#bowclair

[Part IV: The Subtext (Or: Oh Honey, Neither Of You are Subtle)]

Let’s talk about what’s actually happening beneath the surface.

Mutual Jealousy, Different Flavors

From my interpretation, what makes Erica and Tina’s conflict so compelling is that the jealousy runs both ways — it just manifests differently because they experience and interpret emotion through entirely different lenses.

Tina’s jealousy: On the surface, Tina frames Erica as a threat to her thing with Josh. That’s the story she tells herself and everyone else. But that explanation only works because it’s socially acceptable — not because it’s the truth. -What Tina actually sees in Erica is a threat to the narrative she’s carefully built for herself - Erica isn’t just competition for Josh’s attention; she’s competition for Tina’s self-denial - Erica represents a life lived without apology, without performance, without needing male validation — and that destabilizes Tina’s carefully constructed heterosexuality - When Tina accuses Erica with “you’re still jealous of me and Josh,” it’s projection. She’s naming the jealousy she can’t afford to admit exists inside herself. Erica doesn’t threaten Tina’s relationship with Josh — she threatens the version of Tina that feels safe, approved, and intact.

Erica’s jealousy: Erica’s jealousy is messier and harder for her to name. She insists she doesn’t care about Josh — and on a conscious level, that’s true. She finds him unimpressive, irritating, and not worth the emotional investment Tina keeps giving him. But what Erica does care about is access.

- She hates that Tina won’t shut up about Josh, not because Josh matters, but because Tina’s attention has shifted. - She hates that Josh is suddenly a priority — that he’s being centered in conversations that used to revolve around the two of them. - She doesn’t understand why this bothers her so much, so she rationalizes it the only way she knows how: Josh is annoying. Josh is dense. Josh isn’t worth it.

The Dodgeball Incident (Reframed)

What Erica tells herself (logic first, always):It was an accident. It was dodgeball. I didn’t do anything wrong. And from a purely factual standpoint, she isn’t wrong. Dodgeball is about throwing balls at people. Intent doesn’t technically matter

Erica saw Josh across the gym. She thought about how often Tina had been saying his name lately. How conversations had started circling back to him. How something that used to be theirs suddenly wasn’t. She felt that sharp twist of annoyance — frustration — something heavier she doesn’t have language for yet. She threw the ball harder than she needed to. Not with a plan. Not with malice. Just with feeling.

When it connected, there was a split second of satisfaction. And then, just as quickly, Erica buried it. Rationalized it. Filed it away under that’s how the game works. Because Erica doesn’t sit with emotions she can’t immediately explain — she outpaces them.

What Tina saw: Tina didn’t see an accident. She saw intention. She saw her best friend hurt the boy she was “supposed” to like — the boy she was using as proof that everything in her life made sense. To Tina, it looked like jealousy made physical. It felt like confirmation of something she was already afraid might be true.

And more importantly, it gave her permission.

Permission to be angry. Permission to pull away. Permission to create distance without having to examine why being close suddenly felt dangerous.

The truth: No villains. No masterminds. Just two girls who don’t understand their own feelings yet, acting them out in the only ways they know how — one through rationalization, the other through withdrawal.

And in the wreckage of that misunderstanding, a friendship that once felt unbreakable fractures completely.

(Projection Central)

TINA: “You’re still jealous of me and Josh.” **Translation:** “I’m feeling threatened by you and I need to make this about a boy so it makes sense.” ERICA: “I was never jealous of you and Josh.” **Translation:** “I’m not jealous of Josh himself, I’m jealous of the attention you give him, but I don’t know how to say that.” TINA: “You want to sabotage our chances of being together.” **Translation: “I’m sabotaging my own chances with Josh because deep down I don’t actually like him, I like you, and that terrifies me.” ERICA: “He humiliated himself by crying like a pu**y.” **Translation:** “I think Josh is pathetic and I don’t understand what you see in him and it makes me irrationally angry.”

The Conservative Household Factor:

Let’s not forget: We can’t talk about Tina Turnbow without considering where she comes from. She grew up in a home where her mother explicitly instructs her to be rude to Mormons and Democrats — a clear marker of a strict, conservative Christian household in 1980s Indiana.

