prison. She hatched a plan with Dahlia to kill Mia’s little sister so she could have her revenge, as Mia had already died by that point -

But before this could be executed, and before she could be executed, the takeover happened.

IN CASTLE TOWN.

She didn’t survive the takeover, which... is probably better for everyone.

She’s definitely still dangerous though, and had already committed the very first crime her previous self did - she stole a diamond from her father (with no fake kidnapping), gotten away with it, and ran away to Castle Town to live her own life.

So don’t worry she hasn’t killed anyone

She’s since sold the diamond to fund her life in Castle Town, taking literature in Castle University (which is something she’s genuinely still interested in) and working at the Sacred Grove (she doesn’t need to with her diamond money, but this way it doesn’t seem suspicious that a girl with seemingly no family is living on her own with no issues concerning funds)

Her charisma and acting skills are undeniable, as on the outside people might see her as a timid, weak, but overall very sweet girl - but maybe don’t look at what’s running through her mind.

She is, for now, satisfied with her life - but if someone were to suspect her for her crime, things might... get ugly.

BUT unlike her past self, she’s still! redeemable! no blood on her hands yet! so if anyone’s willing to help this girl back in the straight and narrow path that’d be.... real good. please

and yeah she probably still has butterflies surrounding her wherever she goes, parasol in her hands, the whole deal

[escapefromarchoncastle]

Chapter One – Archon Castle Is Not What It Seems

Terry trudged up the gravel path, already dreading Archon Castle was not going to live up to the promotional material. The ravens and vultures, perched like Halloween ornaments on a sprawling oak tree, looked embarrassingly fake. Bald patches of black plastic gleamed between the glued-on feathers. He should have figured. His parents had warned him. At fifteen, he was no longer a child. It was stupid to believe magic existed outside of camera tricks and CGI. Yet he held onto a fraying thread of hope, the same way he had with Santa Claus each Christmas until he was nearly in middle school.

A caw loud as a falcon’s screech startled him. He stopped at the edge of the trail and gawked up. The blackbirds had come alive. They fluttered their wings, still looking a bit mangy. They stared down at him as if they were sizing up their next meal. Terry continued walking, more slowly now, and glancing over his shoulder at each odd sound in the woods. None of the other hundred-odd kids traipsing along the same trail appeared at all spooked. They all had eager expressions on their faces, eyes wide as if they’d never seen trees in their wild habitat before.

The stone walls of the castle came into view above the canopy of evergreen trees. Terry felt his breath sucking deep into his lungs at the imposing sight. Archon Castle sat atop a black, craggy cliff, menacing and ancient. Clouds had gathered overhead. Mist swirled around. He came around a bend and trail ended at a drawbridge flanked by a pair of watchtowers. The top of a turret beyond had crumbled as if a bad-tempered giant had kicked at it. Even after studying countless pictures online, Terry still found it hard to believe such a castle existed in West Virginia of all places. It looked as though it belonged off the coast of Ireland or had come from another realm.

A large boy bumped against Terry. Terry did his best to ignore him as he bumped against him a second time. Probably Chad. Terry’d noticed him in the parking lot earlier, picking a fight with an Asian boy until his dad called him away. Again he found himself staring at the castle, filled with an uncanny sensation he was being drawn into another time and place. The walls looked so ancient. Rock had crumbled away from the narrow arrow slits. Most of the tiles on top of the watchtowers were cracked or missing. The wooden timbers used for the drawbridge must be over a thousand years old. The trail turned sharply and descended again. The castle was no longer in their view.

“Hey. You.”

Sweat trickled down Terry’s spine as he braved a glance. Chad’s eyes were locked on someone else thankfully, a small blond boy with a bad haircut. Terry froze, unsure what to do. He wasn’t one to take on bullies, but this kid was half Chad's size. Terry's hands curled into fists. His fingers flexed. He used to be the little guy everyone had picked on but he’d grown quite a bit since the seventh grade. Chad wasn’t that big; he could take him. Terry had fantasized, repeatedly, of exactly this scenario where he’d seize the bully by his shoulder, force him around, and land a hard boxer’s punch to knock him out cold.

Paralyzed with indecision, he watched Chad grab onto the boy’s yellow tennis shirt and pull it over his head. The boy went to head-butt him, missed, and plowed into a red-haired girl. Enraged, she let out a shriek and tore at both of them, her fingers like bared claws. Terry ducked away from the melee and stood on the grass verge. He was about to pull Chad off the boy when a man in long black robes fluttered up to them.

“ENOUGH!” the man roared, grabbing Chad by the scruff of his hoodie. “Any more of this and you won’t be wondering whether this castle has a dungeon.”

Chad went pale. His body quivered. Eyes bugged out, he stammered, “Y-y-yeah. S-suh-sir.”

The blond boy pulled his yellow shirt back down, smoothed his hair, and gulped as if he were staring into the face of Death. “I’m sorry mister.”

The scuffle was over. Terry’s chance at a moment of glory had passed. Disappointed and yet also relieved, he secured the strap of his backpack against his shoulder and got back on the gravel trail. The man in black was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. Chad and some of the others craned their heads around, brows furrowed, until someone pointed out a shadow slinking through the trees. The tall dark figure was moving way too fast and smoothly for it to be a person running. Terry's skin flushed with excitement––the man was flying! He was only a foot or two off the ground, but still, he was skimming into the woods like a hovercraft.

The trail veered upward again. Terry wondered if they were ever going to reach the gates. The last he’d glimpsed, the castle had looked so close and now he could see nothing again but pine and fir trees.

“Oh my God, this is Archon Castle?” a girl’s dismayed voice cried somewhere up ahead. “What a dump!”

Terry caught up with her at the top of the hill and stared ahead, dismayed. She wasn’t kidding. To say this castle was in disrepair was like saying a bombed-out ruin just needed a little fixing up. The entire western wall had crumbled to rubble. The castle still looked as if it had been built much earlier than the mid-1800s, and had been under siege for most of it.

He gulped and eyed the sagging roof of the keep. He’d seen abandoned farmhouses in better condition. The gatehouse was even more dilapidated. The tower on the left had partially collapsed. The timbers keeping the tower on the right propped up looked about as sturdy as twigs for a hermit shack. A sewer-like stench wafted into his nostrils. The stink was coming from the swampy, algae-filled moat.

“May I have your attention!” a surly voice called. Different from the one who’d broken up that fight. Everyone huddled together, keeping their distance from the figure in front of the gatehouse. He also wore a black cloak, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. His arms were raised up high so that he formed the shape of a cross. He looked more like the figure of Death than a wizard. All he was missing was a scythe. “Once you have passed onto the grounds of Archon castle, you will be unable to leave before summer end. I strongly advise anyone wishing to turn back, to do so now.”

A boy on Terry’s left raised his hand.

“Yes?”

The boy gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Do we get a refund, sir?”

“NO.”

Terry was torn. All his life he’d dreamt of becoming a wizard. Yet his parents were practical people, who stressed the importance of having a backup plan no matter what dreams you aspired to. Although not quite ready to let go of his childish fantasies, he did have an alternative career in mind. He’d be a journalist. That way if he failed at becoming a wizard this summer, he’d have a good story to write about. His Uncle Pete said the boilerplate non-disclosure form Terry’d had to sign was bull-puckey. If he turned back now, he’d have nothing. He watched Chad whisper to the one asking about the refund.

More loudly Chad said, “Only welfare cases think ten grand is a lot of money. Let’s blow this joint!” Chad patted the boy’s shoulder and the two of them began jogging back down the trail. It figured, bullies were always the biggest wimps. Another two dozen or so followed.

“Good riddance,” a dark haired girl whispered in a singsong voice to no one in particular. “The fewer people who go inside, the higher my own chance of becoming an initiate.”

She had a point. She began striding forward and Terry followed her onto the drawbridge. A sharp, cracking sound sent stabs of terror into his chest as a plank gave way beneath his foot. He stumbled onto a sturdier plank, and stayed put until his heart was no longer pounding against his rib-cage. He looked down. Through a gap between two rotting planks, he could see rusted spikes jutting out of the algae below. He also caught sight of an odd ripple on the surface near a patch of lily pads.

“Oh my, that was close,” the girl said. She, too, was staring down at the spikes. She looked up at Terry, wide-eyed. She grinned, her face flushed with excitement. “We nearly died!”

“Um, yes,” he said for the sake of saying something. He looked up, and immediately regretted doing so. The bottom of the portcullis suspended in the archway he was passing under had spikes like iron teeth about to chomp down on them.

“What are those holes up there?” She pointed at a series of charred holes in the ceiling, each about a foot in diameter.

“Murder holes,” Terry answered. “If invaders managed to storm the gates, soldiers would pour cauldrons of boiling oil onto them.”

“What a way to go!” She made sure to avoid walking directly under any large holes the rest of the way. So did Terry. Archon Castle was definitely creepy—it felt creepy—and not in a good way like a haunted house theme park, but in a bad way like a car following at a walking pace just a few feet behind.

The girl continued along, testing her weight on each plank before stepping onto it fully. Terry followed right behind her. Being heavier, he had to be even more careful going across. He’s already had one break from under him. He glanced over his shoulder and figured they were halfway along. Several had already given and were heading back up the trail.

Terry was tempted to join them. But this might be his only chance to learn any form of magic, the only place that mysterious online message had said it existed. Real magic was supposed to be scary. In the material that had accompanied his application forms, the first line explicitly stated that this camp was not for the faint of heart. And, according to Uncle Pete, the waivers his parents had had to sign assuring Archon Castle LLC that Terry was in good health, were ironclad.

He edged forward, tensing with each step and then breathing a sigh of relief as the boards held. Rusty chains creaked. The drawbridge shuddered beneath his feet. Behind him, a voice called, “Get a move on!” They were raising the bridge already! Terry leapt along the firmest looking planks until he was safely on solid ground again. Others pressed against him as they were herded into a courtyard. The drawbridge was rising more quickly now. He watched at least two dozen kids clamber back over it with the desperation of last-minute Christmas shoppers. Fighting the urge to follow them, he reminded himself that the more people who chickened out, the fewer he’d have to compete with.

The drawbridge closed with a thud. The ground shook like a small earthquake. He even felt that same queer liquid sensation under his feet that he'd experienced back home in California a few times.

Dreading whatever he’d just gotten himself into, he turned to face the castle. And gasped. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and gawked around in amazement. The surrounding buildings now looked as though they’d been created for a theme park they were in such good condition! The massive rectangular keep stood tall and proud, weathered just enough to assure Terry it was nearly two centuries old. The whitewashed plaster on the rambling Tudor-style buildings to his left gleamed in the noonday sun. The earlier decrepitude must have been an illusion to frighten away the weak-willed. Pride swelled him at the thought he may have passed his first test, though it deflated just as quickly.

“Form a line side by side!” a deep voice barked. A hand gripped Terry’s shoulder, icy through the thick fabric of his t-shirt. The man was an Adept, dressed in a crimson silk robe with gold stars embossed along the hem. A shadow fell over Terry and cool, slippery fabric slid down over his head and arms. He was then jerked around and shoved next to a girl in a light blue robe. The same dark-haired girl who’d been in front of him as they crossed the drawbridge. Terry looked down to see he was now wearing a similar robe.

