who: lucas & @melissaia
what: hey so you threw up acid the other day what’s up with that
where: melissa’s place
it took lucas a couple of days to seek her out. there’d just been…a lot to process. he had to check in with his friends, visit people at the hospital, drive people to-and-from, keep working at the pool like nothing had happened, debrief his sister…there was just a lot to do and every time lucas checked something on his to-do list off, something else popped up. there was a large aquarium in the back seat of his car right now because he felt bad for the carnival goldfish on his dresser, for god’s sake.
but scott jr would have to wait a little bit longer for him to set up the new habitat. he’d thought about it halfway home: the people from the commune had been acting super weird after the tunnel of love. they’d spewed out motor oil that burned through a fork, fought people they cared about, and were obsessed with fireworks. but before all of that, melissa had warned him not to get too close. he’d been turning that over in his head ever since.
so, he pulled up in front of melissa’s and walked up to the front door, hoping she was home and would answer the door when he knocked. “hey,” he raised his eyebrows when she opened the door. “are you okay?” and then, a second later. “…can we talk?”
If she had thought her situation was complicated before, the events of the recent Fourth of July carnival brought things to a whole new level. Before Melissa had been wondering what she was. Now she was wondering what she was part of. This was bigger than the forest cult bullshit they’d been fed, which she’d already doubted. This was definitely supernatural...Nothing else could account for what had happened at the festival. What she’d done, what she’d remembered as she awoke from some trance—situated right in the midst of the aftermath of disaster she knew she had helped cause somehow.
And who the hell was she even able to speak to about all of this? The answer to that question, at least, landed itself right on her doorstep in the form of one Lucas Sinclair. She was halfway surprised to see him, considering he hadn’t called to let her know he was coming over, but supposed it was a matter of time before he decided to check on her, considering what had happened. Despite her absence for the past years, he would always be like family.
“Hey. I’m okay,” she assured. I’m alive, she meant. “How about you? Come on in...let’s talk.” She invited him inside, closing the door behind them and moving to the living room to sit down and have a proper discussion. She could only imagine how difficult it was going to be to navigate this conversation.
When Nancy heard of a fundraiser car wash at City Hall for the rebuilding of Benny’s Burgers, she jumped in her mom’s station wagon, ready to provide for the cause. She had, in some way, been responsible for the beloved diner burning down. If it hadn’t been for her turning on the breaker box, maybe Benny’s would still be standing. As she pulled into the parking lot, she felt like she was a killer going to the funeral of their victim. It was much less dramatic than that, but her heart sunk as she climbed out of the car, glancing at all the signs that mentioned the rebuilding of Benny’s. At least she’d make some sort of contribution.
Nancy almost didn’t clock it. Melissa Armstrong. Again, another thing in Hawkins that didn’t make sense. Mainly because Melissa had died. Another one of the people taken by the Mindflayer but here she was, as if she never died, advocating like usual. “Melissa?” Nancy asked, stepping closer, completely disregarding Melissa’s spiel. “You… You’re…” dead. Nancy had a hunch that wouldn’t boil over well if she said it out loud. Her and Melissa had been friends. Not quite as close as her and Barb had been, but friends nonetheless. Another person to mourn. “You know what? I’m here for both,” she said, giving Melissa a smile as if nothing had happened. If Nancy got close to Melissa, maybe she could find out some info. “If that’s allowed.”
.
The funny thing about being dead for the past three years was that it really had a way of making time fly. It wasn't as much of a shock for Melissa to see Nancy as it probably was the other way around; while Melissa felt like the last time she had seen her friend could have been a week ago, she had really been gone for years at this point. That was the reason for the look on the other young woman’s face, she supposed, although a desperate part of her hoped for it to be something more. She wanted Nancy to recognize that she had been dead, not just disappeared. It would have been a validation of what she believed.
