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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 day

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Wibta if I told my mom she loves a cat more than her own children.

I do feel like an asshole for this. I’m 17f and I have a younger sister 15F. My parents are married and for the most part good. When have a 12 year old cat that my mom just adores.

This part is all speculation, but when I very young like I was 5 or something my mom had an event that changed a lot. She stayed with her parents and would visits us. My grandparents would help out and no one really ever explained what happened to her but she lived there for like a year, she did move back in with us. My dad got her a cat to cope while she was away. The speculation is she had really bad post partum depression and had a break down. The reason I believe this/and this is my own theory, was when I was struggling mentally, my mom encouraged me to go to a therapist and they asked family history and she said she had struggled with depression/episodes and had tried medication but never stayed on. She just said when she was younger she had a hard time regulating emotions, and she wants me to worry about me and my own emotions. The post patrum comes from the fact that I asked my dad why did you two have kids and he admitted he wanted kids and my mom was more on the fence. I also find it weird she gets really nervous around Mother’s Day and will often try to not celebrate. (She always says she could be a better mom)

My mom is a good mom don’t get me wrong. She’s always encouraged my sister and I to try and do our hobbies. She’ll drive us where we gotta go. I know she works overtime when she wants to make sure we can do stuff for the family. It’s just sometimes, she seems more like a distant mom. She’ll listen to us, do anything asked, but idk how to put it into words.

But she really loves this cat. And I do love our cat too, but this cat and my mom are bonded. The second my mom comes home and the cat greets her and my mom picks her up and kisses her. She calls the cat her pretty princess and a hundred other nicknames. She calls me my dad and sister honey, bunny, and sunny. I know the cat actually makes my mom happy. Her eyes light up when she sees the cat. I know she looks forward to coming home to the cat. When we go on vacations she’ll miss the cat, or if she goes on a work trip she’ll always ask for pictures of the cat or ask to see the cat on FaceTime. She throws a small birthday party for the cat every year and makes a cake. For our birthdays she’ll ask what we want and sometimes she resorts to store bought desserts.

So this is where it gets bad. Our cat is now sick and probably has a year left to live. The vet told my mom she’s a good cat owner and has always done right for her, but with her age, treatment isn’t really the route because it’s not gonna prevent death, so just focus on making the cat happy and comfortable (this vet appointment was her 6 month check up.) My mom hasn’t been doing well mentally. She’s always struggled with mental health. She just seems to have a shakey mind at times if that makes sense. She very much before would hide her struggles, but we knew she’d have them. Before she would like stand still just gripping the counter with one hand. Now my mom is definetly depressed. She will come home be greeted by the cat, and go to her room and cry with the cat. She’s been just not happy.

My sister and I kinda decided to see if telling her we got good grades would cheer her up, and she’ll say good job and will sometimes offer to cook something or get something for us, but her eyes are just like very tired. (There is also an app she can use to check out grades but she never once used it and will just take our word face value) We’ve talked to my dad about this and he basically said that our mom has always loved animals (she use to work with her grandpa at a pet store he owned, but apparently her grandpa wasn’t a good person to most people in the family except her, so that was hard on her). I asked my dad what he thinks and says it’s normal for someone to be sad about this and that he’s gonna work hard or make sure we get all our needs handled. Which is nice, but I kinda wish it was my mom. I don’t feel dire need of anything, I’m just annoyed/jealous a cat can destroy my mom mentally.

My mom has gone over load for the cat. She cooks for her, makes her dinner buys the best food and mixes then. She often cries while cooking, and asks the cat if she likes the food.The cat doesn’t even know what’s happening.

I was looking at prom dresses online and asked my mom to look with me and she was just out of it. She would just say she’d like one or she’s not a fan but don’t let that discourage me. She’s just kinda lifeless. I try talking to her about it and she’ll aplogize and says she’ll get better. (It’s been like a week)

It boiled over when my mom’s sisters came over. (She’s the youngest. One sister has kids and one doesn’t) My mom tried to be happy and perky but ended up crying about the cat. Her sisters kinda said that she’s gotta be strong for her family and my mom just cried saying everything’s gonna be so much harder without the cat. I wasn’t in the room, they were in the basement, and there’s a vent where you can hear everything down there. My sister and I do easedrop to see what they say (her sisters are loud but we can never hear what my mom is saying without the vent. Normally we do it because my mom is a more different interesting person and again we don’t know our mom well. Away from us she kinda puts down the facade and actually talks). I was just angry. Her life isn’t hard. We’re middle class, if she wants to go to therepy she can afford it. We all deal with grief and loss. Yes I’m gonna be sad when our cat passes, but she is an older cat. I don’t imagine my life becoming “harder” other than my mom being depressed, but she is an adult who will heal from this.

After her sisters left and she was doing her night routine, I asked her if she loves the cat more than my sister and I. She said that’s not true and if she could do something more for my sister and I please name it. I told her that that’s the problem is that she does stuff for the cat without thinking, but for us it’s all asking us and she’s the adult she should know. She’s said she’s not a mind reader and she’s gonna rely on the information I give her to help me out where she can. I went to my room because ovbiosuly that conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I feel like my mom understands a cat more than her own daughter.

My dad came in a little while after and we talked. He assured me my mom loves me and this cat has been like an emotional support animal through the years. He mentioned my one friend who has an emotional support dog and compared them and told me that the cat has helped my mom emotionally with emotional regulation and just helps her steady herself. I asked if we were enough, or if my mom regrets having a family and she would just be happier if she just left us for the cat and lived by herself. My dad told me she loves all of us, but depression can be hard to navigate. I asked him about how he wanted us more than our mom and he just said that he was more excited, but my mom wouldn’t have had us unless she wanted us (which I don’t think is totally true.)

I went into my parents room and my mom was there with the cat. Again going to the cat for comfort. I told her I was sorry for saying she loved the cat more than us and she apologized for how her treatment towards the cat can seem that way and if I ever need anything please ask. It made me mad because she again is relying on me to know what’s wrong/ or ask, instead of her just idk taking initiative. I didn’t say that.

I get people can be mentally ill, but she’s also my mom. I do feel bad about telling my mom she loves a cat more than me, but I also don’t feel too reassured.

#aita #am i the asshole

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grimm-writings · 2 days

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hi hi it's bard anon again :) i was rereading the manga and remembered that chilchuck's nightmares would be about losing his daughters... could you write about reader going into his dream (like laios did for marcille) and helping him through it? maybe also promising to keep his secret, asking if he's still married, etc. hehe

aisling

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! hurt/comfort, reader is not a half-foot, some descriptions of gore and body horror, CHILCHUCK PSYCHOANALYSIS 🔥

…wc! 1773

…notes! grimm lore drop, i’m irish! thus the title of this fic is after the as gaeilge word for ‘dream’. enjoooooy <3

You repeat Laios’ instructions in your head as you try to drift off. Chilchuck’s body is a bit small to make much of a pillow, but at least his warmth distracts you from the worried stares of your peers.