That environment didn’t just shape what Tina said or did; it shaped what she felt she was allowed to feel. From a young age, she would have internalized rigid messages about:

- How girls should act; polite, modest, compliant, socially “appropriate” at all times

- Who girls should like; boys, preferably the ones deemed acceptable by parents, peers, and community

- What’s “acceptable” vs. “sinful” — behavior, thoughts, and desires all closely monitored

- How to be the right kind of popular, pretty, feminine daughter — visible, charming, but never threatening or transgressive

Now imagine that same girl developing confusing feelings for her best friend — a girl who is bold, unapologetic, chaotic, and brilliant in ways Tina secretly admires. Those feelings wouldn’t just be confusing; they would feel terryfying.

The Erica Factor:

Here’s the thing about Erica—she doesn’t carry fear the way Tina does. Not the kind that twists itself into guilt, or shame, or panic over what you’re “allowed” to feel. Erica doesn’t have the same framework that turns a simple pang of jealousy into an existential crisis.

The Sinclair household isn’t perfect, but it’s not conservative in the same way. Erica is encouraged to be smart, opinionated, herself. She’s not getting messaging about what kind of girl she’s “supposed” to be in the same way Tina is. So when Erica feels jealous about Josh, she doesn’t have the same “this is sinful/wrong” panic that Tina does. She just has… confusion. Annoyance. A feeling she can’t quite name.

Erica’s jealousy is more straightforward: “I don’t like Josh getting Tina’s attention because Tina is my best friend. She’s mine’s and mine’s only.” She might not have the words for it being romantic yet, but she doesn’t have the same layers of shame blocking her from the feeling itself. Which makes the dynamic even more painful—Tina is running from something Erica hasn’t even consciously identified yet.

The Timeline Is Suspicious on both their ends

They went from: - Constant sleepovers - Telling each other everything - Tina covering for Erica “when needed” - The Turnbows seeing Erica 24/7 and having basically accepted her into their family To: - “Arch enemies” - Not speaking - Tina refusing to forgive an accidental(-ish) dodgeball injury In again twelve days. When it comes to them in my head, that's not a natural friendship drift. That’s two people running scared from feelings they can’t handle.

I saw in a visual twt thread for ladypie by @dyersfilm that she identified Tina as (Popular Yet Quiet) and I couldn’t agree more.

Tina is popular—she has the look, the status, the friends, the life that checks all the boxes. On paper, she seems untouchable, effortless, the kind of person people notice without even realizing it. But she’s also quiet. Not in the sense of shy or invisible, but in the sense that she’s constantly monitoring herself. Carefully calibrating every word, every laugh, every expression. Guarding what she lets the world see. Protecting the parts of herself that don’t fit the picture-perfect mold.

Which, when you really unpack it, tells you so much about her:

- She’s constantly watching herself, measuring, assessing, recalibrating.

- She hides her real thoughts and feelings, even from people closest to her.

- She performs a role more than she actually lives it

- She’s terrified of saying the “wrong” thing, of slipping outside the invisible boundaries she’s constructed

Tina isn’t loud and confident like Erica. She’s carefully constructed. And when something threatens that construction? She panics. Meanwhile, Erica is loud. Erica doesn’t hide. Which makes her feelings for Tina (once she figures them out) even more dangerous from Tina’s perspective.

────────────────────────

[Part V: The Pie Scene -A Shot-by-Step Breakdown-]

The Setup:

Before Erica even shows up at Tina’s door, there’s this critical moment with Lucas and Mike. Vecna is targeting Derek, Holly is in danger, and they need Erica’s help to get into the Turnbow house. The stakes are high. Tension is thick. And yet… Erica’s initial responses are almost comedic in their bluntness: “Not possible.” “No can do.”

Not “maybe.” Not “what’s in it for me?” Not a hesitation, not a pause. Just those two words. Done. Final.

Which… honestly, says so much about her character.

