#i forgot about granny

[meatbag-status]

OH WHAT THE FUCK? THE WHOLE TIME??//! I LEFT YOU ALONE BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOME RANDOM INNOCENT GRANDMA! OHHH OYU FUCKIN LIL BITCH

[ineedlelittlespace]

The fun thing about Discworld books is how you can begin reading, say, a fun mishmash of fairy tale retellings... and then suddenly find yourself contemplating the existential horror and sorrow of a creature so tortured that it begs for its own death because it has been forced into the monstrous state of being not quite animal and not quite human.

[duine-aiteach]

Been thinking lately about the term Anglo-Irish. Specifically in the context of notable historical figures such as Oscar Wilde, J. M. Synge, W. B. Yeats, Bram Stoker, Jonathan Swift, Maria Edgeworth, and so many others. We’re so quick to claim that they’re not British that they’re Irish, but it’s not as straight forward as that is it? The same issue arises with notable Northern Irish people. Sometimes it’s clear if they identify as British or Irish, but not always.

Obviously we want to claim the brillance of Anglo-Irish people in history because they came from our home and that is important. But on the other hand, the Anglo-Irish were the ones making waves because of that privilege. That is important too. The Anglo-Irish - as a whole - were generally better off and a higher class than the general Irish population. That can’t be ignored. They become well known and influential outside of Ireland because they have the money and the connections to do that. Many other Irish people were probably as talented but just didn’t get the chance.

A lot of the notable Anglo-Irish people did go over to England and prosper there, which is probably part of the reason that people call them British. But even if their families were well off english landlord types, a lot of them were raised in ireland and that matters.

Wikipedia says

The Anglo-Irish novelist and short story writer Elizabeth Bowen memorably described her experience as feeling "English in Ireland, Irish in England" and not accepted fully as belonging to either.

Many Irish people today have family in the UK. Many of my peers have one British parent or grandparent, myself included. While the countries are separate places and should be treated as such, the people are still messy. I was born in England to an English mother and an English-born Irish father then raised in Ireland. Up until I was 15 or 16 I was a British citizen, then I was imported and now all my documentation says I’m Irish. I don’t consider myself English or British at all. And today, that distinction doesn’t really make much difference. I’m not any better or worse than my neighbours whose family have lived and died in the same area for generations. But historically, for these notable Anglo-Irish people, that distinction did make a difference.

[hearties-circus]

I think niamh doesn't shy away from seriously talking about being a teenage mum but the way bree asks about it usually makes it a very silly conversation

[sakuratruther]

sorry i love crazy medics. as if it’s my fault

[nomaishuttle]

sry im like willing myself to get up and brush my teeth and all that but im literally like Maybe i should finally actually listen to tbi. as in the bifrost incident not traumatic brain injury which it would be insane if there was a mechs album named traumatic brain injury.

[imaginejolls]

would ben & maddie & ryn risk the biological complications that would arise from ben & ryn having a biological child? let's discuss.

(reminder: season 3 does not exist)

[musicshot-project]

new concept features

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[schrodingers-hoarding-problem]

I should get back into crochet

[writingforatwistedworld]

How would riddle, malleus and epel react to the overseer personally knowing their family their family was not aware they were the overseer (for malleus and epel the overseer met their grannys and for riddle they know his mom)

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, kidnapping, religion, cult, unhealthy relationship, threats, blood, imprisonment

Riddle Rosehearts/Epel Felmier/Malleus Draconia-Player knows one of their family members

Riddles mother

It was once more time for a holiday

NRC was prepared to host a few attractions and to have family members visit for a day or two

Riddle was warned by a letter from his mother that she was coming

So the day was here. The celebration was in full swing. And look at that, it's the mother of a certain redhead. Noo-I mean, yay...

Riddle was prepared for another scolding for something he “did wrong” but after greeting her son (in a way too stiff manner) she turned to you and... greeted you as well?

You see, little, helpful you had promised the former red tyrant to help his dorm with their celebration so you were also present when the madam came over

“Mother, why do you know the Overseer?” “What are you talking about, Riddle?”

