#i'm tired of impostor syndrome

[justanamartins]

There's a trend on Twitter to remake the image made by AI on the right, so fuck Ai✌️

It's my first time doing semi realism in digital so ignore it if it's too weird xmdnd

~~there are a lot of people doing the Coraline version, I feel like mine is wrong somehow~~

[kelbunny]

Love sudden and random anxieties popping up to tell me my writing and storytelling is horrible and will never amount to anything worth reading or playing, in my case mixing my other constant anxieties to feel like the worst person on earth.

But trying to make my plot good with good pacing is an after AF problem and I wish I could just shut my mind off.

[panb1mbo]

what do you mean i can't immediately be great at everything all the time?

[pizzalordofgallifrey]

.

[witchwhaat]

they'll ask me one more time about my master's thesis and istg i'll just start crying or laughing manically

[bettsfic]

Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

[amourdivine]

𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ   PICK A CARD

Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.com! xo ♡

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

how to choose your pile.  take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands

Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.

However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.

how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands

You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.

Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.

These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.

The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands

Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.

It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.

Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.

how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords

Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.

Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?

It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.

You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles

Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.

This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.

This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.

how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles

To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.

That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.

You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.

Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords

Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.

It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.

It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.

Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.

how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups

Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.

Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.

Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.

disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 27 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | lesson 26 | lesson 28

slight og lesson 76 spoilers

satan angst is my favorite food fr

you can see how much they care about him and the fact that he doesnt think he deserves it hurts, especially when the love they feel for him is palpable in everything they do. they want the best for him, but because of his own self-hatred and guilt and impostor syndrome, he wants the worst for himself

and he adores them just as much. the fact that they were TREASURES in the game world ????

sobs uncontrollably

again with the whole undeserving of their love thing, or (in satan's mind) feeling like they're obligated to love him bc of circumstance and lingering angelic tendencies

he's the opposite of "you can't love someone else until you love yourself;" part of the reason he hates himself is BECAUSE he loves his brothers so much. he blames himself for their problems. he thinks they're unhappy with and because of his existence

this also adds onto my belief that satan's birth wasn't just from lucifer's wrath, but his grief and guilt about what happened during the celestial war

lucifer felt like he was the reason they all fell, that they could've lived a happy life in the celestial realm if it weren't for his intervention in the same way satan feels like his brothers' obligation to not leave him alone in an unfamiliar world is the only reason they didn't take "raphael's" (michael's) offer

both were, and still somewhat are, blinded by their own self-hate and guilt to see how much their family cares for them

(off topic but can we PLEASE get a design for michael i'm tired of waiting)

i'm glad they gave the brothers time to actually express how much they care about satan, because it's hard for someone like him to believe anything of the sort when his self-deprecating tendencies cloud his judgment

(even if the truth is right in front of his face)

i couldn't NOT talk about the pact. the fact that he called mc his "special someone" :(((((((((((((((((

not satan related but there's no way he's serious

we KNOW you're a prophet, don't play in my face like i'm dumb

i still think there's a possibility that he's the simeon from our time but it also wouldn't make sense bc he wouldn't still be an angel ???? idk maybe i'm overanalyzing

[ghostfanwriter]

💖🧰 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 🧰💖

Part five

←Previous part

💖 Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Fem! Reader

🧰 Synopsys: Joel comes back with a few gifts for you, and you ask Frank to make him a gift as well.

💖 Features: Reader daydreams about Joel and touches him, graphic but no smut per say (I think?); Pet names and Joel guiding her as she touches him.

🧰 Word Count: Around 7k.

💖 About this: This doesn't move the plot a lot, but it moves the story on the sense that he shows her how he cares about her and she cares about him back?

🧰 Author's Note: Inconsistency is key over here. Impostor syndrome decided to pay me a visit and also now that spring's coming I'm working like crazy, and so my writing got a bit slowed down. Hope you like this, I put a lot of love into it 🩷

His backpack, a lantern, a gun.

A guitar, a leather bag with tools, another bag with brushes and small cans of paint.

All of his things surround Joel as he sits on the floor of an abandoned convenience store somewhere far from Lincoln.

He took his time to block the doors and windows before checking his list and winding down.

The day went by smoothly, with no encounters with any infected or alive. He found everything he was looking for, especially the things he was looking for you.

He takes a box from his backpack and opens it, taking a camera and its instructions out of it. He has to squint his eyes and hold the paper away from his face so the words become clear for his tired eyes.

He opens the small packaging with photo papers and fills the camera, turning it on, looking at the ceiling and quietly praying it'd still be functioning.

He knew how happy you'd be if he got it back to you. How you'd finally be able to have things looking just like the real thing.

The camera turns on and he smiles, then looks around, thinking of what he could take a picture of to test if it still worked. When he finds nothing interesting, he turns the lens to himself and takes a photo, that comes out perfectly.

His face doesn't help it, though, and he grunts when he sees it.

He looks old. Old and tired.

No.

He doesn't look old and tired. He is old and tired.

Too old, too tired.

Too old and tired for you. What is he thinking?

He crumples the photo, setting it aside, crumpling his thoughts along with it.

He's been through it.

He is getting old. But he knows his feelings, knows his feelings for you. He'd never get close to you if he didn't know how he feels for you.

He wouldn't because he'd kill the man that did to Sarah what he did to you. There's no questioning that.

But he knows how he feels for you. He knows how you feel for him. He can't just vanish now, just go away, it's too late to realize this was all a bad idea.

He can't let you not believe in love because an old man broke your heart.

He goes back to his backpack and grabs one of the containers with the food you prepared for him. Opening the lid, he sees the shredded chicken and breathes in deeply, smiling at how good it smells. The images of you preparing it that morning star replaying in his mind, taking him right back to it.

To how sunny and happy you looked, how your hair was messy from wearing that funny hat the whole morning, how your skin was glistening from being in the sun picking the crops for breakfast.

How your skirt moved along with your body, how your shirt hugged your chest so nicely. How more comfortable you were around him this morning, compared to the one before. How much closer you got the night before...

He cuts his thoughts when he starts feeling a tightness on his jeans. He adjusts himself, then takes a picture of the food.

He wants to save it, to remember it. Remember having you taking care of him like that.

Even in the poorly lit room the camera somehow manages to take an intelligible photo again, and he hums, pleased with it.

He puts it back inside its box and grabs a fork, devouring the chicken, humming with the taste and texture of it.

Still chewing, he grabs a pancake and rips it, using it to grab some of the chicken and eating them together, laughing at how good it tastes.

He keeps eating, thinking about how you're probably having dinner with your dads right now. How he'd be sitting across from you, how he'd take your ankle between his and caress it.

The scene makes him smile.

But he can't help but think about the last time he had dinner at a table, eating and talking, everyone going through their days and laughing.

How long ago it was.

How Sarah was still there.

