#inta writers

[jewwyfeesh]

Recollections and Heartfelt Wishes 3

Writer: Mitsuki

Character(s): Otogari Adonis, Oogami Koga, Hasumi Keito, Kiryu Kuro, Nito Nazuna, Sakuma Rei

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

CN/EN Proof by: stcrfeesh

Koga: They’re not here either… shit, where the hell could they’ve gone?

Season: Summer Location: Seishou Hall Common Room

Nazuna: …Back then, everyone believed Koga-chin’s words, and therefore left it as that.

But now, the result is that Koga-chin’s issues seem to have worsened. In the end, is it not better to explain it properly and find an appropriate solution?

Kuro: Though, when it comes ta Oogami’s hard-headed personality… it’s quite likely that he wouldn’t take the initiative ‘nd tell others what’s wrong.

Nazuna: That’s true… Asking him up front is a no-go, so we should think of something else.

Location: Seishou Hall Hallway

Keito: (Okay. All of these materials are to be handed off for Sakuma-san to have a look over, but I hope that guy’s not in the dormitory sleeping…)

Koga: ……!

Keito: Hey! Oogami! You’re not allowed to run in the halls, because it’s easy to cra—

…UWAH?! Is this not a collision? How incorrigible!

It’s good that you only bumped into my shoulder. My glasses and the materials in my hand didn’t fall and scatter… Oogami, are you alright?

……He already ran off. Seem’s like he’s busy with some urgent matters. Hmph, I’ll let you go this time. The next time we meet, be prepared to listen to my lectures and reflect on your actions for two hours!

Eh? Hold on, these photos on the floor are…

Kuro: Oh, if it’s not Hasumi. Did’ya drop these? I helped pick some of ‘em up.

Hm? These photos look like the ones we took when we performed in RepayFes together. That time, wasn’t our group called DEADMANS?

Keito: Yes. Though there seems to be some photos that were taken from an even earlier time. These should be Oogami’s, he probably dropped them when he bumped into me in the hallway earlier on.

In the end, he had already disappeared before I had the chance to stop him. Goodness, you should watch where you’re going, even if you’re rushing.

Kuro: Oogami’s photos…? For him to keep them by his side, I should think that they’re really important to him. That they have some special meanin’.

Just now I had a li’l chat with Nito; we both agreed that Oogami seems a little off today. Though, he refused to say anythin’ ‘bout what’s troubling him. It’s gettin’ a li’l worryin’.

Keito: Is that so…? In that case, I’ll forgive him just this once. It so happens that I have something I need to hand over to Sakuma-san, so I can ask him about this as well.

After all, Sakuma-san is the senior who’s been watching over Oogami all this time, from DEADMANS all the way till UNDEAD. No matter how you look at it, he understands Oogami better than any of us.

Kuro: Oh, yeah. I’ll leave it to you, then. Nito and I will try to come up with somethin’.

[A few moments later]

Koga: They’re not here either… shit, where the hell could they’ve gone?

(It’s all because I stuffed the photos into my pocket in my rush to get out after gettin’ that call… I think I even crashed inta Shitty Glasses just now. The next time I see him, I’d better apologise.)

Rei: Fuwaaaah…

Koga: (……! Is that Sakuma-senpai over there in the corridor?!)

(Damn… I really don’t want Sakuma-senpai to know that ‘m lookin’ for the photos of that time, especially not now! I don’t even needa think ‘bout it, ‘cause I know he’ll just tease me pretty viciously!)

(I better go look for ‘em somewhere else, before that guy who’s yawnin’ away spots me.)

Location: Seishou Hall Common Room

Kuro: Yo, Oogami. G’d afternoon.

Koga: ……! Ki-Kiryuu-senpai? Don’t just appear behind me without a sound~

Kuro: Sorry. I had thought that you’ll walk by the common rooms on yer way back to the dorms, but didn’t expect to run into you right away.

These couple o’ photos are yours, right? Hasumi’s busy with a meeting at the agency, so he got me to help return these.

Koga: Oh. So I did drop them when I bumped into Shitty Glasses… thanks, Kiryu-senpai.

Could’ja help me thank that guy as well, while yer at it… no, I also needa apologise to him.

Kuro: Haha, it’s still best to say it in person, regardless of whether it’s sayin’ ‘thanks’ or ‘I’m sorry’. Though I heard from Hasumi that yer ran off in a hurry. Somethin’ urgent came up?

Koga: Nothin’ much. It’s just that a rock group that I’m watchin’ over ran into some li’l issues at practice today, so I went over to sort ‘em out.

Kuro: That’s good. To be honest, I also have somethin’ I needa trouble Oogami with.

Koga: These are… tickets to the amusement park?

Kuro: Mhm. There’s a large event planned for next weekend at the amusement park. An acquaintance of mine gave me quite a few tickets ‘cause I’m helpin’ out. If Oogami’s free, how ‘bout ya bring yer friends and join us?

Koga: Exams should be over by next weekend, so I don’t really have an issue with it… but can this even be considered ‘helping’? Feels more like a reward.

But, whatever. It’s not like I have any reason to refuse, so I’ll do as I’m told~

Kuro: Haha, have some fun, Oogami.

(Release all of that accumulated stress by playin’ to your heart’s content with your friends by your side, surely that’ll help ya relax a li’l bit.)

Location: Amusement Park

[A few days later, in the amusement park]

Koga: Hey, Adonis, it’s our turn at the ticket check. What are ya doin’, idling around over there?

Adonis: Oh, sorry. I was reading the brochure the park’s mascot was handing out over at the entrance.

I heard that there is a famous roller coaster here. Not only is the drop quite big, the speed is also very fast. It sounds like it’ll be a good experience.

Koga: If yer interested, then let’s go~ It’s still very early, so let’s play to our heart’s content today!

Oh oh, I can already see the rides just up ahead! Let’s head over to that rollercoaster first!

After, I wanna go ride that thing that’s marked with a pirate flag on the brochure. Looks real rock ‘n roll!

Adonis: This should be the so-called ‘pirate ship’, then. Last Summer, during our ‘Pirate Festival’, we UNDEAD also utilised a pirate theme.

Koga: Haha, I still remembered how cool you looked when you broke out of the cage with your bare hands! We all needa have that kinda courage to break our shackles, unlike now—

…………

Adonis: Hm? What’s wrong?

Koga: …Nothing. We’re here to play, so let’s not think too much about these depressin’ things. Let’s go!

Adonis: ……

← Chapter 2 | ES x LC Masterlist | Chapter 4 →

#enstars translation #fragments of light and shadow #recollections and heartfelt wishes #Otogari Adonis #Oogami Koga #Hasumi Keito #Kiryu Kuro #Nito Nazuna #Sakuma Rei

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

For the talk to me about you WIP game:

9. What is your favorite dialogue you’ve written so far?

14. What have you been finding frustrating with writing this chapter/fic?

20. Share 3 images that would fit to a mood board for this chapter/fic.

💗

Vee!! Thank you my love 💕 This will all be about chapter 5 of the here to stay re-write, which is what I am writing currently!

