#and i’m not like oh i hate her now i just think it’s okay to criticise how this was handled

[st7rnioioss]

omg i'm so obsessed with your chris x inexperienced reader series 🙂‍↕️ hate to fill your askbox (i imagine you have lots to do !!) but could you please consider chris wanting inexperienced reader to sit on his face? even though she's shy and scared/embarrassed to do that, chris just wants to devour her

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, oral (f receiving), kissing

“no- no, i promise it won’t hurt me. you just gotta trust me, alright?” chris had a smirk on his lips, though his tone was somewhat soothing, along with his thumbs drawing mindless circles on your inner thighs, his larger palms running up and across the soft skin beneath his own.

you nervously stare at him, your mind running in all directions. chris had asked if you could sit on his face, and you were scared shitless he would suffocate or something along the lines of it.

chris offered you a tiny smile when you nodded and cleared your throat. “o-okay.. but seriously, if you can’t breathe or something, push me o-“

“sweetheart, relax. i won’t suffocate.. you worry too much about me,” he chuckled, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand, pulling you closer for a soft kiss.

he suddenly moves you off his lap, a soft yelp escaping his lips when doing so, before he settles to rest on his back. carefully, he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you closer and closer to his face.

slowly and deliberately, he places kisses up the inside of your thighs, leaving a glistening mark. his expression curls up into an almost smug smirk when he spots the wet patch on your panties, laughing to himself.

“oh, baby.. i think you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark and quiet when you settled close to his lips, his warm breath fanning across your inner thighs.

it was pathetic. maybe you did like this, more than you’d like to admit, hence the fact you were clenching around absolutely nothing.

“m-maybe.. a little,” your voice was slightly whiny, the words fading out at the end when chris’s hands guided you closer until your soaked core was hovering directly on top of him.

his fingers snook to your inner thighs, his digit hooked under the bridge of your already damp panties, almost admiring your glistening folds right above him.

“shit.. such a pretty pussy for such a pretty girl..” he husked, pushing the wet fabric to the side to allow the pad of his thumb to brush across your swollen clit, down your wet folds to spread apart.

“f-fuck, chris.. i don’t know- you don’t think i’m too heavy?” your skin was already buzzing, and he had hardly even started yet, one hand holding you up, while the other reached for his hair for some sort of stability.

he shook his head with a gentle smirk, looking up at you to catch your eyes. “you won’t, baby.. you worry too much,”

by now, he’d told you enough times throughout the whole day that it wouldn’t hurt either of you that you convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad. he had done this before, just not in this position. so why not give it a try?

with a hesitant nod, chris didn’t waste another second wrapping his arms around your thighs to actually reach your sensitive mess. suddenly, and with a yelp from your swollen lips, he thumps you down carefully, immediately attaching his lips to your bud.

your jaw goes slack, both of your hands instinctively going to entangle into his dark locks, an almost desperate moan falling from your parted lips, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“o-oh my god,” you knew that no matter what, chris could work absolutely wonders with his mouth on your body. but this? this was beyond anything he’d done, anything he’d suggested.

chris could feel you were still holding back, and he knew you were too shy to even let a fragment of your weight on top of him—but he didn’t mind.

with his tongue running over your clit, he pulled you closer to him, and you gradually allowed yourself to put some weight on him.

chris didn’t want to push you further just get, so he continued to let his muscle lap at your folds, occasionally skimming your sensitive pearl. his eyes were stuck shut for the most part, though he stole a couple of glances at your fucked out expression here and there, eliciting whimpers and groans from him that went straight through your core.

“fuck, chris- that’s.. k-keep going,” your words came out as a moan, allowing more weight to rest on top of him when tongue swirled around your nub.

he felt a sense of pride bottle up inside of him, wanting this to nothing less than make you feel like you were on cloud nine, to send you into absolute bliss—which it did.

slowly, he lowered you further down, and you were way too lost in the pleasure to even notice you were fully sitting there, besides the ache in your thighs.

chris’s own head was spinning, your taste on his tongue leading him down a path that he was sure he’d never turn around from, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“mmpph- please don’t stop,” you squeaked, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to not let the pathetically loud moan that were threatening to slip, fall from your lips. your eyes batted shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

oh, he didn’t plan on stopping. chris was savoring every second of it, fucking you slowly with his tongue, testing the waters. a sheen of sweat was beaded across your lower back and forehead, a warm pool starting to spread in your lower stomach.

the new change allowed your swollen bud to brush against his nose, your legs attempting to close around his head and your lip slipping from your teeth, wailing on a moan. you could practically feel his saliva mix with your wet mess, coating his lips and chin when he traced and ghosted his tongue over your hole.

“f-fuck! chris, i’m close, please-“

your grip on his hair drove him wild, driving him to fuck you rapidly and lightly with his tongue. one of his larger hands ran up the inside of your thighs, until his thumb met your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds to taste your sweet mess.

“chris, i’m gonna cum-“ your voice was weak, only coming out as a quiet yelp, moans of his name continuing to fall freely from your parted lips.

your cunt was leaking, your hips jerking forward when the circles on your clit sped up. it felt like all your muscles were tightening, a fire running down your spine while the heat spread under your skin.

the tension snapped in your lower tummy when you were pushed over the edge, a strangled moan of his name flowing from your slacked jaw. he let out a weak groan when your release coated his tongue, his eyes pinched shut as if he never wanted to leave this position ever again.

“chris- holy fuck..” you were panting by now, your chest heaving when he continued to glide his muscle from your drooling hole, up to ghost over your bud. broken whimpers of his name fell from your mouth, trying to warn him.

"y'taste so good.. like a fuckin' drug.." chris managed to groan between your legs, his words sending vibrations up your core, his fingers leaving marks on your skin.

your thighs were close to trembling around his head, carefully tugging on his hair as a way of telling him you couldn't take anymore, which he thankfully caught onto.

with a final lap at your leaking folds and a soft kiss to your clit, he gently lifted you from his face, your body buzzing from head to toe when you settled on his hips like before, looking down at his flushed face and glistening lips.

wiping the mix of his own spit and your release off his chin, he smiled up at you, "you don't think you liked that? just a little bit?". his tone was teasing, the smile curling up into a smirk.

"stop, chris.." you shyly giggled, playfully dodging his hand away from your cheek when he reached to cradle your face, a soft, pink hue taking over the soft skin of your cheeks. to say you liked it was a complete understatement.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: thank u so much anon!!:3 i hope i got her embarrassment across without making it the whole plot lol. and it's ok!! thank u all so much for the absolute love on this au, it makes me giggle so bad.

۶ৎ taglist 1: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[admirationandromantics]

Best Friend's Brother

This request is literally 10 days old, which, to some, might not seem as a long time. For me however, it is. I'm sorry, but as I've described, I'm just trying to balance writing and school right now, so I'll be writing a little less than before.

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

could u write a best friend older brother trope josh x reader. luv you works btww xx -anon

I knock on the door, waiting for Beth to open up. We’d planned a movie night while her parents were gone, and Hannah was at Sam’s. Josh was still home, but she told me he wouldn’t be a bother, and would probably stay in his room the whole night. 

I have met him many times before, and would even call us friends. Though at the same time, I often wonder if he looks at me like another baby sister, despite only being one year apart. He often gives me a hard time, teasing me and joking around, but most times, I don’t mind. I usually also hope that he never means anything with his small occasional comments, because nothing will happen either way. My best friend’s brother? That would be a problem just waiting to happen. 

Josh and I have been drunk together, partied together and been on get togethers together, though I’m not familiar with everyone in their group yet. 

I stand outside, my patience running low in the cold weather, wishing I brought a scarf. I hear footsteps coming from inside. Finally. The door unlocks, and a broad, tan Josh in a thin rolled up sweater and some sweatpants stands there, arm against the doorframe. He gives a small smile, looking me over. 

“Well, look who decided to come while the parents are out” he coos, a small whistling sound coming out of his lips. 

“Well, hello Joshua, care to let me in?” 

He smiles, contemplating whether to make this difficult or not. I look around, sighing and waiting for an answer, thinking about shouting Beth’s name and telling her that her brother is being a prick. Luckily, he opens the door further, making space for me to walk inside. “Thank you” I say, trying to hide my smile a bit. I’ve been here many times before, so I immediately know where to hang my coat and leave everything else. Josh keeps standing there, watching me. 

“Beth is out, said something about getting snacks for your movie night” He explains, and I nod. The store is not far from here, so she will probably be back soon. 

“Well then, do you know which movie she’s got planned?”

“Of course I do, I’m the one who helps pick them out”

I give him a curious and sceptical look, not having heard this before. He keeps his gaze locked on my gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have you?” 

“Every time” 

My mouth opens a little. Beth is always talking about her great taste in movies, never having mentioned this before. 

“No, are you serious? Beth has never given you any credit”

“Little sisters… what do you expect?” 

I hum, not knowing how to respond to that. I walk inside, him following closely as I sit myself by the kitchen counter. 

“So, what movie have you chosen then?” I ask, looking up at him again. Instead of sitting, he just leans against the counter with one arm, body turned my way. I can’t help my gaze, looking over his revealed forearms. 

“Something a bit different than usual…” he smirks, eyes following my gaze down to his arms. I break free, leaning forward a bit. 

“Okay, what movie?” 

“A scary one” 

“No”

“Oh yes” 

I whine, leaning back again. I hate scary movies, I hate jumpscares and gore. Why can’t people just like normal, funny, cozy stuff? 

“Josh, are you serious?”

“And there we go, you’re starting to use my nickname” 

“Joshua! Are you serious?”

“Well, that lasted for long”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. This is not how I want to spend my night, and considering that the walk home will be dark and scary, this movie will definitely fuel my fears. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a good movie, maybe you just haven’t seen a good scary movie yet, this one might change your mind about the whole genre” He smiles, a hand going to my arm. I can't help the small blush coming from the touch, his fingers warm and comforting. I don’t want to do this, but I really can’t object when Beth is the one getting everything ready, and I just need to show up and have a good time. Or pretend I’m having a good time. 

The door opens, and his hand is immediately removed as Beth comes in, a big bag in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first. 

“Beth!” I exclaim, and she lifts her head, nose a little red from the cold outside. 

“Hey, oh sorry, I didn’t have time to go earlier today” 

“That’s completely fine, here, let me take it” I state, walking over and taking the bag from her hands as she starts undressing. 

“My brother didn’t bother you?” 

I look over at him, and he just gives a small laugh, shaking his head and putting his hands up defensively. 

“No, he was fine” 

“Good, now, let's go” She smiles, leading me away from him, into their living room. She finds a couple of bowls, letting me distribute the snack in them as she works on getting the movie going. 

“Okay, so I know you’re not a scary movie-person, but I know this one is really good, so please, keep an open mind” 

I laugh a little, thinking back on the fact that Josh is the one who actually picked this out. 

“I’ll keep an open mind then” 

“Great” 

The movie starts, and we both sit down, a blanket over us as the lights dim. At first, the movie seems fine, the occasional jump scare, which scares me much more than it does Beth. Still, I keep watching, body tense and uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off it. We’re in the middle when someone gets violently cut up, and the camera doesn’t bother to show us anything else than the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the gore not stopping. I take a breath, pulling my eyes from the screen and standing up. 

“I just need to use the bathroom”

“Gonna puke?”

I laugh a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as she talks. 

“No, but if there’s no important information in this sequence, please feel free to skip it, I'll be quick” I say, already making my way to the yellow-lighted hallway. It's light, in contrast to the room I was just in, and that makes me ease up a little more. Gosh, if this was to keep going, I wouldn’t dare walking home tonight. 

Suddenly, I hear a click, and the light goes away, leaving me in the dark hallway. I stop, looking around, unsure about what just happened. Another breath escapes my lips, reminding me that I can’t keep holding my breath everytime something startling happens. The hallway looks empty both ways, so I continue further, crossing my fingers that the light in the bathroom at least works. 

Before I can react, a couple of strong arms grab me from behind, caging me. I’m about to yell out, but as if anticipating it, the hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams. I’m slammed into the wall, not too hard, luckily, but I close my eyes before the impact arrives. As I open them again, a smiling Josh is standing in front of me, biting his lips to hold in his laugh. My heart is still beating fast, breaths coming in and out in a rapid manner. I grab his hand roughly, dragging it off my mouth. 

“Joshua Washington! Are you fucking insane??” 

