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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 5, chapter 5

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Content warnings: Food mention, fantasy religion mention, body horror mention

Morgan had slipped away from the crowd still thronging around the waypoint in Harrogath. They had swept Blaise up in their enthusiasm, cheering her prowess with the bow. Not wanting any part of the festivities, Morgan had quickly eyed up the thinnest part of the crowd and woven his way through the gaps until he was on the outside of it. It forced him to take the long way around the city to reach the barracks, but that was fine. Better that than the alternative.

His route took him past a tent where Cain was bent over a parchment, writing in his careful, unhurried way. An air of serenity surrounded him, as it so often did. Morgan stopped without consciously deciding to. Perhaps he, too, could find some peace here. Just for a moment.

He approached hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt. It could be enough just to observe, to watch an expert in his element. But Cain glanced up as he dipped his quill into the ink pot, a smile spreading over his face as he noticed Morgan.

"Ah, Morgan. I didn't see you there, friend. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hello." The familiar cadence of the scholar's voice was even more soothing than just his presence. Morgan wanted more of that. Cain had always been willing to speak; surely this wouldn't be too much to ask. "What are you working on?"

"As it happens, I've been recording some of the history of the barbarians here. Most of their stories are passed down orally, but I find them quite worthy of preserving in a more lasting fashion."

"Could you please tell me more about that?"

Cain shuffled in his seat, setting his quill aside and folding his hands on the tabletop. "Nothing would please me more."

Morgan lost track of time as he listened to Cain retell tales of the brave and wondrous exploits of the ancient Bul-Kathos, who Cain suspected may have actually been a real person, one of a few original nephalem from the early days of the world. He was feeling a little more like himself by the time Blaise poked her head in.

"Thought I might find you here, Morgan. Chief elder Nihlathak is asking for you." She wrinkled her nose. "Pushy guy, wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. He's waiting in the great hall. You can come with me, but we don't have to hurry. He can wait. You should at least get changed first."

Cain regarded Morgan as he stood. "Did you get what you came for?"

"Yes," Morgan replied. "Thank you."

"Always a pleasure, my friend," Cain smiled serenely before returning to his quill and ink pot.

"So," Blaise said as they walked, "learn any new information about Baal?"

"No." He let a few steps pass in silence. "I just wanted to hear a story," he added.

"Well, Deckard has a million of them. Did..." Blaise's step faltered for a second. "Did you tell him? About... last night?"

"No." Just like that, the heaviness was back in the pit of his stomach, as though it had never lifted.

"Did you want me to do it?" The question was meant in kindness, he was certain.

"You can do what you like," were the words that came out of his mouth in response, uninflected and low. Blaise winced.

"I just - I mean, I thought it might - shit," she said. An icy trickle of fear slithered in to curl around the weight in Morgan's core. You keep making her upset like this, it observed. She's going to get rid of you too, if you keep it up. She knows how easy it is now. He bumped up against her gently, looking for the right words to use.

"I trust your decisions," he tried. "I don't want to think about it right now."

"Yeah," she said, "okay." She brought her arm up to rest across his shoulders for a moment, and the fear thawed a little. She waited outside the barracks as he changed out of his armour and pulled on a warm wool sweater over top of a lighter shirt, to keep the rough material off of his skin while still taking advantage of its warmth. Then it didn't take long before they were at the great hall.

"What does Nihlathak look like?"

"Big guy, you won't be able to miss him."

"Everyone here is big," Morgan pointed out. Blaise laughed.

"Yeah, they make 'em large in these parts. I haven't felt this small since I was a kid. Don't worry, I'll point him out."

She didn't need to. He called out from the head of the long table when he saw them enter. It was the large man whose leg he had mended, who had identified his... origin. Blaise returned to a seat near the other end of the table.

"Morgan! My people have been telling tales of warriors risen from the earth itself. Come, sit by me and talk and eat." Morgan wanted to do none of those things. He approached anyway.

"Chief elder," he said with a polite bow of his head. "How is your leg?"

"Good as new." He gave it a hearty slap to illustrate. "Malah finished what you started. Of course, if she'd been there in the first place, I could have seen the battle firsthand! Still, I am warmed to see so many I thought lost to us returned. Sit, eat, celebrate with us. Maybe you can tell me the secret of how our uphill battle turned in our favour."

Morgan sat at the table, which was laden with food and drink. The crowd was boisterous, shouting joyfully and slamming their tankards together. It was at odds with the cold, hollow feeling he'd been trying to shake.

"There's no secret," he said, "it was just a good day. You knew it would happen."

"I what?" Nihlathak leaned in close. "What are you saying?"

"Yesterday," Morgan elaborated, "after I bandaged your leg, you said the tide of battle would soon turn. You were right."

"Hah! I was!" Nihlathak leaned back to drain his tankard. "I still want to hear of these earthen warriors you raise. What are they?"

"Golems. I put magic into the ground and it does what I ask."

"You make it sound so simple, but I've never seen such a thing before."

"I can demonstrate any time you wish, chief elder."

"Perhaps later, eh? Right now I am in the mood for tales!"

"I'm no storyteller," Morgan warned him. He didn't like it here, with the noise and the smells and the happy groups of people who belonged together. It was all too much. He wanted to leave.

"Oh, go on, you must have some stories in you. How did you get that scar?" He gestured to the most visible one, the thick line marking Morgan's throat nearly from ear to ear. "Scars always come with a story."

"Demon slit my throat."

"Oho! See, that's a tale! How did you survive that?"

"Healing potion."

"You're right," Nihlathak grunted. "You're no storyteller."

"Is that why you asked for me?"

"No! No, I just wanted to see that everyone got their place at the feast table."

That was good, Morgan thought dully. Equitable, fair. It was no longer his place to judge those things. Hard to break a lifetime of habit.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said, forcing himself to stay seated. Instead of standing, he took a small bite of food. He couldn't be bothered to taste it. Instead of leaving, he took a drink of ale. That was tasteless too. He waited until he saw another person leaving the hall. That meant it was finally acceptable to go, which he did. Nihlathak had moved down the table and was occupied with Blaise and some of the other warriors, undoubtedly getting the stories he wanted. It saved Morgan the trouble of excusing himself.

Once he was out in the cold, quiet air again, it occurred to him that he didn't have a goal in mind. He wandered a little, thinking about nothing, letting his feet carry him where they would. They took him up to a corner near the smithy. The blacksmith, Larzuk, was there, along with Cain. They were leaned over a workbench with their backs to him. It looked like they were examining something. Larzuk was making expansive gestures and Cain was nodding thoughtfully. Morgan turned around. He had already interrupted him once today. It wouldn't do to take up any more of his attention.

