Shadowheart Wolf

(When Winter comes with all it's might, Only the Wolves shall howl in the Night.)🐺❄🖤

[shadowheartwolf2]

How should Henry Creel’s story end? What kind of ending do you actually find satisfying?

Option 1: The Permanent Physical Death.

Option 2: The Unyielding Nightmare.

Option 3: The "Quiet Guest" (Mental Fusion).

Option 4: The Official Canon Ending.

Remaining time: 16 hours 36 minutes

​Option 1: The Permanent Physical Death.

Henry realizes the error of his ways in the final hour and chooses to die in a blaze of glory to save the others. Henry is completely destroyed. A definitive end that prioritizes a "moral scoreboard" and total erasure.

​Option 2: The Unyielding Nightmare.

Henry remains the villain—fearful, menacing, and terrifying (like in Season 4, but even more focused). A pure horror ending where he is never redeemed.

​Option 3: The "Quiet Guest" (Mental Fusion).

Henry’s physical form dies, (like Option 1) but his consciousness survives through a connection to Patty. He is not a physical threat, but he exists in her mind—a bridge between tragedy and survival.

​Option 4: The Official Canon Ending.

The original path taken by the creators in the actual Season 5—accepting the story exactly as it was written and executed on screen.

[midnightcreel]

martin brenner found the world’s most autistic boy and said that is my son

[shadowheartwolf2]

​How media - and the Stranger Things fandom - conditioned us to view self-sacrifice as the absolute pinnacle of love and heroism. Because if you actually look at the psychology of it, an unilateral decision to die "for the greater good" or "to save someone" is often one of the most devastatingly selfish things a character can do.​There’s a line from Death Note where Light confronts his father about being willing to sacrifice his life, asking: "That might be fine for you, but did you ever stop to think about the pain it would cause the people you leave behind?" ​That is exactly the blind spot both Eleven and Henry Creel are walking into. Let’s break down why this trope works in some cases, but completely fails them.

​A sacrifice works narratively when it is driven by an objective, universal necessity, not personal guilt or a martyr complex. ​Look at Bob Newby. He didn't choose to die because he wanted to punish himself or because he made a lone-wolf decision. There was a literal lock-down, someone had to reset the computers, and he did it to ensure the immediate physical survival of the group. His death was a tragedy, but it was a clean, heroic act. ​When we look at El and Henry in Season 5, however, things get messy.

When looking at other major sacrifices in Stranger Things, like Billy in Season 3, Hopper in the Starcourt finale, or Eddie in Season 4, the narrative didn't feel cheap or frustrating. Why? Because their situations were fundamentally different from El’s and Henry’s. They didn’t choose death out of a martyr complex; they chose it out of immediate, tactical necessity.

Billy’s sacrifice at the ends of Season 3 was the ultimate act of reclaiming his own agency. ​Billy wasn’t running away from life; he was actively breaking free from the Mind Flayer’s control. In that split second, Eleven’s reminder of his mother gave him his humanity back. His sacrifice was a direct shield for El—if he hadn't stood up to the Meat Monster in that exact moment, El would have died right there. It was a rapid-fire, reactive choice to save a life, not a premeditated decision to abandon his loved ones.

Hopper’s "death" at the end of Season 3 is the perfect example of a sacrificial choice based on sheer logic and love. ​The Russian machine was tearing open the Gate, the Mind Flayer was killing everyone, and Joyce was at the switches. Hopper knew that if Joyce didn't turn those keys, the world would end—including El. He looked at Joyce, gave her the nod, and accepted his fate. He didn’t want to leave El or Joyce; he was making the ultimate tactical bet to buy them a future. It worked because it was rooted in the primal instinct of a protector who had no other cards left to play.

Eddie’s tragic end in the Upside Down is one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show, but it fulfilled his entire character arc. ​Eddie spent his whole life running away—from society, from confrontation, and earlier in the season, from Chrissy's trailer. When the Demobats were about to breach the trailer and hunt down Dustin and the others, Eddie realized that if he ran again, Dustin would die. His sacrifice wasn't a punishment for his past; it was a refusal to be a coward anymore. He bought precious time for Nancy, Steve, and Robin to finish Vecna. It was a definitive, active choice of bravery.

