#st4 clues

[james-sunshine-potter]

All the many things and quirks of Steve Harrington:

A list comprised by Eddie Munson.

> He can’t sleep in the dark. He has to have at least a lamp on before going to bed. He nor I are sure what that stems from. (It bugged me at first I can’t lie, but we tried one night to keep all lights off… and Steve didn’t sleep at all, he just laid there awake for 12 hours. TWELVE FUCKING HOURS AND THEN HE WENT TO WORK ON NO SLEEP! it’s safe to say we kept the lamp on after that…)

> He doesn’t like it when the sun is in his eyes. He carries his sunglasses everywhere and will get annoyed when he forgets them in the car.

> He can only eat one thing on his plate at a time. Like if he’s got chicken, salad and chips, he’ll eat the chips in one go, then the chicken and then the salad. Things can’t mixed nor touch.

> He likes it when I stroke his hair whilst he falls asleep. He doesn’t even realise I do this, as he goes on and on about how he falls asleep better when sleeping with me. But it’s because I have learnt how to make him relaxed. (I also really like his hair. It’s so soft, like ridiculously soft. It’s meant to be petted, sue me).

> He opens his mouth when he thinks. Some days I want to stick my finger in his mouth when he does that to see what he will do but I never do (I will one day).

> He’ll talk to old people on the street. But only if they start the conversation, obviously. God, old people love him. He opens doors for old lady’s and compliments their hair and fashion. He’s very polite.

> When he is uncomfortable, he’ll play with my rings. We once had a sit down conversation with his parents (don’t ask, it was horrible) but the entire time, Steve held my hand in his lap and played with my rings (still on my fingers) until my skin was sore. (I don’t mind).

> He has to sleep with the door closed. He physically can’t sleep with the door open. Like physically can’t. Or even be in his bedroom, or mine, without the door closed. (He doesn’t feel secure otherwise, which knowing what goes down in this town, i completely get).

> He exclusively wears boxers. Calvin Klein ones to be specific. When he stretched or reached up for something, you could see the waist band peak out the top. Wears boxer shorts (loose fitting ones you know) to sleep in.

> He zones out a lot more than he thinks he does. He says he doesn’t do it that often, but he just can’t bloody remember it! He’s zoned out through entire conversations and movies. (Thankfully he’s never done it behind the wheel…).

> He watches fights he’s not involved like it’s a tennis match.

> He hums whilst brushing his teeth. (Typically whatever is stuck in his head at the time).

> He slightly rocks when he trying to focus on something. (I noticed this when he was trying to focus on a movie we were watching, but he kept getting distracted).

> He squints, even when he wears his glasses (Which I have to bully him to do).

> He picks at the skin around his nails when nervous. I have physically hold his hand to stop him. (Which, obviously, I don’t mind. But man, you should see hims fingernails they’re gross…).

> He pees like clockwork. He gets up at the say time in the night to pee. I can tell when he’s properly exhausted if he sleeps through it. (It’s 3am by the way).

> He doesn’t have nosebleeds often, but when they happen, oh do they happen. Blood gets everywhere, like lots of blood where it’s concerning. He went through an entire box of tissues and ruined a top once. He nearly fainted once (like wobbly steps, foggy eyes, went white as fuck… scary as shit).

> He can’t listen to something and count or read at the same time. If he needs to count something and has the radio on, he’ll turn it off, count out aloud and then turn it back on. If I show him something, I can’t talk until he finishes reading it or otherwise he won’t take it in. (I’m totally the same though).

[bit-of-a-nerd]

okay so i got a stranger things blanket for christmas and I was looking at it and I saw this.

so at first glance it looks just like the normal s4 poster. but then I noticed that towards the side someone was being vecna’ed. and that 100% looks like will. i’m not sure what this means (who knows maybe the source came from a fan artist) but it might point to will vecna’ed s5??? it is in his s4 outfit so maybe an opening of s5 with will vecna’ed.

[evermoredeluxe]

im all for byler but idk how tf the duffers are gonna get them together because el’s all like “mike is the loml” and will would literally be dating his sister’s ex…..

[greenfiend]

Most of Stranger Things is within Will’s head…

Including El, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, and more characters...

A lot of people aren't going to like this or agree but- if you are willing to read this at risk that you won't like it... try to keep an open mind and keep that curiosity door open.

(Above is a direct cut from Will to this line...)

I just want to begin by saying: I believe Will is the center of this show. I know many disagree, and place other characters at the center but let me explain to you why I believe the show is mainly about him.

The show begins with Will, as his disappearance is the catalyst for every single event to follow.

If you take a step back, and look at the show as a whole… making Will the center makes the most narrative sense. Without Will… there is no Stranger Things.

(GIF from @/kaypeace21's post here)

Lonnie hammering a nail into the wall while we cut to Mike poking a hole into a piece of paper visually tells a lot. Remember guys, this show is all about showing and not telling. Here they are showing us that the abuse Lonnie has inflicted unto Will caused the gate to open. The Upside Down exists due to Will's trauma. This is because the Upside Down is Will's mindscape.

DID and Internal Worlds

Will has experienced trauma far more severe than we are explicitly told. His trauma mainly leads back to his father. If you are prepared to read about the depths of said trauma, read this post. Not for the faint of heart though, my friends.

In Will's case, his trauma as led to a specific rare mental health condition called: Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition where you have two or more separate personalities that control your behavior at different times. When personalities switch, you’ll have gaps in your memory. The identities are usually caused by living through trauma. x

This means I believe that many of the characters we know and love were created from Will's mind. There are common alter roles within a DID system, and this show has been assigning different characters to some of these roles this whole time.

Now, this is NOT a new theory. The creator of this theory is kaypeace21 (one of the original Byler theorists!) Check out her posts here and here. While I agree with a lot of what she has to say, I do not know if I agree with all of it... specifically: the Persecutor Alter... more on that soon (not to fault her at all! As Vecna did not even exist prior to ST4).

Let's go back to the Upside Down being Will's mindscape:

Many individuals with dissociative identity disorder (DID) have an internal world in which they or their alters can manifest as themselves and interact. These internal worlds, which are also known as inner worlds or headspaces, can range in size and complexity. x

The Upside Down = Will's internal world. Those that inhabit that world or arose from said world are likely Will's alters. Yes, that includes El, the Mind Flayer, Demogorgons, etc. and of course: Vecna.

