#ill just put this here since im avoiding setting up rules and stuff....

[codecicle]

wanted to apologise for possibly being someone who fucked up ur tl with 18+ slime posts (coming to grips with how tagging works on this here webbedsite!) please take my sincerest (anonymous) apologies ur a cool goober 🙏

ay man it's alright!! really!!! i understand most of the 18+ people are coming from websites like twitter or tiktok so they don't quite understand how it functions :-) if you ever need a tutorial or any help with understanding the culture here, shoot me an ask! it's insanely different from other social media and i completely understand its weird to adjust to and navigate. peace and love + have fun with your slimeposting ✌️

[metalgonemeta]

MAJORLY LONG POST IM SO SORRY

This whole post is a comparison of Isane-the-shiny, aka my older version of this blog, to its resurrection MetalGoneMeta

First things first, im sending development for this blog into motion. And although everyone who saw and i interacted with under the Isane-the-shiny/-and-muses usernames are now 2 years+ inactive and/or archived, i feel its best to put up the similarities and differences between then and now both for their sake should it be of interest as well as to give myself a blueprint for resurrecting under Metalgonemeta.

Isane-the-Shiny/-and-muses (2018?)

ItS was a Non-Selective, Independent, Pokémon/Metang OC Roleplaying blog

While I ran ItS (and later IaM) I was very VERY new to Tumblr RP and didnt know what anything meant besides a blog being Selective or not. And if you even had Semi-Selective in your bio, I posted the Same. Damn. CopyNPaste Ask of basically:

THIS GD ASK HAS PLAGUED MANY A USERS INBOX, and yknow how i said i didnt know the terminology of RPBlogs? That included those who had “Mutuals Only” as a rule of their blog.

To those whos blogs i did invade, I do apologize. I will say that i have improved since then.

(Also SHOUTOUT TO THOSE WHO ACTUALLY RESPONDED DESPITE THEIR OWN RULES /pos Istg i look back on this Invading copy and paste ask with HEAVY cringe, but I also remember feeling so ballistically happy seeing the “X answered your ask” notification. I hope all is well for you ^^)

Back to this list of how things were, pretty much said above but to put it shorter and more organized, Back when i ran IsT/IaM i was very Invasive and i was unaware of boundaries. And this was mostly due to it being back when i was about 14-15. (Im an Adult now dw ^^”)

Lastly and pretty much the only last changes and differences… Isane, the Metang OC of this blog, Is getting a name change and Overhaul. This is primarily for finding purposes ig? Basically, There is a character from a different fandom i follow, Bleach, with a character of the same name. (If anything i legit just stole the name cuz i liked Isane lmao). I do not have a new name decided *yet, but am actively searching so i can get it set in stone for the blog. And in terms of the actual overhaul, im going to look into updating, aka giving, her lore as well as (likely the only thing anyone i interacted with gave a shit about if at all) a redesign. Whether im going to turn her into a default blue and silver metang, or my Orrian Metang design is also still to be decided (you can find said design here )

Metalgonemeta (2023 onward)

Now all the big stuff i will admit is under the previous section by accident and ive noticed this post is getting pretty lengthy so ill try to keep this section short and to the point.

MGM is likely going to be identical to ItS in the fact it will still be an Indie NonSelective Blog. Though if i wanted to label every applicable term i found to give a better idea of what itll be: Indie, Pokemon/Metang OC, Based on Canon events that happened in both the mainline pokemon games as well as Pokemon Colosseum/GoD:XD, though will likely focus mainly on Unova B2W2* in writings.

Now i will say, factually in my stance, i should NOT go around peoples inboxes all wild andlikely childish. Even if i didnt make the other person uncomfortable, there were cases where i did make some uncomfortable… likely those who had stated mutuals only and yet here i was, a complete stranger banging on the ask box. Im probably going to just stick with those who interact with me first because of this and keep me going into inboxes at a minimal (i.e posted staters, prompts, etc.)

Kinda to keep parallel with the previous section, in terms of age rating im thinking ill have this blog be 18+. Not because of any mature material (if anything this blogs gonna be pretty sfw since its a gd METANG) but to avoid any uncomfortable complications regarding me, an 18y/o adult interacting with teens/minors of any age tumblr allows (I dont know what to even think of this cuz i just turned 18 not too long ago so from what ive heard i shouldnt have to worry about this type of stuff in the way say a 24y/o should), im just deciding in the hopes to just avoid any complications just keep the 18y/o me in the 18+ audience.

And that about wraps up all there is in terms of blog comparisons.. this was mostly focused on the blog technichalities and i will look into setting up a accessable Rules and About page when i get everything set up and can move onto a theme.

Im sorry this was so long but i felt it was best to post this now while everything i want to do is still fresh in my mind.

Thank you for reading through,

—Tamer

[smirkbastian]

   early  childhood  influences   ♔

This entry focuses specifically on the primary people that Sebastian was surrounded by in his early childhood years and how those people made him out to be how he exists today. This explains a moderately in-depth description of how the Smythe household functioned, and information about both his parents and his deceased brother individually/Sebastian’s relationship with them. This timeline focuses on ages 8 and under, but statements about parenting tactics existed until the day Sebastian left the house. The way Sebastian was raised have shaped him to be who he is today, as well. 

                          content warnings:  child abuse, alcoholism, suicide

♖  (  parents.  )     -     The Smythe family was strange. Though they seemed to be the average snotty rich family living on an estate and traveling like it was a casual trip to the grocery store, they weren’t average. In fact, they were a very specific breed of fucked up. It was that kind of fucked up where it was hidden behind glamour and high-class status. Adam and Elise Smythe were parents who removed themselves emotionally from their children’s lives--- all while Adam tried to control how they navigated their lives in every other aspect. They had two sons, the eldest was Damian Smythe, while the youngest was Sebastian Smythe. Adam always wanted sons, and that is exactly what he got. Elise didn’t care either way--- she just wanted children because she felt like they would make her happier with herself as a person. That maybe caring for a child would distract her from her own demons. The Smythe household was not one where being free with your emotions was encouraged. There was an unsaid rule that a Smythe is never caught emotionally weak. 

The Smythe name stood for a very specific thing. Adam and Elise knew that their goal to bring children into this world was to pass on the values of the Smythe name, and bring a new generation of power into the bloodline. Adam had grown up living up to the Smythe name as well and knew he would grow to become a lawyer like his father, and Elise had married into the family as a woman who had no family of her own blood herself. She had come from wealthy foster parents who weren’t the best people but paid for her to go to school so she could eventually use her medical degree to become a very prestigious plastic surgeon. Elise never really knew if she loved Adam, but she loved the idea of belonging to a permanent family, not a temporary one. Elise and Adam disagreed on a lot of parenting tactics, but with the abusive tendencies that Adam had revealed to her through the years, she struggled a lot with speaking her opinions and straying away from the way Adam wanted things to be when it came to raising Sebastian. Because of this, Sebastian was heavily raised under his father’s morals. 