Morgan went to the bathhouse instead. It was quiet there, with so many at the feast. He had what should have been a reasonably pleasant bath, scrubbing the grime of the day's efforts from his skin with hot water and a rough cloth. The world was going blunt around the edges again, though, so he couldn't say for sure. He was half dressed afterwards, squeezing the last of the water out of his hair, when his solitude was interrupted. The bathhouse door opened behind him, and a conversation became audible as its participants entered the building.

"- that level of control. Certainly not so many at once." That was Icharion. He was clearly speaking to someone else, though. Morgan could probably still slip by without comment.

"What a pity. Strong steel will always win out over magic, but I am beginning to see its use." That was Nihlathak. The bath must have taken longer than he'd thought. "Ah, so this is where you slipped off to, Morgan! So quiet, like a ghost."

So he wouldn't escape cleanly after all. Morgan turned to give the men a cursory bow of acknowledgement.

"I'll take that demonstration you offered," Nihlathak continued. "Tomorrow, when the light is good, eh?" Morgan nodded, and Nihlathak grinned. "Good. What, you never seen scars before, boy?" He nudged Icharion with his elbow. "You see a warrior with no scars, you know he hasn't seen real battle. That's how you get stronger. Gonna see plenty the longer you stay here. Get used to it."

Icharion was staring openly, looking faintly horrified. But his eyes weren't on any of Morgan's scars. "Your arm - is that a golem?"

"It is," Morgan confirmed. Its smooth surface did rather stand out in comparison to the bare skin of his torso. He had never bothered smoothing down the snarl of tissue at the place where it joined the original limb, either, where he'd had to improvise the connection. It was ugly, but it served its purpose. Icharion's lip curled.

"How could you claim devotion with that monstrosity attached to you? Those arts are forbidden. You know the laws better than anyone." The accusation lit a brief flare of indignation inside Morgan, but it died quickly. His dedication had been pointless in the end, after all.

"I have broken no laws in this," he said.

"You shall not forge a construct in taking the flesh of the dead," Icharion recited in retort, "neither the flesh of the living."

"Neither the flesh of others living," Morgan corrected flatly, pulling his shirt on over his head.

Icharion opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, frowning. "Surely that's not the way it was intended," he said after a moment, sounding a little uncertain. Morgan shrugged.

"Some laws are explicit with regards to one's own self. That one is not."

"Hah! Clever. I like you more and more, Morgan." Nihlathak was watching their exchange approvingly, his arms crossed over his chest.

Icharion took a halting step forward, as though he was struggling between being intrigued and repulsed. "But why? What made you take such an extreme measure as that?"

Morgan slipped his sweater on over his shirt, tugging at the neckline until the rough wool stopped dragging on his skin. "Irreparable damage."

Icharion's eyebrows rose. "Noted."

Morgan waited a beat, but there seemed to be no more questions for him. He left without another word, heading for the barracks. There was no point in trying to find further distractions. The relief they offered was too fleeting. The fighting earlier had been tolerable, though. Perhaps the barbarian battle party would be able to move faster now, to catch up with Baal before he reached... whatever his goal was. It would probably be easier to defeat him with so many strong warriors on the attack at once. And then what? He wasn't ready to think about that yet. Instead, he closed his eyes and slipped into the familiar meditative space that held nothing, and waited for the morning.

#my writing #story: unbidden #food tw #eating tw #fantasy religion tw #body horror tw

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topherfoxtrot · 3 years

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Ice cold eyes❄️

❄️Anders Cain smut yeahh. Don't worry you don't need to watch the movie, just keep in mind he's a hockey player with daddy and anger issues.

✨As usual reader is first person and neutral. The dialogue is fun but the text gets super explicit at the end. Be advised. TWs include sex obviously, daddy calling, feet kissing and cum swallow.

🙏Don't forget to like, reblog or comment anything if you enjoyed this piece of moral depravity ^^

Being Anders' neighbor was weird. Some days I could listen to him screaming at the tv or at the cellphone. Some nights I could hear his bed moving around while he had sex. Sometimes his apartment would stay in absolute silence for almost a month. Other times I could listen to him crying in the dark. Those usually came after he had a phone call with his dad.

Tonight was one of those nights. I have a really good hearing so I could always hear his cellphone's ringtone. I paused the Netflix show I was watching and silently walked towards the wall so I could hear him better. Anders' 'hey dad' was kinda of shy. There was some silence. He tried to speak but his father on the other end of the call interrupted him. Anders listened to whatever his dad was saying in silence, except for an occasional deep sigh. He tried to speak again but was interrupted once more. Anders finished the call with a "yes sir".

I knew what was coming but I couldn't take myself away from the wall. I listened to the few dragged footsteps Anders made before collapsing on what I assumed was his couch. Anders cried as silently as he could, I never saw his tears but I could listen to the sniffs. At this point a huge part of me had already decided going to his house so I could help him in some way. I had to wait for the next stage though.

Anders got up and growled. Like a feral animal he approached his punching bag and started to beat the shit out of it. After living next to Anders for more than a year I could actually pinpoint when he was casually training and when he was having one of those anger releasing moments. I walked around my house trying to come up with an excuse to pay him a visit while the punching continued.

There was not a cup of sugar or borrowed plastic pot or any favor to return. We barely ever talked to each other apart from the eventual good mornings and good evenings we would say to each other when we crossed on the hall. Hell I only knew his name because I heard some of his friends saying it in own of those boys nights they have.

I pressed my lips and frowned in disappointment before walking back to the wall. The punching had stoped. I took a deep breath while gathering the courage to actually go talk to him. I left my apartament and walked towards his door still minding my steps as if I was doing something imoral (like invading his privacy). It took me a couple moments to actually knock on his door. I heard him moving around, he clearly wasn't expecting anyone.

When Anders opened the door the first thing I noticed was the bandaid on his nose and the little wound on his left eyebrow. And of course his eyes were bloated due to the recent crying. We were both wearing the same clothes: sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He sniffled hard before talking softly.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you." I switched the weight on my feet, "I know you have been crying."

Anders looked at me like I've just caught him completely naked. His eyes traveled to my bare feet and up to my head real fast. They crossed the hall and then stopped at my eyes. It felt like there was more than one sentence forming inside his head at the same time. I purposefully passed my hands on my arms and elbows. He blinked a couple times before inviting me to come in as I knew he would.