Here's another visual clue! A hole in the wall (an opened gate...) at the Byers' house that may have "always been [there]".

I know we are told the gate had opened prior to Nov 6, 1983, and that El had been the one to open that door/gate. But... that's because El herself is Will. She is a personality that had developed from him.

Now, lets talk common DID alter roles and how some of our favourite characters fill these roles to a tee.

El, the Gatekeeper Alter

I talk about the Willel theory here but I'll explain it briefly. El is "the gatekeeper", she is the one who Will lets "front" most of the time. Because remember guys... Will "likes to hide".

El was even compared to D’art (who came from Will…) see post here.

Also worth noting: Will's abduction in the shed is compared to... the first atomic bomb (used in an act of war) called "Little Boy". Post about that comparison here. What occurs during a nuclear reaction? Nuclear fission. Fission meaning: SPLITTING INTO TWO! Just as we see with the Phineus Gage comparison. That exact moment was when "El" emerged from the UD (Will's mindscape) into "reality". Leading to her becoming... a literal gatekeeper for Will.

She also helps solve Will's dilemma of to stay or to go, as Will himself stays (in the UD) and El goes.

So... what do I mean by “the gatekeeper"?

A gatekeeper is an alter that controls switching or access to front, access to an internal world or certain areas within it, or access to certain alters or memories. x

Now. Remember guys, we literally see her closing the gate and she (allegedly) was the first to open said gate. She also is heavily associated with repressed memories (the whole NINA plot...)

El has always been protecting Will from facing his trauma and facing himself. That is why we see her "save" him multiple times, why she takes on the role of Mike's romantic partner, why she takes the brunt of the bullies at Lenora, and why Will looks on like a helpless bystander... It is not due to resentment nor cruelty but fear. Will has been hiding behind her this whole time. He is not ready to face his memories, trauma, and the world. Not yet...

The Mind Flayer, the Demon Alter

In abusive groups, a young child can be severely traumatized in order for abusers to intentionally create an alter, and the alter can be tricked into believing they have been possessed by, and have become, a demon. X

This one is pretty self-explanatory, as we literal have a "possession" plot line involving Will. Though, instead of being "possessed", this alter of Will's was fronting.

Vecna, the Persecutor Alter

This is the one I'm most excited (and nervous) to talk about because it is SO fascinating and it matches his character perfectly.

So basically, Vecna is NOT Henry Creel. Vecna is an alter of Will's existing in his hive mind. Hear me out about this.

What I believe is that Henry Creel (or perhaps Edward Creel), was a real person that Will had heard about resulting in him creating an alter based on him. This is called "Factive Introject":

An alter with the form, personality, and possibly the psychological backstory e.g. memories of an outer-world person, whether a relative, a celebrity, or even an acquaintance. x

I believe that when we see "Henry" within both the Rainbow Room AND the Upside Down... this is Will's alter. (The Rainbow Room is likely another inner world of Will's...).

Are you still with me on this? Because lets get into the real evidence here.

What is a persecutor alter?

Persecutors are alters that purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters, sabotage the system’s goals or healing, or work to assist the system’s abuser(s). x

I know that sounds pretty scary, and some easily dismiss persecutor alters as "evil" BUT they are not. Viewing any alters this way is harmful. All alters' goals are to protect the system, even if they may do so in misguided ways.

x

Most persecutor alters start out as protector alters… which exactly what we see in the show! “Henry” is kind and protective towards El (who is another alter).

Then he decides to “kill” the other kids/alters (I say kill but they will still live on in the mind.)

Lets look at the exact terms used to describe the effects the persecutor alter has on the system...

X

Headaches…

Internal bullying…

Increased blank spells…

Interference with function…

Self-multilation…

Still have doubts on this? Let’s continue…

x

As I said, the persecutor alter is not "evil", it is a misguided protector. Its goal is to protect and often does this by taking on all the suffering experienced by the host and the alters...

But why? Why does the persecutor alter do such things if the goal is to protect?

X

To prevent the host and alters from disclosing their abuse. Think about this for a moment. What did Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max all have in common (other than trauma)? They all were seeing the student counsellor Ms. Kelley and revealing to her aspects of their trauma and abuse.

Vecna, as the persecutor alter, was having NONE of that and thus… “killed” them to protect the system. As he feared the consequences for Will/the system as a whole.

This is VERY telling for Will, because he has long been afraid of opening up about his abuse, trauma, and everything…

We see this emerge in many forms:

The Byers phone frequently going unanswered throughout the show due to Will’s fear of opening up/communication.

Lonnie telling Jonathan to keep his mouth shut for his mom’s sake…

The rats in ST3. To “rat” = to snitch.

El’s bullying in ST4. Angela repeatedly refers to her as a “snitch” even though she never did snitch.

Papa/the Demogorgon/Neil, the Abuser Alter

x I’m going to go right out and say this: “Papa” represents Will's abuser. We see him abuse El, Henry and others in a manner similar to what Will had experienced with Lonnie.

That’s why he’s called “Papa”, as he is a representation of the abusive papa of Will: Lonnie Byers.

Like Henry Creel, he is also likely based off a real person... Richard Brenner perhaps?

"That's what I have to do to keep her close to me. I don't want her going out. Men only want her for one thing and then they hurt her. She doesn't need anyone else but me." In addition to intimidating her so that she would not seek contact with men and risk further abuse, [the abuser alter] was also possessively trying to strengthen her attachment to him. X

This perfectly applies to Brenner's relationship with El, Henry and the others. He wants to isolate them to "protect" them from further abuse. We see this clearly as Brenner prevents El from leaving NINA, at all costs.

Again, even the alter representing the abuser should not be seen as “evil”. It’s complicated. All alters are aspect of the host, they are not evil. There are good intentions behind the bad actions.

Other Alters…

So, I believe other characters are also alters of Will’s such as:

Max, Billy, Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Eddie, Argyle… and more. This post is getting far too long for me to expand on that just yet though.

Mike is “The Key” but… he’s not the only key

Let’s not forget about Ms Kelley and her key necklace!

Although Mike’s love will be an incredibly important aspect to saving Hawkins and saving Will… Will also needs to open up, face his trauma, and reveal his truth. Keeping all of this bottled up inside is causing far more problems…

When it comes to treatment for DID, there are different methods. Some include:

Identifying and working through past trauma.