But Nancy’s surprise turned into a smile that said everything is normal and Melissa found herself returning it, pushing the truth to the back of her mind as she fell back into the pretense she’d had to put up since re-entering society. “Sure, of course!” she answered, trying her best to sound natural but perhaps coming off too chirpy in compensation. “Like I said, we could use as much help as we can get...” And then after a beat, a breath, a little sprinkle of honesty: “You know, I’m glad to see you.”
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: the commune thing is weird isn’t it? like really weird?
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: Hawkins Community Pool
Oh, the Hawkins pool. For as long as Chrissy could remember, most of her summers were spent either in the pool at her house or the community pool. Sure, it was probably infested with bacteria but that didn’t matter as long as you lounged by the side of the pool. “Hey Melissa!” Spotting the girl, she waved Melissa over to her chair, motioning to the empty one next to her. Chrissy waited for the other girl to get situated before she started gabbing. Usually, her poolside chats were limited to just which cute boy was at the pool or what movies were playing at the hawk this week, but Chrissy was on a different mission. If it could be called that.
“You were on the commune, weren’t you?” Chrissy asked, glancing over at Melissa. “Why’d you do that?” Perhaps it was laying it on thick, but Chrissy could make sense of why her, Adam, and Jack had gone. Hell, if she thought about it long enough she could understand why Billy Hargrove ended up there. Melissa was the outlier. She was meant to be something. “I just always thought you’d get out of here.”
Any other question would have been easier to answer. Melissa had always liked Chrissy; she was sweet and friendly and overall pleasant to be around. Her company was always a delight. But right now Melissa wished she were anywhere else, talking to anyone else. Why did she join the commune? I didn’t, she wanted to say. I never would have chosen that. I was going to do important things, be somebody. But to justify that, she would have to explain her belief that she had never actually been on any commune, that she’d died years ago and somehow been revived and everything in between was a strange dream.
Didn’t Chrissy feel that, too—or anyone else who had supposedly been there? Didn’t they feel like their memories of the commune were vague, indistinct and hazy? Maybe they had a crystal clear experience of it all, or maybe they just didn’t know what option there was but to believe what they’d been told. “I don’t know,” she replied with a sigh. She’d just stretched out on the pool chaise, happy to have an easy chat with an old friend, but now her legs pulled up towards her body, arms wrapped around them and chin tucked on her knees.
How to give an excuse for her alleged behavior that was impossible to reconcile with her entire character? Rather than explain her full thoughts, she decided to skirt the truth seeking some common ground and understanding. “Can I say something that might sound weird...? I don’t think I was there of my free will. I don’t know if it’s possible to be drugged for three years straight, but...I don’t really remember anything clearly, except for before I was taken there.”
A true answer would be that she wasn’t actually here. That the glass in her hands is legal and the amber liquid, encouraged by the bar tender with hopeful eyes. It was easy enough to slip in undetected by the insufficient bouncer; they seemed more occupied by their own liquid. Besides the thump of the live band sent her reeling. Time spent with Jonathan and Will taught her the novelty of music. Another reason she found herself under the roof of The Hideout.
Years spent analyzing American culture with the television as her guide but now that she was within an actual ‘ bar ‘. El couldn’t help but feel so very out of place, oblivious to the factor that she wasn’t twenty-one. And that she should not be here at all. But the gleam from the bouncer was enough approval that she walked through the dive bar’s doors. Unaware of glances from those sketchy men in the corner or the bartender eyeing her up and down. Eleven was after the adrenaline, the one that promised she was normal. Settling onto the bar stool, palms pressed flush against the laminated counter top.
El’s feet dangling as she realized how far away from the ground she truly was. But remembering the stereotypical words spoken from the crackling static of a television series, mimicking those words to the nearest stranger “ Do you come here often? “
This wasn't exactly her scene. How could it be? She'd been a diligent high school graduate looking forward to her first semester at university what felt like only a week ago. Now she was a twenty-one year old with nothing lined up, but an ID in her wallet which said she could legally drink—so why shouldn't she, just to try it? The fruity cocktail sitting on the bar in front of her wasn't nearly as bad as the few beers she had tasted at high school parties. Still, she didn't expect she'd be a regular here.