The punching bag felt familiar even though I've never actually seen it. I spotted the couch too and the tv. His apartment had the same blueprint than mine and yet it looked really different. I could tell that some of the furniture was too expansive to be there. And the whole place smelled like the cleaning products I couldn't afford to buy. In an instant I remembered all the occasions I would hear the broom and the vacuum working at his apartment. Anders' voice took me out of my own thoughts.

"I'm sorry you heard me." He came from the kitchen holding a glass of water.

"You don't need to!" I reassured him.

"No." Anders shook his head, "I shouldn't cry like that. I'm a grown up. I can take it."

I actually chuckled upon hearing that. He looked offended so I quickly grabbed the glass of water to assert some kindness.

"I'm sorry! It's just that... that's not what being an adult is about. At all! Besides my relationship with my dad is also not good so I can definitely relate."

"You heard the call too?"

"Come on Anders we've been living next to each other for over a year man!" I almost spit the water when I realized what the silence he made actually meant. He never told me his name. I chuckled again, embarrassed this time, "Sorry, I heard your friends calling you that."

He quickly looked at the wall as if trying to see through into my apartment.

"My hearing is above average good, I guess." I smiled akwardly, "And the walls are super thin."

"Actually now that I think about it." Anders looked at me again, from head to toe like he did at the door, "I've heard you to."

Hearing that made my spine freeze. I replayed all my days in my mind. I work from home so I basically stay indoors 24/7. I often listen to music but never loud enough to disturb anyone. I also listen to podcasts while cooking and always end up crying with Netflix shows not targeted to my age. What has he heard??

"what have you heard?"

Anders actually smiled. He walked to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of expensive wine and two cups.

"Are you in a hurry?"

***

We spend some good forty minutes talking on his couch while drinking wine and eating sunflower seeds. Anders said it was about the gains. 'Sunflower seeds are for the winners!', on his words.

We exchanged cooking recipes and cleaning techniques. We also talked about how hard (yet good) it was to live alone. I talked about my work at the computer and he talked about his hockey games and how he would sometimes travel to play far away leagues, which explained his occasional absence.

As the alcohol made it's magic we started to talk about more silly stuff. He said that I had a really bad taste in music, which I agreed. I said that once I found out his name and heard his friends using all this sport vocabulary I googled 'Anders + hockey' to figure out who he was. And I was actually quite surprised he was considerably famous even though I had no idea who he was. I almost considered selling his address to crazy fans. That made him laugh

"How are they like?" I poured more wine into both our glasses, "The fans I mean."

"Eh, you know." Anders shrugged, "Some of them want to drink a beer with you. Some of them want to kiss you. And some of them want to kidnap you."

"And have you ever been kidnapped?"

"Only on purpose." Anders winked at me. That made me smile. His beard was not really my thing but looking closely he was indeed quite attractive. Or maybe that was just the wine talking.

"I mean, I'm at your house and you're drunk. I could very much kidnap you right now couldn't I?" without putting any thoughts into it I raised my feet to the couch because they're so so damn cold. Anders grabbed my feet softly and placed them on his lap.

"You're also drunk. Do you think you can keep me here?"

"At this point we both know that you can only get kidnapped if you're willing to. So the question is: do you want me to kidnap you, Anders Cain?"

He looked at me with those bright blue eyes of his while gently caressing my feet. Slowly and without taking his eyes off me Anders brought my left foot closer to him and kissed it. No one has ever done that to me. And very few people have looked at at me the way he was looking.

"How much do you think you father would pay for your rescue?"

"Honestly? Not much..." Anders placed my foot on his lap again and for a few seconds he looked away from me. I bit my lip in frustration.

"Let's put it this way then." I placed my almost empty glass of wine on the expansive mat, "What about you being daddy tonight?"

The look on Anders' face made it clear that no one has ever offered him such position before. And I was so glad I could be the first to help him explore such profanity. His hands moved from my feet to my ankles. I got closer to him and grabbed his glass of wine to placed it on the mat as well. From this distance I could see a little bit of gray in his eyes. We kissed.

At first softly. His beard felt weird against my cheeks and chin, but not for long. I could taste the wine on his lips and mouth. Once his tongue came into play I felt his hands on my thighs. That made me kiss him even harder. It's been more than a month since the last time I had sex, I definitely missed the touch. I tried to jump on his lap but he grunted in pain and quickly asked me to back away.

"What is it?" I asked worried.

"Hockey stuff." He briefly explained before taking off his shirt to reveal the wounds around his ribs and shoulders. In the heat of the moment that only made me desire Anders even more. I took my shirt off and got up to get closer to him. I gently placed my hands on his waist before kissing him again.

"Don't worry." I whispered, "I'll be gentle daddy."

That made Anders hyperventilate briefly, which of course only made me proud of myself. I kissed his big hands. Then I kissed his forearms and biceps. His shoulders were broad and strong and yet lean. I kissed his shoulders and back being careful not to put too much pressure of the wounds. He flinched slightly but didn't ask me to stop.

Facing Anders again I grabbed the sweatpants and lowered them slowly. His eyes followed mine like that scene from karate kid. That made me feel powerful but I promised 'daddy' I would be kind. I would bring him to orgasm. I would bring him to forget his problems for a while. I would bring him to relax.

I grabbed Anders' dick in order to pull him into his room, but he didn't move. Instead he pulled me closer and kissed my neck. His bite made electricity run through my whole body. When we parted he looked at me with such predator eyes. Blue as ice. Sharp as a knife. Terrifying is not the best word to describe it but it's the first one that comes to mind.

Suddenly I remembered all those videos I digged up online of Anders beating the shit out of other hockey players. Did he look at them the same way he was looking at me? Did they like it as much as I am? Unfiltered duo to the alcohol I whispered.

"You're crazy."

"You like it." He whispered back.

It felt like we should smile but we didn't. Our eyes kept locked in a horny stare. I grabbed his dick again and pulled him into his room without taking my eyes off his. Same blueprint. The thing that catch my attention was the daisy flowers on Anders' bedstand. They seemed out of place for some reason. Or maybe I just didn't know him well enough.

I made him sit on the bed, back on the headboard. He made himself comfortable and I got naked in front of him. He looked at me from head to toe for the third time that night. I licked my own lips in anticipation. His dick was rock hard. Inviting me.

I crawled towards Anders. My hands caressing his ankles and thighs. I kissed him in the mouth again before kissing his neck. He grunted with my weight on him, but only slightly. I then proceeded to kiss his chest and nipples. With my mouth I followed his blonde treasure trail. I kissed his balls testing their sensitivity. Then licked his dick from base to head. When I finally put his cock inside my mouth Anders shivered a little.

