#tavia tells stories no one asked for

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

400 Days is simultaneously brilliant and disappointing

I’m currently working on another essay about S2 that’s taking me longer than I expected... which I should have expected but y’know, I’m me. I have no idea when it’ll be finished, but I figured that in the meantime I could write about something that came up while working: 400 Days.

400 Days is the stand-alone DLC episode that was released July 2, 2013, and tells the stories of Vince, Bonnie, Wyatt, Russell, and Shel in the same Georgia area that S1 takes place. While the story doesn’t feature Lee or Clementine, it acts as a bridge between S1 and S2. 

I’ve talked about it in the past, even doing a T5F on the Top 5 Missed Opportunities in 400 Days. My past opinions can be summarized in an ask I answered for anon: “Wasted potential. I remember enjoying it when it first came out before s2 released, and the reason I enjoyed it was because I thought it’d be way more important for s2′s story than it ended up being. Bonnie was the only character that mattered while the others made brief, useless cameos if they chose to go with Tavia. Like… it could’ve been so good and it fell flat on its face.”

While not entirely inaccurate to how I feel now, I do believe I wasn’t giving 400 Days a proper chance. 

A major thing I’m noticing as I revisit many of my past posts from when TWDG consumed my life is that nitpicking and overanalyzing for the sake of pumping out content on this blog is the big contributor to why I experienced extreme burnout for the series to the point where I started actively disliking it at one point. While I did genuinely enjoy the creating the content, and obviously still do, there’s a lot I take issue with now.

Looking back on everything, I’m starting to see things differently and appreciate aspects that I previously despised. That level of nitpicking I did was mostly negative and infected a lot of my judgment when it came to games I loved. I knew certain points in the series were disappointing, therefore I should showcase everything wrong with them, and anything positive I have to say comes with a footnote of, “it’s good, but I think this would’ve made it better,” as if nothing was ever good enough. While I’m not ruling out discussions of “what could’ve been,” I want to appreciate what we were given.

Case in point: 400 Days. I adore it. 

I replayed this dlc not only because it somewhat ties into what my larger essay is about, but also I started playing the Mass Effect games and I’m having a mini-crisis about lowkey hating ME1 more and more as I play... dropping it to play 400 Days and write this sounded sooooo more appealing. 

Uh, there’s a freebie update on what I’ve been up to. I’m desperately trying to make ME1 work and then it made me drive the damn Mako and I’m upset about that.....

Anyway-

 400 Days is brilliant. 

I didn’t expect to have as much fun playing this as I did.

400 Days is a quick yet compelling experience right from the beginning, and if I’m completely honest, I haven’t had this much fun playing a TWDG episode for a long time. While I adore TFS, I have a lot more history with that game that changes the overall experience, but this? The whole thing was a blast! Sure, it’s not quite a masterpiece, but it’s way better than I remember. It deserves more credit than I initially gave it and I’m here to rectify that. 

Personally, I love mini-stories that all tie together in the end to create one big story. I'm always going to love the idea, and when it’s executed well, it’s brilliant. Because it’s a single episode that tells five mini-stories, it’s easier to pack in so much detail and make things coherent. While we don’t have as much time with our protagonists, we still get a clear picture of who they are and how they’re handling the apocalypse, how they ended up where they are now, and how they handle each dilemma thrown their way. 

These stories take place at different times of the outbreak, starting before the outbreak and going all the way to 400 days in where all the characters are together and discovered by Tavia. Three of the five stories center around this gas station/diner called Gil’s Pitstop, with the other two being in that area, but all five have elements that weave them together beautifully. A character may show up in one story alive, then show up in the next as a walker, and it’s all dependent on the order you play and the choices you make. 

Each story has a “moral dilemma,” usually a major choice you have to make that affects whether or not a character will agree to go with Tavia, the only exception to this being Bonnie. 

And honestly? All of them are great. They fit in so well with the world of TWD. I’d say that Shel’s story has not only one, but two of the best moral dilemmas, whereas Wyatt’s dilemma is the weakest given it’s decided by a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

I can’t get into the meat of why I think this DLC episode is great without going through each story, so-

Vince: Day 2

Chronologically, Vince’s story takes place first in the timeline, giving us a peak into his life before the outbreak where we see him in a dark room pointing a gun at someone who is pleading for their life. 

“Damn it, I told you! I already told you it wasn't me, man! Man, come on, I told you like...like twenty times... I don't even...I don't even KNOW your brother!”

Vince then shoots him and flees. You get to decide how he’ll try to ditch the gun, but no matter what, he’ll always get caught and we see him on the prison bus, convicted of murder. 

Right away, this tells us so much about Vince yet leaves us wanting more. What happened to Vince’s brother that made him murder a man? We never actually get to know, all Vince says about it is that "I helped my little brother,” which could mean a number of things. 

So Vince is the kind of man willing to take things that far for family, or those he loves, even if he ends up with a prison sentence. His moral compass is already twisting and turning in a different way compared to the others. 

Similar to Lee, he was convicted of murder before the apocalypse, but Vince seems to feel less remorse or guilt for it than Lee does. Lee killed a man in a fight after he caught him with his wife, a heat of the moment thing... but we don’t actually witness it happen. We get to see Vince shoot someone and later claim it was to help his brother out. I find this comparison interesting since this small chapter never tries to set up a, “This is the beginning of Vince’s redemption arc,” like it does for Lee. It more so leans into the fact that yeah, Vince and the other prisoners are here for a reason and right now, redemption isn’t on the table. 

Lee feels bad for what he did and who it hurt. Vince feels bad that he got caught but doesn’t feel bad about helping his brother. The only thing bringing them together is that pre-apocalypse, they accepted that this was their life now only to have a curve ball thrown at them and they find themselves free again. 

Well, first they have to gain their freedom by getting outta those cuffs, I suppose. 

The set up for this story is that Vince is on a prison bus that’s stuck in traffic. You can actually see Gil’s Pitstop through the windows, too. It’s hot as hell outside, and two other prisoners, Jerry and Marcus, up at the front keep arguing while Vince is stuck between Justin and Danny.

Justin is here after years of stealing money from people with “a really good pyramid scheme,” then lied about it on the stand, and Danny is a convicted rapist. The three of them have good chemistry with their banter, it’s enjoyable to watch. You learn more of why they’re here and how they view their guilt, and have the opportunity to tell them the truth about Vince or lie. In doing so will affect how they view you, either you boast about killing a man and become Tough Guy Vince, or lie and say you didn’t do it only to be labeled a coward.

It’s a pretty good time considering the circumstances, but that’s due to how well written and performed this banter is... until Jerry and Marcus become hostile, and one of them chokes the other out. 

But don’t worry, Officer Dipshit [his name is Clyde] is here to help! He starts by yelling at them to stop and then just shooting Marcus in the head before panicking and threatening Vince, Danny, and Justin with the shotgun. 

Honestly, I think Justin says it best: “THIS is what happens when you give guns to ASSHOLES.”

It’s super intense, and you know what’s going to happen the moment this incompetent cop refuses to get in between the fight and break it up properly, choosing to instead point his shotgun at them and yell. But Officer Dipshit gets his comeuppance when Jerry, who was choked to death, becomes a walker and attacks him. Then all hell breaks loose as the other officer [Bennett] flees, leaving you and the other two chained together with a walker that wants to eat your face. 

Vince manages to get Officer Dipshit’s gun and shoot the walker, but the noise only brings more of them onto the bus where they begin trying to get through the gate. 

Now the moral dilemma- Vince has the shotgun. The only way you can escape is to shoot off one of the cuffs, but in doing so will shoot off someone’s foot and they’ll need to be left behind. Whose cuff do you shoot? Danny or Justin’s?

By the way, I love that this whole scene was set up with Danny yanking on the chains that bind you all together as foreshadowing for the solution to this new problem, it’s great.

But here’s the thing about this dilemma... the end percentages still baffle me after all this time. According to The Definitive Edition, 70% of players shot Justin, and 30% of players shot Danny, and I just have to ask why that is?

Because to me, shooting Danny feels like the obvious choice and is what I did. 

Justin is more about keeping his head down. He’s willing to lie if it benefits him. He says that he doesn’t feel bad for his victims, claiming that they knew what they were getting into and he still carried them for years. He’s pretty upfront with his guilt, he never denies it. Hell, he even shrugs and confesses that he lied on the stand, fake crying to try and get a lesser sentence. He’ll joke around, even if he’s mostly annoyed by Danny’s bullshit. Given that he was involved with a scheme that allowed him to make off with millions, he’s also incredibly intelligent. Plus, he’s voiced by the same guy who voiced Ben in s1. I wouldn’t say he’s annoying or anything, he just comes off as more self-serving. 

Danny, on the other hand, is the more charismatic of the two. He’s the one cracking the jokes and yanking on the chains, but he’s also the one who wants to help break up the fight between the other prisoners and stands up to the cop as he’s threatening all of you to shut up. This shows a lot of courage and willingness to intervene when he sees something wrong. He claims he’s innocent, insisting that he’s a morally good man and was falsely accused. Oh, and he misses his girlfriend. He’s a real bro, y’know? 

Here’s the thing: yeah, Danny’s a “bro,” but he’s also a convicted rapist.

Justin: I wasn't stealing from guys like that. Anyway, better than stealing his virginity.

Danny: Hey, how many times I gotta tell you?

Justin: Here we go.

Danny: Seriously! I was falsely accused!

Justin: How old was she? Fifteen?

Danny: Damn it, it ain't like that.

Justin: You're tellin' me there wasn't a star witness waiting around in your white van? I'm shocked.

Vince: You WERE convicted, Danny. Gotta admit that much.

Danny: Aw, come on, Vince. That don't mean I did it.

“It ain’t like that.” Then what’s it like, Danny?

Because when Justin tells him that he “probably ruined that poor girl’s life, you piece of shit,” all Danny has to say is, “Big talk from White Collar over there. How many lives you ruin, kid?” 

As if Danny’s logic is that Justin ruined more lives where he only ruined one, so Justin’s the worse criminal here so let’s shift to him... and I dunno about you, but that makes me feel real icky inside.

I have a feeling it’s because Danny is more of a “bro” and he actively stands up to Officer Dipshit that more people went with him. Or they just weren’t paying attention to what he was convicted of, or they believed him when he said he was falsely accused. Personally, I have a hard time believing him based on his dialogue when you point the gun at him multiple times during the final decision:

Danny: Come on, you know I'm a good guy, man!

Danny: Okay, I know I'm a fuck-up, but Jesus! 

Danny: Come on! I did some bad shit, but I'm a good guy, Vince...

And he says that last one AFTER Justin says, “You're gonna do me and not this rapist fuck?”

Also if you DO save him over Justin, he dies later off screen and Russell will make a comment about how it’s a good thing he did before Shel and Becca joined the group... if anyone can spot a creep/pervert, it’s Russell! 

Vince: Guys, look...if I learned one thing from Danny, it's that we have to stick together and protect ourselves!

Russell: What?! That guy was an asshole! You should be happy he got killed before Shel and Becca joined us.

Becca: Why?

Russell: Don't worry about it.

Justin is upfront that he’s a criminal and I believe him, I believe he’s a self-serving liar... but Danny doth protest too much, me thinks, y’know? Between the two, I'm gonna take my chances with Justin over Danny. I don’t care that Justin’s a liar and eventually ditches Vince, Vince doesn’t seem to heartbroken about it anyway. 

By the way, shooting Danny is the way to get Vince to go with Tavia so make note of that if you’re trying to get everyone to go with her and appear in S2. Actually, it’s interesting that Vince is less trusting of strangers if you go with Danny over Justin, as if he got burned by that choice in the end, hmm? 

Anyway, that was my spiel about Danny vs Justin, and I would be interested to know what y’all picked. I’ve read a lot of discussions about this choice and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way about the percentages. I’ve read a lot of responses to why people picked who they picked, all very interesting. 

Back on track, this is a solid chunk of the story. I enjoy the dilemma presented here. You’re chained to these two guys and if you don’t shoot one of their ankles off, then all three of you are going to die. What gets me about this is it’s not like the Doug vs Carley choice. Doug and Carley were both in trouble but you only had enough time to save one of them. You weren’t actively shooting them. 

Here? You have to pull the trigger more than once. You have to pick one, shoot their ankle off, and then leave them there in order to escape. It’s super fucked and going off the way Vince hesitates and looks back at the one you shot, I’d say it’s something that’s gonna sit with him for the rest of his life. 

The pacing of this episode is great, it’s intense, the escalation in hostility between the two other prisoners only for it to end in blood is well executed, and overall the set up is damn good. 

Wyatt: Day 41

Dude. Wyatt’s story. I love Wyatt’s story. Of all five stories, it’s the one that made me laugh the most. It’s absolutely hilarious despite taking place in a very tense and panicked situation. 

Wyatt in on the run with his companion, Eddie. They’re driving away after an encounter with group of guys that ended in Eddie shooting one of them, and now they’re being chased and shot at by someone in a truck. 

Eddie: God, this is so fucked!

Wyatt: Why the hell did you shoot that guy, man? What the hell WAS that?

Eddie: I didn't mean to do it! It just happened, okay? Where the fuck were you with a warning?

Wyatt: Me? You're putting that on me now? I didn't see the guy, either! I was too worried those dudes were going to pull guns on us or--

Intense right off the bat, a complete panic as you’re trying to shoot at the truck chasing you while Wyatt and Eddie argue about what happened. Eventually the truck swerves off the road and you seem to be in the clear.

From what I gather, Wyatt and Eddie had a run in with Nate, the guy from Russell’s story, an unknown man who Eddie shot and killed in the encounter, and possibly some others given how Wyatt says he was worried about the “dudes” [plural] but he didn’t see the guy Eddie shot. Given that Nate’s alone in Russell’s story and the lone one chasing them down, it’s likely he’s the only survivor from that side. It’s unknown if Wyatt and Eddie were in a bigger group or not, so I’m going to assume it was just the two of them. 

Wyatt: Did you mean to pull the trigger?

