#child skeleton face paint

[onlyhereforthestories]

What's Spooky Season Without Jump Scares (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Happy Halloween guys! I hope you enjoy this little fic, I'm sad spooky season is over for another year. Next up for me is Chica 👀 stay tuned.

Alexia was used to the calm, steady version of you. The one that only spoke when necessary, who focused intensely on training and barely cracked a smile, except for when you were alone together or with your families. You were always a little softer then. So, when the calendar flipped to October, she wasn’t expecting the sudden shift. It wasn’t like it was your first Halloween season together, no you had been together for 3 years now, but this was the first one in your now shared apartment. Something that had you buzzing with excitement for what the month might bring.

The apartment was still mostly quiet, but a new energy had settled in, you were planning something.

Alexia was chopping vegetables for dinner, humming a tune under her breath, completely unaware of the fact that you had been sneaking around the apartment, plotting your first Halloween scare. You moved silently, pulling a black hoodie over your head, the hood obscuring your face. You’d painted your face hastily with white and black makeup, mimicking the look of a ghostly skeleton, but the effect was more comedic than terrifying.

As Alexia diced the carrots, you crept up behind her. You didn’t say a word at first, just let the eerie silence do the work for you. Then, in your deepest, most unnatural voice, you whispered, “Alexiaaaa...”

Her shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, you saw her pause. Then she turned, knife still in hand, her eyes wide and alert.

You stood there, hands raised in a mock zombie pose, and shouted, “BOO!”

She flinched, but the startled look in her eyes quickly melted into annoyance. “¡Joder! What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, her face flushed with surprise, though there was the tiniest hint of a smile playing at her lips.

You dropped the act, giggling like a child, completely unlike your usual self. “Come on, admit it. I got you!”

She stared at you, shaking her head with mock disapproval and rolling her eyes as she spoke. “You're ridiculous. And I could have hurt you, I have a knife in my hand idiota.”

You stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Ridiculously good at jump scaring, you mean.”

Alexia gave a long drown out sigh, but you could see the amusement in her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of October with you.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more planned,” you teased, winking at her. “Just you wait.”

---

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the Barcelona girls were gathered on the training pitch, doing their usual warm-ups. You and Alexia had arrived together, but everyone was focused on their stretches and drills. What they didn’t know was that you had a new prank up your sleeve, and Alexia, although playing innocent, was completely aware.

You had spent the night before gathering the perfect prank materials: fake spiders, a small wireless speaker, and a creepy mask that you knew would send a few hearts racing.

As the team gathered for tactical drills, you casually slipped the speaker into one of the benches near where Patri and Mapi were chatting, adjusting their socks and discussing their latest match. You gave Alexia a sly nod as she jogged by, and she gave you a quick wink, pretending not to know what was coming.

You crouched behind one of the equipment carts, pressing play on your phone. From the speaker came a low, eerie growl followed by a ghostly moan.

Mapi immediately looked up, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

Patri turned her head, puzzled. “What the…?”

Suddenly, you popped out from behind the cart, wearing the creepy mask, a grotesque, zombie-like face. You lunged toward them with a guttural scream, arms flailing wildly.

Patri yelped, practically jumping out of her boots, while Mapi’s eyes widened in shock. “¡Dios mío!” Mapi shouted, stumbling backward and tripping over her own feet.

The rest of the team erupted into laughter, even Alexia couldn’t hold back, bending over as she chuckled at her teammates’ reactions.

Patri’s face flushed with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. “¡No tienes vergüenza! I’m going to kill you!”

You laughed, pulling the mask off and shaking your head. “It’s Halloween! Lighten up!”

Mapi, still catching her breath, pointed at you accusingly. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

Just as the girls were recovering, you reached into your pocket and threw a handful of fake spiders at them, causing a fresh wave of screams. Even Pina, who was nearby, shrieked as one of the rubber spiders landed on her shoulder.

Alexia jogged over, still laughing. “I think you’re going to get banned from training at this rate.”

You grinned at her. “Oh, come on. You have to admit, it’s kind of fun.”

Alexia shook her head, but her smile gave her away. “Alright, alright. But if you scare me again...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If?”

Alexia shot you a playful glare. “*When* you scare me again, I’m getting revenge.”

---

As October marched on, your love for Halloween grew more intense. Decorations appeared in every corner of your shared apartment. There were fake cobwebs draped over the shelves, plastic skeletons hanging from the bathroom door, and pumpkins placed strategically on the window ledges. Alexia, though amused by your enthusiasm, was also slightly wary. Every room had become a potential jump-scare zone.

One night, after a long day of training and some light teasing from the girls, Alexia entered the apartment, her guard up. She flipped on the lights and scanned the hallway, expecting you to pop out from behind the door at any moment. You had been home for about an hour due to her having a captains meeting after training. But there was nothing. Just an eerie silence and the usual orange glow from the Halloween lights. Maybe you were finally giving her a break after the almost daily small jump scares she had been having this month.

She walked toward the bedroom, her body slowly relaxing as she reached for the door handle. Suddenly, the door creaked open just a crack, on its own.

Alexia froze. “You’re not getting me this time.”

The hallway light flickered for a split second, and that’s when she saw it, a dark figure standing just inside the door, its eyes glowing red.

“¡Por el amor de Dios!” she shouted, stumbling back as you emerged from the shadows, your glowing-eyed ghoul costume in full effect.

You burst into laughter, the fake eyes you’d attached to your mask bouncing slightly as you doubled over. “I can’t believe I actually got you again!”

Alexia glared at you, though a smile was fighting to break through. “I thought you were done with the scares.”

You shrugged, removing the mask and setting it down on the table. “Halloween’s not over yet.”

She sighed dramatically. “One more. One more scare, and I’m hiding your costumes.”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “You love it.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, and she pulled you into a hug, your body warm against hers. “Maybe just a little.”

---

Halloween finally arrived, and the apartment looked like something straight out of a haunted house. You had decorated every inch of the place, from flickering candles to eerie sound effects playing on a loop. Alexia, though initially resistant, had gradually started to enjoy the spooky atmosphere. She even helped carve the pumpkin that sat proudly on the kitchen counter, though she complained the entire time about how messy it was.

That night, the two of you settled in on the couch, surrounded by snacks and the soft glow of your spooky décor. The jump scares had eased up, well mostly. You promised to go easy on her tonight, she had suffered through pretty much a whole month of your antics.  

As you cuddled under a blanket, Alexia leaned back against you, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she said softly, “I wasn’t sure I was going to survive your Halloween obsession this month.”

You chuckled, squeezing her a little tighter. “I know I went a little overboard.”

“A little?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Okay, maybe a lot.” You leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “But you survived. And look at you now, I have you enjoying Halloween like a pro.”

Alexia smiled, her eyes glancing around the decorated room. “I guess I did. Maybe next year, we can make it even bigger.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger?”

Alexia’s smile turned wicked. “Oh, yeah. But next year, *I’m* planning the scares.”

You laughed, but there was a flicker of nervousness in your voice. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

She just grinned, settling back into your arms as the Halloween movie played in the background. Whatever the future held, you knew that this spooky tradition was now something the two of you would share, year after year. The girls better watch out next spooky season that was for sure.

[the-prettiest-teardrop]

PUMPKIN

Pairing- Luke Castellan x reader

Warnings- R wears a dress, suggestive comments, allusion to smut, underage drinking mentions

“Stop squirming!” You whine, momentarily pausing your action. You’re straddling Luke’s lap, attempting to do his skeleton face makeup. He kept squirming whenever the cold face paint touched his warm, tanned skin.

“Okay, well, it’s cold!” He responds, sounding like a child.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, I did it and I’m fine.” Luke rolls his eyes, and you kiss his nose in response. You resumed your initial task, painting a black, upside down heart on his nose. Then you begin to smoke out the eyeliner framing his downturned features. You giggle a bit as you finish, taking in how gorgeous he was, even like his.

“Like what you see?” He teases lowly, rubbing his hands up and down your hips.

“Mhm, you look so handsome like this.” You tease back, hands resting on his toned shoulders.

“Am I not always handsome?”

“Well- you’re just *extra* handsome today!” You respond, to which he laughs a bit and then kisses your head.

“Let’s get changed.” He says softly, and you get up from his lap. On your bunk lies a pair of black slacks, a white button up, and a red tie for him. Next to it there’s an old-looking black dress for you.

“Here.” You say you hand him the shirt, watching him struggle to wrestle his camp shirt off without destroying your hard work. “This why I told you to take your shirt off before we started.” You grumble, walking over to help ease the shirt over his head. You then slip the button-up on, doing it up for him.

“Are you gonna paint my hands white?” He asks as he tugs on the black slacks.

“No, need your fingers free just in case.” You tease suggestively, pulling on one of the many layers of your dress. He rolls his eyes and then drifts over to help you slide the dress on.

“How many layers is this?” He mumbles, hands resting on your hips again.

“Ummmm, 4, hoop skirt, petticoat, corset, dress.” You recite, counting each article of dress on your fingers.

“Jesus, pumpkin.” He murmurs, picking up his tie and situating it on his neck. You swat at his hands as he begins to tie it. “What…?” He questions with a light chuckle.

“Leave it undone, it looks hotter that way.” He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly as you undo the top two buttons of his shirt. You then grab the white face paint and dab some of it on his chest. “Perfect!” You say cheerfully.

“Perfect.” He responds, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. “Ready to get going, pumpkin?” He asks, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Mhm.” You hum, looking in your full length mirror, taking in the sight of you two all done up as skeletons.

You arrived to the party, nestled deep in the forest surrounding the camp.  A bonfire sat in the middle, with pumpkin carving set up and a table with a various assortment of alcohol, drinks, and snacks. The two of you settled on one of the logs by the bonfire, a red solo cup filled with liquor in each of your hands. Luke’s free arm wrapped around your shoulder, and your head tilted to rest on his.

“Do you wanna hang here and then go do pumpkin carving or something?” He asks softly, brushing the stray strands of hair from your face.

“Can we dance?” You turn to face him, wide doe eyes staring up at him.

“How could I ever say no to that face?” He teases softly, helping you up and drifting towards the speaker.

Season of the Witch played as the two of you moved together. Luke couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have you, and how much he loved you.

“Are you having fun?” He asks softly.

“Mhm, I’m getting a bit sleepy though.” You murmur in reply, rating your head on his shoulder.

“One more song?” He asks, to which you nod slowly.

The two of you danced for another couple minutes before heading back to your cabin, hand in hand, giggling a bit as you were both tipsy.

Let’s just say your costumes weren’t the only things dealing with a bone that night.

[chelseeebe]

trick or treat

18+. mdni. no smut but my blog is 18+.

day six of spooky week and reader bravely offers to take the party trick or treating, finding an unlikely guest along the way

a/n: six days of consistent posting has actually made me lose brain cells.. i don’t like this as much as i wanted to but i’m sticking to my guns and posting anyway. i’m not sure if tomorrow’s will make it up in time but i’m going to try my absolute hardest <3

☾⋆⁺₊🎃´₊⁺~

knuckles wrap against the grand wooden door, hoping to god it was dustin that answered and not steve. 

you can hear a barrage of footsteps on the other side, rushing down the hall to get to you first. the door swings open, dustin and his makeshift skeleton costume sit on the other side, a harsh scowl when he realises it’s you and not his friends. 

“what’re you doing here?” crossing his arms over his chest. 

“i’m coming with you, joyce ask-“

“-you don’t need to babysit us,” throwing a temper tantrum at the mere suggestion of you joining them on their journey around hawkins. 

“well, joyce says otherwise,” crossing your arms over your chest, you meant business. “jonathan’s busy and she wants someone to watch out for will so you’re just gonna have to deal with it,” sticking your tongue out for good measure. 

dustin huffs, nostrils glaring as he stomps back into steve’s living room. 

the older boy was helping him get ready, terribly painting a skull onto his grinning face. a faint argument rises from behind the door, scuffed footsteps fighting to reach the door before you had the opportunity to look in. 

