#Hill descent control

[savageonwheels]

Review: 2025 Nissan Rogue Rock Creek

The new Rock Creek edition of Nissan's top-selling Rogue impresses in sloppy off-roading test. It's high value and comfy too. There, we said it!

New Rogue Rock Creek rocks in sloppy off-road test … After a couple hundred miles of highway driving in our new Nissan Rogue Rock Creek we were heading down damp country lanes to a mud bog run by the South Bend Sodbusters. These Hoosiers are serious off-roaders and mud lovers with the proving grounds to, well, prove it. It seemed more than obvious that our sparkling Everest White Pearl ($425…

[vmantras]

Lotus Eletre Base: The Ultimate Luxury Electric SUV

₹2.55 Cr Performance & Powertrain Electric Powertrain:The Eletre Base boasts a 450 kW (603 bhp) motor with instantaneous torque delivery, providing a thrilling driving experience. Its single-speed automatic transmission ensures seamless acceleration, which is a hallmark of electric performance. 0-100 km/h in 4.5 seconds: Rivals many sports cars in acceleration. Top Speed of 257.49 km/h:…

[akulride]

Compact SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle) Mild Hybrid(Electric + Petrol) 19.38 km/l Yes (Automatic Climate Control) Android Auto (Wireless), Apple Car Play (Wireless) Midnight Black, Grandeur Grey, Splendid Silver, Arctic White, Nexa Blue, Chestnut Brown ₹ 16.91 Lakh

[hardcoregamer]

After all, there was more to Lovecraft’s writings than just focusing on giant squid monsters like Cthulhu. They dealt with themes of insanity, ancient entities, impossible nightmares, and hopelessness. Now, prepare to step into the realm of cosmic horror and explore the top games that share these elements.

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Omg but you will shorten the war this much? Yes

Omg but you will cut all of- Yes

Omg but you will- YES

That's not my focus bbs I don't even know how to write a war sorry 😚🫶🏻

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, 2,3% book following look at me, mentions of PTSD, character death (more than 1), lots of trauma, war, blood, bit of gore, Tamlin 🤢, Rhysand 😭

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 12: Six Hundred Strike

The battlefield stretched wide before you, the rolling hills of Spring Court now a war camp. The armies of Prythian had gathered, a sight unlike any seen in centuries, warriors from every court, standing side by side.

The Illyrians stood in disciplined ranks, wings tucked close, siphons gleaming in the overcast light. Peregrines from the Day Court waited alongside them, their lighter armor built for speed, their wings flicking in anticipation. Soldiers from Winter, Summer, Autumn, and even the handful from Spring who had abandoned Tamlin’s failures, all waited in formation. Then came the scouts.

A Peregrine landed first, his wings folding as he strode toward Helion. “Hybern is marching.”

An Illyrian warrior, barely seconds behind, knelt before Cassian. “The King is with them. And he has the Cauldron.”

Even with two pieces missing, it was still a force to be reckoned with. A cold weight settled in your chest.

Rhys squeezed your hand once. “We stick to the plan.” He said in your mind. You nodded.

Cassian’s voice rang out, commanding, clear. “Everyone, move into position!”

The army shifted. Prythian’s forces began their descent, moving toward the open valley ahead. The land sloped downward, just enough to disguise their movements, just enough to let them control the battlefield before Hybern fully realized what was happening.

The valley was the perfect trap. And the first step was yours.

Rhysand turned to you, his violet eyes sharp as he opened his hands, power rippling through him. You mirrored him, feeling the raw magic pulse within you, rising, coiling, eager. Together, you misted the battlefield. Hybern’s barriers, carefully crafted shields meant to keep their forces secure, began to break. Like smoke in the wind, they vanished under your power. Holes spread across their formations, gaps in their defense.

Hybern’s army didn’t even realize what was happening at first. Their march continued, blind to the fact that they were now exposed. Until the second wave of magic came crashing down.

"NOW!" Cassian roared.

Prythian’s forces rushed forward. From above, Illyrians and Peregrines launched themselves into the air. From the ground, warriors from every court surged forward, blades drawn, powers crackling. Hybern barely had time to react.

The battle had begun. The battlefield erupted into chaos. Hybern’s forces barely had time to adjust to the sudden breach in their barriers before Prythian’s armies tore through them.

From above, Illyrians and Peregrines dived like shadows and flame, striking with lethal precision. Blades slashed through armor, arrows found gaps in helmets, and magic rained down like a storm.

On the ground, Winter Court warriors fought with icy grace, their swords glowing with frost as they cut through Hybern’s front lines. Summer Court soldiers wielded water like living serpents, drowning foes where they stood.

You didn’t stop moving. With one hand, you misted an approaching commander, his scream barely beginning before he was gone. With the other, you threw out a wall of black fire, forcing back a group of Hybern soldiers who had nearly flanked Vivianne and her fighters. She met your gaze across the battlefield and nodded once before spinning, slashing her twin blades through the next enemy in her path.

Rhys was a storm in the heart of battle. Wherever his shadows passed, Hybern’s forces fell. A general surged toward him, a massive broadsword raised, Rhys merely vanished into the darkness and reappeared behind him, his blade slipping into the man’s spine before he could react.

Cassian and Azriel fought side by side, a deadly whirlwind of steel and magic. Azriel moved like a ghost, his siphons flaring with cobalt light as he cut down three soldiers before they could even lift their weapons. Cassian was a battering ram, using brute force and sheer skill to send Hybern’s warriors crashing to the dirt. He bellowed commands, rallying Illyrian soldiers, dodging a spear at the last second before slamming his blade through the wielder’s gut.

And Hybern was still marching. More soldiers poured into the valley, their sheer numbers pressing forward despite the trap that had been laid for them.

A pulse of power rippled through the battlefield. Not magic from any High Lord. Not a spell from any warrior. No. It was the Cauldron. And whatever the King of Hybern had just done, it was about to change the tide of this war.

The Cauldron’s power struck the battlefield like a hammer. The first time, the shockwave rippled outward, vaporizing Hybern’s own front lines. Screams of confusion and terror erupted from their ranks as soldiers collapsed, their bodies turning to ash. The second time, another pulse, another wave of death. More of Hybern’s forces fell, confusion turning to panic as their king’s magic devoured them. The third time, the air itself seemed to shudder as the Cauldron’s power gathered once more. It took three trials before the king got one right into Prythian’s forces.

But you were already moving. Magic surged through you as you whispered the words, an ancient, bone-deep summons that curled through the fabric of this world and beyond. A shadow deeper than night unfurled in the distance, something ancient and crawling, something that sent a shiver down every spine on that battlefield.

Then, they appeared. The Weaver, standing at the edge of the battlefield, her blood-red cloak billowing, her smile sharp as a blade. The Bone Carver, small and delicate in the boyish form he introduced himself to you — until he wasn’t, until the shadows peeled away, revealing something made of death and prophecy. And Bryaxis, the thing that lived in nightmares, crawled into the world, a shape of pure, shifting terror.

Rhys winnowed to your side immediately.

“What. The fuck. Is this?” His voice was calm, too calm for the situation, his violet eyes wide as he stared at the creatures of legend now standing at your command.

You merely smiled, tilting your head. “I’ve been making friends.”

Rhys blinked. Once. Twice. Then he turned to face you fully.

“How,” he asked, very carefully, “did you even get the Weaver out of her cottage?”

You shrugged. “You gave Feyre free time. I gave her training.”

Rhys made a choked noise. “You are insane.”

You grinned. “Don't worry, I was there the whole time. In case something went wrong, I had an offer to use in exchange for Feyre. Although, I still used it as a sacrifice for Weaver's participation today.”

The Weaver, as if she listened to you, laughed, the sound low and curling like smoke.

Rhys inhaled sharply as if something had just clicked. “Wait. That means—” He stared at you. “Where the hell did Ianthe go when she disappeared a few days ago?”

You just smiled.

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

You said nothing.

“Oh, Mother above.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know.”

You patted his shoulder. “Smart choice.”

Then you turned back to the battlefield, where the Weaver, the Bone Carver, and Bryaxis had begun to move. And Hybern’s army, already broken and bleeding, had nowhere left to run.

The King of Hybern finally stepped forward onto the battlefield. His army lay in ruins, shredded by Prythian’s forces, the Weaver’s hunger, the Bone Carver’s cold blade, and Bryaxis’s living nightmare. He had nothing left.

And yet, he smiled. Because in his hands, he held two girls. Nesta and Elain. Your stomach dropped. But you had to hold your ground.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath. “Damned gossiper motherfucker, Tamlin.”

Rhysand winnowed to your side, his hands clenched into fists as he watched your cousins crying while being held by the enemy. Your mate dripped with regret as he looked at the two humans with nowhere to run. Cassian, Azriel, and Morrigan weren’t far behind, their magic and weapons ready to strike. But the King? He just laughed.

“You all seem so confident,” he drawled. “So sure of your victory. So proud of your… what do you call it? Friendship? Loyalty?” He sneered. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak. Because while you fight with swords and claws and magic, I have this.”

He raised a hand. And the Cauldron pulsed. You braced yourself for another strike. For another death-filled shockwave. But something moved behind the King. Amren. You saw it, the flicker of silver in her mercurial eyes. The otherness that had always lurked beneath her skin.

The King kept talking, as every villain does in books. At some point of your life you believed they wouldn't lose their time explaining their objectives and plans. A good distraction while you slaughtered soldiers around you and as Amren moved. You thought she would deactivate the Cauldron, like she said she was planning to, but the betrayal barely hit your guts as she threw herself into the Cauldron.

A sharp crack split the air. A wound in reality itself. Magic tore free, something old, raw, and endless surging from within that iron bowl. And the King of Hybern screamed. Amren’s true form rose from the Cauldron, wreathed in silver fire. No longer bound by the shape of a High Fae, no longer restrained by flesh and bone. She spread her wings. The King barely had time to react before she grasped him, her claws curling around his throat, and flung him like a discarded doll, right into the center of the battlefield.

The impact shook your ground. He still had one last hit from the Cauldron. And as he lay there, broken and struggling, he reached for its power once more. A final, desperate strike before Amren sucked all the energy from it. The Cauldron shuddered, and unleashed one last pulse of death. Prythian’s army screamed. The warriors fell in droves. Shields shattered. Magic flickered and failed.

But as the bolt of pure energy cut through the battlefield, focusing on the Prythian’s army. You saw how fast Eris moved, subtly, deliberately. A simple push was all it took from him. Just enough to send his father straight into the path of that deadly strike. And Beron Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, was gone with a part of his army. Just like that.

You let out a slow breath, eyes meeting Eris’s across the battlefield. He gave you a polite nod and a knowing smile, running as he slowly felt the trembling sensation of the power of a High Lord filling him.

You arched a brow. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “I didn’t see that.”

As the battle raged on, the sky split with screams and steel. Blood soaked the earth, turning the battlefield into a graveyard for those foolish enough to stand against them.

Then you saw it the exact moment you remembered the captive girls the king was keeping. A flicker of movement, too deliberate, too familiar.

