#I take into account their views and go from there

[moran-with-a-g]

It depends for me what I'm writing and from who's perspective.

I always write in third person when I write fanfiction (I swear it's relevant), because for me writing on first person is too personal when it's not the perspective of characters I made myself.

But even in third person, I always choose character to focus on, and that's the only character we'll get information about what they think. For other characters, we only get descriptions of what they're doing and the perspective of the character we focus on.

Then, according to which character's view that is and what the story is about, that's how I choose a tense, according the the character vibe:

A character that's more strict, proper, cold, meticulous, etc, I would probably go for past tense.

A character that's more silly, lighthearted, relaxed, goofy, dramatic, etc, I would usually go for present tense.

You could also say the vibe is by if the character is the kind to read the book or watch the movie, tbh. Book = past tense, movie = present tense.

And so it also depends on the type of story and how I imagine it. So one that's more like a movie? Present tense. One that's more of a book? Past tense.

It could also be affected by the length. The longer the story the more likely I am to want to use past tense. Also, if there's a story inside the story (like, a character is reading another story), I would want them to be in different tenses, to make them more distinct from each other. So the main story would be past tense, while the story inside it will be in present tense.

I actually take all of these into account when I choose a tense. I probably probably way too much thought into it. When I draft I usually swap between them accidentally in the middle of a sentence and then fix it in the second draft.

Unless of course I'm writing in Hebrew and then I only use past tense because present tense looks absolutely disgusting in Hebrew I hate it I don't understand why people use present tense in Hebrew and I will die on this hill.

I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Slip Slidin' Away

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Coat | Word Count: 1355 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Modern Day AU, Ice Storm, Neighbors Meet Cute, FYP Getting *Far* Too Local

Eddie reaches for his phone. It's buzzing against his thigh again. He's getting annoyed. His doorbell camera has been going apeshit for the last ten minutes, but every time he checks, nobody's out there. 

Another notification, another annoyance, and this time he actually pulls up the recorded clip instead of just the live feed to see what kind of insect has survived the freeze just to terrorize him. 

It's not a bug, though.

It's worse. It's a man, on a pair of ice skates, gliding up and down their frozen street. 

What in the actual fuck? Is he crazy? This guy isn't even wearing a coat, but he glides into, and then out of view, on honest to god skates. In the street. Who the fuck is this dude?

Eddie watches the rest of that clip, then a couple more, before he puts his phone out of his reach, not picking it up again until it actually rings.

"It's too cold for band practice," Gareth says by way of hello, and well, no shit. None of them should be out in this weather. Especially not Eddie, he's a terrible driver under regular circumstances. On ice? Recipe for disaster, for sure.

"What gave it away, the solid sheet of ice or the freezing temperatures?"

"Asshole," Gareth laughs. "I'm just saying. Don't come slip slidin' away over here. You'll die."

"Speaking of slip slidin', Simon, there's a dude skating in the street outside the house," Eddie tells him. "He keeps setting off my doorbell cam."

"Like, hockey skating or figure skating?" Gareth asks, and fuck if Eddie knows? 

"I don't know. He's got blades strapped to his feet and a death wish." 

"Sounds familiar," Gareth says.

Eddie ignores him. He's crazy and reckless, but he's not skate in the street crazy. There's a difference, surely.

"He's not even wearing a coat. I'd at least wear a coat to my death."

"Because you're a delicate flower with no circulation."

Eddie laughs. He's not delicate, but he is cold-blooded to his core. 

"How long is this ice storm supposed to last?" Eddie asks. He hates this kind of bitter cold.

"Three days, give or take."

Three days. He can handle three days without interacting with another human being.

Later, when he's laying in bed doom scrolling, he gets a text from Gareth:

Eddie opens the link, and it's definitely his street, and is the video of the skating guy. The other POV? He thinks that's the right term, but he wouldn't bet the farm on it. Either way, the account's name is Robin, and with a quick glance through her profile, he suspects she's the wife of Mr. Skates. 

These must be his neighbors. He's done a pretty damn good job at avoiding meeting anyone, but here they are, on his phone. Small world.

She's razzing the shit out of him in the clip, and Eddie thinks she's not wrong. Dude's lucky he didn't catch a rock taller than the sheet of ice with his skate and eat shit. 

He's gorgeous. It loops again, and again.

Eddie watches him lace up his skates, over and over, and hit the icy street, laughing the whole time. 

Why is this video an hour long? 

He lets it cycle through one more time, gives it a like and a favorite, and Eddie's not much for social media, or playing nice with neighbors, but he leaves a comment before overthinking it. 

It's not until the next night, back in bed, his phone in his hand that he realizes there's a metric shit-ton of notifications waiting for him. Mainly likes on his comment and then a couple responses. This video must have blown up today. Which makes sense, if it was pushed into Gareth's feed for him to even see to send to Eddie, lots of other people must have gotten it, too.

His neighbors have responded, but were mainly just bantering with each other:

Well, now Eddie's embarrassed. Nice moves? He didn't realize this was gonna go public. Especially since this guy is good looking. Way to make a fool of yourself in front of the hot, new neighbor. Jesus H. Christ. 

He really needs to think things through before he says — or types — them. 

Oh well. He'll avoid them. That hasn't been hard to do so far, last night's assault on his camera, notwithstanding.

The next morning, Eddie's carefully tiptoeing outside to retrieve his mail, trying not to bust his ass on the ice that just will not melt, three days his fucking ass, when a yellow blur is zooming towards him. It comes to an abrupt stop, ice dust flying, right on the iced over pavement right in front of Eddie's mailbox. It's kinda impressive.

"You're Ed, right?" he asks.

"Eddie, yeah. Steve?" Eddie questions, and so much for not interacting. But the guy nods, giving him a bright smile. They shake hands, and now Eddie's met his neighbors. Anti-social streak over.

"That's me, I can't believe you saw our video from next door!" 

Eddie doesn't think he needs to go into a bunch of details on how it was really Gareth whose algorithm got fed it, so he just nods along, "Small world, indeed." 

"Robin is dying that it went kinda viral." 

"Your wife?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly falls off his skates laughing. 

"No. No way. Best friend. Platonic with a capital P. Hetero life mates, except for the hetero part." 

Eddie's ears definitely perk up at that. 

"Well, I feel lucky to be on the non-hetero side of the street, then." 

Steve grins, "Oh, you definitely lucked out. Mr. Hollins across the street is straight enough for the whole neighborhood." 

Eddie doesn't know who that is, but laughs anyway.

Then has an idea: 

"So, I have an important question," Eddie says, and Steve just looks at him, curious and expectant. 

"Are those hockey skates or figure skates?" 

Steve holds onto Eddie's mailbox and laughs, head tossed back, hair flying. It's perfect. He's perfect.

"Hockey, but that doesn't mean I don't have moves. I have moves for days. Don't you worry." 

"Moves, you say? Well, let's see 'em, big boy."

Steve smiles, and pushes off into the street. Eddie ribbed him for no coat last night, and now here Eddie is, outside, no coat, freezing his ass off as he's demanding his cute neighbor skate for him. 

He takes out his phone, and starts recording. Even he knows this will be a popular update to their little moment. 

Steve skates backwards, crossing his legs over each other. 

"Can you jump?" Eddie yells. 

"It's not advised!" Steve yells back, "But, since when do I ever listen to advise! Waltz!" 

He does a little jump, and lands on one foot skating backwards. Eddie hoots and hollers, and Steve takes a bow. 

And that's it. He skates over and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

"You want to come in for coffee? Warm up?" Eddie offers, unwilling to let him just leave. 

"Hell yeah, sure," Steve agrees, and Eddie watches him skate up the driveway, and then stop on the porch to take off his skates. He holds onto Eddie's shoulder to balance himself, and Eddie can feel his warm hand, fingers gripping his skin, through his shirt.

He wants those hands in other places.

Oh, he's in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Steve has on big, thick socks and looks so cozy in his sweater as he follows Eddie in the house. 

"It's nice to have a good neighbor again. The last lady," Steve says, then gives two big thumbs down, blowing a raspberry.