He bursts out laughing, arms against the wall beside me, holding himself up as he leans over. I shake my head, mouth still a little open in shock, whilst he can’t stop laughing. 

“Maybe, but you should’ve seen your face!” He chuckles, one of his hands going to his stomach to compose himself. It’s probably hurting right now from all the laughter. 

“Joshua! What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, just a little prank on my part” He smiles, finally calming down. 

“I have been watching a fucking horror movie, and you pull this shit?”

He bites his lip again, tilting his head a bit to examine me. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re totally thinking it’s funny” 

“No, I’m not” 

“Or you’re into it or something…”

“Wait, what, no I’m not, what kind of sick-”

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on me. I feel his breath, his body close, soft lips moving ove mine. My heart is still beating rapidly, but oddly enough, it calms with the way he’s touching me. Tender and carefully, not like himself at all. His hand goes to my waist, body pressing mine into the wall, opening his mouth a little. I hear a little groan leaving his throat. He pulls away, faces close as his eyes go over me, looking up and down. I almost think he looks a little vulnerable, but his signature smirk finds its way to his lips again. 

“Well then, calmer now?” 

I look at him, confused, conflicted. I scoff, shaking my head a bit. 

“No, I think I need a little more help” I state, hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him into me again. Capturing his lips on mine, already opening my mouth. He does the same, one hand on my hips, pulling me into him. 

“Hey, finished in the bathroom soon? I’ve paused the movie, the gore is over!” Beth shouts from the living room. We both pull away from each other and look over to the living room, luckily not seeing her there. I look back at him, seeing his chest heaving, hot breaths coming from his mouth. He turns, looking into my eyes. 

“Guess we better finish calming you down later” He smiles, pushing himself off me and the wall, walking back to his room. 

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

[theocddiaries]

Robotnik: Wait, you like Sonic??? [bursts out laughing]: Oh… hey, when you’re about to tell him, let me know so I can be there. I want to see your faces, hahaha! Rouge: Don’t listen to this guy. What does he know? The only butterflies he’s ever felt were just gas. Robotnik: Bat, I’ve spent enough time trying to destroy that hedgehog to know your friend is going to embarrass himself. What are you even thinking, Shadow? If Sonic even said no to Amy, who’s independent, nice, and strong, do you think he’s going to say yes to you? When you're an anxious, bitter, useless thing whose only accomplishment in life was nearly destroying the world and everyone Sonic loves in it? Come on… Come back to Earth… Shadow [lowers his ears, looking at the ground] Robotnik [wipes a tear]: Damn, that was good… [dials a number. talks while walking away]: Orbot, look, we’re postponing world domination till tomorrow, because my day’s been made today. You're not gonna believe-- Rouge: Don’t listen to him. Shadow: No, he’s right. Besides, to Sonic, his brother is his whole world, and this kid hates me. Rouge: That’s not true-- Tails: Wait, you know that? Rouge: Is today about discrediting everything I’m trying to say or what? Tails [ignores her]: Is that why you agreed to take care of me until he came back, anyways? Shadow: And put up with all your antics, you're not a walk in the park, either. But don’t worry, because once Sonic's back we'll not be forced to spend time together again. Tails: No, wait-- [sighs]: I’m going to regret this, I know it. [dials his brother’s number]: Sonic? [motions to Rouge and Shadow to stay quiet] Sonic: Hi, Tails! Everything okay? Tails: Yeah! I--I wanted to ask you for some advice. Sonic: Sure, shoot. Tails: So… there’s this girl in my class that I like, but I think she only wants to be friends. I was thinking of telling her, but I’m scared she might not reciprocate and will stop even being my friend. Sonic: Well… Listen, you never know if that's what gonna happen. I’d still do it. Those things are better said so you’re both on the same page. Tails: And what if she doesn’t want to see me again? Sonic: Look, if she needs some time, that’s okay. But if she’s your friend, it’s because she likes you, even if it’s not in that way. Look what happened with Amy and me. Tails: Yeah, that’s true. So if you were in the recieving end…? Sonic: I'd feel flattered. And I'd like to know in case I don't like them back so I can help them and be there for them without it being too much. So, just be honest with her. Tails [gives Shadow a knowing look]: Yes, sounds a lot like you. Sonic: And who is it? Do I know her? Is that Zoey girl, isn't--? Tails: Okay, bye, be careful! [hangs up]: See, whether it’s a yes or a no, he’s not going to laugh at you or push you away. Shadow: …Thank you, Tails. Rouge: It's crazy that you had the same situation with that Zoey girl and just happened to remember it now. Sometimes life works in such funny ways. Tails: …And in moments like this, I understand why you and Knuckles match so much. Rouge: Aw, thank--Hey! Shadow: Told you.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕲UESS ᝰ! CHAPTER TWELVE

synopsis: katseye lucked out when their team managed to score a-list award-winning actress, y/n l/n to be featured in their upcoming music video for ‘touch’. when the cameras turn off and the doors close, lara feels a little more than just onscreen chemistry with her music video love interest.

RECOMMENDED READ; It’s their first date, come on.

When Lara slammed her car door shut, the last thing she expected was to hear frantic—and somewhat aggressive—yelling from beyond the gates of your LA condo.

She had just come from a very interesting dinner with Megan, whom she swore on all the Gods was more excited for her hangout with you than she was. And parked outside by the sidewalk of the address you sent her, she peered at the lavish gates to what she could see was a modern, slick home. She couldn’t make out what was being desperately shouted out, but she could tell there were two voices—two very familiar voices. And as two no as she felt listening in on the argument, she couldn’t help but worry as it grew louder.

Lara hated when things felt tense, she really did, and that’s coming from a person who thrives in chaos.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew her ability to stay professional wouldn’t last long with y/n. Earlier that day when she would wipe the tears from your cheeks as you caught your breath, she couldn’t help but feel her head ache. It made her wonder if her friends—as much as it gutted her to admit—had a point. The girls’ teasing was usually bearable, but it was getting somewhat intolerable, the way they seemed so convinced she had a “thing” for the actress. They were so deprived of the drama they were used to stirring on Dream Academy, Lara told herself, I’m just their scapegoat for now.

She reached your gate, pushing it open easily. Seeing what looked to be Avantika’s McLaren parked right at the mouth of the driveway. Her eyes followed the stone road leading through a well-groomed garden of seasonal flowers, up to where light shone from the front of the house just out of view.

She walked around towards the front door, raising an eyebrow as the sound of arguing grew more coherant. At the sight of a familiar head of h/c hair, her eyes widened.

She immediately hid, her body stiff and shoulders tense.

Oh shit, you’re arguing. It’s you and Avantika, arguing. Fuck, did you see her peeking? She’s so stupid. Why the fuck would either of you want someone walking in on the two of you arguing? Oh my God, you were crying… Who would ever, in good conscience, make such a pretty woman cry-Goddammit, Lara, what’re you thinking? Get a fucking grip!

“I don’t want to play this game anymore, Avantika, it’s fucking exhausting! You call me over late at night and then you spit me out when you’re done with me,” your voice cracked, the back of your hands wiping the corners of your eyes. “Just fuck off, okay? Leave me alone and don’t text me again.”

“Why’re you being so hysterical? All I wanted to do was talk, it’s not my fault I’m getting called in!” Avantika scoffed with a smirk, shaking her head. “You’re an actor too, for fuck’s sake, I’ve always prided you in the fact we got each other’s jobs.”

“Oh my God, just go ‘do your job’, I don’t care,” you sniffed.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking frustrating,” Avantika grunted, grabbing your wrist when you turned to walk into your house, “Where are you going, we’re not fucking done here.”

"...L-Let go, Avantika," you stuttered, “Fuck, just stop!”

"Why do you like fighting me so much? I just want to be with you and you’re always shitting ok me got this and that." Avantika snapped back, her hands gesturing wildly. "Is this really how you talk to me? I love you."

You flinched, the sudden aggression making you tense.

Lara didn’t think. She immediately jumped from where she hid, eyes narrowing as she saw Avantika’s grip on you tighten. Without a second thought, Lara moved forward, shoving Avantika back hard. The force made Avantika stumble, her eyes wide in shock. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

"Lara?" Avantika gasped, a mix of confusion and anger in her voice as she straightened up. “What’re you even doing here, this isn’t any of your business.”

Lara stood her ground, her fists clenched, her chest rising and falling with the sudden rush of adrenaline. "It’s my fucking business when you’re getting physical. Is this why you kept asking me about the shoot? ‘Cuz you should’ve told me you’ve been seeing my fucking costar,” she stuck her tongue into her inner-cheek, “What’re you doing, Tika?”

Avantika blinked, her surprise clear. "I’m chatting with my girlfriend, whom you’re standing in my view of.”

Lara didn’t break eye contact, her gaze fierce as she kept a protective stance in front of Y/N. "I was gonna come tell y/n a message from my management,” she lied, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tika, but you’re acting like a fucking lunatic. And I’m not letting you treat her like this."

Avantika stared at her for a moment, then sighed sharply, almost as if realizing she wasn’t going to win this argument. She glanced down at her phone, which buzzed insistently. Her manager was calling again. "I—" she started, but then looked back at Lara with a tight expression. "Whatever, I’m late to my reshoot,” she glanced past Lara’s shoulder at a sniffling you, who stared back in terror, “We’ll continue this later.”

Lara didn’t move until she could no longer hear the car’s exhaust roaring as she sped down the street. Only then did she turn to you, the tension in her shoulders slowly relaxing.

“Are you okay?” she asked, “What the fuck was that?”

You nodded, tossing your head back to flip your hair away. You shot her a smile, as if your eyes weren’t brimming with tears and your cheeks weren’t flushed with emotion. You inhaled deeply, finally meeting her weary eyes. Your wrist still tingling from Avantika’s iron grip, relieved to have Lara intervene. "Yeah… it’s nothing. We just got caught in the moment.”

Lara wasn’t convinced. You were still shaking.

But she knew not to press, just like she didn’t when she caught you crying after lunch earlier that day. So Lara let it be. She just nodded, her hands tucked into her pockets, her stance relaxed but ready. After a beat of silence, she spoke again, her tone light. “You want to get out of here? I came to make things up to you, but I get it if you’re not feeling up to it anymore.”

You shook your head, hand reaching out to lightly grab at her arm. You watched her head dart down at the contact, her arm tensing into a flex. “No, I want to, just—let me grab my jacket.”

The drive to the diner was quiet, filled with the low hum of the car engine and the low sound of Lara’s playlist. You kept your gaze fixed on the world outside, watching the streetlights blur past, their glow softening the edges of everything. Lara didn’t say much, didn’t push, and for that, you were grateful. The silence between you wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable; it was soothing, like a balm for the rawness left behind by Avantika.

Oddly enough, you figured it would be awkward in some fashion, but you didn’t realize how little time you truly had to sit and appreciate silence the way you did with Lara. That’s how you knew, despite her initially negative approach to your (professional) relationship.

When the neon lights of a diner came into view, a small sigh of relief escaped your lips. Lara pulled into a parking spot, cutting the engine before glancing over at you. Her expression was gentle, her eyes filled with an understanding that didn’t need words. “Have you ever been here before?”

You glanced out the window, eyebrows furrowing at the unfamiliar exterior of the diner, shaking your head.

“Well, when I was still training, I would take my friends out here all the time for a break.” She unbuckled her seat belt, eyeing the diner. “They have, arguably, the best milkshakes in all of LA. I mean. I’m talking smooth and sweet blended ice cream with little chunks of strawberry and chocolate in them.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smile at her reaction. “Really? How have I not heard of this place before?”

She smirked, “Only the real VIPs get to know this place.”

She popped her door open, “Come on.” She jogged over to your side, but you had already opened your door. Still, she insisted on closing it as you stepped towards the diner. The tiny bell above the door rung when you stepped in, and she shot the man stood at the register a quick wave before she guided you towards a booth. You made note of the warm hand on the small of your back as she gestured for you to take a seat. She plopped opposite to you.

The diner was warm, its retro charm wrapping around you like a duvet of nostalgia. Red leather booths lined the walls, and a jukebox in the corner played soft tunes from a bygone era.

Across from you, Lara watched you closely, searching your eyes for signs of tears. She felt her chest tighten at the redness around them, but once you glanced back up at her through your lush lashes, she felt her worries flush away. She followed your movements, her eyes softening as they traced the subtle tremor in your fingers. You caught her watching, and for a moment, you felt exposed. But Lara didn’t look away or make you feel self-conscious. Instead, she smiled, just a small curve of her lips that seemed to say, I see you, and it’s okay.