“You probably have to fight through your own nightmare to get to him!” Laios keeps reassuring you. “So be on guard! Remember what I told y–”

“They get it, Laios!” Marcille yanks the tall-man away from where you’re struggling to drift off. His barrage of information is in good faith, but it isn’t exactly the best white noise to fall asleep to.

Eventually, you find yourself in your dreamscape. Quickly, quickly, you let your mind run with ideas of how to ‘dig down’ as Laios described it. Chilchuck is resting underneath you, so the only way to go was in fact down.

The question is… how?

It took a lot of quick-thinking in order to bypass your own personal insecurities (you don’t have the time to dwell on them– Chilchuck is in trouble!) but eventually you imagined a jackhammer drill to make your way down. You had to admit it wasn’t the most efficient, but it was the first thing you could come up with!

When you land and face another injury on your backside again, you groan, hoping the effects of the nightmare meant your pain wouldn’t carry over into the real world.

You look up, surprised to find yourself in what looks like a cottage. It would be rather cosy-looking if not for the torn wallpaper, axe thrown into the wall, and blood splattered all over the place. You could even hear despairing wails of crying echoing through the place…

Hang on. You try to prick up your ears. No, it doesn’t sound too distant at all. You try to navigate your way through the place that was once a loving home. You take notice of your size in comparison to the door frames and furniture– you’re way too large in comparison. This is a home of a half-foot.

Was a home of a half-foot you know very well, you realise with your blood running cold. Entering the next room you found Chilchuck. He’s on his knees, hands being held in the air and shaking in a way you’ve never seen him before. He’s horrified. Over his lap are the heads of three girls, all brutally mutilated and bloodied in ways that made you feel ill. One girl looks nearly identical to Chilchuck.

You have a suspicion of what’s going on.

What you have to do is protect Chilchuck from the emotional scarring of the nightmare. How can you do that, when he already has the blood of three people– likely loved ones– on his hands? You can hear him whispering “why me?” over and over in the shakiest whimper before he chokes mid-sob.

Creeping over without a sound proves difficult as the door creaks loudly. Chilchuck immediately stops his crying and freezes as he looks up at you.

‘Be encouraging,’ Laios’ words echo in your mind, ‘encourage him to overcome his fear the nightmares are exploiting.’

Easier said than done, as you can hear another presence approaching. Your footstep must have alerted it. Chilchuck rises to his feet.

“It’s coming,” he tells you, trying to keep his voice firm and grounded, “but don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

…Oh! Looks like he’s already well underway trying to fight back against the nightmare! This will be easy! You were so chuffed, you almost forgot that usually you aren’t supposed to be recognised in dreams.

Still, you watch as Chilchuck limps to stand in front of you. He looks… smaller than usual. Odd.

You tug on Chilchuck’s tunic with an appreciative grin. “You’re so brave, Chil. I know you can defeat the intruder!”

“...Yeah. It’s my job to get you outta this mess, huh?”

An odd thing to say, but you agree nevertheless. Encourage, encourage, encourage. “You’ll get us out of here in no time,” you whisper to Chilchuck, rubbing the fabric of his tunic reassuringly. “I have faith in you.”

He shifts under your touch as you say this.

You glance over at the limp bodies of the three girls. You wonder what had gotten them so grievously injured. Their wounds look non-existent save for splashes of blood on their clothes and red running from their lips. Chilchuck has already been a bit queasy towards gore. Maybe imagining anything too excessive would be too much for him.

Then, ‘it’ arrives.

It was a twisted amalgamation of flesh and bone. Its jaw is unhinged, what could either be blood-red lipstick or the bodily fluid itself running from you think are its lips. Its hair was dark and matted. It’s just barely shorter than Chilchuck himself, you notice. It’s like an uncannily recreated half-foot woman.

When it sees Chilchuck, it screams in a woman’s voice, something about how ‘it’s supposed to be date night.’

It ran away at the very sight of him. At the sight of him with you.

What could that mean…?

Once it leaves, Chilchuck collapses again. He looks up at you, his eyes big and full of terror. “Is the party okay? Where are they?! I need– I need to make sure they don’t–”

He begins crawling over to the door. The party? They’re… here? No, this is probably another aspect of his nightmare. These girls are here, either dead when he found them, or he watched them get hurt.

Either way, he was too late.

Cogs began to turn. Could Chilchuck be afraid of… not being able to protect his loved ones from harm? The cottage was basically turned into a slaughterhouse. As for the monster…

“Who’s that woman?” you ask.

“I– I think it’s supposed to be my wife,” he explains rather easily. Maybe the dreams encourage such honesty. “But it isn’t. I know it isn’t. None of this makes sense…”

…His wife?

No, no, not the time… Later.

“That’s because it’s a nightmare, Chil…” you try to explain. “You have to face your fear.”

“My fear?!” Chilchuck turns to glare at you. “Sorry for being so naive, but my ‘fear’ is out of my control! If I’m here, there’s a chance no one will get hurt. I–I just need to find the rest of you. I can’t let you be taken away from me because I was being stupid.”

You grab Chilchuck’s wrist to prevent him from limping away into the cottage’s halls. “Why don’t you… talk to it– I mean, your wife?”

He freezes. He turns back at you, his glare making his eyebags look heavier. “Are you insane?”

“She’s your wife.”

Chilchuck swallows. His wrist slips from your grip so he could intertwine his fingers with you instead. “There’s too many things I know she’ll ask from me.”

“Like?”

“Like… Why don’t I come home more often? Do I love her anymore?”

You squeeze Chilchuck’s hand, rising to your feet. “Do you?”

“I do.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Then tell her.”

Chilchuck deliberates on this for a moment. He then looks up at you.

“Stay with me,” he requests in the quietest voice, “stay with me as I talk to her.”

Though his words made your chest feel weird, you shake your head. “This is your job as a husband. Not anyone else’s. You can’t protect everyone forever, not even yourself. Running won’t solve anything.”

Chilchuck is quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words. He then slowly nods. “At least walk with me over there.”

“Now that I can do,” you return with a smile.

The floors creak underneath your feet as you journey through the halls. You can see in the corners of your eye, in the kitchen, a certain dwarf bloodied and kneeling over the sink. You recognise the body of a spindly tuxedo cat with her arm hanging as she lays on the rafters. She’s the source of the dripping red onto your clothes.