Eddie laughs. He's never been considered the good neighbor before. Not with his shitty van, long hair and too loud music. 

He starts a pot of coffee, and looks in the fridge. He has a few things, and he wants Steve to stay as long as possible. Eddie has some wooing to do.

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat," Steve admits. "I can always eat. Hollow leg, all the sports will do that to you."

And Eddie starts fixing this hot guy, who's certainly way out of his league, no matter which sport, breakfast.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: I saw a video of someone ice skating on the street, and their neighbor saw it and commented like, "Hey! That's my car in the background!"

Slip Slidin' Away is a Paul Simon song.

Hetero life mates is a Jay & Silent Bob reference.

[mysoftboybensolo]

Things I Don't Understand of Audiences Reaction of Nosferatu 2024

Complaints of how this is a ripoff of Dracula, and I am like, of course it is! The original 1922 film is the most famous ripoff in the history of cinema, but it is also one of the best ripoffs ever. Maybe know your history just a bit.

Why are people saying that Ellen dying was stupid or unnecessary? Firstly, that has been the ending in the 1922 and the 1979 film, this wasn't just anything Eggers pulled from nowhere. Secondly, people don't seem to understand that the Gothic genre never not one that allows it's characters to walk away unscathed, whether it is physical damage or mental damage. Blood is demanded, and hardly a truly happy ending is found, at best a bittersweet ending or at worst an ending where everyone is unhappy. I think not only is it true to the films this one is based on, but also the only satisfying ending. Ellen wouldn't have been truly happy if she had survived, because she still will be a seer, she will still have darkness looming inside, and Thomas is either incapable or unwilling to accept it. He's belief that killing Orlok will bring a reset to everything, even bringing Ellen back to how she was before, but the Ellen she was before was still suffered. He brushes aside her nightmares without comfort, he doesn't take into account how she views their marriage (when she insists that she doesn't need material things but he acts as if he knows better), and when she tries to express her suffering, he would prefer her to suppress it. She would never be truly free, but to die doing a good thing, to have control over her death the way she didn't in life, it's an empowering end, if bittersweet.

People complaining about the pace of the film, saying it starts off fine but then drags in the middle? I think the film flowed wonderfully, there was never a moment when I was thinking how much longer to the end or felt it rushed in the story. I personally cannot wait until we get the extended version, but I am happy with how it came out.

Where are people getting "Orlok groomed Ellen" from? Grooming is when someone goes after a minor and gets them to be emotionally attached to them for a long period of time in order to achieve some sort of goal (often times sex). People have been saying Ellen was a "literal child", but we don't know that for certain. Yes, Ellen described herself as a child, but it seems that the term child is used more as a synonym of "inexperienced" or "young". Also, we are not sure how old any of these characters are. If we were to go by actors ages as guidelines, Lily-Rose Depp was 24 when filming this, and all we get in between the first scene to the present day is merely "years later". That can mean two years or ten, we cannot be sure. And while Lil-Rose Depp can look younger than her age, no one better try and say she was playing a 12 year old or whatever in that first scene, because there is no way you can convince me she is as young as that. Also, Ellen hadn't been emotionally attached to Orlok between the years to make it grooming. I can make a better argument of grooming in another famous Gothic movie the 2004 "Phantom of the Opera" then I could with "Nosferatu".

Listen, this movie won't be for everyone, that is fine, but what I have an issue with is saying people are dumb or evil for thinking Ellen x Orlok is interesting/has romantic elements to it. One person commented on another's post about saying that the cast are dumb for seeing this as a love triangle, especially Lily-Rose Depp for not seeing Ellen as a victim. The director, who also wrote it, wanted this version to play up the Death and the Maiden themes, that was their vision, and I don't think it's right or fair to say they are dumb because the original movie wasn't a love triangle. If we were to be really anal about it, so many pieces of media we have we wouldn't be able to enjoy because it's origins are not the same. Sorry Disney's Hunchback fans, you can't enjoy the happy ending because the original was a downer. Sorry Wicked fans, it's nothing like "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", so it shouldn't be enjoyed. See how ridiculous it sounds? You can debate if whether or not they managed to achieve their goal, but you can't deny that was the intention and say people are dumb for picking up what they had intended.

I also feel that it's quite hypocritical of people to say that the relationship between Orlok and Ellen is evil and creepy, but then go off and say that the scenes where Friedrich has sex with Anna's corpse as "romantic" and Thomas' couch scene as "hot", when both deal with dubious/no consent at all. Just admit it, you are fine with dubious stuff so long as it's a hot guy doing it. The couch scene was quite uncomfortable for me, Ellen is clearly not in her right mind, even if not by some kind of possession, but emotionally, and it didn't sit right what Thomas did. I am not saying he raped her, but she wasn't in the right mind space to have this be a passionate moment. And he wasn't doing because of love or passion, he was doing it because he didn't like hearing Ellen say how he couldn't please her like the Count could. We had seen what they are like when they are in a good head space and the feeling mutual, as we saw in the den of the Harding's home. I feel like this scene wasn't meant to be a hot and sexy moment, but a incredibly distressing moment when two individuals are acting at their worst.

I don't understand how people feel that this film isn't a feminist film. I've seen people claim that the movie shames Ellen and that her not finding out how to stop Orlok is robbing her of her agency. Here's the thing, yes, many characters shame her for what she feels, but the narrative doesn't. As the audience, we feel sorry for her, feel bad for everything she is going through, and given the time period, of course there would be many people (mainly men) who will shame her passions or deny her darkness in favor for a more "womanly behavior". We are meant to see how the human world would never understand Ellen the way Orlok would understand her, why she would have called out a force that is inhuman, because humanity has turned her away. What's fascinating is that Ellen has control of Orlok, being able to call him, speak to him as an equal, and get him, a powerful centuries old being, to admit that she is his affliction, his weakness, and in the end, it's proven right. This mortal woman is able to defeat a supernatural being, all the while him loving her, how is that not awesome and feminist?

In regards to her finding the cure; true, in both the '22 and '79 film, Ellen figure out on her own what needs to be done to stop Orlok, but that doesn't mean '24 Ellen isn't smart or in charge of her own actions. We've seen Ellen say what the future holds multiple times, so it isn't crazy to believe that she would have seen what her fate would have been as it drew closer, and her need to talk to Von Franz read to me as her knowing the cure. When Ellen walks Von Franz to his home, she says that she knows what must be done, and they work together to make this happen, with him promising to keep Thomas away. Out of all the men, Von Franz had been the only one to take her feelings and thoughts seriously, and he does so here, including her in the plan (where Thomas had refused her to help), even giving her the chance to be stop Orlok without interruption. He isn't denying her agency, he's keeping others at bay so she can be the hero.

I like the moustache, just like a Romanian nobleman would have had, exactly what the director wanted. After leaving the theatre, my friend and I were discussing the film, and of course the design of Orlok was brought up, and she said "I liked it, especially the moustache, very Vlad the Impaler". She isn't a massive Dracula fan but she understood what was the inspiration behind it. Y'all are just uncultured swine.

In the end, I love this film, and wanted to just share my two cents.

[scoobydoodean]

I think that people may be interpreting 'Dean has valid reasons to be angry with Castiel' as 'Castiel should allow Dean to use him as a verbal and emotional punching bag'. Which is a completely new sentence that has nothing to do with the initial premise, but I do think that may account for some of the disconnect. I think Cas was well within his rights to leave in the face of Dean treating him coldly, but I also emphatically agree with your point that Dean's forgiveness was *expected* and that Castiel was taking that as a given, and was upset that it wasn't immediately granted.