How he wishes he had her with him.

He thinks about what he told you, about how you two would be good friends if you've ever met.

Thinking about her hurts too much, so he avoids it. And doing so he never thinks about her as anything but a fourteen years old.

Never thinks about how she would be old enough today to have her own children. How if things never went to hell he could maybe even be a grandfather today.

He shoves more food in his mouth, trying to take his mind away from what his life could be. Away from such painful places.

He finishes his food quickly, thinking about whatever, as long as it didn't hurt so much.

And he wishes you were here, with him. He feels comfortable with you, he trusts you. He would think about Sarah if you were with him, he'd go through his memories, would cry even. Because you'd be there with him.

But you're not, so he lays down, using the bag filled with your clothes as a pillow, thinking about you. About how you'll probably try all the new clothes and show them to him. How pretty he knows you're gonna look in them.

He picks up the photo he crumpled and straightens it back, thinking about how upset you'll be if he tells you he took a picture of himself and threw it away.

He falls asleep with the thought of caring for you. Keeping you safe and well, like he failed to do for Sarah. How Sarah always wanted him to be happy, how happy she must be seeing that he's maybe finally found peace and love.

You hardly closed your eyes all night, thinking about him.

If he was okay, if something happened, if the coffee was good, if the food was enough.

You're lying on a rocking chair on your porch, almost falling asleep when Bill walks out of your house.

"Hey, baby. Sit up, close your legs. Joel's back." He says, tapping your shoulders, and your heart starts racing inside your chest.

"Joel already?" You ask.

"Yeah, just saw him through the cameras." He says.

"Oh, there he is." Frank says, following Bill towards the gates.

You resist the urge to get up and run to him, and just bend over the porch fence, focusing on controlling the wide smile trying to break through your face.

He's back. Hopefully he's alright. Your eyes and nose burn just from the anticipation to see him.

When your dads are getting near the gate you see him more clearly. Carrying at least six bags, all full, seemingly very heavy too.

Joel greets your dads with a smile and a "Hey."

"Hey, how'd it go?" Bill asks.

"Fine, no problems. Found everything and some more." He responds.

Bill looks at him, then eyes his guns.

"Bill, I think we can trust him." Frank says, smiling awkwardly, and Joel shakes his head, setting all his bags on the floor.

"No, he's right. You can't lower your guard." Joel says, looking past your dads. "You've got something important to protect." He adds, handing your dad his guns.

"That I do." Bill says with a smile, taking them and some of Joel's many full bags.

"You didn't have to bring this all back. We could take it by car later." Frank tells him between grunts, also taking a few bags.

"It's fine." He says quietly as they begin walking towards the house, and Frank looks back at him.

"Is everything alright? Where there really no problems back there?" He asks Joel, slowing down his pace so Bill wouldn't listen to them.

"Yeah, no. It was fine." He responds, looking at the house, already looking for you, smiling when he sees you almost falling over the porch to look at him.

"She was crazy worried about you." Frank says, looking at you. "Stayed on her window until dinner time, waiting for you. Probably wouldn't have eaten if I didn't call her."

"I'm sorry." Joel says, looking at Frank, and he frowns.

"For what?" He asks, and Joel looks back down, avoiding your dad's eyes.

"For her. She told me she, well... Told you about us." He says.

"Oh, yeah... I mean, she's been lying to me." He says, and Joel looks at him. "I saw you two before you left. Didn't know you were, you know... there already." Frank says, and Joel gulps, his shoes seeming more interesting to him than ever before as he stares at them to not look at your dad.

Oh Frank...

...You've been so much further than that.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know if I should have ever gotten close to her. Shouldn't have talked to her, looked at her." Joel says, and Frank looks at you, smiling.

"Look at her, Joel." Frank says, and he looks at you.

All of his sadness, worry and tiredness dissolve when your eyes scrunch with your smile.

Shining as always, a big, now shameless and uncontrolled smile on your face. He can't help but smile back at you.

"She hadn't smiled like that for a while before you arrived. Definitely didn't smile like that since you left yesterday." He says, and Joel looks at him. "You're making her happy. That's all a father can care about." He says, and Joel's stomach hurts.

He knows that feeling all too well. He misses feeling it.

They reach the porch and you scan him up and down, trying to see if there's anything different on him.

"Are you okay?" You ask, your brows furrowed, your eyes worried.

"Yeah, b—." He curses himself. "I'm alright. Just a bit tired." He says, looking at Bill, praying he didn't catch the nickname he almost let slip out.

"Are you hungry? We were about to have lunch." You say.

"Well, your chicken is starting to wear out." He laughs.

"Well, then let's go in. You need some rest." Frank interrupts you two, bringing a few of his bags in. Bill follows him, also carrying some of them.

You and Joel share half a second together, while you also pick up a few bags.

"Take just this one. It's all yours." He says, handing you a soft and heavy bag.

"Oh — God. Is this all just my clothes?" You ask, grunting when you pick it up.

"Yeah. I found a really nice dress, think you'll really like it." He says, smiling.

"You didn't need to bring all this weight, Joel." You say, feeling bad for the effort he made for you.

"It's fine, baby." He reassures you. "It was for you."

You smile at him, making an actual effort to not go and hug him.

You were so worried, so stressed. It's been a day, and you feel like you haven't seen him in weeks.

Footsteps coming from inside cut your thoughts, and you turn around and start going inside, finding Bill on your way to the living room.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, was just telling Joel he didn't need to bring me all this stuff. It's really heavy." You say.

"It was the only heavy thing I brought though. The heavier stuff stayed." Joel explains himself, walking in, carrying the remaining bags.

You place your bag next to the coffee table and turn around, looking back at him. And you notice something behind his back.

"Is that...?" You ask with a big smile, pointing at the guitar.

"Oh, yeah. It is." He says, smiling. "Found a good one." He takes it off and holds it in front of himself for you to take it.

"Ah! Thank you." You scream quickly, taking it and going to sit on the couch besides Frank. "Did you only find one?" You ask, looking around and noticing there are no others.

"Uh, no. A store full of them." He starts. "But I still had a lot to look for, so I just took this one." He explains.

"We can share this one, it's fine." You say, smiling.

He sits on an armchair and rests his backpack by his feet, opening it to look for your camera.

"Here, Bill, this is yours." Frank says, handing him a big leather bag with tools.

"Oh, look at these, baby." Bill says, sitting by your side and opening the bag.

"Oh, wow! More tools, how exciting, dad!" You joke, acting like you're more excited about them than you actually are.

"Haha, funny. What did you ask for again? Huh?" He asks, and you give him a look. "What was it, baby?" He insists.

"Nothing. I asked for nothing." You lie, and Bill looks at Joel.

"Clothes. She asked for clothes." He says, laughing, his cheeks red and his eyes glistening.

