#and just remembered how i really really hate my family

[seaemberthesecond]

PLEASE tell me all about your textual support for Aurora/Declan, i am LISTENING 👀🙏🏻

This is heinously late and I'm so sorry for that 😭 but this is one of my FAVOURITE things to think about.

Aurora is such an interesting character to me, particularly in relation to Declan. For all that Ronan spends all of TRC furious that Declan has denied Aurora personhood ("She's nothing without Dad") and trying to keep her awake, it's actually through Declan's eyes that she really comes alive. Ronan's version of his mother is more one-dimensional than Declan's, ironically enough, even though he's the one who supposedly 'loves her more.' It's Declan who's spent his life grappling with the philosophical implications of her dreamt-ness and her replacement of his actual mother (which, in a stunning parenting move by Niall, only he seems to remember) and as a result, his feelings toward her are considerably more complicated than his brothers' and he's the only one who really seems to think deeply about her.

The mystery Aurora is shrouded in for Declan turns her into almost this... sinister figure in his mind. It's like - Niall is this known entity for Declan right? He doesn't think of him in nearly the same lionizing light Ronan does, because he actually knew Niall. He doesn't need to create a mythology around him the way Ronan has. His "hatred" for Niall is not only comparitively straightforward, it's self-aware. He knows exactly what his grievances with his father are and he knows that he doesn't even really hate him.

But with Aurora, he skirts around the thought of her. He can't even look his complicated feelings for her head-on. She's inscrutable to him, and that's kind of terrifying in a psych-thriller kind of way.

There's this unease that he associates with her in the text, that's just not there when he thinks about Niall. He's constantly second-guessing himself when it comes to Aurora re: how much did she know, how real she was etc. In Greywaren, there's this part where he's thinking about when he was sick as a child. And it's fascinating to me because there's this implication there that he didn't feel safe in the house with Aurora until Niall came back. He only relaxes and goes to sleep when Niall comes home. And it adds to this general malaise that Declan associates with Aurora.

I've talked before about how the secrets Declan is forced to keep are an allegory of sexual abuse, and in that light it's kind of damning when you consider that in the Lynch household, the arbiter of secrets is Aurora, not Niall. Throughout the Declan Christmas short, it's Aurora who's reinforcing the importance of secrets, who makes him help her hide them. She's the one who tells Declan that he has to keep Matthew's origin a secret. And in MI, it's Aurora who first tells Ronan that he needs to hide his dreaming and never show his dreams to anyone. So if we're looking at the text through the lens of allegory-for-csa, Aurora's position in the household becomes much more sinister because a lot of the harm that's been done to the kids and particularly Declan is attributable directly to her.

And then there's the fact that all the Ashleys' looked like her - there's something Freudian going on there for sure.

tl;dr while the textual evidence is slim lol it is there if you wanna see it and I am looking with a magnifying glass. Was any of this done with authorial intent? Probably not, but who cares?

And this is where stuff diverts from the text itself and veers more into my spin on things, but everything about Aurora/Declan becomes insanely compelling to me when you think about it in relation to Mor. Mor is the hole inside Aurora. Imagine you're a young woman who was molested her whole life by a family member and now you're out-of-touch with your own emotions and you have this kid and you think you love him with this man and you think you love him too. But you know you're fucking them up, so you and your husband dream a version of you that's perfect. She's the perfect wife and the perfect mother and you've sanded down all the edges and sharp, spiky parts that make you you because you think that's the version of yourself your family deserves and then you leave. But you can't dream anything without putting your pain inside it. So you have this hollow half-woman walking around with a pain inside her she doesn't know how she got and a life she doesn't remember and the only person who seems to have any answers is this kid that she think is her own but is he really? And in her attempt to feel the shape of the hole in her she re-enacts your trauma on your kid.

I am EATING GLASS. The cycles are CYCLING. NO ONE talk to me.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

---

Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad. 

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you. 

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing. 

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets. 

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way. 

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged. 

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown. 

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day. 

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her. 

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped. 

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas. 

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening. 

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye. 

