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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Casual Ruin Pt. 3 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series.

Part 1 | Part 2

God help yall this shit was a rollercoaster to write

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~Elain~

For a second, no one breathes, let alone moves.

Azriel’s hands are steady as he grips the gun, body lined with tension, eyes so cold I shiver. The barrel’s close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, it’d brush my forehead.

The man next to him holds a cigarette halfway to his mouth, looking at me like he’s never seen a woman before and has absolutely no idea what to do.

And me? I’m frozen in place, horror rushing through my veins and mixing with the shock to create a nauseating cocktail I’m not sure I’ll survive.

It’s the brutalized man in the chair slumping over and hitting the floor with a loud thud that finally snaps us out of our momentary haze.

Azriel blinks and throws the gun to the side so hard it makes a dent in the wall, the stranger drops his cigarette and reaches for me, and I sprint like my fucking life depends on it. Because at this point, I’m pretty sure it might.

What the hell did I walk into?

I race up the stairs toward the garage, where less than a minute ago, I’d heard Azriel’s voice and gone to surprise him. By the look on his face when he turned around, I’d at least succeeded in that.

I can practically feel the man behind me, can tell he’s reaching a hand out to grab me.

I’ve never been a violent person in my life, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me, I don’t even question the urge to use the wine bottle in my hands as a weapon.

It breaks over the man’s head, but unlike in the movies, he doesn’t go down immediately. However, he does lose his balance enough that with a firm shove to his chest, he goes crashing back down to the hellhole I’m running from.

I make it to the garage and slam the door to the basement closed, locking it for good measure. Then I drag the heavy workbench next to the line of pristine cars over in front of it for even better measure.

I refuse to let myself stop and think, because I’m pretty sure if I do, I’ll break down into a pool of tears and never get up. I’m running on nothing but adrenaline, and I know I’ll crash soon, but I force myself to keep going.

For a moment, I’m tempted to steal one of the cars to get away, but the sound of angry Italian shouts behind the locked door makes me hesitant to waste any more time.

I also definitely don’t have time to call the cab driver that dropped me off and beg him to come back.

The fear and terror don’t give me time to doubt myself as I take my heels off, take off up the driveway, and pray I’m fast enough to escape the devil on my trail.

~Azriel~

“Get that goddamn door open,” I shout at Luca, who’s dripping wine all over the place and has a gash on his forehead from where little Elain Archeron shoved him down the stairs.

I almost fucking shot her in the head. Her.

Dolcezza mia. The girl I’m stupidly obsessed with. The one who’s always quick to smile--the same one who sighs when I kiss her and lights up when I walk into the room.

I almost shot her between those beautiful brown eyes, almost snuffed them out forever.

I run a hand over my face, listening to the sound of Luca throwing himself into the door repeatedly. “I’m trying, boss, but I think she pulled something in front of the door.”

Smart.

Fucking annoying as hell, but smart.

If I wasn’t so damn pissed at myself for not locking the basement door behind me and allowing her to find us down here, I’d be mildly impressed.

Two of the most dangerous men in Italy, trapped in the basement like idiots.

I pull up the app to track her phone--which was originally for her safety, not because I’m a complete stalker--and see that she’s on foot, going behind the houses instead of down the road. She probably thinks I’ll drive by her while she gets away right under my nose.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sending out a text to all my neighbors to tell them not to shoot the beautiful young woman trespassing through their properties. She has no idea the people around us have security systems better than the President’s. “Luca!”

“Working on it,” he grunts back.

“If that shit isn’t open in the next twenty seconds, you’re going in the incinerator after this asshole,” I warn, nudging the dead body on the floor with a boot.

The threat must work, because a second later, there’s a loud bang and the telltale sound of the workbench from my garage toppling over. “Got it!”

I storm up the stairs and tell him, “Run interference with the neighbors and local police. Anyone talks-”

“Got it,” he interrupts, grabbing his phone to start threatening people.

Pulling up the app again, I track the path she’s on, curse when I see she’s headed to the bus station about a mile from here, and take off after her.

Technically, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she got away. She’d probably go to the police and tell them what she saw, not knowing that Marco, the deputy on duty, has been on my payroll since the day he passed the police entrance exam.

Having done her civic duty, she’d probably try to recover from the trauma of what she saw, eventually finish her classes and move on, and leave. Forgetting all about me in the process.

Technically, for her, this option would not be the worst thing in the world.

But in my head, it feels worse than being stabbed. In my head, there isn’t a question about it.

I’m going after her.

There’s this weird, itchy feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before as I run and run and try not to think about the look on her face as she saw the body fall to the floor.

I realize the feeling in my chest as panic, something I haven’t felt since I was a teenager getting booked for stealing my first car.

She knows.

She knows, and the look on her face... she looked at me like I’m a monster.

And fuck, maybe that’s true. Maybe I am beyond saving.

But having her look at me, and having her take away the easy smiles and bright eyes I’d grown strangely accustomed to... it feels like being robbed.

And it makes me panic.

So I’ll chase her, and catch her, and do whatever I have to do to get her back.

Because I need her, and damn if I’m going at this alone.

After a surprising amount of time, I see the thin outline of her off in the distance, sprinting like the devil himself is chasing her.

I take a deep breath and try to stay quiet, but it’s hopeless. Like she’s the one with the tracker on me, she can tell the second I’m close. I can see it from the way her shoulders go stiff and her pace increases.

“Elain!”

I call out again for her to stop, because I don’t want to tackle her and risk hurting her. She ignores me and keeps running, turning behind the coroner of one of my dealer’s house.

That sticky, awful, panicky feeling in my chest grows as she disappears from sight, and without thinking, I follow.

Which, if I had been thinking, I never would’ve done, because shit like this leaves you open to attack.

Which reminds me: I’ve now broken all three rules for this woman, because I don’t have a single weapon on me to defend us if something happens.

I hit the ground hard enough the wind rushes out of me and my stupid brain rattles around in my stupid skull.

Blinking through the blur, I look up to find Elain standing over me with an empty metal trashcan raised like a bat, ready to strike again.

I need to explain, need to talk to her, but all I can seem to say is her name.

“Elain,” I croak, trying to force air down my lungs.

As my vision clears, I notice she’s crying, beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt.

She pauses and looks at me, like the sight of me knocked on my ass hurts her just as much as it does me, then shakes her head to clear it.

She throws the trash can at me and turns to flee, but I know I can’t let her go, at least not like this. Grabbing her ankle, I yank her down to me, making sure she lands on me instead of the ground.

She screams, the sound scraping away another layer of the trust we’d built, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate in my life. Elain flails around, but I use my weight to pin her, trying not to hurt her.

She has to let me explain. She has to.

I hate what I’m about to do, but the only other option I have is making her pass out the old fashion way, which I know I could never bring myself to do.

The second the needle goes into her neck, she goes stiff underneath me, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes.

“You drugged me,” she sobs, the betrayal in her voice making my chest hurt.

I brush the hair off her face, press my forehead to hers, and start telling her things I haven’t told another living soul.

I’ll never hurt you.

I’m sorry.

~Elain~

Am I dead?

Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?

Where am I?

These three questions rattle around in my brain at the same time, all demanding answers, as soon as I open my eyes.

And the weird part is... I don’t have any.

I have no idea if I’m alive or dead, but the headache I have that seems permanently settled behind my eyes points to the latter.

I blink the haze in my brain away and realize I’m at my house in bed, but my extend of knowledge seems to stop there.

There’s a voice in my head whispering something, but it’s too quiet for me to understand what she’s saying. All I know is that I feel like I need to do something, need to get out of here.

I rub my sore eyes and see there’s a note on the bedside table, written in precise, calm handwriting I recognize better than my own.

Come downstairs.

He’s here? I thought I went to his house, not the other way around.

The blinds are closed, but when I make my way to the window and peak out, I see a dark night sky, the moon reflecting off the water and making everything seen calm.

What the hell happened to me?

I start to leave the room, intent on going downstairs and asking Azriel that very question.