Eddie: I don't know. I was so keyed up... I just... damn it. Look, Wyatt. All I know is those guys had me all... jacked up like I was on speed or something. I was just on edge, you know? Then I was, like, watching that guy's brains come out the back of his head. I'm sorry, man. I...

The core of why Wyatt’s story is possibly my favorite is the electric chemistry between him and Eddie. The dialogue, the voice acting, it’s all just dripping with personality and you feel like you’re watching two friends who’ve known each other for a long time, just *chef kiss*  

Eddie: See? It's fine. Road's straight as my dick.... You think we're in the clear?

Wyatt: Don’t talk about your dick.

Eddie: ...... Why not?

[or alternatively, if Wyatt says nothing, Eddie will just : “... Are you still thinking about my dick?” sksks it’s so stupid, I can’t help but love it.]

They talk like typical stoners, which they indeed are because Eddie’s got some “sticky” in the glovebox and wants it after they believe they’re in the clear. Y’know, the perfect time for some weed. Kate Garcia would greatly approve. 

So they’re driving along and we get more context for what happened, more great banter... and then they hit someone. 

The dilemma in this chapter is the fact that they hit someone and they don’t think it’s a walker, it’s a person. Even though they’re on the run from Nate and it’s foggy as hell outside, Eddie insists that they help whoever was hit. 

I believe Eddie is such a fan favorite not just because he’s funny or a charming character, but because of his compassion. In this moment you feel his frustration and guilt in having hit someone. He isn’t about to perform a hit and run even in this new apocalyptic world even though it would be easier to just assume it’s a walker and keep driving. 

Eddie: What if that was you, man?! After all the shit that's happened in the past couple months? Where's your compassion, motherfucker?

or

Eddie: If that guy back there is alive, we HAVE to help him, Wyatt. There ain't a lot of live dudes left these days.

Eddie showed a lot of shock and guilt over shooting a guy before, but now he’s sure he’s hit an innocent person and he refuses to leave them. His humanity does him credit and that’s why he’s one of my favorite characters in this DLC. 

But then comes the choice: One of you has to go find this person you hit, and one of you has to stay in the car. Who should do what? 

The end stats for this are 50/50, and it’s decided either by you refusing to go out yourself, or agreeing to a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

No, really, that’s how they decide who gets to go out there, best two outta three. That’s why I say this is one of the weaker portrayals of the dilemma, you don’t necessarily get to decide what Wyatt’s going to do, therefore shaping his personality and morals... it’s all up to luck. 

Though you can outright refuse, and Eddie will go out anyway so that’s one way to shape Wyatt if you’re playing him as less compassionate, or more cautious, or even as a coward. While there is an option for Wyatt to volunteer, you still have to rock, paper, scissors for it which I’m kinda meh on. Personally, I think if you’re brave enough to volunteer, you should be able to double down with Eddie and make the choice yourself rather than leaving it up to fate decided by a couple hand gestures. 

My advice to anyone playing this is try to lose the game. If Wyatt loses the game, he will go out there with a gun to find the person you hit, otherwise Eddie will go and Wyatt will be left in the car. Wyatt remaining in the car is the weaker option, far less exciting and results in you being attacked by Nate and forced to leave Eddie behind. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad by any means and getting to see that it’s Nate is neat when going into Russell’s story, but I think Wyatt being left behind is more impactful because it opens up a new dilemma.

I managed to lose the game by picking scissors every time. I find that Eddie tends to pick mostly rock, at least every time I’ve played before I’ve beaten him with paper, but rock beats scissors sooo pick scissors. 

Wyatt takes the gun and goes out into the fog to find the guy, who is revealed to be Bennett, the cop who fled the prison bus in Vince’s story. Wyatt tries talking to him, but Bennett is too injured and out of it to respond. Wyatt starts to help him, but because nothing is ever smooth sailing... walkers begin to groan and you realize that they’re coming through the fog. 

The reason I think this path’s better is because now you have a new choice to make: Do you try to help Bennett, or do you abandon him?

Wyatt wasn’t the one driving, and he’s out here due to a lost game of rock, paper, scissors... but is he willing to leave this man out here to be eaten to save himself, or is he going to try and do his best to help the man at the risk of getting them both killed. 

I chose to try and save Bennett, which meant I had to to drag him back to the car while stopping to shoot walkers... and the noise only brings more of them and uh oh, Eddie’s screaming for Wyatt to hurry up because he’s being attacked! If Eddie remains in the car, Nate attacks him and no matter how fast you go, Wyatt never makes it in time... Eddie drives off without Wyatt, who is now left in a misty forest with more walkers on the way, and Nate.

It’s rough, but more compelling, in my opinion. 

The highlight of this story is Wyatt and Eddie’s relationship, and there’s something about them getting separated that just stings, y’know? I found myself dreading getting out of the car not because of the dangers held within the fog, but because I knew Wyatt and Eddie would be separated after this only to never be reunited. 

Well, we assume they never reunite and that... the best way I can describe this is I feel like Sarah from Labyrinth, just throwing myself onto my bed and beating my fists against the wall and exclaiming, “IT’S NOT FAIR!!” at everyone... because it’s not fair that Wyatt and Eddie get separated and it makes me emotional, I’m not happy about it. 

But that also proves how effective Wyatt’s story is. Wyatt by himself also has the vibe of your sarcastic stoner friend who’s into indie bands and video games, but that’s part of his charm. 

Overall, a damn good story and execution. 

Russell: Day 184

I have a lot of feelings about Russell. 

As far as the playable protagonists go, I can say with confidence that he’s my favorite. I love them all, but Russell sticks out to me by how much younger he seems to be, his interesting backstory, and by his jaded behavior. 

His story starts with him walking down a long yet familiar road. He has his backpack and a map, and tells us he’s trying to get to his grandmother’s house. However, as he’s walking along, the truck from Wyatt’s story is coming up the road and Russell’s gotta decide if he should hide or stand his ground. 

If you hide, you’ll quickly remember why you know this road. Russell will hide down next to a corpse, but not just any corpse- the body of either Carley or Doug, depending on who you saved in S1. A neat inclusion, if not a little sad... and annoying because then I’m forced to remember Lilly shooting Carley outta spite and me leaving her ass on the road... wasn’t S1 so fun??

Anyway, Nate pulls up and talks to Russell no matter what, and you have no choice but to hitch a ride with him. You can try and refuse, and Nate’ll drive away... only for a dozen walkers to appear out of thin air and surround you so Nate will come back for you... I see you, Telltale, I see through your nonsense. 

The rest of Russell’s story has him and Nate... bonding? I don’t even want to call it that, but they talk as they drive, we get more insight into Russell’s last group that left him with some trauma.  

Russell: There was seven of us. I didn't have any family there or nothing; they were all at my Gram's down in Statesboro. There was a dad who had a daughter 'bout my age. One guy said he used to be a cop, but nobody really believed him; then a teacher and his wife. Leader was this guy, Steve.

Nate: Go back to the daughter.

Russell: Steve was a bad dude, but everybody was with him, you know? He said seven was the magic number, so we didn't add nobody to the group. If we found survivors, it was the same every time. He...he...

Nate: Let it out, Paco.

Russell: Just... "We gonna kill these folks and take their stuff or what?" And then bang, they'd be dead. Anyway... I couldn't handle that. After weeks of it, I packed my shit up and figured I can make for Gran's alone and try to find my family. I slipped outta there. I couldn't live like that.

Super interesting, and I wanted to learn more about this group but Nate ruins it by continuing to be a creep. 

By the way, Nate? Crusty. Stinky. He is repulsive and I hate him... but he’s also the best antagonist in this DLC, go figure. I’m pretty sure the writers had a lot of fun making him as slimy as possible. He’s dangerous and a huge creep, he makes my guts feel icky, I just-

Russell: Why you gotta be like that?

Nate: Like what?

Russell: Always talking about women like that.

Nate: WOMEN? Ha, okay. Let me see if I can answer your question. Because...because the hunger a man's got for a woman is all we got left now. No laws, no jobs, ain't nothin' that make us men. But they ain't eaten all the women yet.

Nate, you’re gross and I hate you.

Unfortunately, Russell is stuck with this man for the time being until the two end up at Gil’s Pitstop only to be shot at by someone inside. Together, they avoid being shot and break in to find an older man is responsible for shooting at them, and his wife is injured, bleeding out in the booth beside him. 

The man, Walt, yells at them to get out and accuses Nate of coming back to finish them off. Alarming, to say the least, but Nate casually denies the accusations that he’s been here before and calls Walt crazy.

Given this is Nate we’re talking about and he’s been in this area awhile, I’m inclined to believe that he was here at one point and could’ve attacked the couple, possibly with his group that Wyatt and Eddie encountered. 

But here’s where things get interesting, and where Russell’s story becomes more unique when it comes to the dilemma. You’ve got this older couple here, one of them injured, and the other shot at you. They’re accusing your crusty companion of coming back to finish them off, and said crusty man decides to manipulate you by echoing the story from earlier: 

Nate: What do you say, Russ? Should we just kill these folks and take all their stuff?

Super fucked up, and it has an immediate effect on Russell. Nate gives him the crazy eyes and casually points the gun at Russell... so what do you do? Do you comply, or do you stand up to Nate?

Unfortunately, no matter what you do, Nate will always kill the old couple. If you comply with Nate, whether by saying nothing out of shock or hesitantly agreeing, you witness the murders and Nate gloating about how all their stuff is there’s now. Then you get an eerie line from Nate as he looks back at Russell with a smile:

Nate: Relax. You're my boy, Russell. Things are going to be a-okay.

All while Russell stands there in absolute horror and shock, probably reliving the trauma he escaped from his previous group and realizing he’s now stuck in it again. 

This ending to the story is awful... not awful as in it’s written poorly. No, no, quite the opposite. It’s awful because of what it does to Russell. By complying, Russell is now stuck with this man who “kept you around,” according to the little choice notification in the corner. Who killed with no compassion, no guilt, and is gleefully admiring the “rewards” he got for doing it. Russell just stood there while two innocent people were murdered and he does nothing to stop it. He looks at Nate and sees Steve, a man he earlier described as a bad person, but everyone was with him, everyone complied. Russell couldn’t take it anymore and he had to leave, only to find himself at the mercy of another Steve and that’s tragic. 

Luckily, Russell manages to get away somehow given he’s with the rest of the group in the epilogue, though we never find out how. 

As for the alternative, Russell can stand up to Nate and call him out in one of my favorite moments:

Russell: Are you serious?

Nate: Maybe. Why not?

Russell: That's fucked up! There are real fucking monsters out there!

Nate: No shit.

Russell: And you're just going to joke about the shit I seen? Fuck you, Nate!

Nate: I saved your ass!

Russell: You didn't do shit.

Nate: Easy, Russ.

Russell: I ain't hurtin' no one. And don't you hurt these people either.

Nate: COME ON! Can we still be friends?

Russell: No.

Russell leaves Nate behind, and as he’s walking outside, he hears two gunshots from inside. At first, the player’s probably thinking how Russell should’ve done more to help the couple, but what could he do? Nate had the gun, and wrestling it from him would’ve gotten Russell killed. It’s fucked, but there was nothing he could do with Nate holding as much power as he did. Russell had no choice but to stand up to him in hopes of convincing him to leave the couple alone, and then leave. 

Unfortunately, Nate isn’t easily swayed. Russell’s lucky he got away when he did. 

Russell standing up to Nate, avoiding the road he’s desperately tried not to walk again, is compelling as hell. By walking away, he’s saying that no, that’s not who he will become. He won’t be Steve, he won’t be Nate, he won’t be a man who causes hurt and death in order to reap the “rewards.” 

In the end, Russell is more bitter, wary to trust and I don’t blame him. This moral dilemma is so powerful because it’s a choice between remaining strong, brave enough to look at what you could become and say, “no,” and giving in, becoming the thing you feared and ran from. 

Not to mention Russell’s story all started because he left to go find his grandmother, to reunite with his family. If Russell were to reunite with her, would he be proud of how he got there? Or would be feel like yet another monster who hurt others to get there? 

All in all, so damn good. 

Fuck Nate, though. Hope he choked. 

Bonnie: Day 220

Bonnie, everyone’s favorite.... CJ wrote sarcastically, knowing full well that a lot of people don’t actually like her. 

It’s a shame that S2 has tainted Bonnie’s character for a lot of people, but this post isn’t about S2 so I’m going to focus solely on what we see of her in this story. 

What we get is a woman struggling with addiction, clinging to a life preserver the best she can in a world where the dead walk but people are more dangerous, a preserver that can be ripped out of her hands depending on your choices. Bonnie is recovering from a drug problem when we meet her out in the rain with a man named, Leland, and the two are playing a cute little game of “would you rather.” 

She has a deep southern drawl, and easily teases Leland even without player input. 

Leland: You've been a lot more fun lately. Feelin' better?

Bonnie: I guess I am.

Leland: Well, you sure do look better. Though you gotta admit, anything is an improvement. That came out wrong... what I mean is... I mean... You were... you were, uh... you know.

Bonnie: Take a hike, big ears.

Leland: I resemble that remark.

Bonnie: You resemble a satellite.

Leland: Ya know, you weren't so damn sassy before. Guess that's a good sign. I mean it, though. After we found ya, you were still so hooked on that stuff. I never thought you'd make it. You ain't outta the woods yet, I know, but you've come a long way, Bonnie. I'm proud of you.

At first, you pick up on a little romantic tension between the two and think, “Oh, I see~” There’s some definite chemistry there. Leland even goes as far as to caress her cheek and say her name softly. 

Then Dee shows up, and you realize rather quickly that she’s Leland’s wife, and then you go, “Oh... I see.” 

Dee sees it, too, and calls the two of them out on their flirting. 

Dee: I got you a present.

Leland: Aw, you shouldn't have! What did you find?

Dee: I'll tell ya later. I don't mean to interrupt your "chat" with your "girlfriend", but we gotta get movin'.

So that’s not great.

But it appears that Dee found a bag and avoids saying where she got it. Leland keeps pushing on about the bag, and this causes a fight to break out with Dee getting more defensive until she tells then to run. Turns out, Dee stole the bag from a nearby group that is now hunting them down, so the three of them have to get out of there. 