“-we don’t need a babysitter at all! let alone two!” dustin screeches, throwing his pillowcase on the ground as he reaches the door, steve appearing behind. 

“two?” you question, looking down at the abandoned treat bag and then back up to a sheepish looking steve. 

“well.. i mean, you can’t take them all around hawkins on your own, i was just.. offering to join you,” his hand rubbing the back of his neck, ignoring dustin’s scowl to focus on your face. 

“oh,” attempting to hide your blush, passing it off as if it were just the chilly october air, “yeah.. sure, i could use some help,” stuffing your hands into your pockets, concealing your squeal of excitement. 

“great! great.. yeah, let me get my jacket and we can go,” rushing off inside while dustin sulks like a petulant child.

“you two are gross,” he remarks snidely, turning up his nose at the two of you.

it's a chilly evening in hawkins, your coat not doing enough against the wild wind. much colder than usual for this time of year which makes you a tad unsettled. after everything that had happened last year, a sudden drop in temperature didn’t seem like something you should ignore. 

steve walks beside you, humming to some pop tune as his eyes stay trained on the boys and which houses they were at. 

“so you’re going? to new york?" he starts,  keeping two strides behind the boys at all times, dustin would surely suffer a mental breakdown if you dared got any closer. 

“yeah,” you nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets, “there’s a really good opportunity for me up there,” a twinge of something in your chest, unwilling to come off as braggy at all.

“that’s cool..” steve whistles, looking anywhere but at you, “i’ll miss you- i mean, we’ll all miss you,” clearing his throat in a pitiful attempt to hide what he really meant. 

“i’ll miss you too steve,” smiling softly over at his flushing cheeks, “you can come visit i’m sure,” shrugging indiscriminately. 

your all-consuming crush on steve was no secret to those around you, you’d been longing after him since freshmen year. hanging on his every word even during the multitude of girlfriends and hookups, desperate for his attention to one day fall unto you. 

though now you’re actually friends, like, real friends, you find yourself hoping that he doesn’t look at you, praying he doesn’t notice your sorry eyes or your longing smile. afraid that he’d find you utterly pathetic and tell you harshly that you and him would just never ever come to be. 

“but hawkins won’t be the same without you,” his feet crushing the dried auburn leaves, “who’s gonna help me take care of these guys?” chuckling softly, the cold air billowing from his lips. 

“you’re just gonna have to find a new babysitting partner,” shrugging softly though your heart sinks a little. 

steve’s mouth opens to reply but is abruptly interrupted by the gaggle of kids storming up the sidewalk to you. in a cleverly thought out formation, dustin at the front, mike all the way in the back. 

“we were thinking,” dustin starts, a tooth-achingly sweet grin plastered on his face, “and we think that you two shouldn’t have to spend your entire evening following us around, so,” looking around at his friends, “we’re happy to offer you half of all of our candy if you just leave us alone,” grinning as if he had offered the deal of the century. 

steve looks perplexed, sharing a questioning glance with you before turning his attention back to the eager boys in front, “what makes you think we want your shitty candy?” 

dustin’s smile drops, nose scrunching with such visceral anger, “look steve, we know you’d rather be off making out with each other or whatever, so why don’t we just cut the shit? you guys go home, we can take care of ourselves.” 

he puts his hand up to make a point, sputtering noises that don’t exactly make a coherent sentence, “that’s not- what the hell, dustin? mrs. byers asked us to watch you it’s not-“

“we’ll be okay! my mom just worries,” a bright-eyed will steps forward, offering his two cents. 

steve exhales, looking to you once more before shrugging. you were the one she’d asked anyway, not him.  

“what if something bad happens? like.. like last year?” you query, looking solely at will now. 

“it won’t,” solemnly shaking his head, “i’m better now, i promise.” 

your lips pout, contemplating whether the little shits could be trusted. joyce would never be mad at you, wise to her son and his friends tricks. 

“okay..” nodding slowly, “but i’m taking you up on that candy offer, and i want the good stuff.. not smarties or mints or whatever shit you think you can trick me with,” a harsh glare to the clan of boys. 

mike goes to protest until lucas’ elbow meets his ribs, a chorus of thankyou’s echo out before they sprint away, tripping over themselves to get as far away from you as possible. 

“i didn’t think you’d say yes,” steve remarks, a humorous tone to his voice. 

“what can i say? they drive a hard bargain,” suddenly regretting letting them run amok around the hawkins streets, “do you think i should’ve said no?” 

“oh no, definitely not,” falling into laughter, “i don’t think they would’ve let you say no anyway.” 

you scoff, looking around at the busy street, “you’re right.. i’m gonna uh.. head home then, since we’re not needed anymore,” attempting to hide your disappointment at not getting to walk around with him all night. 

“you wouldn’t wanna.. watch a movie or something, would you?” steve interjects before you can walk away, “my parents are out of town so my house is empty and i’ve got popcorn,” sweetening up his deal. 

your heart thuds a little too hard, unsure of whether you’d still be alive after a movie alone with steve, on his couch. but you nod anyway, continuing back in the direction you’d came from. 

his house is sterile, it honestly reminds you of something from a showroom, not meant to be lived in but just admired. kind of like steve, when you think about too much. 

you weren’t going to be together, he was a prize, someone you’d lust after but never truly get. 

the opening sequence to friday the 13th pulls you from your sour thoughts, sitting just inches away from him and his meticulously styled hair, the consolation of freckles and moles you’d connected a thousand times in your head. 

he doesn’t look real, a figment of your imagination except his chest is rising and falling in time with yours and he keeps shifting in his seat. 

“so when do you leave?” startling you from your haze, pulling your attention to him. 

“uh.. june, i’m going up early to get settled.” 

“oh, cool,” inhaling sharply, a long, drawn-out exhale immediately after, “i still got a few months left with you then,” offering a grimacing smile as his words register in his brain, “obviously i mean that we all do.” 

“i knew what you meant,” convincing yourself that he had just misspoke and that the obvious undertones to everything he had said this evening weren’t actually there. 

“actually i don’t think you do,” steve sighs, no longer the suave sweet talker he once was, now just some old guy that drive kids to and from their dnd meetings. 

“oh?” you remark, sitting back in shock. 

he leans forward, over the overflowing bowl of popcorn, “i’m trying to hit on you, i’ve been trying all night,” allowing a glimpse of his former playboy interior to resurface, his eyes trailing from yours to your lips. 

you stare back with what only you can assume is a puzzled expression as steve moves back once again, “sorry- i’m not very good at this anymore, i-i thought you were interested but obviously- shit,” slapping his palm to his face, hiding in sheer despair. 

“no! nonono steve i am,” sputtering rather quickly, “i’m sorry, i’m just.. shocked. i didn’t know you felt like that too, y’know?” amazed that both of you could single handedly fumble this. 

“‘course i do,” shrinking into a bashful shadow of himself, “thought that was pretty obvious,” fiddling with his fingers, too shy for someone who had just admitted to having feelings for you. 

“not to me,” slightly offended that you had apparently been the last to know. 

he exhales, a sigh of relief, “fuck, i thought i’d read that totally wrong then.”

you stop, furrowing your brow, “what? you knew i liked you?” 

“i mean, kinda yeah.”

“did dustin tell you?”

“he-,” steve sighs, doing a terrible job of hiding his smile, “i might have told him how sad i was that you were leaving and he just told me that you might feel the same way too,” holding his hands up with all intentions of owning up, “he just wanted to help me out, i think,” a quiet sadness in his voice. 

any other time you’d strangle the little blabber mouth but only this time you can’t be too mad, without him, the two of you would’ve never had the guts to just say it. 

“now i’ve been dyin’ to kiss you for too long now so if you’ll forgive me,” leaning in once more, carefully cupping your chin in his palm and so gently kissing your lips that it almost feels like air. 

your eyes fluttering shut as the sparks fizzle behind your eyelids, the butterflies in your stomach flap so hard you’re almost nauseous.   

years and years of hopeless pining had lead to this, a syrupy sweet kiss on his couch as the guttural screams of alice hardy play on the background.

it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of and more, steve suddenly so real and malleable in your grasp.

[anonymousewrites]

A Good Day for Death Dia de los Muertos Special 2024

Wednesday Addams x Demigod! Reader

Dia de los Muertos Special

Mouse Note: I hope I did this justice!

            “And done,” said Enid, looking at her work. She was pleased with herself. “What do you think, Wednesday?”

            Wednesday looked into the mirror next to them. She inspected the blank and white paint that created a skeletal structure across her face. She nodded. “Disturbing.”

            “I’m glad you like it,” said Enid. She knew that was a compliment. She had made sure to only use black and white for Wednesday since she was allergic to color, but her own makeup had swirls of pink and blue around the eyes and cheeks. “(Y/N) will like it, too.”

            Wednesday remained carefully silent at Enid’s comment (she was of the opinion it wasn’t obvious she liked (Y/N) while Enid saw through her completely).

            “Do you have your gift for them?” asked Enid.

            Wednesday looked at her evenly. “Yes.”

            “Ooh, what is it?” said Enid.

            “You will see when they open it,” said Wednesday.

            “That makes me think it’s like a skull or something,” said Enid. She shivered while Wednesday grilled like a mad scientist at the idea. “And I know their birthday is on Dia de los Muertos, but let’s not make it all about death, okay?”

            “Why not?” (Y/N) smiled as they stepped into the room. “I don’t mind. I am the child of Thanatos. And I celebrate death. Our family can still return to us, after all.” In the room behind them, the candles of the ofrenda flickered as if agreeing with them. The faint light highlighted their own makeup. They had the skull shape on their face, of course, but they also had gold and silver dusting their eyes and small black flowers on their cheeks.

            “My family often raises one another from the dead,” said Wednesday, nodding.

            “How does an Addams die?” said Enid, frowning.

            “They decide to rest for a bit,” said Wednesday vaguely.

            (Y/N) chuckled, and Wednesday was pleased with herself for evoking the sound.

            “You guys look good,” said (Y/N). “Our makeup all fits us.”

            “We’re here to embrace your traditions,” said Enid, smiling.

            “I’ve always wanted to be a skeleton,” said Wednesday.

            “And now’s your chance!” said (Y/N) cheerfully. “Come on out. The food is all ready.”

            “Food!” said Enid excitedly.

            “First we should put some on the ofrenda,” said Wednesday.

            “Right,” said (Y/N). “I have a basket prepared.”

            Together, the three took food and placed it on the ofrenda. Marigolds, skulls, and skeleton figurines already sat around the pictures of (Y/N)’s family. They smiled as they gazed at the flickering candles. Gently, they lifted an incense stick and lit it. Putting it down again, they let the smoke curl up around them.

            “There,” they said. They could feel the energy of the room changing, and, though they couldn’t see any of their ancestors, their demigod nature let them feel their slight presence all the same.

            “It’s so beautiful,” said Enid. “It really makes it all so beautiful.”

            “Death doesn’t have to be an end,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “It is merely another state,” said Wednesday.

            Together, the three friends stood and stared at the ofrenda until the sound of music draw their attention. Enid brightened.

            “Is that—”

            “New Orleans Dia de los Muertos parade,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Quick, open my present so I can go and watch!” said Enid excitedly. She grabbed her wrapped gift and shoved it into (Y/N)’s hands.

            (Y/N) smiled and undid the wrapping. They grinned. “I love them, Enid!” It was more jewelry in silver and gold, all with scythes and skulls and other motifs of death (that (Y/N) loved wearing).

            “I knew you would,” said Enid proudly. “Now, Wednesday, give your gift to (Y/N). I’m going to watch the parade.” She ran to the balcony of (Y/N)’s mother’s New Orlean’s home and eagerly looked out as the parade approached. (She was both excited for the parade and eager to give (Y/N) and Wednesday a moment together).

            “Here,” said Wednesday. She held out a black-wrapped box. The bow had small, multicolored skulls.

            “I thought you were allergic to color?” said (Y/N) teasingly.

            “Enid insisted I embrace Dia de los Muertos for your birthday,” said Wednesday. “And skulls are acceptable.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Wednesday.”