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination. 

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina���s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it. 

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place. 

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her. 

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there. 

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen. 

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group. 

---

chapter 2

[jovine]

when the flashbacks happen lol

[ginniesfangirllife]

............

No. I refuse to view these two as the same person.

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

---------------

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

-----------------

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

----------------

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

------------------

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[buttercupshands]

Chapter 419 Analysis or "How to make allies not pawns" a helpful guide from League of Villains (part 2)

This is now a second part of Tomura character analysis.

With chapter 419 being probably our last time seeing Tomura for a while, since we need to learn what happened with Aizawa now is time to remember that not only bad things exist it Tomura's life.

Warning of spoilers to the whole manga to the point of chapter 419! All of the warnings from My Villain Academy side of manga are applicable

So like... mentions of death, killing other people, manipulation, emotional abuse and many more!

This is Part 2 - See here for Part 1 of this depressing mess

With AFO being so sure that he knows better and actually controlled every single part of Tenko's life creating a Symbol of Fear without any redeeming qualities or even hope for saving after he destroys him. There's one thing that AFO still doesn't understand about Tomura and never did - and that's his allies, or the League of Villains that he created.

Even Kurogiri, being a Nomu who's views do not stray from what AFO thought was important didn't exactly understand what did Tomura think about his allies quick to assume that he thought of them as pawns all the was back in the Training Camp arc. With Tomura making game examples to explain the situation, he still didn't think of LoV as just pawns on a desk, like AFO does.

At the time of USJ arc there weren't many people Tomura called this, which could make you wonder how much it was just AFO's plan rather than Tomura's with him never worrying about those other villains yet getting so worked up over losing Nomu not only because he was strong enough to defend him from All-Might, but treating his defeat as something that must be avenged.

And that was long before Stain even entered the picture, the first of three people who greatly affected Tomura's view of his own motives alongside AFO's manipulation of literally everything else.

Tomura was terrified of fighting All-Might seconds before this and yet as this goes on it's becoming more noticeable - Tomura doesn't care for his own fear or worries as long as he's fighting for someone else's good. Not so different from how Izuku is ready to disregard himself for the sake of others, resulting in many injuries and being so close to dying so many times.

It never was a secret that Tomura is highly dependent on others to keep himself from losing confidence, or even will to fight, getting either too anxious to continue without anyone's reassurance.

And while AFO's "help" was mostly given only with some kind of lesson as we saw in "Tomura Shigaraki: Origin", with AFO literally sitting there, saying how Tenko is weak for not killing but showing some restrain instead suffering himself, never actually helping or comforting him. Only offering what he deemed nessesary for his own plan of making Tenko kill those thugs not caring that he's feeling sick from those hands.

But in USJ it's not AFO who's there with Tomura, it's Kurogiri, who was shown to still have some care that Shirakumo had that even Aizawa and Mic couldn't argue that it's similar to how Shirakumo couldn't just leave a kitten in the rain. No matter the responsibility that it would bring with taking a little one in.

A helpless little kitten that didn't get the help it needs from anyone else. Sounds way too familiar.

This never was a direct order from AFO other than he needs to "tend and protect" for Tomura, which can mean anything from just looking out when Tomura's sick, or protect him from any tread like someone trying to kill him.

Not helping him getting over his anxiety to fight or helping him and guiding him to do better as a leader of the League calming him if it got out of control. Which is somewhat opposite to the way AFO deals with Decay and Tomura's temper - letting him destroy anything even the hands that he gave him, just offering new ones when he succeedes and never really caring for his pawns, he can always get new ones.

And surely not asking if Tomura's well the first thing while talking to Heroes.

Which then leads us back to how Tomura never viewed anyone that he chose as pawns calling them his allies, with the word '仲間' which can even be translated as friends in needed context, but usually used as comrade or ally when Tomura says it. And the same thing is usually translated as "friend" when used by Twice.

In any case Tomura never once doubted his allies since he saw them as reliable, even if his first meeting with Toga and Dabi went so wrong that Kurogiri had to stop them from killing each other.