At the edge of the battlefield, Hybern’s soldiers dragged the two figures of your cousins forward, probably going to reach back to their King, who was trying to keep his ground while soldiers fought him on the battlefield. Nesta. Elain. Your heart stopped.

You turned immediately. Reaching for the small bond between you and the Inner Circle. "Mor."

Morrigan landed beside you, her golden hair wild from the wind as her braid was undoing itself, her sword slick with blood. "I see them."

"You need to get them out of here." Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I mean it," you insisted. "Hybern has too many eyes on him. If he gets desperate, he could—"

"Kill them," Mor finished.

Her knuckles whitened around the hilt of her sword. Mor could move faster than any of you and was the least watched one between them. She was your best chance.

“Honestly I feel like I could sacrifice Nesta, but I think Feyre would be mad at me so…” You shrugged as you held your sword tighter, "Get in, winnow out. Straight to Velaris. Nuala and Cerridwen can watch over them," she ordered.

Mor hesitated for only a second. Then she nodded. Without another word, she vanished into the battlefield.

Nesta had never felt this helpless before. Not when her family lost everything, not when she had stared into the eyes of hunger and accepted the proposal of a cousin she never heard of to help, not even when Hybern’s soldiers had dragged her from her manor hours ago. Elain was trembling beside her, her hand clutching Nesta’s wrist like it was the only thing grounding her to reality while they were being dragged in that place of horrors and blood.

The King of Hybern was saying something. Shouting commands to his guards. She wasn’t listening. Because the air wasn't reaching her lungs, her blood wasn't getting to her hands, she almost felt like she could faint right there and then.

But suddenly, the air shifted. Even if she was just human, she still felt as power rummaged around her. A second later, golden power exploded through the running hill. Mor. Hybern’s soldiers barely had time to react before the Third in Command of the Night Court tore through them.

Nesta’s breath caught. Because Morrigan was a storm. She was blade and vengeance and deadly grace, cutting down three of Hybern’s guards before they even had time to scream.

"Nesta!" Mor’s voice was sharp. “I work with your cousin, I will take you and your sister to a safe place, please trust me!”

Before she could think, Mor’s arms were around her and Elain, and the world twisted, turning to wind and darkness. And then, sudden silence. No more battle screams, no command shouts, no more gut ripping. Just Elain's quiet crying as they saw the world around them. They felt the change in their skin as cold, crisp air reached it.

A safe city extendeda around them. They had made it. And right around the corner, Nesta held her sister's hand as another figure approached them, the blond one that brought them here nodded to the other female and disappeared — back to the battlefield, probably. The other figure kept getting closer, slowly, probably to not scare them. When she appeared in the light Nesta and Elain couldn't contain the sound of pure shock as they saw her. Feyre.

☆

You kept cutting your way trying to reach the king. You were going to lose the opportunity if you couldn't get close enough of him to cut his head off. After you killed another male from Hybern, you barely had time to catch your breath before a flash of golden hair caught your eye. Tamlin. Standing there, just beyond the chaos, trying to run away from battle. Running, as if he hadn’t caused all of this. Running, as if he hadn’t sold out Prythian to Hybern. Running, like a coward.

Something inside you snapped. Before you could even think, you growled, your power surging like a tidal wave, ready to crush him.

“Go.” Rhysand’s voice slid into your mind. “Go after him. I’ll handle the King.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Tamlin had already started to run, but you were faster. You winnowed, cutting off his path, appearing in front of him before he could flee like the spineless worm he was. His green eyes widened.

"Don't," he panted. "You don’t understand—"

You punched him so hard in the face that he flew back, crashing into the dirt. "I don't understand?" Your voice was deadly quiet. "I don't understand what, Tamlin? That you sided with the very bastard who commanded the female that kidnapped and tortured Feyre? That you let him march into our lands hoping for a pity future where you would be a puppet High King? That you were too much of a coward to fight back?"

He coughed, spitting blood. Good. You walked toward him, slow, deliberate.

"You could have stopped this," you said, voice laced with ice. "You could have fought for Prythian. You could've told us before. But instead, you let your own ego destroy everything. Because you thought you were entitled to this. Entitled to Feyre. Because you thought your love gave you ownership."

Tamlin snarled, dragging himself up. "I did it for her!"

"For her?" You laughed, dark and cruel. "Then where the fuck were you when she was starving in Under the Mountain? Where were you when she was breaking apart in your manor?"

Tamlin launched himself at you, claws out. But you were faster. You sidestepped and slammed your elbow into his ribs. Hard. Something cracked.

He choked on the impact, stumbling back. You winnowed behind him and gripped his throat. Tamlin gasped. You dug your nails into his skin, watching as his eyes widened in pure terror.

"You don't deserve a quick death," you murmured. You pulled him closer, your lips brushing his ear. "You deserve to suffer," you whispered. "Like all the people you abandoned. Like all the people who begged you for help."

Then you slammed him into the ground. Tamlin howled as you broke his arm, twisting it with a sickening snap. You let him crawl, watching as he clutched his shattered limb, gasping.

"Come on, High Lord," you mocked, circling him like a predator. "Where's all that strength now?"

He tried to winnow. You ripped the air apart, blocking him.

"No," you said, a cold smile curling your lips. "You don't get to run this time."

His breaths came in ragged, panicked gasps. "Please—"

You grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at you.

"Begging, Tamlin?" you mused. "How pathetic."

And then you sank your magic into him. It started as a slow burn. A tendril of power coiling into his veins. Tamlin screamed. You just watched as his muscles locked, as his skin heated, as you let him feel the pure agony of everything he had done.

"Does it hurt?" you asked softly.

He thrashed, trying to fight it, but you only tightened your grip.

"Not enough," you murmured. "Not yet."

You willed the magic to go deeper, to rot him from the inside out. Tamlin convulsed, his body shaking violently, his claws tearing at the dirt. He gasped your name, voice raw, broken. You smiled. With one final push of power, you snapped his spine. Tamlin went limp. His body crumpled into the dirt. You stepped back, breathing even, feeling nothing.

Then, you turned away with no second thought. And left him there to rot. As if he didn't have any importance. And he didn't, not anymore.

☆

Rhysand winnowed through the battlefield, dodging blades and blasts of magic, his only focus on the figure standing at the heart of the chaos. The King of Hybern. The bastard stood tall, watching the battle unfold with calculating indifference, gripping a massive black sword, its blade humming with dark magic — Cauldron-forged. The King noticed Rhys approaching and let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Ah, the infamous High Lord of Night," he drawled, turning to face him fully. "Come to beg for your lands? Your people? Or do you just enjoy groveling at the feet of tyrants?"

Rhys’ lips curled back. "You should know, you’ve been groveling at the feet of a dead female for the past fifty years. Amarantha's sister would be sad to see you lose so badly."

Hybern laughed an ugly sound. "And yet, my commander still broke you."

Rhys’ magic flared in response, sealing off the battlefield, creating a barrier of pure night around them, and trapping the King inside. Hybern’s grin faltered. Rhys stepped forward, voice low, deadly.

"For every comrade, every one of my friends that died in the first war," he said, his power thrumming with rage, "all of whom were slaughtered by your hand… I came to get my revenge."

Hybern lunged, swinging that cursed blade straight for his throat. Rhys sidestepped, moving with trained, practiced ease, and in a flurry of precise movements, he disarmed him. The sword clattered to the ground. Instead of striking, Rhys picked up the King's own weapon, turning it in his hands, feeling the power humming within it.

He pointed it at Hybern’s chest. "You're going to call off that battle."

Hybern sneered, blood-stained teeth flashing. "Or what? You can't kill me with that blade."

Rhysand’s smile was razor-sharp. "Oh, I know."

The King’s eyes widened in realization. "Wait—"

Rhys drove the blade into his side. Hybern screamed. The wound didn’t kill him. But the magic of the Cauldron was incomplete. It no longer made him untouchable. He could still feel pain. And Rhys wasn't done.

He ripped the blade free and slashed again. Hybern staggered, gasping. Rhysand took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"How does it feel to be helpless now?" he murmured, dragging the tip of the blade along Hybern’s chest, watching thin red lines bloom across his skin.

Hybern shuddered, clutching his wounds as they healed just fast enough to keep him alive. Rhysand smiled.

"I watched my friends die in horror many times," he said, slashing across his thigh.

Hybern cried out.

"And for the past fifty years, I saw innocents dying under Amarantha's reign. Under your command." Another strike, a deep cut along his ribs. "I heard them crying as they were slain," Rhys pressed on, his voice cold, merciless. A cut along Hybern’s arm. "I heard their final moments. Begging for their gods." Another strike. "Look what you turned me into." The King groaned in agony, body trembling. "Look what we've become."

"Enough," Hybern gasped.

Rhysand ignored him, swinging again. "All of the pain that I've been through—"

"Stop!"

A deep wound across his chest. "Haven't we suffered enough?"

"Stop!" Rhysand’s blade bit into his shoulder, slicing through flesh.

"Amarantha didn't stop when I begged her," Rhys said softly, stepping closer, watching as the King swayed, barely standing. "She told me to close my mind and enjoy."

"You—" Hybern choked.

Rhys drove the blade into his stomach. The King howled. "She said the world was a dark place for those who dream too much."

Hybern sputtered blood, wheezing. "Monster—"

Rhysand tilted his head, mockingly. "Weren't you the one who taught her that ruthlessness is mercy upon our kind?"

Hybern's knees buckled. "Alright," he croaked. "Please..."

Rhys paused. The King breathed raggedly, blood coating his mouth, a broken, mocking smile curling his lips.

"After everything you've done," Hybern wheezed, voice shaking. "How will you sleep at night, High Lord?"

Rhysand pretended to consider the question. And then he smiled. "Next to my mate."

The King’s expression cracked. And then Rhysand lifted the blade and, in one swift, brutal motion, he cut off the King’s head.

Silence rippled across the battlefield as the soldiers from Hybern dropped their swords as if waking up from a trance. The remaining Hybern generals saw it. Saw the King’s final promise before dying. And they began to retreat. They saw Tamlin's corpse, broken and discarded in the dirt. The soldiers, panicked, and frantic, fell to their knees. And they begged for mercy.

Rhysand stood at the center of the battlefield, Hybern's blood still fresh on his hands. His chest rose and fell steadily, but there was no relief in his expression. Only finality. He turned to the gathered High Lords, their faces painted with exhaustion and rage, the stench of war still thick in the air.

"The rest of Hybern’s army," Rhysand said, his voice carrying across the ruined land. "Do with them as you wish."

No one from the Night Court stayed to watch. They had no more business there.

☆

The battlefield was far behind them when Rhysand found you. His mate. His brilliant, talented mate.

You stood at the edge of a ravine, watching the horizon, the distant glow of the burning Hybern banners flickering in your eyes. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, you turned to him. You both knew. The weight of revenge. The emptiness it left behind. So when Rhysand stepped forward and silently took your hand, you let him.