Apparently, Trey had once invited you to meet his family after you showed interest in his siblings and the bakery. In the Queendom you had gone on a walk in the forest, slipped and twisted your ankle so badly that you couldn't walk anymore. Luckily Riddles mother came by (for some reason) and helped you, being a doctor and all

Now, lady is of course no idiot so after her son had asked her that question she was just a new addition to the garden as a statue

Riddle was terrified that you saw the polite yet also arrogant way his mother spoke to you in the past as something rude

Now, you were of course not the biggest fan of her but at least she healed you back then

Once you are gone, running off to Pomefiore to help over there, Riddle had a talk with his mother

Usually he would show her respect but today it was like the roles were reversed

Kind words and any kind of love he had left for her were thrown out of the window when he asked her “how she could have not recognized their uncrowned ruler?”

Riddle was this close to snapping and using his special magic on her

For the first time Riddles mother was afraid of her son

Never before had she seen him so angry

But oh well, better stay in line and be nice to you instead of finding out how far she could push his boundaries

It was almost like he wouldn't just chop her head off in a metaphorical sense with his special magic but rather literally in a much, much more bloody way

Epels Grandmother

Ah yes, Epels sweet sweet granny could of course not miss her beloved grandson

She even prepared some cake and other delicious treats for him. How sweet!

So when perfection themselves, the Overseer, suddenly marched over after they spotted a familiar mop of light lilac hair he nearly had a heart attack

But instead of his Granny being surprised she just said a nice hello, that it was good to see you again and how things had been since you had seen each other

Why did his granny know the Overseer? Why did his granny know God?

Now Epel couldn't of course ask that later part, considering that his villages view on you was in comparison rather... yeah let's call it “extreme”

Turns out he had forgotten something when he visited Harveston the last time and you brought it to him, only for you to meet his Grandmother before you ran into him. Giving her what he forgot the two of you had a nice little talk before you left

And this is the point when Epel felt like he was ready to bash his head against the wall

Vil must have noticed a short in Epels mood because the model just threw him a very poisonous look

So here Eprl was, standing like a lost little child between his Granny and f-ing God whilst the two of you had a nice little chat about the weather

When you finally said goodbye to the two, running off to Diasomnia because you were invited for tea, Epel was juts like “Granny, we need to talk.”

Say goodbye to your apple-free days because after that talk, there will be boxes of so-called “offerings” in front of your door. Every. Single. Day.

“Granny, don't be too shocked but you met God.” “Hoho, what are you talking about?” “...” “Oh...”

For the rest of the day her legs were so shaky that Epel was afraid for her health

I mean, come on, the very person who has drilled tales about a deity into your head finally meeting said deity is something that is guaranteed to have a way too high blood pressure

The next time you run into her she isn't entirely sweet anymore

Of course she is still nice but there is something creepy about her. The way her eyes drill into you, how her questions are always a tad bit too personal

And did she just utter a prayer with your name in it? Nah, must be your imagination

Malleus Grandmoter

How she didn't recognize you the first time you two met is a wonder considering that she has that sixth sense every Fae has that tingles even when you are being simply mentioned

But today is a great day, Malleus grandmother came over to visit her grandson, a rare day of rest for her

Maleus was just about to tell her that he had invited a guest when you showed up

So when he stood up to introduce you to her she was just like “Oh, the child of man I met that one day.”

Cue Malleus standing there like a plank

Poor man is so surprised that he can't even ask how the heck you two met each other

When he finally asked when you two met he found out that he had forgotten to send a letter of his so you had jumped through one of the mirrors and delivered it to the castle yourself

After almost getting impaled for jumping right into a heavily guarded castle you had explained yourself and boom, you had a fife minute talk with grandma Draconia

Ok, great, wonderful, but did she know that you were the Overseer?

When he told her who you were she had to set down her teacup, shock sinking into her bones

Following his words you asked what he meant with Overseer

This was the day Diasomnia saw their dorm leader drop a teacup

Like with Epel you are now more or less in trouble

I mean, yeah, it's nice to get literal national treasures sent to your doorstep but at the same time, what the heck??!

