#acknowledging that in this system there can be no honesty

[sic-vita]

"I thought a castle would be a suitable substitute for a home, and mandatory displays of respect would be a suitable substitute for human affection. You were treated like a queen but you were my hostage, Genny what the hell did we think was going to happen?"

inspired by this post by @badsalmonella

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[mrs-delaney]

Behind The Lens | Part Three

Part One

Part Two

Reader Request: Reader has been working for the bengals since Joe got drafted. She can be a social media admin, public relations liaison or even a physical therapist. She’s been in love with him but it is unrequited while he was with Olivia and when they break up she thought that she had a chance but he starts seeing the influencer but please make it a happy ending. Angst as fuck but happy ending.  I want to see this girl yearning for fucking years before she gets him and I want him to realize that she is the love of his life. 

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Life-changing job offers, confrontations in edit bays, the specific discomfort of everyone finding out you might leave, career crossroads, that painful moment when he finally says what you've been waiting to hear at the exact wrong time, first kisses that are years overdue, heartbreaking honesty, the anxiety of deciding between your heart and your career, feelings that can't be compartmentalized no matter how hard you try, and the terrifying vulnerability of finally admitting what you want.

Taglist: @honeydippedfiction

A Few Quick Notes:

📌 This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

📌 Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me!

📌 Requests: Open for now, but it may take a minute to get to them, I’ve got several in the inbox.

September 2025 - Regular Season Begins

Game day energy pulsed through the stadium as Y/N directed her social media team from the sidelines. The season opener against Pittsburgh had sold out months ago, the stands now a sea of orange and black as fans welcomed football back to Cincinnati.

"Pregame is live across all platforms," Marcus confirmed, tablet in hand. "Fan engagement numbers already up 25% from last year's opener."

Y/N nodded, scanning the field where players warmed up. "Good. Make sure we're capturing rookie reactions, especially Thompson's first NFL experience. Fans love that 'kid on Christmas morning' energy."

She moved efficiently along the sideline, camera in hand, document key moments herself while overseeing her team's coverage. After five seasons with the Bengals, Y/N had developed an instinct for the visuals and stories that would resonate with fans, the quiet pregame rituals, the focused preparation, the camaraderie within position groups.

From across the field, she spotted Joe going through his warmup routine, methodical and focused as always. He looked good—confident, sharp, ready for the season ahead. Y/N captured a few frames, professional eye recognizing the compelling visuals, before moving on to other players and moments.

The buffer system she'd implemented in January had evolved into something more sustainable by September, a professional approach that allowed her to do her job effectively without the emotional complications that had once made working with Joe so difficult. She still managed overall content strategy, still oversaw quarterback coverage, but delegated the direct, one-on-one work to her team whenever possible.

"Five minutes to national anthem," Sam's voice came through her earpiece. "Coaches want pregame huddle coverage."

"On it," Y/N confirmed, positioning herself for the shot as players gathered around Coach Taylor.

The game unfolded with the intensity typical of a Bengals-Steelers matchup, hard hits, defensive struggles, momentum shifts. Y/N documented it all, capturing both the game action and sideline reactions, directing her team to focus on storytelling moments rather than just plays.

When Joe threw a perfect 40-yard touchdown to Higgins in the third quarter, breaking open what had been a tight defensive battle, Y/N captured his celebration—the controlled fist pump, the quick acknowledgments to teammates, the immediate refocus on the next series. She knew his patterns so well, could anticipate his movements even from across the field.

"That's the money shot," Marcus said, reviewing her footage of the touchdown celebration. "Lead with that for the halftime content push."

Y/N nodded, already moving toward the tunnel to prepare for halftime coverage. As she approached, Joe jogged past on his way to the locker room, helmet in hand. Their eyes met briefly, a moment of recognition amid the chaos. He gave her a small nod, which she returned professionally before continuing on her way.

That was their rhythm now, professional acknowledgment without lingering. Mutual respect without the complications of before. It worked. It had to.

The Bengals won 24-17, a solid start to the season that sent fans home happy and created plenty of positive content for Y/N's team to amplify. After the game, she coordinated postgame interview coverages, finalized social media highlights, and directed the content wrap-up from the media room as players showered and changed.

"That's a wrap," she announced to her team as the final content pieces were scheduled. "Great work everyone. Clean execution across all platforms."

As staff packed up equipment and prepared to leave, Y/N checked final statistics and planned the morning follow-up content. She was focused on her tablet when a voice spoke from the doorway.

"Successful opener."

She looked up to find Brian Reynolds, Director of Communications for the New York Giants, standing just inside the media room. His presence was so unexpected that Y/N momentarily struggled to place him, though they'd met at league events before.

"Brian," she said, professional smile quickly in place. "Didn't expect to see you in Cincinnati."

"In town for meetings with sponsors," he explained, stepping further into the room. "Thought I'd catch the game while I was here. You mind if I shut the door? Wanted to talk to you about something."

Y/N nodded, curious about this unusual visit. Brian closed the door and took a seat across from her, his expression thoughtful.

"I'll be direct," he said. "I've been following your work with the Bengals for several years now. The content strategy you've developed, particularly around Burrow's injuries and comebacks, has been exceptional. Authentic storytelling that connects with fans without exploiting vulnerable moments."

"Thank you," Y/N replied, genuinely pleased by the professional recognition. "That's exactly what we aim for."

"The Giants are looking to completely overhaul our digital content approach," Brian continued. "Our ownership wants a more cohesive strategy across platforms, something that builds deeper fan connections beyond just game highlights and press conferences."

Y/N listened with increasing interest as Brian outlined the Giants' vision, mentally noting the similarities and differences to her work with the Bengals.

"So," he concluded, "we're creating a new position: Vice President of Content Strategy and Fan Engagement. Full creative control, substantial budget increase, direct report to ownership." He met her eyes directly. "We'd like you to consider it."

The offer hung in the air between them, unexpected and substantial. Y/N maintained her professional composure while her mind raced through implications.

"That's... quite an opportunity," she said carefully. "I'm flattered you thought of me."

"You were our first choice," Brian said simply. "Your work speaks for itself. The way you've positioned the Bengals' digital presence, particularly through challenging seasons and player setbacks, shows exactly the kind of storytelling vision we're looking for."

"I appreciate that," Y/N replied. "I would need to know more details, of course."

"Of course," Brian agreed, retrieving a business card from his jacket. "My contact information. If you're interested in discussing further, we can arrange a more formal conversation. Compensation would be substantially above your current position, and we'd provide relocation assistance to New York."

Y/N accepted the card, her thoughts still processing this unexpected development. "This is a lot to consider. I've been with the Bengals my entire NFL career."

"I understand," Brian nodded. "Take some time. But we're moving quickly on this position. We'd like to have someone in place before the holiday season, to prepare for playoff push and draft strategy."

After Brian left, Y/N sat alone in the media room, turning his business card over in her fingers. The opportunity was substantial—higher position, creative control, major market, significant salary increase. A chance to build something new rather than maintain what she'd already established.

It was also, she had to acknowledge, a chance to start fresh. Away from Cincinnati. Away from Joe Burrow and the complex emotions that still lingered despite her best efforts to move forward.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Sam:

Sam: Celebration drinks at Sundry and Vice? Team's heading over.

Y/N stared at the message, Brian's card still in her hand.

Y/N: Running late, finishing some things. Save me a seat.

She tucked the card into her wallet and gathered her things, mind still turning over this unexpected opportunity. She hadn't been looking to leave Cincinnati. Hadn't considered building her career elsewhere. But now that the option existed, she couldn't deny the appeal of a fresh start.

As she walked through the quiet facility, Y/N passed the players' parking area. Joe was just leaving, dressed in his postgame suit, phone to his ear. They spotted each other simultaneously, the empty hallway suddenly charged with awareness.

Joe ended his call quickly. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," Y/N replied. "Just finished content wrap-up."

"Good game coverage," he said, that hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Saw the touchdown sequence. Perfect timing on the sideline reaction."

"Thanks," Y/N said, unexpectedly touched that he'd noticed her work specifically. "Clean game from the offense. Especially that third quarter drive."

Joe nodded, seeming to want to continue the conversation but unsure how. "Team celebrating?"

"Meeting them now," Y/N confirmed. "Sundry and Vice, I think."

"Tell everyone good work," Joe said, then added with slight hesitation, "Your boundary system's working well."

The observation caught her off guard, so directly acknowledging what had developed between them. "It seems to be," she agreed carefully.

"I don't like it," he said quietly, "but I respect it."

Before she could respond, his phone rang again. He glanced at it, then back at her. "Should take this. Have a good night, Y/N."

"You too, Joe."

As she walked to her car, Y/N felt a strange lightness. Their brief exchange had been the most natural in months, acknowledgment of their new dynamic without tension or avoidance. Progress, perhaps. Or just the passage of enough time to dull the sharper edges of what had once felt so raw.

She thought of Brian Reynolds' card in her wallet. Of New York City and new beginnings. Of building a career beyond the shadow of complicated feelings for Joe Burrow.

For the first time, leaving Cincinnati felt like a genuine possibility. Not an escape, but a step forward. And that realization was both terrifying and exhilarating.

* * *

Late September 2025 - Exploring Options

The Giants moved quickly after Brian's initial approach. What began as exploratory conversations rapidly evolved into formal interviews, detailed position discussions, and increasingly attractive offers.

Y/N conducted these conversations discreetly, scheduling video calls during off-hours, using empty conference rooms when the facility was quiet, carefully protecting her exploration from becoming facility gossip. Only Sam knew the full extent of her discussions with New York, serving as both sounding board and reality check as Y/N weighed the opportunity.

"They've increased the salary offer again," Y/N said, showing Sam the email during a rare lunch away from the facility. "And added a signing bonus."

Sam whistled softly. "They really want you. Question is, do you want them?"

Y/N stared into her coffee. "The professional opportunity is undeniable. VP title, creative control, major market. It's the kind of role people work decades to reach."

"But?"

"But Cincinnati is home now," Y/N admitted. "Five years of building relationships, understanding this team's culture, creating something meaningful here."

Sam studied her friend carefully. "And is that the only reason you're hesitating?"

Y/N knew what Sam was asking. She sighed, turning her coffee cup slowly. "I'd be lying if I said Joe wasn't a factor. Not in the way you think, though."

"Explain."

"I've finally reached a place where I can work with him professionally without my feelings complicating everything. Where I can appreciate his talent and leadership without that constant ache." Y/N met her friend's gaze directly. "I fought hard for that balance. Part of me wonders if leaving is running away, not moving forward."

"Or maybe," Sam suggested gently, "it's recognizing that you've done the work here, and now it's time for new challenges. Professionally and personally."

Y/N nodded slowly. "The Giants want me to visit New York next month. See the facilities, meet with ownership. Final step before a formal offer."

"And will you go?"

"I think I have to," Y/N replied. "Even if just to know what else is possible."

* * *

The next week passed in a blur of regular season content production, Giants follow-up calls, and careful navigation of Y/N's increasingly complicated professional situation. She maintained her focus on Bengals work, refusing to let her potential departure affect current performance.

The Wednesday morning content meeting found her reviewing game footage with her team, outlining social strategies for the upcoming Ravens matchup. She was deep in discussion about third-down conversion graphics when she noticed her team's attention shift to something behind her.

Y/N turned to find Kayla in the doorway, expression unusually serious.

"Can I see you in my office?" she asked.

The walk to Kayla's office felt longer than usual, Y/N's mind racing through possibilities. Had someone discovered her Giants conversations? Was there an issue with recent content performance?

Kayla closed the door behind them and gestured for Y/N to sit. "So," she began without preamble, "the New York Giants."

Y/N maintained her composure despite the internal jolt of surprise. "You've heard."

"Brian Reynolds and I have known each other for fifteen years," Kayla said simply. "He had the professional courtesy to let me know they were pursuing you seriously. Not the details, just the fact."

"I was going to talk to you," Y/N said quickly. "Once things became more concrete. I'm still exploring options."

Kayla nodded, her expression softening slightly. "I'm not upset that you're exploring opportunities, Y/N. That's normal career development. I am concerned that you didn't feel you could discuss this with me directly."

Y/N exhaled slowly. "It's happened very quickly. And honestly, I'm still processing what I want."

"Fair enough," Kayla said. "So let me be direct: what would it take to keep you in Cincinnati?"

The question caught Y/N off guard. She had been preparing to explain her reasons for considering departure, not negotiate her reasons to stay.

