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spacerockfloater · 6 months

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Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

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germiyahu · 6 months

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When you try to make the legacy of the Holocaust a political favor done to Jews, you are paving the road to Holocaust denial. You're even planting nice trees on the boulevard!

To the historically illiterate Westerner, the true sincere belief is that Israel was "gifted" to the Jews as an apology for the Holocaust. This is actually a quite ingenious mental strategy to handle the cognitive dissonance of both wholeheartedly believing the society you live in was the "hero" of the story, but also that Western society is morally bankrupt and worthless.

See the West saved the Jews from the Nazis, but they also severely blundered by rewarding Jewish suffering with the state of Israel. It's clever. You can feel good about being the hero but also curse your own society for turning around and doing something that you'll argue was even worse in the long run (and they have been saying it's worse).

But then, it gets better! Since Israel is seen as an extension of Europe, and arm of European ideology and interest, it can be argued that the West had good intentions when they magnanimously decided to give Jews someone else's homeland. But they could never have predicted how brutal, how violent, how racist, how genocidal, the Israelis would end up being. You can curse the West but acknowledge it's not really their fault, because then it's not really your fault either.

All this context of the Holocaust being a "lesson to learn" or a precursor to some political reward for the Jews, that Jews have always been crafty and Westerners gullible... it's already on the precipice for those with conspiracy oriented minds. And this is already true and we've all seen it on social media. To those who think the Israel was a reward for the Holocaust, they think that the Holocaust warranted a "reward" in the first place. They can switch those around, and start thinking the Holocaust was a pretext to Israel. They can think that the Holocaust was exaggerated to wring more sympathy from the Europeans. They can think that the Holocaust was staged to trick the West into enacting the Jews' grand plan.

All it takes when you're at this point thinking of the Holocaust as transactional, is a genuine Neo Nazi, or perhaps a Hamas simp, to come along and say "Isn't it suspicious though? Don't you think there are inconsistencies? You should really check out..." and due to the coincidences and incorrect narratives that you made up in your brain, that have no basis in reality, you just might consider hearing them out.

So no, the Holocaust is not being weaponized or hijacked, for any reason. It was a historical event that happened. There are no lessons for the victims of all people to learn. There was no divine intervention or grand conspiracy to make the Holocaust about anything, or use it to bring about some political goal. You want there to be one or all of these things, because it justifies your preconceived notions about Jews.

So if a person is at this point, thinking the Holocaust was transactional, thinking that Israel was a reward, they're already on the road to Holocaust denial. And at this time in the Zeitgeist, they are way more likely than normal to go down that road, readily and eagerly. So be careful, be more cognizant if you actually care about the legacy of this genocide, about honoring its victims and its survivors and their descendants.

#shoah tw #holocaust denial #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism

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sepublic · 6 months

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The Owl House Ending Anniversary Livestream

These are the notes I’ve taken from The Owl House anniversary stream, just the stuff related to the show (though there was a hilarious anecdote from Sarah about having a theater light shine on her bald spot while attending an acting school);

For the finale, the VAs (and Dana and Eden) got to record voice work together for the first time since the covid lockdown. Sarah scream-cried and sobbed right after finishing the final lines for Luz. The recording occurred a few months before the finale aired.

Zeno revealed that anime dub voice directors usually want a different direction for voice acting than with western animation, but when Zeno did a take for Hunter that he thought might’ve sounded too anime, everyone else was in full approval. From there, Zeno approached Hunter as the “anime emo boy” or “Sasuke” of the show, going for an “eastern anime edgy feel.” Sarah thought this fit given how much Hunter is trying; Zeno feels Hunter wears his emotions on his sleeves no matter how cool he tries to be.

Hunter would 100% be an anime fan and be obsessed with anime conventions in the human realm. Eden mentioned that Dana took a lot of anime inspiration when doing segments such as fight scenes or character power-ups, with Luz’s Titan form being based on Pokemon evolution.

When voicing Lilith, Cissy would pull from her memories of her aunt Kim in translating the “fun, goofy” energy, and she normally does this for other fun aunt/maternal roles. Elizabeth Grullon brought in parts of her culture and ancestry when doing Camila, as per the advice of her late mentor Ken Washington.

If the VAs could hang out with their characters for one day: Eden would take Boscha to therapy, and all of the VAs agreed, with Zeno ready to pay for Hunter’s (“The credit card will NOT decline”). Cissy would have a ride on Mike Socks. Elizabeth would visit the Demon Realm with Camila, get some drinks in her, make some arroz con pollo and tostones, put on some salsa music, and just vibe out. Sarah would also visit the Demon Realm with Luz, and wherever Luz likes to hang out; Maybe a beach day.

Cissy thinks Lilith would go full-nerd when visiting the human realm, having a notebook and pen and going mad as she’s scribbling everything down. She’d stop people on the street to ask if they’ve had apple blood, and be an absolute menace, people would be freaking out.

Pulling from themselves, Avi thinks Raine would meet things with a little bit of caution, having lots of disinfectant wipes, and eventually get comfortable, freely exploring without inhibition.

Eden imagines Boscha would thrive in the human world, since there’s so many gullible people she could trick into being her followers. She’d either use the third eye for attention, or grow bangs/wear a beanie to hide it. Cissy joked that Boscha would run for president and win in a landslide, which is a bad idea because she’d have too much power at her fingertips.

When it comes to Camila exploring the demon realm once everything’s cooled down, Elizabeth thinks she’d be a bit skeptical, but eventually relax, have some apple blood, kick back and make some friends… And then be ready to go back. Not an overnight stay, just a brief visit.

Cissy was proudest of her performance as Lilith was “Why were you so easy to curse?!” in Agony of a Witch. For Zeno it was Thanks to Them, he felt it was a closed circle for Hunter; He enjoyed balancing various Hunter elements like the Golden Guard role, and the catharsis with Luz right afterwards. He’s glad it was vulnerable and open, wanting his performance to be honest and realistic. For Elizabeth it was Camila reacting to various Demon Realm segments such as Belos, or preparing to fight Kikimora.

Eden liked Boscha’s arc in For the Future, how it came full-circle when she helped the resistance because she didn’t mean real harm and just wanted things to go back to normal. For Sarah it was the ending of Yesterday’s Lie where Luz promises to stay in the human realm, she found it heartbreaking how it was Luz’s two worlds colliding; Sarah couldn’t wait to see the episode in its entirety. Raine was Avi’s first voice-acting role for animation, and they summoned the ‘guttural response’ to free themselves when doing the possession scene with Belos in the finale.

Luz’s favorite human realm drink is coffee or matcha due to her ADHD, the caffeine can help her focus, “turn Demon Realm,” but is also helpful for a nap. Sarah often brings large drinks into the studio, and described her performance as Luz as a cold brew, plus a giant gallon of water, plus some tea with honey after she’s done screaming.

Hunter would like Red Bulls and go crazy with the energy. He’d apply Demon Realm mentality by believing Red Bull’s “gives you wings” advertisements, and write a letter to management demanding a refund when this doesn’t literally happen.

Camila would love café bustelo, it’s a big Latina drink and was introduced to Elizabeth by her mom. The 4pm kind brings you to life and it’s the time for tias to gossip.

Boscha is either a giant slurpee girl, or popping boba, because her third eye gives Boscha an inclination towards eye aesthetics. Plus Boscha could spit boba at people through her straw, which led to Sarah joking about Luz and Hunter walking in bespeckled with boba (“No Hunter, they do not give you wings”).

Lilith would like pina colada, she’d think it’s the cool thing that everyone drinks, what with there being a whole song about it. Then she’d drink it and go on a tangent about how her mom never loved her, and Luz would ask her in concern how many she’s had. Lilith would collect several of the parachutes in her hair.

Raine has a sensitive stomach, so they’re into kombucha and brew their own.

(Fun fact; The group realized the eclipse was happening during the livestream and had a discussion over how to protect your eyes when watching it!)

Rebecca Rose herself sent a question, asking what they think a palisman would taste like. They joked that Matthew Rhys was NOT here, and Dana apparently headcanons that palismen essence tastes like gushers. Zeno and Sarah joked that Belos has a sweet tooth and he’s obsessed because he left the human realm before they invented gushers. It never even occurred to Eden that palisman essence would have a flavor, it’d just be an energy boost, like pipe tobacco (and Sarah added this was appropriate because palismen are made of wood). Yesterday was Rebecca’s birthday and the VAs wished her a happy one.

Zeno’s favorite quality about Hunter is his loyalty and dedication; When he sets his sights on something, he’s pretty relentless. He has a really deep well of complexity in him, half is angst but the other half is real heart.

Elizabeth loves how Camila loves her kid so much that she’s willing to step past herself and her own limitations, her own fears and comfort zone, to connect with and support Luz. Sarah noted it’s like Camila is learning to be a kid again with her arc.