9. What is your favorite dialogue you've written so far?

“I know wha’I’m gonna get!” Jace, the youngest by a wide margin, exclaimed happily as he dumped out his coins.  “Y'don’even know how many y’have, dumbass,” Ashton replied with a roll of his eyes.  Tessa quietly stepped up and took one of his coins away. “Inta the donation jar wi’this one.”

Not much dialogue yet in this chapter, but I like this little snippet. Gives a nice perspective on the boys that live in the home that Tessa works at, their dynamic, and at least one of the boy's personalities. Bonus Fact: Ashton has anger issues lol

14. What have you been finding frustrating with writing this chapter/fic?

Right now, it's having all the boys in one scene lol I don't do well when there are tons of characters all in one location that I need to keep track of. I'm a very visual writer, a scene will play out like a movie in my head, and I feel like I just HAVE to write down where everyone is and what they're doing. Even though I don't actually need to. I think I'm doing an ok job at restraining myself lol

20. Share 3 images that would fit to a mood board for this chapter/fic

Tessa is taking a few of the boys out for ice cream and who just so happens to show up with his niece, hmm?

Talk to Me About the WIP I’m Currently Writing

#annie answers #wip ask game #fic: here to stay #oc: tessa abernathy #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy

[bkwrm523]

do you read the stuff your followers write and post? or do you have like a list of writers you follow?

Honestly, is a number of factors an Writer Importance is not rlly a factor. Is more about characters an characterization an stuff.

like lissen if u like, say, anime? Thas cool bruh i support u but is not my thing. I shall not read ur fics bout anime chars cuz i not inta that char. But if u write, say, Batman? I'm inta batman at tha moment thas my thing, I shall check out fic to see if is my kinda stuffs.

#ask #drunk bkwrm

[sagaofstardustmkg]

Song of Time | Dragom | TRIAL 6.1 | Re: Heliotrope, Numbers

Dragom had come to this trial with the hopes of a clean finish and a quick solution. What the dead found while investigating and now...what the living have all presented has thrown all those possibilities out the window. There was much information to glean over and Dragom...didn't do well with lots of information that he couldn't process.

He can at least make an attempt to actively listen and give his insights. He speaks up in response to Heliotrope's concerns on their previous iterations.

"A wonder hou different things actually were i previous runs...Like ye were saying, Heliotrope, maybe the things we experiencit an relationships we haed were aw different before! or maybe we've stayit consistent..."

He shrugs his shoulders.

"A'm no gonna put ower much thoucht intae it! We're wha we are here now an thon's whit matters most richt now, A think! But thon daes brin me tae...wonderin aboot our past actions thon are i number report thing!"

He has to give his own insights into it it seems. He moves his lips and sways his head back and forth as he thinks on what is written.

"Gin A haed tae guess A'd be 11 richt? 'near comically impossible tae understand' sounds like whit someone wad say aboot me, wahahahaha!!"

He merely laughs off any of the thoughts that these two writers had to say about him.

"A think A'm more capable o reasonin gin A say sae myself an cullen skink is also a real delicious dish! But thon's no the point...Gin A follow this then...thon'd also make Baku number 5 richt? Juist aff o whit A know aboot her which..."

He turns to the Baku in question and makes a sad pleading face towards her.

"A'm real sorry for probably fallin on ye i another time loop!! A promise thon it probably wasnae on purpose!!"

#endgame #trial #a dude

[crimsonbow]

fall in love with your solitude

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

#crimsonbow #rupi kaur #milk and honey #solitude #acceptance #inspirational #motivational #english #english quotes #inta writers #author #original #positive outlook #literaturw

[andthentheywilleatthestars]

Honestly if Steve dies in Infinity War and Bucky winds up staying in Wakanda and adopting an identity that’s completely disconnected from everything about him that’s interesting I’m going to be done with Marvel

#original #infinity war #bucky barnes #hate the white wolf concept #hate it so much #tbh I've been losing interest since civil war/when the bucky tag filled up with reader insert anyway #but yeah I really really don't trust the marvel writers to just drop bucky in a completely different milieu while keeping the character inta #not to mention that like it or not bucky really is primarily defined by his relationship to steve #and if steve does wind up dying that's going to need a lot of narrative weight #that dropping him into sci fi afrofuturist utopia would just distract from #not to mention the racial politics of dropping the white dude who we all care very much about into sci fi afrofuturist utopia #this is all because you all went along with agents of shield's daisy bullshit #every bad marvel decision is connected don'tcha know

[shookspearewrites]

There’s something wrong with Jean, Isaac and Shakespeare ... (A Theory about the Ikevamp Universe)

There are route spoilers below for Isaac, Napoleon, Theo and Jean’s routes so please please scroll away if you don’t want to see that!

As far as I know, this theory is entirely my own and I have not seen any similar theories but, if there are some out there, please let me know and I will credit them!

So, as you may or may not know, my ducklings, I’m a big ol’ history nerd and this has led me to tirelessly researching, trying to pinpoint the exact year that Ikevamp is set in. I’ve narrowed it down to between 1893 and 1898 - I’ve done this by taking every irl character death (Eg, Arthur Conan Doyle died in 1930) and every single historical indicator from within the game (Eg, Theo mentioning that it’s only been a few years since his death + the 2nd Boer War hasn’t happened yet) and putting them on a timeline.

Now, what I’ve noticed within the game a lot is historical inaccuracies, which is totally fine! It’s not meant to be entirely historically accurate otherwise, frankly, it would not be an enjoyable game - For example, irl, some of our boys were quite racist + misogynist (among other things) and Cybird can’t just go shoving in that in a whimsical, light hearted otome game. Also Isaac and Leonardo are both speculated to have been gay so, there’s that.

But aside from that, they do get a lot of the historical details right! Like the use the Napoleon coins which didn’t go out of use until 1914 (Arthur’s route), the boys reading ‘La Petit Parisian’ which didn’t stop publication until 1944 (Napoleon’s route) and Gaugin wandering around alive and well in Paris because he didn’t die until 1903 (Theo’s route). And they seem to get all of the boys’ death dates right ...

Well, some of them. 

Firstly just off the bat, Theo and Vincent didn’t die on the same day irl. They’ve changed it to use as a plot device which I think is fair game but, I just hold a bit of a personal grudge against it as I have tirelessly studied the van Gogh boys for university and I know every little detail about their lives. But we’re not here to talk about them today.

I want to talk about how wrong Cybird seem to have Isaac, Jean and Shakespeare’s death dates.

We’ll start with Shakespeare - The real life Shakespeare died in 1616 which would be fine if it hadn’t been mentioned that William was the suitor who’d been brought back by le Comte first (I can’t remember which route this was in, sorry!)  This would mean that Jean was turned and brought back by le Comte after Will even though he died almost 200 years before Shakespeare did. 