Adam believed to raise a successful young man, you had to condition them for an adulthood where failing was not an option-- and that started was the very beginning years of Sebastian’s life. It was never about teaching him to reach for what he wants in a healthy way, it was about teaching him to take what he’s destined to have from anybody’s hands if it meant he would level up. There was never lessons about treating others with kindness, instead Sebastian was taught never to show himself in a vulnerable position. Sebastian learned from a young age that the ‘right’ way to be was to hide his inner conflicts and carry on with a ruthless demand for success. Growing up in these early childhood years really not knowing who his dad truly was, their relationship was very odd. His dad was kind of just a feared man, even an irritating pest as Seb grew older, not a loving parental figure. He knew the name that his dad had in the public eye of law and fortune. He knew what the Smythe name meant for his dad. But he didn’t know what his dad liked. What he was like as a child. Where he came from. Adam Smythe was a private and closed off man, even with his family. 

Elise was never a horrible mother in a direct manor, nothing like her husband, but her own problems and lack of power within the household caused her heart to be drowned out and hidden behind the state she kept herself in so that she didn’t have to face issues. Actually, especially while Sebastian was eight and under, Elise was still present to a decent extent before her alcoholism went overboard. Yes-- Elise was an alcoholic, one of those women who hides the fact they have a drinking problem, but everybody knew without saying that she had a problem. She always kept herself flawless, hair and makeup done, the nicest designer clothes. While Adam’s discipline was more present than his time, Elise’s time was more present than her discipline even though she was still a busy woman. She never laid down any kind of discipline. She feared doing the wrong thing but she also feared Adam so instead she did nothing. Sebastian did have some fond memories of her, though. In fact, when Sebastian was still young, Elise was at least good at showing her love when she could. She knew that she didn’t truly love her husband and she didn’t truly love her life behind all of the material things and status she had-- but what she did know was that she loved her sons. So much. Sebastian has his mother’s eyes. Sometimes Elise would tuck Sebastian in before bed and stroke his hair until he fell asleep and would just smile at the fact that Sebastian had the same eyes as her. 

However, after her oldest son Damian took his own life when Sebastian was eight, Elise became so much more far gone than she was before. Nothing was really the same after that. When Elise was unable to keep going as the mother she had the glimpse of being before, Sebastian really started to look at her as a coward in his teenage years and see flaws in her the same way he saw a million flaws in his father. Because Sebastian had grown with such twisted views on life, he didn’t understand how to empathize with why she was never present. It was a horrible way to look at her but Sebastian was being encouraged to become horrible by his father. There was nothing else you could expect from him. 

♖  (  damian.  )     -     Until the age of eight, Sebastian had an alive and well older brother, Damian Smythe. A lot of older brothers can be mean to their younger siblings, but Damian was anything but. There was never a rivalry or bullying. The only person he had a horrible relationship with was his parents. Damian and his parents would fight day and night. They really raised Damian to be the perfect model of a child. If you think Adam was controlling of Sebastian, Damian had gotten it much worse because he was the oldest. The first possibility of a perfectly shaped Smythe boy. They parented him harshly (more so Adam). He was almost more of a leader and role model for Sebastian because despite the fact that their parents were always upset with Damian, he always taught Sebastian that he should pursue whatever he wants to in life and be his own person. Even at that age, Sebastian understood exactly what he meant. I guess you could say that because Damian had lived eighteen years with the Smythe’s as parents, he knew what would be in store for Sebastian and he was putting these ideas of self-worth into his head before his parents could get to Sebastian like it had messed with Damian. 

Damian would care for him a lot when Sebastian’s mood was too frustrated to accept the care of any nanny he had once behavioral issues came to bay for Sebastian. Damian was also the only person that could calm Sebastian down when he was upset. Damian was the reason Sebastian took a big interest in music that wasn’t purely classical or French as his parents enjoyed (which Sebastian also liked too, admittedly). The older Sebastian got, the less time Damian spent at home. Nothing to do with Sebastian. It was their parents driving him insane, Adam hounding him every moment spent together about how he’s fucking his life up with his plans and how difficult it was having to tell all of his friends and acquaintances that his oldest son wasn’t going into law as expected. Damian’s relationship with their parents worsening by the day, things got really tense. He couldn’t live up to the perfect son image. Damian was pretty much what you could call a genius in science and mathematics, and because he dismissed this in the sense of his career and instead took interest in the arts, he was ostracized by his parents.  

At the age of eighteen, Damian took his own life. The details of how he did it were sad and didn’t matter. The point was--- he took his own life because beyond his independent thinking and trying to fight to be the person he wanted to be, there was a cracking point. Even for the ones with the strongest will, there comes a point where it’s hard to keep trying. He was a highly intelligent mind that felt depressed. Damian was diagnosed with clinical depression at a very young age, and was never given the proper tools in his home life to help it. With daily threats from his father and his mother doing nothing to stop this, Damian developed a lot of stress and a lot of self-image issues. The point of life was fading. His dreams were being denied--- what now? After Damian committed suicide, Adam and Elise really stopped trying with Sebastian as far as knowing where he was and what he was doing as long as his grades were good and he kept on with his curricular activities. Which is why Sebastian grew up to be a teenager that always seemed to be where he wanted to be. No curfew. No restrictions.

Adam was very quiet about the suicide. He almost fully ignored it, and acted like it never happened. It was almost like he was ashamed of talking about it or there was no world where he could even bring himself to get in touch with his emotions and cry. He acted like what Damian did was selfish from the little words he did say about it to Sebastian. Elise was a mess after it happened, she isolated herself and medicated herself with alcohol non-stop for the full year after. Never around. It was a strange time for the Smythe home, and people in their rich inner circle were talking. Rumors. Horrible things. Suddenly, Elise became a barely-there mother to an absent mother for Sebastian at the time where he needed to know how to feel about all this the most. Sebastian missed his brother. Even at eight, he knew it wasn’t just some selfish thing he did. He knew Damian had left him because he was sad. This is when Sebastian’s behavioral problems worsened heavily, and he became a true problem child. 

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

The Duty of a Captain - Part Two

A/N: Hello Everyone! So this is the first fic that I have written like this. Posting chapters once I’m finished with them. I usually try and write the whole thing and then post each chapter on a schedule, but I was just so excited to tell Doc’s story that I thought I’d try this! If you want to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter of Doc’s story, please message me and let me know! Oh! Ad the italics are Docs thoughts (sorry if thats not clear, Im still a learner lol).

Length: ~2600 words (damn I did not mean to make it that long. I thought maybe 1000 lol)

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, abuse, pong krell, angst

Previous

It had taken more time than usual to get all of the field equipment back to the Jedi cruiser Tolerance. With so many men being lost, there were not as many hands to get the usual post battle procedures done and General Krell was not happy with the delay.