Managing sudden behavioral changes.

Merging separate identities into a single identity. x

The latter being a highly controversial one, and it may not be the right choice for everyone with DID.

Within the show however? We will likely see merging or fusion of some of the characters in the end (we likely already have too...)

We already have foreshadowing of fusion between Will and El:

Robin and Steve discussing the act of "combining" to "solve all [their] problems".

Dustin hugging El and Will only to have El visually disappear during their hug.

El ending the season standing alone in the Upside Down.

In DID there's also a concept called integration, which may not be as extreme as fusion.

The individual must then make the choice of to what extent they want to integrate their alters as part of their healing. Again, some degree of integration is inevitable. The individual must integrate traumatic materials in order to heal from PTSD. As well, enough integration between alters must occur to allow for easy communication, a lack of dissociative amnesia between parts, and a consistent sense of being grounded in the present and in the body. The individual must be able to take responsibility for all of the system's actions, and all alters in the system should work together towards the same goals. x

Basically, Will must become insightful of his condition and see all aspects of himself (all alters) as helpful (even if they may be misguided). It will NOT help him to simply "kill" any alters, that will not work. He must accept himself for who he is. He must learn to love all aspects of himself.

I won’t touch on it here, but I will just mention that I’m very confident the show will end with another realm/internal world that’s beautiful and full of life. Implying that Will has finally found some peace of mind. I talk about it in this post.

[redshoes-blues]

Let's Talk About Clocks, Baby

Something is off with the timeline, emotions alter time, Mike is in danger, and it'll be up to Will Byers to fix this whole mess.

I'll be taking a look at some of the most prominent clocks and time references in Stranger Things to see if we can learn anything from them. At the heart of this analysis is the idea that Will is the antidote to the time fuckery. Oh, and also emotions have the power to alter the movement of time. Aka emotionsgate?! And gay love will save the day. This is a long one, so I hope you enjoy your read! :)

"We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

We've all been talking about the time shenanigans going on in Stranger Things, lately, so in my current rewatch of ST3, I've been looking out for any possible hints that could have been foreshadowing for ST4. I've found a couple.

First, let's bring in the Starcourt Mall clock.

This is the clock used in the Russian code. You know, the part that goes "when blue meets yellow in the west"? Yeah, that clue is inside a CLOCK

We all know about colour theory, how the Russian code has a possible ST4/byler meaning and how certain characters are coded with colours (blue = Mike, yellow = Will), so that bit is obvious. And yeah, colour theory is a bit overdone, but hear me out!

The fact that clocks are Vecna’s symbol and that’s the thing the blue and yellow part of the code has been applied to?! Wild.

The obvious main clock symbol is the grandfather clock at the Creel house that appears in the visions of Vecna’s victims. In the visions, the same clock rings four times (meaning four gates). It's even this very clock that orchestrates the fall of Hawkins. But clocks also appear behind Max before we learn that she’s the next target. This is massive foreshadowing!

So all of this got me thinking of clocks and time, and all of the theories floating around that show how important time is going to be in ST5. The whole plot of the final season is going to be about defeating Vecna, who is associated with clocks, and dealing with Upside-Down-Hawkins. This last bit is extra interesting since we know the Upside Down is set in the past.

And for a long time my main theory has been that Will is the key to finally defeating Vecna. Which I still think will be true, but I also think it’ll have more to do with the time shenanigans than I originally suspected.

I mean, Dustin isn't far off when he says this in ST4:

Will's connection with Vecna is special. From the parallels between him and Henry to Will the Wise and the numerous hints that he has untapped powers. And especially the fact that he's the one who realizes the Mind Flayer and Vecna are still alive (in ST3/ST4, respectively).

So, because Vecna is associated with clocks, I've been looking out for other clocks during my rewatch. Which brings me back to this:

The Starcourt Mall clock is specifically mentioned in the text. In fact, it's part of the Russian code. It isn't just a prop, but a piece of the plot. That's what made me do a triple-take while watching, this time around. It isn't just a random clock.

So, if Will is yellow and the key to defeating Vecna (more on that shortly), then what does the clock say about all this?

If I allow myself to get extra meta with the visual analysis, the fact that the clock’s hands play into colour theory could be a clue. It's the hands that are yellow and blue: the active parts of the clocks which have the ability to move through time. The hands of a clock show time moving. As we know, time in the Upside Down has stopped for some reason. It's stuck in a loop related to Will's disappearance.

Entering the UD is a bit like time travelling. And as El said at the start of ST4, we're all time travellers.

In fact, we know that Henry’s powers have some effect on time. Or at least on the Creel clock. Because when Henry first taps into his powers, the grandfather clock's hands start to move backwards. It’s implied that Henry is making this happen.

The same thing happens later in the season, when Vecna is showing Nancy the vision of Hawkins’ future. It includes this clip of the Creel clock with its hands turning backwards:

So, in a way, Vecna is altering time. We aren’t sure how or why yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it has something to do with emotions or trauma (which I'll get into soon). Especially because Vecna's attacks have to do with trauma, and the antidote so far has been positive emotions and memories that are brought to the surface through music.

Clock Magic?

Another thing to take into consideration is how the Creel clock is connected to Henry's powers, and also seems to possess power of its own. We see this when Max "dies" and the fourth gate is created. The Creel clock chimes four times, and then the Upside Down begins to leak into Hawkins. We can see this in the two GIFs below (shit quality, sorry about that!):

The clock chimes four times and then there is a "frenzied ticking" which builds throughout the scene as Hawkins falls to Vecna. The scene implies that the clock itself has something to do with this.

What does this mean for the timeline in ST5?

We know the Upside Down is in the past. Specifically, the day Will vanishes (November 6, 1983). It seems likely that it works as a time loop, with the same day on repeat until the cycle is broken. Or maybe there are several days which repeat themselves until it resets at the point Will enters the UD. We really don't know for sure. But we do know that it's definitely the past.

What does this mean for Hawkins? Is Hawkins becoming stuck in time as well? Will it be cut off from the outside world because of this? Is the clock slowing down time, ensuring Hawkins remains stuck in its current state because emotions (we'll get there, don't worry)? I definitely don't have the answers yet, but please let me know if you have any ideas how this could be working. It's all so fascinating!