Another problem about Shakespeare is that Isaac in his own route mentioned that he was brought back by Comte before Shakespeare was which makes even less sense, since Isaac died 110 years after Shakespeare did. Also in Napoleon’s route, Isaac says that he’s been in the 19th Century far longer than Jean has been ... 

Which means that Isaac was turned and brought back before Jean who died 295 years before he did + he’s been there longer than Shakespeare but Shakespeare was turned and brought back by le Comte first??

 I’m so baffled and confused, guys.

A very simple explanation for this is as follows: The Ikevamp universe is big and confusing and the writers over at Cybird just got a few things wrong / mixed up and the wires got crossed somewhere along the line.

A little less of a simple explanation for this, and one I kinda buy into is this: le Comte is essentially Dr Who and can travel through different dimensions as well as different times. This would explain all the weird time occurrences that I mention above and also Isaac, Jean and (maybe) Shakespeare’s vampiric abnormalities. 

Example, Jean: Irl Jean was female, very different to in the Ikevamp universe where he is male. He also needs far less Blanc and Rouge to survive than the other lesser vampires. Yes, he starves himself but, it still takes him a few days to get dangerously low on blood intake. The Dr Who theory could explain this; Quite simply, Jean comes from a different dimension in which he was a man, not a woman & in which vampires have evolved to need far less blood to survive.

Similarly with Isaac: He’s an abberant, needing significantly more blood to survive, seemingly even more than even the purebloods. In line with my theory, he could come from a different dimension in which vampires need far more blood to live.

(In these examples, Comte turns them in their own dimensions and because space / time travel is whacky, both Isaac and Jean take on the vampiric traits from their own dimensions and not from the one in which they live with le Comte.)

I can’t explain Shakespeare at all but, I’m sure I’ll come up with something once his route comes out & when I know more about Vlad.

tl;dr - le Comte is Dr Who and some of the boys (if not all of them) come from different dimensions.

Thanks for listening to my rambling, ducklings - and let me know what you think below! - JJ x

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theory #ikevamp theory #ikevam theory #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikemen vampire jean #ikevam isaac #ikevam jean #ikevam shakespeare #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp jean #ikevamp shakespeare

[a-meghead]

I loved ur David x me head cannons ur such a good writer like 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖 if you have the time would you do a protective David oneshot? Love u💖

YES DSFKJLDSF i haven’t written an actual fic in SO long! this was such a nice change of pace, thanks for requesting!!

protective! David King x Reader

below the cut because it’s a little long! (wc: 1k)

    An agonizing scream, followed by the horrid looming darkness protruding from the sky was your signal that only half of the beginning group remained. David, God only knows what antics he’s up to now, had been out of sight for a considerable amount of time, and you hoped (if any deity was listening to your thoughts) that he was doing something, anything productive, as you carefully disassembled your fifth pile of unidentifiable bones.

Anxious to escape, you finished up, the familiar clicking and cracking of the (most likely) human remains as they collapsed to the dim ground. By this point, David had to be finishing the last generator, or picking a fight with the woman hunting you down like prey.

Knowing him, it was probably the latter.

You stood, taking note of your surroundings. Your eyes instinctively locked on the tall metal beam with lights spiking out from the highest point.

‘So close..’ You thought to yourself-

CRACK!

Your thoughts were quickly replaced with your survivor instinct. Quickly, you looked to where the noise came from, seeing the cause. A hatchet had engraved itself to the moss covered cinder blocks.

“Shit.”

Looking opposite of the hatchet, the predator stood, preparing herself for another precise pitch.

Your reflexes did you well as you ducked, the blade barely missing your forehead. Grunting in frustration, your attacker pulled another hatchet from her belt, taking steady aim whilst approaching. You took a breath, and ran.

Twisting through the stone walls, you silently prayed that David was making progress.

For once, your prayers were answered! The familiar whirring of the exit gates echoed throughout the area, and a rush of hope was instilled in you again.

You spotted David, calling your name and waving his arms at the escape. You nodded as a strange smile came across your face; the scrapper nodded in return, pulling the lever to open the gate.

'He needs some time,' You thought, looking for a diversion. The killer was close now, still fixated on you, rather than David. A plank of wood made its way into your vision, and you realized that this would likely be your best option. Expecting the killer to follow suit, you dashed towards the pallet. She raised her arm, and SLAM, it crashed right on top of her.

David howled with laughter "Nice one mate! That'll-"

His childish taunts were cut short by the Huntresses frenzy of frustration. She was angry.

Very, very angry.

She grunted, snapping to attention much quicker than usual, and pulled her last hatchet from her belt.

Before you could react, the blade embedded itself deep into your shoulder.

You stumbled back, crying out in pain as the Huntress stomped on the pallet. You had to run, you knew you had to run, the escape was right there! But you felt paralyzed. Your heart was beating rapidly, and your fingers twitched, but you couldn't move.

The pallet finally gave in under The Huntresses force, splintering into pieces. Just as the killer rose to lunge again, David yanked you backwards.

"Ya gotta move, kid! Swear down, you gonna let 'er get away with 'at so easily?"

The pain was finally getting to you. You shook your head, still disoriented, and stumbled into him. The sight of the glowing ground was your reminder of how close the two of you were to escaping.

One final rush of hope!

David roughly grabbed you with him, and you both ran for the escape. The Huntress, recovering from her swing, heaved in anger as you both ran off, barely escaping her grasp.

You felt your head begin to clear as you escaped, running further and further into the darkness. David's footsteps echoed closely, as the realm behind the two of you collapsed. You found yourselves back near the campfire, being greeted silently by some survivors. At some point, the hatchet embedded in your shoulder had disappeared. Most assumed that the unexplainable disappearances of items and weapons were claimed by the same being that claimed your friends on the sacrificial hooks. From the whispers and visions that each survivor had experienced, they each came to the conclusion that the being should be referred to as 'The Entity'. Unfortunately, following trials, The Entity had decided that most wounds should stay in tact. "Right then, lets get ya patched up now, eh?" David smiled, motioning for you to take a seat on the ground. "Ah, I can do it," you retaliated, reaching for a stray med-kit that lie next to you. You noticeably winced from the pain, making David uneasy. "Oi." He snapped, snatching the kit from your reach. "You got that crazy blokes hatchet bloody buried inta ya. Can't be arsed to help Dwight with an injury, right, let me help ya instead." "..What..?" "Just let me help ya!" He pressed, kneeling down in front of you. "But-" "No buts." David interrupted, opening the kit. He grabbed a sponge and abdominal dressings, barely reading the directions. "David-" "Just let me do this for ya. Please." There was a sense of urgency in his voice, in the way he looked at you. You hesitated, but said nothing, finally giving in. David smiled victoriously. "Erm... What do I gotta do?" You chuckled, but flinched when the pain came searing back. A determined look came across David’s face. "Let's fix ya up." he reached for your shoulder with the sponge, carefully placing it over the wound. You moved to hold it next as David grabbed the dressings. Confused, you gave him a look. "You got a problem?" He asked, opening the pads. "Those are.. for.." "Hm?" "Abdominal dressings," you read,".. for your stomach." He froze, and laughed, "Who gives a shit, mate! This isn't an infirmary, innit?" David carefully replaced the sponge on your shoulder with the bandage, chuckling to himself. You smiled, laughing with him. For a while, the pain was numbed. David took a breath, "You should be more careful. If I hadn’t been there...” he trailed off, and sighed,  “I worry about ya, ya know. Even in this shit hole, I want you to be safe. As safe as possible.”  You nodded, unsure of what to say in return. Instead of words, you offered him a grateful smile. He grinned in return. --- adksjf i hope this is okay!! 

