Some insane, narratively-significant details in the first episode of Yellowjackets, from the set designers, costume designers and directors:
- The journal separating Shauna and Jackie:
- Taissa’s wallpaper being a forest, linked to her trauma due to the wolf attack and to her sleepwalking:
- Jackie and Shauna’s jackets and necklaces having very few differences, hinting at how deeply intertwined their lives/identities are:
- Natalie in front of fireplaces, as fire will destroy the cabin right after her coronation and she’ll have the front seat to the fires during the… dinners:
- Natalie already singled out from the team due to very different shoes:
- Natalie’s bullet necklace, as both her past and future are linked to firearms:
- The Shauna antlers, right after putting on the necklace of doom, just as she’s (already) entering an altered state of mind:
- Ben’s right leg being already cut off:
- The colors of their tamagotchis, which are Jackie’s color panel for college:
- The enormous amount of Jackie symbolism:
• Poppies surrounding a picture of Jackie and Shauna in Jackie’s room, as the wallpaper of Shauna’s teen room though she was trying to cover it, on Shauna and Jeff’s wedding cake
• The pattern of Jackie’s dress as a painting in Shauna’s house (on the far right):
• Shauna going from wearing a heart necklace without a gold chain before the plane, to a heart necklace with a gold chain, to a gold chain without a heart:
wednesday shrugs when enid turns back around, going "what was that all about?"
thread of my favorite glee gifs cause i need to delete them from my phone, but i also don't wanna lose them - pt.1
14. santana being dramatic and brittany being 100% supportive
13. whatever happened between these two bitches
12. whatever happened between these two bitches (b&w version)
11. whatever happened between these two bitches (interview version)
10. lady di playing the drums
9. this deleted scene from that never released episode
8. rachel berry as mrs. claus
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i don't remember who the owners of the gifs are, but all credits to them!
“Wash”
———————-
“Lean your head back baby girl. Good girl. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you,”.
Tara whimpered, holding her abdomen. It was the first time she was getting her hair washed since she left the hospital. She was tempted to shave her head, but Sam refused to let her do that. Instead, her sister set up a spot at the kitchen sink to wash Tara’s hair.
She wasn’t ready to look in the mirror. Tara was afraid that she would see the scarred monster that she saw on the inside, reflecting on the outside. She hadn’t taken a look at herself since she got home. She refused to acknowledge that she was still alive.
Surprisingly, her big sister was okay with that. Sam had even gone so far as to tape bed sheets over the mirrors and disable the camera on Tara’s phone. It was strange having someone so willing to take care of her, faults and all.
Sam undid the braids that kept Tara’s greasy hair together, kissing her forehead each time she undid a braid. Tears slid down Tara’s face unwillingly, and Sam just kissed them away as well.
For someone who had brutally assaulted a man, her sister was so gentle and sweet with Tara. She had cushioned a chair for Tara and draped the softest towels she could find across her sister’s chest. Sam even used the same lavender shampoo that she used on her hair for Tara.
Tara leaned her head against the sink, trying to control her breathing. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable since Sam had rescued her in the hospital. It wasn’t in Tara’s nature to let her walls down and ask for help like this. But she needed Sam. She craved Sam. She prayed that Sam wouldn’t leave again after the Woodsboro bloodbath. It would be in her sister’s nature to leave, and Tara couldn’t blame her. Tara was a liability.
But after the hospital visits and police reports- Sam stayed. She had her fingers in Tara’s hair, whispering sweet nothings to her. She kissed Tara’s forehead when she whimpered in pain. And she made sure to gently wash the soap off of Tara’s forehead before it reached her eyes.
It wasn’t like anything Tara was used to. It had been years since she had felt this safe and loved. Amber tried, she did, but she wasn’t willing to love Tara as Sam did. Unconditionally.
Tara didn’t want to take this moment for granted. She knew her hair was stringy and greasy, but Sam was all in to help her. Her big sister didn’t shy away. It was almost as if she wanted to stay.
And if Sam wanted to, Tara would let her.
She took a deep breath, ready to bare her soul. This was the pivotal moment of testing whether or not Sam would stay.
“I love you, Sam,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. If their love died young, at the age of thirteen, Tara couldn’t bear to witness the fallout. She couldn’t witness her sister leaving again. It would tear her apart.
A beat passed. Water dripped out of the faucet, plinking against the metallic sink. Tara could feel herself shivering in desperation, waiting for three words that may never come.
But they did.
Her sister leaned down, kissing Tara on the forehead gently. Her voice wobbled with tears, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was Sam’s response.
“I love you too Tara. More than you’ll ever know,”.
SOBBING.
Potential prompt: Sam gets hurt protecting Tara. Like badly hurt. What would happen?
“Go with grace”
i’m sorry.
————————————
“Sammy. Sammy! ¿Puedes dibujarme una flor?”
(Sammy. Sammy! Can you draw me a flower?)
