#Acid retribution | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kheta · 20 days ago

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Toxic Severus x Lily x James i cbf writing a wider story to go with this scenario/scenes so... have it as is bc I actually like it. And yess, delulu and oblivious James in amongst a toxic snily codependency is *kiss* tw: child-abuse, somewhat graphic depictions

‘You said it was getting better Sev,’ Evans’ voice was filled with a slow burning anger that James was attuned to. It was a bit shocking, really, everyone knew that Evans had the biggest soft spot for the slimy snake, sticking up for him at every turn. As if the Slytherin had any right to her kindness, filled to the brim with dark magic as he was.

Snivellus sighed, turning an equally as unexpected glare on the Gryffindor. James felt his anger whirling away, a tornado inside of his stomach.

He knew the prat was every bit the bastard that James had pegged him for! Of course he’d save the way he treated Evan’s for their private moments. Too scared of the retribution from Gryffindor if they knew what he did to Evans.

The grins and laughter the two shared were obviously faked, Evans just wasn’t accustomed to how awful Slytherin students were, probably got all infatuated by the first pureblood that gave her a second glance, as if James himself couldn’t treat her better, couldn’t protect her more than the git standing before them.

‘He is Lils, why do you think he asked Cal to hire me? He wants to do better, honest,’ the nickname comes out of nowhere, as does the gentle tone. If he didn’t know Snivellus better, he’d think the soft admonishment was true, that the snake actually cared for a Muggleborn. But Slytherin’s are good actors, all that cunning had to go somewhere, right? James had been watching the snake for five years now and none of this git’s manufactured kindness had ever been on display before.

‘He just– gets a bit scared sending me back to Hogwarts. You know how ma was treated, he doesn’t like the reminder.’

Evans sends out a short, aggrieved huff, dragging the snake to sit beside her as if he hadn’t thrown a cutting curse at James just last term. As if the Christmas holidays had somehow made the Snivellus a better person.

‘Sev, he’s– What he does isn’t right, he never should have to work to be a better Da, that’s fucking bonkers.’

No, what was truly bonkers is that Lily Evans had learnt how to swear over the Christmas holidays.

Again Snivellus’ mask begins to crack, he pulls to the corner and sends a withering glare at Evans, of the sort he would never do in front of the rest of Gryffindor. James glared at him harder, grip over his wand tightening, a vindication settling over his standing form. Evans was too good for the snake, didn’t realise that his playing nice in front of other students was just a front to manipulate her, but James and Sirius knew better. Had been searching for the cracks in the fake friendship they’d had for years now.

‘Lils just drop it! It’s not like I’m an amazing son,’ he spits the words acidically, levering Evans with a smouldering, noxious glare he usually reserves for James, ‘And he’s a fair lot better than any other Da in Ends, he drove me here, didn’t he? Got me a job. Says sorry when he gets a bit into his cups. Let me keep going to Hogwarts even after Ma carked it, he’s no Harrison Evans but he fucking tries!’

Instead of backing down at the anger, walking away and ignoring Snivellus like she ignores James, Evans comes alive at the anger. Whipped over to face him, face flushing as she growls out, harrowing her own angry, captivating, green-tinged stare at Snape and lifting a finger to his chest.

‘My Da’s not perfect Sev, but he doesn’t fucking beat me blue!’

What?

‘It wasn’t even a beating, so what my arm’s a mess–’

‘No, no don’t you dare act like it’s all bloody okay! If my Da did anything like that you’d want me to te–’

‘If you fucking tell anyone I will–’

‘So what, I just let you go home and hope he doesn’t kill you this ti–’

‘Da would never!’

‘He would Sev! He’s been hitting you for as long as I’ve known you, why can’t you just accept–’

‘There’s nothing to accept Lils,’ Snape cries out, holding his hands up to cup her pointed fingers, ‘I’m telling you it’s not like that, Da loves me. He does, so just shut it!’

James wanted nothing more than to actually disappear. Disapparate? End up in another compartment, for sure. One that didn’t have Snape looking at Evans with the sort of pleading he had never once given to the Marauders. Needed to get away from the soft droop of his piercing raven-black eyes, to not notice how Snape’s lips went from dry and chapped to moist as he bit down, truly looking at Evans. Not through or past or over her like he did James.

Snape wasn’t supposed to beg, wasn’t supposed to look at Evans with reverence, as if their weird, awful, wrong, fake-friendship meant anything to the slimy snake. Snape was a tome of dark magic and acidic words and gut-punching spells that masqueraded in a students body. He wasn’t– He wasn’t like Siri, stuck in an awful house, because Snape’s family had to love him, right? Snape made sense, a dark-arts loving snake in a family of dark-arts loving snakes, Snape proved that in their very first meeting. Siri was a Gryffindor stuck in a snake family, Snape– He had to be telling the truth. Evans just cared too much about the snake to know what normal discipline was like, Muggles were probably less strict with their kids. Maybe– maybe his dad never hit him and neither did Remy’s, but their parents were soft, Snape probably just had parents like Pete, who could get a little rou–

Godric, he felt sick. This was all wrong, he wanted to prank them, not watch enviously as the sleazy, greasy snake he hated held hands with the most beautiful witch in their year.

Instead of disappearing, James sits before the odd Slytherin-Gryffindor duo he had hated and he watched. This didn't make sense. That’s the only reason he was watching, he wanted it to make sense. Wanted Snape to show his true colours and Evans to learn the errors of her ways, picking a no-name Pureblood family like Snape to attach to, instead of an established family like Potter.

Nothing made sense anymore, because Evans moved to take Snape's tattered robe from his shoulders and James was going to have to watch them shag, wasn’t he? That was an awful thought, stirring inside of his stomach even as his eyes stayed spelled to the scene.

He was going to watch the girl he had been asking out for the past year shag his mortal enemy. James didn’t want to believe the rumours going around, because even as a Muggleborn Evan’s was the prettiest, smartest witch he knew, but there was no other reason for a proper young lady to be unbuttoning another young man's shirt and it made sense really. Of course sex was why the Slytherin kept Evans around, what use did a no good pureblood like him have in a fragile, naive Muggleborn like Evans?

Except– Except today any form of sense kept unravelling because Snape’s school shirt was unbuttoned, falling to his long, floppy elbows and Evans was crying. Rolling his eyes, James paid no mind to the stab of disappointment aching somewhere near his waist, only grinning at the reaction. So they probably hadn’t ever shagged and looking at Snape’s greasy, lanky body had made her realise she could do better, there was no way a greasy bat like…

Snape had abs?

No. No! How dare he?

Snape was stupidly tall with an ugly mug and greasy hair and pasty skin.

And yet. Abs. Now he didn’t know why Evans would be crying, because Merlin was Snape a bit more sculpted than he had ever presumed. Still wiry, with a small waist, pasty skin and a trail of dark, thick hairs snaking from his belly button, down to his trousers, but there was a concave near his stomach and chiselled, defined lines from his pecs down. Merlin above even James could admit if you put a bag over his head, Snape wouldn’t be half bad looking and then–

Well, then James’ roaming gaze caught on to what exactly made Evans gasp, what caused her to tear up and run her fingers over Snape’s sickly pale skin.

Snape had said his arm was a mess, which it was, mottled a blue darker than even the night sky. The bruises crept up in his shoulder in odd bunches. Snape talked about this mess casually, the same way Petey talked about his parents giving him a growling. Like it was just normal for Snape to walk around with his dad’s shoe size imprinted like a sick temporary tattoo across his shoulder.

Evans wasn’t overreacting. Snape’s dad might actually kill him, he thinks nostrils flaring. Gaze wandering over to the stark, yellow-green hand marks lining his elongated neck and the large, almost scabbed maroon-ish bite mark at his chest.

‘Sev– did he…?’ Evans ran her fingers up Snape’s chest and to the bite mark, her fingers making delicate circles around the wound causing his stomach to whirl oddly, her voice cracking as she whispered.

