#in the middle of this post I basically repeat what connor was onto but you get it. I wa/ incensed. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 4 years

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Be My Garden of Eden Ch.1

ConnorxFReader Pleasure Android AU

I finally decided to get a Tumblr and post more of my beta chapters here. Just a place to get some opinions or a wider gauge of how people feel about my writing.

I also take requests for ConnorxReader one-shots.

If you like what I post, I also have stories posted on AO3 under DisassembledDeviant. If you have read them, you know I don't mind venturing into the NSFW category... At all. ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: probably cursing and sexual implications

"Goddammit! You stupid piece of shit!" The wrench came down hard against the android's shoulder. "I should have just left your ass with the rest of the scrap!" Another blow, this time to his chest, warnings of the damage flashing on his HUD.

Connor couldn't help but agree.

His recollection of his life before working at Club Mimosa in the seedier side of town was minimal. A roof, A little girl, Falling... Then, nothing. Just a name. Connor.

The owner had found him in the scrapyard, looking for replacement parts or functional androids he could illegally fix up for his club. While much of his body was destroyed, the owner re-built him. His unique look was sure to capture new clients, and he was right. Connor started as a popular model. Both males and females would pay for a session with the doe-eyed android.

However, no matter what he was 'equipped' with, it was apparent he was not programmed to please humans sexually. His movements were stiff, his reactions lackluster. Most demanded a refund, as his last client did. The owner was getting fed up, and the beatings were getting worse. Before the owner could take another swing, one of the employees entered the workshop.

"Hey, boss, someone is requesting Connor for delivery."

"Fuck!" The owner sneered, "tell them it will be on its way in a minute!" He turned to Connor, tossing the wrench on the metal table behind him, attempting to be intimidating. Connor didn't even give him the satisfaction of imitating fear, simply watching the middle-aged man turn redder by the second. "Fix yourself up, then go to the client's address, and if you fuck this one up, I'll scrap you for parts!"

Connor was sitting in an automatic taxi ten minutes later, dressed in a simple button-up and jeans, the familiar illuminated triangle on his back. There was still a small dent on his chest, but he couldn't do anything about it, only hope the client doesn't notice. Outside, he watched the protesters, harassing androids, the homeless begging for change on the street corners, and all the people, heads down at their phones while ordering their androids to do various tasks they were perfectly capable of doing themselves. It... Bothered him.

Not as much as working at that terrible club. He wonders what would happen if he never turned up at the client's address, if he got out of the taxi and just kept walking. Would the owner bother hunting him down? He didn't want to be touched, used by people in such a humiliating way. No matter how many times he was disinfected, he felt dirty. Catching his reflection in the window, he turned away. Even if he left, where could he go? These... Thoughts are dangerous.

The taxi led him to a more rural area of the city, a small house with several trees surrounding it, the Autumn leaves dancing gracefully through the air. He had to double-check the address. This was far nicer than anywhere he had gone before. He walked up the cobblestone path to the door, a soft chime ringing when he pressed the doorbell.

"Coming!" A singsong voice called from inside. The door opened, revealing a young woman, dressed in a tight black turtleneck, jeans, and an apron covered in various paints, some of which had gotten on your cheek and the tip of your nose. You were... cute... For human standards, that is.

"Hello, my name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by Club Mimosa for your personal pleasure."

Confusion, realization, and exasperation washed over your face in waves. Eventually, you sighed.

"Come on in and have a seat."

He entered the little home to find it just as cozy on the inside as it was on the outside. The colors gave off a feeling of warmth, the small trinkets and figurines adding to the atmosphere. Usually, the homes or apartments he had been to were run down, a few even host to drug dealers. He didn't know there was a place like this in Detroit.

Above your fireplace was a portrait, an abstract painting of a pair of hands reaching out. Based on your appearance, he initially assumed it was yours, but a quick scan informed him it was a Carl Manfred original. He didn't know much of art, but he did know that Carl Manfred was a renowned artist of Detroit and a favorite of the android creator, Elijah Kamski.

He stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Make yourself at home."

He didn't know how to respond to that.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand your request." Your eyes seemed sad. He was already screwing things up.

"I guess take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable." While he was able to follow the first instruction, he still remained in the doorway. You hesitantly reached out and took his hand, leading him to the loveseat before sitting him down.

Usually, this would be the part where the client would straddle his lap, grind on his crotch while forcing their tongue in his mouth, the rancid taste of red ice, cigarettes, and alcohol broken down to their basic ingredients as he ignored the urge to shove them away. He sat back, expecting the same. He had a task to do, and this time, his life was on the line. Instead, you headed for your kitchen, coming back with a cold beverage.

"I don't have anything to offer you, sorry."

"I do not require anything, " nobody had even thought to offer him anything before, let alone apologize for not having it. It left him fumbling for words, clutching onto repeated phrases he hated, "I am here for you to do with as you please."

You sipped your drink, a small giggle leaving your lips. He liked how it sounded, even if he was confused as to why.

"To be honest, I didn't call for you."

Something inside him sank. Of course this was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry. There must have been an error in our system. I will take my leave now." He went to stand, but you put your hand on his knee, stilling his motions.

"There is no error. A well-meaning friend has been concerned with how much time I spend working and believes I need to let loose sometimes. This is exactly something he would do."

"Oh, " he was still disappointed that you hadn't been the one to call directly. Your hand was still on his knee. You only seemed to notice when he glances down at it, quickly pulling your hand back and apologizing again. Your cheeks even flushed, the red only adding to your beauty. You were so different from everything Connor has known.

"So, Connor, " even his name sounded pleasant coming from you, "how long did my friend request you for?"

"24 hours."

"That long? How much stamina does he think I have?" You looked him in the eye, "though, I have no intention of sleeping with you."

"Why?" He had to have done something wrong. He's dead if he goes back empty-handed. You noticed the panic in his voice, his LED flashing a bright red.

"It's nothing you did, I'm just not the type to sleep with just anybody."

"But I'm not 'anybody'. I am a machine made to please humans. If I fail, they will destroy me." Your eyes widened. How could they do such a thing? Even if they are machines, how could they kill them so easily? If it weren't for that light on his head and the android labeled clothes, you would think him a human. Especially with the desperation he showed.

"Calm down. I'll call whichever club you came from tomorrow and tell them you were the best lay of my life. Everything will be fine." His LED flickered on yellow for a second before returning to blue. He was not going to be destroyed.

"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say or how to show his appreciation. You were lying just to keep a machine from shutting down. It might not mean much to you, but you were saving his life. You smiled nervously as he stared in awe.

"Don't mention it. Now, the TV remote is on the coffee table, there's a list of movies I own on there that you are welcome to watch. If not, there's books and a stereo over by the front window. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Where are you going?"

"To my studio. It's just down the hall, the last door on the end, " he only looked more lost and confused, "you can come with me if you like."

He stood, following you down the hall. At one time, it must have been the garage, but it has since been modified, the back portion knocked out and replaced with glass, revealing a small koi pond in the back, a statue of a lion prowling the edge, water pouring from its open mouth. Ivy climbed the walls inside, the sun shining through the leaves. Paintings lined the walls, some finished and some abandoned. Looking them over, he found he liked them. They were colorful. Your style favored realism, yet they seemed to hold a sense of wonder, something he couldn't put into words. There was one of a beagle, lying next to a roaring fire.

"Someone wanted a painting of their recently deceased pet as a memorial. A friend of mine had the same breed and let me borrow her for two weeks. There are some slight differences, to match the owner's photo."

"It's beautiful." He didn't have too many memories of dogs, though one did try to bite him at a client's house, but looking at this one, he could imagine the warmth from the fire, almost touch its fur, and hear the tiny snores coming from the beast. It made him want to be there.

You had moved before an easel, a painting sitting half-finished already on it. It was of a clinical white pot sitting on a wooden table, several cracks along it, revealing bits of dirt, roots, and leaves. The top was unfinished, just shades of reds and blues, blending to violet in a few spots. Various photos of plants were lying about your workspace, and across from you was a cheap, plastic flower arrangement.

You wasted no time getting back to work, a fresh brush in hand. Connor stood, watching you, mesmerized by your focus and the grace in each stroke of the brush. You felt awkward, being observed so closely, but quickly fell back into the task at hand. Ten minutes of him just standing there though was too much.

"You can sit down if you like." He found the closest chair to him and sat down, perfectly straight, hands in his lap. "Just relax, this is a safe environment."

It took time, but after half an hour, he leaned back into the chair, and in another hour, he was standing again, looking around the studio at all the different paintings, the plants that kept this place feeling more vibrant, and he stared out at the koi pond, watching the fish. You had told him how to get to the back for a closer look, but he made no moves to leave.

"I couldn't help but notice you have a Carl Manfred original in your living room," He broke the silence. "It must have been quite expensive."

You continued to paint, "It probably would be. It was a graduation gift. Carl was my mentor. Our styles are completely different, but I don't think I could ask for a better teacher or friend."

"I see," Connor returned to sitting down, watching you once again. "What made you want to become a painter?"

You brought the brush to your chin, thinking.

"Well, I've always liked to draw. A lot of people in my family were artistic, but they never did anything with it. They believed it wasn't a good career path. I guess I just wanted to prove it was. Though, I will say it can be an uphill battle. Sometimes I can sell a painting or get commissions with ease, other times I look at my paintings and wonder if I'll get any nutritional value if I just ate them. It seems to be the only value I could get."

He nodded, even if he didn't really understand what you meant. He had never heard of the term "starving artist".

