"Jackie wasn't mean in season 1"... except she was. "Shauna wasn't ever kind"... but also she was.
These conversations always seem to omit stuff to paint a certain picture. To imply Jackie's total innocence and goodness, because shes been unfairly reinvented in death by Shauna and the others (and she has! but that doesn't change the reality that she wasnt all good and kind).
Jackie was kind, she cared about the team. She was hard-working. She wanted the best for people. She gave Shauna the last of her food. She was kind to Misty where others weren't. They didn't tell her about the Allie plan, because they knew she wouldn't allow it. But she also let her insecurities make her cruel at times. She targets Nat in her jealousy, when Nats done nothing to her. She's dismissive of Shauna and lies to her, even if its not malicious. Her treatment of Travis is also pretty questionable.
Likewise, Shauna is kind. She's the first to offer comfort to those she believe needs it. Javi, Jackie, Tai, Lottie, Mari, etc. Its a long list. But there's also cruelty, because, whatever her reasons, she did something that she knew could deeply hurt the person she cared about most. She prioritised whatever it was sleeping with Jeff offered, over Jackie. Not just once, but multiple times.
You don't have to percieve Jackie as all good, just because she in some way stands in opposition to what Shauna's become. Jackie wasn't perfect, thats the point. The facade of perfection was a lie, and (as we see in the pilot) maintaining it weighed heavily on her. She was equal parts good and bad, like they all were in the beginning, and frankly i question the need to pretend she was more innately good than any of the rest of them. That was not what made Jackie singular. What made her different, was her not being afraid to stand in opposition to the new status quo. To openly reject the wilderness. To question it.
We don't need to rewrite who Jackie was and sanctify her. She was a normal, sometimes incredibly kind, sometimes spiteful, teenage girl, and her death doesn't become more or less tragic depending on her moral quality.
Let's talk about one of the best (and, in my opinion, most underrepresented) parts of Nat's character: the duality of her actions.
(Inspired by an ask sent by beloved moot @crimsonprose about some misunderstandings people often have about Nat's character)
We all love Nat as the moral compass and the closest thing we have to a "hero" in this story. She's kind-hearted and compassionate. She tries her best to do the "right thing." But, in the same way many people get caught up in the two-dimensional view of Shauna as an "evil villain," I think some people get caught up in portraying Nat as a purely well-intentioned and innocent saint, which doesn't feel like a holistic view of her character and is challenged even in canon by other characters (thinking of Travis and Shauna's lines about Natalie's "saint" act). There are two contradictory motivations for almost every one of Nat's actions on the show: the compassionate need to do what's right and protect the people she loves, and the wounded instinct to shield herself and tend to her own unmet needs. These motivations coexist simultaneously, causing Nat to constantly be at war with herself, which in turn increases her lifelong guilt.
Natalie fakes Javi's death to provide Travis with the closure he needs to grieve (which is well-intentioned, even if her method of doing so was questionable), but she's also doing it because she's lonely and misses her connection with him, which has been disrupted by his desperation to find Javi. It's no coincidence that Nat grabs Javi's pants and stuffs them in her backpack the moment after she watches that intimate moment between Lottie and Travis from the cabin window. She's worried about the danger of Travis's growing connection to Lottie (and Travis's connection to Lottie is clearly not healthy or safe for him). But she's also jealous. She's human, she's a teenage girl. Travis's withdrawal from Nat is due to her telling him his brother is dead, while his gravitation towards Lottie is due her offering him the hope of assuring him his brother is alive. So Nat’s choice to fake Javi's death is both a selfless and selfish act, to care for Travis but also to pull him back into her orbit.
This duality is also shown when Natalie challenges Lottie's leadership in Season 2 both because she knows the direction Lottie is taking the group in is dangerous and deadly and because she is envious of the validation, appreciation, and connection Lottie is receiving from the group (which Coach Ben calls her out on in 2x08). Nat is the hunter of the group; she busts her ass every day hiking for miles through several feet of snow in subzero temperatures to provide for the group. The group would quite literally die without her. And yet, Lottie is being heralded as the savior of the group. Lottie is being given all of the credit for the group's survival, while Nat is criticized for not doing enough and is outright blamed for the group's lack of food (by Mari). So she suggests a competition with Lottie, which is a selfish act done purely to fuel her own ego and prove herself to the group (which ends up nearly killing them both).