#david king x reader #dead by daylight #david king #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

I didnt feel attacked, were just having a discussion. I think Ava's other plots were lost on some ppl. They couldve used a refresher. She's a good singer, a loyal friend, a responsible student, a stickler 4 the rules& boy crazy, but on the flip side she is dealing w family dysfunction and ofc the bullying trauma. id never advocate for the bullying storyline to be all we explore in Ava's season. It'd be one of the plots. She could recount it in therapy w flash backs (like skam, s1 or druck, s2)

I mention that I wasn't angry at you because sometimes I worry about what my tone sounds like to other people especially online.

I know that an Ava season would have other things to explore. That is not what I meant to imply either. I don't at this moment recall the kind of flashbacks we got in the seasons you mention. But that still doesn't address the elephant in the room.

How are we meant to root for Ismail or Kieu My in the following season after we learned the specific details of what they did to Ava?? Plus like I said their on-screen behavior never really seem to me to be as bad as what the bullying for Ava implies. I am not saying it wasn't bad I'm just saying there is a difference between what they did in s5 and bullying someone so much they are scared to go to school.

Look at Skam S1 as an example. Of course, we are meant to see Ingrid as a person, not a cartoon villain, but we are never going to sympathize with her as much as we needed to sympathize with the Instas. Her behavior was cruel but still not as bad as what we are told the Insta did to Ava.

And even if the problem wasn't that we are meant to like the Instas. The bullying stuff still doesn't make any sense. Like I said this is fiction. If the bullying is not happening on screen or we aren't seeing the immediate aftermath then at best the bullying would function as a backstory. And like you pointed out, there would be more to say about Ava, so we really didn't need the bullying to be there.

I don't think the audience would have liked to see a season with an Insta as main or even as a love interest. If we knew the depth of what it is they did to Ava.

I also think that the writers themselves never meant to write the Insta as that bad. Look at season 5 and the apology they gave Nora. A lot of people weren't happy about it. But the writers did seem to think that was enough.

I just think that they should not have written it. That it does nothing for the actual plot. It bothers me that it's used as dressing in other's people stories. And it would have bothered me even more if they had given us an Ava season, told us what they Insta did. And then got asked to watch one of Ava's friends fall in love with one of them and then watch a full season with another one as main. How do you reconcile the fact that we are meant to like the Insta after being told what they did, so much so that it would be a full subplot about it?

The best way to include the bullying trauma was to not have Insta as the actual bullies, maybe have the Insta be toxic party people who reminded Ava of her bullies. You can't sympathize with the victim and then with the bullies. Or well, yes you can but not in skam/druck.

Think about what a fucking punch in the face it would have been to have gotten an Ingrid season, especially after what she and Sara did to Sana? I wouldn't have watched that.

That's the main problem is that we are meant to like the Instas. And the bullying serves nothing in the plot other than explaining the trauma and behavior of one character the fact that they wrote that the Insta did the bullying was stupid. If an Ava season would have had bullying as a subplot, we should not be asked to view the bullies as love interests or main. Not before her season and not after.

Like I said I would have liked a season with a main dealing with her past bullying trauma. It's just stupid that those bullies were the Intas. When we were obviously always meant to like several of them.

#druck #the insta are meant to be somewhat enjoyable you aren't meant to want to see their point of view #they can't be the bullies #it's hard to that in normal shows it would be even harder to do on druck/skam

[viya17xx-blog]

Some infinities are larger than others.

Unknown

#infinity #love #forever #together #relationship #goals #relationship goals #couple goals #text #my text #love quotes #quotes #inta quotes #writers community #writer #books I'll never #author #writers of tumblr #poetry #poetry community

[lonely-xplr]

Shea is really shady i agree. I used to defend her when people first hated on her but there are anti Amber edits made AFTER her fake apology & she still liked them. And theres no excuse because the thumbnail had Amber on it not her so she cant say she didnt know what it was about. Amber used to be very vocal online and suddenly she barely posts on inta, twitter, or her stories. Plus she retweeted & followed Corey La Barrie after he past and no one says anything bout that. (1)

i only watched one adventure buddies vid i think, but i didn’t have a problem with her either until recently with the amber stuff. i honestly don’t understand her relationship with colby. she had a live a few months ago where she was asked if she was single and she said no, so the chat started mentioning colby and she made these sly, mysterious remarks without actually saying anything concrete. she seemed serious when she said it, so if it’s true, then it’s weird that she’s still so attached to colby. obviously a friendship is fine, but a lot of what she acknowledges is posts about them being in a romantic relationship. colby’s said multiple times how he’s single and doesn’t want a gf until it’s long lasting and real, it can’t be him, so it’s strange for her to still hint at something with him when she apparently has a bf. even if she doesn’t, that’s weird because again, he’s said that he’s single and not looking. also, i highly doubt he would admit to having a flirty friendship with amber if he was with shea..

imo, i feel like maybe there was something between them a few yrs ago, but now she seems to cling to that attention of people wanting her to be with him while he doesn’t reciprocate it. it’s not her fault that most of her tags involve him, but she doesn’t show anything else about her life. if she wants to be a serious model, writer, etc, shouldn’t she want to focus her profiles on that and move forward with her work instead of only being known for a friendship with some guy?

#asks

[ask-de-writer]

LOST TIME (part 1 of 3) A fantasy of Flocking Bay.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

LOST TIME

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5556 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003

All rights reserved.

Reproduction  in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the  express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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It stands out even in the dark ... It shouldn’t. It’s just a house. A damned old house. Not even that old really, not for New England. It’s a two story salt-box style with an observation deck under a cupola at the peak. It is probably just the setting. Rusty old iron fence, gnarled elderly trees, unkempt lawn not quite out of control, windows that the neighborhood kids haven’t broken. It should be a witch’s house but it isn’t. It is mine. I just closed on it yesterday.