Up to the point of Training Camp AFO describes as him teaching Tomura to be independent which was at that point too far from the truth than he thought. If Tomura begging for AFO to leave with them is any indicator he actually was even less independent after All-Might almost caught them, making him doubt his own worth as a leader. Even if AFO's defeat finally let him think and wonder about himself and his past.

AFO believed that Tomura just knowing how to recruit people would suddenly make him great at using those new "pawns" which was proven wrong by Overhaul no so long after that. Showing how Tomura believed the same thing AFO did as well, fully trusting his judgement of anything including himself, all the while parroting what AFO says without fully understanding what it means.

Only after losing both Magne and Mr. Compress arm does Tomura slowly start making progress in becoming someone more than AFO tells him to do. Even if as we see in part 1 it used Decay as the ground to make it stable since he believed it was his quirk. And yet.

Even if Tomura didn't simply instruct his allies how to choose who to recruit, he never blamed them for it. On the opposite, when Twice was hard on himself after bringing Overhaul to them Tomura just looked at them for the first time without a hand on his face, or even on himself at all, showing how he trusts them as much as he would trust himself and believes that they can do it.

Taking off hands of his family would mean not relying on the conflicting feelings that they bring into the picture, something AFO would very much dissaprove, since he was now like an equal to everyone in LoV instead of being above them. He

And with this instead of making them blindly trust his decisions and following him from fear or adoration like people had been following AFO or Overhaul, he instead was an equal to them both in failure and victory that wasn't even all that guaranteed yet.

Each one of them had their own somewhat selfish goal that just seemed like they were just using each other without any worry being each other's pawns. Or maybe that's just how AFO would see them.

Yet it doesn't explain why did Toga care for Twice's trauma response of not having his mask on, since he already did his part and all that they both needed to do was done. But LoV was never about following orders or giving them, expecting for the pawns to follow without question. It was about a leader of the group that would stand up for his allies while allowing them full freedom, except when they needed to also accept that something is needed to be done for their own sake.

Like following Overhaul for a while all for cutting off his hands leaving him with nothing. Did that sound like something reasonable to do? No! They literally lost their chance at having sushi instead of just living at some abadoned building all the while occasionally searching for money or food, stealing and killing just to survive all while Tomura was just... waiting.

Nothing was really stable at the start of what we call My Villain Academia and yet no one from the LoV left while their state was... bad at the very least. No matter how AFO was teaching Tomura he was still left mostly waiting for something to happen rather than doing something to change the situation himself.

Sure, Tomura now was a famous leader of League of Villains that suddenly needed to be stopped rather that underestimated like before. But that was in the future, now LoV was laying low on funds and slowly Tomura showing his face became the norm, with him usually never wearing hands around LoV.

And with Tomura becoming more and more comfortable around LoV, the LoV itself was becoming more like a place that had one core value that accepted anything else added without anyone wondering about the past of others, like Compress said. Just some selfish people, who still followed their own needs first.

And yet somehow Toga, who joined just because she loved Stain and disliked how life was too hard found her place in the LoV alongside Twice who just needed to be trusted and trust in return. If Tomura only followed what AFO deemed to be the best way to lead no one would actually feel like they're accepted in the LoV as much as they were.

Goal or no goal Tomura succeeded even without having the whole world at the palm of his hands by just never pressing anyone to actually follow him - if they wanted to they could've just left here and there, but since they chose to follow he did what he thought was the obvious best - let his allies do what they wanted.

Which was okay for someone like Toga or Dabi who were either already comfortable by just being allowed to be themselves or being free to plan their own things for their own goals.

But not exactly that for Spinner. Who was instead literally searching for someone to show him what to do, not so different from Tomura, who still only followed whatever 'his Sensei' deemed worthy for him to look into, like letting Kurogiri go find unknown "power" that AFO left along with contact with Doctor.

And while Spinner was not fine with still being hollow even while following Tomura pretending that it's the same thing as following Stain... all it took for him to look differently at how exactly was Tomura thinking was the last real "barrier" that there was - Tomura basically spilling his whole backstory and motivations mostly for LoV to listen to, since Doctor was just testing Tomura's will all according to AFO's plan.