Bonnie falls behind, and ends up shot. Leland calls out to her, but we see Dee holding him back before disappearing, leaving Bonnie on her own. This segment is super good, she falls down a hill and a zombified Clyde- you remember Clyde? Officer Dipshit? Yeah, he shows up as a walker here to attack Bonnie if you don’t kill him in Russell’s story. After killing the walker, Bonnie’s forced to navigate a corn maze while avoiding the flashlights of the group chasing her. It’s a well done scene, and the moment Bonnie makes it out is just heart breaking. 

She’s wounded, all alone, and she’s slipping all over in the mud, desperate to take cover behind a tractor. Plus her little, “Mama watch over me,” gets me, y’know? 

The dialogue that follows is raw. Eerie. Just-

Bonnie: Dee, oh, God, Dee... I'm so sorry, oh, God...

Dee: Wh... why? You... Why? Do... d-- do I look... How bad is it? Bonnie?

Bonnie: It was dark, it's so dark, I couldn't see you! I didn't know it was you! How was I supposed to know it was you?!

Dee: There was no... I thought I...saw you... You did this...? You... killed me. You killed me... I sh-- should never have... tr-- trusted you... just... just a junkie... Leland, she... she did this to me...

Bonnie: I... God, I'm so sorry, so... I can't... Oh, God, God...

Dee: I knew you'd fuck up again... take him...

Bonnie: I... I... no, God, I'm sorry. I need him; I need you both...

Dee: You... bitch... I knew you wanted him... didn't think you had the stones... Goddamn you...

-and then Dee dies. Dee repeatedly calling Bonnie a junkie and a fuck up is painful. Bonnie’s clearly in distress, apologizing and trying to comfort Dee as she’s dying, and all Dee can do is call her a fucking junkie while damning her, telling her they should’ve never trusted her. I cannot imagine the toll that takes on Bonnie going forward. 

Now the dilemma here isn’t that Bonnie killed her. You have no choice on whether or not to hit her with the piece of rebar. If you don’t, Dee will kill Bonnie and you get a nice ol’ YOU ARE DEAD. You have to hit Dee, Dee will always die, it’s more up to you how Bonnie reacts and handles it. 

The dilemma here is Leland finds them and is horrified that Dee is dead. He then asks Bonnie what happened. Do you tell him the truth or do you lie? 

This is rough, to say the least. Because it was an accident. You had no choice, you didn’t know it was Dee and now you have to decide if being honest is the best choice in this moment. Are you willing to take responsibility for something you did even if it hurts you, or hurts Leland? Or are you going to lie to the grieving husband of the woman you killed to save your own ass? 

And remember, that group is still chasing you down, it’s only a matter of time before they find you so whatever you do, you have to do it fast or else that group is going to kill you.

Fun fact, according to the stats, 75% of people lied to Leland, and 25% of people told him the truth. Which I find fascinating yet unsurprising that players wouldn’t tell the truth in order to cover their asses. 

To be fair, a new player might think that telling the truth could cause Leland to lash out and you’ll get hurt, and that takes priority over doing the “morally good thing” of being honest. Or they don’t want to admit they did a bad thing. Players never like doing that unless it was on purpose. 

Not only that, but if Leland knows that truth and you can convince him to leave with you, the fact that Bonnie killed her [accident or no] will always hang heavy in the air. If Leland doesn’t know the truth, then y’know- ignorance is bliss and Bonnie won’t have to face the repercussions from him... she’ll just have to deal with her guilt and trauma internally. 

You also have to remember that Bonnie is a recovering addict. Leland and Dee were her life preservers that kept her afloat this whole time. She just accidentally killed half of her support, and now she’s staring at the other half and has to judge if she’s willing to risk losing him, as well. If both Dee and Leland are gone, Bonnie is alone, and that could be far worse than anything else for her.

For me, this dilemma is fairly similar to Russell’s- who are you shaping Bonnie to be with this choice? Can Bonnie live with herself if she lies? 

If you lie, it’s easy to convince him to come along with you, but you can still do so if you tell the truth, which is what I did. It all depends on your approach and if you can convince him that it was a genuine accident on Bonnie’s part. Which it was so again, not hard. If you can’t convince him, he’ll stay by Dee’s side while Bonnie runs away and you’ll hear a gunshot. 

If Leland leaves with Bonnie, they don’t stay together since he’s not with the group in the epilogue. As far as I can tell, we never find out what happened to him, Bonnie never says. 

Bonnie’s story is solid, super enjoyable, I love it. Again, you might be noticing a pattern but every story so far has been excellent, not a single bad one in the bunch. 

And that doesn’t change with Shel’s story.

Shel: Days 236 & 259

Shel’s story is the final event on the timeline, and while I said that Wyatt’s story made me laugh the most and Russell’s my favorite protagonist, Shel’s story is my favorite overall. It’s not funny like Wyatt’s, and I wouldn’t even say Shel is as compelling as Russell, but it more than makes up for that with the story it tells. 

It’s funny to think back on this because had you asked me years ago about Shel’s story, I probably would’ve told you it’s my least favorite and that Shel and Becca weren’t great. Again, another example of me not giving them a proper chance.

This time around I was surprisingly invested in Shel as a character. She’s a lot more... how do I put this? Softer? She’s softer than the other playable protagonists in the way she acts, speaking, and views the situation. She has a little sister to look after in this world, a young, impressionable girl that Shel sees getting colder and colder with every terrible thing she sees. It’s understandable that Shel wants to protect Becca, or even shelter her from the reality of their situation. 

I liked Becca a lot, too. She wasn’t annoying like I remembered her being. Her behavior is understandable when you pay attention. She’s young, she doesn’t fully understand the weight of the things she may do, and she’s easily influenced, which becomes scary later on. 

Shel’s story takes place in Gil’s Pitstop where she and Becca are staying with a group of familiar faces. Yep, the cancer patients from S1 are back. Turns out Vernon was more of a bastard than we initially thought as we learn he planned to steal the boat from the moment we found it... and given that he’s no longer with the group, I’d say that didn’t work out for him in the end. 

Aside from them, we have Stephanie and Roman. These two are key to this story, both having ideas about how Becca should be raised, and Roman becomes a more antagonistic character in the end. 

This story is about Shel’s conflicted feelings about the world and what it’s doing to her and Becca. They have to keep inventory of guns and supplies and hey, remember how Dee stole that bag? Surprise, Shel’s group were the ones chasing you down when you were playing as Bonnie, and they make comments depending on if Leland stayed with Bonnie or was caught. 

Shel meets Roman outside where we see “guard dogs,” which are just walkers they’d tied up to keep people away. Depending on if you stayed with Nate or stood up to him, you may encounter Walt as a walker, or Bennett. They’re feeding the walkers when Roman makes a comment about how Becca wouldn’t mind doing this, and that Shel can’t keep sheltering her, something Shel struggles with. 

Shel also discovered the old woman walker is eating a puppy and the affect on her is instant, nearly bringing her to tears. Which is completely understandable. When I say that Shel is softer, it’s because of a moment like this where she sees something that’s sad and she doesn’t just shrug it off. She feels it deeply, and that’s further proven when she goes back inside only for Becca to scare her as a little prank. 

Shel lashes out at her, and I love their conversation once she’s calmed down. 

Shel: It's the walkers...I guess they got ahold of a puppy.

Becca: A puppy?

Shel: Yeah. I guess it just...it got to me, ya know. It was so little. You don't think about babies anymore, but... After a while, you just kind of accept...this is it.

Becca: Yeah. I guess you kinda forget.

Shel: Right? But then...you know...there it is. You see it and you want to protect it... And now it's gone.

Becca: That sucks.

I feel like this is obvious, but Shel seeing a dead puppy being eaten by walkers probably brought Becca to mind. While Becca isn’t a baby, she is still a kid, and we know how TWDG works. Children and teens aren’t safe from death in this series. In S1 we dealt with Duck’s tragic death, and we found the walker child in the attic. S1 is all about Lee doing everything in his power to not let that happen to Clementine, and it cost him his life. 

Becca could die just as easily as that puppy. All it takes is one moment, no matter how hard Shel tries to protect or shelter her, and she’s gone. 

Also, this whole “you don’t think about babies anymore” is clever, given what happens in S2 with Rebecca and AJ, I wonder if that was intentional or not. 

But the moment is interrupted when Stephanie barges in to bring us our first major moral dilemma.

A man was caught trying to steal supplies from the group. He’s beaten up, and Roman claims he was already like that, and all he did was tie him up and put a blindfold on. The man doesn’t speak English. He isn’t bit, and he didn’t hurt anyone. This is the second break in the group’s had. The group is arguing among themselves when Roman gives us the dilemma:

Roman: Look, we all know what we're talking about here, so let's stop dancing around it. We either let this guy go and take our chances...or we kill him.

This is... fucked? How else do you describe it? This man can’t defend himself since he doesn’t speak English, no one can understand him, he can’t stay with the group but letting him go is risky. What do you do?

There isn’t a right answer to this, even when you know both outcomes. 

On one hand, you let him go. You can’t just execute a man, that would be wrong, so you send him away and maybe he won’t come back. You’ll be in the clear and you’ll feel like you did the right thing.

Shel: He's not even armed! We can't just kill him! This isn't in self-defense.

Becca: Isn't it, though? If it means he can't come back to hurt us?

Shel: That isn't the same thing.

Joyce: But last time...

Shel: Joyce, that was a long time ago. If we kill this man, then we are giving up a part of ourselves that we can NEVER get back! I'm not ready to let that go.

But that doesn’t happen. The man does come back and he brings his group, we’re attacked, and Boyd dies in the fight. Roman becomes obsessed with securing the place by any means necessary. 

On the other hand, you kill him. You make the choice as a collective group to execute a man and you get to live with that. 

Shel: We can't take the risk. We kill him.

Stephanie: There's gotta be another way...

Shel: Tell me. What if he comes back? With weapons, or...or a gang? Is it worth losing any one of us?

Stephanie: Jesus. There really is no other choice, is there?

Roman: We can't keep him here and we can't let him go. If there's even a chance of him coming back or telling folks who might try to hurt us, we can't risk it. I won't ask you to watch, but if we do this, we're all in it together. If this ever happens again, it's gonna be one of you pulling that trigger.

And in doing so, the group’s morale plummets, and Roman still becomes obsessed with securing the place by any means. 

But you also have to consider what this will do to Becca. Shel just had to face a hard reality when she saw that dead puppy, and now she’s left as the swing vote that decides a man’s fate. That’s a lot for any person and there are so many factors at play here. 

No matter your choice, there’s a time skip and we see Shel and Becca in an RV playing Go Fish. Becca admits that she’s been sneaking out, something that’s horrifying to hear when you realize what Roman would do to her if he ever found that out, or if Becca was spotted and led someone back that wanted to hurt them. 

Speaking of Roman, he comes knocking on the door to ask Shel to come talk to him about something important. It’s not long before you learn what happened: Stephanie stole supplies and tried to escape. 

Roman: We caught her trying to escape.

Shel: Maybe she wasn't. Maybe she just wanted to get outside these walls for a while. Ever since the...incident, you've made this place feel...I dunno...oppressive.

Roman: We've made it safe. And she was definitely trying to escape; she had most of our ammo and medicine with her. She screwed us, Shel. All of us. And now were' in that position again where we can't keep her here and we can't let her go. You do know why I'm telling you this, right?

Roman’s telling Shel this because he wants her to shoot Stephanie, and she can’t say no. 

As if this wasn’t enough of a gut punch, Shel goes back to the RV and tells Becca what’s going on. 

Y’know that feeling you got when you heard AJ say he liked killing Lilly for the first time in TFS? I got a similar feeling when Becca said this:

Becca: Oh, my god. The hell did she do that for?!

Shel: Roman says we have to-

Becca: Kill her? Yeah! Why would she do this to us?!

Shel: She's just scared. She made a mistake.

Becca: Well, that'll be her last mistake!

Shel: Becca! Stephanie is your friend!

Becca: WAS my friend.

Shel’s fear that this world is changing Becca isn’t misplaced, and now she’s forced to face that reality head on once again. 

Also, I’m pretty sure this is the moment that causes people to dislike Becca or think she’s annoying, but again, given what she’s been through no matter what choice you made, her reaction makes sense. If you let him go, she saw her group attacked and Boyd killed, and that showed her that it was a mistake to let that guy go. If you killed him, then she watched her older sister decide the fate of a man and then watched him be executed. 

A lot of the TWDG fandom tend to intensely dislike child characters for the mere fact that they’re not Clementine, and ironically, they end up behaving in ways that make them more annoying than any child character they dislike. So I wouldn’t take their word for it when they say Becca’s a bad character. Play the story, pay attention, and make the judgement yourself. 

As for the second moral dilemma in this story, Shel can either take her gun and shoot Stephanie, or she can take the RV keys and drive away. Do you agree to kill Stephanie or run away? 

For me, this is an easier decision than the first one. I grabbed those keys and we got the hell outta there. 

But for this choice, Shel can either give in and allow this to be who they are now in order to protect Becca, or she can prove that there are other ways, that they don’t have to stay under Roman’s thumb and kill whoever he tells them to. There’s no saving Stephanie at this point, you have no choice in that, but you do have a choice in how Shel raises Becca from now on. 

Oh, and if you’re looking to get everyone to go with Tavia, you have to drive away. If you shoot Stephanie, then she and Becca will refuse to go with Tavia. 

Shel’s episode is my favorite, and the perfect way to end the main story if you’re playing in chronological order. She’s another great character who I didn’t expect to make me feel the way she did. 

Epilogue: Day 400

Once all five stories are finished, we’re introduced to Tavia. She’s a scout looking for survivors to bring back to her community. She talks with someone over the radio about finding all the photos and a note near Gil’s Pitstop that gives the group’s location.

Turns out that Vince, Wyatt, Russell, Bonnie, Shel and Becca all found each other and are surviving together in their campsite. Tavia approaches the group and it’s up to us to convince as many of them as we can to come with her. 

For Vince, you have to shoot Danny, and with Shel you have to escape. Bonnie will agree to go no matter what. Wyatt and Russell can be convinced to join regardless of your choices. The best option is to tell them that you find people from everywhere, and Wyatt will agree to go in hopes of finding Eddie while Russell wants to find his family. 

