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themonotonysyndrome · 2 years

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REDACTED verse - Because of you, I lived on

OK, so, like I mentioned in a previous post, this week has been an absolute nightmare. I can tolerate a lot of bullshit but when work made me cry in my car? Yeah, that takes the cake.

So I wanted to write something angsty because hey, might as well use those negative emotions to good use, eh? And then I saw an interesting headcanon that I wanna explore.

So this is for you @undeniablyemily @angel-bubbles and @redactedverse-thoughts for bringing the idea to life!

Summary: For as long as he could remember, Geordi has always been alone… right?

TW: Post-Inversion. Death. Grief. Non-consensual memory wiping.

'A POWER OUTTAGE AT THE CENTRE OF DAHLIA! THE CAUSE? STILL UNKNOWN AFTER SIX MONTHS!' is written on the front page of today's newspaper.

In fact, it’s the first thing that greets Geordi at the counter while the cashier is busy at the back.

Geordi somewhat recognises the picture below the obnoxiously large headline and knows that his favourite bookstore is nestled between the local grocer and a pharmacy.

The picture does nothing to actually show which building had the blackout, but something on the tip of his tongue stirs. Nagging in the back of his mind.

"Sorry for the wait!" The cashier reappears. Looking a bit haggard which Geordi can't fault. It's lunchtime anyway. "That'll be $15, please."

Geordi pays for his food and thinks nothing more of the newspaper when he returns to the office.

"Finally! I thought the week would never end!" A coworker cheers beside him. Just as Geordi was about to clock out for the day, a few of his colleagues invited him out to dinner. The offer was too good to pass up, and besides, the alternative would be him binge-watching the latest series on Netflix and eating dinner alone.

And so here they are now.

"My eyes were seriously about to roll out of their socket if I have to see another slide." Another coworker murmurs. Everyone had ordered their food, so now conversations flow pleasantly around the table. Geordi soaks up on the atmosphere, occasionally nodding when addressed.

When cutleries scrap on plates and wine glasses clink, Geordi suddenly finds himself at the centre of attention.

"We would've had overtime today if it weren't for Geordi's quick thinking during the presentation," His Art Director brags, face flushed red after his third refill. Geordi ducks shyly when others chime in agreement. "I was going to punch the clients if they didn't stop discussing how many assets we had to do for the campaign. Deadass."

"Geordi has been a lifesaver lately! And hey, don't think we didn't notice how you always clocked out on time on Friday nowadays," Another colleague interjects. He then raises an eyebrow. "Got someone waiting at home, eh?"

Geordi rolls his eyes, so used to his colleagues' shenanigans by now. After all, they were there for him after his last breakup. "I'm still single, guys. You knew how bad my last relationship went down, so I wanted to enjoy the single life for a while."

This time, someone from the client managing team pipes up. They're relatively new, so Geordi fails to remember his name. "See, here's the thing - I've heard about you from Mark. About how you were before, and let me say that even I can see the difference! Like, c'mon, dude; you live like any other man who has a partner!"

But Geordi just shakes his head, a wry smile on his face.

There hasn't been anyone special in his life ever since he moved to Dahlia. Ever since he left his abusive partner. Aside from his parents, no one had looked at Geordi and seen him as someone needed to keep safe, to love dearly.

"I love you, Geordi... always..."

Right?

Lately, the nagging in the recess of his mind and the tingle on his tongue are becoming difficult to ignore.

And Geordi would catch himself behaving out of sorts. He'd absentmindedly prepare two mugs of coffee every morning ("Brown sugar instead of regular white? How did you know that's the way I like it?"), vacuumed the house once a week ("Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you up. I just need to deal with these dust bunnies before they take over our home.") and during a grocery run, cups of chocolate puddings somehow ends up in his cart ("I can't help it, Geordi! Chocolate puddings are my ultimate weakness! Don't laugh at me!")

When did these new habits come from?

Life continues regardless of how out of sorts Geordi has been lately. There are always some bills to be paid, relatives coming over for a surprise visit and never-ending projects in the agency.

Geordi has no time to spare in musing over odd habits or how cold the bed is on some nights.

"You always worked so hard, baby. I know you're not made of glass, but you don't throw a diamond against the wall either. So how about a break, yeah? I hereby declare Netflix and cuddle time is in session!"

Geordi blinks and registers the tablet on his lap. Season two of Demon Slayer is paused on the screen. Unconsciously, Geordi turns to the left as if expecting someone to sit beside him on the couch.

Wait - wasn't he checking some work e-mails just now?

Physical exhaustion begins to made way for emotional ones. Anxiety, sorrow, yearning and helplessness begin to bubble in his heart. Begin to drive him slowly insane.

It's like there's something in the corner of his eyes; there but just out of sight. On the tip of his tongue. An echo at the back of his mind. Something that he's missing - someone -

An unknown sound - liken to a flame bursting into life or shattering wind chimes - has Geordi jerk violently. The tablet clatter on the floor when he abruptly stands. His eyes widen at the sight of the intruder that appears in his living room from thin air.

The first thing that Geordi notices about the intruder is the pair of horns on his head, large and intimidating in a way that something in him whispers that they're as genuine as they look. Next is the painfully solemn expression on his handsome face that's familiar to a mortician.

"I'm sorry... I'm so very sorry, Geordi." The inhuman intruder murmurs, heavy with regret, sorrow and yet, he has the gentlest voice that Geordi has ever heard. At that moment, a sense of calm washes over him.

It reminds him of mothers cooing their babies to sleep — the long, drawn-out sigh after filling your lungs with your favourite scents.

"Who... who are you?" Geordi begins cautiously, a little apprehensively.

The intruder gives him a heartbreaking smile which didn't make sense at all. "A friend, Geordi. One that promised to look after you to my best ability."

"Oh, hey, Cam! Didn't think, uh, anime conventions are your thing too. We should compare nendoroids in the office next time! Hmm? Oh right! Geordi, this is my work buddy - Camelopardalis. Cam. He's a pretty chill guy."

"You're... Cam... Camelopardalis," Geordi blurts out. It startles him. Why does he know this stranger - notstranger.afriend.cameoverfordinnersometime.aserenitydaemon - and why is his head begin to throb painfully!? It's as if his mind is trying to make sense of the gap between the barrages of torn pictures and Camelopardalis' alarmed expression. "I know you. You're their -"

Like a bursting dam, everything came flooding back. Memories resurface, and with them, a heartache, unlike anything that Geordi has ever experienced before:

"Geordi? Like that guy from Star Trek? No, no! I think that's a great name! He's a great character! I mean, I never really watched Star Trek -"

"Move in with you? Are you sure? I don't mind waiting until we hit the two-year mark. I'm comfortable with following your pace, baby."

