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Apr 11, 2025

Love PMF!! Is my current fav fic! Im always so happy when I see there's an update, like seriously i'm obsessed with this story

And well I was wondering, because i saw somewhere that your Jackie has some level of autism ? (correct me if i'm wrong), so if so, could you give us some traits that you put in her characterization. I would like to understand her more.

Btw, the part in the recent chapter when she said that she is "wired wrong" devastated me, no one should feel that way

Tysm!! I’m so glad you like it!!

Yeah so here’s my perception of Jackie’s characterization and how I write her (this will almost certainly be a long post but hopefully I can contain myself)

Not to get too personal here but I feel like it's worth noting that a lot of my characterization of Jackie's relationship with others comes from some issues of my own that I faced growing up- there's glimpses of her in the show that really spoke to me and felt familiar, and because we got so little of her context, drawing from my own experiences is kind of what pushed the first bit of my characterization of her. After that first push it was mostly just an exploration of her psychology and expanding on the bits we've already gotten of her.

Jackie Origins:

Jackie is the only child of her family unit.

Her parents are the picture of a stereotypical suburban upperclass family. They attend church, drink wine, are country club members. To them, status and appearance is everything. You are how you're perceived, and that's something that is instilled into Jackie from the beginning.

I also think that they had trouble conceiving. Maybe they'd tried several times, miscarriages or just general difficulty to conceive in the first place, and it nearly destroyed their marriage. I think this is something that Mrs. Taylor in particular struggled with. She was meant to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother- she's a woman- if she can't bring a child into this world, what good is she? I think that intense pressure of her own internalized misogyny developed into an even more obsessive need for everything to be perfect when she finally gave birth to Jackie. This was it. This was their one shot. Everything they'd worked for and all the hopes and dreams they'd built up? They all fell onto this one kid. Better not screw it up.

The marriage was never a strong one. It was a relationship built on superficial grounds. Status. Image. Mr. Taylor was the breadwinner as a man should be. Working in something where his ego could easily be stroked- sales of some kind probably. Maybe advertising. Something where he knew how to work people, how to work a room. His charisma and the way girls swooned for him are what drew Mrs. Taylor to him. She was beautiful of course. Maybe she was dating someone else at this firm, but Mr. Taylor had the charm to be the big man in the room, and she knew how to get his attention too.

So really it was never about love with them. It was more about what they got out of it. Adulation and envy, the perfect couple, lifting one another up, doting on each other, lighting up a room, throwing the best parties, always elegant and gracious and charming and delightful. Mrs. Taylor made the men jealous of Mr. Taylor. She could butter people up so he could swoop in for the kill. I think the beginning of their relationship was more based on how thrilling it was for them to work off of each other, how they could twist any conversation their way, warp any perception to how it fit them best. It was power and status and that's what they both wanted really.

But a relationship built off of superficiality is bound to crack eventually. They couldn't be perfect all the time, so the built up resentment and animosity would linger cold and damning when they were alone in the house. The house that Jackie was born into. This was her world. A dizzying display of extravagance and perfection and joy and praise, only to return to a home of quiet rooms and scornful looks, tension that went unacknowledged, misery that went ignored.

It would be overwhelming for any child to deal with. But Jackie thought that it was normal, and she was the messed up one for having trouble making sense of it all.

Jackie's Childhood

Jackie Taylor was always a very sensitive kid. Sensitive is the word that was used because it was friendly enough on the surface but sharp just beneath. A throw away word that could be excused as a charming little description instead of a damning jab.

She figured out early on that she acted "wrong". That the things she let bother her didn't bother "proper" children. Normal children.

Fourth of July was her least favorite holiday. She dreaded it so badly that she would often get sick in the week leading up to it, her arms breaking out into hives that disgusted Mrs. Taylor.

She'd once dragged Jackie to an epidemiologist, declaring that a woman at her country club had claimed he was the best and could get rid of this irksome little problem of Jackie's. He empathetically told her mother that the treatment she was looking for couldn't ethically be given to someone of Jackie's age.