            “You haven’t opened the gift,” said Wednesday.

            “I know. But I know I’ll like it,” said (Y/N). They grinned widely, and Wednesday felt the now-familiar sickness of care course through her as she was the softness of their gaze (she was growing to enjoy the poison, truthfully). “I’ll like anything you give me.”

            Wednesday considered whether her heart skipping a beat meant she was dying. That would be interesting, especially on Dia de los Muertos. Instead of dying, though, she just watched (Y/N) unwrap the gift and lift out a book. It was black leather with smooth, empty pages. However, on the cover was the carved name (Y/N).

            “Your poetry deserves a proper book,” said Wednesday. “It’s far too good for a spiral notebook.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Wednesday. I love it.”

            Wednesday deathly cold skin felt just a bit warmer beneath her makeup as they spoke. “Of course.”

            “Do you want to watch the parade with me?” said (Y/N). They knew Enid was there, but the “with me” slipped from their lips unbidden.

            “Yes,” said Wednesday.

            Together, they walked to the balcony. Enid was watching the dancers and floats go by with a giant grin, and she risked a glance at (Y/N) and Wednesday as they leaned against the railing. She smiled to herself as they stood side-by-side.

            “I’m going to grab some food, be right back,” said Enid, walking inside for a second. (Hey, she needed to let them be alone to adjust and have a nice moment.”

            (Y/N) and Wednesday looked at the dancers go by in a swirl of bright colors, black, and white. The city was alive even as it celebrated death. In a way, it mirrored Wednesday and (Y/N). Both connected to death and mystery yet both more alive than others, not drifting through life.

            Hesitantly, (Y/N)’s hand slid across the railing towards Wednesday’s. It brushed against her hand, their pinkies touching. Wednesday glanced down as (Y/N) pulled back slightly, not wanting to cross any boundaries. Looking back at the parade, Wednesday moved her hand over. Her pinky curled around (Y/N)’s.

            (Y/N) smiled to themself, and Wednesday glanced over. She liked that sight. (Y/N) glanced at Wednesday, and, upon seeing her already looking at them, they smiled slightly. They thought Wednesday looked beautiful in the face paint and lantern light.

            “Thank you for celebrating with me, Wednesday,” said (Y/N).

            “You are…pleasant company,” said Wednesday.

            (Y/N) smiled, and Wednesday smiled ever-so-slightly. An Addams and the child of death stood side-by-side as the spirits of the dead and living danced in lively music around them. And their hearts thrummed to life just a bit more.

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[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝕊𝕜𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Mutual Friendship, Hinted Mutual Crush, College Au

⚠️Warnings⚠️: None

Word count: 769

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 [10:45 PM] - "Should I be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? I probably should be, right?" Jinwoo jokes as he enters your dorm room.

You decided to be a killer playboy bunny for the Halloween party tonight. The five-kitchen ingredient mixture drips from your neck as only moments ago you finished your makeup.

"If you want to get bloody tonight, I've got enough to share." You chuckle, placing the bowl of red liquid on your desk. "Where's your costume?"

Originally, it was supposed to be you and your best friend. She got hit with a bad stomach virus the night before and was still in recovery.

He offered to be your plus one once you gave him the news. It's somewhat of a favor he owed you from before. He's dressed in a black cotton button-down, partially unbuttoned, with matching black jeans. Black high-top Chuck Taylor's on his feet.

"My package got delayed, so no Ghostface mask. You're my plan B."

"Plan B?"

He takes a seat at your desk, crossing his arms as he leans back into your chair. "You've got any ideas?"

You squint, trying to picture a look at him. Something that would take no time at all.

"A Skeleton." You snap your fingers, having an 'aha' moment.

His mouth curled into a smile as he nodded, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. Digging through your makeup bag, whatever wasn't in there was strewn about.

Your posters, tapestries, and post-it notes with reminders and daily affirmations on them catch his attention. Everything had a similar color palette, from your sheets to your laundry basket to your rug beside your bed. It made him wish he'd stop by more often.

"Do you want me to paint your neck and chest too?" You asked, sizing him up as you organized your brushes and body paints.

Your question hangs in the air. He hasn't had his face painted since he was a child. Tonight was the one night he could be truly himself. Carefree and stupid like every other twentysomething. Based on your makeup alone, he knows he's in good, capable hands.

Jinwoo scoots forward in your chair.

"Yeah, go all out. Make me a skeleton."

You smirk, standing between his legs. Raking your fingers through his hair, you attach two larger hair clips. His exposed forhead meets a cooling sensation from your primer. Its slushy to then tacky consistency threw him off.

You trace a black outline around his eye sockets, whispering for him to close his eyes. He does so, allowing you to deepen the shadows. Drawing on his nasal cavities and each tooth across his upper and lower lip, you're deathly close. Your thumb smudges away any mistakes, much to his confusion. He almost thought you were doing it on purpose. Almost.

Down his neck, your thin brush goes as he twitches a tad. "Are you ticklish?" You take a go at him. There was no reply. He merely blinks and scoffs.

You keep going, carving out each spinel vertebrae. From the cervical to the thoracic vertebra, brushstrokes flowed into his ribcage. His toned chest surprises but doesn’t shock you. Guess all that excessive training paid off.

"Tell me, what made you take this route this year?" A cheeky grin plastered across his face. "Never would've thought you were one for the classics."

"Classic easy access, you mean?" You joke, applying the white body paint next. It fills in the shaped skull of his face like an X-ray. Your brush strokes earn another twitch out of him.

"Jin, quit moving, or you're gonna look like shit." You huff, sucking your teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I can't help it. It feels weird."

His mischievous glint in his eyes trails up and down your neck and exposed chest.

"I guess I'm playing guard dog tonight, too? All things considered?"

"If you're looking for an excuse to kick some guy's ass for looking at me too hard, be my guest. You don't need my permission."

You straightened your stance, making sure every marking was symmetrical. Up went your thumb. It splits his face into two halves. Closing your right eye, your tongue sticks out from between your lips.

He leans his head to the left, taking your thumb in his larger hand and pulling you forward.

"Whaddaya doing?"

"Admiring my work, you're one hell of a canvas." You thread a hand through his hair, removing the hair clips. His bangs flow back where they were.

Jinwoo rises from your chair. His hand never lets go of yours, nor does he break his gaze.

"Paint me again sometime, yeah?"

If you enjoyed it, please comment, like, and reblog!

Divider created by @cafekitsune

A/N - HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For the Sanses, the skeleton's niece/nephew gives them a drawing of their family. Everyone is very detailed and recognizable. ... Except them. They're like a potato with two eyes. Reaction?

Undertale Sans - He can't stop laughing. He expected something like that, but that's even funnier now that he's holding it in his hands. The kid is confused and a bit offended their uncle finds their drawing so amusing, but that just sends Sans off his chair because their face is hilarious. He guesses he deserves that though. He's a couch potato. He's far from offended and he's even framing it in his living room like it's the most expensive painting ever.

Underswap Sans - He GASPS. He was excited to receive a gift from his niece/nephew but now he is just so offended. You didn't even draw some blue on him. Make an effort? How did you manage to draw Asgore with his beard and everything, and not him? And why is he a potato and not Alphys?! That's not fair! Alphys deserves to be a potato too! She's the same height he is! Honey can't stop screaming in laughter as Blue argues with the confused 3-years old who doesn't understand what's wrong???

Underfell Sans - He forces a smile as Edge is giving him a death stare behind the kid. Ah... Yes... Very good drawing... Very... Artsy and stuff. Very colorful. That's totally him and not an ugly potato with two eyes. How did you picture him so well? He's exaggerating all of his praises, eyes in eyes with Edge. He's so going to keep the drawing... Except he has too. As the kid leaves, all happy, Edge tells him that if he finds the drawing in the trash when they leave, he's dead. Great.

Horrortale Sans - He's not sure what he's looking at honestly, but his niece/nephew seems very happy about this so he plays along. He's certainly not going to hurt their feeling and he's just happy they draw something for him. Actually, he's even a little emotional about that. That's like their first drawing and it makes him both happy and sad for some reason.

Swapfell Sans - ... What's that? You call that a drawing? Nox takes a deep breath. Rus begs him not to, but that's too late. Nox starts to criticize the drawing, and everything in the drawing, and shows the kid ways to improve their work by drawing over their drawing. The kid bursts into tears after two minutes and runs into Rus' arms, heartbroken. Then the brothers start arguing again. What? Do you want that kid to live in a world of lies? Thank Toriel there's at least someone to show them the truth in this family!

Fellswap Gold Sans - "COFFEE, WITH ALL RESPECTS, IS THIS REALLY YOUR CHILD? YOU'RE AN ARTIST, RIGHT? YOU SHOULD HAVE A DNA TEST. I THINK YOUR GENE BROKE IN THE PROCESS OR SOMETHING. MAYBE YOUR S/O FOUND THEM IN THE DUMP AND DIDN'T TELL YOU." S/O growls angrily, then lunges at him to strangle him. Wine is offended. He's just telling the truth though! That drawing is bad!

[bluepallilworld]

A Tear's Soul

Part 1: All is certainly well in this fine world

Mimosa barely had the time to register what was happening before he was warped elsewhere by his happy-go-lucky friend. 

He was used to Lint’s instantaneous portals with how often he had been ambushed but the sensation never failed to be truly bizarre.

It felt like dipping your toes in lukewarm water then suddenly you were drenched and dry at the same time. And in a random place you did not ask to go.

The instant the shock runned out of his system, Mimosa whirled around and hit Lint’s head with the side of his hand.

“LINT, COME ON! Couldn’t this at least wait after breakfast? I’m hungry…”

Lint’s only reaction was to giggle so hard she toppled down on the wooden floor.

“Where would be the fun in that? If you really wanted that breakfast, you should have woken up earlier!”

“...You would just have come even earlier if I did that, wouldn’t you?”

She smiled and stood up, whistling and buzzing around.

The kid sighed and started looking around.

Where were they?

The floor was wooden and a little dusty, the walls were pretty bare except for some weird unrecognizable knick-knacks on shelves. The room was small.

“Whom closet did you zap us in?”

Lint tsked and wiggled her finger in front of his face.

“You’re really”, she pointed to a big dent in a wall, “not a good detective, uh?” 

Mimosa stared hard at the dent. It looked a bit like a puppy’s face? It reminded him of when they played hide-and-seek with Mu’s at her second home and he just rammed his elbow so hard into a wall it damaged the wall. It didn't hurt but it left its mark on the house.

Wait.

He gasped at the realization.

“SINCE WHEN CAN YOU POP DIRECTLY INTO TODDH’S POCKET DIMENSION?!! I thought you couldn’t go farther than the entrance?”

He shook his friend hard in his barely contained excitation.

They were at Mu’s!!!

“Well, it took me a few tries. I’m not sure I’m welcome alone here anymore by the way?”

“Why did you teleport us here? I thought you’d wanted to go exploring or somethin?”

“...You told me you missed Mu and she wouldn’t come back for at least another week sooo.”

Mimosa hugged her. He did indeed miss his younger sister but he didn’t think it was that obvious.

“Eh, couldn’t have my best friend slash “half-brother-from-another-multiverse” mopping, now?”

He buried his head into her shoulder while she rubbed his back.

“We should get out of this closet and go look for your little princess, don’t you think?”

He nodded and pushed away the other to get to the door handle. He didn’t get that far as the girl shoved him away and opened the door first.

She runned out all while shouting:

“THE LAST ONE TO FIND HER IS WET NOODLE!”

And as he, for sure, didn’t want to be a wet noodle, the boy dashed at his turn and they raced through the long corridor, crashing into furniture and laughing their heads off.

Sadly, he tripped on one of his treacherous tentacles (a fairly common occurrence) and tumbled down quite fast with a yelp. His “friend” just snickered at his misfortune and disappeared behind a corner.

Aw, he didn’t want to be the wet noodle…

He plopped down against the floor, starfish-style, and examined his surroundings. He was still in a corridor. That house had too much of those. 