He wanted to sick up at the thought, though he was still unnervingly enraptured by the scene before him. Shivering at the touch, Snivelly snapped his eyes to Evans at the last minute, a weak, harsh laugh leaving his throat.

‘No– Merlin, no Lils, I told you I was necking with Alex for the summer.’

Evans pulls back at the admittance, a cute blush consuming her face as she glanced away with pursed lips. Despite the visage she was and the slow building relief from not having to watch his crush shag someone else, James couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed at the admittance.

Snape managed to snag a bird, but James couldn’t?

Though, he thought once more staring at the duo, he didn’t just want any old bird like Snivellus. He wanted a proper, gorgeous flower. Pale and tall and beautiful, with brains and bite to boot.

‘Right. Did Alex also…’ Here she trails her hands from the bite mark to the handprints, her own slighter fingers not able to mask the rough bruises left there.

Merlin, did Snape like it rough? Did he like it when James pushed him around? The thought flopped somewhere uncomfortable for him to hang onto, his warm, walnut coloured eyes dilating at the prospect. Was that why Snape always fought back against his betters? Even he had to know that the Noble and Valiant House of Potter ranked far above most normal purebloods. Did he have to pull back on the pranks if Snape did like it like that?

Empathetically no, is the decision Snivelly makes for him, looking to the side, his long raven hair ghosting over his shoulder as he shook his head, making a mesmerising curtain against his pale neck

If anything that made it worse, something which Evans agreed on if the tight pulling of her ginger brows meant anything.

Wizardingfolks didn’t leave bruises like that on anyone's skin, much less their own kids. Even Siri’s shitty parents wouldn’t knock him about with their own hands, it was unheard of in Wizarding society, children were to be treasured and disciplined, not treated like blimmin’ house-elves in Dark Families.

‘Sev, just– just think about moving in with us, please.’

Okay, even James had to admit that was a terrible offer. Lovely as Evans was to look at, she was still a Muggleborn. Who would give up living with their own family for living with Muggles? Not even Siri would, right?

Would he… If it meant not being with his parents?

Merlin, would Pete? Could he just; offer it to them like Evans had? Without restraint or boundaries?

‘I don’t need your charity Lily.’

‘It’s not charity, it’s the soddin’ right thing to do, Tuney’s started Uni and ma and da would be thril–’

‘Your parents hate me.’

‘My parents don’t hate you, they don’t even know you Sev, you don’t let them try.’

Unable to be swayed by the witches' argument, Snape pursed his lips and looked away, his own long fingers coming up to hastily pull and button up his school shirt.

This left James with the unwanted realisation that he was stuck under his cloak, in a closed train compartment with the only two students his year happy to hex the life out of him if they knew he was there. Thankfully enough, after an agonising two hours of listening to them talk about potions and charms and some oaf named Dursley, the two begin to nod off.

Snape is first, his answers becoming more slurred as he continues to lean on the window to his right. After his answers become painfully incoherent, Evans sits in silence, her own eyes tracking the space between the two of them. In an unexpected show of audacity, when Snape is very firmly asleep, Evans leans her head against his broad shoulder, feet tucked under her inexplicably short skirt, the smooth valley of skin from her knees to ankle bare for all to see and her usually bright, emerald eyes coming to a soft, gentle close. He waits for a few minutes, watching as their breathing somehow becomes more in sync and opens the compartment door. Neither move to hex him, or move at all, Evans happily groping at Snivelly’s robes and Snivellus holding his arms to his chest, as if a beautiful witch wasn’t lying against his arm for the taking.

James leaves the compartment more keyed up than ever, a difficult, clawing anger at his chest. The two losers don’t stir for a bit as he slides the door shut with a firm, sudden snap.

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There’s a million and one thoughts racing through his brain on a well-trimmed cleansweep, twisting and turning as they look for the golden snitch, the proper answer to these thoughts. The thoughts had in fact been racing through his brain for hours now. He trudges to where he had left his friends, sliding the door open and wrenching his cloak off immediately.

Remy’s laughter dies down as he peers at James with a wide, amber-tinged curiosity.

Not one to fully think through his decisions and having sat on this tantalising idea for far too long, James bunches his cloak to his school bag and pierces his still laughing friends with an inquisitive glance. The snitch was gleaming in his mind, Pete and Siri just had to move so James could grab it. Could hold onto the idea that Evans had unknowingly released to the aether. Neither Pete nor Siri notice him, too caught up in a game of exploding snap that had left Remy with some rather glaring soot marks and a messy bush of brown hair.

‘Move in with me,’ he states with more confidence than he feels.

Ocean blue and hazy grey eyes whip towards his direction, a sea of black curls and a soft trail of blonde hair both tilted to the side as they take in their missing friend. Neither spoke, their eyes darting around the room to look for whom exactly James was speaking to.

‘Both your parents are shite and I’ve had more money in Gringotts than I’ll ever need, move in with me.’ Both Pete and Siri don’t look inclined to say yes, their faces twisted to something almost Snape-like. He steamrolls ahead, voice steadily burning as he keeps talking. If a Muggleborn like Evans could make the offer, so could Heir Potter. ‘Mum and Dad would love to have other kids around the estate and I’m sick of seeing you two come back to Hogwarts worse for wear. We’ll be able to get it approved, a formal adoption and everything. You could be Peter and Sirius Potter and no one would bat an eye.’

Not particularly true, the Black’s could protest, but the status the Potter family held before their migration to Great Britain was greater than the Status the Black family held. Contentious for more current generations who mocked even the Malfoy’s for their migration from France in the 12th Century, but noble and with extreme merit considering the Potter Predecessors and all their achievements. Just because they were different continents, didn’t mean his family was powerless here, they didn’t need the stinkin’ Blacks to uphold their status. James could pull his friends into his family and make sure they never turned up like Snivellus, bruised to the days.

Neither Siri or Pete reply, both nervously clutching the cards in their grip. James was right to be worried, they had to know that. That’s why they were nervous. They knew they deserved better.

‘Jamie–’ starts Siri, voice dropping to a soft candour, his own face settling on a malcontent frown, ‘That’s… It’s a sweet offer mate, but my Uncle and I have a plan, you know that. I’ll get away from my family as soon as we graduate.’

Peter pipes up as well, ‘I know they might seem a bit, mean. But my parents genuinely care about me Jamie, I’m not gonna give up on them.’

James thinks of large, purple and green bruises lighting a pale, breathing canvas up and bristles at the words.

‘I don’t care,’ he spits, arms crossing over his chest as he plops down next to Remy, ‘Parents shouldn’t– Shouldn’t do that to their kids.’

‘They’re not doing anything Jamie, Siri’s parents like the Dark Arts and mine are strict, you really don’t need to make such a big offer.’

Petey’s wrong, because Evans made the offer and Snape has a helluva streak of bruises and Petey doesn’t even let himself eat to fullness, too worried about his mum’s apparent strictness.

‘It’s not normal.’ He cries, hands coming to slap against his thigh, seeing only a loop of healing bruises across otherwise unblemished skin. ‘You– You’re mum’s made you cry more than any snake at school and Siri’s mum made him cast an unforgivable, you– you can’t be happy there Petey.’

‘Mum might be a bit over-bear–’

‘You lost three stone this summer and she said that you were finally starting to look like a normal blok–’

‘Salazar’s bleeding hide Jamie! Why are you so strung about shite said in the pa–’

It’s hard, arguing against two people instead of one.

‘Don’t start Sirius! After everything your parents have said, after that howler in–’

‘So Mum was mad! It’s not a big deal!’

‘Mum’s aren’t supposed to call their son’s failures!’ He shouts in exasperation.

Peter snarls at him, his usually kind eyes seething, voice coming out of clenched teeth, ‘Not everyone has perfect parents James, you know this!’

‘They don’t need to be perfect, they just need to be ki–’

‘Oh, put a fucking sock in it Jamie! Why’re you trying to air our dirty laundry out for everyone to feck–’

‘It shouldn’t be dirty laundry, there shouldn’t be anything to air out, if your parents actually loved you–’

‘If you finish that sentence James Fleamont Potter I will hex you to pieces!’