“Why does it have to be blue?” she mumbled, bunching the fabric in her fists. On her feet she wore a pair of pink and white polka dot flip flops. “Blue is a boy’s colour.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Terry said. “My sister’s favourite colour is a light—”

“QUIET!” the same Adept who’d grabbed his shoulder yelled. “Everyone form a line.”

Terry stood behind the girl. The Adept snatched his shoulders again and made him stand next to her. “A side by side line.”

“Wouldn’t that be a row?” She jerked back as if she’d been slapped across her face, yet the Adept’s hand hadn’t moved anywhere near her. She scowled, rubbed her cheek, and glowered at Terry.

“It wasn’t me.” Terry waited until the Adept was out of earshot. “I think he used his Astral hand on you.” He tried to remember what else he’d read about Astral combat. Everything he’d brushed up on the past few weeks was beginning to blur.

“This place is awfully sexist,” she whispered and Terry nodded. Whenever that word came up he’d been trained from early childhood to nod and say nothing. “I only see ten other girls here. Fifteen at most. Though you did make a good point about blue. Cerulean is a lovely shade. And so is lapis lazuli.”

Already she was getting on his nerves. Hoping she’d take a hint, Terry fixed his gaze at the row of Adepts assembling across from them. They stood at the base of a square stone tower that dwarfed everyone in the courtyard. A portly Master Adept, in a burgundy robe covered in gold and black squiggly marks, stepped forward. He pulled back his hood. He had jowls like a St. Bernard and wisps of white hair sprung from his head in a feathery crown. “Welcome to Wizard Camp,” he said. His voice sounded like a bulldozer with engine trouble. “As you may already be aware, I am Quindalore the Querulous, Learned Master Adept of the Order of Nine.”

An Adept behind Quindalore coughed lightly into his fist. According to Archon Castle’s own website, the Order of Nine was down to seven. The fate of the missing two was unknown. According to a thread on the unofficial Archon Castle forum, one of the Order had ascended into a Being of Pure Light and Energy, while another claimed he’d run off with an underage neophyte. Terry knew what underage implied, but not neophyte, though he assumed it was equally as lurid.

“Presently,” Master Adept Quindalore said, “there are a hundred and six of you joining us today, of which three will be invited to become Initiates. Initiation is the first step on the path to becoming a wizard proper. Sixty-eight of you, so far, turned back at the drawbridge.”

Everyone chuckled uncomfortably like someone had just farted during a funeral speech. Terry glanced around, dismayed. With everyone massed together, he realised how terrible his odds actually were. Roughly two percent. Then again, if everyone was able to grasp the true odds of success in any endeavour, no one would take risks.

Quindalore continued, “During the next two months you will learn basic spell casting, rune reading, dowsing and divining, and, before anyone asks, there will be no handling any wands.”

“Do we get to summon demons?” a voice piped up. A boy around ten or eleven, with a blond pudding bowl haircut, grinned eagerly. The collar of his canary-yellow t-shirt poked from under his blue robe. The boy Chad had been bullying.

“NO!” There wasn’t much force behind Quindalore’s voice, but the volume was deafening.

Terry gulped. He had questions, loads of questions, and decided it would be wiser to let other kids do the asking.

“For the time being you will each be assigned a group number. The Adept in charge of your group will show you to your sleeping quarters. We will meet back here in precisely half an hour for your orienteering session.”

Orienteering session didn’t sound frightening; it was the sort of thing his dad did for a living. But it was the way Quindalore had said it that made the hairs of his arms stand on end.

The poppy-robed Adepts split apart. They each carried an iron cauldron hanging from the crooks of their arms with the ease of an empty picnic basket. Super-human strength would be cool to learn, Terry thought. His parents had bought him a weight set, but he kept forgetting to use them.

The Adepts proceeded to take slips of paper out from their cauldrons, pinning one to each of the blue robes nearest them.

“I wonder how they select us,” the girl next to Terry said. “We’re being assigned different numbers.” She had fine brownish-black hair that went past her shoulders and a nearly perfect profile. He hated when he noticed such things in a girl. Especially ones who got on his nerves.

Leaning close enough for him to smell the strawberry scent of her hair, she rasped, “Matching vibrational energy, do you think? Or maybe they can see auras in broad daylight!”

Terry said nothing. He had no idea what vibrational energy involved and didn’t want her thinking he was stupid. Besides, he doubted there was any deliberate selection process at all. Each adept was speeding through with the efficiency of a factory production line. Once they were done, Terry and the girl looked down, then they looked at each other.

“We’ve been assigned the same number. But it had been different Adepts who had …” She stared off, as if she’d seen the first crack in what she’d always thought was solid ground beneath her feet and was afraid to check if it was widening. Terry didn’t care; he was just happy he’d been assigned a lucky number. Nothing was luckier than seven, surely.

“Number sevens, follow me!” A female adept with close-set eyes signalled to them and marched towards a set of low stone buildings beyond the square tower. A couple of reddish horses with black manes were tied to a post near the side entrance. One of them snorted and stamped its hoof as Terry filed after the other twenty-odd kids into the building. The coolness after the hot noonday sun was refreshing but inside it was damp, dark, and reeked of manure.

They were led past a maze of horse stalls into a large, rectangular room with stone walls and a peaked wood ceiling. Sunlight slanted in through high, small windows, giving the place a subterranean feel. Here the stench of manure wasn't as overpowering, more like a room where people had been smoking cigars the night before and figured opening one window a crack was enough to air the place out. The stink was bearable.

The Adept turned on a switch next to the entrance. Floodlights attached to the wooden beams above flickered as if each of them wanted to keep hitting the snooze button before finally getting up and doing their job of illuminating the room.

“Oh no,” Terry said in a hushed voice as he looked around. Surely their beds weren't going to be ... blankets on top of bales of straw? He already knew he'd be sleeping in far less comfort than he was accustomed to. It wasn’t canopied feather beds he’d been expecting. But he was positive one of the online pictures had showed rows of hammocks, and in another he’d seen cosy little cots similar to ones in his grandfather’s summer cottage. These accommodations were what tourist brochures worldwide described as rustic, looking wonderfully quaint until you got there and discovered half the walls were missing.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Unlike after the drawbridge had closed, nothing changed. All the beds consisted of three bales of straw secured together with thick twine. A pair of scratchy-looking burlap blankets lay folded on top of each one. At the foot of each––he was loath to call them beds––was a slab of rough wood. No pillow, no storage box, and what if it got cold at night?

"No pillows?" the girl next to him whined.

The Adept traced a vaguely figure eight symbol in the air with her index finger.

"ALL RIGHT THEN," her voice boomed, shaking the rafters. She traced something else in the air and more quietly said, "One cot per person. Later this afternoon, leftover apple crates will be arriving for you to store your things in."

The same boy who'd asked about Demon summoning went up to her. "Which one's mine?"

"Any of them—just choose one per person," she said in the same irritated tone of voice his sister would use whenever she was waiting for some boy to call her back. “You neophytes get worse every year, I swear.”

A memory sprung up in Terry’s mind like a jack-in-the-box head popping out of its compartment. Of course, a neophyte was the level below Initiate. There were several other ranks above that. Junior Adept, Adept and Senior Adept followed, then onto more complex, important-sounding titles that rivalled those of a large bank or advertising firm.

“What’s your name?” the same boy asked. The pudding bowl haircut made him immune to non-verbal cues that would terrify other kids, Terry reckoned. With hair like that, he’d probably grown a very thick skin. If the school he went to was anywhere like Rosedale High, he’d need it.

“My friends, my parents, and my mentors, call me Natasha,” the Adept said, her shadow growing into that of a giant behind her. “To you, my little worm, I am Miss Huston. Don’t. Wear. It out.”

He quivered away from her.

Everyone else stood frozen like pieces on a chessboard. Seeing his chance at securing the best spot, Terry dodged around to the bundle of straw in the farthest corner. The rest elbowed their ways towards the remaining corners. Guarding his makeshift bed, Terry watched a fight break out on the opposite side of the room. A wiry boy was trying to push a larger boy off the spot he’d staked out. Terry sat to watch. He quite enjoyed fights, so long as he wasn’t involved in one himself.

The bigger boy held the other one away with his rod-straight arm, his body well out of range of the flailing fists. “Get lost, Mark—I was here first!” He ducked, sending Mark pitching forward. Before Mark could recover his balance another boy lunged at him, scrabbling at his shoulder and trying to get him into a choke-hold. Miss Huston waved her arms and the three of them flew apart from each other like exploding shrapnel.

Miss Huston addressed the quarreling boys. Her smile had a lot of teeth for someone with such a small mouth. “There’s nothing in the rules saying the two of you can’t share a bed. We wizards are very enlightened as far as romantic preferences go.”

“It's yours, cry-baby.” Mark gave the smaller boy a shove, then went to the cot in the remaining corner and pushed that kid out from it. Miss Huston watched, but said nothing.

"Miss," the girl with pink flip-flops said, tugging Miss Huston’s sleeve.

"What is it?" She wheeled around and glared at her as if the girl had just smeared mud on her nice crimson robe.

"Where are the girls supposed to go?"

"Wherever! It says dorms are co-ed right in the brochure! We do not assume gender at Archon Castle. We're very progressive here. At sixteen surely you're old enough to have acquired immunity to boy germs."

The girl swallowed and stared around, her gaze passing Terry without a glimmer of expectation. He wasn’t relieved though; he felt sad for her. Four other girls had chosen spots next to each other on the far side of the room from him, and they glared at her in that way girls glare at anyone who Does Not Belong. Mean girls, like his sister and her friends. The place next to Terry was still empty, so he rose and gestured at the spot he’d staked out. How could he not offer it under the circumstances. "You can stay here if you want. I ... I have a sister so ... I’m already used to …"

She kept her head bowed and went to stand on the far side of the one next to his, meeting his chivalric gesture halfway. He tossed his backpack into the corner and sat again.

"I'll leave you to settle in. We will meet back in the courtyard in twenty-five minutes, where you will be given your very first lesson. In alchemy," Miss Huston said, and left.

Terry’s burning excitement at the sound of the word alchemy was doused by the sight of the girl sitting on the edge of the bed next to his, facing away from him and sobbing. Crying was always more painful to watch when all you could see was their back and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, head turned down.

"I’m Terry. What's your name?" he asked softly. Across from them the other girls were snickering and whispering, hands shielding mouths, eyes wild with malice.

She sniffled. "Katya," she said at last.

"That's a nice name," he said, again for the sake of something to say. There wasn't much a bully could do with a name like that. It didn't rhyme with anything nasty like Terry Fairy or hairy Terry. The worst they could do was Fatya, but she was too slim for that to work as an insult.

She didn't respond, not that he had expected her too. It would be rude to ask her to stop crying, so he turned his attention to spreading the thin blankets out on top the bales. He lay down and bits of straw prodded his neck and ankles. Thankfully the robe’s fabric was thick. In half an hour he’d be learning his first ever magic. Alchemy. He imagined a laboratory full of bubbling beakers and alembics, watching in awe as mysterious steaming substances flowed through networks of glass pipes into copper stills. Alchemy.

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading. I really appreciate it. 