His dick was not too long or thick. It was avarage but it only made it easier for me to do my thing. I absolutely took my time. I payed attention to every moan and slight movement Anders made. Slowly deciphering what he liked best.

When I felt like he was approaching climax I went faster for the final prize. He started to moan louder like I've heard from my apartment. I recognized it. I knew it was time. I swallowed his dick into my throat until I felt my nose touching his pubes. He cummed hard into my mouth. I closed my eyes and moaned loudly as I swallowed spunk after spunk of his delicious cum.

After his orgasm I kept sucking his dick until it became soft again. Anders kept moving his finger toes around and grunting in pleasure as I finished my job. When I eventually got satisfied I moved to get off the bed but Anders pulled me back to a kiss. His eyes were still as blue as ice but they looked at me with much more kindness now. We both took a deep breath before kissing again.

***

I didn't like to sleep in the house of the people I had sex with but my apartment was literally a few steps away so I didn't mind. Anders and I took a shower together. We were more sober at the time and talked drowned in the kind of intimacy only an orgasm can grant you, even if temporarily. I slept on his bed with him. We woke up a few times because I would accidentally put my weight on one his hockey wounds.

In the next morning he left to train and I left to my apartment for working. He spend a couple days away and I caught myself checking the hockey leagues every now and then. We had sex some other times after that. I don't know if we consider ourselves friends but one thing is for sure: at this point we know each other better than anyone.

#Anders Cain #FoxtrotFanfic #Wyatt Russell #smut #goon last of the enforcers 2017 #as you know english is not my first language #I'm literally so proud of this writing #also this was the hornier i got so far #hope y'all enjoy :D

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cainfm · 4 years

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『BILL SKARSGARD ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like CAIN ROMANOV is here for THEIR SENIOR year as a LITERATURE student. THEY are 25 years old & known to be RIGHTEOUS, TRUE, EVASIVE & GUARDED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hdsjnf hello all ... it is james again ... here with another ... replacing noelle with cain bt it’s fine im fine. i’ve hit muse limit u wn’t hear frm me again ... so hit tht like button .. this isnt the best intro ive done bt mostly bc im just kinda like ... taking an old one n rewriting it as i go

TW CULTS, HEROIN USE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE, ABUSE, PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, PTSD, ANXIETY, TRAUMA.

aesthetics.

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

basic info.

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): n/a

b.o.d. - feb 19th, pisces :) happy birthday!

label(s): the connard (previously), the escapist, the facade, the fallen, the lothario (previously), the pariah, the phoenix, the puppeteer (previously), the sybarite, etc.

height: 6′4″ ... bruv.

hometown: stratford, connecticut

sexuality: bisexual uwu?

stats

inspired by: i feel like i did ... have an inspiration for him but i don’t ... remember ... so ur not getting this one ... i might edit this later if smth pops into my head but. alas.

biography.

born to connecticut senator vaughn romanov and well known philanthropist adelaide romanov, they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent new england family. they’re the eldest of five in a very nuclear, picture perfect, preppy chic family.

was brought up to be a class a, outstanding, perfect citizen. golden child to the all american family (willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants). cain listened, obeyed, never strayed outside the lines.

it was always intended for cain to take on after their father, to follow in his footsteps and become a politician too. there were several expectations for them, including joining model un, debate, deca, splitting time between soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, becoming class president, and all while maintaining a valedictorian - worthy gpa.

even volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks, proving to everybody in their community just how much of a gem they were, darling, perfect member of society.

always eager as a child, eager for approval, eager to impress and wow and dazzle authorities and adults alike - cain never really had a problem with any of it? always attended church on sundays and sometimes even wednesdays. participated in family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

born and raised in stratford, super close to lovell to the point where it’d always been expected that the romanov children would simply just go to radcliffe, as did their parents. their home in stratford is a big, fancy, seven bedroom eight bath house with two fireplaces and an expansive dining room. no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

however. their model citizen persona was just that, a persona - a charade. in the community and to his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards, a leader. to classmates and peers, from elementary to college - cain was the devil themself.

arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when they felt like it, often unprovoked. they were the senator’s son, and a rich one at that - rules never applying because they simply never existed for them, the upmost privilege because of who their family happened to be and their place in society. tattlers of their behavior faced far more consequence than cain ever did, or would.

the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at someone if they had less than them - a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of their family. was never physically violent, nor did they raise their voice, but that’s what made them all the worse. made them all the scarier. spewed classist bullshit with ease and was addicted to the power high it gave them.

their only redeeming quality was their protectiveness over their family - never the best person, but family is family, and they thought it ought’d to be protected.

went into political science and business to please their father, mainly, every step they made - every path cain went down, every choice from the electives they took in high school to the brand of shoes they wore, was to build them into the ideal presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though cain never participated in parties too often, known for keeping their composure even when others resorted to violence, or got too drunk, or caused any public commotion, because they didn’t like to leave a bad image for the press. did their drugs in private but left nothing to the imagination, publicly.

but alas. during college, two very important series of events occurred.

seeking thrills, searching for fun in all the wrong places - cain became a middle-man between dealers and producers. never dealt it, and never produced it, but simply transported it between one another; the less everybody knew about each other the better. it was always a very hushed operation. one that they could’ve profited much off of, though money was never the motive for them.

and then he met earl and may meyers, fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive; an older couple immediately drawn to cain, reasonable considering just who their father was, and cain to them. they can’t tell you what about the couple was so appealing - the air around them was something else entirely; some called it unhinged, others would call it comforting. but they were kind folks, down to earth - very religious, and very warmhearted. liked his name, a lot - like in the bible, they’d say, and laugh, and pat his arm. they would say, on occasion, that they reminded them of their late son.

it’d happened towards the end of their junior year, a few years after they’d gotten involved in the drug business - and the meyers were volunteering more and more, always at the same places as cain. the same times, too, as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect - it was odd, but cain’d never suspected a thing. they kept talking, and it became a genuine friendship - a secured vote in the next election.

it only took a few months into this that they’d begun to talk about religion more. the sin of wealth, and god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth. only the worthiest souls. they’d eventually get into the rhythm of telling cain they were special - that they could see they’d be selected, see it in their aura, in their dreams, god sending them messages, etc. most would find it to be absolutely ... bonkers.