But however it works, there's definitely some time fuckery going on. Whether it's related to the Creel clock itself or Vecna's powers, or whatever Will has done that made the UD shape to himself — well, again, who knows! Not me, but I wanted to point it out because it's clearly going to be a massive part of ST5.

Will is the Antidote

Season 5 is going to be about defeating Vecna (obviously).

But first: in order to stop a villain, you need an antidote to their powers. Right now, El and Vecna share most of the same powers. She hasn't been able to defeat him yet, even though her powers are the strongest they have ever been. There's a missing piece there.

We see this illustrated in the D&D game at the start of ST4, which serves as foreshadowing for the events that happen in the season. An 11 is rolled, but it's a miss. It isn't until Erica (an unlikely hero and outsider in the game) rolls a 20 that Vecna is defeated. And then that exact thing plays out in Hawkins when El isn't able to defeat Vecna.

We have yet to see what the IRL 20 will be, because Vecna "wins" at the end of ST4. He gets what he wanted when the four gates are created and Hawkins falls. But my guess is that it'll have to do with Will. Everything began with Will, and it will end with him too.

Which brings me back to Will and the clock. Because Will serves as a foil for Vecna as a character. They are both sensitive and different (read: gay) and have an abusive parent who tries to make them fit into societal expectations — to no avail. They both draw. They both have close connections with the UD and Mind Flayer. But here we're getting a bit of a Star Wars light side / dark side of the force parallel, where Will has chosen to be good and Vecna has become the villain.

One character is trying their best to work through their trauma, and the other is lashing out in anger.

All of this is to say that I think the Starcourt Mall clock could be a bit of foreshadowing for ST4 and the role Will plays moving forward into ST5. Just as Henry is able to stop time in the UD, Will will be able to move it forward again.

This could happen in any number of ways, and I'm still not sure how the weird time shenanigans will play out, but what I am certain of is that Will is the key to solving everything. And it will likely come down to emotions and healing his traumatic past.

Time and Emotions

At the very start of ST4, El quotes something Joyce tells her about time. She says that emotions slow time down, but they also speed it back up. She then directly mentions time travel in relation to our emotions.

"Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

Given this line about time travel being related to emotions, I think that emotions/feelings/love are going to be the thing that allows Will to fix the UD and defeat Vecna.

This bit about emotions is huge. Because we see that the UD is shaped by Henry, and is later shaped around Will’s vanishing. Emotional and traumatic memories for the both of them. In Will’s case, did time in the UD dimension slow down because he left an emotional imprint on the landscape, via his trauma?

And if this really is the case, then it only seems natural that the process of saving Hawkins will be wrapped up with Will healing his trauma. Just like how Vecna's victims can be saved through music and positive memories/emotions.

Like the cleric he plays in D&D, Will is going to save Hawkins, healing his own trauma and dealing with his emotions in order to move forward.

How?

Realizing the power within himself in both a literal and metaphorical sense. Harnessing the powers he has and his connection to the MF/Vecna, yes, but also by learning that he is a valuable person who doesn't have to make himself smaller for the benefit of other people's happiness.

Confronting his trauma relating to the Upside Down, maybe by helping to close it off once and for all; or by restoring it to its pre-Vecna state. Healing that dimension so the leakage of Henry Creel's trauma doesn't seep into Hawkins any longer. And in doing so, healing the trauma within himself.

Accepting his own queerness and learning that being different doesn't make him a mistake. Realizing that he is loved and deserves to feel this love. Part of this will be related to coming out, and I think another piece will be related to requited love.

All of these have to do with his emotions, and they will be the way he’s able to save Hawkins.

Because when we look at Vecna and his victims, what he represents as a metaphor in the show, we're dealing in the area of emotions and trauma. For Max, she is dealing with complicated feelings after Billy's death. But she also represses those feelings and doesn't open up to her friends until it's almost too late.

If we look at Patrick, Lucas suspected he was dealing with abuse at home, but Patrick never talked about it with anyone. Same with Fred's guilt about the hit-and-run. He's terrified of the idea that he'll be found out. In the case of Chrissy, her own boyfriend has no idea about what she's going through.

So not only are Vecna's victims dealing with trauma, mental health issues, and complex emotions, but they are also actively repressing these emotions.

Not to get too psychoanalytic here, but healing from trauma and dealing with your emotions properly requires you to be open, rather than repressing what you feel. I think this is one reason why music is used as the antidote to getting Vecna'd. Because music allows us to deal with our emotions in a more positive way. It also connects us to positive memories, like Running Up That Hill does for Max, or Should I Stay Or Should I Go does for Will.

In Will's case, a large piece in his character arc is learning to accept that he's gay and has feelings for Mike. Really, this has been most of his arc for ST3 and ST4. This isn't resolved yet, so he'll be continuing to deal with this self-acceptance (and eventual coming out process) in ST5.

To bring it back to that Starcourt Mall clock: Will is the yellow hand on the clock, but it isn't just him that's implicated in all of this. This is yellow meeting blue that we're talking about!

The blue hand. What is Mike's role in all of this?

So if clocks = Vecna, and Will is going to be the antidote to healing Hawkins, then Mike has his own important role to play as the other hand on the clock (and also as the boy Will is in love with, and a main character who is repressing a lot of his own issues).

If Vecna has another target, it's going to be Mike.

[GIF doesn't belong to me! You can find it here]

I feel so strongly about this. For SO many reasons.

Here's a bulleted list of some of them:

Mike has displayed feelings of self-loathing over the course of the show (cliff scene, I'm looking you right in the eye)

He represses his emotions, both to his loved ones and the audience — and potentially with himself

The above GIF is a very ominous parallel between Mike and Max which suggests Mike may be about to get a Vecna vision. HOWEVER, the scene is from Will's POV, so we don't see what Mike sees

Which is its own point: we haven't seen what Mike sees in all of ST4 (except briefly in the couch scene, which I analyzed here), as well as most of ST3. His inner world is deliberately hidden

If Mike is gay and/or in love with Will like I believe he is, there will be a lot of unresolved feelings to deal with there. The kind of micro-trauma queer folks deal with, especially during the 1980s

The tense relationship between Mike and both of his parents, but especially Ted. This point doubles when you contextualize it with Ted being a Reagan supporter (aka a rampant homophobe whose disgusting treatment of queer men in the 80s led to thousands of deaths)...who knows what kind of shit he's said to Mike that we haven't been shown

The whole trauma of having his best friend "die" and then turn up alive, as well as the similar trauma of believing El was still out there even though everyone assumed she died

Probably other shit I'm forgetting. But mostly how weird he's been acting, and especially how terrified he looks on that couch

I know lots of people assume Will is Vecna's #1 target, but I actually don't think he's a target at all. Will is more akin to a Luke Skywalker type figure who Vecna wants to team up with, turning him to the "dark side" because he sees Will as similar to him. There's a reason Vecna didn't have Will killed like everyone else.