"It's not about compensation," she began carefully. "The Bengals have been very fair."

"But the Giants are offering substantially more," Kayla finished for her. "Along with a VP title and greater creative control."

"Yes."

Kayla leaned forward. "We value your contributions here, Y/N. You've built something special with our content strategy, particularly around player narratives. Before I take this to ownership, I need to know if there's a package that would convince you to stay."

Y/N considered the question carefully. "It's not just about title or compensation, though those are factors. It's about growth potential. The Giants are offering creative control I don't currently have."

"And if we matched that?" Kayla asked. "Director of Content Strategy. Final approval on all external storytelling. Budget oversight."

The offer was substantial—more than Y/N had expected. "I'd need to think about it," she said honestly. "This isn't just a leverage play for me. I'm genuinely weighing options."

"I understand," Kayla said, leaning back in her chair. "Take the time you need. But know that we want to keep you here. You've become an essential part of this organization's voice."

Y/N nodded, appreciating the straightforward conversation. "Thank you. I promise I'll be transparent about my decision process."

"That's all I ask," Kayla said. "And Y/N? Let's keep this between us for now. No need to create unnecessary speculation around the facility."

"Of course," Y/N agreed, though she wondered how long such significant career discussions could remain contained.

* * *

Joe found out two days later.

Y/N was reviewing game highlights in an editing bay when Joe appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Got a minute?" he asked, voice carefully neutral.

"Sure," Y/N replied, saving her work before giving him her full attention. Their interactions had become easier over the past few months—professional, occasionally even friendly, but with clear boundaries that neither pushed against.

Joe closed the door behind him, an unusual move that immediately put Y/N on alert.

"The Giants?" he asked without preamble.

Y/N kept her expression composed despite her surprise. "How did you hear about that?"

"Does it matter?" He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Were you going to mention it?"

"Once I made a decision," Y/N said carefully. "It's still exploratory at this point."

"Exploratory," Joe repeated, studying her face. "VP of Content Strategy doesn't sound exploratory. Sounds like they're serious."

"They are," Y/N acknowledged, seeing no point in downplaying the opportunity. "And I'm seriously considering it."

Joe was quiet for a moment, his gaze direct in a way it hadn't been in months. "Is this about the buffer system? About creating distance?"

The question caught her off guard with its directness. "No," she said firmly. "This is about my career. A significant opportunity in a major market."

"So it has nothing to do with getting away from a complicated working relationship?" The challenge in his voice was subtle but unmistakable.

Y/N felt a flicker of irritation. "My professional decisions aren't about you, Joe. They're about what's best for my career."

Something shifted in his expression—perhaps surprise at her directness, or recognition of the independence it represented.

"Fair enough," he said after a moment. "But five years building something here, and you'd walk away for a title and a bigger market?"

"It's more than that," Y/N replied, keeping her voice even. "It's about creative control. Building something new rather than maintaining what already exists."

Joe studied her, that perceptive gaze seeing more than she sometimes wished he could. "And there's nothing keeping you here? Nothing worth staying for?"

The question hung between them, loaded with implications neither had acknowledged directly. Y/N maintained her composure, refusing to read more into his words than was actually there.

"I've built a life here," she said carefully. "Relationships that matter. But career opportunities like this don't come along often."

Joe nodded slowly, processing her response. "When will you decide?"

"After I visit New York next month," Y/N explained. "Meet with ownership, see the facilities, get a better sense of what I'd be walking into."

"And if you go," he asked, his voice dropping slightly, "who handles the content strategy here? Who maintains what you've built?"

The question felt both professional and personal, his concern extending beyond workflow logistics.

"That would be Kayla's decision," Y/N replied. "But I'd ensure a smooth transition. I wouldn't leave things in disarray."

Joe pushed off from the wall, his expression settling into something more resolved. "Well, I hope you don't go. But if you do, I get it."

The simple statement, neither manipulative nor dismissive, caught Y/N by surprise. Before she could respond, he continued.

"You've earned the right to choose what's next. After five years of building other people's stories, maybe it's time to build your own."

With that, he turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. "Just do me a favor? Let me know before I hear it from someone else."

After he left, Y/N sat motionless, processing their conversation. Joe's reaction had been unexpected—not anger or indifference, but a complex mix of disappointment and understanding. And beneath it all, a question she couldn't fully answer: was there anything keeping her in Cincinnati beyond professional opportunity?

The answer, she knew, was both simpler and more complicated than she wanted to admit.

* * *

Word spread quickly after that, despite Kayla's desire for discretion. By the following week, Y/N noticed the shifts in how people interacted with her—the careful questions about New York, the subtle inquiries about her timeline, the occasional comments about loyalty and opportunity.

She maintained her professional focus, refusing to indulge speculation or make promises she couldn't keep. The Giants continued their pursuit, scheduling her visit for mid-October and sending increasingly detailed information about their vision for the role.

"They've sent the official visit itinerary," Y/N told Sam over drinks after work. "Two days in New York, meetings with ownership, tours of their facilities, dinner with the executive team."

"Sounds like they're rolling out the red carpet," Sam observed, studying the email on Y/N's phone. "When do you leave?"

"Next Thursday," Y/N confirmed. "Back Friday night."

Sam took a sip of her wine. "And how are you feeling about it?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. "Excited. Nervous. Torn. All the things you'd expect when contemplating a major life change."

"And have you told..."

"Joe knows," Y/N confirmed, anticipating her friend's question. "He asked for a heads-up before I make any final decisions."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting. Any particular reason why he cares so much?"

"Professional courtesy," Y/N replied automatically, then sighed at Sam's skeptical expression. "And whatever complicated history exists between us. But it doesn't change anything. This decision has to be about my career, not about Joe Burrow."

"Agreed," Sam said, refilling their glasses. "But it's interesting that he sought you out specifically to discuss it. That's not typical quarterback behavior for a staff member's potential departure."

Y/N changed the subject, unwilling to examine the implications too closely. Her relationship with Joe had finally reached a stable, professional place. Overthinking his reaction to her potential departure would only complicate things unnecessarily.

Besides, she reminded herself, Joe had Ellie. Whatever his concerns about Y/N leaving, they were professional, not personal. The sooner she accepted that reality, the clearer her decision-making process would become.

* * *

October 2025 - Decision Point

The days before Y/N's New York visit passed in a blur of preparations, both professional and personal. She carefully organized ongoing projects for her team to handle in her absence, created detailed status reports for Kayla, and prepared a portfolio highlighting her most significant content innovations with the Bengals.

At home, she researched New York neighborhoods, cost of living adjustments, and potential apartment options, trying to imagine herself in this new environment. After five years in Cincinnati, the prospect of starting over in a city like New York was both exhilarating and daunting.

The morning of her departure, Y/N arrived early at the facility to tie up loose ends before heading to the airport. The building was quiet, most staff not yet arrived for the day. She was reviewing final notes in her office when a knock came at her door.

Joe stood there, practice gear already on, a coffee cup in his hand. His early-morning training sessions were legendary, often beginning hours before other players arrived.

"Heading out today?" he asked, his tone casual though his eyes were serious.

"Flight's at 11," Y/N confirmed, surprised by his appearance at her office.

Joe nodded, considering something before speaking again. "New York's a big move."

"It would be," she agreed, unsure where he was going with this observation.

He seemed to weigh his words carefully. "The Giants are getting a lot of buzz this season. New coaching staff, strong draft picks. Good time to join their organization."

"That's part of the appeal," Y/N acknowledged. "Building something during a period of transition and growth."

Joe nodded again, his expression thoughtful. "Well, good luck with the meetings. Hope they show you the real picture, not just the recruiting highlight reel."

"Thanks," Y/N said, touched by his concern despite her determination to maintain professional boundaries. "I plan to ask tough questions."

"You always do," he replied with the hint of a smile. "It's what makes your content authentic."

He turned to leave, then paused. "When do you get back?"

"Tomorrow night," Y/N told him. "Late flight after the final meetings."

"Would you..." he hesitated, then committed. "Would you let me know how it goes? After you've processed it."

The request was simple, yet loaded with implications neither of them had directly addressed. Y/N found herself nodding despite her reservations.

"I will."

After he left, Y/N sat quietly, processing the brief interaction. Joe rarely sought her out for non-content conversations these days, both of them careful to maintain the professional distance established after the charity gala confrontation. Yet here he was, checking in before her Giants visit, expressing interest in her experience there.

She pushed the analysis aside, focusing instead on final preparations for her trip. Joe's interest was likely professional courtesy, nothing more. And regardless of his motives, her decision would be based on career opportunity, not complicated feelings for someone who had chosen someone else.

* * *

New York exceeded expectations. From the moment Y/N landed at LaGuardia, the Giants organization treated her with the consideration reserved for high-priority recruits—private car service, luxury hotel accommodations, meticulously planned itinerary that balanced professional substance with city experiences.

The facilities tour impressed her with both technology and vision. The executive meetings revealed an ownership group genuinely committed to transforming their content approach. The creative team openly acknowledged the need for new leadership and direction.

"We've seen what you built in Cincinnati," the Chief Marketing Officer told her during one session. "The player narratives, the community connections, the authentic voice. We want that here, but adapted for the New York market and culture."

By the end of the first day, Y/N found herself genuinely excited about the possibilities. Over dinner with the executive team, conversation flowed from content strategy to market differentiation to personal experiences, revealing a group of leaders she could envision working alongside.

In her hotel room that night, she called Sam for a reality check.

"They're saying all the right things," Y/N admitted. "Creative control, budget authority, seat at the executive table. It's everything I've worked toward professionally."

"And the city?" Sam asked. "Could you see yourself living there?"

Y/N glanced out her hotel window at the Manhattan skyline, lights twinkling against the night sky. "It's overwhelming but exciting. Different energy than Cincinnati, but not in a bad way."

"You sound like you're leaning toward yes," Sam observed.

"I think I am," Y/N admitted. "There's just..."

"Joe," Sam finished for her.

Y/N sighed, unable to deny it any longer. "Four years, Sam. Four years of loving someone who chose someone else. Twice." She stared out at the city lights. "Part of me wonders if I'll ever fully move on if I stay in Cincinnati. If I'll always be the woman who fell in love with Joe Burrow and couldn't let go."

"Or maybe," Sam suggested carefully, "it's about finally writing the ending yourself, instead of waiting for him to determine it. About choosing your own happiness instead of orbiting his."

The observation lingered with Y/N long after they hung up. Perhaps that was exactly what this opportunity represented, the chance to define her own story rather than remaining a secondary character in Joe Burrow's narrative.

The second day of meetings focused on specifics, compensation package, relocation assistance, start date discussions, transition planning. By the time Y/N boarded her flight back to Cincinnati that evening, she had a formal offer in hand, one even more substantial than initially discussed.

Two weeks to decide. Two weeks to choose between the familiar foundation she'd built in Cincinnati and an exciting but uncertain future in New York.

As the plane descended toward Cincinnati, Y/N gazed out at the city she'd called home for five years. The place where she'd built her career, established meaningful relationships, and yes—fallen in love with someone who didn't, couldn't, or wouldn't love her back.

Would leaving feel like escape or evolution? Running from complications or running toward opportunities?

* * *

The leadership meeting was supposed to be routine, winter content planning, playoff contingencies, draft strategy preliminary discussion. Y/N attended with her usual professional focus, presenting social media performance metrics and engagement strategies for the coming months.

She was wrapping up her presentation when someone asked about content leadership continuity through the winter.

"That's a fair question," Kayla acknowledged. "As some of you may have heard, Y/N is considering an opportunity with another organization. We're in discussions about retention, but we also need contingency planning in case she accepts this new role."

The room went quiet, all eyes shifting to Y/N. She maintained her composure, though the public acknowledgment of her potential departure felt unexpectedly exposing.

"Nothing's been decided yet," she said calmly. "I'm weighing options carefully, and regardless of my decision, I'm committed to ensuring a smooth transition if that becomes necessary."

The meeting continued, but Y/N could feel the shift in energy, the sidelong glances, the subtle reactions to this now-public development. Most surprising was Joe's expression from across the table: not shock or confusion, but a kind of contained intensity she hadn't seen from him in months.

As the meeting concluded, Y/N gathered her materials quickly, hoping to avoid uncomfortable conversations. She had nearly reached the door when Joe's voice stopped her.

"So that's it?" he asked, loud enough for those still in the room to hear. "Everyone just finds out in a meeting that you might be gone next month?"

