Archive of Our Own

Everyone was adjusting to the loss of MePad in their own ways. Taco, initially, felt aimless and reclusive, unsure of what direction her life would go towards next.

Many contestants hadn't known MePad too well, and a good number of them hadn't ever met the guy at all, outside of the nightmare that was his final day. Still, death had a newfound sensitivity, and he was honored for having helped save everyone's lives. The season 2 contestants in particular had a harder time managing the grief of it all; he had touched their lives in one way or another, and there was a void now that he was gone. MePhone, people had quite the conflicting emotions towards. But MePad, he was almost universally liked.

Taco wasn't a season 2 contestant, she had to remind herself, but he had still gone out of his way to help her when she had nobody else. She was a lost cause, as far as she was concerned, and MePad still stood by her, defended her mortality, and gave up his own to protect people like her.

It was haunting, having never gotten the chance to thank him for what he did. 

And now, she had to adjust to a whole new setting, with whole new people, while trying to convince the old people she wasn’t a threat anymore. Taco had always considered herself well put together, but all these changes are overwhelming. 

Life in the hotel was… difficult for Taco to adjust to. Many folks weren’t too happy to see her around; OJ had very reluctantly let her in to begin with. Something about a conversation he’d had with Balloon? Whatever the case, Taco didn’t feel very welcome, although the season 3 bunch were a bit more kind to her. She stayed beside Mic when she could help it – it helped to have a friend, in times like these, but Mic had other friends. Taco couldn’t absorb all of her time.

“You should really talk to the others in the hotel,” Mic had said one day, as they were hanging out together in her room. “I mean, I get not talking to the season 1 people, but like, you gotta get out there, make other friends.”

“What, are you saying you’re tired of me, after all we’ve been through?” Taco had remarked in a lighthearted, sarcastic manner. Mic rolled her eyes and smirked.

“You know what I mean,” she laughed, before her tone became a bit more serious. “But, uh, I don’t want you to get too dependent on me, ya know? It’s not healthy, even if I have forgiven you for everything on the show. You need to try out making friends that don’t revolve around strategy.” 

Taco had gasped and scoffed, amused at the time. However, upon further consideration, Microphone did have a point. Her only friendships had been built out of strategy for the game, even if things between her and Mic had become more authentic. Pickle, she had used for her own gain when he was kind to her. MePad? Would he have considered her a friend? Regardless, their introductory meeting hadn’t exactly been the most cordial, either… 

It sucked when Microphone was right about these things. Taco really did need other friends.

Eventually – and reluctantly – she branched out, and spoke to others in the hotel too. The results were mixed, unsurprisingly. Some welcomed her without much of a second thought; for example, Clover was quite the nice tenderhearted trifolium, but Taco found her cheerful nature to be a bit overwhelming. Others were more reluctant to be around her – it was no shocker that Pickle’s friends didn’t seem thrilled to have conversation.  

It was one morning when Taco was reminded of Toilet’s existence; when she had first approached, he seemed shocked to be spoken to at all. It was pitiful. He was… a strange character, annoyingly energetic to a fault a majority of the time. Still, Taco felt almost obligated to speak to him, at least once. It was a morbid curiosity of sorts – he wasn’t a contestant, and he wasn’t a creation of MePhone. He was so alien, when she thought about it. And Toilet had possibly been closer to MePad than anyone else, and with MePhone4 having walked off, it seemed like the guy had lost all the support groups he’d had. At least Taco had Mic; Toilet had no one. Taco could be someone . Even if she would’ve considered Toilet to be rather obnoxious on the best of days.

The former co-host had been eating breakfast in the hotel’s cafeteria – just some burnt toast with jam smothered on top. (How did he eat without limbs? Somehow, the food just floated up to his mouth… weird.) He’d been staring at nothing, and hadn’t processed that Taco was near him until he heard her voice as she sat across from him at his table.

“Good morning, Toilet,” Taco had greeted. 

There was a noticeable flinch as he turned to look at her, crumbs around his mouth. “Oh, g’mornin’.”