As we’ve learned: emotions can speed up time or slow it down. I’m thinking there’s probably a metaphorical thing with positive vs. negative feelings as well. Like: not dealing with our trauma and repressing our negative feelings leads to a person being stuck in the past. In a literal way with the Upside Down, but also a metaphorical way. Positive emotions work in the opposite way, allowing us to let go of the past and move into the future.

Emotions can turn back the clock. They can slow down time. Emotions = time travel

The above scene is from the end of ST3, when Hopper's letter is being read out as the Byers move away. Hopper is describing how he was afraid of change (the future, El growing up, things changing), so he tried to stop that change. He tried to TURN BACK THE CLOCK. And look at who the camera pans to when he says this...

In a scene which directly mirrors the hug between Karen and Mike when Mike runs home believing Will is dead.

Both scenes have Heroes playing in the background, by the way. A song which summarizes all of the queer themes in the show, which I did an analysis of here.

Mike is a character who we don’t know anything about the internal world of. Which I think is a massive red (green?) flag for his chances of getting the Vecna treatment, given that he’s really the only main character who we don’t hear from in this way. The only time it even appears like we might be hearing from him, he’s just parroting what Will tells him to say to El.

So, for me, the blue hand (Mike) in the clock (Vecna) is foreshadowing for the fact that he may be targeted by Vecna in ST5. Maybe he's already been targeted and we just haven't seen it from his POV, yet. I actually think this will be the reason Will stops repressing his powers and learns how to use them (whatever they are). Or learns to use his connection to the UD in order to save the love of his life.

Because if all of this time stuff comes down to emotion, Will needs to accept that his feelings for Mike don’t make him a mistake. He needs to learn to accept himself. And is there any better catalyst to enact that change than Mike being in danger? We saw how a life or death scenario made Max open up a bit more to her friends, and I feel the same will happen with Mike and Will.

So, to recap:

Clocks represent Vecna and also play into the weird time shenanigans that ST5 will definitely deal with

The Starcourt Mall clock has yellow (Will) and blue (Mike) hands to indicate that those two will play a key role in defeating Vecna

Will: is the antidote/positive opposite to Vecna; who Henry could have been if he healed from his trauma -> this means Will is the only one who can stop Vecna for good

Mike: prime target for a Vecna'ing in ST5 due to his whole aura, and this will probably be the catalyst for Will kicking into gear and solving shit

There's some funky stuff going on with the timeline/possible time travel stuff that is way too detailed for this analysis, and it's definitely an essential part of ST5 that we'll be dealing with

Emotions alter time and may even play into how time travel and the speeding up / slowing down of time works in the show

Healing trauma, dealing with emotions, and accepting yourself are all going to be major themes in ST5, and this will be the way that Vecna is defeated: the power of love?! I love to see it

Also: the Creel house clock might have some power of its own?

Author's Note

Well, that's it! The power of gay love saves the day. Truly iconic, if you ask me.

This analysis has been so fun to put together over the last week, and I hope you all have fun reading it as well! Originally it was meant to be a breakdown of the Starcourt Mall clock, but then I remembered the quote about emotions and time travel and it kind of had me gnawing at my screen because hyperfixations, so there's that.

As always, I love to hear people's thoughts on these analysis posts, so if you have any ideas that go along with this, feel free to add onto it. Or you can send me an ask if you have any questions! I'd love to hear what you think! :)

—Em

[henrysglock]

Timeline? Split. Universe? Destroyed. Hotel? Trivago.

As Em just put in this brilliant post (now with a diagram!) it's entirely possible that each UD is a destroyed version of the alternate timeline:

I want to bring in a little more support, because it makes perfect sense. If you're new here, or if you'd like a refresher, here's the reading list:

Nuclear Winter in the UD/One's Nuclear Bomb

Mirror Swapping and Wall Cracks Post

Missing Rainbow Room Wall Cracks Post

Multiple Dimension X Ones Post

Vecna Puppetry Post

Multiple Upside Downs Post

As I laid out back in March, we likely have 6 separate versions of the HNL massacre.

One set of factors is the swapped mirror:

The other set of factors is the crack patterns in the Rainbow Room, or lack thereof:

(Gate, dematerialization, and no-event cracks respective to photo order)

Dematerialization is a separate process from the gate, and the two aren't ever shown on screen together outside the one dual outcome overlay.

No gate, just dematerialization:

No dematerialization, just gate:

2 mirror alignments * 3 outcomes = 6 total outcomes

As we're shown in 4.07, when we follow One through the gate, it takes us directly to Dimension X:

And dematerialization, as we're shown in Season 1, pulls us directly to the Upside Down:

So that makes: Upside Down, Dimension X, and Right Side Up...and one of each of those for Henry and Edward. Still totaling 6!

This tracks with what I laid out about the two different Dimension X Ones:

Two different Dimension X's, two different Ones.

It also tracks with the post I made about physics and gravity in the Upside Downs:

(Orientations of the Upside Downs, gravity overlay, and directionality mirroring overlay respective to photo order).

Two different places...two different guys? (but different this time)

And then, of course, my two favorite pictures of all time:

Mirrored POVs. Inverted poses. Different hair.

Two different guys.

Dimension X: 2 guys. Upside Downs: 2 guys. Right Side Up: 2 guys.

6 guys.

Number of Jumpsuit Patterns? Six. ("But James, there are only 5 there!" I know. Consult the bloodless jumpsuits from before. There are two of them. Thus, JA, JB1 and JB2, JC, JD, JE. Six suits)

Back in May, I asked the "What happened to the other two non-Dimension-X jumpsuit guys?" question.