"You've got paint on your face." You pulled the brush away, wiping at your chin, succeeding only in spreading it around. You could hear Connor suppressing a laugh. Looking over, you could see him trying to hide his smile. A part of you found it adorable, while another was saddened. Why hide such a nice smile? Was he forbidden from smiling, or could it be because it was technically at the client's expense?

You pushed it from your mind. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford to get involved. You had it calculated. The commission would go to restocking your food, paying the water bill, and the mortgage. The painting in front of you would go towards paying your electric bill, along with the late charge they tacked on. If you don't finish it on time, you'll miss the deadline and will be painting in the dark, not to mention how that could hurt your reputation for future commissions. Carl would loan you the money if you asked, but you refused to take advantage of him like that. You will earn your place, even if it kills you.

"I guess I'll go wash up, " you giggled. Connor stood, as if to follow you. "Why don't you pick a movie we can watch when I get out of the shower?"

"You don't wish for me to accompany you?" All his other clients had. Your cheeks flushed.

"N-no, no, thank you! I can do it myself, " you stammered. You were embarrassed. Connor liked how you stuttered and when your cheeks turned red.

After a few minutes of sitting on the couch, he started to hear your voice from the bathroom. Curious, he moved a little closer, just outside the door. You were singing. He... Liked it. You couldn't quite hit the high notes, and your lows sounded more like growls, but it was sweet and melodic. He stifled another laugh when you started singing what sounded like a duet, but one of the singers was a male.

He'd never laughed before, or even had the inclination. He didn't know if he should laugh out loud or if you wouldn't like that. Was he allowed to laugh? The female androids at the club, particularly the Tracis, often giggled at clients, but the males rarely did, and it was usually nothing more than a huff or a scoff. Despite his worries, he liked the feeling that accompanied the involuntary action. He leaned against the wall, listening to you until he heard the water shut off, moving swiftly to the couch as to not arouse suspicion.

The rest of the evening was quiet, something Connor wasn't used to. There was no loud groaning or terrible derogatory names. No claws digging into his back, threatening to break through his synthetic skin, or rough hands clutching his hips. Just you and him, sitting on your small couch, a cartoon playing on your screen. He had never chosen a movie before, never chose anything before, yet when he showed interest in it, you didn't hesitate to put it on. It was childish, but he was greatly enjoying it, enjoying being with you.

Halfway through the third movie, he felt a weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep, your head resting against him. You appeared so serene, softly snoring. He had never met anyone like you. Nobody had ever treated him with such kindness. In one afternoon, you had flipped his whole world upside down.

When the movie ended, you woke up, the loud end credit music startling you. Realizing just who you were using as a pillow, you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He smiled down at you, your eyes glazed over with exhaustion, "Perhaps you should retire for the night."

You hummed, stretching before a thought came to you.

"Why don't you take my bed and I'll take the couch? You're far too tall for it."

He gaped at you. You would give up your bed, your comfort, for him? A machine?

"I... Don't require sleep..." He said in a hushed tone, still in shock.

You seemed unsure of what to do. "Well, what do you usually do?"

His mind played memories of working a pole or acting 'tantalizing' behind glass. Not really helpful in this situation.

"Sometimes I enter stasis between clients, " he murmured. Usually for repairs after the owner beats him, but it seemed the only appropriate response.

"Stasis... that's, like, sleeping for androids, right?"

"I suppose it's similar."

"Well, come on then," you took his hand and hauled him to his feet, leading him down the hall to your bedroom. Your bed was so plush, he sank into it when you sat him down. With your urging, he positioned himself to lay back into the pillows. You went to the closet, pulling out a spare blanket.

"You make yourself comfortable, and I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

"I couldn't take your bed. I don't require sleep, you do, " he tried to stand, but you gently pushed him back down.

"The couch is comfortable enough. I don't mind."

"Since you're so insistent, why don't we share the bed?"

The heat returned to your cheeks. Your mouth was gaping open, as if to argue why not, but eventually, you said nothing. You didn't want to admit this would be your first time having a man share your bed. Instead, you walked to the other side of the bed, the flush on your cheeks spreading to your ears and neck as you climbed in. You laid on your side, facing away from him.

"Good night, Connor," You mumbled under your breath.

"Good night, Y/n."

He wished tomorrow would never come, that he could stay here forever instead. It was such an insignificant day, yet it meant everything to him. Here, he felt a peace he never knew existed outside his daily hell. He wanted to pull you close, feel the warmth he felt as he sat next to you on the couch, the weight of your head on his shoulder again, but for the first time, he felt like the greedy one. He did turn to lay on his side, just a few more inches closer to you, just barely able to register the heat radiating off your body. It will have to be enough.

You, on the other hand, could not sleep. Not only because you were sharing a bed with a man, a very attractive man at that, but because you felt guilty. Your "friend" couldn't have picked a worse time. He was a polarizing character whom you knew since middle school. He dropped out of high school and started selling drugs. He deals with anything but red ice, and as he grew more powerful on the streets, he would sell prescription drugs to people who couldn't afford their medications at a much cheaper rate. Something like a robin hood character, though he still sold hardcore drugs to violent criminals, so you were at a loss how to feel about him. He liked androids though, having been raised by one, who was also his right-hand man. He wouldn't dare take blue blood from his friend just for a few bucks and finds red ice to be deplorable.

He knows you like androids and how you feel about them, so, occasionally, he would send one to your place to 'liberate'. With your connections, you could help get androids across the border, or if needed, you could help them find Jericho, the android safe haven. Because of his stance on androids, he couldn't help directly without risking his own safety, so he was like an informant (except you didn't ask for the information, he would just leave it with you, knowing you wouldn't just look the other way like any smart human that wanted to live a healthy life would do).

Most of the time, they were abuse victims that ran away from their owner after he told them where to find you. Unless they were damaged, they were easy enough to deal with. Occasionally, though, he would send you an Android he suspected of abuse that came from some sleazy sex club. It was part of the reason you were broke. The last one was from a more upscale club and cost you $7,000 just to get her out. You had to sell your car just to make your mortgage payment on time. Must be nice to have all these ideals but not spend a dime to support them. Though you supposed he did send supplies to your house on occasion, blue blood or sometimes food, not much, but it would get you by. It was as if he wanted you to be on the cusp of hatred toward him.

You couldn't afford to help this time, and it tore you apart on the inside. Connor wasn't like the others, not only in appearance, but in his manners. He came from a sex club, but he was clearly uncomfortable with it, and not just because he didn't want to satisfy humans. He genuinely didn't know what he is supposed to do. Any other Traci would have been flirting or trying to fondle you before you could even begin to explain the situation. With Connor, you couldn't tell him what you do. It would be far too cruel, knowing you couldn't save him. All you could offer was a day of solace. It was nowhere near enough, but it was all you had.

The next day, he returned to the club. You had been reluctant to let him go, but when he told you how much another night would be, you blanched. It couldn't be helped. He can only hope you or your friend might call for his services once again. You embraced him before he left, promising that you would see him again. He carried that warmth all the way back to the club.

#connor #rk800 #rk800 connor reader #connor fanfiction #detroit become human #video games #connor reader #connor x reader #dbh au #dbh connor #dbh

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subukunojess · 5 years

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Someone Else’s Gloves

AO3 Link - FanFiction Link - DeviantArt Link

Bad Things Happen Bingo

@badthingshappenbingo

Trope/Prompt: Chained To A Bed

Fandom: Bendy And The Ink Machine

Main Character: Henry

Triggers: Abuse mention, mild violence

Words: 3,172

Hey everyone! It’s been a while since I have written in a long time. This summer has become hectic for me and I hope to get a lot of writing done before my new fall semester. So, I would like to start out with my first entry for Bad Things Happen Bingo!

I requested a bingo card of 25 prompts filled with angst and I have decided on what stories to write for each prompt.

For “Chained To A Bed”, I immediately came up with Henry being chained up to a bed during a nightmare because it seemed natural to me and I haven’t seen any BATIM fics for Bad Things Happen Bingo yet (I believe?). I went with it and it took a while, but this came out.

About “Someone Else’s Gloves”: This is a part of a series for my AU called “Ink Gluttony” which is basically what happens when Joey makes a deal with a demon and Bendy is a demon of gluttony caught in the middle of chaos. This particular scene takes place between Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 of the game. Although the scene itself won’t be explored in the multi-chapter fanfiction “Ink Gluttony”, it will be explored in the prequel “The Real Demon”.

I tried my best with this and on a later date, I will put this through other media sources. Please tell me what you think and enjoy!

Henry laid on his cot, staring up at the ceiling until he became cross-eyed, forcing himself to close his eyes.

It was either a miracle or luck that he and Bendy came across Boris. If they hadn't, maybe the two would have succumbed to the madness of the studio or died trying to escape it. The wolf had immediately taken them to a bunker he was living in for a while now, complete with a kitchen, bathroom, storage room, and a clothing line to boot. Although Henry was wary at first, he was also grateful due to the current circumstances. It had been a few days since then and the three men spent the time so far recuperating and planning out their next course of action.

He couldn't help but worry about Bendy, however. Seeing the wolf's cheerful smile made toon's day as if seeing a lost old friend. Through the relieved facade of serene talks and the occasional card game, Henry was certain that Bendy was hiding something. At first, it was understandable. If Henry thought he were a living toon performer, he'd be more than shocked too if he suddenly remembered dark events in his past and met people that he once knew had completely changed. However, he couldn't help but feel that there was more to it. What exactly happened to the studio over the course of thirty years? Was it really Sammy, Jack, and the others back there or just an illusion? And what did the ink demon that he first met had to do with all this? Whatever the answer, Henry knew that he needed to rest his head first, so he left Boris and Bendy to spend some time together while he laid on his cot to nap. He had a feeling that this was his only chance of sleep. Before he knew it, Henry succumbed to the darkness of slumber.

