#Overarching storylines are way too hard 😩

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 4

CW: threats, choking, anxiety, stress position, reference to non-con

PART 3 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 5

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Hours had passed, time which gave Elliot enough opportunity to prepare a list of people who had enough reason to hate him. Even though Morris, his trigger-happy captor with too much free time, claimed to not follow any personal vendetta, he couldn't shake off the inkling that this was his fault.

How much more personal could it get? His mind drifted through names and faces, some more detailed than others: James Randall, high school bully turned general contractor just a few towns over. They had some quick and rough encounters during their time together, but nothing more came about it. Or Eve Anderson, who used to sit just two cubicles down from him and was let go by their manager because of her, well, unorthodox bookkeeping.

The last thing he heard about her, whispered among his coworkers, was the rumor that she went into crypto. Mister Harris, loyal customer and enraged by the inflation of gas prices, continually harassing his workplace with angry calls. But none of that was reasonable...

Otherwise, I am going to slit your mother open from her chin down to her fucking-

Neither was this situation. He had to be smart about his actions, or the consequences would be graver than an improper lay-off from a white collar job.

No promise would guarantee his stay to be quick - less likely painless, but he had to at least know the reason for this madness. If he wanted to use this information to his advantage, if he wanted to get out here alive...

Elliot felt a new wave of misery creeping up his stomach, choking him tight from the inside. Registering the now warm fabric of the mattress below, he imagined how eternity would feel like. Just waiting...surrounded by dirt and dubious bodily fluids. Waiting to be gutted in an empty crack house nobody would ever care to search for.

The pressure behind his eyes increased to an excruciating degree, threatening to burst out of him as a fountain of grief. Tears made their way forward. Elliot was too scared to talk, to even move, but his body needed any kind of catharsis; so he cried.

It was silent at first, a sniffle or two making their way out of his throat, hopefully muffled enough not to irritate the man just a few feet away.

Morris had spent long hours playing cards with himself, solitaire, Elliot suspected. Now spread across the dirty wood like a mosaic, the cards connected to each other with a charming precision. Stopping only every few minutes, to look at his phone. His mood never seemed to brighten after that.

A pastime, so he doesn't have to endure me.

At this, he finally broke. All the fear, guilt and stress of the last hours culminated into an unstoppable force, pushing its way through Elliot's body until it ripped his lips apart. Trying his hardest to stop any treacherous sounds, he clenched his jaw tight and pressed himself back down in the filth of the mattress, face now deeply hidden. It didn't change anything. The anxious panting echoed through the living room, making their way to the source of all this terror.

As he slowly shifted in his seat, Morris couldn't hide the feeling of unease any longer. Turning the chair around, he fixated on the shaking figure in front of him.

"Are you done already?" This cold tone didn't do his captive any good, even boosted the uncontrolled motions of his limbs to an unhealthy degree. "Stop that, you look like a-"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" Elliot screamed with a sudden anger, so very blinded by fear that all thoughts of torture were pushed aside. A childish part of him screamed at this unfair treatment, and no nausea, cramps or headache could hold it in anymore.

--------

Morris stopped his line of threats in an instant. The quick shock of an icy feeling at the back of his neck, but after a few seconds he pulled himself together. He thanked himself for doing this alone, his partners would have already ripped Elliot apart for this mild tantrum; and also humiliated anyone who would let a hostage address them that way.

"Oh, stop your whining, I'm not even doing anything! You want the gag again?!"

He really shouldn't worry about this sudden blast of desperate resistance. He was perfectly safe, everything was under control. She would answer... They just needed to wait a bit longer-

"No!" the man below finally answered through clenched teeth, "I just want to understand-"

With a hard slam, the chair flew back onto the floor, accompanied by playing cards slipping from their previously neat placing. Everything happened so quickly, none of the men grasped how they ended up like this. Without warning, Morris was on top of him again, both hands enclosing his neck, but not quite squeezing yet.

It was visible how Elliot cursed his loud mouth, the cloud of anger now nearly evaporated and replaced with a somber nothingness. The blank expression, empty eyes staring into Morris´, hid behind smeared red on pale skin.

He thought of who came before, but couldn't find a good reference of character to plan his next step. The younger man didn't belong to his usual clientele. Which meant that the rules weren't established yet, a shortcoming Morris had to account for, if he wasn't busy strangling his captive right now.

He reacted so negatively to threats. Sure, who doesn't, but the greatest part of compliance he got through talking him down in a poised manner. They could scream at each other for the whole day, but empty phrases didn't seem to cut it this time. In any case, he wasn't the usual kind of man trapped in Morris claws, he had to approach this from another perspective.

