ladyintree

[ladyintree]

@yellowjacketsnetwork event 06: arcs TAISSA TURNER + The Allie Problem

[ladyintree]

i know i ranted about this after 3x04 and/or 3x05 aired but i've been thinking about it a lot lately because it makes me dizzy thinking about the role tai played in ben's death with how similar some of their choices back home are, even if for mostly different reasons. their arcs vaguely paralleling each other— how neither of them could commit to a future with the love of their life because they couldn't come out (for different reasons + fear of various perceptions etc, but at the core, so similar). they chose their careers over love, the reassurance of a 'successful' future over the uncertainty of genuine happiness.

tai will likely never understand how much she actually could've related to ben but there's a possibility that ben would've known taissa enough to understand that she wasn't that different than him in those ways. he seemed to respect taissa not just in how he helped her with certain things in the wilderness but in the way that he protected her before the crash too.

the memory of ben telling him how proud he is of them coming out being what flashes in taissa's mind when she realizes she can't kill him is so important because she doesn't even realize how much that means from ben, just how understanding he was, how personal it was to him. i think she suspected because of how familiar that interaction felt and she carries that with her forever. she respected ben as a coach and she looked up to him and so someone like that telling her that he was proud of her for coming out, something she thought she wouldn't ever be able to really do, meant everything to her — especially because that coming out was about van. at least that's what she thought it was about. she thought she was doing that for van, to prove something to van, to help van. she didn't realize how much she needed to do it for herself too, and ben helped her realize that.

there is something so poignant to me about taissa being the one set to execute ben but not having to go through with it in the end. ben still died months later, not at her own hands, but she'll always feel her role in that. she's the only one who isn't sitting outside with the others when the team decides to cut his achilles at the end of 3x05— implying she's in her hut, alone, unable to face any of it, yet still haunted by his screams forever. because she didn't have to pull the trigger on him that day but she still carries it with her.

and it's so, so defining of how she doesn't end up in criminal law. it's not just the fact that she was chosen to execute him — it's the fact that she feels responsible for putting him in that position in the first place. she found him guilty and stood by that but she didn't believe it in the end, but she's also smart enough to know that without someone to point a finger at, their community would've fallen apart and they would've turned against each other even more, so she had to stick to it— even if she believed it wasn't him, that she had this certain sense of familiarity with him that she could never fully understand because she didn't realize outright just how similar some of their lives were.

had been not been ostracized and had he felt like he could've been a part of their community in some way rather than making the decision to stay away, if that was ever even an option and if he ever had the chance to still be getting to know these people he obviously cared about, maybe eventually he could've helped taissa and she could've learned a lot from his regrets in how he handled things back at home. because again obviously they are not the same exact circumstances and there is so much more that taissa fears in terms of the perception of her being out / holding onto these parts of her from the wilderness, but if she could've reflected on how ben felt about leaving paul i think that's something she would've really held onto. and it might've, might've been able to change how she approached her return to civilization.

[ladyintree]

taissa's known for playing rough on the field and she's used to that and she justifies it by knowing it's how she gets what she wants. she's defensive about it. "this is the game, step it up" / "if we can't freeze her out, she's gonna have to learn to play under pressure" etc etc etc. she doesn't want to hurt anyone in the process but she also knows she has to stand by it when it happens— even with The Allie Thing she never insists that it's something she didn't mean to do (save for with shauna, obviously, only willing to be vulnerable with one person about it rather than to the team as a whole who she feels she has to divert with).

and i'm thinking about how she's gotten so used to that and so comfortable with that and once she's in college playing for a new team, in a world where everyone has their own ideas of what taissa + the other survivors went through / did in the wilderness, she probably has to intentionally hold back. i think she finds a comfort within the college team eventually but she'll always question what people are really thinking about her and how they're perceiving her and what assumptions they've already made about her. these survivors are killers + cannibals + they're feral and no it's not actually confirmed public knowledge but it's an obvious assumption people made about them that she's living under for the rest of her life. they think of the worst scenario of what they went through out there and they feed off of that for their own entertainment — so taissa expects that from the people she is around in college, when it's so fresh, because of course taissa didn't allow herself any real time before she jumped right into it upon returning.

so not only is she pressuring herself to not only be as good as she was before, but better, because she has to prove to everyone that those 19 months + that trauma won't hold her back. but she also has to be so much more aware of how she's presenting herself. if people already assume she's violent because of their own conspiracies and the idea that they're all killers, all insane, all feral, etc— she can't leave room for any mishaps. she can't be as rough on the field as she's used to being because it could lead to the worst conclusions. there are already people digging in her past and desperate to get close enough to feel like they're going to learn something about her (in which she doesn't give anything, nor actually let anyone too close), but she can't give them any kind of 'proof' that she's the person they've decided she is. she is so focused on how they all perceive her and that means trying to be perfect not just in the way that she's always carried herself, but in the eyes of others in how they are expecting her to be.