In the Season 5, Eleven decides to stay behind in the explosion, sacrificing herself because she believes it's the only way to shield Mike and the others. ​It sounds noble on paper, but it’s not. ​By deciding her fate alone, El completely strips Mike of his agency and partnership. It’s the ultimate "I’m the powerful one, so I will handle this" mentality. ​El might find peace or closure in her sacrifice, but what does she leave Mike with? A physical life stripped of its soul. For Mike, survival without El isn't a victory; it's an empty, lifelong sentence of grief and "what ifs." As Edward famously told Bella in Breaking Dawn Part 1: "You’ve given me no choice... 'Cause it's me who'll lose you. And I don't choose that."

If Henry’s final arc ends with him simply choosing permanent physical death because "he deserves it" for his horrific past crimes, it’s not a satisfying redemption. It's an easy way out. ​For Henry, dying is a full stop. It silences the voices, the Mind Flayer's echo, and his own crushing guilt. He gets to close his eyes and be done. Who pays the price for Henry's "righteous" punishment? Patty. She spent forty years holding onto his humanity, refusing to let him go. If Henry just lets himself fade away to balance the moral scoreboard, he is ignoring the one person who loved him unconditionally. He leaves her completely isolated in a world that will never understand her.

It proves that true love isn't about choosing to leave someone behind to keep them safe. It’s about fighting to stay connected, even when the physical world crumbles around you.

The fundamental line between a "good" and a "bad" narrative sacrifice comes down to this: Is there an alternative?

​Eddie, Billy, and Hopper had their backs against the wall in a literal war zone. If they didn't act in that exact second, the people they loved would have been physically slaughtered. Their deaths directly resulted in the immediate survival of others.

​Eleven and Henry, however, are making decisions based on emotional projection and guilt. El chooses to isolate herself and stay behind in the explosion because she believes she is a "monster" or a "target" that puts Mike in danger. Henry wants to fade away because he cannot face the weight of his sins.

While I know the Duffer brothers had a different vision for Henry in Season 5, as we know, I don't think it would have worked if they had redeemed him in a similar way. I say this because I’ve seen this kind of 'self-sacrifice' trope mentioned by a lot of fans.

I used to think about this self-sacrifice idea too, but after thinking it over many times and reading several fanfictions, I realized that it just doesn't work somehow. For me, at least. I felt like something was missing, and I didn't find this kind of storyline fulfilling. Even if his death itself is logical, I felt like something was lacking.

Unlike Hopper or Eddie, El and Henry do have another choice: they have the Quiet Guest / Void mind-fusion option. They have a way to survive and stay connected to Mike and Patty. Choosing physical death when a psychological, higher-dimensional path to survival exists isn't heroic anymore—it becomes emotional abandonment.

[shadowheartwolf2]

[shadowheartwolf2]

I keep seeing a recurring argument in the fandom regarding the Stranger Things 5 finale. People say, "If Henry is redeemed, he should just die a hero's death to save the kids, just like Bob, Billy, and Eddie did." While a heroic sacrifice sounds poetic on the surface, comparing Henry Creel’s potential permanent death to the other major deaths in the show proves a fundamental misunderstanding of his character's tragedy. ​If Henry permanently dies and ceases to exist, it doesn't serve as a satisfying narrative conclusion. It’s just cruel. Here is why his situation is entirely different from the others:

1. Bob Newby: Bob’s death was tragic, but his sacrifice made narrative sense. Bob lived a full, normal life. He grew up, had a career, experienced genuine love with Joyce, and had his own agency. When he died, he made a conscious, heroic choice as a fully formed adult to save the people he loved. His death was the end of a life actually lived.

​2. Billy Hargrove: Many people compare Henry to Billy because both were abused and both were possessed by the Mind Flayer. But there is a massive difference. Yes, Billy suffered horrible abuse from his father, but Billy got to live his life. He grew up, he drove his car, he went on dates, he had a distinct personality, and he had free will up until he was 18 years old. Most importantly: The Mind Flayer only controlled Billy for a few weeks. When Billy sacrificed himself, he was fighting back with the strength of a life he had already experienced.

3. Eddie Munson: Eddie’s life wasn't easy, but he had his music, his Hellfire Club, his friends, and his identity. He lived entirely as himself. When he died in the Upside Down, it was his own conscious choice because he decided he was done running away.