 Doc had been called back to the cruiser before the rest of his men down on the surface to deliver the mission report to the Jedi council alongside the Besalisk Jedi. He had finished the troop requisitions and mission report hours ago and had begun helping the others load up equipment when he got the transmission.

 Now, as he held onto the handle of the gunship that had been sent to pick him up, he held his breath. He had never spoken to the Jedi council before, but he had heard stories. He remembered hearing his captain talking about how intimidating it was. How even from across the galaxy, they could feel the slightest thing. How the combined power of all of those Jedi masters was a force to be reckoned with. At least, that is what the general had told his former captain.

He was afraid to face that much power. If the other Jedi were anything like his general, he wanted the meeting with them to go by as fast as possible.

 He imagined what they might be like. He envisioned powerful warriors, all huge and intimidating like his general. With merciless eyes and a scowl that sent fear through the bodies of anyone who dared to look upon it. He imagined their lightsabers never being too far away from their hands, ready to be ignited and run through something or someone at a moment’s notice.

 Doc was pulled from his thoughts when the voice of the pilot came through his comms and he felt the ship being maneuvered into the main hanger. “We’re here sir.” The doors opened as the ship was set down, revealing Krell waiting in the hanger with his arms crossed behind his back.

 “Thanks for the lift Short-stuff,” Doc said as he stepped out onto the metal floor of the hanger.

 “Anytime sir.” The doors to the ship closed behind Doc as he began walking away, his hands reaching up to take off his helmet. “Oh, and sir?”

 Doc briefly stopped and looked up toward the cockpit, his hands halting on the sides of his head as the man stared back at him.

 “Good luck.”

 Doc finished pulling off his helmet, a small smile gracing his features as he gave the pilot a quick nod.

 “CT-5770, start moving! I have a mission report to give and will not be blamed for you making me late.”

 Doc spun around, quickly making his way to follow the general out of the hanger. “Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.”

 Krell dismissively waved his hand, not bothering to look behind him at Doc as he spoke. “Am I correct in assuming that you are ill equipped for this situation?”

 Doc furrowed his brow, thinking through what he had already done. He had already turned in the mission report, and the casualty and damage reports. What more could he do to be prepared? “Excuse me, sir,” he asked, confusion lightly lacing his voice.

 “Feeble minded clones,” Krell muttered under his breath. He stopped and spun around, looming over the captain. “You have never given a mission report to any Jedi before? Correct?”

 Doc swallowed and stood straighter, coming to attention. “Yes, sir. That is correct, but all troops are trained on Kamino to be knowledgeable about—”

 “Enough. I do not care about the laboratory that bred you or what you claim to know. Since you have never done it, let me give you some rules that I expect you to follow exactly. Is that understood?”

 “Of course, sir.”

 “Good.” Krell turned back around and kept walking toward the bridge. “You are to stand behind me at all times unless told otherwise. Understood?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “You will remain silent and will only speak when spoken to directly by myself or the council.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “When you are asked a question, you stick to the description of the battle that I give. The council does not have time to listen to your view of the smaller picture. Is that clear?”

 Doc hesitated for a moment. “Why would the battle descriptions be different?”

 The door to the bridge whooshed open and Krell walked up to the command table. “Do I make myself clear CT-5770,” Krell snapped over his shoulder.

 “Yes, sir,” Doc said, the hesitation still apparent in his voice.

 Krell threw a cold look over his shoulder as he stepped back, waiting for the transmission to begin. “Good.”

 Doc felt a shiver run down his back as he came to attention behind Krell. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, afraid that the Jedi council would be able to sense his fear of them. Or worse, that Krell would be able to sense his unease about his presence alone.

 “Incoming transmission from Coruscant, sir.”

 “Put it through.”

 Nine blue figures suddenly appeared on the table and Doc’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he catches himself and returns to a neutral face.

 They don’t look anything like Doc had imagined them. All of them are wearing soft looking robes with their hands resting gently in front of them. Their lightsabers are tucked away, either out on a hip, or hidden within the fabrics they wear, far away from the hands that might wield them.

 They do not dress like warriors, not wearing any armor. Those that do only wear basic arm and leg guards.

 None of them look particularly threatening, especially considering that one is not even as tall as Doc’s knee.

 They all share the peaceful demeanor and kind eyes that one would find in the company of an old friend.

 “This can’t be right,” he thinks to himself. “This has to be some kind of trick to get me to slip up. Jedi aren’t kind.”

 Krell does a small bow. “Shall we wait for the other three members of the council to arrive, Master Yoda?”

 Doc once again has to keep himself from making a face when the small creature directly across from Krell speaks.

 “Masters Shaak Ti, Kenobi, and Billaba, busy they are with other matters. Hear your report without them, we will.”

 “That’s Grand Master Yoda? The head of the Jedi Council? The Jedi who leveled nearly one thousand battle droids by himself?”

 “Very well,” Krell said. “The mission was a success. The planet Castell is now under Republic control and a treaty has been drafted for the mining resources that the planet possesses. They have also agreed to a Republic base being built there should we desire it.”

 The Jedi to the left of Master Yoda shifts. “Yes, however this battle did take longer than expected. This has set our timeline for the entire system back.”

 “I am aware, Master Windu.”

 “And, many casualties your battalion has suffered,” Yoda said gravely.

 “Yes,” Krell considered. “There were some… unforeseen circumstances that could not be avoided.”

 “Liar.”

 “Hmm. A new captain you have gained I see,” Yoda said as he gestured to Doc.

 Doc stiffened, the fear he had before returning to him.

 “Yes,” Krell said. “The previous captain was killed on this campaign.”

 “Hmm.” Yoda brought his hand up to his chin as he looked over Doc. “Step forward Captain.”

 Doc swallowed and stepped forward, his body never leaving attention as he stared directly in front of him.

 All the eyes of the council were on him. He could feel them looking over him, taking in everything that they could see of his fear filled body.

 “What is your name trooper?”

 “My designation is CT-5770, sir,” he replied stiffly, not turning his eyes away from directly in front of him to look at the Jedi who had addressed him.

 “Your name son,” came a different voice. It was soft and gentle, like the person it came from actually cared.

 Doc faltered slightly, turning toward the voice to face the Kel-Dor Jedi. “It’s- It’s uhh, Doc, sir,” he said cautiously before turning back to attention.

 “Please, at ease be Captain.”

 Doc looked back at Krell and was met with a neutral face, giving him no indication to stay at attention. Looking back at Yoda, he awkwardly shuffled into a stiff parade rest.

 “Captain Doc,”

 Doc’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of his name being said by someone other than his brothers before he quickly forced them back down, hoping that none of the Jedi noticed. All of them did.

 “Agree with Master Krell’s description of the battle, do you?”