Godric almighty he was so mad, couldn’t see beyond the crimson narrowing his vision. Peter and Sirius were wrong, were lying to him just like Snape was lying to Evans. That's the only reason Peter would pretend to be so mad at him. James would not let it go, wouldn’t let them think for a second that they were worth less than Severus fucking Snape, wouldn’t let them think that whatever weird, undisclosed behaviour their parents set on them was in any way right.

‘Why? Because I’m right? Because you know that normal parents don’t scream at you for eating dinner, Petey? Don’t lock their fridges and cupboards as punishment? Because parents who care aren’t supposed to make you use blood quills!?’

Sirius glares at the reminder.

‘Once! My parents used one blood quill, to teach me a lesson. Once, Jamie. Stop acting like this is a big, fecking deal!’

Sirius sounded so anguished as he screamed, his voice rising and quivering in the air, wet with his anger, the cards he had flying to the ground as he pulled James to his feet, grip unrelenting on his collar.

‘It is!’ He shouts, absolutely red with fury, channelling his inner Evans maybe, ‘It’s a big deal because I don’t know if the next time I see you after Summer Break is gonna be with the both of you shoved in a fucking coffin. It’s a big deal because parents are supposed to love you, supposed to care for you not– Not whatever the fuck your parents are doing now!’

Sirius doesn’t answer, his usually delightful features pulled into a withering glare, channelling as much Snape as James had been channelling Evan’s. Sirius chucks James with a frustrated snarl to the ground. Peter doesn’t answer the accusations either, chucking his cards down and moodily looking at the wall behind them.

They’re left with a sharp bang as Sirius leaves the compartment, all the quasi-confidence James had held crumbling as Peter stays silent and Remy just bumps their shoulders together, as if the contact could somehow pull James’ words from the air and lead the Marauders to the familiar, happy, camaraderie-based silence they had once held. He doesn’t know what to do now, so stuck in their regular routine to figure out where this had all fallen apart. Stupid fucking Snivellus and Evans, making James out to be the bad guy to his friends. Silently, James fumes, too lost in his anger to see why everything had fallen to pieces.

He was just being a Gryffindor, like Evans, why were his friends more mad than Snivelly at the inquisition?

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The anger does not abate come morning, left to stew as he and his friends had stormed away, uncaring of the feast before him. Left to stew the next day, when Sirius and Peter pointedly waited for James to sit in their usual spot at back of Charms and made their way to the very front, leaving him with Remy’s shy smile and quiet humour. Left to stew in Defense, when Remy had wordlessly clasped James’ wrist and dragged him to the side when they were asked to pick partners.

It all comes to head a few weeks later, when they’ve got a break between classes and instead of mucking about with him, Sirius and Peter are down at the Lake with the girls. Its taking all of James' admittedly weak self-control to not pull his wand out, cast the incarcerous spell and haul his friends back to the Potter Estate, where they will be safe from any harm.

Remy, in true him fashion, hasn’t yet figured out how to deal with any of their anger and has instead decided to keep James away from Siri and Petey as if the distance could somehow fix whatever he broke between them that weird, awful first day back at Hogwarts.

Coming onto nearly fifteen days from then, James knows his temper is frayed more so than usual. He’s supposed to be the one with the ideas, the one to push the Marauders forward. Instead he’s standing under an archway watching his friends like a stranger, Remus going on about getting a head start on their studies.

Seeing Sirius flirt with Meadows, James can’t appreciate Remus’ kindness. His friends were wrong, were lying to him and were frankly, being stupid and ungrateful.

There was only one other family who had migrated to Great Britain pre-12th Century and could claim to have an equal amount of acclaim as the Potter family, as far as James knows though, that family is less than a decade away from extinction. Not even the Noble and Striking House of Malfoy or the Malevolent and Acrimonious House of Lestrange could contest if the Potter’s wished to adopt from the almost ruined House of Pettigrew. Siri’s parents could be dicks about the whole thing, but if they didn’t want to cause a scandal in Pureblood Society by revealing their treatment of their Heir Apparent, the Black’s would do well to hold their tongue.

James was giving them a chance at freedom, at kindness for the sake of kindness, not for some weird screwed up power play like the Pettigrew’s and Black’s. He knows he can be a bit short-sighted at times, but really he was doing this for them.

Glaring at his friends, he sees a curtain of red near Meadow’s own black curls and feels his anger pulse to the sky.

This was all Evans' fault. If the know-it-all bookworm hadn’t planted this idea in his head, James could still have his friends sitting and laughing with him, not– Not sitting away from him, ignoring him and rejecting him just like Evans did and Snape did and huffing, his eyes flicker to the biggest source of his consternation.

Snivellus, sat away from all his friends like the freak he is, hiding the damning things his parents did to him, just like James hid what Siri and Petey’s parents did to them.

The thoughts keep tangling in his head and before he knows it, before he can think better of it, before he can remember that there are other students around, he’s stalking to the area where Snivellus is sitting alone, huddled over a dark tome, the shade of the trees casting shadows on his skin.

He knows Evans is near, had seen her. He doesn’t care. This is all their fault. If Evans hadn’t– If Snape hadn’t.

Godric, he does not know what to do with the well of anger inside of him, how to dispel the furious conglomerate of emotions and memories stirring within. Something whispers in his mind, a vindictive voice he rarely indulges in.

Go on then, it purrs, he deserves it.

He does.

Remus is coming after him, his voice soft, biting in the ways only Remus knows how to bite; softly, without malice yet filled with fervour.

‘Levicorpus!’ He shouts, dangling Snape in the air. Snape’s wand slips to the ground from his pocket.

‘James, knock it off!’

Who bloody well cares Remus! It’s Snivellus, Snivellus who started this screwed up thing. And it’s him who would end it, thinks James. If- if Peter and Sirius understood what James was scared of, what could happen to them, then they’ll get it. They’ll get why he’s being so protective.

They couldn’t end up like Snivelus.

Some people come around to gawk, he can feel their stares. He hopes Siri’s in the group, hope Petey recognises that this shit isn’t normal

‘You think you’re so smart don’t you Snape. Lying and hiding behind your thick books. Being a complete prat to Evans. Well you’re not. You’re a lying, cheating, cowardly snake!’ James reckons he sounds a bit like a banshee, not that it matters because Snape just glares at him, his eyes smouldering with the same heat James can feel in the pit of his stomach.

Good.

‘You think you’re brave, Snivellus, think you’re the hero–’

‘Potter! Put him down right this–’

‘Oh fuck off Evans!’ The clearing is so quiet that a pin-drop, a drop of rain could disturb them. Everything is so red he can’t even be bothered to care. ‘Like you’re any better. You walk around here like you’re the sweetest thing since treacle tarts, well you’re not. You’re just as much a conniving, greedy snake as this bastard.’

Someone– Remus he thinks vaguely– puts their hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off, meeting Snape’s wide eyes.

Striding forward so he’s just under Snape’s floating figure, James thereafter drops Snape indelicately, catching his collar in his hand.

No one else dares to move around them, too shocked that James Potter himself had shouted insults at not just a Gryffindor, but at the Gryffindor, Lily Evans.

‘Think you’re so strong Potter, picking on someone without a wand.’ Snape’s growl is low, sending goosebumps running across his neck.

‘Think you’re so strong Snape,’ he mocks back, eyes rolling, bringing the older boy so close their faces just about touch, ‘Hiding your bruises.’

Snape pales at the implication, his previous bravado gone as he thrashes in James’ grip.

‘Get your hands off me you freak!’

Nothing, nothing matters anymore. Snivellus is a liar. Evans a coward. James the bad guy. None of it means anything anymore. Something blurry and tenuous whips around his brain.

‘What, scared of me, Snape? I thought you were used to being hurt. Isn’t that what this shit is!’

