#may day rally

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"'Long Live May 1,' Communists Cry," Vancouver News Herald. May 2, 1934. Page 1. --- Red-neck-tied Crowd at Arena Condemn Capitalism ---- "Long live the First of May! Long live the international working class: Down with Capitalism, down with Fascism! Up with the proletariat and long live the Soviet Union!

These opening remarks by the first speaker at a mass gathering of May Day celebrants in the Arena on Tuesday night formed the sub- stance of a number of addresses given by men, women and children and heard by some 2,500 red-necktled, red-sweatered Communist enthusiasts.

The stirring calls to arms of the speakers were interspersed by musical selections played by the fife band of the Young Pioneers of North Burnaby, and the Jugoslav Orchestra. The orchestra opened the evenng with an excellent rendering of "The Internationale" and the fife band closed it with the playing of "The Red Flag." Such fitting tunes as "Free Russia" and "The Russian Revolution" were played in between times.

The hit of the evening was a splendid recital by Elspeth Munroe. aged about 8, who staggered her audience with:

"Comrade chairman and comrades, ours is a struggle against hunger, wage cuts, Fascism and war. I am proud to be a worker's child. I urge you to support the Young Pioneers, and not the Girl Guides and Boy Scouts organizations which only teach the arts of wa r- and we don't want war!

"We must demonstrate against the Special Powers Act for it is legislation such as that which breeds Fascism and Fascism means a reign of terror for the working classes. It is not only on May Day but all through the year that we must fight."

She concluded with a stirring "poem" dealing with war and Fascism.

Another speaker, introduced by Chairman Joseph Foley as "Comrade Stewart of the B. C. Electric." expressed much regret at the fact that his fellow street railway work- ers were not demonstrating on the streets in honor of May Day.

"I feel sure, however," he added, "that we will all be on the streets where we belong, next May Day."

After the audience had heard much about the logging strike, Youth's point of view, and the advance of Soviet Russia, there was a pause while some of the comrades on the platform made an appeal for funds to aid the loggers. On an appeal being made, one member of the audience produced a ten dollar bill, three five dollar bills followed this, and then a number of ones were produced. A well-known news- paper man, sitting at the press table became the butt of a number of "Jests" at this point and finally he too, was induced to part with the small amount of change he had in his pockets.

Following this interlude, which was enhanced by more music, the meeting again settled down to listen to a series of speakers. One speaker told much about the anti-war solidarity in the "slave camps" he was a delegate from the Relief Camp Workers' Union-another told about troubles of the longshoremen; Comrade George Drayton gave a masterly speech on the world economic situation and its relation to Communism; the woman's angle was heard from, there were a few announcements, and then everybody went home.

[newsbites]

The [Atlantic Canada] representative for the Public Service Alliance of Canada says they’re not celebrating any victories until every employee is offered a fair deal.

Chris Di Liberatore, Regional Executive Vice-President Atlantic for PSAC, addressed hundreds of workers at a May Day rally in downtown St. John’s on Monday.

[twilightarcade]

anyway I got curry yesterday and it fucked

[appallinnballin]

i’ve been drawing in this position for the past few days which is Not ideal

[muirneach]

song of all fucking time i dont care!!!

[186-3]

courting antisemitism

so i recently decided to take a look at the latest stonetoss comics (probably because i love suffering). and while i was expecting some content on the israel palestine conflict, what i did not expect was how... standard it seemed. well, most of it at least, but i'll get to that in a second.

for context, if you don't know what stonetoss is, it's a (poorly drawn) webcomic known for having radical alt-right views - meaning it's incredibly racist, homophobic, transphobic, islamophobic, antisemitic. all that fun stuff.

so while i was expecting to see bad stuff, one of the first things i saw on the topic of israel was this:

terrible art aside, this comic is making a point that i usually see in left wing circles: that israel is pinkwashing genocide.

curious if there was more like this, i kept looking, and the comic right before that one was this:

again, this makes points that i usually see in left wing circles. that american healthcare is crazy expensive, that canada tells poor people to commit suicide, and that israel is bombing hospitals.

why does stonetoss, this well known alt-right nutjob, now seem to be bringing up left-wing talking points?

curious, i kept going deeper:

well this is... odd. clearly, stonetoss is trying to say that israel is on another level of bad, even worse than russia, iran, and north korea. i can possibly see someone on the left making the argument that the russian invasion of ukraine isn't as bad as what israel is doing in gaza, or that at least north korea isn't invading any other countries, but... iran??? the country that has a police force designed to enforce religious law, and gets away with murdering women who do not properly cover their hair? the country that props up paramilitary groups in countries all over the middle east, including lebanon, yemen, and yes, palestine?? that's completely ridiculous

but, given how much more israel is in the news nowadays than any of these other countries, i could see why someone would buy this

and now, we're starting to get to the crux of what stonetoss is trying to do. when someone sees this, they might be inclined to agree with it. they might begin to think that israel is the worst country on the planet

and that might not seem so bad at first. but the more you hate israel, especially irrationally, the more you feel allowed to dehumanize those who support it. the more you might be willing to agree with this comic, which came out two days prior to the one above

this comic says that jews, as a whole have no desire to exist with other people. it is blatantly antisemitic

i'm sure you could imagine some young leftist who sees the comics above this one and thinks, "this guy makes some good points". and then, when they get to this one, they might realize that this is antisemitism

or, they may not.