4. Henry Creel: Henry’s situation cannot be compared to any of them because Henry never got to live. According to the lore and The First Shadow, Henry was just a little boy when the Mind Flayer infected his mind as a parasite. It altered his memories, corrupted his thoughts, and stripped away his autonomy. After that, he was locked in Dr. Brenner's lab. He was tortured, experimented on, and treated as a weapon for decades. Then, he was thrown into the Hellscape, where he spent another years as a slave to a cosmic monster.

If Henry Creel’s ultimate fate in Season 5 is just a permanent, physical death where his soul is completely extinguished it's good? It would mean that an innocent little boy essentially died the moment the darkness took him, endured 40 solid years of uninterrupted torture, manipulation, and isolation, and then just... died for real. ​He didn't get freedom. He didn't get to live. ​To give Henry a permanent death is to say that his entire existence was nothing but a torture chamber from childhood to death. That isn't a tragic, beautiful sacrifice. ​Narratively, a character who had their entire life stolen deserves more than just a grave. He deserves a chance for his pure, original soul to finally find a safe haven—a place where the darkness can never reach him again.

[shadowheartwolf2]

[shadowheartwolf2]

House of the Dragon Season 3: Final Trailer 🐲🐉🔥

[shadowheartwolf2]

[shadowheartwolf2]

​Imagine an alternate Season 5 where Henry Creel heartbreaking redemption arc and sacrificing. ​And Patty Newby returning in Season 5, and why the idea of her just "accepting" his death is completely antithetical to how this show works. ​The stage actors from The First Shadow literally described Henry and Patty as Romeo and Juliet. In classic literature, Romeo and Juliet's bond is defined by an absolute refusal to exist in a world where the other is gone. Romeo doesn't just move on; he follows her into the dark. Juliet doesn't just go home; she joins him. ​Patty spent decades carrying the ghost of the boy she loved. Henry was her anchor, and she was his. If Patty returned in Season 5 only to find Henry, watch him find his humanity, and then immediately lose him to death... there is absolutely no psychological reality where she just accepts it.

​Stranger Things has established a strict, immutable rule about true love and loss: In this universe, if you truly love someone, their death or disappearance completely destroys you. Nobody just "gets over it."

​Mike: After Eleven "died" in the Season 1 finale, Mike spent a literal year in a deep, agonizing depression. He called her every single night for 353 days into the void of his radio. He pretended to smile during D&D (Season 5 finale), but he was completely broken, desperately constructing wild theories that she was still out there because his brain refused to accept a reality without her.

Joyce: When Bob died, Joyce was shattered. She only found comfort when she fell for Hopper. And when Hopper "died"? She didn't accept it. The second she found a shred of hope that he might be alive, she literally traveled across the globe to a frozen Russian gulag to tear him out of the jaws of death.

​Lucas: When Max went into a coma Lucas stay with her.

Dustin: When Eddie died, Dustin didn't just bounce back. He was utterly hollowed out, consumed by grief, and it took an incredibly intense, grounded bond with Steve to even begin pulling his spirit back to the surface.

​Max and Billy: At the start of Season 4, Max is in a state of severe, crippling depression. Billy’s death completely shattered her world, isolating her from everyone. She couldn't just "move on." It took the relentless love of Lucas and the support of her friends to pull her back from the edge of the dark.

​Hopper and Sara: Decades later, Jim Hopper is still tortured by the agonizing loss of his daughter, Sara. That grief defined his entire existence, turning him into a hollow, angry man - until Eleven came into his life and gave him a second chance to be a father, showing that a loss that deep leaves a permanent scar on the soul.

​So, why would Patty Newby be any different? Unlike Mike, Lucas, or Joyce, Patty doesn't have a massive support system of friends. Henry was her entire world. If Joyce went to Russia for Hopper, Patty would go to the ends of the Upside Down for Henry.

​If you look closely at Stranger Things, characters only survive their massive grief because the narrative throws them a lifeline—a new, equally strong, or even stronger bond to anchor them back to reality. Max survived Billy’s death because of Lucas’s fierce devotion. Hopper survived the agonizing loss of Sara because Eleven became his second daughter. Joyce survived Bob because she fell for Hopper.

​But for Patty Newby? There is no one else. There is no "second Henry." Their connection wasn't just teenage romance; it was a cosmic, psychic, trauma-bonded alliance born in the dark. You cannot replace the boy who shared your soul through the Void. If Henry dies a physical death, Patty has no emotional safety net. She has no one to pull her back.