Boscha doesn’t have a ton of great character traits, but she’s a strong athlete, doesn’t give up, and is powerful; Eden admires that about her, she’s badass. Everything else about her though…

Sarah likes how Luz doesn’t have an ego; Yes she’s unapologetically herself and doesn’t know any other way, but when she messes up, she has no problem taking the blame and apologizing. She’ll own up to things and fix them. Though it was misguided, Luz was even willing to let go of everything she loved to make up for letting down the Demon Realm and protect everyone. It’s not easy to put aside your own wants and needs sometimes and apologize, accepting that you’re wrong.

Lilith had a lot of faults, but her willingness to admit her own wrongdoing and go into the depths of her soul to figure out how to be better; Such as being a better auntie/sister, forgiving her parents, etc. She had a lot of growing up to do, and Cissy felt Dana gave Lilith such a beautiful way to go about that.

Avi was glad to see Raine have stage fright and awkwardness/shyness in public and with social settings, but they can transform by stepping into this fierce protector/hero role, and find that confidence. It’s a multi-faceted character, a full human experience, and felt genuine to Avi.

When asked if Boscha ever said sorry to Willow and Luz, Eden joked that love means never having to say sorry; Boscha probably skipped over that. Assumed she already said it at some point, the others just have bad memory. I’m sure they know, I helped them. I didn’t kill them and they’re still alive, so clearly…!

The hardest episode to record was Thanks to Them for Zeno, the VAs had to take a break. It was already cathartic and then Hunter didn’t even get a break afterwards, plus Zeno had the knowledge of the show ending. For Elizabeth it was the finale due to the sadness of the show being over, but otherwise there was nothing hard for her because the experience was a dream come true; She was in pure joy when in the booth. Even when Camila was crying or saying goodbye, it was still fun for Elizabeth. But when she herself is saying goodbye, that’s when it’s hard for her.

Eden also agreed on the finale due to how long it was (and she accounted for her role as voice director as well), mentioning how the episode was the culmination of so much, there was a lot of ground to cover, etc. It was so emotional how everyone brought so much, saying goodbye together as a cast. Not to mention the catharsis/closure of stamping Belos to death together.

Sarah concurred, it was meta saying goodbye to the show and each other. But she also found Reaching Out hard, due to Luz’s complex emotions, her coming in and out a lot. She’s dealing with a great loss, and Sarah wanted to honor that grief, but also had Luz masking it, popping up, acting out, and needed to choose how/when to let that emotion come out. The grief wasn’t super-fresh, it comes in waves, and it was in that state where some are in shock or others cry; You never know when it’ll strike, when it’ll put you on edge. So Reaching Out was hard to map out for Sarah, especially with Luz just popping up to do one weird thing and then going away. It was a lot of fun, and workwise it was a lot of pressure to get it right.

Cissy also had the finale, with the switch from Lilith making amends to being terrible again in the dream sequence being jarring. There was also Agony of a Witch, as the landing needed to be stuck to make the episode work; But Eden and Dana were there for the recording session to help.

Avi had Follies at the Coven Day Parade, when Eda and Raine had their duel. Avi really had to tap into being angry and mad at someone they care so much about.

If Elizabeth could give advice to any character, it’s for Boscha to go to therapy. Sarah tells Lilith to stand still and feel her feelings, you poor beautiful witch. Avi tells everyone to not be so hard on yourself. Cissy, to all (especially teenagers): It gets better, you think you know everything and you think you have the weight of your world on your hands (and tbf that was the case), but it gets better. Eden would tell Hunter to take a day off, take a nap. Zeno would tell everyone to do the same, it’s okay to let go. Eden would also advise Eda to lay off the law-breaking, Sarah said not to start her day with apple blood (save it for happy hour).

Sarah’s favorite Hooty moment was the tea party, and how he would be haunted by his actions forever in Adventures in the Elements. Cissy loved Hooty and Lilith’s friendship, “No witch is an island!” Eden loves the first appearance of Port-a-Hooty, it had her in stitches the first time she saw it; There was sheer terror knowing he could travel. Sarah loved Hooty’s off-screen attack by Amity. For Zeno, it was two guards struggling to describe Hooty. Elizabeth concurred with everyone, and Avi liked it when Hooty just ate things and sometimes ruined a situation because of it. Cissy brought up Hooty’s skeleton bathing.

#the owl house #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #the owl house hunter #camila noceda #the owl house boscha #raine whispers #sarah nicole robles #cissy jones #avi roque #zeno robinson #eden riegel #elizabeth grullon

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ohsalome · 1 year

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Sorry to dump this in your inbox but I am so sick of people falling over themselves to excuse the Russian people. Never mind videos of them running after the Wagner group’s tanks cheering. Their blatant support of a group murderers and rapists. No these poor Russians you see just waiting for a chance to rise up and overthrow the government.

Except for when there was an opportunity to take advantage of Putin’s government going through a crisis no one moved an inch. Because of course they didn’t. They were lining up to give the Wagner group food.

It never gets easier seeing people do apologetics for Russia. It just gets more and more infuriating.

Saw some poor soul saying that they hope that after this failed coup "some third, good group will rise up against putin" and I was like ... girl who? Literally point me a popular movement/group/anything in russia that is both anti-putin and anti-russian imperialism

Even the so-called "liberal opposition" who criticises invading Ukraine wants to keep us as a vassal state, only using soft power instead of military. But they also quite decicively don't do shit and just monetize their "correct opinions" with the gullible western grant givers.

#response #war in ukraine #russia #russian coup #not all russians #wagner pmc

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pub-lius · 6 months

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WAKE UP ITS HAMILTON TIME (hamilton pt 1)

everyone thank richard for getting me to put all my knowledge about alexander hamilton in one place. if you're at all new or confused, @thereallvrb0y once asked me 3 years ago to tell him everything about every historical figure i can, and since then i have been doing that. now we are onto the last one on the list he gave me, and studying hamilton is literally my life's work, so here it is. on tumblr.com. for free.

my sources for this are Ron Chernow and Hamilton himself and a strange amalgamation of knowledge from different museums, documentaries, interviews with historians, and other otherwise publicly accessible knowledge that i have compiled into the vast library inside my mind! you can find my notes in the link in my pinned post. let's go (this historical research is sponsored by the ghost of freddie mercury and my aunt who made me a whole pot of coffee)

Background Information

Ron Chernow loves to talk about how the island of St. Kitts and Nevis was formed, but that's not fucking important. What's important about Hamilton's birthplace is that it was positioned in the Caribbean in such a way that made it a very easily accessible port, however the coastline was pretty smooth which made it generally unideal for mooring ships.

Source: The St. Kitts' Scenic Railway; Six Frigates: The Epic History of the Founding of the US Navy by Ian W. Toll, p. 112 ("Basseterre Roads was not a good natural harbor. It was little more than a dent in the otherwise smooth coastline that ran along the western side of the island. There was no pier- visitors were obliged to run their boats directly onto the beach, sometimes surfing in on waves that broke heavily as they reached the shore.")

Now, notice that St. Kitts and Nevis is, in geographic terms, to the right-ish of the Caribbean. That means when you're coming from Jolly Ole England, you might make a pit stop in St. Kitts and Nevis. So if you ignore the fact that the island has no natural harbor (at least not a good one), it might be a good economic prospect for a young merchant, right?

Well, not if that merchant is James Hamilton, because he was an idiot. And I say that lovingly, or at least more lovingly than Ron Chernow did. Ron Chernow also emphasized that St. Kitts and Nevis was filled with the 18th century version of Shameless, and also Jewish people. Ron Chernow might not hate Jewish people, but he does hate the character archetypes in Shameless. In Shameless terms, James Hamilton was like Frank Gallagher.

Disclaimer: knowledge of Shameless is not necessary to understand that being compared to a guy named Frank is not a good thing

I've already made posts about Hamilton's parents and brother (here, if you'd like to read that ig. weirdo), but I want to talk about the things that Hamilton would have learned from his parents. Later in life, Hamilton vaguely alluded to his father's failings in business being due to an excessive amount of generosity and not really understanding where he should and shouldn't spend his money. This did not by any means make Hamilton stingy with his money, or even smart, for that matter, but it did make him want to be something specific: independent.

James Hamilton's tragic flaw was his dependence on other people, whether it was his older brother or Rachel Faucette or his business partners, etc. Due to the position and order in which he was born, James was never destined to be a leader. He wasn't exceptional academically like other non-first-born-sons, such as James Madison, or dispositionally inclined to organize and inspire, like George Washington. He was just a dude, and he was a dude who was not built for 18th century society, especially not in the Caribbean. From what we can tell, James Hamilton was a gullible, moderately intelligent man with symptoms of autism and non-descript mental health issues. He was basically fucked from the get-go.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow (p. 12-16); Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 25, p. 89, letter to William Jackson, August 26, 1800 ("In a capacity of a merchant he went to St. Kitts, where from too generous and too easy a temper he failed in business and at length fell into indigent circumstances.")

Rachel Faucette was like James Hamilton's polar opposite. She was forced to learn how to provide for herself, not being able to rely on anyone, because that could be ripped out from under her feet at any moment, and the only thing concrete in her life was herself. She was a woman, and that was what most women had to learn at some point.

Rachel was also perfectly poised to be the clear moral guide for young Hamilton. When James Hamilton left, he basically sacrificed any reverence his son might have for him, and instituted Rachel as Hamilton's sole role model for his developmental years and i just burned the shit out of my hand with coffee.