and that would start them down the road to becoming an antisemite.

this is what stonetoss and other alt-right nutjobs are hoping to achieve. to take left wing fury at israel, and direct it at jews.

we saw it with those neo-nazis at the palestine rally, and we're seeing it again here.

and if you've found yourself agreeing with what stonetoss has said so far, i would like you to see the last comic stonetoss put out before october 7th:

this horrifically racist comic is in reference to an environmental activist who was murdered by a black man in early october. this blatantly racist garbage is the kind of stuff stonetoss usually puts out.

but as soon as october 7th happened? these were his next two comics:

stonetoss completely changed the comic's tone as soon as the current crisis started. why?

to get as many people as possible to get on board with hating jews.

and i know many of you might be thinking that "well, everyone knows that stonetoss is racist garbage. nobody is going to fall for this"

except, as we saw with the neo-nazis at the rally for palestine, it's not always that obvious who the antisemites are and who is just rallying for peace. they are often a lot better at disguising it than stonetoss is.

AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE AWARE OF THAT

EVERYONE, no matter HOW much experience you have, can fall victim to propoganda. EVERYONE needs to be aware of what people around them are saying, and able to pick out hateful rhetoric, because even the stuff that is just kind of toeing the line of what's hateful is still putting your foot in the door

be cautious, everyone. and stomp out hate where you see it.

[batshit-auspol]

So a bit of background first for our international followers: Clive Palmer is one of Australia's many mining billionaires who like to meddle in our country's politics, and as such he is utterly despised by all of Australia.

Picture for context:

He is most commonly known online by the title "Fatty McFuckhead", (problematic as it may be) because he tried to sue a youtuber for $500,000 for calling him that - and he lost. So the name stuck.

Up until his most recent foray into parliament, the legally certified Fuckhead was best known for his batshit business ventures, such as attempting to build "The Titanic 2" (failed) and trying to build a dinosaur theme park (also failed, but at least nobody got eaten by a T-Rex in this one).

For a very long time Clive played the role of sugar daddy to Australia's largest conservative party, the ironically named Liberal Party, until they had a falling out in 2012 after Clive claimed there was too much money influencing politics (lol), at which point he started his own party, days after saying he totally quit and wasn't fired and he only left because he didn't want to be a distraction.

His initial run at parliament was actually kinda successful, with Palmer's group winning 4 seats, plus a member from the "Motoring Enthusiasts Party" joined them too after accidentally getting elected and not knowing what the fuck to do.

Despite this initial success however, Palmer's party (which ran on basically no platform other than "I'm rich") hit an iceberg (titanic 2 achieved) and seven elected state and federal politicians quit within the first year.

By the time the next federal election rolled around, only one Palmer party candidate was still running for re-election. The most successful of this group - Jaquie Lambie - quit to sit as an independant and is still in parliament today.

Here she is with a painting of herself strangling Clive (she sells signed copies of this)

And here the senator is posting about liking sausage:

Anyway, we're getting to the point: which is the yellow posters. By the 2016 election, just two years after forming, the party was in complete freefall. It won just 0.01% of the vote at their second election, and it was announced shortly after that Clive was quitting politics and the party was being shut down. Australia breathed a sigh of relief.

It was, of course, short lived.

Clive, in desperate need of attention, restarted the party for the 2019 election, fielding candidates in every seat and spending $60 million in advertising in an attempt to win votes.

Every single candidate lost.

It was in this campaign however that Australia really started to fall out of love with Palmer, because most of that $60 million went towards putting up the world's least compelling marketing billboards on almost every single free space in the country.

For a good six months this was basically the only thing you would see in Australia if you went outside:

Clearly Graphic design is his passion. And yes, the genius did just straight up try and copy Trump's homework while changing a few words, hoping nobody would notice.

Very quickly these all got vandalised and it seemed the ad companies didn't care enough to replace them.

We could go on posting examples, there are thousands, but the best is definitely the one Ikea put up shortly after Clive lost the election:

In 2022, Clive's party contested the election AGAIN, this time also opting to send millions on spam text messages to every person in Australia begging for people to vote for him, as well as buying almost every youtube ad for a year, at the cost of $100 million.

He won a whopping one seat.

During this election Clive ran on an anti-lockdown, anti-vax platform with the slogan "freedom, freedom, freedom". That message, however, was slightly undermined when his goons, dressed in 'Freedom!' shirts, made national news for trying to beat up a protester who turned up at a rally dressed as an annoying text message, shouting "pay your workers" at Clive.

As if that wasn't bad enough, at another rally Clive knocked himself unconscious while trying to jump up on stage, and then a few weeks later was rushed to hospital with covid, while his anti-vax ads were still in regular rotation on TV, at which point it was also leaked to the press that Palmer had been alledgedly trying to buy Hitler's car.

Utterly humiliated, the party deregistered again shortly after the election.

Can't wait until he runs again in 2025.