He loves seeing you with Bill. You two are exactly what he thinks him and Sarah would still be like.

He'd love her more than anything, they'd joke around and he'd kill anyone who tried to brush a finger on her.

"Joel! C'mon, that's so unfair. You can't be in his side!" You say before he's finished speaking, acting like you're mad at him.

"Oh, yeah, clothes! The thing your wardrobe is full of." Bill says over you, laughing.

You rarely see your dad so laid back. You love to see him laughing and having fun. And it's interesting to notice how much in common he has with Joel, how they always agree on what has to be done and how to do it, how they make fun of you the very same way. In other circumstances, you'd say they'd be good friends.

You and your dad keep arguing about tools and clothes, playfully hitting each other.

"Hey, this is for you too." Joel interrupts you, beckoning for you to come towards him. When you do he hands you a small book with guitar instructions.

"I thought you were gonna teach me." You say, disappointed, and he laughs.

"I will, I'm just messing with you." He says, removing the camera from his backpack and showing it to you.

"AAAaaah!" You scream again, this time for longer, your eyes wide and your voice high. "No! Joel, where did you find this?" You ask, bending down to hug him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." You say on his neck, still not letting go.

He caresses your back, looking awkwardly at Bill, who looks at Frank, frowning.

"Enough, baby. Let him go." Frank tells you, distracted by what he's looking at, but you're too busy enjoying Joel to hear him.

Too busy feeling relief, the hug much more thankfulness for him being back than for the camera. He's here, he's fine, he brought you so many things.

He thought about you while he was away...

"Baby, hey." Joel whispers. But you only let go when Bill almost yells your name.

"Sorry, Joel." You say, running to your dads, jumping over the bags on the floor and throwing yourself back in between them on the couch.

"Oh my God!" Frank says when you show it to him. "Does it work?" He asks Joel.

"Yeah it does, pretty well." He says. "There's some paper inside of it already, there's more here with me. The photos come out instantly." He explains to you.

"Uh!" You gasp, your eyes wide, and the three of them look at you. "Can we take pictures?" You ask.

"Yes! I want a family photo." Frank says, excited.

You look at Bill, smiling and biting your lower lip.

He frowns, then nods, smiling. "Yeah, alright."

You're so excited you're shaking.

"Joel, can you take the first one, please?" You ask, and he nods, so you hand him the camera and sit back on the couch, holding both your dads' hands. The three of you put on your best smiles and stay still.

"Wait, is my hair good, loves?" Frank asks you and Bill, who look at him, and you fix it. But Joel's already pressed the button, and he photo comes out of the camera: you smiling, fixing your dad's hair. You don't notice it, though, and Joel keeps it to himself, waiting for you to be ready.

"Now it is." You say, looking over at Bill. "Oh, daddy. Your hair's a mess." You say, fixing it for him as he keeps messing it back. "Stop! Let me fix it." You say, playfully slapping his hand away and laughing, and he stops.

You take their hands back and nod to Joel, who takes the picture, mesmerized by you.

Your big smile, your hair, your dress, the soft tan you have around your nose, how solar and pretty you are.

After he takes it he sees your eyes growing wider through the viewfinder of the camera, when you see the photo coming out of it. You run towards him.

"Oh my God!" You scream, taking the photo. "It's us!"

"Let me see it!" Frank says, excited, and you sit back in between your dads.

"Oh my..." He says, tears forming in his eyes. "It's us. Our family." He says.

Bill leans on you to look at it, his eyes getting red as soon as he sees it. He looks at you, caressing your hair, then he looks at Joel.

"Thank you." He says, and Joel nods, smiling, holding back his own tears.

He knows how important memories like that are. He wishes he had more photos with Sarah.

"Now we need one of all of us." You say, not giving him the chance to drown in those thoughts. "We can't keep you out, Joel." You say, getting up.

"Yeah, c'mon, sit here with us." Frank says, scooting next to Bill.

"No, it's alright. It should be about you, not me." He says.

"C'mon!" You say, going towards him and grabbing his hand, pulling his arm. "You're with us, I want a picture of all of us!" You say, grunting as you struggle to move his body an inch away from the armchair, and he gets up.

"Okay—God, you're persistent." He says, laughing, going to sit next to Frank.

You stand in front of them, holding the camera.

"How do we take this one?" You ask them, and they all frown.

"Didn't think about it..." Bill admits.

"Maybe try and... I don't know, turn it and see if it frames all of us?" Frank suggests.

"Okay." You agree, sitting in the coffee table and trying to figure out how to hold the camera with it facing you. "Alright, big smiles old men." You say, laughing and pressing the button.

"Hey!" They all scream.

The photo comes out perfectly, with all four of you clearly in it. All of them laughing and making offended faces at what you said while you smile proudly in front of them.

"Oh, this is amazing." You say, laughing when you see it, turning to them.

"No, baby, c'mon, take another one. A serious one." Frank says, laughing, slapping your thigh playfully.

"Alright." You say, turning your back to them. "C'mon, smile." You say right before pressing the button.

"Is it good?" Bill asks, leaning close to you, looking at it over your shoulder.

"It's perfect" You say, looking at the photo, loving every single man in it. "Thank you, Joel. I had no idea this still existed." You say, turning to them and looking at him.

"Now everything's gonna look just like the real thing." He says, mentioning the conversation you two had the day before when picking vegetables for breakfast.

You smile. He remembered what you said, he was thinking about you just as much as you were thinking about him.

It's not like you don't know your dads love you and care about you. You do. But their love feels different from Joel's.

You feel special because he wasn't meant to care about you. He decided to. He saw you and thought you were special enough for his time and effort.

It's a type of attention you've never had before.

"Did you find any of the stuff we talked about?" Bill asks when he understands you two talked about the camera, not liking the wide smile you're shooting Joel.

"Yeah." Joel cleans his throat. "Lots of tools and big cans of paint. Stuff for fixing the fences, the houses, mowing the lawn." He answers, adjusting himself on his seat.

"Great. Think we can make it today?" He asks, and Joel thinks before answering, looking again at you, then looking back at your dad.

"Uh...Yeah, sure. I just need a shower first." He says, and Bill nods.

"You're going out again?" You ask Joel, more disappointment present in your voice than you wished.

"Darling." Frank says, looking at you and turning his eyes towards Bill.

A silent 'How are we supposed to explain this to your dad?'

"I'm sorry, but aren't you tired? You just arrived." You say, more calm.

"It should be an one-hour drive, I can rest on the car, it's fine." Joel says, and you sigh.

"You're sure? We could go tomorrow, or other day." Bill says.

"Yeah, no. It's fine, I'm fine." He says. "Just dirty." He laughs. "Would rather go today and fully rest tomorrow." He decides.

"Can I go? Since you're driving there?" You ask, and Bill grunts.