but it was oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism. maybe i am disappointing god - aren’t i a devoted follower? it felt nearly ridiculous, but it seeped into their mind. psychological manipulation, lasting over months and cain unsuspecting. as if they could ever be the one manipulated. but the meyers could ask cain to jump, and they’d simply say - how high?

soon enough, earl and may told them that they were moving. that there’d been so many more like them and that it was time to join them, time to prepare - to get ready for the rapture. cain held off at first, finishing up their first term of their senior year and their life planned right before their eyes. everything they’d ever worked for. their loyal companions and close-knit family, their side-business that’d only gotten stronger - a long-term girlfriend and the engagement ring that burnt in their pocket, made their heart beat twice as fast at the very thought. still the same as before, cruel without a cause, but still surrounded by those who loved them - who could find something in them to love.

but a month into their senior year, cain had a sudden change of heart. they were ready, now, if not now then never later. all because of a third event. a surprise. a shock. a betrayal.

they had discovered that they were not their father’s child - not at all, not even by an inch. they were someone else’s, completely. their mother had broken down and cracked, after a particularly straining christmas party. the discussion was long, and the heartbreak only grew. the anger only grew. the hurt - it grew. more and more, with each pitiful sob their mother gave them. it was a mistake - a one night stand in a fit of petty anger in the very early stages of their marriage. and only cain knew - like they had to carry this weight, now, that they never asked to have.

it was the kind of information that broke a person. cain idolized their parents, done everything they’d ever asked - ever expected, and beyond, let them mold them like putty into whatever form they wanted. only to find out that in the end, it didn’t matter. it never mattered, if cain wasn’t the blood child of vaughn. if their mother - a woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, was nothing but a cheat and a liar.

cain unraveled.

they spent the first week getting into an altercation with near anybody who looked at them wrong. physical, usually - though arguments arose frequently as well. with no explanation, only thrown fists - often drunk, or high, or sober too - it never mattered. they spent a night in county jail, it’d gotten so bad. it seemed to have no end.

right until new years, just after midnight, when cain had disappeared without a word. it was treated like a missing persons case, though there was no evidence of foul play or kidnapping, and not much could be done about it.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

the only people who knew of cain’s whereabouts were the meyers - because they had left together. a last minute decision that, if they had only waited a simple minute longer, would’ve never happened. a mistake they desperately wished they could take back. a mistake that led to another event - maybe the most important one of them all.

they’d gone only hours away from stratford, and lovell, the border between new york and connecticut and not as far as cain had initially thought, but deep, deep into the woods. that was where the cult’d been. they wore white linens and cotton, but never mixed. technology banned, prayers and daily chores. it was natural, at first. for the first three months, that was.

it could’ve been grand. it was peaceful, and mind-clearing, and they treated cain as if their birth was a sign from the angels. cain come to undo his past. a potential leader. but the longer they stayed, the more apparent it became that they weren’t all that the cult had wanted, so desperately, to believe. once they began to slip up, once members became displeased - that’s when the punishments began to occur.

sometimes once a week, but sometimes - and, later, much more so, multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but there are some things they simply can’t - the hands, they can’t forget. pulling, and tugging, and gripping - begging, asking him to repent, please, repent. their head held underwater, counting seconds until their vision’d eventually darken and go out, only to be pulled out gasping and sobbing. these memories stay - these memories repeat themselves, like a record stuck on repeat, days blurring into one another.

when they tried to fight back - they were subdued. heroin was the first step. little by little, everyday - enough to leave them in a high they wouldn’t remember; enough to burn a hole in their memory. and with these dimming memories, cain’d begin to sneak paper and pencil into their living arrangement, their room, writing everyday. wrote as much as they could remember from home - about their family, their life before it all - the people they loved. they couldn’t remember what they’d written, some days.

and when those notes were found, bound by thread taken from their own clothing to form a shabby book - that’d been the final straw. dragged, kicking and screaming - mind-numbingly high, into place. the twisted reenactment, retelling of cain’s demise. how exactly he’d gotten his scar. it would’ve been near perfect, if they had only stayed still and let them brand the mark into his forehead. but instead - they settled, eventually, for the chest. then - the left cain to die in the middle of the woods. in the middle of nowhere. no trails or campsites to follow, nothing at all. nothing but trees. nothing but his notes and the clothes on their back. they hadn’t even known what day it was - almost forgotten the year, too.

cain should’ve died there, but cain got up. and they ran. and ran. and ran. until they hit something, eventually. a road. it’d been pure luck that they’d found a car near immediately afterwards, whose driver wasn’t doubling as a murderer, who took them to the hospital - and who gave cain that chance to live. they were found on new years, a full cycle - a full year in the cult that’d changed their life.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

after being reunited with their family in the hospital - everything went by very fast. they couldn’t recognize their youngest sibling, but they also couldn’t remember why they’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of their girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled. they couldn’t give answers to their actions.

and after being put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - that’s when they find out that their father’s a presidential candidate, that they had been - that they used cain’s disappearance as a story for the press, one to garner votes. their return is national news, and their public opinion skyrockets. it’s supposed to be glorious, and a miracle, a blessing - but cain feels restrained. confined to the role they’d always been expected to play - expected to get up and continue with their life, as if nothing had happened.

but nothing didn’t happen - everything happened, and cain’s different now, vastly so - no longer who they thought they were. they change their major to literature, abandon politics. they get some cats, start working at the library, and they put on some leather gloves - their method of staying away, of keeping a comfortable distance. they are different, now, and simply only wish to focus on their recovery.

personality.

they’re no longer who they once were. a year of trauma does things to a person - and with memory loss that weighs heavy on their mind, they are near completely different. they remember parts of their old personality, their old lifestyle - enough to know they want to be better. they’re convinced that it’s karma, what happened to them. for being who they were - acting the way they did. just ... a bunch of self-blame.

even with the massive ego, cain’s always been a quiet person. but now - now cain’s even quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic, like a relic from the past. they’re distant - but it’s one of fear, restrictive and tense - not one made out of their own comfort.

smokes medical marijuana but rarely drinks ... as if that’d make a difference. in an effort to beat their heroin addiction, they’ve turned to prescriptions instead.

like i mentioned ... cain has four cats. it’s basically their entire personality. two of them were from before their disappearance, but two are new to their little (school-approved) family. there is: frank (big chungus when yelled. white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food), shoelace (black furred, missing an eye and half an ear), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short. calico with bent ears). yes, they have photos of their cats in their wallet.