Her mother disparaged the doctor's name to anyone who would listen and Jackie learned how to hide her hives.

It wasn't the holiday itself that really bothered her. Sure, she wasn't a huge fan of the country club. There wasn't much there for her and the other kids didn't get her. But she could be good for a little while and smile and twirl like her parents wanted. Eat from the plate her mother made for her, knowing which parts of the plated meal were actually just for show- not meant for eating. Don't be gluttonous.

The true issue with the holiday was the fireworks. Jackie hated the fireworks. They were loud and sudden and bright and they scared her so badly that she would shriek loud enough to be heard over them, crying so hard the blood vessels under her eyes would burst, running inside to escape the thunder in her ears.

The fourth of July is the first time that Jackie vividly remembers being struck by her mother. The Taylors were not a family of physical punishment. Words were always more effective. Words changed behavior better. Words lingered and stuck and lasted far longer than a bruise ever could. But Mrs. Taylor was overcome with frustration and confusion. Jackie was in the bathroom of the country club, rocking back and forth, hands covering her ears tightly, broken little whimpers and moans spilling out of her.

"It came at me! It wanted to bite me!" she would cry. The fireworks, as it was explained to her, was just sparkles, fire in the sky that burned before they touched the ground. But Jackie saw some of the little sparkles that fell all the way to the grass. She was convinced that they would come for her, fire lunging towards her like a snake.

Mrs. Taylor was fuming. She couldn't get a handle on this, couldn't fathom why she couldn't get control over Jackie. This was her daughter. She brought her into this world. Carried her in her womb for nine months. Built up a world for her to shine in. A prized embodiment of all of her virtues. And she couldn't get her to stop fucking rocking.

She tried pulling Jackie's hands away from her ears roughly, but her fingers only latched onto her upper arms them, digging harsh crescents in that would leave marks. Mrs. Taylor roared. She was not about to have to explain to the people out there that her daughter was so deranged she clawed marks into herself. She grabbed Jackie's wrists and held them so tightly they ached, and the pain of it pulled Jackie back a little bit. But she wouldn't stop babbling. Wouldn't stop sobbing. She had all this nasty snot dripping down her face. Obscene. Indecent. Improper. And still not listening. Still uncontrolled.

The slap came fast and echoed across the pristine bathroom walls. It stunned Jackie into silence then. Mrs. Taylor's own hand hovered in the air, red and shaking a little from the sting of the impact, surprised herself by the action. But she recovered quickly, and before Jackie could start crying about that quickly shot off her demands. Jackie would sit here until she could get a grip of herself, think about what an embarrassment she had been tonight, making a fool out of them and forcing her father who works tirelessly for her to try and make up an excuse for her behavior. When she could walk out of there looking halfway decent, they would leave.

Then Jackie was alone in the bathroom. She's done as she'd been told. She was always so good at that. And getting away from the sounds of the fireworks was motivation enough.

The next year, one of the nicer members of the country club came up to Jackie and offered her some little earbud inserts to help block the noise. After she'd walked away, Jackie's mom took them and threw them in the trash. Her daughter isn't handicapped.

Jackie wore longsleeves for the fourth of july until she was 12.

There would always be other triggers for her. Things that bothered her that weren't supposed to. Loud noises. Sudden movements. Fluorescent light buzzing. Tags in shirts. Wet grass against her ankles- felt too itchy- bugs scratching her.

She learned that she couldn't really stop herself from getting upset over these things, but she could pretend to be fine, dig her fingernails into her palms and bite on the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron.

Jackie and Shauna:

Shauna being a part of her life changed everything

Jackie had trouble with friends. Like real friends. Not her parents' friends' kids who would be sequestered away into a sterile room with her while the adults drank wine and gossiped.

No. Real friends. People who wanted to be around her and she wanted to be around them.

Her mother had taught her all the tricks to help. How to smile just enough but not too much. The polite kind of conversation to endear a person. How to be friendly but not desperate. Conversational but not annoying.