You had won. But at what cost? You have paid more than enough for the past hundreds of years. This time, the debt of the consequences wouldn't be your value to pay.

Cassian was the first to break the silence when you returned to camp.

"The Night Court forces are already in the healers' tents," he said, his wings tucked close in exhaustion. "We suffered losses, but nothing like Hybern. Or a few other Courts." His hazel eyes flicked to Rhysand. "It was a victory."

A hollow one. Mor appeared next, her golden hair wild from battle, blood still streaking her armor. "Feyre’s sisters are safe." Relief washed through them. "They’re already being taken care of," she added, her voice gentler than before.

Rhysand gave a small, tired nod. And then Azriel approached. His face was carefully blank, but something in his shadows twisted, curling inwards.

Rhysand knew before Azriel even spoke. "We lost Amren." A breath. "She's gone."

The silence was deafening.

Mor staggered back a step, shaking her head. "No. No, she’s— she’s probably fine. Amren always makes it out."

But even she wasn't convinced. Rhysand swallowed. She had thrown herself into the Cauldron. Had given them the only chance to end it. Amren had known. And she had gone willingly.

"She knew what she was doing," Rhysand finally said.

None of them responded. Because this war had stolen too much already. And now, it had stolen Amren, too.

“One day after the other,” you said in a whisper, hair sticking to your forehead, blood and sweat mixing on your body “We live one day after the other now.”

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @lreadsstuff @oiolabomdia @jaybbygrl @traiitorjoe

[evermoreness]

full moon | wolfstar

summary: sirius and remus are parents of a little boy with lycanthropy. after a full moon, it's time for sirius to take care of his boys.

masterlist

The full moon hung high in the sky, its pale light spilling over the forest behind the Lupin-Black house. Inside, Sirius sat on the floor, his hands resting on Auggie’s shoulders. The boy’s breathing was ragged, his small frame trembling as he fought against the inevitable transformation. Remus stood nearby, leaning heavily on the wall, his eyes locked on his son with a mix of sorrow and determination.

Augustus, or Auggie, was just five years old. He came into their lives in a very odd way. Sirius and Remus never thought about being parents, both of them had too many problems of their own to take care of another person. But when Dumbledore said to Remus he saw a werewolf boy in St Edmunds children's home for boys, Remus couldn't let the little guy there. Auggie reminded him of his own childhood, and by the time, he wished that someone had helped him. After much talking, Remus and Sirius decided to adopt him, and quickly Auggie became the center of their lives.

“It’s going to be okay, kiddo” Sirius murmured softly, his voice steady even though his heart was breaking. “I’m here. Your papa’s here. We’ll get through this together, like always.”

Auggie whimpered, clutching at Sirius’s shirt. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking. “I don’t want to be bad.”

“You’re not bad,” Sirius said firmly, tilting Auggie’s chin up so their eyes met. “You hear me, wolfie? You’re good. You’re so good, and nothing that happens tonight will ever change that.”

Of course, Moony and Padfoot had to find a nickname for Auggie too, and that was Wolfie.

Remus knelt down beside them, his hand brushing back Auggie’s sweat-dampened hair. “Sirius is right,” he said gently, though his own voice was tight with pain. “The wolf doesn’t define you, Auggie. You’re stronger than it, and we’ll be with you the whole time.”

Auggie nodded weakly, tears spilling over as the first wave of pain hit him. Sirius quickly kissed the top of his head before stepping back and transforming into Padfoot, his black fur gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window. Moments later, both Auggie and Remus began to change, their bodies twisting and contorting as the wolves inside them emerged.

The night was long and chaotic. In his wolf form, Auggie was wild and unpredictable, snapping at the trees, growling at the moon, and running in circles with boundless, untamed energy. Remus, more controlled but still fierce, kept a watchful eye on his son, occasionally nudging him back when he strayed too far.

Remus, with the wolfsbane potion, could keep his human mind while in wolf form, so for him it wasn't too bad, and he could keep an eye on his boy and with the help of Sirius, make Auggie be safe.

Padfoot was everywhere at once, chasing after Auggie to keep him from getting lost in the woods, then darting back to Remus to make sure he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. At one point, Auggie lunged at a tree with such force that he stumbled and rolled down a small hill, yelping in surprise. Padfoot was at his side in seconds, nudging him upright and licking his face to calm him down.

The young wolf growled softly, snapping his jaws at Padfoot, but the black dog stood firm, his tail wagging slightly in reassurance. Auggie eventually relented, letting out a low whine before bounding off again, his energy seeming endless.

The hours dragged on, and as the moon began its descent, both wolves started to slow down. Auggie’s wild movements became more erratic, his growls weaker, while Remus stayed close, his golden eyes filled with worry.

When the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the transformation began to reverse. Sirius watched helplessly as both his husband and son writhed in pain, their bodies shrinking back to their human forms. By the time it was over, Remus was sprawled on the ground, breathing heavily, while Auggie lay curled up in a ball, his small body trembling.

Sirius immediately transformed back, rushing to gather them both into his arms. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Auggie whimpered, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “Dad… hurts…”

“I know, Wolfie,” Sirius said, his eyes full of worry. “I know it does. But I’m here, and we’re going to take care of you. Just rest, okay?”

Remus managed to sit up slightly, wincing as he cradled his arm, which bore a fresh gash. “Is he…?” he started, his voice rough.

“He’s alright,” Sirius assured him, brushing a hand over Auggie’s sweat-soaked hair. “You both are. Let’s get inside.”

With effort, Sirius managed to carry Auggie while helping Remus to his feet. Back in the house, he settled them both on the couch, wrapping them in blankets and making sure they were comfortable. Auggie clung to him, his small hand clutching Sirius’s shirt.

“Papa?” Auggie rasped, his blue eyes barely open.

“I’m here, Auggie,” Remus said, reaching over to touch his son’s cheek. “You did so well tonight. I’m proud of you.”

Auggie’s lip trembled, and a single tear slid down his face. “I tried… to be good…”

“You were more than good, kiddo” Sirius said, his voice full of conviction. “You were amazing. You’re the strongest little wolf I know.”

Auggie managed a faint smile before his exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted off to sleep. Sirius leaned back, running a hand over his face as he looked at Remus. “You’re not doing so great yourself, Moony,” he said softly.

Remus gave him a tired smile. “Nothing a nap and some potions won’t fix.”

Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’ll take care of everything. You just rest.”

And as the sun rose higher, Sirius stayed by their side, watching over his little family with unwavering love and determination.

Sirius rubbed his tired eyes as he stood up, glancing over at his husband and son, both curled up on the sofa. Remus was drifting in and out of consciousness, pale and clearly in pain, while little Auggie lay against his papa’s chest, his small hand gripping a fold of Remus’s blanket. The sight made Sirius’s heart ache, but he forced a smile onto his face, determined to stay strong for them.

“Alright, my two favorite wolves,” he said softly, crouching beside the sofa. “Time for some medicine. I know you both hate it, but it’ll help, I promise.”

Remus groaned, cracking one eye open. “You always say that, Pads�� still tastes like rubbish.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll add chocolate next time,” Sirius teased, ruffling Remus’s hair affectionately. “You first, Moony, since you can’t run away from me.”

Remus rolled his eyes but obediently took the potion Sirius handed him, grimacing as he swallowed it. “Merlin, that’s vile.”

“You’re my hero,” Sirius said with mock sincerity, pressing a quick kiss to Remus’s forehead. “Now for the real challenge—Wolfie.”

Auggie whimpered softly as he woke up again, he looked at Sirius, knowing very well his dad was going to make him take some horrible potion, shaking his head even before Sirius could approach him. “No, Dad… it’s gross. I don’t wanna.”

“I know, kid, I know,” Sirius said gently, kneeling in front of him. “But it’ll make you feel better, I promise. And if you take it, I’ll let you pick a chocolate from your Papa's secret hiding spot. Deal?”

"I didn't agree with that" Remus said, though he had a faint smile on his face.

Auggie hesitated, his blue eyes brimming with tears. “Any chocolate?”

“Any chocolate” Sirius confirmed with a grin. “Even if it’s the one with strawberry pieces inside that your father won't even let us have a taste”

The corners of Auggie’s mouth twitched upward, and he reluctantly nodded. Sirius quickly measured out the potion and held it up. “Alright, here we go. Quick as a snitch, yeah? One, two—”

Before Sirius could say “three,” Auggie scrunched up his nose and drank the potion, coughing and shuddering afterward. “Blegh! Dad, it’s worse than broccoli!”

“Nothing’s worse than broccoli,” Sirius said with mock horror, making Auggie giggle despite himself. “Good job, kid. You’re braver than me.”

He scooped Auggie into his arms, careful to avoid his bruises and scratches. “Let’s get you cleaned up now. Papa needs a nap, and you, my little troublemaker, need to stop smelling like a wild wolf.”

Auggie leaned against Sirius’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around his dad’s neck. “I’m sorry I smell bad.”

Sirius chuckled softly. “You don’t smell bad, Auggie. You smell like adventure. But let’s get you all fresh and cozy, alright?”

In the bathroom, Sirius gently set Auggie down on a stool and began running warm water in the tub. “Now, no funny business, Wolfie,” Sirius warned with a playful smirk as he helped Auggie, taking off the blanket that was wrapped around him “I’m onto your tricks.”

“I don’t have energy for tricks,” Auggie mumbled, his voice small.

Sirius paused, his heart clenching at the sight of his son’s tired face. “I know,” he said softly, brushing a strand of brown hair away from Auggie’s forehead. “That’s why I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

He carefully lowered Auggie into the tub, using a soft cloth to clean away the dirt and dried blood. Sirius hummed a gentle tune as he worked, trying to keep the mood light. “You know, i find those scars of yours to actually be so cool”

Auggie blinked up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Sirius said, a small smile on his lips. “I wish i had them myself, but your father refused to scratch my face..." His voice with fake sadness. "I was already thinking of matching scars and all”

Auggie giggled weakly. “You are crazy, dad.”

“Well,” Sirius said, his voice dramatically, “I kinda feel left out here, wanna teach me how to become a werewolf? Because your father keeps saying i can't turn into one”

Auggie’s laughter was soft but genuine, and Sirius felt a swell of pride. “There’s that smile,” he said, leaning down to kiss Auggie’s forehead.

After the bath, Sirius dried Auggie off and carefully dressed him in his softest pajamas. As he patched up the boy’s wounds with salve and bandages, he kept up a steady stream of chatter, telling silly stories and making exaggerated faces whenever Auggie winced.

Finally, Sirius carried him to his bed, tucking him in with his favorite stuffed animal—a small, scruffy dog that looked suspiciously like Padfoot. “There we go,” Sirius said, fluffing the pillows and smoothing the blankets. “The coziest little wolf den in all of Britain.”

Auggie looked up at him, his blue eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand through Auggie’s hair. “You don’t have to thank me, kiddo. Taking care of you is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Auggie yawned, his eyelids already drooping. “Love you, Dad.”

Sirius’s chest tightened with emotion, and he leaned down to kiss his son’s forehead. “I love you too.”

