#yelllowjackets

"I'll get the water today," Shauna announces to the wall, not looking at you.

"I always get the water," you reply to your bootlaces.

"Well, maybe someone else should get the water for once."

"Mari and I have a system."

Shauna makes a noise that might be agreement or might be indigestion. You can't tell the difference anymore—not since the fight two days ago that neither of you has acknowledged but both of you are carrying around like stones in your pockets. The one where she accused you of being reckless with your recovery, and you accused her of treating you like you're made of glass, and somehow it all spiraled into her sleeping pressed against the far corner of the hut while you've taken to lying rigid as a corpse on your side.

You finish with your boots first and stand, testing your weight on your healing leg. The ache is there, persistent but manageable. Shauna glances over, and you catch her cataloging your movement, the way you don't quite trust your left side yet. Her mouth tightens.

"Fine," she says, like you've personally offended her by standing up. "Get the water. See if I care."

You want to ask what crawled up her ass and died, but that would require acknowledging that something is wrong, which would require talking about the fight, which would require admitting that you both said things you didn't entirely mean. So instead you grab the water containers and head for the door.

"Don't forget your—" Shauna starts.

"I'm not using the cane today," you cut her off.

The silence that follows could be weaponized.

"Right," she says finally. "Of course you're not."

You leave before she can say anything else. Outside, the morning air hits your face like a slap, sharp and cleansing. You take a deep breath and start toward the lake, trying not to think about the way Shauna's voice went all tight when you mentioned the cane.

The walk takes longer than usual without the walking stick, your injured leg protesting the uneven ground. By the time you reach the meeting spot, Mari is already there, pacing back and forth with the nervous energy of someone who's had too much coffee and not enough sleep. Which is impossible, since you haven't had real coffee in months, but Mari has always been able to generate anxiety out of thin air.

"You're late," she says without preamble.

"I'm exactly on time," you reply, checking the position of the sun. "Same time as always."

Mari stops pacing and looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Are you... are we okay?"

The question catches you off guard. You set down the containers and study her face, taking in the way she won't quite meet your eyes, the defensive set of her shoulders.

"Why wouldn't we be okay?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Mari crosses her arms, and there's something sharp in her voice now, familiar in the way that makes your stomach drop. "You've been weird lately. Ever since..." She gestures vaguely toward the stream. "You know."

Oh. Oh, shit. You'd almost forgotten about Mari walking in on you and Shauna at the stream, the way she'd gone all stiff and strange when she saw Shauna's hands on your skin, even though it had been completely medical. Completely innocent. The way she'd made some excuse about needing to check the snares and disappeared for the rest of the day.

"Mari," you start, but she's already talking again, the words coming out in a rush.

"Because if you're pissed at me for interrupting your little... moment, or whatever that was, then just say so. Don't make me guess. I hate guessing."

"I'm not pissed at you."

"Then why do you look like you want to crawl under a rock?"

Because Shauna thinks you have a thing for Mari, and you're not sure how to explain that you don't without making everything infinitely more awkward than it already is. Because Mari is looking at you like she expects you to say something meaningful, and you have no idea what that something should be.

"I don't want to crawl under a rock," you say lamely.

Mari snorts. "Right. Okay. Cool. Very convincing." She picks up one of the water containers and heads toward the lake, leaving you to follow. "So what's the deal with you and Shauna anyway? You two have been acting like my neighbors before they got divorced."

Your foot catches on a root, sending a sharp jolt up your injured leg. You stumble slightly, catching yourself before you can fall, but Mari notices.

"Jesus, are you okay?" She drops the container and reaches for your arm, but you wave her off.

"I'm fine. Just wasn't watching where I was going."

Mari doesn't look convinced. "Maybe you should use your cane. Didn't Misty make you that thing for a reason?"

"Misty says I don't need it anymore."

"Since when do you listen to anything Misty says?"

Since she's the closest thing you have to a doctor out here, and arguing with her about medical decisions seems like a good way to break your promise to Shauna. But you don't say that. Instead, you bend to retrieve the container Mari dropped, wincing slightly as your leg protests the movement.

"Look," Mari says, and her voice has gone softer, less aggressive. "I know I'm not, like, your favorite person or whatever. And I know I'm not good at this stuff. The talking thing. But if something's wrong, you can tell me, okay? I'm not completely useless."