Most of the dialogue is determined by your choices, as well. 

Once you have your group, the DLC ends with the group burning the photos and note, before asking Tavia how she knows if this will work out. 

Honestly? Great ending, great execution of consequences brought on by your choices. 

The 400 Days DLC is fantastic. It’s brilliant. I love it to pieces, and I highly encourage anyone reading this to replay it. 

Don’t play S1 first, and don’t plan on jumping into S2. Play the DLC by itself, let it be a story contained to an hour of your time. That’s what I did, and I had so much fun! These characters and their stories are wonderful, the writing is phenomenal, I love it!

But... Now that I’ve spent all this time praising this DLC, calling it brilliant and encouraging everyone to revisit it... it all comes with an asterisk* attached:

*As a single experience, 400 Days is brilliant and I love it.... but when played together with S1 and S2.......

400 Days is disappointing.

That’s the glaring issue here. 

I can praise this DLC all I want, and I did. That doesn’t negate the big picture, or the big problem fans tend to have with it. 

400 Days acts as a bridge between the two seasons but let’s be real, the only story that actually matters here is Bonnie’s. She will always leave with Tavia no matter what, and she plays a major role in the group’s capture and eventual escape. The others make brief, meaningless cameos that only exist to make the player go-

-every time one of them shows up. We never hear from them, or about them, again after that.... so what was the point? 

What was the point of 400 Days in the grand scheme of things? 

400 Days becomes worse when you get your hopes up that it’s just a teaser, a little taste, of what’s to come in S2. You think these writers took the opportunity to introduce you to these important characters, tell you their backstories, so that they could be incorporated into S2′s plot as major characters. 

But no, only Bonnie. 

And even Bonnie’s character becomes muddled by ep5 depending on how you tried to help Luke. 

The thing is, 400 Days isn’t terrible because of this. Obviously. It’s disappointing, but why it’s disappointing and the way people claim it could’ve been fixed is... well...

It’s not simple. It’s so easy to just be like, “400 Days is bad because our choices didn’t matter! It’s pointless! Why didn’t they do something else?? I know exactly how this could be fixed!”

I know what everyone always says whenever 400 Days is brought up: “The 400 Days cast should’ve been the cabin group.”

Great idea in theory, or headcanon/AU.

In execution, it would’ve been too complicated and I think we all know that, but a fandom’s hubris knows no limit when it comes to them believing they know better than the developers. 

Not to say we can’t criticize issues with the writing, but it helps to at least be understanding of how things actually work, i.e. video games are hard to make and long posts on tumblr “fixing” video games are fun to read but wouldn’t actually work in practice because that’s not how video games work so maybe stop insulting the developers while acting like you know better about a field you don’t even work in. 

Trust me, I know. Don’t think I’m not one of those people, I’m literally here writing you a long post on tumblr. I’m not innocent here. Have you read any of my Violet posts? You don’t think there was a long period of time where I thought *I* knew better?? I wish I could say you’re right but you’re not, I’m just as bad. I’ve said some unkind things about certain developers that I look back on and just face palm as I slowly sink back in my chair shamefully. I still agree with my criticisms but not the way I said them, and I’m trying to not be like that anymore. 

All that to say it would be too complicated for the 400 Days cast to be the cabin group due to the different combinations of characters who can stay or go with Tavia. What happens to players who had only Bonnie go with Tavia? Or had all but one go? The only solution would be to have a set ending for 400 Days, removing the consequences of choice and having a more linear ending.

Y’know this would’ve gotten them the “my choices never actually matter >:[” criticism which I believe is a fair criticism of games that make these big claims about choice and consequence only to give you the illusion of it. But, there needs to be some common understanding of what can realistically be implemented in a game like that. You can’t expect them to have a thousand different outcomes and have it be a smooth, functioning game, especially when you take into account the release dates and the things going on behind the scenes at Telltale and how that affects development. These studios have deadlines, they have higher ups working them overtime so they can push as much product out as possible, they have a budget that’s never enough, and frankly, shit just happens sometimes.  

I’m not saying that we can’t be disappointed. I’m disappointed that I’ll never get to know if Wyatt and Eddie reunited, or what happened to Russell. I have no idea if Shel and Becca are still alive, and I don’t know where Vince is. I don’t even know what happened to Bonnie after S2. 

When thrown into the entire series, 400 Days is disappointing due to the high expectations it brings for S2, but I argue that it isn’t as terrible as people claim it is. 

I literally just spent several paragraphs explaining why it’s brilliant and why you should go replay it by itself, I think it’s far from terrible and deserves praise for its characters and the moral dilemmas it presents. Don’t think about S2 while you’re playing it, that’s not the point. The point is to experience it for what it is, a series of stories set in the zombie apocalypse that all lie together in the end. 

I would love to hear more thoughts about this, whether it be about the characters or what choices you made and why. Even if you disagree and think 400 Days is trash, tell me why, I’m interested to know. 

In conclusion: 400 Days good. In other news: Happy New Year

As I’m writing this, it’s New Year’s Eve and I’ve got a little over an hour before midnight, sooo here’s a happy new year to everyone. I hope you’re all doing well, staying safe and healthy the best you can. 

As I said at the start of this, I have another essay I’m working on related to S2.... it’s taking forever because there’s a lot to cover, it’s about some polarizing characters and choices, and I have no idea when I’ll be finished. If it takes even longer than I’d like, I’ll probably put it down and work on a smaller post in the meantime. Maybe something about the Michonne mini-series or a character analysis.

I guess my new thing is disappearing for weeks at a time only to pop in whenever there’s news about the Clementine comic or to throw down a long ass essay about something no one asked for hahaha. I can live with that, I think. I will be around for the rest of the weekend, though, so any asks about 400 Days will get answered, I’d love to hear from y’all. 

Uhhh any other news... Oh, @pi-creates​ and I are making a new Dragon Age server on discord that we’re gonna open up soon for anyone interested in that. Right now it’s mostly just discussions about the games and lamenting about the apostates who broke our hearts... well, Pi’s lamenting, I’m mostly just spewing bitter salt about the sewer rat bastard that is my apostate boyfriend >:[ We’ll post a link once it’s ready to go, though I dunno when that’ll be. We’re pretty proud of the set up, and I made a bunch of DA emojis. It’ll be a fun time. 

Think that’s everything. I wish y’all a happy, healthy new year! 

#twdg #twdg 400 days #twdg vince #twdg wyatt #twdg eddie #twdg russell #twdg bonnie #twdg shel #twdg becca #twdg clementine #twdg lee #long post

[poisonousgirlie]

Kaz Brekker X OC Part 2

A/N Hey babies! I got some feed back of the first part I wrote for this story, some feedback being like 6 people, but I appreciate the support! So I have decided to keep up with the story. Any mistakes in this are mine, and I ask you to bear with me as this is my first real story I am sharing. Anyway I hope you enjoy part 2! And yes I know the GIF isn't Kaz, and this is a Kaz fic but I <3 Jes and he's in this part a lot

-Pebble

Part one

Warnings: Nightmares, brief allusions to PTSD, mentions of family member death, uhh I think thats it lmk if I missed anything

Octavia Gray

When Kaz first joined the Dregs we were little more than a gaggle of thieves, a bunch of unorganized criminals who could barely be considered a real gang, let alone any contender for power in the barrel. In the beginning he was just a barrel brat like so many others, like me. But I was there as he rose to power. As he rallied us, grew our ranks, fixed up the slat. And throughout all of it he brought me with him, his right hand. I never quite knew why he’d chosen me, maybe it was a plot to keep me close, as I knew more about him than he would have liked. He never told me what happened, but when he was still very young he talked in his sleep, screamed for someone named “Jordie”. All the kids under 14 were forced to bunk, and I was thrown in a leaky room, barely even a closet, with Kaz. Through hearing his words in his sleep, and what I could piece together about how he spoke an acted, I put most of the story together. He would only truly tell me what happened years later, and for his sake I pretended I hadn’t known in the slightest. Maybe he took a liking to me because I never tried to touch him, naturally noticing his aversion to the feeling. In return he never pushed me about my own nightmares. We were more similar than we realized, even back then. No matter the reason Kaz latched onto me, and I to him. I don’t know if we would be considered friends by normal standards, but I trusted him implicitly, and he was the most vulnerable around me, even if his walls had only gotten higher as we aged. I helped Kaz build his legend, the character Dirtyhands and his shadow Octavia Gray. Id never consciously adopted a moniker, but most people outside of the Dregs just called me Gray. Throughout everything I had been with Kaz, and the sheer amount of time we spent together implied a certain comfort and familiarity. I cared for Kaz, though it was still fuzzy in what way. And I knew he cared for me, even if the only way he showed it was to kill those who wronged me, occasionally call me “Tavia”, and buy me new knives and the occasional bag of sweets. He never took credit for the gifts that mysteriously appeared in my room, but I knew they were from him. Years later when Jesper joined the gang he became one of my few conventional friends, on the rare occasion I attended parties he was there to throw and arm over my shoulder and thrust a glass into my hand. He never failed to make me laugh, and aside from Inej, after she too became a member of our family, he was my best friend. My brother’s old friend Keenan had managed to escape the barrel two years after Milo died. He scraped up enough coin to get on a boat and sail for Novyi Zem to work on a farm, he still wrote occasionally but otherwise the Dregs were all I had. By the time I was 17 Kaz was basically running the Dregs. The old man did practically nothing, and Kaz gave 90 percent of the orders. I did pretty much every job there was. I went on jobs to infiltrate the rival clubs, I spied with Inej, as I was one of the few who could even come close to matching her stealth. I went out to find new members, and tracked down anyone who posed a threat. I picked pockets and danced my way through gambling halls slipping watches of wrists with nothing more than some sleight of hand and a flirty smile towards the poor pigeon. Jesper affectionately dubbed me the Jack of all trades, though once when he was well and truly drunk he decided to call me the Jane of all trades instead because “well you see your a GIRL, so calling you the Jack really doesn’t make any sense at all”. I told him he was a ridiculous asshole and that traditionally male or female names meant nothing, and he forgot the conversation the next day. Jesper’s flamboyant personality and habit of indulging to excess was a source of much teasing from me. I was sitting In the main room of the slat, with my legs thrown over Jespers legs and my hands toying with the ends of Inej’s long hair teasing him over yet another gambling mishap. It was late, and despite the rowdy nature of the gang and the fact that the slat was buzzing and

awake24 hours a day, there were few people in the main room. Inej interrupted my teasing to quietly remind us about the parle with the Black Tips at the exchange the next day. I groaned at the thought. I hated the exchange, high walls and limited escape routes. It made me feel trapped, cramped. It was stupid that Pére Hascall still insisted on doing it the old fashioned way, despite the fact that the man we were meeting was notoriously tricky, and a pain in the ass. I heard the faint rhythm of Kaz’s uneven gait, the thump of his cane familiar and comforting in a way. I sat up reluctantly, anticipating the inevitable jerk of Kaz’s chin or quick word of summons, signaling for me to accompany him up to his rooms. I’d learned a long time ago the patterns and habits of the seemingly unpredictable Dirtyhands, when you are there when those habits come to be, they are easier to mark. I held up three fingers as Kaz entered the room. I lowered them one at a time, counting down from three. Less than a second after the final finger joined its companions resting near my palm, Kaz’s rasping voice came. “Octavia stop letting Jesper’s lazy ass con you into his ways. I need to talk to you”. Jesper let out and incredulous chuckle “I’ll never understand how you know him so well”. I replied smoothly and easily, flicking his cheek as I moved fluidly to my feet. “I don’t know what your’e talking about Jes”. I was halfway up the staircase by the time his tired brain registered both my words and my grievous attack on his precious face. “HEY! I hate when you do that” he protested, but I was already gone.

#kaz brekker #six of crows fanfic #platonic!jesper x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #oc #soc fanfic #inej ghafa #soc jesper #soc kaz #ketterdam

[zabdidaddi]

zabdiel de jesús - camping trip

A/N: this was intended for @mind-of-tavia​ ‘s 500 follower writing challenge! congrats girlie :)) also the jacket zabdi is wearing in the pic looks so so floofy and i just wanna hug him oamsdfmsdf

prompt: “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

warnings: none? just fluff :3

word count: 1.7k

You’d been best friends with Joel since you were kids, so you agreed without hesitation when he asked if you were down to join him and his bandmates on a week-long camping trip in California.

When you arrived in Cali, Joel had picked you up at the airport and the two of you hopped in his car and drove to the camping site.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to them,” he squealed like a five-year old, making you laugh. “Sometimes they get annoyed when I talk about you a lot, but they think you’re pretty cool.”

You blushed at the pseudo compliment, but played it off with a smirk. “Well, I mean… aren’t I though?” Joel just grinned at you and shrugged.

“Eh. Debatable.”

…

Three hours later, you finally arrived at your destination, and Joel gently shook you awake.

“(Y/N), wake up. we’re here.”

Yawning, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before hopping out of the car and helping Joel unpack. As you trudged up the hill with all your stuff, an icy breeze sent shivers down your spine; suddenly, you wish you’d packed warmer clothes before you left.

“Joel!”

You looked up to see a boy who looked around your age running towards the two of you.

“Erick!” A grin was plastered across your friend’s face as he waved to his bandmate in greeting. When Erick had made his way over to the two of you, Joel dropped his stuff on the ground and embraced him. Then, to your slight surprise, Erick turned to you and extended his arms for a hug as well.

“I’m Erick,” he said cheerily. “You must be (Y/N).”

“Yep, that’s me,” you giggled, hugging him back. Then, Erick helped you and Joel carry your stuff to a more secluded area where the other guys had apparently already started setting up their tents. When you finally got there, you saw the three other people Joel had told you about in the car - a guy wearing a beanie with tattoos poking out form under his rolled-up sleeves, a red-head wearing some of the coolest earrings you’d ever seen, and a six-foot tall guy with curly blonde hair who immediately caught your attention. They looked up as the three of you approached them, and immediately rushed over to tackle Joel in a group hug. The beanie guy glanced over at you and beckoned you to join them, so you happily obliged. When they finally broke apart, Joel introduced you to the rest of them.