Back in the Valley of Thorns the Fae are panicking left and right

What do you mean, the Overseer has already visited us once? And we pointed all kind of sharp tools at them??!

It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you just woke up one day in a room that you had never seen before, living like a bird in a golden cage

You know, the next ruler has taken a liking to you and your loyal followers need to protect you

So sit still and don't try to run

[marasmadness]

soft dom regina mills x fem reader smut where reader has a praise kink & a mommy kink <333

Midnights With The Mayor || Regina Mills x Reader

CW: smut, strap ons, praise kink, mommy kink, blindfolds, biting, magic during sex bc why not 🤷‍♀️, dom/sub dynamics

WC: 2.5K

“Granny’s Diner, this is Ruby speaking.”

Regina heard the pop of her gum through the phone as she pinched her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could flip through the papers on her desk. As usual, she was the last one in the town hall. It was long after the sun had set and all the other office lights had gone out. “ Ruby, it’s Regina. I know it’s late, but would you mind swinging by with an order on your way home after your shift? I’m at my office and I’ll pay you extra.”

Ruby scrambled for her order pad in the pocket of her apron while simultaneously filling the coffee mugs of the diner’s last lingering customers. “Let me close up, and it’ll be there around 1 o’clock. Your usual order, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.” They hung up, and Regina continued with her work. Regina had shown slightly more softness toward Ruby than the other residents of Storybrooke. She had been one of the first to forgive Regina along with Emma, was great with Henry, and even supported her return to the position of Storybrooke’s mayor.

She quickly returned to work, plowing through the seemingly never-ending pile of town proposals or updated budgeted plans. No matter how much she accomplished, her workload also replenished itself by the next morning. She made an effort to cram out a little extra on Friday nights so that she could spend most of her weekend with Henry without having to pick up extra phone calls or bring work with her to his activities. Half an hour later, Regina heard a knock on the double oak doors echo through the hall’s tiled corridors. “ Door’s open; come on up Ruby.” She had yet to look up when the door creaked open, but the tentative footsteps across the marble caught her attention.

She looked up to spot someone unfamiliar, who was not Ruby but wore the same uniform. You lingered tentatively in the doorway of the mayor’s office, holding up her takeout bag. “Two orders of apple cinnamon pancakes?”

She nodded, confirming you had the right place. It took her a moment to address you. You threw her off. She knew every face in Storybrooke, or at least she did, before you showed up. She had been distracted, less focused on Storybrooke’s border, and using less magic recently anyway in order to gain the town’s trust.

You began to fidget under her gaze when she approached you. Her heels clicked against the floor with long, fluid steps, and she reached her hand out toward you. For a brief moment you forgot you held your order in her hand and stared at her outstretched hand. Quickly realizing what she was reaching out for, you placed the brown paper bag in her hand, dropping your head to hide the slight blush that tinged your cheeks.

“Regina Mills, May-”

“Mayor of Storybrooke. Of course I know who you are, Miss Mills,” you finished with a soft smile.

She raised her eyebrow, glad to hear her reputation still reached as far as it did when she was the evil queen. “And you are?” She asked, prodding for a name, as she rested her hand on her hip against the smooth fabric of her pencil skirt.

You gave her your name, explaining that you went to school with Ruby, and she invited you to spend the summer with her here in Storybrooke rather than in Boston, where you lived.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Storybrooke.” She turned around, leaning over her desk to grab her wallet. Your guilty eyes roved over her body while she was turned and distracted. You had heard plenty about Regina Mills from Ruby during your road trip to her hometown, but she had failed to account for the fact that with a single brief interaction, she had your palms sweaty, which you attempted to hide behind your back. Regina wore a red silk blouse tucked in her skirt, with a few unhooked buttons near the top that revealed the slightest curve of her cleavage. It was obvious she had been running her hands through her dark, silky hair, which was slightly tousled.