Y/N turned slowly, aware of the remaining staff watching this exchange with barely concealed interest. "This isn't the place, Joe."

"When is the place?" he pressed, an edge to his voice she rarely heard. "After you've already accepted? After you're already gone?"

"I haven't made any decisions yet," Y/N replied evenly, conscious of their audience. "And this is a professional matter I'm handling appropriately."

Joe took a step closer, frustration evident in his posture. "Is it? Because it feels like you're making a major decision that affects a lot of people here without any real conversation."

"I've had those conversations with the appropriate leadership," Y/N countered, her own frustration rising. "With Kayla, with the content team. My career decisions don't require facility-wide consultation."

"So we just lose the person who's built our entire content strategy for five years, and that's supposed to be fine?" The challenge in Joe's voice was unmistakable now, his usual composed demeanor slipping.

Y/N felt her professional mask wavering in the face of his unexpected confrontation. "Why do you care so much?" she asked, the question escaping before she could contain it. "Why does this matter to you specifically?"

The question hung in the air between them, more pointed than she'd intended, more revealing than was professionally prudent. Joe stared at her, clearly caught between authentic response and awareness of their still-present audience.

"Because some things should matter more than titles and market size," he said finally. "Some connections are worth more than whatever the Giants are offering."

The implication in his words, connections, not just professional value, sent a jolt through Y/N's carefully maintained composure. Before she could respond, Kayla stepped forward, intervening with practiced diplomacy.

"Let's table this discussion," she suggested firmly. "Y/N hasn't made her decision yet, and we'll have appropriate transition conversations when and if that becomes necessary."

Joe held Y/N's gaze for a moment longer, something unresolved burning in his expression, before turning and walking out without another word.

The room emptied quickly after that, staff dispersing with the awkward energy that follows public tension. Y/N remained frozen in place, processing what had just happened. Joe had never confronted her so directly, so publicly, about anything—let alone her career choices.

"Well," Sam said, appearing beside her as the room cleared, "that wasn't subtle."

Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart still racing from the unexpected confrontation. "What was he thinking? That was completely unprofessional."

"It was," Sam agreed, "and also completely revealing."

"Of what?"

Sam gave her a look that suggested the answer should be obvious. "Of the fact that your potential departure matters to him. A lot. More than it probably should to a quarterback discussing a staff member."

Y/N shook her head, unwilling to read too much into Joe's uncharacteristic outburst. "He values continuity. Consistency. That's all."

"Sure," Sam said skeptically. "That's why he publicly challenged you in front of leadership. Because of workflow continuity."

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced down to see Joe's name on the screen:

Joe: I'm sorry. That was out of line. Can we talk? For real this time.

Y/N stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Their coffee shop conversation had already pushed against carefully established boundaries. Another private discussion, especially after his public display of emotion, felt dangerous in ways she couldn't quite articulate.

Y/N: Not a good time. Need to focus on work.

His response came immediately:

Joe: I understand. But we need to talk before you decide. Please.

The request simple yet loaded with implication lingered on her screen. Y/N tucked her phone away without responding, unwilling to commit to a conversation that might only complicate her already difficult decision.

"What did he say?" Sam asked, noting her friend's expression.

"He wants to talk," Y/N replied. "Before I decide about New York."

"And will you?"

Y/N gathered her materials, mind already spinning with potential scenarios and complications. "I don't know. Probably not the smartest move professionally."

"And personally?" Sam pressed gently.

To that, Y/N had no answer at all

* * *

Late October 2025 - The Breaking Point

For three days, Y/N successfully avoided being alone with Joe. She scheduled meetings during times he'd be in practice, worked remotely when possible, and managed to slip away whenever he appeared in common areas. The facility had become a tactical battlefield, with Y/N constantly aware of Joe's location as she navigated around him.

Sam watched this strategic avoidance with growing concern. "You realize you can't keep this up until you decide about New York, right?" she asked as they reviewed content in the edit bay. "The facility isn't that big."

"I don't need to avoid him forever," Y/N replied, eyes on the footage they were reviewing. "Just until I've made my decision without additional complications."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And his feelings aren't already a complication?"

"His feelings?" Y/N looked up, expression carefully neutral. "He's concerned about maintaining content continuity. It's professional."

"Right," Sam said skeptically. "That's why he confronted you publicly in the middle of a leadership meeting. Because of content continuity."

Y/N didn't respond, returning her attention to the screen. The truth was, she didn't know what to make of Joe's uncharacteristic outburst or his persistent attempts to speak with her privately. And she wasn't sure she wanted to find out not when she was so close to making a decision that could finally free her from the gravitational pull she'd been fighting for years.

Late that afternoon, as the facility emptied for the day, Y/N remained in her office, reviewing the latest correspondence from the Giants. Their offer was extraordinary, substantially higher salary, creative control, direct reporting line to ownership, the prestige of a New York market. The kind of opportunity that came along once in a career, if ever.

Yet something kept her from immediate acceptance. She'd built something meaningful in Cincinnati, had relationships and understanding that couldn't be replicated overnight. And then there was Joe, complicated, frustrating, impossible to fully leave behind.

A knock at her door interrupted these thoughts. Y/N looked up to find Joe standing in the doorway, practice clothes replaced by casual street wear, his expression resolved.

"Got a minute?" he asked, though his tone suggested this wasn't really a question.

Y/N considered deflecting, mentioning a deadline, pleading exhaustion, finding some reason to escape. But the determination in his stance told her he wasn't easily dissuaded this time.

"About content strategy?" she asked, knowing full well it wasn't.

"You could call it that," Joe replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him—an unusual move that immediately put Y/N on alert.

She straightened in her chair, maintaining her professional composure. "What's on your mind?"

Joe remained standing, hands in his pockets, a tension in his shoulders that Y/N had rarely seen outside of game situations.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said after a moment. "I broke up with Ellie."

The statement hung in the air between them, simple but loaded with implication. Y/N kept her expression carefully neutral, though her heartbeat quickened against her will.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, her voice measured and professional. "But I don't see how that's relevant to content strategy."

A flicker of frustration crossed Joe's features. "It's not. But it is relevant to you potentially leaving for New York."

"How so?" Y/N asked, a defensive edge creeping into her voice despite her efforts to maintain distance.

Joe took a step closer to her desk. "Because it changes things between us."

"There is no 'us,' Joe," Y/N responded, the words coming out more sharply than she'd intended. "There never was."

"That's not true and you know it," he countered, his own composure showing cracks. "We've always been more than just colleagues."

Y/N felt a sudden surge of anger, at his timing, at his presumption, at the years she'd spent carefully containing feelings he now seemed to be acknowledging far too late.

"Friends, then," she amended, pushing back from her desk to stand. "But that doesn't give you any say in my career decisions."

"I'm not claiming it does," Joe said, frustration evident in his voice. "I'm just asking you to consider everything before you leave."

"Consider what, exactly?" Y/N asked, her carefully maintained professional mask beginning to slip. "That you're suddenly single again? That after five years, after I'm finally moving forward with my career, you've decided I matter?"

Joe's eyes widened slightly at her tone, unused to such directness from her. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Joe?" The question came out with all the pent-up emotion of years spent watching, waiting, hoping. "Because from where I'm standing, the timing seems pretty convenient."

“Ellie and I had been off for a while,” he said, his voice dropping. “But after the charity gala… things just got clearer.”

Y/N froze, the implications of this timing not lost on her. "The charity gala."

"When you finally told me how you felt about me hiding Ellie from you," Joe continued, holding her gaze. "When I realized what I'd done."

Y/N felt something crack inside her, the last restraint holding back years of carefully contained feelings.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, her voice rising despite the empty facility around them. "That you broke up with your girlfriend because what, you suddenly noticed I was hurt? That's not exactly a compelling reason for me to stay in Cincinnati."

"That's not what I'm saying," Joe insisted, taking another step forward.

"Then what are you saying?" Y/N challenged, fully losing her composure now. "Because I'm having a hard time understanding what you want from me. For years, I was right there, Joe. Through your ACL tear, through the Super Bowl run, through every high and low of your career. I was the person who saw you, who understood you, who was there for everything. And you never once saw me as anything more than the woman behind the camera."

Joe looked stunned by her outburst, his carefully crafted QB1 composure completely abandoned. "That's not true. I saw you. I've always seen you."

"No," Y/N said firmly, anger giving way to a more painful honesty. "You didn't. Because if you had, you wouldn't have hidden Ellie from me for months. You wouldn't have let me find out about your relationship from a break-in report. And you certainly wouldn't be standing here now, only after I'm considering leaving, suddenly claiming there's something between us worth staying for."

Her words hung in the air between them, raw and unavoidable. Joe's expression shifted from defensive to something more vulnerable.

"You're right," he said quietly. "My timing is terrible. And I handled everything with Ellie all wrong. But that doesn't change how I feel now."

"And how is that, exactly?" Y/N asked, needing to hear him actually say it after years of implication and assumption.

Joe took a deep breath, seeming to gather courage for words that didn't come easily to him. "I realized after the charity gala, after you actually called me out instead of just accepting whatever I did like everyone else does, that you were the only person in my life who saw me as me. Not as the quarterback, not as some image to protect. Just me." He paused, visibly struggling. "And I realized I've been fighting how I feel about you for a long time."

Under different circumstances, these would have been the words Y/N had longed to hear. But now, with the Giants offer in her email and years of hurt between them, they felt almost cruel in their timing.

"You don't get to do this," she said, voice trembling slightly with emotion. "You don't get to jerk me around like this again. Not when I'm finally moving forward. Not when I've finally found a way to build my career, my life, without organizing it around your orbit."

"I'm not trying to jerk you around," Joe insisted, genuine frustration in his voice. "I'm trying to be honest with you."

"Five years too late," Y/N countered, gathering her things as emotion threatened to overwhelm her entirely. "I have final meetings in New York this week. I'd appreciate it if you respected whatever decision I make."

Joe stood still, visibly processing her words. "So that's it? You've already decided?"

"No," Y/N admitted, pausing at the door. "But for the first time in five years, I'm making this decision for me. Not based on how I feel about you, or how you might feel about me. Just about what's best for my future."

"And if that's New York?" Joe asked quietly.

Y/N met his gaze directly, allowing herself to really look at him without her protective professional mask. "Then it's New York. And this—whatever this is—becomes another what-if that we both have to live with."

She didn't wait for his response, instead walking out with as much composure as she could muster. It wasn't until she reached her car that the full weight of the conversation hit her, tears finally falling as years of carefully contained emotion spilled over.

For so long, she had wanted Joe to see her, to acknowledge whatever existed between them. Now that he finally had, it felt like the cruelest twist yet, right when she was poised to finally build a life beyond his shadow.

As she drove home through the darkness, Y/N wondered if there could ever be good timing for them, or if they were destined to keep missing each other at critical moments. The one thing she knew with certainty was that her decision about New York had just become infinitely more complicated.

* * *

Early November 2025 - The Offer

The second New York trip passed in a blur of final meetings, facility tours, and relationship-building with the Giants' executive team. Y/N threw herself into these encounters with almost desperate focus, grateful for the professional distraction from her unresolved confrontation with Joe.

"We're prepared to improve the offer," the Giants' CEO told her during their final dinner, sliding a folder across the table. "After meeting with you again, the ownership group is even more convinced you're exactly who we need."

Inside, Y/N found an updated compensation package that exceeded her already high expectations. Along with the substantial salary increase came an expanded budget authority, a dedicated content team reporting directly to her, and a signing bonus that would more than cover relocation expenses.

"We understand this is a significant move," Brian Reynolds added. "But we're confident it's the right next step for someone with your vision and talent."

"I'm flattered," Y/N replied honestly. "And impressed by the organization's commitment."

“We know we initially gave you two weeks,” the CEO said. “But if you need more time, we’re prepared to extend it by another two. We’re eager to have you on board before the end of the season.”

Another two weeks. Fourteen days to decide whether to leave everything she'd built in Cincinnati, her career foundation, her friendships, and whatever complicated potential existed with Joe Burrow.

On the flight home, Y/N stared out the window at the clouds below, turning over her options with clinical precision. The Giants offer represented everything she'd worked toward professionally. A vice president title at her age was exceptional. Creative control over a major market team's entire content approach was the kind of opportunity that career trajectories were built on.