[ladyintree]

it's not the first time taissa has found nat in less than ideal circumstances — she's come to expect it from her after all these years of doing what she can to take care of her ( which typically meant something from afar, even if taissa wouldn't recognize it that way, giving her the money to support her but rarely the emotional connection that she knows deep down she deserves, what taissa can hardly reach herself. ) still, she rolls her eyes at nat's comment, as if nat's the one being unfair. taissa wants better for her, she wants more than anything to know she's safe — she's not sure she'll ever get that satisfaction, always worried, always expecting the worst, which is exactly why she always answers when she calls.

she looks to the table, assessing the cleanliness, before she sets her purse down and takes a deep breath, turning with her arms folded across her chest as she looks back at nat. with an amused scoff — that of an older sister quick to assume the worst but genuinely surprised, a role she'd fallen into so effortlessly along the way — she nods her head.

❝  it does matter, ❞ she admits, finally her features softening, less judgement in her stare and more genuine concern. when she sees nat, she always enters the room as if she's going to make this difficult for her — only to drop the act moments later, insistent on making sure she's okay before she's picking up the act again. ❝  so what is it this time, nat? ❞ she hesitates, raising a brow. ❝  are you— ❞ okay? she knows the answer to that, so she scoffs at herself, rephrasing the question. ❝  what happened? ❞

@ladyintree asked: you picked a hell of a place to hole up.

" what were you expecting, a fucking hilton? " despite herself, despite the imposition of taissa's shadow in the midst of her motel room oblivion, nat's intonation contained no simmering reproach, or any inkling of ire. just a dulled sense of something like static; just a complete and utter lack of surprise. in years past she'd been found in worse states of being than smoking a marlboro bummed off the front desk clerk in front of a barely functioning tv. in the distant bathroom mirror she barely caught in the dark, almost sepia faded corner of her periphery, framed in another open door, natalie could've sworn she'd glimpsed the distorted mirage of her own washed out mother.

the comparison she chewed on, however briefly it tainted the musk of cigarette ash in the back of her throat, made something in her roil with a feeling that taissa's faultfinding couldn't hope to match.

" I'm not high, tai — if that matters. "

[ladyintree]

@lingeringscars 💬 "i was given a chance i didn’t deserve. "

she doesn’t know if she’s talking about her newfound leadership,  or her chance to live despite what the wilderness initially chose — but either way,  taissa doesn’t believe that. she has always respected nat more than she's ever been willing to admit, always too hard on her, always quick to tear her down whenever nat stood up to her, always judging her for her choices without ever trying to understand her. but she was always comparing herself to nat, resenting her solely because she knew nat was a better person than her, and she hated that, but the resentment was misplaced. it took her until they were stuck out here to really start to understand her, to trust her and her decisions, to see her for the person she really is — she didn't have to resent her, they could've been working together. maybe they still could make a good team.

but as much as she respects her, as much as she believes in her now, as grateful as she is that she is still with them, there's also a part of her that still feels that familiar tinge of resentment, born from jealousy, like nat was given a role that was always meant for taissa. she still believes she could lead this team herself, even if in the back of her mind, she knows she's already taken to too many failures out here to really deserve it. regardless of how she feels about her own leadership, she wants to stand by nat. it's better than lottie, she thinks. it's better than jackie. she owes it to the girls they were before, when she wanted to understand nat but never gave herself the chance.

❝ that's not true,  ❞ she argues. ❝  you deserve so much more than you think you do. you always have. ❞ there's a hidden apology in her words, one that's long overdo — sorry i never told you that before,  sorry i ever made you feel like you didn't. her pride doesn't allow her to say it outright, though. ❝  hey, you're not doing any of this alone. i'm here. we can do this right this time. we can— you know, create a team. like, a council. ❞ one she's obviously already claiming a spot on, of course. van's implied, too. ❝  it's not all up to you. you don't have to carry it on your own, okay? ❞

[ladyintree]

@hienous 💬 "so, do you? have all you need?"

it's a weighted question, one she wishes shauna wouldn't ask, one she expects from mikayla herself instead, and she knows there's still time for her to ask, so maybe it's best she searches for the right answer with shauna first, even though she knows there is no right answer. she's supposed to say yes — yes, she accomplished everything she set out for; yes, she got everything she was supposed to get; yes, she's satisfied with the life she's given herself. but she's not, and she knows that mikayla still knows her well enough, even after all these years, to see right through her. so does shauna, and as hard as the question is for her, it feels safer to answer her.