Letting you outside wasn't his favorite, but your dad knows you can take handle yourself. And he stays more calm with himself and Joel being there to protect you.

"Well... I don't see why not." He says smiling at at you, and you smile back.

"Actually, I think you should stay, dove." Frank says, and you whine.

"Why?" You ask.

"Well, we shouldn't leave the town alone for so long, right? And I don't wanna stay here alone." He says.

"But I—" You start, and he gives you a look.

A look he only gives your dad. A look he gave you for the first time yesterday, watching you and Joel kiss.

Fuck.

"Alright." You agree.

"Great! We have lots of laundry to do with all this new stuff Joel brought you." He says.

Bill looks at both of you, also eyeing Joel, trying to see if he's maybe understanding what's going on.

"Well, alright. You rest then, Joel. We're leaving right after lunch." Bill says, getting up and going to the kitchen.

"I'll go start laundry." You say quietly, picking up your heavy bag.

"Do you want help with that?" Joel asks, already getting up.

"No, thanks, it's fine." You say, smiling, picking the bag.

"Okay. I'm gonna go shower." He says, nodding to Frank and going upstairs as you walk outside.

"Fuck me." Frank sighs, rubbing his hands violently on his face. Then he fixes his hair and goes to the kitchen help Bill.

After a few minutes you can already smell lunch being prepared.

You go upstairs to pick up your dirty clothes. If you're stuck at home doing laundry, then you might as well do all of it.

As you walk up the stairs you can't help but think about how Joel's on his own. How he said he'd shower, how much you loved seeing his body that other night.

You skip your bedroom and go straight to his. When you reach his bedroom door you hear his shower running, and quietly walk inside the room.

You find his wallet on top of a pile of clothes on his bed and grab it, running your fingers through the worn-out leather. Opening it, the first thing you find is Sarah's photo.

You look at it. It's old and starting to rip at the edges. The colors are finally giving in and fading, specially around her right side, like if Joel caresses her cheeks and hair when looking at her.

Thinking about him going through such loss makes your heart ache. You feel so much for your — probably deceased — parents, and you haven't even got any memories of them. You can't imagine what losing his daughter must have felt like for Joel. And to think that the only memory he has of her is fading away...

You have an idea. You put it back on top of his bed and run downstairs, grabbing your camera and rushing back to his bedroom.

...

When you get there he's still inside the bathroom, but he stops the water as soon as you open his wallet. You take the photo out and bring it close to the window, taking a picture of it.

You sit on his bed and hide it on your bra, putting the original photo back. Just when you're finished he walks out of the bathroom, his hair damp and his body covered only with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You can't breath for a second, overwhelmed by his wide shoulders, strong chest and stomach, his belly poking out and his cock outlined on the towel. You've never seen him like this, at least not in daylight, and you can't look away.

He sees you eyeing him up and down and smiles, like if he knew he'd find you exactly where you are right now. Like was hoping to find you there.

He walks to the bedroom door and locks it.

As he walks closer to you, you can see the water droplets covering his skin, and he notices your blissful and watery eyes.

"I missed you." He says, cupping your cheek, your eyes faltering as soon as he touches you, taking your ear between his index and middle finger, caressing the skin under your eye. He leans down closer to you and his wet hair drips on your forehead, making you scrunch your eyes and laugh.

He smiles and kisses the water drop on your forehead, then your cheek, right besides your nose. He moves lower and gives your lips a peck, slowly making his way through them to roll his tongue around yours.

His movements careful and intentional, his beard scratching your lips and your cheeks, making you moan and lean further into him. His dry lips making you deepen the kiss, making you wanna keep them wet.

He pulls away and looks down at you, his wet hair falling over his forehead, dripping, the water running down his cheeks.

"I missed you more." You say, touching his waist before wrapping your arms around him. He pulls your head closer to his body, hugging you. His skin, still cold from the shower, wetting your face.

You kiss some of the water droplets around his chest and stomach, burying your face on him as he caresses the hair over the nape of your neck. You caress his back, bringing your hands to his sides, finding the hem of his towel.

"Baby..." He says, trying to convince himself to stop you.

But he doesn't, and you pull on it, slowly letting it fall out of him. Your heart slams against your chest when you see him naked. His wide shoulders, strong torso and slightly prominent belly making him tower over you, making you want to lie back down and pull him on top of you. His cock, big and soft, right on your face, making you lick your lips.

He takes a fistful of your hair, gently pulling your head back to make you look up at him. He almost smiles at how he finds no resistance to maneuver you.

"Right now is not the time." He says with a low voice, barely above a whisper, slowly shaking his head, leaning down to give your lips a peck.

He pulls away with a quiet groan when you touch his cock, just running one finger over it, then taking it in your hand, moaning at how heavy it is, even when soft like this.

Even though he said you shouldn't, he doesn't stop you from touching him. He likes how curious and open you are, how different it feels to be with you, who wants to explore things with him, and not just have sex because he wants to.

You keep holding him, touching his tip with your thumb. When you lick your lips and try to lean closer to him, he pulls firmly on your hair, keeping your head in place.

"I didn't say you could use your mouth." He says, softly but sternly, caressing your hair.

You look up at him, bringing your eyebrows together and letting out a soft and frustrated moan.

"But you're dry. I don't wanna hurt you."

"Then lick your thumb, baby." He instructs, and you do, wetting it and exploring his tip again, earning a groan from him.

It's the first time you're seeing his cock soft and dry, the second time you're seeing it up close, and you want to understand and memorize every little part of him.

How his soft — so soft — skin covers most of his tip, how it wrinkles at the edge; how you can see a few veins poking on his skin; how warm and heavy he is; the curves his tip has, how they make you want to run your tongue all over it, on top of it, underneath it, maybe even ask him if it'd be okay to poke the tiny hole at the center of it with your tongue.

How its size and thickness make you wonder how it'd feel to have him inside you. If it'd hurt, how far would it go, if you'd feel it all the way, if you'd still feel him the next morning, how empty you'd feel after he left you.

You wet your thumb again, rolling it on his tip, remembering how soft and warm it felt on your clit, how badly you want to feel it on you again.

Your other hand goes to his balls, picking them and rolling them on your palm, earning a loud sigh from him.

"Careful there, baby." He warns, and you soften your grip on them. Their soft and squishy texture making you actively remind yourself to not squeeze them.

Your heart accelerates when you feel him starting to grow and harden, softly pulsing from time to time. But you hear a soft knock on the door, and you freeze. Your heart beating so fast you're afraid it may give in that you're with Joel, since he's certain his is audible as well.

"Joel?" You hear Frank's voice.

"Yeah." He responds, taking the chance to get away from you and look for an underwear. His voice a bit raspy.

"Oh, hey. Huh... lunch's ready, if you're ready to come down, we're about to eat." He says.

"Alright, thanks, be right down." Joel says, putting his underwear on.