You attempted to loosen your tense shoulders and offer a casual smile as she turned back around toward you. Your lips parted in surprise as she grabbed your wrist, placing a stack of cash in your palm. “Here, for the late-night visit. I appreciate it. Sorry for keeping you up.” Her voice was soft; there was no need for volume when she was as close to you as she was. A subtle smirk crossed her red-painted lips as she closed your fingers around the money.

“ Oh really, it was no extra trouble at all. I would’ve been up if I wasn’t working anyway. Terrible sleeper.” You rambled nervously, trying to make your visit seem like as little of a hassle as possible to the woman.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You swore she could’ve winked with the statement, but the light surrounding the two of you was too dim to tell.

You turned around, closing her office door slowly behind you. “Have a goodnight, Miss Mills.”

…

The next morning, Regina sauntered in bright and early to Granny’s Diner. Only a few regulars had beat her here, silently sipping on their coffee in a corner booth.

Ruby spotted her surveying the room with a purpose and smirked. “ Regina! Back so soon? What can I get you? Or who can I get for you?” She raised her eyebrows, twirling a red pen between her fingers.

Regina hollowed her cheeks into a petulant expression, annoyed that Ruby could read her that quickly. “Where is she Ruby?”

The girl clicked her tongue, pointing towards the curtain that led to a back section of the restaurant. “Back by the laundry. There was a coffee spill.”

The mayor strode through the quaint Storybrooke staple before Ruby had finished, slipping away from the smell of hot coffee and homemade syrup.

Rolling her tongue across the tip of her teeth, her introduction rolled off her tongue when she found you leaning against the washing machine, your shirt splayed out in front of you as you scrubbed at a coffee stain. She held her breath, letting her eyes soak in your bare skin before you noticed your presence.

“Mayor Mills, eager for our reunion to be so soon?” You commented without turning around to face her, hiding the small smile as you tucked your chin to your chest.

Regina withheld the instinct to flinch in surprise. “How did you know it was me?” She questioned, now more intrigued than shocked.

“You’re not the only one with powers around here.”

The color drained from the sorceress’s face, fearing the worst until innocent pink tendrils flowed from your fingertips, erasing the previously unrelenting stain from your shirt.

Regina crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re not just here for summer break.”

“ Nope.” Shrugging your shirt back over your shoulders, you buttoned it up and retired your apron over it. “ Ruby’s been trying to get me to come out here ever since we were freshman roommates and she sensed I had magic. I’ve never bothered to learn more than party tricks.”

“She wanted you to learn from me,” Regina finished, putting the pieces together.

Hopping up onto the drier, you crossed your legs and shot her an eager smile. “So, teach me?”

Regina wasn’t sure what suddenly made her so agreeable, but she found herself saying yes before she could hesitate. She had a possessive death grip over her powers and was never quick to reveal her secrets, but the feelings that were luring her to you made her willing to sacrifice the slightest bit of control in order to keep you around. “Meet me tonight at 9; come prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” You asked, scrambling after her as she pivoted around.

“ Anything.” You froze, watching her leave and knowing you weren’t going to get anything more from her right now. Her hips swayed slightly beneath her red blazer as she left with the same confidence she walked in with.

Despite not having an address, the mayor’s house was not hard to find. It took all of 15 minutes to travel from one end of Storybrooke to the other. Even with Ruby’s vague instructions, you ended up right in front of Regina’s house. It was the biggest one on the block, with pristine white siding, an eye-catching red door, and an impressive collection of apple trees beside it.

The door swung open before you could even knock, revealing Regina, still dressed for work, minus the blazer. She let you in, glancing up and down the street before she closed the door behind you. She invited you to sit on a bar stool in her kitchen. You had been out for a drink for Ruby and were still dressed for it. The older woman’s eyes darted to your lap as you attempted to pull the hem of your dress farther down your thighs as you sat down.

She leaned against the countertop across from you, pouring two glasses of wine. “So what have you worked with before?”

You shrugged, tapping your fingers against the bottom of the glass. “Mostly small objects I guess, never anything powerful. I’ve used it to grab things across the room, plenty of laundry.