As Auggie drifted off to sleep, Sirius lingered for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his little boy’s chest. Once certain he was comfortable, Sirius stood and headed back to the living room, ready to take care of Remus next. Despite his exhaustion, Sirius wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

Sirius returned to the living room, where Remus lay slumped on the sofa, his eyes barely open but still watching Sirius with a soft, tired expression.

“Well, Moony,” Sirius said, crouching down beside him, “your turn. Don’t think I’m letting you off easy just because you’re adorable.”

Remus let out a weak chuckle, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Adorable, am I? I thought I was your fearsome werewolf husband.”

“Oh, you’re fearsome all right,” Sirius teased, brushing a strand of hair away from Remus’s damp forehead. “Fearsome enough to scare the socks off me—especially when you start growling at me for not folding the laundry.”

Remus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” Sirius said, grinning as he carefully helped Remus sit up. “Now, come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up before you start smelling like wet fur.”

“I’m too tired to move,” Remus groaned, leaning heavily against Sirius.

“Good thing I’m the strongest, most dashing man alive,” Sirius quipped, sliding an arm under Remus’s knees and lifting him effortlessly. “See? Easy.”

Remus let out a small grunt but wrapped an arm around Sirius’s neck, resting his head against his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous, Pads.”

“Ridiculously handsome,” Sirius agreed, carrying him to the bathroom. “Now, no complaining, Moony. You know the drill.”

As Sirius set him down on a small bench near the tub, Remus gave him a weary but fond smile. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t start that,” Sirius said softly, crouching in front of him and gently cupping his face. “You deserve all of this and more, Remus. So no sad emotional stuff, ok?”

Remus swallowed hard, a faint smile on his lips. “You have no idea how much i love you, do you?”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” Sirius replied with a wink. “You married me, didn’t you? That’s a pretty solid clue.”

Remus chuckled, his laughter turning into a soft sigh as Sirius started helping him out of his bloodied blanket that was wrapped around him. Sirius was careful, his touch as gentle as ever, his hands lingering just long enough to make Remus feel grounded.

“Bath time, Mr. Lupin-Black,” Sirius announced, turning to test the water temperature. “Do you want bubbles? Or is that too much excitement for one night?”

“You’re insufferable,” Remus said, shaking his head but smiling despite himself. “But… bubbles might be nice.”

Sirius grinned, pulling out a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath. “Anything for my Moony”

As the tub filled, Sirius helped Remus ease into the warm water, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid causing any unnecessary pain. Remus let out a contented sigh as the water enveloped him, his tense muscles beginning to relax.

“This feels... amazing,” Remus murmured, leaning back against the tub.

“Good,” Sirius said, rolling up his sleeves and kneeling beside the tub. He grabbed a washcloth and started gently cleaning the dried blood and dirt from Remus’s arms. “You deserve to feel amazing, love.”

Remus watched him quietly for a moment, his gaze soft. “You really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Sirius.”

Sirius paused, his hand resting on Remus’s arm. “Moony, you can’t say things like that when I’m already trying not to cry from exhaustion.”

Remus chuckled weakly. “I mean it, though. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” Sirius said, resuming his careful work. “You’re stuck with me for life, Moony.”

Once Remus was clean, Sirius helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a fluffy towel, patting him dry with the same care he’d shown Auggie. “There we go,” Sirius said, guiding Remus back to the bedroom. “All clean and ready for bed.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Remus teased, his voice laced with affection.

“It is romantic,” Sirius countered, pulling out one of Remus’s softest sets of pajamas. “If patching you up and tucking you into bed isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

After helping Remus into his pajamas, Sirius guided him to bed, propping up pillows and fussing over the blankets until Remus was perfectly comfortable.

“There,” Sirius said, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing a hand through Remus’s damp hair. “Good as new.”

After that, Sirius saw Remus quickly drift off to sleep due to exhaustion, and went straight to take a shower himself, the night was long enough.

Sirius barely remembered crawling into bed after his shower, the exhaustion from the night finally catching up with him. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of Remus’s steady breathing beside him. Sirius’s body ached from chasing two werewolves all night, but the comfort of his soft bed and the knowledge that his family was safe eased him into a deep sleep.

By lunchtime, the sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Sirius stirred faintly at the sound of small feet padding across the floor, followed by the soft creak of the bed as little hands gripped the mattress. He opened one eye just in time to see Auggie trying to climb onto the bed, his movements slow and careful due to his still-tender wounds.

“Need a hand, kid?” Sirius whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep but full of affection.

Auggie nodded, his blue eyes bright despite his obvious exhaustion. “I didn’t wanna wake you,” he croaked softly, his voice rasping from the strain of the night before.

“You’re terrible at sneaking,” Sirius teased quietly, sitting up just enough to reach over and scoop Auggie into his arms. “Come here, you little rascal.”

Auggie nestled against Sirius’s chest, letting out a small sigh of contentment as Sirius adjusted the blankets around them. “Papa’s still sleeping?” Auggie asked in a hushed voice, glancing at Remus, who was still deeply asleep beside them.

“Yeah, and you should be too,” Sirius murmured, running a hand through Auggie’s soft brown hair. “Last night was rough, and you need to rest.”

Auggie shook his head stubbornly, his small fingers clutching the fabric of Sirius’s shirt. “I’m not tired,” he whispered, though his heavy eyelids said otherwise.

Sirius chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his son’s head. “You’re as stubborn as your father, you know that?”

Auggie smiled faintly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m like you too.”

“That’s true,” Sirius said, his tone warm. “You’ve got my devilish charm and my good sense of humor. Poor Remus doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

Auggie giggled quietly, his laugh raspy but genuine. “You’re silly, Dad.”

“And you love it,” Sirius replied, giving him a little squeeze. “Now, let’s keep it down so we don’t wake Papa, yeah? He needs his rest.”

Auggie nodded, resting his head against Sirius’s chest, his small body relaxing as Sirius continued to stroke his hair. Despite his earlier protests, Auggie’s eyes began to droop, the warmth and comfort of his dad’s embrace lulling him closer to sleep.

Sirius glanced over at Remus, who was still peacefully asleep, his face looking softer and less lined with worry than usual. The sight made Sirius’s chest tighten with emotion. He loved them both so much it hurt, and he hated seeing them in pain.

“You’re so brave, kiddo” Sirius whispered, his voice meant only for Auggie, though the words carried the weight of a promise.

Auggie murmured something unintelligible, already half-asleep. Sirius smiled, brushing another kiss against his son’s temple.

“I’ll always take care of you both,” Sirius said softly, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him. “No matter what.”

As Auggie drifted off in his arms, Sirius leaned back against the pillows, holding his little boy close. He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but moments like this—safe, warm, and surrounded by love—made it all worth it.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 5: Xiao x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5839

Warnings: afab!reader, Traveler reader, rough sex, feral, biting/marking, outdoors, piv, creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus

A/N: There's nothing in canon that says Xiao's karmic debt can't be soothed with pussy so ...

⭐

Shrieking a shrill cry of defeat, the small band of Hilichurls turn tail and make a hasty break for it away from the nearby road, heading further out into the reclusive safety of Liyue’s wet marshlands. You watch them go to make sure they won’t try to regroup and come after you again before slowly relaxing out of your fighting stance. Well, that took care of that. 

Straightening up, you sheathe your sword at your hip and breathe out a terse sigh. They were getting far too close to Wangshu Inn, the silhouette of the impressive monument looming up out the faint mist in the near distance. You could see it clearly from where you were standing which meant the  Hilichurls in this area were starting to get braver. 

But the road here was much too busy with an endless procession of traveling merchants and people making their way to or from Mondstadt for them to be left to their own devices for very long. They’d probably come back eventually, driven by hunger and the promise of easy targets, and they might even bring reinforcements with them the next time when you weren’t here to deal with the problem. You should tell Xiao about this. 

Your heart gives a dull throb inside your chest at the thought of the elusive Yaksha and you catch yourself starting to anxiously fiddle with the grip of your blade. It seemed that every time you were lucky enough to encounter him you walked away from it with a stronger sense of connection than before and it was starting to get a little embarrassing. Good thing you’d left Paimon back at the inn to await your return while you ran an errand for Verr Goldet, so at least she wouldn’t be here to witness your steady descent into lovesickness. You’d never hear the end of it if she ever caught you making puppy eyes at him. 

Feeling unusually self conscious, you walk across the grassy, sloping hill to step into the shade of a small copse of trees and underbrush where you could call upon him in relative privacy. You were sure he’d appreciate that too, though you didn’t doubt he would heed your summons no matter where you were when you uttered his name. He’d already shown you multiple times now that he was always listening and that the unnamed bond between you two reached much farther than any mere stretch of land could hope to impede no matter its distance. 

So you stand there under the rustling canopy of close cropped trees, feeling the wind in your hair as you draw a deep breath to ground yourself. It wasn’t that the thought of seeing him made you nervous, per say, but the flutter of butterflies in your stomach was undeniable. You wanted to make sure you were ready. 

Or as ready as you could be, anyway. 

“Xiao, are you there?” 

A single heartbeat passes before you feel the displacement in the air, the faint stirring of energy that momentarily spikes before receding back to nothing again. It seems to make the wind pick up just enough to tease at your hair a little more briskly than before but that too quickly settles back down. All at once you can feel his presence standing behind you and you turn to greet him with a smile only to come up short when you abruptly stop dead in your tracks. 

Something wasn’t right. 

You innately understand that as soon as you set eyes on him and the once silly, romantic notions that had set you abuzz promptly morph into chilly uncertainty. His posture is stiff and visibly locked, as if he were physically holding himself in check, and the fact he does not look at you only further solidifies that impression. Rather he keeps his head down, attention focused on the ground while a faint shudder works through his slight frame. 

Your pulse immediately starts to gallop out of control. What was going on here? 

“Traveler.” He grits out with no shortage of effort, and you quickly take an impulsive step towards him. 

“Xiao? Are you alright?” 

“Don’t!” 

Jolting to a sudden halt with your hand half of the way up to reach for him, you just stare at Xiao in wide eyed disbelief. You’d never seen him like this, had certainly never heard him raise his voice to snap at anyone quite like that before, and the fact he’d directed it at you? It almost breaks your heart. 

“I’m sorry.” You relent, keeping your voice soft and even so as not to spook him any more than you evidently already had. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to overstep. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

He viciously seethes through his gnashing teeth, narrow shoulders hunching slightly with the apparent effort of keeping himself upright. You can see the vague tremble in his legs from where you’re stood watching him, as if they were threatening to give out under his weight at any moment, and you start to wonder if he was hurt. But try as you might, your frantically searching gaze can’t spot the tall tell signs of any wounds on him. No blood, either. Not even a smudge of dirt on his perfectly clean white shirt. 