Like Mileven:

Mike Wheeler after Eleven's death? There is no one else. There is no "second Eleven" for Mike. There is no replacement bond that can ever replicate the cosmic, pure, protective connection they shared since the day he found her soaking wet in the rain. By killing El and forcing Mike to stay behind, the writers didn't give him a mature path forward. They stripped away his emotional safety net.

​The core theme of Stranger Things has always been that love, friendship, and human connection can conquer any cosmic horror. The show promised us that the trauma of the laboratory, the Upside Down, and the monsters could be healed if the characters held onto each other. ​By permanently killing the girl (Eleven) who endured a lifetime of torture, and by condemning the boy who loved her to a lifetime of faking smiles at a D&D table, the show completely breaks its own promise. It tells the audience: “It doesn't matter how hard you fight, how deeply you love, or how many sacrifices you make—the dark wins anyway, and you will end up alone.” By killing Eleven in the finale, the writers literally tore away his cure. They forced Hopper to live through the exact same agonizing trauma a second time. The fact that the show had him seemingly "move on" pretty quickly in the final scenes is a massive insult to his character logic. You don’t lose two daughters and just shrug it off.

​It isn't poetic. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of the very emotional laws the show spent a decade establishing.

My theory:

​Instead of a final goodbye, Henry’s consciousness would flee into Patty’s mind as a "Silent Passenger." He wouldn't control her, he wouldn't pull the strings. His punishment and his ultimate peace would be the same: to live as a quiet fragment of her soul, finally experiencing the warmth of a life he was denied for forty years, seeing the world through the eyes of the only person who never gave up on him.

[shadowheartwolf2]

​In classic storytelling, the most memorable villains—the tragic ones—are always afforded a moment of clarity or a "clean death." Think about Darth Vader. He slaughtered children and destroyed entire planets. Yet, at the end, he didn't die as a monster; he died as Anakin Skywalker. He got a quiet, tragic send-off and became a Force Ghost.

Think about Jonathan Morgenstern (books and series) in Shadowhunters. He did horrific things (including killing a child, Max), but when the demon blood was purged from his system, he died a clean death in his mother's arms. Think about Itachi Uchiha or Meruem from Hunter x Hunter.

​A "clean death" isn't about excusing a villain's crimes. It’s about narrative closure. It’s the author acknowledging the human tragedy beneath the monster's mask. The Duffers completely denied Henry this moment. They didn't want him to have an "Anakin moment"—they wanted a boss fight.

​If you know the lore from The First Shadow, you know Henry wasn't just a 1D evil entity. He was a traumatized, manipulated child. He actively fought the Mind Flayer’s influence. We see his relationship with Patty. We hear her ask him: "What if the thing you hate about yourself isn't a curse but a blessing?" We see him trying to be better, protecting people, and yearning for connection. ​By the time we get to the S5 finale, the show completely erases this struggle. Instead of letting Henry realize his mistakes and find some form of redemption or tragic peace, the show turns him into a punching bag. The brutal, cheering, "chop-his-head-off" execution forces the audience to turn off their empathy. It’s no longer a tragedy; it’s cheap revenge-porn.

​The most glaring double standard in the show’s writing is how it treats its abusers vs. its victims.

​Billy Hargrove was violent, abusive, and racist. Yet, the narrative gave him a heroic sacrifice. The show allowed us to mourn him.

​Dr. Brenner (Papa) is the root of all evil in Hawkins. He kidnapped, tortured, and experimented on children. He literally created the circumstances that broke Henry. Yet, in Season 4, Brenner gets a quiet, emotional, almost dignified death in the desert with Eleven by his side.

​Why does the actual abuser (Brenner) get a peaceful send-off, while the abused victim (Henry) gets a humiliating, slasher-style execution? The Duffers went on record saying, "Henry doesn't deserve a clean death." That is a massive red flag. When writers decide to "punish" their characters out of personal spite rather than following the character's internal logic, they stop being storytellers and start playing petty judges. ​If the narrative failure wasn't enough, Season 5 Vol 2 completely destroyed Vecna’s aura of cosmic horror.

There is a scene where Vecna is literally just awkwardly walking/jogging after the kids, and they flip him off. Are you kidding me? This is the omnipotent mind-flaying entity we’ve been terrified of? By reducing him to a comedic, slow-walking trope that the main characters can just disrespect to his face, the writers stripped away all the tension. They MCU-ified a cosmic horror villain just for a cheap laugh.