she expects herself to lie. she's been living lies for over 20 years now. but she's also been able to be open with shauna for that long, too. ❝  no. ❞

she takes a long moment, sensing a silent familiarity between her and shauna, knowing she feels the same way. then, she turns to her, a soft smile forming on her lips, full of sadness — and a longing that has always been reserved for mikayla desousa. ❝  but that's okay. ❞ it's not; she knows shauna can read between the lines. it's not okay, but it has to be okay, because this is what taissa chose for herself. a decision she's regretted for years, even more now that she's been near her again.

she takes a deep breath, her nose crinkling the way it always does when she's trying not to show too much. ❝  it was easier to ignore when i didn't have to see her, ❞ she finally admits.

[ladyintree]

and again i say: post rescue taissa thesis

[ladyintree]

❝  i need your help. ❞ she bypasses a more gentle greeting, clearly distracted by her own determination to get everything in order before a deadline that she's made herself, despite how much free time they actually have, especially given that their huts are now built, the animals are thriving, and everything seems calm for once. but when taissa is focused on something — right now, doing this for mikayla — that's all that matters, and it's all that's going to matter until she can deliver what she's promised.

she does catch herself though, holding her hands out in front of her to stop herself before getting too ahead of herself, before offending him with any implication that she only wants to talk to him because she needs his help. she takes a deep breath, starting over. ❝  sorry. hi, ❞ she says, offering a smile that has been almost uncharacteristic for a majority of the time out here — but it's lighter now than it has been in months. she feels lighter, because of this, because of what she's doing — not just for her wife, but hopefully, for everyone else here, too. she's never believed she was any good at providing anyone with genuine hope, but maybe, this time, she can.

❝  you know, mikayla and i... we're— ❞ she's proud of it, and yet she's bashful, almost embarrassed to say it out loud not because of how she feels, but because she knows not everyone will really understand. she thinks adrian will, though, in the same way she knows akilah does, so she doesn't let herself dwell. ❝  —going to have a wedding. and i built this altar, and i need it to be perfect. ❞ structurally, it is, at least for the resources they have, but taissa isn't satisfied yet, until it's beyond perfect. ❝  and i trust you to help me with that. ❞ she hesitates before forcing herself to add, for his sake: ❝  if you're up for it. ❞ she knows his moms, knows how he was with them, can only hope that he'll understand why this is so important to her now. ❝  can you help decorate? i know it probably sounds, i don't know, ridiculous, but— it's not. ❞ mikayla isn't, she means, even if a wedding at the end of the world feels like it.   / @surviveds

[ladyintree]

taissa went from "of course i'm gonna pay it's always me 🙄" to "oopsie, guess i spent too much money. your problem now 🤪" so fast. she's so silly. i miss her terribly

[ladyintree]

the concept of a young van and mari standing in front of adult taissa. can anyone hear me

[ladyintree]

taissa btw (and she is <3)

[ladyintree]

this little cocky grin scratches an itch in my brain. do you mind if i save it on my blog real quick

[ladyintree]

there’s a clear difference between then and now —   taissa, uncharacteristically a bundle of nerves,   bracing herself for long roadtrip with van after all the unresolved tension back at their place,  to now,  the hopefulness tai feels knowing that they’ve opened conversations that don’t feel so suffocating to talk about.   those conversations are still scary,   but there’s a certain familiarity that has returned between them,  too  — one that tells taissa that even though there’s still so much she’s afraid to dive into with van,  she’s starting to believe that it’ll only bring them closer,  not push them away.   she has to believe that,   has to ignore the ticking of the clock in her head.

❝  oh, so you remember what good company i was in the passenger seat, ❞   she points out,   her tone teasing,  because she remembers the way van clutched that steering wheel as if they were trying to tear it in half,  remembers how it felt like they were doing everything they could do to avoid looking in tai’s direction,  and remembers how irritated they were with every question taissa asked —  questions that taissa intentionally provoked them with most of the time,  trying to prove something,  likely only to herself.   that feels like a lifetime ago — but everything that came before finally kissing van palmer again feels like forever ago.  

that kiss does, too, and she’s still itching to talk about it, but she’s on her best behavior now,  hoping to just enjoy the presence of van that she’s longed for for so long,  not trying to pour salt in all the wounds this time.

she can’t even find it in her to tease van about their car when they start talking like this — all proud,  passionate,  ridiculous yet so in-the-know.  they’re always dropping tidbits taissa would’ve never cared to learn herself, and yet, she knows she’s better for learning it — and it’s not lost on her how many she’s missed over the years, how excited she is to hear van talk and talk and talk about whatever,  now that they’re both allowing themselves to actually talk.  it’s moments like this,  despite how simple,  taissa remembers why she fell in love with van in the first place.   