Groaning a tortured sound, Xiao abruptly pulls in on himself and hunches forward as his hand comes up to cup his face. It looks like he’s about to either violently regurgitate everything in his stomach or pass out, possibly even both, and you almost steel your resolve to close the distance regardless of what he had to say about it. But then he finally manages to speak again. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this … the karmic debt — nghn! It’s acting up again, Traveler. I don’t know why. It was slowly getting better recently but now …” 

Understanding washes over you and eases some of the anxiety riddled concern that grips you in a chokehold. You only knew a very small amount of the symptomatic pain Xiao had to live with as a result of his long life spent accumulating the karma of those he felled with his jade cut spear, but you were at least knowledgeable enough to grasp what was happening. Just an agonizing flare up, that’s all. It was much preferable to him being injured and you unable to help him when he didn’t want you getting any closer. This, at least, you should be able to handle. 

“It’s alright, Xiao. Please don’t apologize for something you have no control over. I’m not going to hold it against you or let this change how I feel about you. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“But - -!” Snarling, he gives his head an aggressive shake as if to clear it of some great fog. “I’m dangerous like this, Traveler! I — I should go. You’re not safe as long as I’m here.” 

“That’s not true.” You insist, gentle yet firm as you take a slow, cautious step forward. For better or worse he seems to be a bit too caught up in the attack plaguing his body and he doesn’t appear to notice, so you make careful work of creeping closer to him one pace at a time. “I trust you, Xiao. I always have and I always will. Please don’t go. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.” 

“Help? How do you expect to help someone like me?” The Yaksha croaks an awful sound as he yanks his hand away and snaps his head up to bark at you. “This is my punishment! I don’t deserve your - -“

He cuts off with a sudden jerk, eyes going big and round when you slide your hands up to cup his cheeks between your palms. The two of you are almost perfectly level with one another, allowing you to unhesitatingly meet his gaze straight on and show him that you weren’t afraid. 

“That’s not true and you know it. Or at least, I hope you do?” 

Inquisitively tipping your head, you watch him rapidly search your face with quick, jerky eye movements — for what, you do not know — before hesitantly trying to shirk away. You hold fast though, squishing his soft cheeks to keep him in place. No way were you going to let him escape that easily. 

“I’m sorry I called for you at such a bad time but please stay. I know it’s hard, and I can tell you’d rather isolate yourself right now,” You try again, hoping the sincerity of your pleas will get through to him. “At least let me try to help you through it though. I’ll do whatever you need me to, Xiao. Just tell me how to make this better.” 

His mouth warbles open as if to speak again but nothing comes out. He just stares at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, standing before him with your hands gently cradling his face. But this close proximity allows you to see exactly how much this is affecting him, from the visible tension that makes the skin around his eyes look taut and waxy, to the tortured line of his brows. He’s covered in a fine sheet of sweat, too. 

If you didn’t know any better you’d think Xiao was actually sick and you have to remind yourself that this was not something a doctor could cure. What ailed him wasn’t the sort of illness that would respond to medicines infused in herbal teas or even that of tightly packed pills, but rather it was something that likely only resided in his heart and on his soul. There was no miracle elixir for this sort of pain. 

Shuddering fiercely, Xiao at last brings himself to stir out of his trance-like state and he weakly tips forward with a halting motion. You realize his mouth is slowly angling towards yours in a far off, dreamy sort of way but his gaze never so much as falters from your eyes while he does it. His haunted stare reads of desperate longing and unimaginable pain in equal parts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to show your surprise when he was looking at you like that. 

All you can do is accept the featherlight kiss he hesitantly places on your mouth even when your heart jackhammers up into your throat. He reminded you a bit too much of a skittish animal in that moment, something wounded and perhaps even a little scared, and that stops you from giving it a bigger reaction than the simple brush of your lips when you kiss him back. You were glad to accept him, all of him, both the good and the bad. The gentle side of him that you were most accustomed to seeing as well as the merciless avenger that stalks through the shadows of Liyue’s nights, and you were determined to show him that.

And he seems to understand what you’re trying to convey to him because he hisses a faltering groan into the scant space between you two. His lips tremble slightly when they work over yours as if he were trying to speak again but still nothing comes out. Encouragingly, you slide your hands down off his cheeks and reach back to pull Xiao further against you, hoping your welcoming body language might be enough to soothe some of the anguish he was enduring. 

He stumbles into you with the motion, slight though it had been, and his stiffly poised hands come up to grab onto your waist, squeezing you hard enough to bruise. You don’t give this a reaction either, merely wincing at the pain while you hold him tight and murmur gentle nothings against his ear. Issuing a low, rumbling growl in response, Xiao digs his fingers into the soft give of your middle and leans his weight further into you until you have no choice but to stumble back a step. 

“Traveler … you don’t understand how — nghn, how dangerous this is. I could hurt you.” 

“But you won’t. I know you won’t, Xiao.” 

Another rumbling snarl rises in his chest, bleeding into you where you’re pressed right up against him to set your nerves vibrating. You aren’t sure what to make of it or how to convince him that you could handle whatever he threw at you if he’d just allow himself to let go instead of holding onto it so tightly. 

But then he suddenly drags his shaking hands lower to latch onto your hips and he lifts you so abruptly you can’t quite stop the gasp that rattles out of you. Your feet barely have enough time to leave the ground before he’s stumbling forward to shove you back into the sturdy trunk of a tree, the rough bark scratching and digging into your spine. You barely even notice it though as he presses himself flush to you and settles his hips between your legs to pin you there. 

Panting even harder than before, Xiao turns his face and hurriedly finds your lips to kiss you again, except this time it’s much less hesitant. There’s a voracious hunger in him now that he seems to think can be sated if he just feasts from your mouth enough. You aren’t so sure that’s true or that it will fix anything, but you don’t hesitate to throw your arms around his neck as you kiss him back with abandon. If this had even an infinitesimally small chance of easing some of the pain he was forced to suffer you were happy to do it. 

Responding with a haggard sound of relief, Xiao fully sinks into you until your back starts to ache in protest where it’s forced to bend against the contours of the tree. It didn’t exactly bode well for how the rest of this encounter was going to play out if you were already getting banged up this much, but you pay it little mind in the heat of the moment. You’d figure out how to explain all the scrapes and bruises you were sure to walk away from this with later. For now you just focus on the frantic push and pull of his mouth, and the groping squeezes he gives your hips while your own excitement steadily builds, meeting him head on. 

It takes you a prolonged moment to realize he’s trying to hike your dress up, fumbling with the material as if he wasn’t quite sure if he should be doing that or not. One moment his fingers are impatiently tugging at it to get the skirt out of the way and the next he’s roughly smoothing it back down to clutch it in a death grip instead. You quickly grow tired of his polite indecision though and, still kissing him, you reach down to squeeze a hand between your body’s. 

Blindly snagging at the fabric, you yank it up in a single motion and rip one side of it right out of his grip. With nowhere else to go now, his palm possessively curls around your bare waist to give it a tight, pinching squeeze that makes you start to feel lightheaded. Groaning softly against his lips, you struggle to pull back so you can knock your head against the tree, panting up at the dancing leaves overhead. 

“Xiao - -!” 

“I’m sorry.” He rushes to say even as his mouth descends upon the vulnerable line of your throat to kiss and nip at the skin there. “I’m sorry, Traveler. I shouldn’t — be doing this.” 

You take a breath to tell him that was a ridiculous and unnecessary thing to say, but before you can get the words out the hand not currently pulling on your bloomers flies up to grab at your top. One good yank is all it takes for one side of the bodice to come down, spilling your breast out into the open, and you choke on a haggard sound of pleasure. 

The nipple was already tentatively pebbled with excitement but it just stiffens into an even tighter bud when it hits the cool air full on. And Xiao barely even gives you enough time to register that sensation before he curls himself down over your chest so he can catch that straining peak in his mouth. No warning, no questions asked. You just suddenly feel a quick, sharp suck at the tit and you shudder fiercely as you writhe back against the tree. 

Ever conscious of the fact that this was happening outside where someone could happen upon the scene at any given moment when you were only just concealed within the copse, you turn your head to look back at the road. You can see it clearly from where you were standing but you hoped anyone who might happen to pass by wouldn’t be able to see through the tightly cloistered branches, at least not enough to tell what was happening. 

But you trusted Xiao even in this state to be aware of any approaching interlopers, and you quickly turn your attention back around to him. His svelte frame continues to tremble and heave against yours even while he’s burying his face in your chest, as if the roiling pangs of agony were still gripping him tight, but now that he had something else to focus on it seemed to be a little bit more bearable for him. You were exceedingly grateful for that, seething softly through your teeth when you reach down to tenderly cradle his head against your breast. 

“Don’t hold back, Xiao. It’s okay. I’m here for you, I promise. Just let it out.” 

Issuing a vibrating growl around your nipple, he gives his head a brief shake and shoves his mouth deeper into the plushy give. He harmlessly gums at your teat for a brief moment but then his teeth come down around the areola in a quick bite, sinking into the flesh to draw it towards the back of his throat, and you let out a startled yelp. It does more to excite you than deter you though, and you fitfully squirm in place where he’s got you pinned against the unmoving trunk while he works to suckle your breast to straining sensitivity. 

The building tension in your loins steadily mounts with his ministrations until you finally can’t take it anymore, reaching up to tug the other half of your dress down. Your neglected tit hits the air with the same rush of sensation as the first, making you squeeze your thighs together in a blithe attempt to lessen some of the sticky discomfort there. 

Luckily Xiao isn’t so far gone not to notice though, and he finally pulls off your now aching, spit coated teat so he can redirect his mouth to the other. A sudden ‘oh!’ bursts out of you when he latches on, nipping at the fleshy bud, and you slowly tip your chin down to look at your chest. You’re immediately wracked by a sharp tremor when you see how puffy and flushed the abandoned nipple has become, the lingering indent from his teeth still marring the skin. 

Gods, he was going to have you all marked up by the time he was finished. 

But that thought doesn’t alarm you half as much as it probably should, and you groan softly into the static charged air as you needily grind your cunt against the front of his pants. The rigid bulge there is unmistakable when it twitches against you, straining out as if with a mind of its own to seek the entrance of your body. 

That seems to be what finally makes him stir from your breast, and he slowly lets the swollen bud slip past his lips as he pulls back to look at you. Neither of you says a word while you stand there, panting heavily against one another, but the message is still heard loud and clear. 

All at once both of you are moving, and Xiao roughly spins you around to face the tree as you fumble to get your dress pulled up around your waist. He only stops long enough to yank your bloomers down around your knees and then he’s grabbing hold of your hips so he can pull you back against him, shoving his cock up against your cunt from behind. You let out a frazzled, eager moan at the pressure, mindlessly pushing back on him to drag your pussy across his pants and the stiff outline of him within while he hurriedly fumbles with the sash around his waist.  

The noisy clatter of various accouterments falling to the ground sounds deafening in your ringing ears and it’s quickly followed by your sword when he rips it off you to toss it aside. Both of you are in such a rush that you’re only vaguely aware of him slipping a hand between you to free himself and then he’s suddenly pushing into you with his cock. Your body initially tries to fight it, not quite fully prepped for the spear of his unrelentingly hard length, but Xiao just leans his weight into your back to aid the process. 