He seemed uncomfortable. Don’t overstep, don’t push boundaries, don’t make people upset . “Would you mind if I sat with you? I just thought, we’ve never properly met, so it would be nice to touch bases.”

“I don’t mind, don’t got much interestin’ to say, though!” 

Taco crossed her legs under the table, and leaned forward a bit. “I’d claim otherwise. You’ve had quite the fascinating history on the show, from being a show host to piloting a killer robot.”

Toilet’s eyebrows furrowed as he took another bite of his toast. Rudely, he spoke with food in his mouth. “I guess you could say that…” 

Shouldn’t have brought that up . A deep inhale. “My point is, don’t sell yourself so short. I would certainly call you… ‘interesting.’ What have you been occupying yourself with, now that Inanimate Insanity is over with?” 

It was easy to notice how Toilet averted his eyes when he swallowed. Whatever was going through his head, he didn’t seem to like where this conversation was going, but he made little attempt to get himself out of it. 

“Just helpin’ folks when I can, Mistah OJ was happy when he heard I used to do plumbin’ stuff, so that’s what I’m doin’ now.” A toilet as a plumber – well, that was silly, but his delivery was not. His voice was so held back from what it usually was, when Taco had spied on everyone in the show. Usually, he was worse about yelling than Mic, and yet here he was, practically mumbling. It made some sense; Toilet still looked a bit banged up from what happened, with scratches and dents and tiny cracks littering his body. It was hard to be loud and high-energy in a state like that. 

Taking a risk, Taco decided to probe. “How come you decided to stay here? On this island, in the hotel… you’re a real person, you’re not like us. Surely you have family or outside obligations you’ve got to tend to.” MePhone and MePad are gone. What is he still clinging to? Was he waiting until he was healed and recovered, or did he have intention to stay indefinitely?

“I, uh,” the man definitely seemed nervous now, “I like bein’ here.” Oddly enough, he didn’t explain himself further, even despite the seconds of silence that followed.

“Of course,” Taco was disappointed by the lack of a more in-depth answer, but then, “I suppose that was a bit personal of me to ask. I was just curious, is all. I have no idea how the ‘real world’ runs things, but I have to imagine it’s better than how this place is managed.” 

Toilet took another bite of his toast before speaking again. “Not really. It’s nice here, nice people… They’re lettin’ me stay here after all I did. Can’t take that for granite.” 

“It’s ‘granted,’” Taco corrected. “But yes, it seems everyone has become more… forgiving, than when I last dealt with them.” Mostly everyone, anyways. She ringed her hands together without realizing. “And if it's any colsolation, I hold no grudge against you. You were tricked into doing what you did. Some of us have done worse things without being deceived into doing them.” 

“But you’re not hurting people now, roight?” Toilet had stopped chewing, and was actually looking her in the eyes this time. 

“N-No,” Taco stammered. “I’ve learned my lesson. Especially now that– well, death isn’t something to take so lightly now.” It was something that kept her up at night. She had killed, intentionally, before – but at least those had an easy fix at the time. But then, she had tampered with MePad’s teleportation ability while he was deactivated – had she inadvertently made it more difficult for him to teleport? Is that why he wasn’t fast enough, and was stabbed before he could teleport MePhone and himself away? Was it her fault he wasn’t here now?

No, Taco did not want to resort to murder, or violence, or deceptive tricks anymore. It was easier when she had someone like Mic to keep her in check, at least, but the guilt sure did its fair share of discouraging any nefarious behavior. 

Toilet stayed quiet, he must’ve been thinking to himself about something, before finally responding, his voice packing a bit more volume and emotion this time; “Me too. Learnin’, I mean. ‘S why I wanna stay here and help. Or, eh, it’s one reason… make up for what I did, even before that nasty corn man tricked me.” 

Apparently, it didn’t take much convincing to get the former show co-host to talk after all. He was a blabbermouth, she should’ve figured. And that last part… ah, he must’ve been referring to that hot air balloon incident. A bit foolish in hindsight; if it hadn’t been for MePad, Toilet likely would’ve died in the fall along with everyone else. Then again, he did somehow survive such a fall fairly recently. It would’ve been impressive if he hadn’t looked so battered. 