Berens dropping the thread about Cas lone wolfing (that you very clearly laid out in one of your other asks) also seems to have influenced the perception of Dean being angry over a single incident. I personally feel as though the fandom occasionally forgets the events of s13 and how devastated Dean was, and how his reaction to the events of s14 are influenced by that. People love to talk about Dean's widow arc or whatever, but never about what led up to it in the first place. Cas engaging in a pattern of behavior that historically never ends well and leaving Dean to pick up the pieces doesn't make him a bad person and doesn't make his relationship with Dean irreparable, but it does mean that Dean is allowed to be angry, even if that anger seems stronger than is warranted. Dean's supposed anger issues have never been a roadblock in the destiel relationship - but Cas eschewing teamwork in favor of going it alone has ALWAYS been a problem for them and the trap just reinforces that.

sorry for this rant! thank you for your dean girl service 🫡

Totally agree with everything you said. I also think some people really really like this episode, and it's very difficult for them not to take it personally when someone else doesn't, and not to make a considerable number of assumptions about the other person's views. Some people really want this episode to be objectively good, instead of recognizing that whether an episode is good or not is ultimately subjective. That subjective opinion might be built upon objective facts that two people don't agree on, and questioning the validity of one another's perceptions of what did and didn't happen leading up to the episode is fine. But I have zero interest in re-litigating whether deangirls are allowed to dislike The Trap, nor do I have any stake in trying to keep people from liking it, or in gatekeeping the show or characters over how anyone feels about this episode. And I think too many people (including people who don't like the episode) feel at least a little invested in making whether people like or dislike this episode some sort of weird dividing line it simply isn't and never will be. It genuinely just isn't that serious.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Carpe Diem

Author’s Note: We all miss him. So I wrote the most romantic thing I’ve ever written.

A glass of chilled Savasana California Rosé sat in front of you, its diluted pink hue a stark contrast to the sweet yet crisp taste. With a fork in hand you begin to dig into the chicken parmesan with strozzapreti pasta, the chunky tomato sauce brings a rich and comforting smell that shifts your attention from the constant hum of the plane's engine. Eating dinner on a plane like this—silverware instead of plastic cutlery, wine served in real glass—felt oddly surreal. This whole trip did, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life.

You hadn’t always pictured yourself in this life—a corner office in Berkeley, managing accounts worth millions and rubbing elbows with executives. The internship you’d applied for during your junior year of college was meant to be a stepping stone, a way to pad your resume and have something cool to look back on the future. You hadn’t expected it to become the foundation of a career at a place ranked 7th among the largest biomedical companies by revenue in the world. And here you were sipping rosé in first class on your way to a solo vacation in Greece. Somehow, it had all come together. Your first year making six figures was surreal enough, but now the freedom to spend it on something like this felt even more unbelievable.

The hotel room you would be calling home for the next few days was stretched out like it came straight out of a travel magazine. Everything about it screamed neutral paradise, highlighting the warmth of the space. Plush pillows stacked neatly atop the Temper-Pedic king sized bed that earned the hotel all five of its stars with just one glance. The open layout gave the impression of a private condo, complete with a sleek mini bar and an espresso machine that practically begged to be used. The view from the top floor was breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made way for the vibrant blue skies that allowed the sun to shine at it's greatest capacity, reflecting off the marble from the streets of southern Athens below. And the colors were so dynamic; olive groves, fields of breathtaking wildflowers and citrus trees brought the city to life. Everything reminded you of a landscape painting, it was all so perfect you almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you were really here.

But before your Athens takeover could really commence, you needed a nap. Or three.

Day one passed in a blissful haze of recovery. After a nap that could have doubled as a small coma, you walked by the hotel’s pool, taking in the sparkling water and the soft chatter of other guests lounging under striped umbrellas. Breakfast that morning was a feast fit for royalty, an omelet folded to perfection, fresh fruit that tasted like sunshine, and Moustokouloura, a pastry so rich and sweet it felt like dessert at dawn. The concierge insisted you try Greek coffee, and when the steaming cup arrived at your door, its strong, earthy aroma greeted you like a wake-up call from the gods. You took it to the patio, sipping as you let the city below slowly introduce itself. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Athens was filled with color, sound, and possibility. This was freedom, pure and simple.

Feeling refreshed on your second morning after some extensive Tik Tok research about things to do in Athens, you walked around the streets of Plaka, by far the most recommended place on the site. And it didn't take long for you to understand why. The neighborhood was a collection of some of the most beautiful brick buildings, an array of restaurants with uniquely placed outdoor seating. The air carried the mingling scents of fresh pita, grilling souvlaki, and blooming jasmine. Laughter and snippets of conversation floated from café tables spilling onto the sidewalks, where diners lingered over plates of mezes and glasses of ouzo. You walked slowly, admiring every square inch of the place like you were going to commit every detail to memory, stumbling upon a store with random trinkets you figured you could take home to your friends and tell them what they were getting themselves into when you all would be in Greece together eventually. Now that you'd experienced this on your own, you couldn't wait to share this experience with them next time. The first person you spotted when you walked in was a tall man, well over six feet, broad shoulders with his back facing the door. He was sexy from the back which meant...no. You shook yourself out of the daydream about what this man could possibly look like because of course men in Greece looked better. That was some sort of law or something based on every movie you'd ever seen. The book shelf at the front of the store caught your eye first, a Greek guide book with common phrases for tourists to know, things that maybe Duolingo wouldn't think of so you grabbed it, scanning the pages for useful information. You tried to focus on the guidebook in your hands, but your nerves betrayed you. An older man’s gaze prickled at your skin, a quiet warning sounding in your mind. Maybe it was nothing, you told yourself. He could just be a curious local. But by the third lap around the shop and you could still feel his eyes in you, the goosebumps on your arms had turned into a full-blown alarm.

The man was closer now, his steps too deliberate to be a coincidence. By the time he spoke, his voice was low and overly familiar, the kind of tone that made your stomach twist. “Hi. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I just... couldn’t help noticing you.”

You swallowed thickly, hoping to keep the conversation short, sweet and with as little personal information exchanged as humanly possible. "Yes. Just visiting," you force out a smile.

"Ah I see, those are pretty," he gestures toward the necklaces in your hand, "pretty necklaces for a pretty lady. Does the pretty lady have a name?"

"Um," you wanted to take a step back, you wanted to walk away, but there was literally no way out of this situation because he was standing in between you and the exit. And for some reason you couldn't think of a fake name off the top of your head to give him. "It's—”

“Oh hey, babe. There you are,” a deep voice interrupted. Your head whipped around, and there he was—broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to rival a Greek statue. He had the kind of easy confidence that made your heart skip a beat. Mr. Broad Shoulders slid his arm around you, his touch casual but protective, the warmth of his hand anchoring you in place but doubling your pulse rate for a different reason. “Thought you wanted those charm bracelets, but you disappeared on me.”

“I got distracted.” Your gaze flickered upward, caught on the sun-kissed curl falling across his forehead. He smelled faintly of cinnamon, like he’d been leaning over a freshly lit candle moments before swooping in to save you.

The man takes a look at the two of you and apologizes, walking away without a second glance. You let out a sigh of relief, "thanks for the save, I really didn't know what to do and you just-I really appreciate it."

"No worries, I saw him following you around and thought it was weird. Glad I could help."

You look around to make sure the man from before, spotting him circling the back area with the pasties. "It's...very weird. He didn’t seem like he’d back down that easily."

“I’m Joe, by the way. Since I’m your boyfriend now, that seems like something you should know.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah, probably. Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Y/N, your very grateful girlfriend.”

Joe leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant just for you. “He’s still watching us. Mind if I sell this a little more?” Without waiting for an answer, he adjusted his grip, his arm tightening around your shoulders like he’d been holding you this way forever. It was seamless, effortless, entirely too convincing. And it left you speechless. All you could do was nod, looking up at him, thinking about how this guy might be the most gorgeous person you've ever seen.

The two of you moved around the store aimlessly, the conversation flowing like you’d known each other for longer than half an hour. Joe explained he’d been in Greece for a few days, taking time to decompress after a grueling work season. “Sometimes, I just need to step away,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that struck a chord.

“I get that,” you replied, sharing your own story of navigating your career and this newfound independence. You admitted, almost sheepishly, that sometimes your job didn’t feel like work because it aligned with your passions so perfectly. Joe nodded, his expression softening. “That’s how I feel,” he said. “I mean, this year it really magnified that for me. But sometimes when things don't go the way you hoped or planned, it makes the sacrifices worth more. Like not having as much free time when I'm working. Now, I have endless free time."