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Bit of a longer chapter here, and some family fluff time up at Lallybroch. hope you enjoy

Chapter 24: A Fanciful Hallowe’en

‘Excuse me,’ said Granny, empowering the words with much the same undertones as are carried by words like ‘Charge!’ and ‘Kill!’, ‘Excuse me, but does this pointy hat I’m wearing mean anything to you?’ - Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Brian Fraser had always been keen on traditions. Not just maintaining those established by his ancestors but also in creating his own. Which was why, when Jenny and Jamie were very small, Brian and Ellen launched the annual Samhain festivities for the Broch Tuarach Distillery employees and their families. Over the years it had grown into an amalgamation of traditional Hallowe’en, with children’s scary costumes, carved pumpkins and plenty of sweet treats, and Bonfire night, with sausages and baked potatoes, treacle toffee and a grand firework display. As the distillery grew, so did the party. It was still held at Lallybroch, but had outgrown the house and now required a marquee and a couple of portaloos.

Brian always insisted that his family attend this event. Originally hosted by Ellen and Brian, Jenny and Jamie, always suitably costumed, now assisted in the duty. Murtagh lurked on the periphery, choosing a less visible role - changing the beer barrels, replenishing the platters of food and deep bowls of sweets, and providing mugs of coffee and glasses of water to those who had overindulged.

Jamie had driven up to Lallybroch the day before the party on his own. Claire was still at the hospital when he set off, unable to change her rota, but was planning on getting the train to Inverness the next day, where Jamie would meet her.

Jenny was already in the kitchen when Jamie arrived. Maggie was contentedly asleep in her arms as Jenny adjusted the buttons on her shirt. Jamie took Maggie from her and settled himself in the old rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Where is everyone?” he asked.

“Och, they’re all admiring Wee Jamie’s costume.” Jenny yawned and stretched. “Spider-Man, of course. Have ye got yers sorted? Does Claire ken she’s expected tae dress up too?”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded as Maggie roused slightly and grabbed his finger, pulling it to her mouth. “Clean hands, by the way.”

Jenny gazed at her brother who, having reclaimed his finger, was now busy blowing soft raspberries against his niece’s cheeks. “That suits ye, bràthair. Seein’ ye fussin’ over a wee bairn. I still canna say I’m thrilled about Geneva, but I’m lookin’ forward tae times here wi’ yer wee lad. What’s the latest, anyway? How’s Madam doin’?”

Before Jamie could answer, the sound of footsteps along the stone corridor heralded the arrival of Wee Jamie, closely followed by Ian and Brian. Wee Jamie rushed to greet his uncle, only hesitating slightly when he noticed Maggie in Jamie’s arms. Jamie shuffled Maggie to one side, allowing his nephew to clamber onto his other knee.

“Unca,” Wee Jamie cried happily, his fingers rubbing back and forth against the bristles on Jamie’s jawline. “‘S party tomorrow. What’s ye wearin’? Mine is secret. I’m gonna have sweeties and pop and play games and stay up till verra, verra late. Aren’t I, Mam?”

“Aye, weel, only if ye go tae bed nicely tonight. Come on now, say goodnight tae everyone. I’ll take ye and Maggie up the wooden hills tae Bedfordshire.”

With great dramatic rolling of eyes and dragging of feet, Wee Jamie reluctantly allowed his mother to lead him to bed, all the while moaning to himself. “I’m no’ tired… and I’m a big boy… I dinna go tae bed when a baby does.”

The sounds of the little lad complaining about his bedtime faded away as Brian fetched the whisky and glasses and placed them on the kitchen table.

******

Jamie, Ian, Brian and Murtagh sat round the table, each with a glass in hand listening to the battle coming through the baby monitor. Jamie looked over at Ian.

“D’ye think one of us should go and give Jenny a hand?” he asked, concerned, as a spirited ‘nooo’ sounded round the room.

“Och no,” Ian took a sip of his whisky. “Jenny has it all in hand. Jes’ wait, here it comes.”

Jenny’s stern voice came through the baby monitor, raised to speak over the whining of her son. “James Ian Brian Murray, if ye dinna settle down this instant, there will be no sweeties, no pop, no party and absolutely no Spider-Man for ye, do ye understand?”

Immediately the monitor grew quiet, then Jenny continued. “And as I ken yer da, grandda, uncle and Murtagh are all listening in, there’d better be a wee nip down there waiting fer me. Now goodnight, Jamie lad. See ye tomorrow.”

******

As requested, a whisky was waiting on the table for Jenny’s arrival. She settled herself, took a large sip, then addressed her brother, picking up the conversation from an hour before.

“So, Jamie, ye were about tae tell me how it goes wi’ Geneva?”

“Ah, the pregnancy is goin’ fine, seems tae be. Geneva herself, that’s another matter.”

Jenny and Murtagh made snorting sounds in unison. Brian moved his chair closer to his son and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“And yes, Janet Ellen Murray née Fraser, ye dinna have tae remind me of what ye said. I ken.” Jamie managed to raise a smile, contemplating the recent antics of the Dunsany family. “I had a wee chat with Geneva after Angus’ weddin’. Made it clear…”

“Agin!” Jenny muttered under her breath.

“Alright, Jenny, agin, aye, that we willna be together. I’m still no’ sure how much went intae her head though. Seems she wanted us tae have a gender reveal party together.”

A look of scorn came over Murtagh’s face. “A what? Gender reveal? Party? Why in God’s name would ye do that? It’s a boy, ye’ve already ‘revealed’ it tae us.”

“Weel, I’m no’ doin’ it, no couple-type things. But I don’t think she’s given up jes’ yet. And then, last week, I had a visitor.”

“No’ Geneva, fer a booty call?” Ian suggested.

“Nah, no’ Geneva… her mother, Louisa, standing on the doorstep, ringing the bell like the divil himself was after her. She jes’ popped by tae remind me of my responsibilities tae her daughter… and tae tell me tae give Claire up and be wi’ Geneva.”

Even across the table, Jamie could hear Jenny breathing heavily, trying to control her temper. “I kent it. They’re like two peas in a pod, her and her blasted mother. Jamie, what ye ever saw in that woman in the first place is beyond me. And now look at this mess!”

Brian quickly interrupted his daughter. “No, Jenny. Enough! Jamie doesna need that. He’s doin’ his best and we support him no matter what his decision. If he decides tae be with Geneva, then we will make the best o’ it.”

“Like hell we will!” Murtagh banged his empty glass on the table and poured himself a large refill. “I tell ye, lad, Claire is a rare lass, ye dinna want tae let her go. And if yon stuck-up madam joins this family, I will be looking fer alternative accommodation whenever she’s at Lallybroch. I canna be dealin’ wi’ her pretensions and vanity and selfishness. She shouldna be a Fraser.”

“Can everybody let me finish?” Jamie wanted to draw this conversation to a close and quickly. “I will say this once, and then the subject is closed. I’m having a son. I’m no’ havin’ a relationship wi’ his mother, nor do I ever intend tae. I intend ma future tae be with Claire, no matter what. So ye can all breathe again and let’s talk about the party tomorrow.”

***********

Claire relaxed in her train seat, by the window and with a table as requested. By placing a bag on the seat next to her, she hoped to deter anyone from sitting there. Three hours to herself to read, snooze or daydream didn’t happen very often and she wanted to make the most of it without interruption.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the 12:09 pulled out of the station with no one claiming the seat. Three hours and then Jamie would meet her at Inverness station and take her to Lallybroch.

The rhythmic sway of the carriage was very soothing. Claire didn’t bother with her book or magazine, she just rested her head and gazed out of the window as the scenery changed with every passing mile.

The party that night was an important event for the Frasers and Murrays. Claire was excited for several reasons. This would be the first Fraser family function she had been invited to and she relished that feeling of inclusion, of being part of something, of belonging.

Then there were the fireworks. Ever since Claire was a little girl, she loved watching fireworks. It had been an annual treat for Uncle Lamb to take her to the local display, where she would try to write her name in the air with a sparkler and would inevitably develop a sore neck from staring up into the sky, keen to enjoy every last flash of colour. There had never been any fireworks while she was with Frank, either literally or metaphorically.

The last reason was her costume. Jamie had stressed the importance of the costume. He had given her no clue about his, so Claire had been unsure what to do. Could she cut two holes in a white bed sheet and be a ghost, or was a more ‘polished’ outfit required?

Even Geillis, when asked, had been of no use. All her suggestions had a common theme: slutty nurse, slutty zombie, slutty witch. Eventually Claire decided to trust her own instinct and a bit of Google. And at last she had come up with a costume which she thought would do very nicely.

******

The sun was setting by the time Jamie and Claire were pulling into the driveway at Lallybroch. Lights had been set up along the path to the marquee and the whole area was a hive of activity with caterers, pyrotechnicians and entertainers rushing to and fro.

Claire gasped in amazement. “I didn’t realise it was such a big deal…“

Jamie smiled. “Aye. This was my mam’s thing, ye ken. She always loved this party, she loved the autumn afore the weather turned too cold, but still cool enough tae light the fires. And how she loved the fireworks. So Da does this every year for Mam.”

Jamie sniffed and cleared his throat. “Anyway, let's get inside. Ye must be cold. Everyone’s started getting ready. We never tell each other what our costumes are, it’s part of the fun.”

******

Claire examined her reflection in the mirror in Jamie’s room, Jamie having been banished to a guest bedroom. She knew she had spent too much money on a fancy dress costume, but viewing it now from all angles, it was money well spent.

Not knowing how close to stick to the scary Hallowe’en theme, the decision was made when she found the dress. Black and knee length with a floaty handkerchief hem, it had a tight laced bodice with shoulder straps, underneath which were off-the-shoulder, long, gauzy sleeves, worn with black stockings, black kitten-heeled ankle boots, and black lace fingerless gloves. Claire left her curls loose around her face and added the finishing touch- a witch’s pointed hat.

A face peeped round the door. A face with round glasses and a lightning scar drawn on his forehead. “Can I come in now?”

Claire laughed as Jamie opened the door fully. Clad in school trousers, white shirt and school tie, he also sported a Gryffindor scarf and black wizard robes. “That’s brilliant. A six foot three Harry Potter.”

Jamie walked over to Claire and put his arms around her. “And ye, Sassenach, are the bonniest witch I’ve ever seen.”

His hand moved across her bodice, his fingers softly grazing the tops of her breasts, just visible above the dress. “That dress is verra becoming.”

Claire ran her hands through his curls, pulling his head down to her.

“Well, hopefully we’ll both be coming later.” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

Jamie grinned. “Was that a wee witchy joke there, Sassenach? I shall be looking forward tae it, especially as I believe ye are wearing yer stockings agin. Am I right? Ah, tae see the white of yer luscious thighs against the black, ‘tis verra verra exciting…”

Clutching her bottom, he pulled her close.

“Jamie,” Claire giggled. “I think I’ve found your wand.”

******

The family gathered in the morning room, before joining the party. Claire could tell how seriously they took this evening. Wee Jamie was clearly Spider-Man and his sister, in her father's arms, was a cute little pumpkin. Claire instantly recognised Jenny and Ian as Sandy and Danny from Grease. Brian, in faded beige trousers, shirt and battered leather jacket was Indiana Jones with fedora in one hand and coiled whip in the other. Claire was relieved that she had made an effort with her dress.

“Claire, that dress is gorgeous. You make an amazing witch.” Jenny was full of praise.

“Thanks, you all look incredible too. But…” she spoke softly to Jenny, subtly looking over at Murtagh, who had just come in wearing jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Ah weel, ‘tis a bit of a joke now after sae many years. Murtagh doesna like tae dress up and Mam always told him that he had tae. So every year since Jamie and I were bairns he puts the same thing on. He’ll add a checked shirt, wool hat and his walking boots and be a lumberjack, he willna change. It’s jes’ a tradition, ye ken.”