And he fully slides into you with a sharp little snap of his narrow hips, forcing your inner sleeve to accept him in a sudden rush of fleshy traction. You jolt at the abrupt glide of him into your body, the blinding starburst of friction that comes with it, eyes rolling back as you outright groan in pleasure. 

Either spurred on by the sound or too lost in the hazy relief that comes with having your hot, wet guts squeezing him tight, Xiao doesn’t even give you a moment to adjust. He’s just immediately driving into you, slamming in and out to make your ass clap against the flat planes of his pelvis, and the force of it pushes you forward to lean heavily against the tree. 

Gripping the rough bark hard enough to make your fingers hurt, you blearily glance down to watch your tits heavily bounce with each and every thrust of his cock while it carves out a space within you deep inside your cunt. It’s an almost obscene sight, especially when the nipples were so fat and puffy after the attention he’d shown them with his mouth, but it’s also indescribably arousing in that moment. 

You clench around him, struggling to keep your voice down when he was threatening to knock loose a myriad of delighted wails and screams. Viciously seething in response, Xiao locks his arms around your middle to hold you tight against him as he curls his chin over your shoulder, growling a faint sound of pleasure against your cheek. 

“T - Traveler …!” 

“It’s okay, Xiao. Nghnn! Just, ahhn … let it all out. I - I’ve got you!” 

That didn’t seem entirely accurate when you were completely at his mercy like this, but he rumbles a soft groan anyway as he nuzzles his nose against your wildly pounding pulse. It’s only when his quick paced, pistoning thrusts seem to knock something loose within you, making your cunt positively flood and your knees threaten to buckle, do you realize how animalistic this really is. It was like he’d completely detached from his higher functioning mind and now the only thing he could focus on was the need to fuck you, claim you, possibly even breed you. It was hard not to feel a little in over your head in that sense but he felt far too good slamming into your squelching cunt for you to second guess any of it. 

You were going to cum soon if he kept it up for much longer and that alone was more than enough incentive for you to disregard that this was perhaps not an ideal situation to be in. 

“Ohh! God!” Sensitively wheezing, you drop your head between your outstretched arms to watch your tits bounce and observe the wide, somewhat awkward spread of your legs. 

Xiao was forcing you up onto the tips of your toes with the sheer power behind his thrusts, and you had no way of escaping it even if you’d wanted to when he had you locked against the front of him like this. He was mindless with it, a wild, growling beast that showed no signs of reaching his limit anytime soon. 

But then you hear it. The soft whiny of a horse not very far off in the distance, and your attention snaps up with a jolt. Craning your neck around, you can just make out a small procession of merchant carts pulled by stock horses coming up on the road and your entire body seizes at the threat of being noticed by them. Xiao groans heavily at the new tension running through you but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he can’t, and you squeak a nervous little sound as you reach back to smack at his hunching shoulder. 

You’d hoped to get his attention but he just snarls a bestial sound before sliding his arm up and across your neck to lock you in place. The following rush of movement that happens is such a blur you can barely process it. All you know is that he bodily yanks you back from the tree and twists, half lifting you so he can then drop you down onto the ground. 

Hitting the grass with an undignified ‘oof!’, you don’t even get a chance to protest what he’s doing before Xiao is on top of you, planting himself across your back. Keeping his forearm wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but just to keep you prone and still, he quickly finds the necessary position so he can push inside you again and he does so with a vigorous snap of his hips. The sudden, forceful stretch of your cunt brings you up on your hands with a harried gasp but he’s quick to slide his other hand around to cover your mouth. 

Full on wailing into his gloved palm when he starts to pound into you again, you disorientedly force your gaze to look out through the entanglement of underbrush and branches to glance at the road again. It’s only a small window which makes it hard to see, but you can just make out the passing merchants. That they seem totally oblivious to your presence in the trees only comes as a small relief when Xiao was wildly pounding you into the dirt only some few paces away and the slightest slip of your voice could have alerted them. The chance of discovery was much too great, especially when the vigorous plap, plap, plap, plap of his lower stomach smacking into your upturned ass sounded so incredibly loud. 

But it’s like he either doesn’t notice or he simply doesn’t care, and he fiercely hunches over you in a possessive gesture while he fucks you silly. Valiantly squirming under his slight weight, you desperately dig your nails into the ground until you feel the dirt and grass start to come up under them. It was hard to breathe with his hand over your mouth but there was nothing you could do about it except take it. 

And he snarls over you the whole time while he bites at your exposed shoulders to leave you covered in marks that you weren’t sure how to explain to Paimon later. Even the soaring rush of endorphins pumping through your system isn’t enough to fully ease your mind, and you wince every time he takes another nip at you. This would look really bad if you were caught now, when he looked like an insatiable maniac heaving on top of you like this. 

And yet by some stroke of luck the small party of merchants passes by your little hiding spot seemingly unaware of what was taking place just off the road. It takes them a long stretch of minutes to fully come and go, but at last Xiao finally lets up his hold on your face so you can suck in a much needed, faltering breath of fresh air. You feel dizzy with it, swaying unsteadily there on the ground as he gingerly untangles himself from you so he can push up to hover over your prone form. 

The fact that he still doesn’t cease his constant thrusting into your wetly clicking cunt makes you groan a deeply frazzled sound against the grass, struggling to keep your head on straight. It felt like you were right on the edge of oblivion, so close to cumming you could practically taste it on the back of your tongue, but it had quickly receded like low tide at the first sight of those traveling merchants. 

Now that the danger has passed, though, it seems to roar back to life with a vengeance, and you squeal a delirious sound when Xiao hooks his fingers in the bend of your elbow so he can yank it back behind you. He quickly repeats the process on the other side, using a potent combination of his sheer strength and the firm pressure of his cock where it’s wedged deep inside you to pull your upper body off the ground. 

Tits swaying heavily from the top of your dress, you have no choice but to get your knees braced underneath you to accommodate the new position he pulls you into, feeling your bloomers stretch out between your ankles. And he immediately picks right back up where he’d left off, mercilessly snapping his hips to drive his length in and out of you again. It sends you lurching in his hold, mewling a high strung sound of ecstasy into the air while he uses his hold to yank you back against him. It felt like he was going to break you in half like this. 

“Sssh - Xiao! Ohh! I - I’m getting close … don’t stop!” 

The only response you get from him is a vicious, throaty growl, his fingers tightening around your elbows. You’re sure you’ll find splotchy bruises blooming there later, but you hardly care about that right now. It was almost impossible to be concerned about anything at all when your cunt was gradually tightening around him, the thrumming tension in your body giving way to a warning tremor so fierce it would have bowled you over if he hadn’t been keeping you upright. 

And then he abruptly yanks you further back, forcing your spine into an even more dramatic arch as you're made to straighten up. The shift makes your breasts bounce even harder, and you’re keenly aware of how stiff and aching the nipples are as they cut through the air. The internal pressure doubles and then triples alarmingly fast, almost making you feel sick with it when your orgasm starts to bear down on you. 

But you hang there in the balance, precariously toeing the edge in a blinding surge of cramping muscles and vibrating nerves until Xiao suddenly sinks his teeth into your shoulder. That sharp burst of pain sends you careening over the edge and you jerk against his hold, wailing up at the sky as you shake and judder through your release. You hear him seethe right next to your ear, the sound muffled by your flesh where he’s still got his teeth in you, but there’s no mistaking the tense recoil that works through him only a second later. 

All at once your squeezing cunt is flooded with hot, sticky warmth that seems to seep deep into your very bones. You’re vaguely aware of his cock flexing inside you, painting your guts creamy and white, but you’re a little too far gone in your own pleasure to worry about that right now. The crashing waves of fast pumping ecstasy just keep slamming into you, again and again to pull his thick spend even further into your body until your eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss. 

When you finally start to come down from it with a stretched thin, warbling moan another moment later you find him hunched right up against you while he tenderly licks at the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. Whether to clean or to soothe, you’re not sure which, but you lean back into him with a deeply gratified sigh all the same. 

“Do you feel any better now?” You whisper into the heavy silence as you kneel there in the dirt with him, feeling the sticky ooze of his load slowly dribbling out of you. You’d have to clean up soon, and probably find someone who could sell you a contraceptive herb but … for right now you were content just to stay there with him like that. 

“I am. Thank you, Traveler.” He murmurs, lips brushing against your skin when he speaks. Placing his mouth on the pulsing wound he’d left you with, Xiao gently kisses it as if in apology before speaking again in a cautiously slow tone. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Which part?” 

“All of it, but … but especially this.” Sighing a terse breath, he slides his hand down your front to dip between your legs and run a finger through your sticky slit. You can tell just as he can by the consistency alone that it’s not merely your own arousal coating you, and you grimace at the sensation. 

“Probably not, but what’s done is already done. Don’t worry, Xiao. I’ll take care of it.” 

You start to pull away from him but he holds you fast, arms tightening around you to keep you in place. “That doesn’t seem fair to you though. Can I at least help you? Like you helped me.”

Turning your head, you pin him with a playfully rueful look. “And how do you think you can do that?” 

Momentarily dropping his gaze, Xiao seems to think about that for a moment before slowly untangling his limbs from yours so he can ease back on his haunches. You're just curious enough to find out what he’s thinking that you let him get you turned around and seated on the grass, watching him carefully while he tugs your bloomers the rest of the way off. 

Golden eyes briefly lift to regard you for a moment and then he’s leaning down to bend over your cunt, mouth falling open while he does it to let his tongue unfurl. And as he takes a first hungry swipe through your cunt, licking up a sticky glob of his own spend where it was beading along the crease of your body, you find that you really don’t have the heart to tell him that that wasn’t going to suffice. 

Instead you tip your head back with a low, softly faltering moan and jut your pussy out to better offer it up to his mouth. You’d get this sorted out in due time but you were keen to enjoy it for just a little bit longer first.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[enhaflixer]

sjy - Chasing Ghosts - TEASER

a Criminal!Jake x Detective!Reader SEXY crime thriller

NOW POSTED HEREEEE!

🔹 SYNOPSIS: You spent years chasing Specter, the most elusive criminal the force has ever encountered. But every near miss, every failed case, every lead that went cold—it was never just bad luck. It was orchestrated. Because the real traitor wasn’t the man you were hunting. It was the one standing right beside you. 

🔹 WC: ~14.7K (full-length fic, completed)

🔹 TAGS: crime thriller, enemies to reluctant allies to lovers, morally gray!Jake, found family, betrayal & redemption, slow burn to inferno, high stakes, forced proximity, heavy angst with a soft landing, house on the hill trope, HEA, High stakes

🔹 RELEASE DATE: WHNV YALL WANT AYYYYYY

🔹 WARNINGS: violence, corruption, deception, heavy themes of betrayal & loss, morally ambiguous decisions, explicit language, slow descent into trust issues hell, eventual comfort but only after suffering, guns, sexual content MDNI, f! receiving.

🔹 TAGLIST: OPEN!