The pub was teeming with life and while that made Melissa feel more alive herself in a sense, it also made her feel...lonelier. She had always been such a social butterfly, but after being either dead or hidden away in a commune for the past three years with vague memories of that missing time (hard to tell which was the truth), it was a little difficult to relate to other people. Nobody here understood what she was going through. Then again, they were all probably going through things in their own lives that they believed no one else could appreciate. And that was humanity’s curse: the ability to feel alone in a crowded room.
Meeting the gaze of the person next to her, she quirked a half smile at the manner of greeting. She couldn’t tell whether the other woman was really trying to flirt with her—out in public and all?—or if she was just trying to make polite conversation with what incidentally happened to be the most cliched pick-up line in history. “Nah, first time,” Melissa offered in answer, tilting her head slightly as she appraised the cute stranger. “I’m just trying to...make up for lost time. Indulge in some new experiences and all that. How about you?”
WHO: thad bradshaw & @melissaia
WHAT: at least he tips ?
WHERE: luvahs lake
thad was about to call it a night. he’d played ball, he’d socialized to the max, oh and he’d been in that weird cabin. to say the least, he was totally wasted. it was probably a good half hour he spent roaming around without a drink in hand, harassing whoever crossed his path. he was straight up messy. it was when he ran upon a girl who looked familiar he stopped, grabbing both of her shoulders, and looking at her bewildered.
he must’ve looked mad, but he knew her, he knew that face. why did he know her? thad didn’t know anyone here, not intimately, but he was having such a strong reaction to her presence. “we know each other.” he slurred the assertion, nodding with complete confidence as he tried to pull the memory out of his brain. ah. there it was! she’d been helping set up the tents, he tipped her. urgently, as if there were an emergency, he screamed in her face, “did you get your money?! tell me you got your money!”
The moment someone’s hands grabbed her shoulders, Melissa tensed up. She wasn’t strong enough to fight back, as evidenced by the fact that she’d been murdered once before, but hey—at least she knew what to expect now. Except this time she wasn’t being attacked, she was just being accosted by a drunken white man. As his alcohol-infused breath washed over her face, she did her best to lean back and try not to gag until he was suddenly shouting about money. Oh. It was that guy. “I got the money!” she answered, desperate for him to get out of her space already.
On one hand, Melissa wanted nothing more than to shove that money back in his face and tell him where he could put it; on the other, she knew she had to de-escalate and calm him down if at all possible (and at this point she was pretty sure she deserved more than five bucks for putting up with this.) “Who do you belong to?” she asked, meaning who brought you here and who can I give you back to. Being one of the organizers and therefore designated chaperones of this trip (although she hadn’t quite expected to be drunk-sitting adults) it did fall to her to ensure this man wasn’t a danger to himself or others...But she very much hoped that he had some friend or even acquaintance around who was better suited to the task of looking after him.
WHO: max mayfield & @melissaia
WHAT: what if we kissed at the meteor shower and we’re both girls???
WHERE: Thee meteor shower
max was on the fence about even going. she closed the hawk that night and was sure she was going to be exhausted after the fact, but what was it the papers said? like another fifty years until it was visible again? she highly doubted she’d enjoy laying in a field this much when she was pushing seventy. so, she finished up at work, closed up, and smoked a joint on her way to where the town was congregating for the shower. everything felt so still on her way over. the roads were empty and everything was blanketed in nighttime. she liked hawkins like this, when she couldn’t sense it’s curse.
feeling sufficiently high by the time she arrived, max was merely looking for the first person she knew to camp out with. her eyes fell to melissa armstrong first, sitting alone, perfect. her blanket was a little bit away from everyone else, which she didn’t mind. she was fried, tired, and there more for the stars than the socialization. still, max made her way over, plopping down next to melissa, “hey,” she stuck out her hand, “i’m max, don’t know if you remember me from school or whatever.” and then, a bit belatedly, she asked, “mind if i hang with you?” her eyes flitted to the passing meteors in she sky. it was pretty, but max personally thought they looked prettier down in the quiet streets of hawkins. on the way here, it was just her, her board, and the sky. but she figured this was nice, too, even if she couldn’t get a read on melissa’s vibe. somewhat awkwardly, max looked back down to melissa, who seemed a lot closer than she remembered. she didn’t mind. “uh…” minorly regretting plopping down next to a stranger, she struggled to think of anything to say. eventually, she came up with, “i like…your eyes…” oh, okay. so she was definitely still stoned. swallowing any reservations about her previous comment, she added, “i know that’s like, super weird to say, but they’re like, really big. in a good way.”