Yet Cincinnati had become home. She understood the Bengals culture intimately, had relationships throughout the organization, had built a content strategy that was recognized league-wide. And Kayla's counteroffer was substantial in its own right—perhaps not matching the Giants financially, but offering the director title and creative authority she'd earned.

And then there was Joe.

Y/N closed her eyes, recalling their confrontation. The raw honesty of it had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. For years, she'd imagined what it would be like if Joe finally saw her as more than a colleague, more than the person behind the camera. Now that he seemingly had, the timing felt almost deliberately cruel.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Sam:

Sam: Landed yet? Need intel on final offer and emotional state.

Y/N smiled despite her turmoil.

Y/N: Wheels down in 20. Offer is incredible. Emotional state is complicated.

Sam: Wine and debrief at your place tonight?

Y/N: Yes please. Bring reinforcements.

Later that evening, settled on her couch with wine glasses in hand, Y/N filled Sam in on the Giants' improved offer and the two-week decision timeline.

"So professionally, it's a no-brainer," Sam observed, refilling their glasses. "VP title, New York market, obscene salary."

"Basically," Y/N agreed. "Though Kayla's counteroffer is still very strong for staying."

Sam studied her friend's face. "And what about the Joe situation? Any contact since the confrontation?"

Y/N shook her head. "Radio silence. Which is probably for the best."

"Is it, though?" Sam asked. "You finally had the honest conversation you've been avoiding for years. Doesn't that deserve some follow-up?"

Y/N stared into her wine glass. "What's there to follow up on? His timing is impossible, as usual. I'm literally weighing a career-defining opportunity, and he chooses now to reveal he broke up with Ellie because of me?"

"Not because of you," Sam corrected gently. "Because of how he feels about you. There's a difference."

Y/N sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch. "Either way, it doesn't change the fact that the Giants are offering me exactly what I've been working toward."

"True," Sam acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean you can just ignore what happened with Joe."

"I'm not ignoring it," Y/N insisted. "I'm just... compartmentalizing. Making sure my decision is based on career considerations, not complicated feelings."

Sam gave her a skeptical look. "And you really think you can separate those things completely?"

"I have to," Y/N replied firmly. "Otherwise I'm right back where I started, defining my choices in relation to Joe Burrow instead of what's best for me."

"Fair enough," Sam conceded. "But just for the record, I think there's a difference between making a decision because of how you feel about someone, and acknowledging that your feelings are part of a complex decision."

Y/N didn't immediately respond, knowing there was truth in Sam's words. The reality was more complicated than a simple binary between career and relationship. Her feelings for Joe, long suppressed, deeply rooted, recently disrupted—were inextricably part of her Cincinnati experience. Pretending otherwise was perhaps as dishonest as ignoring the professional opportunity in New York.

"Two weeks," Y/N said finally. "Two weeks to figure out where I actually want to be, and why."

"For what it's worth," Sam added, "I'll support whatever you decide. Even if it means I have to find a new lunch buddy."

Y/N smiled gratefully, thankful for at least one uncomplicated relationship in her life.

Later, after Sam had left, Y/N stood on her balcony looking out at the Cincinnati skyline. The city had become home in ways she hadn't expected when she arrived as a newly-minted master's graduate five years ago. These lights, these buildings, these streets held her history now—professional triumphs, personal connections, and years of complicated feelings for a quarterback who had only just acknowledged what had existed between them all along.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from these thoughts. Y/N's heart raced slightly as she checked the screen, half-expecting Joe's name. Instead, she found a message from Brian Reynolds:

Brian: Just checking if you arrived home safely. The entire team is excited about the possibility of you joining us. Let me know if you have any additional questions as you consider the offer.

Y/N typed a polite, professional response, confirming her safe return and reiterating her timeline for decision. As she hit send, she wondered if Joe would reach out again before she decided, or if their confrontation had created a gulf too wide to cross so quickly.

Perhaps that silence was answer enough.

* * *

Mid-November 2025 - The Breaking Point

The days following Y/N's return from New York settled into a strange rhythm at the facility. She maintained her professional responsibilities with focused precision, overseeing content production for the upcoming divisional matchup while simultaneously organizing transition documents in case she accepted the Giants' offer.

Joe kept his distance, respecting her implied request for space. They encountered each other in meetings and team settings, maintaining cordial professionalism that revealed nothing of their confrontation to observers. Only the careful way they avoided direct interaction, the deliberate physical distance they maintained in shared spaces, hinted at the unresolved tension between them.

"Have you decided yet?" Kayla asked during their weekly check-in, the question casual despite its significance.

"Still weighing options," Y/N replied honestly. "Both opportunities have considerable merits."

Kayla nodded, studying her thoughtfully. "For what it's worth, I understand the appeal of New York. The title, the market size, building something from the ground up." She paused. "But I also know what you've built here matters to you. And to us."

"It does," Y/N acknowledged. "That's what makes this so difficult."

"Well, my offer stands," Kayla said. "Director of Content Strategy, creative authority, budget oversight. We can't match their salary completely, but we can get closer than my initial proposal."

Y/N appreciated the directness. "Thank you. I'll have my decision by next week, as promised."

Later that evening, Y/N remained in the edit bay, reviewing footage for the upcoming game package. Most of the staff had gone home hours ago, leaving the facility quiet except for the occasional sounds of cleaning crews or security making their rounds. She welcomed the solitude, finding clarity in the familiar rhythm of work that had defined her career with the Bengals.

The door to the edit bay opened without warning. Y/N turned to find Joe standing in the doorway, still in practice clothes, his expression a mixture of determination and something she couldn't quite define.

"We need to talk," he said simply, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Y/N tensed immediately. "Joe, I think we've said everything that needs to be said."

"No," he countered, moving further into the room. "We haven't. Not by a long shot."

"I have work to finish," Y/N said, gesturing to the screens in front of her. It was a weak excuse and they both knew it.

"The Raiders content can wait," Joe replied, stopping directly across from her. "This can't."

Y/N sighed, finally turning to face him fully. "What more is there to say? You've made your feelings clear. I've made my position clear. I have a decision to make about my future."

"That's just it," Joe said, his voice taking on an intensity she rarely heard outside of crucial game situations. "You keep talking about your future like it's this separate thing from everything else. Like it's just job titles and salaries and market size."

"Because that's what a career decision should be based on," Y/N countered, her own frustration building. "Not complicated feelings or bad timing."

"Is that really what you think?" Joe asked, moving around the desk until there was nothing between them. "That feelings and timing are just distractions from the 'real' decision?"

"That's not what I meant," Y/N said, standing her ground despite his proximity. "But I can't make a life-changing choice based on something that might not even—"

"Might not what?" Joe pressed when she stopped abruptly. "Might not be real? Might not last? Is that what you think this is?"

"I don't know what this is!" Y/N exclaimed, her careful composure finally cracking. "All I know is that for years, I've been right here, feeling things I shouldn't feel, wanting things I couldn't have. And now, right when I have a chance to start fresh, to build something that's just about me and my career, you're telling me you've had feelings for me all along?"

Joe didn't back down, his gaze steady on hers. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm telling you. And I'm sorry the timing is terrible. I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner, or have the courage to say something before now. But that doesn't make it any less true."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" Y/N asked, the question emerging with all the pain and doubt she'd been carrying. "How do I know this isn't just about you not wanting me to leave? About you suddenly realizing you might lose someone who's always been there, always supported you, always—"

“Because I’ve been in love with you since my rookie year.” His voice cracked the space between them, louder than usual, sharper. Not angry. Just honest in a way that felt like it cost him something. “Every time I tried to keep my distance. Every time I told myself we were just coworkers, just friends. I was lying. To you. To myself.”

Y/N stared at him, momentarily shocked by the raw honesty in his declaration. This wasn't the measured, careful Joe Burrow who spoke in calculated press conferences and maintained professional composure. This was something else entirely, unfiltered, unguarded, desperately sincere.

"If that's true," she began, her voice shaking slightly, "then why Ellie? Why hide her from me specifically? Why let me find out about your relationship from a break-in report?"

Joe ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "Because I was trying to prove to myself that what I felt for you wasn't real. That I could build something with someone else and finally stop thinking about you all the time." He shook his head, regret clear in his expression. "It was cowardly. And it was unfair to both you and Ellie."

"And now what?" Y/N challenged, taking a step closer despite herself. "Now I'm supposed to turn down a career-defining opportunity because you've finally decided to be honest about your feelings?"

"I'm not asking you to turn down anything," Joe countered. "I'm just asking you to admit that there's more to this decision than job titles and salary packages. That what's between us matters too."

"Of course it matters!" Y/N's voice rose to match his, years of carefully contained emotion finally breaking free. "It's mattered to me for five years! Through every game, every interview, every content shoot. Through watching you with other women, through maintaining professional boundaries, through creating distance when it hurt too much to be close to you. It's always mattered, Joe. That's the problem!"

The confession hung in the air between them, more direct than anything she'd ever admitted aloud. Joe's expression shifted, something like hope flaring in his eyes.

"If it matters," he said, his voice dropping to something just above a whisper, "then why are we still pretending it doesn't?"

Something changed in Joe's expression at her admission—a flicker of hope, then resolve. He closed the distance between them in two quick strides. His hands framed her face, warm, certain, and then his mouth was on hers. No hesitation. No preamble. Just five years of restraint breaking open all at once.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It wasn't slow. It was urgent, deep, like he was trying to make up for every minute he hadn't let himself touch her. Y/N froze for a second, the shock of it holding her still then her hands were on him, gripping the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer.

He groaned against her mouth, low and unguarded, like even he hadn't realized how much he needed this.

The backs of her thighs hit the desk behind her, and he didn't stop, just pressed her into it with the full weight of his body, kissing her harder now, deeper, like he didn't trust himself to let go. Her hands slid under his shirt, fingertips grazing warm skin. The muscle in his back flexed beneath her palms. Her legs parted instinctively and he stepped between them, one hand sliding down to her hip, anchoring her like he was afraid she'd disappear.

She kissed him back like she meant it. Like she'd been waiting. Years of waiting. Her lips moved with his in a rhythm they'd never practiced but somehow already knew.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to breathe. His forehead dropped to hers, chest heaving, thumb brushing along her jaw like he couldn't quite stop touching her.

Joe didn't say anything.

Y/N couldn't speak. Could barely think. All she could do was tug him back down and kiss him again, deeper this time, slower, a little reckless now. Her fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, and his hands slid up her thighs like muscle memory, like this had always been coming.

The kiss didn't cool off. It burned. Got messier. Hungrier.

She made a sound, soft, desperate, and that pushed him further. He kissed down her neck, open-mouthed and hot, dragging his teeth lightly along her collarbone, and her head tipped back against the wall, breath shuddering out of her chest.

"Joe," she gasped, barely recognizing her own voice.

The sound of his name seemed to intensify his hunger his mouth reclaimed hers with renewed desperation. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lost in sensations she'd only allowed herself to imagine in her weakest moments.

The sudden buzz of her phone vibrating against the desk shattered the moment. Reality crashed back with brutal clarity as Y/N recognized Kayla's ringtone, an after-hours call from her boss that couldn't be ignored.

She pulled back, breathing heavily, her lips swollen from their kisses. "I have to—" she gestured toward the phone, her professional instincts kicking in despite the situation.

Joe stepped back, giving her space though his eyes never left her face. As Y/N answered the call, keeping her voice remarkably steady, Joe ran a hand over his face, visibly trying to regain his own composure.

The call was brief, a question about the game package deadline that Y/N answered professionally, without any hint of the emotional chaos she was experiencing. After hanging up, she set the phone down carefully, aware of Joe watching her, waiting for her reaction.

"That was..." she began, then stopped, unsure how to characterize what had just happened between them.

"Real," Joe finished for her. "That was real, Y/N. Everything I've said, everything I feel for you—it's real."

Y/N slid off the desk, straightening her clothes with shaking hands. "This complicates everything."

"Maybe," Joe acknowledged. "Or maybe it simplifies it. Maybe it helps you see what matters most."

Y/N looked up at him, at the man she'd loved from behind a camera for years, now standing before her with his heart finally exposed. "I still need to make this decision for the right reasons. My career matters too, Joe. What I've worked for matters."

"I'm not asking you to stay for me," he said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. "That wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'm just asking you to be honest with yourself about what you really want." He paused, meeting her gaze directly. "And if that's New York, I'll understand. But I need you to know that what just happened between us? That wasn't just about tonight. That's been there for years."