Anyway, on the other "Clive tweeting Miss Kobayashi's Dragon" thing, we have no idea what that means but here's a screencap:

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"PLANS FOR PARADE HALTED BY POLICE," Montreal Star. May 1, 1933. Page 3 & 11. ---- Demonstration by Reds Fails to Materialize On Square ---- ARRESTS MADE ---- Six Men and One Woman Held For Distributing Circulars --- Montreal's "Red" May Day noon-hour "demonstration" in Victoria Square for 1933 proved just as great a success as that of 1932. Neither materialized.

Six men, and one woman were arrested in various parts of the city during the week-end for distributing circulars announcing the "mass meeting" and police precautions effectively scotched any attempt at gathering at the appointed place and time.

POLICE PLANS Shortly after 11:30. 40 uniformed policemen, with four sergeants and a dozen plainclothesmen took up strategic positions in and around Victoria Square and eight mounted men arrived on the scene a few minutes later. Captain Isabelle of central police station was on hand to take charge of the uniformed force and Lieutenant P. E. Caron to look after the officers in mufti. Shortly before noon, Inspector Maranda, adjutant of the police force, arrived to take charge of the whole operation. Eight mounted men patrolled the streets of the square and also Vitre and Craig streets and Beaver Hall Hill for some distance. Deputy Director Charles Barnes, in plain clothes, arrived almost unobserved, a few minutes after noon, and was soon followed by Inspector Lawton of the western district.

But nothing in the way of trouble materialized A few known characters arrived at intervals, took a look at the "reception committee" and either vanished of their own accord or were invited to do so, quite good-naturedly, by the police.

BANNERS SEIZED The Communist squad of detectives under Lieut. Ennis who toured the city, came across several groups of men carrying banners marching towards the centre of the city. The banners were immediately seized and the paraders dispersed without any trouble of any kind. About 15 banners were captured in this way, but no arrests were made.

Spectators gathered here and there, but were rapidly "moved on" and lunch-going Montreal strolled through the square much the same as usual, the only inquiry being "What is it all about?"

DISTRIBUTORS HELD. Recorder Semple dealt with the distributors of circulars this morning. They were: Henry Harman. 42. 1372 St. Antoine street: Jack Holthum, 36, 1376 St. Antoine street: Joe Kebrick, 22, 5275 Jeanne Mance street: Lina Lann, 18, 167 Mount Royal avenue east: Victor Lalcosky, 38, 1131 St. George street: Steve Obchansky, 57, 974 deBullion street, and George Peters, 29, no given address.

Four of the accused, Harman, Holthum, Kebrick and Lina Lann, pleaded not guilty on their appearance before Recorder Semple today and trial was fixed for next Monday. The remaining three pleaded guilty. Lalcosky was given costs or 10 days in jail, while Obchansky was allowed his freedom on suspended sentence. In the case of Peters, sentence was reserved until tomorrow.

DISTRIBUTING CIRCULARS The seven arrests were carried out on Saturday evening and Sunday by police in different sections of the city. All police allege, were illegally distributing circulars. One of these circulars was produced in court.

Gummed on the back so that they could be stuck on automobile wind-shields, fences and buildings, the circular called upon citizens to demonstrate in Victoria Square at noon on May against what was termed slave camps [relief camps], hunger, Fascism and wage cuts, and for rent for the unemployed and higher relief.

[AL: Reading stories by the bourgeois press in which they celebrate the crushing of dissent, the arrest of individuals for thought crime, and denigrate goals and demands that with hindsight are not so radical at all is always a trip. But then that is much of Canadian media in 1933 as much as in 2023]

[rayanlovestaylor]

.

[stuckinapril]

Wanted to bring some attention to BDS’s Join a BDS Campaign page for anyone who wants to take action locally and isn’t sure where to start. I’ve found multiple organizations in my city through this search engine, and they usually have IG pages/newsletters if you wanna keep tabs. My local organization provides transportation to statewide rallies if you don’t have the means to drive there yourself, hosts phone banks on Zoom where locals collectively call state and city reps and pressure them to publicly speak out against the genocide in Gaza, and organizes fundraisers to raise money to humanitarian aid in Gaza. Basically you’ll have a lot of opportunities to help if that’s something you’re interested in. Marching is an option, but it’s not the only thing if you’d rather get involved in other ways.

It has been so incredibly fulfilling to work alongside people in my city who’re just as invested in Palestine’s liberation as me. I really do recommend this to anyone who’s interested enough and has the time of day to help. If you’re busy, there are still some low-impact things you can do like emailing reps, leaving public comments, and donating. These organizations usually make it more accessible by giving you the resources to assist w that on a local scale. It really does make a difference, however small it may be.

[nightingale-prompts]

Deathday Party

Part of this post series > link

Tim had no idea he was being courted by Danny and was making his way to an official engagement at this rate. What he did know was that Danny had invited him to an important party at the mansion of none other then Vlad Masters.

Danny had mentioned that his family and Masters had a rocky past but it had gotten better before he left for university. Tim wasn't convinced due to the stories Danny had offhandly mentioned. The guy had tried to out Danny to his parents and rallied the town against him. So excuse Tim for not wanting Danny to go back to a homophobic town like that and a bastard who did something so petty just because a kid's mom wouldn't sleep with you.

But Danny was his friend. The only normal friend he had who treated him like this. Sure he really likes giving gifts and has a fascination for flowers but that's all the more reason to look after him. It was pure luck that Tim befriended him before a cult did.