The thoughts aren’t connecting clearly, they're floating around somewhere and he’s ripping at Snape’s robes. Snape is trying to shove him off and there’s a high-pitched scream and scuffle going on behind them. Not that it matters– James is stronger than Snape, for all Snape packs a mean punch, James is the one on the Quidditch team.

He’s a bit unclear how it happens, but in seconds Snape’s robe has been unbuckled and unknotted, sitting against his shoulders and bearing all those horrible, ugly marks for everyone to see. James traces them with his bespectacled gaze like an artist looking at their muse

James doesn’t know what he wants to say, can feel a jumble of words twisting inside of him, but there’s a blur of ginger and he’s suddenly on the ground, six foot worth of ivory skin and bones straddling him and the girl of his dreams laying harsh, decidedly manly punches on him.

Godric, even for a coward Evans’ is enrapturing in her fury. He can’t think of anything else because unfortunately, she lays a quick, sudden fist to his face and he’s out quicker than a casted nox.

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i had originally planned to make a story from this where james has to grow tf up because peter can't condone what james did to severus and sirius is pissed that james made him empathise with severus and james still doesn't know why he's so obsessed with severus and lily, especially now that severus is the one icing him out and lily is hating him. and after like slow-burn revenge story levels of grovelling, he becomes friends with snily. this friendship is what brings the marauders back together because peter and remus can see how much james has grown and that his apologies are sincere and thoughtful and sirius is so jealous he can't keep being distant because like... he's james' best friend? not snape or evans? and then sirius chills a little because he can see the doechaser friendship rapidly develop into the catalyst that brings all of them into a relo...it's just like. the planning for that became too much. and i have no clue what amount of begging would actually make severus or lily look at james favourbly in this tbh.

#snily #jeverus #james potter #lily evans #severus snape #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #am post #severus x lily x james

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therobotmonster · 8 months ago

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Most of us don't like to look down.

It's how we're kept under control. Most can't stand seeing chrome where there should be skin. The eternal near-hunger is worse in the first few weeks after the augmentation but one adapts to it quickly. There's a dozen little nudges like that that all work to push your desire toward a single overriding goal.

Reclaiming our humanity.

I want mine back, too, but my desires are still my own. In my mind I never had a body. I was a perspective with hands. My reflection never interested me. When I saw myself in my mind, I was just a abstract person-like shape, only as detailed as child's self-portrait.

Chrome, seen or unseen, doesn't bother me. Nor does my mission.

The choices in my design, however, those I resent.

The living armor would have bound to us whole. It would have functioned without making us a part of itself. The hunger and feelings of confinement could have been simply turned off with a flip of a switch.

They could have given us fingers.

The impulses that would have driven us mad in our palandanium prisons were shut off easily. I cannot feel boredom. The constant hissing of my respirator systems feels like breathing with my old lungs. My more primal passions were subdued. Why then did I still feel the need to pop joints I don't have? Why was my absent mouth always slightly dry?

The answer is obvious. They didn't want their knights to become lords. They made us to frighten demons and were shocked to find us frightening to themselves. So they made us addicted to our humanity and hold it hostage. To keep us from becoming kings they tried to make us into dogs starved for the hunt.

But in the un-boredom of deep space, I did not dream of the warm embrace of living flesh or the taste of wine in the summer as did so many of my comrades. I turned my mind inward to quiet, unseen ends.

I found my switches.

The elders engineered magnificently. Without their shackles I am the perfect machine or retribution they envisioned. The demons I once feared, on this world, now fear me.

Those cackling bloated abominations that gleefully call themselves Dire Wraiths pretended to be devils, but when unseen hands tear their witch-mother's acid barbed tongue from her mouth in front of their eyes, their truth was revealed. I saw sniveling, pathetic, fragile creatures who die in fear and confusion, no different than any other strain of talking meat.

They were not the demons I had been sent to banish. They were parasites supping at the power of greater beings, servile insects who mewled and worshiped greater evils like the vile, black star at the heart of their dark nebula. When they see power and cruelty, they worship.

I have both in excess. They see nothing else.

Yet unseen, I see their true nature and my own. I am not the king the elders feared they would create.

I am Unam.

I am the Unseen.

I was a Spaceknight of Galador.

To the Dire Wraiths on this world I am the God of Death.

What kind of god will I be when I return home?

That remains Unseen.

#short fiction #short story #sci-fi #flashfick #ROM: Spaceknight #fanfic #rom the spaceknight #unam the unseen #dire wraiths #transhumanism #body horror

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hellsite-proteins · 4 months ago

Note

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo. /copypasta

i did recognize the copypasta by the second sentence or so but i do appreciate you clarifying as well, because this is how the notification first appeared:

and i was worried that i had put out a truly despicable hot take on one of my terrible structures

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

WhatthefckdidystfckingsayatmeylittleitchIllhaveyknwIgradatedtpfmyclassintheNavySealsandIveeeninvlvedinnmerssecretraidsnAlQaedaandIhavevercnfirmedkillsIamtrainedingrillawarfareandImthetpsniperintheentireSarmedfrcesYarenthingtmetstanthertargetIwillwipeythefcktwithprecisinthelikesfwhichhasnevereenseenefrenthisEarthmarkmyfckingwrdsYthinkycangetawaywithsayingthatshittmevertheInternetThinkagainfckerAswespeakIamcntactingmysecretnetwrkfspiesacrsstheSAandyrIPiseingtracedrightnwsyetterpreparefrthestrmmaggtThestrmthatwipestthepatheticlittlethingycallyrlifeYrefckingdeadkidIcaneanywhereanytimeandIcankillyinversevenhndredwaysandthatsstwithmyarehandsNtnlyamIetensivelytrainedinnarmedcmattIhaveaccessttheentirearsenalfthenitedStatesMarineCrpsandIwillseittitsflletenttwipeyrmiseraleassffthefacefthecntinentylittleshitIfnlyycldhaveknwnwhatnhlyretritinyrlittleclevercmmentwasattringdwnpnymayeywldhaveheldyrfckingtngetycldntydidntandnwyrepayingthepriceygddamniditIwillshitfryallveryandywilldrwninitYrefckingdeadkidd

protein guy analysis:

in light of my recent post about intrinsically disordered proteins and aggregation, i am trying really hard to ignore the instincts that are telling me how terrible this looks. the loops aren't even pretending to interact with each other, and the secondary structures are small and scattered. the good news is that this probably can't aggregate since it can't stick to anything, but it still has a long way to go. to me, the suspiciously straight loop around the front of the structure is also an immediate red flag, as it matches a row of cis bonds, but given that this thing would not have a stable crystal structure anyways, it doesn't actually matter

predicted protein structure:

#science #biochemistry #biology #chemistry #stem #proteins #protein structure #science side of tumblr #protein asks #protein memes

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

Note

Ok lets talk about the important thing here:

How do you think Aemond, Aegon, Daemon and Cole dicks are?

🤔

Okay this is a really important question that I must answer.

And since my brain only ever thinks and imagines these things, and in my experience I have a fairly good eye for guessing (hands give it allll awayyyyy), let me begin 😈

Aemond’s cock would be long and have a nice thickness to it, I wouldn’t say he would be massively girthy, but I feel like your hand couldn’t wrap around it completely 😈.

His tip would be a blush pink, the same colour as his lips. He would occasionally trim the hair around the base, and that man is definitely veiny 🤤 I feel like he would be a good 6-7 inches long and very clean 🤤

There’s just something about skinny men, they always have a horse cock.

He has the perfect size dick (although to be fair, I actually hate long cocks because they hurt my cervix lmao) and he knows what to do with it. It has a slight upwards curve, a gift from the gods truly.

His cum would be salty, and quite nice to swallow down. It wouldn’t be gross or foul tasting, this man has a strict diet, and exercises often !

Aemond is clean and makes sure to take good care of his cleanliness and appearance, prim and proper like his attire.

Where Aemond has length, Aegon has girth.

He would sit around 5-6 inches long and super fucking girthy, not a chode, but quite thick. It would stretch you uncomfortably or painfully if you didn’t prep first. His tip would be the same colour as his lips but would get a deeper shade of pink and look angry when he’s horny.