Disclaimer: James Hamilton had nothing to do with me burning the shit out of my hand with coffee, I promise. You can't blame all your problems on deadbeat dads

If you're a Sigmund Freud fan, (good opener, I know), you're aware of the Oedipus Complex, and that's not exactly what I'm talking about, but yk. look it up. This theory proposed by Freud was only partially rejected by the psychological field (due to the fact that not everything is about wanting to fuck your mom and kill your dad, and also that's not the story of Oedipus Rex like. at all??), but the part that still rang true was that children do have a unique attachment to the opposite sex parent.

Psychological studies show that children tend to describe their opposite sex parents more favorably than same sex parents. Why? I don't know, I'm not a psychologist, I'm an 18 year old who drinks coffee like he was 5 kids to raise.

Source: "The Relation between Attachment to Opposite Sex Parents and Attachment to Romantic Partners" by Gary L. Grogan and Dr. Mary E. Pritchard, p. 10 ("However, most significant for the present inquiry were the findings that respondents described their opposite sex parents more favorably, and same sex parents more critically.")

This statistic is visible in Hamilton's descriptions of his parents, and must have been enhanced by James Hamilton's early departure in his son's life, the consequences from that which seemed constant, but also by the reputation his father had built on the island he left Hamilton on. Hamilton would grow up to see his mother not only providing for herself and her children, but also overcoming the consequences of James' actions, which provoked resentment towards his father, and admiration towards his mother. This will develop as a theme throughout his life, but we'll touch on that as he grows up. He isn't even born yet! So let's get on to that.

Source: so when I say Hamilton's description of his mother, I really mean HIS son's, but JCH most likely got this description from his father, Life of Alexander Hamilton by John Church Hamilton, vol. 1, pg. 42 ("...a woman of superior intellect, elevated sentiment, and unusual grace of person and manner. To her he was indebted for his genius."); for the sake of my reliability and reputation, I'll include JCH's description of his grandfather for comparison, Intimate Life of Alexander Hamilton by John Church Hamilton, p. 13 ("Hamilton's father does not appear to have been successful in any pursuit, but in many ways was a great deal of a dreamer, and something of a student, whose chief happiness seemed to be in the society of his beautiful and talented wife, who was in every way intellectually his superior.")

Early Life

Alexander Hamilton was born ginger on January 11, 1755, and I don't entertain the argument that he was born in 1757 because I'm not an anarchist and I believe society has laws (I'm actually lying, I'll talk about the birth year debate in the college section). Hamilton was not, however, born black or Jewish. He was also, potentially, born not James Hamilton's son.

"Wh- WHAT?! *cries*" I hear you say, and I know, it's shocking information, but yes. First off, Hamilton was not black in any percentage more than the Pillsbury dough boy is black. This theory comes from the fact that Rachel Faucette was a lower class woman and therefore we have no proof that she WASN'T partially black. I don't even have to dispute that for anyone with a gram of critical thinking skills to see that that isn't a valid historical hypothesis.

The Jewish thing has a little more merit to it, and there's a whole book about it that I haven't read. There is some evidence to suggest that Rachel Faucette's ex husband, Johann Lavien, could have been a secret Jewish person, and possibly caused Rachel herself to convert, and she tried to pass on that to Hamilton by having a Jewish woman educate him when he was a toddler (that last part is a true fact, and is the earliest piece of information we have about Hamilton's education). If this is true, (and it's nearly impossible to prove true or false because well if Lavien was a secret Jew, it was a secret), it did not impact Hamilton's religious beliefs in any way, and he identified as a Christian throughout his entire life.

We'll do a paternity test on Hamilton later, just hang tight. See, this is how I get you, I say something controversial, and then I don't talk about it until 16 paragraphs later.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 9 ("A persistent mythology in the Caribbean asserts that Rachel was partly black, making Alexander Hamilton a quadroon or an octoroon. In this obsessively race-conscious society, however, Rachel was invariably listed among the whites on local tax rolls. Her identification as someone of mixed race has no basis in verifiable fact. (See pages 734-35 [this is in Chernow's Acknowledgments, and he just talks about how he used a paper trail to come to this conclusion, and thought genetic research would only confuse the evidence. He also discusses that there is a small chance that Hamilton fathered a black child named William Hamilton, but I can go ahead and tell you that's false due to the fact that Hamilton had just arrived in America when William was born -HWS]) The folklore that Hamilton was mulatto probably arose from the incontestable truth that many, if not most, illegitimate children in the West Indies bore mixed blood."); Life of Alexander Hamilton by John Church Hamilton, vol. 1, p. 42 ("...rarely as he alluded to his personal history, he mentioned with a smile his having been taught to repeat the Decalogue in Hebrew, at the school of a Jewess, when so small that he was placed standing by her side upon a table); Ibid., vol. 7, p. 710-11; Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 26, p. 774, "Comments on Jews"

Hamilton's education began with his mother, who is almost definitely the person who made him fluent in French by the time he came to America. Despite limited access to books (34 books in both French and English to be specific), Hamilton still studied everything he could from a young age, with an early love for learning new things and proving that he was smarter than you. However, most of his education was in the School of Hard Knocks Community College, which was amply provided by the environment around him.

In the height of the British Empire, the Caribbean was essentially a social prison for anyone who broke the moral laws of the colonial, Eurocentric society of the time. This included pirates, prostitutes, drunks, thieves, and basically anyone who didn't fit the mold for a member of high society and/or someone who could serve high society and their lives of luxury. Hamilton, by birth, was one of these people.

Hamilton's father moved the family to St. Croix right before he left, which was a dramatic shift from Hamilton's life on St. Kitts and Nevis. In St. Croix, everyone knew Hamilton's mother as the disgraced ex-wife of Johann Lavien, and therefore knew her two sons as "whore-children", which was a word usually given to illegitimate children. Here, Hamilton was roped in with the degenerates of society, and it was practically said directly to him that he was destined to be unholy, unclean, worthless, and disgusting. Could you believe that this would have an impact on his mental health?

Along with seeing the poor lifestyles of the inhabitants of the Caribbean, Hamilton also saw glimpses into a very different world: ~rich people~. There were few rich white people on the islands, and they owned vast amounts of enslaved people, with the black to white ratio being 8:1 in the Caribbean. These enslaved people were forced to live in horrible conditions, and Hamilton saw it everywhere- his mother owned three people, but they were often rented out to garner profit for the white family, rather than working a plantation as others in the Caribbean did. Violence towards enslaved black people was only part of the violence young Hamilton witnessed in the Caribbean, some of which came in the form of dueling *insert ominous music*

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 18 ("To the extent that dueling later entranced Hamilton to an unhealthy degree, this fascination may have originated in the most fabled event in Nevis in the 1750s [a duel between two men where one of them was killed"); Ibid., p. 19; Ibid., p. 23-24

James Hamilton abandoned the family in 1765, and the reasons he did so are debated, but most likely are due to debt. However, there's another possibility that I've alluded to before: Hamilton's paternity.

So, remember, Rachel Faucette is not a perfect angel, and she also didn't particularly care for matrimony. There is a chance that she was with other men besides Hamilton and Lavien, and though we have no evidence that she was, there is an interesting character I'd like to throw into the mix.

Thomas Stevens, a moderately rich guy, was a merchant who lived on King Street in Charleston, St. Croix, with his wife Ann and his son Edward, who was born a year before Alexander Hamilton. Thomas Stevens was a very generous guy, and Edward Stevens would later be lifelong friends with Alexander Hamilton. And uh. They looked almost exactly the same. I really wish we had a portrait of Edward Stevens, but according to literally everyone, it was hard to tell the difference between him and Hamilton. Now, statistically, we all have some kind of doppelganger out there, but like what are the chances that they grew up down the street from each other and their parents had suspiciously close connections? Now, I'm not saying that Hamilton should have been Alexander Stevens, I think that's pretty irrelevant, but it is possible that Thomas Stevens... you... ARE THE FATHER!!!

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 27-28 ("Nevertheless, in the absence of direct proof, the notion that Alexander was the biological son of Thomas Stevens instead of James Hamilton would clarify many oddities in Hamilton's biography.")

The Hamiltons' life post-dad-desertion was actually somewhat comfortable due to Rachel's kickassery. She established a little store for a source of income, relocated a couple times, rented out the enslaved people (as one does, i guess, that's such a wild phrase), and kept a pet goat for milk and cheese and idk soap or whatever else people make with goat milk. Her sons would help out, possibly providing an origin for Hamilton's incessant need to be productive at all times without resting. At times, they were supported by his aunt Ann Lytton Mitchell, who he would remain loyal to until his death. During this time, as he was old enough to understand what his father did, is probably when his fiercely loyal, chivalrous and family-driven attitude developed.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 22-23; Ibid., p. 28

I'm so hopped up on caffeine I could do a triathalon.

Hamilton and his mother were both afflicted by a strange and unspecified illness in the winter of 1768. The primary symptom was a severe fever, and they were treated with purgatives, medicinal herbs, and bloodletting. Nothing helped, and Rachel died at 9 pm on February 19. Hamilton miraculously survived.