 “No.”

 “Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation, his fear of disobeying Krell’s rules pulsing in the back of his mind.

 The council hesitated for a moment, all of the members on it exchanging quick glances before looking back at Doc.

 “I sense much fear in you Captain,” the Kel-Dor Jedi said lightly.

 Doc sucked in a breath, trying to quiet his mind.

 The Kel-Dor leans forward, pointing at Doc. “You mustn’t be afraid to tell us information that we may not be pleased to hear.”

 “Yes,” Yoda says. “Tell us the truth you must, so that better prepared we can be for future battles.”

 Doc swallows, looking between the three Jedi who look at him with questioning faces.

 “I do not fear telling you the truth Master Jedi,” he lies as he looks at each member of the council.

 “So then Captain, tell us,” Windu says. “Do you agree with Master Krell’s description of the battle?”

 Doc hesitates for a moment, looking back at Krell and seeing hard eyes staring back at him. He takes a deep breath, turning his attention back toward Master Windu.

 “Well… I…” He quickly looks down, before bringing his head back up high.

 The members of the council lean forward, urging him to finish his thought.

 “I do think that there were ways we could have avoided so many casualties had we tried… different strategies.”

 The Jedi all look at each other, nodding. “Then discuss that with your general, you will,” Yoda says.

 He looks at Krell, whose expression Doc cannot see. “A discussion with your new captain, you will have. Then reassess the information you give in reports, you will. A discussion with you, I will have at a later date. Talk about what you and your captain agreed on, we will.”

 Krell’s voice cuts through the tight tension that has taken over the bridge as the deck officers take turns staring at the meeting. “Yes, master.”

 “Very good.” Master Windu looks around at all of the Jedi, who give him a soft nod. “Your next assignment will be transmitted to you within a few days. In that time, you are to travel to Kamino to pick up your new troopers.”

 “Understood.”

 Windu nodded at Krell and then Doc. “May the Force be with you.”

 One by one, the blue images of the Jedi faded out until only Yoda remained. “Much fear there is in you young one,” he said as he pointed at Doc. “Know not what it is you fear, but learn to control it, you must. Yes.”

 Doc looks at the ground before looking back at Yoda, nodding his head. “I will try sir.”

 “You will. Of that, certain I am.” He gives one final smile to Doc, and then his image disappears.

 Doc steps back from the table and instantly spins around toward his general, frantically trying to apologize. “Sir, I am so sorry. I didn’t know that they would—”

 Doc yelps as a huge arm hits him hard across the face, sending him tumbling backwards onto the ground. His helmet clatters as it hits the ground and is sent flying across the floor.

 He can feel his left eye pulsing as blood rushes to the area that was hit. He looks up to see his general towering over him with rage filling his eyes and a snarl covering his face.

 “Sir, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

 “You will stand at attention when you speak to me clone!” Krell’s voice booms out across the silent bridge.

 Every pair of eyes stares at him in fear, while breath is held in anticipation.

 Doc begins pushing himself off of the floor, sucking in a sharp breath. “Yes, sir,” he says meekly.

 He comes back to attention, looking up at the furious Jedi, before Krell’s left arm comes up to backhand Doc once again, sending him to the floor.

 “How dare you embarrass me in front of the council!”

 Doc begins standing up once again, trying to come to attention. “I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to—”

 He feels Krell’s fist on his face again before he can fully get up and is sent to the floor once again.

 “Consider this a warning clone,” Krell says, his voice a menacing growl. “You will learn your place. Understood?”

 Doc brings his hand to his lip as he slowly gets up. He pulls it away to see blood on his glove before pulling his hand down to come to attention. He looks up at Krell defiantly, his left eye already beginning to swell and obstruct his vision. “Yes, sir.”

 Krell looks around at the troopers on the bridge that have been staring at them with wide eyes. “Understood?”

 As quick as lightning, they all snap to attention before saying in unison, “Sir, yes sir!”

 With that, Krell turned and began storming out of the bridge, stopping just before he got to the door. He turned around walking back up to Doc and getting in his space. “I still expect those reports to be filled out on time, Captain.”

 “Of course, sir,” Doc says, keeping his voice level.

 He watches Krell leave before looking around at the shocked and terrified faces of his brothers. He sighs, bringing his hand back up to his bleeding lip. “It’s alright,” he says softly, trying to comfort them. “Everyone just try to get back to your work so that this day might end a bit better than it began.”

 He looks around, seeing all of the fear on his brothers faces as they silently turn back to their duties. None of them are much older than him. Maybe three of the men he can see are the same age as him, but the rest are all younger.

 He sighs, trying not to think about how terrified they must be. He needs to be strong for them like his brothers were for him when he first began the never-ending nightmare of serving in the 904th.

 “Lieutenant,” he says.

 “Yes, sir?”

 “I am going to go to the med bay. Could you have someone go to the captain’s quarters and bring the data pad here? I am going to work on the bridge once I am done.”

 “Of course, sir.”

 Doc gives a small smile. “Thank you.” He lowers his voice. “Have someone notify me once the General has returned to his quarters for the night cycle. Once it has been cleared with me, begin phase one of the geode protocol. Can you do that?”

 The lieutenant pulls back, his eyes lighting up slightly at the mention of the secret order. “Of course, sir.”

 Doc puts his hand on the trooper’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you.” He began to walk out of the bridge, stopping to turn back toward the lieutenant. “Comm me if anything is needed. Got it?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 With that, Doc began his walk toward the medbay, his lip dripping blood onto his plain white armor the entire time.

[autisticstarseed]

if u could, perhaps, bless us with all the applicable symbols from that fic ask for hvh 👀

ooOoOOOoOO Rub s gay hands togehter omg ty friend 😍;;;;;;

💡 - What was the motivation behind the story?

hHH i hadnt written in 10+ years so when i latched onto this plot idea i just thought itd be a good time to jump the shark and try it again !! i just wanted smth really edgy and depthful bc im emo and the rest kind of snowballed

💎- What was your favorite part?

osdlfksd;lf it’s hard to pick a fav but the drunk scene was definitely the most fun to write at least

⛰️-  What was the hardest part?

THE SCENE WHERE THE GANG IS KIDNAPPED BY ENKI,,,, i debated toning down the violence but in the end i knew where the story was going (and where its still going) and that its gonNA be kinda dark so why hold back now ig

🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?