“Mam, can we go now, pease?” Wee Jamie excitedly grabbed his mother’s hand. “I wanna go now.”

He turned to Claire. “Care bear… ye no’ a scary witch. Ye too pretty tae be scary.”

“Thank you, Jamie. And you’re a very handsome Spider-Man.” Claire looked up to see her Jamie staring intently at her. His gaze burned white hot into her very core. Everything around her disappeared, all that existed in that moment was Jamie. Swiftly he came to her side, their eyes locked together...

“Care bear… come wi’ me now.”

She felt a tug on her arm.

“C’mon… and ye too Unca. We’re goin’ tae the party.”

Laughing, they both looked down at Wee Jamie, excitedly pulling them out of the room.

******

The marquee was magical, Claire decided. There was no other word for it. Delicate wisps of cobwebs blew gently in the breeze, suspended from the ceiling next to hordes of friendly spiders. Cauldrons bubbled with coloured lights and smoke from dry ice. Pumpkin lanterns decorated the tables and fairy lights were strung around the walls.

Jamie stayed by Claire’s side, introducing her proudly to all the guests, only moving aside when his nephew dragged her onto the dance floor during the children’s disco. He watched as Claire, grinning broadly, tried to teach Wee Jamie to dance gangnam style. Murtagh, now clad in his full lumberjack costume, wandered over to stand beside him. He patted Jamie on the back and gave a thumbs up.

Nodding his head towards Claire, he spoke quietly in Jamie’s ear. “She's a fine lass, that one. Dinna let her go. This stramash wi’ the other will sort itself out. Make sure Claire kens that. She’ll be a fine addition tae our family.”

As the song ended, Wee Jamie ran back to Jenny and Claire made her way to Jamie, Murtagh having conveniently vanished. She fanned her face with her hands. Jamie could see tiny beads of sweat along her upper lip. He longed to taste them.

“I’m so hot. Can we get a bit of fresh air?”

“Aye, weel, it’ll soon be time fer fireworks, we need tae find a place tae view them. Wait here.”

Jamie rushed out of the marquee, but returned a couple of minutes later, carrying a small hold-all. “Come wi’ me.”

“Really, Mr. Fraser, leaving your guests, and…” Claire gestured to the bag. “It’s almost as if you had this planned.”

Together they left the party and moved deeper into the garden, Jamie leading the way, following an old familiar route, until they reached a secluded corner of the garden, on a slight slope. Unzipping the hold-all, Jamie pulled out some thick woolen blankets. He quickly unfolded one and set it on the ground before sitting down and pulling Claire down next to him. Unfolding another blanket, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Lie back, ‘tis the best place tae see the fireworks.” Jamie encouraged.

Claire laughed, but obliged. “Really, what a line… want to see some fireworks, come and lie down next to me. And how many girls have you brought here to ‘watch the fireworks’?”

Jamie could see her fingers making air quote movements. He leaned over and lightly kissed her lips, running his tongue along her upper lip. She tasted of spiced apples and whisky with the hint of salt lingering on her skin.

“No other lass here, ever. Ye are the first, Sassenach.”

Claire placed her hands under her head and stared up at the night sky. “You know I love fireworks, right? I told you that. It was an annual outing, me and Uncle Lamb, every bonfire night. But I’ve not told you why. It wasn’t just the excitement and the colours of the fireworks…”

They could hear everyone leaving the marquee now, ready for the fireworks to begin.

Claire continued. “When a firework goes off and you see it shooting high into the sky, I used to imagine that was a message to my parents from me. Then there’s a moment of dark before the burst of colours and sparks and light. And that was the message back from mum and dad, the huge explosion in the sky was them saying ‘we love you.’ Pretty fanciful, huh?”

“No’ fanciful at all, Sorcha. Jes’ a wee girl tryin’ tae find some comfort.”

Jamie could feel Claire’s heartbeat quicken as the first rocket blazed into the sky, trailing silver and gold before shattering into a shower of sparks. Appreciative ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ came from the audience below.

Claire shifted and adjusted the blanket to cover both of them. Her hand found his and clasped it tightly. Jamie brought hers to his lips.

“Claire, I want ye tae know that I love ye and I see ma future as yer future, weel, as our future together. I dinna want tae ever be wi’ out ye…”

Claire brought her fingertips to his lips. “I love you too, I never want to be without you either. I will be there for you with the baby and dealings with… well… you know. But, how can I put this? I think we have to be careful for the next few months. Do you know what I mean? Otherwise someone could cause problems.”

“Aye, I ken ye’re right. As long as we ken we’re goin’ tae be together, anything else can wait.”

Jamie brought his hand to the hem of Claire’s dress and rolled it up towards her hips. He could hear her breath become ragged as he found the soft skin just above her stocking and gently stroked it. His hand moved higher, pushing aside her lace knickers, his fingers fluttering at her very core before settling into a stronger rhythm. Claire closed her eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over her as the fireworks reached their own crescendo, lighting up the sky.

[theonyxpath]

With the Creature Collection for Scarred Lands 5e Kickstarter funded and scuttling along, and the Deviant: The Renegades Kickstarter starting this Thursday, we will actually have two KSs running at once for most of their duration.

To be fair, the Creature Collection KS is being run by our friends at Handiworks Games (who also created this gorgeous book of monsters), but it is on our new KS site. Deviant will be run on our long-time KS site with my name on it, and ably run by our own Kickstarter Concierge, James Bell.

As to the whys and wherefores, well, for a while we’ve struggled with a limitation that we can’t run more than one campaign at a time on a single KS site. There’ve been times that we had two very different sorts of projects that we didn’t think would overlap much audience-wise, but one had to wait for the other. So I started looking for options.

Aeon Aexpansion art by Grzegorz Pedrycz

One direction – that we’re still looking at – is to go with a different crowd-funding site. The biggest drawback? They aren’t Kickstarter, so our established audience would need to jump to the new platform. Additionally, we too would have to adapt and adopt a new platform’s processes and quirks.

So we keep looking.

(Another option is to move to pre-orders, which we as a company have not dabbled in, but which I am all too aware of since the many years of White Wolf pre-orders and other traditional sales methods. They work, but I sure feel like we’d be losing a lot of the fun that a KS brings to our interactions with our community. Might give one a try, though).

Meanwhile, I set up a new KS account specifically designed as Onyx Path‘s account, not mine. I gotta tell you, with all the internet harassment out there, I’ve gotten a fair bit just by having my name and picture and bio on that site. Plus, with our delightful KS Concierge James Bell running them now, it can get a tad confusing as to who folks are talking to.

We’re still expecting that it’ll be a longer road to get folks used to the Rich Thomas KS account over to the Onyx Path one – but I think it’s a shorter road than trying to get folks to jump to another whole platform. Plus, the original Scarred Lands Players Guides KS wasn’t run by us anyway, it was run by the late Stewart Wieck as his company and Onyx Path co-owned Scarred Lands at that time.

My thinking was that we were going to have to ask that earlier group of backers to find a new site anyway, why not have them go to our new one and give it a try?

Dark Eras2 art by Brian LeBlanc

Like I mentioned above, we’re also looking at two very different projects. Creature Collection is a great monster book overall, but very much geared to the fantasy genre, Scarred Lands, and 5e with all the twenty-sided rolls to hit and all.

Deviant: The Renegades is the very latest Chronicles of Darkness game line, a gritty world where you seek revenge on those who made you into something… else. It uses the 10-sided dice pool system all of the Chronicles of Darkness lines do, and is a complete game unto itself.

Of course, we’d love it if our audience would completely overlap both these and pledge for them both – that’d be great! But our expectation is that there won’t be much of a mix and one part of our Many Worlds, One Path community will back one KS, and another will back the other.

Creature Collection is also set up to have a different KS experience, with the biggest chunk of the book already finished – I mean laid out and everything – but one of the fun parts of the KS is to have backers pledge for rewards that allow them to add monsters, and for monsters to be added after Stretch Goals are achieved. So more pledges, bigger book!

Deviant is set up as most of our recent KSs have been, and backers can expect to have the full text released to them as the weeks go by. Art and layout are still mostly in the future, but everyone can see exactly what this new game is all about by the end of the KS. Stretch Goals will be mostly for new projects to add to the fun of playing Deviant!

So c’mon and check them out – in their own ways, each is a really excellent book, with a fun KS to get it started!

VtR2 Spilled Blood art by Michele Giorgi

In the Monday Meeting today, we also talked about a new project that is being offered for free on DTRPG. No, it’s not one of ours, it’s Consent in Gaming from Monte Cook Games, written by Shanna Germain and Sean K. Reynolds. https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/288535 Basically, it’s a book of advice on how to make sure that scary, disturbing, or freaky events during TTRPG sessions don’t actually mess up the players.

That’s it.

Part of the advice is a handy worksheet that has lists of possible things that might cause issues with the players that each player can go through and check off, with blank spaces to fill in things that you might have a hard time dealing with personally that aren’t on the pre-printed lists. The sheets are tools to be used, like several others like the X-Card that are now available for groups to use for their sessions if they choose to use them.

Judging by the commentary where this product is being discussed, Monte Cook is going to personally come to your group’s gaming session and put a gun the the heads of your gaming friends, and force everyone to fill out these forms. Nope. That’s obviously not going to happen, nor is anyone being forced to implement this tool, or any of the others, around their group’s table.

At the end of the day, these sorts of tools are designed to help players have better gaming experiences, and can be really helpful in assisting players who have previously had bad experiences to come back and give our hobby another chance. We want more people enjoying our hobby, contributing to it, and from my perspective, buying more books and games and stuff so that our creators can make more books and games and stuff.

Let’s not protest things designed to bring more people to our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

Kickstarter!

Our Creature Collection Kickstarter for Scarred Lands 5e went live last week, funded, and is advancing on creepy-crawly legs towards the first Stretch Goal to add more monsters – that the backers vote on – to the book! This book was designed with amazing art by our friends at Handiwork Games, and they’ll be running the Kickstarter for us on our brand-new Onyx Path Kickstarter page!

And, of course, our next Kickstarter is:

The Deviant: The Renegades Kickstarter launches this Thursday the 19th at 12 noon US Eastern time!

Onyx Path Media!

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast features a recording of our What’s Up With Onyx Path Community Content panel from Gen Con, as well as the usual banter and tomfoolery with the Trio! Go to https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/ or to your favorite podcast venue!

The Onyx Path News had another live broadcast today, where Matthew spoke about the Creature Collection, Deviant: The Renegades, Canis Minor, the Slarecian Vault, the Storypath Nexus, You are not Alone, V5 Cults of the Blood Gods, and more, right here: https://youtu.be/98UQKnD_lSY

Please follow our Twitch channel if you haven’t already done so! Our schedule is filled with games including Vampire, Scarred Lands, TC: Aberrant, Pugmire, Scion, Mage: The Awakening, and Hunter: The Vigil! Visit www.twitch.tv/theonyxpath and give us a follow, and if you have an Amazon Prime membership and haven’t already subscribed to a Twitch channel for free using it, just type Amazon Prime Twitch into Google and please use it on our channel!