Immediately, Hamilton and his brother James had everything they owned taken away, indebted by bills charged against them by local debtors. Their half brother inherited whatever else belonged to their mother, which brought up the marital scandal all over again, beginning a legal battle that lasted for around a year. In the end, the two Hamilton brothers were left with two things: jack shit and fuck all.

Custody of the two boys was appointed to their cousin, Peter Lytton. In my notes, I described him as "white trash" and "insane", including the quotes, so idk who said that. Peter Lytton lived with his black mistress and their illegitimate child. He killed himself on July 6, 1769, and what's strange about that is that we don't know if he shot or stabbed himself. I don't know who got confused about the difference between a knife and a gun, but that isn't my problem.

To make a bad situation worse, Peter Lytton didn't leave the boys anything in his will, and neither did his father, who did "his best" to help. His best could have been even just mentioning the name Hamilton in his will, but whatever, I guess.

These events held very important lessons for the young Alexander: 1) nothing lasts forever; 2) everyone dies; 3) the legal system is terrible; 4) rich people hate you; and, most importantly, 5) the only way out was up.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 22-27

On His Own

This marked a split between Hamilton and his older brother, but this didn't seem to affect him as much as what happened with his parents- possibly because he wasn't biologically his brother, but I don't really care about that. What's more important is that Hamilton was almost entirely on his own, with inconsistent housing, so he couldn't always rely on the Stevenses. He was in a very similar situation that his mother was in at one time not long ago: alone and self reliant.

Hamilton was already working for the mercantile company, Beekman and Cruger. This company was later renamed, so I'll just say that Hamilton worked for Cruger, who was a business man with ties to New York. Hamilton worked as a clerk at this import-export business, giving him the responsibility to monitor intake and outtake as well as the organization of papers and just generally keeping everything in line. Due to the international relevance that was St. Croix, Hamilton often used French in his business dealings. Here, Hamilton perfected his handwriting into that elegant mess we know and can't read, picked up information on shipping/navigation, and learned his famously proficient math skills, particularly in relation to finance and economics.

Hamilton's famously maniacal work ethic began here, but so did his yearning for military valor. The first piece of personal correspondence we have from Hamilton is a letter to bestie Edward Stevens, and was made very famous from The Musical.

"Im confident, Ned that my Youth excludes me from any hopes of immediate Preferment nor do I desire it, but I mean to prepare the way for futurity. Im no Philosopher you see and may be jusly said to Build Castles in the Air. My Folly makes me ashamd and beg youll Conceal it, yet Neddy we have seen such Schemes successfull when the Projector is Constant I shall Conclude saying I wish there was a War. I am Dr Edward Yours Alex Hamilton (sic)"

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 29-30; Alexander Hamilton to Edward Stevens, November 11, 1769, St. Croix; Library of Congress, Image 13 of Alexander Hamilton Papers: General Correspondence, 1734-1804; 1734-1772

When Cruger left St. Croix for New York due to medical reasons in 1771, he left 16 year old Alexander Hamilton in charge of his primary source of income. And you're probably thinking that's a stupid idea. Because it is.

BUT ITS ALEXANDER HAMILTON. SO IT WAS FINE??? Well, fine for everyone besides the captain of the HMS Thunderbolt.

The Thunderbolt pulled into St. Croix's busy harbor after crossing the ocean and manned by a veteran captain, however Hamilton was not satisfied with the outfitting of the ship nor the quality of the goods that had been transported.

"Reflect continually on the unfortunate voyage you have just made and endeavor to make up for the considerable loss therefrom accruing to your owners." -Alexander Hamilton to Captain Newton, February 1, 1772

You can really see Hamilton's "I'm better than you and I know it" attitude shining through, made more shocking than ever than the fact that he was SIXTEEN YEARS OLD and talking to a man who was LITERALLY TWICE HIS AGE. The only reason he didn't lose his job over this is because he was right. The mules that had been transported were in such poor health, Hamilton had to pull strings to get them sold, and the wood was too waterlogged to be sold on the open market, so he sold it to a private buyer who was able to find something to do with them. He showed quick thinking, confidence in his abilities, and managerial skills. It was these skills that would later appeal to George Washington, not his financial abilities, and led to his most important appointment.

Source: Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 1, p. 23, letter to Tileman Cruger, February 1, 1772 ("It would be undoubtedly a great pity that such a vessel [the Thunderbolt] should be lost for the want of them [cannons]."); Ibid., p.4, letter to Captain Newton, February 1, 1772; Alexander Hamilton: A Biography by Forrest McDonald, p. 128 ("Taken aback, Washington replied, 'I always knew Colonel Hamilton to be a man of superior talents, but never supposed that he had any knowledge of finance.")

Cruger's firm also engaged in the Atlantic slave trade, as did the majority of trading firms in the Caribbean and the American south. It was this exposure to the abhorrent conditions on slave ships and the violence African people faced in the triangle trade that shaped Hamilton into a vocal opponent of slavery- when it was convenient. More impactful was the fear he developed of slave revolts, as was very common in the Caribbean because of the disproportionate slave to free/black to white ratio in the islands, and this would later define his views on the French Revolution and public protest in general. He and Thomas Jefferson had this in common.

Hamilton continued studying books in his free time, and the local newspaper, the Royal Danish American Gazette, began publishing poems from an anonymous young writer- obviously it was Hamilton. His poems ranged in subjects, and aren't particularly good, but they're better than any poems I've written angrily in my journal about my evil exes, so that is to his credit.

Hamilton's poems took a religious turn, most likely traceable to the arrival of Reverend Hugh Knox, who took in Hamilton as a mentor. Clergymen were a hot commodity in the hell hole that was the Caribbean, and Knox had a lot of work on his hands, but he took a particular interest in Hamilton, specifically in getting him out of the aforementioned hell hole. He saw that Hamilton was incredibly intelligent and hard working, almost to a fault- he was probably the first person who was genuinely concerned for this dude's health over how much he worked.

Fun fact, Knox also had personal ties to the Burr family, but that is literally only a fun fact and not a sign that Burr and Hamilton were star-crossed lovers in fair Verona or whatever Chernow has deluded himself into thinking.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 32-33; Ibid., p. 34

Source: National Guard Bureau, "Examining Lessons from Katrina 10 Years Later"

Then, a massive hurricane struck the Caribbean on August 1, 1772. It was incredibly damaging, causing mass destruction in St. Croix, and this is most definitely one that we in the south would evacuate for. Even my dad would evacuate for this one, and it took a lot of convincing to get him to evacuate for Katrina.

In reaction to this event, Hamilton wrote his famous letter to his father detailing and reflecting on the storm. And finally, I'm giving y'all my analysis of this letter that I keep saying I'll do. However, this post is already incredibly long, so I'm going to do it in a google doc and attach it here.

Source: Alexander Hamilton to The Royal Danish American Gazette, September 6, 1772

The letter was published to The Royal Danish American Gazette, which spread around the afflicted community. Knox's congregation gathered money for the anonymous young author (now not very anonymous) to sail to the American mainland for his education. Originally, Hamilton went to study medicine, due to the high demand for doctors in the Caribbean (his knowledge of anatomy would remain helpful throughout his life). However, at some point he decided he would not be going back to the Caribbean, and switched his focus to law, but we'll discuss that more in part two.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, p. 37-40

Well, there's part one. I did all of this in one day because um. I don't know, but it is now one in the morning and i have to wake up earlier than normal. so that's fun. i hope y'all enjoyed. shout out to my mom for proofreading half of this, and shout out to my aunt who gave me coffee, that was a horrible idea. i'll be back with part two at some point, which will probably be more concise because hamilton's childhood in the caribbean is where most of the theories are, so yeah. love y'all.

#alexander hamilton #history #amrev #american history #american revolution #hamilton #18th century #caribbean history #long post #research #heavy breathing #this is my career guys #do it for richie 💪#amrev history #i also watched like half of a chris chan documentary during this #and an entire markiplier playthrough #this is my spring break

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 8 months

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One thing that I didn’t appreciate about “Starship Troopers” as a kid was how they portrayed the battles. I thought it was just bad writing at the time. Now, I can see it for the brilliant satire that it is. You have this nation that is always projecting military strength and showing off their weaponry and soldiers. But then you watch the actual battle and the troops are:

1) ill-equipped to the point that it takes multiple soldiers to take down one bug since their rifles do little damage on their own

2) are in a battlefield without armored vehicles or air support

3) given no strategy besides shoot everything that isn’t human

4) gullible and consumed so much propaganda to the point that they legitimately believed the bugs were stupid and easy to destroy

5) developed an irrational, xenophobic hatred of all bugs because of the aforementioned propaganda

And instead of switching up the tactics, the Federation just keeps on sending meat wave after meat wave. The humans only “won” because they finally overwhelmed the bugs. Before then, they were getting slaughtered left and right. It’s like a dumb, Michael Bay sci-fi version of “All Quiet on the Western Front”.