The answer may very well be: The Two Upside-Downs, becoming the physical Monster Vecna, one of which we see getting Flambéd™ by Nancy et. al.

Make sense? 1 Monster Vecna, 1 Dimension-X One, and one Normal Guy One per timeline: 6 guys. 6 places. The math is mathing.

This all also tracks with what I said about Vecna as a puppet/symbiotic partner of sorts who connects to Dimension X via ethernet tentacles:

It also explains how the USSR has an active Shadow, despite the Side-Side gates being shut:

There may be two of them. The one in Russia may have awoken due to the up-down gates being opened in Hawkins.

Now, you're probably wondering why I linked the nuclear winter/nuclear bomb posts.

As I said in my post about the Rifts:

One dropped a whole-ass nuclear bomb on Hawkins when he opened the rifts and began merging the Upside Down with the Right Side Up. This resulted in a gradually spreading nuclear winter. Thus, if any other timelines/universes were to collide, we could expect much the same effect:

As Em said in his post, it's entirely possible to have a timeline split based on which timeline/universe survived the collision, thus generating a set of 4. Two Upside Downs, two Right Side Ups...and both Upside Downs are experiencing the associated unending nuclear winter.

Then, of course, the question becomes: Which One collided the universes, why, and how?

Of course this is all speculation and relies heavily on what we might see in The First Shadow...but I know most of you have seen me speculating on the full extent of Henry's powers. If Henry isn't the ST4 Vecna, then we really have no clue what the extent of his powers are.

For example: Vecna couldn't open gates until he copy-pasted that power from El and cobbled it together into his own form of gate opening. Henry might not be constrained by that same lack of ability.

In fact, based on what information we have been given about The First Shadow, it's entirely possible that he did open a gate of some kind.

How do I figure that?

There are monsters in The First Shadow, and it's touted as being the origin of the Upside Down, not to mention Matt hinting the Brenner already knew that Henry had access to other worlds even before The First Shadow had been teased (That Deadline article is from July of 2022).

We also have BTS pictures from the filmed show of the Creel house fully decked out in UD tentacles...even in places Stobin+Nancy never visit when they go to fight Vecna.

Namely, we have tentacles in the parlor to the right of the front door and the dining room respectively...ft. Raphael as baby Henry:

(Note the light fixtures! They tell us which room we're in)

So...it's entirely possible that Henry did it by accident or otherwise back in 1959, which would explain why both versions of Upside Down Hawkins are completely abandoned: They may have been in a state of multidimensional nuclear winter for the past 27 years.

[aemiron-main]

Edward Creel Post List

Who The Fuck Is Edward Creel- Original Discovery of Edward Creel Post (x)

Who Is Edward Creel? If You’re Confused About Him, Read This (x)

Edward Creel is Vecna and Henry Creel is Innocent: The First Shadow, Edward Creel, Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde, and Carl Jung’s Theory of the Shadow (x)

The Creels’ Disappearing Door and Magic, Colour-Changing Wallpaper (x)

I Know Why Will’s Birthday Is Important To Vecna/Henry/Edward- Original Post About Will’s Birthday Being The Same Day As The Creel Murders In Edward’s Timeline (x)

Yep, The Creel Murders Happened On Will’s Birthday In The Edward Timeline/According To The Indianapolis Gazette- Confirming The Dates (x)

Birthdaygate and When Did The Henry-Edward Split Happen And Was Edward Watching The Creel Family From The Void Or Via True Sight From Another Timeline? (x)

Edward Creel and the Lost Brother (x)

Edward Creel is Totally Vecna- Eddie’s DND Scene (x)

Edward Munson and Henry Creel and Being Blamed For Murder (x)

Revisiting The “If We Just Go Based On Henry’s Monologue, We Would Have No Clue Alice Even Existed Until The End And He Never Mentions Her By Name” Post With The Context Of Edward (x)

The First Shadow: Shadow(s) of The Past and LOTR (x)

The Shadows of The Past Have a Very Long Reach (x)

The First Shadow: Demons In Your Past (x)

The First Shadow Poster vs ST4 Poster Parallels (x)

Edward Being Bolded On The S4 Movie Board (x) 

You’re Not A Child vs I’m Not A Dog  And Henry Or Edward Being “Not A Child” (x)

Edward and Henry and 001 vs 000 (x)

Henry’s Colour-Changing Socks (x)

I Don’t Know What That Thing Is But It’s Not My Son- Victor, Henry, Edward, and Vecna (x)

Why Are We Seeing Through The Eyes of Someone The Same Height As Henry So Often? And Why Did Henry Look Up At The Camera? (x)

How Does Timeline Theory Stuff Tie Into Other Events In ST and How Does It Tie Into The Themes of ST and How Are The Duffers Going To Pull It Off Without Blindsiding the GA? (x)

Something Was Wrong With Me Vs What Is Wrong Why My Boy (x) 

Lost In The Darkness vs Hiding In The Darkness vs Hiding In The Shadows vs Good At Hiding (x)

Is Sam Owens Edward’s Father/Victor Creel From Another Timeline? (x)

“Well, my hair was buzzed and I didnt have these sweet old tatties yet”: Another Eddie Munson vs Edward Creel Parallel (x)

Just Move Your Date This One Time: Edward and Moving Dates (x) 

All Your Theories About It Are Wrong, Because I’ve Seen One and Fought One: Edward Creel is Vecna/001 (ft Which One Is It?) (x) 

The Lab IDs That Kali Dumped Out Vs Edward and Henry (x)

Edward Creel and the Criticism of Eddie Munson Being a Pointless Character (x)

Henward’s Plinko Reflection (x)

That’s The One: Will and 001 and Edward Creel (x)

Henward Standing Like Alice Vs Standing Like Young Henward (x)

I’m Eleven, You Long Haired Freak (x)

Edward, Eddie, and Straitjackets (x)

Joseph Quinn and Jamie Bower Doing Press Together, ST5, and Edward Creel/Vecna Using Eddie Munson as a Flesh Puppet So That Jamie Is Freed Up To Play Henry Creel (x)

Reblog of Stav’s Post Regarding Edward Creel, Eddie Munson, Reefer Rick, Richard Brenner, and Will’s Vanishing vs Eddie Hiding Parallels and Eddie Being Mistaken For Rick (x)