The sincerity in her voice makes something twist uncomfortable in your chest. Mari has always been prickly, quick to assume the worst, but underneath all that defensive armor, she's trying. She's been trying to be something resembling a friend.

"Nothing's wrong," you say, which is only partially a lie. "Shauna and I just... we had a disagreement."

"About what?"

About the fact that she thinks you're being reckless with your recovery, and you think she's being overprotective, and neither of you knows how to have a normal conversation about anything anymore without it turning into a fight about something else entirely.

"Medical stuff," you say instead.

Mari nods like this makes perfect sense. "She's been weird lately too. Weirder than usual, I mean. Yesterday I saw her standing outside Misty's hut for like ten minutes, just staring at it."

This is news to you. Shauna hadn't mentioned anything about talking to Misty, but then again, you two haven't been doing much talking at all lately. Just careful politeness and strategic avoidance of anything that might lead to actual conversation.

"Huh," you say.

"Yeah, 'huh' is right." Mari hefts her container and starts toward the water again. "You know what I think?"

"What do you think, Mari?"

"I think you two need to just fuck already and get it over with."

You nearly drop your container. "What?"

"Oh, come on." Mari doesn't even look back at you. "The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife. It's making everyone uncomfortable. Even Misty commented on it, and Misty doesn't notice anything that doesn't directly relate to her weird obsession with being needed."

"Shauna's not even—there's no sexual tension," you say, but your voice comes out higher than intended, and Mari turns to look at you with one eyebrow raised.

"Right. Sure. And I'm the Queen of England." She kneels by the stream and starts filling her container. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but whatever it was, just talk to her about it. This passive-aggressive bullshit is exhausting to watch."

You want to argue, want to insist that there's nothing passive-aggressive about the way you and Shauna have been tiptoeing around each other. 

"It's complicated," you say finally.

"Everything's complicated out here." Mari caps her container and stands, brushing dirt off her knees. "Doesn't mean you get to make the rest of us suffer through your domestic drama."

The walk back to camp is quieter, both of you lost in thought. You can't stop thinking about what Mari said, about Shauna standing outside Misty's hut. About the way she'd looked when you mentioned not using the cane, like you'd slapped her.

When you reach the main camp, Mari splits off toward the fire pit, and you head back to your shared hut. Shauna is sitting on her sleeping area, focused intently on sharpening her knife, the repetitive scraping sound filling the small space. She doesn't look up when you enter.

"Water's back," you announce unnecessarily, setting the containers down near the entrance.

"Great," Shauna replies without looking up from her blade.

You stand there for a moment, watching her work. Her movements are precise, methodical, the same three strokes repeated over and over. It's meditative, almost, except for the way her jaw is set, the slight tension in her shoulders that suggests she's thinking about more than just keeping her knife sharp.

"I'm going to help Van with the firewood," you say, mostly to break the silence.

This gets Shauna's attention. She looks up, her eyes immediately going to your leg. "You're what?"

"Firewood. Van asked yesterday if I could help her split some of the bigger logs."

Shauna sets down her knife with more force than necessary. "You're not splitting firewood."

"Why not?"

"Because you can barely walk without limping, and you want to swing an axe around?"

"I can walk fine," you say, which is mostly true. The limp is barely noticeable now, more of a slight favoring than anything dramatic.

"Right. That's why you nearly fell on your ass walking to the lake this morning."

You freeze. "How do you know that?"

Shauna has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I may have... watched. From a distance. To make sure you made it okay."

"You followed me?"

"I didn't follow you. I just... observed. From a reasonable distance. For safety purposes."

"You spied on me."

"I was being cautious!"

And just like that, you're fighting again.

"I don't need you to be cautious for me," you snap. "I don't need you to monitor my every movement and make sure I'm walking properly. I'm not a child."

"You're acting like one," Shauna shoots back. "Refusing to use your cane, insisting you can do manual labor when you can barely—"

"I can do whatever I want! Misty said I'm healing fine, that I don't need the cane anymore. So maybe instead of questioning my judgment, you should question yours."

Shauna goes very still. "What do you mean, Misty said you don't need the cane anymore?"

Something in her voice makes you pause. There's a dangerous quiet to it, the kind that usually precedes someone doing something they'll regret later.