The simple truth, spoken without qualification or defense, landed with the weight of everything they'd been avoiding. Y/N felt tears threatening and blinked them back.

"I need time," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to think clearly, not with my heart racing and my body still..." she trailed off, feeling heat rise to her cheeks at the memory of his touch.

Joe nodded, taking a deliberate step back. "Take all the time you need." He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you decide."

As he turned to leave, Y/N called after him, "Joe?"

He paused, looking back at her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For finally being honest. Even if the timing is impossible."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Maybe the timing isn't as bad as you think. Maybe it's exactly when we both needed to stop hiding."

After he left, Y/N sank into her chair, her fingers touching her lips, still feeling the imprint of his kisses. The Giants offer represented everything she'd worked toward professionally. But for the first time since receiving it, she allowed herself to consider what staying in Cincinnati might mean, not just for her career, but for her heart.

One week remained to decide where her future truly lay. And now that decision included not just which job to take, but whether she was brave enough to risk everything on a love that had survived five years of denial, distance, and misdirection.

♡♡part four♡

[theambitiouswoman]

The right people never risk losing you—so why chase those who do? (+ the psychology behind this pattern)

Have you ever noticed how some people treat you with care & others act as if you’re easily replaceable? The difference isn’t just about compatibility—it’s about understanding your value. Even if someone isn’t meant for you, if they truly recognize your worth, their actions will reflect it

The difference between someone who sees your value vs. someone who doesn’t

The person who sees your value

They show up consistently, even if they know they’re not your forever person

They communicate with respect and honesty because they acknowledge your worth

They don’t play games, manipulate or string you along. Instead, they are upfront about their intentions

Example: You date someone briefly, but they realize you’re not a long term match. Instead of ghosting or being disrespectful, they have an honest conversation, express appreciation for you and leave things on good terms. They wouldn’t risk damaging a connection with someone they respect

The person who doesn’t see your value

They keep you around for convenience, not because they genuinely cherish you

They are inconsistent—one day, they’re warm and loving, the next, they disappear

They disregard your boundaries because they don’t view you as someone to be honored

Example: You give your all to someone, but they breadcrumb you—texting just enough to keep you interested but never showing real commitment. They don’t see the risk in losing you because they never truly saw your worth in the first place

The real issue is why you want someone who doesn't value you or see your worth

it’s not about them—it’s about you

Psychologically, this desire stems from childhood experiences, attachment wounds, subconscious conditioning. Your brain is wired to seek patterns it recognizes, even if they’re harmful

Scarcity mindset (Dopamine & Reward System): When someone treats you poorly, your brain sees their occasional attention as a “reward.” The unpredictability triggers dopamine (the pleasure chemical), making you crave their approval. This is the same mechanism that makes gambling addictive—intermittent rewards create obsession

Unresolved attachment trauma: If you had to “earn” love in childhood, you may unconsciously seek out people who make you prove your worth. Your nervous system associates inconsistency with love, making stable relationships feel boring or “not exciting enough.”

The ego’s need for validation: The part of you that feels unworthy believes that winning over someone who doesn’t see your value will prove your worth. But no amount of chasing can make someone value what they refuse to see

Recognize your own value first. If you don’t see it, you’ll keep attracting people who don’t either. Heal your attachment wounds. Therapy, journaling, and self-reflection can help you break the cycle. Detach from the illusion of "proving" yourself. The right people won’t need convincing

At the end of the day, no one who truly sees your value would ever gamble with the risk of losing you. And once you embody that truth, you’ll stop trying to convince those who never did

[strangelysamantha]

heart to heart ❀

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: mention of being drugged, but otherwise pure fluff.

words: 987.

summary: at the starcourt mall bathroom, you and steve have a heart to heart.

request? no

a/n: it won’t let me insert links anymore and i’m very upset about it. but i’m happy to be writing again so i guess i have that going for me! can’t wait to produce a bunch of stranger things content.

my masterlist

—————————————-

you lay on the floor of the bathroom, your back slouched against the wall. your head wasn’t spinning as bad so that was good, but now the spiral to sobriety made your mind rush with thoughts. the starcourt mall had harsh lights, and you struggled to stick with any thoughts, overwhelmed by the torture you had barely escaped from. steve harrington was quiet in the stall next to you. a groan emitting from your lips. “are you okay steve?” you find the courage to question. you were nervous to break the silence, but if you had to endure it any longer you would explode. he hesitates, “yeah, i think uh,” he waits, “i think im alright.” you nod, although he’s unable to acknowledge it. “how about you? are you okay over there?” you stay quiet, unsure how to answer. “hello?” there’s worry in his voice, and he doesn’t wait to slide under the stall door to comfort you.

you grimace at him, “do you realize how gross the bathroom floor is?” you crack a smile, amused. he shrugs, “after all that fighting today, i already needed to wash the uniform, what difference will it make?” the two of you break out into laughter, “maybe it’s not fully out of our system yet.” this makes you laugh even harder. you take a moment to catch your breath. “steve?” he hums in response, “i’m glad i was with you in the battle against the russians.” he makes eye contact with you, “true, i’m pretty badass aren’t i?” you bite your lip nervously, “yes but you did deal with alot though.” he looks away, “i just want you to know im here for you. i mean what else can we go through that’s going to top breaking into a hidden russian lair?”

“i hope nothing… but this town is crawling with bad people. you can’t ever be safe.” his demeanor hurts, the pitiful comment causes your heart to sting. “yeah that’s what scares me.” you admit. “we’ll get through it together okay? we’re a good team.” you nod at his reassuring words, “let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” you collect your thoughts, “it’s funny to think that just last week we scooped ice cream for a living, and then we almost died.” steve smirks, “it’s quite the story to tell though.”

“don’t you miss high school? the only worry we had was about homework due dates, and trying not to fall asleep during lectures?” he reminisces, “it was easier, but time moves forward, and you get hardships thrown your way. i don’t know where i’ll be in a few years.” he continues, “it’s hard to think about the future, when the present is not enjoyable.” “i know, we should be out having fun, not worried about our hometown being invaded.” saying the words made the situation real, and the idea of your future was unimaginable. “do you still love nancy?” you question. he sighs, “yes, and no.” he thinks about it, you can tell by his face. “i miss what we had, the love was real, but time passed. we both grew into ourselves; there’s no point in ruining that growth.” his stance caught you by surprise, but you appreciated his honesty. “i had a first love too. it was different; it was a love that consumed me, but i lost who i was in the process. it’s hard to go back to someone when you know it didn’t work out for a reason.” he silently agrees, “have you moved on?” he asks. “yes, and no.” you giggle, “i’ve moved on, but sometimes i long for it. it was safe, predictable, but i know in my heart that things will work out for me.” steve’s eyes lock with yours.

you can’t read what he’s feeling, you’re filled with nerves. “i like you steve.” his lips curved, “you do?” you laugh slightly, “of course i do steve. you saved my life today. you make working at scoops ahoy fun. you’re playful, and witty. you treat me with so much kindness. and maybe i’m misreading this thing between us.” you back peddled slightly, worried you might have overstepped. “i like you too, today you brought out a side of me, one i hadn’t seen in awhile. you gave me hope, a reason.” you stomach fills with butterflies as his gaze lingers over you. you scooch forward, placing your hand over his. “steve, i really-.” unfortunately dustin and erica barge into the bathroom, before he rolls his eyes. “okay… what the hell?” steve and you glance at each other before returning your eyes to dustin. together you both emit into hysterical laughter at dustin’s comment. “get up we have to go.” he urges you up and rushes you to the door, erica’s face is stern and her hand is on her hip as she impatiently waited for you two to stand up. the four of you leave the bathroom, determined to escape the mall. you stay back, letting erica and dustin lead the way. you glance over at steve, your hand instinctively reaching for his as the nerves wash over you. he happily holds it, he looks over to you, his teeth bright. “you make me really happy.” he squeezes your hand. “you make me really happy too steve.” he chuckles slightly. “maybe after we escape, i can take you on a date?” a rose tint lifted to your cheeks as shyness crept up. “yes please.” the two of you continue to hold hands as you hurriedly tried to blend in with the crowd of people leaving the theater; however you see men in all black, guarding the exit. dustin tells you guys to abort and to turn around, and you frantically run to the lower level. fear was instilled inside you, however; with steve by your side you felt confident that you would make it to your guys first date.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[scribbled-entity]

Alright that's it, you know what? I'll just shove a crap ton of my related headcanons of the object shows I like, into one silly continuity, which in itself, may have AUs based on whatever I crossed over with it (may or may not be hinting on something in the works hah)

I'm calling it Restirred AU for now, because I can't think of anything else. I'll probably retag some older posts too for convenience

With that out of the way, here's the official 'first' post for Restirred AU.

The Questionable Influence Duo, Nickel and Taco

I like to think they ended up becoming friends in a way. Frenemies? It's complicated.

What do you do when you meet someone like you but you don't really like yourself all that much? But at the same time is trying to learn to be kinder to not just everyone, but also yourself?

You hate them mainly because you hate yourself, and because you know they can do better and should do better, just like how you know you could too. Yet you're all too familiar with how difficult it actually is.

Anyway, more rambling under the cut.

(Some of these are copy pasted from the stuff I typed out in Bluesky but I added a bit more.)

I'm not sure if I'm making any sense, or if I'm even articulating all this right, but wjdjfjrdjdr object show hyperfixation go brrrrrrrrr

Obviously these are just my personal headcanons, you're free to think differently.

I like to think they don't always hang out, but when they do and have the same goal, they make for an annoying force to be reckoned with. Otherwise they're competitive and often insult each other.

It certainly took a while to actually warm up to each other. But once the two did, they ended up getting along well enough, even if it doesn't seem like it. Their ability to shrug off each other's scathing insults and blatant aggressive honesty is something the two value from each other.

Though they definitely also can feed on each other's worst flaws in bad ways. Luckily, Both have other support systems to turn to and keep the two from essentially spiralling into an echo chamber of mutual spite of things they both hate. (Like I think if they were each other's only friends instead? I imagine there would've been a chance where they only strengthen each other's problematic views, both forcing themselves to only ever have each other, and only worsen their bad behavior. Being too alike that they only sink each other down sort of thing.)

They're both objects who did horrible things to others with genuine malicious intent and selfishness. Both have an innate distrust of others, critical and pessimistic opinions of everything.

Who are both trying to be better, because and with the help of those they grew to care about.

I personally think they'll make for a fun friendship dynamic. They both keep each other in check in a way, They both can feel somewhat comfortable knowing they've both struggled with similar problems and behaviors and acknowledge the issues with that and work on controlling it and coping healthier.

There's nothing quite like having someone who has gone through the same thing and thought the same thoughts to turn to. Sometimes it's not necessarily the comfort or sympathy that you need, but instead someone who understands what it's like and to process it with.

[spearsillustration]

🏛️ Senator Shockwave X Cybertronian Female Assistant Reader (Part 2/3)

Notes: Okay I said I might do a part two but deep down I knew I wanna gonna continue. But like the comic, this will end poorly for our poor bot. So I'll put a warning here. Gore/death will be mentioned plus comic spoilers I suppose. The first part was story building for Y/N more than anything else so this part is far more interesting, longer, and cannon. However, I did have to change a thing or two to incorporate (Y/N) in the story. 

[Art belonged to me.]

- Scrap that, I'm gonna have some fun with this. I'm gonna include a good and bad ending. 

- Okay there is gonna need to be a part 3 because this would end up being stupid long if I continue. But be ready, part 3 will be what you've all been waiting for. 

Part 1/3 -

Word count - 3,403

Page number - 8.9

  As I stood up with my files I looked back at the bot with a sympathetic look. I hated that someone like him needed a "bodyguard". Someone as kind as he shouldn't have others fearing that his spark could be extinguished at any moment due to some disagreements in politics. Guess that's why I never got into it myself.

        He seemed to notice my sympathetic look, as his expression softened a bit. Seeing him so…emotionally expressive was almost odd, his normally stern expression had softened somewhat. It's not hard to guess why I would express concern or sympathy for him. As I collected my things, he gave me a small and reassuring smile. A show of appreciation for my concern, and acknowledgment of everything I just shared.

        Though he appreciated my honesty, I knew deep down he was still upset with me. However, not nearly as much as he'd be with Orion.

        "Would you like me to contact  him for a meeting with you?" I asked as I still intended to fulfill my duty as an assistant.

        He shook his head, his expression stern again. "This isn't a matter for a quick chat, this is something I need to speak with him in detail about. I'll contact him myself, and set up a private meeting later today."