“I couldn’t protect them, trying to be everywhere at once,” Chilchuck murmurs as you come across an elf strangled with her own hair.

Your eyes lay on the woman feeding on the remains of a tallman and squeeze Chilchuck’s hand.

“It’s okay. Just talk to her.”

He looks up at you, and you nod. Chilchuck smiles slightly, and you can see a bit of that spark in his eyes again. “It… really is a dream that you’re here, y’know?”

You return the smile, and move away. You’re just out of the room when you hear Chilchuck take a breath and say, “so how about that date night, my love?”

As you walk away, you notice that from the room you left, light seems to be seeping through. Before you know it, it envelops you.

Suddenly, you’re awake in the dungeon again. When Laios awoke after saving Marcille, it was very sudden and unpleasant. Yet this… this was calm, and you feel all fuzzy…

…Oh, but if you could only remember what had happened. The images are blurry in your mind. You do remember one thing, at least—

“You’re awake!” Marcille’s voice is the first to grab your attention, helping you sit up. “That’s a good sign!”

Laios is there behind you. “And here’s Chil. How ya doin’, buddy?”

“Shut it,” Chilchuck’s groggy morning voice is the most relieving thing to hear right now. Seems you were successful in your mission, even if you can’t remember most of it.

Laios whines a little. “Don’t be like that! You had nightmares! And your hero is right here!”

As Chilchuck sits up and turns to look at you in surprise, you wave back sheepishly. Laios takes the opportunity to take Chilchuck’s pillow and get rid of the clam-like monsters.

“Oh,” Chilchuck responds with a few blinks. “I was wondering why my dream was nicer than usual.”

“Oooh, what didja dream about?” Marcille asks nosily. As she leans her face in, Chilchuck furrows his brow and pushes her away, claiming it’s none of her business.

The answer would be given soon when Senshi takes the opportunity to boil the nightmares. A cottage scene, and there Chilchuck was, laughing and smiling as he has a candlelit dinner with…

You?

“Enough, enough, enough!” Chilchuck was quick to try and push the pot lid down over the clams in embarrassment.

What? That’s not how you remember things going. You squint. “But I thought you had a…” You look over at Chilchuck trying to fight back against the questions and accusations being thrown at him from all sides.

You can’t help but smile a little, flushing a bit pink. You can keep a secret.

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi imagines #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck imagines

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 days

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azriel x eris | 2,9k words | warnings: sometimes a little vulgar wording | masterlist

“Why did you ask for me to come here? Cassian is now the one tasked with these sort of things…” Azriel folds his hands in front of his body.

“Maybe I wanted to see you,” Eris answers in his polished voice.

A flicker of surprise passes over Azriel’s face before he catches himself. “Why did you really ask me to come here? Did something happen? Something that concerns me?”

Eris chuckles. “So talkative, Shadowsinger,” he purrs, “normally I am always the one asking the questions.”

The heir to the Autumn Court kicks away a branch and moves closer to the spymaster of the Night Court, pebbles and dry leaves crunching beneath his polished shoes. “I have news that your High Lord is surely interested in.”

Azriel raises a brow. “Go on then.” He seems impatient, on his face nothing but nonchalance though.His shoulders are squared, large wings tucked in behind his back, his booted feet planted in stance on the leaves-covered ground.

But it’s his eyes that betray him. They don’t stay on Eris‘ face — they wander, silently assessing the Autumn Court prince, and in them there are many emotions, none of them anywhere close to nonchalance.

“Beron truly thinks he has a claim to the High King title.” Eris takes a step closer to Azriel, shoulders slightly drooping. “And he is in contact with Koschei, looking for ways to free him.”

“We already know that.”

“I know you know that, Shadowsinger.” He meets Azriel’s gaze and pins him with a look. Azriel offers him no answer, his face expressionless as usual.

“But what you do not know is that is actively planning the elimination of Night and Day and an actual meeting with the Death God. He is already thinking of ways to break the Night Court and that with the help of the father of my former betrothed." Eris swallows. “His next goal is to become High King. Eliminating Night and Day first will make assuming kingship a lot easier. He counts on Tamlin as a supporter and–”

“Will Tamlin support him?” Azriel’s question is sharp, his jaw flexing. It almost seems like every muscle in his body tenses and he doesn’t even realise he interrupted Eris.

“I don’t know,” Eris says, voice shallow, eyes turned toward the distance, like he can almost see right to Tamlin’s castle. He has no idea if Tamlin will ally with his father. Eris doubts it, but he has no confirmation, so the last letter he sent the other day went out to the High Lord of Spring. Once they used to be something like friends, now he will find out how much that truly meant to Tamlin.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Azriel seems surprised, “You will?” The shadowsinger narrows his eyes. “Alone?”

“Of course, alone, or do you suggest bringing my father along? The three of us could have a wonderful talk and maybe we decide that we are all going to support Beron’s endeavours." Eris frowns at Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s nostrils flare and he gives Eris a withering look. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” Eris raises a brow, his eyes darkening a little at the feeling that Azriel radiates. Jealousy – hot and pure, although Eris doesn’t quite understand why he would be jealous now. Is he envious of Tamlin? Of Eris meeting up with Tamlin?

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Are you worried?”

“No.” The answer comes too fast and seems fishy.

Eris raises a mocking brow and then chuckles. “You are—”

“You know what Tamlin is capable of.” Azriel’s brows bunch, darkness filling his gaze, his shadows slowly sliding down his arms, almost like they are an extension of his emotions and seek to reach for Eris.

“So, you are worried,” Eris mumbles and doesn’t really understand the shadowsinger’s concern. Someone who pretends to hate him so much shouldn’t be worried about him. But then Azriel kissed him in the past, so the hate can’t be that grand and rather a false pretence…

“I have known Tamlin for a long time. He messed up greatly a few times, but he is a good High Lord. I need to talk to him, consult with him. I need his loyalty and his help.”

Azriel huffs and with the shake of his head, says, “You have the Night Court‘s aid, isn’t that enough for you?”

“No, no isn’t. Not when it comes to Beron and what he is capable of.” Eris slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Not when he is planning a trip to the continent. A trip to meet up…with him and that within the next weeks. When he returns he already arranged a meeting with Keir. I need support and loyalty from more than one court and I need–forget it. ” He shakes his head.

Shock passes over Azriel’s face and a heavy silence, almost like a thick veil of eerie darkness, falls upon them. It feels like every living being in the forest holds its breath, and time comes to a standstill.

Eventually, after a moment, Azriel says, “You need to put an end to this, Eris. You can’t wait any longer. You have been waiting for so long, if he is planning the trip now, you need to act.” There is no accusation in his tone, it sounds more like genuine helpfulness. Like an advice.