Tim was still going to supportive and still needed to make it up to Danny for not visiting Amity Park last time. So he packed and boarded the plane a few days before the party.

Danny began introducing Tim to everyone in his family. For the most part, it was a warm welcome. Danny's dad told him that they would have to sleep in separate rooms because "He knows how boys could be and there will be no funny business."

Tim was indignant but reminded himself to be polite. Danny's dad may not be the most accepting of LGBT people but this was his home.

Danny only blushed and brushed his dad off, after all, he and Tim hadn't even kissed yet.

Danny's friends were cool though. Sam was definitely the source of Danny's gothic tendencies. She and Danny discussed herbs, crystals, and graveyards together while Tim got to know Tucker.

The next day they went to the Masters' estate and Tim met Danny's other family. Dani or Elle was Danny's little sister or cousin or something. It was confusing but she immediately took a liking to Tim.

"Ooo, he's cute~ You dont mind sharing right Danny?" She teased linking arms with Tim.

"Knock it off Elle. He's too old for you anyway and if Vlad heard you he'd set Tim on fire." Danny admonished her pulling her off by the hoodie.

Tim didn't catch that Danny was being completely serious about the fire part.

Vlad Masters would be out of the house until the party that night but the mansion was being set up for the event. Apparently, the "Deathday" party was a bigger deal than Tim thought. The guest list was a mile long.

From what Tim gathered a death day was a celebration of life after a near-death experience. Like if someone flatlined during surgery and are brought back. Its actually a pretty smart way to deal with trauma by making the event a reason to celebrate.

Tim had heard from Danny of the day he was electrocuted and that it changed his life. He definitely had the scar to prove it. Danny had gotten a UV tattoo over it or something because it glowed faintly at night. It was pretty cool.

That evening Tim was handed his costume for the event. The party had a royal theme, something that didn't seem like Danny's idea. Still, Danny's silver and ivy green dublette looked...pretty good. Tim dressed in a similar red and gold suit.

"You look good." Danny pulled out an ornate emerald cravat pin and pinned it to Tim label.

"You too," Tim said without thinking but Danny smiled before going back to putting the finishing touches on their outfits.

It was...intimate to say the least as Danny pulled back Tim's hair. He fastened their capes and a (fake) dagger to his belt.

Danny put put on a subtle layer of makeup. Darkening his eyes, cheeks, and lips. It gave him a pale and deathly appearance.

"I have to look my best. I don't want anyone to think I'm just using you as arm candy." Danny laughed.

"That implies that you are using me as that already." Tim jested but stopped when Danny pointed to the makeup trey. "You're joking."

"Im not. It's an important event and this isn't Gotham. There are alot of people i want you to meet. Just play along." Danny begged.

Tim agreed letting Danny put on a bit of black and red makeup.

"Aww, Tim. You look absolutely ghastly. Your funeral ready." Danny gushed as he turned to grab the last things they needed. Two circlets with stars emblems embedded in them.

Tim laughed internally. Danny was always to positive Tim forgot just how goth he was. Tim knew he shouldn't be surpised.

Tim and Danny walked to the mansion's ballroom which was full of guests dressed similarly to them. The room glowed eerily under green-flamed torches. Very gothic. On second thought this suited Danny.

A staff member er...servant announced their arrival.

"His Highness the High Prince of the realm of infinite space and his guest."

None other than Vlad Masters approached. He had thrown this party for his godson and wanted everything perfect. He eyed Tim critically before speaking to Danny.

"Daniel I heard about your...friend from Elle. Its that what he is?" Masters studied.

"He's my-"

"Boyfriend! I'm his boyfriend." Tim interrupted. He was not going to let this homophonic piece of shit undermine Danny's sexuality again and try to embarrass him. Especially on such an I'm day. " Tim Drake, son of Bruce Wayne and head of Wayne Industries. I've heard a LOT about you Mr.Masters."

After a moment Vlad nodded and smiled.

"You've chosen well. He's quite the catch my boy. Happy Death Day." Vlad patted Danny on the back before going to mingle with Danny's parents who where tearing up the cheese platter.

Danny blinked owlishly at Tim. Tim had never used that word yet, Danny thought they were not at that stage yet.

"Sorry Danny, i got caught up." Tim sighed.

"You know he's going to tell everyone right?" Danny laughed "I hope you're ready."

Danny dragged Tim to meet his ghost friends for the rest of the evening between dancing and eating.

Tim had fun meeting Danny's fellow goth friends who complimented him a lot. They were definitely strange but they really loved Danny. The whole party was like a Renaissance festival meets one of those novels that Jason loved. Actually, Jason would be so jealous of him right now. Tim made sure to take pictures. Some of them came out fuzzy but it was enough to make Jason mad.

[wilwheaton]

This theory from investigators suggests not simply that Crooks profile matched the sociology and ideation of school/mass shooters but perhaps that he was quite literally planning a mass shooting and the Trump rally, which was announced ten days in advance, simply provided a ready venue for it. I confess even I have some difficulty quite getting my head around this idea. But there it is. And it suggests that rather than some climate of persecution by which “they” – some fuzzy reference to the vast collective of Trump opposition – tried to kill him, as Republicans are now universally claiming, Trump may have fallen victim to the mass shooting/school shooting culture gun rights activists have done so much to foster.