�� When Henry woke up, the first thing he noticed was his limbs were outstretched to every corner of his bed. They felt numb, most likely due to his sleeping position. He lifted his body to sit up when he was stopped short by a jingling force. He opened his eyes and once he adjusted to the candlelit darkness, he found his wrists and ankles wrapped in shackles attached to chains that hung around each bed post. The mattress he was on was old and sturdy. Did something kidnap him from the safehouse, he wondered.

The room he was in was empty save for a desk and a chair right near the door on the other side of the room, two candles glowing dimly on either side of the desk with the melting wax holding them in place, and a broken flowerpot.

Henry gasped and shook the chains against the bedposts, grunting and groaning. He had to get out of there. He had to go back to Boris and Bendy! He pulled the chains again. Instead of rust and creaking noises, the chains seemed in good condition. Before he could stop to think, the door opened and something squelched into the room. Henry glanced up to see a figure covered from head to toe in dripping ink, wearing nothing but a workman's overalls and only having glowing yellow eye sockets on their face.

"Sammy...?" He muttered as he squinted. His head started to buzz and pulse, his vision and mind getting splotchy with ink blots, but he was still able to make out most of his surroundings. The being walked into the room, closing the door behind them. Their eyes were furrowed in a cross and tired expression as they took out a handkerchief from their pocket and wiped their forehead. Putting the cloth away, they focused on Henry and sighed.

"You shouldn't have done that. What have you done?"

It wasn't Sammy.

At first, Henry didn't know anything about this being. It, no he, was wearing some sort of... uniform? And his voice seemed familiar. For some reason, the name 'Thomas' kept repeating in his mind. Before he could process this, he blurted out almost unconsciously.

"What have I done? What about you?! You joined in too! How were we supposed to know?!" Henry protested, shaking the chains in disbelief.

"You're the closest to Jay. You were supposed to stop 'em from doing something we'd all regret!" Thomas slammed his fist into the wall closest to him, the room almost shaking at the impact. "And now the rest of the studio is paying the price for it!"

The ink man groaned in frustration and exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm down. "Damn it, she said it was just between the staff! To see if we could all create a cartoon ourselves without Joey... and what did she do? She decides to show it to everybody and their mother!"

Henry's eyes widened. From his experience working with his co-worker and writer, he remembered Jay Kasper talking about their dreams of creating a cartoon and getting public credit for it. They knew that it takes time for that to happen and with Joey Drew, you take what you get most of the time. When Henry left, Jay understood and seemed okay with it. What caused her to change her mind and react years after? Judging by Connor's reaction and information, it sounded like this cartoon was completely different than the ones either Joey or even the original team had come up with.

Henry didn't know whether this it was a dream due to the stress or a hallucination due to inhaling ink fumes. He wanted to convince himself not to pay any mind and ask for help, but he couldn't. Even if it were fantasy, this was close to direct information he could possibly get at this point in order to make some sense in the studio besides educated guesses. He went along with whatever he was spouting out.

"I didn't know she was going to do that. She told me it was just between us and the staff as well. Not like we coulda stopped her if we tried." Henry continued in thought. "Look, I know we haven't spent time together like the others have, but you've watched me for a long time. I didn't mean to do any harm. Not to you or Jay or all the other employees. You know that!"

Thomas held up a hand as if to protest, but he stopped after a moment and placed his hand down. Both his hands clenched and opened repeatedly, creating a steady rhythm. He stopped and pointed at Henry. “You’re dangerous, whether you meant to or not."

When Henry became silent, Thomas continued.

"...Ever since you showed up, Joey's going off the deep end! You don't know what really goes on when your back's turned, do you? This ain't a cartoon anymore, so grow up and face the facts. Drew's nothing but a two-faced liar who does things out of the blue for his own benefit!" Thomas snarled as he turned his back from Henry, but turned his head to the side to glare at him with glowing eyes. "The pipe's always bursting with so much ink, people are going missing almost every day, and he threatens us employees any way possible no matter what or who gets hurt. You think you're the only one he abuses?"

Lies? Missing? Abuse? Sure, Joey lied a couple of times and he pushed others hard, but the Joey Stein thought he knew would never go down that level. The evidence he had seen so far proved otherwise. However, the last question stuck to him. For some reason, anger boiled up in Henry's chest like ink rising along with his shock. Although his eyes were surprised, he was scowling.

"Cut the crap, Connor. I got an idea what's really going on." Henry sneered in a low hiss, causing Thomas to turn back to him with widened eye sockets. "I saw you putting those pipes in and standing from the sidelines. I saw you not saying a word when people went missing. I saw you helping him with the machine. He's sacrificing people, Thomas! How could you just stand around and go along with this?! If anything, you're just a sinner as Drew is!"

A pin dropped onto the floor.

A few seconds later, Thomas grabbed Henry by the neck, rattling the chains in the process. The repair man growled like a dog ready to pounce. Henry winced and attempted to turn his head away.

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I have nightmares nearly every day?” His grip on Henry’s neck tightened, causing the other to cough and turn his head facing towards him. “You don’t think I tried to do something?! I did everything that was possible! I prevented accidents from happening. I covered for Jay and Wally as best I could. I was almost out of here ready to go to the authorities, so don’t tell me that I did nothing!”

Both men panted heavily while glaring at each other. After a minute, Thomas let go and sneered.

“… he has Allison.” He continued, his tone crying of defeat. He balled his hands into fists. “Half the time, I didn’t know what was going on like you did, so I went along with it. I promised to quit. To just get it over with. When I found out what was really going on, I wanted to fight and run. But Drew knew my weakness. You have Jay. I have Allison. If I became difficult, he promised to take my punishment out on her.”

Allison? Henry didn’t know anyone from the studio named Allison. One of the latest employees hired by Joey he guessed. Henry’s face softened. The ink being huffed and started storming out of the room. Before he could do so, he turned back one more time to see the other. For a second, Henry thought he saw a glint of a different emotion. Guilt? Whatever it was, it was diminished with the same cold glare and a voice dug deeper in the grave.

“To be frank, I don't care what happens to me at this point. I could be thrown straight down to Hell right now for what I did. I don't give a damn. As long as Allison is safe and outta Drew's hands, that's all that matters. It's nothing personal."

With that, Thomas left and slammed the door shut, leaving Henry in the dark.

Hours seemed to pass by as Henry regularly rattled his chains. By now, he was starving and tired.

"Help! Can someone get me out of here?! I'm sorry! Please!" He pleaded at the top of his lungs, hoping that anyone in the hallway would hear his screams. No one answered him. He struggled against his chains until his limbs became sore and he passed out a couple of times. He swore that while he was under, he felt someone touch him on his head gently and give him something to drink. He didn't know who it was nor did he had the energy to open his eyes.

After what seemed like days, Henry was luckily conscious when the door creaked open again. Instead of an inky person, it was an actual human in the studio. Henry smiled weakly and he was about to greet them in relief when his voice got caught in his throat.

There standing right by the bedside was Joey Drew himself, just like how Henry had seen him when he left the studio.

Well, almost.

Joey's short brown hair was a little unruly with some grey streaks here and there. The man had a cane that seemed like a plain brown cane except with intricate markings carved into it. Overall, Joey looked as if a bus hit him and he woke up fifty years later.

"J-Joey?" Henry managed to speak after a couple of stutters.

"Mr. Drew, if you please." Joey corrected coldly as he held a photograph in front of him. Henry couldn't make out what was on it. His former partner's posture was straight and business-like as usual whenever he showed himself in public, but his hand seemed to tremble, moving his cane slightly. Henry didn't know whether it was the body physically wearing down or a simple response to fear. Perhaps both.

"Drew, I-" He was about to explain when he felt ink bubbling up his throat and he gagged, coughing as he did so. Joey didn't respond much more than a hand hanging up briefly. He then put away the photograph and walked closer to Henry.

"Much more comfortable than the chair, I take it?" Joey asked, ignoring Henry's quiet choking. He grabbed one of the chains and pulled to see there was slack, then nodded.

"Your learning room is still under repairs. It'll be done by the time you're done with your ritual."

"Ritual?!" Henry exclaimed, then winced. His head began to throb as an emotion washed through his body. As if he weren't supposed to see this. His senses became delayed like missing film.

"Haven't you forgotten? All you need is the right soul and you'll finally be perfect. No more disobeying, bad habits, or flaws. Once you're perfect, you'll be our official star performer with your own dressing room and co-actors. You name it. It'll be our new legacy that gets us out of the red!" Joey laughed, his smile screamed of relief and madness. Henry was quiet for a moment before he chuckled as well, tears made of ink streaming out from his eyes.

"... Why, Joey? I... don't understand..." He whispered. Joey stared at him for a moment before he touched the tip of his cane to Henry's chin. Henry let out a muffled scream as the very touch burned his skin. Keeping his cane there, Joey took out a mirror from the desk, then lifted Henry's chin to the mirror's direction. Through the whimpering, Henry managed to make out his reflection.

Only to gasp and hold his breath.

Staring right back at him was the face of the ink demon that now roamed the empty halls of the studio from its pointy horns to the ink pouring down its forehead to the distorted spine and shoulders. The two features that were different were its frown and two orange dots near its forehead. Joey grimaced in disgust.

"You have his eyes, you know." Joey said in a calm tone, "He lied to the both of us. How you were absolutely perfect. How you'll be a star that stands out from the rest. Instead, he claimed you as his own creation in his image. He's not your creator. He just brought you to life and ruined it for the both of us!" He pressed hard onto Henry's neck, causing Henry to screech in pain. After a minute or two, Joey placed his cane back to the floor, leaving Henry panting. For a second, a smile graced his face. Then he put the mirror away and began to make his leave.