BITTERSWEET AF,,, sort of just treading the line of ‘hopeful’ and ‘hopeless’ at all times to fully portray the feeling of being at your lowest, but with that classic tss ‘silver linings just around the corner’ kind of undertone

🏟️- Who was your intended audience?

mostly all the adults that watched tss as a kid and felt like spirituaLLY MOVED BY IT cuz i really tried to tap into that Emotion Tee Em we all felt when we found out that zak was [redacted]

🔬- Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right?

hHH theres actually a LOT of scenes like that and i think a lot of my general motivation to keep going comes from that ‘WAIT FOR IT WAIT FOR IT’ vibe slkdf:SDF but the Plot Twist tm in the latest chapter was definitely a big’n, and theres a few more of those still to come :^)

🗝️ - What were you thinking when you wrote it?

kjdjFSDs:DF tbh whenever i start really writing, [’im shifting into soup mode’ seinfeld meme voice] im shifting into maladaptive daydreaming mode

🎥- Were there any tv shows, books, or movies that influenced this verse, if any?

:^) devilman crybaby pls forgive me for everytHing

📈- Was there a clear character arch you wanted____ character to go on?

i actually have a short list of what i somewhat consider to be the story arcs in my notes !! mostly just for organization and obvs i wont list the future ones but so far we’ve seen the kushtaka arc, the enki arc, and now we’re in what i call ‘the annunaki’ arc.

🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

ALL OF IT JSHDJSKD, but again a lot of the enki scenes i was worried would be too edgy TM, and the whole annunaki plot as well i was worried might be too ‘out there’ for ppl, but it takes the story exactly where i always wanted it and lines everything up perfectly so i went for it lol. i was also ofc worried if people would like ila or not bc oc but most ppl love her actually which is so 😭❤️

☠️- Did you consider killing off any of the characters? Did you?

8^) [mickey mouse voice] this is a surprise tool that will help us later ,

✉️- Did you title your chapters? What title do you like best?

yes! the next one actually has my favorite chapter title yet, but so far i like ‘so strikes the harpoon’ since its a throwback to the first couple chapters

☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?

o every single paragraph is an overly thought out middle school poem im entering in the talent show actually

🎵- Did you have a playlist/piece of music that went with this story?

Yes !! i have HVH insp part 1, Part 2, and an extra one for all those songs that have the vibes but just dont fit enough to make sense in a playlist

📜-Do you want to write something like this again in the future?

probably ! ive learned i definitely like the edgy/darker and emotionally driven stories with ongoing plot, so that trend will almost definitely continue. idk if ill write a dystopia again anytime soon, but i think my future stuff will at least retain that long and heavy vibe

💁- Did readers influence/change any part of this story?

oh yEA like basically i was ready to quit after the very first chapter before it was even written and kinda just got it all out on a whim of motivation but was expecting to flake on it like i tend to do with projects, but the invested response to it was just so uplifting that its what ive been riding on all ten chapters and im so grateful for it :’)))

✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?

hHHHHHHH yes and ok this is terrible but i actually tend to avoid re-reading my older chapters until i hAVe to bc i suffer from that sO much ,,, , its just little things like tiny words i wanna change or bits i wanna take out/put in and once or twice ive even caught a mistake or plot hole/smth i forgot to add that i rly do have to go back and edit and i just turn to dust every tim e

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

i really liked the northern lights scene!! it was meant to be a pivotal moment of that ‘bittersweetness’ vibe i was talking abt and it was another one of those scenes i had been planning for a while;;;

“ I think of how much the rest of the family would love this. This isn’t like the moon and the sun, where I can see it and know that even if it looks different, they’ll see the same one soon enough, wherever they are. This reminds me only that I am not with them. It stings. It seems unnatural for something so gentle and natural to appear before us as if we aren’t in complete, total fucking chaos. After all we’ve been through, and the sky still dances. “

📣-What was the best piece of encouragement you got?

AVERY ALL OF UR LIVEBL OGS AND COMMENTS GIV ME SUCH L I FE, ,, ,, CRYIGN CAT FA ce

🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?

isdfhSDF YEs, part of my hesitation to write came from this thing where i always just assumed there was a wildly high standard of writing in fandom spaces like in original literature spaces, where you had to have like 10+ sentences to a paragraph and you had to describe every tiny detail of a setting and you had to follow every single grammar rule or it was unreadable but like. genuinely its like sculpting with words as long as you have a shape ppl get the idea which is such a weight off my shoulders lol, its still a lot of work but so much fun to know i can to an extent do what i want and ppl actually like it like that. i also learned that like most other writers i have to cause my favs emotional and physical pain,

🎁- Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this?

hhHHHH 1. please do it its so fun just give in to the edge my guy , 2. try to get comfortable re-reading your chapters, for me its like when ppl listen to themselves sing/act but im trying to do better bc its so much more consistent when i keep it fresh in my mind and it also boosts confidence when u can pick out the things u like instead of the things u dont, 3. trying to have at least one scene in mind for each chapter that ur excited to write so u can have motivation to update faster! for me it doesnt have to be smth i think would excite the audience either like it could be the most basic thing but just having an idea of it and knowing i want to see it come to life rly helps me stay on top of it all

TY SM FRIEND THIS WAS SO FUN x x )

[timeoutforthee]

Like it or Not-Chapter 15

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: referenced self harm, discussion of self-hatred

Looking back on it, Patton won over Paisley and Julia before he even spoke to them, back when they first started the adoption process.

They had agreed to look at all possible choices-no matter what age, what gender, what state of health. They were going to find the perfect fit for their little family, and putting restrictions on who that could be seemed...unnecessary. So when their case worker told them that they had finally, finally, found a child they thought would be a good fit, they set up a meeting as soon as they possibly could.

They were meeting him at a park, with their caseworker and his previous foster family. They had expected him to be on the playground, swinging from the swings, or running through the fake castles. Instead he was at the picnic table with the adults, a stack of paper on one side of him, and a box of crayons on the other.

When he heard footsteps, his head jerked up, making little blonde curls bounce. He smiled.. “Hiiiiiii! Are you Miss Paisley and Miss Julia?”

“We sure are,” Jules had replied, already slipping in across from him. “Are you Patton?”

“Yep!” he giggled.

The foster family held out hands, introduced themselves, and they all followed the rules to ensure Patton was going to be safe and happy. But Paisley kept finding her eyes falling to him, to all the scribbling he was doing. Of course, they weren’t scribbles to him, and finally she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Whatcha drawing?”

Patton looked up, and then held up his drawing. “Issa cat! For Val!”

“Val is another foster kid we’ve taken in,” his foster dad said.

“I’m makin’ drawin’s for all my brothers and sisters,” Patton said. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, “I can make one for you!”

Paisley thinks the right thing to do here is say no, that’s okay, but also she doesn’t want to discourage his creativity.

Also, screw it, she wants a picture.

Patton puts his cat drawing aside, tucked safely under the crayon box with the rest of them so the wind doesn’t blow them away. He stares at the blank piece of paper, and then, carefully, he draws a big heart. He colors it in red, gently, and stays inside the lines as best he can. “A heart for the Harts,” he announces and hands it over. Then he goes, “I can make you one, too, Miss Julia.”

“I would like that very much,” she says, already amazed by this child, “But I would really love it if you could just call me Julia.”