#starship troopers #1990s movies #1990s films #satire #satirical #political satire #all quiet on the western front #war movies #science fiction #sci fi #scifi #sci fi movies #sci fi film #movie thoughts #film thoughts #movie analysis #film analysis #paul verhoeven

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the-lady-of-the-labyrinth · 11 months

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It’s not a genocide, it’s a fucking counteroffensive – learn the difference. You don’t have to like it or even think it’s appropriate or well-executed, but it has a strategic purpose. And while you’re frothing at the mouth over the evil Israelis, maybe take a moment to consider how this serves a strategic purpose for Hamas as well, and they are just as responsible (if not more so) for this whole tragedy… but I don’t see any of you admonishing them. They are using their own people as human shields, holding them prisoner and sending them out in the streets to be slaughtered, all designed to garner sympathy from gullible “progressive” westerners. Have you ever considered that you’re doing their work for them?

I’ve been saying this for months, well before the attacks, that even the left is susceptible to propaganda. We all are. It’s nothing to be ashamed of really, but if you’ve never done the actual work to disentangle yourself, then consider the possibility that you’re still entwined. I know you’re well-intentioned but you’re helping no one but the enemy. To be clear, I want a ceasefire as much as anyone, but hiding your head in the sand and demanding they do it now, now, now is childish, ignorant and dangerous. You’re no better than those on the right who profess to know more than the actual experts on climate change or what-have-you.

#Israel #Hamas #propaganda #psa #wake up

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girlactionfigure · 7 months

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The Washington Post report: The Biden administration, together with its allies in the Middle East, is promoting a comprehensive peace plan between Israel and the Palestinians, including a detailed time frame for the establishment of a Palestinian state, and may announce it within a few weeks. The presentation of the program is expected at a critical time with the cease fire promoted in Washington as part of the deal for the release of the abductees. Don’t be too concerned - the Palestinians won’t accept it. Why? Because they will have to recognize Israel. The same old issue that the gullible western world can’t see - they don’t want to live next to us - they want to live instead of us. After October 7th, any Israeli leader that will give the Palestinians a state will be thrown into the trash can of history and be immediately toppled.

#Israel #October 7 #Palestinians

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marxistcomedy · 1 year

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Anyone working in counter-propaganda can testify to a curious experience: we’ll put in hours of careful research collecting an impeccable set of resources that undermines some warmongering narrative, and we’ll eagerly share it with someone who claims to despise racism in all its forms — say, an outspoken opponent of the West’s so-called “War on Terror.” Unexpectedly, we are met with a response that is somewhere between chilly reticence and downright hostility. What’s going on?

From our perspective, we’re offering water to a person who’s self-identified as thirsty, and yet they react as if we were trying to poison them! They turn on a dime to defend the same institutions whose lies they were denouncing just moments before. At this point the sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from seeing through propaganda and putting puzzle pieces together into a satisfying historical account gets brutally transformed into its exact opposite: a sense of crushing defeat. In response to this bitter experience, many researchers — serious people, with plenty of experience reading and writing, and sometimes even of being published! — lash out. They decide that people have been “brainwashed” beyond the point where they can be reached by words or rational appeal. They “realize” that the masters of propaganda have been far more successful than we first imagined: it turns out we’re not David fighting Goliath, we’re more like an ant facing an asteroid.

The same inquisitive nature that first led them to unravel war propaganda narratives begins to feed an even larger psycho-historical narrative, and nihilism takes hold. The tragic cycle begins to appear eternal: innocent, well-meaning, hard-working folks are, time and again, viciously tricked by the scapegoating of a new rogue in the gallery — Indigenous, Black, Spanish, Jewish, Soviet, Vietnamese, Cuban, Serbian, Muslim, Libyan, Syrian, Korean, Venezuelan, Russian, Chinese. Due to the sheer power of propaganda and mass-media, the masses helplessly fall for hatred and volunteer for war, even though it comes at a very high cost to ourselves, our loved ones, and our ideals (religion, environmentalism, etc.). Sadly, the innate human propensity to “hate the Other” seals our fate as a society… or something along those lines.

I am going to argue that this narrative is nonsense. It tries to pass off as universal and eternal something that in reality is particular and ephemeral. In short: Westerners aren’t helpless innocents whose minds are injected with atrocity propaganda, science fiction-style; they’re generally smug bourgeois proletarians who intelligently seek out as much racist propaganda as they can get their hands on. This is because it fundamentally makes them feel better about who they are and how they live. The psychic and material costs are rationally worth the benefits. As for those anti-imperialists who don’t participate in this festival of xenophobia — and here I include myself — we have our own elitist consolation: we accept the tragedy of masses of gullible sheeple falling for cunning propaganda because having overcome it flatters our own intelligence. The more we condemn society’s stupidity, the smarter we feel in comparison.

But am I not just worsening the problem, aggravating our hopelessness, by criticizing the critics in a way that suggests that no one escapes ideological self-flattery? I don’t think so. Paradoxically, it brings us all back to a more even and possibility-rich playing field.

The prevailing populist narrative grants the People (of the West) moral innocence by attributing to them utter stupidity and naivety; I invert the equation and demand a Marxist narrative instead: Westerners are willingly complicit in crimes because they instinctively and correctly understand that they benefit as a class (as a global bourgeois proletariat) from the exploitation enabled by their military and their propaganda (in Gramscian: organs of coercion and consent). We’re not as stupid as we’re made out to be. This means that we can be reasoned with, that there is a way out.

[emphasis mine]

#very necessary read rn imo #red sails #roderic day

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beyonsatan · 1 year

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My next astrology post was gonna be about the chart ruler in astrology but I just saw a tik tok about pisces that received the ugliest laugh from me and so decided that i will be talking about pisces and after closing the casket on a few stereotypes and western astrologers who have absolutely no idea what they're talking about yet charge for readings, I'm gonna hurt some feelings haha 😁...

So let's create a list of the misleading stereotypes that modern astrology have successfully managed to attach to pisces and then i'm going to debunk a few or all in order and I'm going to do this in the most polite way :)

• Ditzy (you might've heard "pisces is debilitated in mercury so it makes sense why pisces aren't the smartest or are 'easily fooled'" WRONGGGGG! In fact, ancient astrologers believed that pisces was in its detriment while in mercury because you can't think properly when you're in love. Venus the planet of love feels the strongest in Pisces, venus is pisces dignified ruler, pisces is the only sign that's dignified in both benefics (Venus, Jupiter) so if you asked me what sign i think is the most in love with love i would say with confidence pisces. This is why often when you hear a pisces talking about something or someone they love they stumble over their words. Contradictory to popular belief, pisces are very intuitive and can spot people trying to take advantage of their giving nature. A person who is intuitive and knows when something is up is not dumb, being both intuitive and gullible is already a contradiction. Saying that a jupiter (planet of wisdom) ruled sign is dumb does not fit the bill or even make sense for that matter. Mercury In sagittarius is debilitated as well but not because sagittarius is stupid, gullible or can't reason but because sagittarius is the jokester and is all about exposing the truth and their delivery is usually harsh which can rub people the wrong way. It's all about the delivery with them, there can be instances of blurting out things at the wrong time, things that would be considered offensive, that doesn't necessarily translate to them being dumb, they're just blunt lol. A good example of this would be nicki minaj

• escapists (the only true one I have actually heard so far but I also think that the stigma around escapism needs be brought to a stop. Pisces is dignified In both benefics so they do not prefer to indulge in things that are meant to discourage them like fear, anger, self doubt and turmoil so in order to keep themselves on their feet they distract themselves with things that are meant to inspire or otherwise entertain them to keep them going. This claim that they get consumed by their fantasies, can't face reality or take decisive action is a myth and stems from this idea that certain aspirations or wish fulfillments are out of reach and too unrealistic to be put into plan. so while everyone else is doing only what's within their reach thinking things can't get any better for them, pisces is dreaming big and this is where people can often confuse delusion with staying optimistic. How wise would it be to call someone "stupid" or "an escapist" because they're choosing to see the bright side of a situation or not succumbing to negative emotions? Not very wise at all right? Out of every zodiac sign I would argue that pisces is the most likely to recover from difficult times Because the benefics always keep them in good spirit

• drug addicts (i just wanna say that if you've ever gotten a paid reading from an astrologer who has said up out their mouth that "pisces is the most suspectible to drug and alcohol abuse," you have been scammed and should request your money back, these astrologers either think that pisces is ruled by neptune or they think having pisces placements is the same as having 12th house placements, ps: it is NOT the same and they CERTAINLY do not make you more artsy, dreamy and whatever other terms ppl use to deem pisces.) the 12th house is where you can see some unhealthy habits and addictions, that is true but once again pisces does not rule over the 12th house nor does pisces get its meaning from this house and anyone that told you otherwise lied 💞

• poor self esteem (I'm not even about to dignify this imbecilic talking point with a lengthy response 💀 if pisces was a sign with poor self esteem, the sign wouldn't be comfortable in the planet that literally rules over our values and self esteem, 'venus' lol)

• compulsively lie ( one more attribute that came from neptune. I'm not gonna say pisces is perfect but alot of these stereotypes aren't really aligning with jupiterian and Venusian energy) you wouldn't lie to a person that you truly love (venus) and you wouldn't be able to easily fool someone who is wise(Jupiter) does that make better sense to yall??) Why do you think it makes sense for a zodiac sign that's notorious for their contempt of lies and deceit(Scorpio) to be compatible with a sign that modern astrology famously dubs as "liars" that doesn't make sense either does it? Of course not, cause it's not true lmao, every sign is capable of lying.