"It'll take us a while, but don't worry. I finally found the perfect candidate that'll fix everything he did to you. I'll tell you everything after the ritual becomes a success. Now be a good boy and stay quiet in here, won't you?" Not waiting for an answer, Joey left and locked the door.

It was then that Henry felt released from an invisible entity and he shouted in both confusion and leftover pain. Was this a memory or fantasy? Was that the real ink demon staring back at him through the mirror? Why was he shown this?

Crrrrrrrrrrrrrk.

Henry's thought process halted when he heard a loud creak above him. The ceiling above him started to give way. The man struggled and attempted to hop himself with the bed out of the room before hard material would fall upon him. Only a couple of boards fell from either side of him. As the ceiling crumbled and light gave way, Henry noticed large blobs of ink poking out from the corners. In a few seconds, the blobs pulled the entire ceiling out of the way and Henry was greeted by a large smile. The smile pulled away, revealing a huge head dripping with ink and horns sticking out from the top.

Oh.

Hell.

No.

The Ink Demon towered over the room, perhaps as tall as the Empire State Building itself even while in what seemed like seated position. It gurgled almost in a curious tone, its smile hiding any true emotions it was feeling at the moment.

Even if he wasn't chained to the bed currently, Henry would still be frozen and pale with his heart drumming against his chest. There was something about its smile, its hidden gaze towards him. His spine tingled. Enormous gloved fingers lowered and wrapped around his body, lifting him up from the bed and breaking his shackles in the process like pulling at a thread. Henry wiggled at the firm grip as the hand stopped at waist level.

The demon held up Henry's body gingerly, examining him as if it were a child discovering a new toy. It poked Henry's stomach with an ink finger a few times. It tossed Henry lightly in its hand, letting out a pleasant wheeze when the human yelped in fright. For a final measure, Henry was pulled towards its mouth. All eight teeth lifted up and a large blackish-purple tongue came out, dripping with what Henry hoped was ink. Before Henry could protest, the tongue pressed against him and dragged itself upwards. It licked him!

Henry coughed and gagged, spitting and shaking out the inky saliva from his body. The giant demon giggled in a deep yet high-pitched tone, almost amused at the display. Its right index finger hovered in front of the human and lifted his chin up, forcing Henry to make eye contact with the demon. It then spoke.

"Surprised, Henry?"

The demon had a dual tone for a voice. One layer was Bendy's voice, the same voice that Jay would imitate whenever they were drawing and coming up with ideas. Feminine, yet smooth with a bit of sass to it. The other layer was deep, loud, and low. Masculine with an accent. Combined together, it was an otherworldly demon.

Henry opened his mouth to speak, but only gurgles and gasps answered aloud. He panted heavily and his heart raced, but he caught his breath when he was lifted above the ink demon's head. The man looked down to see himself dangle above the giant's open mouth, pools of glowing orange ink seeping from the corners of its mouth.

"No, no, no, no, no, no...!" Henry muttered as he weakly struggled to break free. Without another second wasted, the fingers let go of his body and he fell right into the black and orange pool, sinking like a stone. Any light source he had was shut off completely as ink filled his lungs.

A loud gulp.

Then Henry's scream.

#Bad Things Happen Bingo #badthingshappenbingo #fanfiction #SNJstories #Bendy And The Ink Machine #Ink Gluttony #batim au #Henry Stein #Joey Drew #Thomas Connor #Ink Demon #Chained To A Bed #tw: abuse mention #tw: violence

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rosyredlipstick · 7 years

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lovesick (1\1)

AKA the conchell sick fic i’ve been dying to write

The sun is shining, the breeze is nice, and Mitchell has not murdered his younger brother yet.

These were all pleasant facts, especially for said brother in question.

Sebastian had insisted on after-school burgers after their hellish pre-finals week. Despite the fact Sebastian hadn’t attended a full school day in weeks, he seemed very insistent on the fact of his mental exhaustion due to the upcoming exams, and Mitchell hadn’t had nearly enough fight in him to disagree with the statement. Like a student who actually had been attending his classes regularly, he was dead in every way but literally.

So, there they were - some nameless side of the road drive through that advertised the cheapest burgers on this side of Cali.

“What are you doing tonight?” Sebastian took a messy bite of his burger, smearing mustard all along the side of his cheek and Mitchell physically had to resist the urge to reach out and wipe it off, tucking his hands underneath his legs instead.

“Bi-weekly Skype date with Connor.” Mitchell grinned, excited. He passed over a napkin, hoping Seb would actually get the hint. He didn’t, of course, and instead threw the crumpled napkin in the backseat.

Mitchell didn’t bother to conceal his sigh, instead only going back to his own burger.

“You guys are an old married couple, it’s disgusting.” Sebastian licked a trail of grease off his wrist.

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Just because we’ve been dating longer than you’ve ever kept a hairstyle doesn’t mean we’re boring.” Mitchell blew a huff of air into his bangs, “Nothing is ever boring with that boy.”

Sebastian hummed, flicking through his latest dating app, apparently done with the conversation.

Mitchell finished his food, singing along softly to the age-old song playing on the radio, grateful that Mitchell was the one actually doing the driving this afternoon. Their odds of reckless driving went up significantly every time Sebastian got behind the wheel, and Mitchell never enjoyed it.

He drove them home, Sebastian poking at him every few minutes to just hurry up Mitchell jeez as Mitchell safety, legally kept the speed limit.

He got them back alive - always counted as a win when Sebastian was annoying him into oblivion - and the other boy rushed to grab his things and get upstairs.

His phone was already dinging with notifications - probably Connor’s warning text that his skype invitation was about to go through - and Mitchell booted up his laptop quickly. Their skype dates - every Wednesday and Friday, occasionally Saturday - were Mitchell’s favorite hours of the week.

He finally managed to log onto his laptop, getting comfortable and settled at his desk chair, and grinned at the immediate notification that popped up. Connor icon - grinning and flipping off the camera, Travis’s cropped out grin barely visible in the small photo - greeted him. Mitchell ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit like he knew Connor went crazy over, and accepted the call.

“Hey!” Mitchell grinned, shifting closer to the camera. It took a moment for the blocky connection to settle,

“Hey babe.” Connor’s voice filtered out through the speakers, the sound weak and tiny. The video was dim - too dim - and Mitchell leaned into the camera, peering at the screen with careful eyes.

Connor was in bed, that was obvious, his curls even more of a mess than usual. Usually, Connor walked and jumped around during their Skype dates, incapable of keeping still, usually hanging off the back of the couch or jumping around the living room. It was an amusing habit, one Mitchell usually laughed and teased about, and that only made it more stranger as Connor buried his face in his blanket.

Connor’s skin was pale, that was obvious even through the screen and dark lighting, and his eyes drooped weakly even as he spoke.

“How was school, Mitch?” Connor’s voice was rough as he spoke around a yawn, wiping at his eyes.

Mitchell narrowed his eyes, “...Are you in your pajamas? Did, did you not go to school?” Mitchell made a face of horror, “Are you sick?”

“The doctor said to rest.” Connor told him, his tone edging on dismissive. “It’s just pneumonia.”

“Just?” Mitchell’s voice was high and shrill.

“I’m fine.” Connor mumbled into the screen. “Just…tired.”

Mitchell bit his lip, staring at the other boy with hardly concealed concern. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later, okay? We can make up our Skype date later.”

The lack of protest was startling – usually Mitchell’s attempts to end their late night calls ended with several minutes of drawn out goodbyes and whines. But the other boy hardly blinked back at him before yawning goodnight and hanging up, leaving Mitchell alone and staring at his computer screen.

Mitchell stared at the empty homescreen for a long moment, just blinking at his reflection.

“Aright.” He said out loud, waiting another moment before shoving himself up. He pulled his duffel from under the bed, the essentials already packed. He knew to be prepared at this point.

“Sebastian! Come here!” He called over his shoulder, throwing his bag onto his bed. He waited a few moments, grabbing his phone and charger in the time, and shoved them both into the empty side pocket of the duffel.

“Sup broseph?” Sebastian asked, leaning on the doorway, barely looking up from the frantic tapping away at his phone.

Mitchell already had his duffel bag unzipped, looking through what he had already stuffed in his bag, and considering what else he needed. “Connor’s sick and I’m gonna go take care of him – I’ll be back Sunday night. Can you cover for me with Maria and Jacques?”

Sebastian looked up from his phone at that, blinking a few times. “Wait, what? You’re what?”

“I’m visiting Connor.” Mitchell repeated, a bit impatiently.

“In…New York?” Sebastian clarified.

Mitchell huffed out a breath. “Yes. In New York. Because he’s sick. Can you cover for me with your parents or not?”

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugged, “I’ll tell them you’re spending the weekend at Naomi’s. But are you sure going to New York is like, the best idea?”

“You’re not going to talk me out of it.” Mitchell told him, looking for his jeans. Under his bed – great, they were probably dirty. He packed them anyways.

Sebastian held up his hands. “Hey, as a child of Aphrodite it’s basically a sin for me to try and talk you out of making this insanely adorable declaration of your love, but it’s a 40 hour drive. So. Consider that.”

“Who said I was going to drive?” Mitchell asked, throwing other his duffel bag. He began digging through his drawer, clothes flying everywhere in the process.

Sebastian huffed, “Still! That’s an expensive plane ticket.”

“Not a plane either.” He finally found what he was looking for, holding up a thin purple vial to the light, “I helped Lou with Micah’s birthday present in exchange for this baby. I was going to save it for our six month, but this is important.”