"She said my leg is healing well. That I've been relying on the cane too much, and it's time to start building strength again."

"When did she say this?"

"Yesterday. After dinner." You cross your arms, defensive. "Why does it matter?"

But Shauna is already moving, pushing past you toward the entrance of the hut. "It matters because Misty doesn't get to make unilateral decisions about your medical care without consulting me."

"Since when are you my doctor?"

Shauna stops, her hand on the door flap. When she turns back to look at you, there's something raw in her expression, something that makes your chest tight.

"Since I'm the one who's been taking care of you," she says quietly. "Since I'm the one who stayed up for three days straight when you had that fever. Since I'm the one who's been cleaning your wounds and monitoring your progress and making sure you don't push yourself too hard too fast."

The words hang between you, loaded with everything you've been avoiding talking about. The way Shauna has been hovering, protective and worried. The way you've been chafing against that protection, desperate to prove you're not broken. The way neither of you knows how to navigate this thing between you that's more than friendship but not quite whatever comes next.

"Shauna," you start, but she's already pushing through the door flap.

You follow her across the camp, watching as she marches toward Misty's hut with the determined stride of someone about to start a war. A few of the others look up from their various tasks, sensing drama in the air. You catch Nat's eye from where she's cleaning her rifle, and she raises her eyebrows in a question. You shrug helplessly.

Shauna doesn't bother to announce herself at Misty's hut. She just pushes inside, and you can hear her voice rising almost immediately.

"Uh, What the hell?"

You hover outside, not sure if you should intervene or just let them fight it out. Inside the hut, you can hear Misty's voice, higher and more defensive than Shauna's.

"I'm providing medical care, which is my job, in case you've forgotten—"

"Your job is to consult with me before making decisions about her treatment!"

"Since when is that your job? Last I checked, you weren't the one with medical training—"

"I'm the one who's been taking care of her!"

There's a pause, and when Misty speaks again, her voice has gone sly.

"Oh, I see. This isn't about medical care at all, is it? This is about control."

"It's about making sure she doesn't hurt herself because she's too stubborn to admit she's not ready—"

"Or maybe it's about making sure she still needs you."

The silence that follows is deafening. You find yourself holding your breath, waiting for Shauna's response. When it comes, her voice is deadly quiet.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Misty says quickly, but the damage is done. "I just meant—"

"No, you said what you meant. You think I want her to stay injured so she'll be dependent on me."

"I didn't say that—"

"That's exactly what you said."

You can't stand outside anymore. You push through the entrance to find Shauna and Misty facing off across the small space, Misty backed against her supply crates, Shauna looming over her with her hands clenched into fists.

"Hey," you say, and both women turn to look at you. "Maybe we could not do this right now?"

"She thinks I'm keeping you sick on purpose," Shauna says, her voice shaking with anger.

"I never said sick," Misty protests. "I said dependent. There's a difference."

"Oh, much better," you say dryly. "Thanks for clarifying."

Misty has the grace to look slightly ashamed, but she rallies quickly. "Look, I'm just saying that maybe there's a reason Shauna doesn't want you using your independence back. Maybe she likes being needed."

"And maybe," Shauna says, taking a step closer to Misty, "you should mind your own fucking business."

"This is my business. Medical decisions are my business."

"Then make them based on medicine, not whatever psychological profile you think you've developed."

You step between them before Shauna can get any closer. Up close, you can see that she's shaking, not just with anger but with something deeper. Hurt, maybe. The accusation that she would deliberately keep you injured has hit something raw.

"Okay," you say, looking between them. "Here's what's going to happen. Misty, you're going to explain your medical reasoning for why I don't need the cane anymore. With actual medical terms, not psychology. Shauna, you're going to listen without interrupting. And then we're all going to act like adults and figure this out together."

Misty straightens, gathering her authority around her like armor. "Fine. The fracture in your tibia has healed sufficiently that continued use of assistive devices may actually impede muscle recovery. You need to start putting weight on the leg to rebuild strength, and the cane allows you to avoid doing that."

"And the risk of re-injury?" Shauna asks through gritted teeth.

"Minimal, as long as she doesn't do anything stupid like split firewood or carry heavy objects."

You look between them, seeing the compromise hidden in Misty's words. "So I can walk without the cane, but no heavy lifting."