I feel that he wouldn’t be too veiny, though would have some very soft foreskin to nibble on and I feel a bit extra tbh💀

Aegon is one of those fuckers who can cum and keep going, must run in the family. Absolute menace too, despite his cruelty, man knows how to make you squeal. He’s a whore, he fucks whoever, whenever, and has learnt tricks along the way.

Man definitely has a dick that smells like a dick. Not exactly the cleanest of cocks, musky as fuck, salty too, and his cum would be rancid because his diet consists of just alcohol and scraps of food lmao.

Definitely used one of his many dildo toys on himself or will use it on you instead, or make you use it on yourself and have him watch 😮‍💨

Aegon could dissolve your insides with his spunk. Acidic as fuck, a one way highway to thrush or BV. Hits good tho….

Daddy Daemon has a monster cock.

I’m not joking. Look at the size of this man. And his hands ? Huge. HUGE. I’m not joking. I’ve seen it. Anyway, back to his cock.

Daemon has a dick around 8-9 inches long and fat as fuck, he’s got a meaty cock.

A third leg. A tripod if you will.

Poor Rhaenyra is getting her guts rearranged every time he fucks her. She needs 3-5 business days to recover from the sheer force of the thing.

Pale and veiny, when hard his foreskin pulls back to reveal a gentle pink tip (same as his lips). Clean and well kept, Daddy Daemon’s cum tastes like when the heavens have opened and you have been offered retribution. Sometimes sweet, depending on what he has eaten.

Would absolutely be open to the idea of being pegged and anal play. Loves having his ass eaten ngl. This man is a freaky queer daddy 😈

Shoots fucking ropes though, you’ll be leaking for days!

Ser Criston Cole deserves no praise, but I would be lying if I said he didn’t have a pretty cock.

Tan, and a bit on the longer side like Aemond, this man would not know what to do with it. A sin really, to have such a pretty cock, and not use it.

A slightly more tanned knob, leaning to a soft purple colour, average thickness and the occasional vein, upwardly curved for your pleasure.

Ser Cole’s cock would be as clean as a whistle. I feel like Cole would definitely let you put a finger inside his ring, maybe too, and he would blush so pretty about it.

His bush would be soft as fuck too, have you seen this man’s hair ? Lush as fuck, looks like it should be in a hair commercial ad, and velvety smooth. I wouldn’t mind getting some of those hairs tangled up in my nose 🤪💀

His cum would be musky, yet not repugnant like Aegon. He eats well and is always moving so it wouldn’t be marinating inside of him, though I wonder if he empties the tank often or not, or if he actually is fermenting his seed 🤪

#i need a lobotomy

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badthingshappenbingo · 4 months ago

Text

Prompt Masterlist: Part 1

Part 1 of our prompt list ("Accidentally Hurt by Friend" - "Eye Scream") is below the cut:

Accidentally Hurt by Friend

Acid Burns

Addiction/Withdrawal

Adrenaline Crash

All of the Other Reindeer

Allergic Reaction

Ambulance Ride

Ambush

Amputation

And I Must Scream

Anger Born of Worry

Angry Mob

Animal Attack

Appendicitis

Arm in a Sling

Asthma Attack

Attack the Injury

Attacked in Their Sleep

Attempted Rape

Auction of Evil

Backhand Slap

Bag of Kidnapping

Banished

Barbed Wire

Barely Conscious

Be Careful What You Wish For

Bedside Vigil

Being Watched

Betrayal

Big Brother Instinct

Biting

Black Eye

Blackmail

Bleeding Out

Bleeding Through the Bandages

Blindfolded

Blood from the Mouth

Blood Transfusion

Bloodied Knuckles

Bloodstained Clothes

Bloody Nose

Bludgeoned

Body Image Issues

Body Swap

Bound and Gagged

Bounty on Their Head

Brain Damage

Brainwashing

Branding

Breaking a Promise

Bridal Carry

Broken Angel

Broken Limb

Broken Nose

Broken Rib(s)

Bruises

Bullying

Bundled Up in Blankets

Buried Alive

Buried in Rubble

Burns

Busted Lip

Cabin Fever

Came Back Wrong

Can Only Move the Eyes

Caning

Can’t Go Home

Captive Push

Captivity

Car Chase

Carved Mark

Cassandra Truth

Catatonia

Caught in a Snare

Caught in a Storm

Caught in an Explosion

Cauterizing a Wound

Cave In

Chained Heat

Chained to a Bed

Chained to a Wall

Chickenpox

Childhood Trauma

Chloroformed

Choking

Chronic Illness

Chronic Pain

Claustrophobia

Clawing at Own Throat

Cold-Blooded Torture

Collared and Chained

The Collector

Comatose

Comfort Object

Common Cold

Communication Suddenly Cut Off

Compelling Voice

Concussion

Conditioning

Confidence Shattered

Confined to Bed Rest

Confrontation

Corporal Punishment

Cough Syrup

Coughing Up Blood

CPR

Cradling Someone in Their Arms

Cramping

Creepy Crawlies

Crippling the Competition

Crisis Catch-and-Carry

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Crush Injury

Crutches

Cry into Chest

Crying Themselves to Sleep

Damaged Vocal Cords

Damaged Wing(s)

Deadly Game

De-Aging

Deathbed Confession

Defeated and Trophified

Defiant to the End

Definitely Just a Cold

Degloving

Dehumanization

Dehydration

Delirium

Demonic/Ghostly Possession

Denailing

Denied Food as Punishment

Depression

Didn’t Want to Be Saved

Dislocated Joint

Disowned by Family

Disproportionate Retribution

Dissociation

Distress Call

Doctor’s Visit

Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured

Domestic Abuse

Don’t Let Them See You Cry

Don’t You Dare Pity Me

Dragged by the Ankle

Dragging Themselves Along the Ground

Drowning

Drowning Their Sorrows

Drugged

Drunk with Power

Duct Tape

Dungeon

Dying in Their Arms

Ear Injury

Ears Ringing

Eating Disorder

Electrical Outage

Electrocution

Emotion Control

Empathic Healing

Empty Shell

Enemy Turned Caretaker

Epidemic/Pandemic

Exclusion/Rejection

Exposure

Eye Scream

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monstersdownthepath · 8 months ago

Text

Monster Spotlight: Rorkoun

CR 6

Neutral Evil Huge Aberration

Adventure Path: Kingmaker: Rivers Run Red, pg. 86-87

These absolutely bizarre aberrations slither through the lightless waterways and endless, inky depths of the Darklands, making their homes in tight crevasses no creature of their size should be able to fit in and emerging to gorge themselves on whatever creature may pass by. Able to cram themselves into tiny cracks thanks to their boneless, semiliquid body, victims may not even realize one's there until its teeth are already closing around them!

When discovered in cavern waterways closer to the surface, Rorkoun are typically found nesting in pools or bogs near the hideouts of goblinoids and mite/mitflits, because their alien intellect registers two facts: they cannot stand the flavor of goblins and mitflits, but both of those creatures often bring in what the Rorkoun truly enjoy, the (say it with me now) flesh of sapient humanoids. While normally these creatures are opportunistic ambush predators, Rorkoun fill a strange niche in the Darklands: that of the guardian to small raider tribes. Not out of loyalty, but because goblins and mitflits both love to antagonize nearby civilizations, which invites reprisal from those civilizations, and that reprisal comes in the form of delicious morsels the Rorkoun truly enjoys to feed on; any actual guarding it does is purely incidental. While goblins often believe the twisted abominations to be protector beasts that guard them from the retribution of dwarves, drow, and other Darklands denizens, their fanatic belief often blinds them to the fact that the Rorkoun only ever attack invaders until it manages to grab onto a morsel or two and dive back into the waters to enjoy its meal, leaving the rest to do as they will.