"Hahaha... yeah... like a mind reader. Hey... Geordi? Are you busy? I-I think it's time you know what I exactly do for a living..."

A picture pushes towards the front of Geordi's mind. A face begins to clear up. Absentmindedly, he feels strong hands on his shoulders; grounding him. Gentle voice trying its best to soothe his pounding head.

"I wish I could bring you to the Games, Geordi. It's like the tournament arcs in animes; you'd love it!"

...

"Hmm? Nah, the event is only for students. God, it's been four years since I last graduated from D.A.M.N. That's the magical school hosting the E&E Games this year. I'm just attending as a representative of the Department."

...

"Yeah, they already cleared my leaves. So I'm down with whatever you want to do after the event's over! Actually... how do you feel about a short vacation trip?"

...

"Alright, I'll see you tonight. I love you, Geordi. Always."

Geordi's heart stutters to a stop in his chest. As though he’s submerged under a rushing fiver, he finds himself staring at the sorrowful Serenity Daemon with one burning question:

"Cam? Cam, where are they?" Geordi desperately asks, hot tears dripping down. "Where's Cutie?"

It didn't take long for him to put together the passing time when his memories return. To understand where his new habits came from.

Six months have passed since Geordi saw his better half off to work.

The Serenity Daemon's own heart broke. The man's despair, grief and confusion blanket him like hot, black tar, but he soldier on. "A tragedy happened during the E&E Games and... and they were one of the many casualties," Camelopardalis did his best to explain under Geordi's crushing emotions. Both of them deserve this; truth and self-punishment. This poor human deserves to know the fate of his lover. As for Camelopardalis, it's self-punishment for what he has to do soon. "They were very brave, Geordi. They saved so many lives that day, but a Shade - dead, hungry things - got to them before reinforcement could arrive. I'm so sorry, Geordi."

The heartbreaking wail that escape the human would've destroyed a young Serenity or Empathy Daemon. But Camelopardalis is old, jaded. And yet he hurts all the same for his friend and the one they both lost.

"They were supposed to come home," Geordi sobs. He falls to his knees, suddenly no longer having the strength to stand up. "We were supposed to go to San Diego b-because they've been working non-stop... why... why is this happening?"

Camelopardalis is oddly silent. And then, a horrible memory dawns on him.

This is their second confrontation.

"I waited. And waited for them to come home," Geordi's voice wavers. His head is spinning, heart as tight as a noose. "I called so many times, but it went to voicemails. But then you came at midnight. A-And you apologised."

Geordi remembers being worried sick when Cutie failed to pick up his fifth call. On his twelfth, Camelopardalis appeared - "Daemons can teleport, baby. They called it Rift" - looking half-dead, wouldn't stop apologising despite him begging for an explanation and then... nothing.

No memories of Cutie and all of the Telepath's belonging - nothing.

"What did you do to me?" Geordi asks, feeling sick with stomach lurching. His cheeks are so wet, but grief and betrayal are powerful emotions. Grief at the loss of his love and betrayal from someone supposed to be a friend.

Camelopardalis closes his eyes. His purpose is to bring peace, serenity... but right now? He has no choice but to play as a necessary evil.

All in the name of the Department.

"To maintain the secrecy of the Empowered world," The Serenity Daemon carefully explains, donning on his Department officer's mask. "Those who have a human lover must have their memories modified should the Empowered individual passed away. I belong to a branch of the Department that specialises in it."

It’s a horrible thing to take in. Geordi struggles to comprehend that his entire world has been yank underneath his feet in a single night, and now, he realises the horror behind Camelopardalis's implication.

"They don't have anyone, Cam!" Geordi scream. "T-They said they were an orphan. They could count all the friends they have - had, oh God, Cutie! - on one hand. So please, Cam," It hurts. His heart hurts so much, but Geordi needs to exert some control over the ride that drained him of his composure and sanity. Need to move the Daemon's heart even if he has to beg. "Please don't take them away from me anymore. They don't have anyone else! Please, Cam. Please. I love them. L-Let me keep their memories."

Camelopardalis fails to hold his own tears back. Not knowing what else to do, he could only repeat the words he murmured to Geordi on the night that claimed Cutie's life.

"I'm so sorry, Geordi... I'm so so sorry for this..."

Human reflexes are nothing compared to Daemon’s. Before Geordi could do something, anything, Camelopardalis quickly put him to sleep. The Serenity Daemon smoothly catches him before Geordi fell on the floor like a doll.

"I love you, Geordi... always..."

Hearing the echo of his dear friend's voice in the recess of Geordi's mind made Camelopardalis weeps harder.

"I'll do my best to keep my promise to you, my friend," Camelopardalis murmurs, his magic gently weaving around the human's subconscious. He hums a sweet lullaby when Geordi whimpers. "I'll keep him safe for you. Know that you will forever be dearly missed by us."

Camelopardalis is not a young Daemon. He has seen his share of grief as well as serenity born from happy couples. But he has never seen a powerful bond between Geordi and his partner that not even his magic could subdue.

Perhaps this is because Geordi himself is a remarkable Unempowered human. That his love for them compensate for the loss of his memories with Cutie's habits and manners.

It awed and humbled Camelopardalis that because of Geordi, Cutie lives on.

#monotony's rambling #redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #cutie (listener)#geordi #camelopardalis

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your-local-trash-can · 3 years

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Stubborn

Today was another dreadful day at the border, Alexie and Calensk were detaining some entrants as usual.

although this time, an entrant who was being detained decided they wouldn't go down so easily.

Alexie and Calensk were standing at their guard posts, waiting for the signal from the booth. Alexie looked over to Calensk, who was just a few feet away from him. He always wondered how he was able to be so serious and fierce at all times. He was always on guard, ready to take on anyone who would hurt him or anybody else. He found it kind of cool to be honest..

But even though Calensk was strong, he was also kind and considerate, I mean, He helped Inspector even though he knew nothing about him! Alexie could've gone on about how he admires him but then loud beeps from the booth pulled him from his thoughts, Him and Calensk almost immediately went over to the booth and stood at the front of it.

"OUT OF THE BOOTH!" Alexie shouted, the entrant exited the booth and was turned around as Calensk handcuffed them. They both lead the detainee to the cells as the loud speakers makes it's usual 'Next' and the line continues on. Alexie was keeping an eye out for an open cell and Calensk was walking right behind the detainee so they wouldn't try to run.

Meanwhile, The detainee was furious, and glanced at Calensk then to Alexie, a plan forming in their head. Alexie was busy looking for a cell and was also having thoughts clouding his mind. The detainee started to crouch down slightly, their pace slowing down and then they suddenly launched their head backwards, hitting Calensk right in the face.