Regina tilted her head. A smile crossed her face, amused at your innocence. “You’re a witch, and you use your powers for... laundry.”

You laughed airily. “I’m not a witch. I’m not out here cursing people.”

“ Ruby really taught you nothing. You don’t have to be evil or cursing people to be a witch. You practice magic; you’re a witch. You don’t see me out here cursing people, well, anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but she dismissed it with a dark stare. “So, what do you do with your powers?”

“Whatever I wish. Though I am trying to use them less due to a history of a…. magic high, if you will. Let’s start with teaching you how to work with humans. It feels different from objects and requires more strength. You have to sense their skin, touch, or blood if you’re working with dark magic.

You stood up slowly, raising a hand. “I am not working with-”

“Relax.” Regina waved her hand and your arm well back to your side.

You looked down to where your fingers rested against your hip without you placing them there. “ Woah.”

Regina walked around the counter, placing herself in front of you. “I usually get a more impressive response than “ Woah,” but we’ll work on it.”

Your eyes brightened with a hunger that Regina recognized in her younger self when she had first been opposed to magic more powerful than her own. “What else can you do?”

Regina’s eyes raked over your body in thought before she raised two fingers, curling them into her palm. Controlled purple light sparked from her fingertips, wrapping itself around your wrists. You gasped in surprise as she lifted them above your head without a single touch. Stumbling backwards, you looked up to find your hands pinned above your head and Regina hovering over you with a single glide.

Her voice husked in your ear, the sweet wine still scenting her breath. “Do you still need further demonstration that magic can feel good?”

Tilting your head brought your mouth closer to her lips, and you found her dark, unflinching stare. “Yes,” you whispered, daring her to go further.

With your word, she hooked her finger on your collar, practically dragging you around the corner. You found yourself in her bedroom, and she pushed you down on her mattress. You watched attentively as you kicked her heels off and strode over to her nightstand, digging through it for something.

She revealed a blindfold before wrapping the piece of silk around her palm. You looked up at her curiously as she kneeled into the mattress before your vision went dark.

From the movement of the mattress, you sensed her settling onto the bed a few feet away. You flinched when her raspy voice entered your ear, and you picked up immediately that she was using her powers to project her voice across the space between you.

Our powers come to the surface best when we’re desperate, so use yours, and I’ll fuck you. It’s that simple.” You could hear the grin in her voice as you sat frozen in a moment of shock.

Working based off what Regina had done with her voice, you attempted to extend your sense of touch past where your arm lay still beside you. You were hesitant to use your magic, fearful of losing control. A soft pink glow from your touch eventually reached out and wrapped around her waist, eliciting a soft smile of satisfaction from the older woman. “Good girl, keep going.”

Guiding your sensations lower, you found her belt buckle and loosened it until you heard it click where it felt beside her. While brushing over the fabric of her slacks, you faltered as your touch latched around her belt loop and, to your surprise, rested on a curved bulge straining beneath the fabric. Regina chuckled at your reaction. “Mommy’s taught you well.”

She must have finally been satisfied with your display of powers because you heard her shuffling around, stripping herself of her clothes. Your fingers itched to remove the blindfold so you could soak in the goddess-like state of the woman kneeling in front of you.

You felt her hands on the back of your head working to undo the knot, and then your vision came back to you. Regina loomed over you, her hands on each side of your head. After teasingly grazing her fingertips along the length of your body, she lined up her thick red strap, dragging the tip across your folds. “ Already soaked,” she hummed softly.

She brought her hand up over your mouth, and before you had time to react, she was pounding deep inside you, reveling in the vibrations she could feel underneath her fingertips from your moans and screams. The room filled with the sounds of slapping skins and heavy breaths.

Regina lowered her mouth to your chest, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh with restraint. You dropped your head back into the pillows, closing your eyes in an attempt to fight the dazedness that was starting to cloud your head. Sure to leave a scatter of marks, Regina’s lips latched onto your skin, only releasing it to circle your nipple with her tongue.