Summary: Once you register through your mind that there is no connection between pisces and neptune in astrology, everything that you've learned about pisces through western astrology and their antics automatically vanishes or becomes null and void. There is (and ima highlight 'no' in bold just so yall know how serious i am) NO reason to believe that pisces is gullible, stupid, a liar or any of the things I mentioned in the bulletpoints. The infantalizing of pisces in astrology MUST stop and I will do everything my power to make sure it does and that this knowledge reaches everyone, *mic drop*

that's all, hope thiz helps xx

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banana-breaded · 1 year

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I think its extremely clever

how, in “The Titan’s Curse”, Artemis is shown to typically present herself as a 12 year old girl. Yes, this is reflective of her followers and whatnot, but it also is very effective in sending a message: “I have chosen eternal maidenhood; I am not available.”

In short, no adult, mortal or otherwise, is even going to entertain the notion of trying to court her. It would be too weird, even if she is essentially timeless.

This is only reinforced by the fact that this is not her true form as is seen in “The Blood of Olympus” on Delos. Delos was the birthplace of Artemis and Apollo and therefore a place so sacred to them it warded off the effects of the Greek/Roman war. In other words, it let them sustain their forms as their original, truest selfs, though they could dress themselves however they wanted and use whatever items they desired, modern or not.

Since Artemis’ form was of “the same age” as Apollo’s when Leo and co. encountered them, I’ve always assumed that said form and its age was a diluted, similar version of what her true form would be when it is lethally revealed. This emphasizes that her chosen form as a young girl is undoubtedly intentional.

As for Apollo, the thing that always stood out to me about his presentation is how quickly he changed from “cool, laid-back guy” in “The Titan’s Curse” to “gullible, whiny brat” in “The Blood of Olympus” and the first half of the “Trials of Apollo” series. Furthermore, the way he speaks progresses from modern lingo to more stiff, dated diction as the series change.

I don’t think this is a flaw in the storytelling, I think it’s more of a subtle world building device. In “The Titan’s Curse”, his purpose was aiding a group of teens. It was no skin off of his back to do so, so he was in good spirits, and he obviously aimed to impress. Subsequently, he took on an attitude that would resonate with his audience and spoke in a way that was familiar to them. He could afford to be carefree and “cool”, and since showing off was his main priority he did so.

This doesn’t mean he wasn’t petulant and easily fooled at that time, just that he made an effort to hide those traits (assuming her recognized them at all, alternatively they just weren’t relevant enough to reveal themselves in the circumstances).

Fast forward to “The Blood of Olympus” when he clearly doesn’t care about how Leo, Frank, and Hazel view him because he’s too busy wallowing in self pity and therefore his negative qualities are quite clearly on display. Also note, his language here is more similar to the formal style he uses in “The Trials of Apollo”, which can explained using the same logic used for Artemis’ older form.

I believe this is how he most naturally talks (the fact that its in English can be attributed to Olympus’ westernization, though I do think in his true form he would speak Greek) and that being on Delos means his speech is at its most genuine.

Obviously his attitude can be explained by the fact that things aren’t going well for him, and will continue to not do so for a little over 6 months (the Trials). During this period, even though he finds himself inhabiting the mortal teen form of Lester, he will continue to use his dated lingo and come off as initially unpleasant. This makes sense as he has little to no control as to how he presents himself as a mortal and it bodes that he can’t readily switch to an up-to-date-charismatic-mode.

Of course, it was abundantly clear that at first, he wasn’t in the mood to anyway.

#percy jackson #the titans curse #the heroes of olympus #the trials of apollo #pjo apollo #pjo artemis #rick riordan #leo valdez #hazel levesque #pjo stuff #heroes of olympus

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withlovewriting · 1 year

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 1: Bye Bye, Benny

Chapter One.

You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’, And you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels, Nothing ‘bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now, So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal.

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities, and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 4,983

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, alcohol abuse, child abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, typical season 1 mean-girl Steve and his little gang of assholes. An offensive term to specific religion, i guess. Also apologies, first chapters are awkward and just plot building but there ya go.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize... ‘wait a damn minute...’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter One: Bye Bye, Benny.

Your legs moved faster than ever before, calves crying out in pain as your lungs burned, feeling like you hadn’t taken a proper breath in forever. But you still continued to push forward, dodging the oncoming vehicle and pedestrians as best you could. A car slammed on their breaks, horn blaring through the bustling streets during the late evening causing you to wobble slightly, hands gripping the handle bars of your bike so tightly you were sure you’d be able to pull them off completely.

Once you had regained your balance, you held up a hand, a silent sorry to the passing car as the driver shouted obscenities that you didn’t have time to be offended by. Just as you passed the coroners office, a loud whoop, whoop sounded behind you, the red and blue lights lighting up the ever darkening evening.

Shit, you mumbled to yourself, head darting around to watch as the officer stuck his hand out of the window, flagging you down. Well, you were definitely going to be late now.

Stopping alongside the side walk, one dirty converse perched on the curb to balance yourself, you waited as he slowly approached you, taking his sweet time. Of course, it wouldn’t be Callahan, the man gullible enough that you could easily spin a tale and get yourself out of this quickly, or even officer Powell, the man much more commanding than the former yet still not as assertive — or nosy — as the man in the unsightly beige uniform that was walking towards you.

“Kid, do you know how recklessly you were riding?”

Tilting your head backwards, face scrunched up slightly, you tried to suppress the annoyance that was bound to seep through your voice, “Hop, listen-”

“You almost caused two separate road traffic accidents, and don’t even think I didn’t see you almost wipe out Mrs. Lloyd.”

“Hopper, I-”

“I should take this damn thing off you, throw it in the junk yard where it belongs. Looks like this piece of shit is falling apart.”

“Are you gonna give me a ticket? Because if you are, can we speed this thing along and maybe save the whole responsibility talk for next time.”

Raising a brow, Jim sent you an incredulous look, “Next time?”

Rolling your eyes, you finally released the pent up, frustrated sigh, “ You know what I mean.”

Mumbling under his breath, Jim took off his slightly off-color hat before gripping his leather belt, hands firm on his hips, “Look, kid. You’re on a bike, which means you’re not gonna win any fight you decide to pick that day with a car. You might not give a shit, but I could really do without the extra paperwork. So stop riding like you’ve just robbed a bank.”

Nodding along with the man, you hoped your silent agreement would make this exchange go by at least a little quicker.

“I’m giving you a verbal warning, alright? If I have even one more complaint about a delinquent teenage cyclist bowling over old ladies in the street, I’ll personally arrest you myself and make you fill out the complaints paperwork. Got it?”

“Got it, chief.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how boring his job must be — especially since moving back from New York — to even bother with a cycling non-incident.

“Now, grab you bike and throw it in the back, if you’re in such a rush my car will get you there a lot quicker than that rusted piece of junk.”

Doing as he said, you then joined him in the car, the man glaring at you until you remembered to buckle your seat belt. Eventually, he pulled away, and you directed him towards Oak street.

“So, hows your Mom doing?”

His comment was meant to come off as flippant, uninterested in your actual answer and just trying to fill the silence. But you’d had your fair share of interactions with Jim Hopper since he crawled back to Hawkins in 1979, as had your mother.

He’d vehemently deny it if he was ever asked, but Jim Hopper — in all of his gruff, cynical glory — had a soft underbelly. He didn’t care about much any more. Not his job, not himself, nor any family, but in the few months he’d had some kind of relationship with your mother, he had unwittingly taken on a role in your life that had been missing for so, so long. So, what did it matter if he checked in every now and then?

Shuffling uncomfortably, you peered out of the passenger window, hoping he wouldn’t push too hard, “She’s fine. Got a cold, at the moment, so…Can’t exactly make it into work right now.”

“You’re covering for her again? You really shouldn’t be out late, and especially not on a school night-”

“She’s not well, Hop. A lecture won’t pay the bills.”

Despite reading between the lines, Hopper shut his mouth, even for just a moment before changing the subject, “No car tonight?”

“Mom forgot to get gas after work last night.”

“I thought she was too ill to work.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn’t have been more happy to see the shitty, run down bar you’d be spending the next couple of hours. Barely letting the man come to a full stop, you hopped out of the car before struggling to pull your bike out of the trunk without scuffing the police vehicle,

“Thanks for the ride, Hop.”

As if it took him a moment to realize you’d even exited the car, he quickly rolled down his window, “You’re not even old enough to be in there-”

It was safe to say your ride home from covering your mother’s shift wasn’t as fast paced, or exciting, as your previous journey.