The waitress came, notepad in hand, and Lara let you order first. “Strawberry milkshake, please,” you ordered with a small smile, your voice soft. The waitress smiled back.

“Amazing choice, honey. What can I get you, Lara, dear?”

“The usual’s good, Jen. Can’t go wrong with a good chocolate delight.” Lara chuckled, earning a nice pinch to the cheek.

“Good to see you back, Lara, we’ve missed you. Just ‘cuz you’re all famous now doesn’t mean you can forget us squares, eh?” Jen brushed off Lara’s dismissive wave. She glanced between the two of you, shoving her pen and pad back into her apron. “Now, I won’t impose on your date. I’ll be right back with your orders… What’s your name, honey?”

You swallowed, waiting for Lara to correct the woman’s assumption. She didn’t. “y/n.”

“Well, y/n. You’ve hit the jackpot with this one.”

Once the waitress left, Lara leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, her fingers loosely intertwined. She watched you with a quiet intensity, not the kind that made you want to shrink away, but the kind that made you feel seen, like you mattered. She didn’t address the waitress’ words, which seemed to bug you—it made you wonder how many times she has had dates here where you sat.

“You like strawberry?” she murmured, almost to herself, but loud enough for you to hear. There was something in her tone, something warm and gentle, as if she was cataloging this small detail about you like it was something precious.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. You felt naked before her, for this woman—a woman you had only known for a week—because she’s seen a side to you only your closest friends would know. It wasn’t just the fact you liked strawberry; Lara seemed to notice everything—the way your shoulders sagged just a little, the way your eyes flicked to the window when you felt overwhelmed, the way you traced circles on the table with your finger when you were lost in thought.

“Y’know, for years I’ve known Avantika, and I’ve never heard her mention a girlfriend once,” Lara began, careful to tread the topic lightly. “She’s one of my best friends, but… she’s always had a short temper. I’m sorry.”

Why was she apologizing? This was so out of character.

“No, it’s fine. We just,” you paused, “We’ve never really told anybody about us… she insisted on keeping things out of the public eye to protect us. But we’re not here to talk about that, right? You didn’t need to ‘make it up to me’ or whatever, it’s been my pleasure being able to work with you both.”

She scoffed, “Absolutely not. Y’know the amount of fire I’ve had to take from Sophia and Dani? The girls are so in love with you, I figured if I could get to know you better, I would too.”

Well, there’s a flutter. Where did the Lara you knew go?

“I had a lot of fun today. I didn’t think I could enjoy fake-riding a motorcycle that much,” you joked, earning a laugh from her.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad I was your partner, doll. Full disclosure, none of the others would have made it that fun.” She whispered, before leaning back into the booth. You laughed, feeling yourself ease into the conversation. “Y’know, I love your smile much more than you crying. Don’t get me wrong, you end modelling careers everyday, but that smile,” she pointed at you grinning softly, “That’s why the world’s in love with you.”

How could she say such things so casually? You’ve been trained your whole life to mask your emotions, to show a different level of self to deceive the cameras. But you couldn’t help the genuine smile that cracked on your features.

The milkshakes arrived, tall glasses with whipped cream and a cherry on top. You took a tentative sip, the sweetness grounding you. Lara watched you, a soft smile playing on her lips as she did the same.

“Don’t be shy,” she said after a while, her voice gentle. “Try it out. I wanna know what you think.”

You took a sip of your milkshake, your eyes widening at the silky texture. “Oh my God.” was all you could utter.

“Good, right?” You nodded, swallowing the mouthfuls after mouthfuls of milkshake. “When I saw you and the girls went out for boba, I knew you’d appreciate a sweet treat.”

After a while, the milkshakes were gone, the diner settling into a peaceful quiet. You and Lara didn’t talk about a lot, mostly about your career and the day you had with her bandmates. By the end, you reached for your wallet, but Lara quickly fought to leave a few bills on the table and stood, waiting patiently for you to slide out of the booth and join her.

The walk back to the car was quiet, the cool night air kissing your cheeks. To your surprise, Lara opened the passenger door for you, her movements easy and unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world for you. You climbed in, murmuring a quiet “thanks” before she shut the door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. As she started the engine, the soft hum filled the silence between you again. Lara didn’t rush to fill the quiet, instead letting it stretch comfortably as she pulled out of the diner’s parking lot and onto the road. The city’s glow was a faint shimmer in the distance, and the streets were mostly empty, giving the world a hushed, almost sacred feel.

Lara’s hands rested easily on the steering wheel, her fingers tapping lightly to an unheard rhythm. Every so often, she glanced over at you, her gaze lingering just long enough to make sure you were okay. You felt the weight of her attention, not oppressive but gentle, like a soft blanket on a cold night.

“You sure you’re alright?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as if she didn’t want to break the delicate calm that had settled in the car.

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the passing streetlights. “Yeah. I’m... I’m better now.”

In her company, you hadn’t thought of Avantika once since you entered the diner. You didn’t think it was possible to have a breath of fresh air like that, to be able to just have her plague your thoughts like the parasite she was. But Lara made it possible. The city lights gave way to quieter streets, the houses familiar as you neared yours. Lara’s car slowed as she turned onto your block, finally pulling up into your driveway.

She shifted the car into park but didn’t turn off the engine. Instead, she leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other dropped to her lap. Her gaze softened as she looked at you.

“You know,” she started, her tone light but sincere, “If you ever… run into trouble again, you have my number.” She didn’t say it explicitly, but you both knew what she was talking about. “I’m one call away, I’ll knock some sense into her.”

You nodded, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your coat.

“Thanks, Lara,” you murmured, glancing up at her. “For the offer and for tonight. I appreciate it. Really.”

Her smile widened just a bit, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course, doll. What kind of fake girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take good care of you?”

You swore you thought she was flirting. And much different to how you first approached her, you felt yourself be the one getting flustered. For a moment, neither of you moved, the stillness in the car filled with something warm and unspoken. Lara’s eyes searched yours, not for answers but for understanding, making sure you knew she was someone you could lean on, even if it took time for you to open up.

Finally, you reached for the door handle, pausing as you glanced back at her. “I’ll see you friday?”

Lara nodded, her voice soft. “See you friday.”

You turned back to wave slightly before heading into your house. You hear her car pull out the driveway, feeling for the first time in a long while you could relax. And it was because Lara was there, not fixing everything, but simply being there, offering you the space to heal in your own time.

next. 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ masterlist.

author’s note: where are my lara y/n truthers rn…

taglist: @vivilvr @1luvkarina @meiphobic @yeetaberry127 @lafortezalover @lararajjj @kristalag @meizinisnumberone @vrtualstar @jaythegirlkisser @arihiu @cassiespoiler @nyssalvr @hazel-tanthamore22 @kathleenmikaelson @taikabui @wtfisthisnoclueman @onlyyou-metanoia @yjiminswallet @firstclassjaylee @xochitlisbest @saysirhc @sunshinez4 @fruityg0rl @urmom2314 @cceanvvaves @bowforgodjihyo @blushmimi @justtluvrr @ssamlovr @peanutbutterlover05 @yazzyminny @karli6 @fillthwvoid @urfriendlylocalidiot (taglist open!)

[neerons]

Some of Yves Kloss’ best quotes

"He caaaaaaaaame! " (—Yves screaming about Clavis)

"You're the most common commoner I've ever seen. You have no redeeming features to speak of. Why should I accept someone like that?"

"Choosing me shows how sophisticated you are. You won't regret it." (—Yves' changing route quote)

"Y-You call that a CAKE...?" (—Yves reacting to Clavis' gift)

"If this shameless behavior goes on any longer, you’ll find out what happens if you test my patience. I suggest that you don’t." (—Yves defending Emma in front of a noblewoman that bullied her)

"ExCUSE me? What on earth are you doing hiding in my closet?!"

"Excuse me? And why not?! I’m going to tell everyone, so we can figure out how best to punish her for what she did to you! (…) Huh?! Hey, no, you’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t kindness! I just know I’d end up with the worst stomachache if something happened to you because of me!" (—Yves defending Emma)

"Why should you have to be the one to carry such a heavy burden? This is a problem between two nations. It’s not the sort of thing a simple, kind-hearted woman like yourself needs to get involved in."

"…Emma really is amazing. I could never do anything like that. I always wanted to be a bridge that could bring Obsidian and Rhodolite together… But I was despised just for being half-Obsidianite, and I accepted it all, like it was completely normal. I never did a single thing to actually improve the relationship between our countries. I didn’t even think I could. It takes courage and resolve to approach someone when you’re completely at odds with them. It’s not easy, not in the slightest. I bet it’s left Emma in tears countless times. But even so, she’s still here now, holding her head high and taking that first step towards peace. She really is… amazing. (…) She’s so beautiful it’s dazzling. (…) I’ve spent my whole life with my head down, seeing nothing but the ground at my feet. I really need to change—I need to learn from her example." (—Yves talking about Emma to Leon)

"Fhwhwh...?! Oh my god. How is my little brother this adorable?!" (—Yves talking about Licht)

"Know this: Yves Kloss loves you, and he's always thinking about you. There's not a day you're not in his thoughts."

"You do realize you're pretty, no matter what?"

"For the record? Each time you make me happy, I swear I'll make you even happier."

"H-Hey... Have you really not noticed that I, Yves Kloss, am waiting for the right moment to talk with you?"

"U-Um, Emma... Don't tell me you're... with both of them...?" (—Yves talking about Emma holding Gilbert's and Clavis' hands)

"Just the thought of being tossed into a den full of women sends a shiver up my spine..."

"Did you just say... LOVE?!" (—Yves to Licht and Leon)

"I guess you captivated me. You were always striving to be perfect, and... that's the Emma I fell in love with."

"Y-You think you can just be all cute and get away with it, huh?"

"Please don't cry, Emma. When you cry... my heart aches so badly I don't know what to do."

"I'm not a prince to be pitied. It doesn't matter if no one accepts me. The only one I need acceptance from is me. (...) It doesn't matter what other people say. What's the point, if you can't trust yourself, and believe in your own worth? Even if they trample you under their filthy, worn boots—so long as you hold your head high and believe in yourself, it'll only make you stronger."

"Okay, which of you gave Licht wine?! How many times have I told you not to?!"

"There are so many people in the world who hate me. But... I hate me more than any of them."

"Aww, Licht, don't be so down. Failure is an unavoidable part of cooking!" (—Yves reassuring a sulking Licht)

"I'm never making dessert for any of you ever again!! You're all horrible and you can eat dirt for all I care!"

"I am NOT a cat!!!"

"...I know that kindness of yours is probably a virtue, but I can't help worrying that you're going to kindness yourself to death one day."

"What? No! I didn't meow. Why on earth would I meow?!"

"You're my goddess of happiness. I... thank you for coming, Emma."

"He's such a brazen fool! Not a principled bone in his body, and he's incorrigible to boot!" (—Yves talking about Nokto)

"Listen, you didn't hear this from me, but... Licht made almost five hundred attempts before he baked an edible batch of cookies. (...) That boy really loves you a lot. So much that it gives me heartburn just thinking about it."

"I often get told that I don't have luck. But when I talk to you, I feel like my life isn't all that bad."

"I hope she comes soo... WAHH! W-Warn me when you come!"

[quxyivs]

helloo! i was wondering if u could write a ot8 thats like absolutely ABSOLUTELY heart twisting i kinda have like an idea in my mind its like

they become friends with someone right? at the start its like all good then they slowly start leaving reader out she feels sad they yell at her for doing small things wrong then she ends up js accepting it she becomes closer to her other friends they get mad ar her for ignoring them then the reader js like lets everything out yk??

💚💚

OT8! Skz x Fem! Reader (special guest Mingi and Wooyoung)

Trigger warning!! Angst, Reader is depressed, crying, name calling, Reader is called clingy, annoying, etc, reader takes anti-depressants, Wooyoung thinks reader is trying to off herself

A/N → Tysm for the req!! I love this SM.

You don’t know why you even tried anymore. Every outing was the exact same. You spoke, you were ignored. You try to speak up, you were talked over. You would text in the gc but nope. Nothing. Not even a fucking thumbs. That’s because they were always talking to her. Her, her, her. You weren’t jealous but god you felt left out. Like you didn’t even fucking exist. You were tired, but yet.. you still reached out.