Remember, if you miss any content on our Twitch channel, some of it finds its way to our YouTube channel here: www.youtube.com/user/theonyxpath Don’t forget though, that some of that content is Twitch exclusive or belongs to the Storytellers running their games, so don’t miss out and remember to follow us!

The Botch Pit continue their actual play of Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2E, with their chronicle “Twice Shy” listenable right here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQfcGvYILEV1vznP5__bOWg

Occultists Anonymous appears on our Twitch channel with their Mage: The Awakening 2E chronicle, but if you’re after a breakdown of episodes, here’s 43 and 44: Episode 43: At the Round Table With Lynnewood Hall scoped out, the cabal rallies with their allies. Seers in Philadelphia must be confronted and the question of … booty is broached.https://youtu.be/r7OdSvwQvE4

Episode 44: Scooby-Doo Routine The cabal infiltrates the lair of the Seers, Lynnewood Hall, and come up against various magical and mundane defenses in search of their stolen Grimoire.https://youtu.be/RqBYdJzZTjQ

The Story Told Podcast have made an episode devoted to how they go about preparing for and running Exalted right here: http://thestorytold.libsyn.com/fall-of-jiara-episode-14-planning-a-campaign-with-terry-robinson

Plus, the ENnie award winning Red Moon Roleplaying continue their actual play of The Sacrifice, from V5 Chicago by Night, with Klara Herbol as the Storyteller and Matthew Dawkins as a player! Please check them out on www.redmoonroleplaying.com

Drop Matthew a message via the contact button on matthewdawkins.com if you have actual plays, reviews, or game overviews you want us to profile on the blog!

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio2, and they have the 5e version, supplements, and dice as well!: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And NOW Scion Origin and Scion Hero are available to order!

As always, you can find most of Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, we’re offering Pugmire character journals and stickers on our RedBubble store!

Conventions!

Save Against Fear: October 12th – 14th GameHoleCon: October 31st – November 3rd PAX Unplugged: December 6th – 8th 2020: Midwinter: January 9th – 12th

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Creating in the Realms of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Redlines

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad (Scarred Lands)

Vigil Watch (Scarred Lands)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

Development

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Titanomachy (Scion 2nd Edition)

Manuscript Approval

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Post-Approval Development

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

V5 Chicago Screen (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Scion LARP Rules (Scion)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Editing

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Let the Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Geist 2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

TC: Aeon Ready-Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

W20 Art Book (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Indexing

Geist 2e (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution core (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

ART DIRECTION FROM MIKE CHANEY!

In Art Direction

Contagion Chronicle

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant

Hunter: The Vigil 2e – Sam on the fulls.

Ex3 Lunars – Contracted. More sketches coming in.

TCfBtS!: Heroic Land Dwellers – LeBlanc on this.

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Trinity RMCs – Contracted.

Cults of the Blood God (KS) – Contracted.

Chicago Folio – Getting some art notes out.

Mummy 2 (KS) – Characters being worked on, fulls next.

Memento Mori – Contracted.

City of the Towered Tombs – Contracted.

In Layout

They Came from Beneath the Sea!

Dark Eras 2 – Files with Aileen

Trinity Continuum Aeon: Distant Worlds

VtR Spilled Blood – In progress.

DR:E Threat Guide – Helnau’s Guide to Wasteland Beasties

Proofing

C20 Cup of Dreams

Signs of Sorcery – Prepping PoD files.

M20 Book of the Fallen – Josh inputting first round of corrections.

DR:E Jumpstart – Sent to Eschaton for approval.

CoM – Witch Queen of the Shadowed Citadel – With Rose for final approval.

At Press

Trinity Core Screen – At Studio2.

TC Aeon Screen – At Studio2.

Trinity: In Media Res – PoD proofs coming.

Trinity Core – Printing. PoD proofs ordered.

Trinity Aeon – Printing. PoD proofs ordered.

V5: Chicago – Files sent to printer.

Aeon Aexpansion – Backer PDFs out, errata.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Eight years ago today, Vampire 20th Anniversary Edition was released at the Grand Masquerade in New Orleans! Wow, a lot of stuff has happened since then with Vampire! Not to mention the rest of the White Wolf game lines, as well as this little not-so-old company of ours. Why it seems simultaneously both yesterday and a million years ago since I sat in the auditorium signing copies of V20 as the line stretched around the room and out of the door.

[thepropertylovers]

Feature Friday with Pedro Reyes

Happy Friday! We’re back with Feature Friday this week with a couple from our neck of the woods. Pedro and Evan are from a small town about an hour and a half away from us, so we can relate to their experience of growing up gay in the south. What we can’t relate to, however, is how brave and courageous they were for coming out while still in high school, and even attending prom together as a couple. Wonder what life would have been like if we had come out in high school?

Read on below to find out more about Pedro and Evan!

Where are you from? Morristown, TN 

Where do you live? Morristown, TN 

Instagram handle: @thepedroreyes @evanjmckenna

Age: both 18 

On his favorite place he’s ever been: Notre Dame University! That’s where Evan is going to school. I had never been and I was blessed enough to save up money to go see him. The campus is beautiful! Evan introduced me to all his friends and I got to see his favorite places. The university means a lot to him and it meant the world for me to experience what he loves. 

On coming out: I was 18 years old. The experience was scary. I had never seen another gay teen couple in our town. I feared for my safety. We live in a small town where there is a church around every corner. But after I came out I received so much support from everyone around. I had Evan by my side which meant that world to me. 

On focusing on the positive: I faced backlash from some friends who I had been to church with. I received some horrible messages that I decided just to focus on how Evan and I could make this world a better place. 

On paving the way after coming out: I learned that my voice mattered and I was going to make it heard. I knew it was up to Evan and I the pave the way for so many other LGBTQ youth. To show that we were happy and we had been through so much and they could make it also. 

On advice for those struggling to come out: Keep going! I am here for you if you ever need me. I know how hard it is and I promise it gets better. That’s something I wanna be able to continue to work on: to prove the younger youth that there are people fighting everyday to make a change. I plan on using my voice to pave a better path for so many. 

On meeting his boyfriend, Evan: We met on the cross country in high school. I knew from the moment I seen him that I liked him. We didn’t start dating till 3 years later my junior year his senior year. We were both so scared at first but I knew he was the boy for me. To know more about our story check out our Outsports article. 

On growing together: We have been together for almost a year and a half. I’ve learned so much honestly since I started dating him. I’m amazed at how I can love someone so much. He is so smart but reminds me everyday I’m smart also. We push each other to try new things and be the best version we can be. 

On going to prom with Evan: It was scary for sure. A lot of different feels. While we didn’t get to go to our actual high school prom due to a speech tournament we were able to do a team prom. We used a small room in our hotel and all went out to eat and danced the night away. It was amazing the support we received from our team and our amazing coach Suzanne Terry. But this year Evan is flying down for my senior prom on April 27th so make sure to follow us on that journey. I’m super excited and hope to be the cutest couple there. 

On going to different colleges: I like to think we are like two old men. We talk everything out. We text each other throughout the day and plan around important dates to make sure we are there for each other. We are definitely nervous but we both have a lot of faith in our love for each other and that’s all we need. 

On where he sees himself down the road: Finishing school and moving closer to wherever Evan is at for Med school. I’d liked to be a teacher so hopefully teaching at an elementary school. As long as I’m with Evan I’ll be happy. 

[goauldendelicious]

okay so, safe in the knowledge that few people I know irl follow this blog and that y’all ain’t gonna snitch, here’s the thing: Chloe Price has killed me this week, and it’s only fair. I really enjoyed Life is Strange when it came out. The Oregon setting, the small-town-with-secrets vibe, the lack of time-pressure (lol) for having to make decisions... it’s all my jam. But in hindsight playing it episodically meant I never fully INVESTED. A lot of real world bidness happened in between me playing each episode. The immediacy of the story faded a little, dimmed a little, each time. So I really liked, but didn’t really love. Until I hit the last act of Polarised, Episode 5. #spoilers btw And that final nightmare walk through past memories really brought home to me why I’d liked the game so much, and why - if I’d played it without months-gaps - I would have loved it. Because of Chloe Godsdamn Price. As Max I’m walking past all these memories I have of my time reuniting with Chloe, the tensions of the past five years of absence slowly eroding, the in-jokes, the new frustrations, the dancing, the tears (oh, gods the tears)... And it slowly dawns on me, that while I’ve been spending time carefully deliberating all of Max’s decisions, whether she should rewind to fix every little detail, whether it’s acceptable to re-do conversations so people like you more, or just to find The Killer (FUCK YOU, JEFFERSON AND PRESCOTT although this really requires its own unpacking that doesn’t belong here...) that something more fundamental has been seeping in, and I’ve noticed only the crest of it: an emotional iceberg. Namely that Chloe Price - oh-so-perfectly voiced by Ashly Burch - is the heart of this game. Not Max, not Rachel Amber, not the abstraction of “time-travel”... But Chloe. And so as that dark lighthouse looms closer, I realise (undoubtedly quite late) where this path leads, and why. And I fucking HATE IT, because I know what choice I have to make. I have to sacrifice Chloe Price. Sure enough, stood under the shattered lighthouse, limned by lightning flashes, the Storm rolling ever closer, Chloe tells me to go back one last time and Not Save Her. She tells me to save her mom. She tells me to save Arcadia Bay, this home shit home she was so desperate to leave. And most importantly she tells me to make those fuckers pay for what they did to Rachel. And after I return to my computer from the floor where I’ve been curled up sobbing because I’m a grown-ass adult who can’t handle this fucking shit, I do it, I do as she says. Because I’d done the same in episode four’s alternate universe when she’d asked. Because as much stick as Arcadia Bay gets, its residents are not all total dicks deserving devastating wind-based murder. Because being responsible for the deaths of hundreds (if not more) on the grounds that I love this dear friend would kinda destroy the moral high ground over Jefferson (especially since he’d probably NOT be killed, being currently hogtied in his own godsdamn hellbunker...) Because in this universe where Rachel Amber’s doe-spirit has guided us towards her resting place, I can’t NOT believe Chloe could be reunited with her. Because of SO MANY REASONS. Because it’s the godsdamn only choice to make. Chloe and Max kiss, the past set back on its original course, Foals’ Spanish Sahara winds up, and I return to sobbing on the floor, hating myself) (as an aside, after watching the bae>bay, ending, I begin to feel *slightly* better, because...it seems really off and way too cheery considering what’s just happened, especially when Chloe smiles at Max as they drive past the ruins of the diner Joyce is lying dead in, like wtf?) Skip ahead to my playthrough of Before the Storm. I’ve avoided playing it for months since it’s actual release because I know what effect it’s going to have on me. But I decide it’s time. So I clear a nice sobbing-patch on the floor and begin... And it’s perfect. Chloe is the same, but earlier (and yes, no Ashly Burch voicing, but she helped write Chloe’s script and you can absolutely feel her there, and Rhianna DeVries did a wonderful job embodying her). It’s a beautiful game, and a heartwarming one, and a heartBREAKING one, and everything I hoped it would be. And throughout, I intermittently go to my weeping-place because I remember what’s coming, where this all leads. I’m not angered by this. Unlike many players and reviewers, I don’t see the final choice I made in the original game as invalidating any of the events that preceded it, which extends to the events of Before the Storm. Life is Strange is not a game to be WON. You’re never awarded points, gain levels, ranked on a leaderboard. Rather, it’s a game that asks what is most important to you, what you care about, about great power and responsibility, and lightly nudges you towards thinking before you speak and act harshly. It’s a game where Chloe Price’s world falls apart, through next to no fault of her own. It’s a game where a wanna pirate loses her father, best friend, and spark of hope for the world. And when that spark is rekindled, some fucktographer and his broken protege snuff it out again. Chloe is filled with anger and pain and cynicism and confusion in the original game. The opportunity in Before the Storm to see her in happier times with Rachel Amber and with Max (in the Farewell bonus episode) is blessing and curse. The painful imagery of her as storm-sprite Ariel in The Tempest. The first donning of William’s clothes. Her first kiss with Rachel. The blue hair. I rejoiced with her, and mourned her loss ever-more. And so I have once again returned to replay the original game. Not with the intention of changing any choices, not even the Final Choice. But because Chloe deserves to have those five days where she remembers that she is not completely alone, that her pirate companion loves her dearly, and that Jefferson is going to fucking PAY. They are not pointless days; there the best we could expect in this shitty situation, and by the gods we made the most of them. When the butterfly reunites with the doe, I trust they’ll both know this. You know those “what’s you’re favourite x,y,z?” questions, and some it’s really hard to give an honest answer to? Ice-cream flavours are notorious for this effect. Well id never had that problem with “who is your favourite fictional character?”: even before the questions over, I’m thinking “His Grace, His Excellency, The Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor, Vetinari’s Terrier; Commander Sir Samuel Vimes” (see Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series). But now... now my heart is torn between him and my faithful chauffeur and companion, my sidekick, my Scary Punk Ghost: Chloe Price. 🦋💙

