Actually, yes, at some point as an adult iIt is your responsibility to learn about history and politics outside of what you were taught in traditional k-12 education
Also, regardless of your feelings on human nature or anything, I think that a world where children can go to school without fearing being bombed from an ocean away is a world worth aspiring to and worth fighting for. Okay we might never abolish war because the inherent human nature or whatever mighty idealism you have. We could at least try to stop these wars, though?
⛸️ ❄️ figure skater will byers x hockey player mike wheeler 🏒🥅
the au I've been wanting to bring to life for so long now.. thank you winter olympics for the perfect excuse. I hope you guys see the vision bc I have more to draw for it, I think it suits them so much!!
im also obsessed with the interpretation of the blood ocean not being inherently evil or malevolent, in fact, it starts off rather loving. or at least, what it perceives to be loving. it wants simon to become part of it. it could've absorbed the iron lung and mutated it so long ago - we saw how quickly things went to shit in the final act. but its slow, always there in the corner for simon to be constantly aware of it, like a friend letting you know theyre always in your corner. it keeps the oxygen supply going despite the fact it should've run out days ago. it throws him into the cave. it talks to him, tries to entice him to join in anyway it can. come see the truth, it could save you, it has the answers you've been looking for. if that doesn't work, maybe guilt tripping is the answer, reflect on filament station, simon. "i see you". an acknowledgement. simon runs out of tape so the blood mutates to hold the photograph button for him. but the more defiant simon becomes, the more focused on his own survival he is, the angrier the ocean becomes. the creature couldve swallowed him so many times. clearly the radiation isn't actually a threat to it, we see it being blasted so many times in the end, but it continues its chase after him once it kills ava. the creature backing off in the caves after the photograph was a conscious decision. it couldve lashed out right then and there, but it backed off. "hey, im not a threat, im just watching, im right here for when you're ready".
just like eden, just like the COI, the ocean tries to force simon into a life he never really wanted. because he never seems to get a choice.
i just can't stop thinking about an ocean that thinks itself benevolent, when really, its just as cruel as the rest of humanity. or maybe, its humanity that is as cruel as nature. or is it a God? does it even matter?
Hi, Byler fans. I don't usually post here but I just finished the Stranger Things finale and wanted to get something out that I feel needs to be said. My grandmother had an older brother named, coincidentally enough, William.
He was born in 1919 and he was gay.
Everyone in the family knew. It became an unspoken secret. And here’s the part people don't really say about the past: he wasn’t cast out. He wasn’t beaten. He wasn’t disowned.
They loved him. They were a close‑knit family.
What they did instead was play a game called pretend.
They never said it out loud. When the family gathered for holidays, his siblings brought their spouses. Uncle Bill came alone. His partner wasn't invited, of course. They didn't even want to know he had a partner. When children asked why Uncle Bill wasn’t married, the adults smiled and said, “He’s just a bachelor.”
That answer was given to my mother in the 1950s. To my sister in the 1970s. And to me in the 1980s.
People like the Duffer brothers seem to imagine that the past was only made up of violent, cartoonish homophobes. And sadly, there were a lot of those, just like there still are today. But some families were “fine” with gay people—as long as they were quiet. As long as they didn’t ask for the same things. As long as they didn’t bring love to the table.
Uncle Bill was accepted on one condition: He sat alone.
So when a modern show frames a gay boy’s arc as “learning to accept himself without expecting love in return,” that’s not radical. That’s not brave. That’s not new.
That story is over a hundred years old.
It’s the story of being tolerated, not chosen. Of being loved in theory, but denied in practice. Of being welcome—so long as you don’t make anyone uncomfortable.
My Uncle William lived that life a century ago. We don’t need to keep calling it progress.
I know a lot of people on here are young. So take the pain you're feeling now and remember it as you get older. Write your own stories that embrace what this show denied. Write the story you wanted Byler to be. Be the generation that stops telling this tired old story.
Do it for my Uncle Bill. Do it for Noah. Do it to give the middle finger to the Duffer brothers. Most of all, do it for yourself.
as someone who also had several friends who were tolerant when I wasn't in a relationship then literally tried to actively sabotage the one relationship I've ever been in this story gets fucking old.
let us have one queer character who gets a well developed built up love story that's actually fucking endgame ffs
The War Is Almost Over… but Our Struggle to Rebuild Has Just Begun.
Every day here in Gaza feels like a year carved into our chests. The war isn’t like it was in the early days—the sky is quieter, the air carries less smoke, and the nights hold fewer explosions. But the pain… it still lives under the rubble, inside our memories, and in the empty spaces where our loved ones once stood.
I’m writing this today not because the war has completely ended, but because for the first time in a long while, it feels like the horizon is opening a little. A small space where we can breathe, gather ourselves, and try to rebuild what’s left of our lives.
Yet every step forward feels like walking on wounded memories, and every stone from our destroyed home whispers stories we never got to finish.
We lived through nights so heavy we thought morning would never come. We lost things that can never be replaced—homes, dreams, pieces of our hearts.
But we are still here… holding on, trying, fighting to stay standing despite everything.
And in the middle of this long road… there is a house. A house that once carried laughter, warmth, noise, and life.
Today, all that remains is an image holding a memory—and rubble longing for the people who once lived inside.
Today, we are trying to rebuild—not just the walls of a house, but an entire life that was shattered.
We are trying to create a new beginning, to live with dignity again, to give our family a sense of safety that we’ve been missing for so long.
We’re not writing this to mourn what was lost, but to ask for a chance to start again.
We ask for your support because rebuilding after a war is not something one person can do alone—it is a human effort, a shared act of compassion.
We need you.
We need your hearts.
We need your help to stand again.
My name is Abedmajed Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with what remains of my once large and loving family.
Because Gaza has no working banking system, we use my brother U.S. Stripe account to safely process donations for our family. Nothing is hidden — every dollar goes where it should. We are ready to show proof of anything, at any time.
Every contribution—no matter how small—makes a difference.
It becomes part of our story, part of rebuilding a home, part of reviving a life that nearly faded.
The war may be almost over… but our journey back to life begins now.
🌿✨
Thank you to every soul who still feels our pain, and to everyone who reaches out a hand to help us rise again.
Everything changed the day Amira was born.
The world outside was collapsing — bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began.
While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza.
I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life —not a child of war.
A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed
Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep.
She has just turned one.
She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her.
She doesn’t know the word “loss.”
She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there.
Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like.
And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again.
I want to rebuild our home.
Not just for the walls — but for her future.
For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war.
I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
A Mother’s Message
To everyone reading this — thank you for listening to our story.
Your kindness means more than words.
Every share, every message, every donation — it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira.
From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again —
we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
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