Except as I’m passing by my closet, I see something.

Something small and so inconsequential, I almost don’t think anything about it.

Like I’m in a dream, I feel myself walk over to the corner of the room. I feel my knees hit the floor, see my finger extend to the floor and touch the tiny drop of liquid that caught my eye.

I pull back and look, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see that it’s blood.

The floors are dark enough I shouldn’t have been able to see it from so far away, but it’s like a part of me was looking for it.

And that’s when it comes back to me.

Coming to surprise him, seeing the door in his garage, going downstairs... I press a hand to my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the tidal wave of nausea washing over me.

I remember seeing the blood first and wondering if someone was hurt, then coming further into the room to find myself in the middle of a nightmare. If I wasn’t so strangely sure it had been real, I would think it was a horror movie.

The man strapped down had been so brutalized, I doubt I would’ve recognized him even if I’d known him my whole life.

I remember running without a thought more, giving into the fight or flight impulse to get the hell out of there.

I remember hitting Azriel, seeing him fall to the ground and looking up at me with those deep, wounded eyes that will haunt me more than the torture he inflicted on that poor man.

Eyes that told me everything and nothing at the same time.

I remember looking into those eyes and crying at the pain in them that was surely reflected in my own.

And then nothing.

Why don’t I remember? How did I get back here?

I’m sorry.

I finally recall that last whispered promise, and if I hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen to my knees as I realize what happened.

He drugged me.

Azriel, the same man who slow-danced with me in an empty restaurant and drove me along the coast and held me in his sleep, drugged me.

And he’s downstairs.

I start to hyperventilate, because I don’t know what to do or what he’s planning to do. Why is he still here?

What am I going to do? Should I call the cops?

I realize I don’t have my phone, probably a countermeasure on his part.

I also realize there’s no way for me to run. I remember how fast he’d caught me, how easy it had been for him to render me useless.

There’s no escaping him. Not if he’s already down there waiting, evil plan cooking in his mind.

I have no other option, unless I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life.

So with confidence I don’t feel, I walk downstairs.

I find him sitting at my breakfast table, leaning back casually and sipping a cup of coffee despite the late hour.

The moonlight clings to him like it loves him, playing off of his sharp cheekbones and illuminating his features. His face is carefully blank, but there’s a flicker of something as he looks at me, something that seems almost like relief.

He’s calm and collected and everything I’m not, and it pisses me off. My world’s on fire, yet he’s sitting here like nothing’s wrong? And he’s drinking my coffee?

I stomp over to grab the stolen drink, then sit across from him and cross my arms.

And wait.

Because I sure as hell am not talking first.

He stayed because he has something to say. I don’t have anything to say to him.

For a long time, we just stare at each other, because he’s apparently playing by the same rules.

Then he accepts his defeat, sighs, and asks, “Why did you come to my house last night?”

I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and try to stop myself from throwing the coffee in his face.

Because he said that almost like an accusation.

Like the problem is that I came over unannounced, not that he was torturing someone.

“I’m not justifying that with a response,” I eventually tell him.

He gives me a hard look. “Answer the question.”

Something about the entirely male way he demanded that, like he expects a response immediately, makes me tilt my head and ask so sweetly I almost choke, “Why? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, showing the first sign of imperfection I’ve ever seen from him. “What you saw-”

“Was horrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He acts like I didn’t even speak. “-was something I meant to keep private from you.”

I don’t tell him that’s pretty fucking obvious at this point.

Instead I ask, “Why?”

I’m not sure why I want to know, but it suddenly feels important.

He doesn’t takes his eyes off of me as he says, “Because you’re you. You shine so brightly it should be illegal, and you look at the world like it isn’t a terrible place. I didn’t want to take that from you.”

My throat feels uncomfortably tight all the sudden, but I clear it and say, “Well, you did.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks down. “I know. If I could go back and walk away, I would. Shit, I told myself I would more times than I can count. But I just... couldn’t. And I couldn’t tell you either. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, Elain.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart finally start beating again, but I still call him on his lie. “That isn’t why you never told me. You never told me because you knew I’d hate you the second you did.”

“Maybe,” he admits, looking back up at me. “But now you know, and I’m glad you do. You know everything now.”

It’s my turn to look down, because while I’d wanted to know the real him, I’d never imagined I’d find something like this.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything, because you haven’t explained anything.”

He tilts his head. “What needs explaining?”

I ask the obvious question. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself.”

Once again, I don’t feel like justifying that with a response. He still isn’t saying anything that explains what I saw or why he’d do that to someone.

If he isn’t going to say anything meaningful, I’m not having this conversation.

Eventually, he seems to realize this. Because he says, “I’m Capo of the Sicilian Outfit of the Cosa Nostra, Elain.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t know how to feel, other than confused and angry.

“Any other questions?”

“Why did you drug me?”

If he just wanted to talk, he could’ve dragged me back to his place or maybe just say that. Not chase me down like a rapid animal.

“You were panicked, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I needed time to explain, needed to tell you this was never the plan.”

There’s something else there, and I narrow my eyes in a silent demand for him to continue.

Azriel sighs and admits, “My neighbors are business associates-” aka fellow criminals, “and I didn’t want them to hear you yelling and come to... investigate-” aka kill me, “or watch me get knocked unconscious by a twenty-four year old woman with a trash can.”

I give him a smug smile, more than ready to give him a repeat of that show, and try to decide what else to ask.

But before I get the chance, he says, “I don’t see why this changes anything.”

My mouth falls open.

He doesn’t see- is he serious? “You’re joking.”

“I’m not known for my humor.”

I’m still stunned into silence, so he tilts his head and asks, “Why does it matter? Why does what I do make me a different person?”

When I don’t answer, he says, “It doesn’t. Nothing I do will ever come near you. You won’t ever have to see it again. I promise.”

“It’s not about seeing it! It’s about knowing what you do when we’re not together. You kiss me goodbye, then go home and... there is absolutely no way I can go back to what we were doing before. You killed someone, Azriel.”

He straightens his cufflinks and shoots back, “He deserved it, Elain.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“First off, murder is illegal. So is torture, which from the way that man looked, you’d definitely been inflicting on him. Not only is it illegal, it’s wrong! He was an innocent human being-”

“He wasn’t innocent.”

I keep going. “You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner! You-”

He’s on me before I can finish, sliding a hand over my mouth and leaning over my chair.

God, the man is fast. Has he always been that fast, or have I just never noticed?

“Let me explain something to you, Elain. On this island, I am. I decide who’s guilty, which he confessed to being. I decide the punishment, which was a bullet to the brain. I’m the executioner, and I pull the trigger myself, because I’m not a fucking coward.”

I fight his hold, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t even budge.

“I play by different rules, bellissima. Just because you’ve never been exposed to them, or my world, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always existed. I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the goddamn king.”

A shiver goes down my spine at his words.

He pushes my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head, bite his finger, push at his chest. But it doesn’t do any good.

“It doesn’t matter, because like I said, we live in two different worlds. I’d never let mine impact yours.”

I want to tell him that isn’t the problem, but his hand is still on my mouth.

“Have you even asked yourself why you’re not afraid?” he asks out of the blue, surprising me.

I stare blankly at him, no longer fighting, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“You’re scared of what I do, but you aren’t scared of me. Not really. If you were, you never would’ve come down those stairs.”

That’s why he looked relieved, I realize. He was worried I’d be scared of him.

Everything he’s saying makes sense, which makes no sense at all.

Because if he’s right, and he certainly seems to think he is, it begs the question... why aren’t I scared of him?

He seems to see my ask myself that, because he answers it a second later.

Eyes growing softer, he murmurs, “It’s because you know I’d never hurt you, nor would I let anyone else.”

I remember him whispering that right before I passed out. I’ll never hurt you.

He comes so close I can see the individual flecks of green in his dark hazel eyes. “I may do terrible things, and I’d do terrible things for you, Elain, but I’d never do them to you.”