[liliannorman]

Healthy screen time is one challenge of distance learning

Tyson Terry wakes up, gets ready for school, then opens his laptop. It’s his first day of seventh grade at a school in Florida. But he’s not going anywhere. The COVID-19 pandemic has made it unsafe for him and many other students around the world to gather in person for classes. Perhaps you are one of them.

Tyson Terry spent his first day of seventh grade online in a virtual classroom. When the pandemic started, he didn’t like distance learning because he didn’t get to see anyone in person. But over time, “it started getting more and more fun,” he says. Nicole Patton-Terry

For many students today, distance learning has become the new normal. Their classes happen on virtual-meeting platforms, such as Zoom or Google Classroom. “All you have to do is get in Zoom, and when that Zoom’s over, get into the next Zoom,” says Tyson. Distance learning means lots of screen time.

Kids are also stuck at home during their free time. YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, Netflix, TV and video games offer easy ways to pass time. Tyson’s sister Nia is in high school. She’s been spending a lot more time on her phone since the pandemic started. “It’s hard to do anything without it,” she says. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

A recent study shows that Tyson and Nia aren’t the only young people getting plenty of screen time these days. In April 2020, almost 1,500 parents in Canada reported their kids’ physical activity, screen time and sleep habits since the new coronavirus pandemic hit. The Canadian 24 Hour Movement Guidelines for Children and Youth recommend just two hours of screen time per day (school work doesn’t count toward this total), plus at least 60 minutes of exercise for kids and teens ages 5 to 17. Sleep recommendations vary based on age. A study looking at the results of this survey found that only around 2.5 percent of kids met all three guidelines. Nearly nine in every 10 exceeded the recommended two-hour daily limit on non-school screen time.

Screen time guidelines exist for a good reason. Research has shown that kids who spend a lot of time on screens are more likely to have eye problems, weight problems and trouble with reading and language. They also are more likely to show a wide range of other physical and mental health issues. Yet right now, screens are the only safe way for many young people to learn or socialize. How should kids and teens like Nia and Tyson navigate this dilemma?

Nia Terry started her sophomore year of high school at home with distance learning. She doesn’t mind having classes this way. “You can do it at your own pace, which makes it easier,” she says. Nicole Patton-Terry

“I think to say screen time is bad is dangerous,” says Michelle Guerrero. She’s an author of the study, which was published in July. But, she adds, “I think to say it’s good is also dangerous.” Guerrero is an epidemiologist, someone who studies patterns of diseases. She works at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario Research Institute in Canada. Different types of screen time have both costs and benefits, she says. You should be mindful of how much screen time you get, she says. But for many families, “right now, during the pandemic … staying within two hours is just not realistic.”

Taren Sanders agrees. He’s a health scientist at Australian Catholic University in North Sydney. “Overall, I’m not too concerned about the additional screen time kids are having,” he says. The things you should worry about: The amount of exercise you get and the way you spend your free time. Another big concern for many families is getting reliable access to computers and the internet so that students can participate in school from home.

Get up and go outside

The biggest problem with screens is that people usually sit still while as they watch or interact with them. “If [students] are spending all day sitting on screens, when are they moving?” asks Guerrero. Extended time sitting and not moving around leads to changes in the body’s metabolism. These changes make obesity, diabetes, heart disease and other health issues more likely. It’s something doctors refer to as metabolic syndrome. So an important question to ask yourself is not how much screen time are you getting, but how active are you?

Explainer: What is metabolic syndrome?

Lin Yang has studied how long people spend sitting. She’s a public-health expert at Alberta Health Services in Calgary, Canada. Americans sat one hour more every day in 2016 compared to 2001, she found. “What is this hour taken from? That’s the scary part,” says Yang. It could be reduced sleep time or reduced active time. And already, most Americans don’t get recommended amounts of either.

During the pandemic, getting enough physical activity may be even more difficult than usual. People who are working or learning from home no longer move around a large school or office building. Also, many sports and other group activities that bring people into close contact aren’t safe. Tyson Terry used to play soccer, tag football and basketball on teams. Now he only plays basketball in the driveway with his family.

Get plenty of exercise on school days, even work up a sweat. And do some of it outdoors when possible, even if it means wearing a mask (or at least bringing one along).zoranm/E+/Getty Images

Getting in at least one daily work out is great, but you should still get up and move around regularly throughout the day — even if it’s just to get a drink of water or play with a pet. Yang recommends getting up at least once an hour. And, she adds, “get outdoors” for some of those breaks (as long as it’s safe to do so in your area).  

Going outside is good for more than just your metabolism. Your eyes will thank you, too. Problems with myopia (when distant objects look blurry) have been linked to screen time. But Yang suspects screens may not be the real problem. Research has shown that spending too much time indoors may be to blame.

When you only look at things close-up, your eyes don’t get practice focusing on distant objects. Eye experts recommend looking away from a screen every 20 minutes to something at least 6 meters (20 feet) away. If you can’t get outside that often, looking out a window regularly should help. Brighter light levels outdoors may play a role, too.

All screen time is not equal

Also ask yourself what you are doing on your computers, smartphones or other screens. A teen who FaceTimes with her grandparents or does homework online for an hour is having a very different experience than someone who sits alone and watches an action movie or plays Fortnite for that hour.

In one 2019 study, Sanders looked at how kids spent their screen time. His group then investigated whether the type of screen time made a difference in mental or physical health or in school achievements. The researchers sorted screen time into five types: passive (such as watching a movie), interactive (such as playing a video game), social (such as texting or FaceTiming), educational (such as a virtual class) or something else.

Educational screen time was linked to doing better in school and had no bad health effects. More passive screen time was linked to worse outcomes in health and school achievement, the researchers found, compared with the other categories. But the impact was “quite small,” Sanders adds. Problems showed up mainly in kids spending more than eight hours a day on screens.

It’s especially important to avoid screens at night. Exciting video games or movies or social media exchanges make it difficult to wind down. Also, the blue light that screens emit can make it difficult to fall asleep or stay asleep. Sanders recommends putting away screens for an hour before bedtime.manaemedia/iStock/Getty Images Plus

This research took place before the pandemic and the rise in distance learning. But educational, social and interactive screen time, he believes, is likely still better for you than watching videos, shows or movies.

The American Academy of Pediatrics changed its screen-time guidelines in 2015. This group had previously recommended two hours or less per day. Now, there isn’t a set limit. Instead, the Academy recommends making sure that screen time does not substitute for any sleep or active time. The group also encourages that kids spend screen time with others, not alone. And certain times of the day, such as meals and bedtime, should be media-free. The guidelines also ask parents to put away their own screens while spending time with their kids.

‘No student should be left offline’

It’s one thing to worry about screen time when you have your own computer or phone. But for many students, the real worry is how they are going to participate in virtual classes. Almost one in every five U.S. students doesn’t have reliable access to a computer at home, the Pew Research Center finds. (Pew is a non-partisan research group that performs data-driven research.) A similar share doesn’t have access to high-speed internet, Pew finds. And that makes reliable access to Zoom and other online meetings impossible.

Khalid Patton teaches 4th and 5th grade social studies in Atlanta, Ga. The school he works at serves many low-income families. When that school switched to distance learning this past March, he remembers thinking, “I don’t know how many [students] are going to be able to pull this off.” He started with 19 students in his class. By the end of the year, only about half showed up regularly.

From buses to low-cost internet: Creative paths to online access

Patton’s school was among those able to offer laptops and internet hot spots to families that needed them. But not all schools have been able to do this. Some students have had to miss classroom time when their family couldn’t get a device or couldn’t afford to pay for internet.

“Nationwide, across all racial and ethnic groups, 16.9 million children remain logged out from instruction,” concluded a report released earlier this year. These children’s families lack the computer or internet access at home needed to make online learning possible. “They fall into a homework gap that is turning into a larger education gap during this crisis,” says Jessica Rosenworcel. She’s a commissioner with the Federal Communications Commission in Washington, D.C. She is working toward a national program that will support internet access for students at all U.S. schools. “No student should be left offline,” she says.

Looking on the bright side

When the pandemic hit, students, teachers and parents had very little time to prepare for distance learning. “We were like chickens running around with our heads cut off,” says Patton. But over time, everyone has adjusted as well as they can.

Five tips for learning better from home

In some ways, distance learning has been a good change. Nia Terry enjoys setting her own schedules. She hasn’t had to start working overly early in the day. She also says she’s been able to move around lots in her virtual school. In the past, if she wanted to stand up in her physical classroom, she had to first ask permission. But at home she can “pace around,” she says, which helps her think.

Sanders has done research that shows that college students tend to learn better when they have access to videos of lectures. This may be because they can pause or go back and listen to the hard parts over and over. Now that many classes are being recorded, students of all ages may have this advantage.

Top 10 tips on how to study smarter, not longer

Aisha Bonner is a school leader at KIPP SoCal Public Schools in southern California. In classrooms, she says, teachers and students sometimes feel pressured to be working all the time. Students may not always be able to experiment with different ways of learning. At home, many kids have more freedom to lie on the floor, pace around, move to another room or take breaks as needed. Also, she notes, teachers and students and families have had more one-on-one conversations as they struggle to figure out the new normal.

“We’re closer” as a community, Bonner says. She hopes everyone will take the positives from distance learning with them when they go back to in-person classes.  

Healthy screen time is one challenge of distance learning published first on https://triviaqaweb.tumblr.com/

[glenngaylord]

#WETHREE - My Review of CHARLIE SAYS (4 Stars)

When I was growing up, my sister Wendy was obsessed with anything to do with the Charles Manson story.  She read “Helter Skelter” over and over and had an uncanny ability to cite the most obscure details of the cult “family” and their subsequent murders.  Was she drawn to the luridness of it?  The disillusionment that the free love hippie culture crashed and burned?  Only she can say, but it clearly impacted a great many people. We’ve seen countless films, series, and books about Manson that it surprised me that there could ever be a fresh take on it.  I went in to CHARLIE SAYS, the new film by AMERICAN PSYCHO collaborators, director Mary Herron and writer Guinevere Turns, with this trepidation, but came out impressed by their approach.  Perhaps influenced by our current #metoo era, the filmmakers bring a female gaze and a feminist ideology to the material, giving this oft told story a place at the table with our current discussions.