"Okay." Frank says, and you hear his footsteps going away; then coming close to the door again. "You haven't seen her... Right?" He asks suspiciously, and Joel looks at you while he puts his jeans on, moving his lips.

"No, last time I saw her, she was in the living room, taking her clothes outside to wash them." He lies.

"Yeah, I saw that too. But she's not there anymore."

"Maybe she's just somewhere else outside." Joel suggests, reaching for a shirt in one of his drawers.

"Yeah, she probably is." Your dad agrees. "Well, anyway, she'll come when she's hungry." He finishes before walking away again.

Joel, now almost fully dressed, comes to sit by your side to put his shoes on. And as he starts putting on his socks you realize you've never been by his side before. He's always either across from you, behind you or in front of you, but he's never sat besides you.

You look up at him, his cheekbones and nose sculpted by the glaring sunlight entering through his window. His face feels so far, his pouty lips so out of reach. He looks so good, so big, so strong, so overpowering almost.

You've never felt small or powerless; your dads always did their best to make sure you had the confidence to face anything you ever came across. And yet here you are, struggling to fill your lunges because a man is simply putting his shoes on by your side.

Wishing he would just lay you on his bed and crush you with his weight again, making it hard for you to breath — Oh how good it felt when his warm skin touched yours, when his rough and large hands held your hips so firmly and his beard scratched your neck and collarbones. His hot breath burning your skin—

"You should go to your room, baby." He says without looking at you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Are you and dad gonna be away the whole day?" You ask, slightly out of breath, and he looks down at you, shrugging.

"Don't think so. We're just gonna go take the stuff I couldn't bring by hand. It's an one hour drive, then just pick it all up and drive for another hour back." He explains, his hair falling all over his face.

"Do you ever brush your hair?" You ask, and he frowns.

"Not since I got here. You know, somehow this time I forgot to pack my comb." He jokes, laughing proudly at himself.

"Don't get up." You say, carefully leaving his bedroom to not walk into one of your dads.

...

After a few seconds you come back, a comb in hand. He's finishing his second shoe, and laughs when he sees you locking his door.

You walk towards him, stopping in between his legs, just like you did the morning before.

First you run your fingers through his hair, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

He looks up at you with soft eyes as you carefully comb his hair back. When the repeated and soft movements start soothing him, he closes his eyes and touches his chin to your chest, keeping his head back, a relaxed and joyful smile on his lips.

While he was away, he kept thinking about you, thinking about how he, so relatively late in his life, found such an opportunity. Not just the opportunity to leave the QZ and still be safe, living a comfortable — even happy, maybe — life. But most importantly, the opportunity to have someone who seems to genuinely care for him. Maybe even love him someday.

Someone making sure he has enough food, exhaustively asking if he's gonna be okay, making him want to be careful and return home safe, making him feel like he as a home, respecting his time to talk about Sarah, pushing him to explore his old hobbies and combing his hair...

And nothing is asked in exchange, nothing is traded. He just cares for you... And there you are; solar, pretty, a positive and shiny refuge amongst all the depressing things he is always surrounded by.

"Better." You say, and he opens his eyes, not minding having his daydreams cut by the one causing them.

"Did it look that bad?" He laughs, his voice soft.

"No, I just wanted to touch it." You whisper, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. "I was so worried. I felt so bad for asking you for clothes. And you've brought so many of them, so much weight." You say, barely pulling away from him, holding his face in your hands.

"I still have some that aren't in that bag." He laughs, and you frown, smiling when you see his smile.

"You do?" You ask, running your hands down his back, letting most of your weight fall over him.

"Yeah, those I said you could wear only for me?" He says with a smirk. "They're in there, go get them." He points to the backpack he took with him. You let go of him and go towards it while he gets up and goes to his bathroom.

You open it and find a pink bag with a few pairs of lingerie inside. You can feel your cheeks heating up imagining yourself wearing them.

They're so sheer, so small and revealing. You take all of them, setting every new pair carefully on top of his bed.

He comes back to hug you from behind, squeezing your waist, gently pulling your hair over your left shoulder and kissing the right side of your neck, going from pecks to open mouthed kisses and nibs.

"They're so... Small." You say, and he stops.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to, baby." He reassures you. "It's okay." He tightens his arms around you.

"No, I liked them, it's just... Why even wear them if they show almost everything?" You ask, and he laughs, tightening his hug.

"That's the thing, baby. They show almost everything." He says, his chin on your shoulder.

"I don't get it." You frown.

"You know how you looked at me when I left the shower? With the towel on?" He whispers.

"Oh, okay... I think I get it." You say. You couldn't help but think about what he'd look like without the towel.

Knowing something so fragile was keeping you away from his naked body was... thrilling.

"You're gonna look so pretty in them, baby." He says, and you moan quietly. "Can't wait to see it."

"I can only wash them when I shower, so you're not gonna see it tonight. Maybe tomorrow." You say, and he squeezes your waist.

"I'll try and not lose my mind." He laughs on your neck. "Now go, I gotta go downstairs." He says, turning you around, giving you a kiss. You turn around, and he calls your name. "Are you not forgetting anything?" He asks, holding your camera.

"Oh... Yeah." You try not to sound too suspicious.

"What were you doing with it?" He asks when you reach him.

"I was taking pictures of you showering." You say innocently, and he frowns. "Of course I wasn't, oh my God!" You defend yourself, and he laughs.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yeah. I was just taking it up to my bedroom, and then I remembered you were showering, so I came to see you." You say, hugging him again, stuffing your face on his chest.

He kisses the top of your head and walks you backward towards the door, going slowly so you won't trip.

He lets go of you and opens the door. You two walk down the hallway, and he squeezes your waist as he lets you by your bedroom door, going downstairs.

You hide the bag with the lingerie at the bottom of a drawer and go outside, back to laundry.

"Isn't she coming?" Bill asks, and Frank shrugs.

"I looked for her but couldn't find her anywhere." He says, putting the plates down.

"I ain't gonna eat without her, not when I'm leaving for the day." He says, getting up and walking outside.

"Where is she?" Frank almost whispers to Joel.

"Huh?" His question catches Joel off guard as he's helping him set the table.

"Did she leave your room already?" He asks impatiently.

"She wasn't—" Joel starts, shaking his head.

"Joel, I looked all over this house and everywhere I knew she could be. I know she was with you." He says in hushed, angry whispers.

Joel doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all. Your dads shouldn't know about it. They shouldn't even think about it. He wanted to do things the right way, slowly, carefully. Respectfully.

"She went outside before I came downstairs." He admits, fixing your cutlery. Frank watches him, noticing how much care he puts into everything he does to you.

"Did something happen in your room?" He asks quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

"No! No, nothing happened." He says firmly. "She just wanted a hug... And a kiss. Just said she missed me, was worried about me." He says with a short and shy smile.