Some fans will say, "I don't care, I won't forgive him for what he did." But from a writing standpoint, that is irrelevant. A tragic character's arc shouldn't be dictated by whether the audience "likes" them or not. It must be dictated by the narrative setup. Henry Creel was set up as a tragic figure—a boy consumed by a darkness he didn't ask for. Objectively, his arc demanded a moment of self-realization and a clean, tragic death. ​Those who have seen The First Shadow know the truth: Henry was a deeply complex, beautifully tragic character. It’s just a shame the writers of Season 5 didn't have the courage to treat him like one.

[midnightcreel]

don’t piss me off

[cristalbeesnow]

4 drafts... to get this..😡😡😡zero pity, zero introspection.. I already hated season 5.. now... even worse...

[shadowheartwolf2]

It's sad to see how Stranger Things replaced its greatest strength—the deep emotions and forgiveness between characters—with empty blockbuster action scenes. They turned Henry Creel into a one-dimensional monster by the very end, completely ignoring that he himself was a victim of both the lab and the Mind Flayer. Fan scripts understand the soul of the show a thousand times better than the creators themselves.

[shadowheartwolf2]

[rockinwiserebel]

WHY oh why did Henry give Holly a cassette of her (assumably) favourite song and a cassette player in Camazotz? Did he want her to escape?

[cristalbeesnow]

I hope so too, every day. 😔 that season 5 is a joke.. and that they give us the real one.. it's full of plot holes, characters who disappear into thin air, inconsistencies.... this is just one of many🥲🥲🥲🥲 I wanted a well-crafted and great season and instead they got bored (their words) and gave us this

[shadowheartwolf2]

I want to write this post to address a trend I’ve noticed in the fandom surrounding the Season 5 finale. Specifically, the reaction to Joyce brutally killing Henry/Vecna out of pure, unadulterated revenge. I see so many posts calling this moment "epic," "badass," or the ultimate triumph. And honestly? It makes me realize how much the modern "badass-culture" has desensitized us to actual character psychology and thematic weight.It is completely fine if you found that scene entertaining on a purely visceral level. But from a narrative standpoint, turning the climax into a brutal, ritualistic revenge-killing completely betrays the very foundation of what Stranger Things spent five seasons building. The true strength of Joyce Byers was never physical violence or cold-blooded ruthlessness. Her "superpower" has always been her fierce maternal instinct, her deep empathy, and her vulnerability.In Season 1, we didn’t fall in love with Joyce because she did martial arts or executed monsters; we loved her because she was terrified, yet she sat in the dark with Christmas lights and an axe, risking her life out of pure love to bring her son home. She was human, fragile, but unstoppable because of her heart. Turning her into a cold, axe-wielding executioner in the finale completely strips away her humanity. Solely to generate a cheap, "cool" moment for the audience.

Modern media (heavily influenced by late-stage Marvel or recent Star Wars) has conditioned audiences to confuse character growth with combat performance. If a character looks angry and brutally executes someone, the internet instantly cheers.But people aren't looking at the moral and psychological consequences. How are characters like Will or Eleven—who were severely abused, tortured in a lab, and hunted—supposed to find peace when their own family resorts to the exact same merciless, rage-driven butchery that Dr. Brenner or Vecna committed? The show always argued that love, community, and processing trauma were the keys to defeating the darkness. The finale flipped that message, suggesting that the only real cure is bloodthirsty retribution. The Duffer brothers unfortunately succumbed to the pressure of the algorithm. They knew that a slow, emotionally devastating, and psychologically deep scene of confrontation or potential redemption wouldn't generate as many clips, likes, and "hype" on social media.By prioritizing a "badass" moment over a thematic one, they cut out the emotional heart of the series. They chose to appeal to superficial consumption rather than honoring the psychological depth of the characters we've invested a decade into.

True fandom isn't about blindly cheering every time a character does something violent just because the franchise logo is attached to it. Loving a story means understanding its soul. When we celebrate the characters lowering themselves to the monster's level just because it looks "epic," we prove that we care more about flashing lights than genuine human storytelling.