        "I'm sure you two have plenty to catch up on. May I accompany you, I too have plenty to talk to Orion about."

        He seemed to consider his decision, seemingly not having expected me to add my concerns to this conversation as well. And after a short moment of silence, he nods. "As much as I may want to speak to him alone, it would likely be better if he hears multiple views on this matter, from multiple people. You're welcome to come along. And you're right… we do have a bit to catch up on."

        He raised an eyebrow at my urgency, but quickly realized this subject must be important to me as well.

        "Alright, let's return to my office." He turns and walks swiftly towards his office, expecting me to follow along.

        The walk to his office was silent and urgent. We walked quickly hoping to avoid any conversation, especially with any other Senators who might still be hanging around.

        The halls were mostly empty, as we had hoped. Most of the other senators had either left or were too busy arguing amongst themselves. When we entered his office, he closed the door behind us locking it quickly. He walks to his desk, sitting down in his chair and slouching forward with his head in his hands.

        I quickly put everything of importance away in safekeeping. I would love to comfort the poor senator but I had more important things to take care of first. I stepped out of his office and found a safe place to talk where no one would hear me. I opened a comm link system and tried to reach Orion.

        Thankfully, Orion seemed to answer your comm link request. He picked up soon enough and answered with a soft and casual voice.

"Orion here, how can I help you?"

        "Orion It's me (Y/N). I need you to come by Shockwave's office. I knew you told me not to but he knows why you sent me here." I quickly said hoping he wouldn't get too upset with me.

        Orion's usually casual voice changed very quickly and sounded a bit anxious. "He what? I told you not to say anything!"

        He sounded more irritated than usual, and not at me specifically. It wasn't hard to imagine his expression was probably quite displeased at this reveal.

        "I know, I just had to tell him. I couldn't stand not telling him. His life is in danger, he deserves to know. And I was in a Senate meeting today the others didn't seem to like someone else hanging close to Shockwave. They want him alone. I have a very bad feeling. We have to do something now I fear the worst for him, Orion."

        Orion sighs, and his tone becomes a bit more serious. It's clear he's concerned, as worried as I am. "Alright… alright. Is he in his office now?"

        "Yes, you should come imminently. If we even have a scrap of a plan he should be a part of it. If the three of us work together this will most likely have a better ending for him."  

        Orion takes a deep breath to think, clearly wanting to make a good plan quickly. He knows he has to be careful with this. "We'll need to be careful. We have no actual proof or anything that the others are planning anything, only that they seem to dislike him strongly. They could just be angry, and we have no evidence they're actually about to do anything...But at the same time, I would rather be safe than sorry."

        "Weren't you supposed to get a tip from someone proving Shockwave was in danger?" I asked with an annoyed sigh.

        Orion sighs. "Yes, I was. But the person who informed me seems to have… disappeared. And I'm not able to contact them at the moment, which doesn't help the situation at all. I am worried, but… I am trying to stay optimistic about this situation. I don't know how dangerous this will be, or if there's even anything to be worrying about."

        "Well, I'm always worried. What's the name of the bot with the Tip? I'll track him down myself once you get here. Once you're here to watch Shockwave, I can trust he's safe and I'll get that Tip."

        Orion takes a moment to check his logs, to recall the name "…A former Senate agent Whirl, was the one who informed me. I'm not sure I'd be able to track them down so easily. They seemed to want to remain anonymous for… obvious reasons."

        "Don't worry I know where to ask around. Get over here as soon as possible. I'll be waiting in Shockwave's office." 

        "…Alright. I'll be there as fast as I can. I hope we can peacefully settle this."

        "As do I Orion."

[Timeskip to Orion's arrival] 

        It doesn't take Orion too long to arrive at Shockwave's office. He approaches the door, hesitant to knock at first. He eventually does and gently knocks on the door.

        I quickly rushed past Shockwave to open the door. But before I let him in I scanned the halls to make sure no one was Orion. I couldn't be too safe.  Surprisingly, the hall is empty at the moment. Orion stands in front of me, a nervous, yet concerned look on his face. Once he sees that the coast is clear, he walks in, and I shut the door behind him.

        "I'll leave you two to discuss things alone. I have something important to take care of. I'll be back with the info you need soon I promise Orion."

        Orion nods and watches as I walk away, before turning his attention to Shockwave. He can't help but notice Shockwave's expression has not changed, his face still hidden in his hands, his fists clenched, and his expression stern. There's no doubt in Orion's mind that Shockwave is quite unhappy with him. I noticed him sitting down across from Shockwave before I reached the door. 

        The second my hand touched the door I froze for a moment. I looked back at Shockwave and gave him a warm smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

        Shockwave turns his attention towards me and nods, but his expression doesn't change completely. He was still quite clearly upset, but there was some degree of forgiveness in his glare. He nods and silently watches me walk out the door. 

        I walked down the halls with purpose as I knew just the place to find a bot who was lying low. There was an old bar on the opposite side of the city. I would have to rush. If he wasn't there someone would know where to find him. I was deep in thought when someone ran into me hitting my shoulder hard almost knocking me over. When I looked up to see who it was I almost gasped in surprise. It was one of the other Senators who was still hanging around.

        "Sorry Senator," I said trying to walk past. "I have places to be."

        The other senator scoffed at the apology, clearly annoyed by it. He glares at you sternly.

        "You need to watch where you're going. Have some more care with your footing. Now tell me, where do you think you're going in such a rush."

        I quickly came up with a lie about delivering important paperwork and quickly rushed off. I didn't have time to be stoped. I have a far more pressing matter to take care of.

        As you walked away, the senator watched you walk away with crossed arms and a suspicious look. He didn't seem to believe your excuse, and he decided to follow you, to see what you were really up to. He was good at being stealthy, knowing how to stay in the shadows and blend in.

        I quickly raced across the city to find this bot, Whirl was the name I fought to remember. I made sure to look like a regular customer and buy a drink. The last thing I wanted to do was raise suspicion. I scanned the room looking for someone who matched the description I found on the drive here.

        Inside the bar, it was mostly empty, only a few people scattered around having a drink. And among the small group, there sat Whirl, sipping on some energon.

        "Thank Primus I managed to find my bot. How could I get so lucky?" I muttered to myself before asking the bartender for two more drinks. 

        Whirl didn't seem to notice me yet and was busy just sipping his drink and minding his own business. I could assume he was a bit drunk already since it seemed like he had been here for a little while. I also noticed some kind of small item on the table in front of him. From a distance, it was hard to make out what it was.

        I had a plan but I didn't like it very much. I put a fake smirk on my face as I swayed my hips walking over to him with both drinks in hand. I hoped I could fool him into a sense of security. "Hello handsome, drinking by yourself?"

        Whirl looked up at me, and his expression seemed to soften a bit, and a small smirk grew on his face. It was clear that he thought I was cute. He gestures for me to sit beside him. "Indeed I am… though that may change."

        "Well I do have an extra drink, and who desires it other than you," I said with a giggle trying to seem drunk.

        "I'd be glad to take that 'little bonus drink' off you, then." He says, with a small chuckle. He scoots over and sits up a little straighter. His expression seemed to soften a little more.

        After a few drinks I didn't partake in I think he would be easy to get information out of. I offered we left and went to his place with a wink. But what he didn't know was I had a plan for him he wouldn't enjoy.

        Whirl gladly agreed with my offer, and began to make his way out of the bar with me. He was quite drunk by this time, his steps were wobbly. He had already had a decent bit to drink for a few hours, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. A smile grows on his face again as we walked out the door.

        "So uh… to my place then?"

        "Why wait?" I said roughly pushing him into an ally with a pair of cuffs already in hand hidden where he couldn't see. I had to make him believe he wasn't cornered.

        He was so drunk his first instinct when I pushed him was to think that I wanted to do it right here. He was more surprised by the fact that I just pushed him into an alley than he was being pushed into it. He smirked again, a bit confused and a little more eager now "Well, if you say so…. you're an eager one aren't ya?"

        Just the idea made me want to throw up. I'd rather die than do anything with him, especially after how many drinks he's downed in the past hour. But I had to go along with it till I could lock him down. 

        "Oh yeah definitely." I lied before wrapping my arms around him seductively only to cuff him to a pole.

        Whirl still hadn't quite processed what was happening. He was too drunk to think clearly. He didn't realize what had happened when I wrapped my arms around him, and he smiled at the contact. When the cold metal of the cuffs touched his wrists though, his expression became more panicked, and he tried to shake me off, realizing.

        "hey— wait what? What are you doing?"

        "Making sure you can't run off like you did on Orion. You have something I want." I answered taking a step back.

        "Hey now, let's just talk about this, let's talk."

        He tries to sound calm, looking me in the eyes, but he's panicking because he can't get out of these cuffs. He glances around at the surroundings, to see if anyone might be around to help him.

        "No one is here to help you, you can only help yourself. Answer some questions and I'll let you go." I threatened, not needing to pull a gun on the poor guy, for now.

        Whirl glances around frantically, as if looking to confirm what I said, and realizes that I was right, there's no one here at all. And no one could see them from outside the alleyway either, because of how narrow it is. His expression becomes a bit more panicked.

        "Alright alright, just… ask what you want."

        "Gladly," I said before setting up a recorder so I had physical proof. "Tell me all you know about some of the other Senators looking to harm Shockwave."

        Whirl looks a little confused. "I...I don't know much, I swear. I'm just an intel guy, I don't get involved in anything big. I just gather information for people and hand it off when I'm done. Orion hired me to find some dirt on a couple of the senators…. He didn't specify which ones in particular though."

        "Tell me everything now!" I ordered.

        Whirl panics a bit at your command. "I don't have much of anything! They're just… they're annoyed with him, he's too good at his job and they feel like he thinks too highly of himself, they think he should be taken down a notch because of it. I-I don't know much else I swear, I don't know who specifically it is or anything more than that, I promise."

        I groaned in annoyance. "That can't be everything, you have to know more. Is Shockwave's life in danger?"

        Whirl shakes his head, his expression becoming more nervous than it was before, clearly, he was scared, and a little annoyed by my stubbornness. "No no no, they're angry like I said, but they're not gonna kill him or anything like that. They just… want him gone, so they can get rid of his influence. They don't like that he has so much power around here. They think someone else should be in his place."

        "What do they plan to do with him?"

        "I don't know all the details, but I assume either force him out of his position or… get rid of him somehow. They haven't settled on a plan yet or anything, I think they're still in the early planning stages of everything, that's why Orion wanted information before they decided on anything specific. Look, that's all I know right now, I swear. Please, just let me go now."

        "Useless," I muttered to myself in annoyance. "If I knew you didn't have anything of use I wouldn't have wasted my time." I started walking away.

        Whirl's expression becomes less panicked, but more irritated now. "Hey, wait! Don't just leave me here! Let me go!"

        He pulls on the cuffs, even though he knows there's no way out of them.

        I ignored his pleas. "Don't worry someone'll find you eventually." I had more important things to do. 

        Whirl's panic becomes more extreme as he sees me start walking away, his tugging gets more serious, and his struggles get more desperate. "No wait come on! You can't just leave me like this! Get back here and let me go!"

        I could almost laugh. He was already sobered up desperate to have the cuffs removed. It's a shame he wasn't of use to me. Plus he didn't just waste my time but Orions as well. If not also puts us all in danger. It was best to have him kept away for a while anyway. As I walked away I called Orion.

        Orion picked up almost immediately, and I could hear how much more stressed he them when I left before. "Did you find anything yet? Any new info?"

        "No you're tip was a bust. He didn't know any more than we already did. I'll send you the audio clip of what he told me."

        Orion sighs audibly, and he sounds both frustrated and annoyed. "No information at all? Damn it. He was our only lead right now, we're still in the early planning stages of our own investigation."

        "Yeah I know, I just… dammit, we really need something concrete here." He sighs again before moving on to your other question "I spoke to Ratchet before, and as far as I know, he's still on our side, or will be when we figure this out completely. He doesn't like that we don't have proof that anything is actually happening yet, and he wants to get something solid before he helps out with anything, which is fair, though I still think he should be a bit more worried than he seems."

        "I know neither you nor Shockwave will like this but wouldn't keeping him in witness protection be the best plan of action for now at least." 

        There was a pause for a moment as Orion considered your idea. "In all honesty, yes, but I know we won't be able to convince Shockwave of that. He'll be adamant on staying in charge and having things run as normal, he's probably the one in the most danger here, but he's definitely the most stubborn."