Mass Shooter/School Shooter Theory Gets Some New Proponents

This is what almost exactly what I’ve thought since we found out who the shooter was. 

He’s a standard issue right wing stochastic terrorist.

He’s exactly the kind of person Trump and his cult quietly support and hope to create more of, to terrorize the rest of us into silence.

The right wing lunatics just never stopped to consider that one of these guys, who they have worked to hard to create, enable, and protect, would turn the gun back on them.

Violence is never okay. All violence does is create more violence. And there is one group of people in America who consistently call for, and celebrate violence.

They are, of course, very shocked Pikachu right now.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 15: Spanking/Flogging - Poly! Marauders

Summary: Sirius, ever the one to explore the kinky side of life, has bought a new toy which you're a little apprehensive about.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, foursome (F/M/M/M), polyamory, dom/sub, spanking, sex toy (flogger), punishment, discussion of safe words(!), pain play, overstimulated, begging, crying, praise kink, subspace, aftercare

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“So where did you buy this?” was your first question as you stared at the opened package in the middle of the bed.

“I don’t think you want to know, Darling”, Sirius answers suspiciously as he sweetly kisses your cheek. You give him a deadpan look, not liking the answer at all.

“It looks like something from the dungeons, a torture device or something”. Reaching forward, you picked up the object Sirius called a flogger or whip. It had a black handle with a wrist strap and many thin leather strips coming off the end that swayed when you moved it. Inspecting it closely, you weren’t sure what to make of it, especially the leather material, making it seem almost barbaric.

“So what are you supposed to do with this? Swat flys away?” Your wrist twisted and turned as you pretended to swat an imaginary insect, earning a low chuckle from the three men scattered around the room.

Sirius, the closest to you who was sitting next to you on the bed, edged closer to your body until you could feel his warmth against your arm. Gently, he took the flogger from your grip and moved so that his handsome face was only an inch away from yours. His silky voice dropped an octave, “It’s for a certain naughty girlfriend and boyfriends who need a telling-off on their pretty little arses”.

Hearing this, your eyes zone back to the item, eyebrows furrowing as you bit your lip. “I don’t think I’ll ever be naughty enough for this”. Apprehension settled heavily in your stomach as you weren’t sure if you liked the thought of being spanked with something that looked so medieval.

“You know, we’d never use it on you if you didn’t want us to, right?” Remus reassures from where he is leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed. Your shoulders drop in relief, giving him a thankful smile and nodding your head.

Keeping to their word, the Marauders did not use it on you. However, you were able to watch the flogger being used on the other, more specifically Sirius and James; however, it was mostly the long-haired Marauder that seemed to enjoy it to its full potential.

It was a rare occurrence for one of your boyfriends to receive the punishment in the form of being spanked, but over the recent months, it seemed that Remus, James and Sirius were willing to permit the punishments to each other and not just for you. Usually, it was because Sirius had done a prank without consulting the others, and hence, the rest of the Marauders got into trouble. For James, it was falling behind on his schoolwork because he was too busy practising his quidditch. Everyone tried to rally together to enforce the rules that were in place. It may have seemed like a strict regime to others, but it all returned to the dominant and submissive relationship the four of you shared.

You were the submissive of the group and enjoyed the dynamics more than anything, whereas the guys were more dominant, with rare occasions to switch when feeling particularly needy. There were always safe words in place to protect one another, and aftercare was the most crucial thing - next to communication - so all punishments were prediscussed to make sure they were consented to. They always end with sexual rewards or a feeling of euphoria due to the dopamine released with the mixture of pain and pleasure.

James was the first you got to witness with the flogger. He’d started with spanks to the back of his perfectly sculptured thighs that left red hues in the shape of Remus’ palm against his skin. When checking in with him during the punishment, James informed his boyfriends that he could take more, so Sirius took over with his new flogger. You sat cuddled into Remus’ lap, watching with fascination and morbid curiosity as to what the flogger would be like as you’d been thinking about the toy a lot recently.

It didn’t look or sound as scary as you thought, but James still flinched further up the bed, especially as the leather strips had caught the edge of his balls.

“Holy shit”, James grunted, fisting the shits and burying his face into them.

“Colour?” Sirius asked in a steady, clear voice.

“Green”, James confirmed, glancing over his shoulder with a broad grin.

“Good boy, count with me”, Sirius encouraged. James counted each hit with the flogger, suffering and grunting with each of the impacts but then relaxing into the bed in between during his breaks. By the time he reached number 15, James’ arse was streaked pink, and he was now slumped onto the bed, saying his safe word and that he’d probably had enough. Sirius agreed with him, and they proceeded to give him a lot of comfort and aftercare, being careful to tend to his spanked arse.

The following few times that you’d witnessed the flogger in action was with Sirius, who had been showing James and Remus how to use it properly and how much pressure to put between each hit to ensure it wasn’t too painful for the receiver. He even offered to show you how to use it, but you didn’t feel comfortable giving us punishments of any kind; it felt counter-intuitive, especially as all you wanted to do was cuddle and nurture them when they were crying out through the punishments.