Sam looked down at the little voice next to her, smiling down at her baby sister. She was working on her art project at the kitchen table, on one of the high stools. At just five years old, she was not quite big enough to reach Sam, so she used her little hands to tug on Sam’s pants for attention.
Reaching down, Sam picked up Tara and situated her on her lap. Her sister curled into her embrace, sighing peacefully. Sam reached for her pack of colored pencils, pulling it closer to Tara.
“Tú eliges los colores. Quieres un lirio o un tulipán?” she murmured, kissing Tara's hair.
(You choose the colors. Do you want a lily or tulip?)
Her sister played with the pencils, running her little hands over each one. Sam knew that Tara liked the sensation and texture of the smooth pencils, and let her sister take her time making a decision. She just held her sister, pressing her cheek into her hair. Tara always smelled like peaches. Sam was addicted.
Finally, Tara picked out a few. Blue, yellow, and purple. She handed the pencils to Sam, leaning back into her big sister, ready to watch. “Quiero un lirio, por favor,”.
(I want a lily, please)
Kissing the back of her head, Sam started to draw.
Tara watched her big sister draw, her eyes big and full of wonder. She rested her head against Sam’s chest, and with one hand on Sam’s drawing hand, gently tracing with her big sister. Art isn’t something that came naturally to Tara. She just loved watching her big sister draw.
It took a while, and once Sam started to feel Tara sag against her, sighing sleepily, she hurried it up.
“Está hecho nena. Mira,” she whispered, shaking Tara a little bit.
(It’s done, baby girl. Look).
Yawning, Tara leaned forward. Sam could practically feel the excitement vibrating from her baby sister.
“Qué bonito. ¿Es para mí?” her sister questioned, marveling at the picture.
(It’s pretty! Is it for me?).
Sam laughed, squeezing Tara affectionately. “Sí, mi hermoso cielo. Todo es para ti,” she whispered.
(Yes my beautiful sky. Everything is for you).
Tara laughed in glee, her little fingers playing with the paper. A purple tulip with blue and yellow highlights, with Sam’s work-in-progress official signature in the bottom right corner.
The two stayed there for a while, enjoying each other's comfort, staring at that picture together.
——
As Tara held her big sister’s body against her chest, she saw the tattoo. After having her sister back in her life for a whole year, Tara had never seen that tattoo. Even with the blood staining her big sister’s chest, Tara could still see it peeking out above Sam’s collarbone.
It was the very same tulip that Sam had drawn Tara years ago. The purple flower with yellow and blue highlights. With that same wobbly signature at the bottom right corner. It was a spitting image of that same flower, but on her big sister’s skin.
Sam gasped in her arms, her eyes drifting away. Tara sobbed, holding Sam tight with one arm, the other pressing on the wound that marred her sister’s chest. Her sister looked shocked, blood dripping out of the corner of her mouth. She could feel her big sister’s quick gasps and wheezing against her chest.
Desperately, Tara started talking, trying to get Sam to look at her. “¿El tulipán? Sam, ¿es ese el tulipán? Sam, mírame. Mírame. Háblame del tulipán, Sammy.”
(Is that the tulip? Sam, is that the tulip? Sam, look at me. Look at me. Tell me about the tulip, Sammy).
Sam looked up at her baby sister, her warm eyes unfocused. Despite the blood loss, Sam still looked at Tara with so much wonder and so much love. Her big sister looked so comfortable, so relaxed. It made Tara cry harder, squeezing Sam.
“El tulipán. Te quiero, Tara. I love you so much.” her big sister whispered, the corners of her bloody mouth quivering a bit.
(The tulip. I love you, Tara. I love you so much).
Tara shook her head rapidly. “No. No, Sammy. Look at me. Stay, Sammy, stay!” she pleaded, shaking Sam a bit.
The color blue and the smell of tulips will haunt Tara.
She will always hear echoes of an ambulance too late to save Sam, for the rest of her life. The feeling of her sister’s blood sticking to her skin will stain her hands permanently red.
And that flower will haunt her. But she will still get it tattooed above her collarbone. And Tara will seek danger for the rest of her short life, hoping that a bullet will bring her back to her sister.
She hopes that she goes with the same grace her big sister once did, a death softened by the blow of love. Tranquility knowing that the person they love will stay with them while they pass.
Grace.
i watched this earlier and cried so if you want to cry with me, by all means...
if a ship doesn't make you want to kill yourself then it's not good enough
Should go without saying but never date a cop and christ never marry one. Rule of thumb if he's legally untouchable he's ethically unfuckable. You don't like that cop, you like buff men in tight clothing. I can show you more of those, better ones. Take my hand.
Reading wlw fanfic for shows where the sapphic ship isnt the main ship (or worse yet a fanon pairing) is constantly having to filter with "otp true" and releasing a heavy sigh when the tag looses atleast 1000 fics. This hurts more when the ship is 5000 or less.