She just... Had trouble with it... Even when she could sit still- which was very hard. Even when she could bite her tongue- also very hard. Even when she could act polite and proper and quiet and pretty- she still found it hard to connect with others. Other kids weren't at the same level as her. They talked about bugs and toys- things she wasn't supposed to talk about- so she couldn't make conversation. When people told her that her dress was pretty, she knew just how to play along, but that never turned into an actual conversation like it would when her mom received compliments.

Jackie couldn't figure it out. They want to talk to me but they don't want to talk about me. But I can't talk about the things they want to talk about. But they walk away when we don't talk.

There was also all these secret rules. Hidden lines she couldn't cross that she always had trouble seeing. Her parents always got frustrated about her inability to perceive these rules. Could everyone else really see them?

So a lot of her early existence felt mostly like she was teetering on the edge of something, unsure where the edge was exactly, how far the drop was, the consequences of losing her balance. A pretty little gymnast walking on a balance beam. Maybe her uniform was sparkly.

But then there was Shauna. Shauna who wasn't like the other kids. Shauna who wasn't loud or excitable, who didn't dip from topic to topic before Jackie could get excited about the first. Shauna was quiet. She sat in the back of the class, reading a book- a book too advanced for Jackie. Smart. She's smart. That's so cool.

She had these crazy eyes too. Like a puppy but better. Warm and soulful and deep- like she knew the secrets of the universe, like she could see things no one else could. Maybe she could show Jackie. Maybe Shauna was smart enough to make the world make sense to her.

Jackie liked a lot of things about Shauna. She liked how good she was at dodgeball. She liked how observant she was about some things Jackie would miss. She liked how she would roll her eyes at jokes that Jackie didn't actually think were funny but felt compelled to giggle at anyway. Shauna didn't need to giggle. She was smarter than the other kids and didn't need to stoop to their level. Impressive. Cool. Effortless.

What she really liked about Shauna, was that she could just exist around her. She didn't have to pretend so much. She didn't have to fake a smile or laugh- she could just do it. She didn't have to act all perfect in the safety of Shauna's room. She could sit- lounge even- not worried about posture or if her legs were crossed. She could have fun with Shauna. Be a kid with Shauna. She liked how she felt with Shauna, like she could breathe for the first time in her life.

That's not to say it was perfect. Shauna was complex. She had all these secret rules and hidden lines about her as well. It wasn't always clear when Jackie had broken one of the rules either. Sometimes they would be happy and fine and great, and then the next thing Jackie knew, Shauna was angry again. It got a little better as they got older, except it was more so that they both were better about managing their expectations of it.

Shauna got better at burying things, letting them sit and stew and build up. Jackie got better about shrugging it off when it inevitably burst out like a volcano. She learned how to roll with the lava and move right along, pretend like nothing happened, pretend like everything was fine. So nothing would ever really get fixed that way.

So no. It wasn't perfect. But it was the closest thing to perfect Jackie could imagine.

Jackie's Teenage Years:

The teenage years are hard for almost everyone

But Jackie's parents made high school sound like a movie. Her mom was a cheerleader, her dad was a baseball player.

High school for her didn't feel like the movie that was promised to her, but she found parts of it she liked. That was a skill Jackie had developed over the years- she considered it her layers of want.

On the surface- Jackie liked a lot of things. Jackie liked the attention, the praise, the affection she received for her pretty little acts, her pretty little voice, her pretty little demeanor. She could be the perfect little performer and reap the benefits from her audience. Her parents were at least mildly pleased by her success in the high school social hierarchy, and that was a huge win for her.

Below the surface- Jackie liked things differently. This part of herself was the part reserved for Shauna, and sometimes the team. She liked winning. She liked the feeling of her muscles burning as she took across the field like a cheetah, the way the ground would blur beneath her feet. She liked the collective triumph at their victories. She liked the way Lottie would shake her shoulders with a big grin when Jackie scored a point. She liked the way they would light up in the locker room with one of her pep talks. She liked the way they listened to her, like she had something worth saying. She liked having a post practice sleepover at Shauna's. She liked getting to unwind with her, reading magazines or watching tv or listening to music and talking. She liked getting to be a girl, without the frill of a performance.