And when Nat is coronated as leader, we see a lot of what was underneath her resentment towards Lottie. She breaks down into happy tears as she's showered with the praise, devotion, and appreciation she has been watching Lottie receive all this time. Nat has been ostracized and unloved for her entire life, and while she pretends to be apathetic about it, she actually longs for validation and connection. So Nat's behavior towards Lottie in Season 2 stems from both a selfless care for the well-being of the group, as well as a selfish resentment towards her for receiving the praise she secretly yearns for.
Even her choice to be a hunter in the first place is both because she wants to provide for the group/feels her worth lies in what she gives to others and because she enjoys the accolades it initially gets her (look at her smile listening to the group's cheers when she wins the can-shooting competition and when she brings back a deer for the first time, and everyone is clapping for her). This is something she never received in her childhood finally being granted to her; proof that she's not useless like her father told her.
Nat allows Javi to die for her because she wants to live and has a very sudden change of heart about her belief in the Wilderness, as she tells Travis "the Wilderness chose" Javi as a sacrifice. This very abrupt change of heart is tied to her resolve and sanity finally cracking at the major trauma she just endured, but it's also a coping mechanism to relieve herself of the immense guilt of allowing this young boy to die in her place (the same coping mechanism the rest of the group has been using to justify their actions in the wilderness).
In Season 3, Nat helps capture Coach Ben, turns away when the group moves to execute him (after suggesting the method herself), allows them to maim him, and participates in keeping him imprisoned despite how deeply this violates her own values and her bond with him. Every part of this is rooted in self-preservation. Nat is profoundly conflict-avoidant, and she stays silent because she knows that speaking up could get her hurt or killed. Her passivity during these moments mirrors her broader pattern throughout the series of positioning herself as a bystander to the group’s violence in order to sidestep both the danger and the crushing guilt that comes with these actions. She lets others carry the moral weight and the responsibility, even as she benefits from the violence that ultimately protects her survival.
After the rescue, Nat spends her life conning and manipulating people for her own financial and personal gain. Identity fraud, blackmail, it's clear that her Porsche and designer clothing has been obtained through morally questionable methods. She manipulates Kevyn's feelings for her to get answers and she manipulates Misty's idolization of her to get her to help bury Adam's body.
Nat is dead-set on solving Travis's death both because she wants justice for him and because she feels betrayed by him breaking their pact and desperately needs to prove that he didn't do so, as her own will to live hangs in the balance.
Two truths can coexist for Natalie: she cares deeply, often fiercely, for the people around her, and she also acts out of fear, need, and self-preservation. Of course, she's put in life-or-death situations and no one can really blame her for choosing life, but her actions still highlight a darker side of her that will hurt others for her own survival and emotional needs. It's one of the most fascinating aspects of her character. In my opinion, recognizing this murkier side of her motivations means viewing Nat as a whole.
I need a full length essay of Nancy obsessing over all the little facets of Robin’s femininity and masculinity and how they intertwine.
I feel like Robin would be self-conscious of them but Nancy would absolutely adore them. She’s gnawing at the bars of her enclosure everytime she sees Robin.
I need a full length fic of Nancy staring at how Robin puts on her makeup with her fingers and smudges her eyeliner instead of trying to make it perfect.
Or her losing her mind over how Robin’s baggy jeans fit her tighter in the hips, or how she keeps getting little peeks at her curves under an oversized shirt.
She just keeps thinking about the difference in how Robin speaks to Steve, all loud and confident, and how she speaks to Holly, all soft and comforting.
I need Nancy struggling to stay still while she looks at Robin, wrapped up in Steve’s hoodie and sleeping on Nancy’s chest.
Imagine Robin wears a baggy button-up with chains and funky, dangly earrings and heeled boots and fishnets under her ripped jeans when they go out one night. And Nancy starts panicking because she hasn’t written her last will and testament yet but she’s pretty sure she’s about to pass away.
Bonus points if they’re not even technically together yet when she’s doing all this.
rip homura akemi, glinda upland, shauna shipman and mike wheeler you would've loved hunching over your steering wheel at a stoplight on a random tuesday evening violently sobbing and thinking about your ex queer situationship from your school days while "once more to see you" by mitski blasts over your car speakers on a 10 hour loop
Oh god. I think both pairings are deep but have completely different aspects to them. Byler manages to be unhealthy without it even being intentional by the writers but jackieshaunas complexity and toxicity is on PURPOSE. Saying that jackieshauna doesnt have the same amount of depth that byler does is making me sick like did we watch the same show???