“Guys, this is (Y/N),” Joel said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “(Y/N), this is Chris, Richard, and Zabdiel.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” you chirped.

“Joel, ¿ella no esta tu novia?” Chris asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the two of you. Although your Spanish wasn’t the best, you recognized the word “novia” and could tell from the tone of his voice what he was implying.

“Ew!” you and Joel simultaneously cried, exchanging disgusted glances with each other. The other boys cackled with laughter, causing Joel to glare at them.

“But don’t you guys dare touch her,” Joel warned.

“Ay papi, lo entendemos,” Zabdiel laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. You glanced at him when he said that and noticed him looking at you. Then, he winked at you mischievously, making your heart flutter. In response, you offered him the most confident smirk you could muster, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

When you and Joel excused yourselves to set up your individual tents, you asked as casually as possible, “Is Zabdiel always this cocky?”

“Cocky?” Joel questioned incredulously, then burst out laughing. “Why do you think he’s cocky?” “I - I don’t know,” you answered, clearly flustered. “He…winked at me?” This only made Joel laugh even harder, and you huffed in annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, trying his hardest to hold in his laughter. “Nah, he might have been flirting, but he’s super sweet; you’ll see once you get to know him better.”

By the time you guys had finished setting up everything, it was already late at night. Richard suggested a bonfire, so you carried all the food supplies out while the boys set up the fire. When they finally managed to get a flame going, the six of you sat in a circle around it. Much to your delight, you were sitting next to Zabdiel, with Joel on the other side of you.

The boys started to discuss plans for the next two days, and you thought it was extremely sweet of them for trying to converse in English so that you would understand. After a while though, you zoned out, focusing on trying to warm yourself up instead.

“Careful,” Zabdiel muttered, placing a hand on your shoulder when you leaned too close to the fire. You tried to ignore the tingling sensation where he touched you and just gave him a small smile. Leaning back a little, you felt a little colder because of the lack of heat from the fire, so you wrapped your arms around yourself instead.

Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Zabdiel shrugging his jacket off, and you turned your head to look at him.

“It’s cold, you should take my jacket,” he told you.

“But then you’ll be cold,” you protested, shaking your head when he offered his jacket to you. “Keep it.”

“No,” he responded. You crossed your arms across your chest and pouted at him, which made him grin goofily at you. “(Y/N), por favor. I’m not cold.” You stared at him for a moment longer, then gave in when another cold breeze caused you to shiver uncontrollably. 
“Fine, but just tell me when you want it back,” you told him, and he nodded, handing you his jacket. “Thanks Zabdiel.” The jacket was way too big on you, but at least it kept you warm.

“Isn’t that Zabdi’s jacket?” Joel asked from beside you. You whipped your head around to look at your best friend, having momentarily forgotten about his existence. Turning your head back to glance shyly at Zabdiel, you nodded. The other boys heard Joel’s comment and immediately turned their attention to the two of you.

“Ay Zabdi!” Erick cheered, and the other boys joined in.

“Callate,” Zabdiel muttered, though a small grin was spreading across his face. You half expected Joel to chastise or threaten Zabdiel, but he just shot an all-knowing smirk at the two of you.

“I’m tired,” Joel said suddenly with a yawn. “I’m gonna sleep now. Goodnight.” He kissed the top of your head quickly before standing up and winking at you. You blushed furiously as you realized what he was doing. The other boys quickly caught on and stood up as well, claiming that they were tired and went back to their tents. After the boys had all left, it was just you and Zabdiel awkwardly sitting side by side, neither of you looking at each other.

“You tired?” Zabdiel asked after a while. You turned your head slightly to look at him.

“A little bit,” you admitted. “You?”

“Sí, pero,” he paused. “I’ll stay outside with you if you want.”

His sweet offer brought a smile to your face, and you wanted to hug him so badly, but didn’t know how to initiate it. So, you just replied, “Thanks Zabdi.”

Suddenly, Zabdiel asked, “Are you sure you’re not dating Joel?”

“No,” you replied, almost choking with laughter. “I’ve known him for so long.” Before you know it, you’ve started to tell Zabdiel about your childhood stories with Joel, and he shared a few of his own childhood memories with you as well. An hour later, you’d grown so tired that every sentence you uttered was interrupted by a yawn.

“You should sleep,” Zabdiel reluctantly said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A blush crept upon your cheeks, and you smiled shyly at him.

“I think I’ll sleep out here,” you said, glancing at the sky. “It’s so pretty.” Zabdiel followed your gaze and looked up as well, murmuring in agreement. Then, without a word, he stood up abruptly and started heading back towards his tent. You looked up in confusion, then realized he was probably going back to his tent to sleep. Sighing, you lay down on the grass and just stared at the stars. He did even utter so much as a “goodnight” or tell you that he was going to go back to sleep. “Whatever,” you told yourself. “Stop liking him (Y/N), because he obviously doesn’t even care about you.”

“Idiota.”

You sat up in alarm and found yourself face-to-face with Zabdiel who was holding two pillows and a blanket in his arms

“I…”

“(Y/N), I care about you,” he whispered. “Yo creo que… ya enamorado de ti.”

You cocked your head to one side. “No entiendo, Zabdi.”

“Nevermind,” he said softly, then laid the pillows down about a foot apart. You lay down on one of them, and he lay down on the other.

“Tell me,” you whined, turning around to face him. He chuckled and shook his head, staring into your eyes. “Por favor.” He swallowed nervously as his gaze flicked to your lips. Oh. Without hesitating any further, you closed the gap between the two of you and pressed your lips against his gently. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as he kissed you back harder, his hand sliding down to the small of your back to pull you closer. When you broke apart, he grinned widely at you.

“Are you cold?” Zabdiel asked suddenly. Even with his jacket on, you were still a little cold, so you nodded. In response, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and relished his body warmth.

“Goodnight Zabdi,” you yawned.

“Buenas noches, amor,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Smiling, you closed your eyes and drifted off into sleep. You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the week with Zabdiel De Jesús.

#tavia’s 500 follower writing challenge #cnco fanfic #cnco #zabdiel de jesus #zabdiel fanfic #cnco imagine

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. XIII

[T’Challa x Reader]

Word Count: 6.2K

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*  *Part 4* *Part 5*  *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8* *Part 9*  *Part 10* *Part 11* *Part 12*

Okoye thanks them and leads you down a hallway and staircase that leads to a room of cells that look familiar to you.  You aren’t in the same part of the building but these cells are very similar to the ones Tavia was in prior to Erik breaking her out and all the chaos ensuing before.

“Wait here.  She will be in room 3.”

You obey, standing in front of a room with lasered barriers.  Your heart gallops in your chest as you take a deep breath to calm remain as calm as possible.  You weren’t scared of getting hurt really, but you just weren’t ready to hear what Tavia had to say.  You just knew it was something you had to let happen, or you would regret it.

You hear the depressurizing doors as Tavia walks from behind a corner, stopping short of seeing you standing on the other side of the lasers.  

“Hey…”  She says quietly.  No matter what they have been through, Tavia always had something to say first.

You look away.  “I’m not staying to talk long, I just wanted to come by and see you…”

Tavia steps quickly towards the lasers, stopping short of touching them.  

“(Y/N),” she says your name with tears forming in her eyes.  The soot from earth containing vibranium stains her rugged uniform as she wipes her face.  “...I never wanted this.”

“Then what did you want?  According to Erik, you had been in on it for a while.”  You say through your teeth.  How dare she have something to cry over at all, after all she put you through.

Tavia sniffles.  “It’s not like I wanted to hurt you, or stop your pregnancy.  You-you never told me about it.”

“It’s not like your were around to dish with much Tavia!  You blamed that on me, remember?  Made me feel bad for going out with T’Challa so much but little did I know you had your own nigga to worry about, so fuck you for making me feel bad for-”  You stopped short of saying something your weren’t even sure was true anymore.  Falling in love?  Was that what fueled you and T’Challa?  Or just some naive teenage fever dream your grown asses had no business falling into.

“Please!  I don’t want to lose you as a friend.  You need me now more than ever right?  Why don’t you tell them to let me go, so we can start over.”  Tavia pleads as tears rinse her dirty face.

You feel your anger start to run over.  “Is that why you’re crying?  Because you’re working a little too hard as a punishment and now you want me to get you home?  You know in the US you would get arrested and sentenced there too, right?  You know you committed a crime and RUINED MY LIFE!?  And I don’t need you, I never fucking needed you.  You barely even cleaned up after yourself in that damn apartment, what the fuck did you ever do for me?”  You scream at the top of your lungs, and it felt damn good.

Okoye steps beside you.  “We need to go, you’re getting too upset.”

“(Y/N), do you know they do this too?”  Tavia pulls at the neck of her shirt and turns her head.  On her neck is a symbol burned into her skin, still shiny and fresh.

You whip around to Okoye.  “Why did you do that?!  I thought you all wouldn’t hurt her!”

Tavia cries harder.  “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Okoye squares her jaw.  “I am not at liberty to discuss the methods in which we entreat our prisoners, but this far from our harshest punishment.  It’s not even viewed as a punishment, to be frank.”

You look at Tavia again, your friend.  Skin scalded and body worn down.  Your hands pull at your hair, completely at odds with yourself as your emotions battle between sympathy and anger.

“Instead of telling me that,”  You continue, “you should have told me sorry.  But no, not one apology.”

“I am sorry!”

“Just ‘I didn’t mean it’.”

“I’m sorry!”

“...which of course is a damn lie.”

“I ain’t worried about no branding!”

You look towards the direction of the voice, heart pounding in your ears as its owner is unmistakable.

“Bitch thought she was tough til the Wakandans put hands to her.  Screaming like she a damn fool.  I wish y’all would try that with me.  Come on and try it!”

“Silence!”  Okoye bellows down the hall.

“He’s...he’s still alive?”  You ask blankly.

Okoye steps in front of you.  “You are forbidden from seeing him.”

“Baby girl...come here for a second.  I want to see you.”  Erik says seductively.

“Don’t!  He hasn’t been acting right down here!’  Tavia warns.

“Has he ever, Tavia?!”  You snap at her.  “Okoye, I have you and Ayo, and anyone else y’all can call in the vicinity.  Please...I don’t have much left before I go.”

Okoye’s face is unreadable until her eyes find the sky and she takes a deep breath.  “You are to stand behind me the entire time.  No more than one minute will I give you two.”

Okoye leads you down to Erik’s cell until you see him.  She stops five feet from his cell, that looked uninhibited.  

“He is enclosed in an enchanted space.  He cannot step foot over the stones, or he will be missing a limb.”  Okoye says more to Erik than you.  You can hear the smirk in her voice.

Erik looks horrible with a swollen eye, busted lip and jaw looking like he’s sucking on a grapefruit.  With a bandage wrapped around his shoulder, he looks like the fight happened to him yesterday.

Erik stands there looking at you, no words said.  Okoye said one minute, so you start.

“You a damn bastard.”

“So is your baby daddy.”  Erik rebuts.

Okoye hisses at him, slamming the butt of her staff on the ground  as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“You had no damn business involving me in your mess with him.”  You say.

“Oh but it was easiest to get things happening, right?  Damsel in distress, works every time to chase after something you want.  It worked for me too:  his daddy killed my daddy, fucked up my future here so I came back to take it.  It even worked on your friend.”

“Shut the fuck up Erik!”  Tavia screams.

Erik laughs out loud.  “She wasn’t that loud outside these bars, I promise.  Excuse her.”

You try to get a word in.  “Erik, you are-”

“No, no.  See, guilt trips don’t fucking work on me.  Sob stories, shaming, nah.  I don’t wanna hear that.  What YOU need to hear is that T’Challa is bad business for you.  So while y’all unwed and barren, y’all oughta leave each other alone.  This life ain’t yours, it’s his and probably Nakia’s.  But not yours.”

Okoye takes charge to lead you out of the holding cell area.  Erik’s taunts to remind T’Challa to use a condom and Tavia’s cries fill your head as you leave to the calm hallway leading to the elevator.  Okoye and Ayo take turns to calm you down and request back up in the holding cell area to calm their arguing down there.  

“(Y/N)  we will take you back to your living area, T’Challa should be there waiting.”  Ayo explains.

“I want to leave today.”  You say as if in a monotone voice.

“I don’t understand.”  Okoye says.

“I want to be at home tonight.  My home, in my country.  Not here.”

“But T’Challa-”

You cut her off, growing emotional.  “He knows better than to try to keep me from doing this.  I have a right to go home.  My wounds are healing, my mind is...getting there.  I just need to be home.”

You all step off of the elevator and make the journey in silence to your living space with T’Challa, rounding a corner you see the entrance way to it where T’Challa is standing, and sharing a hug with Nakia.  You feel your footsteps turn to stone as she touches has face fondly and says goodbye, walking in the opposite direction of you.  T’Challa sees you and and closes the distance immediately.

“Umhle, how are you?”

“She wants to leave here.”  Okoye says in distress.

“Why?  Did something happen down there?”   T’Challa’s voice rises.

“T’Challa, I’m fine.”

“Things got loud, but everyone is still secure.”  Okoye says.

“She does not need to be shouted at, that is unacceptable.”  T’Challa says.

“Guys.”

“I understand, but she insisted.”

“I cannot begin to question your judgment, General. But this…”

“T’Challa!  Stop talking like I am not here to speak for myself!  It is just that I am ready to go, that’s it.”  You say, walking past him and into the entrance of your shared space.  T’Challa dismisses the Dora and follows you.

“This does not make sense.  Something had to happen for you to be reacting this way.”  T’Challa says in a demanding tone.

“Just let it go!  Coincidences happen, I was bound to go home eventually right?  Or is that another secret you don’t want to fill me in on:  your plan to keep me here for the rest of my life!”

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you go after everything has happened.  You have only became mobile within the last couple of days, I want you to be better completely.”

“I think I am better, and I would know more than anyone here.  I look a lot better than Tavia and a helluva lot better than Erik.”

You curse yourself for letting that information out that you first know he is alive, but also that you saw him.