And then buried deep- Jackie had things she liked that she kept to herself- that she denied and ignored in the hopes of them disappearing. Like a monster in the closet. If she hides under the blanket, it can't get her. She likes strawberry oreo milkshakes-the ones with real ice cream- real frozen strawberries and crushed up oreos. Her mother would think it absurd. Far too many calories. Unnecessary. Her dad thought the combination was disgusting. "The milkshake order of an 8 year old boy." he would say. But Jackie loved them. They were perfect. But she wasn't allowed to love them. So that love went to the vault to be ignored. She likes when Shauna is drunk- a very specific level of drunk. A lot of times, as parties mostly, drunk Shauna is broody, angry, a little mean. But there is a this perfect sweet spot with inebriated Shauna where she's a little sleepy, her perfectly brilliant mind a little bit hazy, and her arms heavy. She drapes herself around Jackie, words slurred, and she's like a warm weighted blanket then. Jackie is a cuddly drunk. She's actually cuddly in general, but cuddly is too much for most people- so her love of cuddling is also rejected to the box. But when they are drunk, alone in Shauna's attic, warm and content and sleepy and cuddly, Jackie feels lighter than ever. But that's only because she's drunk. So she can write it off.

There's things she doesn't like that get buried deep too. Things that bother her that shouldn't. Loud noises. Fireworks. When Shauna drives too fast. When Jeff touches her. Jeff.

That's something she's supposed to love. That's something that surface Jackie does love. Attention. But deep down, it's the wrong kind of attention and coming from the wrong place. Deep down, Jackie shudders at the weight of her name. Deep down, Jackie hates how many eyes watch her. Deep down, Jackie is suffocating under the pressure of being perfect for everyone. Of being what everyone wants her to be. She's scared beneath all the frill and performance and smiling masks, there's nothing inside of her- just a hollow void. Without expectations, she doesn't know what life is. Without expectations, she doesn't know who she is. Without expectations, she doesn't know how to breathe. But at the same time, she's not sure she's ever really had a real breath of fresh air.

Jeff is nice. He's attractive. He's charming. He's well loved. He should be everything Jackie wants and needs. But when they are together, when he kisses her neck or fingers her roughly or paws at her breasts clumsily- it's like she can't be there. Her mind has to go elsewhere to survive it or she'll break into those disgusting hives. She numbs her mind and body so she doesn't break apart. Then when he's gone, she stares numbly in the mirror, not recognizing the creature on the other side, brushes her teeth until her gums bleed, and showers with the water so hot that it scalds her skin.

He should be perfect. She should be perfect. Together they could be perfect. If she weren't so wrong inside.

Jackie's Relationship with Others:

So this is the crux of Jackie's relationship with other people. She exists for them. She doesn't know how to exist for herself because all she's ever known is how to please others. She's what you want of her. If you need her to be the shallow mean girl image? That's an easy perception to find. If you want her to be the pure and virtuous angel? Easy enough to believe. Whatever you want. Jackie can be that. She's eager to please.

But it's that malleability that makes it hard to connect. Because she's what you want, you never really feel like you know her. There's always this level of artificial separation. Something that keeps you from really seeing her. So the relationship will always be surface level, or if you're lucky, maybe a little deeper.

And god does she love. Sensitive Jackie, who feels so deeply and wholly. Who views her teammates as the greatest parts of her life. Who loves Lottie's individuality, her quiet observational wisdom. Who loves Van's smile and brightness, how she lightens any room she walks into. Who loves Taissa's drive, her relentless ambition and fire to burn bright. She loves with everything in her entire being, and would truly go to any lengths for the people she loves.

But she's a repressed being. Someone who doesn't know how to show her love. She thinks she does. She thinks her gifts and her praise and her quality time spent with them, how she learns everything about them and truly knows them- that's her love- isn't that clear? But they don't seem to get it. That's just Jackie. Little miss perfect strikes again. Of course Jackie remembered your birthday- it's Jackie. Of course you got the perfect gift- she's not going to be shown up by anyone else. Of course she wants everyone to spend time together- it makes her look like the perfect captain.