The prince begins to nod, slowly dipping his chin. “I know this. I just…I just need a bit more time. I need to arrange everything…”

He needs a place for his mother. For his brothers. Somewhere where they can go if things go wrong. He needs to arrange that first and then he will take care of Beron.

“Why wait for so long?” Azriel‘s arms twitch almost like he wanted to throw his hands up in despair, but stopped himself from doing so.

“It‘s not that easy, Azriel,” Eris snarls. “I‘m planning my father’s execution after all.” He keeps his voice level although he wants to shout.

He remembers the talk he had with Cass and Rhys in the birchin. Then the right corner of his mouth tips up. “You can always give me the go and I‘ll do the job for you.” Azriel’s scarred hand slides over Truth-Teller and Eris' eyes follow.

“What?” the prince finds himself asking, not fully focused now that he once again starts to wonder how Azriel got the scars. Who had done that to him. Who had hurt Azriel like that. Those scars can’t be battle scars…

But it is the spymaster’s answer that rips him out of his thoughts. “Kill Beron.”

“What?” Eris gapes. “You want to kill Beron?” For me, he leaves unsaid.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“No, it isn’t what I want!” Eris’ growl sends a lick of heat through Azriel. Of course it isn’t. Eris won’t let anyone else do the job and that for two reasons. He has to do it, he knows it and he can’t risk anyone else’s life.

“What is it that you want?” Azriel then asks.

Eris moves closer, so close the tips of his polished shoes touch Azriel’s leather boots. “What is it that you want, Shadowsinger? Have you finally figured it out?”

His velvety voice lets Azriel’s skin grow taut, secret, sudden desire seeping into his veins. Eris shouldn’t have this effect on him but he does and absolutely nothing and no one can change anything about that.

“This,” Azriel says, his scarred hands grasping Eris face, feeling the soft skin and the light stubble on his jaw beneath his calloused palms. “I want to feel your lips on mine.”

“Is that really what you want?” Eris’ hot breath tingles Azriel’s lips.

Azriel hums in answer, but Eris clicks his tongue. “Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to kiss you.”

“I thought you hated me, it seems quite a paradox that you still always want to kiss me.” Eris’ lips curl.

“I can hate you and want you all the same.” Azriel places his lips on Eris’, knowing his words don’t quite make that much sense, so he continues. “We danced Eris, and we almost ended up fucking that night, and I have been crazy with desire for you every since – that’s enough of an answer?”

“We almost ended up fucking?” Eris is so smooth, seems so unaffected about Azriel’s declaration it angers the shadowsinger. He would love to punch him, or kiss him so damn hard he forgets his own damn name. Azriel decides for the latter.

“I could scent your arousal, I could feel how hard you were for me. You want me just as much as I want you.” Azriel’s lips part to capture Eris’s top lip. “Say it. Say that you want to kiss me.”

“Kiss me.”

Azriel pulls Eris closer and their lips clash, a gasp escaping through the mouths of both males.

The shadowsinger kisses him deeply and their souls come alive, finally united after being apart for so long. The yearning has become nearly unbearable, but somehow it seems like it is coming to an end. Their souls have finally found their equal, the other half. “I want this. And I wanted this the first time I kissed you. Feel you. Taste you. Learn all the beautiful sounds I can elicit from you.”

Azriel’s shadows stretch out and curl around Eris, wanting to keep him here. To keep him close, to savour his warmth. “I kissed you because it was what my heart told me, what my soul begged me to do.”

Neither of two males is sated after the quick connection of their lips, so Azriel slams his mouth against Eris‘ once again, kissing him harder, with new-found vigour, one scarred hand leaving the heir‘s face, sliding down his toned chest.

“Fuck.” The curse that leaves Eris as a breathy whisper tingles Azriel’s face. He relishes the feel of Azriel kissing him, how the shadowsinger‘s hand slowly glides down his chest and around his waist while Azriel drags his tongue over the seam of Eris’ lips.

“I know you might not feel quite the same, but I want you,” Azriel admits, being honest about the situation the very first time. “I fucking want you, alright? That is why I kissed you back then. Because I want you, I want to feel you. I want to know what it is like to be with a male and I feel drawn to you, Eris Vanseera. Now you have your damn answer. And I know you might–”

“You don’t know what I want, Azriel,” Eris drawls, sliding his hand around Azriel’s waist and down to the spymaster’s rear. Their teeth clash with the next kiss they share, lips melding, noses pressing into the other’s face. “But you should have an idea, since not one time did I not kiss you back.” He feels how a blush seeps into his pale cheeks, heating up even his ears.

“Azriel,” the Autumn Court heir growls when they part. “Let me show you how much I want you.” Eris tugs at Azriel’s hand until the shadowsinger’s palm is flush with Eris’ groin, feeling the hard ridges of his engorged cock even through the fabric of his breeches. “This is what you do to me.”

Azriel nearly moans at the feeling, at the feeling of Eris‘ arousal pressing against his palm. It nearly has him come undone. Fantasies spark inside the shadowsinger’s mind that make his lids feel heavy. He wants to palm Eris through his pants, pull them down and stroke him, truly feel Eris in his hand. Wrap his mouth around him, feel him inside him.

Hell, Azriel just wants him. On him, in him, all over him. No one stopping, no more just kissing, just acting like they actually hate each other. There is something between them, and though neither will ever accept it, it is undeniable that there is more between them than just the mutual hate.

“I want you, Azriel. Morning, noon and night, I think about you. And I want you.”

There it is, his declaration. And it catches Azriel in a stupor. The shadowsinger doesn’t know how to react, or breathe, or speak. He only stands there, looking at Eris.

A gust of wind blows across the mostly barren landscape, tousling the spymaster’s hair, tingling his skin and bringing him back into the moment.

Azriel fingers curl, and he moves his hand which elicits a groan from the Autumn Court prince.

“Why won’t you have me then.” He once again closes the distance between them, kissing Eris so hard, their teeth clash. Azriel drags his tongue over the seam of the male’s lips, asking for entrance and when Eris grants him just that, the shadowsinger pulls back. Eris groans, a purely male sound that makes Azriel grow even harder within his pants. But he is also angry, frustrated, and in this moment it outweighs his desire.

“Why don’t you kiss me? Why is it always me who has to take the first step? Why won't you touch me properly? Fuck me? If you want me — no, need me so badly— why won’t you fuck me then?”

Eris‘ broad hands slides around Azriel‘s neck, fingers twining into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shoves him backwards, so that the shadowsinger‘s back collides with a tree, his hand still on Eris, but the Autumn Court heir now wedges his knee between Azriel’s legs, dragging it up the inside of his thigh until he touches him.