He craned his skull around to examine the few doors he could see from this angle.

Among the very unremarkable doors, one stood out. It was white with flowers painted all over it. The skill of the painting varied a lot and those near the bottom were merely child scribbles.

The skeleton propped himself on his elbows and stared at the door, right-sided.

It was Mu’s room.

Maybe the pasta fate would not befall on him in the end?

The slats creaked despite his best attempts to be sneaky and he cracked the door open a smidge before peeking inside.

A small skeleton was sitting there, playing on the ground with a hoop. Quiet, she was making it roll harshly against the floor until it hit the wall and got launched back at her. She then caught it with the tentacle wrapped cozily around her throat and shoulders and began the process anew.

There she was.

He readied himself to call her when a weight on his head startled him.

“FOUND HER! I WON!”, shouted Lint from above.

How did she even do that, she was slightly smaller than him! That thought was one of the many that went through his mind as she leaped over leaning on his shoulders.

Back to the ground.

Mu looked at them for a second, nodded, then went back to her game, unbothered.

Lint danced, chanting “wet noodle, wet noodle”, looking rather pleased.

He weakly protested that he found her first to which he got the counter argument; he didn't announce it first so that was null and void.

Fair.

They spent some time together, each doing their very own stuff.

Lint was trying to improve her cartwheels (with various success) all while chittering about some story he half-listened to, she tried to coax them into leaving for an adventure a few times but didn’t insist for once so she kept doing clumsy cartwheels.

Mu continued her game, focused on it, Mimosa ignored the action's goal but she was fully entranced by it (despite glancing in his direction a few times, probably wondering about what he was doing).

He was cutting paper shapes with scissors and gluing those to pins he found in a box. 

Once he was satisfied with the amount of paper shapes, he tapped gently on Mu’s shoulder to get her attention. She turned around and tilted her head before eyeing a notebook laying on the ground next to her.

“You don’t have to use your book if you don’t feel like it, I won’t ask complex questions.”

His mute sister nodded and gave him her whole attention.

He pointed at his work.

“Would you like it if I put some of these on your hat to keep company to your flower pin?”

Her eyelights grew two sizes before he even finished his sentence, she stuck her hands in the pockets on each extremity of the drooping bunny ears of her dark colored hat and excitedly moved up her arms, showing the paws design sewed on that side of the pockets.

“I’ll take that for a yes!”

Mu nodded so hard her hat would have flipped away if her hands weren’t still stuffed in.

He pointed to the paper shapes and asked her to point to the ones she’d like most.

She didn’t hesitate and picked anything vaguely flower shaped plus one that looked like a lemon (or an eye?). When he interrogated her on that choice, she just uncurled her tentacle, revealing the rest of her face and smiled.

“Ok, ok, sit there and don’t move.”

He started to stick the paper bits as carefully as he could and Lint joined him on the task soon after.

They did that for a moment, he had to stop Mu from wiggling too much a few times as she grew impatient and excited.

Once they were done and confident it would hold for long enough to be satisfying, they released the small monster and she all but ran to the mirror.

Watching her twirl around in joy released a special wave of warmth in his soul. Those moments reminded him how lucky he was to still have her, how lucky he was that Fancy and the one before him found her when she had been lost and how lucky they had been to be reunited during an unplanned playtrip. 

He saw Lint watching him thoughtful in the corner of his eyes but he didn’t call her out on that.

However, when she turned her gaze back toward the mirror anew and her eyelights shrieked to almost pinpoints.

Uh?

He turned his head to discover an absence of any twirling sister and shot up.

“Where?”

Something poked his shoulder.

Lint was in front of him.

He turned around.

Nothing.

Lint was glaring at random corners.

Poc.

He looked to his left then more thoroughly to his right.

Then he was promptly yoinked from the ground by something above.

“AH-”

A hand stopped his shout and he looked at his aggressor’s face.

…Nip. 

The dark-boned-mixed-rabbit-skeleton grinned at him and made a sign to keep quiet. He reluctantly nodded and fred his mouth. 

Nipal was a strange fellow that liked far too much scaring others in his opinion, but it came with the fact he had been born from a bad dream he guessed.

Other than that, he was pretty okay.

And also holding him with a leg while crouched on all four on the ceiling.

Nip giggled silently and he watched Lint getting more and more agitated on the ground.

She was looking everywhere for them and despite glancing up a few times, Nip always moved just in time to hide from her sight.

The demon was talented in this stuff.

Nip moved towards a wall and put him on the top of a closet using only one floating hand. Mu was already waiting there and looked absolutely giddy at the event.

Nip went back to tormenting Lint and one of the puffy ends of his bunny ears almost smacked him when he turned.

Hm. Mimosa got himself comfy to admire the chaos. 

He shrugged.

That might as well happen.

Nip played for another five minutes at pocking the distraught girl running around on the floor before leaping behind her, shifting his form to a huge furry rabbit monster and caught her from behind in a hug.

Lint screamed bloody murder and Mu drew a line in her notebook. He peeked at the page… 15 was scribbled next to a vaguely bunny shaped scribble and a bit fat zero next to three bows. It looked like she had been keeping score.

He giggled. Hopefully Lint won’t see that.

This one was now hitting and biting the smug adult -to be confirmed, Nip always lied when they asked his age. 

After a bit of shifting and a whole lot of being picked up and scaling things for no reason, they all finally ended up all sitting in the center of the room.

Nipal Twees, once again in his more regular shape, clapped his hands together.

“That was amusing, how are you guys doing?”

He did not wait for their answer as he wiggled his left ear, distracting little Mu that was sitting on his lap.

“Now, kids, Toddh went out to get Fancy. Boy is taking a bit long to bring back groceries.”

Where was he going with that?

“...Kitchen’s free, who wanna bake? Badly of course!”

They answered their agreement, loudly. 

What a good idea, he was famished.

And like that, they made a beeline for the kitchen and promptly started to try baking… something…

They didn’t have any recipe and Fancy’s cookbook was creepy so they boycotted that idea.

Each busied themselves with a task they thought would help making… something?

The result was barely palatable and the kitchen was very close to what someone would consider “ruined”. 

He would not talk about the general state of their outfits. The aprons they put on had been near useless in keeping the mess at bay.

They made a game of trying to eat the biggest part without making faces. Nip was quickly banned from playing as he was unbothered by the taste and even claimed to enjoy it.

The sound of keys in a door made them all freeze.

Toddh was back.

annnnd that's the end of part one 🎶

*******************************************************

Shine, Malignance, Bow/Butterfly and Calligraphy (mentioned) belong to @creative-firebug <3

The rest is mine owu

Tagging as requested: @shinechermont

(if someone desires to be tagged in the other parts, tell me (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) )

👉👈tagging @zu-is-here because the whole idea of that project was born because of a discussion I had with her (no I'm not telling what it was about) (zuz tell me if you want me to tag you in the other parts or not :D)

bonus:

I thought it'd be fun to put a link to the first time I put Mimosa in a comic (almost 4 years ago), I have evolved a bit

[supercap2319]

The Hook & The Flame

Harry Hook x Male Reader

After Dizzy styled Y/N's hair with blue and red dye in the sink, modeling the colors after his dads Hades and Chernabog, she painted his fingernails light blue with skeleton designs. At last, Dizzy spun his chair around so Y/N could see the finished product. He got out of his chair as he peered into the broken fragments of the mirror on the wall.

The top of his hair was colored blue to look like flames, matching his dad's own literal fire of blue hair. The sides were red as blood like Chernabog's eyes, but mixed in with his own natural hair color. Before he wasn't sure if he was his parents' kid anymore, but now there was no denying that he was a villain through and through.

Dizzy smiled at him. Admiring her work as she eagerly awaited his comment on whether or not she did a good job.

Y/N looks at his reflection and winks. "Hey, there I am."

"Voilà!" Dizzy cried in excitement. She threw her hands out to emphasize how excited she was.

"Voilà." Y/N reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollars for her.

She looks at the money in disbelief as she looks at Y/N, astonishment on her face. "For me?"

Y/N nods. "Yeah, you earned it."

Dizzy takes the money and giggles in excitement as she walks towards the cash register. Her sense of accomplishment and peace didn't last very long. A swashbuckling young man named Harry Hook, son of Captain Hook, entered the salon. He held a glinting silver hook in his left hand. Harry wore a black hat, a long leather red coat, black pants, and a grayish wife beater underneath the red coat. He made other pirates shiver in their timber's, with a handsome face and beautiful blue eyes that were just as blue as the ocean. That made him both dangerous and beautiful at the same time.

"Fork it ower ye runt." Dizzy froze as Harry grinned down at her, hand outstretched for the money. The young girl begrudgingly handed over the money she had just earned to the Scottish sounding pirate.

Harry looks down at the old car hood that acts as a desk for the cash register as he taps it with his hook. "And the rest of it." He demands. Harry had yet to notice Y/N, too busy robbing Dizzy Tremaine of all the salon's money.

Dizzy goes and opens up the cash register as Harry puts her money that he took in between his lips and teeth, holding it tight as she gives him everything inside. "Hmm… Thank you." Harry turned to leave.

"Give that money back, Hook." Y/N said.

Harry stopped, whirled around and grinned when he saw Y/N. "Well, well, well, what a nice surprise."

"Hi, Harry." Y/N told him. "Still running errands for Uma like a good dog, or does she actually let you off your leash and let you keep what you steal?"

Harry strolled towards him, flashing a dangerous smile and waved his hook around. "Just wait until Uma hears you're back. She is never going to give you back your territory." He looks Y/N up and down, licking his lips like a hungry cat. The pervert.

"Oh, well, that's okay. Because I will be taking it back. Preferably from her cold dead fishy bitch fingers." Y/N grins.

Harry grins too as his hook brushes against Y/N's collar bone. "You know, I cuid hurt ye." He promised in a whisper as he continued to tease Y/N with his silver hook. The son of Hades and Chernabog grabbed his wrist and spit out the gum he had been chewing and stuck it on the tip of Harry's hook. "Not without her permission I'll bet." Harry chuckled as he placed the tip of the hook to his lips and opened up his mouth as he stuck the piece of gum inside.

"You know that I prefer princes now to dirty pirates, right?"

"Ahh, yes. You and Prince Beasty."

"I am going to need Dizzy's money back."

Harry gets closer to him and smiles down at him. "Why dinnae ye come ane get it?"

It was an unspoken challenge. To see if Y/N was still a child of the Isle or if Auradon had changed him in more ways than one. He got close to Harry. So close, that he could see the blues of his eyes shiny like the sun reflecting on the water in the morning. "If you insist."

He pulled Harry down by his coat and connected their lips together. It wasn't a sweet kiss like with Ben. He tasted like chocolate chip cookies and innocence. Harry was different. He was salty and just a bit of seaweed slime. It was familiar territory between them. Two Isles boys who were more about lust and fucking than love and passion.

Harry pulled back and grinned. "A knew ye still found me hot."

He held out his hand for Harry. "Pay up."

The pirate looked at his outstretched hand and smiled once again. "Now A have tae pay for yer services?" He hands him the money. "Best thin A iver spend."

"Go on. Go fetch."

Harry chuckled, walked towards the door and knocked the knick knacks off the register and bowed to Y/N. "Until next time, Duckling." Y/N handed Dizzy back her money as she sighed.

"Great, more sweeping."

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 3, Match 1

The Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb) vs Mercedes von Martritz (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Harrow is a nun of the Ninth House. She's been described as a space goth necromancer fantasy sci-fi bone nun.

Mercedes von Martritz is a nun of the Church of Saint Seiros at Garreg Mach Monastery.

The Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus

She’s great. She has so many fucking problems. She’s been running the goth space convent since she was 10. She’s puppeting her dead parents around. She doesn’t like tastes. She is extremely passionate about bones. She’s locked in a twisted bond of love and violence and devotion and sacrifice with her childhood best enemy. She lobotomized herself to preserve the best enemy’s soul. She’s been in love with the corpse of the Devil all her life. She goes around in bone jewelry and skull face paint. She’s a sad wet cat who was born in a cardboard box all alone, etc. She chopped another woman’s arm off and regrew a skeleton arm, in a sexual way. She has awkward little fireside chats with God where he makes millennia-old meme references at her and she does not drink the proffered tea. She saw God make a your mom joke and it “destroyed some cavern of her reverence”. She’s even gay. She’s everything.