He stumbled back with tears clouding his vision from the broken nose he now had. Alexie quickly turned around only to have a knee rammed straight to his stomach and the detainee's leg pushing him head-first to the wall.

Calensk got himself together and hit the detainee in the back of the head with the handle of his gun, knocking them out cold.

He rushed to Alexie, dropping his gun and kneeling down to him. "Alexie! Are you alright!?" He asked, worried. Alexie slowly sat up, groaning and holding the side of his head. "Here, we should get a first aid kit and check for any serious wounds." Calensk added, helping him up and leading him to the medical room.

Two other guards were coming from the hallway to check up on them. "The chief and I were attacked by a detainee, go take them to a cell and take over from here, I'll take care of the chief." Calensk demanded since Alexie wasn't able to, the two guards nodded and ran past them to take care of the person who attacked them. Calensk and Alexie continued to the medical room.

°☆• a little while later.. •☆°

Calensk was sitting on a chair beside Alexie who was asleep on a medical bed, they both got their wounds patched up but they weren't able to go back and guard the border tomorrow since they had to give the wounds time to heal up a bit. The good news was that Alexie didn't have any major injuries from getting his head hit into the wall. Even so, Calensk was still worried about him, so he stayed with him and waited for him to wake up.

After an hour or so, Alexie slowly woke up, a headache making him hold his head again from pain. He looked over at Calensk who was still at his side. "Hey, you doing alright?" Calensk asked him, Alexie replied "Yeah, just have a little headache.." He then slowly sat up so he wouldn't make his headache worse.

Calensk sighs in relief "That's good, from what I've seen, you probably only have a bruise on your head, I'm glad it wasn't serious like a concussion." "You can tell? How?" Alexie asked him. He then answered "Well, when I was serving in the Six-Year War, we were short on troops in our area so some of us had to learn how to do medical work on the field." Alexie then beamed "You learned that from the war? That's so cool!" He smiled brightly. Calensk smirked and looked to the floor shyly "I never thought of it that way.."

He always felt comfortable around Alexie because of his optimistic nature, so much that when he said things like that he would be taken by surprise. He liked spending time with him and he could talk to him without any judgement, he didn't know what he would do without him around.

"..Alexie?" Calensk spoke. Alexie then asked "What is it Calensk?" He felt stupid about what he was going to say since he guessed what the outcome would be, but he took a deep breath and added "Didn't you say you were gonna be more careful this time?" Alexie then pouted "Hey, I didn't know what they were gonna do so that doesn't count!" He sighed "Still, you could've gotten seriously hurt, what if I wasn't there? You need to stop being so reckless."

Alexie then rejoiced "That's just it, I got you! You're always there when I get hurt like this so I don't need to worry too much!" Calensk looked to the floor feeling a familiar sense of grief. "But.. what if I'm not strong enough or I'm too late..?" He spoke with sorrow. Alexie calmed and listened to his worries.

"I might not be enough and you could get hurt, badly, I-I already made mistakes like that.. what if I do it again?" Calensk trembled. He lost many people that he deeply cared about, mostly in the war. He even almost lost his friend Sergiu, He never wants anything like that happening to any other friends he has, especially Alexie.

Alexie gently put his hands on the sides of Calensk's face, making them face eachother. "Calensk, you're always looking out for others and you do a great job at it! But you have to let me take care of myself sometimes, you're basicly a human shield at this point!" Alexie reassures him, then smiled at him "You aren't going to lose me or anybody else, you got that? You're always on my side, so let me be on yours." Calensk was suprised, then he smirked "Heh, alright, I'll stop nagging you, but you have to promise that you'll be less reckless." Alexie let go of him and grinned "I promise!"

Calensk felt better, Alexie always managed to do that, it was just something about him that always made him happy. He was pulled away from his thoughts when he suddenly got a gentle kiss on his nose and his face suddenly went red.

"Hm? What's wrong?" Alexie asked, confused. "Why did you kiss me??" Calensk asked. Alexie answered "I thought it would be nice, isn't it fine to kiss your friends?" Calensk shouted out of embarrassment "That's what couples do!" "But I saw Elisa and Sergiu do that." Alexie added, completely clueless. "They ARE a couple!!" He stated. "Oh, I didn't know that." Alexie replied and then laughed nervously, Calensk smirked and then laughed with him.

The end!

#papers please #alexie holland #calensk

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papergirllife · 4 years

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" Without you I feel dizzy and sad, I feel low. " + Lucas

" Stop drinking, Y/N. I bought you along to meet new men, not get your sorry ass drunk over your ex. "

" Shut up, Yeri. It's only been three days. "

" It has happened for like what? Over a hundred times. You should seriously move on to someone better, this on and off thing won't work out in the long run. "

" But I don't feel the same way towards anyone else. "

You said as you took another shot from the table, the alcohol making your throat burn.

Yeri was going to give you another lecture from the look of her eyes, but she was interrupted by a handsome man asking for a dance.

" Go. I'll be fine. Let me sort out my thoughts for a while. "

" Stay put okay? I'll be back. "

You were going to down another shot when you realised that you ran out. You walked towards the bar stumbling into people, as you could feel the alcohol fogging up your mind.

As you walked towards the bar, you bumped into someone.

" Sorry. "

" Y/N ? "

" Lucas? "

" Y/N. You're drunk. I'll take you home. "

" No! I don't ever want to see you again. "

You pushed him away and continued your journey to the bar.

You ordered six more shots and downed them on the spot, not bothering to carry them back to your table as you're drinking alone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucas was standing not far away from you, his heart clenched in his chest as he sees the pain he has inflicted upon you, regretting the fight the both of you broke out the other day.

You sat on the bar stool, dejected at the fact that you can't get him out of your head, nor your sight.

You tried to move on, you really did. But the memories and hardships you and Lucas had shared was an arrow in your heart.

You tried dating other guys, but called it quits when all you felt from the relationships were unsatisfaction and a sense of emptiness.

Your tears started to fall as you could feel the pain seeping into your heart, it was like poison, slowly killing you.

You ordered a glass of whisky to numb the pain, glass after glass, you could feel yourself losing grasp of reality.

Before you blacked out, you could feel a pair of strong arms lifting you up, and a pair of worried eyes staring at you.

You were still tipsy when you regained consciousness. You could feel a pair of strong arms carrying you around, there's only one person with a decent amount strength that could do that.

" Lucas? "

" Y/N? You're awake? Hold on for a while, you changed your key code to your door so I took you to my place. "

You felt Lucas set you down on a bed. You opened your eyes to see your boyfriend, correction, ex, standing in front of you.

You bolted up in a sitting position on the bed, your drunken state forgetting of your lack of balance under the influence of alcohol.

You grabbed onto his hands and looked into his eyes.