Tonight was the worst night ever. You had been extremely depressed and tonight you were so close to losing it. You needed someone to talk to. You sigh before grabbing your phone and opening up the gc.

—

Is anyone up..? I need someone to talk to-… -9:30pm

—

Almost instant you were met with a bunch of angry texts. “y/n no cares!!”, “Talk to someone else we don’t care.”, “Do you ever leave us alone? God you’re so clingy”, “wish you could be quiet like jio for once..”, “you should be more like jio. Not clingy and not annoying.” As you read their messages you began to cry. You threw up phone across the room causing it to shatter. You pulled your knees into your chest and cried. Your thoughts began to take over your body. You wanted to just disappear. You hated this. What did you do wrong?? You eventually cried to yourself to sleep on the couch.

The next morning you woke up feeling like shit. You stood up slowly, your eyes puffy from crying. You go to the bathroom and washed your face. As you walked out the bathroom to the living room you hear a knock on the door. You decided that instead of ignoring it you should just answer. At the door you see Mingi and Wooyoung. You looked up at them and before you could even speak you were being interrogated.

“What the hell happened to you y/n!?” “Oh my god your eyes!!” They pushed their way into your house and dragged you over to the couch and sat you down. Mingi went to make you tea while Wooyoung made soup. “I’m fine guys…” “No you’re not y/n. Don’t lie to us.” Wooyoung said as he added the carrots into the soup. Mingi walked over and sat the tea cup down before his eyes spotted your shattered phone on the floor by the tv stand across the room.

He got up and grabbed your phone. “Jesus y/n..what’s gotten into you? What happened..?” Mingi said as he faced you, his face covered with concern. “Nothing….just realized the people I thought were my everything ignoring me and ditching me like I’m nothing.” You mumble the last part like you didn’t want them to hear, but they did. They looked at you with a saddened expression.

“You don’t need them y/n..how about we take you out okay..? Take your mind off them?” Wooyoung offered as he finished making the soup and putting it in a black bowl, the smell of hot soup filling the room as he walked over to you and sat the bowl down on the table. “Thank you..” You say to Wooyoung as you inhale and take a small bite. Wooyoung and Mingi let you eat as they clean your house.

They go into the bathroom after cleaning the rest of house when Wooyoung sees an open bottle of anti-depressants on the floor..but the bottle is empty. His heart drops and he pushed Mingi out his way and stormed towards you. “Hand them over y/n! Right fucking now!!” “Woah! What are you talking about!?” “The pills! I saw them! The whole bottle is empty!! Don’t you dare even think of overdosing!! Hand them to me now damnit!!” Mingi by now had rushed downstairs and was standing by the staircase in shock.

“What!? No-!! That bottle had been empty!! I was looking for some last night but couldn’t find any-!!” The room had fallen silent afterwards before Wooyoung grabbed you and pulled you into a hug crying into your shoulder. “Let’s leave okay? You don’t need to be here..” He mumbled into your shoulder and you nodded softly. “Okay.. let’s leave..” You three left the house after you freshened up and cleaned the bathroom.

You were at a park eating ice cream and having fun. For the first time in weeks you didn’t want to cry. You felt happy, cared for, loved. You laughed loudly at Wooyoung’s stupid jokes.You had accepted that everyone in skz moved on and you didn’t care. You were finally happy away from them. Right as you three kept joking you see a group of people walking up to you.

“So this is what you do y/n? Just ditch us for other friends like we don’t exist? We’ve been calling you all day!!” You look up and see a very unhappy Seungmin and the rest of skz. “What?” “Oh don’t play dumb. Check your phone y/n! I mean cmon!” Minho snapped slightly. You were done at this point. NOW they care?! They care about you!? Not when you on the verge of losing it?! You threw your ice cream down and stood up and pushed Minho away from you.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!! IM THE BAD FRIEND YET YOU ALL TREATED ME LIKE SHIT AND IGNORED ME!! I WAS GOING THROUGH A MANIC STATE LAST NIGHT!! ON THE VERGE OF ENDING IT AND YOU ALL DIDNT EVEN FUCKING CARE!! EAT SHIT ASSHOLES!!” You stormed off completely ignoring Wooyoung and Mingi who were calling out to you.

Eventually they caught up with you crying at a bus stop. They sat beside and hugged you.

“It’s okay..fuck them, we’re here y/n.” Mingi said softly. You nodded and hugged them back completely forgetting about skz.

A/N → kind of an unhappy ending but happy ending!! Lmk if you like it!

[hannahssimblr]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[swanlakex]

Ok so I’m actually in love with this plot lmk if I should make a mini-series or something.. enjoy!

Camp Counselor Sam

Sam hated his job.

Or, at least that’s what he wanted everyone else to think. His mom had forced him to apply after finding 2 bongs and a concerning amount of pills under his bed and in his sock drawer. A summer would set him straight, teach him some responsibility, she figured.

“Hey,” Sam groaned to his campers, lying down on a bench. “No fighting.” He pulled his arms over his face, his dark sunglasses not even helping the hangover he was facing. The other counselors slipped out of the cabins late last night to “The Spot”, which was really just a gazebo tucked away in the woods a walk away. It was there they drank cheap beer around the fire, strumming songs on their guitars and complaining about the kids. You were there, too. And you couldn’t find an escape to Sam’s burning gaze through the fire, staring straight through your soul. It was a little creepy.

Sam was in charge of the Chippewa cabin, boys aged 7-9. Potty trained, sure; but loud, sticky, and stubborn. Two boys were wrestling around in the dirt before lunch, obviously stir crazy. Once Sam chided them, they both stood up, and one pushed the other as a last resort get-back.

“Seriously, Jacob. Enough. Ethan’ll have another asthma attack, and I’m not going through that paperwork again.” Sam groaned. “Why can’t you go play Gaga with the others? Always gotta stir up stuff.” Jacob, one of the older kids in the cabin, looked back at the Gaga pit. “I can’t.” He whispered. Sam sighed and sat up, throwing his arms up and landing them back on his knees with a Slap! “Why not?”

“Emma’s there.” Jacob pointed to a girl around his age, braids in her hair as she kicked a ball around, smiling.

“So?”

Silence was all Sam needed to understand.

“Oh! You like her, huh?”

“Shhh!” Jacob cringed.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’m great with girls.” He said quietly with a smirk.

“Like Counselor Y/N?”

“Shut up,” Sam looked away. “Go talk to her.”

“And say what?”

“I dunno. You like her shirt, or somethin’. Or- better option: show her your killer Gaga skills. That’ll impress her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. Go.” Sam swatted Jacob away with his hand, pushing towards the game, smiling as he laid back down for some peace and quiet. Finally.

“AHHHHH!” Sam sat up immediately when he heard an ear-piercing scream. Wincing at the volume. As he whipped his head around, he saw little Emma on the ground, clutching her face. Sobbing. He also saw Jacob with the purest look of terror in his eyes, and a ball right beside Emma.

“Oh my god! Emma! Are you okay?” You shout, looking up from your magazine. You run to her, kneeling down to her to assess the damage.

“I’m so sorry!” Jacob cried. “I- I didn’t mean to!”

Sam came over, grabbing Jacob by the shoulders.

“Way to fumble the bag, dude.” Sam whispered in his ear. He nodded to you and Emma. “Is she ok?”

Emma moved her hands from her face. Blood gushed from her nose.

“Fuck,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

You turned to Sam, not recognizing him until now because of the chaos. “Uh. Yeah. Just gotta go to the infirmary.” You turn back to Emma, one of your campers, with a face full of pity.

“Can you walk, bug?” Emma responded with loud, inconsolable wailing. You just nod, stand, and pull Emma up in your arms, her head dangling over your shoulder. Blood was getting all over your shirt.

Sam and his camper watched in horror as you walked Emma to the infirmary. Then, the lunch bell rang.

Emma was fine. Some Kleenex, ice, and a sucker was all she needed before you walked her to the dining hall with a smile on her face. But before she could run to her friends, you two were stopped. Sam and Jacob stood awkwardly, but Sam nudged Jacob and he spoke.

“E-Emma. I’m really sorry I kicked the ball in your face. I didn’t mean to. Sorry.” Jacob then handed her a handful of picked dandelions that he was hiding behind his back. “These are for you.”

Sam whispered something in Jacob’s ear.

“And I like your shirt.”

Emma smiled gently and took the yellow flowers. “Thanks.” She said shyly. “Do you wanna sit together?”

Jacob turned to Sam beaming with pride.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” He said with a push. With that, Emma and Jacob ran off to the other side of the dining hall.

You looked up at Sam, smiling confusedly.

“The apology was his idea,” he blurted. “I just thought the flowers might sweeten the deal.” Dandelions are actually weeds, you thought. You kept that to yourself.

“That was sweet, Sam. Thank you.” You smile.

He just nodded curtly and slipped away into the buzzing crowd of people.

What a mystery of a guy, you thought.

[numberonetacostan]

TACO'S TIRADE ANALYSIS

OKAY! It is time for the requested analysis of Taco’s Tirade. This is my first time doing a big analysis of like, anything, so I’m very sorry if this is the worst take on the song of all time or if everything I’m saying is obvious!! Can anyone tell i'm nervous about posting this lol. I have a lot of thoughts about Taco and her Tirade. I love it so much. Feel free to imagine me gesturing wildly with tears in my eyes as you read this. We’ll go in sections based on the lyrics and visuals :) Lyrics will be inside brackets, then commentary will be below! Please enjoy!! <3

Tw: slight discussion of suicidal ideation

[Any moment now...

Are you sure this is what you want?

(Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid. If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me.]

Alright, so we immediately see Taco still in a very emotional state. Mepad asking if she’s sure she wants to interfere with the challenge immediately provokes her, and starts her off on her entire tirade. Because he asked if she was sure. She immediately insults him and moves to change the subject and get his attention off of herself and her own mental well-being. She’s very in-denial of her own emotions and emotional pain in this song, as we’ll see going forward, and remains quite defensive for a lot of the song.

[Look at them! It's so pathetic,

How they run to fetch their sticks.

Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic,

At least I know other tricks!]

We start here with her, as I stated, changing the subject and shifting the view onto the contestants figuratively and somewhat literally, as they’re all seen picking up the sticks for the challenge, although she still remains the main focus of the shot. We move to her dancing around Mepad, who takes up the center of the shot, but Taco is still the focus here!! She’s moved from deflecting conversation to the contestants to, in a way, defending herself, despite Mepad not having insinuated anything yet. Taco is calling herself polemic and unsympathetic here, not only because she thinks that of herself, what with her abysmal self-esteem that we see more of later in the song, but because she thinks that’s what Mepad thinks of her. Not only do her only other two friends ever hate her (I wouldn’t go that far for Mic, but that’s definitely what Taco thinks), but the rest of the season 1 cast don’t seem to think too highly of her either, yeah? Mephone certainly isn’t happy to see her soon after the song ends, and season 2 contestants like Mic and Suitcase have been shown to be wary of her before they’ve even met her. (She doesn’t know about the season 3 cast so they don’t really matter here.) The point being, Mepad is Mephone’s right hand (leg?) man, and Taco doesn’t know about their argument, so she’s pretty reasonably assuming that Mepad dislikes her just as much as everyone else does. So, she’s saying what she thinks he’s thinking about her before he can!! Forgive me for not knowing the technical name for it, but this is an actual way of deflecting criticism!! I’ll use an example. Say you made a drawing of a person, a little stick guy, but the proportions are off. One of their legs are way bigger than another, but you still want to post it anyway. To keep people from telling you that one leg is bigger than another, you might say “here’s my stick dude!! One leg is bigger than another but I’m too lazy to fix it.” By stating the potential criticism before anyone else can, it makes others MUCH less likely to comment on it themselves!! And that’s what I believe Taco is doing here!!! I hope I explained that well enough. She then goes on defending herself, self-justifying by saying she at least “knows other tricks.” I read this as her doing things outside the game, and it’s limits. That could be her acknowledging how she doesn’t play by the rules of the competition like they do, but I see it as a note of the hypocrisy/lying to herself we see from Taco in the song. And!! In the transition to the next verse, she has her eyes closed!! Which happens everytime we travel in and out of that purple-y space! We are seeing Taco’s inner image here people!!!!!

[Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast,

A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast,]

Here we have Taco insulting herself more! Yay! She’s getting more emotional as we get into the song, and she becomes less and less able to keep her usually sturdy walls up. She’s just lost Mic, and as I’ll go over later in the analysis, is expecting she will be permanently dead relatively soon. Of course she’s having a lot of trouble keeping it together! You know how sometimes, if you’re trying not to cry and someone asks if you’re okay, it makes you burst into tears? It’s like that! Mepad asked if she was sure, and the dam began to break. So, the descriptors she uses tell us a lot about her view of herself!!! Debris. Broken remains of what was. That’s pretty accurate to how Taco is feeling right now. She’s drowning in debris, really! The debris of her old, broken friendships, the debris of her master plan to win season 1, and it’s to the point where she sees herself as broken and incomplete as well. She believes she’s broken!!! And that leads us right into her calling herself defective. Imperfect or faulty. She’s very separated from everyone else, yeah? Everyone else (to her knowledge) lives in the hotel. Everyone else is part of the group. Everyone else has people who care about them. Everyone else happily plays by the rules of the game. After everything, compared to everyone else? No wonder she sees herself as incapable of changing, she believes there’s something just, deeply wrong with her as a being. If everyone else can do this and have this, she has to be the problem. And almost right after she started putting forth that effort to get Mic to trust her, focusing on someone other than herself, Mic left her. Rightfully so, but please it is so important to think of it from Taco’s perspective rather than Mic’s in this analysis. Taco was trying to give Mic what she thought she wanted (recognition), trying to be a good friend, and it immediately lost her the most important person in her life. She’s been watching for years, she sees everyone else making strong connections, but she can’t do it when she tries. And before that, it’s her plan failing. Like Brian said in a stream, it was inconceivable to her that her plan would fail. Yet it did. And after a long enough time alone out in the woods, there isn’t anyone left to blame for that but herself. She was the reason her plan had failed, and she’d lost everything. Of course she’d see herself as defective. Outcast is pretty obvious, because she checks all of those boxes. Lives hidden, alone, and very much away from everyone else. She is very very much not part of the group anymore. 

Frenetic!! Fast, wild, and uncontrolled. Frankly, something you’d be more likely to describe Taco’s season 1 persona with, yeah? It’s quite different from how Taco usually tries to present herself, being cunning and calculating around others. But of course, the further we get into the song, the more honest Taco unintentionally can get about how she sees herself. She had her whole plan for season 1 down, but it was in the end where she lost control over the situation in which she lost control of herself in which she lost everything. It was in the ship, where something she didn’t and realistically couldn’t have planned for happens that she once again lost control of the situation and thus control of herself, and used violence despite Mic’s plea not to, in which she lost everything again. Of course she’d see herself as wild and uncontrollable, because moments in which she was are standout moments of her life! Not to mention again, how she’s the contestant who tried to steal the prize and cheated in season 2. For better or for worse, she’s much less controlled by the rules of the game than the other contestants. Just another thing that separates her from the group, yeah? Antithetic!!!! In direct opposition to something. And the following word as well, iconoclast, an attacker of a beloved institution or beliefs. She’s against the game that everyone else plays again and again, something that really matters a lot to them, but we see in the show and especially in the finale that the game isn’t good for them. As much as it’s not always for quite the right reason and exactly how she ends up going about it, she has a strong point about the game itself and what it can do to all of them. But she still sees herself as the villain. Despite her genuine, and correct, belief that ending the game will make things better for everyone, she still sees herself as the villain!! And it’s an image of herself that she’s had for a long time, and that she can’t shake after everything, because she doesn’t believe she can be anything else. And I did not forget how she mentions herself as being “poetic!” Whether that’s her believing in “karmic justice” or whatever and that she got what was coming with her, or believing her role as a season 1 finalist who’s come back out of the shadows to try and end season 2, it is one of the few neutral adjectives she uses for herself in the song. It might even be her previous popularity and persona she’s referencing here, that antitheticism and iconoclasm being how she went from a silly, well-loved character to a serious, well. She’s still loved out of canon but none of the people she knows like her at all. She’s the antithesis of what she used to be, and her coming out of the act destroyed the beloved image of who she had pretended to be.

As for the visuals here, how the scene fades back into her and Mepad is so important! She falls off of a cliff into darkness!! A very clear visual representation of how she sees things having gone. After her fight over the suitcase with OJ in the s1 finale, she kept falling and falling and falling, deeper down into the dark hole she’s dug herself, until she’s landed right where she is as she’s singing. Not only that, but this visual is another excellent representation of how she sees things as over for her. How she sees herself as incapable of changing, starting over, or getting better at all. Think about the cliff we know of on the island. Now think about who actually fell off that cliff at the end of season 1. Think about what happened to them. They all DIED!!! And she is picturing herself falling off this cliff!! I doubt this was intended to be a sign of suicidal ideation for her, since ii does have a younger target demographic (ex. Justy said in a stream that OJ and Paper sleeping in the same bed would be a bit too mature), but it can definitely be read that way. Seeing herself as “dead” in a way revolves around that disbelief in self-improvement she has, she thinks it’s too late for her in the same way it’s too late to save someone who’s died!!! And if anyone is questioning whether the scene is just a visual effect or if it’s definitely Taco’s inner picture-y thing, please note her closed eyes during the transition from her falling from the cliff to standing with Mepad!! She is picturing these visuals as she sings!!

[But I won't live in the past.

(Spoken) I almost won this game once, you know. But!]

So we all agree that Taco is totally living in the past, right? She’s saying she’s moved on, she’s telling Mepad and herself that the past doesn’t matter and that she doesn’t care about it, and then immediately she mentions how she almost won before. She has not healed at all, and is not over a single thing that happened!!! She is doing so awful I love her <3. She longs for everything she’s lost constantly, because she’s lost everything!!!!!

[History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory,

So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story,]

So!!! Interestingly enough, I think that these lines are quite a bit about the disparities between OJ and Taco!! So, Taco had a whole strategy going into season 1 that got her into the finals, and had it not been for Bow, she would have won! She’d planned meticulously, and in the s1 finale is shown to have great physical capabilities, at least to the point to which she was able to get way ahead of OJ. And, while this may be by great bias towards Taco speaking at least in part, OJ… did not go to such lengths. Don’t get me wrong though, this is definitely a thing. It’s brought up in the show that he wasn’t a huge player in the game! Multiple times!!! S1E15 “The Tile Divide,” after OJ wins immunity with help from Paper Mephone4 says “OJ wins! Wow, that hasn’t happened for a while.” And in S1EP16 “The Penultimate Poll,” Pickle says “-even though [OJ] barely actually won any challenges.” Yet after all is said and done, Taco is outcasted, has nothing, and is disliked by pretty much everyone, and OJ is hailed as the “King of Inanimate Insanity”, is rich, and becomes the de facto group leader with his hotel. The way the narrative has been spun does certainly glorify OJ beyond his actual performance in the competition. And with OJ having his massive ego problems, I don’t doubt that he definitely let that get to his head and contributed to that narrative himself. 

And in this shot we have Taco looking down at the hotel from the forest, the same way she’s looking down on everyone participating in the game and how she’s been watching Mic (and presumably Pickle) from the outside. Only now, she’s even further away from them. 

[And we choose, to feel this pain,]

Taco denying her emotions again!!!! She likes to be in control, and she can not control her feelings nor keep pushing them down as she has been, so she’s onto deny deny deny!! She is in a lot of pain, and she knows it, so she deflects by saying she’s choosing to feel the pain of her losses. She’s keeping up her act, her defense, by desperately holding on and pretending she has control over these feelings!! I’m certain she’s tried to control them!! To justify herself, replace loneliness with anger, but it hasn’t worked!!! And her defensiveness is reflected in the visuals as well, her putting her hand up to keep a distance between her and Mepad, her still stubbornly keeping up those walls and forcing him away as he looks concerned for her. 

[And we lose, more than we gain…]

OH BOY TIME TO LOSE MORE THAN WE GAIN. I use this phrase daily. I'm serious. A pretty obvious reference to Mic having said she gained nothing, and also an acknowledgement that their partnership truly meant something to Taco and is still greatly affecting her. Which is obvious to the audience, but not only is Mepad learning things about Taco and her issues through the song, but we really see Taco starting to fall apart, accidentally implying the feelings that she’s so desperate to keep down!! She’s like a trauma volcano <3. Anyways, Taco had gained a lot when she’d met Mic, even if it took her quite some time to realise, and by the time she did she’d lost it all, again. AS FOR THE VISUALS we once again move into Taco’s head!! The transitions here for the beginning and end of this short sequence have her with her eyes closed!! She’s walking, and hard stops when she sees Pickle and the time travel portal. You see her little feet slide to a stop on her heels! She leans away from him, leans towards him just a tad, and immediately turns and walks away, only to see Mic. She hard stops when she sees Mic too, though it’s less extreme than it was for Pickle. And when she does this, she reaches a hand out towards Mic. It’s for a few reasons I think. Holding it out to try and keep that hurt away, protect her from her thoughts of missing Mic and how much she must hate her, fully reaching out because she misses Mic dearly and that pain is so fresh, reaching out to the person she’s been so close to, closer than anyone before. Another part of it, I think, is how her conflicts with both Pickle and Mic went. With Pickle, Taco was the one who insulted him, claimed they were never friends, and cut things off. Thus, she hard stops when she sees him, only leans a bit closer to him, before turning around and walking away. With Mic, Taco was the one who was left this time. Mic cut things off with her. So she’s left reaching out to Mic, as Mic’s image leaves the screen, and Taco collapses onto her knees where she is. Taco’s left on the ground, squeezing her eyes closed and clutching her head as the darkness in the background, the darkness in Taco’s head closes in on her, until she closes her eyes and jumps straight back into her villain act, the song speeding up with her as she keeps trying to get away from all of her feelings!!! My queen with awful coping skills <3.

[But I will break this cycle,

Of mistakes, unlike all,

Of these snakes whom I call to condemn,]

So! We see Taco hard cutting from her guilt and sadness, straight into her evil plan. Right back into her villain front as she realises she’s begun to open up and get emotional!!! So she’s explaining her plan to Mepad, and projects her own self-hatred and experiences very hard onto the contestants. She’s upset about what happened between her and Mic and sees the game as at fault for what happened as she’s trying to justify things to herself, and push down the guilt she feels about their split. Heck, I’d say she’s probably blaming the game for what happened between her and Pickle right now, even if that one is more on her. And she sees the final four as complacent in what the game does, with them all continuing even though none of them are even enjoying themselves anymore. Most of them haven’t been enjoying themselves for a while now, but they still stay in line and play, as they’re programmed to. This is a bit off track, but it’s important to keep in mind that at this point, Taco has been acting more outside of her programming for longer than any of the other contestants. She was never in whatever sort of waiting-mode they end up in inside the hotel, and she’s cared less and less about the rules of the game as time has gone on. Her plot in the first season was done fully inside the rules of the game, but we see her having broken out of those constraints in season 2, with her encouraging Mic to straight up attack other contestants, which is implied by Taco to be against the rules. And she keeps interfering against those same rules of the competition. Like Marsh breaking the rules by leaving the show’s parameters, Taco explicitly goes against what is meant to happen in the game. And here she is at the peak of that, having gone from breaking the rules of the game to wanting to break the game, the cycle of mistakes, entirely. Her calling the remaining contestants “snakes” of all things specifically is interesting as well, since I’m sure plenty of the season 1 cast would use that to describe Taco. Part of it is her projecting, but another part of it is her actually seeing her own mistakes in the remaining contestants. Keeping secrets from each other (Knife), never properly talking out interpersonal issues (Suitcase & Baseball), and plain loneliness (Lightbulb). And she’s condemning them for their complacency in all of it, for their actions, most certainly in part with her efforts to ignore her own feelings and as well to call out how the game changes people and makes them act. 

[If I can't win the prize,

I'll play this last reprisal,

Just to bring their lies all to an end.

-Ack!]