"Correct."

Shauna's jaw works like she's chewing on something bitter. "And if she re-injures herself?"

"Then we deal with it," Misty says simply. "But keeping her immobile isn't helping anyone."

There's a long moment where Shauna just stares at Misty, and you can see her working through it, trying to separate her medical concerns from her personal ones. Finally, she nods stiffly.

"Fine. But if she gets hurt—"

"Then you can say 'I told you so' all you want," you interrupt. "But I'm not going to get hurt. I'm going to be careful, and I'm going to listen to my body, and I'm going to take it slow."

Shauna looks at you, and something in her expression softens slightly. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"And no firewood?"

You sigh. "No firewood."

"Or water carrying. Mari can handle that for a while longer."

"Shauna—"

"Promise."

There's something almost desperate in her voice, and you realize this isn't really about the medical stuff at all. This is about the fight you had two days ago, about trust and control and the way you both keep pushing each other's buttons without meaning to.

"I promise," you say quietly. "No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity. I'll take it easy."

Some of the tension leaves Shauna's shoulders. "Okay. Good."

Misty looks between you with barely concealed interest, like she's watching a particularly fascinating nature documentary. "Well," she says finally, "I'm glad we could resolve this so maturely."

The sarcasm in her voice makes you want to strangle her, but Shauna just nods curtly and turns to leave. You follow her out into the main camp, where several of your fellow survivors are pretending not to have been listening to the entire argument.

"That was fun," you say once you're out of earshot.

Shauna makes a noise that might be laughter or might be a sob. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have confronted her like that."

"She kind of had it coming."

"Maybe, but it wasn't..." Shauna stops walking and turns to face you. "I don't want to control you. You know that, right? I just—"

"I know," you say quickly. "And I know I've been pushing back harder than I need to. I just hate feeling useless."

"You're not useless."

"I'm not useful either."

Shauna studies your face for a long moment, and you can see her choosing her words carefully. "You're healing," she says finally. "That's your job right now. Not being useful, not contributing to camp activities. Just healing."

"That's not a job, that's just existing."

"Sometimes existing is enough."

There's something in her voice that makes you look at her more closely, something that suggests she's not just talking about you anymore. But before you can ask what she means, Van appears at your elbow.

"So," she says cheerfully, "I heard someone mention firewood?"

You and Shauna both turn to stare at her, and Van's grin falters slightly.

"Too soon?" she asks.

"Way too soon," you confirm.

"Got it. I'll come back later."

Van disappears as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Shauna alone again. The silence stretches between you, but it's different now. Less sharp, less loaded with unspoken accusations.

"We should probably go back to the hut," Shauna says eventually.

"Probably."

But neither of you moves. You're both looking at each other like you're trying to solve a puzzle, trying to figure out how to get back to the easy familiarity you once had.

"For what it's worth," you say finally, "I don't think you want to keep me dependent on you."

"Good. Because I don't."

"I know. And I'm sorry I've been so difficult about the recovery stuff. I know you're just trying to help."

Shauna nods, and some of the last tension leaves her posture. "I'm sorry too. For being overbearing. And for spying on you."

"Observing from a reasonable distance," you correct with a slight smile.

"Right. Observing."

You start walking back toward your hut, falling into step beside each other. It feels normal again, or close to it. The careful politeness is gone, replaced by something that feels more like your actual friendship.

"So," Shauna says as you reach the hut, "what do you want to do today?"

"Well, I was thinking about splitting some firewood," you say innocently.

Shauna gives you a look that could melt steel. "Try again."

You laugh, the first real laugh you've had in days. "How about we just... exist for a while? See how that goes?"

Shauna considers this, then nods. "I can work with existing."

Because, like, wdym you AMPUTATED YOUR COACHS LEG WITH AN AXE OR SOME SHIT?! Yeah, it was necessary for his survival but holy shit. And then you proceed to sneak away from the campfire and BURN HIS WOUND CLOSED. Again, necessary medical intervention but damn, let the man hold someone’s hand or smth and no, not yours.

Then, you don’t leave him the fuck alone when he is very clearly traumatized not only from the plane crash but also learning how to live with his new disability. Not only that but when you confess your feelings to him, it’s (imo) likely he felt afraid that if he rejected you, you would pull some yandere “if I can’t have you no one can” shit and hurt him.