Sebastian gave him a judgmental look and Mitchell sighed, taking a moment to turn and explain.

“Listen Seb, Travis is a good brother but I am fully convinced he simply threw a bottle of cough medicine in Connor’s general direction and skipped town or something. Anyways, it’s Friday. I’ll come back Sunday night.” Mitchell shook the bottle, “There should be enough for two trips. If not, I’ll book a plane ticket.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but began digging through his closet, hopefully to help him pack. “Fine, I’ll cover for you with the parents. But be careful not to sex him up so much when he’s sick, dear brother. I’ve been there, it’s not cute.”

“We’re not going to have sex!” Mitchell rolled his eyes, and paused. “Tonight. Probably.” Mitchell shrugged, “Not while he’s sick, at least.”

Sebastian gave him an incredibly dry look, reaching over and dumping a few condoms into his open duffel without breaking his gaze.

Seb zipped up the bag and shoved it in his chest. “Go before Maria gets home. Do you have his address?”

Mitchell nodded, peeling a post-it note off his wall and holding it up. “Right here. I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll Iris-message you tomorrow.”

Seb waved him off, pulling out his phone to probably call his thing of the week.

Mitchell held up the small vial to the light, studying the thick purple syrup. He trusted Lou, yeah, but…

Mitchell bit his lip, remembering the miserable flush on Connor’s cheeks, barely visible through the video chat. With this image in mind, he cracked the top and swallowed down a mouthful.

Mitchell spat the bitter taste out of his mouth, completely unprepared for how vile the potion tasted. Wasn’t magic supposed to be sweet?

He adjusted the back hanging over his shoulder, staring up at the building in front of him. The potion had dropped him in a nearby alley, close enough that the surroundings were familiar enough for Mitchell to find his way. He quickly stopped by a nearby bodega , filling up a few bags full of supplies, and set out towards his building.

Mitchell had been to the shared Stoll apartment only once before, and has been much less interested in the space as they had been…preoccupied.

Mitchell shook the idea out of his head, shifting the crackling plastic bags over to one hand. The door was locked, most definitely. It was the middle of the day, Travis most likely out. He sighed. There was really only one choice.

The door clicked open easily, Mitchell glancing around before slipping the pins back in his pocket. He liked to be prepared, okay? It was nice to always have what you needed.

The apartment was cleaner than he expected nice open windows that set the sun gloss over the dark hardwood floor. He couldn’t even image the rent on a place this nice in New York City.

Just like he predicted, the apartment was nearly empty, Travis nowhere in sight. He headed towards the room he was pretty sure was Connor’s and shifted the bags over to one hand as he swung the door open.

Connor was there, in bed, sprawled across his mattress. He was shirtless, a shiny sheen to his skin. He barely lifted his head as Mitchell walked in, instead pushing his face into a pile of pillows. Mitchell crouched down next to him, a worried frown crossing his face.

“How did you get in?” Connor asked, his flushed face still buried into his pillow.

“Picked the lock.” Mitchell used one hand to smooth the other boy’s curls back from his forehead, frowning.

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He declared, turning over on his back. He stared at Mitchell for a second, his eyes squinted and his voice drowsy. “What’s up?”

Mitchell held up the bags, smiling a bit. “I got you flu medicine, soup, and Gatorade.”

“Grape?” He asked hopefully, his eyes still closed and his face still buried in his pillow.

“Of course.” Mitchell answered easily, throwing down his duffel and grocery bags. “Here, drink some water before you fall back asleep. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Connor did as told, draining the entire water bottle in one go before falling back into his pillows. “Night babe.”

Mitchell took the bottle from his loose fingers, “Night, darling.”

He took to cleaning up Connor’s room a bit, mostly just gathering up the loose crumbled tissues and taking out the trash. He threw in a load of laundry, knowing how much both boys detested the chore, and folded the pile on top of the dryer.

Cleaning always calmed him, soothed him in a way only complete order could. He wasn’t a neat freak or anything – he lived in a cabin with ten other teenagers – and his room back room was far from order – but it was always nice to work with his hands, and have something nice come out of it.

He moved onto the rest of the house next, wiping down the slightly sticky counters in the kitchen and throwing out some probably-sentient take-out.

Mitchell had just begun cleaning up the minimal mess in the living room – more tissues, a few plates left out – when he heard a few rough coughs from the direction of Connor’s room, and the bed creaking from obvious shifting.

He threw the dirty plates in the kitchen – a mental note in place to wash them later – and grabbed the grocery bags he came in with to check on the other boy.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” Mitchell asked, shifting through the bag to pull out the still-chilled Gatorade. He cracked the cap and held it out. But Connor, red-cheeked probably from his fever, only stared at him in bewilderment.

Connor blinked, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. He looked more surprised than Mitchell would have expected after speaking to him barely an hour ago.

“I…You’re here?”

Mitchell pressed the bottle into Connor’s hands, “Drink.” He ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re not getting dehydrated on my watch.”

Connor was still blinking at him. “I…thought I was hallucinating. You’re, uh, you’re here. Wow, um. Hi.”

Mitchell smiled fondly at him, poking his arm. “Hey hun.”

Connor pushed himself up, his comforter falling to pool at his waist. “You’re actually here. We should – we should go do something. You’re here, we should have fun.”

Mitchell reached out, gently pushing the other boy back. Even from the soft touch of Mitchell’s fingertips, he could feel how hot and clammy the other boy’s skin was.

“Lay down.” Mitchell ordered softly. “I’ll be here all weekend. But first, you’re gonna have to focus on feeling better.”

“I feel fine.” Connor told him, despite his fluttering eyes and flushed skin. “Seriously, we shouldn’t waste this visit –“

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you.” Mitchell only told him, tipping back the water bottle a bit so Connor would actually drink it.

Connor took a long drink and passed it back. Mitchell smoothed back his curls, enjoying the way Connor leaned in heavily to his touch.

“Let’s take your temperature.” He pulled out the red bag he found in their bathroom, the white cross distinctly familiar as the first aid kits kept at camp. He found the thermometer easily, still in the plastic. He ripped it off, playing with the buttons for a moment. “Open your mouth, c’mon.”

Connor groaned, “You know, I usually love to hear those words from you. Now, not so much.”

Mitchell smiled at that, “It’ll only take a moment. Now, tongue up.”

He complied, making a scrunched up face that warmed Mitchell’s chest a bit. The thermometer beeped after a moment, the display glowing a soft blue.

Mitchell hummed. “102.1”

Connor fell back onto his pillows. “That’s…not good?”

“You’ll feel better when it goes down.” Mitchell told him instead.

“I have to pee.” Connor said after a moment, pushing himself up. He moved slowly, shoving off his blankets with weak hands, and settled his feet on the carpet, looking unsure.

Connor stood, wobbling worryingly for a moment. Mitchell was at his side in a second, his hands hovering over the other boy’s skin. “Do you need help?”

Connor frowned, “No, I don’t need –“ He paused, the flush in his cheeks paling. He fell forward, Mitchell’s hands catching him, and stumbled towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to be sick.” He gasped, before doing just that, barely making it to the toilet in time.

Mitchell pulled Connor’s curls back, using a rubber band to tie his curls back while rubbing circles into the other boys back.

Connor finished, coughing a few more times into the toilet as Mitchell stood, grabbing a dishtowel from under the sink and running it under the cold water. He had a water bottle within reach, thankfully, probably forgotten there as he was cleaning.

Connor wiped at his mouth, exhaustion in every line of his body as he fell back against the wall. “You’re the best Mitchell, and I’m so happy to see you, but you should go. This can’t be very fun for you.”

Mitchell passed over a wet cloth and water bottle, “I deal with sick kids all the time. If I couldn’t handle a little puke, there’s no way I could survive as a camp counselor.” Mitchell settled down next to him, the bathroom tile cold and hard under his damp palms. He smoothed back Connor’s messy curls, holding them out of his face as Connor wiped his face off. Connor reached for the mouthwash on the counter and Mitchell helped him lean over carefully and spit it into the shower drain.

“I haven’t eaten in like, two days. How is throwing up even possible.” Connor groaned, his head dropping down onto Mitchell’s shoulder. “This is horrible. I feel horrible.”

Mitchell hummed sympathetically, his arm coming up to curl around Connor’s shoulders. Connor’s cheek was hot against his skin, his breath huffing against Mitchell’s neck.

Mitchell ran his fingers through Connor’s curls, and pressed his dry lips to Connor’s heated forehead.

Mitchell took a deep breath, giving the other boy one more moment. “Brush your teeth and use the washroom. I’ll go put on a movie, come on.”

Connor looked up hopefully. “Monster Inc.?”

“Your favorite. Already set up and ready to go.” Mitchell grinned, pulling him up. He gave Connor a few minutes alone in the bathroom, listening to the faucet click on and off and the toilet flush as he leaned against Connor’s bedroom wall. It was only a few more minutes until the door swung open, revealing the other boy with much, much fresher breath.

Mitchell held out his arm, letting Connor come to him. The other boy leaned heavily on him, his arm coming up to hang off Mitchell’s waist.

Mitchell helped him to the couch, dropping him off easily while the other boy groaned and curled on the cushion. Mitchell gave him a fond look before speaking.

“You should try and drink some broth and crackers, see if you can keep it down.” Mitchell grabbed the fleece blanket off the arm chair and draped it over his legs, tucking in the sides like he always did for the younger kids.

“Food is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had.” He declared from his place on the couch, but he sat up slightly and stared at Mitchell with tired eyes. “Like, actually the worst.”

“Well, you’re gonna try and keep it down.” Mitchell told him sweetly, ripping open one of the instant soup packets he picked up from the store. It only took hot water and a minute in the microwave to make – and it was probably horrible high in sodium – but it was the same, familiar brand the camp store held, which he knew the other boy would appreciate.