cain’s memory is fucked - like, really fucked. they forget a lot of things. short term, long term. it’s a constant struggle. they managed to keep their notes from the cult, so those help - but not always. they forget dates and names and faces and events. sometimes they wake up and don’t know where they are. they don’t sleep often, anyways. with the trauma came night terrors, and in an attempt to avoid them they don’t ... sleep often. only a few hours a night if they can withstand it, because it’s frankly terrible.

they suffer from severe touch aversion. skin contact with anybody, of any sort, is enough to send cain into a full-blown panic attack. they were leather gloves more often than not in an attempt to combat this disadvantage, without hindering their dexterity too much. even with clothes, they’re not the biggest fan of physical contact. it won’t send him into a panic attack, but they visibly flinch away. they’re very clear from the get-go, if someone is too close to them, that they don’t like physical contact.

dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week. their therapist recommended that they keep writing their notes, after reviewing them himself, so cain does. they keep an entire journal where they write, and sketch a little, because it helps them cope and de-stress. it means a lot to them, actually.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like … sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem. but, unfortunately, part of their coping involves getting far too involved in their own mini-investigation of the cult they’d been part of. when the cult was tracked back to where cain’d been brought, they were already gone - and cain wants to know where. wants to know how to find them. wants justice, vengeance. wants nobody else to get hurt from them.

pretty blunt ... won’t go out of their way to announce that hey, they were part of a cult, and that’s why they’re gone and that’s why that’s the way they are now - but they also won’t lie about it, if the topic comes up in conversation. they don’t like delusions, don’t like secrets, nor do they like unnecessary attention.

being at radcliffe makes cain anxious because - well, they’re surrounded by people they’ve been doing wrong by for years now and they can’t even remember which ones. who, what, when, why - distant memories, if they’re even there at all. is constantly trying to figure out how to redeem themselves. they’d leave, if it hadn’t been their parents’ assistance that they stay there. so that someone always has an eye on them.

but like ...they screwed over a lot of people when they left. from plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend, who they are, undeniably, still in love with (you can’t forget that feeling) - to their friends. like. everybody, pretty much KBJNSDFKSNLD

is often pretty high ... i’d say it’s just the medical weed but. alas :/ take a guess :/

hates cars & swimming & crowds. hates feeling trapped and will avoid it whenever possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult.

they ... have a tendency to run away when they’re overwhelmed. likes to climb trees because they’re tall enough to. there’s a tree outside of their window that they climb out to frequently, even though it’s like a ~safety hazard~ or whatever. just really likes to hide out.

used to be in perkins when they last attended radcliffe, but they gave their spot to someone else and that was like - 100% fine w/ cain tbh. lives alone in moris now.

feels the need to redeem themself ... to like, everybody. like, they want to avoid conflict and be a better person, but it’s hard, and they don’t necessarily like confrontation either - and not everybody believes that cain’s changed. it wouldn’t be surprising if people were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason, because they don’t ... really have the best track record anymore.

developed a stutter as one of the results from their trauma. their voice is damaged from screaming and they’re self-conscious about it, but they’re working on it because there’s more important things to worry about. in general, cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, and generally sickly.

repeating senior year ... fr obvious reasons ... and probably won’t graduate anytime soon because they’ve changed their major so late.

can still hold a conversation & they’re not really afraid of socialization. it just takes a toll on them. they’re pretty lowkey, as a person. soft, sorta. quiet but they won’t be an asshole (on purpose). they like people! just. very low energy.

so like ... tldr ... not an asshole anymore ... dealing with a lot of trauma ... trying to be a good person ... yes ...

wanted connections.

locals... people they’ve grown up with their entire life. people they’ve wronged, people who idolized him, envied him, despised him, etc.

enemies... would love for a bunch of these just. a hoard of people who fucking hate cain. because it fits the bill. they could’ve bullied them, or wronged them, whatever. anything works. let’s make it happen.

exes... that they’ve dumped... old hookups, ex-friends, people they got into an argument with or fought before they disappeared last year...

ex girlfriend... that connection wld b rly neat!! i have it up as a wc rn but we can take that down ... will be holding intense american idol - esque auditions. remember that cain ws a fckn classist pig and probably only dated people who were also rich with influential families. (unless u present a very good case to me ... then maybe ... perhaps ...)

family friends... family rivals... people he knows mostly thru their family.

redeemable... people they’re trying to redeem themself to... trying to prove their worth, and that they’re a better person now, etc. etc.

old clients... :) angry clients. that they left in the dust.

perkins... people he knew from perkins ... old pals or maybe enemies idk he was pretty insufferable ... people he used to go to fancy parties with sometimes ...

angery... people so so so so fucking pissed at cain, for whatever reason.

reconciliation... reconnecting... used to be friends and we can be friends again :) and i will be better this time! i’m a slut for slowburns, especially slowburn friendships ... enemies to friends ... now THAT is sexy.

victims... of bullying ... :/ of their bullying specifically.

sof...t... wholesome content ... nothing but soft, understanding friendships ... or developing friendships ... make them feel welcomed again... forgive them...

an..g.st... friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. miscommunication. betrayal. whatever u want.

no hookups!!! ... please only previous encounters. nothing in the present. because it just wldn’t make sense.

unless... eyes emoji. H DSJLFJKS just kidding! i’d accept MAYBE some kind of sexual tension but like ... the sort that hurts, because it just Cannot Happen (i will not let it happen). or maybe a fun, casual sexting thing but like. nothing physical. pleasthe.

fuck politics!... mayhaps, they hate mr. romanov and his politics or smth. he’s probably corrupt in some way, so! go at it!

aggression... i feel like a lot of the conversations between cain n other ppl start out rly ... angry bc theyre Mad. at them.

ok it’s bed time please plot with me.

#radintro #cult tw #heroin tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #trauma tw #ptsd tw #anxiety tw #manipulation tw #abuse tw #i think thts all ...