"Did you miss her?"

"I was the first to say it." He says, looking at Frank. "Look, I know you may not believe it, but I do care about her. At first I didn't wanna get involved with her at all to not hurt her when I left." He says, sitting down across from your seat, looking at your chair. "But then fixing your car that day Bill talked to me about the houses around here. How I could work on one of them if I wanted a second, safe place to stay."

"And you're considering it?" He asks, and Joel takes a moment to respond.

"You know how QZ's are. They have their benefits, but overall... They're nothing compared to this. Tess said she won't leave, so we could still keep the deal going. I also have my brother, who has access to other things. Things Tess and I don't have."

"Your brother works for FEDRA?" Frank asks, turning his head slowly.

"No! He doesn't. He's a Firefly." Joel rushes to say.

He can't help but worry about his brother, but he's in no hurry to come back.

"Is that what you and Tess talked about that day when she called? About you staying?" He asks.

Joel nods in response, and Frank wonders how things escalated so quickly. How he went from telling Joel not to look at you to agreeing to have him move in to be with you.

"Just make sure you are sure before you tell her anything, alright?" Frank says with a sigh, scratching his forehead.

"I don't wanna stay if you don't think I should. If you don't think it's right you tell me and I leave as soon as we finish what we need to do over here—" Joel says, a hint of shame in his voice as he doesn't look Frank in the eyes anymore.

"No, Joel... It's not that, I'm sorry." He interrupts Joel, leaning back on his chair. "I'm just thinking about Bill. I mean, I don't wanna scare you, but we're gonna have to be extremely careful if we want you to come out of this alive." His seriousness almost scaring Joel.

"Yeah, she... She told me that." He says, playing with his fork.

He just had to go slow with it, and everything should be alright.

Right?

...

You're sorting the clothes Joel brought you when your dad finds you.

"Hi, my honeybun." He says, and you laugh.

He has this thing where sometimes he'll call you the sweetest nickname he can think of, just for the sake of it. Somehow he still comes up with new ones from time to time.

"Hey, daddy. Is lunch ready?" You ask smiling.

"Yeah, your dad said he couldn't find you, though." He asks, picking one of the dresses and holding it in front of himself.

"Hmm. Must've been when I went to the bathroom." You lie, and he hums.

"Aren't these dresses a bit too short?" He asks, picking another dress you've just thrown on the laundry pile. "Why did Joel pick this for you?"

"I asked him to." You say almost too quickly. "I showed him some magazines and described what I wanted. He said he'd bring a bit of everything and I'd see what I liked." You explain.

"And did you like this dress?" He asks, raising his eyebrow.

"I did, yeah." You say, and he scratches his head.

"You know I don't like you wearing this type of things around him."

"Dad..."

"Just avoid it, alright? Joel might be whatever, but he's still a man. And you're so gorgeous, my honeybun." He says, cupping your cheek. You kiss his palm, screaming at yourself for lying to your dad, for doing all this behind his back.

But would he ever let you experience what you've had with Joel if he knew about it?

The only conversation at the table was between Joel and Bill, as they discussed the roads they'd take and how long it should take to come back. Your dad was focused on Joel's descriptions of the way, and Joel walked him through it while he caressed your leg between his ankles again.

But it all felt too rushed when they had to leave. Your heart feeling hollow and your stomach overfilled as your dad kissed your forehead, and Joel discreetly squeezed your hand while your dads kissed goodbye.

"Take care, you two." Frank says.

"Got two good reasons to be." He responds, kissing Frank again.

"I have one too." Joel whispers to you, knowing Bill has his back turned to the two of you. You smile up at him, quickly touching your head on his chest, quickly pulling away when your dad turns around.

"C'mon." He tells Joel. "I love you, baby. " He tells you before going inside the car.

They drive away, Joel looking at you through the car's mirror.

...

"Dad?" You ask Frank after the gate closes behind your dad's truck.

"Yes, love." He responds fixing your hair behind your ears.

"Can you help me with something? A gift for Joel." You ask, and he raises his eyebrows quickly.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Do you think you could paint this photo for me? Make it bigger and fill in where the photo is fading." You say, taking the photo that was still on your bra and showing it to him.

"Baby, who is this?"

"He never...?" You ask.

Fuck.

Joel never told your dads about Sarah, maybe he never told them anything about himself.

"He has a daughter?" He asks, confused.

"Had... one." You hesitate.

"Oh, dear." Frank sighs. "Sure, love, I can do it." He says, walking inside in a hurry.

Now he understands why Joel was always so understanding of his and Bill's concerns. Of why he always said he didn't want to stay if that'd make him and Bill uncomfortable.

Because he knows what caring for a child is like.

...

Now it was just you and your dad for a couple of hours. But strangely enough, he didn't look for you. Didn't come to help you with laundry like he said he would, didn't ask any questions. He just spent the whole day at his studio, painting.

Probably painting Sarah.

"Hi, dad." You say, entering the room and sitting by his side.

"Hi, my love. Are you okay?" He asks, noticing your expression.

"Uhum. I'm fine." You say, looking at his canvas.

"Think you can tell me her name?" He asks, looking at Sarah's photo.

"I don't know... I thought he had told you and dad." You say, feeling guilty for exposing that part of Joel without his consent. He trusted you, after all.

"That's okay. You don't have to." He sounds calm while he starts mixing more of the paint Joel brought him.

"Why did you want me to stay?" You ask after a minute. Even though he's not acting like he's mad at you, you know exactly why he wanted you to stay. So why won't he just say something?

He sighs, taking several seconds to respond, focusing on his painting and on what he's gonna say.

"I wanted you to stay so I could yell at you, cry, even. So I could ask why you lied to me, what you two have been doing behind our backs." He says, and you instinctively pull your body further from his. "But then I saw him hold you hand before leaving, whispering something to you, you snuggling on his chest. Then you asked me to paint her... And now I feel like I shouldn't do any of that anymore." He says, looking down at you.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I was just afraid you'd tell dad and... I don't like to think about what he'd do to Joel." You say.

"I'm honestly more worried about what Joel would do to defend himself." Frank says, and you look at him.

As obvious as it sounds, you've never thought about it. You never considered Joel defending himself. Maybe your dad coming out of it hurt. Because of you.

The thought makes your breathing shallow, and your dad notices it.

"Hey, hey, baby. Nothing's gonna happen, okay?" He soothes you, caressing your hair. "We're gonna go slow, be careful. And we'll prepare dad for it. Okay?"

"Uhum." You agree, your breathing still laborious.

"But I mean it when I say careful." He says, and you look at him. "I saw you going upstairs earlier. I know you were with him." He says and you look away from him, embarrassed. "That I have a problem with. You're not being honest with me. And that was all I asked from you."

"We'll just be actually careful and everything's gonna be okay."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I am." He admits with a sigh, kissing your forehead and hugging you, letting silence take over.