“So you aren’t afraid. Just angry,” he concludes. Then he looks at me like he did the other day in the sea behind his house, right before he called me his. “Do you know why you’re angry, Elain?”

Currently, it’s because he’s explaining my emotions to me, which has to be the most male, obnoxious thing that’s ever happened in all of history.

But I have a feeling that isn’t what he’s talking about.

And I have another feeling that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

I take another glance at the look in his eyes and realize what he means, starting to fight again. I push at his chest and hands and try to get him to not say the words I know he’s going to.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re upset,” he says a moment later, slow and sure like always, “because I lied to you. You feel betrayed, like you don’t know me. But that isn’t why you’re angry.”

One hand on my face, the other in my hair, he holds me perfectly still as he whispers, “You’re angry because you were falling for me.”

I press my eyes closed, trying not to hear the words he’s saying as if that’ll make them any less true.

But it doesn’t, because they are true.

Every easy smile, midnight whisper, and lingering kiss he’s given me in the past month has given him a permanent place in my heart, and it hurts to have that all feel like a lie.

It hurts to look at him and not know if I recognize the person holding me.

A sob escapes me, which seems to confirm what he said, and he takes his hand off my mouth to wipe away a tear.

His brow comes to rest against mine, and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself.

There’s a war happening inside me, and it distracts me enough I don’t stop him from pulling me closer.

My heart plays me a montage of the past month, showing me countless moments where I’d been so positive I’d found paradise, so positive I’d found someone I could trust completely. It tells me Azriel has always felt like home, like something so inexplicably right I don’t even know how to describe it.

But my brain reminds me the hands cupping my cheeks softly are covered in blood and gunsmoke and victims’ tears. It tells me I’ve never really known the man I’m currently begging myself not to have feelings for.

The battle inside of me rages on, and I cry harder, not even knowing who I want to win.

It only gets harder to choose as he murmurs, “Ance io mi sto innamorando di te.”

I’m falling for you, too.

I don’t know what to do or feel or think, and I’m so helplessly confused it makes me want to scream.

Yet even though I’m confused, something about this makes sense. Something about knowing what he really does for a living makes everything in my head just click.

The way he’d redirect the conversation whenever I asked about his job. The way I’d always suspected him of hiding something about himself from me. The way every movement he’s ever made with me has been lined with restraint.

He could hurt me, has had the opportunity for months, but he never has. He’s always been careful with me, has always held and looked at me like I’m something precious to him.

My brain starts shifting to his side of the argument, and I can feel my morality ripping to shreds under his hands.

Before I can think, I shove him away, getting to my feet to point at the door. “Get out. You lied to me. You’re a murderer. A monster.”

Feelings or not, I know I can’t do this. I can’t just ignore what I saw, what he’ll continue to do. So he needs to leave.

He doesn’t.

Azriel just leans against the kitchen island counter and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he watches me for a long moment.

“Maybe I am,” he says eventually around a mouthful of smoke. “But just because I’m a monster, Elain, doesn’t mean I can’t give you what we both know you need. Nothing has to change.”

It already has.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“No?”

“No.”

He prowls toward me, the intent shining so clear in his eyes I take a step back for every one he takes forward. My back hits a wall, and he traps me between it and himself, caging me in with strong arms.

The line between right and wrong, good and evil, seems to blur as he gets closer and closer, and by the time we’re sharing air, I don’t know which way is up. All I know is him.

He takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, tips my head back with his thumb, and then breathes the smoke into my mouth.

It should be disgusting, considering I don’t smoke and make it a point to avoid cancer-causing products in general.

It should be. But it isn’t.

It’s the opposite of disgusting.

There’s a buzz in my veins that has nothing to do with the nicotine, and I realize too late that he’s the vice I can’t quit.

I’m too far gone, too addicted already.

He pulls back slightly, tucking the still-burning cigarette behind his ear. His eyes burn with intensity, and his dark hair and shoulders are surrounded by the smoke clinging to his shoulders like a shadow.

He looks like the villain of a movie I never even knew I wanted to watch, and it physically pains me to have him this close and not be touching him, so I put my hands on his chest, fingers fisting in the expensive material of his suit.

His are on the wall by my head, bracing himself as he leans in and slowly licks a line across my lower lip, like he’s tasting me.

My want for him is a tangible thing, and I have to ask myself if he’s right. Does it matter what he does, when he makes me feel like no one else ever has? Do I care enough to stay away from him?

“You don’t need me?” he asks again, so close his lips brush against mine.

I shake my head, even though I know it isn’t the truth. I do need him, and that’s why this hurts so damn bad. Why this betrayal cuts so deep.

Even though we’re so close he’s nothing but a blur, I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through me.

And then he says something that changes everything.

“Well, I need you,” he whispers, so softly it breaks my heart.

I’m lost.

I’m so goddamn lost in him, I forget everything we were talking about, forget everything he’s done.

My knees go weak, and I cling to him, pulling him into me as I slip down the wall.

His lips crash against mine, and I know instantly that this is him. This is all of him. I finally know exactly who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s probably our hundredth kiss, but it feels like the first, and I’m drunk on it, drunk on him.

Hands in my hair, he kisses me like he wasn’t lying--like he needs me.

My hands pull tighter, until there’s not an inch between us, and he makes a low sound in his throat. His are on my waist, gripping me tightly and telling me he wants this just as much as I do.

The restraint from before is all but gone, and I tremble at how much power is in his grasp, how small and fragile it makes me feel in comparison.

My willpower crumples further, like a napkin in his fist, as his tongue teases mine, making me chase him for more.

Azriel pulls my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it between us as he draws back. It’ll be bruised tomorrow, but a sick part of me likes that he’s leaving his mark on me.

“Say it,” he say roughly, voice deep and scratchy with lust.

I don’t get a change to say it, or anything else, before he’s kissing me again, running his hands up my back and into my hair.

“Say it,” he demands again.

Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought, because I know what he wants but stay silent, refusing to give it to him.

Because I can’t.

Everything he said tonight makes sense, but I just... can’t.

He kisses me again, a lingering kiss that makes my chest ache, and almost pleads, “Say it, Elain. Say it doesn’t matter. Say you need me.”

The air grows thick as I stay silent, because it’s response enough.

His eyes narrow, and even though everything inside me begs me to, I don’t stop him as he steps away.

“Only two more months here, and you want to spend them lying to yourself?”

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m leaving so soon, but I don’t let myself get distracted. “I’m not lying to anyone.”

Except it feels like I am.

A smile pulls on his lips, but it isn’t friendly. “You’re fucking lying, and you know it. You know it doesn’t matter, you just can’t admit it, because then you’d be like me.”

Heart pounding, I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Fucking a monster would be condoning the devil’s work, right?”

He takes a step in, catching my wrists as I try to push him back, pinning them above my head, and laughing.

“You saying you don’t want me is the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard, carro. ”

“Azriel-”

Mouth next to my ear, he growls, “You’re really telling me if I slip my hand between your pretty thighs, I won’t find you wet and ready for me?”

I push against his hands and look away, all the confirmation he needs.

He tsks, feigning disappointment.

I close my eyes and fight my response to him with everything I have. I try to tell myself it matters, that what he does disgusts me, but it doesn’t sound believable to even myself at this point.

“I could prove it to you, make you come right here and now, but I don’t think I will.”

I’m breathing heavily, two seconds from passing out at the intensity and violence in his voice.

“I think the next time I fuck you, Elain, you’re going to have to tell me you need me just as much as I need you. You’re going to tell me you want me, and you’re going to beg me for more.” He licks up the side of my neck, and I press my lips together to hold in the moan that wants to escape. “You’re going to tell the goddamn truth, and you’re going to fucking apologize for lying to me in the first place.”

I glare at him, silently conveying that that will never happen. He lied to me. I’m not apologizing for shit.

He sees that and everything else in my gaze, and he shakes his head slowly.

“I’ll get your confession, Elain,” he promises, going to the door and almost ripping it off its hinges as he opens it. “I always do.”