We need etsy to get bought by someone who will run it like the navy i need to only see small businesses in eastern europe weaving baskets by hand and anime yaoi keychains with original fanart
Literally need someone with an serial killer level obsession with content moderation to sit at a wall of monitors sniping dropshippers. I need etsy HQ to look and sound like the nerv command center in Evangelion
Summary: Inspired by this post about a Western AU where Lottie is the privileged daughter of a ranch owner and likes to watch ranch hand Shauna get sweaty.
Pairing: Lottie x Shauna, ButcherQueen
Words: 1.2k
Springtime sits like an itch under Lottie’s skin. Winter is easier: the landscape dreams under a snowy blanket – calm, quiet, clean. Now the earth is waking up and her visions waking with it. Lottie has a reputation for steadiness, like a river rock unmoved by the current flowing over it. The townsfolk call her serious to her face, haughty when they think she’s out of earshot. The truth is, she’s learned not to react to things until she knows that other people perceive them too.
A staccato burst of birdsong cuts across her thoughts. Lottie – alone in the parlour – looks up in time to see a flash of white feathers. The song is harsh, almost discordant, but something about it lands inside her deeply, like a sign.
Lottie listens but all she can hear is the soft hum of crickets and the rhythmic thwack of someone, somewhere chopping wood. The parlour is safe, everything neat and predictable, even the birds are stuffed and kept immobile in glass cases with mirrored glass behind their eyes. Lottie has memorised it down to every detail; nothing here can trick and surprise her. It’s a sanctuary of sorts, but a maddening one. Perhaps that’s why, despite herself, she rises and follows the sound of birdsong.
The porch that wraps around the Matthews’ ranch house is empty of everything but shade and shadows; the afternoon sun catches drifting motes of dust, making the air shimmer. Lottie feels a familiar sense of disappointment before the distinctive trill-chirp sounds again to her right. Lottie has time to glimpse a small black and white songbird perched on the corner railing.The bird glances at her, ruffles its feathers in an impatient sort of way and then flits around the corner and out of sight.
Impulsively, Lottie follows it and comes face to face with the new ranch hand, chopping wood. They haven’t spoken yet, although Lottie already knows her name. Shauna came here from the Taylor ranch; town gossip has it that the cabinet maker’s apprentice broke her heart when he married Jacqueline Taylor instead of her. There were other rumours too, ones spoken in low voices, about a baby born out of wedlock who died before it could live. Now Lottie’s father has taken Shauna on out of charity. Although charity for who, Lottie isn’t sure: Shauna works harder than the other hands for less pay, taking the hardest, bloodiest jobs without complaint.
Shauna has stripped her shirt off, down to a thin undershirt turned clingy and translucent from her sweat. Her breasts are bound for practicality but either she’s done a poor job of it or there’s a lot to bind: Lottie can see the outline of them under Shauna’s shirt, the way the binding pushes her cleavage up past the neckline of the too-large men’s vest she wears. She’s chopping firewood like it’s personally offended her: her soft features are hardened by a scowl and she lets out a little grunt every time the axe lands which sounds almost like a snarl of rage. Her arms are muscled like a man’s, Lottie notices, brown and freckled from working outdoors and beaded with sweat but her skin is smooth. The bird sits on a fencepost and Lottie watches it watching Shauna.
Then Shauna looks up, and catches Lottie staring.
“Can I help you with something?” Shauna’s voice is gruff and irritated, enunciating the words like a series of bites. Lottie is suddenly horribly aware of herself: the white lace dress, pink silk ribbons, of how it must look to Shauna – the owner’s daughter coming to watch her work.
“I was looking at–” Lottie corrects herself just in time. It’s not like her to stumble; she feels caught off guard by the force of the other girl’s stare. “That is, I thought I heard birdsong.”
“Oh him?” Shauna’s eyes flick to the small white bird, watching her from its fencepost. She glances at Lottie, her brow furrowed but it’s not the look that Lottie’s come to dread: a moment of confusion, quickly rationalised away, which means she’s said something odd. Shauna looks wrongfooted, as though she expected an order or an insult and doesn’t know what to do now that neither is forthcoming. “He must smell the blood on me. From the slaughter house.”
Lottie peers at the bird, frowning. It’s small and white with a black stripe across its eyes like an outlaw’s mask.
“That bird?”