The room felt colder as T’Challa walks towards you.  “You met with him?  After all of this, you went to see him?  And Okoye allowed it?!”  

You tried to compose yourself as T’Challa was on the verge of yelling at you, which he notices.  

“I don’t mean to yell at you, but I am furious, that I cannot hide.  Why would you want to even see him when he is the very reason for causing such havoc and losing my firstborn!”

“I needed closure!  I needed to hear from Tavia and Erik what their motivations were, if there was any remorse but…”

T’Challa looks you straight in your face, inches apart.  “I don’t see how you could get any more information out of them than we already have.  But if he said anything that mocked you or this experience, I can assure you he will be dealt with.”

“He didn’t say anything of substance.”  You say.  Despite what happened, you just wanted the pain to stop from all sides.  The fight was over, no need to dig the knife in further.

T’Challa knows that’s not it but he lets this one slide, bringing you into him.  Your face rests against his chest as his heart beats fast and eventually slows in your eardrum.  His scent calms you as it always did and you feel you eyes begin to flood.  It wasn’t fair.  He made you feel so good but his love comes with so much baggage and now hurt, it is hard for you to be receptive.

“T’Challa I still want to leave today.”  You murmur.

T’Challa loosens his arms and looks down at you.  “Stay, please.  You’re safer here than out there.”

You shake your head.   “There is no way I can.  Shuri made sure that I am clear physically but being here, I cannot recover mentally.  I am always reminded of what I lost, and what I went through and I just want to feel normal and boring again in my own space.”

T’Challa nods, pushing one of his kimoyo beads.  “I’ll get the heliplane to take us then.  I’ll have our bags packed so that-”

“T’Challa I can’t go with you either.”

His brow furrows.  “What do you mean by that?  I won’t have you travel alone.”

You roll your eyes, turning away.  “Fine, but can I go with Shuri or Okoye.”

T’Challa ponders the thought.  “Sure, but I should-”

“I want to be away from you for a while, ok?  Maybe, even say it’s done?”  You don’t look at him, keeping your back turned.  You know this isn’t going to go over well.

“You don’t want to be together anymore?”  T’Challa asks softly.

“I don’t think so.  We went too fast and it was a lot.”  Your voice begins to break uncontrollably.  “And just like Wakanda, being around you is just reminding me of what could’ve been and that’s not helpful to me.”

“Umhle, I-”

“Please, let me do this!   Just let me have this peace for once.”  You turn to face him after wiping your tears away.  He looked nearly the same as you did.  “You couldn’t even let me into who you truly were when you claimed to love me, so I just want us to think about this and bettering ourselves separately.  I know you will be back in my area because of the community center, but I don’t plan to look for you, so please don’t do the same for me.”

You walk past him toward the bedroom to gather your things before asking T’Challa one more thing.  “Had you and Nakia been together at one time?”

T’Challa’s eyes widen and fall before he nods slightly.

Your heart falls.  “She is nice, honestly, I can tell.  And I hope you don’t hurt Tavia and Erik further.  I get why you would think to do that, but I’m just so tired of the bloodshed.  She is someone who was important to me anyway, and I can’t stand to see her suffer.”

You didn’t have much with you when you came to Wakanda, but Shuri had a team help put together a small parcel of things for you going away.  Clothes, hair and personal care products, and more that you could ever want as a tourist of the motherland.

“Here, I still want you to have this.”  Shuri holds out the necklace version of the kimoyo technology, making you shake your head.

“I won’t need that.  T’Challa and I are…”  your voice trails off as you can barely say it.  T’Challa isn’t just a lover but he’s been a good friend to you.  A guy hasn’t ever shown you as much care and compassion all your life as he had the past few months.  But you kicked yourself for putting that much faith in him.

“I know, but it might be nice to still keep this if you need to talk.  I can be there for you still.”  Shuri encourages, as she lifts the necklace above your head.

You hesitantly accept it.  I promise not to bother you about your brother, or anything, so be glad that this is pretty because I am not turning it on.”

Shuri nods solemnly.  “It’s fine.  I really do hope to see you again.  Come by the center, help out, enjoy the amenities.”

You shrug, adjusting the parcel in your arms as movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention.  He’s standing awkwardly behind the line of Dora who escorted you all to the plane.  You told him not to follow you, not to say goodbye.  You wouldn’t be compelled to stay but you couldn’t allow yourself to breakdown in front of him.  Your body would give away your true feelings too much, and you wanted him to believe you were ok.

Queen Mother embraces you warmly.  “I will continue to pray for you and your well being as you go on.  You always have a place here if you want.”  She pulls away to look at you like only a mother does, and it almost breaks you as a result.  You bite your inner cheeks to keep the tears from running, nodding wordlessly as you hug the parcel to your chest, looking toward the heliplane.  You feel a touch on your arm.

“Don’t go on with regret.  Nothing happens without reason and we all grow from the cut downs we face in life.  Remain proud to have seen another day and take every strife a building block of strength to your faith.”  

“Thank you, Ramonda.  I can never thank you enough for putting up with me and what came about here.  Thank the Doras for me, please?”

Queen Mother nods, stepping back with Shuri to watch you enter the heliplane and proceed to take off.

You watch the treetops zip by as the aircraft speeds away from Wakanda’s impenetrable shield to the outer world and eventually back home.  It was dark by the time you got back home, allowing you to step out of the cloaked aircraft without being noticed appearing from thin air.  

Looking up to you apartment: the red brick, with sturdy wooden balconies, just about 5 stories high, it all felt almost foreign.  It seemed as if you were dropped into someone else's world and you were the character selected in a video game to go over someone’s journey as your own.

Your feet are heavy as you climb the steps to your place, jingling your key ring with the ‘Fuckboy Repellent’ rubber key decoration.  The metal clicking together to signal the unlocking of your door made you suddenly nervous.

As you open the door, you look around to see the apartment just as it was left: half a bottle of tequila in the table with a couple glasses for the pregame, snacks half opened, decorative couch cushions askew.  One of Tavia’s palettes are on the kitchen counter, which is her signal of a rush job to get out the door to the party on time.

You take a deep breath as you pick up the bottle to return it to the cabinet.  Feeling so ill, alcohol would be the last thing on your mind now.  Setting the bottle down you look across to see Tavia’s bedroom slightly ajar.  The panic in your chest elevates and you close your eyes to steady the pounding that fills your ears.  You start to breathe erratically as you picture Tavia wielding a weapon, laughing at your confusion.

You look back at the tequila and unscrew the top quickly, taking a couple swigs.  Your taste buds are shocked and your throat closes slightly as the liquor travels down, making you cough uncontrollably.  Setting the bottle down, you wipe your mouth, feeling a little less sickly as the pounding quiets and the room dulls in intensity.  Maybe alcohol would solve a problem or two.

Walking up to her door, you push it open with one finger, remaining outside of the barrier for a beat.  Your mind clicks with an idea:  maybe there’s a clue in here, maybe there’s a reason behind it all within her stuff.

With a goal in mind you walk in and switch on the ceiling light.  Tavia was the messier of you two, but DAMN!  You couldn’t understand how she had so many nightcallers with a room like this.  Clothes strewn about the bed, 5,6 pairs of shoes littering the floor.  Makeup left around her vanity instead of in her Amazon beauty case.  Her nightstand loaded with leftover dishes.

You roll your eyes as you open her drawers, look in her closet, under her bed, under her mattress, in her bathroom cabinet for anything that could say how long she was planning to ruin your life with Erik at the helm, but you come up dry.  You plop on her bed in defeat feeling a bit more lightheaded thanks to the exertion of energy and tequila. You figure if there is any evidence it would be on her phone which is presumably still in Wakandan custody.

Having wasted your time, you get up to exit her room, looking around once again.  Somehow, you ransacking her room actually made it look neater.

BANG BANG BANG!

You’re startled by the knock on your door and as a result, dive into your small kitchen area for cover.  A moment passes before

BANG BANG!

You crawl on your hands and knees, telling yourself to chill out.  One thing Erik never did was knock on doors, only knock them down.  So this had to be someone actually looking for something.  

You get to your feet slowly and walk to the door, looking into the peephole.

“Is you in there?”  A small old woman says, before raising her cane.

“YES! Yes, I’m here.”  You say, opening the door to recognize your neighbor Ms. Ply.

She looks you over with  confused face.  “Honey you look like you been through hell and asked for a cup of sugar!”

You smile weakly, trying to appear less like how you really felt.  “Oh, well it’s been a rough week, don’t mention.  Really.”

Ms. Ply shifts her weight on her cane.  “Mhm.  Well I came because I ain’t heard from you or your friend from a couple weeks.  Been pretty quiet around here.”

“Honestly, that’s good news.  Thanks for looking out for us.”

Ms. Ply looks you up and down again.  “Mhm, so where y’all been all this time?  I didn’t see anybody pull up with a car to drop y’all off, so I got concerned when I heard noise.”

YOu stumbled for words to put together to form a story.  You had only been back less than an hour and you hadn’t had time to think of a story for your absence.  

“I was...on a trip...to Cleveland.  To see my family there.  Had a death.”

Ms. Ply’s face fell.  “Oh no, baby.  Who died?”

“My cousin.  FIRST cousin,” you say a little too loudly.  “Really close, my mom’s sisters son.”

Ms. Ply shakes her head.  “Hate to see it.  Young people need to stop shooting up on each other!  And they got a nerve to talk about police-”

You say under your breath, “I didn’t say he got shot but ok.”

“What was that, baby?”

“I said that Tavia had a work study in New York to go to.   I think the timeline is flexible, so I can’t say when she will be back.”

“She was always coming and going any damn way, bringing anybody up here like she running a cathouse or something.”

You smile tightly and nod, just praying the conversation will soon be over.  “Was that all you needed?  I was getting ready for bed.”

Ms. Ply begins to turn.  “No that’s all I guess. Call the cops if you see anything crazy.”

Oh, she has no idea.

Getting back to work that week was weird.  Apparently, you had called out sick with the flu and had doctors documents to prove it.  Thank you Shuri!  So there was no issues having missed so much time.  Unfortunately, the work you had to do only piled up, since the coworker who had been tasked with keeping up on it did the opposite of that.

Work annoyed you but also made for a blessing in keeping your mind busy to keep T’Challa thoughts at bay.  The job’s regular rigamarole never failed to put your brain cells to hell overworking themselves.   You concentrate better with music in your ears but slowly your comfort turned into a nagging habit of checking the phone for what you told yourself is to change the song, opening up the app whole checking the taskbar for any notifications.  Why would there be any besides an email or two, you tell yourself, keeping the Ari Lennox bumping in rich soulful volume in your ears.  The album starts with Chicago Boy and your body reacts soon as the beats drops in your mind.  The smooth groove with a spattering of drums and a slow trumpet coaxing you to rock a little gives you access to another world for a moment.  As the lyrics come through, you’re reminded of the story within the song of Ari meeting a guy, admiring his vibe, looks and despite not being at her best in the moment, is willing to take the lead and shoot her shot.  

You hold your head in your hands, smiling a little as you think back to the first time you met.  No way were you looking for a new piece to enter your puzzle but here comes his Tetris block head ass entering the coffee shop.  It was magnetic, it felt like no less than fate to approach him and see what’s good.  A wave of nostalgia hits your spine as you sit up suddenly like you were hit with lightning.  Ms Macchiato!  He used to call you that often, before you got closer as a couple, switching it up to umhle.  It made you feel brand new any time he whispered it in your ear…

You stopped playing the album before your mind drifted to memories not safe for work, waking up your computer monitor to get back at it before you hear it from your boss.

Almost everyday was like this:  go to work, a song plays that reminds you of him, your mind lingers and your work suffers.  The pile of work barely decreases because your imagination won’t stop playing you.  Despite all the bad that happened between the two of you, why do you feel like you are missing out on him?  Like you are the one that got shut out and should be begging to come back into his life?  It doesn’t make sense, you are the victim here, you won.  You called the shots and got everything you wanted in the end.  Yet here you are with your kimoyo necklace on your chest, switched on in case a call comes in from whomever.

One night coming in from work exhausted to the bone, kicking your shoes off with scattered thus in your empty apartment and head straight for your bed, taking a swan dive, belly first onto your unmade bed.  You stare off into space with an empty mind, nothing of substance except for what’s for dinner.  Pizza sounds good for the fifth time this month, reaching for your phone that alerts you that your battery life is at 5%.  

Your phone does not play about a low battery, so you scramble for your charger to keep it alive, leaning over the edge of your bed, pawing around the floor to the end piece.  You feel around the space under your side table and feel something soft.  Tugging it out you let out a deep sigh taking in your long lost child, T’Challa Jr.  

The black panther plushie that T’Challa won for you on your first date at the fair/concert.  He stood up for you when a rude man tried you and smiled on proudly when you freaked out about the Internet performing on the main stage unexpectedly.  Ending the night sharing snacks and kisses on the bench as fireworks burst in behind you put the metaphorical ribbon on your box for him, for real.  

You squeeze animal tightly, plucking stray dust bunnies that stuck to its short fur.

“Why have you been hiding from me huh?”  You asked it.  “You think I’m mad at you?”

You run your fingers across the plastic eyeballs staring back at you.

“I didn’t mean to leave you, I wasn’t going to stay away forever.  But I want you to know me and your father are no longer together.”

You shake your head feeling silly and set the animal to the side of you, holding your face in your hands with embarrassment.  You’re talking to an animal, stuffed one at that!  Is this how lonely you have become after it all?

Looking back at T’Challa Jr. again, you place him in your lap, stroking his head to his back.  You take a deep breath and speak.

“Like I said before, your father and I decided not to stay together anymore.  And it is no fault to you.  I want you to know that I don’t blame you for anything bad, I lov-”

Your voice began to crack, and you inhale deeply for breath as tears begin to roll, continuing to pet your plushie.

“I never blamed you for anything and I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you here.  I did, and I really tried to keep you here.  I wanted to protect you but I left you in harms way still.  I shoulda stayed my ass home but I never knew all that shit would happen.  No matter when you happened, we still probably would’ve broken up after all that because hell, who would sign up for that bullshit and baggage.”  Your tears add shiny specks to the plushies back that slowly dissipate into a dull stain.