Patton frowns and looks to his foster parents.

“It’s okay, Patton,” they say.

“Okay...Julia and Paisley,” he says, slowly. Then, again, he traces a big heart on the paper, this time it’s pink.

The rest of the meeting is centered around what their next steps might be if they want to continue. Jules and Paisley share looks, because they already know this child is the one that’s been missing in their life.

On the way home, Paisley starts sniffling, which catches her girlfriend completely by surprise.

“I just love him,” she says, which makes Jules smile.

“Good, because I do, too,” she says, leaning over and pecking Paisley on the cheek, “And I love you. And I think this may work out.”

^

Paisley is not sentimental. Stuff is just that-stuff. But she’ll be damned if she ever gets rid of that heart drawing.

It used to hang up in the bedroom, but now it sits in the top drawer of her nightstand. Sometimes she holds it, as if it’s some sort of anchor.

She holds it on the night her girlfriend dies, before they’re even legally allowed to become wives. She holds it and cries, knowing the next morning she’s going to have to tell their son that she’s all he has left now and that feels so empty.

She holds it the first time Patton tells her he hates her. It starts with a big fight, and she honestly can’t remember the trigger, but he hurls the words at her like weapons, stomps off and slams the door, and she feels like ice. She doesn’t cry, knows that if she does he’ll let the guilt eat him alive. It doesn’t matter, because it does anyway, and he ends up slipping a note under her door explaining he’s been hiding the fact that he’s pansexual and he doesn’t know what to do and he’s scared. She lets go of the drawing and goes to hug him instead.

She holds it at four in the morning after she finds Patton on his knees at midnight. She knows she’s not going to work, she knows he’s not going to school, and she knows she’s going to search all day the next day to find a mental health center that can take him. But besides that, she’s completely lost.

She holds it every night, hoping that one day she won’t hear the creak of his steps as he makes his way down the stairs. She aches for it everytime he lies to her.

Paisley works in a hospital as a phlebotomist. She’s not connected to the mental health side of things, but she’s able to follow some leads, do some research, and find out whatever she can about this illness her son has. And she hates it, because everything she finds tells her all she can do is be there for him, and she’s trying but it’s not working. Is there something wrong with her? Should she find a different therapist? No, this is a process, and this new doctor is trying some new methods, so they’re making progress, it’s just slow. She thinks.

All the research has shown her one thing: Patton really, really hates himself.

And she can’t fathom why, because since the moment they’ve met, she’s loved him. She loved him so much it hurt.

^

“Mom? Are you...okay?”

Paisley grips the steering wheel a little tighter, breathes a little deeper, then says, “Of course!”

Patton frowns before looking out the window of the car, and she wonders why, why he still feels the need to look after everyone else when he’s the one who’s hurting so badly.

“It’s just,” she says, knowing if she wants him to be open and honest, she must first be open and honest. Unfortunately, she’s not very good at being open and honest, that was always Jules’s territory. “I’m worried about you.”

“Oh, don’t be!” Patton looks over, eyes bright, “I really like group, it’s really helping me.”

“Is Dr. Sanders helping you? Do I need to find a new one?”

“No, no,” Patton says, “He’s really helping, too.”

She wants to ask him why he’s lying to her, but she doesn’t know if that’s the right move. Really, she doesn’t know anything.

That’s what she thinks when Patton gets out of the car and waves at her. She drives over to park, where she’ll wait for him for the entire session. Just like always.

^

Logan is realizing his new friends are not very subtle.

This is something he realizes when Dr. Picani comes in and asks “what’s new?” and they all respond by looking at him. He sighs. He might as well get this over with.

“I skipped my appointment this week,” he admits.

“Yes, Dr. Sanders mentioned you didn’t show up,” Emile responds, pulling out the notebook, “You say you skipped it?”

“I did,” Logan says, “I had a temporary lapse in judgment.”

“So, is this lapse something you wanted to talk about now or in your individual?”

“I don’t see why I need to talk about it, it’s over.”

“Yes, but if we don’t know what caused it, then what happens if it happens again?”

“It won’t,” Now everyone is avoiding eye contact. “What?”

“Logan, let me ask you a question that I hope you feel comfortable sharing,” Dr. Picani starts, pushing his glasses up with the end of his pen, “How long have you been suffering from your eating disorder?”

“...Three years,” Logan responds.

“Do you think habits, and the things you’ve taught yourself, can be unlearned in a few sessions?”

“Well, I would like it to be,” Logan says, bluntly, before taking a moment to reflect a little more, “I think that’s part of the issue. Healing is going to take so much time, and so much strength, and I just...don’t think I can do it. It’d be easier if I just didn’t have an issue in the first place. So I convinced myself I didn’t.”

“The fact that you’re aware of that is good, Logan,” Dr. Picani says, “I also find it interesting that last session you were talking about invalidation, and you got to the point where you were attempting to invalidate yourself.”

“I...didn’t look at it that way.”

“What happened when you told your mom you weren’t going to therapy? Did she fight it all?”

“No, she forgot about the appointment. She was just grateful we didn’t actually need to leave.”

“So she sees this as more of a chore than something beneficial for you?”

“I...guess,” Logan says, slowly.

“Well, I would like you to discuss this more in your individual with Dr. Sanders, but I think this ties in nicely with what we were planning on talking about this time, which was your support system.”

“Didn’t we talk enough about that last time?” Virgil speaks up.

“Well, as we can see, it’s very clear support systems can have be very impactful.”

“So? We have this now.”

“Well, yes, but ‘this’ is not going to be as helpful if you don’t utilize it.”

“But...we are utilizing it?” Patton says, “Aren’t we?”

“You are using it in a way by showing up,” Emile says, “But I want you guys to realize just how safe you are in here. I want you all to feel like you can talk about anything.”

Virgil thinks back to yesterday, to the cuts on his thigh, and ducks his head, letting his hood fall down over his eyes.

“Patton, Virgil, you’ve said you feel you have a fairly stable support system-”

“Hey! I do, too!”

“Of course, Roman. A fairly stable support system in your family, and you all have the teacher whose room you’re utilizing. You have me and Dr. Sanders, and, of course, you have each other,” Emile says, “So, with all that in mind, if something were to trigger you, where would you go?”

Everyone goes silent.

“I just...I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, you know?” Patton says, “A lot of this stuff feels so...heavy, all the time. I don’t want someone else to have to carry it like I do.”

“But wouldn’t that make it easier to carry?” Virgil asks.

“I...don’t know. And I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone to find out.”

“It does hurt, in a way,” Virgil admits, “To see people you care about suffering, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to help.”

“I find it interesting that you’re the one to say that, Virgil, since Violet has also expressed she wants to help you, yet you don’t feel like you can trust her.”

“That’s different,” Virgil says, immediately.

“How?”