❝ you’re real cute when you correct me, ❞   she flirts easily,  still giving them that feigned innocent look in her eyes,  as if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.   but it’s genuine,  as much as it is teasing,  because taissa’s never liked being corrected by anyone,  which van knows,  yet in times like this,  she always folded for van.

taissa looks down to van’s elbow out for her,   and a warm,  excited grin instantly forms over her features.    it feels so familiar — like they’re teenagers again,  sneaking in kisses and small touches where they can when no one was around,  when taissa would spend all day trying to understand what that feeling in her chest really meant  (  like some part of her knew that falling in love with van was inevitable—-  and then, she wouldn’t allow herself the seriousness of it all,  but now,  she knows no other way.  there was never another way,  even through those years of denying herself of it.  )  

she takes their arm with pride,  her other hand moving over and squeezing van’s arm,  taking advantage of the closeness,  her body pressing into theirs with a soft giggle,   like they’re going to some simple movie date a block away and not hours and hours of a drive back to a place still so unfamiliar to taissa — not just because she’s only been there once,  but because it’s van’s home.  and the idea that van has lived a long life without her reminds her of how heavy this really is,  how despite the silliness of the moment,  there’s a lot at stake on this trip.   

because what they’re both not saying directly is that their lives could be entirely incompatible now,  despite the two of them belonging together —  and tai’s willing to bend,  in a way she never was before,   when she broke up with van in the first place.   she’s doing this because she wants to prove to van that she’s willing to really see what their life has been like,  to get to know them all over again,  to actually accept the life they’ve made for themself in tai’s absence rather than trying to rip them away from it so quickly,  like she did weeks ago.   but she can promise that to van,  she can promise that to herself,  but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be able to find her own place in it all, and that’s in the back of her mind now,  eating away at her,  because while taissa’s always prided herself on being prepared for anything that comes her way,  she has no idea how to really prepare for what they’re walking into now.

she just knows that she wants to be where van is.  not just physically,  but mentally,  too — and she hasn’t always granted them both that before.

she makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat,  making a deal of sliding her arms away from van’s,   not wasting a second of the touch before she has to pull away entirely.   she smiles back at them the same way she did every time van had shared this sweet kind of gesture with her before,  full of love and hope and gratitude.   it may just be in van’s nature,  but tai’s always appreciated the small moments — the things van did for her to show her that they loved her,  that she was worth loving.   she wonders if van’s come to doubt that over the years,  if they’d decided that she was never worth giving all that love to in the first place.   

she tries not to dwell,  focusing instead on now:  van’s not pushing her away.  van’s not leaving her behind.  van’s trying.  so taissa isn’t going to waste it.

taissa takes a deep breath as she turns to van,  her hand moving over to rest against their forearm —  in place of what would be instinctual,  a hand cupping their cheek for comfort.   ❝  i’m the most clear-headed i’ve been in a long time,  ❞    she says honestly,  which is saying a lot,  because van,  more than anyone,  knows just how off taissa’s felt about everything and herself for so long,  maybe even longer than taissa’s willing to admit to herself.   she takes a deep breath,  giving them a small nod.   ❝  not changing my mind,  ❞    she says,  words that are heavy with multiple meanings —  not about this trip,  not about them,  not about what this could be.   not about van palmer — even if it seemed like she had before.  she never really did,  it was always van,  and she’s willing to do whatever she can to make them see that now,  too.   

her hand slides away again,  a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat.   ❝ alright,  show me what we're working with, palmer,  ❞   she says with a teasing tap to the side of the door.

van assists in helping taissa load the trunk, ensuring her bags are secure enough to not loosely thump around before they fling in their own backpack. this insistent chivalry is unspoken — and van's intense preoccupation emanates as they loop around to the front of their truck. there they've stashed anything they may need immediate access to in whatever compartment felt right to stash them in. snacks, cassettes, a physical roadmap that is antiquated but not outdated because they know the importance of reliable navigation.

van hears the trunk thunk shut, a prequel to taissa's voice which teases them from around the corner.

they snicker to themself. they raise their voice just enough to be heard from where they're half-ducked under the passenger side, fighting with the glove compartment's spillage of snacks, "it brought you here." lest taissa forget the capabilities of van's rig, and what those capabilities were used for.

appearing out from the truck and into the crisp light of day, van blinks hard. against the glaring sun — and as they use their hand as a visor — against taissa who's walking closer to them, like the trick to keep from stumbling over their words is to not look at her. "this thing," they palm the wood paneling of their wagoneer, speech staggered, flustered and frustrated all the same because those two things arguably are the same, "took impressive haggling — it's a 1987 jeep grand wagoneer, and there's a reason, why it's earned its place in cinema."

shaking their head, van pushes their hair back.

but as they lock eyes with tai their face gets hot. everything stops. they give her a look of exasperation because they know they more than walked right into this one and they know that taissa knows it too.