Why does she answer like that? Two reasons:

Why? Two reasons: 1. Erica hates apologizing. At least, that’s the impression she gives me. Especially when she doesn’t think she’s actually in the wrong. In her mind, the whole dodgeball fiasco? An accident. A misstep. Not worth groveling over. Why should she? Why should she bend over backward for someone else’s feelings when, from her perspective, she hasn’t done anything wrong? Erica has a sharp sense of justice for herself, and she’s not about to throw herself under the bus unless it matters. 2. She doesn’t want to apologize to Tina specifically. This is the big one. Out of everyone in Hawkins, Tina is the person Erica wants to actively avoids apologizing to. Not only because it goes into their dynamic, but also it’s because at this time it’s too complicated. Too messy. Too… layered. Too full of feelings Erica isn’t ready to face—maybe feelings she doesn’t even fully understand yet. Every time she thinks about Tina, there’s this tangle of guilt, fear, curiosity, jealousy, pride—all of it bundled into one knot she doesn’t want to touch.

So she walks away. Drops the conversation. Starts to leaves. Done.

And then… Mike (bless him, truly) drops the kind of line that flips everything on its head: “But after it’s over, I don’t think Tina’s going to want to talk to you ever again.”

And suddenly, Erica is caught. Her walls, her carefully maintained defenses, her No can do attitude—they all crumble for just a moment. Because this isn’t about duty anymore. It’s not about Vecna, or Holly, or the mission. It’s about Tina. About the idea of losing any chance at ever facing her, ever talking to her, ever… being near her.

And Erica’s response? Perfectly her: “Well, why the hell didn’t you just start with that?”

And just like that, she’s in. She’s committed. She’s walking toward the storm, toward the complication she’s been avoiding.

What This Tells Us (The Unspoken Truth)

Let’s sit with what just happened. Because it’s devastating when you actually think about it.

“I don’t think Tina’s going to want to talk to you ever again.”

(Aside from Holly, of course.) That line—that simple, casual warning—is what flips Erica’s world upside down. That’s the thing that changes her mind. Not duty. Not fear of Vecna. Not obligation. The promise of permanent distance. The guarantee that this fight, this fallout, this twelve-day “arch enemy” situation could become forever.

On the surface, it reads like Erica hates Tina. Like she’s finally decided Tina isn’t worth the effort. Like burning that bridge completely, making Tina hate her for good, is… appealing.

But here’s the thing about Erica Sinclair: she deflects. She hides behind sarcasm, bravado, flip remarks, and sharp words. She’s a fortress made of sass and eye rolls.

“Well, why the hell didn’t you just start with that?”

But here’s the thing about Erica Sinclair: she deflects. She hides behind sarcasm, bravado, flip remarks, and sharp words. She’s a fortress made of sass and eye rolls.

“Well, why the hell didn’t you just start with that?”

Sounds casual. Sounds like she doesn’t care. Sounds like Tina is just another person on the list of people Erica has to deal with.

But let’s look at what she’s actually saying:

“Give me a reason to do this that doesn’t require me to be emotional. Give me a reason that makes sense. Give me permission to face Tina without admitting that I miss her.” Because let’s be honest—if Erica admits she wants to make up with Tina… if she admits she misses her best friend… if she admits that both of them have been miserable for twelve days… that’s vulnerability. That’s messy. That’s raw. That's weak. That’s admitting feelings she doesn’t know how to handle, feelings that might terrify her if she even names them.

But if the goal is something else? If the goal is to burn the bridge, to make Tina hate her so much that reconciliation is impossible? That’s safe. That’s mission-driven. That’s something Erica can accomplish without opening the floodgates of everything underneath. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. That’s something Erica can do without examining the messy feelings underneath. The Self-Sabotage - Here’s what Erica is thinking, even if she won’t admit it: “If Tina never forgives me after this, then I don’t have to deal with these confusing feelings anymore. I don’t have to wonder why I miss her so much. I don’t have to figure out why I was jealous of Josh. I don’t have to face whatever this is happening between us. It’ll just be over. Final. Done.” She’s giving herself permission to destroy the bridge completely—not because she wants to, but because it’s easier than navigating the messy, terrifying middle ground. The space of we’re not friends anymore but I still care about you, and I don’t know what that means. That space is complicated. Dangerous. Vulnerable. So she dresses it up as indifference. Hides it behind sarcasm. Protects herself with bravado. Because Erica Sinclair doesn’t have to deal with feelings she can’t yet name. Not yet.