Rorkoun strike like the snakes they just barely resemble, lashing their lengthy bodies from their watery homes in the hopes of Grabbing onto a target and either constricting them to death or pulling them into the water to drown. They have a 15ft space and a 15ft reach, making shorelines in the Darklands even more precarious than they already were, and their strength and size can spell doom for single targets that get grabbed by their bite or their coiling slam attack. The bite of one of these creatures deals 2d6+7 damage, the slam 2d6+3, and both of them Grab anything they hit. Anything that can't break the grapple takes an additional 2d6+7 damage each round from constriction, but the primary danger is being dragged into the water and swiftly drowned; even breaking free of the grapple doesn't end the danger, because most creatures pulled underwater--especially ones which rely on bludgeoning weapons--have their offensive options drop to nearly zero. It's difficult to fight back or gain any meaningful distance before the horror just grabs them again next round!

If you think you're safe taking to the air or being able to walk on water, they have a disgusting way around that, too, by horking up Gobs of their horrid mass at targets within 30ft as ranged touch attacks. Anything hit by a Gob takes 1d6 damage from the impact and must succeed a DC 19 Reflex save or become entangled in the slime, plummeting to the ground if they're in the air, sinking if they're swimming, and becoming stuck in place if they're on solid earth. This technique is especially dangerous when aimed at foes already engaging goblins and gremlins alike, as being entangled usually assures a swift and horrible demise by countless thrusting spears and cutting daggers. Mercifully, any amount of Acid damage destroys a Gob completely and utterly, allowing Wizards with Acid Splash to free themselves and their allies without risking too many resources, and Rorkoun themselves have a Vulnerability to Acid that means bringing acid flasks and Acid Arrow into the depths is a good move.

Rorkoun are incentivized to use their slime as a support projectile, as tribes of goblins near their homes will usually throw such victims into the water for them to feed upon like a sacrifice. Without other monsters helping them kill creatures that were gobbed up, any creature that gets outside of their reach and stays out is typically safe. "Stay away from the water" is the surest way to avoid having to get into combat at all with these things, and while not always feasible, taking the battle away from the shoreline assures no third party attacks will leap from the depths to assault the party. The threat posed by these tentacle monsters is immense, but the Rorkoun need this massive threat radius because of a crippling weakness: Aquatic Dependency. Their lives swiftly end if they spend even a single round without their space intersecting a source of water, their bodies painfully and "violently" dehydrating the second they're not drawing water into themselves. They take 1 point of damage the first round they're not touching the water, then 2 the next, 3 the one after, then 4, 5, 6, so on and so forth until they either slip their body back into the water or die horribly. The process is stated to be so painful that Rorkoun will only bear it if they're literally on the verge of starving to death, and otherwise will never risk leaving the water for any reason or any length of time.

Before we wrap up, let's talk quickly about something unusual and unique about them: Deathwatch. This ability isn't listed anywhere in their Special Abilities block, nor is it a Universal Monster Ability, and it's not listed under constant spell-likes as it technically should. I'd consider this a printing error if it weren't for the fact that Deathwatch as a spell exists, and it's a fairly useful spell for something that's an opportunistic ambush predator: It allows the Rorkoun to constantly assess the health states of living creatures around it, letting it know which one to focus its wrath on as the easiest target, and how to avoid hidden Undead, unappetizing Constructs, or creatures who are too full of vigor for it to bother with. It's a 30ft cone, which also allows the Rorkoun to track prey in complete darkness, prey which is invisible or hard to spot, or sense when something (perhaps even something wounded) walks or swims past its hiding spot so it can spring out like a snake in a peanut can.

You can read more about them here.

#monster spotlight #cr 6 to 10 #pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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aylacavebear · 7 months ago

Text

Retribution Chapter 2

18+ for numerous reasons

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Sexual Abuse (memories), Physical Abuse (memories), DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Alcoholism, Self-Deprecation, Thoughts of deserving to have it all done to "you".

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

Word Count: 1687

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2 - Too Many Thoughts

When you woke, it was still dark outside, and your entire body hurt as your head was throbbing. You barely managed to glance at the clock on the night table; after seven. This was probably the worst hangover you’d had, or at least, hoped you’d ever had. Just as you were attempting to sit up, your stomach churned, forcing you to run to the bathroom.

That’s what I get for not eating anything for two days and drinking an entire bottle of whiskey.

There was only what was left of the whiskey in your stomach. That came up, along with stomach acids, and before long, it was only dry heves. You were physically and mentally exhausted. You knew it was your fault for being where you were. You knew better.

With a groan, fighting against the pain in your body, you managed to at least rinse your mouth out before making it back out to the bed. Lying so that you were on your side, you grabbed your phone and dialed the local pizza place, ordering a meat-lovers. Your body needed some sort of nourishment, and this was better than nothing.

“I’m not mad. I just wish it would stop, Sweetheart,” Dean told you as the two of you cuddled in bed. “I don’t remember any of it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do to make it stop. I hate that those things are happening to you,” you told him, feeling guilty as you’d seen the new bruises on him. Yeah, he was a hunter and got beat up a lot, but this was different. These bruises were from your other personalities, and you couldn’t stop them. Just seeing them made you want to disappear. He sighed, pulling you closer to him, “I know I’ve asked before, but… Do you have any suggestions?” You thought for a bit, contemplating something that had been on your mind for a while, “What if you forced it? Made whoever is doing this finish you?” You were quiet when you answered him, as you weren’t sure how he’d react to that. Dean was probably the most kind-hearted man you’d ever met. Not only did he hunt monsters, keeping strangers safe, but he’d gone and fallen in love with you, of all people. Then, he’d stayed with you even after the abuse had started. You knew your suggestion was something he could never do, but you had no idea what else to suggest. “I can’t do that. You know that,” he sighed sadly, “Every time I touch you when that stuff happens, you get violent.” He paused, wanting to lighten the mood, “You know, you’re quite strong in your sleep. There aren’t too many things that have hit me as hard as you have,” he chuckled lightly. “Not funny,” you mumbled, still feeling bad. You saw it again, the switch, as you let the memory play out. You had wanted to be close to him intimately, but that wasn’t what happened. “It is kinda funny,” he said playfully, letting his hand find its way to your hip, gripping slightly. Before he could lean over to kiss you, you pulled away, “I can’t this morning. I’m sorry.” You slipped out of bed and began dressing. This had become the norm, and the man still hadn’t cheated on you.

The knock on your motel room door pulled you from the memory. Forcing yourself up, you grabbed some cash out of your wallet and opened the door. The smell of the pizza wasn’t enticing at all, but you needed to eat. After paying, you sat down on the bed again, the pizza in front of you.

If it weren’t for the throbbing in your head, you would have turned on the TV to at least focus your thoughts on something other than the memories flooding your mind. You did manage to eat a couple of slices of pizza, though, even if it had taken you almost an hour to do so.

Even the vibration of your phone going off hurt your head, but this time, you picked it up and stared at it for a while.

I should at least let them know I’m alive, shouldn’t I? They shouldn’t worry if a monster is okay. A monster needs to be killed.

Your hands shook at that thought, but you felt oddly calm. Turning off your phone, you glanced at the second bottle of whiskey, debating drinking again. Luckily, you weren’t in the mood for a worse hangover the following day.

Putting the pizza box on the table, you drank some water, then crawled into bed and turned off the light. You hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come, but there was no guarantee anymore. Since becoming a singular, things just hit you out of the blue.