[shadowheartwolf2]

I want to start by saying that this post is not meant to attack or offend anyone. If you loved the Stranger Things Season 5 Vol 2, and the finale, and genuinely thought it was good—I am honestly happy for you. In fact, to be completely transparent, I’m a little jealous. I wish I could have experienced that same joy and satisfaction watching it. You guys definitely got the better end of the deal, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that! We all consume media differently, and this is simply a respectful, analytical deep dive into the storytelling. I’ve been seeing a lot of posts, review or reaction video calling the Season 5 a "good" or a "worthy conclusion," and to be honest, it’s brought up some thoughts about the boundary between genuine fandom and blind consumption.

We all have our guilty pleasures. For example, I actually enjoy watching most of Game of Thrones Season 8 (excluding the finale). I find it entertaining. However, I can also step back and admit that objectively, it was a bad season that completely contradicted the established lore and ruined years of character development. Enjoying a piece of media and acknowledging its flaws are not mutually exclusive. But here is why constructive criticism is so crucial, and why we shouldn't just pretend a flawed season was perfectly written: Accountability.

If we never admit when things go wrong—if we never voice our disappointment and tell the creators and studios, they will never feel the need to push themselves. If they see that audiences will blindly praise anything with a popular logo on it, we will just keep getting the exact same lazy storytelling. Without critique, there is no innovation and no risk-taking. Franchises will continue down a safe, repetitive path because studios will realize that slapping a famous title (Stranger Things, Star Wars,) on a project is enough to guarantee viewership, regardless of whether the plot actually makes sense. We are already seeing this happen across the industry. Look at the current state of Star Wars, or projects like the Stranger Things animated series. Too often, creators seem to think that banking on nostalgia and throwing in beloved legacy characters is a valid substitute for a compelling, well-thought-out narrative. They assume the brand name is enough. When we look at Vol 2 and the finale, from a purely analytical standpoint, it failed to deliver a logically sound continuation of the story. It ignored established rules of the universe for the sake of cheap spectacle. It is perfectly fine to say: "I loved the spectacle, I love these characters, but the writers messed up this season." We can be passionate fans without being blind consumers. Let's normalize holding studios accountable for consistent storytelling, so they actually have a reason to give us high-quality narratives in the future.

[shadowheartwolf2]

It honestly feels like the Duffer brothers suffered from severe writer burnout. Much like the final season of Game of Thrones, it felt like the creators just wanted to get it over with, choosing to rush toward a CGI-heavy climax between Eleven and Vecna while completely abandoning the world-building they spent years establishing.

Dr. Sam Owens: This is arguably the most insulting one. We last saw him chained to a pipe in a desert lab in Season 4, completely at the mercy of Colonel Sullivan. Then, Season 5 arrives, and he is replaced by Dr. Kay without a single word of explanation. Paul Reiser himself recently admitted in an interview that the Duffers never even told him if Owens was alive or dead. If the literal showrunners don't care enough to decide a character's fate, how are we, the audience, supposed to feel satisfied?

Calvin Powell and Phil Callahan: These two officers were the backbone of Hawkins’ local perspective. They were present in every single season from the very beginning, witnessing the gradual decay and weirdness of their town. After Hawkins was practically torn apart by the gates, having Powell and Callahan deal with the military martial law would have provided an essential grounded perspective. Instead, they were erased from existence, replaced by nameless, faceless soldiers.

Victor Creel: To this day, I cannot comprehend why Victor Creel was not brought back. Victor is Henry (Vecna) father. And he believes his son is dead. A dramatic confrontation between a broken father and his son would have given the final battle a massive emotional weight. Instead, his storyline was just left out to rust.

The fandom spent years crafting brilliant, complex theories. We talked about the time-travel loops back to 1983, Max fighting Vecna from inside his own mindscape, or the potential rise of a "Kas the Vampire" figure. These theories had depth and respected the show's lore. What did we get instead? A predictable, linear action checklist that used nostalgia and flashy visual effects to paper over massive plot holes.It is incredibly frustrating to watch a show that prided itself on meticulous world-building just give up on its own secondary characters in the final stretch. They didn't even bother giving them a proper send-off—they just acted like they never existed.

Mr Clarke was the foundational scientific mind for the kids, explaining the concept of dimensions (the flea and the acrobat) back in Season 1 using pure theory. Can you imagine how incredible it would have been if Mr. Clarke and Dr. Owens had worked together in Season 5? Mr. Clarke represents the pure, passionate, theoretical science of Hawkins, while Dr. Owens represents the practical, government-level knowledge of the Upside Down.