And after that it didn't took too long for Spinner to now follow Tomura, even if it was still not the time to really see the 'warped horizon that was waiting for them'. And yet in times where Tomura still showed some doubt over his decisions - that one old trait of his showing up like it was always at the back of his head not so different from USJ, only thing changing that Tomura got better and better at not letting his emotions control him so easily.

Since the price of that would literally be lifes of his allies.

And neither that or using their emotions to his own benefit was ever in his plans, contrast to AFO manipulating Tomura to do just that. Letting his emotions consume him completely just for his own goal and for his own sake. But as a person who was so familiar with this Tomura still was adamant at NOT allowing something like this to happen to his friends allies.

Effectively creating a bond between all six of them, including Toya that in the end kept them together until the very final arc, with Spinner keeping what Tomura would've thought and with him waking up and calling Machia to get LoV first and foremost Spinner did understand their's leader wishes, as well as Twice's who literally died for his friends.

With all that happening in the War arc the moment AFO returned with both being in control of Tomura's body and just abadoned anything that Tomura would care for like leaving Mr. Compress and Machia behind just to punish him for not getting OFA or not even caring to show any actual respect for Tomura's wishes. Instead showing how little he actually cared for anything but his own good.

But while AFO made so many pawns that he could change like gloves at any given moment, threating them and manipulating them with his power and quirks, Tomura only had 6 allies who stayed after AFO was caught and who were willing to die just to live the life they wanted.

And AFO couldn't give them that.

Even if Decay isn't Tenko's quirk and even if he has so much guilt for killing without it being a little bit justified by it...

LoV still followed him as a person who allowed them to live as they please and so what they want, not some all-powerfull overlord but an ally and a leader who had his flaws and fallings.

[pinchan]

[tricoufamily]

once again thinking about how easy it would be for me to be in a relationship if i was cis

[graveyarrdshift]

the older i get, the more i hate my family

[deus-ex-mona]

rage is a ✨way of life✨

[crows-of-buckets]

Its the middle of the night and instead of sleeping I keep thinking about Aviae and Anders's dynamic ougaggga

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[prismatica-the-strange]

Nope, I'm still crying

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[philsmeatylegss]

A huge underlying view among many terfs that frustrates me beyond belief is Islamophobia. I have seen countless of posts from Terfs using the stories of abused Muslim women as an excuse to say the whole religion is oppressive and sexist. I have seen so many posts about how hijabs and burkas are oppressive and women who choose to wear them are working against women’s rights. They often imply that most of, if not all, Muslim men are violent in the name of religion. They fail to make the obvious connection between the fact that there’s a huge difference between fascist governments using Islam as an excuse to oppress women and actual Islam and Muslims. Ofc women should have the right to chose if they want to be religious, if they want to cover up, if they want to take on a submissive role. No one is denying that. The reasons those rights are taken from women, often in the Middle East (which is what terfs often reference), is the fault of the government, not the religion. Yeah, there are abusive men who will use Islam as an excuse for their actions. Just like there are Christian men who will use Christianity as an excuse for their actions. Same goes for pretty much all religions. People covering up their abuse under the guise of religion is not limited to just Islam. It happens in most religions. It’s happened pretty much since religion started.

It’s just so ignorant and out of touch and you know they have never spoken to a Muslim person. If they did, they would know Muslims are the same as Christians and Jews and atheists and so on. It’s not some evil curse. It’s a religion that mainly focuses on peace. And to demonize it, using the horrors women have faced as an excuse is just so messed up. Most people on the internet haven’t realized there’s a big difference between a religion and people using that religion as a coverup for their shitty actions. The existence of governments using Islam to persecute women is because of bad people, not Islam. Terfs just want one group of people to be declared bad so they can blame everything on them. They claim to want to protect all women, and then condemn an entire religion. They talk about horrid treatment of women and blame religion rather than the perpetrators. It’s a very common belief a lot of them hold and I never see it mentioned and it just really pisses me off.