This artificial separation she's built up- this facade- it will never allow anyone to truly know or see her, so how could they ever connect with her, let alone love her like she loves them?

Jackie's Relationship with Herself:

And this leaves Jackie with the most crushing and profound sense of loneliness. A complex creature with contradicting desires. To breathe unseen, to go unnoticed and without expectation. To live without someone actually seeing how broken she is inside- a petrifying fear of being known. While simultaneously being stuck with a devastating need for connection, a desire to hold onto someone that holds her back. Reciprocal love, a love that feels shared and earnest, not manufactured out of her own design or made to fit what someone else wants.

Don't look at me. Not too close. Please don't see me for what I am. Lonely and broken and needy.

Please look at me. Please somebody, anybody see me. Am I so truly impossible to love and hold?

There is no greater critic of Jackie Taylor than Jackie Taylor. Nothing she ever does or accomplishes will ever be perfect enough. She will never be what everyone needs of her, always falling short of the mark. If someone were somehow able to see through her facade- to see the hidden Jackie and love her completely, she wouldn't recognize that. She would assume it's something else. Something dangerous or mean. Intent to tear her down in someway. Expose her ugliness to the world maybe.

She also doesn't really know how to drop the facade- it's something she would need to work on a lot. She doesn't know how to not be what people want her to be. She doesn't feel that she has any sense of value or worth or identity if she's not useful in someway, if she's not offering something.

The Wilderness + Jackie's Survival in PMF:

And here is where we come to Jackie's place in PMF

Maybe everything above can be read as just general headcanons for her- how I perceive her. It's why I view her as such a tragic character, because I perceive her as someone who never got to find her own happiness in life. She existed for others and is remembered in a distorted lens because she never really let anyone know her.

With PMF specifically, she's given the chance to survive and grow, given the opportunity to find herself and change her relationship with herself and others.

Nat sort of serves as her anchor for this.

The Wilderness sees the fight inside of her, sees how she's got this hidden fury inside of her that's never let out. Potential.

So Jackie's given her second chance, it's just up to her to claw it out for herself.

And it could be easy for her to give in. Living is painful. Living is miserable. Living is endless hours of dreadful existence with limited moments of light to keep you going. She views herself as too weak for it. Too broken. But Nat seems determined not to let her die. Stubborn.

It takes her a while to see it. To see the worth in her survival. She exists in a numb sort of twisted version of how she existed before- like a ghost- not really anyone- just something hollow drifting around in case someone wants or needs something from her.

But they don't need her now. They've made that clear. It's just Nat who seems to want her around, and she's not totally sure why. But it keeps her going.

She makes mistakes. Because again- living is hard. She falls back on old habits, returns to what she knows, what's comfortable. Ignores her pain, ignores her fear, focuses on being what's wanted, even if she can see how poorly it will end for her.

But Nat keeps showing up. She keeps showing Jackie these moments of authentic kindness, keeps looking at her like she's seen the things Jackie has always fought to hide.

She doesn't know why she's still here, but it has something to do with Nat.

Nat asks her to fight, and Jackie doesn't know that she has it in her. The facade is shattering now, the deeply buried lonely creature visible to all. So now she's at the end of a road, and everyone feels it. She can keep walking the same direction she's been going, a road of lies and performance and artificiality- a road that will most likely end in her near demise- that road isn't meant for this world she's crashed into. Or she can adapt. Follow a new path, acknowledge this thing she's kept buried for so long and try to figure it out- fight to survive long enough to untangle the mess inside of her- maybe find some kind of purpose.

If she can? She'll do alright. She'll suffer, surely, this world is cruel and living is pain. But she'll also find things she never would have otherwise. Learn what she wants, what she actually needs, and what needs to change in order to grasp it

anyways i have to stop now this is fucking crazy gang when will I respond to an ask with a normal word count

#never is the answer #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fic #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets hcs #jackie taylor #character analysis #character study #natalie scatorccio #jackienat #shauna shipman #pmf #jackieshauna #character psychology

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