There was something magnetic about him—not just the broad shoulders and effortless charm, but the way he seemed so present. Every touch felt intentional, whether it was his hand on your back as you navigated tight spaces or his offer to buy the travel book you’d been thumbing through. You felt a strange sense of familiarity, like you’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it.

After carefully deliberating over the trinkets, you settled on matching necklaces for your friends. On your way to the register, a woman approached, her expression warm and animated.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but I just had to tell you—you two make the most stunning couple. The way you look at each other, it’s just... beautiful. Are you here on an anniversary trip?”

“One year,” Joe answered without hesitation, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“That’s incredible! Congratulations!” the woman gushed. “Athens is the perfect place to explore as a couple. Do you have plans yet?”

You chimed in, “Not really. We were just going to see where the day takes us.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rattled off recommendations, from must-visit landmarks to hidden culinary gems. You took notes on your phone, her suggestions igniting your excitement for the day ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe watched you with a kind of awe. The way your face lit up when you talked about exploring the city tugged at something deep inside him.

He’d spent the last four days locked away in his room, trying to process a season that had been equal parts triumph and heartbreak. It wasn’t just the physical toll of the game—it was the sting of being so close to the pinnacle and falling short. They had gone from 4-8 to 9-8 in what felt like the blink of an eye. The unmet expectations that he had for the team dulled his personal success a bit and he needed to escape after watching other teams prepare for their playoff runs while he cleaned out his locker. He just wanted to recharge and regroup…alone. And here you were, an unexpected spark in the midst of his self-imposed solitude.

When the woman finally bid you goodbye, you hesitated. Should you ask him to join you? The idea of spending the day with a stranger—no matter how kind and gorgeous—felt bold, maybe too bold. But being alone again felt... unbearable. You decided against asking because the thought of rejection was a step above unbearable, if at all possible.

“Well,” you began, your voice faltering slightly, “I guess this is it. I should probably head to my next stop now that I have a to-do list.” You forced a small laugh, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Joe nodded, his smile tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope you check off everything on your list.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tightening with each step. He wanted to stop you, to ask you to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was stand there, frozen, as the door swung open.

You paused just before stepping outside. Something tugged at you—a feeling that walking away now would be a mistake.

Turning back, you smiled shyly. “I just realized... how am I supposed to experience Athens to its full potential without my boyfriend? On our anniversary trip, no less?”

Joe’s laugh was warm, easy. “No idea. Luckily, I think I know someone who can help.”

“You’re always so helpful. I feel like I won the dating lottery.”

“Can’t disagree,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Alright,” you said, nudging him playfully, “let’s get out of here before your head gets so big it doesn’t fit through the door.”

He walked out with you, allowing you to lead the way to your first stop.

Fairytale Athens looked like an intense mix between the Garden of Eden and Alice in Wonderland. "This is...wow," Joe quips, the vast array of flowers on the ceiling, the pink bar area and the flamingos. So many flamingos.

You could tell by his tight expression that this place isn't really his scene. "We're not here for two hours of afternoon tea or anything," you reassure him with a smile, "Dimitra said that we should grab drinks before walking around Acropolis and that..." you glance at the menu in front of you, "...strawberry ginger lemonade? That might be calling my name." He shakes his head and orders a mint and cucumber lemonade for himself, your lemonade and two waters as you walk around the princess castle, taking as many pictures as possible before Joe walked back over with all four drinks in hand before heading to the incredibly famous tourist attraction.

The package you paid for allowed you to skip the line and head through a side entrance, your tour guide walking you through the history of the ancient sights along with details about the architectural styles, construction techniques, and the symbolism of the monuments. The faint echo of the voices highlighted the rich history of the place you were standing in, the warm air a stark contrast to the cool lemonade in your hand. It seemed like Joe was hanging onto every word as he helped you up some steep ancient steps, his eyes lighting up as the guide drove you over to the museum, going into depth about the Gods.

"This exhibit is Gods, Worship and Magic, one of the most popular sites this year. You guys can walk around and read about the different deities featured." Artemis' exhibit, caught your eye first.

Glancing down at the steel plaque, "goddess of the hunt, devoted to nature. Were you ever a Percy Jackson fan growing up?"

"I was more of a SpongeBob guy. And Star Wars. Definitely had a dinosaur phase that lasted a lot longer than I care to share," he looks up, wondering why in the hell he just told you that. "Do—do you have any humiliating stories you'd like to share with the class?"

He nudged you as you walked alongside him, his hand so dangerously close to yours. You had the biggest urge to reach out and touch him. So you did. Reaching out maybe an inch, you interlocked your pinky with his, making his heart take a leap in his chest, swinging your hands happily towards the Eros exhibit. "The god of—”

"Love and desire," he finishes for you. Just because he wasn’t a Percy Jackson fanatic, doesn’t mean he didn’t pay close attention to the Greek mythology unit in school.

"Look at the hands," you said softly, leaning in closer. "It's like they're...perfectly fit for each other, you know?"

Joe's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He was standing so close now, the faint scent of mint and cucumber from his lemonade mingling with the earthy air of the exhibit. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and low, "I know what you mean."

Your pinkies were still hooked, but now the little space between you felt electrified. You didn't dare turn to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see—or what he might see in yours.

"I do have an embarrassing thing to share with the class," you turn to face him and admire the excited look on his face, like what you're about to say is the most important thing in the world. "When I was little I was obsessed with Mama Mia." He gives you a puzzled look. "It's a musical that they turned into a movie. Anyway...it's about a girl that's getting married in a small town in Greece and the views just..." you pause, smiling at the memory, "...changed my life. I've always wanted that magical movie moment feeling. The music, the views, the…”

"Romance?" he finishes softly, a knowing look in his eyes.

You exhale, your cheeks warming as you nod. "Yeah...the romance. It was nice too." You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. "Doesn’t really compare to the real thing, though," you add, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment lingers between you. His gaze searches yours, his expression softening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Your heart stumbles, and suddenly you feel too seen. You clear your throat, breaking the spell. "I'm, uh, getting kind of hungry. We should grab lunch and head to the next spot."

Joe blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, like he wasn't ready for the shift. "Yeah, sure," he says, his voice gentler now. He watches you for a second longer than you'd expect, then nods. As you walk back to meet the tour guide, Joe finds himself wondering how you’ve managed to unravel him so quickly, leaving him wondering why he already feels so invested in figuring you out.

When you get into the Uber it's like a weight has been lifted off your chest. The museum, which was supposed to be a calm and educational experience was too stuffy and intimate by the end of the visit. In the car, you could have your own space, sitting as close to the door as you could to gather yourself and your thoughts. The driver was nice enough, he had chargers in the car and gave you water bottles, noting that the heat would steadily increase throughout the day. You noticed him stealing glances at Joe in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel like he was holding back words. The silence stretched until finally—“I’m sorry, man. I just gotta say…” he finally utters out, "I've been a Bengals fan since I was 8. And I woke up at ungodly hours to watch you play every week. Huge, huge fan."

You laughed at yourself in your seat, the pieces of the puzzle being put together. All of your focus had been on the day, spending every waking minute together and you didn't even fully process why he looked so familiar because the odds of that just sounded too insane to be real. Joe managed a polite smile, his usual ease replaced with a flicker of discomfort. You glanced at him, watching his jaw tighten just slightly as he signed the hat, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. Did he worry you’d see him differently now?

The car stopped near a bustling square lined with food trucks and small cafes. The aroma of grilled meat and spices wafted through the air as you wandered, your eyes drawn to colorful menus. It didn’t take long for the debate to begin.

"Joseph, the mini burgers are definitely better than the souvlaki cones. Be serious."

"No they aren't!" He argues, "you just need to try another one, here."