Mitchell caught Connor peeking over the couch arm with interest, the heavy scent probably making its way over to the other boy already.

He smiled softly, adding a bit of spice to the soup. Hopefully, the spice would help clear out Connor’s congestion – it was always a popular trick with the sick Aphrodite kids. He quickly bowled it and made it back to the living room where the selection screen for the movie was already on loop. He had put in the DVD earlier when he was cleaning, already planning to persuade Connor into dragging his feet to the couch so Mitchell could clean up his room.

“Eat.” Mitchell instructed, smoothing out the blanket before passing over the warm bowl. He settled next to Connor, their bodies brushing, and reached for the remote.

Connor caught his wrist before he could press play, focusing intensely on the soup in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mitchell frowned, his hand coming up to brush Connor’s cheeks and forehead. “Is your fever bothering you? I can go grab an ice pack if you want.”

Connor glanced up at Mitchell, catching his hand before he could pull away. “Thank you for this.” Connor told him softly. “You know, Mom’s always busy with work and Travis is great but he’s horrible with sick people and…I don’t know. I haven’t had someone take care of me in…years.” Connor gave him a half-shrug, his eyes glassy. “It…means a lot to me, Mitchell. You being here.”

Mitchell blinked a few times. “Of course Connor. I…” Mitchell’s eyes flickered away and back in a nervous movement. “I love you. Of course.”

Connor smiled, the movement a bit weak and hazy. “I love you too, Mitchell.” He burrowed his face into Mitchell’s neck, “Tell me again when I’m not super gross and I promise at least like, three blowjobs are in order.”

“Will do.” Mitchell laughed, pressing the other boy a bit closer. He grabbed for the remote, flipping on the movie, and Connor was asleep – his bowl drained – before Boo made it into Sully and Mike’s apartment.

Mitchell finished watching the movie, keeping his laughter low at the familiar jokes. It was nice, having this. A familiar movie playing, a warm, sleepy, albeit sickly boy at his side, his arms curled around Mitchell’s waist.

Connor was already drooling onto Mitchell’s sleeve. At least he was mostly cute.

Before the movie was over - right before the scene that always had Mitchell sniffing into his sleeve - the lock in the door clicked and turned, and Mitchell glanced over in time to see Travis dunking through the doorway.

“Hey Mitchell.” Travis greeted, his voice casual. He held up the grocery bag dangling from his hand, “Got you some of that strawberry milk you love.”

Mitchell sighed, carefully pushing the sleeping boy off of him and standing.

“Of course you did. Because you knew I was here. Of course.” Mitchell answered in a breezy voice, collecting Connor’s empty soup bowl, fixing the blanket to settle across the other boy before walking over. “And keep your voice down, Connor’s sleeping.”

Travis nodded, wrinkling his nose. “Good. He was vomiting all night, it was disgusting.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes, almost hip-checking him as he dunked past to throw the dishes on the sink. He turned on the tap, warming up the water, and dumped a glob of soap on the sponge.

“How’s Katie?” He asked, because he really did enjoy the other girl’s presence, usually in the midst of some poorly thought through Stoll ‘adventure’.

Travis jumped on the counter, letting his feet hit the cabinets as they swung. “She’s bored. Living in Kansas can do that to you. I’m thinking about visiting her this weekend. She wants to pull a prank on one of her teachers and could use the backup, I think.”

Mitchell nodded slowly. “That’s…nice of you. When was the last time you two met up?”

“Two weeks ago. I missed her, thought why not.” Mitchell shot him a surprised look that had him laughing.

Travis winked at him, “Mom’s an airline stewardess. We fly free.”

Mitchell blinked, “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Well, that’s nice. Tell her I said hello and that she’s my favorite.”

“Will do.” Travis told him with a grin, turning his head so he could spy on his younger brother passed out on the couch. ”Monsters Inc.? How’d you know?”

Mitchell shrugged, scrubbing at a plate stain particularly hard. “He mentioned it once. It’s his favorite sick day movie.”

Travis raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been forced to watch it twice a year or so since we were kids. What’s yours?”

Mitchell snorted. “Spaceballs.” He shrugged at Travis’s laughter, rinsing off the bubbly dishes. “It’s a classic.”

“Can’t fight that. I always been more of a Good Burger kind of guy.”

Mitchell nodded in approval. That was one of Asher’s favorites, and he’d been forced to listen to the dialogue play in the background of their cabin for years. He finished up the dishes, feeling completely at home in the apartment, and tried not to bicker with Travis too loudly.

Later, his boyfriend would wake up lovingly tucked in in his own bed, Mitchell curled into his side, and he’d smile a bit too softly to be anything but lovesick.

#i should be studying for finals #listen the ending is pure sugar #and i hate myself for it omfg #conchell #fic #my fic #rosy writes #mitchell #mitchell my son #I am in love with connor stoll #connor stoll #lovesick

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tobiasmasonpark · 6 years

Text

Goosebumps Season 1 Episode 3: The Cuckooclock of Doom!

WARNING: TODAY’S EPISODE CONTAINS A MONSTER WE ALL FEAR: EXISTENTIAL DREAD AND THE FLEETING SANDS OF TIME!

Source: http://www.indianruminations.com/contents/poems/time-raj-yura-patiala/

Source: https://www.netflix.com/ca/title/70264616

This is Michael. As with Kat Merton in the previous episode, we don’t get to learn any personal details about Michael, except that he has a younger sister named Tara, who absolutely loves to torture him. We see this immediately, as the show begins with eerie music playing over a scene involving Michael investigating a creepy noise from the bushes. As Scream hasn’t been released yet, Michael doesn’t know that you should absolutely never investigate a strange noise when you’re in a horror setting. That’s where the monsters always are!

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/Tara_Webster

Ladies and gentlemen, our monster for the episode.

Tara is genuinely awful, and not in that kid-sibling-is-annoying-and-won’t-stop-bothering-their-older-brother way. I have a younger brother—hell, I am a middle child, so I was also an annoying younger brother. I also know people with younger siblings. Younger siblings can be pains in the butt, sure. But Tara is genuinely evil. She goes out of her way to make Michael look like a jackass, just for the hell of it. Michael refers to her as Tara the Terrible—which, while it is by no means original, is an incredibly apt nickname.

I mean, alright; realistically all she does is pour ketchup on the dude, call him a krej—which is Jerk backwards, get it?—and she trips him at both of his twelfth birthday parties. But something is off about Tara. Look at those cold, unforgiving eyes. She is looking down at her older brother—and by extension, us all in the audience—with the utmost disgust. The innocent little girl look is merely a façade. Behind those brown eyes is a creature far more fearsome than Slappy; truly more menacing than the Horrors at Horror Land. The only reason the Goosebumps movie wasn’t as big a success as it could have been, is that Tara was never the big bad.

Seriously. The moment Tara appears on screen I felt an immediate dislike—and that’s something I’ve felt toward only one other character in a movie

Source: https://www.pottermore.com/features/how-dolores-umbridge-made-our-skin-crawl

So, we get a flashback to three days earlier—Michael’s twelfth birthday party. All of his friends are there, including his love interest. I don’t recall her name, and I’m not gonna bother looking it up, because she is only there so that Tara can have a way to humiliate Michael.

The girl gifts Michael a CD, which Michael says he likes. But just like the monster she is, Tara calls Michael out on it, saying that he thought it was lame and threw out the CD the first time, but because he likes the girl he is willing to pretend to like this new gift. Michael’s mother calls him in to bring in the cake, which is odd to me. For every birthday my family has ever had for everyone, not once have we ever had to bring in our own birthday cake. I mean, damn, they didn’t even put candles on the thing. It’s just a cake that presumably lacks even Happy Birthday written in icing.

Source: http://goosebumps.tumblr.com/post/132563277792/goosebumps-rewatch-s01e03-the-cuckoo-clock-of

So, Michel comes in from the kitchen, holding his own nameless birthday cake in defeat, when Satan herself pulls a hilarious move and trips him. Michael falls head first into his own cake while his asshole friends all laugh at his misfortune.

We’re brought back to the present, when some moving men bring in a strange object concealed by tarp. Seems like Michael’s dad has purchased an antique cuckoo clock from a man named Anthony—who we later learn owns a store. In a scene that I think is mostly ripped off of A Christmas Story, we see that this is no ordinary cuckoo clock

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/The_Cuckoo_Clock_of_Doom/TV_episode

Seriously. The mom looks at the thing with a mixture of confusion and dislike. The dad is all proud of the thing. The kid’s are immediately enthralled by it. There’s even a fucking lamp right next to it. Homage, or blatant rip off?—Says the man who has copy-pasted images from other sites and blogs onto Tumblr.

We learn that this is a magical clock—because that’s what Michael’s dad tells us. In what is the laziest and vaguest “legend” ever, we learn that “a strange old man built the clock over a hundred years ago, and he put a magical spell on it. But they say that whoever discovers the magic must beware.”

That is barely even a legend, sir. Just because it was built over a hundred years ago and believed to be magic, doesn’t mean the thing itself is, in fact, magic. I could show a twelve-year-old a pay phone today and say, “About a hundred years ago, people used to make magical calls for just 25 cents per minute,” but that doesn’t make it a legend. Who was this man? Was he evil, like that guy whose coffin was eventually used to make the Slappy Doll? Other than being made by an old man from a hundred years ago, what about the clock is magic? Sounds like he was just an old clockmaker from 1895—which, spoiler alert, was not a super magical time in history. But I guess a hundred years is a long time to a twelve-year-old.