Mercedes von Martritz

Mercedes was born to the fallen House Martritz and bore a minor Crest of Lamine, a special type of blood that gave it's bearer enhanced abilities. Her father died shortly afterwards and Mercedes' mother remarried into House Bartels, giving birth to Emile von Bartels, who also had a minor Crest of Lamine. Mercie's stepfather was uncaring and only married for his new wife's crest which led to said wife's departure from House Bartels. She ran away with only her eldest child to the Kingdom, where Mercedes would really start her own life as a student of Fhirdiad's Royal School of Sorcery. There, she befriended Annette Fantine Dominic and both girls would later attend Garreg Mach Monastery together. Mercedes is a kind soul with a soft voice and the ability to speak her mind. She's the eldest student attending the Officer's Accademy and takes it upon herself to be a shoulder of support for her classmates, no matter their origin. When the timeskip hits, Mercie returns in a nun's garb and expresses reinforced belief in the Church, even in the route where you fight against the Archbishop. I find her extremely fascinating due to her sub-plot with her brother, Emile. Mercedes held deep regret for leaving her brother behind in House Bartels despite not knowing that he had chosen to stay behind to protect her and her mother. Emile later returns as The Death Knight, a general under the Flame Emperor's command and his story with his sister changes depending on the player's route. Should the player oppose the Flame Emperor, Emile and Mercie can reunite briefly, with The Death Knight granting Mercedes a relic that can only be operated by their Crest before dying in her arms in a later battle, happy to be with his family once again. In the event that the player does side with the Flame Emperor, The Death Knight becomes playable alongside his sister, revealing thatthe years spent in House Bartels changed him, giving rise to two distinct personalities: Jeritza von Hyrm and The Death Knight. Jeritza had been a teacher at Garreg Mach, serving as a spy to the Flame Emperor while The Death Knight quelled his bloodlust under the Flame Emperor's orders. In this route, Mercedes reaches out to both Jeritza and The Death Knight as their elder sister and the exchanges they have are some of my favorites in Fire Emblem history. Also Mercie is bisexual and both M!player and F!player can marry her in the end, regardless of route. Love her for that

[kirai-xx]

As what do the Toman members dress up for Halloween?

(but I'm uncreative)

Takemichi: mickey mouse. Hina is minnie mouse (it was her idea) they tried making it look scary with fake blood stains but it didn't work that well

Mikey: a werewolf. don't ask why but I'm feeling it

Draken: didn't have an idea, asked Mitsuya if he could sew a surprise costume for him and this mf somehow managed to make a cool dragon costume... Draken is a Dragon

Mitsuya: something very fancy like a pirate. but really fancy. might just call it ouji

Baji: a vampire. This guy doesn't even need to dress up HE IS A VAMPIRE

kazutora: mikeys exact words were: "yk kazu your hair looks like bananas. you should go as a minion" everybody shit their pants laughing and convinced kazutora to go as a minion. he wasn't very happy with that idea

pah: a ghost. but not boring with just a bed sheet or smth, he was CREATIVE with it. (idk how tho cuz I'm not creative) it looked very cool tho

chifuyu: a vampire as well. didn't know what to do and baji just said "then match with me" and now they're both vampires

hakkai: also a pirate but more pirate like than mitsuya. he has a hook and an eye patch

peh: idk what he is but he ripped his t shirt and drew blood stains on it and his face with red color. looks very cool

smiley and angry: since smiley likes manga and stuff angry convinced him to go as Itachi and Sasuke. smiley may have refused at first but later gave in cuz it was too cool to say no

mucho: is no fun, didn't dress up at all. thinks halloween is not worth it

sanzu: a zombie. made his scars look like they are open with his makeup skills and painted his face green. looks so realistic a child cried when it saw him

Kokonoi: grim reaper. even bought a scythe and spend a little bit to much money on his costume

inui: first didn't want to go at all but koko insisted he would come along and dress up as a skeleton. Inuis costume is really low effort but it looks good

[hp-hcs]

1.3k words of the author bullying blaise zabini just for the plot (Chapter Three of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader

Requests open

tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder

based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. the painting? dear jesus fuck. that’s my trauma. watching that scene when i was like, thirteen.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Without further ado, Blaise snatches up the fucking doll, stomping upstairs with the doll carelessly dangling by one porcelain arm. Reaching Y/N’s bedroom (of course the freaky doll has its own bedroom, why wouldn’t it?), Blaise opens the door with much more force than necessary. He pauses in the doorway, taking in the room that the L/Ns had so carefully decorated—as if it were an actual child’s room—with brightly colored bedsheets, cartoon animals painted on the walls, and toys scattered everywhere.

He aggressively chucks the doll onto the rocking chair in the corner, (“The reading chair,” the L/Ns had cooed. “Y/N just loves when we read them bedtime stories”), and shuts the door as he leaves, digging through his pockets for the skeleton key the L/Ns had left the boys and locking the door with a resounding clack!

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he tries to calm his racing heart. Drawing the key back out of the lock and tucking it away safely, he makes his way back downstairs on shaky legs.

He pointedly looks down at the floor as he passes the painting of the L/Ns.

Returning to the living room, his friends stare at him with wildly curious expressions.

“You okay, man?” Draco asks slowly, tilting his head.

“You guys aren’t getting popcorn tonight,” Blaise says with finality, his voice cracking on the last word. Blaise Zabini is not the kind of person to waver while speaking.

The boys don’t press the issue.

They instead scoot over, making room for him to join their blanket pile on the floor as they start the movie. Once he’s settled in, Blaise focuses on watching Cady Heron fumble her way through high school and tries to push the fuckery with the doll out of his mind.

~~~ Passing through the main narrow hallway, Blaise precariously carries a stack of antique books, liable to disintegrate at just the wrong glance. The rain is still going strong, a sudden clap of thunder causing the hallway’s oil lamps to splutter feebly. Cursing under his breath, Blaise sets the books on a decorative hall table and fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. Just in time, another crack of thunder seems to shake the whole house, the lamps giving off one last sad spark of light before giving up entirely.

His thumb slips against the flint wheel a few times before the lighter finally flickers, a flame catching on the wick. The tiny pinprick of light in the otherwise murky and oppressive hallway does nothing to light up Blaise’s surroundings. Moving the lighter around slowly, so as not to accidentally catch anything in the old house on fire, he slowly makes his way down the hall, immediately banging his hip on a console table.

Cursing again, Blaise swings the lighter around, looking for any more furniture boobytraps attempting to further maim him.

Then, a soft sound could be heard.

Blaise freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

It’s the unmistakable sound of a child crying.

Holding the lighter out in front of him like a weapon, Blaise takes a hesitant step down the hall towards the sound. The flame of his lighter then glints off of something hanging on the wall, a very large glossy wooden picture frame.

It’s the damn painting.

Frozen in place, Blaise can’t do anything but stare up at the imposing painting in terror. In the meager light, the L/Ns faces all look demonic and twisted.

The sobbing gets louder, closer.

He glances down the hall towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest, before glancing back at the painting.

A hand shoots out from the canvas and seizes him around the throat, sharp nails digging into his flesh and squeezing squeezing squeezing-

~~~

Blaise wakes up in a cold sweat. Heart practically beating out of his chest, he breathes heavily, every one of his senses on overdrive, screaming at him to get out of there.

The clock on the TV stand glows a comforting green, whispering the time as an early five in the morning. The sun has only just begun to break over the horizon, gentle morning rays leaking through the decorative bits of stained glass at the top of each of the windows and casting warm shades of colors over the ceiling.

Mattheo lays stretched out next to him, dead asleep and hogging all of the blankets. Enzo and Draco fell asleep on each other, in a way that looks terribly uncomfortable. Theo is sprawled out across all of them, his head on Blaise’s knee and half of his body sandwiched between him and Mattheo. They must’ve fallen asleep before the movie ended, because the little DVD logo box slowly bounces across the screen, avoiding the corners like the plague.

Blaise scrubs his hands over his face, looking around the inviting and entirely non-threatening room. Really, the house is rather cute, in its own charming way. Like how a grandparent’s house is always tacky and poorly decorated, yet still perfect and homey nonetheless.

Knowing there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep, Blaise carefully moves Theo’s head onto a blanket, sliding out of the group pile and standing up. His knees snap crackle and pop as he grunts to himself, shuffling to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

The kitchen is even cuter in the sunlight, with pale gingham curtains framing the window above the sink and cross-stitch frames dotting the walls. As he flicks the start lever on the coffee pot, he takes the opportunity to look around the room. Tacky linoleum floors? Check. Kitchen towels with embroidered kitschy sayings? Check. Live laugh and fucking love, everybody.

Blaise leans against the counter on his forearms, listening to the coffee pot hum. Taped onto one of the kitchen cabinets in front of him is a faded polaroid of a family in the outdoors, the woman and man grinning widely at the camera while the young child in the foreground appears to be mid-laugh, clinging to their father. The scrawled handwriting at the bottom describes the photo as ‘Y/N’s 9th birthday at the lake!’

Blaise’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks over the photo again. He hadn’t recognized them immediately, but sure enough, the woman and man in the photograph are the L/Ns. They look so much younger and happier in the polaroid, the weight of life having yet to set in.

Caught up in his thoughts, Blaise barely notices when the coffee pot dings to let him know that it’s done. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pulls down a few mugs for him and the rest of the boys. He glances down curiously when the coffee pot continues to hum.

His brow furrows as he taps at the machine with a fingernail. The coffee maker splutters indignantly and beeps again, then goes silent.

But the hum continues.

Abandoning his quest for caffeine, he peeks out into the hall, wondering if one of his friends had woken up. He peers into the entrance of the living room from the kitchen doorway; he can see the still-bouncing logo on the otherwise mute TV, and his four friends still sprawled out on top of all of the blankets.

But the hum continues.

He steps a little further out into the hall. He can now hear distinctly that the sound is coming from upstairs. Looking back at his abandoned mug on the counter forlornly—and mentally cursing himself for being insatiable in his curiosity—Blaise slowly starts up the stairs.

Once he reaches the top floor, the sound grows louder. It’s clearer now too. Blaise can tell that it’s not a hum.

It’s a child’s sobs.

Eyes widening, his gaze immediately latches onto the door of Y/N’s bedroom.

Surely not.

Holding the skeleton key retrieved from his pocket between shaking fingers, he slides it into the lock and twists, the door slowly creaking open.

The doll is still sitting in the chair, exactly as he left it.

He sighs in relief.

It’s a doll, dumbass. You’re just being paranoid. The war just left you on edge, that’s all.

He turns to leave, to go back downstairs and enjoy his coffee, when something catches his eye.

The doll is crying.

A single tear tracks down its face, hanging still for a moment before dripping off of its porcelain chin.

Blaise stumbles backwards, dropping the key with a clatter. He tugs the neckline of his shirt down frantically, feeling the phantom hand from his dream wrapping around his throat once more. He could swear he feels those damn nails again, slicing into his skin.

Watching the doll with bated breath and terror-stricken eyes, Blaise waits a long moment before another tear runs down its face, running down the bridge of its nose from its forehead.

Wait.

Forehead?

Blaise slowly looks up at the ceiling, a bit convinced that if he looks away from the doll for too long, it’ll lunge. He releases the breath he’s holding when he sees that the ceiling has a leak, rainwater from last night’s storm dripping down. Down from the seam of where the shut tight pull-down ladder to what must be the attic—or some kind of storage space—meets the rest of the ceiling.

It’s just an old house. There’s no crying dolls, no monstrous paintings. Just a wacky old house with wacky old owners.