        "Maybe I can talk him into it myself."

[thatanimeramenchick]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do something for Yander Lucifer from Hazbin(this man as me in a choke hold I swear!) with a hellhound reader who works for Charlie at the Hotel? if not that’s alright!

Lucifer and Hellhound Reader

Honestly, same, sis. Same. Let’s just say I’d also pay 50,000 for that man. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know how to write this at first, but I think I was able to work with it after some thinking. Thanks for your patience!

TW: Attempted SA

---

It was no secret that hell was overrun, and not just by the sinners, though there was a ridiculous amount of them. It was everywhere, especially in the lowest class of hellhounds. The pounds were overflowing with the abandoned canine youth. You had expected that eventually someone would “adopt” you for the free brunt labor you would have to offer their company.

But fate had smiled on you for once. You now stood in the hall of a hotel owned by the princess of hell, waiting with the other guests and “employees” as Charlie hyperventilated about her father’s first visit to her hotel. You could remember her voice from the day she had taken you in.

“Hey, what are you doing out on the street in the rain? You should come inside, even if for a little while. Get out of the rain.”

You had finally aged out of the system six months ago and been kicked out on the streets, and you’d wandered from town to town, unable to find decent work. Now, you had made it to Pentagram City, sure you would find something. You were having a hard time finding anything that wasn’t sex or drug related. And now you had some kind of offer coming from the tall, pale girl in front of you. You had hesitated to take the offer though. A hotel? For all you knew it could be a brothel or something.

“Charlie, you need to come in. It’s a mess out here,” you heard.

The girl talking to you yelled back, “In a minute, Vaggie! Hey, it’s ok. I promise you don’t have to pay anything, and you can stay as long as you’d like! If you hate it, I swear you can leave!”

Normally, you would have turned it down. Trust was something that didn’t really exist in your life. There was something in her eyes though, a certain… genuine look in her eyes that you hadn’t seen since you were a pup.

“All right,” you acquiesced, nerves in your stomach. At the first sign of anything odd, you would be bolting.

But it hadn’t been a lie. Somehow, in hell of all places, there was something good, kind, wholesome. You had staid overnight, and true to her word, Charlie had continued to let you crash as the days went by. Feeling a little guilty crashing without offering anything, you offered to help clean a little here and there, and then found they had no regular chef and had offered to try to provide regular food. Food that was only half edible, but still, Charlie insisted it was better than nothing.

And now, you were living with the princess of hell full time. It was a quiet life, and you didn’t want to do anything to upset that. So, nervous as you were, you remained in the background as much as possible as Charlie welcomed her father in and showed off her hotel.

“And this is F/N! Vaggie and I took her in and now she works here! She does a lot of cooking and some tidying as well.”

You bow.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty,” you say.

He barely glances in your direction but does acknowledge you with an awkward smile. Soon, he is back talking with Charlie. While you didn’t know about him, he seemed pleasant enough and to care for his daughter. You could see where Charlie got her cheerfulness from.

Not exactly what you had expected from the king of hell.

---

You felt so stupid. You can’t believe you had ever compared the innocent honesty of Charlie to her father’s lies. He had told Charlie that he needed help. Not long after his visit, he had told Charlie he needed assistance with his organizing his inventive work, and she had asked if you would be willing to help. You had agreed, trusting her, and you had been moving back and forth between the two places for weeks, both before and after the mess at the failed Extermination Day. From all you could tell, he had a sort of non-interest in you, though he did appreciate your work.

Apparently though, at some point, something had changed. It was subtle, but you caught the lingered gazes, the softer tone he used, the almost nervous way he laughed around you when something humerus came up in conversation. You hadn’t thought anything of it, but apparently there was something deeper there, as you had learned a few days ago.

You had started on your way back to the hotel, insisting you walk even though it was late in the evening, and someone had grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and yanked you into one of the many dark alleys.

“Look, a fresh bitch.”

“Looks like she hasn’t been too roughed up yet.”

You had attempted to bite down on the hands grabbing at you, but it was difficult if not impossible. You felt your clothes being ripped at before a light blinded you, and apparently, everyone else in the ally. You felt yourself being dropped on the ground as the light radiated from the sky.

“You dare to touch a servant of Lucifer?” you heard, though you couldn’t see him through the blinding light.

The men didn’t even have time to respond. You didn’t see what happened as screams enveloped the air. When the light finally cleared, you saw Lucifer standing before you, ash and dust in the air.

“You all right?” he asked.

You were still quite shaken and barely had the strength to reply.

“Yes. T-thank you,” you said.

“… You should probably come back,” he said.

“What?”

“Back to the house. It’s closer than the hotel. Just to get some rest. You shouldn’t have to worry about going to the hotel after something like that.”

“O-ok….”

Looking back, you should have found it strange he didn’t offer to just teleport you back to the hotel... or the fact that he knew you were in danger in the first place.

---

“You could stay,” he said.

“What?” you had asked.

It was a four days since the incident.

“That way you don’t have to make the long trip every day. There’s plenty of room here for you,” he said it casually, as if making a business proposition.

“No, that’s all right, I don’t mind the walk,” you said.

He frowned.

“You might not mind the walk, but it’s not the safest idea,” he said, “You don’t want something happening like it did the other day.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said, “I bought some mace. You know, the special made with murder hornets and Carolina reaper mace that you only get in hell.”

You laugh it off, not too worried, but he doesn’t seem to share your amusement. He shrugs and lets the subject drop though.

---

It had been a week since the incident, and you were seething.

He had locked you away.

Like you were a pet or possession.

Nothing had happened the day before, at least that was what you insisted. But he didn't seem to care. He said it wasn’t true. That men were leering at you, thinking of hurting you, violating you. You were too innocent to even notice it, and he had to keep you locked up, even if you didn’t understand it.

“This is for your own good. You know how dangerous hell is,” Lucifer was speaking in a calm tone, not making eye contact with you. He spoke as if you were a child throwing a tantrum for not being allowed to run onto the freeway.

“And you think the solution is to keep me locked away like a pet?” you yelled, “What is your life so out of control that you have to control me instead?”

It probably wasn’t a bright idea to talk back to the lord of hell, but he doesn’t even look fazed. If he is upset by your words, it doesn’t show.

“You’ll see. You know I’m right. If anything, you should know that better than anyone. Hell is out of control, and considering you don’t have a soul in the same way sinners do, I would think you would be more understanding of my desire to keep you safe.”

“Safe? If you cared at all about my safety, you would have worked to make hell a better place like your daughter did, rather than staying locked away and moping about how lonely you are. It’s pathetic and cowardly, not facing the mess that been it’s said that you created, even now.”

A certain dark look crossed his face briefly, but he pushed it away before looking at you. He took a slow breath.

“You are too young to know what you’re talking about. If it wasn’t for my ‘mess,’ you wouldn’t even be here right now. Clearly, you’re too emotional to think straight right now. I think you need some time to cool off.”

As he finishes his words, he disappears in a flash of mist, leaving you alone. A snarl of frustration escapes your mouth as he dissipates.

---

Some Thoughts: I think the idea of Lucifer falling in love with a hellborn actually makes more sense to some extent. At least I see him being more receptive to someone who was simply born and abides in hell than someone who earned a place in hell from their bad behavior. From what Lute said, I’m pretty sure Lucifer has protected the hellborn from extermination, showing that he holds them on a different level than the sinners, at least to some extent. He may look at you as something innocent he wants to protect from corruption.

[funnier-as-a-system]

okay, this is gonna sound super stupid, but I desperately need advice:

does talking to other people in your head to comfort yourself count as being on the plurality spectrum?? I'm not educated on it by any means, and sometimes its just my own thoughts, and sometimes theres other people in my head. Am i just making this all up??? Im actually kinda nervous ab this , so any advice is welcome ,,

(other info: I also disassociate sometimes too, just going throughout my days just living in my head / talking to myself, or feeling like nothing is real ,, )

It very well may be plurality! In fact, I'd say it almost certainly sounds like it!

In plurality, there is more than one self-aware self or being occupying the same body. This includes situations of multiple people sharing the same body who talk to each other (and comfort each other). The question for you, then, is this: are these people you talk to self-aware? Or are they simple figures you imagine to bring you comfort? (There's no shame in the second, btw!)

Since you talk to them, it seems like the best course of action may be to just ask them whether or not they consider themselves their own people, or headmates. If they answer "yes", well, that's that, isn't it? You've got multiple people in your head who can think for themselves! (And if you feel like you're controlling or strongly guiding their answer, well, that's an indicator in the other direction, isn't it?) Now, this may get a bit tricky since it's sometimes your own thoughts that you talk to, but I assume there's a distinction between your thoughts and these other people that you can make and recognize whenever you talk to yourself or them. I also acknowledge that self-doubt is an annoying burr when it comes to things like this, and your initial reaction may be, "But what if I just imagine/make up their answer?" – in these cases, there's not much you can do except do your best to trust your headmates that they're speaking for themselves, but if you're especially worried about it, looking for corroborative evidence of plurality – like switches, memory gaps, differences in opinion between yourself and your headmates, etc. – may help you shut down those fears of making it all up. Speaking of...

The dissociation you mention also sounds like another indicator that you may be plural, as systems often experience dissociation like that. Granted, so do those with immersive daydreaming, but that just loops us back around to the question of whether or not these people in your head are temporary figments of your imagination you conjure up for the purpose of comfort or a daydream narrative, or just people living in there who comfort you when you need it. And if you've got a feeling one way or the other just based on the way I'm talking about them... follow it. It's probably the right one.

I very much doubt that you're making all this up; whether or not you're plural, you're definitely experiencing something, and you wouldn't request advice if that something didn't matter to you. With all honesty, I'm trying to do my best to cover all possibilities here just in case, but if this weren't already a conversation about you questioning if you're a system, I would be suggesting that you look into the idea of plurality from the moment you mentioned these other people in your head.

In conclusion, while I'd never decide for someone else whether or not they're on the plurality spectrum, it does sound very, very likely to me that you are. "I have people in my head who comfort me and aren't just my own thoughts." is a very, very plural thing to say.

If you'd like to learn more about plurality, I recommend checking out morethanone and healthymultiplicity.com. They're good resources for those new to plurality, as well as those questioning if they're plural.

I hope this helps!

[victoriadallonfan]

I feel real stupid for not noticing the Teacher and Simurgh parallels, and why Wildbow chose to have them as Victoria’s Big Bads:

- Cockroaches 28.2

- Cell 22.3

- Dying 15.6

- Infrared 19.z

Teacher and the Simurgh represent the relationship of a Tyrannical & Unfair System, and Those Who Want to Be the System.

The Simurgh was built for the sole purpose of keeping the Shard Cycle running and has no emotion or care for its work, unlike Fragile One or Grasping Self who do care about the hosts. The Simurgh is quite literally a machine, a program, built by an oppressive force on humanity (the Entities).

Oppression is her very EXISTENCE.

Teacher is a man. He self proclaims himself as a mastermind who has flawless plans and who wanted to simply see how the world works. He cannot innovate or create himself, but he can lead those who do (unintended Elon Musk comparison there…). He claims that every goal of his, every act, and every terror strike is to save humanity.

But when you look at what he does with his power, what his true goal is, you understand that it’s all a lie.

Teacher doesn’t just copy the Simurgh’s playbook (pretending to be benevolent with their power but secretly mastering people, using pawns for terrorist acts, programming people to fulfill roles in their society) but he quite plainly want to Be the Entities. He planned on merging with his Shard and becoming a God, making the Cycle his (his Titan form is quite literally him blending himself into his Shard).

While this is all important to Victoria because she highly values individualism, consent, and human free will, it’s also important because Victoria also wanted to be part of a system.

True, it was a system of heroes, but it was a system that was clearly failing and throughout the run of Ward, Victoria keeps getting burned by this system. The heroes refuse to acknowledge or reward her efforts of saving the city or the world, they blame her for things outside her control, or they blame her when she saves them all.

And that’s not even getting into how her own actions have been self-harming as she tries to live up to heroic ideals instilled into her since birth.

By the time that Vic saves the multiverse (arguably for the second time), Victoria bluntly rejects a return to the system. She lays out how she needs to take a step back, listen to people who want to help her, and re-evaluate her goals in life. She even succeeds in getting the Wardens to look at their system and acknowledge that it has to change, and a small step could be made right then and there.