Taco sighed. “It seems we have more in common than I initially assumed then, shocking as that is to admit.” It was difficult to put into words how relieving it felt to know she wasn’t the only person in the hotel, trying to make amends for reckless actions in the past.

It felt unfair, sometimes; she knew fully well many of the former reality show contestants had killed. Again, they didn’t take it so seriously back then. Knife had been particularly guilty. Karma had caught up to him for all the harm he’d done, and for some reason, it had decided to spare Taco, outside of a momentary death, which MePad had saved her from. If MePad hadn’t stood up for her, would she have ever been recovered? 

Better to not think about that right now. “I… understand the desire to make yourself useful to make up for the past, is what I mean. That’s why I am currently sitting with you, actually.” Well, not entirely, but Toilet didn’t need to know all her reasons.

“Oh?” Toilet cocked his head curiously.

Taco tried her best to phrase her next sentence delicately, but it wasn’t easy. Her nails dug into her own hands. “I just wanted to say that–... Well… Again, we don’t know each other particularly well, but I am offering my support to you, given the circumstances, in case you need someone to speak with regarding–... sensitive things that others may not wish to hear about.” Lots to talk about; (almost) no one likes you, you have a bad reputation, you miss MePad so much it hurts… Lots of common ground.

“O-Oh,” Toilet’s eyebrows pinched like they did earlier. He seemed to have an easy enough time picking up on the unspoken parts. His eyes darted around at the table, blinking rapidly, before he gave some sort of unsteady inhale. “I appreciate that… And, um, you too, though I’ve been told I’m not a very good listener…” 

Some part of Taco assumed that was probably true, but she thought better than to say that out loud. Besides, she of all people knew not to make assumptions based on outward appearances. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Taco rose from her seat abruptly, offering a soft and genuine smile through her exhaustion and mixed emotions. “Take it easy, Toilet. If you need to find me, I likely won’t be too difficult to find, as long as I’m in the hotel. Mic can reach me if you have trouble. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab some tea and go on my way.” 

“O-Okay, um–!” Toilet perked up a little. Maybe staring at the table finally got boring. Maybe he was glad this conversation was ending. Either way, he had a crooked, awkward smile. “Thank you! For talkin’ and the kind words! And take care!” 

Taco had walked away with a wave and nod, reflecting on how it had went. Poorly, by her standards, but it seemed to be enough for Toilet, desperate as he was. It wasn’t too many days afterwards that it was the porcelain man who approached her in the middle of the afternoon, talking friendly and casual and still not about the painful parts of his life just yet. 

That was fine. It was good to establish relationships outside of the basis of trauma dumping, difficult as that was to learn in a hotel rife with trauma. Toilet was funny to talk to, in that he often got words wrong, or had a strange way of thinking. He wasn’t exactly the most ideal person to associate with, but Taco found she couldn’t be too bothered about it, even if Mic questioned the choice of acquaintance. It wasn’t like this was the first time Taco had hung around a wild card. She could get used to this newfound company.

Everyone was adjusting to the loss of MePad in their own ways. Taco, trying to handle her grief in a healthy way as the tablet himself had taught her, made an effort to make herself a part of their shared community. She was not always well received, but there were people like her who were struggling with how they were designed and programmed, versus what they wanted to be – better versions of themselves. 

Toilet, struck with his own grief, busied himself, and clung to anyone who would talk to him. He wasn’t a line of code like the others, but he still had his inner defaults. He wasn’t truly that different from anyone else.

Together, adjusting felt just a tiny bit easier, one odd conversation at a time. MePad had wanted everyone to unite and support each other. If he was there, he would’ve been happy to see his friends interacting civilly. That’s what Taco told herself, anyways, as Toilet rambled on about his latest little DIY project. She knew Toilet must’ve been hurting inside, too, but that was a conversation for a different day. Healing was one hell of a painful process, but MePad never said she had to do it alone.