Ketamine, maybe. If Elliot refused to give him another option, the next snapshot would be of him having a drug induced breakdown on the carpet. He wouldn't overdose him, of course, he wasn't that kind of idiot. Nobody would benefit from that.

With one thumb pressed onto Elliot's larynx, pushing it down against the hard front of his spine, Morris collected himself to correct his rookie mistake:

"I'm going to repeat myself only once, alright? This is not about you. No personal agenda here, so don't make it one." 

Small nods shook the drained head up and down; intentionally or not, Elliot continued to hold his breath underneath the weight of his captor, signaling him to continue. 

"In a few hours, this will just have been an ugly nightmare for you, but nothing more." Another set of nods underlined the promises of freedom, realistic or not, didn't matter anymore. 

"I'm not an animal, so don't treat me like one. If this phone rings," he pointed at the small device on the desk, endlessly looked at in the past hours, "I'll have everything I want. This is all I expect from today."

His fingers let go to rest next to Elliot's head, caging him but not touching any more than he needed to. Raising an eyebrow, Morris waited for another sign of acceptance.

--------

Liar. Liar. Liar.

He was sure these words meant nothing, only trying to lull him into submission. This Morris didn't want him to make noise, to call for help till he got finished off. Elliot would be murdered and not even granted the reason for it. So he just gave in, once again lying flat on the thin piece of foam, not moving besides a light shiver.

"I will be reasonable, if you let me be."

With this final warning, Morris stood up again. Looking down at the drained picture of distress, he grabbed his phone to take a picture. Evidence of the consequence one awaits when screwing him over.

He probably gets off to this, Elliot realized, now regretting his defiance even more. He shunned the thoughts dropping into his mind, that there was the possibility of death only being the second-worst thing that could happen to him here.

His hopeless expression only made Morris shrug worthlessly, pocketing the phone again. Despite his obvious violent tendencies, Elliot couldn't push aside the feeling that the brute searched for a conversation with him. Like he wanted to let it all out, to prove to himself he was being reasonable...

"I'm sending her another one, maybe she thinks the one in the trunk was just a joke, I don't know... This has to be done." He spoke more to himself, breaking the forced eye contact. 

So it is just about money, in the end. Draining the last sorry penny out of my parent's bank account.

Wondering how Morris would ever think that his mother takes these threats lightly, he rolled himself into a more comfortable position. His still bound hands continued to tingle with sharp stabs all throughout, adjusting to the new normal.

Even though he finally gave up on fighting, past and future threats practically forcing him into compliance, his captor continued to eye him from time to time.

"You want a deal?" the question floated to him after a few minutes of silence. Elliot refused to imagine what favor Morris would ask of him, he tried to ignore the unsavory thoughts, fostering his anxiety ever so drastic.

"You can play a round of cards with me...you know, to pass the time." 

Elliot started to listen again, hoping for some kind of break. Please don't let that be a euphemism. Untroubled, Morris continued:

"I'll untie you for that, and you will stay calm indefinitely. That's the deal, nothing more."

It was irrelevant, if there was a hidden catch to this offer, Elliot failed to gather the effort to care anymore.

"Okay," he whispered, "Please."

"Now that's more like it!" he exclaimed, almost sounding enthusiastic about a card game, as he once again knelt down on the mattress to pull out his knife. Before the blade could separate the cursed binds of tape, he stopped for a second.

"You won't try to pull any stunts, right? I'll stuff you back in the trunk, if I have to."

Or break my bones. Or gag me again. Or gut my mom. Elliot didn't want him to get even more creative, just shaking his head a little.

"I won't do anything, I swear."

With a simple slash, the overbearing pressure in his joints released, first in his shoulders and then further down his arms, as Morris worked his way through the loops of tape at every other point. His long numb hands were last.

Both shoulders finally snapped forward, immediately letting him catch himself in a tight embrace. Somewhere deep down, he could feel the burning soreness of the muscles and ligaments shifting back into position, like returning from the longest stretch in existence.

Feet still tied, he was dragged by the hem of his sweater again; gliding across the carpet floor. This time laying limp as a rag doll.

Make him like you, make him like you.

"Crazy Eights should be a good start for you, to warm up a bit," Morris determined, as he dragged Elliot onto a second chair, just as decrepit as his own.

Being upright again after so many hours spend in the horizontal, he had to fight against the black dots dancing around his field of view. His whole body seemed to come back to reality, piece by piece, hands now gaining new feeling and strength. 