-

⏳ Somewhere in the city, a chase was already in motion. But here, it was just the two of you—waiting for who would make the first move.

The lounge was dimly lit, the golden glow from the overhead chandeliers casting deep shadows against the walls. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and expensive perfume, a low hum of conversation filling the space as people slipped into quiet corners, murmuring over half-finished drinks.

But none of that mattered.

Because across the room, he was watching you.

Jake sat casually at the bar, one arm draped along the back of the leather stool, a glass of something dark and amber in front of him. He looked too at ease, the kind of effortless calm that came with knowing exactly how much control you had over a situation.

And right now?

He had all of it.

Your fingers curled around your own glass, untouched. You weren’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t part of the mission. You should have already been gone, moving onto the next lead, following the trail of evidence that was supposed to bring you closer to Specter.

But for some reason, you weren’t leaving.

For some reason, you were still here.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Jake’s lips, and before you could second-guess yourself, he lifted his glass in a silent toast.

Cocky bastard.

Your grip tightened slightly. You had been chasing him for so long that it was unnatural to see him like this. Not a shadow slipping through alleyways, not a whisper at the scene of a crime.

Here, he wasn’t a ghost.

Here, he was just a man.

And that was dangerous.

Jake tilted his head slightly, an unspoken challenge lingering in his gaze. You’re already here. You might as well come say hello.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up, legs carrying you across the lounge with a steady confidence that didn’t match the pulse pounding in your throat. Every step felt deliberate, like walking across a tightrope with no safety net beneath you.

By the time you reached him, Jake was already setting his drink down, his smirk widening just slightly.

"Didn’t think you’d actually come," he mused, his voice smooth, easy—too familiar, like you had known him for years instead of knowing him as the man you were supposed to arrest.

Your nails dug into the palm of your hand. "I thought I’d see what kind of lies you’d tell me to my face."

Jake chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he reached for his glass again. "Lies? No, sweetheart." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that it sent something sharp down your spine. "I only ever tell you the truth."

Liar.

And yet—

You stayed.

The city outside pulsed with movement, a chase still happening somewhere beneath the skyline. But here, in the quiet hum of the lounge, in the space between words neither of you were saying—

It was just the two of you.

Waiting.

Watching.

Seeing who would make the first move.

taglist: @jkslvsnella @vernorica123 @lillotus17 @wonnienyang @firstclassjayle @belle643 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heelovesmeknott @heeseunggotrizz @jaeyunsbimbo @immelissaa @somuchdard

[rockspider556]

Listen up, horror enthusiasts of the tumblrsphere. as a slasher girlie—champion of final girls, cheesy one-liners, and knives glinting in moonlight—i am BEGGING y’all to understand the difference between fun horror and “I’m now emotionally scarred and can’t sleep for three weeks” horror.

So, naturally, i spent my entire politics class making this guide to horror genres—to save my fellow stabby baddies from stumbling into lifelong trauma by accident. DISCLAIMER: i am not a horror expert, merely a horror enthusiast- pls don’t crucify me if i get something wrong 😭🙏

psychological:

focuses on the mental and emotional fears of characters, exploring stuff like their paranoia, guilt, repressed trauma, or mental instability, making the audience question what’s real

eg. the babadook, black swan, midsommar

slasher:

has a killer (usually masked or anonymous) who stalks and brutally murders victims. known for high body counts, intense gore, and iconic villains. often has a "final girl" trope where one survivor faces the killer.

eg. scream, halloween, friday the 13th

gothic:

blends horror with romanticism and melodrama, often featuring decayed mansions, tragic characters, and themes of madness and death. atmosphere is key.

eg. woman in black, dracula, the haunting

supernatural:

centres on being beyond human comprehension, like ghosts, demons, or cursed objects. usually relies on an eerie atmosphere to instill dread.

eg. the conjuring, the exorcist, (arguably) child’s play

body horror:

shows physical transformation, mutation, or grotesque damage to the human body. often used to reflect deeper fears, like losing control over yourself.

eg. the thing, human centipede, the fly

found footage:

done as "discovered" or "real" footage, usually from a handheld camera perspective. creates immersion through its raw, unpolished style.

eg. the blair witch project, rec, cloverfield

survival:

focuses on characters fighting to survive against overwhelming odds, like monsters, natural disasters, or hostile environments. usually focuses on desperation.

eg. a quiet place, bird box, the descent

folk:

uses elements of folklore and pagan rituals. often features isolated communities and the outsiders that wonder into them

eg. the wicker man, the witch, häxan

monster:

focuses on a central creature, whether it’s a giant beast, werewolf, vampire, or something entirely original. often reflects fears of powerlessness and the unknown.

eg. cloverfield, jaws, jurassic park (???)

sci-fi:

merges science fiction with horror, focusing on advanced technology, alien life, or experiments gone wrong

eg. alien, event horizon, under the skin

exploitation:

known for pushing boundaries with graphic violence, sexual content, or disturbing themes. often meant to shock and provoke strong reactions.

eg. saw, vacancy, hostel

zombie:

what it says on the tin. has zombies as the main antagonist, usually set in an apocalyptic setting.

eg. dawn of the dead, 28 days later, train to busan

haunted house:

focuses on a specific location (often a house or institution) that is cursed, possessed, or haunted

eg. the amityville horror, poltergeist, the haunting of hill house

horror-comedy:

balances scare factor with humor, usually witty and has a lot of “meta” moments (eg. john in ‘the babysitter’ panicking because “they always kill the black one first!”- a common practice in old slashers”). *not to be confused with spoofs*

eg. the babysitter, jennifers body, bride of chucky

cosmic:

focuses on the insignificance of humanity in the face of vast, unknowable cosmic forces. often evokes existential dread rather than traditional scares.

eg. the mist, the endless, colour out of lace

spoof/satire:

makes fun of cheesy horror tropes for comedic value.

eg. scary movie, shaun of the dead, zombieland

[dark-corner-cunning]

Nature's Comfort in Times of Grief, Sadness, Depression, & Shadow Work

As the days grow shorter and the veil between worlds thins, those of us in the northern hemisphere prepare for our descent into the darker half of the year. The turning inward begins—a time of reflection, rest, and connection with the mysteries of the unseen. With Samhain and All-Hallows fast approaching, many of us will be honoring our beloved dead, inviting their spirits into our hearths and hearts.

Yet, here in Appalachia, the weight of this season feels heavier than usual. We are still grappling with the aftermath of Helene, not only facing the destruction left in her wake but mourning the loss of family, friends, and neighbors. The land, our sacred connection, has been scarred, and we feel that pain deeply in our spirits. In these moments, grief is a shared burden, an ache that runs through the hills and hollers, touching us all.

With this in mind, I wanted to offer some healing guidance to those of you navigating this challenging time. Grief, loss, and depression can be overwhelming forces, but nature has always provided us with allies—herbs that soothe the spirit and support us through our shadow work. These plants can help us not only process our emotions but also guide us through the necessary inner journeys of transformation and healing.

Agrimony: Dispelling negative feelings

Amaranth: Healing the brokenhearted

Ashwagandha: Stress relief

Balm of Gilead Tears: Healing from loss & the broken heart

Beech Tree: Emotional wound healing

Bleeding Heart Flower: Ease broken hearts

Bluebell: Soothes grief & sorrow

Brussel Sprouts: Helps to process emotional heartache

Burdock Root: Removes negative feelings from trauma & wrongdoing

Calamint: Soothes sorrow & aids in the recovery of emotional pain

Cannabis: Aids relaxation & calms

Celandine: Helps with depression

Centaury: Repels hurtful energy

Chamomile: Reduces stress

Chaparral: Aids in resolving sleep disturbances triggered by the mind

Chestnut (Bark, Leaves, Nuts): Relieving worry

Chickweed: Calms anger & releases long-held grudges

Clover (King’s): Helps with depression

Clove: Eases grief

Coffee: Removes negative self-views

Coriander: Eases broken heart

Cypress: Eases grief & broken hearts

Fireweed: Trauma recovery

Garden Sage (Any Sage Other Than White): Eases grief & loss

Ghost Pipe: Assists with shadow work, emotional pain, & aids with bad habits

Katydid: Letting go of patterns, beliefs, & behaviors that no longer serve you

Kola Nut: Helps remove depression

Lamb’s Ear: Dispels despair

Lantana: Helps heal depression

Lavender: Promotes calmness, soothing, & helps overcome depression

Lemon Balm: Helps in healing mental & nervous issues

Linden Tree: Heart healing & stress relief

Lotus Root: Aids in preventing intrusive & negative thoughts

Meadowsweet: Relieves distress & disharmony

Narcissus: Promotes peace of mind

Neroli: Overcoming emotional blockages

Nettle: Dispels fear

Onion Flower: Banishes bad habits & negative influences

Pampas Grass: Aids in overcoming depression

Papaya: Aids in bringing you out of darkness

Passionflower: Aids in destressing

Pine Nuts: Aids in releasing & moving on

Rabbit Tobacco: Aids in helping ease restless spirits (Great for the departed lost to traumatic situations)

Redbud: Healing shame & emotional pain

Reindeer Moss: Helps feeling uprooted, disconnected, displaced, & coping with sudden changes out of your control

Rosemary: Remembrance

Sassafras: Overcoming addiction

Skullcap: Relieves disharmony & disruption

Snowdrop: Relieves sorrow & grief

Spider Plant: Reduces stress

Star of Bethlehem: Releases shock, trauma, psychological & emotional blockages

Sugar Cane: Aids in sympathy

Thyme: Eases grief

Tumbleweed: Releasing the care of other’s thoughts about you

Willow Tree: Overcoming sadness

Witch Hazel: Eases grief

Wood Betony: Eases grief

Wormwood: Eases anger

Ylang Ylang: Overcoming depression

Zinnia: Eases sadness

[gilbertscurls]

The crisp winter air bit at your cheeks as you trudged up the hill, the sled dragging behind you. Chris was already at the top, leaning on his sled like it was some kind of sports car, a cocky grin plastered across his face.

“You sure you can handle this?” he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth for dramatic effect. “I don’t want to embarrass you when I leave you in my snow dust.”

“Snow dust isn’t even a thing,” you shot back, laughing as you finally reached him. “And for the record, I’m not losing to you.”

Chris gave you a mock-serious nod. “Alright, let’s settle this like adults. First one to the bottom wins. Loser buys hot chocolate.”

“Deal,” you said, climbing onto your sled and gripping the sides.

“On three,” he said, but before he could even count, you shoved off with a mischievous laugh, your sled zooming down the hill.

“Hey!” Chris yelled, scrambling to follow you.

The wind whipped past your face as the sled picked up speed, the thrill of the descent sending a rush of adrenaline through you. You glanced back to see Chris gaining on you, his laughter carrying over the crunch of the snow.

“I’m coming for you!” he shouted, leaning forward to make his sled go faster.

“Not a chance!” you called back, though the wobbling of your sled hinted that control was no longer in your favor.

Within seconds, Chris was beside you, his sled veering dangerously close. “I told you I’d catch up,” he teased.