Victoria ends up - ironically enough - becoming a teacher (I’m sure that pissed Teacher off) and emphasizing to the younger generation about how empathy, honesty, and transparency are needed for helping with people going through mental health crises. That it should be about making them feel safe more than “winning”.

[santoschristos]

“Live each moment completely and the future will take care of itself. Fully enjoy the wonder and beauty of each moment.” ― Paramahansa Yogananda

TO BE SPIRITUAL IS TO EMBRACE THE ENTIRETY OF HUMAN EXPERIENCE - TO BE WHOLE

Being spiritual is often equated with a perpetual state of positivity, but this is a misconception. True spirituality transcends mere positivity; it is about becoming conscious and aware. To become conscious is to embark on a journey of profound self-awareness and authenticity. Authenticity, in its truest form, encompasses both the positive and the negative aspects of our existence.

When we strive for consciousness, we open ourselves to the full spectrum of our human experience. This means embracing our joys and triumphs, but also confronting our fears, failures, and shadows. It is easy to accept the positive aspects of ourselves; our successes, our strengths, our moments of happiness. These are the parts we are proud of, the parts we are eager to share with the world. However, to be truly conscious, we must also embrace our imperfections, our struggles, and our pain. This is the path to authenticity.

Authenticity requires us to be honest with ourselves. It means acknowledging our vulnerabilities and shortcomings without judgment. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we connect more deeply with our true selves and with others. This connection fosters compassion and empathy, which are essential components of a conscious life.

Consider the analogy of a tree. A tree stands tall and strong, reaching for the sky with its branches, but it is equally anchored in the earth by its roots. The roots represent the parts of ourselves that are hidden from view, the aspects we might consider negative or undesirable. Just as a tree cannot grow and flourish without a strong root system, we cannot become fully conscious without embracing all parts of ourselves. Our roots, our darker aspects, provide the stability and nourishment necessary for our growth.

To be conscious and authentic means to live in alignment with our true nature. It means shedding the masks we wear to fit societal expectations and instead showing up as our genuine selves. This can be a challenging process because it involves facing uncomfortable truths and letting go of the need for external validation. However, it is also profoundly liberating. When we live authentically, we find a deeper sense of peace and fulfillment.

Living authentically does not mean we dwell in negativity, but rather that we integrate it. We learn to understand and heal from our negative experiences instead of suppressing them. This process transforms our wounds into wisdom and our pain into strength. By embracing both our light and our shadow, we become whole.

The journey to consciousness is a continuous one. It requires ongoing self-reflection, honesty, and courage. It is about being present in each moment, fully aware of our thoughts, emotions, and actions. It is about cultivating a mindful awareness that allows us to respond to life’s challenges with grace and resilience.

In becoming conscious and authentic, we create a ripple effect. Our authenticity inspires others to be true to themselves. Our consciousness raises the collective awareness, fostering a more compassionate and connected world.

In conclusion, spirituality is not about relentless positivity but about a deep, honest, and conscious awareness of our true selves. It is about embracing the entirety of our human experience, both the light and the dark. By becoming conscious and authentic, we embark on a transformative journey that leads to true fulfillment and a profound sense of connection with ourselves and the world around us. This is the essence of a deeply spiritual life. From: Conscious Souls

The Last Ascent Mac Baconai @Macbaconai

[violntfemme]

Schools need to stop ignoring the fact thomas jefferson was a horrible person. Please for the love of god school systems stop ignoring Sally Hemmings. She deserved so much better; she was a CHILD. She deserves to be recognized for what she faced. Just because Jefferson is so important to american history schools blatantly ignore the abuse he put this girl through and INSTEAD talk about how he was against slavery??(my school did at least.)

I hate it so much; like despise it. The founding fathers are not to be idolized. Their achievements can be idolized; but they should not be as PEOPLE. Schools lack the ability to mention the fact that whether they did good or not, most of them were absolutely horrible men. SPECIFICALLY THOMAS JEFFERSON!!! My schools have never once mentioned Sally Hemmings, and honestly they do whatever to avoid ot.

Its upsetting to see, in all honesty. Just because Jefferson and the other founders did good work does not mean they were good people. There are actions that even then were not acceptable(from my knowledge r@pe was illegal during the 18th century)-and those actions are certainly not acceptable now.

Justice needs to be done for Sally, and honestly every person hurt by not only jefferson, but other founding fathers. Whether they founded america or not, they are not people to be idolized and the fucked up shit theyve done shouldnt be ignored for the sole purpose its "innapropriate," or "controversial." Because no, its not controversial. Its a fact.

Jefferson specifically makes me upset because the knowledge of his abuse to Sally is well known. Its not some foreign consoiracy, people know that it happened and choose ignore it. Jefferson was a massive fucking piece of shit and his actions should not remain a "hush hush" topic.

Just because Jefferson is important to US history does not mean he gets a pass on this. Sally needs to be addressed, she needs to be learned about, and shoving into kids heads that the founding fathers were great people is absolute bullshit. This goes for every historical figure, too.

Dont need a whole lesson on it; just one mention. Just one singular mention about Sally and how horrible Jefferson was would suffice if its THAT controversial. Sally was a child. Not an adult. A 13-14 year old girl- Jefferson was over 40. For YEARS i was under this impression that the founding fathers could do no wrong yet here we are after i had to learn about it MYSELF.

I am aware schools lie all the time but my god this should not be something simply glazed over. American schools especially struggle with properly educating kids on topics like slavery and its just..why? Is it so hard to just acknowledge that jefferson was a bad person? The founding fathers are not to be glorified and idolized??

Im sorry for ranting but my god it just takes one brief mention to a class of kids and they have more knowledge on this than at least half of america.

[deuynndoodles]

kofi ★ commissions (open)

system sideblog ★ reblog sideblog ★ discord server ★ ao3

hey there! i'm dey and i'm an artist. use whatever pronouns you'd like. i mostly do doodles, illustrations, and comics, but there might be a random fic or animation on occasion.

cheers! 💫

my beliefs:

fuck racism. i acknowledge i am on stolen land. remember your daily click to help palestine!

queer rights all the way

pro choice

fuck ableism. informed self dx is 100% valid and fakeclaiming is always harmful.

pro endo. none of my business

neither proship or antiship. i don't care for ship discourse. tag appropriately and we won't have problems

fiction influences reality and vice versa. media literacy is important so we don't get things mixed up

suicide baiting strangers and/or calling them slurs is really weird. stop doing that.

i love good faith. if someone says something, unless i have reason to believe otherwise, i will assume the best

honesty is the best policy. i am blunt and straightforward; i expect the same from you

if i ever do anything that offends you or juxtaposes with my beliefs, inform me in a private space

this is not a dni. keep these in mind before interacting. follow your own dni; block me instead of being an asshole.

faq under the cut!

faq

q: what program/device do you use? ibis paint x on samsung galaxy tab s8

q: what are mirror pronouns? i "mirror" your pronouns: when you refer to me, use your own pronoun set. (example: if you use she/they, refer to me with she/they).

q: what do the dates on your posts mean? i buffer my posts. the date refers to when i finished work on an art piece (in mm/dd/yy format, btw).

q: can i make something based on one of yours? absolutely! just @ me and give credit if it's specific enough.

q: can i use your art as a pfp/background/etc? of course. link back to me if it's in a public space.

[spookypartycrit]

The Crashers admitting their faults and fears makes them so much better than all the CC's I watched before.

Youtubers and streamers being able to self reflect? I thought none of them could do that!

Gives me hope that if things go south, they will be able to make it out alive and as better individuals.

- 🦷

I think its incredibly mature to acknowledge parts of yourself you need to work on, being able to self reflect and work on improving.

Im espically proud of nick who tend to be. Neurotic about the way hes observed to not only give the prompt but encourage the others to be honest about it. They didnt really need to admit it on camera but putting struggles out there to your audience shows a level of trust.

The way eevee asked witch personality to use and nick probably said the real one… then he praised sophist for going to japan and getting outta his comfort zone. That was so sweet im gonna combust into a million pieces.

Its horrifically vulnerable thing to share your bad traits with your audience. I also love how you can see them taking steps to improve thier toxic traits

(Brents been trying to be better at dealing with people side of fandom stuff, that qna channel kinda scary but i can see hes trying. Ive also seen him liking more fanart, maybe is cause i also really dislike dealing with people but i relate alot to him.)

I truly belive self honesty is the key to a happy life. If you understand yourself fully, you will always know your own limits and what your capable of.

If this shit explodes, i believe they will all be fine, it will prob suck having your hard work go up in flames but they got good support systems. They will endure, trust

[rin-and-jade]

Not being mean or hateful or anything so please don’t think I am! I apologize if it comes across that way… I was just wondering if either or any of those running this are psychologist or certified specialists? Again not being mean or rude and I’m sorry for asking a question that could be perceived that way I am just curious because it’s such a complex topic to offer help and information on

Thank you for your honesty. I am the creator of this blog, i go with C instead of jade since i went through a final fusion.

I was a system, non-diagnosed due to the current stigma and poor mental health associations in my country. I have many friends that are diagnosed professionally, one of them is Rin, the one i collaborated with. She handles the backstage honestly.

Another one who i call Seraphim, is another system collective im friends with due to the mutual interest to learn CDD's beyond clinical representation and medical settings, to explore the life of systems in their day-to-day living.

Outside of that, i do have connections with my own local (two of them precisely) psychologists, they help me learn how professionals act and handle their clients (which i observed myself), and we've shared and learnt stuffs together during conversational exchanges.

They both acknowledge the effort and time that was dedicated into helping systems in Tumblr, i also remember being invited to collaborate and help people who struggled with ED years ago.

Lastly,

I may not be a specialist, and i am not perfect, and im aware that this commitment is not easy at all to maintain, but my past knowledge and every interactions from many systems ive met throughout the years had refined my resolution to become someone they can listen to, even if i cannot do anything more than answering and creating resources based on what i read (yes i have TONS of books just to keep up with this work) and learnt from my own journey.

This blog was made as a safe space for those who did not have access to professional help, like me.

- c

[yourwitchmama]

Your biggest weakness - pick a Crystal

Get ready for some brutal honesty

Garden quartz (First pic)

Did your intrusive thoughts win? “I shouldn’t I shouldn’t I shouldn’t” while clicking this?

Maybe you got a tiny burst of adrenaline?

Aha! That’s your weakness! You need to practice strength and impulse control.

It’s important to treat yourself and give yourself some slack, but you do it a tiny bit too much.

To help yourself practice skills for your impulse control and willpower, try cutting something out for 24 hours. It has to be something hard. Maybe it’s sugar, maybe maybe it’s your phone, maybe you will go hardcore and do a 24 hour fast.

Do this once a week to PROVE to yourself that you CAN have control and you ARE capable of being strong!

Citrine (yellow)

You’re more toxic than you think.

And guess what- that’s fine.

It’s okay to be this way, but you have to acknowledge it and accept it before fixing it. You might get jealous of a girl and think badly of her automatically, you may judge yourself or others too harshly, you may lack empathy or maybe threaten to leave someone to see how much they really love you.

I will always suggest therapy for this. Maybe it’s BPD, NPD, ASPD… own it. Get rid of the stigma behind it. You’re borderline? Okay, that doesn’t mean you need to be a toxic borderline. You have antisocial personality disorder? Whatever. You know what is moral or not, even if you don’t feel it.

Own your toxic traits so you can channel them into healthier outlets. Think of when Regina George channeled her bitchiness into sports.

Angelite (blue)

You’re too sensitive. Did you feel upset reading that? Sensitivity is a blessing! But it can also be a curse. You just learn how to channel your sensitivity into a blessing.

The world is very diverse in its beliefs and systems. If someone says blue looks better on you thank pink, and it makes you upset, there’s probably a deep seeded ideology related to it, usually from your past.

Don’t let yourself slip into self pity and fear to avoid your bad experiences. It can actually make it worse. I’m excluding ptsd and trauma, because working with a professional is ideal.

Emerald (green)

You’re jealous.

A lot of people are- but your jealousy destroys you. You don’t want to be jealous, you don’t like jealous people, and you KNOW it’s irrational… but it happens anyway.

Why? Usually self esteem is the cause. Sometimes it’s trauma from relationships. Start a journal and examine why you feel a certain way, and maybe read a book on self love and jealousy.

Self help books are important to understanding and overcoming why you feel the way you feel. It goes deeper than just a few explanations.