This is probably the most frustrating narrative choice of the entire final season. Remember Season 4? The parents were losing their minds with worry, actively looking for their kids, and dealing with the community's Satanic Panic. Fast forward to Season 5: Hawkins is literally facing a supernatural apocalypse, under strict military quarantine. Yet, somehow, the majority of the parents just vanish from the plot. Karen Wheeler gets a bit of screen time, but Lucas and Erica’s parents, along with Dustin’s mom, are completely sidelined until a brief cameo in the finale. What makes this even worse is the wasted lore. Knowing that the Mind Flayer and Dr. Brenner were already haunting Hawkins back when the parents were young (which we know from the canon lore), the writers had a goldmine of emotional trauma to explore. The parents should have been deeply involved, realizing that the horrors they barely survived in their youth are now consuming their own children. Instead, they were written out of the apocalypse as if they didn't care that their kids were on the front lines of hell. It completely shatters the emotional stakes of the show.

If you thought the other parents were treated poorly, Susan Hargrove’s complete absence while her daughter, Max, was literally lying in a coma is the absolute peak of lazy writing. What kind of mother is completely missing from her daughter's bedside during a medical nightmare? In-universe, the writers just brushed her off as a dysfunctional parent struggling with trauma and alcoholism. But the real-world story behind this is actually devastating. Jennifer Marshall, the actress who played Susan, revealed that she was privately battling Stage 3 cancer during the production of the show. By the time Season 5 began filming, she was in remission and actively wanted to return—especially since lines on the show would have helped her secure her union health insurance. Instead, the Duffers simply didn't invite her back. Marshall herself joked on Instagram that "Susan Hargrove is the worst mother ever," reflecting the fandom's frustration. Cutting Max's mother out of the final season wasn't just a massive narrative plot hole; it was a heartbreakingly missed opportunity to give Max’s tragic arc some much-needed maternal.

[shadowheartwolf2]

Can we finally admit that listening to the Duffer Brothers’ post-finale interviews is a complete waste of time? The amount of logical gymnastics and structural contradictions coming from the showrunners lately is reaching D&D (Benioff and Weiss) levels of "Daenerys kind of forgot about the Iron Fleet." It’s pure revisionist myth-making to look like tactical geniuses when, in reality, they were just making things up as they went.

They constantly talk about how they "knew the ending for years" and always had the master framework for the finale locked down. The One Last Adventure documentary literally exposed that they started shooting the movie-length final episodes without a finished script because of extreme network pressure. You can’t claim you had a decades-long master plan when you were literally improvising the resolution of major plot points mid-shoot. They love to imply that the deep lore of Hawkins and the Upside Down was neatly mapped out during Season 1. Stranger Things was originally pitched under the title Montauk as a standalone, 8-episode limited anthology series. Eleven was supposed to die permanently in the finale. If the show hadn't blown up globally, there would be no Season 2-5. Every piece of cosmic lore (including Vecna) was retrofitted years later onto a story that was never built to sustain it.

Before Season 5 dropped, they marketed The First Shadow stage play as "essential, official kánon". They basically told the global fandom: if you want to understand the finale, you must know the play's lore. In their recent interviews, they suddenly pivoted, claiming they "didn't want to include the play's major elements on screen because it would confuse casual viewers who couldn't see the play". Excuse me? What about the hardcore fans who did pay a fortune for Broadway/West End tickets, or spent hours reading the leaks? Season 5 had movie-length episodes—they had all the time in the world to naturally integrate those crucial Henry Creel/Upside Down answers. They didn't leave the play out to "protect the audience"; they left it out because they were too lazy and comfortable to adapt it into the scripts. They used the play as a cash-cow marketing gimmick, only to drop it entirely when it became too inconvenient to write.

They claimed they wanted to bring back the "pure Season 1 nostalgia" by centering the plot around the younger kids, like Holly. This was a textbook corporate course-correction. Because of pandemic delays, the original cast visibly aged into young adults, completely killing the "kids on bikes" Spielberg vibe. Injecting Holly and a new group of children wasn't a long-planned narrative arc; it was an artificial, desperate patch to recreate an atmosphere they organically outgrew. They stated that they "always believed Eleven couldn't stay with the party without them moving on," hence her departure. Yet, they act completely shocked that fans and even the cast believe Eleven is actually dead. If you write a heavily ambiguous, sacrificial ending where a character vanishes, you cannot act surprised when the audience interprets it as death.