“I miss you, Bean.  I want to feel your flutter again, but...I know if you were supposed to be here, you would be and that’s fine.  I am not mad, I just want you here so I have something that made it all worth it.  Something to look back and say hey, it wasn’t all for nothing.”  You pick up your plushie, nuzzling its neck.  “Thank you for showing yourself in my dream.  You would have been beautiful.”

As you hold your last symbol of you and T’Challa close, you meditate in the moment of remembering your precious Beanie baby.  You never got  a chance to say goodbye or even experience your child leaving.  Some would consider that fortunate but it made you feel even more empty, like they were stolen in the night.  Whatever became of your child is back in Wakanda and you felt guilty for not acknowledging Bean in some way before leaving, that may have been selfish of you.  And now a month has passed and this is the first time you have even given Bean a thought.  You continue to eulogize alone, until your eyes grew tired of crying and your body ached from sobbing, curling up into a ball and falling into the deepest sleep you’ve had since coming back from Wakanda.

--

It’s been almost three months of getting back into the groove of living alone and single.  T’Challa still crosses your mind daily, but the heart skipping and evening cries have slowed down considerably.  You had received a text from a cousin asking if you wanted to come with her on a weekend trip out of state.  You kept blowing her off but after some playful threats, you decide to look into hypothetically going on this trip.  

Browsing airlines and airbnbs, you total up how much a good time is going to cost you when a thought hits your brain.  You have been paying for a two bedroom apartment on your own for three months.  You feel panic rise as you think about how much that has been costing you when you haven’t even thought about it due to the haze you have been in since shit hit the fan.  Your account HAD to be negative at this point, no way in hell can you afford the full bill of this apartment on your income solely, plus all the emotional takeout you have been enjoying and utilities and internet.

You rapidly tap away at your laptop to sign into your bank account to check the paltry balance.  The screen takes forever to load and then the two factor authentication questions makes you want to punch the sun.  

Finally, when your balances are shown, you gasp at the number.  You still had a comma in your balance, and it wasn’t red or containing a negative.  You thank God silently but start to cautiously research your transactions.  UberEats here and there, plus some other restaurants.  But somehow you have not been charged for any bills out of your bank account.  You check the portal for your rental place to see if you have any past due notices but none are there.  You are all paid up and timely.  You check your bank account info and there lies the first discrepancy.  They do not display the full account number on the site, however the last four digits shown are not yours.

A thought flashes your mind but you chuckle to yourself knowing it is impossible, scolding yourself for even going there.  But still any other explanation does not make more sense.  You click on the Live Chat option for customer service and message a Jeanine to see what’s up.

Thank you for contacting our customer service live chat.  I am Jeanine, how may I assist you?

I want to report fraud on my account.  You type back.  She confirms your identity with a few questions and goes on.

Your account is not delinquent.  Did someone try to log in to your profile?

No, someone is paying my bill without me knowing.

A moment passes before you see the icon Jeanine is typing…

We do not keep account numbers on record, however you did not make any changes to your payment type recently?

No, I have not authorized any changes.

Jeanine is typing pops up for three minutes as you get antsy.

As I said, unfortunately we do not keep account information on record.  You will have to contact your bank to report the fraud.

I can’t contact the bank of a bank that is not mine and that I don’t know.

Jeanine is typing… I am sorry, but we cannot share bank information.

Can you at least tell me if the account appears to be from out of the country perhaps?

Jeanine it typing...We cannot share bank information.  You will have to contact the bank to report the fraud to your account or change payment methods.

You end the chat and give Jeanine a one star rating for helpfulness.  If the way that rent is being paid is how you think it is, you wouldn’t begin to be able to hold back your anger.  You pace the floor muttering to yourself and laughing out loud about how fucked up it is for someone to pay for your shit without saying something, without asking, without even checking in to see how you have been for three month before flexing their big baller dick on your rent like this!  

They had some damn nerve to do this, and how long did they think they could keep doing this without you noticing?  You fish your kimoyo necklace out of your jean pocket to get started on ripping some Wakandan a new one.  Let it be Shuri or-

Unless this is what they wanted.  Of course you would question how your account was accessed which for their technologically advanced asses, hacking your rental account is lightwork.  Then you would call saying what is this about, he would say I got you, you would have to say thank you and then you are back in each others good graces?  NO!

You push the necklace into your dresser drawer, way in the back and close it shut.  No way in hell will he control you.  Like you thought previously:  if he wants to contact you, he can be a man about it and do it himself.  Money will not buy you.  But you certainly will not update our payment method to a new one.

A knock raps at your door, making you sigh with relief.  That damn pizza took double time to come.  As you flounced to the door, you open it up to see a familiar face that should have made you angry but never could.

“Hey Shuri.  What are you doing here?”

Shuri looked great as usual, in a Wakandan designed teen magazine fashion dream ensemble, smiling warmly at you.

“Hello to you to!  I was in the neighborhood and figured this might be as good of a time as any to see you.”

You involuntarily go in for a hug, not even thinking about rejection being an option.  You were just so happy to see her.  Shuri returns the gesture.

“You’re looking well!”  She says.

You laugh.  “Hardly.  You caught me in my comfy, no cares, casual.”

Shuri nods, looking past your eyes to your forehead.  “Still, you look well.”

You subconsciously touch the small scar near your hairline that has healed.  “You know, I’m glad you came by because I was just thinking about asking you about something.”

“I too, would like to ask you about something.”

“Oh?  Ok, well come one in, and you can ask me first.”

Shuri pauses.  “It’ not quite something that is a sit down and chat ask.  I really want to make this quick as possible for right now, but I said I would ask your permission before we go ahead.”

You grip the knob of your front door tightly to steady yourself.  “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Shuri takes a deep breath.  “I am here to supervise collecting some things for Tavia.  However she made the argument that she should be the one to sort what is important for her to have and-”

“Wait, Tavia wants to come here and get her stuff?  Like physically walk in here and do that?”

Before you could further protest, the woman of the hour comes around to Shuri’s side, barely making eye contact, but still muscling up a smile.  

“Hey girl, hey.”

Part 14

Masterlist

RagTag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@universalbri@therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14@afraiddreamingandloving@kreolemami@lalapalooza718@syreanne@thiccdaddy-mbaku@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired@90sinspiredgirl@bidibidibombaclaat@sithlordslut@brujademente@chaneajoyyy@slimmiyagi @lewatigress @shesakillerkween @queentearra @fiercedeception @yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @katasstrophey @zxddy-panther @babygirlofwakanda@destinio1 @heyauntieeee @ambthegamer @savageiz@klaine15689 @nickidub718 @dramaqueenamby

#shakafic #the coffee prince #t'challa fic #black panther fic

[dove-actually]

“Silver Goddess curse and cut you,” she snarled under her breath. Rather than turn into a supple ball, the dough stretched between her fingers in long, disgusting strings. She had no idea what she was doing wrong.

What did temple laws recommend, when one was in crisis? Focus on the present, and find something to be thankful for. 

Tavia decided to be thankful that she only had to serve kitchen rotation twice a year.

______________________

Sadly can’t share any Knight Errant fluff right now (SORRY), but here’s some (relative) fluff for my Mysterious Short Story, because this is a lovely event and also I need to redeem myself for all the angst ;)

Mysterious Short Story Fluff - “Thankful” - 1400 words

Seven years, and she still couldn’t manage the damned baking.

Tavia closed her eyes, trying to ignore the feel of wet gunk sticking to her skin. One moment at a time. The Harvest Temple had taught her much about patience. When she’d first joined, a task as onerous as this would’ve made her toss the disgusting goop in the trash and yell at the kitchen sisters. But time had soothed her temper, molded it into something less volatile.

Now, she only fantasized about yelling. And she hadn’t angrily smashed any bowls in over a year.

Tavia sighed. She’d been no easy novice, but the Harvest Mother had taken her anyway, and put up with her until the rage and fear and sorrow had faded enough to let her settle. The least she could do in return is produce some passable damned dinner rolls.

Except apparently, she couldn’t. 

“Silver Goddess curse and cut you.” She snarled under her breath as, rather than turn into a supple ball, the dough stretched between her fingers in long, disgusting strings. She had no idea what she was doing wrong.

What did temple laws recommend, when one was in crisis? Focus on the present, and find something to be thankful for.  

Tavia decided to be thankful that she only had to serve kitchen rotation twice a year.

Grumbling, she sunk her hands into the sticky sludge. How did Sister Ama make it look so easy? Her dough turned smooth and pliable, molding as though by magic into crescents and rolls and braids, that went into the oven and emerged golden and divine.

“Add flour to aid kneading,” Tavia rehearsed to herself, and plopped a goop-coated hand into the flower bowl. White dust flew into her face, making her cough. “Frost and lightning!”

A polite cough by the door made her jump, and she swiveled and growled: “I’m not done yet!” The sisters on table-setting duty could damned well wait until the nightmare rolls were in the oven, before coming around to poke about the kitchen.

But rather than Ludmilla and Farida, a stranger stood in the doorway. Tall, with curly black hair cut short, and the broad cheekbones and winter-pox spots typical to the Irissi people of the southern provinces, she made a startling sight. Tavia hadn’t seen many Irissi this far north.

One moment at a time, she reminded herself. Just because the Irissi had chased her with blades and torches through the halls of her own palace, didn’t mean this woman meant her harm. Tavia was just a harvest sister, now. The fears and enmities of her past belonged outside the temple walls.

“I’m sorry,” said the stranger, with a smile that left dimples in her faintly-spotted cheeks. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sister Vania sent me to assist—well, I sort of sent myself.” She chuckled and, pushing up the sleeves of her brown habit, she reached for one of the aprons on the hook. “The schedule had me on delivery duties, but with this blizzard, we’ve no deliveries in or out, so I thought I might be helpful elsewhere. I like a nice warm kitchen, so I asked if I could lend a hand here...”

And Sister Vania, who as the Harvest Mother’s right hand had been charge of scheduling duties for years, would know precisely where in the kitchens a hand would be most needed.

“I’m Arice—or Sister Arice now, right? Oh.” She’d held out a hand, but, spotting the globs of mucilaginous dough stuck to Tavia’s fingers, she laughed. “This keeps happening. Yesterday I met Sister Marine while she was cleaning muck from the stables. I suppose it won’t be a problem once I’ve met everyone...”  

Tavia blinked, a little dazed. She’d forgotten how much Irissi liked conversation. There was a reason they were overrepresented in the kingdom’s diplomatic and ambassadorial ranks.

The woman—Arice—wore a white band around her collar, marking her as a new initiate. Tavia didn’t remember her from the initiation ceremony; but there had been several sisters ending their year-long novitiate, and Tavia always kept to the back of the room, during these things, rehearsing poems backwards to distract herself from the crowd.

She didn’t want a conversation, let alone with someone who wore the face of her old nightmares. But temple life had taught her that she couldn’t control what she had to deal with; she could only control her reactions. She gave a brief nod.

“I’m Sister Anatavi. I’m…working on the bread.” And, peeling some gunk off her palm, she focused on the bowl again, giving it a firm stir with the wooden spoon. I have no idea what I’m doing.

She could feel the Irissi woman’s gaze. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll go away. That worked well enough with most sisters. Tavia preferred her solitude, for a multitude of reasons.

With unexpected company, her task became even more straining. She gritted her teeth and scraped the thready paste off the sides of the bowl, trying to ignore how it clung to her skin and stuck between her fingers. Breathe and think of something to be thankful for. Her nerves seemed to have suddenly turned a hundred times more sensitive. She could feel the damned goop all the way to her elbows, sticky and moist, and despite her efforts, her fingers clenched into rigid fists.

Breathe.

Fortunately, she had ample experience keeping her head on the task at hand, despite distractions and adversity. One moment at a time…

“Would you mind if I did that?” Arice walked around the large table, putting it around the two of them, and reached her hands across. “I love kneading dough. Reminds me of home. And I think your hands might be too small for that bowl, so it’s taking you more effort than it should.”

Tavia shot her an incredulous look. The Irissi woman met it with an open smile.

“No, really. That’s what my aunt used to tell me, and she was a baker. Baking always reminds me of her—especially the kneading part, that was her favorite.”

Tavia scoffed. The aunt must’ve been a madwoman.

She hesitated, hands over the bowl, then slowly slid it across the table to Sister Arice. “If you prefer.”

“Thank you,” said the Irissi woman happily—and earnestly—and she dipped her hands into the wash bowl to clean them, then plunged into the dough with a satisfied huff.

“My hands are not small,” muttered Tavia, pulling the wash bowl over to rinse herself. But she was no fool: eccentric aunt and home memories aside, Sister Arice had seen her struggling and offered relief. That was…kind. The woman seemed the type to honestly want to help people, and Tavia could hardly begrudge her that, even if accepting the kindness felt a little awkward.

When she looked up again, the stringy nightmare dough had become a neat ball, and Sister Arice was in the process of transferring it to the flour-powdered table.

“I don’t believe it.” Tavia shook her head. Plainly, she’d never learn this skill.

The Irissi woman grinned. “Just the right hands, is all. You know, my aunt used to have this special stirring hook she used to mix the flour and everything—she hated getting the sticky stuff all over her hands, so she just used the hook ‘til the dough turned softer. When the weather turns and I go out on deliveries, I’ll ask about, see if anyone nearby can fashion one for us. My aunt truly swore by it…”

Tavia sighed. The Irissi truly loved conversation.

“Thank you,” she said, because this was the second kindness Sister Arice had offered in just as many minutes, and there was only so much Tavia could pretend not to notice. “I’m sure Sister Ama will appreciate any novel additions to her…arsenal.”  

Sister Arice started laughing. “Arsenal. I like that.” She folded the dough, turned it, and pressed down. “Though, if we’re talking arsenals, I propose Sister Nani’s gardening tools. The temple could hold off a horde of bloodthirsty invaders, with just the contents of her summer shed….!”