The first line here is more of Taco playing up her villain act. She mentions later on in the episode, while she’s being more honest since it’s surrounding Mic territory, to the final four that she doesn’t care about the money anymore. And I really believe she doesn’t! She’s broken out of that programming after having connected with Mic. She was one of the contestants, if not the contestant, made to be most dedicated to getting that money, so of course she mentions it as she’s still desperately keeping up her front!!! But she says in the very next line that this is her “last reprisal,” she clearly doesn’t intend to interfere or interact with the game again, much less try to swoop in and steal the million. And the last reprisal line is very important!!!! Notice how in the visuals, Taco lets herself fall out of a tree as she says this and upon landing she’s hurt by her injury. There is symbolism here guys!!!!!!! She is letting herself fall here. In her eyes, she doesn’t have anything left to fight for anymore. She’s lost the people important to her, she’s lost any goals she’d had driving her forward, and she hates herself!! She knows she’s injured, and that her injury could very well be lethal, as we see later in the episode, but she’s doing nothing to minimize the risk to herself. She’s not going to sit away and let herself feel and process, she’s going to burn the game down and die with it!!!! This, my friends, is called passive suicidal ideation and self-destructive behavior!!!!! And her facade starts to falter again and she mentions bringing their lies to an end!! Because she is lying to herself, and she herself is not ready to stop holding on to her lies, either to herself or to others in her persona. Bringing the game and all the lies tangled up in it to an end means she would finally have to face everything, and just thinking about that is enough to wipe the villainous grin off her face. But she’s still stubbornly going through with her plot, because she isn’t truly expecting she’ll have to face it, again because she is fully expecting to die permanently in the near future!!!! 

[You need regeneration.

Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process.

Of course not.

Why "of course not?".

You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one. I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?]

MEPAD TIME!!!! Okay, here we have Mepad (rip king you would have loved the storyboards of your own death) urging Taco to heal!!! He’s looking out for her physical well-being, he can tell that she’s in pain and that her injury is quite dangerous, that being especially obvious the way he emphasises “need” in the line. And he is implying that she needs emotional healing as well!! He starts his Therapad-ing in his next line!! <3 He is very clearly worried about her, a lot of his presence in the first half of the song is just him looking at Taco with big concerned eyes!!!

And Taco has zero faith in the recovery process, between her, as Mepad helpfully says, believing herself to be incapable of starting over in more ways than one, her believing no one would want her to be recovered, her having a hunch of Mephone’s reluctance to revive her, or her own inability to see much of a future for herself, she does not believe she can come back!!! Angst!!!!! She is hurting so bad I love her <3

And Mepad is an empathy king!! And is probably the least biased against her out of everyone on the island!! And he can see beneath her crumbling exterior!!!! So her self-loathing and regret and everything she’s trying to push down is obvious to him. Of course she doesn’t believe she can be revived. And we see even Taco is surprised and even a bit miffed by this!!! Aside from Mic to a lesser extent, Mepad is the only person who can really see through her facade. Mic did try, and saw that Taco was hiding things, don’t get me wrong, but Taco was much more stable at that point and shut Mic’s attempts to see underneath her image down much harder than she is able to do during the song. 

And Mepad plainly spells out what she’s feeling. This is so important to why she opens up to him more in the next verse. Not only can she not hide her emotions from him, because he already knows, but having it spelled out like that means she can’t keep hiding it from herself either. She can’t ignore her feelings when they’re being clearly stated back to her. So all that she’s been pushing down comes springing right back up in the next verse!!!! She has to physically turn away from him and cross her arms in a final attempt to keep herself closed off, keep anyone from looking in, but after everything she just can’t do it anymore. 

["Clear the slate, start again",

Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds?

How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND,

the whole slate has fallen apart!]

Oh my god guys Taco is being honest about her feelings it’s happening guys it’s happening!!!!! She’s turned away from Mepad for the first two lines, but as she really opens up to him, she turns back around, and gets louder along with the music. And we have Taco be like, the most emotionally open we see her!!! She’s putting Mepad’s rather succinct evaluation of her feelings into her own words. She doesn’t just think she can’t change or have a new start, she finds the notion preposterous!!! Forgiveness is inconceivable to her!!! Inconceivable!!! I can’t emphasize enough that this is the first time Taco has ever emotionally opened up to anyone ever and it is her telling Mepad that she is evil, unable to change, and will never be forgiven. We really get a feel for how everything has been weighing down on her for years, and how everything has built up to a point that she really can’t take it anymore!! But she doesn’t believe there’s any chance of a happy ending for her. Not only the whole slate, but her entire life has fallen apart!! She has lost everything and is fully confident she will never get anything back!!!

[Taco, that is not true.

There are other ways to-

It's too late-

It's not too late,

For me to restart!]

Mepad coming in trying to help <3 Notice how he comes in while she’s still holding the previous note!! He is immediately refuting her idea that she’s irredeemable!! He does the same to refute her when she says it’s too late!!! He is very concerned for her and trying to convince her that it’s not too late for her. He’s trying to tell her there are other options, that she’s not so far gone, but this sort of ends up backfiring, since not only does she not listen to him when he says these things but his interjection ends up snapping her out of the state of emotional vulnerability, and she pulls her facade right back up. Taco saying it’s too late for her kind of breaks my heart honestly, I love it when my blorbo is in pain don’t get me wrong but ow, my taco it’s gonna be okay I love you. She really sees no redemption or even future for herself, and at her lowest she’s finally expressed that to someone!!! Which is a very important step to healing!!!! She accidentally started the healing process by talking about her issues. I mean, she backpedals immediately, but still!!!! Great job Taco <3 And at the end of this line we head into Mepad’s face!! Because there’s a shift from Taco’s feelings to her pushing him away, literally and figuratively, after that moment of vulnerability!! The audience is going with Mepad, at the moment, chasing after Taco!!!

[But it's not I, its they,

Who deign to play this game, so,

Cruel and inhumane, base and uncouth,]

AND HERE COMES TACO WITH THE IMMEDIATE SUBJECT CHANGE!! She just did her first ever emotional vulnerability, and as per her usual strategy with her emotions she’s hard changing the subject!!! In this case, back to the final four and the game!!! She’s deflecting back on to both of them in quick succession trying to get a topic that isn’t her to stick! She is quite literally walking away from the topic in the visuals too!! She’s trying to get away from Mepad, who is trying to keep them on the subject of Taco’s feelings, looks back at him angrily when he keeps talking about it, and then is even more angry when he keeps going, before storming away from him again!!!

[Let us talk about it when your,

head is not so clouded. You're no,

menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?

Please think this through]

Mepad is trying to get her to go back to that emotional vulnerability!!! He wants to help her, he wants to talk through her issues with her rather than watching her self-destruct!!! I think this is where the idea that running the Truth or Flare challenge will help her comes from, too. He can tell she’s vulnerable, despite how hard she’s trying not to be, and she is talking things out, in a way, during ToF!! In a healthy way, no, but it’s Taco so we need to take what we can get. As he says, he’d rather do it when Taco has calmed down, taken a moment to not bury her feelings and even gets recovered, maybe. And here we get to a very important line!! Mepad asks her how they hurt her!!!! I genuinely don’t think Taco’s been asked this, yeah? Her whole schtick is supposed to be that she is the villain, she hurts people, not how she’s been hurt herself! And dare I say, me, the biggest Taco apologist and forehead kisser you ever did see, they have hurt her. She’s seen every other person who’s hurt the others be let into the hotel and accepted into the group, yeah? Balloon was accepted, after quite a bit of effort on his part. No one really seemed to care that Knife had killed Marsh for fun, Taco mentioning it in episode 13 as they’re arguing. Nickel and Taco are relatively similar in personality, but Nickel seemed to have relatively free reign to asshole all he wanted until Suitcase snapped at him, and even then it was just Suitcase who was angry with him. But not her. She hasn’t apologized to Pickle in person, at this point, but she had sent letters. She’d at least tried to contact him, and while he was well within his rights to ignore her, I can’t really blame her for not wanting to go inside the hotel either. Not to mention, Taco has been watching them all very closely, at least for the duration of the second season and likely after the first as well, for her to have found out about the second season and to have begun scheming so quickly. So every time they’ve spoken about her, every insult and awkward silence after someone mentions her name, she’s heard. That’s got to hurt!! Taco is very much not perfect and I don’t really blame the others for not reaching out to her given she hadn’t decided to make a change yet, but it also can’t be easy to make a change for the better when you are homeless in the woods!! Mic and Mepad’s willingness to help her is what really convinced her change would be good and possible, she hadn’t had anyone else reach out to her before, and to be fair, she folds pretty damn quickly in the grand scheme of things. Mic showed her she was likable as a person, and Mepad showed her she was redeemable, and with that support she is doing her best now!!! Anyways. Uh. There’s still one more line!! Mepad is pleading with Taco not to make things worse for herself, because taking over the challenge and such is only going to make them think she hasn’t changed at all and feed into the persona he knows is a sham in shambles at this point! Talking it out with him would be a much better way to do this!!! But alas, she’s dead set. 

[I think they're too afraid to,

Bear the bed they've made,

Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth.]

TACO & THE AWFUL TRUTH that she’s projecting. Yeah Taco is the one who is afraid to actually face her mistakes, the people she’d hurt. Though, she probably sees her isolation as doing so, yeah? She’s hurt people, so she has to be alone as punishment, even though that doesn’t give anyone closure. However! As for the awful truth, yeah, Taco really is one of the only ones who’s looked the competition in the eyes for everything it is and spat on it. She’s motivated by a lot of complicated feelings she tries not to feel, but she sees the game for what it is, and how it hurts the contestants involved!! And the final four are yet to take that look, until she gets everything laid out in front of them!!

[Feeling double-crossed is part of,

Dealing with a loss, yes, but the,

Healing is a process, that's the truth]

FEELING DOUBLE-CROSSED this line is also important because!! Taco does feel betrayed by Mic!! She feels guilty and blames herself for what happened, yes, but she still does feel that sting of betrayal, since Mic left her, yeah? Oh her part, she’d finally accepted Mic as her first true friend, someone who liked her for who she was and she liked being around, and almost immediately Mic left her. A lot of that is on Taco, don’t get me wrong, but from Taco’s end she still doesn’t even fully understand why Mic was mad at her!! She thinks it was all because of her getting violent, not because she didn’t listen to Mic. My low empathy queen is still struggling to fully grasp Mic’s motivations, her first friend that she could act “normal” around, so of course she’d feel betrayed! Taco is dealing with a loss!!!!!!!!! And she is NOT healing!! She is trying to push it down like always, but it’s become too much for her!!! And Mepad is telling her that healing is a process because it’s so much for her at the moment!! He’s trying to communicate that she’s going to feel better eventually, that she needs help and time to do so, instead of rushing into another scheme!!! He’s telling her the truth, that healing is possible!!! But as Taco rejects his pleas for her to reconsider and grabs him, we shift back into reality. Taco is unconvinced, and they’re more or less at square one, with Taco’s mask for the rest of the world securely back in place.

Everyone look at this shot RIGHT NOW I’m going to explode. All these cracks come from the ii logo that Taco stomped on, yeah? And those cracks in the game spread, and create the cracks in her. She has been broken by the game!!! Look at her face! Does she look whole and happy to you? I didn’t think so. And here we have Taco close to the camera, looking out towards the viewer, to illustrate how although she’s separate from the game, more of a spectator than the player anymore, she’s still trapped inside the competition that’s broken her!! And we have Mepad in the background, further away with his position as an assistant!! The cracks are all around him rather than through him, because he’s not being hurt by the game!! He’s not a competitor!! But the game is crumbling everything around him. He’s watched everything, just like Taco has!! Every betrayal, every fight this season, Mepad has been watching. And the more he’s been seeing, the more he’s been feeling, and the more he’s been able to see how the game tears people apart and breaks them, just like it’s broken Taco. 

[So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté",

I've a beef to get grilled,

But I fully guarantee that today all the beans that get spilled,

Won't be mine, no I'm fine,

Shhhh...

Now it's time…]

Guys I think Taco might not be fine. She’s shoved her facade right up and has closed herself back off, moving to continue with her plot. She’s going to grill the final four and 100% not get upset or feel any feelings, nope. Of course this is not what happened, and from Taco’s facial expression when she claims to be fine she has a hunch it’s not going to be so easy. She knows and has acknowledged to herself that she is not okay, which is a big step, but she still stuck in her ways in terms of ignoring it in favor of playing the role she’s been designated. Her mask is cracked, her confidence is transparent, but she’s still acting. Mepad is still trying to help her here, but she physically silences him. Not literally, per say, as turning him invisible wouldn’t stop him from talking, but she shushes him and he gets the memo. The window to convince her to stop has closed, and she’s going forth with her plan regardless of how well she is. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!! <3 I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! I REALLY HOPE THIS DIDN’T SUCK. IT TOOK A WHILE TO WRITE SO IF IT SUCKS THAT SUCKS FOR ME. HOPEFULLY I DIDN’T MISS TOO MUCH. THROW TOMATOES AT ME IF I DID (i will be sad). GIVE ME COOKIES IF NOT (joy inducers).