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Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @bamchickawowow @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @loosingdreams @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @teddytdr

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elaine irwin #azriel #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elain x azriel fanfiction

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whumpqin · 4 years

Text

The Rules

Whew, this one kind of kicked my butt when I was trying to write it, but here it is! It’s currently 7AM but I’m still posting this. Hope yall are ready for some more pain :3c

Takes place after Welcome Home

Taglist! @imagination1reality0 @faewhump

Content Warnings: Pet whump, starvation and dehydration as a means of control, dehumanization, collars, muzzles, noncon touching, some parts straight up torture used as punishment, creepy / intimate whumpers, usage of knives, brief blink and you’ll miss it emetophobia warning, licking up stuff off of the ground (?), kind of monster whump I guess, and probably some other things that I forgot to tag! Just lemme know if I need to edit.

They had decided to let him rot in their basement for the day. Alone and in the dark.

When Elisha finally woke on the stone floor, muzzled and hands bound behind his back to make him immobile, he wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for the peace and quiet or be afraid of the loneliness that would inevitably set in. He waited, minutes turning into hours, for them to come down and do whatever they were going to do to him, but they never came.

For once, he had actually felt lucky that he was a Cambion. Darkness had never been a favorite of his, but his inhuman eyes were able to just barely pierce through the unseen veil so that he could at least catch flickers of the prison that they had put him in.

Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing to look at. Besides the chains that bound him to the wall farthest from the exit, from escape, it was bare stone and wooden pillars that held the house up. Or at least, he assumed they were living in a house. He couldn’t be sure.

He had tested how long the chains were by pacing - the only thing he could do at the given moment - and found that it wasn’t long at all. At the halfway point of the room it stopped, pulling taut and cutting off his circulation. But Elisha still paced, to feel something other than the metal lying across his skin, the strip of leather they put around his neck. He tried not to think about the collar.

And no matter how hard he tried to think about what was going on to distract himself, he still couldn’t understand why they were doing this to him. He dreaded finding out.

Elisha did, however, try. He figured this was some horrific game that they hadn’t let him in on. But Ari, the one who had drugged him, had called him a pet, talked to him like he was some sort of stupid dog, and he found himself trying to escape the fear that rattled in his skull again.

If they plan on making me their lap dog they’re going to have one hell of a fight on their hands, his instincts hissed in his ear over and over, aggressive at even the slightest provocation. Elisha always shook his head to try and get rid of those thoughts, but this one whispered over and over. He kept having to remind himself that fighting was going to get him killed by these people.

He continued to pace, continued to think. Every once in a while he stretched, extending his hands that were tied behind his back in an effort to soothe the ache that had carefully worked its way into his joints because of the strange position they were in. But no matter how hard he tried to wonder, tried to make sense of everything, he never came any closer to an answer that would satisfy him, would give him a reason why they picked him of all people.

Maybe there wasn’t an answer.

Elisha forced himself to sit, feeling the weakness in his limbs. They hadn’t given him any food or water, or anything comfortable, really. Nothing.

His shoulders slumped as he curled his tail into his own hands. There really was nothing to do but wait.

After what felt like hours, the sound of a creaking door opening alerted him. His head lifted from its lowered position to see small bits of light that peeked through the opening. Footsteps echoed down into the small room, and he soon saw two figures step down. Elisha was finally able to stare at both of the faces of his kidnappers.

Ari regarded him with a playful amusement, definitely looking down on him in a condescending way. Jer, on the other hand, seemed neutral and not nearly as interested in this as his partner seemed. He held a metal pipe that was as long as one of his legs, and Elisha felt a twisted dread in his stomach.

Ari reached up and flicked a light on. Elisha squinted as he was blinded yet again.

“Hello, pet,” they said with a bright smile. As they shifted, he saw that they were holding something behind their back. “Did you have a good nap?”

He wanted to say are you kidding me? On instinct, but his muzzle prevented any such movement.

Ari didn’t seem to notice, nor care, that he couldn’t give them an answer. “I bet you’re wondering what’s really going on, aren’t you?” They accented their words with a quick chuckle, as they reached a hand over to Jer, who placed the pipe in their hands. “Come here and kneel, and I might tell you.”

The dread curling and twisting in Elisha’s stomach dropped suddenly like a rock. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he saw Ari tap the ground in front of them. They had made the words sound so innocent, but he could tell that something sinister lied behind those eyes. He could see it in both of them.

His instincts told him both fight and flight. He wanted to get free and attack and tear them to pieces so that he could get away from here. But the bindings around his hands bit down more so than they had been, grimly reminding him of how trapped he was. Elisha took in a shaky breath as he stood up and took careful steps forward.

It felt horrible, to walk to your own demise.

The chain pulled taut, just before the place where Ari had told him to go. He tried to pull, to break it somehow, but it was too strong for him. Elisha looked to them with pleading, tearful eyes as they tapped the ground again.

There was no sympathy to be offered. “Are you not going to listen to me? Tsk, shame. And to think we could have been friends.” Ari looked to Jer with a incredulous expression. “Whatever, guess I’ll have to punish you for this, too. Kneel where you are.”

This was ruined from the start. Ari had no intentions of him even being able to obey. And now he had to just sit here and take whatever “punishment” they were going to deal out?

Everything was screaming for him to run. Elisha’s skin crawled as his instincts chastised him for kneeling, limbs twitching with a horrible panic that he just couldn’t shake. He can’t run. He couldn’t run, especially so with the air of fear that coursed through his veins so intensely that he wasn’t able to do anything but stare at the pipe as it was raised into the air.

When it came down, all he saw was stars.

Pain blossomed across his face as Elisha collapsed to the ground. Immediate regret of not doing anything racked his body much like the pain, and a low whine left his lungs through his nose. He tried to curl inwards, to protect himself somewhat, as another blow struck across his ribs. Even the thin layer of clothing that he somehow still had wasn’t enough to soften the spike of pain that echoed inside, as he felt something crack from the third blow.

Then it stopped. Elisha sat still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut in fear of what might happen, waiting for blows that never came.

It was too easy. He peeked an eye open, looking up to his captors as they both watched him carefully.

“He takes pain pretty well,” Jer commented. Then, with a small smile - which is the only expression Elisha’s seen from him thus far - he looked to Ari. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Oh, that’s great for us.” They looked back down to their target, a chilling grin on their face. “Hold still pet, there’s still more to come. Remember when you didn’t stay quiet in the car for me?” Elisha let out a muffled whimper, arms struggling from the need to defend himself as he squirmed on the ground.

Ari quickly raised the pipe and swung, catching him in the shoulder this time. It continued another two blows, hitting him in a different area each time. Elisha let out a low groan behind the muzzle, feeling aches and pains all over his body as they stood to admire their work.

There was the sound of someone whistling, and he looked up to see Ari’s smile. That damned smile.

“Oh, Jeremiah look at that. God, I wish I had a camera right now… these are the kind of moments you don’t want to forget,” they murmured, all too loud for Elisha to hear. They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“Weren’t you the one who said phones were a ploy by the government to arrest ‘honest working people’?” Jer- or Jeremiah - said, raising his fingers in air quotes.

“I want a camera, not a shitty wiretap. There’s a difference.” They huffed a forceful breath, returning their gaze to Elisha, who lay motionless on the ground. He was afraid to move, lest he cause himself to hurt everywhere. He was already getting a headache. “Anyway, go ahead and take off the muzzle. I’ll go get some water.” Elisha perked up at the idea of water, swallowing as they felt the dryness in their own throat, and Ari seemed to notice, too. “Yeah? You want some water? Be a good boy for my friend here, and we’ll see about that, hm?”

Their tone was so condescending it hurt, but it could also be the aches from the impact sites of the pipe. Ari laughed as they went upstairs, high pitched and sweet and entirely not what Elisha would imagine an evil monster to make as a sound. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes and dripped to the ground as he watched Jeremiah get to his knees and lean down.

Elisha’s breath hitched as his rough fingers found the buckles on his face and began to undo them. Jeremiah thumbed over a point of impact, making him whine in pain and squirm at the discomfort.

