I Fear The Byler Brain Worms Have Gotten Me

Well if you’ll go crazy,we’ll go crazy together He/him

[batteryacid77]

Putting stranger things in the pride collection is genuinely diabolical and nefarious

[neverwonderneverremember]

sleep is stolen time. don't let them take it from you anymore. tonight. we are staying up. til one billion o clock.

[dragon-in-a-fez]

keep thinking about how I wrote in my dissertation about how every time a new form of public/social space emerges it's immediately popular with kids and teenagers who see it as a chance at freedom and then adults colonise it and kick them out. this happened with malls in the 80s and diners in the 50s and pool halls in the 20s. my dad was doing research on this trend in like 1975. and I was like "yeah so this is going to happen to the internet" and then five years later every government suddenly decided to ban kids from everywhere online. I hate being right especially when I don't even get paid for it

[purusims]

☀️🌊🍦🧸⛱️

[whimsywheeelah]

if you think about it..byler canonically (unbeknownst to them at the time) went on more dates than midleven...

[electricalwiseheart]

[batteryacid77]

Painting I did

[batteryacid77]

Byler hyperfixation still so bad I subconsciously choose blue and yellow for everything whether I like it or not

[z0-mb-ie]

“there are way too many byler variants, its getting out of hand.”

me every single time a new one drops without fail:

[batteryacid77]

ITS ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN OMEGA VESRION NOW??????????!???

[holleighgolightly]

New Chapter: Never Will

Will's chest was moving, but he still looked dead. Not just pale—wrong. Like something had been put back where it didn’t belong and hadn’t settled yet. So much so that Mike had to keep one of his hands wrapped around Will’s wrist and fingers pressed to his pulse point at all times. He kept checking—pressing harder when he couldn’t feel it right away, like maybe his own shaking hands were the problem and not the fact that Will had almost died.

He'd gone numb– near catatonic for the entire ride back to the Squawk. He just kept holding on to Will– to keep him warm, of course. Body heat and all that. That was the excuse, anyway. Easier than admitting he didn’t trust that Will would stay breathing if he let go.

And when they'd gotten to the Squawk and laid Will down on the couch in the lounge, it occurred to Mike that, well, actually, the head emits some of the most heat, right? So that's how he ended up with his head laying across Will's chest, listening to his soft heartbeat. If it was quiet enough, he could still hear the wetness of the water still in his lungs. A faint, awful gurgle under each breath—like something stuck where it shouldn’t be. It made Mike’s stomach twist every time he heard it.

The others were in the basement. Too loud. 

Too much.

 He couldn’t handle voices right now—could barely handle his own thoughts.

Well, the others, minus Lucas.

Lucas looked like he was a hollowed-out shell. The only thing he'd heard his friend say since Will started breathing again was the quietest– “I wanna go home.” While they were in the car. Not angry. Not panicked. Just… empty. Like something in him had already shut off.

It was strange. It almost felt like a sort of betrayal– like he was allowing himself to just walk away from the devastation and go home to his undestroyed house, with his uninjured parents, and his not-missing sister. He could just take a warm shower and put on dry pajamas and pretend it was all a nightmare. He didn't even say goodbye when he'd gotten out of the car– just slid himself out from beneath Will's legs, like Will’s goddamn body had been the blanket of a hotel bed, and Lucas was a cheating husband who woke early to avoid the awkward fallout of a drunken one-night stand. Didn’t even look back. That was the part that stuck.

Mike wasn't exactly sure who he was in that analogy, but he knew he didn't like it.

But… then, again, maybe it wasn't betrayal. Maybe misery just loved company. Maybe Mike just didn’t want to be the only one stuck here, still drowning in it.

Mike should have been happy for his friend to have such a luxury, especially since he was the one to have saved Will's life while Mike just sat there and cried.

Even now that's all Mike was doing.

The blame game was alive and well. And he wondered why no one had started pointing the finger at him yet. They would. They had to. It made too much sense not to.

Dustin's target had been Nancy– blaming her for blindly supporting the rescue mission formulated by two distraught teenagers who had just had their world shattered. Robin had tried to calm them down, but she herself had broken when Dustin had looked at her and simply said Steve's name. That had done it. 

Just one name, and everything cracked open.

Steve was gone because he'd gone after Jonathan. Jonathan was gone because he'd gone after Will. Jonathan had gone after Will because Mike hadn't. Because Mike froze. 

Because Mike hesitated. 

Because Mike wasn’t brave

Will wouldn't want Mike to be the one here. He would have wanted Jonathan. He would have wanted Mike to have been taken instead. The thought hit harder every time it circled back—like it was gaining weight with each pass.

With every wakeless breath out of Will, Mike, too, wanted to have been taken instead.

“It's all my fault,” he whispered, planting his forehead over where Will's heart kept beating. He pressed harder than he needed to, like he could anchor the rhythm in place. Like he could keep it from stopping again if he just stayed there.