" Why did you help me? We broke up. Why are you here for me when you left?! Why?! Do you know how shit my past few days were?! Do you have any idea what you keep putting me through?! I don't even know why I keep going back to you! Why did I fall for you?! Of all people?! I'm so tired of making the same mistakes over and over again! All for you! "

At this point your whole face was stained with tears, the ache in your heart was unbearable, you don't even understand how it hurts physically, but it just does.

Lucas had sat down next to you on the bed when you stopped speaking.

" I'm sorry. I know now, that it was extremely immature of me. I shouldn't have fought with you over the little things. I shouldn't have said you were nagging me when you were just being caring. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I caused you so much pain for all the times we fought. This is the first time I've seen you during one of our breaks, the way you were drinking to forget your heartache made me realise what a dick I am. I'm sorry. I love you, Y/N, I truly do. I don't deserve you and I'll respect your decision if you choose to end our relationship permanently. "

Lucas's last sentence ended in a whisper, it was one of the most painful things he had ever said in your relationship.

There was never once that he suggested to end things permanently with you, but seeing you in this immense amount of pain knew that this time is different from all the other times. It was like the drop of water that broke the dam, it'll take a long time to patch things up this time around.

But Lucas decided that if you let him, one last time, he would give everything up for it.

Looking back he knew it was dumb that the both of you fought, he was so stupid for staying out late with the boys for drinks, he knew it made you worried of him, but he still did it.

He would've kicked himself if he could go back in time. The events from the night you fought came back to him.

It was around 4am and he had came home, absolutely wasted and pissed off at something, waking you up and he said some mean things that made you leave. It was utterly dumb of him.

He looked at you, snapping out of his thoughts. He could see how tired you were, and skinny. He could tell you haven't ate much these past few days.

Your chest was heaving up and down as you tried your best to recollect your thoughts and swallow down your tears to speak properly.

" How could I leave you? Without you I feel dizzy and sad, I feel low. There's no way I'm going to survive without you. And to be honest, I don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing. "

Lucas pulled you close gently, trying to show you with actions that he is going to stay from here on.

When you made the effort to hug him back, your body let out another round of sobs.

" Don't leave me anymore. Please, my heart can't handle this sort of pain anymore, I feel like I'm dying from a heartache. "

" I'm sorry, love. I'll make it up to you, I promise. "

" Are you sober enough to stand up? "

You nodded.

Lucas stood up and took your hand into his, taking some clean clothes from his closet and leading you to the bathroom.

" Take a shower. "

After your shower, you tried your best to blow dry your hair in your semi intoxicated state but stopped and padded out to the living area when your head got too dizzy.

Lucas had already changed into his sleep clothes and was lying on the sofa, when he saw you he smiled, he always thought you looked best in his clothes.

" Take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. "

You walked towards him and laid down on his welcoming chest.

" I'm not sleeping alone anymore. It feels lonely. Sleep with me. "

" Are you sure? "

" Yes. "

" You're going to regret this in the morning, but I'm too tired to argue with your drunk ass. "

Lucas once again carried you to the bed and laid you down, he slips into bed next to you, holding you close, as you fall into a peaceful sleep you haven't had in days.

When you woke up, you thought you were dreaming. But the feeling of Lucas's arms wrapped around you felt too real.

You closed your eyes and recountered what happened the night before.

' Fuck, I was supposed to be broken up with him. ' You thought to yourself.

You didn't know how to take in the situation you were in. You were promised yourself to stay away from him, but here you are again, back in his bed. But on the other hand, Lucas made a promise, to never hurt you that way ever again.

How are you going to make a choice?

When you felt movement next to you, you quickly shut your eyes.

You could feel Lucas's arms wrap around your torso tighter, as if he didn't want to let you go.

You could feel his neck nuzzling into your hair, as he inhales the sweet scent of your hair.

" Why do you like to smell my hair in the morning? "

" Because you smell like a combination of you and me, reminds me what a lucky man I am. "

You shudder at that thought. It made you realise how much you love this man, and that even though the both of you don't see eye to eye sometimes, there were also many happy moments.

Lucas must've felt your shudder, because he pulled the blankets higher, thinking you might've been cold.

' He cares for me like no one else. '

To your dismay, Lucas got up and wrapped the blankets around your body.

You could hear him opening and closing kitchen cabinets.

" Where the fuck did I put the Advils? "

You let out a tiny laugh, but quickly biting onto your tongue when you heard his footsteps nearing.

He set down a glass of water, as he takes a seat beside you on the bed.

" Y/N, wake up. You need to eat something, all that drinking from last night without any food intake is bad for your stomach. "

You opened your eyes to see Lucas smiling down at you as he holds the Advil and the glass of water for you.

After you swallowed the pill, Lucas looks at you nervously.

" Do you remember anything from last night? "

" Yeah, I remember the things we said here. Not much from the club. "

" I meant it, every word from last night. "

" No more fighting? "

" No more. " He said as he holds you close.

You nuzzle your face into Lucas's neck, loving the warmth it provides, something you always did whenever you woke up in his arms.

You start peppering kisses on his neck, slowly moving downwards.

Your hands itched to take off his shirt when he stops you.

" I want it to be about you baby, lay down. Let me make it up to you. "

Lucas trailed kisses all over you as he laid you down, removing the clothes he had given you from the night before.

He places a kiss on your covered womanhood, sending shivers up your spine.His fingers reach out to cup your vagina.

" You're already so wet for me, love. "

He hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of your panties and pulls down.

The sight and the scent of your sex ignites a fire in him.

" I missed you, baby. " He says before he dives into your vagina.

He gives your pussy a fat lick as his fingers rubbed circles onto your clit.

" Fuck, Lucas... "

His fingers stop its ministrations as Lucas switched it to his lips, sucking and lightly biting on your abused clit, sending shocks straight to your already dripping core.

By now his sheets are ruined with your juices, you look up to see the sight of Lucas eating you out made you even wetter.

Lucas slipped in two fingers into your core as he sensed you getting closer to your high.

You thread your fingers into his smooth locks of hair, giving him encouragement.

He stops sucking at your clit and used his other hand to lightly flick and pinch your clit, he always knew you loved it this rough with him.

He scissors you open with his two fingers and fucked his tongue into you, the way his fingers move out as his tongue moves right back in made the coil on your stomach tighten.

" Fuck, Lucas. I'm going to cum. "

If he heard you he didn't say anything, but speeds up his actions, his patience running thin for a taste of your essence, you cum all over his face. But this time felt different, this orgasm felt stronger.

You sat yourself up to see that Lucas's whole face was wet.

" I am so going to make you squirt again."

Let's just say you guys aren't getting out of bed anytime soon, with hundreds of missed calls and texts from Yeri.