Tavia nodded and began moving dirty dishes to the sink. She couldn’t offer the fun conversation Arice plainly wanted—but she was still on kitchen duty, and being polite to someone who’d just shown her kindness was a duty, too, and she had no intention of failing in either. She tidied up quietly, nodding and grunting her replies, and by the time the bread finally went into the oven, she decided she didn’t mind this chatty Irissi woman, with her broad shoulders and her big smile. 

Arice stayed on kitchen duty with her the rest of the week, and Tavia found something new to be thankful for. 

#writeblr #short story #creative writing #fantasy #fluffcember #wlw #dovewrites #mysterious short story #i need to pick a name for this but there's a big spoiler in the title..

[wearycrown]

@tormentbled​ asked:   [text]: I have an interview tomorrow and listed you as a reference. If they call you, please don't tell them about the time I smuggled a Chalupa out of Taco Bell in my underwear.  meme.

          sms.   look idk why you make me a reference for all your possible jobs if you expect me not to tell them the real stuff           sms.   they deserve to know what kind of human they’re hiring, tavia           sms.   that includes stories such as the one with the chalupa in your underwear i’m sorry

#tormentbled #meme reply. #modern arc. #tormentbled / octavia.

[biblioncollection]

Dorothy Dale's Camping Days | Margaret Penrose | Action & Adventure, General | Audiobook full unabridged | English | 1/3 Content of the video and Sections beginning time (clickable) - Chapters of the audiobook: please see First comments under this video. So the parties separated and then Dorothy was free to leave her hiding place. She longed to tell her friends the strange story, but she knew that the finding of Tavia was the one and only thing to be thought of just then. "Are you sure that this is the direction in which the boys went?" asked Nat, with something like a sigh. Dorothy looked over the rough woodland. "No," she said, "there was a swamp, for I distinctly remember that they picked their way through tall grass, and about here the grass is actually dried up." (Extract from Chapter 26)Books in this series: Dorothy Dale: A Girl of Today (1908) Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School (1908) Dorothy Dale's Great Secret (1909) Dorothy Dale and Her Chums (1909) Dorothy Dale’s Queer Holidays (1910) Dorothy Dale’s Camping Days (1911) Dorothy Dale’s School Rivals (1912) Dorothy Dale in the City (1913) Dorothy Dale’s Promise (1914) Dorothy Dale in the West (1915) Dorothy Dale’s Strange Discovery (1916) Dorothy Dale’s Engagement (1917) Dorothy Dale to the Rescue (1924) This is a Librivox recording. If you want to volunteer please visit https://librivox.org/ by Priceless Audiobooks

#best audiobooks #audio book best #audiobook free online #free audiobooks #audio books online free #a

[riajade01]

45. “Will you marry me?” for Mara/Quinn cuz reasons :3

Okay, I’m cheating on this a leeetle bit. I want to keep the story of Quinn’s actual proposal for my fic. But I think you’ll like what I did. :)

Mara had always hoped pregnancy would,if not improve, at least become less horrible with practice. Here, in thesecond quarter of her third pregnancy and already utterly sick and tired of thesick and tired, she saw how foolish that hope was. And she now ferventlyunderstood why her own mother had stopped at one.

Still, it wasn’t as though she wanted for help. Six-year-oldStasze was a few meters away with Lizbeth and Tavia, twins still at the agewhere they hung on their older sister’s every word. The three girls growled andoccasionally giggled as they played at being mowhefs.

“We seem to have assembled quite the pack ofbeasts.”

Mara glanced at Malavai as he sat down next to her, hisamusement warm in her mind.

“Indeed; I don’t know where they get it from.”

“It’s a mystery,” he agreed, his voice quiveringwith repressed laughter.

“I’ll let that pass, if only because you brought asufficient offering,” she replied, gesturing to bowl of dried fruit heplaced on the table.

“Magnanimous as ever, my lord.” He kissed her cheek andsat back. “Oh, I should tell you: I was able to cancel your appointment withDarth Vowrawn.”

Mara’s head whipped around to stare at her husband.

“However did you manage that?”

“I informed him you would be off-world.”

“Malavai, he will see through that lie easily.”

“It was no lie,” he insisted. “We’re going tobe at our cabin on Naboo.”

Mara stared, a grin starting to form.

“And the girls?”

“My mother is on her way here. That is, if you think wecan be packed tonight.”

For a moment she had no words as her heart swelled in herchest. And then,

“Marry me.”

A frown creased his dark brows.

“Darling, if this is what you want I have somethingwonderful to tell you about the last ten years.”

She leaned closer, her hands running over the soft fabric ofhis sweater. His arm went around her waist.

“Marry me again,” she insisted, “so we cancelebrate later.”

Malavai cleared his throat, his blue eyes twitching downwardpointedly. Mara turned to see three sets of eyes, two blue and one amber-gold,staring at them. Lizbeth had a mouth full of dried berries.

Mara shot a mischievous look at her husband and turned backto their daughters.

“What do you think, girls, should Dardiz marryme?”

“You’re alreadymarried, Marsha,” Stasze pointed out, her tone mirroring that of herfather when he explained something obvious to an overly dense subordinate.

“The child makes an admirable point, my love,”Malvai said.

“Yes, but you weren’t there,” Mara said, ignoringhim. “Wouldn’t you like to see?”

Stasze fell silent, contemplating.

“Don’t you want to marry Marsha?” Tavia’s goldeneyes bored into her father’s.

“Why can’t we get to see?” Lizbeth added, thewords garbled.

“I do want to see,” Stasze said, her small voicefirm.

As one they turned to Malavai, little red faces expectant.Mara stifled a laugh.

“Oh, alright,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.“Lizbeth, come here, you will attend me-”

“I want to attend Marsha.”

“Swallow your fruit, then,” he said,“and go stand with Marsha. Tavia, will you come here?”

The twins obeyed, coming to stand next to each of theirparents.

“What about me?”

“Stasze, you will officiate.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re in charge of the ceremony,” Maraexplained. “You will ask us to make,” she paused, thinking, “twopromises to each other, of how we will love one another, and then you tell usto kiss.”

She was silent, lost in thought for several long moments.

“What do you think it means to love someone,Stasze?” Mara prompted. “What do you think one should do?”

“Never lie,” she said almost instantly. “Andshare your dessert. I can make you promise to do that?”

Mara met Malavai’s gaze, fighting back a sudden rush oftears. Blast these ridiculous pregnancy hormones.

“Yes, sweetling, you can.”

#swtor #malavai quinn #sith warrior #malavai quinn/sith warrior #pregnancy tw #mara thrask #otp: fire and ice #my writing #why do I love Quinn being outnumbered by precocious daughters? #i dont' know but i do #so here have something kind of sickeningly sweet #ria answers things #gerdavonrinnlingen

[fair-lead]

2, 46 and 50 for the OC asks

Thank you my dude!

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

I’d have to say Tavia tbh? Reon and Alexandra are close behind though!

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly?

YEAH- they meant it jokingly though! I told them about the sad deaths of a couple of them

50. Give me the good ol' OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

!!! ooooo heck.. I’m working on developing an original universe! I’m neck deep in worldbuilding at this point- trying to figure out the needlessly complicated system of magic I’ve imagined, thinking of how different ranks in society function, trying to finally make a decision on how last names are gonna work. That kinda stuff lmao. I’m also working out the plot- I have two stories I want to tell in this universe and I’m trying to figure out the plot of one of them and the details of the other. I do have a pretty solid cast of characters though (even though I only figured out who the main character of one is today lmao)!

[incaseofsurvival]

That Fat baby is my big sister; Lady with the legs is our mum. (I wasn’t alive when this picture was taken.)

I was always a “tender headed” child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.

I don’t remember when my mother[1. My mom is awesome and I love her to pieces and wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone. She’s super nice and when the car dealer tried to screw me I called her to straighten them out– and she did. She’s wonderful and inspiring and shit at doing hair. She gets her’s done at a salon(not black) every weekend.] started relaxing my hair. I remember that it was probably, in part at least, my fault. At least once a week, getting my hair combed was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It was exhausting for our whole family.

I’m the little one with “spiked bangs” (I liked to pretend it was a choice…)

My father would pace from one room to another like he really needed to visit the kitchen seven times in the 90 hours it took my mother to braid my hair so I looked like a little brown unicorn (three braids were the worst, but the woman only had so much patience).

“Maybe you could just let her rest for a bit?” my father suggested on the way back from pretending to need stuff in the kitchen again.

My hysterical sobbing ebbed a bit as I baited my breath hoping my mother (or some compassionate ghost that had recently taken her over) would shrug and let me run off to lick my wounds. And then maybe she’d forget and it would be over!? Muhahaha!

Sike! If looks could kill… My dad was finished with his rubbernecking and attempted intervention and my sobbing picked up again[2. From the pictures, it seems like my Dad isn’t around or we’re not cool anymore (I feel like because of black people stereotypes I need to say this). My dad is still around and I love him to pieces and take him to see sci-fi movies when I miss him and he and my mother are still happily married, living in the suburbs.].

One day this ritual ended and we moved on to boxes of relaxer.

I wasn’t happier but at least in-between treatments I could comb my own hair. Small victories, FTW!

The kit, like similar hair dye kits, came with chemicals that are to be kept separated until there is science to do. It also came with gloves and all the instructions in the world in tiny fine print. I don’t think my mother ever really read the instructions. Instead she, like many people, read the pictures.

Mix the stuff, base the scalp with Vaseline, part the hair, work quickly, rinse thoroughly.

Inevitably, some of these steps were skipped intentionally or accidentally. My mother kept her nails long so the whole basing the scalp thing was always a fight.

“It’s going to burn me.”

“Not if we do it fast. Sit.”

“You get gloves; I should get some protection too.”

After years of chemical burns and back and forth, I started basing my own damned scalp. And I was so thorough. I did my ears and baby hairs and the back of my neck. In all, each time I used about half a container of Vaseline. I wasn’t fucking with these burns anymore.

Eventually, I started going to the hairdresser to get my hair relaxed and DID.

I’m pretty sure this little number took a year. I asked for cornrows and the hairdresser was too lazy to do them and chose to do twists instead.

People who aren’t Black Women might not know this but Black hair salons are the worst version of a business ever. There’s that joke about CPT (Colored People Time)… It’s not funny when going to get your hair done is a six-hour affair. I’m not even kind of exaggerating.

Six hours. And it’s not because of elaborate styling or super delicate processes that require careful time management. No, it’s because of Fuck you, pay me.

There’s genuinely no good reason EVERY black hair salon I’ve ever been to has been a vicious time suck. It just is what it is.

Maybe the women doing hair needed to stop doing hair (all of the women at this salon) mid-way through processes and order then eat some food (true story). Maybe they misjudged how long it would take to do the client(s) before me and are now running behind by 2 hours (true story). Maybe the stylist is on the phone with her ex and has been for ages and will get you me when she gets to me (true story).

From the rundown nature of every black salon I’ve been to—I don’t WANT to be sitting in a broken chair reading VIBE from 3 years ago in a rented space in a project building (true story)— to the rundown nature of too many stylists I’ve encountered, I gave up on Black salons late in high school.

In high school, I decided to start relaxing my hair myself.

How hard could it be? If I was unsure, I just erred on the side of caution and might not have had bone straight roots. Whatever.After a while, I got more comfortable with blow dryer-free wash and go styling. I went longer and longer between touch-ups until I stopped doing them altogether.

Freshman year of college I grabbed my hair at the roots and felt where the unrelaxed, natural hair ended and the relaxed hair started—this was my line of demarcation.

I started cutting in the front and didn’t want to live with a mullet so kept cutting until it was all gone.

I didn’t look too bad with super short, natural hair. Sure, my makeup was always on point and I never went out without earrings but compensations aside, I looked good.

My mother saw me over winter break and disagreed. She grabbed my hair (Damn it, there was just enough for her to grab a fistful) and exclaimed, “What have you done!?”

“Mum, we’re in the middle of the food court and it’s gone so if you could just let it and my hair go…”

She sucked her teeth and I thanked God we were in public meeting my cousin’s small children for the first time. “Can I touch your hair!”

“Sure.”

“It’s soft!” (children are always shouting to me.)

My dad loved it. He’s 100% for natural hair. Maybe from the experiences of his youth or mine… Either way, he was for The Big Chop.

Years later, out of college and into the workforce I got lazy.

Natural hair is hard work. My hair is thick and my arms are weak.

I research different kinds of relaxers, though I’m not totally sure what I was looking for. Maybe the most gentle or the most effective or the least chemically.

I used a kid’s relaxer kit and based my scalp generously.

As an adult, I got pretty good at doing my own hair. I was quick and efficient and cared the most about my scalp and ear health. I only did the relaxer lightly to just weaken the curl, not kill it completely.

I could blow my hair out if I wanted or I could keep it looking a little natural. The best of both worlds.

One Saturday afternoon I’m in the bathroom happily parting the hair and applying cream when a cluster of hair swings from its group on top of my head right into my face. Not just my face but my wide open eye.

“FUCK!”

“What’s wrong with you?” my Chinese-Italian (Asian&White) fiancé shouts from the other room not quite sure if this is worth pausing his game for.

As I scramble to remove the gloves and get to the kitchen sink where I can safely rinse my eye, I ask him to read the paper that came in the relaxer kit to see if there’s anything else I need to do. Eye drops? Ointment? Counter agent?

“It says to wash your eye thoroughly with water.”

“Okay good. Thank you.”

My expectation was that he’d put the paper down, pat himself on the back and go back to his computer.

Nope.

As I’m getting in the shower he says, “You actually put this on your body?”

“No… Just my hair and just at the roots.”

“It says to put in on your hair but not your scalp. How do you put something on your hair but not your scalp?”

“Um, you’re careful? I mean if it gets on you scalp for too long you get chemical burns.”

“You just got it in your eye!”

“So you don’t think we should relax our kids’ hair?” I asked with a chuckle.

Genuine horror. “People put this shit  on children?”

Hm.

At the rehearsal dinner for our wedding, one of my aunts asked me what I was going to “do about my hair”

Initial visceral reactions and presumptuous defensiveness of blackness and MY choices quelled, I said, “Probably stick some flowers in it.”

And I did.

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At my wedding with Unati and flowers in my hair!

Super Growth Hair Story! I was always a "tender headed" child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.