Based in part on books by Karlene Faith and Ed Sanders, CHARLIE SAYS frames its story with Faith (Merritt Wever) teaching feminist studies to the three Manson women service life sentences together in a California prison. Three years into their sentence in 1972, Leslie Van Houten (GAME OF THRONES’ Hannah Murray), from whose point of view we experience this film, Patricia Krenwinkel (Sosie Bacon) and Susan Atkins (Marianne Rendon), sit down with Faith, who tries to wake them from their brainwashed fog.  We flash back to Leslie’s first day meeting Charlie at the Spahn Ranch, showing her indoctrination and training all the way up to the infamous killing spree.  

In lesser hands, the back and forth of the two timelines would feel trite, but Herron and Turner are on a mission to reveal how such good-natured women could get sucked into Manson’s insanity without exonerating them in the process.  In fact, the more Faith works with the women, the more tortured their lives will become when they realize that they were duped, abused, and manipulated by a psychopathic narcissist. Most films simply take it for granted that the women were crazy and leave it at that.  CHARLIE SAYS contextualizes the story, showing us that the flower power era remained a sexist patriarchy, where men still subjugated women despite spouting “we’re all in this together in the here and now” bullshit.

The success of the prison scenes lies with the extraordinary performances and how patient Herron is by giving us extended closeups in which we see reality dawning across the womens’ faces.  It’s a hugely empathetic path to take while still maintaining that they behaved monstrously.  It’s hardly cinematic to watch a group of people sitting in a circle talking to a teacher, but Wever, Murray, and Bacon, who gives a heartbreaking performance as one of Charlie’s longest remaining recruits, made me lean forward and care.

In the flashbacks, we meet Charlie (DR. WHO’s Matt Smith), who alternately charms and scares the women into submission.  Such rules as letting the men eat first, or humiliating the women by stripping them naked in front of everyone, publicly abasing and teaching Tex Watson (a touching yet scary Chace Crawford) how to be better at sex, or just downright beating women up all played into Charlie’s master plan to isolate everyone and get them to do his bidding.  Smith finds the wounded artist in Manson, a frustrated musician who had a song of his recorded by The Beach Boys.  His rock star aspirations come to a halt when he auditions for Terry Melcher (Bryan Adrian), a big shot record producer who quickly recognizes the Snake Oil Salesman in Charlie.  Had Manson been able to succeed in music, the film seems to be saying, the Sharon Tate murders, which happened at the home Melcher used to own, may never have occurred.  Comparisons to the Holocaust never happening had Hitler gotten into the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna seem unavoidable.  

Knowing what we know now, watching CHARLIE SAYS often feels like a horror film where you want to scream at the women to not go in the basement.  The Women’s Liberation  Movement was still in its nascent stages when people like Leslie arrived at the ranch, so she didn’t have the awareness or the language to recognize that the free love there came at a price, that eating from garbage cans wasn’t glamorous, nor was hearing one of the other women tell her that there’s no difference between Charlie hitting someone or making love to them.  Yes, they all had free will, but Charlie exploited their need to be loved, their need to be a part of something bigger than themselves. CHARLIE SAYS does a great job of showing us this cult mentality and then devastates us when we watch the women finally come out of their stupor.  

Murray carries the film wonderfully, especially in two key scenes, one where we see her make a choice which will change the course of her life, and another where her rage gets the best of her.  It’s easy to look back on this and wonder why they didn’t just leave the ranch when Charlie started spouting his armageddon-like nonsense, just as many found it easy to wonder why some women went alone into Harvey Weinstein’s hotel rooms.  This films shows you that it’s not so cut and dry.  

It feels like a sensationalized story told in the most sobering of ways.  In keeping with that, Herron chooses not to hype the storytelling.  CHARLIE SAYS unfolds in an unassuming, sun-dappled way.  Instead of opting for the luridness of so many of its predecessors, most of the violence is off camera.  We focus instead of these seemingly small moments which go a long way toward convincing us how these people made such terrible choices.  

Wever, playing an audience surrogate of sorts, unflinchingly asks the women the tough questions, her gaze direct and intentions deadly serious.  Did they really believe it when Charlie told them they would sprout wings and turn into flying elves?  Did they think they could live the rest of their lives in an underground cave while a race war annihilated everyone up above?  It all boils down to a simple yet indelible answer, followed by a SLIDING DOORS moment where one character imagines a different choice.  CHARLIE SAYS arms us all with a better path forward, making what could have been yet another telling of this tired story into something instructive, eye-opening and extremely moving.  

[kevinpolowy]

'War for the Planet of the Apes' Set Visit: Andy Serkis and Crew on the Art of Aping

Steve Zahn’s Bad Ape in ‘War for the Planet of the Apes’ (Fox)

It’s an extraordinary experience to observe Andy Serkis and his fellow motion-capture castmates-as-primates perform on the set of War for the Planet of the Apes. At first, there’s the pure visual oddity of watching loose-limbed actors decked out in body suits, helmets, and dotted-up faces communicate with varying command of the English language.

In this case, the ensemble is on a soundstage where an abandoned ski lodge has been meticulously constructed. Serkis (who returns as ape leader Caesar) is flanked by fellow series mainstays Karin Konoval (Maurice) and Terry Notary (Rocket) as they confront a new face: Steve Zahn (Bad Ape). “Human get sick, ape get smart,” Zahn tells them just above a whisper with deliberately fractured delivery. “But not me. I run!”

Eventually, something transformative happens. We forget we’re watching human beings. The CGI is still months away, but it already feels like we’re in the presence of apes. “That’s interesting, and very much the point,” Serkis laughed when we relayed our revelation to him in his trailer later that afternoon. But it’s no day at the zoo for the actor. “It’s very painful,” Serkis said of the physicality involved.

It’s Day 18 of the threequel’s 95-day shoot at Mammoth Studios in New West Minister, British Colombia, about a 30-minute drive from downtown Vancouver. And in a nearby trailer, Zahn, an actor typically known for bringing comic relief and who’s just recently begun his motion-capture debut, is visibly exhausted. “It’s extremely demanding,” he says. “It’s daunting to me personally because I’m coming into something that’s already been rolling for a long time, and these guys are incredible performers. So it’s scary. I was extremely nervous coming into this.”

Karin Konoval, Andy Serkis, Terry Notary, and Michael Adamthwaite filming ‘War for the Planet of the Apes’ (Fox)

Directed by Matt Reeves from a script he co-wrote with Mark Bomback, War for the Planet of the Apes marks “the final chapter” in a trilogy following box-office hits and surprise critical darlings Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014). After a drug made the apes increasingly intelligent in Rise and humankind became endangered because of a resulting virus in Dawn, War — as its title implies — will see the two fighting for the survival of their respective species. “There are no winners, it’s just a brutal situation,” Serkis explained.

The “Caesar-centric” story opens with the apes, having lost their enclave in Dawn, taking residence in a hidden fortress behind a waterfall. Humans attack, and something cataclysmic unfolds. This sends Caesar, typically a peace broker between man- and ape-kind, on a path for revenge, with his sights set on the brash military leader, Colonel (Woody Harrelson).

During their subsequent journey, Caesar, Maurice, and Rocket find Zahn’s Bad Ape at the ski lodge. He’s a smaller, slightly unhinged zoo escapee whose existence leads Caesar to believe there could be more apes out there like him.

“It’s like doing theater again, and being in that absurd world,” said Zahn, who compared the motion-capture work to the two years he spent doing experimental productions at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass. It was daunting for the actor, but he had some valuable allies at his disposal. Most notably, Serkis, whose work in films like The Lord of the Rings trilogy, King Kong, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, and the Apes films have made him the Brando of Motion Capture (“He’s like royalty,” Zahn said); and Notary, a Cirque du Soleil alum who serves as a mo-cap player-coach, hosting an “Ape Camp” in the lead-up to each installment. (“Terry Notary is so central and so much the heart of this whole thing,” Serkis said. “Not only does he play one of the roles, Rocket, but his responsibility is enormous because he’s watching what everybody else is doing.”)

‘War for the Planet of the Apes’ (Fox)

Ape Camp is set up to help the actors master the movements (whether quadrupedal like Maurice or bipedal like Rocket) and speech of their simian characters. “It’s really about finding a foundation,” Notary explained. “Because everybody comes in like, ‘Oh, I’ve watched all kinds of videos!’ But as soon as someone starts to pretend to be an ape, there’s tension, which is the exact opposite of what an ape has. An ape has a relaxed, soft integrity to everything they do.” Or as Zahn put it, “When you pretend to be an ape, it doesn’t work. It looks dumb.”

Notary, whose camps run between two and five weeks, has a very meditative way of breaking down exactly how one becomes an ape. “All you have to do is drop the B.S. and be real and be who you are and drop into yourself… You find that you can see better and you can hear better, and tune into who are you, really, rather than the idea of who you are, or the person that you’ve socially become. Who is the real person in there? Who is the root of you? When you do that, you’re being simple, and you’re being present. You’re not pretending, you’re not acting, you’re not emulating, you’re just stripping away the human stuff.”

For War, Notary orchestrated a three-and-a-half hour improvisational period where all the actors playing apes remained in character the entire time. It started in a room in the studio, “and then the next thing I know we were off journeying this way and journeying that way, and then we’re in the parking lot,” recalled Konova, a 125-pound woman who plays a 300-pound male orangutan. “And you know people are looking at us like, ‘What’s going on?'”

Serkis found it instrumental: “You find how they relate to each other, how they guard Caesar, how the family operates, how they move as a unit, how in their rituals they operate, and how they’ve evolved,” he said. “You’re discovering stuff. And when you get into improvisation of that length — apart from the fact that it hurts like hell — it really does unlock so many things and you can gather an enormous amount of information. And you fill unified as a group.”

Over the course of the trilogy, aping around has gotten easier for Serkis. “I don’t think anything will ever be as painful as playing Caesar as an infant,” he said in reference to his intro in Rise. “Because that was so high energy and hard on the quads like you wouldn’t believe.”

But watch him go to work on set and you will believe.

War for the Planet of the Apes opens July 14. Watch the trailer:

Read more on Yahoo Movies:

Andy Serkis Says ‘War for the Planet of the Apes’ Will Be ‘Final Chapter’ in Trilogy — But Don’t Count Out More ‘Apes’ Movies

Inside ‘War for the Planet of the Apes’: Filmmakers Set Up the Final Battle, Break Down Humanity of the Apes

‘The Batman’ Finds Its New Director: Matt Reeves

[louisarambleson]

This morning, the plan was to visit Freycinet National Park to climb Mount Amos where we’d have a stunning view of Wineglass Bay. First, before checking out, we had another great breakfast with homemade bread and jam, prepared by our Airbnb host, Mike. He even got some bacon out of the freezer to make bacon butties especially for us! Today, we also got to meet Terry the Turkey who was showing off his plumage for us 🙂

It was a 2-hour drive to Freycinet National park and the first 45 minutes of the journey were on rough roads, reminding us of our travels in Iceland earlier in the year. The scenery is very different here from Iceland but just as beautiful. We passed through farmland and bush, which in the shaded valleys were very frosty. Once we emerged onto the main tarmaced road again, there was mist hanging in the valley… yet another photo opportunity!