To request, follow the link below ❣️

https://papergirllife.tumblr.com/post/615715974898974720/300-followers-milestone-prompts-hi-guys-i-just

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captainofthetidesbreath · 6 years

Note

A couple hours late but I just saw you saying how Jesse and Fareeha are more inverses of each other and I completely agree! I personally see Sombra and Jesse as more paralleled, and would be interested in hearing your thoughts on that idea? You tend to be very well-spoken and are good at analyzing concepts, I've come to notice.

EDIT - NOVEMBER 3, 2018: With the release of “Reunion” and Ashe’s hero reveal, the majority of what I wrote about Deadlock in the first three sections—Sign of the Skull, Those Left Behind, Revolutionaries and Rebels—is incorrect. Despite this, I maintain that the socioeconomic context outlines in Those Left Behind remains relevant to the American Southwest in-universe and maintain my belief that it is applicable to McCree specifically, even if it does not apply to Deadlock. I will be writing a new post on Sombra and McCree soon. Stay tuned.

in reference to this post… from months ago

Lucky for you, I was thinking about Jesse and Sombra the night before you sent this! Deadlock and Los Muertos, actually, but I’ll get to that. I absolutely agree that the two of them make much more direct parallels than Jesse and Fareeha, who are interesting as a pair in their own right but they aren’t direct parallels.

I often joke that Gabe adopted the same child twice: smart-talking, hyper-competent Latine who tote around skull logos and are from gangs with the word “dead” in their names. It’s a joke—I don’t consider Gabe’s relationship with Sombra to be that of a parent-child, for one thing—but I believe that Jesse and Sombra are very similar regardless.

They both have similar backgrounds: joined local gangs at a very young age and earned later membership into a high-level covert organization through resourcefulness and an admirable natural aptitude in a specific desired skillset. Although both at first look to be unserious and overly laid-back, they prove themselves to be precision operators who indeed execute plans and achieve goals with immense gravity. They’re both supremely confident in their abilities, to the point that one can accuse them of having too high an opinion of themselves and being overconfident.

They come from similar backgrounds, having been orphaned during the Crisis and suffered under economic disparity driven by infrastructure changes in the rebuilding period. They both similarly drop off the map and resurface under new identities. They both have a deep concern in seeing done a justice that is beyond the reach of the law—or when the law refuses to deliver it.

All this, and more, under the cut. The post is very long.

I would also like to thank @segadores-y-soldados for all he’s written, especially on Sombra and especially recently. I make heavy reference to his writing on Sombra in certain portions of this post. I also must admit that reading his posts on Arturito has motivated me to finish this after three months of slow progress, though I still have a nagging feeling I’m forgetting a point.

Sign of the Skull

To make a quick run-through on Los Muertos and Deadlock Gang themselves before moving onto how these organizations inform Sombra and Jesse specifically. Sort of a section to outline basic things about the gangs that doesn’t neatly fit into other points. It’s mostly to establish their context, and some similarities between their structures and presentation.

Screenshot from the Sombra Origin showing members of Los Muertos. Each member has painted skeletons onto themselves with phosphorescent paint in varying colors.

Los Muertos is a Mexican gang with apparent regional influence with members in both Dorado and the nearby Castillo, and it even has some international reach judging from the Los Muertos graffiti on the Hollywood map. Little is known to us about their structure besides this, and even in-universe they are noted to be mysterious with little information publicly available about them.

However, Los Muertos openly broadcasts their intentions: to right the wrongs committed by the wealthy and powerful against the disadvantaged of Mexico. They position themselves as transgressors of the law specifically to disrupt the lives of the “vipers” in power. More on that later.

The name translates to “The Dead”, and they are identified by skull motifs, specifically the calaveras associated with the Mexican holiday Day of the Dead. Individual members openly identify themselves and indicate their membership by painting skulls and bones on their bodies with phosphorescent paint.

Screenshot from the Route 66 map of five motorcycles parked in front of The High Side bar. The Deadlock emblem is spray-painted by the entrance.

Deadlock Gang is an American motorcycle club and organized crime ring occupying a Southwestern town on an abandoned stretch of Route 66 running across Deadlock Gorge. It’s unclear where exactly the Gorge is, and the Visual Source Book’s pin for the map is highly unspecific, but I tend to believe it’s in somewhere in northern New Mexico because Jesse’s base of operations is listed as Santa Fe, NM.

In one lore piece, Deadlock is holding a national rally, suggesting they’ve got chapters nationwide and the founding chapter is in Deadlock Gorge. While it’s unclear what their reach is, there is a possibility of international chapters. (Torbjorn’s motorcycle-themed Deadlock skin may suggest this, but it does not have any Deadlock iconography, notably showing a bear where one expects the Deadlock emblem.)

This does not necessarily mean all of the Deadlock Rebels Motorcycle Club is a criminal organization, nor every single member a criminal, but… y’know, the founding chapter is a weapons trafficking racket. They’re a one-percenter outlaw motorcycle club, and there’s a quick and easy comparison in the real-life Hells Angels, whom the show Sons of Anarchy models itself after.

Deadlock, besides naming itself after the concept of death like Los Muertos does, also uses a skull in its emblem. We haven’t seen any member of Deadlock pictured, but extrapolating from the typical behavior of motorcycle clubs, they likely openly identify themselves and indicate their membership by wearing standardized jackets or most likely vests. Members likely have tattoos indicating membership as well, seeing as Jesse has a tattoo of the Deadlock emblem on his inner arm in his Blackwatch skin.

Those Left Behind

Sombra, orphaned during the Omnic Crisis, was taken in by Los Muertos, a gang that positioned themselves as champions of the underclass ignored during the post-Crisis rebuilding process. They’ve done this most notably by opposing the CEO of LumériCo Guillermo Portero, who they’ve described as having exercised his social influence to have many wrongfully imprisoned and who we know is working with the not-as-noble-as-they-put-forward Vishkar.

The social context of Los Muertos and Sombra is very directly told to us. From Sombra’s official bio:

After ░░░░░░ was taken in by Mexico’s Los Muertos gang, she aided it in its self-styled revolution against the government. Los Muertos believed that the rebuilding of Mexico had primarily benefited the rich and the influential, leaving behind those who were most in need of assistance.

From a lore post published to the website:

…its members style themselves as revolutionaries who represent those left behind by the government after the widespread devastation of the Omnic Crisis.

And Michael Chu on Los Muertos at Blizzcon 2016 (transcript):

Mexico really suffered a lot at the hands of the Omnic Crisis. The war destroyed much of the country’s infrastructure. […] They claim to be kind of revolutionaries fighting for people who were left behind during the rebuilding of Mexico after the war.