Their mouths meet in a ravishing kiss, a collision of lips, tongues, teeth, bruising their skin. There is nothing gentle about this kiss, nothing soft or loving. No, it is ravishing, like Eris can’t get enough. Like Azriel just needs a little more. Driven by sheer desire, their lips and tongues explore, just like their hands do.

This kiss leaves them breathless when they part.

Eris shoves against the shadowsinger, trapping Azriel’s hand between their bodies. He uses one hand to grab Azriel’s free hand and brings it up, pinning it against the trunk atop his head. The shadowsinger allows it, and groans in approval. He enjoys the feel of Eris' hand, soft and a little slimmer than his own, perfectly fitting into his. It must be a beautiful picture, Azriel thinks — the prince‘s hands, pale, manicured, soft-skinned, in his broad, dark-skinned, warrior hand. He doesn’t allow himself to think of his scars, because Eris never seems to mind them either when he touches him.

“You like this, huh,” Eris drawls and nips at Azriel’s lower lip. This is so damn reckless and stupid, Eris thinks, but he can’t get enough. He can’t move away, even with the threat of someone maybe catching them. But who would catch them here? Somewhere in a forest in the Spring Court? Where no one and nothing is around?

“Bastard,” Azriel growls, his head tipping back.

When Eris tightens the hold on his hand, Azriel’s length almost painfully strains against his pants. Hell, yes, he likes it. He fucking loves it — Eris‘ dominance. If the prince now told him to drop to his knees and take him in his mouth he would follow the order without a second of hesitation — a thought that both confuses and intrigues him.

Eris kisses the corner of his mouth. “Say that again and I‘ll take you against this tree so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

“Bastard,” the shadowsinger growls, and can’t help the smirk that appears on his lips.

Eris’ canines are the first things that sink into Azriel’s lower lip, a slight coppery taste filling his senses, but he groans when leans into the kiss, into Eris, relishing in it. He starts to palm the Autumn Court heir through his pants until the snap of a branch makes them part abruptly.

“Someone’s here?” Eris breathes but Azriel gives his head a shake. “My shadows detect no one.”

Still Eris steps away, letting go of Azriel’s hand and face. “I should leave.”

A cold that nearly makes Azriel shiver passes over the heir‘s face and the shadowsinger wants to reach for him, but Eris steps away.

Frustration takes root in Azriel’s chest, a deep crease appearing on his forehead, and he grits his teeth. “A moment ago you told me you wanted me. You told me about fucking me against that tree and now you are leaving? What has changed now?”

“Nothing has changed,” Eris growls. “That’s the problem.”

He kicks away a branch. “I still want you. I still want to touch and kiss and fuck you, but I can’t.“

“But you can,” Azriel snaps, frustration thick on his tongue.

“No I can’t!” Eris is almost shouting. “I’m the future High Lord of the Autumn Court and you are an Illyrian bastard and a fucking male. I have more important things to focus on right now. I shouldn’t allow myself to get distracted by you over and over again. I’m the future of this court and not just any male who can casually fuck a brute from another court.”

Eris gives Azriel no chance to answer. Mist appears, smelling of herbs and earth after rain, and then Eris is gone. He winnowed away, leaving Azriel behind. Alone.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x@talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshibitchez @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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agirlwithglam · 17 hours

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✨Time for Vanilla’s Opinion 🍰

Edition #1: thoughts on hate & caring about what others think of you.

Regardless of what people think of you, you need to understand that it only matters/ means something if you decide it to. What i mean is that i know lots of people say “you should only care about your opinion. Others opinion of you dont matter” but that’s only true if YOU DECIDE IT TO BE TRUE. I will say this again: this is your life!!!!!

If you choose to accept and believe the nonsense that others will think/ say of you, then you are saying “i dont have the confidence and self love in myself to only accept my opinion, so im going to give you the power over my emotions and how i act :)” do you really want to do that? Because that’s what you’re doing when you start acting based on how you think others are gonna think of you and what their perception is.

Remember: what other people think of you is just THEIR PERCEPTION. Stop making your personality & yourself dependent on what another person thinks of you!!

And also, some people will literally just hate on anything because of how sad their life is. I mentioned this before, and im gonna mention it again: there could be a video of CATS PLAYING on YouTube and you’ll find someone criticising and hating on that. That’s how sad some of these people in life are. So stop trying to or thinking that since you love yourself and you’re “perfect” that everyone should/ would like you because THATS NOT TRUE.

I read this quote once: “you could be the most juiciest, yummiest apple in the world, yet there would still be someone out there who doesn’t like apples.”

“So then.. what do i do if I receive hate? It’s still mean and hurtful.”

WHY does it still hurt??? WHY are you giving that person ANY control over how you feel???? If this person is someone who’s your friend or close to you, when they do it, TELL THEM THAT YOU DONT LIKE IT!!! Without communication and understanding, you will only start to build resentment for the other person, creating a toxic relationship. Comunícate your boundaries clearly by telling them that firmly, NOT in a joking manner, that you don’t like it. Now ofc if they do it once more, remind them again. Most of the time, if this person really cares about you, they will respect your feelings and stop doing that. But if it happens more times, you’ve gotta stop giving your energy to them. Reserve that for something that actually matters.

You may or may not have noticed that i did not write “just cut them out” because i know how difficult that can be, especially if you’re a kid still living with your parents. Because at some times, you’re stuck in the situation you’re in for a while (for example: a workplace, living at home, in 1 class at school) so its not as easy to just “cut them out”. And that’s why i wrote “stop giving your energy to them”. Because THATS what the parasites are feeding on! Your energy and attention! Take that away from them and see what happens.

BUT….;

know that what I’m NOT saying is to be a stone-cold bitch who doesn’t care at all about others or their happiness. (Because honestly, doing that shows me that you’re a lot more insecure) A lot of people now would be like “but it’s not my responsibility to ensure they’re happy. They are their own person in charge of their own actions and feelings!” Sure, ok. But then don’t come whining to me about how you have no friends and how you feel so lonely and sad. ‘You’re your own person and in charge of your own feelings’, remember? So if someone decides to leave a relationship (whether it’s a friendship, or with romance) with you because you don’t make them feel happy, then don’t be surprised about that because ‘they are their own person.’

But look, i completely agree with the fact that you and every individual indeed are in charge of their own feelings and actions, but just stop and think about it for a sec; would YOU want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t give a hoot about your happiness? Yuck, no!!