“Stay still,” he said, voice low and commanding. Elisha nodded, fearful of what might happen should he not obey.

The muzzle was slowly drawn away off of his face, careful of the short horns that rested on his head, and laid to the side. Elisha watched it for a moment before returning his eyes to Jeremiah as he prodded the injured skin.

“Pl-please…” he begged. Elisha couldn’t reach Ari, they were too much a monster all on their own, but he figured he might as well try with Jeremiah. “Please help me… I just- I just want to go home, please…”

Jeremiah watched him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he ran his thumb over Elisha’s cheek, making him flinch from the pain. “You are home, pet.”

The hopelessness washed over him like a tidal wave, and Elisha couldn’t stop a few pained sobs from escaping him. He was trapped, like a helpless animal, with these people who wanted to do nothing good with him. He was alone.

Elisha heard Ari coming back down the steps, and Jeremiah drew away from him to set the muzzle somewhere else. They caught him before he turned away, handing the pipe over.

“I think I figured out which name we should pick,” he murmured as he took the pipe. Elisha felt another pang of fear rattle around in his chest.

“Oh? Which one?”

“Caleb. I think it fits the best.” The muted passion in Jeremiah’s voice made the ever-growing pit in his stomach grow larger.

Elisha saw Ari put a hand on their chin in thought, a glass of clear liquid in the other. Water. He felt the dryness in his throat worsen at the idea of being so close to drinking something.

“Hm, alright. I did give you the choice.” They suddenly looked at him with such an intensity it made him flinch back. “Then it’s settled! Pet, your new name is Caleb!”

“No, please,” he begged, before he could really stop himself. “Please, my, my name isn’t Caleb, it’s- ack!”

He was interrupted by his own cry of pain as Ari stamped over to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. The smile they wore held a sadistic tinge to it, and it was entirely too close to be well meaning.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? You don’t get a choice in this.” They let go of his hair and let him fall back to the ground. Ari loomed over them, triumphant, as Elisha kept quiet, mostly out of fear. “We can do whatever the hell we want with you. Because we own you, got it?”

Fearful of what would happen if he did anything else, Elisha nodded against his own best judgement.

“Good, now you’re getting it. But not quick enough. Guess I’ll have to take your sip for you, hm?” Ari dramatically lifted the glass, taking a large gulp of water, sighing in relief. “Alright, now get up on your knees, Caleb. Maybe you can earn this water another way, hm?”

Elisha hated that name. He hated that Ari was essentially bribing him with the thought of water to get him to do whatever they wanted. He hated most of all that it worked.

With several whimpers and whines, he struggled to pick himself up off of the ground and sit on his knees again. Ari set the glass of water far out of reach, where he could still see it.

“You’ll learn to like it here, but there are rules you have to follow,” Jeremiah said. For a brief moment he wondered if he had gone through something similar with Ari, but he couldn’t be sure. The sinister glint in his eye told Elisha otherwise.

“Since this is your first time, we decided to maybe play a fun little game with you.” Ari drew something from their pocket, clicked something on it and a knife flipped out of it. “You say your rules right, and you’ll just get a little cut to remember it by. If not, Jeremiah here hits you with that pipe again.”

Elisha knew he wasn’t going to like this game. But, he didn’t want to get hit by that pipe again for going against what they wanted. He swallowed as he watched their expressions, horrifically neutral, and nodded.

“Oh-okay. I can, um… I can do that,” he murmured.

The two exchanged a look, a thousand words in the slightest twitch of expression that Elisha couldn’t read them all. The thought of not being able to know was disconcerting, especially when he wasn’t sure if it meant pain or not.

Jeremiah sat back on his heels as he looked down to Elisha. “Alright them. One. Your Masters should always be addressed as Master. Repeat it.”

Confident that he got the gist of it, he nodded. “Always, um, call you… M-Ma-” a tear slipped down his cheek as he tried to get the word out, and Jeremiah raised the pipe, “Ma-Master! Please, I said it, please don’t!”

“Wrong. You need to say it exactly, no ‘ums’ or stuttering.” Mercilessly he swung the pipe again, catching Elisha on the opposite arm. He cried out, following up with sobs of pain as he felt the ache settle under his skin. “Say it again.”

“Please… I, I don’t know, I can’t remember what you said…” He felt his chest clench as the pipe was raised again, fear coursing through his veins with every heartbeat that thudded in his ears. “Wait, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I can say it, ju-just say it again and I can repeat it, please, please don’t!”

The metal caught him across the side of the face this time, dazing him long enough that he nearly toppled to the ground. Elisha gritted his teeth in a groan as he curled inwards on an instinct to protect his body. Then he remembered Ari’s command, how they wanted him to stay on his knees. After a brief, merciful moment to collect himself, he lifted his face back up to Jeremiah.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ari lean against the side of the wall, that evil glimmer in their eyes again. With a sickening twist of his stomach, which he couldn’t tell was from hunger or fear, he realized that they were enjoying this.

Only a real devil could enjoy something like this, he wryly thought.

“Say it. Your Masters should always be addressed as Master.” Jeremiah’s expression was cold. Calculative. He was watching for a mistake to happen so that he could punish without mercy.

“My…” Elisha paused as he nearly said it again, fearful of the pipe that he held so delicately in his hands. “Masters, should… always be, ah-addressed as Master!” His voice raised as Jeremiah’s gaze narrowed, his nervous nature getting the best of him as he sped through the rest of the words.

“Not good enough. It has to be perfect.” This time it landed on the other side of his ribs, and though it glanced off of him he still felt the brief pain. Elisha cried out mostly in fear, keeling over as other aches surged in the wake of the blow. “Your Masters should always be addressed as Master.”

He took a few deep breaths, trying to remember breathing exercises he saw on the internet once. “My… Masters…” In. “should always be…” Out. “addressed as Master.”

“Good boy.” Jeremiah smiled at him. It didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced over to Ari, who moved behind Elisha.

“Very good boy,” Ari muttered, feeling his arms. “This should be a good spot.”

Something stung against his skin, and Elisha gasped and hissed in pain as a knife dug into his forearm. He forgot this part was happening, forgot that Ari mentioned being cut as a reward. Elisha squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Ari pull away.

“Two. Never question your Masters.”

At least this was easy enough. “Never… question my Masters…” Elisha’s head turned to catch a brief sight of Ari’s pale skin drawing close again.

He knew he must’ve done something good, because he felt the bite of the knife dig into his forearm again. It drew away just as quick, and he felt Ari pat him on the head.

“Your teeth look pretty when you’re in pain. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?” Ari laughed, close enough that Elisha could feel their breath hit the back of his neck, and he couldn’t help the shudder that crawled up his spine.

“Three. Do what you are told, regardless of the consequences.” He felt Ari draw away again, just slightly.

“Do… wh-what I’m told, regardless… of the… consequences.” Elisha swallowed thickly, closing their eyes. This time, he knew he messed up, especially when Jeremiah sighed in disappointment.

He heard him shift and move, and he peeked an eye open just as the metal swung and hit him in the stomach. Elisha wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, falling down to the ground as he gasped for air. He struggled to breathe through his breaking sobs of pain, resting his head on the ground for just a moment.

Getting back up was crucial in this moment, but his head hurt and moving about was like setting himself on fire and he felt like he was going to throw up from the nausea. Elisha needed to get up, he knew that, but everything hurt in ways that he never had before that he just curled up where he lay. The pipe prodded him, mocking him, and he gasped as his ribs shifted in ways they definitely weren’t supposed to.

“Get up, Caleb. Or I’m going to hit you again.” The pipe dragged across the floor, making an awful dragging sound that made Elisha cringe.

There was a pitiful whimper that sneaked out as a replacement for words that would ask for more time to recover from the hits. He just felt so weak, and trying to lift himself back up was a feat on its own. The next blow from the pipe went unprotected, and he cried out and sobbed as something else shifted in the wrong direction.