Yep. That’s all.

~~~

Chapter Four <3

[lialacleaf]

Make for me, a soft universe.-Aurora

Please don’t repost these images, they are my own personal artwork.

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: Mature Themes, nude painting, they kiss too. Probably should just say 18+ but not NSFW. I’m sorry it’s not edited. Enjoy.

You'd grown up fearing death, even the very reminder of mortality. You hated seeing the skeletons in the fall months as a child. They scared you, and you always felt a sense of confusion at the cultural obsession with them.

And then he had come along, carrying the smell of gunpowder and smoke, phasing into your life like the phantom he claimed to be.

He wasn't the sort of man your mother wanted for you. Sometimes you weren't even sure he was a man at all.

You owned a booth at the farmer's market where you displayed your brilliant paintings, full of cover and life, the first place you'd seen him. Just the sight of him in that mask, large frame towering over the crowd a few stalls down had you fighting down a sudden acid reflex that threatened to spill your breakfast onto the ground beneath you.

The crisp early morning air didn't make you shiver nearly as much as his scent carried to you on the soft breeze.

You prayed he wouldn't come near you, feeling your breath catch at the sense of something intense impending on the horizon as if whatever it was would crash over you and slowly drown you in him.

Nevertheless, his gaze settled on your little table, and he left his much friendlier companion at one of the candle seller's stalls to look at your paintings.

You couldn't help but tremble when his eyes flicked up to rest on your face, eyes boring through you as if he saw something there that everyone else had somehow missed.

The intensity of his eyes, brown ones that caught in the morning sunlight, made the rest of the world suddenly feel very grey as if all sound and sight were suddenly muted.

His black-clad form was the backdrop, his white skull mask the canvas, and those eyes, gracious those eyes, they were art.

He cleared his throat, and suddenly the world snapped back into place, suddenly so much brighter and clearer than before you'd even forgotten it was there.

You barely caught the movement of his skeleton gloves tucking one of your business cards into the pocket of his tactical vest. You blinked and he was gone, leaving you panting as if you'd run a marathon.

The second time you saw him he was in your studio. You didn't hear him come in, despite the bell hung purposefully on your door.

He glanced over a large painting of a stag cast in golden sunlight amidst the trees of a forest. It's antlers spanned from one corner of the canvas to the other. After a moment of letting his eyes rove over it, theys ettling on you, frozen before a half-painted canvas, your lips parted as you barely breathed and your fingers twitched around a paintbrush, and his head tilted at you curiously.

"You take commissions?"

His voice was warm, rough, and forign. An English dialect that you couldn't immidiately place.

You tried to speak, but your tongue felt like lead, and you struggled with your words before bolting from your seat and bringing him a copy of your commission form.

He accepted the sheet of paper in one of his gloved hands, unintentionally crumpling it in the strength of his grip. Standing so close, his smell made your eyes flutter closed for only a second before you came to your senses and they snapped back open.

You watched his eyes trail over the words, before with a single swift motion he plucked the pen that had been tucked behind your ear and began to scribble down his request.

His touch left you reeling, and you could only imagine you looked like a deer caught in the headlights with your wide eyes.

He pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to you with your pen and the completed for.

"I'd like this, but...how you would do it." You nodded dumbly as he offered you a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "For the deposite."

He was gone after that, leaving you standing dumbfounded in your own studio.

~

You carefully held the worn out photo between your fingers, starring into the sorrowful eyes of the otherwise beautiful woman, before placing it back in the envelope.

Maybe the woman was his lover, but the picture looked far too old. Unless he was a lot older under that mask than all his muscle and bulk suggested.

It mattered little to you, he was paying you quite decently for your work.

You decided she’d look lovely in a purple dress seated beside a pond. Eyes full of life and smile mirthful, she was quite a sight to behold.

He didn’t leave any contact information, and you weren’t sure how you were supposed to contact him when it was finished, so she sat in your display window for nearly six weeks before that telltale smell of him wafted into your studio one rainy morning.

The bell sounded, and you glanced up from the computer at your front desk. Your eyes settled on the skull mask and widened, your lips parting as you inhaled him into your lungs.

“Your back,” you said, dropping your pen onto the counter.

“Too soon?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You shook your head quickly, moving towards the painting in your window. “No! No I just…wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” you stated nervously.

He nodded, as if he’d almost expected you to say as much. “Been away,” he stated simply.

You offered him a tight lipped smile. “Enjoy your trip?”

He stared blankly at you, glancing away as if the question made him ever so slightly uncomfortable. “Sure.”

You bit your lip and nodded in an attempt to dispel the tension. “We’ll, here she is,” you said, turning the canvas towards him.

His hard gaze softened as soon as his eyes settled on the image, and you watched him take it in with a warmth you had get to see in those brown orbs.

A gloves hand reached out to ghost over the woman’s cheek, and you felt your heart speed up at the sight of it.

“Here,” he murmured, handing you his card as he gently took the painting from your hands to he could inspect it closer.

Your breath caught in your throat as his warm gloves brushed against your bare fingers.

Wordless, you scurried over to his desk to run the card, printing his receipt.

“She’s very pretty,” you said, handing him his items. He glanced at you and nodded in thanks.

“My mum.”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at that. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

He stared deeply at you for a moment before nodding. “She probably would have.”

Your eyes widened, and your lips parted as you nearly choked on air. “Oh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“S’alright. Probably much happier where she is now anyway. I’d bet she looks more like this,” he said, nodding to your painting with a crinkle in the corners of his eyes.

You blinked, tilting your head as you thought over the implications of his words. He saw an odd sort of freedom in death, a release of a tormented spirit.

Your eyes settled on that skull mask again, and the deep brown eyes gazing at you from behind it. What was he?

~

He haunted your dreams now. Those burning eyes, so expressive that it made up for his lack of a face.

Did he even have one under that mask?

Maybe he was horribly scarred.

It drove you a little mad to think about it. At first you’d just started painting him in that silly mask, the contours of it speaking to you in ways that a skull never had before.

Your mother wasn’t pleased with your new infatuation. She seemed just as frightened by his image as you had once been.

Soon enough however it wasn’t enough to paint his mask and his eyes. You wanted his face. You had some ideas of what it could look like.

He had a large nose, that much you could tell, and blonde eyelashes. His face was long, and his jaw must have been rather exaggerated to have moved his balaclava every time he spoke.

There were about a hundred sketches sitting in your notebook of him, or possible hims rather.

You wished he’d walk through your door again so you could rip it off his face, but you highly doubted he’d ever be back.

Sometimes you’d stare out the window of your shop and fantasize about what you would do if he did ever come back.

~

“I didn’t think you…did this sort of thing.” Your closest friend, Madelyn, held up the flyer with a sort of frightened interest.

“They won’t actually be naked, they leave on their underwear,” you argued.

The local arts festival was hosting a competition, and the theme this year was Michael Angelo.

“Have you secured a model yet?” Mady asked, eyeing the picture of an almost nude painting on the flyer carefully.

“Posted a casting call at a few coffee shops this morning,” you said, taking a bite out of your breakfast as you organized your desk.

There were order forms scattered all over the place, but you’d put all commission work on hold for the contest.

“Why not try the gym?”

You blinked owlishly at Mady and tilted your head. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” you mumbled. “I’m sure there are a few pompous peacocks who’d like to have their muscles on canvas.”

You grabbed your coat from the back of your chair and shoved your arms through the sleeves. “I’ll be back in half an hour, keep an eye on the place for me?” You asked as you grabbed a handful of flyers.

Mady gave you a thumbs up as you dashed out the door. You ignored the wind as it picked up around you, dashing down the sidewalk to the end of the plaza where the gym was situated.

The wind practically slammed the door behind you as you stepped inside, and you smiled politely at the receptionist as you made your way to the advertisement board near the entrance.

It was rather empty, save for some ads about odd local jobs. You went about pinning up your flyer before turning to the door when something caught your eye.

A familiar gaze was settled on you from afar, deep brown eyes watching you from the exercise mat. The skull mask had you practically choking on your own spit.

There was no tactical vest, just a black sweatshirt and a pair of grey joggers. His hands were covered in little scars, and the veins on the back of the large hand holding his water bottle were thick and prominent.

You swallowed thickly, and offered him a nervous smile as you rushed out the door.

All this damn time…he’d been just a few doors down. You shook your head at the thought.

~

You were filing away receipts when it finally happened. The bell on your door chimed, and you looked up to…there was no way.

He wore the same black sweatshirt from the gym, but his jeans were a dark navy color, and his boots looked like they’d seen better days. What surprised you the most however, was the black surgical mask that put his blonde head of hair on full display.

You were right, he was gorgeous, even if you hadn’t gotten a look at his mouth.

“Afternoon,” he greeted in that husky Mancunian accent.

You blinked in surprise, and tried not to sputter. “Oh, hey…hi.”

“Hi.” He stared at you for a moment with a raised brow. “You posted this?”

You felt your eyes grow wide as he held up your flyer. “Yeah! Yeah that was me, if your interested, the prize money is-“

“You can keep the money.”

You blinked in surprise. “You don’t want a cut?” You asked.

He shook his head as he stepped closer to your desk. “I like your work,” his eyes settled on something behind you and it was an effort not to gasp as you realized there was at least one painting of him on display, his skull mask expertly contoured by your hands. “You keep the money, I keep the painting.”

He said it so resolutely that you didn’t even bother to argue, nodding your head dumbly. “And your comfortable with…that?” You asked, motioning to the flyer in his hand.

“Been sharing a locker room with men and women for over a decade. Nothing new,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you simply smiled nervously. “Alright then. I’m y/n by the way,” you said, offering him your hand.

You watched as his much larger one enveloped your hand in his grasp. “Simon. Friends call me Ghost.”

You raised a brow at him. “I can see why.”

~

Your canvas was prepped, and you’d laid out a tablecloth on the floor for him to sit on. You made a strong effort not to watch him strip down, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his back as he slipped out of his clothes.

He didn’t remove the mask, and you didn’t ask him to.

“What now?” He asked, stepping onto the white cloth. You refused to look him in the eye as you guided him into your desired sitting position.

“One more thing,” you said, pulling a dry erase marker from your pocket and flicking the cap somewhere on the floor behind you. “May I?”

He nodded, eyeing you curiously as you brought the tip to his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles lightly, following the shape of his pecs, his shoulders, and slowly moving lower, following the lines that made his abs, and the V that dipped down to his waistband.

His eyes were glued to your face, his gaze intense, and it make your hands shake.

“Nice trick.” Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, and you blushed, not having realized how close your faces would be.

“Makes the sketch go faster,” you mumbled.

“How long will the whole thing take?” He asked as you seated yourself at your canvas.

“We won’t be finished today, that’s for sure.” Something seemed to spark in his eyes at that statement.

“Take your time, Lovie.”

That certainly made your cheeks burn.

~

“Why the mask?” You asked as you carefully added shading to his shoulders with a fine tipped paint brush.

“Does it bother you?” Simon asked, tilting his head at you. He seemed to become more and more relaxed after the past few afternoons spent in your studio.

“Not really,” you explained. “Would be nice to have a face to paint though.”

He hummed softly, and you glanced up at his warm eyes that make your stomach flip. You held his gaze for a moment before he reached up, slipping the mask off his face and tossing it behind him.

You eyes widened, drinking him in. You weren’t sure how seeing his face was so much more alluring than seeing the rest of him, but your heart rate must have skyrocketed.

You couldn’t help but slide from your stool, approaching him with nervous footsteps. Your fingertips brushed his cheeks, cupping his jaw as you tilting his head this way and that.

His eyes fluttered closed before drifting open again, a new ferocity burning in them. He smirked softly at you, dipping his head to press his lips to your fingertips.

You felt your mouth go dry, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, and the motion caught his eye.

One of those large hands reached up, tilting your jaw down towards him as he held your gaze.

“Now that’s art.”

You kissed him hard, lips melding together, teeth clashing, his tongue sliding against yours until he had control of your mouth. Your fingers traced the scars on his chest and shoulders reverently.