The Approach:

Erica shows up at Tina’s door with her favorite pie and fake tears. The mission excuse is that she needs access to the house to sedate the family (because Vecna is targeting Derek and they need to save Holly). The personal excuse is that she’s making things so bad that Tina will never speak to her again.

But let’s look at what actually happens:

ERICA: “Listen, I know you probably hate me right now, but I thought you might want your favorite pie. And also I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Also as for the pie:

Notice what she brought. Not a generic pie. Not a last-minute attempt at a truce. Her favorite pie. Tina’s favorite. Even if it’s technically part of a plan, it’s personal. The pie is an act of care disguised as manipulation. Something specific she knows that Tina would add into her forgiving her. And along with the "apology" and "tears" Tina gets that immediately, which is why she starts to smile even before Erica finishes apologizing. Making someone’s favorite food from scratch is intimate. It’s personal. It’s “I know you well enough to know exactly what will make you happy."

And those fake tears? Yes, they’re performative. Yes, they’re part of the plan. But Erica Sinclair isn’t perfect at pretending. Behind the edges of her act, there’s probably a hint of real hurt, real regret, a tiny, undeniable thread of I miss my best friend.

TINA: (starts to smile slightly)

Look at that. The softening. The first cracks in the wall. Tina, even without words, is already wanting to forgive her. Already leaning toward letting Erica back into her world.

ERICA: “I’m so sorry, Tina.” TINA: (Fully smiles and pulls her into a hug)

Immediate forgiveness. Immediate physical affection. No hesitation. Just relief. Tina to me that moment gave off that she was waiting for an excuse to let Erica back in. On her end, she never actually wanted the distance.

The Dinner Table:

Mrs. Turnbow: “I’m so happy you girls made up.” And she means it. Genuinely. The Turnbows love Erica. They like and want her around. They see her for who she is and they welcome her fully. Which makes Tina’s avoidance of her even more telling and harder. Then there’s the pie. Erica pushing Tina to eat the pie—drugged for the mission, yes, but Tina doesn’t know that. What it becomes is a subtle battlefield of persistence versus resistance. - “Tina. Aren’t you gonna try some?” - “Well I used a low-fat creamer so you can enjoy guilt-free.” - “But I made it for you.” - “Just a bite or two.” And Tina’s resistance is just as telling: - “Just gotta watch those calories, you know.” - “I’m just not hungry.” - “I said I’m not hungry.”

And then—boom. The escalation.

TINA: “Okay, why are you being so weird? Why do you care so much if I eat your stupid pie? Oh my god, it’s because you want me fat, isn’t it?”

This escalation is wild. Erica offering pie becomes a conspiracy about sabotage, about jealousy, about Tina’s appearance and her chances with Josh.

To me, the pie becomes a battlefield in Tina’s mind. Every offer, every nudge from Erica, escalates in her head into sabotage, jealousy, manipulation. Erica’s persistence becomes a personal attack in Tina’s panicked brain. Her mind searches for an explanation that makes sense, and—of course—it defaults to Josh. This has to be about Josh. That’s the only explanation Tina’s panic-addled brain can accept.

TINA: “Because you’re still jealous over me and Josh and you want to sabotage our chances of being together.”

And there it is again: the accusation. The fixation on Josh as the explanation for everything. As if the universe of feelings, as if the tangle of twelve days, could all somehow be reduced to him.

ERICA: “I was never jealous of you and Josh.”

Flat. Honest. Almost exasperated. Because in Erica’s mind, it’s true—she’s not jealous of Josh himself. She thinks Josh is ridiculous. She has zero interest in Josh.

But the way Erica says it? There’s a defensiveness there. Because Tina is hitting close to something, even if she’s wrong about the specifics.

ERICA (INTERNAL): “I’m not jealous of Josh. I’m jealous of the attention you give him. But I can’t say that, so I’ll just say I was never jealous, period.”

Again, with the Dodgeball Debate:

- TINA: “It wasn’t an accident.”