The kids are going to have a field day this time. I don’t like the daylight... been on night shift as far back as I can remember. That’s a longish way back. But I’m not a witch, nor vampire. Nothing exotic that I know of. I’m just one of those people (you probably know one or two) who don’t show their age. If you envy me, think again. YOU try to explain to a traffic cop why your ID has you pegged for seventy+ and you don’t look over twenty. I carry a copy of my fingerprint record from the military, because they can check that.

Funny part of it is, I really don’t have the slightest idea how old I am. Traumatic amnesia the doctors called it, during the war. The head wound was minor, they said.

That is a matter of opinion. It robbed me of my past, my name, my identity, my loves and hates but left my skills intact. I was an empty shell. I am still trying to find my past.

The name that I use comes from more or less modern myth. Vandervekken. The Flying Dutchman. Wandering Dutchman would be more accurate. He sails the seas off the Cape of Good Hope until Judgment Day. He can’t find his home either. I bought the house because it is the first place that I have seen in over fifty years where I want to stay. You explain it.

The rusty gate opened silently, thanks to the bit of oil that I put on the hinges. Going up the uneven walk, between the looming trees is an experience. The door lock is old-fashioned but still works smoothly. Covered furniture could have made ghosts to haunt the place, if I were superstitious or given to being easily frightened.

As I said, I like the night. I even enjoy things with a bit of a spooky atmosphere. I also like antiques and handcrafted things which is why, if I ever find out who did it, I will cheerfully throttle whatever philistine covered the finely inlaid hardwood parquetry floors with battleship gray paint.

Stripping and refinishing those floors was on my priority job list. Actually, I shouldn’t beef too much. Pointing out the problem got me a price reduction of nearly $2000 on an already underpriced house with all of its furniture as part of the deal. Estates can be wonderful when you are on a tight budget. Too bad that someone else had to die to create my good fortune.

As I pulled the dust covers from the furniture, I saw that my good fortune was been complete. It was all sturdy, hand-carved hardwood with Chinese silk brocade upholstery. The furniture alone was worth what I had paid for the house and contents. The tops of even the smallest hall tables were inlaid with rich veneers, ivory and mother of pearl. You couldn’t buy furniture like this any more. Besides the cost, the ivory in the inlays is no longer legal to obtain. I could get as much from the sale of just one or two pieces as I could from a year of writing if I could bring myself to part with any of this treasure. It just feels like the house would not be complete without it.

Whoever it was that had died and left this for me to have has whatever blessings it is in my power to bestow. The only wonder is that this place stayed on the market long enough for me to find it. Usually, deals like this get snapped up by the real-estate brokers before people like me ever see them.

When I got to the kitchen, I received another little jolt. I knew that it was fairly up to date, but some thoughtful soul had stocked the fridge and set out a bit of a snack for me. Just cookies and a glass for the milk, which was staying cold in the cooler. Thoughtful. I wondered who did it.

While munching on the cookies, I opened a few windows to air the place out a bit. Going out to my car, I saw that the flags of the walk needed leveling because of the weeds that grew up between them. I drove around to the alley behind the place, opened the garage and parked Lilitu, my classic pre-war Packard touring car. She looked right at home in there. Few, even of modern garages were big enough for her. I ferried my few personal goods up to the house. On my last trip, I saw a couple of wide-eyed kids looking over the back fence.

“Told ya, told ya so!” one of them chanted. “There’s somebody sneakin’ inta the ol’ Vekin place!”

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking, to move into your own place,” I answered as civilly as I could manage. “I just bought it. Why do you call it the Vekin place?”

“If ya ain’t sneakin’, why ya goin’ in the back way? An’ after dark, too?” she shot back. I could now see that they were a girl and a boy. She was obviously in charge.

“I like nights. I’m a writer, so I can keep any hours I like. Why is it the Vekin place?” I asked again.

“Dun’no - Crazy guy named Vekin used to live there,” she contradicted herself.

“Lot of folks tried to buy the place since then,” the boy piped in.

“But nobody ever stays,” the girl finished for him firmly.

“So, this is the neighborhood’s haunted house?” I inquired jovially.

“No,” was as far as the boy got.

“Its down the street, on t’other side,” she cut in.

“I looked at that one,” I said thoughtfully. “The old Victorian. Somebody’s broken out all the windows. Not like here. If the Vekin house is so bad, why hasn’t some kid chucked rocks at it?”

“‘Cause we’re not THAT crazy!” exclaimed The boy, getting out a whole thought. The girl gave him a push, and they ran off into the night.

I got up about noon, after the most restful night’s sleep that I’d had since the War. After my breakfast and a quiet tour of the place from attic to basement, I went out. My goal was the local newspaper. THE FLOCKING BAY VOICE was sprawled across the plate glass window in Old English style letters of gold leaf and black. Smaller letters proclaimed Est. 1841. I pushed open the door. My nose was assaulted by the multiple odors of printer’s ink, paper and grease. The VOICE occupied one large room. An elderly web press crouched at the back of the space, behind several rolls of newsprint. Cubicles made offices in the middle of the room. An old oak counter that had once seen duty as a bar had several signs suspended over it on thin chains. They read ‘submissions’, ‘advertisements’, ‘subscriptions’, ‘billing’.

There was a bell on the counter. Some wag had put a sign on it, “Please ring bell, it won’t help but it will give you something to do.” I gave myself something to do, energetically, a few times.

A trim little blond lady answered the bell’s summons. She wore a green eyeshade and a pin on her sweater announced, ‘Lois Martin - cook, bottle washer & EDITOR in CHIEF.’ “What can I do for you, today?” she asked.

“I came to see what I can find out about the Vekin place,” I answered, trying not to stare at her.

“Just a moment, I’ll get the file out of the morgue. I was going to get it anyway. Somebody went and bought the place again.”

“Wait a minute,” I protested. “Someone buys a house and that makes news in Flocking Bay? This town must be even quieter than it looks.”

“Oh,” she retorted, “it can get downright interesting around here when the old Vekin place sells. You’ll see.” She disappeared among the cubicles and I heard her feet clattering down a flight of stairs. I heard a file drawer creak and slide, then slam shut. It wasn’t long before she reappeared, a rather fat file clutched in her hand.

“If you’d like, we can have lunch over at Mike’s Soda Shop,” she proposed. “He makes decent submarine sandwiches and real ice-cream sodas.”

“Well ... ” I pretended to hesitate, “I haven’t been invited out by a beautiful blond in a long time, so, yes.”

“I hope that I haven’t just made a fool of myself,” she remarked, laying aside the eyeshade. “You are Mr. Vandervekken aren’t you? The man who just bought the place?”

“Too true,” I said.

“Then I’ll make it an interview and deduct it from my taxes,” she smiled.

“You make enough to pay taxes?” I asked, looking back as we crossed the street.

“I have hidden assets. The paper is a tax shelter.” She opened the door of Mike’s and ushered me in.

As I was seating her, I just couldn’t help blurting out, “Your assets seem to be pretty obvious.”