Was it a positive sign that she had returned to life just in time for a celestial event like this? Melissa didn’t know if she believed in fate, but if there was some force that had brought her back here (from wherever she’d been, whether it was a woodsy cult or the other side) it was nice to think that it was benevolent enough to give her the gift of this meteor shower as her grand welcome home. It was a little too lonely, though a little too on her own without any of her friends by her side—because they all either believed she had abandoned them for years without contact, or didn’t even know she was back yet. It was easier to try to forget about that, staring up into the infinite cosmos and feeling small.
The presence of another girl at her side, sudden and unexpected and very much welcome, she accepted the hand that was offered to her with a firm shake. “Hi, Max. I’d love the company,” she replied sincerely, an effortless smile gracing her lips. She did remember Max, now that she had her name, but she was privately grateful for the reminder; becoming reacquainted with people who had lived and changed for the past three years was a process, whether she’d been particularly close with them before or not. Melissa’s gaze shifted back to the stars, unsure if the other young woman was the talking type or not and letting her set the mood, but soon enough her full attention was pulled back by the awkward compliment she received. The smile on her face this time was more amused, her brows quirking upwards and eyes widening further almost as in direct response to the comment. “Thanks. You have pretty eyes, too...Why're you watching me instead of the stars, huh?” she teased lightly.
initially, lucas had driven his car down to city hall because it needed a good wash. the…investigating he’d been doing lately included a lot of of-roading, so the beat-up honda certain could use it. plus, it benefited a good cause. when he was circling the block to pull in behind a rusty pickup truck, he’d done a double take and almost ran into the back bumper. “shit,” he muttered to himself, swinging the wheel around and jumping the curb a bit as he settled into a parking spot down near melvald’s and jumped out of the car to check.
he thought he’d seen melissa down at city hall, but he hadn’t seen her in…god, it’d been years. and he hadn’t heard a word from her since. he walked quickly, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and came to a stop a few feet away from her, eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled. “mellie?” his voice was a little higher pitched than usual as he stared at her. it was kind of like seeing a ghost…only melissa hadn’t been dead. she’d just disappeared. “what the hell are you doing here?”
.
That nickname caught her attention and Melissa’s heart skipped as she realized exactly who was standing in front of her. He was a few years older, maybe a few inches taller, but it was still him, despite how he’d seemingly grown up in her absence. How much had she missed? Lucas should have just graduated high school by now...She wanted to ask what his college plans were, if he was still playing basketball, if he was happy. She wanted to hug him, but right now he looked like he’d just seen a ghost—and maybe he had, because she sure felt like one. Melissa constantly had to remind herself that she hadn’t died, she had just been somewhere else, and then try to convince herself to believe it.
“Luke,” she said, a softness in her voice as she addressed the boy—the young man—she practically saw as a little brother, who probably believed she had willingly abandoned him and Hawkins completely and then shown back up years later at a community fundraiser asking him for donations. How could she begin to explain? “I’m guessing you’re not asking what I’m doing at the car wash,” she replies, trying to make light of the impossibly heavy situation. “Honestly? I don’t know if you would even believe me if I told you where I’ve been for the past three years. But I’m here now...And I’m sorry that I haven’t been.” It was strange, apologizing for something she felt she had no control over—her mysterious disappearance—but it almost felt necessary if she wanted to restore her old friendships. She would rather take accountability for the mess and move forward cleaning it up.