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Get Your Colors" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic

Woe! Fox and Rembrandt angst be upon ye!

Used this as my mind break from "Put Your Gloves Up" and now I'll get back to it. Part six of that will be out soon. Until then, enjoy!

Based on @alexihollis's post

----------

“I don’t get it,” said Fox as she leaned over Rembrandt’s shoulder.

Rembrandt paused, looking between the two oil pastel colors she held in her hands. “Don’t get what?” she asked.

“Why don’t you just get the sets?” Fox picked up a beginner’s box of pastels, a rainbow of simple colors, the ones children got when they were first learning to use them. Rembrandt, however, was not first learning to use them and did not need a kit. “Isn’t that cheaper? And you get all the colors.”

“They don’t have the colors I need.”

Fox grabbed a bigger box. “What about this one?”

“That one has too many colors. And it’s too expensive. Besides, I already have some of the colors I want so I’d rather just pick out the ones I don’t have by myself. I’m not paying for something I have at home.” 

“But how do you know what colors you need?”

“I have a plan.”

“But-”

“Fox, do you trust that I know what I’m doing or not?”

“I know you know what you’re doing!” Fox huffed. “I’m just curious. Wait, why do you need four different greens?”

“Because the project I’m working on is a collection of monochromes.”

“What’s a monochrome?”

Rembrandt sighed. She loved Fox, truly, but when the younger girl asked if she could tag along on a trip to the art store, she was not expecting to give a seminar on terms and techniques. “Monochromes are pictures that only use different shades of one color. Usually it’s black and white but I think that’s boring,” she explained.

“Oh. Okay. Can I go look at the sketchbooks?”

“Sure. I’ll come find you.”

It didn’t take Rembrandt much longer to pick out her colors. Trying to balance all of them in her hands, she made her way through the cramped, quiet store to the aisle with the sketchbooks. Fox was not there. Rembrandt cursed under her breath. She hated when she wandered off like this. Walking down each aisle, pausing to look longingly at the nice, expensive spray paints in a locked case, she finally found Fox in the back corner of the store flipping through a book. Fox looked up as Rembrandt came to stand beside her. 

“What did you find?” Rembrandt asked.

Fox showed her the cover. “It’s a guidebook to drawing comic book characters.” 

Rembrandt looked at the book. She looked up at Fox, her eyes intensely focused on the book, gently thumbing the edge of the page. Rembrandt smirked. “Do you want it?”

Fox looked up, eyes wide as her expression brightened. “Really?”

“How much is it?”

“Six dollars. We don’t have the money, do we?”

“Let me check.” She picked out roughly a quarter of the oil pastels in her hands and discreetly slipped them into the inside pocket of Ajax’s leather jacket that she’d borrowed for the day. It was so loose on her that no one would notice if she hid a whole spray paint can in the pocket, let alone a few small sticks. She put a finger to her lips and smiled. “Yeah, we have the money.” 

Fox broke out in a broad grin. Rembrandt made another shut up gesture, and Fox nodded and clutched the book to her chest. They paid for the art supplies and the book - minus the ones snuck into Rembrandt’s pocket - and headed home. Once they were a few blocks away, Fox leaned down and lowered her voice. 

“How many did you swipe?”

“Four or five.”

“Nice.” Fox gasped. “Oh, shit! I don’t have any paper to draw on!”

“I have an extra little sketchbook you can take.”

“Are you sure?” Fox asked with another big smile. 

“Yeah. It’s one I stole, anyway.” It actually wasn’t. She was planning on keeping it in her jacket so she could draw on the train without carrying her full sized sketchbook everywhere, but she could never say no to Fox when her face lit up like that. 

When they arrived back at the apartment, Ajax was lying on the couch watching some thriller TV show. Fox sat at the kitchen table with her book while Rembrandt stood behind the couch. Ajax sat up as Rembrandt leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “How was the art store?”

“It was good,” Rembrandt said. “Got the colors I need and Fox got a book on how to draw comic book characters.”

Ajax glanced at Fox, engrossed in the book, and sat up further to whisper to Rembrandt. “Do we have money for that?”

“I mopped a couple oil pastels and that made up for it.”

“You gotta stop doing that before you get caught.”

“And if I do, I will talk my way out of it.” 

“You’re dangerous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Ajax pulled Rembrandt close by her waist and peppered her face and neck with kisses. Rembrandt laughed, cupping Ajax’s face and planting a long, gentle kiss on her lips. 

From the kitchen, Fox called, “Get a room!”

-----

Cowgirl fidgeted on Cleon’s couch. Rembrandt had had her sitting there for close to an hour, and, shockingly, she was almost out of things to say. Sitting in the armchair across from her, Rembrandt barely noticed. When she really got to working on a drawing, she could work through the night without realizing until Ajax woke up and gave her shit for not sleeping again. 

Cowgirl groaned and threw her head back so Rembrandt would finally look up. “Girl, how long do I have to stay like this?” she whined. 

“I’m still blocking colors,” said Rembrandt. “Calm down, I’m almost finished. I just need to get a few more shapes in and then I can do the details on my own.”

“Can I at least see it?”

“Not yet. And stop moving your hat. You change the shape of your hair when you do that.”

“None of your other drawings of me have taken this long.”

“This one is special.”

“Um, excuse me, all pictures of me are special.”

“This one’s a collection,” said Fox. Getting up from the table, she came up behind Rembrandt and put her arms around her shoulders. Rembrandt paused her drawing to squeeze Fox’s hand. “They’re monochromes. She’s doing them for all of us. We’re all different colors.”

“What color am I?” Cowgirl asked. Rembrandt lifted the royal purple oil pastel she was working with in response. “Why am I purple?”

“You feel purple,” Rembrandt said simply.

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.” Rembrandt set aside her pastel. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Thank god.” Cowgirl stood up and stretched. “I need a drink.”

While Cowgirl headed into the kitchen, Fox reached out to touch the edge of the drawing, making sure she didn’t smudge anything. She rested her chin atop Rembrandt’s head. “Hey, what color am I?” she inquired. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet.”

-----

Shouts and screams echoed behind them. The pounding footsteps of their pursuers like a horde of nightmares. Flashing lights and police sirens in the distance, more shots as the world devolved into chaos. Rembrandt ran faster than she ever had in her life. She barely felt the burn of her lungs and her muscles. She barely heard Swan and Cochise and Ajax shouting instructions behind her. All she could focus on was the path ahead and Fox running just as fast beside her.

Fox tripped. She fucking tripped. Rembrandt almost fell herself with how hard she backpedaled. She grabbed Fox’s arm, hauling her to her feet as panicked words tumbled from the younger girl’s lips.

“We’re dead!” she cried. “We’re fucking dead! When I woke up today, I didn’t think we could die!”

“Neither did I!”

Swan shouted behind them. “The cemetery! Go to the cemetery! Go!”

Rembrandt found herself hiding behind a tombstone, pressing her back against the cold, wet rock as she tried and failed to catch her breath. Fox knelt beside her and clung to her arm. A helicopter flew overhead as lights and blaring sirens passed the cemetery. Swan stood, looking around, and motioned for everyone to stand up. “Make sure we’re okay,” she said.

“This is a graveyard,” Rembrandt said pointedly, because Swan usually wasn’t one for dumb sentences but that was fucking stupid. 

“Everybody make it?”

They’d all made it. All except Cleon. All except the best of them.

Rembrandt hadn’t been this terrified since before the Warriors found her. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely see through the rain and the tears she desperately tried to blink away. 

“What are we gon’ do?” she whispered. Fox was right there echoing her. “What are we gon’ do?”

“We get back home alive.”

-----

Rembrandt sat on the floor behind the couch in her and Ajax’s apartment. Her, Ajax, and… Fox. It used to be home, it used to be home for the three of them. She still remembered how happy Fox was when they found an apartment and she got her own room for the first time in her life, no longer on Cleon’s couch or briefly sharing Swan’s room when they decided she couldn’t just stay in the living room anymore. She remembered how excited she was to decorate it with comic book posters and all the plushies she collected from carnival games on the boardwalk. 

Hanging on the walls were the best of Rembrandt’s drawings of her. Fox loved to sit for portraits. She always said how pretty it made her feel. Even months after losing her, Rembrandt couldn’t bring herself to go into that room. Everything left of Fox was just sitting there collecting dust. Rembrandt couldn’t face that. All she could do was stare at the forever-closed door.

The front door to the apartment opened and shut. She flinched at the sharp thunk of the deadbolt, her mind throwing her back into an east village loft, sitting beside Fox on a couch, clinging to her hand and wondering how the hell she’d gotten into a situation like that. 

“Baby, I’m home!” Ajax called. Rembrandt pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Ajax’s footsteps padded through the apartment, around the couch, and Rembrandt heard her sigh as she knelt beside her. Ajax touched her cheek, and she leaned into the contact. It was second nature at this point. “Why are you on the floor?”

Rembrandt jerked her head towards Fox’s bedroom door. Ajax exhaled sharply through her nose. Wordlessly, she sat on the floor beside Rembrandt and pulled her into her lap, holding tight as Rembrandt wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face in the crook of her shoulder. She was so sick of crying but she couldn’t stop it, burning tears dripping down her face and soaking into Ajax’s shirt. 

“I miss her,” she whispered.

“I know,” Ajax said. “I miss her, too.”

-----

“I don’t think Rembrandt likes me,” Mercy mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” Swan asked. “She likes you.”

Rembrandt overheard from the living room in Cleon and Swan’s apartment, which was also Mercy’s apartment now, too, she supposed. Everyone else was out at work or doing gang business and Ajax was still reluctant to leave Rembrandt alone given her mental state over the past months, so she sat with a blank sketchbook in Cleon’s living room until Ajax got back. She tried her best to ignore Swan and Mercy’s conversation but the walls were thin and she couldn’t tune it out. 

“She looks at me like she wants me dead,” Mercy continued. 

“It’s just resting bitch face. That’s how she looks at everyone she doesn’t know.”

Wow, Rembrandt thought. Thanks, Swan.

“Did she look at you like that?”

“No, but that was Rembrandt then. This is Rembrandt now, and she’s just… she’s getting used to you.”

“Everyone else did. Even Ajax doesn’t side eye me every time I walk into the room.”

“Are you mad?”

“No! No, I’m not mad. I just wanna know what I’m doing wrong.”

Rembrandt sank into the couch. She didn’t dislike Mercy and it hurt to know Mercy thought that but it just hurt so much to face her because-

“You’re… you remind her of Fox,” Swan said. “And I mean it in the best way! But Rembrandt just can’t-”

Rembrandt turned on the TV and cranked the volume until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.

-----

Rembrandt stood over her desk in her and Ajax’s bedroom, rifling through her desk and sorting her sketchbooks and drawings. The books had begun to pile up around the room, her desk was running out of storage space, and the corner she designated for larger canvases and other projects had gone from a corner to an entire wall. Ajax hadn’t exactly asked her to clear out some of the pieces, but she always apologized profusely when she knocked over a stack of books or almost damaged a painting, so Rembrandt decided to whittle down her collection to just the best and most sentimental. 

With her desk mostly sorted, she turned to the squat filing cabinet she kept beside it. In the bottom drawer, she discovered her collection of oil pastel portraits. She found it within herself to smile as she flipped through the stiff sheets of drawing paper. She’d finished most of them a long time ago, maybe missing a detail or two here and there, and there were some parts she could go back and touch up if she really wanted. 

The first one she picked up was Ajax, her strong features highlighted in rich, deep reds, piercing eyes staring directly off the page.

There was Cochise in hunter green, a side profile, smiling softly.

Cowgirl in royal purple, adjusting the brim of her hat with a grin.

Swan’s calm, stoic face in dark night-sky blue. 

A self portrait in sunshine yellow.

Cleon in gold. Rembrandt had had to do a lot of experimenting with colors on that one to make sure the palette didn’t look too similar to her own portrait. She’d used mod podge and gold glitter in the shadows of the piece to give it that extra bit of glow Cleon always seemed to carry with her.

Rembrandt’s heart sank when she got to the last drawing.