Shauna laughs. It’s not exactly kind laughter but not unkind either. Lottie is seized with an overwhelming need to hear that sound again.
“Well it’s a shrike. You know? A butcher bird? They’re carnivores.” Shauna glances at the bird, an odd half smile playing on her mouth. She looks like a predator herself; a cat batting a mouse between its paws, debating whether it’s worth the effort to strike. “Like to leave their prey impaled on thornbushes.”
She watches Lottie like she’s trying to gauge whether she’s going to turn tail and run inside.
“It looks so harmless,” Lottie says.
“Yeah well.” Shauna’s face darkens and she hefts the axe again, bringing it down on the log so hard the pieces fly off in opposite directions. The butcher bird gives a startled little hop, then ruffles its feathers, grooming one wing with its beak. “Don’t go thinking pretty things can’t be vicious.”
There’s a naked hurt half hidden underneath the rage; as though the circumstances that led to her leaving the Taylor ranch might be more complicated than the town gossips let on.
“It works both ways, you know.” Lottie makes her way down the veranda’s wooden steps, so they can stand on a level.
Shauna quirks an eyebrow at her; it puts Lottie in mind of the quick irritated motion a horse makes when it shakes off a fly.
“Vicious things can be pretty too.” Lottie only means that she sees beauty in places she’s not supposed to: bleached bones in a dried river bed; the blaze of wildfire in the dry season; the music of a wolf’s howl. She’s tired of staying indoors where everything is safe and unchanging, of carefully choosing every word. But there’s a flash of interest in Shauna’s eyes, as though she took it as Lottie calling her pretty – and vicious – and doesn’t mind the attention.
Shauna tilts her head slightly, looking at Lottie as though she’s seeing her and not just a rich girl come to stare at her.
“I’m Charlotte. Lottie. Lottie Matthews.” Somehow Lottie manages to stumble over her own name. Shauna watches with guarded amusement.
“Yeah, I know who you are.” Shauna holds out her hand for Lottie to shake. It’s calloused, dirt under her fingernails and dried blood from the slaughterhouse worked into the grain of her knuckles; a test to see whether she’ll deign to touch a ranchhand. “Shauna.”
Lottie bites off her lace glove and takes the other girl’s hand, bare flesh against bare flesh. The touch is potent, the way the sky prickles before a storm. A sense of rightness settles in Lottie’s bones, like well water rising from a deep-buried spring; everything has led her to this moment, this meeting. Shauna’s breath catches, just a little. For once, Lottie knows that she’s not alone; whatever this is between them, Shauna feels it too.
A/N: I hope I've been able to portray Lottie's schizophrenia sensitively: it felt important not to erase that part of her character. I'm very open to feedback, particularly from people with similar lived experiences. (Also feel free to point out my historical inaccuracies if you like!)
Please do consider reblogging if you enjoyed: it really helps creators get traction and keeps fandoms alive. I'd also love to hear any thoughts you have in the replies.
so many of callie and shaunas solo conversations being shauna trying desperately to connect to callie over whatevers for dinner and callie completely uninterested and walled off at the prospect of connecting over what she perceives as shallow because SHE is desperate to connect over the plane crash and everything that followed. to then have shauna walk in on callie joyously making DINNER (shaunas attempt at connection) with LOTTIE (someone willing to engage with callies desired connection) does anyone else feel sosick
I can't stop watching Shauna and Jackie's fight scene in Yellowjackets because Shauna saying "how would you know?" when Jackie asks if she likes Jeff is the perfect summary of their relationship.
Because no, Shauna doesn't like Jeff, but Jackie wouldn't know if she did.
The same way that she doesn't hate soccer, or being called Shipman, or even Jackie herself. What she hates is that Jackie never asked.
Of course Jackie wanted to go to college with her and live out their lives together because all she wants in her future is Shauna. It would never occur to her to ask if that's what Shauna wants, because they're ShaunaandJackie. Of course they want the same things. Jackie doesn't want to be her own person seperate from Shauna, and she would never assume that's what Shauna wants.
They have morphed into one person and Shauna doesn't know how to get out of that except by lashing out at Jackie.
But then Jackie dies. And Shauna's free. She doesn't need to be in a toxic codependent relationship anymore. Except, no, she's not. She can't escape Jackie, and she doesn't want to.
I don't know where you end and I begin
She eats the ear. And she marries Jeff. It's too late, she and Jackie have already morphed into one person and there's nothing she can do.