“Watch out!” you yelled as the sleds collided, sending both of you tumbling into the snow in a flurry of limbs and laughter.

When you finally came to a stop, you were sprawled on your back, staring up at the gray winter sky. Snowflakes landed softly on your face, and you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Smooth move,” Chris said, sitting up and shaking snow out of his hair. “Was crashing part of your strategy?”

“Maybe,” you replied, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It worked, didn’t it? You didn’t win.”

Chris scoffed, brushing snow off his coat. “Pretty sure no one won. Except the snowbank.”

He flopped back into the snow next to you, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Well, at least the crash was spectacular. Ten out of ten for style.”

You rolled onto your side, smirking at him. “You’re just mad you owe me hot chocolate now.”

“Fine,” he said, grinning as he sat up and offered you a hand. “But only because I’m feeling generous.”

He pulled you to your feet, and you both surveyed the carnage of your sleds lying haphazardly at the bottom of the hill.

“Round two?” Chris asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re on,” you said, grabbing your sled.

As you climbed back up the hill together, still laughing about your epic wipeout, you realized that moments like these—filled with laughter, friendly competition, and a bit of chaos—were what made winter days so unforgettable.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry

[arbutus-blossoms]

Dementus' costume design evolution reminds me of Silent Hill Movie's Rose da Silva's as a Storytelling method.

Both start with light Grey/White, and thought the series, gets stained red and only gets darker.

We first see Dementus as an almost Messiah figure, but throughout the movie, not only is he losing control of the situation, he also loses the faith of his biker gang, even resulting his second in command Octoboss going rogue.

In the end, Dementus fully embraces himself as a "savior" in his mind, and by going to war with the Citadel, just to continue his journey into Hell.

In Silent Hill, Rose's costume gets dirtier and bloodier as she descents into the depths of Silent Hill to learn the truth about Sharon.

Her costume is fully bloodied once she learns the truth and makes a pact with Dark Alessa.

Anyways, Furiosa is such a great movie. Go see it 🔥

[akulride]

Compact SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle) Mild Hybrid(Electric + Petrol) 19.38 km/l Yes (Automatic Climate Control) Android Auto (Wireless), Apple Car Play (Wireless) Arctic White + Black, Splendid Silver + Black, Opulent Red + Black ₹ 17.07 Lakh

[flirtyfate]

I'm about to open Pandora’s Box of Fandom Hypocrisy™, so get ready.

Billy was literally introduced as a messy, traumatized teen who was aggressive with everyone—Max, Steve, Lucas, the damn air he breathed. The boy had issues, and they were loud. But what did the fandom do? Slap the “racist” label on him exclusively because he told Max to stay away from Lucas after she was literally crying post-fight. Mind you, this was a terrible big-brother move, but let's not pretend he wasn't already an unhinged menace to half the town. Like, he had Steve fighting for his life in a rich kid’s mansion, and y’all hyper-fixated on one scene?

Enter Jason Carver. Our poster boy for corn-fed, all-American, stepfather-would-vote-for-Reagan energy. That man didn’t just dislike Lucas—he actively tried to murder him. And the fandom? "Omg, he’s so tragic. His girlfriend died, he’s just a product of his environment, he’s so hot, he deserved better 🥺."

MAKE! IT! MAKE! SENSE!

It's giving ✨selective outrage✨. It’s giving biases are showing but we don’t want to talk about it. It’s giving we forgive who we find attractive.

Listen, neither Billy nor Jason were perfect cupcakes. But the double standards are double standard-ing. The same people who wrote 14-chapter redemption fics for Jason were foaming at the mouth to make Billy the worst person alive. Meanwhile, Vecna is out here cracking kids like glow sticks, and he gets more fandom sympathy.

Billy was a stupid, reckless, angry teen, but Jason? A grown-ass man making conscious choices to commit actual crimes. That’s a whole different level of dangerous.

Billy was a product of years of trauma and abuse. Was he an aggressive, violent menace? Oh, absolutely. Did he have major issues that needed serious fixing? Of course. But the moment he got even an inch of control back during the Sauna Test, what did he do? He cried. He apologized. He begged Max for help. That means there was something inside of him that wanted to be better. And at the end of it all? He DIED fighting the Mind Flayer to save people he had no reason to care about.

Meanwhile, Jason chose violence every single time. Every fork in the road, he sprinted down the worst possible path. Instead of pausing for a second to actually think, he convinced himself that he was some holy warrior battling the devil. When faced with the literal supernatural (Patrick getting levitated and snapped like a toothpick), his response wasn’t, “Maybe something bigger is going on?” No. It was “Time to buy guns and murder some teenagers.”

And the fact that he fully tried to execute Lucas—that alone should end any “redemption” debate. Jason was unhinged, violent, and fully intended to kill a kid in cold blood. There’s no coming back from that. Billy, at his worst, was an abusive, angry teen with a messed-up worldview. Jason was a full-grown adult with power, privilege, and the ability to make better choices—and he still went full Satanic Panic psycho.

So yeah, fandom’s weird little “Jason was just misunderstood” narrative? Miss me with that. If Billy deserved to be demonized forever, then Jason should be right there in the pits of fandom hell with him. The double standard is loud.

Jason Carver had major school shooter energy, and I will die on this hill.

Like, let’s just lay out the facts:

Charismatic golden boy facade? Check.

Deep-rooted entitlement? Check.

Intense victim complex when things don’t go his way? Check.

Rallies a group of equally unhinged followers to carry out his violent fantasies? Big check.

Fully believes he’s the “hero” while actively terrorizing innocent people? Massive check.

Stockpiling weapons and planning to “cleanse” the school of “evil” (aka people who don’t fit his narrow worldview)? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…

Jason wasn’t just some misguided jock in pain—he was genuinely dangerous. His entire arc was a slow descent into radicalization, and the fact that the fandom glosses over that because he’s conventionally attractive? Unreal.

If Stranger Things was set in modern times, you know he’d be the type to post long-winded manifesto rants about how society is crumbling because of “freaks” like Eddie. He’d be deep in some toxic Reddit rabbit hole about how D&D is corrupting America’s youth. The boy was one bad day away from showing up to school with more than just a pistol.

And the scariest part? People like him exist in real life. Jason Carver isn’t just a villain—he’s a realistic villain. And that makes him so much worse.

Honestly, I need a lie down. This fandom is exhausting.

[elliehallers]

OC Introduction: Madison Elena Hunter — X-Men. (17-18 during X2: X-Men United, and so forth.)

Reluctant student at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and girlfriend of John "Pyro" Allerdyce until he dips. Spoiled rich-ish girl from Ottawa Hills, Ohio. Girly girl. Captian of the cheerleadering team. Enjoys video games. Loves pop music. (Britney, *NSYNC, BSB, Christina, and the like.) Kind of a bitch. Her parents sent her to Xavier's when she was barely 15, hoping it'd help her control her abilities. She has the mutation of hydrokinesis; she can create and manipulate water. Her best friend is Jasmine Jacobs, whom she met at Xavier's.

Maddie (or "Mads") hates attending the institute; she wants to be a normal teenager. She misses her home, her family, her old friends. She doesn't care about social issues or training or fighting in battles. She wants nothing to do with "that crap." She also kind of hates being a mutant, for those same reasons. Why the fuck did her father have to be a carrier of some gene that made her born a dangerous freak in the eyes of millions? She's "too pretty for this!"

If you ask her, the only good thing about her school is meeting her friends and meeting John. (They met and started dating when they were 15.) And then he just left. She's felt like total shit since that day.

Playlist.

Her father, Richard Hunter, is of Mexican and Scottish descent, while her mother, Donna, is Mexican-American.

She has two younger siblings: a brother, Greyson, who is 2 years her junior, and a sister, Allison, who is 5 years younger than her. They have a chocolate brown male Toy Poodle named Rococo.

If she had existed in the movies, she would've been in the cafeteria scene at the museum, present for the whole trip in X2, and she probably would've been at the battle in X3.

[royalghostsofhistory]

Boudicca

Queen Boudicca is considered to be a British heroine and a symbol of the struggle for justice and independence. She was a queen of the ancient Iceni tribe, and she led a failed uprising in 60 or 61 CE. Her name literally translates to "Victorious Woman", and it is sometimes spelled Boudica, Boudicca, Boadicea, and Boudicea, and sometimes as Buddug in Welsh.

Not much of Boudicca's early life is known, but it is believed she was not of the Iceni tribe and rather of royal descent. We don't even know when she was born, though it is estimated she was born between 25 and 30 CE. The historian, Cassius Dio, wrote "In stature, she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh; a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips; around her neck was a large golden necklace; and she wore a tunic of fivers colours over which a thick mantle was fastened with a brooch. This was her invariable attire." However, this was written more than a century after her death and wasn't translated into English until 1925, so it may not be accurate.

She may have married King Prasutagus of the Iceni tribe somewhere between the years of 43-45 CE. The Iceni was a Celtic tribe that inhabited what is now Norfolk in England, a parts of the neighbouring counties of Cambridgeshire, Suffolk and Lincolnshire. Her husband may have been one of the eleven kings who surrended to Claudius following the Roman conquest in 43. He was considered an ally of Rome and his tribe was allowed to remain independent to some degree, though disarmed.

Upon Pasutagus' death in 60 or 61 CE, he made his two daughters and the Roman Emperor, Nero, his heirs. The Romans ignored this will and absorbed the kingdom into the province of Brittania. It was Tacitus who detailed the Romans and their pillaging and ransacking, as well as the cruel treatment of Boudicca and her daughters. According to Tacitus, Boudicca was flogged and her daughters, possibly twelve years old, were raped.

Shortly after, Boudicca seemed to become the leading figure in a rebellion against the Romans, possibly because she wanted revenge for the humiliation she and her daughters had suffered. The first move was at Camulodunum (modern Colchester) where the queen captured the Roman forces. As the Roman governor, Seutonius, who was leading a military capaign in Wales, heard about the revolt, he left a garrison on the island of Mona and made his way to deal with Boudicca. He made it to Londinium (Roman London) before Boudicca but he was outnumbered and decided to abandon the town, which was burned down by the rebels after torturing and killing everyone who had remained. The Queen and her army proceeded onto Verulamium (modern St. Albans) and won another victory.

Suetonius regrouped his forces, amassing an army of 10,000 men at an unidentified location. They stood in a defile (a narrow pass or gorge between mountains or hills) and used this terrain to their advantage, apparently throwing javelins at the Britons. Though the Roman army was heavily outnumbered, Boudicca's army was defeated.

While Boudicca survived the battle initially, it is said she poisoned herself or that she fell ill. With Boudicca's defeat, the Roman's secured control over Britain.

In film a TV, Boudicca has been portrayed four times.

Boadicea (1927), a British silent film starring Phyllis Neilson-Terry.

Warrior Queen (1978), a British television series starring Sian Phillips.

Boudica (2003), a British television film starring Alex Kingston.

Boudica (2023), a British drama film starring Olga Kurylenko.