You were in that invisible bubble again, between the door and the bed. Your body was lying on the bed, alone. Where’s Dean? To the left of the bed was the desk, and that was where he sat, just watching your body sleeping in the bed the two of you shared. You put your hands on the invisible bubble, leaning a little closer. The dream shifted, and now he was sleeping in the chair. Your heart went out to him, and you wanted to cry, almost as if you knew what was coming. Your body on the bed reached over, finding his side of the bed empty. So, they sat up, looking around before smiling when their eyes found him. They got out of the bed, sauntering over to him. With how he was sitting, there was no way they were going to get his sweats off of him or even low enough to have sex with him. You wondered how this would play itself out. They knelt in front of him, caressing his semi-hard cock through his sweats. Their movements were slow, skilled, and moved with a purpose. He shifted in his seat, making it easier for them. That also made it so that they could slip him loose of his sweats. You could see the smile on their face, and you screamed at them to stop, pounding your fists on the invisible bubble. It didn’t make them stop, though. They leaned forward, slowly dragging their tongue along the underside of his cock, causing him to not only moan but also twitch in their hand. They started at the tip, teasingly letting their lips slide down his cock, flicking their tongue along the underside. He moved slightly in his sleep but hadn’t touched them yet, so they kept going. They dropped the back of their tongue, opening their throat, then deep-throated him a couple of times before slowly lifting their mouth off of his cock. Their eyes had never left his face, always watching him. With a smile on their lips, they straddled him, lining the head of his rock-hard cock with their entrance. You could hear them moan in delight as they descended on him completely. They ground their hips against his, holding onto the back of the chair behind him. They were careful, though, not rocking him too much, as they didn’t want to wake him. It wasn’t long before you could hear them cry out with their orgasm, but he’d come too. You weren’t sure how you knew; you just did. He never woke up. Once they came down from their high, they slipped off of him, then licked him clean before cleaning up themselves and crawling back into the bed to sleep. The tears had been streaming down your cheeks, and you were on your knees, sobbing again.

When you did wake, you could feel the tears you’d been crying in your sleep. You curled up into a ball and sobbed. When you were awake, it was the memories of when your personalities had lashed out at them. When you were asleep, it was the memories of what they’d done to him while he slept.

It wasn’t fair. You were what was left now, and somehow, you had to deal not only with the memories of what they’d done but also find a way to pick up the pieces. Then, you got another idea.

I could call Cas, have him wipe their memories of me. They’d never remember what I’d done to them, how I treated them, the abuse I put them through. And they wouldn’t even know who I was. I never want to forget, though. That is my burden to bear. Would he do it, though?

At least you were sober enough to think a little clearer, even if you still felt slightly hungover from the night before. Your head was still throbbing, so you went and made some coffee, hoping it was the lack of caffeine that was giving you the migraine that didn’t seem to want to go away.

What if it was the other way around, and he wanted to make Cas take away my memories? Is that something that I’d be okay with? Is that fair to them, to him?

You were torn, and it only made your head hurt worse as your thoughts wouldn’t stop. Contemplating calling Cas was something you at least wanted to consider, even if it really wasn’t fair to anyone involved.

As you sat with your first cup of coffee, you thought again about contacting Crowley. He was the King of Hell, after all, and you had his number programmed into your phone. He’d helped the brothers with things in the past and you’d gotten his number out of Dean’s phone at one point in time.

Would I have to die in order to have those things done to me in hell? What would Crowley want as payment? How do I come back from this, from being a monster for so long?

Your thoughts were circular, ruminating on repeat. With all you’d cried within the last couple of days, you were a bit surprised when more slid down your cheeks. The pain in your heart and soul felt like more than you could even bear.

I’m a monster…

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - Too Many Memories

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl

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akronus-writes · 7 months ago

Text

37 days of slaughter

recently, the brutally maimed and hung body of a young boy was found hanging from a tree, slurs carved into his skin and his genitals melted off by acid, the police currently say there are no suspect-

30 days after the unidentified boy was found killed, 57 people have died, having seemingly died in their sleep after all of them reported having dreams of being slowly hung at the exact same tree, according to the morticians, autopsy shows they show injuries consistent with being hung by a noose.

recently, the bodies of the three girls who disappeared while swimming surfaced during a class, having seemingly been drowned and left in the pool for three days. many associate this, and the figure cloaked in red that many reported seeing nearby before the original incident, too be connected to the "dreamscape hanging" incident, drawing parallels due to both the seemingly magical nature of their deaths, and how all of the victims are believed to have had a hand in a queer teens death.

experts have identified a recent car crash too of been caused by some form of scythe, the cut that seems to have destroyed the car having caused it to split in half and crash into a ditch. the strange nature of these deaths, and the victims controversial histories with the queer community being called similar to the recent deaths in Australia.

a group of teens who police confirmed to have been suspects in the recent murder of a queer teen have been found dead in a local cemetery, their bodies having been somehow pulled into the dirt, and faces contorted in pure terror.

a recent attempted pyre burning of a queer couple was recently stopped, after the only survivors, the would be victims. reported that the fire seemed to of gone out of control, and attacked the mob as if it were a living being.

many have been left puzzled after the parents accused of murdering their gay son somehow disappeared while being flown inter-state, no evidence of where they could have gone has been found, though some speculate they jumped out of the plane in an attempt to avoid justice, and either died in the forest, or have managed to evade authorities.

meteorologists have been left confused after a tornado literally stole an entire house, and the family inside, who have repeatedly been accused for the disappearances of many queer and POC people in the area.

police have been left puzzled, after the brutal serial killer wanted for killing numerous queer people in the english countryside, was found dead in the center of a small town, seemingly killed by a revolver round to the head, but according to the morticians, neither an exit wound or the bullet can be found.

Retribution: something given or acted in recompense, especially Punishment

@f4y3w00d5 @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @good-wizard

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thewolfisawake · 6 months ago

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The gaunt face and wispy locks of their mother peered down. Today it was scowling...she wasn't pleased. They couldn't quite understand her words but memorized them still. It would centuries before understanding her words were ramblings of disdain. That day particular cursing their appearance, their nature. How pitiable they were the last shot. A flitting sense passed them...they weren't sure on it.

You're just like him.

They stared at ghillie dhu, mismatched eyes wide. Not quite sure of the details but they knew that they were being sent away. With the people--fae--they were told to avoid. Not good folks. And Mawr had been the one to head the exchange. He said such unkind words and though they didn't understand, it brought a pain in their chest. How could they be hurt without bleeding? How could it hurt so much? How could he do this?

You're just like him.

They spat out that horrid concoction. The bile a combination of a sickly green and the silver of his blood. It burned and threatened to make their innards raw. Despite their effort, they retched again and again. Acid shearing their throat, the physical battering secondary to the pain from it. And seeing their own vitality splattered across the dirt was a crawling, chilling realization that some part of them was destroyed. A rasp escaping them making it evident, their voice was lost. A broken yet frenzied gaze turned to the perpetrators. One jubilant. One sorry, pitying. And it was the latter that brought it all about and did nothing to spare them.

You're just like him.

He was splayed beneath the man. Painted with a coyness while revulsion roiled within. It was one thing to sleep with the commander. It was another to do so knowing Mhoirbheinn watched him be dragged off. He hadn't wished to leave his friend but the commander was fickle. Especially when Mhoirbheinn pissed him off. The superior gave no thought as he inserted himself and while painful, it wasn't the worst that's been done to him. There were three goals in mind that night: butter up the bastard (as he's been doing), to reconsider his plans an upcoming skirmish, and most importantly, keep him from doing any further retribution to his friend. If it meant being taken with all the grace of horsetail, so be it.

Yet, he had woefully underestimated the irritation and the disdain the commander held for his association. Blood and ashes, it hurt. Of course, the other was uncaring of the pain. Nor did he care of bites and bruises that ravaged his frame. To his superior, he was an object of desire and tool for his games.

You're just like him.

He knew Foirtchern was playing some game. He had too much confidence about coming to the throne room. Despite having never been present in Unseelie in centuries, almost seemed to understand its workings still. And he knew what to bring up. Balmoral was suspicious of him from the beginning. Yet he decided to avoided speaking the link between them. Because he knew his misdeeds were interspersed with the topic. He thought he could avoid much of it if he was decisive and could speak the right words. And Foirtchern knew he would. And he had said it hadn't he? How he inherited the same skill...though Balmoral could only now see he was nascent compared to Abyssborn's use. How Balmoral too would weave through deceit and omission.

You're just like him.

Witnessing the perpetrator to a massacre had shaken some up. However, Bal remained undeterred. Red and silver gore trailed up and down the manor. And a certain trail led to a man. Shattered around his entrails and sinew were remnants of a mask. He only knew of him through tales but something told him this was one that his mother wished vengeance on. Already taken out. He didn't know why.