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jusicain-blog · 7 years

Text

In Too Deep

An original short, by Justice Cain Dani could feel all of the grit and annoyance of the past few days wash away as she let herself into her apartment. Finally! She was only moments away from sinking into her favorite chair and logging some serious game time. She couldn’t believe she was still wide awake after spending the last couple of days camping out for the new “DeathCraft” expansion set. Camping out for new games wasn’t a normal thing for Dani. This was actually the first time she’d ever done it. Usually she just pre-ordered and picked up new expansions, or downloaded them. But this release was different. In addition to not allowing pre-orders this time, the creators were giving a special mount to the first 50 people in line at each game store. This was a one-time only shot to get a non-transferable mount that allowed you to port from one region to another without the need of any kind of calling stone or special character ability; that was a treasure worth camping out for! But there was an additional incentive to camp out as well. A limited number of the games were going to be available to each store, the number varied based on gross sales of the store, but once they were sold out, you would have to wait at least 2 weeks for the second wave of games to hit the shelves. That meant you could be two weeks behind the rest of the world, not to mention your friends, in growing your characters. Not acceptable. There was also talk that features available in the first wave would no longer be offered by the second wave, but this had not been confirmed. Despite being rumor, there was no point risking it. Dani did not want to be lacking features that her competitors had available. So that’s how Dani ended up spending her last two vacation days this year, sitting on the hard sidewalk, outside of the Game Depot. The truth was, that camping out for something, anything really, was a secret bucket list item of Dani’s. She had nicknamed it “urban camping” when selling her friends on joining her and she had sold it as a really cool adventure. The reality of spending 48 hours, on a sidewalk, in front of a gaming store with 50 other unbathed, overtired, and hyper-anxious nerds while having a 15 min maximum to run to a port-a-potty and freshen up every three hours, was not the image she had painted, for her friends, or for herself. The doors opened at midnight but it took close to an hour for Dani and her friends to pay for and receive their copies of the game. She was home before 2 am, but she was looking at hours of downloads and updates before the game would actually be playable. The good news was that most people were asleep or out partying right now so her download speed was in its peak time. She started the first download going and went to take a shower. As she washed the street essence off of her, she acknowledged that she was still happy she had taken the adventure. At least now she could check it off her bucket list and say she had done it, even if she never wanted do it again; and she had an exclusive first copy with special mount. She had definitely made the right decision. She had been soaking in the steamy shower for close to an hour when a timer went off letting her know the first patch was likely done. Dani grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, quickly dabbing herself dry before twisting it at the top and tucking it in to stay in place. Sure enough when Dani got to her computer there was a popup box on the screen advising the patch was complete. Dani clicked on ‘Continue’ and a Terms of Service Agreement popped up. It was one of those that will not allow you to click on ‘Continue’ until you have scrolled to the bottom of the agreement, thereby suggesting that you had indeed read the entire agreement. Dani used her mouse to grab the little button on the right-hand scroll bar. As quickly as the program would allow, she rolled the screen down past pages of legal notices, descriptions and definitions. As she watched all the words fly by, almost in a blur, Dani wondered if anyone in the history of ever had actually sat and read all that crap; especially before jumping into a highly anticipated new game. The screen reached the bottom of the agreement and the ‘Continue’ button lit up. Dani clicked on it and the Agreement went away and was replaced by a new ‘Download’ box. Dani’s eyes quickly skimmed the explanation at the top of the box and then clicked ‘Download now’ to start the next patch. A long bar appeared at the bottom of the screen and started to fill up. The indicator below the bar predicted it would be 1 hour and 45 minutes to complete the download. The initial time predictions were never accurate (“Thank God!” Dani thought) because Dani kept much faster computers and Internet Speeds than the average consumer. Dani set her timer for 45 minutes and went to the kitchen to make something to eat. Dani loved to cook and was a self-proclaimed “foodie” so the crackers, meat sticks and potato chips she had lived on the last 2 days were not her favorite part of the adventure. Dani grabbed a frying pan and turned on the stove. She dabbed a little of her favorite olive oil on her fingertip and rubbed it into her chapped lips before pouring a little into the pan to heat up. The phone rang. She didn’t even have to look at the screen to know it was Deb calling. Deb would want to talk while waiting on the downloads to finish. Dani picked up the phone and clicked the green answer button. She could already hear Deb crunching on her bowl of cereal before she could say, “Hello.” Deb was a cereal junkie! She especially seemed to like eating it while she was talking on the phone. It took Dani close to a year to get used to listen to the constant crunching during phone conversations. Early on Dani considered ending the friendship over the annoyance; now she barely noticed it. *Crunch *Crunch, “What are you cooking?” *Crunch *Crunch came out of the receiver. “What makes you so sure I’m cooking?” Dani asked. *Crunch, “You’ve already been home over an hour and you haven’t cooked in days. Hmmmm…” Deb pretended to ponder the equation. “Ok smartass. How’s the Capt. Crunch?” Dani threw back. “Touché,” Deb said with a low whistle, “So what character are you going to make first?” Dani cradled the phone against her shoulders so she could slice vegetables while they talked about their builds. ~~~~~~~~~ It took most of the night to finish the downloads, by the time she clicked ‘Continue’ on the last patch, it was time to start getting ready for work. Dani had almost called in sick to work when she walked into the living room dressed to leave and saw the green bar at 100% and the “PLAY” button, lit up. She cursed herself for not having more than the two vacation days she needed for her “urban camping” event left. But today was Friday, and she would have all weekend to play, so she forced herself out the door and bought herself a donut at the corner market to congratulate herself for adulting like a rock star. The adulting stopped at the doorway to her office though. She daydreamed a good portion of her day and spent only slightly less time online searching the forums to see what reviews and hacks were already popping up. She also spent a little time talking to Deb and Glenn via text about their audio strategy for tonight’s run. There was discussion of using laptops so they could game from the same room, but the chance of lag on a laptop was too dismal a proposition to risk, especially on Release day! So they settled on using “Vent” which had been pretty reliable in the past. By the end of the day Dani had only really worked on one client’s file, she had decided to bring her backlog home. By Sunday afternoon she would be ready, or at least able, to unplug from the game for a while and focus on catching up her files. So at about a quarter to five, she had grabbed the large stack of files off the corner of her desk, shoved them in her oversized briefcase, grabbed her purse and her coffee mug and headed for the elevators. She had already stocked the kitchen with snacks and her favorite drinks, so nothing but Friday traffic stood between her and “DeathCraft” now. When she edged the car out of the parking lot and onto Main Street that evening, she had already started building the fifth version of her Dark Elf in her mind, but now, even the drive was behind her. It was game time! She had earned it. It was going to be an all gaming, all-the-time, kind of weekend. She dropped the keys on the entryway table as she passed it and stopped