You let out a guttural gasp as the woman bent your legs over her shoulders, brushing her faux cock against your throbbing clit. “Come for me baby,” Regina whispered just as she drew you over the edge into a blinding orgasm. Your thighs tensed and quivered as you coated her cock with your cum. Her pace slowed down as your euphoria faded and sleepiness washed over you. Regina climbed up, satisfied, and grabbed a warm washcloth. Sitting on the bottom of the bed, she smiled, watching the starry-eyed look you wore as she cleaned you up. “So, lesson tomorrow?”

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to who she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

[purseowner4thequalityanimation]

SHIN MEGAMI RISING VENGEANCE WHEEEE

Here are all the new Kaneko models I could see; Cai-zhi, Dis, Pellaide, Cherub, Karasu Tengu, Efreet, Unicorn and Gogmagog.

And here are the returning SH2 models; Halphas, Vritra, Turbo Granny, Nezha, Armaiti, Kudlak, Fenrir, Vouivre, Zun Tun She, Halphas again just for @eirikrjs, Dormarth, Gremlin and Tzitzimitl! EDIT: I FUCKING FORGOT KINMAMON

And Then There's This Motherfucker

I don't give a fuck about the rest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ddejavvu]

for the multiverse Monday: reader and rockstar! Sirius have been dating for some time and even though it's not something public he always leaves something out, like some part of the reader accidentally appearing in a photo or interviews with double meanings that imply that he have something with someone <3

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius's livestream is still going; in fact, you've been watching for the past forty minutes. He'd offered to plant you front and center before the camera and introduce you to his fans, but in a toothpaste-stained sweatshirt and granny panties, you're not eager to show yourself off to the world. Instead you're nestled snugly in bed, blankets tucked under your chin as you burn Sirius's image into your mind.

His hair's bundled up atop his head in a sloppy bun of your own creation, held together with a bright pink scrunchie. He's known for his less-than-bland stage outfits, but you've seen a handful of comments about the hair tie already, wondering if it's really his.

"Yeah, anyways, doesn't matter what the waitress said." He drawls, finished recounting a story about a fan he'd met over breakfast, "Can't remember, really, but the guy was fantastic, and yes I did pay his bill."

He dodges a praise-filled comment, "No, no, 'm not an angel, don't exaggerate. Just bought a guy breakfast. More of a grandma, really."

Sirius is an angel, to you. Maybe a fallen one, what with his dark aesthetic and fiery eyes, but miraculous and heavenly either way. He clears his throat, somewhat overwhelmed by the attention he typically loves so much. He shifts in his seat, and the commenters catch his mistake before you do.

onceyougoblack: ARE THOSE CONDOMS???????

siriblxck: not the condoms in the back 💀

blacksangel: sorry guys i guess i forgot to tell him to put them away after last night 🤭

There are, in fact, condoms behind Sirius. He'd shifted on the couch cushions just enough to expose a large box of condoms behind him on the dining table, the most convenient place to store them so that he could pick one up on his way into the house. He notices the comments and lets out a sharp bark of laughter, reaching back to push them out of frame.

"Sorry, sorry," He snickers, "Jesus, m'gonna get booted off the platform for that. Listen, better safe than sorry, okay? You can make fun of me all you want but I don't have an STD and neither does- well," Your heart stutters in your chest as you see his lips begin to form your name, then stop, "Uh, anyone else. Christ, can't really come back from that one. I'm gonna-" He stammers, staring at the endless scroll of comments, "Uh, I'm gonna end the live. Wrap it before you tap it, mates, g'bye."

It's barely two seconds after your screen goes dark and informs you that Sirius has ended the live video before you hear his footsteps racing towards your door, then he bursts through, flooding the room with light.

"Did you see that?" He pants, eyes wide and grin enormous as you nod.

"Yes, I did, you're going to be hearing about that in every interview for the rest of your life, Sirius."

"Can't wait to be grilled by talk show hosts," He snorts, and you're afraid his smirk may never fade, especially not when he slides beneath the covers and his hands instantly find the curve of your ass, "Hope they saw the 'extra large' label."

[aestheticaltcow]

Last Updated: 05/05/2024

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