Watching Sirius have a punishment was a special experience in of itself. He was so prideful and addicted to his pain kink that he continued to egg his boyfriends on whilst in the midst of having a punishment. After receiving the spanks delivered by a palm, he would boast and say it wasn’t nearly hard enough. This part of him sparked something in Remus, determined to show him that he shouldn’t be so mouthy. Sirius loved to push people, testing them and himself to see just how much he could take before breaking.

This has its own warnings as it could push the limit of the punishments, becoming dangerous, which is why it was crucial for all four of you to be present during these moments, and if someone deemed anything was going too far, it would stop immediately.

This happened the last time that the flogger was used. Sirius’ arse was perked into the air, the skin warm from the spanks and beginning to deepen in colour, but the palm wasn’t enough, and all he kept doing was mock Remus. “You think that’s a punishment? That was more like a love tap”. Remus soon fell for the teasing and found the flogger, using it on each of his round arse cheeks, the sound of the leather strips was louder than when James had experienced it, but from the noises Sirius was making, it was evident he loved every second. The red areas soon began to raise with hints of swelling from the impact, but Sirius continued to beg for more, needed it as if his life depended on it.

It was James who finally stepped in and said it was enough as he was observing Sirius’ face and could see that his eyes were glazed, even though he was grinning, showing all of his teeth. He looked drunk, and it scared the hell out of you as he was rolled onto the bed, body flopping as his mind was lost in his floating consciousness. However, he kept repeating how good it felt, which was then that you noticed that he’d came on Remus’ thigh just from being spanked.

Following this, your curiosity was peaked. Wondered if you would get the same euphoria that Sirius had experienced, and even though you hated the premie and thought of being punished because you were such a people pleaser, the idea of any of the boys being upset or angry with you shook your very core. However, you did like it when they spanked you during sex; when done right, the mix of pain and pleasure always felt so elating, but you were unsure how much pain was too much.

So, one late evening, the four of you were in the library finishing off the latest essay for Charms. Sirius was sitting to your right, James opposite him and Remus to his right, opposite you. You hadn’t written anything down for the last 15 minutes because you kept contemplating a question over and over in your mind until you couldn’t keep it contained anymore.

“Could you spank me with the flogger tonight, please?”

Many things happened at once. Sirius’ head snapped up to face you so quickly that he, in turn, knocked over James’ ink well, which coated his work. On the other hand, James kicked his legs and bashed into Remus’ shin, who then began to wear and rub his shin whilst looking at you like you had two heads.

Your eyes widen at the reaction, looking between the three of them confused.

“Love, you can’t just say things like this in a public space”, Remus chastises as your face heats in embarrassment with his words, looking over your shoulder, forgetting that you were, in fact, in the middle of the library and hadn’t whispered your words at all.

“Sorry”, you mumble, now deciding to be quiet, hiding your face to look sheepishly at the table, hoping none of the other students have overheard. As you stared at the table, you could see James waving his wand over his work, the spilt ink disappearing as he looked disappointedly at Sirius opposite him.

“Thanks for that, Padfoot; now I’ve got to write that entire sentence again”, James grumbled, annoyed, but he didn’t continue with his writing as he looked in your direction, making you look up to meet his stare, which was when you realised that they’re all looking at you.

Trying not to flinch under their intense stares, you lowered in your seat as Sirius leaned closer, his arm circling around the back of your chair. “Were you being serious about the flogger?”

“I thought you were Sirius”, you quip back with a small smile, earning an eye roll from the long-haired man and a ‘nice’ from James. Sighing, you sit further up in your seat and shift closer to Sirius’ side so you’re beneath his shoulder as his hand moves from the back of your chair to your shoulder, drawing idle circles through your white school shirt. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. I don’t want to try the punishment side of it, but after seeing it used on you, Sirius, I kind of want to try it. Maybe I’ll like it, and if I don’t, I’ll just shake my head or say red like I usually would.”

Sirius grins broadly, his eyes blazing as he glances towards Remus and James, who are nodding in contemplation.

Shuffling in your seat, you continued, “So yeah, I just wanted to let you all know because I couldn’t stop thinking about it”. Picking up your quill once more, you move to continue your essay, “Sorry, I’ll stop interrupting your work”.

Of course, your boyfriends couldn’t return to their essay so quickly as Sirius’ hand landed on your thigh, pushing beneath your skirt so that you could feel the bare skin of his palm and the slight calluses on them from where he held the bat in his Beater position in Quidditch. His plump lips dipped to be near your ear, “Oh Darling, if you think we’re going to go back to work after this, you’re sadly mistaken.

You try holding back your smile by biting the inside of your lips, but Sirius doesn’t need your mouth as his head tilted so he could kiss delicately along your jaw. Your body melted into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as you held onto the hand, squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

The two of you were abruptly interrupted by an obnoxiously loud cough, which forced the two of you thoroughly away from one another; however, Sirius kept his hand steady on your thigh. Next to the table stood a sharp-looking woman with your eyes fixed on a spot on the table as the librarian seethed at you and Sirius. “I don’t want any of that nonsense in my library.” Her eyes flick from an ashamed you to a grinning-ferally Sirius, whose eyes sparked with the confrontation. “Pack your things and get out. All of you”, she adds, looking at the other two Marauders.