Despite their noble stated goal, they seemingly also cross a line in their illicit activity enough to earn the ire of Jack, who isn’t exactly on the straight and narrow himself but still seeks the right side of things. As Chu added:

Whether or not that’s really what they are up to, because they’re also engaged in a lot of other shady activities. It is up to you decide.

Given a lot of other suspect activity they engage in, that noble work might not be the only story to be had on them—especially depending on where you’re standing. Saviors with their thumbs in certain pies not meant for them, possibly.

The social context that Sombra rises out of is made very plain for us. But what does it have to do with Jesse?

While we know few specifics about his circumstances growing up, other than he also lived through the Crisis and was likely similarly orphaned during it, the description and in-game environment of the Route 66 map suggest the area is one of difficult social and economic circumstances, emphasis mine:

Though the travelers and road trippers who used to cross the US on historic Route 66 are gone, the Main Street of America still stands, a testament to a simpler time. The gas stations, roadside shops, and cafes have gone into disuse, and the fabled Deadlock Gorge is mostly seen from the comfort of transcontinental train cars. But amid the fading monuments of that earlier era, the outlaws of the Deadlock Gang are planning their biggest heist yet.

Concept art of The High Side, showing the abandoned bar in disrepair with boarded windows and faded paint.

At least one building, the Cave Inn (ba dum tsh) in the streets portion of the map, is visibly abandoned, and the theme of disrepair and long-gone halcyon days is especially prevalent in the concept art for the map. This all paints a portrait of a Deadlock Gang that operates out of an area that suffered immense economic hardship in recent years, likely particularly after the introduction of the transcontinental train cars, one of which is featured in “Train Hopper”, a comic which takes the time to emphasize the wealth of the passengers traveling on them. So, the Deadlock chapter is localized within a region that suffered economically under infrastructure changes that largely benefit the wealthy and powerful. It’s possible that these infrastructure changes were made possible because of efforts to rebuild after the physical devastation of the Crisis.

Without going off on a tangent about it, there’s a bit of a difference between “Deadlock comes out of the lower class in a geographic region beset by poverty” and “Deadlock gang itself currently has no money”. Apparently, well after the effects of financial misfortune set in, Deadlock was and is making enough money to maintain long-distance shipping, as suggested by their semi-trailer truck, and keep an entire town functioning well enough as a cover for their criminal enterprise. Also, missiles don’t sell for cheap. Deadlock might be financially comfortable now, but their context still involves deep socioeconomic disparity.

This is especially poignant against the Route’s invoked nickname, Main Street of America, which conjures images of the average American person. Those average people who owned gas stations, cafes, diners, roadside trinket shops, dive bars are the ones who are forgotten while the more affluent folks pass them over, traveling in style. There’s also a historical precedent in poverty and social disparity as driven by infrastructure changes specifically affecting the way people travel across regions and the country, specifically in the history of the freeway.

To sort of make the clarification, Jesse’s tattoo states that Deadlock was established in 1976—happy centennial, Deadlock—so they’ve certainly changed a lot as their social context and membership make-up changed. There’s much to be said about social non-conformity, outlaw motorcycle gangs, one-percenters, community integration, and how these intersect with both the politics and economics of the local communities along Route 66, especially given how the Route was recently listed as one of the country’s most endangered historic places, even in Deadlock’s apparent founding in a period of American social unease after the Vietnam War and during the late Cold War, and extrapolate a lot about Deadlock from all that, and even about Jesse himself from some of it, but that’s for a different post.

Revolutionaries and Rebels

In that context, it’s worthwhile to note that in their insignia, seen in the graffiti all over the Route 66 map and in Jesse’s tattoo in his Blackwatch skin, they calls themselves the Deadlock Rebels. Generally, outlaw motorcycle clubs are also known for their contempt for social convention and disdain for status quo.

Screenshot of the Deadlock Gang hideout with their insignia, which includes the words Deadlock Rebels, spray-painted onto a wall.

Deadlock is quite the opposite of Los Muertos, though. Deadlock maintains a law-abiding public face—holding innocuous and even advertised national rallies and hiding their illicit activity under numerous cover businesses—and are more discreet in their disrespect of law. One can double down on this by looking to how successfully real-life one-percenter clubs maintain their public image: openly contemptuous of social norms but keeping public knowledge of any legal transgressions to only the small indiscretions while hiding the major ones.

Taking a look at Deadlock’s primary targets, military installations: the train cars on the map are military-related, the gang traffics military hardware and weapons including missiles. Although Deadlock comes from a similar social context as Los Muertos, these aren’t targets seeking to effect a change in society like how Los Muertos seeks to. Deadlock appears largely self-interested, with little interest in changing the fortunes of anyone else in the American lower class. Los Muertos bills itself as other-interested, seeking to change the fortunes of the Mexican underclass as a whole.

Archetypically, Los Muertos are revolutionaries, Deadlock are rebels. While they both groups reject the status quo, the revolutionary seeks sweeping social change but the rebel rejects the status quo on a personal level. The revolutionary wants society to change to suit their vision of what it ought to be while the rebel positions themselves outside of society and will redefine themselves as society changes.

The difference is apparent in their choice of targets. Los Muertos targets institutions and people who directly have a hand in the building of their social context, and attacking those targets will potentially affect a social change. Deadlock targets institutions and people who may have a hand in their social context, but such targets are chosen primarily for the gang’s financial gain.

Los Muertos is politically motivated. Deadlock is financially motivated.

Admirers in the Shadows

Sombra and Jesse don’t remain in their gangs. They both end up joining shadow organizations with global reach, the terrorist organization Talon and the covert ops organization Blackwatch, respectively. Both organizations were wooed by their specific skillsets.

Sombra launched an even more audacious string of hacks, and her exploits earned her no shortage of admirers, including Talon. She joined the organization’s ranks…

With his expert marksmanship and resourcefulness, he was given the choice between rotting in a maximum-security lockup and joining Blackwatch, Overwatch’s covert ops division. He chose the latter.

A young Jesse McCree was recruited into Blackwatch after Gabriel Reyes saw his potential and gave him a choice: join Blackwatch, or rot in prison.

The difference here is that Sombra was offered a place, but she did not necessarily need that offer to continue on with her life. She takes it because Talon resources allow her to more effectively pursue her goals. If McCree did not take the offer to join Blackwatch, his life effectively ended. (There’s a whole thing to be said about this offer, why it was the best offer that could have been made to him at the same, and criminal rehabilitation—but that’s another post.) McCree’s decision to join Blackwatch isn’t motivated by pursuit of a specific goal. He just didn’t want his life to be over before it started. In that regard, his entire life is shaped very directly by his relationship to Overwatch as an individual and Blackwatch, even more than simply its role in ending the Crisis and overseeing the rebuilding efforts.