So to put it in more simple/ plain terms: be KIND to people, bring smiles to peoples faces when you can (give them a compliment, help them out, listen to them, offer advice, etc.) but don’t something that compromises your own wellbeing and happiness. Cus like, how is complimenting someone’s hair or eyes gonna hurt you? If anything it would just make you happier. But also don’t live your life constantly on the edge, afraid of what he’s gonna think of you, what shes gonna say about you, etc. etc.

I guess that’s pretty much it. <3 anyyywayys i hope you enjoyed the 1st edition of the series! If you have requests, comment on this post of send an ask using the ‘tea’ button ☕️

Xoxo, Vanilla

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blacklegsanjiii · 2 days

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Ohhh!!! I hadn’t known about the vivre card.. that’s so good. Them slowly learning emotions is just as interesting.

I can only imagine 124ji get told to be careful around Sanji as early as possible because once they start roughhousing, it’s stuff that can break his bones no sweat, and they kind of need a framework to not crack their brother in half by accident. But they internalize it a little too hard. All they take away is that Sanji is FRAIL in general, and the idea that they are fundamentally different. Not in a negative way, but they start clinging to him and stopping him from doing things because they don’t have a gauge for what’s safe for him, just that they three are a lot tougher than him and thus they extrapolate They should be the ones doing things. When they’re very young it’s not for any particular reason, they haven’t really gotten there in terms of learning empathy. So it’s for some stupid reason, like them having come in a set of four and it being kind of awkward if they lost their third.

Sora and Mihawk have a hell of a time trying to correct that behavior because that wasn’t what they wanted the kids to take from it at all, but at least it’s better than the alternative, and eventually they get it to stop for a while… up until they start learning some emotions and identifying the ones they have, even if they’re muted.

They figure out they love their brother. They love the rest of their family, too, but they’ve never been presented to them as frail the way Sanji was. So they start doing the clinging again because they figured out that with this realization that they love him, the idea of ever losing him or having him be out of commission just becomes unsettling and uncomfortable. And this time Sanji is the one who gets them to stop— he wants to be independent, damnit!

By the time they’re adults it’s mostly gone away, but it’s an old habits die hard thing. There’s all these little movements and gestures they do when Sanji’s around that indicate they want to, but they’re holding themselves back. They get that their brother is now strong, maybe even as strong as them even if he doesn’t have an exoskeleton, and he’s competent and happy and does things on his own no issue, but the instinct remains.

(ALSO SORRY THIS ASK IS SO LONG!!! I’m a writer in my own right, and your stuff inspires me a bunch at times -v-)’’ )

NO PLEASE THAT MEANS SO MUCH DON"T APOLOGIZE!!! I AM SO FUCKING HONORED???

So 124ji, for as long as they can remember being corrected from climbing on Sanji or hitting him or kicking him. Sanji cries when they do it but they don't. They don't get it for the first few explanations that Sanji is softer than them, not as sturdy. So 124ji are confused because why is Sanji so frail? They're all the same! Except Sanji has a picture like Mama and Papa but his isn't colorful. It's pretty though! So they start internalizing Sanji being frail and fragile. So they start not letting Sanji do things. If they hear any chastisements from their parents they don't let Sanji do those things anymore. Cracking eggs with Papa? Nope! Climbing to sit on the back of the chair or whatever? Not allowed! They're a set and you can't break the set!

Sora and Mihawk are staring at them in amusement but also knowing they fucked up with the corrections because they won't let Sanji be independent. The little blond is suddenly at the back of the line the kids travel in. He's not allowed to be in the water because he might drown, despite the fact they can all drown-bath time is such a struggle now. It was only because Sanji had waded a tad to deep on the beach without him or Sora or Reiju and now the three of them are telling Sanji he can't take a bath and Sanji is getting upset and looking at Mihawk with teary eyes. So Mihawk bathes those three, drops them off with Sora and Reiju and then bathes Sanji because lord have mercy he has four boys and Reiju's just as bad.

They do eventually correct the corrections so Sanji can be wild and free and cook. It took a while but they're lovely kids, really. They swear. They have their challenges but it's good. Mihawk never thought he would have a family this big so it's nice and he has Sora, something else he never thought he would be able to say. The fact that some nights Mihawk and Sora are pulled into the library with all the blankets and pillows the kids can find and a fort made big enough for them all.

And when they're older and learning emotions? They learn they love their brother and fall back into old habits. Especially when they learn that Sanji is the only one of them with a soulmate. So they have to protect him if someone out there is going to love their brother as much as they do. They all doubt Sanji's soulmate will BUT the point remains! So they fall back into their old habits, if Sanji gets sick they're the ones taking care of him. Any knicks, or cuts or scrapes or anything they bandage. It's almost like they're developing anxiety over but Sanji keeps insisting he can take care of himself. He starts refusing their help and being coddled by them. So they start letting him and living with that unsettling feeling but as they get older it gets less and less, easier to deal with. Sanji knows they love him, even if he is different.

When Sanji goes to work and then joins the crew and it's nice to breathe and fight and have equal matches to him and Sanji loves his Nakama he does. Eventually though, probably post timeskip. The crew is astonished at Mihawk because he's so fundamentally different with five kids and a soulmark he doesn't hide. 124ji are all over their brother as Reiju watches softly and points it out to their mom. They're being good when Zoro and Sanji fight and Luffy flings himself into the blond. Half steps taken then back tracked, jolts of hands that can't decide where to be. The brothers have worked hard okay? They know he's capable and have read the news.

Then the tips of Sanji's soulmark peak above the collar of his shirt, and Niji, loving Niji, sees it's not just an outline but can't tell if it's greyed out or not demands Sanji to take his shirt off so they can see. They're back to being all over the cook as the crew watches.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #the vinsmokes #1234ji #vinsmoke siblings #loved!sanji #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x sora #vinsmoke sora #dracule mihawk x sora #soulmate au #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke reiju #one piece au #answers

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impishtubist · 7 hours

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seed moon fest snippets

Sometimes you just have to admit defeat and say that a story simply isn't going to be finished 😂 Anyway, here's my attempt at knocking Remus up for my own informal fest. It's nearly 3K words of unedited nonsense and unfinished scenes that was supposed to be a much longer fic that spanned all of OOTP.

Someone else with more brain cells than me should definitely knock Remus up during OOTP properly, as he deserves. Until then, enjoy this fragmented chaos:

---

September 1995

“We need to talk,” Remus says as he unwinds his scarf.

“The last time you said that to me, you wanted a divorce.” Sirius helps him out of his cloak and hangs it on the rack.

The corner of Remus’s mouth quirks. “Can’t exactly divorce you twice, can I?”

“I suppose not.” Sirius examines him. “You look a bit peaky.”