She grinned, “Go ahead and stare. I don’t mind. If I did, I wouldn’t wear a snug sweater and put my pin just here.” She pointed, then added, “Looking at it will keep you off your guard while I ask my questions.”

“OK, Ms. Martin, but let me look at the file first. You can order for me. You know the food here,” I said, reaching for the file.

“Lois,” she replied, “call me Lois, everyone else does.” Then she hollered to the man behind the counter, “Oh, Mike! Two butterscotch sodas and a big turkey sub! Divide it in half!”

“How did you know that I liked butterscotch?” I asked. “It’s not that common a preference these days.”

“I just had a hunch, that’s all. You looked like another butterscotch type person.”

I was leafing through the file on the rather beat-up table while we waited. I couldn’t resist snorting with amusement at the name of the house’s builder. Capt. Von Der Vekin. The house had been built in 1894 by the Capt. and his elusive son, Charles. Nobody had ever seen Charles until he came into town, on April 1st, 1900, to report his father’s demise and burial on the property. He ordered a headstone hewn of the local limestone. Charles had returned from WW I with honors and lived quietly, claiming to be a writer, though nobody ever saw any of his work in print. When asked, all that he would say was ‘Pseudonyms are great for privacy’. He was not so lucky when he volunteered to assist the French resistance in 1939. He never came home.

Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#LOST TIME #Part 1 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

[idanwyn-et-al]

The Tale of Hathefara, a Wandering Tree.

((A story I wrote for HA:RP’s Story Night tonight.))

"As it sae happens, once upon a time, there was a lass wha' was also a tree. Aye, aye, save yer looks o' disbelief fer later; though we're hearin' a lot o' tall tales taenight, me own is nothin' but truth...or truth as sailors have it, which may be a sight different than yer truth." She grins, settling into a rhythm; it's reminiscent of one that would be adopted to carry over waves slapping against a ship’s hull, the creak of boards and whistling of sails in the wind. "Twas me own mum, Gwynlona, wha' met this lass...after she'd stopped bein' a tree, o' course. Hathefara was her name, a name she gave 'erself, based on th' sounds o' the wind in her leaves. She didnae remember becomin' a tree, o' course, jus' as ye or I dinnae remember becomin' a Roe, an Elezen, a Hyur...she simply *was*. Hathefara drank deep o' soil, sun, an' seepin' waters, she did, growin' tall in a valley wreathed wi' fog an' the dreams o' wild t'ings."

Pausing, she reflects on this image, smiling softly. "I've heard it said tha' in our lives, th' years go fast, but th' days can go summat slow. This is true fer a tree as weeall, though even more sae. Hathefara began feelin' an ache in th' lines o' her bark, she did; th' waters began tae taste tae her roots as if they'd been left in a glass o'erlong; stale an' empty o' nourishment. Sae it was tha' she offered a prayer intae a thunderstorm one night, clouds an' levin whippin' about th' full moon. 'Nophica, mother,!' she screamed wi' her creakin' branches, 'Let me walk this world! I have lived many cycles, budding, blossoming, reddening, and had quiet sap sleepin' in me veins in turn wi' the seasons! I wish tae go...tae travel...tae SEE!'"

Idanwyn pauses again, letting the tree's prayer echo from the rafters a moment. "As ye might've guessed, me lovelies, Nophica heard 'er prayer, an' granted 'er this wish; so twas tha' Hathefara's roots became legs, long, gnarled an' brown; her trunk a torso wi' a beatin' amber heart; her branches arms, her crown o' blossoms an' leaves, her cloak an' gown. Most notable, howe'er, was a belt o' beads she wore, made from th' crystallized drops o' tha' evenin's t'understorm. "'Go, Hathefara,' whispered th' Matron, 'and mind your chatelaine, your holy belt; it is this that the Races of Man will ever seek from you, and also that which you must hold dearest.'"

Idanwyn rests for several heartbeats, here, looking around to the others in the room. “An’ here, me lovelies, th’ story is meant tae pause fer some; at least, it did th’ first time me mum tol’ it tae me, when I was too young tae have breasts or worry about a shirt tae cover ‘em. I ken how *she* tol’ the rest, but...wha’ d’ye t’ink happens next tae Hathefara an’ her glass chatelaine?”

The room filled with the guesses of others; the belt stolen by a greedy adventurer, mayhap; removed to enjoy a night of passion; that she gave beads away to those who gifted her with memorable experiences.

“Th’ rest o’ the story is in fact *many* stories, one fer each bead on Hathefara’s chatelaine. Her travels are still ongoin’, after all. Ye see, th’ beads crackled wi’ levin from within, each sharp tae touch an’ sweet tae th’ tongue. Hathefara ‘erself used ‘em fer makin’ prophecies, drawn from th’ very elements ‘emselves, an’ tae keep herself nourished; fer all tha’ she walked th’ star on twain legs, she was still very much a tree. Tis said tha’ if ye scour th’ floorboards o’ taverns, th’ paths o’ towns, an’ any other trails where the Races o’ Man walk, ye might come across one o’ these very same beads, meanin’ a story lies within it...an’ tis yers tae figure it out fer th’ tellin’.”

She taps the two beads at the center of each of her earrings; each is slightly cracked, and glowing slightly from within. “Each o' ye might've swallowed a bead or t'ree in yer own lifetime, feelin' a story bloomin' an' glowin' from within, desperate tae be told. There are few o' us, after all, wha' cannae help but be inspired by th' wind, th' moon ridin' high in th' clouds, th' strike an' boom o' levin, th' shimmerin' heat risin' o'er th' earth. In me own case...I keep these me mum gave me, an' try tae save 'em fer th' worst writer's block o' me life." She chuckles. "An' tha', as they say, is tha'."

#my writing #idanwyn lluanswys

[aronsonfilm]

MONDAY (Award-Winning Short Film by Dinh Thai - HBO, NBCU, NYTVF, NMFLA) from Dinh Thai - Writer/Director on Vimeo.

The 50+ time award-winning short film MONDAY follows a day in the life of a young hustler who ‘code-switches’ through disparate cliques while being everyone's one-stop-shop for all things illicit. His reasons for the hustle aren’t apparent, but as he maneuverings through his neighborhood, he’ll confront racism as well as question the morality of his occupation. - Watch on AMAZON - b.link/monday68 - HBO VISIONARIES - 1st PLACE NBCU SHORTS - Outstanding Director, Actor, Next Generation Filmmaker NFMLA - Best New Filmmaker Of The Year NYTVF - Best Direction CATALYST - Best Short CHICAGO INT'L TV FESTIVAL - Gold Plaque ONE SCREEN - Best Direction - Starring: Kevin David Lin L.A. Williams Diamonique Noriega Steve Castillo Joe Cadiff Alexis Clayton Sarah Johanna Jewell Lawrence Johnson Intae Kim Jefferson Cox Grace Shen - Executive Producers: Dinh Thai, Joshua Falcon, Brian Burgett Produced by Brian Burgett DP: Adriaan Kirchner Editor: Matt Detisch Music: Greg Johnson, Joshua Falcon Wardrobe: Natalie Borraez H&MU: Arlene Medina Written and Directed by Dinh Thai - LINKS dinhthai.com/ instagram.com/mondayashortfilm/ twitter.com/MondayShortFilm facebook.com/mondayashortfilm/

[providentially-demonic]

Never Book a Gift Horse...