Sombra, as someone who survived the Crisis, similarly has that more distanced influence of Overwatch in her life, but there’s the possibility she may have a more direct one.

With the recent spawn interaction between Sombra and Hammond showing a sentimentality for her stuffed Overwatch bear, seen in her den in Castillo, there is a possible picture to paint of a Sombra who may have some sentimentality toward Overwatch and might be aiding individual members on the sly not only because she wants to uncover the Grand Conspiracy they’re caught up in but also because she has a personal motivation.

segadores-y-soldados has a lot of good and very recent speculation on what this could mean for Sombra, either working with the room in her background for her to have worked with Blackwatch or having her as never having worked with Overwatch. If she worked with Blackwatch, which is admittedly a shakier theory, it creates a direct and clear mirror with Jesse: given a second chance at life through working with Overwatch and Blackwatch. If she did not and the influence is only the distant one, and she simply remained on the edges of society and making use of the space available, it is an inverse of Jesse. I recommend reading these two posts on the idea: one, two, three.

Name: REDACTED

One could compare Sombra attempting to eradicate her identity as Olivia Colomar and later returning as Sombra to Jesse going underground after leaving Blackwatch and later resurfacing to work as a bounty hunter. Their decisions to drop off the map have different motivations and different degrees of extreme, and there is a different tenor in how one disappears as Olivia and returns as Sombra and the other disappears as McCree and makes a resurfaces in a return to that identity.

Sombra accidentally stumbled onto a massive conspiracy that controlled the world and drew their attention, compromising her security and forcing her to destroy all trace of Olivia Colomar to go into hiding. She came back as a completely new person with no trails to her old identity, a transformation so complete that it took years to connect the two.

It is possible to draw a stronger parallel between them here. Jesse similarly has parts of his identity that he’s hiding (but which Sombra knows about):

Sombra: Pleasure working with you, McCree… if that is your real name.McCree: Don’t know what you heard, but my name’s not Joel. Best remember that.

There’s a strong case for the Jesse is the journalist Joel Morricone theory: at some point in his life, he created a second identity for himself and is working to keep the two separate. It’s currently unclear exactly what the details of the arrangement is or why he goes to these lengths. Given that he disappeared for “several years” after quitting and before reappearing again as Jesse McCree, gunslinger for hire, it stands to reason he spent the intervening years living quietly under the Morricone identity.

We don’t really know much about the specifics of what motivated Jesse to go to ground, but based on his official bio, it seems related to the infighting following the Talon infiltration at Overwatch and Blackwatch that also drove him to quit. It could likely be motivated by security reasons—in a similar but less drastic way that Sombra burned her old identity to protect herself.

Justice Against Law

One of the building blocks of McCree’s character is his stance on justice. He makes it very clear: he is concerned primarily in dispensing justice to the point that he only accepts jobs as a bounty hunter if he believes the cause just and constantly gets involved in vigilantism, putting a stop to crimes both petty and serious.

Through this dogged pursuit of seeing justice done, he seeks a self-redemption for the wrongs he committed early in his life: “he came to believe that he could make amends for his past sins by righting the injustices of the world”. At the same time, he makes it clear that he believes justice and law run on different wavelengths. He appreciates Blackwatch for its “flexibility” to move “unhindered by bureaucracy and red tape”. The Morricone article seems to suggest a belief that justice can be defended by law, but everything else about him strongly states that he does not believe justice is exclusively defended by law.

The short version: McCree has a rigid sense of justice and dedicates his life to seeing it carried out, but he does not equate it with the law. Both of those points are amply evidenced and are at the forefront of McCree’s character.

Edited sequence from the “Searching” comic where Zarya and Lynx-17 go door-to-door, showing everyone a photo of Sombra. Zarya’s internal dialogue in the last panel: “But no one has seen Sombra. Or nobody admits it. They see her like our Stepan Razin—attacking the rich to defy the czar.”

Sombra is (perhaps surprisingly) similar. As stated previously, she was brought in by a gang who billed themselves as seeking a justice for the Mexican underclass that they believed could not be achieved through legal means.

On her own? She holds to those ideals and that goal. She attacks and exposes the CEO of LumériCo, creating an opening to see some justice done for the Mexican people. (The attempt failed, and Portero is reinstated, but that’s besides the point.) Her continuing interest in seeing the Viper Portero removed only makes sense if she continues to have a personal investment in seeing justice for the underclass of her country.

This leads to Sombra being seen as an extrajudicial force of change and good by the Mexican people, particularly those in the Castillo and Dorado region. Zarya compares her to Stepan Razin (Wikipedia), who as I understand it led force composed in part of peasants in uprising and, though he failed, was immortalized as a folklore hero.

Though her methods are different and her goals much more specific, her actions, at least in Mexico, are similarly driven by a search for justice that cannot be delivered by the law.

The Enemies of Talon

I don’t have a lot to say about this, and segadores-y-soldados has summarized it quite better than I have, but it’s important enough to get it’s own section. But, Sombra working against Talon actually puts her technically on the same side as Jesse is—even though Jesse as of “Train Hopper” doesn’t seem that interested in actually ending Talon’s activities or denying them what resources they want, only in preventing them from hurting and killing innocents. (Though, I doubt Jesse is going to remain in that mode for long.)

It is entirely possibly, maybe even likely, that Sombra is aiding Jesse somehow as well as aiding Jack and Ana. I linked a couple of segadores-y-soldados’ relevant posts earlier, but I’ll link them again: linked before, new link.

Miscellanea, Smaller Comparisons

Sombra is embraced by her old gang Los Muertos, even though she has broken ties with them for her safety, as evidenced by the gang’s enthusiastic and open support of her attacks on LumériCo. Deadlock openly rejects Jesse and is suggested to have a “shoot on sight” policy for him, as evidenced by the numerous photos of him accompanying rifles and his photo pinned to a dartboard; it’s possible that they resent him for having avoided prison and taking the presented opportunity to turn over a new leaf.

Even after leaving their respective gangs, both Jesse and Sombra still make use of variations on the gangs’ symbols in their personal iconographies. Sombra identifies herself through a simplified graphic calaveras. While in Blackwatch, Jesse openly displays his tattoo and wears a buckle of the Deadlock winged skull; after leaving Blackwatch, his prosthetic arm features plating shaped like a skull. (The iconography extends to the game’s UI also, with EMP represented by a calaveras and Deadeye with a skull.)

Both take somewhat similar relationships to Gabriel: Jesse is framed as a surrogate son and a right-hand, Sombra is framed as a young accomplice who takes a more familiar tack and a frequent trusted partner. They’re opinionated and vocal about it, unafraid to talk back to Gabriel and criticize his planning.