robin hadn’t initially intended to go to the community car wash down at city hall, but it just happened to be on the way home. don’t get her wrong it was for a great cause, but she didn’t have a car. though she had mentioned it to steve so he could take his down there, as compensation. that was, if he would even let anyone else touch his ‘precious baby’. and robin was just going to breeze on straight past, until the sound of a familiar voice drew robin’s attention, to which she walked directly through the commotion instead to locate the source. usually a familiar voice wouldn’t seem too odd, except- “…melissa?”
she would have said it was impossible, except there the other woman was. standing there, rallying the town together just like she had done back in high school. but she was supposed to be dead. “melissa, hi. it’s robin, we used to study together, we-“ kissed in the back of the library that one time right before you disappeared off the face of the earth, only to turn up dead not long after? oh, yeah. like she could say that. “what are you doing here?” voice barely above a whisper now, robin felt as if she could almost choke on thin air.
.
“Robin! Hey.” She didn’t need a reminder to know who Robin Buckley was—for Melissa, the last time they’d met might as well have been a week ago. Despite her foggy idea of the supposed three years she’d lived in between then and now, she hadn’t really felt that passage of time (more like she’d woken up after a dream, remembering yesterday better than the events that had transpired in her sleep.) Her most recent memories involved senior year, college applications, study dates, graduation, a kiss in the library. Of course, Robin would feel like that was all years ago...Yet, she still hadn’t forgotten her. That thought ached.
Had Robin been hurt when Melissa had disappeared without another word, without a warning? I didn’t mean to leave like that, she thought. I didn’t mean to leave at all. “It’s been a long time, huh?” she forced herself to say, because it was true even if it felt like a lie. “It’s good to see you.” That wasn’t a lie, though this conversation was harder to navigate than she would have expected; it used to be so easy to talk to the other girl. But now she had the option of either explaining that she’d run away to some commune in the forest without ever saying goodbye or confessing that she believed had died and sounding mental. Cold-hearted or crazy: those were the two characters she could choose from. Either way she needed to have this conversation, to give her old friend some kind of answer. “Do you want to catch up? I can take a break from the car wash.”
WHO: Melissa Armstrong + open
WHERE: Outside City Hall
WHAT: Community car wash
There had never been a time when Melissa was so lost in her life. Waking up after her own death to find that three years had passed, head filled with foggy memories of the time between that felt false but with no way to prove it, she was just left...adrift. She had been accepted to university before she disappeared; now she was quite suddenly a twenty-one year old with no college credit, no career and no clue how to get back on track. Well, in all fairness it had only been a few days and she was bound to pull her shit back together soon enough, but in the meantime she clung to what was familiar, what came naturally. Community service. As long as she could be of use to her town, she wouldn’t be entirely unmoored.
“It’s five dollars for a small to full-size car, ten for a truck or van,” she automatically listed the prices for the fund-raiser car wash as somebody approached their hopeful operation, looking up from her clipboard with a bright smile and squinting in the direct sunlight. “All proceeds go to rebuilding Benny’s Burgers. Or if you’re here to volunteer your time, we could always use more hands and we have plenty of sponges to go around.”
[SAMANTHA LOGAN, FEMALE, SHE/HER] who’s that? oh it’s [MELISSA ARMSTRONG]. i hear they’re [21] and are known as [THE OVERACHIEVER] around [CITY HALL]. they’re known to be [GREGARIOUS & AMBITIOUS] and [STUBBORN & BOSSY]. some people say they remind them of [WELL-ORGANIZED PLANNERS, ENDLESS HOURS OF COMMUNITY SERVICE, CLOUDLESS SKIES & MIRACULOUSLY NEAT FRENCH MANICURES]. they [DO] believe they died.
