𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝙰𝙽, 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 ! private and low maintenance multimuse featuring reinterpreted and divergent character portrayals from various fandoms, unaffiliated and removed entirely from their respective sources and rpcs. DOES NOT FOLLOW FIRST. DISSECTED BY ANTI • GONE [ 25+, IT / NONE ] 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙽 !

jackie can admit one thing: she can’t stomach change. not the minuscule kinds where you're simply rearranging your drawers and need to memorize the clothes’ new locations or recognizing someone by their new haircut, but the life-altering ones—the ones you can never get back, hardwiring everything in your brain henceforward: every single interaction with shipman since that drunken night, the passionate private nights, and the penultimate conversation that she felt something in the air, something potent between them break. and crashing into the wilderness is irrevocably a big one!

her stomach has been in knots since, but it ever continues constricting; twisting and turning in even more ways that scream no one is coming, again, and again. hope dwindles. everywhere, a reminder, of the very thing she is incapable of. more so, refuses to. her awareness becoming her sole control ( outside of the precious food they lack ) in that she would rather wallow in what could’ve beens because it is all she is good for. what could have beens if their flight had landed safely, what if they had won nationals, what would they be missing back at home, what could have been with shauna…

shauna. shauna. shauna. it’s always her she chooses; her only saving grace in this hellscape. everything felt so much easier when she’s around. when it’s just the two of them. everything she does / everything she’s doing is for shauna, but as of now? she isn’t so sure, and she hates it. how she wants shauna’s attention, wants to hear some sort acknowledgement or reassurance, just her voice. god how she misses what she had back then. the fact she’s aware—she hates it so, so, so much.

watching shipman work so effortlessly with the knife and rock unnerves her. not because of this odd tension jackie feels, not entirely, but because she, and everyone of the yellowjackets, are at peace with their situation. there should be a pencil where that knife should be, some handheld sharpener, something, anything that doesn’t scream their reality: we’re going to die out here…

jackie shifts. the rash on her thigh rubs against the fabric of her shorts. it screams for attention. she ignores it, pretends everything is fine via the cross of her arms. blinking irregularly and too much. though eyes catching shauna’s looks away with the shake of her head. perhaps the wilderness worn her down. she makes a face when her nickname rolls off her tongue. like if a simple bandaid would heal whatever this was would difference…

“ because you’ve been acting so distant?? ” she proclaims ( and of course she has to bring it up ).

why does it even need to be said? she noticed it instantaneously the next day: even after they’ve made up about the lake decision, shauna's been all moody, and, fuck, mari has been flip flopping between loving and despising her, leaving her all alone. now, jackie is here, standing several feet from her best friend, offended by her nonchalance, looking to hear some sort of explanation.

“ you’ve been giving me these cut and dry responses for the past week. ” voice cracks. she breathes out. she doesn’t mean to yell. though no girls are present outside the cabin, yet she feels their gazes all the same, those staring out the window, hear her in the vicinity of their shelter.

“ like did i do something wrong? ” she swallows hard.

@carrythat says, “ i don't get it. ”

mumbled from pouty lips, shauna sulks as she sits at the edge of her bed, big doe eyes looking everywhere but at the girl in front of her. it felt like she was jackie's life-sized, fucked up doll or something. even so, she makes no effort to fight the other teen as more make-up is applied to pallid features.

“ i mean, it's not like i need to impress anyone. ” no one looks at me after all; they're all too busy looking at you. jackie's effortless beauty caught the eyes of everyone around them. where she was the sun, shauna was just a cloud in the sky. invisible. disregarded. for the first time in what feels like hours, shauna lets her gaze meet jackie's. it wasn't hard; they were eye to eye after all, the team captain leaned in close (maybe too close?) with a brush in hand. “ can we stop already? ”

what isn't there to get? they're going to a party where everyone and their grandma will be in attendance and jackie wanted to help her friend look insanely hot? is that so much?

jackie’s never seen shauna outside of a natural look—a palette of neutral tones with a brown eyeshadow, mascara, and a glossy pink lip—nor had jackie ever the chance to doll her, or anyone, up before for that matter. figured it to be an exciting pastime like how they'd make of girl’s night in movies and tv shows, so that’s where her intentions lie: some innocent fun! it's already fun getting ready together and walking in as a matching pair. it'll be fun—in fact, it is fun—when she gets to hang out with shauna. even more when she gets to do stuff to her.

red-polished hand delicately holds out a small pot of glitter white eyeshadow whilst her other hand’s index finger lightly pats down the center of shauna’s eyelid, blotting the adjacent sides with the powder — near the inner corner, over the middle, then the outer corner, back to the middle, and repeat.