“Yes, that’s what--”

“Lupin! Black!” Kingsley’s voice carries up the stairs. “Order meeting!”

Sirius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Duty calls. You can divorce me again after the meeting.”

***

Dumbledore hands out assignments at the end of the meeting--guard duty for everyone except Sirius and Remus, as usual. Sirius is ordered to stay in the house, and Remus is assigned to another werewolf pack, this time in Poland.

“No,” Remus says, and the whole room goes silent.

“Remus,” Dumbledore says after a moment, “you are the only member of the Order who is able to infiltrate the packs, and need I remind you of the importance of--”

“Yes, I’m aware of the importance of my missions,” Remus says dryly. “Given how successful they were in the first war, I understand why you want me to repeat them. The answer is still no. I will not be infiltrating any wolf packs for the foreseeable future, and Severus, I will no longer require Wolfsbane from you.”

“Remus,” Sirius protests, “you can’t--”

“I can,” Remus says forcefully.

“But this is your health we’re talking about!”

“Lupin’s no use to us if he won’t perform his missions as instructed,” Snape says. “Of course I’ll no longer be providing Wolfsbane to someone who refuses to make a contribution to the cause.”

“I don’t understand why,” Molly begins.

“Neither do I,” Sirius says.

“Remus, if you could enlighten us--”

“Sonorus!” Remus shouts, pointing his wand at his stomach.

A steady thud thud thud fills the room, and it takes Sirius several seconds to realize that the heartbeat isn’t Remus’s.

“Oh, Merlin,” he breathes as eyes widen around the table.

A flurry of emotions flash across Dumbledore’s face--anger, disappointment, resignation. He settles on grim. “You intend to keep the baby, then, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus flinches slightly, but he holds Dumbledore’s gaze. “Yes.”

“Very well. Your services are indeed no longer required, and Severus will no longer provide you with Wolfsbane for the moon.”

“You can’t fucking do that!” Sirius shouts at Dumbledore. “Just because he’s physically unable to be your puppet-”

“It’s poisonous to the baby,” Remus says quietly, and Sirius’s mouth snaps shut. “Wolfsbane, I mean. I can’t take it while I’m--while I’m pregnant.”

***

Dumbledore ends the meeting after that. Thankfully sensing that Sirius and Remus have a lot to talk about, the rest of the members file out of the kitchen quickly, leaving them alone.

“So,” Sirius says after a moment. “Is it, er--”

“Yes, Sirius,” Remus says tiredly. “It’s yours.”

“Oh, good,” Sirius says, and then quickly adds, “Not that it would have been a problem if it wasn’t! Obviously, you were allowed to have a life these past thirteen years, and--”

Remus kisses him. “Shut up.”

“So, er, in June…”

“Yes. We could blame it on Dumbledore, really. He’s the one who sent you to me after the Task.”

“Oh, Merlin.” Sirius passes a hand over his eyes, shaking with silent laughter. “That would go over well, after tonight.”

Remus smiles briefly, but it quickly drops from his face. “I didn't mean to break the news like this, and I know I made the decision without even speaking to you, but--”

“Remus,” Sirius says, “it’s fine, really. I mean, Merlin, a baby. Of course I wasn’t expecting it, but I think it’s great.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s also insane. I’m still a convict who isn’t allowed to leave the most heavily-warded house in Britain, which also happens to be the headquarters for a secret organization fighting the darkest wizard of our time, and you’re a werewolf living through an era of unprecedented anti-lycanthropic legislation. This is madness, and yet, I’m thrilled.”

Remus bites his lip. “Can we do this?”

“Yes.” Sirius reaches for his hand. “We can do this. I used Crookshanks to access my vaults last year, and I can do it again. We won’t hurt for gold. This is the safest house in Britain, so you’ll move in here permanently. We’ll have nine months to make it, er, baby-proof, but yes we can do this. We will do this.”

“Six months.”

“What?”

“I’m twelve weeks along, so we have roughly six months to get everything ready, although the baby might decide to make an early appearance.”

Sirius grins. “Six months it is. I like a challenge.”

“You’re taking this rather well.”

Sirius shrugs. “Always wanted to have a baby with you.”

“What?”

“If we raise the baby here, we’re taking Harry in as well,” Sirius goes on, as if he hadn’t just said something earth-shattering. “I’m not going to send him to his relatives for another summer, and then raise another child simply because they’re my blood.”

“I agree,” Remus says. “But you--want this? You’ve wanted this?”

“Wouldn’t have gone about it like this, but yeah.” Sirius’s lips quirk. “Next time, we’ll do it after I clear my name and we’re living somewhere that isn’t a house full of dark objects.”

“What do you mean, next time?”

***

“Sirius, where’s Kreacher?”

“Hogwarts,” Sirius says, and Remus blinks at him.

“Hogwarts?”

“I’m not having him in this house once the baby arrives.” Sirius resumes his scrubbing, though perhaps with more force than is called for. “I grew up with that elf, and I won’t have the baby do the same. I won’t put them through that.”

“Oh, Sirius.”

“And I wasn’t going to behead him like my dear old mother would have, so sending him to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts seemed like the best solution.”

“That was kind of you.”

***

“Well?” Remus asks, holding out his arms. “What do you think?”

Sirius circles him, examining the outfit.

“It’ll do,” he finally declares.

“It’ll do? I should hope so! This one alone costs more than I made in a year at Hogwarts.” Sirius had insisted on buying him a whole new wardrobe as soon as Remus started having difficulty fitting into his usual clothes. He’ll have to buy Remus new clothes every few weeks now as Remus increases in size, and doesn’t seem to see an issue with that.

***

December 1995

“Remus is still staying here,” Sirius says, “and, er, there’s something you should know before you see him.”

Fred and George give him twin glares that could kill, and Sirius can’t blame them--their father might be dying, might be dead already, and Sirius wants to talk about one of their former professors? But Harry looks inquisitive, so Sirius plunges on. “He’s going to look a bit different when you see him. He’s, er, pregnant, and he's pretty far along."

“Pregnant!” Ron blurts, while everyone else stares at Sirius in shock.

“You’re the other father, then,” Ginny says, and she doesn’t sound surprised at all.

“Are you?” Harry demands.

“I am,” Sirius says. “It…wasn’t planned, to say the least.”

Remus comes into the basement kitchen as Molly and Sirius are in the middle of making breakfast, and he does a double-take at the number of people who have appeared in the house overnight.

“Fill Remus in, Harry, won’t you?” Sirius asks over his shoulder as he prods at the bacon.

He listens as Harry recounts the events of the previous night. At the end, Harry adds, “And Sirius told us about the baby, so, er, congratulations, Professor.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl, Professor?” Ginny asks.