“I know.”

Mike's head shot up at the faint rumble. Will's eyes were still closed. He hadn't even moved an inch. His heart lurched so violently it almost hurt—hope spiking too fast, too sharp.

Still– Mike had heard that, right? Had he heard Will's voice?

He sat up straighter. Well, as straight as he was capable. His spine felt like it might snap under the sudden tension.

“Will?”

“Why are you here?”

Mike blinked the tears from his eyes—almost convinced they would clear the voice from his head. Instead, all it did was solidify that Will's lips were moving. Slow.

 Barely. 

Like the words were dragging themselves out.

“I–” Mike reached for Will's hand, “I'm here. I'm here.” His grip tightened instinctively, like if he let go now, Will might disappear again.

His face was lax, and his eyes were still shut. He still looked completely unconscious.

“C-can you hear me?”

Mike was almost inclined to believe that he'd started falling asleep; that this was just a weird hypnopompic hallucination. That this was his brain finally short-circuiting under everything.

Until Will spoke again.

“No.”

“No?” Mike laughed– not just at the snarky reply, but from the sheer relief of Will being awake. The sound came out wrong—too sharp, too close to breaking.

“No.” Will said again, oddly. Face still lax and eyes still shut.

“Are– are you in a trance still?” Mike whispered, “Are you in the void? Like- like El?”

“Why?” Will spoke, but his voice lacked the detached monotone quality, “Are you going to pull out another riveting love confession to save the day?”

Okay, yeah, Mike…Maybe Mike deserved that. It still didn't keep him from feeling surprised that Will's anger towards him was the first thing on his mind post-resuscitation. Not confusion. 

Not fear. 

Just… that. 

Directed straight at him.

“I- I mean…” Mike shifted awkwardly and aimed for levity, “Would it help?” He tried to smile.

 It didn’t stick.

“It didn't last time.” Will's dismissal shot the nervous laugh right out of his lungs, “But why don't you try it anyway?”

“Will, I-” Mike sighed, letting the guilt wash through him. God, Will really meant it, hadn't he? Truth be known, Mike had been pretty melodramatic in most of his thoughts. Despite all of his self-blame and deprecation. Despite wallowing in the fact that Will, his best friend, hated him, Mike hadn't truly let himself believe that. Not Will. Never Will.

He had been so stupid to think Will couldn’t hate him.

So the fact that Will was here, blessedly awake and blaming him, it almost felt like he had manifested this result by fixating on it. Like he'd somehow earned this version of Will.

“I'm so sorry, Will. I-”

“That's not what you said last time.” Will cut him off, eyes still closed and face indifferent. Flat. Almost bored. That might’ve been worse than yelling.

“What do you-”

“Let's skip ahead to his favorite part.”

“Favorite part? What are you?” The question slipped out before he could stop it—quiet, but sharp with something like fear.

“‘I feel like my life started that day I found you in the woods.’ Isn't that what you said to her?”

Mike felt like he’d been slapped. Had he really said that? He didn't remember. Truthfully, he didn't remember most of what he said in that moment. Why would Will be hung up on that of all the things he’d—

 Of all the things that had happened, that was what stuck?

“Don't be shy now. You said your life started the day you found her in the woods. Your life started the day your best friend went missing and you replaced him. You chose her that day and you've chosen her every day since.”

“No I-I never replaced you!” Mike squeezed his hand in desperate futility to feel how much he meant it. “You said it yourself I was just- just lying. I was lying! I never meant that–” His voice cracked halfway through, words tripping over each other in a rush to fix something he didn’t know how to fix.

“Your life started the day his ended… That's dark, Michael, very dark.”

That's when it struck him. Something about the third person and the use of his full name… Cold realization crept in, slow and sickening.

“Though I'm not surprised. I've become quite intimate with his mind. And every time I scour its darkest corners, there you are.”

“You're- “ Mike's head jerked with the dawning horror, “You're not-” His grip tightened painfully around Will’s hand, like he needed something solid to hold onto.

“You really don't know him at all, do you? Look how long it took you to notice.”

Mike wanted to argue. He felt the need to reassert that they were friends, but… But—damn, that was kind of true, wasn't it? He hadn't even noticed until— Until now. Until it was too late.

 Until something else had already noticed for him.

“I didn't even need to lie. But you did, didn't you? He has such love for the ones who harm him. Perhaps that is why he cherishes you so deeply.”

Whatever Vecna was doing, he couldn't move. He had to do something. His body wouldn’t listen—like the signal between his brain and his limbs had been cut clean through.

Scissors. There were scissors on the table. Close. 

Too far. 

Somehow both at once.

“Even now, you should see how he fights to keep you from the truth.”

He's fighting to keep the truth—Mike thought. There's truth he's been hiding… Something big enough to bury. Something big enough that even now, half-dead, he was still protecting it.