"cool. yeah, whatever."

what taissa might not know is that van's hardened stare is all they can do to freeze their gaze from wandering where it's desperately wanted to since taissa got dressed this morning. they'd split up for taissa to pack, van to pick up any last-minute necessities. van's gone for comfort in an oversized tee repping their store and corduroys chosen to keep warm but look cool for hours of hunching over a wheel.

it's the heat in van's face which hasn't cooled. they feel like taissa is about to reach out for them until she doesn't.

as she runs through a checklist, van's attention strays somewhat — the reality of what they're about to embark on grabbing van when taissa says home. they're actually taking taissa turner back to their home, back to ohio, which is exclusively theirs. they worked hard to find and claim their place there. van feels a weird wave of nausea that's entirely emotional and doubtfully turns their face away from taissa. what if this all goes atrociously wrong? what if oberlin has been safe because it's been distanced? and what if taissa decides she doesn't want in their world after van — as noncommittal as they're acting — brings her into it. what if taissa turner was never supposed to stay in van palmer's life. what if van is being as stupid as they were back then (and is it fair to the kid in them to call them that)?

remarkably, van would be feeling emptier if they were to leave without taissa now. after she dropped into their life and they fell into this routine. there are things that they can do for each other that nobody else can come close to. and as van laid awake last night, listening to the trees stir, they were transported right back to when wondering and dreaming about taissa was the form their nights regularly took. last night was different. they wondered and dreamed about her as she was just one room over.

"yeah, we're set. let's go." and now it's van doing what tai doesn't, willing themself the courage. reanimating with a smirk, they put out their elbow for her to take. running alongside the nervous reality is the giddy reality of right now, the one that began to uplift van last night. they are doing whatever this is, hopping on the road together. "your chariot awaits."

they make sure she gets in okay before van closes the door. when they reappear, they're in the driver's seat. they slam the door but postpone turning their key to look seriously at taissa over the console. "last chance to change your mind."

van deadpans this cleverly enough to hide their hurt. their doubt. to make this seem like an easy, effortless check-in, as if they could take any answer, like they aren't asking so that they can observe taissa's face, to watch for a flash of doubt. they need to know that she wants this. that van isn't stupid for wanting this too.

[ladyintree]

look at my lover girl. just sitting there yearning

[ladyintree]

TAWNY CYPRESS being a comedian as TAISSA TURNER in season 3 of Yellowjackets [1 / 2]

[ladyintree]

my little sore loser 🥰

[ladyintree]

@bledthrus 💬 "i don’t know if i’m a good person."

it's grating, how the scrimmage the day before they left feels like a lifetime ago and yet comes back to her in such intense flashes when someone says something like this — a good person. after all she's done to try to make it safe for them all here, taissa wants to believe that the team that lost their faith in her the day before they left have changed their minds, that they don't still assume the worst of taissa, even if it's still in the back of her mind, forcing her to wonder too: am i a good person? i want to be, but i need to be more. she's always told herself that doesn't matter, as long as she succeeds in what she'd set out for, but it's hard not to second guess herself, even when she's unwilling to show that to anyone else.

she also doesn't believe that her own definition of a 'good person' is the same as laura lee's, which leaves her doubting that she's the right person to help laura lee with whatever she's feeling now. but there's something comforting about it, knowing she may trust her with it anyway, like she still has faith in taissa. she clings to that.

❝  okay, so — we've been out here a while now, and... yeah, boredom's got the best of you, so you're starting to doubt yourself. ❞ she speaks from experience, and once she catches it, she takes a sharp breath, quickly going on. ❝  but, hey, where's that really coming from? ❞   she thinks back to the night they crash landed, how laura lee had been so adamant that it was all her fault. taissa laughed then, and she still thinks it's ridiculous, yet she understands now how laura lee hangs onto these things, and she does want to help. ❝  you know that whatever's going on here, it's not on you, right? it's okay to be a little freaked out. ❞ taissa's not, of course — at least, that's not what she's let anyone see.