You felt exhausted after a long day working at the arcade, revising for a stupid chemistry test that Mr. Kaminsky seemed determined to make half of the class fail, and then rushing like a mad man toward The Hideout, a long 6 hour shift bussing tables for old men who seemingly had boundary issues when it came to teenage girls. If it wasn’t for Thomas, the owner, you might’ve had another run in with the chief, certain you’d of stuck a fork through one of Mr Hanson’s wandering hands.

Turning down Morehead Street, you were almost relieved to be home. Almost.

All you wanted to do was shower off the smell of stale beer and greasy burgers and flop into bed. This wasn’t exactly how you’d wanted to spend your Sunday.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the lurking feeling of uneasiness crawled up your throat, the familiar, yet uncertain apprehension causing you to slow to a stop outside of the large, blue house that sat at the other end of your street. Hauntingly intimidating, the formidable house had sat abandoned since before you were even born. Children would often dare each other to play ding-dong-ditch, especially around Halloween, but nobody to your knowledge had actually made it much further than the path that led toward the rotten porch stairs. It had been boarded up since before you could remember, and nobody seemed all that bothered to disrupt it, the memories of what happened there more than two decades ago settled like the dust that was sure to line the floorboards inside.

Despite the desolate appearance in the daytime, the house only looked even more daunting in the shadows that lingered in the night, crawling their way over the house to leave it in almost total darkness.

Swallowing down the lump of uneasiness, you placed your foot back onto the pedal, ready to push off when you heard something. Your head swiveled back toward the large house, eyes wide and inquisitive, certain you’d heard voices.

Maybe the teenagers of Hawkins had finally become brave enough to step forth into the house, or maybe it was the ghosts of the slain family. Either way, you weren’t hanging around to find out, cycling home a little faster than before as you willed yourself to not peer back at the house for one last look, too worried about what, or who, you might find staring back.

Leaving your bike in the front yard — it was Hawkins, after all and the only thing more boring than the teenagers in this town, was the workload, or lack thereof, for the police — you quietly made your way up the creaky, half-rotten porch steps, all too aware of the television blaring so loudly from the living room that you could hear it from outside.

After taking a moment to prepare yourself, you finally pushed the door open, silently grumbling about how your mother always left it unlocked, regardless the time of day. Creeping toward the archway leading to the living room, you caught sight of your mother slumped on the sofa, eyes heavy from more than just sleep, but somehow still conscious. Stepping into the room, you called out for her, hoping she’d hear you over the loud laughter from whatever bullshit show she was half-watching.

“Mom?”

Her head turned, eyebrows raised as if she was surprised anyone had entered the house at all, before her glossed over eyes narrowed, pointing the empty bottle in her hand in your direction, “Where the hell have you been?”

It took everything in you not to release a frustrated sigh, telling her that you had in fact been covering her shift in order to guarantee you’d be able to keep the heating on this month. Winter in Indiana was a bitch and you were certain neither of you would survive another year without at least a mildly-warm house.

“I was working, Mom. C’mon, lets get you to bed-”

“Were you late? Cause you know they dock my wage by a whole hour if you’re even a fuckin’ minute late.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head, avoiding her eyes, “No, Mom. I wasn’t late. I-”

“Fuckin’ liar!” Standing, your mother wobbled on uncertain legs much like a newborn foal as she stumbled toward the telephone, where the answering machine blinked a devious, betraying red. Your mother almost looked too happy that she’d caught you in a lie as her clumsy pointer finger pushed hard at the button, playing the message out loud,

‘Rebecca, this is Thomas. You’re late for your shift, again. You better be on your way, I swear to god, this is the last fucking time. And you better not send your kid, again. I’m sick of it, Bec. So unless your face-down in your own vomit somewhere, you better be in work within the next 10 minutes, or- Oh, hey sweetheart-’

Bottle still in hand, your mother floundered toward you, nose scrunched in annoyance and distrust, as if you’d lied to her about something so much worse, like smashing up the car, or god forbid, pouring one of her beloved bottles down the kitchen sink.

Thankfully, by the time she reached you, she’d not only half forgotten what she was mad about, but wouldn’t be able to work out which one of you she saw to swing at. So instead, you took her gently by the shoulders, ushering her toward her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed face-first and rather ungraciously her fingertips still gripping the empty bottle as if her life depended on it, and by the time you’d placed a throw blanket over her body, soft snores were already escaping her.

Despite your mother now being out cold, you still closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible, the fear that you’d manage to wake her up too ingrained in you to do anything but.

Keeping the light off, you sprawled out onto your own bed, deciding to forgo the shower and overflowing laundry basket that had been calling out to you most of the week.

Deciding to shower when you awoke in the morning, you didn’t have a choice but to drive your mother’s old Fiat Brava to school, knowing you’d be late otherwise.

Grumbling at yourself for not finding time to do the laundry, you dug deep into your drawers, trying to find something both suitable for school, knowing half of the clothes were creeping up on being too small for you. But money was sparse in your household, and an oversized jacket that you were yet to grow into had sufficed so far.

Pulling out a blue blouse that you absolutely knew was too small, meaning you would be pulling down the sleeves all day in an attempt to stop them ending up halfway up your forearm, you knew it would have to do.

Leaving with barely enough time to fill up the coffee pot in hopes your mother would be drawn to the bitter smell rather than the temptation of the alcohol cupboard, you remained just under the speed limit, gnawing at your lip for the entirety of the drive.

School was dragging by, every minute feeling like an hour, and you knew clock-watching wouldn’t help, the gentle tick, tick, tick lulling you into a drowsy mess as you tried your best to keep your attention on your school work.

Making your way toward your locker, ready to dump half of your books out and enjoy your free period sleeping in the library, you saw Barb staring off down the hallway, her eyebrows pulled together as she watched Nancy turn the corner in a hurry.

“Everything OK?” You asked, causing her to jump slightly, head whipping toward you.

Relaxing as she realized it was you, she released an annoyed sigh, “It’s like he calls and she goes running. Literally.”

“You mean Harrington?”

“She’s still denying they’re even a thing.”

Your eyes remained in the direction of where Nancy had disappeared to, the hallways clearing out as people prepared for their next lesson, “Nancy’s a smart girl. She knows what he’s like.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Barb sighed, pushing her glasses to sit a little higher on the bridge of her nose, “He’s gonna use her, and dump her, and she’ll end up hurt. Just like every other girl he’s dated.”

“Dated is a very loose term,” you joked, Converse heel digging into the hard floor when Barb didn’t quite appreciate the joke, “He’ll get bored eventually, alright? He always does. But Nancy’s not an idiot. I highly doubt she really thinks he’s gonna be the love of her life, or even her date to prom if his reputation is anything to go by.”

When Barb remained silent, her top teeth worrying at her bottom lip you sighed, “Hey, if he hurts her, we can always key his car. Or set his hair on fire. God knows it’s got enough product in it to go up like a bonfire.”

That, at least, caused a smile to pull at Barb’s lips. Feeling satisfied that you’d at least kind of cheered the girl up, you left your friend with a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making your way down the long hallway.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you came to a halt almost right away, body colliding with the same person you’d just been shit talking for the last five minutes.

“Watch where you’re going-”

Scoffing at the boy, you pushed him away slightly, “This is the girl’s restroom, nimrod. You watch where you’re going.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve lent back against the wall slightly, hands grasped at his hips, “Nice shirt, but I think you’re shopping in the wrong age department of the Goodwill.”

“Says the person wearing a polo. Mommy pick it out at the GAP?”

Your stand off would’ve continued for much longer, had the second bell not have rung. Grabbing his yellow gym bag from the floor, he brushed past you with an annoyed glare, “It’s a vintage H R Robinson’s.”

God, he was such an ass.

Word about Will Byers’ disappearance had spread around town quicker than the time Mrs. Hunt’s husband had been caught balls deep in his receptionist at the local car dealership.

After returning home, your mother was nowhere to be found and to say you spent your night pacing around and doing absolutely anything to take your mind off the fact she was gone, was an understatement.

Your laundry was washed, dried and shoved back into your drawers, homework finished in record time and by 9pm you were certain you were a chemistry master. At least, you would’ve been, had any of the information stuck in your brain, instead using your notes as nothing more than a distraction.

So when the sound of shoes kicking up rocks and unsettling the gravel on your driveway roused you from your light sleep, you felt your heart finally settle back down to a normal speed as your mother carelessly stumbled down the path, slamming the front door shut behind her — still not learning to lock it — before making her way to her own bedroom.

Peering at your clock, the illuminating numbers spelled out 4am, causing you to release a long sigh before rolling over, hoping that you wouldn’t sleep through your alarm, less so for the fear of being late to school, and more-so for the fear of your mother’s hungover wrath if it woke her up instead.

Shoving a few books into your locker, you felt too mentally drained to even bother with the chemistry test, and if it didn’t count for half of your grade that semester, then you probably would’ve skipped.

The doors at the end of the corridor opened, the cool November wind slipping in behind a head of brown, scraggly hair, and you felt your heart plummet. Closing your locker, you heaved your half-empty messenger bag over your body and made your way towards the boy,

“Hey, Jonathan.”

The boy peered back at you, a strained smile on his face as he struggled holding everything in his hands and attempting to pin one of the papers to the board, “Oh, hey.”