- ERICA: “It was dodgeball. In dodgeball you throw balls at people.”

Erica is technically correct. But there’s a brittleness to how she says it. She’s defending herself, but there’s a tiny part of her that wonders if Tina is right. If maybe she did throw it harder than necessary. If maybe there was something behind it.

But Erica Sinclair doesn’t do vulnerable, so she doubles down.

- TINA: “Not that hard. You gave Joshy a black eye. Now he won’t even look at me.” “Joshy.” The nickname is doing a lot of work here—Tina is trying to make Josh matter, to make this relationship real, to convince herself and everyone else that she cares about him. - ERICA: “Well that’s stupid, you didn’t throw the ball.” Translation: “This is stupid. Josh is stupid. This whole thing is stupid. Why are we even still talking about Josh?” - TINA: “It doesn’t matter. He associates us. He associates us, and you humiliated him.” “He associates us.” Tina and Erica are a unit in Josh’s mind, connected. And the idea that Josh now sees Erica’s involvement as a blemish or a problem? That terrifies Tina. But why? Why is it a problem that Josh associates them?

Because the real issue isn’t Josh. The threat isn’t his embarrassment. It’s Erica. Being “associated” with Erica reveals something Tina isn’t ready to face.

TINA (INTERNAL): “He associates us, and that means he sees how close we are, how much you matter to me, and that’s too close to the truth I’m trying to hide.”

- ERICA: “He humiliated himself by crying like a pu**y”

There’s contempt there. She genuinely thinks Josh is pathetic. A middle-schooler at his big age crying over a dodgeball injury? Absolutely ridiculous. But the contempt runs deeper. Erica isn’t just mocking Josh; she’s frustrated that Tina cares about him at all. That he’s gotten her attention, that he’s the reason for conflict between them. That he's the reason they're fighting in the first place.

ERICA (INTERNAL): “Josh is a loser who cried over a dodgeball game, and I don’t understand why you care about him so much. What does he have that I don’t? Why has he been getting most of your attention lately when I’m right here?”

Erica’s jealousy isn’t about Josh. It’s about Tina. Her presence, her focus, her attention. The game, the ball, the black eye—they’re just the surface. Underneath, it’s a tangle of unspoken feelings she doesn’t yet have the language to claim.

────────────────────────

[Part VI: In Conclusion]

If you’ve made it all the way down here, thank you. Genuinely. For reading this absolutely unhinged deep-dive into a ship between two characters who share less than ten minutes of screen time.

This is a crack ship, I saw recently spread on Twitter by @dyersfilm (I assume people were already shipping them, but they’re who I saw spreading it first, as well as the ship name.) Yes, Tina Turnbow is technically a minor character, there for one episode (fingers crossed for more screen time), mostly to be sedated and dragged to a barn. Yes, the chances of this ever being canon are minuscule. Yes, I’m reading subtext that may not have been intended, filling gaps with my interpretations, baking a whole romantic arc from crumbs and vibes.

To which in state, I don’t care.

Because this is the magic of fandom. Of shipping. Of queer readings. We’ve always had to read between the lines. We take crumbs and bake our own bread. We find potential in what isn’t explicitly shown, because so often, sapphic stories aren’t fully realized on screen and never get done full justice.

For me, these two girls—with a friendship that imploded over a boy, with twelve days of tension, with glimmers of care and jealousy and unspoken truths—gave me a foundation. And I wanted to build a house on it.

This analysis is personal. Shaped by my observations, my perspective. Not definitive, not authoritative. Just my reading. My headcanon for LadyPie. I’m not here to convince anyone this is the one true interpretation.

It’s a headcanon. A crack ship. A “what if?”

If you’re also now feral about Erica Sinclair and Tina Turnbow, welcome to the club. If you’re reading this and you think I’ve lost my mind (you’re probably right) but I’m having a great time. And if you’re inspired to write fics, make edits, draw art, or just rant about them on twt—tag and follow me. Tag me because these two are my new obsession and I would love to see what every one else who ships them thinks and how you interpret the vision.

For more post about these two you can follow me on twt @laylasblossom or on ao3 (where i plan to upload a fic soon) with the same user! :)