Further in the personality vein of things, they’re characterized as deeply confident in their abilities to the point of cockiness and overconfidence, and they can be accused (and have been, by Gabriel, though with dubious sincerity) of having too high an opinion of themselves. But despite the breeziness, they are highly competent, thorough, and conscientious, and although they may appear to have a lot of things to say about other people’s plans, they execute their own plans with precision and utmost gravity. Arguably, both are playing a bit of the fool to mask how sharp, observant, and cunning they really are.

#Jesse McCree #Sombra #Sombra Overwatch #Olivia Colomar #Overwatch #Anonymous #Gena plays Overwatch #I FINALLY FINISHED IT.#I apologize to you anon for taking three months but it's nearly 4k words and I was in a slump.#But I am always very happy to talk about things—especially if it's McCree related.#But Sombra and McCree are very interesting as paired characters.#I fear I've spent more time talking about Los Muertos and Deadlock than I have Sombra and McCree though.#But I am deeply interested in the social dynamics and context of Deadlock specifically and all that can be drawn out of the little we know #so I tend to let it get away from me when talking Deadlock.

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minatobutworse · 7 years

Text

The longest rambling incoherent nonsense I've ever written

1 year ago I would've never seen any of this coming. 6 months ago I was still in disbelief. Today I'm in a weird place where there are days where I'm so fucking happy and not giving a fuck that I can't help but dance all day, and there are other days where I'm relentlessly bitter and vicious to everyone around me. I'm glad I'm doing it the right way this time and not dragging someone along with me who didn't deserve it. I don't really hope to gain anything from posting this besides having my thoughts written out, but i hope that it will help me feel more cohesive, and understand what I'm feeling better. Things that remind me and give me that cold shudder throughout my body and make me freeze in place still crop up day to day. Paranoia still nags at me which is funny, because I have absolutely nothing to be afraid of, the cause of my paranoia is someone else's problem now. Anger still bites and tears at me on days where I could be planning out my life better. Small things that didn't ever really matter get blown out of proportion in my head, making me silently fume to myself until I'm so angry I'm shaking. My coworkers can tell when it happens so I do my best to keep it in check, otherwise they can tell. My voice shakes, I keep talking about things that gave me that fear and anger I used to feel and then I have to shut it away before it ruins my whole day. Then there are other days, where I wake up and feel confident and happy. I listen to music that I love more than anything else. Sure I look like an idiot dancing to songs in languages I don't speak, but the music is happy, and knowing the dances to them make me feel amazing, the same way being in taekwondo used to feel when I finished my forms and I knew I had the pacing and execution 100%. I got my ears pierced which I never thought would happen. Why? Because someone I used to love told me that I'd look weird with them done, and even though I backed down then and agreed, I actually was really fucking bummed. I wanted to do things that I wanted to do now, not do things the way she wanted me to. I'll dress how I think it fits me, I'll feel how I want to feel whenever I feel it. These last few months have been this weird transition from the last few years. It's like my entire teenage life, or rather the entire time my personality truly became me was being hindered my someone else trying to sculpt me into what they wanted. Now I'm becoming this hybrid of what I liked from that, along with how I really am. Being comfortable with myself is the most rewarding feeling I think I've ever felt, it's just so nice to do something and not think afterwards, "well that was embarrassing" or, "I can't believe I just did that, I look like a complete idiot." No more ice cold knives in my chest late at night alone in a bed for two, now I'm only feeling warmth from dancing until my legs hurt and my clothes are damp from the effort of trying to improve. I love how I can be so up front and open about my life and some pretty intimate feelings to friends and people I work with, but i get so shy that I pretend I have absolutely no interest in girls at all when I'm forced to talk to girls I don't know even a little bit. Like my defense mechanism to protect myself from being rejected is to feign complete disinterest; in turn, causing rejection. This is a ramble but it's a good ramble. Therapeutic rambles are necessary from time to time. I've made a lot of mistakes lately, financially and romantically, I'm working on fixing them. I got a new job to take care of the financial part, it kicked my ass the last time I did it, but now I'm a hard worker, I'm dedicated, I take pride in what I do for a living. If I can do that with this job, I'll be set for life. Maybe even own the company some day. That'd be impressive, but even more impressive would be me finding a girl who truly loves me. A girl who isn't manipulative, and one I could trust. That's really the most that I want. I don't want to question her motives, or whether or not she has lied to me. I want to feel comfortable and safe. I don't want to be scared of betrayal constantly because of her, and I don't want to feel unwanted but obligated to stay. Being told "if that's what you want then fine," with the most disinterested look hurts so much when you're suggesting a break so that you can both decide if you still want the same things, but it goes from hurt to anger when the time comes and you've already decided you don't like feeling hurt and unwanted anymore but they decided far too late to change your mind, and guilt trip and beg and plead with you until you feel like it's your fault that you aren't happy and in love anymore, when they were the ones that pushed you away and stopped caring about you long before you made the decision not to let yourself hurt anymore. I'm still dealing with the awkwardness of people we mutually know asking about her and bringing her up as though I fucking want to talk about her. Or telling me random bits of news from her life, like leave me the fuck alone what makes you think I want to hear this shit anymore? I'd love to be able to say "im completely and totally over her" but that'd be a fucking lie. I loved her with everything I ever had, I would've given her everything I had to give, I was hers entirely. But feeling worthless and unwanted was not what I signed up for. I still laugh about the fun times we had, and I still get really sad thinking about the times we were sad for each other and not because of each other. I remember all the times I insisted we talk it out instead of fighting, I remember the exact way it felt to look at her and feel this surge of love and affection and happiness, and I worry that not only may I never feel that way with another girl again, but that I might not ever have a relationship with another girl again. Which sounds very depressing and dramatic, but it seems like I'm on the fast track there with how every time I make plans with girls they flake on the plans and rescheduling them no matter how many times doesn't work. I've come to the conclusion that if I get cancelled on once, and try to reschedule at least 2 times and get shot down, it's best to just stop talking to them entirely. It's better to move on from it than wasting my time talking to people who don't even want to get lunch with me. Fuck, this was a lot of random bullshit, I only started writing because I was tired and figured fuck it, my usual method of going to sleep isn't helping, let's try something new. I'm still not tired though so I suppose I could go in depth on my sleep method. For as long as I can remember, I've always had a specific way of trying to go to sleep. I would create stories for myself. Love stories to be exact. I'd think up some girl, name, appearance, attributes and all, and I'd come up with a setting, a reason for our meeting, us becoming friends, eventually dating, and whatever else happens along the way. My favorite part of these stories is that the dream girl was never the same girl. Never had the same imagined physical traits, never had the same personality, nothing. So I guess I've cast a big enough net for myself that eventually, someday there's gonna be at least one girl out there who thinks, "I've got to have him." And I cannot wait for that day.

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