Taking the papers from under his arm, you tried to send him a reassuring smile, “I, uh… I heard about Will. He’s a smart kid… He’ll be back soon, he’s probably just… hiding out, you know.”

Jonathan’s smile grew meeker, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure he will. It’s just not like him, you know? He’s not the kind of kid to just run off.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes peering down at one of the many sheets you held for him, the boy’s smile wide and genuine. You didn’t know, though. You felt like you barely knew Jonathan, let alone Will. The eldest of the siblings, you’d met during your quick stint working at the cinema down town. You had similar music taste, bonding over your disdain for the popular kids in school, and he’d even taught you how to properly change the pump for the buttered popcorn. Your job there had only lasted a few months, but your friendship with Jonathan had lasted a lot longer. But it wasn’t like you two sat around braiding each others hair.

He was quiet and meek, whilst you were indifferent and aberrant. At least, that’s what your mother had always called you. You had perfected the art of acting like you didn’t care, and Jonathan seemed to not care at all. He kept to himself, and that’s how he liked it. You had bulldozed your way into his life, pouring flat half-cups of Coca-Cola and stale barely buttered popcorn and given him no real chance but to accept your sudden appearance. He took it in his stride, at least. But he remained quiet and shy, nonetheless.

“Hey,” a small, familiar voice called from behind you. Turning, you both send Nancy a small smile. Handing the papers back to the boy, you gave them space to talk, ready to make your way towards Kaminsky’s classroom in hopes of looking over your notes one last time.

Barb, however, had another idea, her arm halting you mid-stride before you could pass, “How is he?”

Before you could answer, you could hear the snickering of the three people to your left, “Yeah, hows he doing? Heard guilt can really tear a person down from the inside, out.”

Watching as Tommy’s face broke out into a large grin, the boy finding himself all too funny, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Hagan?”

“He’s talking about the rumor that your boyfriend over there had something to do with his brother’s disappearance,” Steve explained, his eyes still set on his girlfriend, “Might wanna be careful. I wouldn’t be in any rooms alone with him.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes darting toward Jonathan, Nancy, their eyes soft and sweet, and then back to Steve, an insolent smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I think if anyone needs to be worried, it’s you, Harrington.”

Steve’s dark eyes darted toward you, and you made a point of looking back at his girlfriend, eyebrows raised as the smile broke onto your face. Deciding you’d had enough, you strolled down the hallway, ignoring Steve’s confused calls of your name.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep inhale of smoke, trying your best to aim it away from your friend as you blew it out, “The last thing I intend to do tonight is go to a lame-ass party at Harrington’s house. I’d rather fry my own eyeballs.”

Barb pouted, her eyes widening as they silently pleaded with you, causing you to turn your attention to the cigarette between your fingers,

“You have to come, please. I really, really don’t want to the the 3rd wheel tonight.”

Rolling your eyes at the girl’s dramatics, you sucked in another deep breath, the smoke burning your lungs slightly, “You won’t be a 3rd anything, Carol and Tommy will be there, too.”

“Ugh, 5th wheel, then. Please? I really don’t want to spend my entire evening there alone.”

“And I don’t want to spend even a second of my time there, at all. Why don’t you just tell Nancy no, for once? Put your foot down? I mean, she’ll be swapping spit with Harrington all night either way.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Barb send you an exasperated sigh, “You know I can’t do that.”

Your hand halted mid-way to your mouth, cigarette burning right down to the end, leaving you only faintly aware of the slight pain, but your eyes were focused on Barb. Of course, you knew Barb couldn’t — and wouldn’t — let Nancy go to this party alone. And you knew why, too. But that didn’t mean you had to be dragged along too, did it?

Dropping the butt of your cigarette onto the floor and crushing it with your worn sneaker, you frowned, forehead creasing as you sighed, staring off into the distance, “Oh my god, fine. I’ll go. But only for an hour, and then I’m out.”

Barb had never looked more grateful, pulling you into a strong hug and thanking you a million times.

Unable to not smile back at the girl, you shook your head, “Who even has a party on a Tuesday night?”

The plan was for Barb to pick you up at 8pm, along with Nancy. The girls had told their parents that you would all be studying at the library before sleeping over Nancy’s house. It was only a half-truth at best, and one that needn’t be repeated for your own mother.

Around 5pm you drove out towards Randolph lane, deciding to grab some burgers for yourself and your mother, hoping that it would at least sober her up whenever she wandered in that evening. Grumbling, you realized you still hadn’t topped up on gas, and decided that after you’d hit the gas station before heading home, hoping you still had some change in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot, a frown pulled at your features, dipping your brows towards each other. The lights were shut off, and as you approached the door, you almost bounced right off it, realizing a little too late that it was locked. Jiggling the door handle a few times, you knocked on the glass. Sure, Benny could’ve closed up early… But Benny never closed up early. Not even on week nights. He was always open for the evening rush normally fueled by hungry teens and loitering pre-teens.

“Benny? You in there?” Rasping your knuckles against the door one last time, you huffed, annoyed that your plan of an easy dinner and been thwarted. Before you turned to return to your car, something through the darkened window caught your eye.

It was definitely a figure at the table, but not quiet sat… More-so slumped. Backing away from the window a little too quickly, you stumbled off the deep curb, falling backwards onto the concrete. Eyes wide as you pushed yourself back, you managed to heave yourself up before taking off across the road, heading into the gas station.

The bell rang as the door bounced off the wall, hinges squeaking as the owner, Earl, turned his annoyed glare in your direction, “Careful with the damn door-”

Upon seeing your panicked face, Earl quickly made his way around the counter, brows pulled together in a frown as he held his hands out, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I think… I think something’s wrong with Benny-”

“Benny? Benny Hammond? I saw him yesterday, he’s fine-”

Shaking your head, your eyes whipped back toward the diner, “No, I… I don’t know. I came to get dinner, but it’s closed, so I looked through the window and I think… I think I can see him.”

Earl’s eyes darted between yourself and the diner, concern and skepticism evident on his features, “Right. I’m gonna go check it out, you get on the phone to the Sheriff. But I swear to God kid, if this is some stupid teenage prank-”

Perched on the wall just outside the diner, your leg bounced erratically as you waited for Hopper to return from inside. He’d arrived within 30 minutes, Powell to his left and Callahan to his right, and a face stormier than a rain cloud.

It didn’t take 10 minutes after his arrival for the fire department and ambulance to turn up, backdoor open as they carried out a stretcher.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper’s once dour expression had melted away, smoothing out into something slightly softer, though his frown remained. Maybe, after so many years, his face was stuck like that, you wondered.

Shrugging, your teeth worried at your bottom lip for a moment, “I came to get dinner. The door was locked and… Benny never shuts this early.”

Nodding, Hopper scribbled something down on his notepad before turning his attention back to you, swallowing uncomfortably at your tremulous voice, “Then what?”

“I thought it was weird… Knocked on the door a few times, but I didn’t get a response. So I looked through the gap in the curtains and… I don’t know. I saw someone leaning over a table. I didn’t know what was going on so I went and got Earl. He said to call you guys.”

“Alright. Look, I’ll have to take an official statement, but that can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you-”

Before Hopper could finish his sentence, your attention was pulled away by the door opening, the familiar bell above it ringing like it always did. Two paramedics rolled out the stretcher, a large white sheet stretched across a white, zipped bag. A body bag.

Feeling your stomach lurch half-way up your throat whilst your heart dropped the other way, you couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, body all but toppling off the wall and thankfully into the arms of Hopper.

Sure, he’d seen a lot of shit during his time in New York, but they had all been strangers and that seemed much easier to disassociate from and get the job done. But Benny… Well, they went way back. They were friends.

Despite Hop’s insistence to not look, you couldn’t help but turn your head, watching as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and carted off toward the morgue.

The last suicide in Hawkins had been in October of 1961, and despite not even being born then, you knew all too well about it. It had been your Grandmother, after all.

Crazy old Colette, the town had so lovingly referred to her as. Lost her husband in the war as well as her mind and never got either back. And, of course, instead of helping, the town simply ignored and gossiped, watching as she wandered around town at all hours, jittery and talking to herself, shouting that the ‘end was nigh’.

What was strange, however, was your family weren’t particularly religious. Your mother only worshiped the God she found at the bottom of a bottle, and you couldn’t even guess the last time you’d stepped inside the town’s chapel. Sure, Hawkins had it’s fair share of bible bashers — typically the overprotective PTA moms and their husbands who would frequently break their marriage vows whenever they headed out of town — but your family weren’t exactly known for their love of Jesus Christ. Or any other higher being, for that matter.

You had frequently wondered if that was the start of your mother’s downward spiral, the loss of her father and consequently her mother too, her drinking only exacerbated when your father headed out for a pack of Embassy Gold cigarettes one evening and apparently got lost on his way home, ending up in Georgia, or Colorado, or wherever the hell he was now.

Worse than that, however, was the torment that maybe whatever had caused your Grandmother to lose herself was hereditary, trickling down through the generations of your family right to the very bottom.

To you.

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