Eddie The Banished vs Edward Creel and Eddie’s Death Scene vs Edward Creel/001 Getting Sent To Superhell (x)

Eddie Munson, Edward Creel and The Literal and Figurative Iron Maidens (x)

I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either: Edward Creel, Eddie Munson, and Being Forgotten (x)

“The Duffers Don’t Like Plot Twists Out Of Nowhere So Edward Won’t Happen”: Well Good Thing Edward Has Way More Foreshadowing Than Vecna or Henry Ever Had (x)

Old Post About Brenner-Henry (now Edward) Parallels During The Interrogation Scene With Jocye and Brenner and Edward Possibly Being The Same Person Somehow (x)

A Silly, Terrible Play and Murray and Yuri vs Henry and Edward (x)

Eddie, Teddy, Edward, Henry and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (x)

Many Worlds: Multiple Timelines In ST is Not A Stretch (And Hugh Everett’s Many Worlds Was Released The Same Year Edward Creel Moved To Hawkins) (x)

Kas The Bloody Handed and Henward and Twinners and The Changeling (x)

Bradley, Murray, and The Edward Timeline (aka I Was Right) (x)

Murray’s Conspiracy Board and the Edward Creel Reveal (x)

Edward’s Candles vs Eddie’s Candles (x)

I’d Say You're Asking Me to Follow You Into Mordor: Eddie Munson, Mordor, Edward Creel, and March 22nd (x)

A Good One and Eddie Munson (x)

When And How The Hell Did El Learn The Name “Henry”? (ft. “Henry- not you.”) (x)

The Twins In Front Of 001 (x)

How Did The Edward Paper Get Into The Henry Timeline? (x)

That’s The Same Damn Tub AGAIN! (Initial Post About ST vs Before I Wake and The Tubs in ST- Did Henry or Edward Get Drowned and Dumped in the Quarry?) (x)

That’s Not Me That’s Him (x)

Was There a Version of the Massacre Where Henry and Edward Fought Eachother? (x)

The Evil One, Ghostbusters, Edward and Peter (x)

Edward Creel, Peter Bishop, and Fringe: They Don’t Remember Him- How Could They? He Never Existed. (x)

Edward Underwood, Victor Creel, and Edward Creel (x)

I Might Be In A Bit of Trouble Here: Eddie, Edward, and Radios (x)

Ozzy Osbourne, Henward, Eddie Munson, Drugs, and Gene Mutations (x)

Ruth, Nevada, Parallel Timelines, and Edward (x)

Edward Scissorhands and TFS (x)

Two Years and Some Brother We Dont Know About (x)

“This Is Old Wallpaper,” “We’re In The Past,” and Even More Edward Timeline Evidence (x)

Edward Crumbs in the TFS Audition Tapes (x)

Edward and Easter Brunch (x)

Fred, Edward, Ted, Scott, Michael, Timelines and Newspapers (x)

I Am Henry Creel vs You’re Not Henry: Changing Rooms, Fringe, Henward, TFS, Walls, and Convincing Edward That He’s Henry (x)

TFS and The Edward Timeline: We Definitely Saw Edward Timeline Events During TFS (x)

Two Slick Cats: TFS and Henward vs the Everly Brothers (x)

MR ELECTRIC SEND HIM TO THE THEATRE REALM: I Could Not Pretend- Did Henry Send Edward To Do The Play In His Place? (x)

The TFS Newspapers About The Creel Murders (Edward Creel is So Real) (x)

It Was Victor's Uncle That Died: South Bend, Edward and the Creels- Reference to Edward in the NEW FULL WEEKLY WATCHER?? (Also Comparing The Various Weekly Watcher Articles)(x)

[munsons-maiden]

I know you mostly only talk about Eddie centric stuff but what do you think about the Suffer Bros forgetting Will's birthday? I've seen some posts about it, would love to hear what you have to say to it

I saw a lot of posts about that, too, and considering the fact that the Duffers LOVE to foreshadow the tiniest details, and plant these little clues whole seasons ahead, I don't believe, for a single second, that they forgot one of the only birthdays they gave a canon date for, on screen, in an absolute key moment.

They let Jason Carver tell us how he's find his end episodes ahead ("first hangover makes you feel like you're split in half"), they foreshadowed Lucas' connection to the basketballers in ST4 with the shirt he was wearing at the end of ST3, they foreshadowed the witchhunt for Eddie at the end of ST3 without us even knowing Eddie back then. And the things they keep posting on their twitter, even before ST4 had aired, about friends forgetting birthdays, the "sorry I forgot your birthday" card in Will's room in season 1, the whole fourth season taking place in the week of Will's birthday...nope, I don't believe, for a single second, that they don't rewatch the old seasons before writing or that they forgot Will's birthday.

The way I see it, Will is a very important key, has always been, and his friends and family forgetting his birthday might be the last straw to set a very important chain of events into motion. And it might be a way in for Vecna.

[justmeinadaze]

I feel embarrassed but I need to ask this. Was Robin still student in ST4? Because I have no clue

She was! She was playing in the school band during the pep rally and at the game. Dustin even mentions to Eddie that she plays in the band.

I'm assuming (not a 100%) that shes a year younger than Nancy so in season 4 it would be Robin's senior year.

If I am wrong please let me know! Honestly I thought her and Nancy were the same age so when I started season 4 and saw her at school I was like "Oh. Ok." Lol.

[queenimmadolla]

loser boy!Eddie is just canon Eddie to me, lol! He’s one of my fav Eddie’s too, probably because he’s so close to being as accurate as he appears on our screens when we watch ST4 🥺

It’s definitely challenging to write him without dialogue, because i obviously can’t convey that when he’s making zombie noises during certain scenes (i.e. the leg flashing scene, reader suspects he was agreeing with her statement when really he was groaning because legsskinthighsfishnetslegsskinthighsfishnets, reader’s just casually flaunting her stuff that he definitely wants to kiss and worship and she’s unknowingly teasing him) he’s not just thinking what Reader believes him to be. So i find that writing chunks from his perspective, so we can at least get a peak into his head helps tremendously, along with context clues. I’m quite liking the challenge actually!

Bug, when I tell you the Pomeranian was the biggest jump scare when I was first scrolling through this reblog 💀 I FLINCHED!