The souvlaki cone was tender and smoky, the tzatziki tangy and cool against the heat of the pork. But the burger—crispy bacon, the creamy richness of the mayo—felt indulgent, almost sinful. You savored every bite, laughing at Joe’s mock-offended gasp when you declared it the winner. "I hear you and I respect your wrong opinion. But the burger is just better I'm sorry. Do you want another bite?"

He shakes his head slowly, admiring you while you did such a mundane task, silently cursing himself at the fact that he chartered a plane to leave early the next morning. The two of you needed more time together. One day just wasn't going to be enough and the more time he spent with you the more apparent that fact became.

And then you took him on a boat.

It rocked gently, but Joe’s hands gripped the edge of the seat like the waves were threatening to tip them over. His gaze darted toward the horizon, avoiding the churning water below. “You’re really not a boat guy, huh?” you teased, your voice softening when his fingers tightened further. "I'm so sorry I had no idea. But Joe? We're literally in Greece, it's like, treason not to get on a boat here."

"Exactly, so I'm abiding by the law. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Your hand found his thigh in a quiet attempt to reassure him, and you felt the tension slowly drain from his muscles. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but the way his leg leaned ever so slightly into your touch sent a warmth through you that lingered long after. Aegina’s coastline unfolded before you, the white-washed buildings glowing under the sun, expansive trees swaying in the breeze. Joe stepped out first, offering his hand. His grip was firm, steadying you until your feet found the solid ground. You smiled up at him, the unspoken connection between you stronger than ever.

Just as Dimitra had described to you before, the pottery studio was tucked in a quiet corner of the island. Inside, the walls were lined with vibrant pottery, each bowl and vase a testament to countless hands shaping their stories, their glazes gleaming softly in the sunlight as you and Joe grabbed seats toward the back of the room. The instructor's notes were simple, to mold an item of your choice to keep at the end of the session, giving everyone creative freedom to produce a piece of their heart's desire. The clay felt cool to the touch, it's sticky and wet texture balanced wonderfully with the earthy smell that made your experience all the more relaxing and fun. Joe on the other hand, was creating a bowl with a lopsided shape, "it's supposed to look like this," he said firmly, biting back a laugh as you tried (and failed) to keep a straight face.

"Abstract art is still art. I just thought maybe...a quarterback would be better with his hands," you teased.

"Oh yeah? Let's see your work, Picasso." He took a break from his work station to scoot closer to yours, "shit, that actually looks pretty good."

You clean your hands off and move over to his station when he sets his chair back down. "I worked at my uncle's ceramic shop when I was little. It was his passion project so we all had to pitch in as a family and take turns," you helped guide his hand along the bowl, allowing him to smooth over the ridges efficiently evening out some of the misshapen parts. "I'm not saying I’m an expert by any means but I can get you to a point where your bowl can sit up by itself." Your fingers brushed his as you guided his hand, the soft pressure of your touch steadying his movements. Together, the ridges of the bowl began to smooth, though neither of you seemed in a hurry to let go. By the end of the session both bowls were done to the best of your ability, sort of bowl shaped, sort of not and full of personality.

"You’re good at this," Joe says, watching as continued to shape your bowl.

"Good at pottery?" you ask, laughing.

"Good at making things feel...easier," he replies softly. The pottery, he thought to himself, sort of mirrored your time together-unpolished, imperfect, but full of potential and that was both exciting and daunting. After your hands were clean, he grabbed your phone and snapped a picture of the two of you showing off your bowls.

"I was scared when you mentioned doing this at first, but I actually really enjoyed that. This," he gestures to his masterpiece, "is going up somewhere, maybe next to the trophy case at my parent's house. Funny enough, they also live in Athens. Ohio, not Greece," he clarifies.

"You might've missed your true calling," you tell him with a laugh, "here you are wasting your talents on football when the art community needs you."

"Yeah...sure," he laughs, holding onto the bags with your now fully dry bowls in them. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm ready to quit my day job. Quite frankly, I don't think the art world is ready for me yet. Although working that clay could have been really good wrist rehab."

There it was, that can of worms you'd been trying to navigate. You didn't want to push him to talk about the season or his job if he didn't want to. And now the door was open for you to ask. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to but...was it scary? You know, putting your entire life, all of your free time, your dedication to this one thing that you're obviously really good at. Putting in all that work and then one day it's all just...taken away from you?"

He stops walking for a bit and your breath hitches in your throat, fearing that you've pushed him too far. At the end of the day you were still a stranger to him and maybe that was too personal?

You could tell the question was kind of eating at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—”

"No it's fine. I just…yeah. I was terrified for a little bit. No one had been through this before—not at my position, not at this level. I had no blueprint, no one to turn to for advice. It felt like— walking on a tightrope in the dark, hoping I wouldn’t fall.

“The scariest part wasn’t the pain or the rehab," Joe admits. "It was not knowing if I’d still be...me when it was all over."

You tilt your head, searching his face. "You mean, the quarterback?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. Just...me. Without football, I really didn’t know who that was, how I was going to navigate fame and my private life and everything in between that comes with being me. Whatever that means. And I had an uncomfortably long amount of time to figure it out. Now that the wrist and my health is not an issue anymore and with everything that happened during the season I just felt drained afterwards. Exhausted honestly. And today's been exactly what I needed.”

"Today's been a breath a fresh air for me too. Obviously I didn't have 500 pounds of man laying on top of me but I get it on a smaller scale. Feeling like work is drowning you and nothing you do is good enough so you need to escape. This trip isn’t just a celebration," you confess. "It’s a reminder that I’m more than my deadlines and titles. My boss once called me at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, and I didn’t even blink before picking up. I guess I forgot what it felt like to just...be. I really needed a—”

"Reset," the two of you say at the same time, a comfortable silence washing over you as you continue to walk. "That’s kind of why I came here," you confess. "Not to figure out who I am, but...to remind myself I’m more than my job. More than what other people expect of me."

"Feels like everyone’s always watching, doesn’t it?" Joe says, his voice quieter. "Waiting for you to fail or...prove them right."

"Yeah. But I think we deserve more than that."

Joe sighs, nodding quietly, "We do," Joe says with a small smile. "And one day, when we get it, we’ll look back on this trip as the start of something different." He didn’t say everything he was thinking—some things needed more time to come to the surface.

"Sounds perfect, lead the way."

After you shared the world's greatest chicken gyro, you walked around Aegina a little more, realizing that you had no time to change before dinner and you'd been wearing the same clothes all day long. You walked into a small store, grabbing things off the shelf to try on. Joe was easy, settling for gray cargo pants and a blue striped knit top. Rummaging through clothes and anything that wasn't instant online shopping had become a bit of a chore and you were on a time crunch which made you feel even more rushed. You grabbed three or four dresses and had Joe sit outside the fitting room while you tried the stuff on, only stepping out to show him your favorite.

"What do you think about this?”

The baby blue square neck A-line dress hugged your body like it was created just for you to wear, it's length accentuating your curves in a way that almost had him physically picking his jaw up off the floor. He didn't think you could look any better before but you'd just shattered his expectations. "You look absolutely amazing," he says sincerely, his mouth feeling dry.

You glance at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Compliments weren’t new, but the way he said it—like it was the only thing in the world that mattered—left you speechless. You managed a soft laugh, pretending to study your reflection. "Thanks." After heading back to the fitting room to change, you grabbed all of your items and headed to the front to pay with Joe standing behind you in line. The cashier rung up your items and was getting ready to bag it when Joe added his clothes to the mix.

"Joe what are you doing? You're not paying for my clothes."

He handed over his card without hesitation, ignoring your protests. "I’ve got this," he said, his voice casual but his eyes portraying something deeper, like this was the most natural thing in the world to him. "Boyfriends are supposed to buy things. I think it’s in the constitution.”

"It's definitely not. And seriously, you don't have to do this."

"I got it, don't worry babe." The word slipped out so effortlessly that for a second, you wondered if you’d misheard him. But the way his eyes flicked to yours, briefly widening, told you everything. He realized it too—and yet, he didn’t take it back.You thanked him the entire walk back to the boat, his soft laugh sending warm and fuzzy feelings in your chest.