“ because you never know who'll be looking... ” she speaks without hesitation, stressed and slow through a concentrated stare, reassuringly: “ and you will be turning heads, thanks to me… ”

other’s eyes flutter open when her finger pulls away, and already, immediately, refuses to meet the team captain’s gaze. the team captain does not give chase, rather is preoccupied: staring, darting back and forth between the girl's eyelids, comparing the lengths, the intensities of the pigmented bases and the abundant flourishes...

it’s a bold look she chose for shauna: a cool glittery lavender and white eyeshadow with a subtle pink blush and a glossy dark pink lip to top it all off. something experimental for jackie. she is entirely glad her friend was convinced to play model for her. not just to see her creation firsthand on someone else's face—though shauna’s look isn’t to go alone tonight! jackie intends on a similar ensemble: working with a light blue eyeshadow and a bolder red lip instead—but as an activity they could do more of, together. something jackie hopes shauna could crawl back to for more, to teach her, to allow her to experiment on and with. and so far, shauna is looking pretty damn good! all that’s left is the blush and lip.

she sets down the eyeshadow and grabs the rosy pink blush and complimentary brush, easily flicking open the container and rubbing the brush in to collect the color. tossing her hair aside, she goes back in, inching closer than necessary. her breath, light and hot, swirling between them through the small form of an 'o' on her lips.

what’s funny is: jackie didn't give it much thought, instinctively reaching and sitting close to her best friend. heart races. mind latches onto something: mint. she knows mint. it's the scent wafting in the space between them; the aftertaste of her tootpaste lingering in the roof of her mouth; it's the ( only ) aroma digging into her nostrils, so poignant, that she knows shauna will bear the brunt of the force. then it’s suddenly fingertips, realizing the curvature of the plastic thick handle of the blush brush hovering over shauna's cheeks—the matte-ful of makeup caked on her face, her doing, that makes her already soft features, look more soft. it’s tracing the almond shape of shauna’s eyes, following the lash lines to the lashes, themselves, long and beautiful, and to the, just barely noticeable, unevenness of her lids. something that cannot be altered or covered like acne or blemishes or scars, but accomodated—left side of her eye, where the crease goes a little deeper, allows the skin below her eyebrow to sink over the shadow, which jackie accounted for, applying the glitter and lavender above the creases, to enhance the flare, the beauty... jackie swallows.

mid-air, brush adjusts as a hesitant hand, carrying the cutesy blush palette, anchors and cradles itself along shauna’s jaw. awkwardly, her spare fingers caress her cheek, gauging the cheekbone, nudging shauna to turn her head before releasing her grip. brush hairs just about touch her cheek when—

the bark comes and jackie can only think about the irony which shauna puts herself into, willingly. can we stop already? already, she says with an ire jackie is hardly familiar with ( although known shauna to have an attitude, it shocks her, nonetheless, when it bubbles to the surface–always in the form of snaps and small bites ) yet she remains unphased: simple scoff, single twitch of her brow, and a scrunch of her nose. she fends with a measely, “ you agreed to it, ” as she moves an arm’s length away from her face.

glares are traded in the momentary silence, when jackie reassesses the situation—so much for the fun—and rolls her eyes.

“ fine. whatever. keep to a simple eyeshadow. ” peeved, she fully steps away from the bed, making her way toward the desk, setting down the colored-brush next to the blush palette. “ makeup wipe is here to rub off the bit of blush. ”

index finger and thumb daintly outstretched, as if picking up snot-infested tissue, cleans off the remaining eyeshadow dust on a wipe. standing in front of the mirror, jackie reaches for the palette and repeats the process on herself, done so half-heartedly—dabbing her finger into the light blue powdered rectangle and dragging it along the lid of one closed eye.

@grievour, shauna yells at no one, “ i'm trying to stay calm. ”

do you think jackie felt the cold first before she felt the calm or did the calm wash over before the cold caught up to her bones?

“ wow, shipman. ” the team captain cuts through, derisive, with a sickening chuckle. “ yelling at the dead girl? ”

suppose, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? jackie won’t tell you and you won’t ever know because she’s dead.

the yellow and blue wiskayok varsity jacket, the blue and white striped sweater, the heart-shaped necklace ( always the heart-shaped necklace ) flirts at the edges of her best friend’s line of sight, sauntering over to stand at her side. so blasé, so gutsy. it mingles with the air of superiority overshadowing this anxiety, this tension.

the ghost of a girl once loved.

that snow-covered dirty blonde hair, messy yet dolled up like that day, the gleam in brown eyes reflecting back only shauna’s visage, and that classic jackie taylor smirk. her arms are crossed as she leans against the wall, piqued, anticipating the next sequence of the shit show, opting for the laissez-faire approach she has always done for shauna.

@grievour, shauna whispers, “ i shouldn't be this close. ”

jackie’s sensations are long gone; knows not what is under her fingertips, not what is under her skin, what she is to taste and feel, she knows nothing. nothing that shauna doesn't. yet she acts and moves all the same, like nothing has happened. though, move is a very generous word / not one she’d particularly use when her best friend bounds her to this shed. forever confined and freezed out... so she’s gotten well-acquainted with the earthy floors, wooden walls, and the hanging meats this space has to offer... and the occasional presence of her killer.

she frowns, unenthused by the reaction. shauna chose to get closer. jackie only reciprocated, sitting casually on the dirt with one leg bent and one knee up and her elbow resting on top. eyes take one long glance around the room: the silence, the decrepitness. the downward turn of her lips remains when she returns her gaze; however, disinterest turns into intrigue, begs her friend to follow...