Imagining one of them coming out of this hurt makes you want to tell Joel you don't want to do this anymore, that he should stay away from you. He should just go back to the QZ and you should just forget about all of this.

You've lived just fine without anyone like him, you always handled yourself — oh, but it feels so much better when he's there with you, his rough hands feel nothing like your soft ones —, you've always been loved by your parents — but the way he loves you feels different —, and you've just met what...four or five days ago?

You can get over him.

But imagining him going away, never seeing him again, never talking to or touching him makes you want to cry, to scream. It makes you whish you just listened to your dad and never looked out the window, never let Joel see you — never looked at him in the first place —, never smiled at him, never moaned his name, never called him into your bedroom. But you can't. You've done all that, you've touched him, felt his warm breath on your ear, and you can't imagine never feeling that again.

So you just hug your father, trying to keep your mind away from such terrifying scenarios, from one of them getting hurt.

You know one day your dad will know. And you know someone may come out of it hurt.

Be it physically or not.

You just hope it's not both.

Hope you liked it, friends 🩷. Bill's gonna find out sooner or later, the problem is... What will he do when he finds out? How will Joel react?

Hope you're here when we find out, I love you all so much, this series means so, so much to me, and I love getting comments, reblogs and asks talking about it. I love that you guys are still so invested in it, even when it takes me so long to update the story.

Ily 🩷🩷

My Masterlist 🩷

[justanamartins]

I feel ridiculously sad ldjdkdjddb but take wips of ocs I'm trying to create (yes the second panel is based on witch hat atelier )

[fantasy-mixtapes]

Fig Faeth Junior Year Playlist: Side A

It's no surprise that Fig Faeth's playlist is the one that I actually listen to the most. It's just a very good vibe and I love her. Took extra time to Song descriptions and thoughts down below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10.

Genres included: Pop-punk, Punk, Alternative

1. hair out, Stand Atlantic

Am I fuckin' up my life? I'm just tryna make improvements Slowly givin' up the fight But I gotta cover up the bruise That I get from all the Expectations give me vertigo Wasting away to the pressure The pressure, The pressure, oh

This song is such an earworm, scratching a specific itch in my brain. Love the fact that both Kristen and Fig (the failing girlies) start with a Stand Atlantic song, and it works with the way that Fig is coming at this season. From the jump, she is one of the most visibly and audibly burnt out, specifically from the pressure of the "sophomore album" that was supposed to come out months ago. This song is definitely about the pressures of a songwriter as well as the pressures of life in general so it fits sooooo perfectly. Especially with the "I can already here people hating the song" outro *chefs kiss*

2. Who The Hell Am I?, NOBRO

God, I'm tired of being like this I can change, but in a minute Always looking for the back door, on the run Always at the party, never quite having fun Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned I'm on fire, and you know it hurts I was always on the outside looking in Maybe it's me 'cause I never wanna fit in

Fig's class struggles, her conversation with Mazey, I can't take it. I feel like we've all been there. I really love how the narrative with her has progressed, like last season was deconstructing her need to mold herself into other people (or into an idealized version of herself) now she's trying to figure out who she is at her core without all the disguises.

3. 7 Years Bad Luck, Glasseater

Something strange seems to be plaguing me Everything I touch falls apart I've lost it all, losing all my luck Suffering 7 years bad luck

I don't particularly love this song, a little too unintentionally underproduced, but it deserves a spot on this playlist. I feel like I would be Fig in the curse situation. It took me a literal year to deal with debilitating stomach problems, and I, too, waited until my friends noticed to actually do something about it. Either way, can't wait to learn more about the weird Galier Pride curse, love the representation for my stomach problem girlies

4. Where the Heart Is, Sweet Pill

Get this My mind's been in a million places but my body hasn't moved an inch And I feel like I'm missing out again Ignoring my plans Wondering how they went Feeling bad about it If I could just take a chance I wouldn't feel so bad To see past myself I wouldn't feel so bad

This is Fig's final decision to try Paladin after doing so well with Warlock. She knows the priorities in her gut don't match with what anyone else says, but she's discovering her loyalty. She's figuring out her actual drive... following her heart <3

5. Impostor Syndrome, Sidney Gish

Unfortunately, I am My own dog, my own fur companion My own old lady on a forum Who types in glittery decorum Unfortunately, I take Myself out walking every day and I had my legs to the feet and I give my head to the leash

Making Fantasy High playlists is like making a ven diagram of which dog-themed songs are Tracker-coded and which are Fig-coded. This one, to me at least, is Fig-coded. (yes, I do have a tracker playlist, and yes, every song in it is dog/wolf specific, BUT THEY'RE GOOD OK). We love our Oath/Pact of the German Shepard.

6. You Owe Me Nothing In Return, Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright Acceptance if you want it I will give you encouragement to chose The path you want if you need it You can speak of anger and doubts Your fears and freak outs And I'll hold it

So I know that we're gearing up for Fig's Warlock/Paladin agreement post "mooner yulenear," but this is my interpretation of what it's going to look like. She cares about her friends, and she would do anything for them! And though I know this song came out in 2002, Alanis Morissette is a 90's icon and perfect for the grungy riot grrrl vibe I see for her

[kxmpfflieger]

I wish to be upfront about a few things

Hey gang, let's have a talk about the future of this account.

In truth, I no longer wish to associate myself with the history community, specifically the Great War subsection I've actively participated in for the last (three-ish?) years.

I'm going to be blunt and say that it is because of the people I've come across. This place is a minefield, and every second mine that blows up in your face starts a chain reaction worse than the last. Its terrible. Ive hated it. And my only mistake has been not openly stepping down a year ago like I originally wanted. There's been a LOT of unsavory characters that I have followed and supported unknowingly, and people that I've just encountered out in the wild that just made me sick to my stomach. Despite my better judgement, I've persisted, but I recognise the toll it has taken on my mental health is really not worth any of this.

To add insult to injury, actively being in the history community has made me scared of engaging with other communities in fear of being ousted for the stigma WW/Imperial Germany art can carry in general, and its become a problem the more I've grown tired and fallen out of love with this material.

I wish to branch out, I don't want to be associated with this community anymore because of the shit I've seen and how insensitive and out-of-touch a lot of the people seem to be about such serious subjects.

My relationship with Martyrs is definitely not what it used to be, same goes for the "source material". I wish I could tell you a few bad apples didnt spoil the basket, but they did. In truth, I've lost the love I held for it.

A mix of the rancid experiences I've had with the community this past year, combined with the fact publishing comics as a One Man Team is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone (burnout, impostor syndrome, having to deal with carpal tunnel for the rest of my life now partially because of it, off the top of my head).