We had a few stops en route. The first was at Orford where we did some grocery shopping and checked out the beach with beautiful white sands. The next stop was Swansea where we had a coffee (and carrot cake!) and went to the bottle shop. 2 interesting points… Many of the towns are named after UK towns, and booze isn’t sold in supermarkets but in separate bottle shops. The final stop was at a look out tower at a vineyard where we could see the Freycinet Peninsula in the distance.

At about 1 o’clock we parked at the foot of the trails in Freycinet National Park and set off up Mount Amos. It’s a 3 to 5 hour trek and is over steep slippery rock so there are warning signs saying it shouldn’t be undertaken in wet weather or by people who are not properly equipped. It’s only 454 metres high but is quite difficult, involving scrambling most of the way. Most people go up an easier track to a look out point for Wineglass Bay but, of course, we had to do the harder option!

The path started off easily enough, undulating through the forest. After a while it became steeper, up flat rock. Most of the rock was quite grippy but we could see how it would be treacherous if it was wet, especially where the rock had previously been smoothed by running water. One section was particularly steep and I was quite scared of slipping and falling some distance. As we hauled ourselves up a difficult gully, I wondered if we should turn around. We had no idea how long it would be this steep for, or how far we had to go to the top. Luckily, at that point, a guy appeared on his way back down the mountain and said this was the hardest bit and we’d nearly completed it… it would be much easier now.

He was right. There was still some scrambling and we had to push through the bush in places, but there were no more scary sections. I pushed away the thoughts about what it’d be like on the way down and just kept going! We had been following yellow triangles marking the route all the way up and were amused and pleased to find one saying ‘Caution, summit approaching’!

We stepped onto the summit about one and a half hours after leaving the car park. What a view! Wineglass Bay is just as beautiful as the guidebooks say and the view in the other direction was great too! We spent some time on the top taking photos, having something to eat and drink, and enjoying the view. There was nobody else around. We only saw 7 other people on this trail… 3 couples and the guy on his own. Amazing! We’ve rarely climbed peaks so quiet in the UK or any other country.

We finally decided we’d better go back down, setting off through the rocky landscape, and spotting another sign saying ‘Mt Amos? Completed it mate’! I’m pleased I didn’t give up. It was tough but very worth the effort and moments of panic.

There were a few more moments of panic on the way down. It wasn’t easy with little legs! I slipped on wet rock at one point and spent a lot of time sliding on my bottom on the steepest and trickiest sections, jamming my feet into gullys and gaps to stop myself sliding, and grabbing any available bush or tree to help me balance. John was very helpful too, pointing out good footholds and taking my hand when I needed help. There were some sections that were even scary for him with his long legs, but we soon passed through the worst bit and it gradually got easier after that.

The mountain was beautiful with it’s flat, stripy rock, much of it granite. It was very different from any we have climbed anywhere else because of the nature of the rock, the plants and even the wildlife. What a great experience!

We had something to eat in Coles Bay, from where we could look back at the Mount Amos, across the bay. By the time we finished eating it was dark. As we drove the half hour to our next Airbnb in Bicheno, John had to watch out for wallabies, Tasmanian devils and other marsupials that come out at night. We’ve seen a horrendous amount of roadkill. It’s very sad, particularly as some species are endangered. The signs do say the speed limit is lower at night but many people ignored this and overtook us.

We got to the Airbnb without incident and are now showered and in our pyjamas, catching up with various things we need to do… washing, emails, blogging. Then we’ll plan what to do tomorrow 🙂

  Top of the world… or should that be bottom of the world as we’re in Tasmania?! This morning, the plan was to visit Freycinet National Park to climb Mount Amos where we’d have a stunning view of Wineglass Bay.

[thealngelladylchmistterriem-blog]

8 Ways Spiritual Entrepreneurs Measure Success

Until you are fully aligned, you are not fully expressed.the Angel Lady Terrie Marie, D.Ms.Success means different things to many different people, from all walks of life. For some, it is about being able to live in peace and harmony with the land. For others it is having massive amounts of money at their fingertips. 

For still others it is all about power and being powerful.Here are a few more ways success can and often is measured:

*status symbols in the form of luxurious homes and furnishings

*designer labels

*earning 6 and 6-figure incomes

*the number of people on a mailing list or Social Media followers

*being able to travel to exotic places

*climbing the corporate ladder*knowing one’s Life Purpose

*Best-Selling Authority 

It could also be about being able to live in a country and in a manner of one’s choosing. 

We are all gifted with free will, the gift of choice. For many people round the world, simply being able to choose is the ultimate form or measure of success.

When I ask my clients and students what success is for them, most have never truly thought about this, much less given serious below the surface consideration to what success is or what it looks and feels like.

So many people have been told that to be Spiritual is also about not wanting to have money except to cover their needs. It is an unwritten rule that to be Spiritual one must choose not to have anything in excess, especially money. Money is often seen as evil and makes people corrupt.

There is nothing that lowers one’s vibration more than to wonder and worry where the next client, job, opportunity or dollar is going to come from. A truth is, when you worry about how to make ends meet, all you think about is money … how much there is and worrying if you can pay the rent of put food on the table.

How, beautiful Soul, does lack feed your Soul or help you do what you came here to do?

It doesn’t.

Here’s part of what defines success for me 

…… Being able to host the Success and Prosperity Mastery Interview Series, creating a platform for amazing, gifted and talented entrepreneurs from all walks of life expressing themselves and lessons learned along the way.

It also helps many others find the courage to find their own voice. Lessons, challenges and obstacles are part of the Journey Less Traveled … the way of the courageous in-Spirit requires us all to step out beyond everything we have come to know, trust and believe keeps us safe and insulated from doubt and fear.

The interview series also helps position me on the leading edge and as the ‘go to Angel Lady’ in the Spiritual Community. Even putting that into printed words, causes me to take several deep breaths, quieting Ego-chitter chatter attempting to call me out as vain and egotistical.

The more I choose to show-up, the more I can be of service, helping others along their Journey Less Traveled

.… Being able to set aside time each week to channel this book with the intention of reaching thousands upon thousands of women and men round this planet.

Each and every person, including you, has something special to offer with the rest of us. Most of us have shamed, taught or worse … bullied into remaining silent. Silence in this instance, is certain death for the sharing of your unique message with the world.

Let it be said yet again here and now … your voice and your message need to be heard more now than ever!

… Being able to take the time for personal retreats, to re-connect with my inner-intuitive self and re-charge my Spiritual energy from the inside out is paramount to continually up-leveling my inner-vibration to the next level and beyond.

Stepping away is one of the ways I give myself permission to be in the silence, connecting with Mother Earth and beloved Angels. Taking a break is essential for personal and Spiritual Growth and letting go.

.… Being able to step into faith is for me an incredible success milestone. I used to worry about how to pay bills and be able to invest in growing my business. Several months ago, September 2016, I received clear guidance during a Skype meeting with my webmaster. You see, I was thinking of opening an online Crystal Shoppe. The guidance was to specialize in one-of-a-kind pieces. Mind you, the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show was 5 months away.

This also meant having a significant budget to invest in this venture I was clearly being guided to pursue. I love crystals and have a few hundred or so round my home, home office and in my meditation gardens. Six years had passed since I had been to the Tucson. I used to write articles about crystals teach Crystal Healing Classes and sell crystals and tumbled stones.

This is where stepping into faith comes in, because intuitively I knew what the budget was to be. It was a bit scary as I was re-building financially after experiencing major surgery just 6 weeks earlier.

My beloved Angels have always been there for me, even in the darkest of moments. It is in having and stepping into faith which allowed the financial budget to manifest AND have more in my bank accounts too! Following guidance, I was able to re-coup 2/3 of the initial investment, including travel expenses in just 2 days of the soft-opening of my Secrets from the Crystal Garden Shoppe.

What defines success for you beautiful Soul? Be willing to go below the surface of what the conscious mind tells you it should look and feel like for you. Perhaps success is earning 6-figures or multi-6-figures. Or landing a promotion, living in your dream home … maybe even teaching others how to connect with Angels.

What truly defines success for you? Be willing to go below the surface of what the conscious mind tells you. Perhaps success is earning 6-figures or multiple 6-figures a year. Or landing a promotion, living in your dream home … maybe even teaching others to connect to Angels.

Speaking of Angels, the first Angel to join us along this journey of Becoming a Mover and Shaker of Your Reality, is one of my longtime Angel Companions, Melchizedek. This powerful Angel continually helps me step out beyond what is commonly referred to as ‘the comfort zone.’ He helps me find the courage to follow the path as it is revealed to me.

No matter what your purpose or path is, it’s all about repeatedly stepping out beyond everything you have ever known and gotten used to doing, saying and becoming. Sometimes Melchizedek’s energy is or feels brutal in his frank-no-nonsense messages and guidance. At other times, his energy is subtle, like a benevolent big brother keeping watch … you know … just in case there’s a ‘stumble’ or unforeseen obstacle. This is when, if you have been heeding guidance given you’re given a hand-up to see the bigger vision that is waiting for you.

Here are a few of the many ways Melchizedek helps you, beautiful Soul

 …… protect you from stumbling and getting discouraged on the path that’s in front of you

… make the right and best decisions for you, your business and your Spiritual Path

… guides you to the right people to help and support you as the next steps are revealed

Melchizedek is one of the most powerful Angels. He is also known as the Angel Prince of Peace. He is the Angel of Spiritual Growth and Expansion. He also specializes in mentoring Spiritual Entrepreneurs to become more of who they are deep within.In order to grow and expand Spiritually, one of two ‘states of being’ need to occur …

#1: A great sense of peace flowing through you as if there is nothing and no-one external to you that can possible disrupt or distract you from your path. It’s a feeling that is best described as floating in trust and faith. It is in the silence, you prepare to receive guidance, messages and confirmation about a plan of action you are about to put into motion.

#2: Descending into a state of great upheaval like being laid-off or discovering and coming face-to-face with beliefs that no longer serve you or your highest and best good on any level. This can feel like everything is unraveling or spiraling out of control right before your eyes and there doesn’t’ seem to be anything you can do about it.

No matter which ‘state of being’ — peace or upheaval — you are experiencing, Melchizedek will help you navigate the seemingly treacherous energies of transition and ultimate transformation.

This magnificent Angel will help make decisions from a space within you laced with unconditional love and compassion. He will most definitely help you start, grow or expand your business.

You need only ask for his help to discern the difference between inner-intuitive guidance and conscious-mind Ego-chitter chatter. Once you have ‘asked,’ be open to receive and trust what is being given to you. If you’re unsure if what you’re getting is really from Melchizedek — ask — ask for confirmation. It’s better to ask for clarification and confirmation than to assume what you’re getting is from your human-self and disregard it as unworthy of your attention!

Become a Mover and Shaker of Your Reality by claiming your Free White Paper Report. Tap the link to get instant access now! [ tap here ] 

Copyright 2017 – All Rights Reserved Worldwide Angel Lady Aurora, LLChttp://www.angeldreamteam.com/ — TerrieMarie@AngelDreamTeam.com  — 915-203-2531