“Because I don’t know her,” Virgil says without thinking. And shit. Now everyone’s expecting an explanation, “Violet is my aunt, but my dad and I were kinda isolated from our family, and she just sort of swooped in one day and since then she’s been making decisions that she thinks are best for me, without even asking me, by the way, and-” he shakes his head. “It’s different.”

“Do you think it’s possible that, even if she doesn’t know you, like you say, that she could care?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know why else she’d be going through all this. But she might also just want to be absolved from her guilt.”

“What does she have to feel guilty about?”

“Nice try,” Virgil says, “But we’re not talking about that today.”

[i-also-miss-our-talks]

IHOP and the Enigma (Connor Murphy x Reader)

Asked by Anonymous: Can I please get a Connor x Reader where the reader is basically Belle and Connor is the Beast. Thank you

Bro tbh I have no idea what I just fucking wrote. I think I started to work with your request, but it slowly veered away from it and I’m so so so sorry about that. Even though this took me forever to write, I honestly hate how it came out and I will most likely redo it in the future.

WC: 2,751

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of attempted suicide, Shitty writing, Jared Kleinman

Masterlist

Again, sorry for the horrible writing. I really should not post this. I am not proud of how this turned out at all. Please don’t send me messages about how random it is and how I can’t stick to one plot line.

Because I know that already.

Also I haven’t slept in like 24 hours so give me a break.

Connor Murphy was an enigma.

By definition, an enigma is a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.

So, yeah. Connor Murphy was an enigma. And everyone at school avoided him like any other enigma in their lives. Including the area underneath the left side of the football fields bleachers. That’s where Connor went to smoke. No one dared to venture near that side, fearful of what the “School Shooter” might do if he found out.

You, of course, weren’t fearful. You were rather curious. Curious if Connor Murphy actually smoked there or if it was just a myth. Curious about what he would do if he found someone in his area. Curious as to how enigmatic this enigma really was.

Therefore, you conducted an experiment. In all honesty, you just didn’t want to sit through another boring history lecture. So instead, you decided to put your curiousness at ease.

You sat under the bleachers, pulled out your phone, and scrolled through some apps while you waited for Connor.

“Hey!”

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Connor asked as he walked under the bleachers. He stuffed an unlit joint back into his hoodie pocket.

You look up at him. “I was just doing an experiment.”

“An experiment? That’s a poor ass excuse. What are you actually doing here? Trying to find out some creepy shit about me so I’ll freak out?” Connor accused, his temper growing by the second.

You shook your head, putting your hands up. “No! I swear it was just for an experiment! I’ll be on my way!” You spring up and start to walk away until you feel a tug on your backpack.

“Nope. No fucking way are you leaving just yet,” Connor snarled. He harshly pulled you back against one of the metal poles. Your head slammed against the metal but you weren’t worried about the pain. You were more frightened by what Connor was doing. “You’re gonna help me show people that I’m not to be fucking messed with. So as of now, you’re my slave.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but quickly shut it when Connor glared at you with eyes full of darkness. Wordlessly, you nod.

Connor smirked slightly before letting you go, pulling his joint back out of his pocket. He grabbed a piece of paper and handed it to you. “Write down your number. I’ll text you whenever I need you for something.”

Again, you nodded and obeyed. Your shaking hand made it difficult to write the numbers cleanly, but you managed. You handed the paper back to him and gripped your backpack straps.

Connor stuffed the paper in his pocket and lit his joint. “Now get your ass out of here before people see you with the School Shooter.”

So you ran back to class. What did you get yourself into?

During lunch, you got your first text.

From Connor: Y/N this better be your fucking number

You rolled your eyes and went outside to eat, as always. You sat against a tree away from everyone else and took out your lunch.

To Connor: It is. Chill.

From Connor: where the fuck are you

To Connor: Outside eating lunch. Why does it matter?

You put your phone away and start eating your sandwich. Just as you were about to take your first bite, someone sat down next to you. So much for away from everyone else. You sigh and look next to you, surprised to see the enigma himself. “What are you doing here?”

Connor shrugged. “Figured if you’re my slave, I should at least fucking try to get to know you,” he said, taking his bag off his shoulder.

You nodded and ate silently. But Connor just sat against the tree, staring off into the distance.

“Don’t you have a lunch?” you asked, slightly concerned by how calm he was.

Connor shook his head. “Nope.”

“Do you want some of mine?”

His head whipped towards you. “What?”

“Do you want some of my lunch?” you repeat, holding out your apple towards him.

“Why the fuck would you share your shitty lunch with me?”

You shrug. “Why not?” Connor stared at the apple for a few seconds before grabbing it cautiously. “It’s just an apple, Connor. It’s not gonna bite.”

Connor rolled his eyes and mumbled incoherently before taking a bite of the apple. When he was finished, he threw the core as far as he could into the grassy field ahead of them.

“Connor, what the hell? Why didn’t you just throw it out?” you question, packing up the rest of your lunch.

“It’s an apple. It’ll decompose. Just give it some time,” he said, standing up and putting his bag back on. “Plus, that’s where the shitty soccer team practices so hopefully they’ll slip on it,” Connor mumbled before walking back into the school.

Even though the bell rang, indicating lunch was over, you kept rooted in your spot.

What kind of fucking enigma was Connor Murphy?

It was a few months since that day and that enigma still called you his slave. You did multiple things for him, including doing his homework, buying him more nail polish, and once you even had to pick up some weed from his dealer for him.

From Connor: tomorrow get me some coffee

“Ugh!” you cry out, flopping onto your stomach on your bed. It was currently 11:47 at night, just when you were about to fall asleep, when Connor Murphy gave you another job as his slave.

To Connor: Fine. What kind?

From Connor: dark roast with two creams

To Connor: Really? You don’t want any of the fancy stuff? I think the Pumpkin Spice Latte is back in season.

From Connor: im not drinking that shit

To Connor: Alright. Dark Roast it is.

You turned off your phone and rolled onto your back. You closed your eyes, ready to go to sleep.

From Connor: ill give you money at school tomorrow

“That asshat!” you yelled into your pillow before replying.

To Connor: Okay.

From Connor: okay

To Connor: Don’t start with that Fault In Our Stars shit. I beg of you.

From Connor: damn i didnt mean it like that fuck

You smiled a little bit.

To Connor: You okay, Connor? It seems like you’re just trying to make conversation.

From Connor: im fucking perfect

To Connor: You don’t seem fine. Send me your address. I’m gonna pick you up. We’re going to IHOP.

You got dressed in some jeans and an old T-Shirt and headed downstairs where your mom was still watching TV. “Hey, Mom? One of my…friends isn’t feeling well so I’m gonna take him out to IHOP,” you said.

Your mom muted the TV and looked up at you. “At midnight? On a school night? I don’t think so, Y/N.”