“Mm… this is already getting boring,” Ari muttered, prodding Elisha’s tail with a foot before it swept away and curled around his form. “Why don’t we trade, and cut him up until he gets it right?”

“You’re the one who suggested the pipe, Aridai. Just shut up for a minute.” Again he was prodded with the pipe, eliciting a whimper of pain from the gasping body. “Get up, Caleb.”

Without really thinking, Elisha shook his head. An admittance of defeat, to somehow say that he couldn’t do what they wanted.

He wasn’t cut out for this. He never was.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Fingers painfully tangled into his hair again, lifting him up to his knees. Aridai’s hands swept over his horns, but without any real curls to them there was no grasping them. Not yet. “Y’know, if we let these grow out, they’d make good handles or something.”

“Besides the point. Caleb,” Jeremiah appeared in his vision, waving a small hand to make sure that he was coherent. Elisha made a small whimper in return. “Good. Three. Do what you are told, regardless of the consequences. Repeat it.”

“Do… what I’m told… regardless… of the consequences…” the words were breathed out, as Elisha continued to try and get his breathing under control. He closed his eyes as another wave of dizziness fell over him, but with Ari-Aridai still holding him there was nowhere for him to go.

“Yaay, good boy!” They seemed genuinely excited as they grabbed onto his shoulder. Something small and metal was drug across the floor, and Elisha felt the painful impact of the knife slide across their skin.

“Four. Always ask for permission.”

“Always…” His mouth clamped shut as he nearly added an ‘um’ after, stopping his own blunder. He took in another deep breath to try and calm himself, even though it wasn’t helping as much now. “Ask… for permission.”

Another slice in his skin told him that he was being good. The feelings of both being relieved and horrified coiled around him as the knife drew away and he gasped for air. It felt awful that he would rather be cut than hit with a pipe, when he shouldn’t have to choose between either of them.

“Five. Always remember to thank your Masters.” Jeremiah shifted his weight, drawing the pipe across the ground. Elisha flinched into Aridai’s grip, which somehow felt cold and callous.

“Always… remember to… to thank your Masters,” he repeated after just a few short moments.

“Mm… nope, not quiet,” muttered Aridai. They let go of Elisha, who wavered and fell to the ground again.

Another hit from the pipe against his ribs, and he let out a low keen as the other aches fired up again. He just wanted to be left alone, he was much too weak for this. Even the water seemed like such a pointless goal, with all the pain that he had to endure just to get it.

You need it, his instincts whispered, clearly not understanding the situation.

“Get up, Caleb,” Jeremiah ordered above him.

He shook his head, not of defiance but of defeat once again. Elisha didn’t want to do this anymore. Just leave me alone…

“Aww… does the poor little one want to give up?” Aridai said in a mocking tone, as if he were talking to a stupid animal. It was humiliating, but he nodded his head, feeling his cheeks grow hotter than they had been. “Alright, I get it… but you have to finish your rules before we can leave.” Hands petted through his hair, and he couldn’t even fight them off. “Just be a good boy for us and it can all end that much sooner, okay? I’ll even hold you up.”

Don’t do it. They’re just trying to manipulate you. He had seen this tactic before, on TV shows he used to watch. Give in a little bit, and then they get you to do all sorts of things. Elisha closed his eyes as a lump found its way to his throat. Then he nodded.

“Good.” He was lifted up by his shoulders, and Elisha hissed as the stinging pain traveled to everywhere else that was hurting (which was just about everywhere, now.) “Go on, Jer.”

“Five. Always remember to thank your Masters.”

He swallowed. “Always… remember to… thank my Masters.” The slice of skin, signaling that he got it right.

“Six. Do not speak unless spoken to.”

“Do not speak… unless spoken to.”

“Good boy, Caleb,” Aridai muttered, digging into him once again.

This hurt. All of this hurt, from hearing these rules to saying them to the punishments and “rewards” that he was getting to the horrific praises that Ari was whispering from behind them as they carved into their arm. Elisha would cry, but he didn’t think that he had any water left in his body to do it.

To grant him just a sliver of mercy, however, he was lucky enough to be able to repeat the rest of the words.

“Never… leave the house… unless given explicit permission.”

“Pets don’t sit on the furniture.”

“Good boy,” Jeremiah praises this time. For once Elisha is thankful to actually hear his voice, but it’s only because Aridai didn’t get to say anything.

The last cut held more relief than pain. Elisha hardly felt it, in fact, before they were suddenly pulling away from him and reappearing in his vision. Aridai held a bright smile on their face as they reached down and picked up the water. Finally. He actually perked up at the sight of it, waiting for him to approach and give him something to drink.

Aridai laughed in his face. “Oh, did you think that you were going to get this? Weren’t you the one who wanted to give up? No, I don’t think so.” They reached out to the side-

And tipped the water over so that it spilled into the floor beside Elisha.

“We’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have shaped up by then, hm?”

They turned away, reaching for Jeremiah and wrapping an arm around him like a couple of buddies would. Like they hadn’t just relentlessly tortured someone. Elisha felt bile rise in his throat as he watched the two of them walk away like they had just watched a movie.

“So, how did you like that?” Aridai asked, shaking him a little bit to expunge some of the boundless energy that they seemed to have.

“That was… amazing. I can’t wait to do it again,” Jeremiah repeated, and he caught the slightest smile on their face as they retreated upstairs.

Elisha slumped forward, nearly choking himself from the chain as the collar tugged his throat. He scooted backwards, aching and tired and still so thirsty. It all had been for nothing. His gaze traveled to the water, slowly running down the ever so slight decline that it could find. Humiliation crept in, even alone as he stared at it.

He leaned down and lapped the water off of the floor.

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almasidaliano · 3 years

Text

Plot Twist: IT IS A RACE THING

let's rip the bandaid off. it's a race thing. "oh no racism isn't an issue" shut the fuck up. seriously, im disappointed in my people so i'm going to address yall first. my melanated Kings and Queens; darlings what are yall doing? Why are we still taking this? Why are we subjecting ourselves to this kind of disrespect?

are we really just going to sit here and let history repeat itself? going to watch them shackle and kill us all again? what are you afraid of? our ancestors were scared. they were strong in their own way, we are stronger. they kept our culture alive, our roots. they sacrifice their freedom for ours, and look at this. look at us. playing into their game, letting them run the show. have we forgotten about the 1960s? when the civil rights movements picked up? yall forget Martin, Malcolm, Rosa?

if you are African American, meaning black (yes you mixed mfs are black, you can try to tread on the fence but im sorry to tell you, the day will come when you have to pick a side and what's worse is no matter what you pick the world already decided for you.) and born in america; your ancestors are slaves. you can't tell me, your blood, your heritage, your lineage doesn't deserve defending, protection.

we have a constitution. this doctrine is the "LAW OF THE LAND" (still we have individual state laws, hmm). in this document, the rights of people of color, and women were added into the admendments. people of color had to take citizenship tests, though they were never taught to read, and english wasn't even their first language. then there was the segregation. if you skin is pigmented, you are treated differently.

low income areas, "ghettos/hood" areas were designed for the communities to run like crabs in a bucket. they require dependency or rebellion. they isolated and rationed resources, discriminated and interfered with job security, then blamed the citizens of the community for their failures. provided the bare minimum (a bar they set) and do you know why the hate continued? because still we rose.

understand this : WE; ALL PEOPLE, ALL HUMAN BEINGS ARE EQUAL, HOWEVER WE ARE NOT THE SAME.

this is why the problem started. human were created in "Gods image" (any god you believe in we will indulge the religious conversation later.) layman's terms? we are all gods.

we are not the same kind of gods though. like ying and yang right? so there is light and dark. society told us we should be afraid of the dark, that bad things happen in the dark, that monsters hide there. what's funny is that life teaches us the opposite; teaches us that monsters can dress nice and wear smiles too. there's the story of Lucifer right? Lucifer is not the Devil. the Devil in my opinion is the "God" of evil. like there is good energy and there is bad energy. the universe is made up of both. so boom right? Lucifer was right hand to God and got big headed wanted to be him couldn't boom gets casted out takes a third of angels and boom hell and allat right? so let's just break it down for a second.