It was going to take longer than expected to finish that painting.

AN: this one just kinda came out of nowhere, an excuse for me to flaunt my Ghost artwork 👀

[ghosts-n-bones]

Error Sans x Reader - 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

~*~

With a scowl on his face, Error sits idly on his spot on the couch in your living room.

Yes, his spot.

He spends so much time at your place that he had claimed the left side of your couch as his, not that you really minded. You happened to like the right side better anyway, or so you’ve told him. However, you had spent the entire evening up in your spare room, leaving Error without his couch buddy. At some point, he had even gone up to see what you were doing, but you told him he wasn't allowed to see yet.

Which is why he now sits on the couch alone, grumbling to himself.

Look, Error knew you were probably making something to show him, if the mischievous look on your face told him anything. You had told him before that that extra room became your hobby room when you moved in. He's seen it before. It was filled with miscellaneous art supplies and instruments. He... didn't like going in there too often. It reminded him of a certain skeleton he'd rather not think about. You had told him that you completely understood. After all, hating that rainbow bastard was something you two had in common.

Despite his hesitance, he still wanted to see what was taking you so long. He knew it was supposed to be a surprise, but that didn't stop Error from being painfully restless and incredibly curious. The tv in front of him became white noise as his mind raced with different possibilities. He didn't really like surprises, they tended to make him crash.

But he knew you would never do anything to scare him on purpose.

He flushed a bit at that thought, but he quickly shoved it away. Never in a million years did he think he would ever feel comfortable enough around someone to think that, let alone a human.

With an overdramatic sigh, Error flops sideways on the couch into a laying position, staring at the ceiling. Hopefully you'd be done soon... he's not sure how much longer he can be patient.

---

With a few more flicks of your brush against the canvas, you let it drop into the water glass with a satisfying plop. Taking a step back from the easel, you cross your arms over your chest. You squint, tilting your head sideways as you looked at the now-completed painting in front of you. With a satisfied grin, you sigh happily at the completed art piece. You were honestly worried that you wouldn't finish it on time. You wanted to give it to Error before the day was up, and you knew you were pushing it, but you were able to power through and create something you were rather proud of. You see, today was an anniversary of sorts. Today marked exactly one year since you saw the stars for the first time, and Error had been the one to show them to you.

You had lived in a busy city ever since you were a child, so you had never really been able to see the night sky. The combination of light pollution and your busy schedule prevented you from ever seeing the stars in person.

The night you first saw the stars happened unexpectedly. Error had come over again, like he usually did, and you happened to be watching a documentary about space exploration. Error surprisingly seemed to be really interested in the topic. He told you that watching a documentary would never compare to seeing the real thing. You offhandedly mentioned that you had never seen the stars in person before. He then proceeded to give you a bewildered look, asking how that was even possible. You shrug, saying you had never had the opportunity to see them. Without a word, he then wrapped a few of his strings around your wrist and opened a portal. He dragged you off of the couch, much to your displeasure, and through the portal. You were confused at first... the ground beneath you had changed from your carpet to what appeared to be rock, and the surrounding area was darker than it had been before. You remember asking Error where he had brought you and he simply pointed to the sky, saying "You said you've never seen the stars, so I brought you to the source."

You lift your head to the sky and let out an audible gasp. That's when you saw them. Millions of bright, glowing stars shining in all their glory. The stars were brilliant shades of blue, purple, and yellow, twinkling above you. It felt like your breath had been taken away. You had never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. Error explained to you that this was another universe, known as Outertale. It quickly became a very special place for you and Error.

And the rest was history.

With a faint smile on your lips at the memory, you turned towards the door to your spare room. You couldn't wait to see what Error thought of your gift.

---

Error heard the door to the spare room creek open and he quickly sat up. You peeked your head around the door frame and looked around before calling down to the glitchy skeleton.

"Error, I'm do-," you began, but you were suddenly cut off by a familiar black blur appearing in front of you.

You let out a small shriek as Error chuckles to himself.

"Whoops, I didn't mean to teleport that close," Error says with a smug grin.

He totally did. What a dork. You shake your head with a small laugh, straightening yourself out.

"That excited to see what I made, huh?" you ask jokingly.

Error pinches his fingers together and squints.

"Maybe a little bit. You've been up here for the past two and a half hours, I can't help but be a little curious, you know?" he says with a noncommittal shrug.

You roll your eyes and chuckle.

"You are so impatient," you joke, as Error puts his hand on his chest in mock offense.

"Ouch, you wound me," he says dramatically.

"Come on, weirdo, do you want to see or not?"

"I don't know, I'll think about it."

You give him an unamused look, causing a smug smile to spread across his face. He lets out a loud laugh before walking towards the door.

"Fine, fine, I'll look, but only because you asked so nicely," Error says teasingly.

You roll your eyes again and snort out a laugh. Grabbing the door, you swing it open so Error could walk through. As Error started walking past you, you quickly stopped him.

"Wait wait, don't go in yet," you say briskly.

"Do you want me to go in or not? I'm getting mixed signals here," Error says with an amused huff.

"Yes, I want you to come in, but you need to close your eyes first."

Error quirks an eyebrow before squinting his eye sockets suspiciously.

"Why? Is something going to jump out at me?" Error says skeptically.

"No, nothing is going to jump out at you, I promise. I just want it to be a surprise," you say, shifting awkwardly in place.

Error's eye lights scan your face for a moment before he sighs.

"Fine, but if I crash, I'm blaming you," he says.

He uses a few of his strings and wraps them around your wrist, then he closes his eyes. He even puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. You giggle at this, causing him to smirk. He tugs at the strings attached to your wrist.

"Come on, lead the way," he says.

You gently pull him along toward the easel where the painting stood proudly. He shuffled slowly behind you, looking a bit nervous due to his lack of eyesight. You eventually come to a stop, tugging on the strings around your wrist.

"You can open your eyes now," you say, barely able to contain your excitement.

The strings fall away from your wrist and Error takes his hand off of his eyes. You watch as his eye lights look towards the easel and his slight smirk fades into a shocked silence. In front of him stood a painting of Outertale, with delicately painted stars scattered along the canvas' surface. His eye lights flicked to the bottom of the canvas, where, to his surprise, he saw himself, with you right next to him, looking up at the starry night sky. His feet carried him absentmindedly towards the painting, at a loss for words. Paintings usually bothered him because of how much they reminded him of Ink, but your painting felt... different. He could almost feel your heart and soul in every brush stroke. Every delicately painted star seemed to glow with warm intent.

And you made this for him.

"Do... you like it? I made it as a thank you for taking me to see the stars. On this day, one year ago, you allowed me to experience something people only read about in science books... I just felt like I had to repay you somehow," you say, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Error just continues to stare at the canvas, seemingly lost in thought.

"Error--?"

"It's beautiful," he says in a small voice.

You look at him with wide eyes.

"What?" you say, unsure you heard him correctly.

"I said it's beautiful. It's really beautiful," he says with a small laugh.

Your heart melted seeing Error so happy about your gift. A warm feeling flooded your chest, causing your face to heat up.

"I'm glad you like it. I... care about you a lot. You've made me happier in the past year than I have been my entire life, it was the least I could do," you say gently.

Now it was Error's turn to blush. He looked at you wide-eyed, a dark blue hue spreading across his face. You giggle at his dumbfounded expression, causing the blush on his face to increase. He pulls his scarf up around his mouth, trying to hide his flustered expression. He looks away for a moment, allowing the heat in his face to cool down before he turns back to you. His expression had softened considerably, looking at you with a gentle expression.

"You... really made this... for me?" he says quietly, almost like he didn't trust his own voice.

"Well, yeah. You always tell me how much you love Outertale, and it has a special place in my own heart. I just wanted to give you a gift to show you my appreciation," you say honestly.

His eye lights search your face for a moment, almost like he was trying to find some sort of ulterior motive. When he found none, a smile spreads over his face.

"I've never been given anything like this before. I... don't know what to say," he says.

"Well, your expression says it all," you say teasingly.

Error gives you a playful stare, shaking his head with an amused huff. His expression mellows and he looks at you again.

"Thank you," he says.

You give him a warm smile.

"You deserve it," you say gently.

You look at each other for a moment before you turn your attention to the painting again. Your smile suddenly turned sour when you realized something.

"I knew I was forgetting something," you mumble.

Error gives you a weird look as you glare at the canvas.

"What could you have possibly forgotten? It looks pretty good to me," he says jokingly.

You wave your hand dismissively with a small chuckle.

"It's nothing major, I just forgot to sign it. I usually sign my artwork when I'm done with it," you explain.

Error shakes his head with a chuckle. You were weird.

He didn't mind that, though.

"Actually," you say, bringing Error out of his thoughts, "Maybe this is a good thing. Now we can both sign it!"

Error whips his head around and gives you a confused look.

"Me? Why would I sign it? I didn't make it," he says.

"Well, without you, I wouldn't have even seen the stars, so it is only fair that the skeleton who inspired me gets to sign it too," you say with a wink.

Error can feel his face heat up again. God, you were really trying to kill him tonight, weren't you? He feels your eyes on him. He hears you snort out a laugh, making him want to hide in his scarf again.

"Come on, glowstick. Your blush is lighting up the room. Are you going to sign the canvas, or not?" you say, holding up a pen.

Error grumbles something at you before snatching the pen out of your hand. You chuckle at his pouting face as you gently take the canvas off of the easel. Placing the painting on the table, you show him where to sign. Error uncaps the pen, hovers it over the canvas, and stops. His eyebrows are knitted together as his hand shakes above the canvas.

"I'm going to mess this up..." he grumbles to himself.

"No, you aren't," you assure him, "No matter what you do, I'm going to love it, trust me."

He glances at you and sighs.

"Alright... here goes nothing," he says under his breath.

Hesitantly, Error puts the pen on the painting and begins to sign his name. You had never seen his handwriting before, but it was way cooler than you ever could have imagined. He wrote his letters in a blocky fashion, which, much to your amusement, looked like the font used on old CRT computers. When he was done, he looked at you nervously, almost like he was looking for your approval.

"That looks amazing, Error! Your handwriting is so cool!" you praise.

Error shrugs and glances back at his handiwork.

"It's nothing special... but, glad you like it," he says with a small smile.

Now it’s your turn. Error hands you the pen, careful to avoid accidentally brushing his hand with yours. Uncapping the pen, you brush your hair out of your face and place the pen on the canvas' surface.

"Don't mess up," Error says from beside you.

You look at him and give him a glare, which he gladly returns with a smug grin. You roll your eyes and place the pen back on the canvas, quickly signing your name in the best cursive you could manage. Error gives you a hum of approval as you take a step back to admire the newly signed painting.

"Now it’s perfect," you say with a satisfied smile.

You pick up the canvas and give it to Error. His eyes widen, gently taking the canvas and holding it as if it were made of glass. His eye lights scan over the painting as a smile creeps along his face. He looks back up at you and studies your face for a moment, contemplating something. You give him a confused look and he sighs.

"S-stay still for a moment, alright?" he asks hesitantly.

You nod, despite your confusion. You watch as he walks towards you slowly. Once he is right in front of you, he takes a deep breath, holds out his arms, and wraps them around your shoulders.

He was hugging you.

He had never even let you touch him because of his haphephobia, and now here he was, giving you a hug. You desperately wanted to hug him back, but you kept your arms at your side, so you don't accidentally spook him. So, you opted to rest your head on his shoulder instead. You feel him tense up for a moment, his body vibrating and glitching a bit more than usual until he eventually settles into the hug again.

"Thank you... for everything," he says in a soft voice.

"Of course, Error. I don't know what I would do without you," you say with a smile on your face.

You both stand there for a few moments in content silence before Error's hand shifts off of your back. You hear the clink of glass, but before you could question it, you feel a wet paintbrush brush across your cheek. You gasp at the foreign feeling on your face as Error pulls away, paintbrush and canvas in hand.

"That's for calling me a glowstick," Error says with a smug grin before he teleports out of the room with an evil cackle.