He brought the scissors to Will's damp T-shirt and began to cut. The fabric resisted at first—heavy with water, clinging to skin—before finally giving way with a soft, tearing snip.

“There's great power in the love that he has for those who don't deserve it.”

The scraps of fabric fell away, but where Mike expected black veins of corruption, there was nothing but smooth skin and toned muscles beneath his hands. Normal.

 Wrongly normal. 

Like the absence of something horrible was worse than finding it.

“He protects you with a heart that you have broken time and time again.”

Vecna continued, seemingly unaware of how Mike was peeling Will's eyelids back to check for dark brown irises. All he saw was milky sclera. No focus. No recognition. Just that awful, vacant white staring back at him.

“Though fret not, I have cared for him in your place. And he has succumbed to me.”

“No… You son of a— No! He— Will—” Mike fisted Will. Mike fisted Will's shirt, His hands shook violently now, fingers curling tight like he could drag Will back just by holding on hard enough.

“Will, I know you can hear me—”

“He really can't.”

“I-I know you're in there.” He had to be. He had to be. There was no version of this where he wasn’t.

“He is not.”

“You have to fight it!”

“He never has, Michael.” He said, through Will's voice, it sounded almost kind. “He never will.” Gentle. That was the worst part. Like a teacher correcting something obvious.

“You're wrong.” The words came out sharper than he felt—thin and brittle, like they might snap if pushed.

“I'm not.” He hummed, “I know him better than you ever could. Do you want to know why he is so easy to control? It is because he tortures himself for the things he cannot.”

Mike looked around frantically for something, some solution– his eyes caught sight of the meeting notes still on the whiteboard, scrawled haphazardly in Jonathan's handwriting

Venca= Lying Bitch.

But Jonathan(God, Jonathan) wasn't hearing this. He wasn't how honest it sounded. How very true it felt. 

“You can stop it. You can stop all of this,” Will's voice sounded almost pleading, despite the words being Vecna’s, “All you have to do is accept the truth.”

A clock chimes sounded from somewhere deep in the station.

“W-What are you talking about? What do you mean?” 

“I know what you are, Michael Wheeler.” Will almost sounded doubled, “You are a fool.” 

“And you're a coward,” Mike bit back, “You can't even meet my gaze!”

“Oh I have, Michael. I have met your gays.” He growled, ‘I have met all of your gays.  And you belong with them.” 

“No! Fuck you! No, I'm straight!” 

“You're a liar, Michael Wheeler.” Venca taunted as Mike climbed over Will’s still body. 

“I'm gonna save you Will.” Mike promised, straddling his best friend's hips, “And I'm gonna do it heterosexually!” 

Mike raised the scissors about Will's placid face.

“That is why you will never succeed–” 

He was about to bring the blade down but hesitated– he had to pierce one, but–  but which one was the gay eye??

There was no winning. No matter which eye he pierced, the Tumblr edits would mirror it and claim he'd pierced the gay eye. 

He had to stab them both. 

“I'm sorry, Will.” He sobbed and brought the scissors down

The first eye shot blood all over him.

The second one shot out rainbow confetti. 

“No!” Mike wept, ripping his own shirt off, “Why didn't I stop??I was right the first time!!!” 

Everyone from the graduating class of ‘87 and Murray came running into the room to see what all the ruckus was.

“Cum back, Will!” Mike wailed, “We could have been straight, together!!” 

El cried and fell to her knees at the sight. “Why must you always are doing cheat, Mike?” 

“I’m sorry, Girl-Will . Maybe sometimes, I was always not ever going to never not never love him.”Mike picked up the scissors and raised them to his own eyes. 

Robin and Steve (who was brought back by the power of compehet’s kiss) stopped making out and turned to fuckign stop him or something. 

“Mike no!” Steve reached out from across the room, “You’ll get gayed.” 

“I don’t care.” Mike decided, “Maybe i was gayed along the way.”

Dustin punched a wall. “That’s not in line with your character tho.” 

Mike looked into the camera. 

“Nothing ever is.” 

The end

To be continued?????

[noitsnotacookiee]

lovefool 😵‍💞

[thoraelrlffnem]

"Stranger Things finale is overhated" NO IT'S NOT! IN FACT, IT'S UNDERHATED! I SEE WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE DEFENDING THAT GARBAGE

[mikewheelerisaqueerler]

someone told the duffers that gay means happy so they decided they couldn't even risk making him happy

[batteryacid77]

Will Byers is the kind of guy to pay neighborhood kids to mow his lawn when he’s old and then invite them in for cookies and lemonade after and tell them stories about his youth

[batteryacid77]

For some reason it pisses me off sooo bad when characters talking about their experience being gay just describe it as how much they don’t like girls to the point where I start defending women in my head lmao

[mikewheelerisaqueerler]

byler is a david bowie song and lesbyler is a kate bush song