You were starting to acknowledge the growing warmth between you two, the way Joe’s presence seemed to make every moment feel right. The idea of saying goodbye felt heavier than it should after just one day, but somehow, it seemed inevitable. The next spot was inside a resort, they allowed you to change your clothes and head upstairs to the rooftop bar to watch the sunset. The drinks and the view had nothing on you, he quickly realized, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away. Everything just made sense today, the museum walk, the easy conversation, the boat ride. He didn't want to leave before but now the mere thought of packing his suitcase tonight made him upset.

"What are you thinking about over there?" Your words snap him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, just how much I'm going to miss it here. The peace, the incredible sunset..."

You. The word hung in the air for a while before he pushed it down and tried to move on.

"We should head over to there and get closer to the view, you can literally see the entire city from glass railing." You stood up first and grabbed his hand, practically dragging him over there. Luckily there wasn't anyone else in the area. "This is the most insane scenery. I don't get how anyone could get tired of seeing this everyday, I'd never be inside. I feel like we’ve been the physical representation of carpe diem."

He looks at you confused, "what does that even mean?"

"Carpe diem? It’s Latin for 'seize the day.' Basically saying not to focus too much on the future and live in the present to the fullest capacity.”

"I like that," he chuckles.

Long after the sun went down and most of your dishes were cleared from the table, the lingering sweetness of caramel on your lips was all you could think about, a fleeting pleasure that only made the impending goodbye sting even more.

"Joe I have to tell you something," he looks at you as you head over to stand in one of the private lounge areas, giving you his undivided attention. "I saw you this morning in the store. Your back was facing me but I don't know, you caught my eye. And I told myself I wouldn't say anything, I wouldn't go up to you and make small talk because I'm here on a solo vacation to be one with myself and-now I'm really glad that I know you."

A smile forms on the corner of his mouth, "I've been telling myself all day that this isn't real. That I could just let my guard down because in Greece, I don't have to be Joe Burrow. I can just be...Joe. You let me be exactly who I am, nothing more, nothing less. And honestly? This might've been the single greatest day of my life. I've had good ones, really good ones. But today is up there for sure." You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten until you could feel his arm against yours, his breath soft and warm on your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time lingering a moment longer, as if the air between you had thickened. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath just a whisper away, as his hand hovered near your cheek. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a spark through you, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you in.

You couldn't allow yourself to go there. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, not like this—but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it hard to think clearly. As much as you wanted this, to feel him close, to taste the sweetness of that kiss, the weight of knowing how fleeting it all was crushed down on you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you were afraid to want, a piece of yourself that you couldn’t let slip away so easily. If you already felt this strongly about him after a day, how were you going to make it through the rest of the vacation without him knowing how his lips tasted and how his strong hands pulled you in close, holding onto you like he'd rather lose everything than let you go. There was no way in the world you'd recover.

"We can't," you whisper, watching him drop his hand that had just been lightly caressing your cheek. "You're gonna leave tomorrow and I'm gonna be thinking about this kiss for a long time. And I can't," your voice trembles. "I don't want you to go, so I can't kiss you. I'm sorry."

"No don't—don't apologize. I get it." He still hadn't taken a step back, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check. "I can walk you back to your hotel? I haven't packed yet and I need to.”

"Sure, yeah that's fine."

The 15 minute walk felt like three seconds. You didn't want him to go. He no longer wanted to leave. "Y/N I—”

You wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug, silently begging him to stay, just for a few more days. His grip on you was just as strong, his heartbeat thumping rapidly against your body. There weren't enough words in the English, or Greek dictionary to describe how much you were going to miss him. To miss this day. "Bye Joe." That was it. That was all you could manage. The moment you let go of him felt like a piece of your heart stayed in his arms. There was no way to explain the ache in your chest as you watched him turn away, the pull to stay stronger than any rational thought.

Going to sleep that night sounded impossible. The day had started out so innocent and special and the adventure and emotional rollercoaster you'd been on during the day made it feel like you'd experienced a series of days all wrapped into one. You set your bags down on the ground when you got to your room, too tired to change out of your clothes and falling asleep on top of the covers as soon as you laid down.

The next morning you checked the time on your phone, it was 8am. Joe had told you yesterday he was leaving at 10. That meek little goodbye wasn't going to cut it. You didn't even have his number. After your teeth were brushed and your clothes were changed, you rushed out of your hotel and got in an Uber, on your way to Joe's resort. The 46 minute ride allowed you to come up with everything you wanted to say, how this was only meant to be for a day but maybe it could be more? Maybe you could come see him in Cincinnati or he could come to Berkeley or someway somehow you could figure out a way to make it work.

You thanked your driver, opting to speed walk into the lobby. The person at the front desk couldn't give you access to the room without a reason, even when you gave them the name Joe used for his reservation. Pulling out your phone, you showed her the picture of you and Joe that he took at the pottery place and she finally believed you.

"I'm sorry ma'am, he actually left this morning a bit earlier than planned. He checked out at 7am to get on the plane."

Your chest tightened as the words settled in—he was gone. Just like that, in the span of a few hours, everything had shifted. The chance to say what was left unsaid, the connection you had just begun to explore, all slipped away before you could even hold onto it.

It felt like a dark cloud loomed over you throughout the rest of the day. The sun, once so warm on your skin, now felt distant and cold. The flowers that had seemed so alive that morning now appeared dull, their colors muted, as though even nature understood the weight on your heart. While you ate lunch, you tried to people watch, although you quickly discovered that there were only couples surrounding you, sharing meals and laughing at each other's jokes which made you miss him even more. The only real bright spot of the day was your flower garden excursion, taking pictures of the newly bloomed bulbs and taking in their fresh scent. As the hours passed, you allowed yourself to breathe a little deeper, letting the moments of regret slip away as you focused on the simple joys of your surroundings. The beauty of the flowers, the calm of the gardens, it all reminded you that there was still peace to be found in this unexpected chapter of your life.

You were just beginning to let go of the weight on your chest, convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be. But as you laid your phone down beside you, the familiar ping of a message broke the stillness.

It was an DM request on Instagram. The message had two simple words.

Carpe diem.

For a second, your heart skipped, and you couldn’t help but smile. That phrase, so simple and yet so loaded with meaning, sent a wave of warmth through you. It was him. In a way, he had left his mark on you after all, even if he wasn’t here to say the words aloud. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. And though you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or if this connection would ever evolve beyond this brief encounter, in that moment, with his words glowing on your screen, you allowed yourself one final thought: Maybe this was only the beginning.

[rafesangelita]

i know i might sound like a broken record, but this will be the first and only time i’ll speak out about this situation.

i will own up and take accountability for speaking on something i didn’t have a full depth understanding of. my ignorance in adding a general statement onto a post that was name dropping @robinsgrl for claiming (which turned out to be a huge misinterpretation of words) a concept that has existed for a while now, has very shamefully contributed to her receiving hate that i would never want anyone on here to experience.

i defended my mutual thinking i was doing just that— defending a friend. i never would have thought that this situation was going to blow up like this and cause this much pain and discourse. to @robinsgrl i am truly so sorry for the misconception on my end, and will do better from now on. while i don’t view myself as a large account, there’s many who do and the last thing i want for anyone to think about me is that i’m a bully or a mean person, because that is truly not in the true nature of my heart.

i added onto a post that i shouldn’t have, and for that i am sorry.

note: if you are not robinsgrl, then i do not owe you an apology. hate through anonymous asks will also be blocked and deleted, so express your frustrations towards me that’s fine but i won’t be giving it any attention.

[flower-zombiee]

Guys I fear Stanford Pines is a total redditor.

He has an extensive and very well written saga of posts on AITA which have been compiled on Best Of Redditor Updates and read on reddit podcasts. He has been known to go into various scientific and paranormal subreddits to argue, and you'd better watch your grammar because he will absolutely pull out the *you're strat if he's losing. He has been banned from many of these subreddits so he’s started several of his own. Mods on the other subreddits warn users about his, but much to their chagrin they are actually fairly popular. He cannot get banned from these subreddits because he owns them. There is some debate about whether his account is satirical— he takes great offense to this. There is a video on YouTube called "u/DrPines_6: A Scientific Pillar's Bizarre Reddit History" that is 2 hours long and has 1 million views.