I don't want to drop the comic nor the characters I've made, developed and invested myself in for the past two years of my life. I need time to heal my relationship with my art, Martyrs in its entirety, and just broaden my horizons with other fandoms instead of limiting myself to one thing. I will not abandon what I've worked so hard for, but I need time to pull myself back up.

I don't plan on stopping art of the characters entirely. But please be aware that if that was the only content you followed me for, you will have to deal with lots of other unrelated stuff from now on.

Getting myself lost in the absolute minefield this place is (the ww community) is not something I wish to do again. I dont want to be considered a member of it. I want to be an outsider occasionally dropping by. Only surface level stuff with art of my characters and comic, that's it.

I'm grateful for the connections and the wonderful close friends I've made. For all the lovely fan-works and words of love and endorsement I've received. But I need to take better care of myself, and there are very clear and specific steps I need to take to do so. I debated making this post in the first place and just phasing out ww art out slowly overtime, but doing so didnt feel right.

If you wish to unfollow me after this, please go ahead. You're not obligated to stay, nor am I obligated to keep you here. Thank you for sharing this journey with me for the past two years.

[therealv1]

Some ultrakill headcanons

Gabriel has a lichtenberg scar from a fight with a fellow angel or heavenly entity that he was not on good terms with. - - Also generally a lot of scars. A fuckton. Metric ton, even. Eleven donuts worth, if we're going American.

Mad levels of anxiety. He struggles with GAD + panic attacks on a regular basis but has been able to maintain it after a while especially with the help of his husbands / start of living with them and working out the past issues.

I really like the idea of Gabriel being deeply into gardening, knowing the meanings of SO many flowers and sketching various things, don't get me wrong (+ he DEF has impostor syndrome) but. But hear me out.

TEA ENTHUSIAST! (I love tea, so I'm def projecting some.) And I love the idea that he just has a stash of tea + books he has found lying around about herbalism, medicinal properties of herbs, etc. Definitely has a mortar and pestle, makes his own spice mixes, has various tea strainers (maybe he'd find or make some cute ones, IDK) and so on

I go back and forth on his appearance, if it is even visible at all, so on. I like the idea that he is half oriented around the whole "biblically accurate angel'' portrayals but also has the head of an animal, specifically slightly lamb-leaning. I have more reasoning that it just being for religious symbolism, but I also won't deny that plays a part in it.

I also based his appearance somewhat off of the black and white art of the gate guardian from the SCP universe / Dr. Clef's Proposal for SCP-001 <3

Gabriel is intersex in my au

(This totally has nothing to do with my love of lichtenberg scars + lightning and storms or anything... /s)

V1 (humanoid ish/prime soul adjacent, I ought to get into detail about the AU but... bla bla, brevity bla bla, I digress) has a deeply uncanny face / appearance on the reg. It can't fully control it but even in the few moments where it has more power over its body it just typically chooses not to. It does get hurt though when people immediately get startled by its appearance but it "got used to it after a while"

Because I'm evil and a massive faggot V1 is in a harem w/ like. 99% of the ULTRAKILL cast. (Ignoring filth, sentry's, maurice', drones, virtues, et cetera/anything similar) - - Like dude kisses Gabriel, Minos, V2, Sisyphus, Ferryman, MDK, etc. ALL GOODNIGHT! And not even with the lights off, either... what a homo!

Learned pottery / how to mess with clay and ceramic type making things from the Ferryman. Violently enthusiastic over the concept of using its hands, very into craftsmanship. Would likely be a carpenter and/or "tinkerer" in life.

Used to reconstruct and deconstruct its body regularly (both for healthy and unhealthy reasons) but had to stop at Minos behest after getting caught one too many times.

Dissociates heavily. Sue me, I love and know the lore, I reread the wiki a disgusting amount but damn it! I love my own fanon.

Very curious about weather patterns

I'll try to think of more HC's for the others, but this is it for now haha + omg I just saw 1:11 on my clock. (I am tired)

one random and final headcanon: I'm really clinical over the idea of transfem minos. I feel like we deserve some transfem rep in ultrakill ngl Like obviously I love my transmasc homies, (I'm.. somewhere in an entirely different area of transgenderism at this point, transmasc no longer fits me, but again, I digress), and maybe I'm not looking in the right places, but I really feel like I do not see a lot of transfem or slightly unspecific fem variations of ULTRAKILL characters. I am ALLL for various depictions and I crave MORE MORE MORE! Perhaps I just need to scour the internet more

[frat-house-collective]

Autism and Potential

Hi it's me, your local sleep-deprived in-a-slump writer here to ramble about autism and feeling like you're not living up to your full potential.

Idk about any other autistic people but I feel like I'm never reaching everything that I could be, that I have the potential to be, that I could and should be doing more. Fundamentally flawed. Or something.

And yes, I know "no one's perfect" but the bar feels like it's set so high, and it's impossible to reach it. Constant guilt, constant anxiety, constant impostor syndrome, slipping grades and executive dysfunction that I can't help.

Overthinking everything, spiralling and unable to get out of it, stuck doomscrolling on instagram or tumblr or twitter or tiktok, unable to make yourself get up and start the task.

I'm either "lazy" (psychically can't make myself do the task) or a "gifted kid" (overworked and burnt out).

Procrastination or perfectionism. Right and perfect or completely wrong. Brilliant with perfect grades or failing.

Pick your poison.

BUT

I think I'm going to give myself permission to be average. Mediocre. I try, I do my best each day, and that level of "best" varies, so to some it may look lazy, or unstable, but, at least for me, it's what works.

My aim this year and next is to pass. I honestly, genuinely do not care what score I get, my aim is to get through school and graduate at the end of it. It will not kill me.

Fuck the education system. It wasn't made for any of us.

Alright, I'm gonna cap off this post here and go to bed before I get too off topic and start rambling about the education system and the government. I'm just stressed and exhausted and not even halfway through Term 2.

But I hope this is...at least coherent, I'm very tired...and maybe resonates with someone, or a few someones out there.

We aren't alone, I promise.

Thank you and goodnight.

[papersparrows]

some days i just feel really tired and want to give up. so much i want to be doing but all my energy is being spent on surviving. and i feel guilty that i'm not always functioning to my fullest potential. i also feel guilty for having all these buried emotions that aren't very positive (suppressed grief, my ongoing mental disorders, deep sadness that's disguised as rage, the list goes on) because i'm now an adult who has to go to work and pay bills and interact with other adults and basically just fucking cosplay as a normal and well-functioning member of society and i play the part so well that i forget i have all these inner conflicts going on inside me. i bury them so well but some days they take over and i always get taken aback at how powerless i really feel. did i really ever heal anything? did i really make any progress? or am i just good at pretending i have everything under control? is this my impostor syndrome kicking in? am i worthy of good things? do the people i love actually like me? am i a good person, actually? will it ever get better? what the fuck am i doing with my life? most days i just want to rot in bed. but obviously, i can't.