You bit your lip. “Mom…he’s attempted suicide before.” The memory of the assembly from years ago flashed through your mind. The first time Connor tried to kill himself. You didn’t know him then (if you even knew him now) but you did learn a bit about it and what signs to watch out for.

Her eyes widened. “Oh…yes…yes that’s fine. Just keep me updated, okay?”

You nodded and kissed her cheek. “Thanks!” You grabbed your keys, pulling out your phone when Connor texted you his address.

You sat down across from the enigma at the booth. There were a handful of other people in the restaurant, but you and Connor asked to be sat away from them. So they gave you a back corner booth.

After ordering your food, you decided to start the conversation. “So…you’re getting waffles?”

Great conversation starter.

Connor nodded, pulling his hair back into a messy bun. “Yeah. Waffles are pretty fucking good.”

You shrug. “I prefer pancakes, myself.”

Connor smirked. “What’s the difference?”

“Nothing except that pancakes are the best.”

“What proof do you have?”

“I have the proof of everyone here!”

Connor let out a laugh. Whoa. “Oh yeah? How do you know if they prefer shitty pancakes over the almighty waffles?”

You smiled brightly. “I’ll just ask them!” You grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of your pocket (magic!). You quickly made a T-Chart on the napkin and walked around, asking everyone there if they preferred pancakes or waffles. Connor laughed as he watched you walk around all the half asleep patrons, trying to pry an answer out of them.

You walked back to the table and showed Connor your results. “So we’ve got five for pancakes, five for waffles, and two that are allergic to eggs.”

Connor smiled, whoa part two, and crossed his arms. “So you still don’t have any proof?”

You shook your head. “I guess not.” Your food then came out. The waitress set the plates down and started to walk away. “Wait!” you said. “Do you prefer pancakes or waffles?”

The waitress thought for a moment. “I’d say pancakes.”

“YES!” you yelled, pumping your fists in the air. “PANCAKES RULE!”

Connor laughed. “Now you’re gonna get our asses kicked out of here for yelling so fucking loud.”

You laughed and began to eat.

The drive back home was much more enjoyable than the drive to the restaurant. You two couldn’t stop talking. And it wasn’t just awkward conversations, either. It was laughing and debating and truly enjoying each others company.

You pulled into Connors driveway and turned off the car. “Well, I guess we’re here,” you sighed, turning to face him.

Connor nodded and looked at you. “Yeah. Guess we are.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, thanks…for that, I guess. It…it really helped? I don’t fucking know how you knew I wasn’t feeling well but somehow you fucking did so yeah.”

You don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was from all the sugar you just had. Maybe it was because it was 2:32 in the morning. Maybe it was because you were the only person who saw this side of Connor so you felt like you could do anything. But whatever the reasoning, with a sudden bolt of confidence, you did it. You reached out, grabbed the collar of Connors shirt with your hands, and slammed your lips against his.

Teeth clacked, noses bumped, eyes closed too tight. It was a horrible kiss as kisses go. But it felt so right. At least, you thought it did.

Connor gripped your shoulders and detached his lips from yours. “What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You blushed deeply and avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry! It-it-it just felt like what I w-w-was supposed to do! I-I won’t d-do it again I pr-“ You were cut off by Connor once again. He kissed you, properly this time.

Sighing contently, you loosened your grip on his collar and reached a hand up to his hair. Carefully, you took out his ponytail holder and let his hair fall around you two. You giggled against his lips as his hair tickled your nose.

Connor smiled and let go of your shoulders. He tangled one hand in your hair and put the other one on your waist. He gently squeezed your waist, causing you to let out a small moan. Connor took this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You two made out for a few more minutes until you both forced yourselves apart. Your backs slammed against the car seats, both of you panting.

“Whoa,” you mumbled, running your fingers over your swollen lips.

Connor ran a hand through his hair. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “So…what now?”

You shrug. “I…I don’t know,” you mumbled. “Does this count as Stockholm Syndrome?”

Connor laughed. Like, really laughed. Like, threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut tight laughed. “I have no fucking clue!”

You laughed along with him. Wow. That just happened. You made out with the enigma of the school.

And boy, oh boy, were you happy about it.

The next day, not even five hours later, you pulled into the Murphy’s driveway. Clutching his coffee, you walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Connor appeared, his hair tangled in knots and bags the size of carry-ons. But seeing you, his face lit up just a bit.

“Hey,” Connor said and leaned down to peck your lips.

You smiled and returned the kiss. “Hey. Ready to go?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. Just let me grab my shit.” He took his coffee before walking into the other room. A few moments later, he returned and grabbed the keys out of your hands. “Let’s go.”

You nodded and followed him to the car. Normally, Connor would drive to school while he’s still in a somewhat decent mood, and you would chill in the passenger seat, not daring to say a word. But today, you took a risk. You grabbed his free hand and intertwined your fingers. From the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw Connors mouth turn up in a slight smile.

When you got to school, Connor parked in the back of the lot and quickly turned off the car. He faced you and squeezed your hand. “Y/N, I don’t want you as my fucking slave. I want you as my S/O. Okay?”

You smiled brightly. “Okay.”

“Don’t start with that Fault In Our Stars shit.”

You giggled and got out of the car, grabbed his hand, and walked into school with your enigma. Of course, having spent the past few months as his slave, you knew Connor’s class was before yours. “I guess I’ll see you at lunch?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. See you then.” He leaned down to give you a quick kiss before letting go of your hand and walking into his class. You smiled and began your trek to the other side of the school.

That is, until Jared Kleinman came along.

“So you’re dating the school shooter, huh? Tell me, how’s the freak in bed?” Jared smirked, walking beside you.

You frowned. “He’s not a freak, Jared. Fuck off.”

“See, this is what happens when he threatens you. He’s probably holding your family hostage so you’ll agree to date him, huh Y/N?” Jared nudged you.

“Shut up, Kleinman! Leave me the fuck alone!” You started a quicker pace towards your class.

Jared, of course, didn’t leave you alone. Cause why would he? “You’re not actually saying you like that stoner, are you?”

“Actually, I’m saying I fucking love him, alright? Connor’s changed, Jared. Maybe you could learn something from him,” you spat before stomping into your class. You quickly took your seat and laid your head in your arms.

Soon enough, lunch came. You ran out to the tree and smiled when you say Connor. “Hey!”

Connor turned and smiled at you. “Hey.” He wrapped an arm around you as you two sat down. He pressed a small kiss to your temple. “I guess if we’re dating we should actually go on a fucking date, right?”

You shrugged. “Yeah kinda. We can just go to IHOP again, though,” you said, handing him your apple from your lunch.

Connor nods. “Yeah, but we should do other things too.”

“To be honest,” you say, smiling at him, “if it’s with you, I’d do anything, Connor.”

The long haired boy laughed. “Oh man, this is so Stockholm Syndrome.”