Elliot could do this, maybe physical force wasn't the kind of strategy he should have gone for at the start. Struggling to start his line of thought again, his glimpse was stuck on the phone in the thick leather pockets of his now opponent.

Well, he could start with that. His mind started to reel with wild plans to somehow get into possession of Morris' phone, but again, another beating would probably be the price for that kind of audacity.

My phone, he realized through his new-found clarity, I'm missing from today's practice. If I hold out long enough, maybe they can track us down. I just have to buy some time.

Perhaps being obligated to remain level-headed wasn't to his detriment after all.

Morris shuffled the cards quickly, collected and cleaned prior, and started to divide them into two stacks for each player, respectively. He didn't bother to explain the rules again, and Elliot not even dared to ask, too scared of starting another argument.

With the first card turned, Morris laid one in his hand down.

Make him like you, maybe he's fond of pets.

"I have a rabbit at home and-"

"I know, and I don't give a fuck. Your turn."

He forgot to feed Ginkgo, he remembered, digging deep in his mind for information about the previous evening. Fuck, what am I even doing-

"You want the gag?" Annoyed, he looked down at the piece of knotted fabric still hanging around Elliot's neck.

"No!" a quick gasp told him.

"Your turn, then."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[bdoubleowo]

#im thinking of the like....#the servers with elaborate lore and a lot of people but theyre characters and from ehat i can tell#some fucked up shit (affectionate) is going down#like. i dont fuckin know a guy who burns cities and hes in prison now and a hole where a town used to be covered in glass?#all i know is ill see the most fucked up poetic shit and be like damn whats that from and its about cube boys 😩#no judgement its just very funny with 0 context#also.... mumbogender....#honestly a mood my gender too is absolute nonsense . gobbledygook. mumbo jumbo#hm. seriously considering. pondering the rabbit hole

Ok so quick rundown,

MCYT means Minecraft YouTube/YouTuber.

Means basically anyone who has uploaded a Minecraft video to YouTube, but generally people are talking more specifically about YouTubers who regularly upload Minecraft or are in some way known for it, but sometimes people like to find One Minecraft Video a Youtuber has uploaded and go "haha AmazingPhil is a mcyt!" though its more of... a stretch haha

"Servers" tend to be referred to with, well. server. or SMP (Survival Multiplayer). Of course not all servers are streamed/made into videos, and not all have roleplay elements. The one you're describing is Dream SMP. It's one of the most popular servers right now, and its a RP heavy series.

Hermitcraft, however, is a lot more focused on the building and gameplay aspect, though they do have RP elements, its less of an overarching story. except. right now for some reason??? There's a whole thing with the moon and gravity is fucked and. yeah. Usually the RP and storylines are people driven (the Turf war was an argument about whether the shopping district should have grass or mycelium) and individual to each hermit (during the mayor race Grian and Mumbo consulted a robot made in their image) but for some reason. moon big.

I cannot recommend it enough tho. as you can tell from me having. an. entire blog for it lol. Normally I'd say Hermitcraft is very easy to just. hop right into whenever if you don't feel like watching all the previous episodes from that cc that season. but uh. the moon stuff is a. little hard to jump right into. However there's always the Hermitcraft Recap!

Normally I don't. enjoy assigning sexuality/gender identities onto c!mcyt even when shipping (like. Scott's gay irl so calling c!Scott gay is fine, but with c!Jimmy I feel weird saying he's gay or bi or whatever. Just. unlabeled attraction to men, and sometimes women. idk man)

However.

I feel like Mumbo Jumbo is in a constant state of gender crisis. just. I think Mumbo would get too into the weeds and come out of his gender exploration tangled in wires

Person: What are your pronouns? Mumbo: What even are pronouns? How do you decide? How do you choose a neopronoun if you want one? How do I know if the pronoun I already have actually is for me instead of just being how I was raised? Person: Grian what do I call Mumbo. Grian: He goes by he/him mostly. Mumbo, still going: I. Think I’m a man? But what really is a man? What if I think I’m a man just because that’s what I’ve always been! And if I try wearing feminine clothing and like it, that doesn’t mean I’m necessarily a woman, it just means I like wearing those clothes. But even if I figure that out, pronouns are indicative of gender identity but not exclusive, so I could still use pronouns different from my gender identity! Grian: I think you’re overthinking it

Mumbo makes a redstone device to tell him his gender identity but it keeps outputting “lettuce” and he can’t fix it. It works fine for everyone else and he has no clue what "lettuce" is supposed to mean so it has to be broken but he can't figure out what's wrong with it.