@chantillyxlacey Happy Birthday to an awesome friend! I hope you like your little gift.

You asked for a MSA fic love and I hope this provides...

There was a strained silence at the cafe where three men sat under the umbrella of one of the outdoor tables. Well, three men and a dog that wasn’t a dog. Even the waiter was trying to be inconspicuous, with the amount of tension hanging in the air around one small table and four beings who might or might not have been what they seemed to be.

Two sat so close together on one side of the small table that their thighs touched and the dog had stationed himself right in front of their feet, opposite the single figure who sat alone on the other side of the table, idly playing with the straw of his iced tea.

Water slapped softly against the pilings of the boardwalk that supported the cafe, an audible reminder of the danger here.

With a glance around to be sure the waiter was out of earshot, the dog spoke. “May I remind all of you we are under truce. Lewis, that means stop acting as if he’s going to grab Arthur in the middle of a public place. Arthur, that means you stop jittering like you drank an entire case of red bull, and—” The dog paused and even though he was hidden under the table, they could all feel the gimlet glare he’d fixed on the man across from him. “You keep your oath, sworn on your honor.”

Arthur jumped and Lewis reached out to rest a hand on his forearm where it lay on the blue patterned tablecloth.

Calder leaned sideways just enough to meet the red eyes glaring at him under the table. “You know well enough, mutt, that I’d no more offer t’ break truce than the blue terror would be askin’ me t’ join your little team. Where’s she got t’ anyways, lurkin’ in the shrubbery t’ throw horseshoe nails at me again?”

“Vivi is not here,” Mystery assured. “Nor does she know that we are meeting with you. So you need not fear her lurking to chuck things at you.”

“So then what’s got y’ conspirin’ without her?” Calder leaned back in his chair, eyes calculating. “You’re the one callin’ for this meetin’. What’re y’ after of me?”

Lewis shifted and pushed his sunglasses back up on his nose. “Um...”

Arthur grumbled under his breath. “We— we need a favor. And we thought you might be able to help with the problem.”

Lewis looked sideways, tapping his fingers nervously on the tablecloth. If anything, he seemed more reluctant than Arthur to be here.

Mystery chuffed under the table. “Arthur told us of your vast library. We were hoping you might be of some help in acquiring a book we have had no luck finding through other means.”

Calder lifted his head, nostrils flaring with a startled breath. “Not that I’d mind helpin’ you, but I reserve the right t’ refuse you access t’ some tomes. They are far too dangerous for any t’ have.”

“Wouldn’t that include yourself?” Lewis retorted, stung.

Calder’s look was withering. “I’ve had most for longer than any of you have been alive. Dinna take me for a fool. I’ve had them warded by every magic I could beg, steal or borrow, t’ keep them safe in me library an’ outta any hands, includin’ mine own. I’m nae a power-mad idiot, like some o’ me kin I could name.”

“Peace,” Mystery barked in irritation. “We are under truce. Stop baiting each other and get down to brass tacks!”

Arthur jittered a leg nervously. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just a book we’re having a really hard time finding a copy of. It went out of print, back in the eighties, I think. And well, I know it’s an outside chance, considering most of your books are... magical... or not in english at all, but we thought maybe you might know someone who might be able to get a copy.”

“Nothin’ dangerous, then?”

“No!” Both Lewis and Arthur answered at the same time.

“Nothing like that, I swear,” Arthur continued, lacing both metal and flesh fingers together on the table. “It’s just the first book in a series Vivi loved all to pieces when she was younger. We saw one come in the bookstore she works at and she grabbed it up.”

“We found her early next morning, it looked like she’d been reading all night,” A smile graced Lewis’s features. “It’s been the first time we’d seen her so happy and relaxed in a long time.”

Arthur plucked at the tablecloth, looking anywhere but at Calder. “Her birthday is coming up and we’ve been trying to collect the rest of the series for her. They’re like super rare or something. It took a heck of a lot of searching E-bay and used bookstores but we found all of them but the first one.”

Mystery took up the thread of narration. “That one, we have been unable to find, not for any price. It seems to have vanished entirely. I even went so far as magically searching libraries within this and then next four states to look for a copy.”

“Plannin’ on returnin’ t’ your ancestor’s roots, as a thief and trickster, then?” Calder asked with an amused smirk, one eyebrow quirked up.

Mystery flattened his ears, but answered candidly enough. “If it were the only possible solution, yes. I would have assuaged my guilt with a large donation to the library I had taken it from, but I was unable to locate it at all.”

“Seldom is a book that hard t’ locate, less’n it be magical, but I mayhaps know some that could ferret it out.” Calder leaned back in his seat and looked thoughtfully up at the blue and white umbrella that sheltered them from the harsh Texas sunlight. “Me, I find it odd that you’d be askin’ me of all folks, t’ aid in looking for a book for her.”

Lewis simmered, but Arthur was the one to rest a hand on his arm this time. Lewis heaved a put-upon sigh, but covered Arthur’s fingers with his own.

“Calder, I know none of us are on the best terms, least of all you and Vivi, but I’m asking you to please put things aside and help us find the book,” Arthur pled earnestly.

Calder brought his gaze back down to meet Arthur’s eyes. His mouth twisted in a rueful smile, and he folded his hands on the table. “Only you, lad, could ask me such a thing an’ get away with it.”

“Does that mean you’ll help?” Lewis grumbled, his hair flickering a little.

“For Arthur’s sake, aye.”

“What’s your price?” Mystery suddenly piped up from beneath the table, poking his head out to fix Calder with a cool gaze. “Something I know well is that fae of any kind are seldom ones to do anything gratis.”

This time it was Calder who showed a flash of temper, irritation carving lines at the corners of his mouth. His eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to points. “I already said I’d do it, cùilean, or d’you still think me likely t’ go back on me word?” His accent thickened, a measure of how annoyed he was. “Or d’ye ken that I’d be tryin’ go back on me sworn oath that I’d not try to take what isna mine?!”

“Mystery!” Arthur’s tone was sharp. “Did you forget everything you just said about baiting people?” His ire was definitely up, heterochromatic eyes snapping as he turned back to Calder, but he took a deep breath and made a visible effort to calm himself, though his hands still jittered nervously on the tabletop. “I— I don’t want to take advantage of you or your— fondness— for me. I’d— I’d rather it would be a— a fair trade and not one of us owing the other.”

Calder drew a deep breath, tightening his hands on the edge of the table. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Arthur, and his flash of temper had already made the lad twitchy enough. “I said I’d help you find it. I were nae asking anythin’ from you.”