[ricochetfuel]

Hi guys so if u live in CT and want to go to an art highschool

don't go to Arts of The Capitol Theater.

Trigger warning for ableism.

There at that school, the principal is a fucking bitch. Now I don't use that term too lightly, but it definitely fits her.

At that school currently, there is a problem involving sexual harassment. This has been brought up to her on multiple occasions, as well as multiple reports have been filed against the harasser by multiple victims.

Sarah, the principal, has done absolutely nothing. She has said that she's talked with the student and his parents as well as other students' parents about the situation, but she NEVER emailed my mother or my boyfriend's mother about anything involving the situation.

So we had to take this small, itty bitty information she gave us at face value and just believe her.

Obviously, I didn't, and MANY students involved with this didn't believe her either. In fact, they were repulsed by this small information.

Me and multiple students took part and organized a sit-in, which is a form of peaceful protest where the protesters sit in a designated place until their needs are met or they were forced to move by authority. Unfortunately, we were suspended for the rest of the day for this protest movement.

This created a large change in students' views of the principal and the academics, so we gained more traction. More people reported their experiences and the reports piled up.

It was on December 19th that I was suspended until further notice alongside my boyfriend and a now ex-friend for creating a disturbance in the academic environment and for bullying.

Originally I wasn't meant to be suspended, however my boyfriend texted me to come to the office because he and the ex-friend were being expelled and/or suspended.

Now I do not run unless I absolutely need to. For context, I was on the basement floor. The office is on the second floor. I am not allowed to use elevators. So when I say I sprinted as fast as I could up 3 flights of stairs into that office to fight tooth and nail for my friends, I mean it. I was up those stairs in 5 seconds and in the office in 8.

I screamed my lungs out at the principal and guidance counselor for not doing their jobs and for condemning the wrong people in this situation so loudly that an alumni walking by heard me and stopped by the door to watch me. I saw admiration in her eyes.

My boyfriend was sobbing hysterically and pounding his head on the table because he was so horrifically deregulated and the guidance counselor didn't do a single thing as a support staff. If anything, she sat there and watched. Her face didn't change a bit from a cold stare.

I was told to leave. I didn't. I would not leave because if they went down fighting for their fucking rights, so would I. I organized the protests and posters and reports. I convinced girls and boys alike who were affected to report the boy who harassed them. I made people feel like there were options.

And so, I was suspended until further notice alongside my boyfriend and ex-friend.

I do not regret it.

Now today my mother had an online meeting with Sarah and the school's board to determine what would happen next involving me and school.

They wanted me to come back tomorrow, and had said that I should have been doing the work from home because I was only suspended for 5 days. That was a lie. Sarah told me I was suspended until further notice and there would have to be a re-entry meeting if I were to come back.

My mother fought for me when I wasn't awake yet for the meeting, which I wasn't even supposed to be there for but my mother let me sit in silence on the floor to listen, and the amount of lies coming from the board was absolutely astounding.

Sarah, Jane, and Nina spouted lies upon lies and blamed my defiance and such on my disabilities.

For reference, I have ODD, otherwise known as oppositional defiant disorder, ADHD, ADD, and others I won't list.

They never took accountability for their actions once during that meeting.

So when I say do NOT go to that school if you can help it, I fucking mean it.

That school is ableist and everything under the sun that a youth would never want to experience in what is supposed to be an educational environment.

Fuck that school.

[ropebunnykant]

with the utmost respect, no lmao.

i'm not saying there AREN'T parallels between 10 things and the heart killers, because obviously there are. and not just because they're based on the same source material, but because jojo did intentionally throw in nods to it and parallels because he clearly has a love for the movie and wanted to do a modern shakespeare adaptation similar in style to it. however, that doesn't make it based on 10 things.

jojo himself called it a shakespeare adaption. and while i know word of god isn't always the thing to go off of, when it comes to someone's intentions with their media and what they're inspiration is, it's important to take the creator's words into account. but, even beyond that, there are plenty of things that show us that it's a taming adaptation, not a 10 things adaptation. i have an entire tag dedicated to all the direct parallels to taming that we've gotten, many of which are not referenced in 10 things at all, which you can view here if you'd like.

now, about your arguments for why it's a 10 things adaptation, starting with the post you linked here. yes, katherina is her name in the play, but many versions refer to her as just katherine or kate or any such variation of the name. which... that's what katherine is, btw. a variation on katherina. they both mean pure. it's the same name. that's why her name is katherine in 10 things to begin with.

also, i'm not sure how saying that patrick was singing to katherine but petruchio wasn't is really a point in 10 things favor? style isn't really singing either. he's chanting. and fadel's reaction to it is far more in line with the embarrassment that katherina suffers at the hands of petruchio than it is with kat's reaction in 10 things, which is that she's charmed by it. i'm not saying it's not at all a reference to 10 things, because it clearly is, but it's actually paralleling BOTH pieces of media at the same time.

as for the arguments you make here, i am not going to totally refute that bianca in 10 things is stronger than bianca in taming because if that's what you believe, that's totally your prerogative. however, that is also entirely up to interpretation. i personally think that bianca in taming is just as strong as she is in 10 things. she's quieter about it yes, but she's just as manipulative as bison AND bianca from 10 things. her strength is just represented differently because of the time period she is in and the fact that she is trying to work WITHIN the system, whereas katherina is working outside of it.

i also don't really understand what your point about style being cocky and shameless in the same ways patrick is are meant to prove? those are also traits of petruchio. and while yes, patrick loves kat just the way she is and petruchio doesn't... i wouldn't exactly expect ANY modern adaptation of that play to have the characters not enjoying each other for who they are? that doesn't negate them being based on those original characters? is patrick also not based on petruchio then, because he loved kat as she was and didn't try to change her?

i really don't understand the outright denial there seems to be with calling this a shakespeare adaptation for so many people. you're not even the only person that has tried to tell me this, and it's so very strange to me. because yes, i get that everyone loves 10 things and is more familiar with it, but you can love 10 things and appreciate the references in the heart killers in it without dismissing the intentional hard work and research that has been put into this show when it comes to the shakespeare aspect. and if it's about not liking petruchio or the initial play, then you would also have to dismiss the validity of 10 things as an adaptation because it was also based on that, and patrick was also based on petruchio.

also, i will say, it is very rude to come onto my post discussing the taming characters that style is based off of and try to tell me "no actually, he's based on this character that is based on only one of (not even the main one!) you're talking about in this post." if you think it's a 10 things adaptation, that's fine, but i'm allowed to have my interpretation of it as well and discuss the parallels between the characters and the shakespeare originals without being told that i'm wrong because you don't think that's actually what it's based on. but go off i guess.

was gonna say this in the tags of my last taming parallel but i think this actually warrants a post of its own. i think the thing that makes style a lovable character despite being based on such a horrific character is the fact that he’s not solely based on petruchio. he’s also based heavily on tranio, who if you’re unaware, is lucentio’s servant and dear friend. so, while he has the boldness and shamelessness of petruchio, he has tranio’s unwavering loyalty and hopefulness. honestly, i’d argue he’s more based on tranio than he is petruchio, because petruchio at his core is an inherently cruel character, whereas tranio is inherently kind, which fits style far better. i’d even argue that kant parallels petruchio far closer than style (not a dig at kant! its just that kant has the ability to be cruel and calculated when he needs to be because his hand has been forced, whereas style inherently just doesn’t have that in him).

i also think it’s interesting because style stands out from the others in a number of ways, not simply because of his hopefulness but because (to our current knowledge) he’s not a criminal. which is an interesting parallel because lucentio, bianca, and katherine all have a higher status, while tranio is a servant and therefore distinct from them. additionally, tranio’s plot in taming is that he is disguised as lucentio for most of the show, and i think that sort of parallels style needing to become a police informant by association in a way.