Full Name: Melissa Nichelle Armstrong
Nicknames: Lissy, Mellie, Mels
Age: 21
Birthday: November 15
Orientation: Bisexual (closeted)
Occupation: N/A
Aspirations: Mayor of Hawkins
Melissa has been a leader ever since she was born. She was the kid in elementary school who made sure that no one was left out at recess, stood up for the underdogs without provoking the bullies, and the teacher’s pet who accepted any additional responsibilities given to her with aplomb. Because she was such a social butterfly, friendly even to the outcasts, it was easy for her to win class elections throughout junior high and high school, representing her peers as class president. But she’s always had higher goals; Melissa had her heart set on becoming the future Mayor of Hawkins. In her life philosophy, there’s little use in wishing and waiting for the world to change—the only way forward is to is to enact the change you want to see yourself. She studied hard to maintain perfect grades and worked even harder to uplift her community with clean-up efforts, food drives, and other programs and acts of service whenever possible. (Fitting in some peaceful political protests when appropriate.) Everything has been meticulously planned and certain.
Ultimately, she planned to get a degree in political science and come back to Hawkins fully prepped for her first campaign for a seat on the city council, and she was all set to head to university in the fall of 1985…when something happened. That summer, fresh out of high school and ready for the rest of her life to begin, it abruptly ended. She died. Or she thought she did. At this point the details are foggy, like looking through frosted glass, like trying to catch the remnants of a dream you’ve just woken up from, but a few things are still crystal clear. She remembers meeting with her ex-boyfriend who wanted to talk…that he seemed off, different somehow…and that he took her somewhere strange before knocking her out. Her last real memory was confusing and frightening, harsh and dismal. After that, she has “memories” of living in a peaceful hippie commune in the forest, building a community that lived in harmony with nature—but those are the fuzzy thoughts that escape like smoke when she tries to grab onto anything solid. If she didn’t know better, she would believe that she had been kidnapped and inducted into some sort of cult, but the stark difference between her real memories and the fake ones keeps her from wholly buying into that story.
At this point, if she’s honest with herself, Melissa truly believes that she died that summer of 1985, but it’s pretty hard to reconcile that with the fact that she is currently very much not dead. She’s lost three years of her life, three years she should have been at college earning her future, but doesn’t even have solid memories of the life she supposedly led in the meantime, nothing tangible to prove any of it even happened. She’s at a loss in a way that she’s never been, always so sure of every step she’s ever taken, every detail of her life planned out. She doesn’t have a plan anymore, because how can she become mayor to a town everyone believes she abandoned? At the same time, she has a spirit that refuses to give up in the face of any obstacle that dares to stand in her way. Maybe she can spin this story to her favor, use her experience as a community leader in that commune as an asset on her record. What would any politician do? There’s still the matter of her being a zombie, maybe, but she doesn’t know what do with that so it may be time to compartmentalize.
Her ex-boyfriend was none other than Jack Foreman; they dated in junior year before he decided to break things off. Although he never really explained why, it wasn’t too big of a deal to Melissa at that time considering she had plenty else to focus on besides high school romance, and they remained friendly afterwards. She’s not sure they were ever really in love in the first place—more like they were in the same social circles and enjoyed each other’s company, so going out just seemed like the natural thing to do. While they cared about each other, maybe even had more-than-platonic feelings for one another, it was ultimately not meant to be and that’s perfectly fine. It just doesn’t make sense to Melissa why he would end up murdering her, since they were on good terms and it wasn’t like he was a crazy, embittered ex (he was the one to initiate their break-up, after all.) Then again, she was evidently never killed, despite the fact that she distinctly remembers him hurting her…The best sense she can make of the situation is that, if he was responsible for whatever happened to her, he must have had some kind of mental break, because it was clear he wasn’t entirely himself when he did it.
Besides Jack, Melissa’s romantic history has included guys and girls, although the latter is kept under wraps. It’s not that she’s ashamed of her sexuality—on the contrary, she’s proud to be exactly who she is and plans to push for the rights of others like herself…once she has the power to do so. But the fact of the matter is that she’s already fighting an uphill battle trying to get elected for public office as a black woman. Adding another layer of “otherness” from the straight white male paragon of society by being openly bisexual in small-town America is simply not an option right now. She needs to not only work harder, but smarter to get a sliver of what she wants, and unfortunately that includes staying closeted (let alone for her physical safety! If that’s something that still matters for the undead.)