But that’s not all that’s vague about this legendary cuckoo clock. Michael’s dad says that the shop owner, Anthony, told him that “there was something wrong with the clock, but he wouldn’t tell [Michael’s dad] what it is.”

That sounds like an awful way to sell somebody something. I mean, I’m no business man, but telling a customer “hey, the thing I am selling you doesn’t work 100% the way it should,” sounds like you’re just asking for the customer to start haggling over the price. I mean, I’m not crazy, right? Was Michael’s dad so genuinely impressed by the fact that it was supposedly a hundred-year-old, magical clock that he was willing to shrug off the store owner’s own admission that his product is shit?

Anyway, Michael’s father is super strict about the clock, forbidding both kids from going near it. Later, while getting a glass of milk or something, Michael overhears his sister getting scolded for touching the clock, and he gets the idea to frame Tara, to get back at her for the birthday incident.

Well, Michael sneaks out of bed, and snaps the neck of the cuckoo bird inside the clock. The next morning, Michael wakes up to find that he has time travelled back to his twelfth birthday—just three days ago.

Source: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Film/GroundhogDay

The second movie this show/book rips off is Groundhog Day.

So, Michael relives his twelfth birthday party, almost verbatim. He is visibly shaken by the fact that he has travelled back through time but tries to prevent his ultimate humiliation. Unfortunately, Tara is basically Hitler and manages to trip Michael again.

Source: http://goosebumps.tumblr.com/post/132563277792/goosebumps-rewatch-s01e03-the-cuckoo-clock-of

This book brings up some pretty heavy topics. Are we all doomed to repeat our most humiliating mistakes, even when we are capable of literal time travel? Will Michael spend the rest of his life trying to break out of this Phil Connors loop, only to be tripped, yet again, and taste a mixture of blue frosting and his own tears? This is truly the most frightening Goosebumps story of all.

Michael tries to explain to his parents of his situation, but they understandably think he’s just ill. The next morning, he wakes up as a six-year-old and rips off a third movie:

Source: http://stine.wikia.com/wiki/The_Cuckoo_Clock_of_Doom_(TV_Episode)

It’s not Christmas yet, Goosebumps! Stop trying to tell me it’s winter time!

So, Michael tries explaining his situation to his parents, but notices that there is no Tara. This is, in my opinion, only a good thing. Michael’s parent just assume that he has an imaginary friend.

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/My_Best_Friend_Is_Invisible/TV_episode

Silly parents. That’s not for another two seasons.

Michael reasons that the cuckoo clock is behind everything. He goes down to see the clock but remembers that his dad won’t purchase the magical hundred year old clock for another six years. Well, as luck will have it, Michael is celebrating his sixth birthday today. While everyone is celebrating, Michael sneaks away to find Anthony’s antique shop.

There’s this super weird moment where real scary things nearly creep into Goosebumps, when an older gentleman calls Michael over—presumably just for a pleasant chat—but Michael’s dad finds him just in time.

Later that night, Michael tries Phil Connor’s plan of staying up passed midnight to break out of the time loop. Apparently, Michael fell asleep before watching the rest of Groundhog Day, however, because we all know that that doesn’t work. No big deal, because Michael, already suspecting that he won’t be alive the next day, has resigned himself to his fate of simply fading from existence.

The episode ends fading to black, as Michael regressed into sperm, thus ending his hellish existence.

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/File:Cookooclock_09_one_again.jpg

Just kidding. He wakes up as a baby and has shit himself. No, really.

Anyhow, Michael’s parents take him to Anthony’s antiques, where he finds the cuckoo clock. He walks over to it, the cuckoo pops out, something bumps up against the base of the clock that knocks off the number 88, Michael fixes the cuckoos twisted head so that it’s facing the right way, and he is literally thrust into the future.

Ecstatic to be twelve again, and out of the time loop, Michael discovers that the world is not the way he has left it.

Source: https://katthemovies.wordpress.com/2017/10/07/in-for-a-scare-the-cuckoo-clock-of-doom-and-phantom-of-the-auditorium-goosebumps-review/

The Shyamalan Twist:

So, it turns out that the number 88 that was knocked off was the year Tara was born—1988. This means that, for some reason, Tara was never born. Which is the happiest ending in a Goosebumps episode thus far.

Michael says that he’ll go back and fix it one day. But let’s be honest, Tara will never be born and Michael will have her blood on is hands forever.

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/Michael_Webster

I’m sure he’s really broken up about it.

Thoughts on the Twist:

I remember when I first saw this episode as a youngster. I was genuinely unsettled by the fact that Tara just gets erased from existence, and it’s left in the air whether Michael will go back and save her. As an adult I’m more sensible and know that the world is a whole lot better off without the little demon.

But here’s something I can’t stop thinking about. In the beginning of the episode—i.e. with Tara—Michael’s parents are really stern. The dad won’t let his kids go near a clock. Like, give it a day or two, they’ll stop being interested. Michael’s mom doesn’t seem to be the happiest person either.

Then we see Michael’s parents when he’s six—i.e. without Tara. They’re happier, they joke around with him. When Michael is a baby, they’re nearly unrecognizable. I wasn’t kidding, they were literally happier when Tara wasn’t around.

My theory: Tara was so freaking scary that the only reason the parents let her get away with tormenting her brother is because they’re afraid she’d turn on them. The constant stress of trying to appease the beast drains them every day. It’s no wonder they’re so cranky all the time.

Ah, you say. But what about when Tara is scolded for touching the clock? If he’s so scared, why’d he do that?

To which I respond with this: Michael is creeping down the stairs to frame Tara, and he steps on Tara’s doll, placed meticulously on the step. I think she left it there to either murder her father. That, or she was trying to kill Michael.

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/Tara_Webster

Even people on the internet—the most sensible and logical of folk—are ready to write Tara off as a sociopath.

Most Existential Line:

When six-year-old Michael says, “Today I’m six tomorrow I might be nothing.”

Best Time-Related Pun:

When the creepy stranger says, “Hey kid, got the time?” Geddit, because time?

Worst Tara Moment:

When Michael is creeping down the stairs, he steps on Tara’s doll. It’s supposed to be a jump scare, but I think that it’s actually a murder attempt. Why else would she have placed it so strategically?

Final Thoughts:

The episode focuses more on establishing mood than anything. There isn’t any narration, which automatically puts it over the previous two episodes. The first scene we get Michael is unsettled by something, and the music makes sure we know it. There are some not-scary jump scares, and a dream sequence that involves Michael running away from the cuckoo clock with Tara’s face on it, but all of that is silly.

The scariest part of the show—aside from Tara—comes from the dread Michael feels when he starts travelling back in time against his will. I remember it being done better in the book—I recall Michael breaking down in tears early on, when his family is teasing him about his claims of being caught in a time warp—but it’s still genuinely creepy. Have you ever tried to let someone close to you know that something was making you uncomfortable, but they’re ready to write it off as you just being silly? That’s pretty relatable. Michael is also powerless to stop it for most of the episode. Near the end he just sort of gives up, fully expecting to be dead the next morning.

The actor playing Michael is pretty decent, all things considered. The parents are rather good at playing both stern discipline and happy new parents. Tara is awful, but the girl playing her is only like, six. On the flip side, you could say she did a great job by making her character’s awfulness so believable. Michael’s friends are also there and are the weakest performances in the film.

I liked it way more than The Girl Who Cried Monster, and only slightly more than It Came from Beneath the Sink, since the monster in this one was scarier, and the episode has a happy ending.

Source: http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/File:Cookooclock_11_where_is_tara.jpg

#Goosebumps #cuckoo clock of doom #time travel #existentialism #time #tara the terrible #viewer beware you're in for a scare #dolores umbridge #groundhog day #a Christmas story #home alone #my best friend is invisible #fratricide #evil sibling #monsters #Halloween #erased from existence

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survivorkvaloya · 7 years

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Episode #5: “I Didn't Come Back To Be A Stupid @$$” - Andreas

Not quite sure what to make of this tribe of 5 but I find in this one theirs no where to hide because I can almost guarantee Jackson is going to be a middle man between Danielle and I, and everyone knows that in this tribe I would be the one they send home. But luckily for me, I have Gage and Christine's students on my tribe so If I send them home it weakens them come merge, but following the murder of 3 returnees early on I can NOT have a repeat of Easter Island, so I need to get over my phobia of returnees.

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MKAY COOL I COULDN"T HAVE ASKED FOR A BETTER SCENARIO IT'S LITERALLY 4 V 1 IS THIS HOW SANDRA AND VARNER FELT

~*~Tales From Reflection Island~*~ Hi. I'm pissed. I was so excited to finally win my first tribal immunity and FINALLY not have to worry about being voted out, but that was short lived. Brett, my flop ass mentor, was voted out on the other tribe almost unanimously. What the HECK. So my gay ass is shipped off to reflection island where I have to "reflect on what went wrong" or whatever. But it ain't my fault Brett is a flop! He was the mentor. He was supposed to know not to get voted out. AND THEN we have a tribe swap.... While I'm on reflection. You know what happened to the last person on reflection island during a tribe swap? They were voted out unanimously the same round they returned (rip Connor). So when I come back I'm gonna have some serious work to do. Going onto a tribe of 5 is scary in itself, not being there when the tribe is formed is even worse. the ONLY saving grace in this whole situation is the reflection ritual or whatever the heck its call. Bc I'm always doing #that and I PICKED AN URN WITH AN IDOL PIECE IN IT WOOOO. Now I have 2/3 pieces! This makes it so much easier to get that last piece and make an idol. And that could save my ass in this tricky situation. My plan once I come back is to victimize myself, talk to everyone, be so devastated by the loss of my mentor, act paranoid, and find that last piece. Wish me luck!