dead at the opening to the living room. She dropped her coffee mug and the mail as she jumped back and screamed in alarm. The man sitting in her favorite gaming chair didn’t flinch and didn’t try to quiet her. He just sat there looking at her with his eyebrows arched until some form of curiosity made her stop screaming. “You can keep doing that if you like, but sooner or later your neighbors will start to respond and you will have some explaining to do won’t you?” the man said in a slightly judgey tone. Dani was startled from her fear by instant anger, “I’LL have explaining to do?” she questioned. “Yes.” The man said matter-of-factly. “How would you explain my presence?” he asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dani made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke, “Umm … I guess I’d introduce you as my intruder and ask someone to shove a foot up your ass?!? Or worse!” Dani said incredulously. The man laughed. I don’t think you’d be successful. You invited me here, and I have the paperwork to prove it. You would come off quite foolish if you tried to act like I was an intruder at this point,” the man explained. Dani just stared at the man for a moment. Her brain was moving in several different directions and she was not sure how to continue this conversation. For a moment she considered that she was hallucinating from lack of proper sleep and nutrition or that she had wrecked her car on the way home and was caught in a coma dream-state. But everything looked and felt very real. She could even smell the chuck roast she had put in the crock pot before leaving for work this morning stewing in its juices. “Do you smell in comas?” she wondered. “No.” the man said. Dani looked at the man, eyes wide, “No, what?” Dani asked. “No you do not smell in comas. Well at least you don’t smell your roast at home from your hospital room.” The man explained calmly. Dani took a step back, “Did I ask that out loud?” Dani wondered, out loud. “No.” the man replied again. Dani felt a little dizzy. “Well don’t be stupid, sit down before you faint and crack your skull open” Dani looked at the man confused. She heard herself ask in a weak voice, “AM I going to faint?” as the room started to spin and the floor came flying up at her face. When Dani came to, she was stretched out on her couch with a light blanket over her and one of her neck pillows under her head. As her eyes focused, she saw her favorite mug sitting on the table with steam gently rising out of it. She could smell the herbs and spices of her favorite Chai tea. She loved that smell. She breathed it in deeply. She couldn’t remember laying down when she got home, but apparently she had really needed the sleep so … Dani’s eyes shifted back to the steam. “If I put myself to bed, why is that tea still steaming?” she thought. She tried to sit up and turn at the same time, scanning the room for the man. “You needn’t panic. I’m right here,” the man said from an armchair opposite the couch, an amused smile on his face. Dani sat up and scurried to the farthest end of the couch and kept her feet under her ready to spring at him. He chuckled, “My, aren’t we primal dear? Relax, drink your tea,” he ordered gently. Dani instantly felt compelled to do as he said and she reached for her tea and then settled into the corner of the couch in a more comfortable position. She sipped on her tea and actually felt more relaxed. She looked up at the man and said, “Who are you?” The man smiled, “There now. When we are calm we ask the smart questions.” He gave her a mock tip of his cap, but he wasn’t wearing a cap. Then he continued, “I am Satan.” He said simply, “But you already knew that. What is your real question?” Dani never broke eye contact with him, “Why are you here?” The man smiled and leaned back in his chair, “To discuss our business arrangement of course.” He folded one leg over the other and leaned forward, clearly excited. Dani realized she should be feeling a great amount of alarm at this point, but she couldn’t. She remained entirely calm as she asked him, “What business arrangement is that again?” The man pulled a file from a briefcase that Dani didn’t remember seeing until now. As soon as the man opened the file and nodded, the briefcase disappeared. Dani stared at the space where the briefcase once was and willed her mind to be alarmed. The man pulled several sheets of paper, stapled together, from the file and leaned forward to hand them to her. Dani took the papers from him noting that they still felt warm from the printer. She looked down at the papers in her hand and saw the large bold words at the top of the page, “Terms of Service”. Dani flipped to the last page and stared, without blinking, at her signature at the bottom of the page. She turned back to the first page and began skimming each paragraph. She didn’t need to look hard because on the 3rd page, halfway down the page, one paragraph was bold and highlighted. Tears welled up in her eyes as she absorbed the words in that paragraph. Dani’s water-filled eyes moved from the words, now swimming on the page, to the man in her chair. “You don’t look like I would have imagined Satan,” she said softly in a creepily conversational tone. And he didn’t. He was young, not much older than her if any. He had a casual sort of surfer vibe to him, with an air of confidence and a suntan! He wore lightly distressed jeans with flip flops and a button down shirt, the top three buttons loosed. He was not hard to look at in any way and certainly had no horns or hooves that she could see. “I actually look EXACTLY as you would imagine me. I only appear as people imagine me. If you answered the door and your neighbor peered in, they might very well SEE that red demon with the horns and the hooves,” he answered the question she had not spoken. “The form I take is not as relevant as the souls I take,” he smirked at her knowingly and gave her a wink. Her skin crawled, and yet she could not feel alarmed. “What do you want from me?” a tear slipped free, from the puddle hovering at the edge of her eye, and slid down her cheek. “Don’t be alarmed Dani,” he said smoothly. Dani’s mind reeled at the irony of that statement and something in his eye said he was pleased that she had picked up on it. “I don’t ask anything of people that they don’t truly enjoy deep down. What I want from you is nothing more than you have been panting for all day. I want you to play.” He looked at her as if he had handed her a gift and was waiting for a squeal of delight and a hug. Dani asked cautiously, “Play what?” The man looked at her questioningly, “The game of course.” He let out a hearty laugh like adults always do when a child asks something silly. Dani thought about how to ask for clarification. “That doesn’t make sense. I was already going to play the game, so if that is all you wanted, I could be playing already?” Dani questioned. The man smiled. “What a great piece I got in you. I am SO excited you are mine. You will play well, I can tell.” The man had a slightly mischievous glow in his eye as he contemplated her future services to him. “My dear, I don’t intend to waste your talents sitting in this living room. You will play for real! You will BE one of my NPCs in the new expansion. The rest of your days will be spent in the world you love the most! Aren’t you excited?” The man beamed. Dani slowly processed his words, and finally, she felt alarm start to well up in her chest, enough that her chest might burst; her mind raced and she spun to ask the question. Before her lips could part she saw the man fling his arm open and across like he was presenting something and suddenly her entire world started to spin. The living room faded from view and a forest of trees swam into view. She hit the ground hard and caught her breath for a moment. Then she noticed the color and texture of her skin. She looked like a cartoon. Everything around her looked CGI’d. Her skin had a grayish hue and when she felt her ears, they were long and elven. She shakily got to her feet and quickly realized that she was significantly taller than she was used to. Looking at the ground almost made her dizzy. She was getting used to her new legs and trying to get a look at her body when she heard something behind her. She spun to see a Punky Brewster version of a Goblin and the goriest of Undead Hunters running toward her. They were cartoon characters, the same as her, but she would recognize Deb and Glenn’s toons anywhere.

#InTooDeep #JusticeCain #JusiCain #my writing #my words #writers #fiction #gaming #video games

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