[skyward-floored]

How many kids is a "large family" to you?

To me? I think a family is truly big somewhere around 6-7 kids, but 5 isn’t small. 4-5 is like... middle sized. Ish.

And yes I’m fully aware that my view is skewed since I have nine siblings and know several families with 8+ kids, don’t worry. It is a bit subjective.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[moongothic]

If being weak is a "sin" in Crocodile's mind, then isn't a painful defeat and maybe even death rightful punishment for it? A punishment you deserve for your crime of "being weak"? That's an intriguing mindset from him because it makes me wonder how Crocodile might view his own past and the things he has gone through? I might not go as far as to say Crocodile "blames himself" for the things he's gone through, as he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who dwells on the past like that. But I do feel like Crocodile has accepted in his mind that things like losing his hand happened because he was weak, and it was his own fault. That he can not blame anyone else for what has happened to him. He fucked around and he found out.

It's just interesting because to some degree, One Piece thematically does agree with this sentiment, this is a world where the strong eat the weak. (One example at the top of my head; Luffy refusing Katakuri's apology when his sister intervened with their battle, saying he should've dodged the attack properly if he didn't want to get hit.) Chaka falling in this scene and being unable to stop Crocodile may lead to the deaths of so many more, including his loved ones, and if that comes to pass, it's is Chaka's own fault. For being too weak. But also Crocodile has twisted that idea; Crocodile is using his worldview here to justify himself and essentially saying he can do this (take over Alabasta and kill a million innocents doing so) and get away with it because he's powerful. When in reality "weakness is a sin" isn't about the survival of the fittest, but how this is a world where the strong are meant to protect the weak. (See: Luffy) (Also how Pell told Baby Vivi in that flashback about how he trains so he can protect the Royal Family; again, he he craves power not to oppress the weak but to protect them)

But, just to get back to Crocodile again, I feel like this worldview might also give us more insight as to how he acts in certain situations post-Alabasta. Like when we see Crocodile towards the end of Miss Goldenweek's cover story, both when he declines to escape from jail and in his Impel Down mugshot, Crocodile has a smile on his face. That really is the face of a man who has accepted his fate, is it not?

"Welp, this is what I get for losing to a child in flipflops"

Or when we see him come collect his debt from Buggy; Crocodile seemed quite relaxed and fully admitted he had assumed Buggy would've ran away before he even got there to collect his money. Of course, considdering his trust issues Crocodile would've been mentally prepared for Buggy skedaddling anyways, but the fact that he loaned the clown money to begin with while assuming he'd probably never get that money back-- like Crocodile knew that was going to happen and he just accepted it. And just rolled with it.

Of course, when things take an Unpleasant, Unexpected Turn, he will blow a fuse. Multiple, even.

Him angy

IDK man this is all just interesting to me

[sideblog-side-b]

As of yesterday this was confirmed by OOB themselves. This is the link to their tiktok video about it which is full of red flags.

Some quick important points for anyone whi doesn't want to give them views:

They denied nearly all allegations and called the ex volunteers a bunch of liars spreading misinformation and disinformation (with no evidence of such)

They claimed they are an npo and said it's written in several places, they included screenshot of that, but no screenshots providing proof its actually an official status.

They said they aren't searchable on the IRS site because they haven't filed taxes, which is why they can't provide proof of being an NPO.

From the IRS website:

A tax exempt organization may need a letter to confirm its tax-exempt status or to reflect a change in its name or address. If so, an organization may generally contact Customer Account Services by phone, letter, or fax to request an affirmation letter

A letter or fax requesting an affirmation letter must include your organization’s ● full name ● Employer Identification Number and ● authorized signature (an officer or trustee)

The individual signing the letter must state the capacity in which he or she is signing (for example, “John Smith, President”).

They said they are not a 501(3c) org and that due to "their agreement" they will not be publicly disclosing who their financial sponsor is

Said you if youre worried about any of this you can watch videos from them and their partners distributing aid

On that note, they had previously posted this chart before removing once people started asking why the percentages don't add up to 100% of their expenses and how they made 46% look like over half.

Said they don't pocket money from aid, but that their aid goes to aid and operational costs, how they're skills, time, and labor of the people involved "deserve respect"

They said as an npos aren't 'subject to' FOIA requests which is why they didn't respond to the FOIA requests made by the ex-volunteers.

On the subject of families not reveiving aid in retaliation: they say this isnt true and that their aid partners decide how aid is distributed since they are the people on the ground

Claims ex volunteers emotionally manipulated families to "falsely claim" that aid was going to be cut off cuz they were no longer volunteering with OOB.

Claim the ex volunteers are trying to build a campaign to "attempt to target our partners and to build distrust and despair among already distressed families"

Claimed that the "primary" ex volunteer leading this campaign left amicably and even expressed gratitude when they did. They DID provide proof of that (although it seems there was certainly more to the message)

They claimed that person was "hostile" and pivoted ti "disturbing behavior" by way of making racist rants towards 2 indigenous members at OOB's core and reaching out to partners to jeopardize OOB funding, "and ultimately cute the financial lifeline that allows crucial aid and resources and psychologically harmed Palestinian families and aid workers."

Sending the cease and desist and reporting the former members to FBI for fraud/cyber harassment was done due to legal council "to prevent further escalation"

After saying that they ask anyone who shared videos to take them down or make "good faith corrections"

They finish up the video by saying this was an instance of white supremacist depravity which will not stop them from continuing to provide aid so "don't hand this to them on an silver platter."

I want to stress they provided no proof of absolutely anything except a screenshot of a single text and several screenshots of them calling themselves an org with NPO status... on their own pages.

They also had previously posted this pie chart in an attempt to be more transparent

But it was taken down.

I can only assume it was because people saw that somehow 46% (dark green) of expenses made up over half the chart and that the percentages given didn't add up to 100% which left about 15% of their money unaccounted for.

That's $205,422.

And idek how you could Accidentally make 46% seem like over 50% in a pie chart without intentionally plugging in inaccurate numbers.

But anyway. Yeah.

Things are not looking good for OOB. they really said "source: trust me bro" and provided a shitty pie chart.

idk when/if that post will upload but allegedly operation olive branch has been reporting some of its ex-volunteers to the feds over calls for transparency about operations/where money was going to, @drchygunn on tiktok has more details

consider donating to palestinian-led orgs, other credible orgs, or directly to the many, many palestinian families in need

edit: oob's critics have emphasized that the spreadsheet/list that they have and the families on it are legitimate despite this and to continue supporting those families directly

[poisonousquinzel]

"a dude in Texas legally changed his name to "Literally Anyone Else" and he's attempting to run for President against Biden & Trump" [source]

okay, but putting aside the comedic aspect of this, it is concerning the amount of people who are prompted to vote for candidates just because it's funny. I'm not the biggest fan of how his policy about the boarder sounds [Site], but I do implore anyone who is able to vote in the 2024 US election to please research other candidates.

The media is only going to continue pushing the idea it's inevitably going to be Trump vs Biden 2.0 and we have no other options, that we have to vote for Biden again because of Project 2025. Is that whole thing terrifying?

Yeah, fucking absolutely.

But voting for Biden will not solidify our safety from that. Biden is exactly like the rest of them. He always has been. You can't make the lesser of two evils argument when they're both just plain evil.

You cannot say that Biden is even mildly a better choice than Trump when he is currently directly involved in a genocide. That is not some little fucking thing. That in and of itself disqualifies him as a lesser evil. Biden is just as bad as him and he will not save us because he doesn't fucking care.

Cornel West [Site] is an Independent candidate running for President in the 2024 Election. [Policies]

Claudia De la Cruz and Karina Garcia [Site] are running for President and Vice-President as the candidates of the Party for Socialism and Liberation in the 2024 Election. [Policies]

There are options.

There are people trying to change the corrupt foundation our system is built on, but we have to help amplify them because the mainstream media will not.

[brick-van-dyke]

TERFs 🤝 Zionists

Using the exact same talking points and rhetoric.

[dearweirdme]

.