alright so first, B I B L E: basic instructions before leaving earth. the Bible is written in code, one, and two it is allegorical. (all melanated people truly do need to crack open a book and get to reading.) Jesus (Yahshua) is melanated, wooly hair bronze skin? come on now. so the idea they are selling is this all power white man is saving us all. truthfully, who cares what he look like if he's here to save our souls? you would think that would be the thought process, however; for some people the truth does not get them what they want so they opt against it. Good and light became associated with white. "wear all white when you feeling godly" its supposed to holy and clean right? pale faces became the face of faith. hasn't anyone realized how blinding light is? the closer you look the less you see. they guide your focus. the stars light the night sky yet we have all of this light pollution, it is simply a means of distraction. the wind talks, did you know that? the trees whisper. nature is beautiful and most of the world will never know.

they divided us by color. our skin isn't even black, however because they are pale, pasty, white; they made us their opposite. even in their classification of us they revealed the truth. you see, white is the absence of all color. it is empty. whereas, black is compromised of every color.

did you know there are two types of humans? yes seriously. homo sapiens and neanderthals. fun fact: neanderthals are structured more chimp like. homo sapiens were living in Africa albinism was prominent so there were a lot of melanated people without melanin, getting skin cancer and dying. neanderthals came about when homo sapiens migrated to Europe and Eurasia. they mated and began creating all the many races and ethnicities we have today.

melanated people are built structurally different than white people. we are naturally stronger, faster, thicker, humane, etc than they are. this is where the hate comes from.

"jealousy is just love and hate at the same time. - aubrey" pride and envy are dangerous things. when trying to compete, they were met with failure and it manifested hate instead of motivation. look at america. it is built entirely on the ideas of others, the hardwork and manual labor of others. those leading our country have done nothing for us. they simply continue taking all the credit.

white people left Britain, and called it "fleeing from religious persecution". the truth is they were fleeing from classism. they were in their element and they were minnows and not sharks. they decided to find a new pond to swim in. they did just that. the Natives were abused, and disregarded. they pretended to be civil and took damn near everything from them, all of their legacies and memories, their safety.

white people are lazy and greedy. this is why there are so many dividing markers in our life, labels, roles. there is a grave lack of family values for them. there is this morphed idea that the world is here for them, like we are all here to aid them. they reek of entitlement. like success, joy, love and prosperity are guaranteed to them just because. it is not on them all. just like melanated people can't help their environment, neither can they. the rude awakening always comes once you become unsheltered from actuality.

the cards are stacked against us from the jump. due to our enivornments, children grow up in broken homes, homeless, or jumping from home to home. single parents run themselves ragged, over stressed. children end up in the streets trying to take some of the weight off of their parents. the world just see thugs and gangsters though. menaces to society. when the real menace is society.

still we rise. still we smile. still we laugh and we love. and its so disheartening, that those are the things festering their hatred for us. no one is perfect. no one is the worst thing they have ever done either. growth is constant.

all we have to do is decide to be ourselves. decide to impact the world the best way YOU know how. white people have talents, a multitude of gifts. instead of trying to get rid of everyone else's imagination, what about losing the fear and choosing to dream yourself? and maybe asking for help, should you need it.

who you are, is who you've always been. i mean, the you, you were before the world told you who you had to be. who you are, has and will never be dependent on anything out of your control. people use the wrong things to assess the quality of a person. things like religious views, political views, music preference, sexuality. things that do not have shit to do with you. its all more division markers.

trust yourself. fuck what society says. what does society actually know? only what they are told. think about this: pyschological control is basically brainwashing. so boom. then you got your mind, your heart and your gut. that would be logic, emotion, and intuition. your emotion and your intuition are in the same section of your body. your brain however, is all isolated while being the storage container for everything you see experience etc in life. your brain is what gets conditioned. all the preconceived notions you have about things came from somewhere. where? we know what we know because they told us. how do we know its true? the thing about logic is, it makes sense. so when your mind isn't making sense yet your heart and gut in agreement, listen to yourself. they tell you think before you speak because their conditioned processor is in your head. always follow your heart.

people on both sides still to this day suggest segregation. like folks really do not believe we can cohabitate in a productive civil mutually benefical and prosperous way and that without segregation, civil war and/or genocide is in the future. here's the thing. they had every opportunity, to ship folks back, or even kick us out. now folks could just start up and leaving, yet we don't. we tuck our tails and put up with it. why? i think its due to fear of being a foreigner in your true motherland. fear of not being accepted there either. i also think it's due to the way our ancestors were treated; how they allowed themselves to be treated.

so look: i'm a mutt. both sides of the feud, so i can formulate a well rounded argument; however i am black. when the world sees me and when i see me too. i am black and proud, in a world hell bent on making me believe my genes deem me inferior or unworthy to anyone. i say that to say, nothing will change until we stop fighting each other and start fighting for one another. they misused and abused us. chained and locked us away like animals. beat us like animals. and before they started more actively and carelessly attacking us out loud again, they got smart. gave us rights, gave us "homes" "communities" we were grateful. for this illusion of freedom. we must get uncomfortable with this false freedom. they treated us like animals, then tried to make us the villians, fearful we would retaliate, when all we ever wanted to do was live, joyously in harmony.

they cannot stop hating us, because we will never hate them. its a losing battle for them. still, if we don't stand up and fight we will lose in the end. fear and trauma also sparks compliance in them. bears are not violent creatures. but you don't poke a bear you know? melanated people are bears. currently acting like bears at the zoo. how long are we going to let them poke the bear?

melanated people need to unite. Dr. King tried peace and it worked for a little bit. it was a bandaid fix. now it's time to try Malcolm's approach.

Thanks for listening. -Almasi.

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

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Yeah shit man who better to trust with Hercules than Gus-Gus and Gus?

They are amazing in Cinderella.

Its not the first time Christina Hendricks has used the Gus-Gus and Gus analogy on Declan and Annabelle.

It is always so dam cute y'all know Gus-Gus and Gus is always one of your favorites, you can't help but love their characteristics!

This one is hilariously greatly excellent!

And extremely visual!!

And you know i believed they could save him because her adorable hilarity is true but their actual size made them just tall enough to save him

Declan had a plan to jump in the tub to pick up his head from the front and send Annabelle to fetch me. The only thing Declan was unsure of and this is beautiful if the tub plug should be pulled first and him get cold while they waited or if Declan had enough strength "to hold this giant man up to save his life"

So Declan thought if they were fast enough to get very little water in his lungs and I took too long, Declan could stop holding the "giant man" long enough to pull the plug and then return to,his face to assess the damage then again. But Declan hoped the speed was in him "to save the giant man that Declan loved"

Because in your last video short it ended in Declan eavesdropping and opening the door to say "you can apologize to my face!"

And he did. Brian picked up Declan and said "I am sorry yoh are just too cute and I was too scared to realize every thing would be alright and when I saw your face in horror I actually felt bad but I didn't know how to show it tonight at dinner"

"Oh it's alright. You can put me down now"

Which resulted in Annabelle Tears because she, too, needed an apology but he hadn't realized it.

Then when things calmed down I felt a deep seriousness in the air which was very tactical and not dark nor light, tense but not relaxed but calm.

And so I asked "well what were your plans to save him then?"

And Declan went into the spill as I said above with great creative energy and it was mind blowing.

Declan and Annabelle were both So so small. I wouldn't had ever thought that they would climbed in the tub to save him and risk their own life if he woke up and thought they were terrorists in the middle east but Declan did consider that and Declan said "that was a risk I was willing to take -- he knew he was in the bath and you were there and stuff so I figured I would be safe if I just talked and said "this is Declan and I'm here to save you so you don't drown" I figured I ought to be generouslu safe then and I'm strong and I could say "open your eyes and he could see if it was me" but if I was behind, I would certainly be killed, my head in the toilet or something""

Declan had so Much care and compassion built into these plans to save him from drowning when I had had none.