DOWN, CHRISSY! DOWN, GIRL!

Your pup definitely proved me wrong 😂

(BTW, wanna give you a SMOOCH for leaving this for me to reply to. I LOVE REVIEWS!!!)

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo��ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

[thatonesongyouretryingtoremember]

ST4 rewatch

The fact 010's number is shown hints to where this is on the timeline since 010 would have to be older than El and he looks maybe twelve?

010 didn't recognize the sun instantly

He knew of the existence of suns and dogs and cows though so either the kids read or he got taken like Kali did. The latter is unlikely though, otherwise he'd have a greater number than El.

His telepathy works different from El's. 010 could see from Brenner's eyes, whereas El and Henry observe in third person the subject's whereabouts or memories.

They keep showing us Brenner's handwriting???

The light switch is too high up for any kid to reach, so lack of agency (at least visually, there's a bunch of telekinetic kids) but also hostility towards wheelchair users and those with dwarfism, so maybe Brenner's an abelist little shit and specifically designed his building that way even though it's entirely unreasonable.

Getting hot with the door might explain why Henry neglected to kill him, but there's a bunch of other reasons too.

I thought it means down from the cut, but Brenner's nose was bleeding.

Her diorama is in a blue red and white REEBOK box and the logo is on the lid so it's upside-down, this gets a close up in her letter to Mike.

Joyce offers a client to "loan the product before committing" 👀 and "do you realize in not a robot?"

Did El straight up say she doesn't think Nancy would drive Jonathan to college??? No it's fine we respect compound sentences in this house..

Why does Jonathan still have that poster? Why did he ever?

"You were right, it just takes time." El tried to write how fucking miserable she felt but NOW she's lying! Why does she now feel that she has to lie? What changed?

This party always bothers me bc either I'm just autistic or she Mona Lisa-ing at the flowers and I can never tell whether she's serious.

I saw El's girf! (Gothy extra)

"Hard to breath" *gets suffocated*, etc

"High school drop out club" babes the leader has been in HHS for six years and so hasn't dropped out.

*in blue and yellow* "I will repent later" ("fruit on pizza that's blasphemous") (in the CLUES house)

"I woke up looking like a total corpse" *minimal Vickie development* I SWEAR TO GOD DUFFERS IF YOU KILL HER I WILL KILL YOU

Gone from not knowing what Fast Times is to memorizing timestamps for👀some👀reason. THAT'S what I call character development!

Darker version of her green scrunchie bc Max is a 'darker' version of what SHE WAS ALREADY THINKING wow is it too early to cry?

Look at my boy🥺 Jason shut up let him speak

Lucas is number 8

Jason is whether consciously or not playing to the group's sympathy just to get them on his side and make himself look smart, he does it later for angry mob reasons

Want Melissa the girl Steve liked in S3? She died?

What the fuck is a candy ass

Mike and Dustin are kinda making me HATE then right now dw Lucas ily <2

There's a rose quilt on Joyce's pantry

Every time I see Angela I get more annoyed

Her earrings look like teeth

I think the guys behind Lucas are flirting (/hj)

When Max starts talking about her step-dad she's framed with light behind her so you can't see her pupils or irises.

What the FUCK does he mean by Gareth has "a year and a half" left in high school???

"Most desired girl in Hawkins" have you ever spoken to someone besides Jonathan?

I wanna know what Fred said to gross Nancy out

Something something chess in the lab something something chess club at HHS

WHO WAS LOOKING FOR BUTTERFLY SYMBOLISM BECAUSE MAX HAD AN ORANGE ONE IN HER BEDROOM

Spiders (predators) on her fear food (?)

[beepboop358]

Possible Byler Evidence: Will has a poster for Boys Don't Cry by The Cure, which according to Wikipedia is about "the story of a man who has given up trying to regain the love that he has lost, and tries to disguise his true emotional state"

spot on anon!

Going even further, it is yet another clue Will is gay!

Whenever The Cure performed this song, it was common for people to wave rainbow symbols/flags in the crowd. It was taken as an LGBTQ acceptance anthem by many in the queer community because of the songs rejection of male masculine fragility/rejection of male stereotypes/gender norms

Also, there is a film called Boys Don’t Cry, about a transgender man who suffers harassment and bullying.

[stevesbipanic]

Everytime I see a cool visual of Eddie as Kas being held up by puppet strings with Vecna's hand, I become a little more delusional that he's coming back.

[ratinsuspenders]

i'm just Absolutely Sure steve blushes a lot and eddie finds it too amuzing i was too lazy to actually finish it so i just ✨ sprinkled ✨ it a little bit love them so much & will draw them again

[greenfiend]

dyersfilms said on twitter that the duffers confirmed the letter tweet isn't about byler. what do you think about it? do you believe her?

Reference to: this post

Hey anon!

First of all, I wouldn’t trust dyersfilms as a source as she is extremely biased but I know what she is referring to:

“This is… not about a couple…” is what the Duffers said regarding the letter.

This statement does not mean it isn’t about Byler, especially prior to them being a couple. Also remember the Duffers lie. All the time.

Rather than trusting what people say online, the best way to accurately predict what is to come is to study the show itself.

Let’s go over the simplest clues, shall we?

Evidence regarding Will receiving a letter:

- the song “Letter to Willy”

- the date of the tweet: Will’s disappearance

- Will bringing up to Mike that he never sent him letters

Evidence regarding Mike sending a letter:

- Mike wearing the teal top with a custom made design resembling a letter most of ST4

- Mike cannot “even write” love in his letters to El

- The “love” at the end of the letter in the tweet

The set up is all there, anon. The evidence is screaming to us that Mike has a letter for Will.

[steveharrington]

i could be completely wrong and have to come back on here and be pointed and laughed at in four weeks but i Really think. i really think the stancy scenes are building up to steve understanding the value of platonic love. at no point in this season does steve do anything that is explicitly flirty with nancy. when dustin and eddie both try to coax a love confession out of him, he doesn’t give any indication of genuinely having romantic feelings for her and with dustin he flat out denies it! when eddie says she dove in after him as an “unambiguous sign of true love” i really think steve will come to understand that True Love doesn’t have to mean romance and he doesn’t have to spend all his time constantly searching for it. that is what i hope and pray at least