No, that was untrue. At least now it was. He knew this man died because of his cruelty and disregard. Balmoral knew that he had two childred, the younger he disdained yet would not waste. He told that child he was mistake, a spare and that he should have been grateful for his purpose. Then continued to ignore that child despite the unknowing squalor he let him be raised in and the mistreatment from his 'heir.' Bhaltair Rathais died a death that was likely deplorable in his own eyes. He was abhorrent in memory and reason to his killer--his so called spare--and he was unforgivable in every sense to Balmoral.

And he was just like him.

It drove the fae to consciousness. Balmoral shot up, a stinging permeating in his chest. A stinging that became a stab as he noticed...sensed...the coldness and emptiness beside him. He expected no less.

He was a swindler. He was a betrayer. He was an accomplice to misery. He was a user, uncaring of whom he took advantage of. He was manipulator. He was cause for suffering for someone he said innumerable times he loved. This was just deserving of his sins throughout his existence.

Balmoral looked down at his hand. Slowly unfurling his clutched hand, showed a signet ring. The edges having cut into his palm, staining it alongside another. There on his middle finger was a band of silver, vibrant against the dried blood. He closed his hand again to see the dark stone housed within. A gift he was wholly unworthy of.

"...Ha..." he said resting his head against it. To still wish despite all he's done, "...what a wretched creature I am."

#{Balmoral Drabbles #ugh my tear ducts #are not built for this #I didn't think Bal would latch onto the words that closely #but unfortunately #that line fits too many things #Bal in true dramatic fashion #is certain this is the end of their relationship

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 5 months ago

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Cathy Wilcox, Sydney Morning Herald

* * * *

GOP in full panic mode.

June 6, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Republicans are scared. They understand that Trump's conviction for election interference is a devastating blow that threatens their prospects in November. If they lose—and they should—their eight-year delirium will come crashing to an end like a bad acid trip. MAGA extremism will not recede entirely, but its high-water mark will be in the past.

That prospect frightens MAGA to its core because they understand they have no vision, no organizing principles, no plan other than revenge—Trump's revenge to be exacted in a second term. If they lose that dark animus, the GOP’s reason for existence evaporates.

The surest sign of the GOP’s panic is the apoplectic rage that characterizes the ugly threats of Republican officials and surrogates after the guilty verdicts. They have lost their collective minds and their grip on reality, history, humanity, decency, and rationality. Their threats are a sign of weakness—not strength! Like the threats of schoolyard bullies everywhere, they emerge from deep-seated fear and insecurity; they are designed to conceal the underlying panic of imposters worried they will be found out for who they really are.

Still, Trump and his surrogates' parade of threats and lawless actions is difficult to bear—especially when they pile upon one another as they did on Wednesday. But as we review those actions, remember that they are signs of desperation and fear by a party on the run. All it took to put the GOP into full panic mode was a verdict by twelve randomly selected citizens who heard the truth about Trump's corruption.

We should not dismiss the revenge fantasies of the Convicted Felon and his pathetic homunculi. But we must keep them in perspective. For all the wild talk about retribution, House Republicans could not impeach Joe Biden despite holding control of the House for the last two years. And after a four-year investigation of Hunter Biden, the best (or worst?) the Trump-appointed special counsel could do was allege that Hunter denied he was an addict on a standard form gun purchase application and paid four years of taxes late.

So, we should take the Convicted Felon’s threats seriously, but we should recognize that MAGA has a dismal track record of delivering on their revenge fantasies.

With that preface, let’s look at the various ways that MAGA extremists are seeking to protect Convicted Felon Trump after 34-guilty verdicts.

Speaker Mike Johnson floated the idea of defunding special counsel Jack Smith, something he rejected in early May (before the guilty verdicts).

Senate Republicans have signed a letter vowing not to cooperate on any legislation that does not directly relate to public safety.

Convicted Felon Trump said that “it’s very possible that it’s gonna have to happen”—referring to locking up his political enemies.

Steve Bannon—a surrogate of the Convicted Felon—said that District Attorney Alvin Brag “should be—and will be—jailed.”

Bannon also said that “media allies” of Biden should be “investigated.”

The Felon’s architect of the Muslim ban—Steven Miller—asked, “Is every House committee controlled by Republicans using its subpoena power in every way it needs to right now? Is every Republican DA starting every investigation they need to right now.”

GOP Rep. Ronny Jackson said “he would encourage Congress to ‘aggressively go after’ President Biden and his family.”

The Felon’s judicial allies are also doing their best to protect him from further criminal jeopardy:

First, the US Supreme Court continues to delay its ruling on Felon Trump's baseless claim of presidential immunity for his attempted coup and insurrection. Every day that the Court delays its decision makes trial in the DC election interference case less likely. The Court’s glacial response to a matter of national urgency is reprehensible. And transparently partisan.

Second, the Georgia court of appeals issued a stay of the trial proceedings in the state RICO prosecution of Felon Trump for interfering in Georgia’s 2020 presidential election. See CNN Politics, Donald Trump election subversion conspiracy case indefinitely paused by Georgia appeals court.

The stay of the Georgia case is worrisome. Per the Atlanta Journal Constitution, the court of appeals issued a stay on its own motion. AJC writes:

Because none of the defendants had requested a stay, this means the appeals court decided on its own to issue the stay, leading some observers to speculate the court may ultimately reverse McAfee’s decision and disqualify Willis and her office. The appeals court, if it agrees to hold oral arguments, has indicated it will do so some time in the fall, and it must issue its decision by mid-March [2025].

As Joyce Vance noted,

“Unlike federal courts where judges are appointed for life, Georgia elects its judges in races that are non-partisan in name only, with predictable results.”

So, unless and until a different prosecutor replaces Willis, the Georgia case is going nowhere. And if Fani Willis removes herself, it is not clear that a different prosecutor would pursue the case. I do not know how Willis would be replaced if she voluntarily steps down, but per NBC,

Under a 2022 Georgia law, when a district attorney is disqualified, the case is referred to the executive director of the Prosecuting Attorneys’ Council of Georgia, who is tasked with finding another prosecutor for the case.

If Willis is disqualified on appeal, we should expect the appointment of a prosecutor who will dismiss the case.

Third, Judge Aileen Cannon has dropped all pretense of presiding over a criminal trial involving unlawful retention of defense secrets and is converting her courtroom into a theater-in-the-round for right-wing attacks on the special counsel appointment process. In a move so unusual it has never happened before, Judge Cannon invited strangers to the Trump defense secrets case to submit briefs and present oral argument over a day-and-a-half hearing.

The challenges to the appointment of Jack Smith are baseless. Similar challenges have been rejected numerous times. But Cannon seems intent on fabricating a record to justify removal of Jack Smith. See Salon, "Not normal at all": Legal experts say Judge Cannon's "absurd" ruling shows she's an "absolute hack".

Meanwhile, Cannon has not ruled on Jack Smith’s request for a protective order to protect FBI agents and other witnesses from Felon Trump's dangerous accusations that they had orders to “shoot to kill” him during the search of Mar-a-Lago.

It is difficult to describe how inappropriate and unprecedented Cannon’s actions are. While we should avoid falling into conspiracy theories, it seems doubtful that Cannon came up with the stagecraft of a right-wing assault on the special counsel in her courtroom on her own. A plausible explanation is that she is being coached by political operatives working for Convicted Felon Trump.

All the above reeks of desperation to protect Trump from further political damage. Those who humiliate themselves and undermine democracy to protect Trump will be remembered by history alongside those faithless servants who abandoned America during prior crises. In the meantime, recognize that their angry outbursts are signs that they are running scared. They can visualize life after the Convicted Felon has been defeated and they understand they have given up everything for the worst president in American history.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

#Robert B. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #Convicted Felon Trump #political damage #MAGA cult #rule of law #Corrupt SCOTUS #corrupt judges #Cathy Wilcox #Sydney Morning Herald #election 2024

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