Fox, in bright Tiffany blue. Fox with a wide grin, Fox with her sparkling eyes staring back at Rembrandt, immortalized in such a fragile fucking medium that some of the details had already begun to disappear from just sitting in a drawer. Any light touch would smudge the pigment and Rembrandt would lose more and more of her because nothing could be permanent, none of it was permanent, she tried so hard to hold on but no matter what she was just going to lose her all over again-

Rembrandt screamed and swiped half of everything off her desk. Sketchbooks and pencils and paint cans crashed to the floor, and Rembrandt fell to her knees amidst the mess, unable to look at the portrait any longer. 

When Ajax got home later, she found Rembrandt curled into a ball under her desk, still bawling her eyes out, covering her mouth to silence herself. Ajax spotted Fox’s drawing on the desk and didn’t ask what was wrong. She just sat a comfortable distance from Rembrandt and waited for her to come out. Rembrandt loved her for that.

-----

Rembrandt took a deep breath, shifting her backpack straps on her shoulders before knocking on the door to Cleon’s apartment. Mercy answered. Rembrandt knew she would. She’d planned for this, making sure to come over when she knew Mercy was home from work and Cleon and Swan had business to handle. She wanted this to just be for her and Mercy. She just… she needed it to be.

Mercy raised her eyebrows, visibly confused when she opened the door to find Rembrandt alone. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said Rembrandt. “Can I come in?”

Mercy stepped aside hurriedly, as if she found it rude that she’d been keeping Rembrandt in the hall, even if she really wasn’t. Rembrandt took a few steps into the kitchen as Mercy closed the front door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” Mercy asked. “Cleon and Swan are out if you need to talk to them.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Rembrandt fidgeted. She took a deep breath. “Will you sit for a portrait?”

Mercy blinked, taken aback. “Um… when?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“It’ll take two hours at most. Probably not even that long. Please?”

“Sure. Sure, okay.”

It took closer to three hours, despite Rembrandt’s best efforts. She had Mercy sit on the couch and let her put something on TV instead of having her sit in silence, even if Rembrandt would have preferred that. It took so long because she had to scrap the start of three different versions. It had been so long since she practiced this that she kept fucking up the gradients to the point where she had to take a break and go smoke with Mercy on the stoop to avoid screaming in frustration and forgetting the whole idea. 

While trying to get the shape of Mercy’s bangs right, Rembrandt’s vision blurred. She jerked her head up just before the tears had a chance to fall on the drawing. She turned aside, scrubbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve, somehow managing to keep her breathing steady. 

Mercy noticed and sat up straight. “Rembrandt?” she asked, just a little panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m okay,” Rembrandt assured her. “It’s… I don’t know. But I’m okay. Please just move back to where you were.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay.”

She didn’t need too much more time after that before she was satisfied with the result. Of course, she would look at it the next day and find a million things wrong with it, but she could correct or add or remove details after the fact. As she set her oil pastel aside, her fingertips stained with the pigment, she brushed her thumb along the very edge of the page. It left a miniscule cut behind, a bead of blood staining her skin. She had a momentary flash of panic but nothing got on the paper so it was okay. She wrapped her fingers over her thumb, squeezing until it throbbed, until the bleeding stopped and the stinging disappeared. Mercy, thankfully, did not notice that.

In her peripheral vision, Mercy shifted closer to her on the couch. “Can I see it?”

Rembrandt hesitated. Normally she didn’t share portraits until they were completely finished, but…

She sat beside Mercy and passed her the drawing. “Just don’t touch it. It smudges easily.”

Mercy grinned when she saw her portrait: head resting on her hand and tilted to the side, hair delicately swept behind her ear, eyes calm and gentle, the corner of her lips lifting in just the hint of a smirk. It was all done in the softest coral pink, almost ethereal in the light. She reached over to rest a hand on Rembrandt’s forearm without looking. Rembrandt thought she might cry.

“It’s amazing,” Mercy said with a light laugh. “I don’t think I’ve seen any of your work besides the graffiti before. I didn’t know you could do this.”

“The only medium I don’t work with is oil paint,” Rembrandt said. “Maybe if I win the lottery.”

“This looks like an oil painting. It’s like something out of a museum.”

“Thanks. It’s gonna be part of a project I never finished.”

Mercy turned to her. “What is it?”

“You’ll see it when I finish it.” 

“Swan said you do that.”

“She knows me.” Rembrandt took a deep breath, her shoulders curling in as she met Mercy’s eyes. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Mercy grimaced. “You heard that?”

“The walls are thin and you guys always talk right next to the door.”

“Noted.”

“For real, though. Look, I admit that I… I’m still getting used to you being here. You’re so much like her that it just throws me for a loop sometimes and I know Swan has told you I don’t like strangers and you’re really not one anymore but I…” Rembrandt’s voice broke. She turned away from Mercy, covering her mouth to keep quiet as she screwed her eyes shut. Was her heart really choosing right now to have a breakdown over this?

Mercy angled herself in and put an arm around Rembrandt. This very much broke the first rule of the “how to keep Rembrandt from freaking out” rulebook that Rembrandt knew Swan had set, but Rembrandt was glad she did it. She shifted closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Mercy’s waist as Mercy pulled her fully into a soft embrace.

Rembrandt closed her eyes and let the tears fall. Mercy didn’t say anything. She just held her.

-----

“Is it straight?” Swan asked.

Rembrandt stood back from the wall. Swan and Ajax stood on chairs, positioning a giant canvas while the other Warriors watched them. Behind Rembrandt, Mercy put her arms around her shoulders and watched over the top of the artist’s head.

“I think Swan’s side needs to come down a little bit,” said Cowgirl from where she sat in the arm chair. 

“Cowgirl, you’re holding your head at a tilt,” Rembrandt said with a wave of her hand. “Ajax, let your side come down an inch. Wait, never mind, half an inch. Yes! There! You guys can let go of it.” 

Swan and Ajax let go and got down off the chairs, stepping back to stand with the rest of the gang. 

Now hung perfectly on the living room wall was a collage of all of Rembrandt’s monochrome portraits. They were lovingly cut out and carefully arranged together, with Fox front and center and the others supporting around her. Behind them was a detailed black-and-white background of the city, enough to fill the empty canvas but not distracting from the main subjects, everything pasted down and covered with sealant so nothing could ever damage the fragile pigments again. 

All of the Warriors, immortalized. 

Cleon crossed her arms and whistled. “Damn, Rem, this is some work. How long you been hiding this?”

“It wasn’t finished,” Rembrandt said simply. “Now it is. With all of us.” 

Mercy held Rembrandt tighter. 

[drgnflyteabox]

a little kate laswell x gn!reader drabble

-> insecurity, anxiety, hurt/comfort, relationship worries, OCD, sooooo self indulgent lmao, self-hatred, therapy, compulsive behaviors, ableist language used towards self, shame, this is literally nothing and theres no real ending so mb <3

You've been working on it. You have. The anxiety; the fear of abandonment. Kate leaves so often she's probably gone almost half the year, anyway. Your relationship isn't exactly built on physical closeness, and as the years go by you feel more and more secure.

She fits, you fit, your cat Cheddar fits. The house fits, even though it sometimes feels too big when she's gone and you're still a little afraid of being home alone.

Security's tight, babe, she's assured you a dozen times. Locks, alarms, the whole nine yards. Everything works. You're usually close to sure about that.

So, you’ve worked on recognizing which feelings are rooted in reality, and which feelings sometimes come from insecurity, or jealousy.

Sometimes, it's fear. That old braying beast in your head, muddling up reality (Kate loves you) with unreality (she hates you, your life is a lie).

You know where it comes from, but that doesn't always help. On the bad days, it even makes it worse. Something is wrong with you, really really wrong. Irredeemably wrong.

Kate's been on an op three months. Longer than usual, but you've been through it a couple times. It's a serious one, so you haven't even gotten more than the odd phone call maybe once every week and a half.

Which fucking sucks normally, but its worse when you can't seem to shake the voice in your head that says she's found someone else, that she's delaying coming home because she's sick of you.

You do have a small laugh at the one that tells you she's got a secret family – even in the state you're in that's a ridiculous thought.

Still, it doesn’t break you from your worries. You begin backsliding. Your hands chafe from washing them, your water bill climbs and climbs and climbs as a result of your compulsive showering.

Am I too dirty? You think. You feel dirty. Contaminated. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you anymore, doesn’t love you. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, not with your insanity.

This is the cycle.

Someone will break in. You check the locks an even number of times. But did you? Okay, shower to ‘set’ the locks now, or someone really will break in. Don’t think of Kate. She hates you. Oh, hey Cheddar. Good boy. Did you lock the doors?

You’re exhausted. You lose track of the days, working robotically at your computer, burning your nose with the scent of bleach wipes. There’s not even any real cleaning, just you compulsively wiping the same four surfaces over and over.

When the wood starts showing a little damage from the incessant wiping, you cry in the fourth shower of the day.

You lose track so badly that you’re in bed rotting when Kate gets home.

The door opens, and your heart drops with fear – fuck, it’s happening. Then you check your phone and deflate. Fuck, you think again, for a different reason.

“Baby?” Kate’s voice is clear in the empty house. It makes you think of all the dust laying around, about how you usually tidy before she arrives.

You pull the cover over your face. Shame burns your face, injects lead into your muscles.

“You home?” she calls again. Cheddar meows, probably at her feet.

That’s how she finds you. Prone, upset, eyes burning.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs. Her weight makes you dip towards her when she crawls on the bed. “Bad day?”

You pull the blanket down.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I meant to clean the house for you, and cook you something–”

“Hey,” she puts a finger to your lips, slipping in beside you to cradle one cheek in her rough palm, body pressed to yours.

You can’t help but lean into it despite feeling wretched, despite feeling like you’ve dirtied everything around you lately.

“I don’t need any of that, honey. I appreciate it, but I’m really just excited to see you,” she presses her mouth to your jaw. Not to entice, but to breathe you in, to feel you for the first time in months.

“But it’s awful,” you mumble. “It’s dusty, dirty, disgusting–”

She stops you again.

“Hey now, it looks fine to me,” then a frown. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s the truth.

“Have you called Dr. Klein?”

“No,” finally, a tear slips down your temple. You’re confused, and angry about these feelings; why now? Why when you’ve recovered?

Kate tuts, wiping at your tear with a thumb. She climbs halfway on top of you, looking down at your face. She looks tired, which makes you feel even guiltier.

“God, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this when you’ve just gotten back.”

Her frown deepens.

“Baby,” she starts. “We take care of each other, remember? What have we talked about?”

“Asking for help is okay,” you murmur. That’s one of the worst parts about this thing you have, the obsessions. They dress themselves up as the world's worst taboos. Speak them aloud and make them not only come true, but alienate everyone around you. In high school, you’d hardly spoken for fear of accidentally revealing your anxiety.

That in and of itself had been a years-long journey to heal in therapy. With Dr. Klein, with Kate, with yourself.

“Think we better set up an appointment, huh?” she says, and there’s no judgment in her voice, no sign of hatred.

“Yeah,” you whisper. You tilt your head towards her, and feel her nose against yours.

“I missed you,” she says, breath mingling with yours.

“I missed you too,” you say back.

[tabithatwo]

(x)

(this is a pls stop blaming juliette lewis for nat’s arc and death post <3)

[weezerlvr228]

hi fam !!

[mars-ipan]

god i cannot wait to be off these steroids…

[kavehayati]

I’ll never understand younger siblings whining about their older siblings moving away like I bet yall were nasty and annoying too like wow all those years and you claim to adore the older sibling and post oh woe is me the older sibling abandoned me … girl … the older sibling didn’t have a parental certificate or anything.

[firstprinced]

my two cents on the taylor/vienna topic that no one asked for and if you come to hate at this then idc

the first half of taylor’s statement about vienna was very good, and then it was very bad. no one needed her scolding and she could have done much more without putting anyone in danger by talking about things in detail, and i know it’s obviously very hard on her but it lacked empathy for the fans and sounded like a scolding mother.

and to people who just answer every criticism with “she doesn’t owe you anything” um she kinda does - she doesn’t owe anyone her personal life but she does owe something for the, im guessing about 200 000 (?) people who bought the tickets who are also struggling with both waiting over a year for this, losing the money they spent on travelling AND the reality of that they could have been killed if this would not have been found out. i feel like literally a cryptic post would have been enough to create a feeling of “we’re in this together” and i’m just scratching my head at this all.

and the people being all SEE I TOLD YOU SO are so.. my god. i don’t wanna go down to your level but i’m tempted. this is handled so badly by the pr team it’s ridiculous. all the money in the world and yet