Just like the infamous Game of Thrones Season 8 commentary, if you have to spend months doing interviews to explain, justify, and fix the plot holes of your own ending, the narrative failed to do its job on screen. The Duffers need to stop rewriting production history to feed the "genius mastermind" trope. Improvise if you must, but don't gaslight the fandom into thinking it was planned from 2016.

[cristalbeesnow]

The Duffers have made a mess and they don't know how to justify it anymore... first they say they always thought 011 was dead. Then they say maybe she's alive. Then she's dead. Then they're surprised that everyone thinks she's dead... they introduce the new children but it doesn't get anywhere, there are crazy plot holes, scenes explained and previewed in past interviews and NEVER seen on screen (like the famous part of the plot about Vecna/his years as 001) and an entire play considered an important piece of the story to be seen absolutely, full of spoilers for the 5th season practically ignored (they also talked about how the ending of the play with Henry and El walking away hand in hand was a huge spoiler of how season 5 ended but it wasn't true Vecna ​​died in an obscene way, El too). They said that the play and the 5th season were "part of the same story" or a "couplet". But none of it was true. Either they removed the TFS parts post-production or it was all a commercial ploy. At one point they even went as far as to say that TFS wasn't canon, and then said they hadn't included Henry's life story so as not to confuse those who haven't seen the work (when not including the work confuses the fans!) Narrative laziness sky-high... one disaster after another... and they don't know what to invent anymore to get out of it... The bad thing? And that, aside from Tales of 85 and TFS, we won't have anything else of this world. It's over like this. With this season leaving a bitter taste in the mouth...

[shadowheartwolf2]

The final imagery of young Henry and little Eleven walking hand-in-hand into the dark would have set up a masterpiece finale. It wasn't just a cool visual; it was a roadmap that they completely abandoned. Instead of the underwhelming physical showdown we got, the final battle should have taken place entirely inside the Mindscape. El should have used the hand-in-hand connection to strip Vecna of his monster persona, forcing him to face his past as Henry Creel. This is where the tragedy comes in. Just like Damon and Bonnie holding hands while the Other Side collapsed in The Vampire Diaries, Eleven and Henry’s fates were meant to be codependent. The ending was supposed to be El holding Henry’s hand and dragging them both into the void, permanently sealing the Upside Down from the inside. Damon and Bonnie got to say goodbye to their soulmates (Elena and Jeremy) right before the Other Side collapsed.The Duffers had the perfect setup to do the exact same double-farewell in the Stranger Things finale. (Mike and Patty.)

They didn't even need to fully kill her off to give us that dramatic weight. They could have easily done an ambiguous, open ending.Think about it: Damon and Bonnie didn't actually die permanently either. The TVD finale gave us the massive shock of them disappearing into the collapsing void, making the real world believe they were gone, but then showed them waking up together in a completely different, peaceful dimension.The Duffers could have done the exact same thing with Eleven and Henry. They could have walked hand-in-hand into the darkness, completely sealing the Upside Down from the inside to save Hawkins. In the real world, Mike and the party would think she sacrificed herself and passed away. But the very last scene could have given us a powerful, haunting hint that they survived on another plane of existence—not through some weak dialogue from Mike, but through a strong visual cue.For example, a radio in Mike’s room turning on by itself, or a shot of El and Henry in a bright, quiet version of the Void, finally free from Brenner and the Mind Flayer.That would have given us the best of both worlds: the monumental, poetic weight of The First Shadow's setup, without leaving the fandom completely depressed or furious. But instead of this artistic compromise, we got narrative cowardice and showrunners who can’t even agree on their own lore in interviews.

[cristalbeesnow]

Exactly! What a waste...

[shadowheartwolf2]

By leaving Eleven and Henry's fate ambiguous—trapped together in an unknown plane of existence or a deep layer of the Void—the Duffers would have left the door wide open for Netflix to expand the universe later. A future Stranger Things project could have focused on the Hawkins party trying to find a way to rescue El from the void, or to discover how her dynamic with Henry evolved while they were trapped together.It would have given fans hope, kept the franchise alive, and generated massive hype for a sequel.