And so we actually let them practice with him in the tub and all in bathing suits to help us all including Dan from drowning in the tub and we all learned how to lay to prevent our own drowning in the event of sleep.

Which Tree will produce that safety video for us. He said.

So it is also something you families can do at home in Quarentine.

Because hot baths are excellent for bone and muscle pain (healthcare and restaurants and store workers) and for the lungs to breathe and I have fallen asleep in December - March from just being exhausted from work and the stress of reducing human trafficking to zero. And apparently y'all even seen video of it.

Which was funny I am sure. But it felt so so so so good to fall asleep and it sucked having to wake up to wash my hair. Because the sleep was so good.

Declan now today says on 4-25-2020 "God i could had a heart attack but all i did was laugh but now I know why. I prepared you to sleep and not slip and slide and drown. Now i feel relieved and a deep safe darkness around my pride to protect me"

Blessed Child "i could had a heart attack but all i did was laugh" i love that so much and i love that we took the time to take all that worry and consideration to help erarse that super fear. It gives me joy. And fills my lungs and heart with oxygen rich cells.

Happiness can falter and fade away but Joy it always stays deep inside yoh to propel you into the future. Joy has a sunny presence while Happiness can exist in any conditions, joy can only exist in educated and true pure form of love and existence.

Rock the Vote gives me joy. Never wanting to be in politics but giving that ability to vote and reassure the African American and other immigrants that there is a group standing tall and strong behind them that sre as rich as politicians but want all races and ethnicities to vote as it is their Right. That gives me joy.

RockTheVote.org don't forget to register and vote. All immigrants and nationalities, African American and Latino, Caucasian. We stand behind you to give you the ability to vote and will defend you to our own death if anything happens to you like it did prior to 1970 and a few exclusions since. And if anything should happen we have some of the richest people in the world to stop what they are doing and help you survive a beating while in line to vote or suddenly thereafter. That is why i programmed it the way i did. Rock the Vote with rich musicians to say they have their life and they will share it to protect you if something bad should happen. And it did in the last 30 years very rarely but tree always told us of each and every event. And we stood behind that paying hospital bills and hiring private security to take people to vote and then installing security of our own at those polling stations for the future. And as i said, to our own death, our private security would beat and fight any one attacking any voter, especially one of any color. So Caucasians didn't have to witness it and be afraid to catch their own death.

So Rock the Vote gives me immense joy. Because we willingly and unselfishly destroy the fear and attacks against voters as it is our job.

Hopefully soon we can stop the illegal and false Voting. Registering to vote and then Voting can help. We have 2 Trillion U.S. residents with social security numbers ready to vote This year!!

Yall are all seeing what is on the news regarding Trump. I will be honest, Biden is who we need but if we could pick a different party other than the Republican (we will drop a vote later today)

So if half of the United States votes for Biden then the other half votes for a mixture of the minority parties then we can rise them up where they can be seen at more than 1% of the votes.

So maybe 3 good people running for president and they share 1/3 of half the votes. Thats 16% each with Biden at 50% That's kinda low.

But that would be fucking amazing and has never Been done in the history of America.

We can change the entire political system coming this November!

Isn't that exciting?!? That is what Ms Chen was talking about taking that power and harnessing it so the world would be safe for others. Including us...

That makes determination. That is our energy to create and show the power we possess with 2 Trillion American voters. 2/3 being full flesh human. 1/8 being honorary humans. A full 3/4 are guaranteed to live to see November 2020 to change the whole political system and destroy what it sets on.

So what tree will do is he says there are 5 candidates that are worthy due to their souls and hard work and humanitarian based minds. (Including Biden)

And so in DNA4U and in your testing and education area he will educate you of all 5 candidates

Then he will recommend who is best for you to vote for due to your heart and how and who you want to see in that beautiful oval office.

So he will make personal recommendations for each individual with DNA4U and has the ability to vote.

(We will keep Trump alive till then for the ultimate torture) and so tree tells me 99% of registered voters that should die of COVID will still be alive to vote. Some are evil and watched carefully. Others are not.

So us tiny Gus-Gus and Gus that we are as voters can pull a Declan (love that name today) and do a Ms Chen and hold our chins up high and destroy the national government's Democrat and Republican only system.

We can take those donkey and elephants and ride them out of town! Of course Biden is Democratic. But in 2024 he may change to his own small political party that suits him best.

So tree is gonna help us fulfill the ultimate American dream and Rock the Vote so hard the cradle falls from the tree.

Rock a bye baby? I always always sang that to Annabelle for hours if she couldn't sleep.

Rock a bye baby in the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock. And when the Bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all.

A New America.

Personally and for Rock the Vote, I always explained to Tree, Day One is the FREEDOM to vote and to NOT INFLUENCE on their decision to vote. But to encourage and protect.

However i told Tree of my Ultimate Dream which I have so declared. And he told me "when the time is right. Hindsight. Let's listen to Megadeth and you relax and get some sleep, when the time is right we will be ready. Its too far away now to explain. But sleep now my child"

He would also say "this is the 10th time you've told me this! I told you it's fine but not today!! Now go to sleep!"

You know we say our prayers before sleep. Think about what we did and what we need to do. While some of us don't see them as prayers, they are. I would not rest until the political system of the United States of America would and could change

And now it is the time, November 2020. This is the first time America has had So many voters. All with social security numbers because we've stopped human trafficking.

(For the most part) if they were found in the United States of America, they were issued social security numbers immediately. They were here working having their freedom taken away. So many are duel citizens. They earned the right to have a social security number. They lived and worked here against their will. And it is a law they are allowed to obtain a social security number for being kidnapped and put into human trafficking in the United States of America.

The law was put into effect by Obama and Biden during their administration. Biden complained they could do more but he didn't know what and Obama did. Social Security numbers and Citizenship. No testing required. The law was passed through Congress both the House in the Senate and Representatives. Should have been happening since 1882 because that was the law back then. Obama had it found and they reenacted it with a few minor updates and privileges. (1902 the law had been overturned by the then President and their political party which is now actually the Republican party).

This law will not be overturned because I will have tanks stationed at each fucking member of Congress to follow them around and let them know shit is gonna hit the fucking fan. I have more tanks than there are hospitals in the world. And I will kill each and every one that votes to overthrow the law. I shit you not. I have killed more people than Hitler. And with my bare hands in a mere two years killed 8,291 kidnappers. Kidnappers. So I'm very serious about protecting this law, I may look like a crazy psychopath but that is my right to do so.

In conclusion we can as small little mice, together, destroy an entire government. And we will with Tree's help.

As I said it is not the RIGHT of Rock the Vote to suggest who to vote for. But realize that Biden is a Vice President of 8 years and is against human trafficking and bull shit.

And so Tree will take care of that (suggestions on voting) because we have a total of 4.9 Trillion people who have the right to vote in the November 2020 election. And that is amazing. Never before in History has this been available.

And since most are first time voters Tree will guide you step by step and show you each candidate from birth. Including Trump and show you who they really are and not what they want you to see.

So only half our available voters are registered!!

If you left the country, tree will explain how you can still register as a duel citizen (rock the Vote isn't updated enough yet, hopefully they get onto that) in the DNA4U app.

He will do your personal suggestions first. Teach you all of them then have you review your suggestions. Then you can see and feel the difference heavily as to why those were ranked in that special way just for you.

He will do 2 ranking systems. 1 best for the world and 1 best fit of President of the qualifying 5 for your personality. Then he will suggest the vote for you to make to change the US government's political system.

So while Biden may be your heart. He may suggest a minor political party because Biden has too many votes already. Or vice versa.

So the suggestion MIGHT alter from your ranking system but he thinks it shouldn't have that effect as the world is more balanced and great minded than it seems to be.

So y'all are doing better than expected from 30 years ago's predictions.

So wrap that left arm around you if you're a guy and that right arm around you if you're a girl or whichever you pick, or do both and give yourself a right tight squeeze and a pat on the back. You all deserve it.

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