“Please,” Arthur pled softly. “I don’t want us owing each other.”

It was all too clear what he meant, that he didn’t want to owe Calder any favors. For all that it rankled, it was the way of things now.

Calder scrubbed a hand through his tumbled hair, blowing a few black strands out of his eyes. “I’ll think on it, lad, an’ come up with what you can do t’ repay me in turn. Not—” He shot a glare at the simmering ghost beside Arthur. “ —That it’d be any sort o’ favor. Belike it’ll be somethin’ material, an’ nae some rarity.” He offered a painfully wry smile. “As me honor’s at some question, I’ll swear by Daanu an’ Epona that it’ll be nothin’ like a favor.”

Mystery nodded. “In the names of the goddesses, then. No favors nor boons owed.”

Calder leaned back in his chair, again toying with the straw in his glass of iced tea. “So then, tell me ‘bout this series o’ books the blue lass favors so highly. Iffen I dinna know them, there are others I can ask after them from.”

With the tension eased somewhat, the waiter dared to timidly refill glasses and ask if they were ready to order. After they had ordered, Lewis pulled a somewhat tattered paperback from his vest pocket and laid it on the table, turning it so the cover faced Calder.

The each-uisge leaned forward to read the title and the author’s name.

Without warning, he tossed back his head and laughed aloud, a deep rumble of startled amusement. “It’s nae a wonder why your fiery lass likes these books, nor, I think, why it’s so hard t’ find ‘em.”

He traced the looping letters of the author’s name with a fingertip, a smile curving his lips. “There’s a fair reason for that. This lass, she knew things, saw things, most mortals canna. While her mysteries an’ tales were made up, whole-cloth, the characters she peopled them with, well— they were dead-on representations o’ some of the fae folk she’d spent her life watchin’ with the sight. She knew them, weaknesses an’ foibles, strengths and magics. It— well, it caught my kin’s attention, y’see, that a human writer knew us so well, spun us wholesale inta the worlds she created with words an’ paper.”

Lewis looked like he didn’t want to ask the question, but it escaped him anyway. “What— what happened to her?”

“Nothin’ ill,” Calder assured with a smile. “Far as I know, she spends her days weavin’ new tales for her new kin, the lords and ladies o’ the Summer Court, for it was one o’ them what wooed her away t’ share her gift o’ words with the fae. She is pampered an’ well-loved by the Court an’ the elven knight what wedded her. Like all the Summer Court, she’s oft t’ be found in places where the summer lasts most the year. She goes by another nom de plume these days, when she sells her works in the human realm. I’d fair be surprised iffen your lass didna have some o’ her newer works at home, considerin’.”

“Is that why the books so hard to find?” Arthur asked, reaching forward to pick up the book. “It took a lot of leg-work (figuratively speaking) to search out the ones we did find, and well, you can see, they’re not in the greatest of conditions sometimes.”

“Ah that’s b’cause some of the fae are prone t’ making a game o’ collectin’ her books, ‘specially them what directly inspired some o’ her characters. We’re a vain lot, an’ hungry for pretty words. An’ iffen those words are about us, well then...”

“Do you think you could help us track down a copy? We just need the one.” Lewis accepted the book back from Arthur and tucked it safely inside his vest. Now that he knew the fae considered it a sort of prize, he wanted to keep it safe and out of sight.

“No,” Calder chuckled.

Lewis felt his hold on his temper slip. “What do you mean, you swore to help!”

“Lewis,” Arthur tried to calm him.

“I mean,” Calder replied, still smiling. “That there’s nae a need. I dinna need t’ track one down for you, seein’ as I have the whole lot in my library.”

“You do?” Mystery put in, sticking his head out from under the table to side-eye Calder.

“I do.” Calder chuckled again. “As I said; fae are vain for lovely words, an’ when the words are about yourself, well, that makes them all the sweeter.”

“Wait, are you telling us you’re in one of the books?” Arthur blurted in astonishment.

“That’d be tellin’.”

“So, are you willing to let us have it?” Lewis asked.

Calder turned a softer smile on Arthur, “Well, now I already promised, did I not?”

Right about then the waiter returned with their food, and forced them to pause while he put the plates in front of them. By the time he had left them again, Arthur was visibly jittering, this time with impatience. “Well?”

Calder grinned wolfishly around a bite of his sandwich. “I’ll do y’ one better. I’ll let you replace any o’ your more ill-used copies with mine, an’ give y’ the first one. I know magics that can restore the ones y’ trade me.” He laughed. “After all, I had t’ learn ‘em t’ keep my library safe.”

“You’ll do that?”

Nodding, Calder grinned again. “It’ll be my pleasure t’ help y’ lads out.” He nodded his head toward the bulge in Lewis’s vest as Lewis bent to slip Mystery a piece of his chicken. “Just pick a day an’ bring along the ones you’re wishin’ t’ swap out.”

He looked surprised when Arthur seized his hand and shook it, “Thank you! When you figure out what it is you want in return, let us know, I promise we’ll find a way to get it.”

Mystery looked a little agast. “Arthur!”

Calder smiled and squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Told y’ I’ll think on it.” He glanced down at the dog. “Iffen I were anyone else I could do him a mischief with such a reckless promise, but I’ll nae.”

After they had agreed on a time to meet, Arthur and Lewis had gone to take care of their part of the bill. Mystery lingered while Calder finished the last few sips of his tea leisurely.

“Why?” The kitsune asked at last. “Why are you so willing to help with this project, to the point of giving away one of your own books?”

Tipping his head to one side, Calder regarded him with a sly grin. “Oh, c’mon now, you’re far from stupid. How better t’ know I got one over on her, than t’ know I had me hand in this grand gesture of love they’re schemin’?”

Mystery silently vowed that Lewis and Arthur must never tell Vivi just how they had managed to get the rest of the series for her.

*****

Vivi’s birthday surprise was indeed a smashing success, and she unleashed a resounding shriek of absolute joy when she opened the rather heavy box Lewis and Arthur presented her and flung herself at both of them, peppering their faces with endless kisses over and over. She squealed happily as she unwrapped each copy from the tissue paper protecting it and gave each of them a fresh kiss for each book unearthed until all of them lay in a neat row on the table. She hugged the first book to her chest throughout the rest of the party, very careful not to get any of the cake and ice cream near it.

Both of her loves got very enthusiastic thanks from the small blue bundle of unbridled joy, both at the party and much later that night.

She did not see how both of them paled when a tiny origami figure of a black horse slipped out of one of the books as she was proudly shelving them a few days later. She absentmindedly tucked it back in the book and continued shelving, oblivious to the heavy silence hanging in the air.

Lewis swallowed and hoped he.could sneak it out later when she wasn’t paying attention.

#fanfiction #chantillyxlacey #mystery skills animated #MSA #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #Calder #Calder Cameo appearance