Im actually really frustrated right now, we could have easily won immunity but Lauren messed up very basic instructions and just completely fucked us over. Now we have to go to tribal. Lol 4th tribal out of 5 ugh. So anyways this tribal should be easy however we know how this game goes, the easy vote never happens. But none the less this allows me a valid reason to take Christine's student out which would have completely destroyed all her numbers which means shes 1 which isnt a huge threat. Im just worried about idols ,and tribal on my 200th day is ANNOYING. Anyways i need to go calm down phew. Old Andreas is coming out lmao

So jackson and I had a plan to throw the torch pass challenge and use lauren to get out andreas. funniest part: we didn't even have to throw because lauren posted at the wrong time and fucked it all up! I'm trying to make everyone hate her now so she feels like she has to vote with us. jackson was hesitant at first about voting andreas but he's warmed up to it. I hope he stays with the decision. I really think him and I can fight our way through this game.

i got my 2nd idol piece from fucking hell of looking through numbers! van who??

So I think I already did a confessional but oh well. This tribe swap isn't looking good for me. I ended up not getting the idol piece because Chelsea already got it so that was super annoying. BUUUUT. I got reward this time and Ryan ended up getting his 2nd idol piece from it. I'm happy bc that means we have 2/3 in our posession and I think that he's 100% loyal to me. He's said over and over that this is our idol and I truly believe that. We've been friends for so long that I doubt that he would be using an idol that we both found against me in any way. I'm trying to talk to everyone every day but it's hard when it's one world. I hate it so much fuck fkjdsn. Andreas is kinda annoying and very pushy when it comes to this game. He created an alliance with Jackson and I, which I don't think I'll stick too, to try and talk about the vote. From what I can tell at this point, the vote is going to be Andreas anyway. Although Lauren fucked up in the challenge, people are wanting to keep her around for a throwaway vote if we lost next time (which we are going to if we're going to be keeping the weak players anyway). I'm starting to get annoyed with not being in power. Chelsea is running around only talking game yet telling me that other people will inform me with the plan... I- There is no way that I'm gonna be able to get her out and if god forbid we went to tribal again, it would be Lauren. I'm thinking of teaming up with Lauren to vote out Chelsea if it came down to it, I don't know if that would be the right move but right now, I feel like she's running the game and I want to be the one that takes her off of the high horse that she's sitting on.

Hi I'm Jackson and this is my third confessional, just in time for the third generation of tribes. Ever since the swap, I've kind of had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not because I was put on a tribe with people I can't work with - in fact, I've had good interactions with everyone on my new tribe in the past, and best of all, I'm reunited with my closest ally Chelsea. Instead, the feelings of dread come from the fact that a lot of power was given to the two of us to start making moves of our own, and it's scary to no longer be floating in the background, hiding behind our mentors. Still, Chelsea and I both feel like we can't shy away from the opportunity we've been given. So, we planned to throw the immunity challenge. I had two objectives in mind for this. The first was to allow Colin to join our tribe after his return from exile, as he's someone I really trust and I couldn't guarantee his safety if he went to another tribe. The second was to vote out Andreas, who I see as one of the smartest and most well connected players in the game. We were going to have Chelsea pretend her internet went out, which I'm honestly not 100% sure would've worked without attracting suspicion. But then Lauren decided to do what I think she does best: go inactive without explanation. Since she queued her post for the wrong time, our torch lighting was out of order from the get go, and we had no chance of winning unless Lauren came online at just the right time (which she didn't). So yeah, we lost, and I guess me and Chelsea got our way. Right off the bat Lauren was scrambling. She came to me and Chelsea for help, asking us to stay united as original Ersfjorden members, which normally I'd roll my eyes at because she's suspicious af to me but was happy to hear in this specific moment. With me, Chelsea, and Lauren, we have three, and can vote out Andreas like we planned (or, at least, like Chelsea pushed really hard to and I agreed only after talking to my mentor because I'm a weenie). Andreas was acting pretty jumpy too. I think he really doesn't want to get voted out on his 200th day of tumblr survivor, and yeah, I get that and I'm gonna feel real bad casting my vote. He really helped me get my footing on Ersfjorden 2, and we could've had a nice working relationship even though he probably would beat me at the end. Anyway, he came to me pushing hard to get Lauren voted out to keep the tribe strong, and I told him I was definitely on board. His worry was not that Danielle would flip on us (more on that later) but that Lauren would somehow make an idol with Chelsea, who I can tell he doesn't totally trust. Joke's on him - Colin has the idol piece that everyone thinks Lauren has, but I'm not gonna tell anyone. I tried to reassure him that Chelsea's on our side too, and I'm hoping his guard is down. Danielle is the wild card. Even though we could vote out Andreas without her (assuming Lauren isn't the fucking mastermind of the millennium), I wanted her to be in on this vote because I think she will stick with me postmerge. Ryan likes her, and I don't want to go against him (yet). So I told Danielle that Lauren was pushing for Andreas, and she seemed tentatively supportive of the idea to vote him out now with Lauren being the next to go if we lose again. She also sent me her reward, which was a clue to an idol piece hidden somewhere on the blog. Long story short, the URL involves a five digit code starting with a 7 and including no repeating digits. It's basically impossible to determine the URL from that (unless i've already gotten it right but someone got their first and the page was deleted?) without more info, and I don't think the hosts would give such a difficult riddle. So yeah I think she didn't send me the entire clue (she withheld some of the digit hints), which kind of annoys me because she's trying to gain my loyalty by supplying intel but she doesn't trust me enough to let me have a chance at finding it myself. Also I shared literally all the details about JD and Liam's shitty alliance on Ersfjorden2 that locked out her and her student, so I feel like I'm giving out more than I'm getting back. But anyway, though she says she's on board for the Andreas vote (making it 4-1 against him), I worry that she's concerned about my relationship with Chelsea. I also worry that she's closer to Andreas than she claimed (and than Ryan thought), and that she might have ratted me out to him. While it doesn't seem like there's a lot he could do if he did know we were targeting him, there's a slim chance he could try to pull Lauren over. In that case, it'd be either me or Chelsea going, and considering how many more limbs I've gone out on than usual this week, I'm not feeling super safe. So yeah, that's about it, so unless something changes in the hours before the vote tomorrow, this is it. I'll be voting for Andreas and hoping I didn't get duped.

Looks like everything is still good to go with the Andreas vote. Sorry bud! The ship has sailed ~

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Whelp, operation save Brett was a flop and I'm sad. But on the bright side I'm in love with this swap! It's nice to be reunited with Ryan and I'm glad QuilLynn is still with me. JD also seems really nice and then I haven't really talked to Nicholas yet. I'm glad we were able to win immunity but I'm kinda worried for Lauren. I feel like Jackson and Chelsea will help her but we'll see.

Going into tribal its been really quiet and that's been scaring me. No one is really talking to me besides Jackson but I could just be acting like a crazy person but who freaking knows. Hopefully this tribe votes out Lauren but maybe tonight, as my 200th night in TS will be my final. I hope not though, I don't wanna be a pre-merge flop.

Omg so the whole point of last vote was to get rid of Brett bc he is a bigger threat then jack and he would be more likely to be able to convince Lauren and Christine to flip. And of course we don't tell jack about the vote bc he really wanted Chelsea, but then of course he fucking ends up on my swapped tribe. I'm really happy I'm with Gage again bc he's definitely someone I trust and he's really nice, I'm also kinda glad to see lily And I'm hoping we can continue to work together. Jack ahhh I didn't tell him about the last vote so I don't think he trusts me anymore but he's nice. So that leaves Liam as the only person I hadn't met yet, I exchanged like 2 words with him and then he tells Ryan that he's talked to me the most? Like how is 2 lines a lot of conversation?? I mean I feel bad for him being super busy with 2 jobs and everything but he doesn't talk to me a lot and when we actually do talk it's always at 3 in the morning. So anyway last night Liam goes up to me and says hey I have an idea for if we ever have to go to tribal council, and he was talking about how me him and jack should work together and I agreed to it of course bc you should never really say no to alliances bc that's sketchy. I also found out that it was Liam and JD who created the majority alliance, like this boy seems kinda power hungry tbh. Anyway Kalfjorden looses immunity which is fine but I just hope it's not Chelsea, Andreas or Danielle. And then apparently Lauren has been super inactive and messed up on the challenge so it would make sense to vote her out and everyone seemed on board or whatever. But then in the all girls alliance, that I like the idea of but don't really feel comfortable with half the people in it, lily talks about how we gotta save Lauren. And at first I'm like wtf Lauren is cute and all but she's not the most active and I don't care about her that much. And Lily says that all the newbies are on board to vote together to vote out FUCKING ANDREAS. Like wtf I love Andreas?? And he's trying at this game unlike Lauren. And also lily goes oh yeah it'll be nice to vote out Andreas so that we can keep up student numbers like??? I'm a mentor??? I'm of course willing to work with students but not when they say they would like to vote out all the mentors lmao. I would tell Andreas but I won't bc I need to keep up my trust with lily especially since we're on a 5 person tribe where there's no room to hide. Anyway I could see if I could possibly talk to Jackson who I don't know well if he'd be willing to vote Lauren, ahh idk what I'm gonna do I hate this.

Im actually very concerned I may be going home tonight and part of me is thinking that perhaps i should throw my vote at Chelsea incase an idol is played. I don't see Christine letting Lauren go without a fight and I would be a great person in her eyes to take out pre-merge. Heading into this vote im super concerned, probably more then i've been in a while which is super scary. I didn't come back to be a stupid ass but its so freaking quiet, and I don't see Lauren going without a fight.

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