The librarian leaves as James grumbles, “Thank Merlin for that, " as he packs his parchment and quills away. 

You’re feeling unsettled as you pack away your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and waiting for the others, but then Sirius is at your side again. “I don’t know why you’re looking so glum. I want to get you back to our room and have some fun”.

Before you can even react, he’s spinning you on the spot and hoisting you over his shoulder, causing your bag to drop to the floor and a scream to leave your lips. Thankfully, Remus picked up your bag and placed it over his shoulder as Sirius laughed loudly as he rushed out of the library with the librarian screaming after the two of you.

Eventually, you begged him to put you down as his shoulder dug uncomfortably into your gut, and you were pretty sure that the back of your skirt had lifted enough that you were flashing people. This didn’t stop Sirius from basically dragging you the remainder of the way, his hand clasping yours in a tight grip as you struggled to keep up with his long legs.

However, once in the Gryffindor Common room, you’re once again being lifted onto his shoulders as he raced up the stairs, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs as you have to stare at the stone floor, gripping the back of his shirt for dear life.

You’re then indelicately thrown onto the magically enlarged bed in the dormitory that you shared with the three men. You squeak in shock as you bounce on the mattress a few times.

“Careful with her Pads, Jesus Christ”, James warns, closing the door behind Remus before locking it.

“She’s okay, aren’t you, Darling?” Sirius assured as he wrapped his long fingers around your ankle and tugged you closer, making you scream in shock and then giggle as he crawled between your legs, kissing the space where your shoulder and neck meet. His arms rest on either side of your head as your fingers run through his hair, brushing it out of his pretty face. His mouth opened further to press sensual kisses along the slope of your neck.

James and Remus smile, watching the glee and happiness on your face from where they had moved to sit on either side of the bed. Remus brushes the back of his fingers against your temple, drawing your attention away from Sirius for a moment. “How do you want to do this? Do you want to get straight into it, or do you want to play first?” Remus asks.

Releasing your hold on Sirius’ hair, you grab Remus's hand and play with his scarred fingers before linking them together, squeezing them for comfort. “I think I want to have some fun first, then when you think it’s appropriate, you can start spanking me”.

Remus nods in understanding, squeezing your hand back in response. James then catches your attention as he dips his face so it's the only thing in your eyeline. “So, when you say you want to play…”, he begins to taunt, but his glasses start to slide down his nose, making you laugh and release Remus’ hand to push the frame back up his nose. “Thank you”, he noted before continuing, “Anyway, does that mean I get to have a taste?”

“Be my guest”, you declare, spreading your legs further underneath Sirius, who is still on top of you. Not for long, though, as James tackles him out of the way and drops to his stomach on the bed, face between your legs as he pushes up your skirt.

Each slowly took turns stripping an article of clothing from your body so their mouth, fingers or cock could draw orgasms from you. Your blood warmed with each one, thighs trembling and drenched with sweat and bodily fluids; your most sensitive areas were throbbing and on the edge of being overstimulated, hole arching from clenched so many times and clit thumping with your pounding heartbeat.

Your face was currently slumped against the silky sheets, mouth open and greedily sucking in air against the material. Sirius was behind you on his knees, cock delved deep into your pussy that was suffocating him to perfection. His hands were massaging your arse cheeks, feeling the soft skin, admiring how they moved and testing how ready you were with some light spanks. They jiggled with the impact. A high-pitched squeal bursts from your lips as well from the sharp skin, but you soon rock back onto his cock, melting into the bed so far that you thought you’d fall right through and onto the wood floor beneath.

Sirius smirked arrogantly at your reaction, doing the spank again with more pressure, causing your shrilled tone to lower. “More, give me more, Siri, please!”

“Your wish is my command, Darling”. With increasing strength, he continued to lay spanks to your arse. It felt so good to have the sharp sparks of pain to the fleshy area and the continued poke of his cock stretching your walls.

Not that you were aware of it, but Remus had rummaged through the box beneath the bed that held all of the naughty items Sirius seemed to have collected over time. Sirius held out his hand for the flogger, accepting it and then running the strands over your naked back for a second as a little warning as to what would occur. Arching your back further, you waited for the first blow as Sirius reminded you of what was discussed earlier, “Remember, shake your head or safe word if it's too much or you need a break”.

“Yes, sir”. Just to be safe so that he didn’t accidentally hit his cock, Sirius eased himself out of you and helped you to lie down with a pillow beneath your hips so that they were elevated and pushing your arse further into the air.

“Relax for me. James is just going to touch you a little to keep you in the right mood”, Sirius advised whilst cupping your warm arse cheek. You remained placid on the bed as your boyfriends moved around you. James appeared first, sitting next to you as his hand pushed between the pillow and your mound until he was cupping over your clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure for you to find some pleasure. Remus sat above your head, gently repositioning your head so that it now rested on his naked thigh.

Your thoughts were only consumed by the fingers resting on your bundle of nerves as your hips rocked hard against James, moaning and increasing your arousal.

“That’s it, good girl. Get yourself off on Prongs’ fingers”, Sirius praises before adjusting his position and readying the flogger. It connects with your left arse cheek. You flinch and squeal at the sharpness of the sting but relax down quickly as it wasn’t as painful as you’d first thought, as Sirius had made sure to go lightly on you. However, the burning pain did deepen into the muscle.