And bitches be crazy so you find your old stash of SHROOMS in a plan to SEXUALLY ASSAULT HIM WHILE HES UNDER THE INFLUENCE.

When that fails and he tries to kill himself to escape his misery and all the pain and suffering, a good deal of which YOU have put him through; you threaten to tarnish his memory as a rapist predator who impregnated Shauna and tried to harm everyone else. And when that doesn’t work you throw in some homophobia, threatening to tell the world he’s gay.

All of the Yellowjackets are crazy in some way, shape or form but this isn’t part of Misty’s charm, it’s not a product of childhood trauma or a role forced upon her like Nat, it’s not something she became in the wilderness as a way of finding herself like Lottie, it’s not anger from losing her best friend and her firstborn like Shauna, she was ALWAYS this crazy before the crash. It just took the plane crash for her to really show it.

The only reason she wasn’t doing the things she did in the woods back in Wiskayok was because of the bullying she endured before. With so many eyes and opportunities for rumors it was too hard for her to make moves on Coach Ben and with no medical emergencies we know of where she was the only one capable of taking care of the situation, she never felt useful.

The Yellowjackets are all very complex but there are things about them that are most likely written for you to hate them or dislike them for.

For Jackie it’s her treatment of Shauna, the getting with Travis behind Nat’s back, and being mostly useless in the woods because she doesn’t have the skills set they need. She says Shauna’s the best friend she’s ever had but never says why. Jackie never goes into detail about the good in Shauna’s character and always finds a way to attach herself to Shauna, like she is the extension of Jackie.

For Shauna it’s the anger she expels, especially towards Lottie after her baby dies. It’s no one’s fault the baby died, it was almost inevitable it would happen with the way they were living and Shauna is clearly experiencing post partum trauma. While Lottie does volunteer to be the outlet for Shauna’s anger, she’s beaten within an inch of her life and it’s even implied she sustains an infection in one of her organs. Of course, the sneaking around with her best friend’s boyfriend is another major flaw of Shauna’s and she lies to Jackie instead of coming clean about it, only furthering their toxic relationship.

Nat’s is letting Javi die and telling Travis the wilderness chose when she knows that’s not true. Misty is also a major contributor to this action of Nat’s because if she had not told Nat to let Javi drown, he would have lived longer. Although this is a tug of war flaw, it’s an unlikable action nonetheless. Nat knows that she was complicit in Javi’s death in exchange for her own survival and has to relay the information to Travis, the boy she’s supposedly in love with.

Nat does also have other flaws that I can’t list off the top of my head right now but an important point to note is that Coach Ben wanted to flee with Nat. He didn’t think she was as crazy as the others and probably thought her mental state was “salvageable” to some extent when it came to the cannibalism, even though Nat was almost not phased by such an act.

But the thing with Misty is that her actions can most likely be traced back to being the catalyst of all of this that happened post crash. Her destroying the emergency box was crucial in not only cutting the team off from the outside world but also cemented herself as the main healthcare provider, as poor and unreliable as the care provided may be.

Obviously, it’s still a likely possibility that they would be stranded for quite some time in the woods but that time could have been cut significantly shorter if they were able to at least have some communication with the outside world.

They were just teenage girls trying to survive but Misty is the one whose single action sends them on the downward spiral to uncivilized behavior because of her selfish desire to be seen. Think of where they could be present day if Misty hadn’t broken that box.

Their lives wouldn’t be perfect but do you think Nat would have as much of a need for six stints in rehab? Would Tai and Van have gone no contact, would Tai’s marriage still be intact even if they had broke up? Would Shauna be able to have her baby and raise it to hunt Jeff down and kill him like she promised? Would she be at Brown? Would Jackie and Kristen and Laura Lee and Mari and Ben and Coach Martinez and Javi and Nat and Lottie be dead?

But in all of these scenarios there’s no Misty, and that’s the problem for her. Everyone moves on with their lives after high school and she doesn’t. She peaks there, not because her high school experience was particularly fun but because that’s the only time she truly felt included in something. She can’t have them leading their own lives so she indirectly ends several of them and deeply traumatizes everyone else.

This is why I believe she ultimately ends up going into the medical field that she does because she can play with people’s lives and most of the time they’re too senile to be able to tell anyone about it.