“No, we want it to be a surprise.”

Now that Arthur’s out of danger, his children are more than happy to pepper Remus with questions about the baby. He patiently answers all of them while they eat breakfast, and even lets Ginny feel the baby kick when she asks. They’re always more active after a meal.

After breakfast, the kids go off to nap, except for Harry, who lingers in the kitchen with Sirius and Remus.

“Where’s the baby going to stay after they’re born?”

“Here, with us,” Sirius says. “Remus has already moved in, and we’re turning one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery.”

Harry nods. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Harry,” Remus says gently. “There’s a place for you here, too.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean--”

“I know you didn’t, but we want you to know that.”

“I don’t have to go back to the Dursleys?”

“Dumbledore will want you to, and he’ll probably try to force you to go,” Sirius says. “If I have to kidnap you from Kings Cross myself, I will. We’re not letting you go back.”

“As long as that’s alright with you, of course,” Remus says. “It won’t be easy, living with a newborn.”

“Anything is better than the Dursleys,” Harry says fervently, and then he throws himself into Sirius’s arms. “Thank you.”

***

Pregnancy seems to calm the wolf, a side effect Remus hadn’t been expecting. He still prefers moons where he can take Wolfsbane, but at least these transformations aren’t traumatic without it. He still sometimes dislocates a joint or breaks a bone during the transformation itself, but Sirius tells him that while he’s the wolf, all he does is nest and sleep.

Moony has decided that the Black family library is the perfect place to build his nest, and he spends each moon gathering items from around the house and dragging them to the library. So far, he’s confiscated all the couch cushions, every blanket that had been moldering in a wardrobe, and three of Sirius’s cloaks.

***

Remus’s labor begins on a sunny Tuesday shortly after lunch, and he stays in early labor well into the night. He’s able to go about his day mostly as normal, despite the increasing discomfort.

That changes in the early hours of the morning, when he grips Sirius’s arm hard enough to bruise and grits out, “Get Molly.”

Their birth plan isn’t much of one--they’ve been relying on Sirius’s years-old Healer training and whatever books they can lay their hands on. They can’t risk telling anyone about the baby who wasn’t at that initial Order meeting, not even Poppy. Molly has helped two wix friends through their own pregnancies, so she’s the closest thing to an obstetrician that they have.

She helps keep Remus comfortable, checks to see how dilated he is, and coaches him on when to push. She makes sure Sirius is actively involved as well, and he’s the one to catch their son as Remus pushes him into the world.

“Oh, fuck,” Remus wheezes as Sirius cradles the infant in his hands, tears coursing down his cheeks. “Oh, fuck, I am never doing that again.”

The baby starts to wail in earnest, and Sirius laughs, giddy and relieved and so fucking terrified. Molly helps Remus with the after birth, and then Sirius lays the baby on his chest.

“Still think he’s a Teddy?” Sirius asks softly while Remus cuddles the baby close. He presses his nose to the top of the baby’s head and breathes.

“Yes,” Remus says finally. “He’s definitely a Teddy.”

***

Harry knocks on McGonagall’s office door precisely at eight, and it swings open immediately.

“Mr. Potter, come in,” she says. “Have a seat.”

He sits in front of her desk, wondering what task she’ll assign him for detention tonight. Scrubbing all the toilets on the fifth floor with a toothbrush, probably. At least it won’t be lines with a blood quill, he thinks as he massages his hand absently.

“I have a message for you,” McGonagall says.

“Right,” Harry says, blinking at her. A message? He’s here for detention.

“Edward John Lupin-Black was born at five-thirty this morning. Professor Lupin is doing well, and your godfather is beside himself with happiness.”

“Oh.” Harry blinks, absorbing this. “Remus had the baby?”

“He did,” McGonagall says, and there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I’m sorry for the ruse, but serving you a detention seemed the best way to get this message to you. I was summoned to Headquarters for a meeting this afternoon, which is how I learned about the baby. Mr. Black also wanted me to convey to you that he’s looking forward to seeing you this summer, and that he loves you.”

***

June 1996

The kitchen door bursts open and Sirius hurries in, his wand in one hand. He has a crying bundle in the crook of his other arm, and for a moment all the thoughts flee Harry’s brain.

“Harry? What’s going on, what’s wrong?”

“Teddy?” Harry blurts.

Sirius holsters his wand and kneels before the fire, adjusting the baby in his arms. For a moment, the sight of Harry’s floating head distracts the baby, and he stops his wailing.

“Where are you Flooing from?”

“McGonagall’s office,” Harry says, jolted back to reality by the question. “Sirius, I thought--I saw--you were being tortured! Voldemort kidnapped you, and he was holding you somewhere, and--”

“Harry, breathe,” Sirius said. “It must have been another vision. I’m safe; we all are.”

“My other visions have been real,” Harry says--hesitantly, because he wants to believe this is Sirius in front of him. “Mr. Weasley did get attacked, and that old man really did die.”

“I know,” Sirius says, “but we already know that Voldemort can get into your mind, and that Snape never completed your Legilimancy lessons. That means that Voldemort can plant visions in your head, ones that aren’t real and never happened.”

“Sirius?” Remus comes into the kitchen, knuckling sleep out of his eyes. He freezes when he sees Harry’s head in the fire. “What’s going on? Harry, are you alright?”

Harry explains the night’s events as quickly as he can. He doesn’t know how much longer he has before he’s discovered.

“You should come through, Harry,” Remus says when he finishes. “If Voldemort is giving you visions at Hogwarts, you clearly aren’t safe there and there’s no point in you staying.”

“But what if this isn’t real?” Harry demands. “What if this is the vision?”

“Voldemort doesn’t know about Teddy,” Remus says. “Unless you think Professor McGonagall is a spy, then we’re the only ones who know about the baby. This can’t be a vision that Voldemort has planted in your head, because you know details he doesn’t. This is real, Harry.”

Remus has a point, and none of his visions have ever been this vivid. Harry ducks back into McGonagall’s office for another handful of Floo powder, and then steps fully into the fireplace.

“Hi,” Harry says, and he barely has the word out before Sirius engulfs him in a hug.

“Hi, Haz,” he says into Harry’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m sorry you were so worried.”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry pulls away. “Can I--”

“Of course.” Remus adjusts the bundle in his arms so Harry can see the baby. “Meet Teddy. Teddy, this is Harry. He’s going to be living here with us, too.”

“Hi, Teddy,” Harry whispers. He reaches out a hand, and when no one stops him, touches Teddy’s cheek. “I’m--”

“You brother,” Sirius says, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is your brother, Teddy.”

#imp is writing #wolfstar #seed moon fest #breed that old man 2024

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