It was better than you thought, so a smile stretched across your lips as you nuzzled further into Remus’ thigh and rubbed your clit harder against James’ fingers.

“Well done, you took that so well, Sweetheart. See, it wasn’t that bad, was it? Let's go for a few more”, Sirius encouraged.

The man on his knees flicked his wrists and spanked both of your arse cheeks one after the other in quick succession. He rotates his hand in circles so that the sharp slaps continue to reign down as you moaned and then whined, the pain getting too much in one moment. Noticing the change in your noises, Sirius gave you a break to rub his large hand over the tender area that was hotter to the touch.

“She’s soaked”, James comments, still massaging your clit in slow circles with four of his fingers. The longer that time went on, the further the warmth in your body spread, creating a satisfied, buzzing sensation throughout your limbs and head.

Sirius continued with the strokes, the strings increasing with each whack of the

 flogger, and with each tap, your hips dug in harder to James' fingers. Sirius made sure to give each of your cheeks equal attention, the surface area deepening in shade and raising in slight swelling.

Your gasps weren’t as deep anymore. Instead, you were sucking in quick, shallow breaths to try and keep yourself stable, but it was doing the opposite as you became more light-headed. Sirius had stopped at this point as Remus began to rub his large hand down your spine in long circles. “Slow your breathing down; you’re going to get lightheaded”, Remus instructed with an authoritative tone. You breathed in through your nose until your lungs were full of air and slowly breathed out through your mouth. Eventually, it helped enough that you began to calm down again, not feeling as lucid as before.

“Keep going, please, Siri”, you mumble against the softness of Remus’ thigh. Sirius looked between James and Remus to see if they agreed that you could or even should continue, but they all nodded as you smiled lazily over your shoulder.

‘Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack’,

Sirius’ wrist continued to rotate, bringing the flogger’s leather strips to contact against your arse. You’re cringing away more, but the burn and the fingers on your clit felt so good it was almost impossible for you to explain how you felt. It was like a perfect balance; the drenching of the sheets beneath your pussy was evidence enough as to how much you were enjoying it. 

Further, you fell into the floating sensation, as if you were weightless. Even though the pain was still increasing, you didn’t want it to stop; you could keep going at this for hours and hours and hours.

“That’s enough”, Remus's voice cuts through the repetitive throughs repeating in your mind as you frown.

In a pathetic whimper, you begged, “No, don’t stop”. You try and wiggle your hips to entice the boys in, but your body is depleted of energy.

“Love, you’re crying. It’s enough”, Remus explained.

‘You were?’ you thought, having previously mistaken the wetness on your face for sweat. Opening your mouth, you tried to take another deep breath like before but realised that your chest was raking with quiet sobs.

James removed his fingers from beneath you and moved off the bed as Remus cradled your face lovingly with a calm touch with his thumb against your cheekbone. “Shhh, you’re okay. The pain is going to stop. You’ve been so good for us”. Remus continues to speak but at a much softer tone, hoping it will calm you down.

“But, I don’t want it to stop; it feels so good”, you say in a bratty tone, all high-pitched and whiny. “I feel so warm and floaty”, a hiccup bubbles from your throat.

“Ah”, Sirius begins talking from behind you, “Should have anticipated this - Oh, thanks, Prongs” he moves aside and allows James to place a wet, cold cloth onto your arse cheek, which causes your body to olt in shock. Shiving from the touch, it also helped scare you into a small reset, the cries stopping.

Remus begins to move out from underneath you, replacing his wet thigh with a soft, comfortable pillow for your head to lie on. Sirius shuffles up the bed so he is lying beside you. “You feeling a little bit spacey, Darling?” Your eyes were closed as you nodded, referring to the submissive headspace you quickly slipped into that made you feel this way, not knowing when something was becoming too painful and needing the others to help you through your vulnerability. “I thought you were”, Sirius continues whilst cupping your cheek, which you immediately nuzzle into.” “Hey, can you drink this for me? It’s ok, I’ll help you; I’ve got a straw”.

Opening your mouth, Sirius directed the straw for you to drink the glass of water Remus had gotten for you. “Well done, you wanna open your eyes for me?” Sirius asks once you’ve finished drinking.

“Too tired”, you say in an exhausted voice.

“Okay, well, how about you eat this chocolate for Remus before stares a hole through my head and James is going to rub some lotion onto the sore area. Afterwards, we’ll try to get some sleep; how does that sound?”

You’re now officially too tired to reply, so just resort to nodding your head. Opening your mouth, Remus feeds you the rich, thick chocolate he has stored in his bedside cabinet as the wet cloth is removed, and James carefully wipes some cooling gel into your arse.

“It’s ok, you’re doing so well”, Sirius encourages, still lying beside you. “Here, let’s get you covered up”. From behind him, Sirius finds a blanket that he folds in half and carefully places over your back, being careful not to be ruined by the lotion. As you’d finished the chocolate, you almost immediately passed out. You’d be sore in the morning, but certain lotions and potions could aid with this that one of the boys could go and steal from the supply cupboard, and you were more than sure that this whole night had awakened something new within your submissive, kinky brain.