"ERROR!"

[umbralsong]

Lady Incognita

Cazador Szarr's "niece" is named Amanita Szarr. You can find her story scattered throughout the palace's attic, dungeon, and the House of Hope. She was a girl who grew up near Anga Vled raised by old servants. At 13, she was brought to visit her uncle in Baldur's Gate...

The day her entire family exposed themselves as vampires.

Alternate Text: An east Asian girl with medium-brown skin and dark brown then red eyes looks away from the viewer. One with brown, facing away. Twice with red and shoddily cut away dark hair, looking away in despair and notably darkened, red, downcast eyes and short hair. Once more with darkened eyes and a cloak and red eyes to match, long dark hair flowing from her hood.

Unfinished, but hey. I want to show fellow artists that things just don't come to you. Sometimes, you have to work the lines and paint until they do. Use Glaze to protect your art from AI scrapers.

The notes you can find in order:

Alturiak 1477 Tarsakh 1477 Mirtul 1477 Kythorn 1477 Flamerule 1477

Please read about issues with Cazador's depiction [here]. Thank them for their kind contribution and show support.

Donate to Gaza here: https://gazafunds.org/ Support good causes with a click here: https://arab.org/ Ceasefire Now: https://ceasefire-now.com/ Donate to the [Sidewalk School] [Pay your rent], settlers. [KOSA Resources]

The city palace, straddling the wall between the Upper and Lower City, was more than creepy, it was somehow chilling.

Cazador Szarr the Avid rose to power in 1296. She stayed at the estate for at least four months before she was killed. She was turned in Kythorn 1477, 15 years before the start of the story.

'Uncle' Cazador made me a vampire, but I refused to participate in the family rites. He gave me the Hunger but he could not break my will. He had Blovart imprison me in the attic. I weakened. They sent up human blood, and eventually I drank it. For a year, they stopped sending anything. I tore at the walls in frustration. Then they sent up a bound captive.

Cazador's favorite punishments are cruelty, hunger, and isolation.

His staff, "Woe:" The gentle tap-tap-tap of a staff on stone sparked terror for all in Cazador's palace. It signalled an approaching storm, and all they could do was shrink into the background and pray its wrath would not fall on them. His dagger, "Rhapsody:" Cazador's love of poetry arose after he read on the naked stomach of a dead child in his homeland. The child was hung from the lowest branch of a tree. Cazador read the poem, and looked at the child, and he knew that here was the artform for him.

Her coffin is on a wooden table overlooking a window. There are chains by her bed, a candle, and a skull. There are three skeletons in the attic, one headless with a crossbow and garlic cloves in their cage.

I succumbed. I am a vampire, and damned. I curse the name of Szarr and reject it. Now I stay in the attic by choice and write my little histories. I am Lady Incognita. Amanita is no more.

I think the snippets of her story were so impactful because of the complete betrayal. The fact her family were never around. The fact they lied for her entire life. The fact they forced her to transform, which we know from Astarion's partial ceremorphosis dialogue is incredibly painful:

Player: Unlike you to be so unwilling to receive a new power... Astarion: That was before I knew the cost. Before I knew it meant transforming into some grotesque beast. I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over. Player: You're afraid? Astarion: I'll happily murder my way to whatever powerful artefacts we can make use of. Point at the back and I'll stab. Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for so long.

We know thematically there is a parallel between vampirism, abuse, and sexuality. Cazador appeared to lose interest in his 'niece' altogether. Nonetheless, he locked her into an eternal childhood under "true vampirism," never to grow to adulthood, and denied her a "typical" life forevermore. There is something particularly grotesque about that.

Astarion: Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today. Player: You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force. Astarion: Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.

We find The Tourmaline Depths in the room beneath Cazador's room. She wrote Diseases of the Blood to tackle vampiric illness. She wrote the names of ruling vampires, their titles, and their successors. She is, what, 28?

I like to think she knew all of Cazador's secrets, from the corpses in the suspended cages to his dungeon. I'm impressed by her mental fortitude in the face of such odds as a child and young woman. I'm impressed she chose to do what she loved, escaped, and became such a relevant figure in the study of vampiric physiology. I wish we knew her better. I wish we had the opportunity to meet her.

She is the historian who sullies his name and documents his endless crimes. She escaped. Cazador underestimated her.

[happilyhertale]

Love at first sight - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 2

Summary: The announcement of your pregnancy to your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had serious consequences for you. Yet you both pulled yourselves together and wanted your marriage to work.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

After some time now the desired second part of "Love at first sight" (:

I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.7 k

Other stories of mine

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You sit in your cosy chambers. You sit in your favourite place, a comfortable armchair, and gaze out of the window. Your hand gently glides over your ripe, round belly, swollen from the precious life growing inside you. Despite the physical changes and occasional discomfort, you enjoy every moment of your pregnancy and delight in the kicks and movements of your child. You can hardly suppress the overwhelming joy and excitement that fills your heart as you prepare for the imminent arrival of your child and anticipate the miracle of motherhood. As the maesters have predicted, birth is imminent and you eagerly await the moment when you will finally hold your precious bundle of joy in your arms.

Aemond is a devoted husband in the midst of the challenges you face. It hasn't been easy lately, especially since the revelation of his illegitimate child, which weighs heavily on you. However, the two of you are working together to overcome this obstacle and Aemond is doing his best to gain your forgiveness. Although you have temporarily moved into your own chambers, he remains close to you whenever possible, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to your bond.

The most remarkable change in you is the newfound belief that you are not inferior to a Targaryen. The scandalous history of this family is well known, and there are other numerous skeletons in the closet. Despite this, your love for Aemond has not diminished, but rather morphed into something else.

You don't have the striking silver hair or captivating purple eyes associated with the Targaryen line, but you stand by the uniqueness of your own physical features. You have adorable green eyes and luscious brown hair that you are proud of, and you hope that your child will inherit some of those traits as well.

In the serene silence of your own chambers, you sleep and live and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. When you are not walking in the lush gardens, you immerse yourself in painting and bask in the gentle sunlight streaming through the window. As you paint, you feel a deep connection with the little one growing inside you, and the activity seems to soothe the restlessness of your unborn child.

Often Aemond keeps you company by sitting by your side as you paint. He shares his experiences of the day with you, and you discuss a variety of topics, including the joys and challenges of pregnancy. Despite his long and exhausting council meetings, Aemond always finds time to sit with you in your chambers.

In the cosy embrace of the sofa you have long conversations, occasionally accompanied by Aemond's gentle foot massages. When the fatigue of the day takes over, Aemond helps you up and tucks you into bed. His tender kiss on your forehead lulls you into a peaceful slumber.

But in the quiet hours of the night, you long for Aemond's presence, yearn for the comfort of his strong arms embracing you. You long for the closeness that only he can give you.

One night you lie awake. The baby is kicking wildly in your belly. The thought creeps into your mind that maybe you do have a dragon inside you. A smile curls your lips. But the little thing won't let you sleep. You turn your head to the side and see the other side of your bed. It seems so empty and cold. You sigh softly.

Slowly you sit up. You gasp as another kick follows. You caress your belly and close your eyes briefly.

"Well, what do you want to tell me?" you whisper to the baby.

Slowly you get up from your bed. With careful steps you walk over to your wardrobe and put on your dressing gown. You leave your chambers.

Slowly you walk through the corridors. Your hands rest on your large belly. Only the wind can be heard, blowing softly through the corridors. No other sounds can be heard. You reach the corridor where your destination is. When you reach the door, you knock briefly.

You don't know if Aemond is still awake.

You hear nothing, but you knock again.

You sigh and a gasp leaves your lips as you feel another kick. But as you turn to return to your rooms, you hear rustling in Aemond's chambers.

The door opens. Aemond stands in the doorway, the inside of his chambers dark.

"What is it?" says Aemond almost annoyed, but when he sees you, his gaze immediately softens.

He is wearing only light trousers, his lean muscular torso showing. You have to smile slightly.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asks immediately, concerned.

You shake your head slightly, "No... I... I couldn't sleep... The baby keeps kicking and..." you say softly.

Aemond smiles at you

"Do you want to come in?" he asks you gently.

You nod slightly at him, still smiling.

He steps aside and you walk past him into his chambers. It is dark in his chambers. As Aemond closes the door, you don't really see anything at first. But he steps to a table and lights some candles.

You walk slowly through his chambers. You sit down on his bed and stroke your belly. When you suddenly feel another stronger kick, you gasp briefly.

Aemond is immediately at your side. He kneels down in front of you, "Love... are you all right?" he whispers worriedly.

You smile and nod. You breathe a little harder, but you take his hand and place it on your stomach without saying anything. You look into his purple eye and notice the sparkle in them as he feels a kick from his child.

He smiles immediately.

"I felt a kick," he whispers.

You nod, "The baby is very active tonight"

He chuckles lightly, "That's great," he says softly.

You chuckle too.

You stay like that for a while and he just strokes your belly. Until at some point he stands up. He gets a few more pillows and puts them on the bed. You watch him do this and smile.

"What are you doing?" you ask gently.

He looks slightly at you, "mhm?" he asks without looking directly in your direction. He concentrates on putting the pillows on the bed.

"With the pillows. What are you doing?" you ask, smiling.

He smiles, "You need to be comfortable. After all, you have a huge belly," he winks lightly at you.

You chuckle lightly and shake your head, "It's your fault I'm so fat,"

He laughs lightly, "And I wouldn't want to change that"

As he finishes arranging the pillows, he helps you slide up to the head of the bed and lean against the mound of pillows.

Aemond lies down beside you and looks at you. He smiles gently.

After a while you turn on your side, you snuggle up to him. He wraps his arms around you.

You enjoy it, you have missed it so much. You haven't been in his arms like this for a long time.

Your head is on his chest and you can feel his heartbeat. He gently strokes your hair. You also notice how your baby becomes calmer. The kicks and movements inside you become softer and less. And with Aemond's gentle heartbeat and regular breathing, you drift off to sleep.

Aemond holds you throughout the night. Whenever you wake slightly, you feel his hands caressing you. Either gently gliding through your hair. Or your lower back receives gentle caresses. Or how he gently lets his fingers caress your belly.

In the morning, the sun shines into the chambers. Aemond is still holding you in his arms. You look up into his face. He is not wearing his eye patch. He looks so peaceful. The burden that weighs down on his shoulders during the day seems to have disappeared.

"It's rude to stare," he says quietly, in his sleepy voice.

You just laugh lightly. He opens his eye and looks at you. You lean forward and kiss his lips softly.

"Mhmm..." he chimes in. He wraps his arms around you.

"Do you have to get up now?" you whisper against his lips.

He nods slightly, "I'm afraid so...", he whispers to you.

After you have stood up and Aemond has dressed, you step out of his chambers together. At first Aemond wanted to accompany you to your chambers, but you assured him that this was not necessary. So Aemond sets off for the council meeting.

You walk towards your chambers. Your lower back aches and it is difficult to breathe. Perhaps you should let the maesters know to bring you something for the pain. When suddenly you feel a twinge.

You gasp.

You clutch your belly. And then you're standing in a puddle. You whimper. The liquid just runs down your legs. You look down and a contraction follows. You clench your teeth. You squint your eyes even more. Your breathing quickens. You lean against the wall. The contraction ends again shortly afterwards and you look up. No one is near you. Your breathing is intermittent. With one hand you hold your belly, with the other you lean against the wall. Slowly you move forward. You continue walking when another contraction follows. Again you clench your teeth. You whimper softly.

Slowly you move forward, but finally you reach the maester's rooms.

With the last of your strength you push the door open.

The maesters look up indignantly until they see you.

You stand there panting, your skin sweaty.

"The baby... it's coming," you whimper before sinking to your knees.

"Princess!" they say almost simultaneously.

The maesters are immediately at your side. They help you up.

"Princess, we need to get you into a bed," one maester says to you.

You just nod and gasp.

Two of the maesters take you to the nearest spare chambers and they lay you down on a bed.

"Aemond... Prince Aemond... please tell him," you whimper.

"Princess... A man should not...", a maester replies.

"Please tell Prince Aemond," you say again.

The maesters look at each other, but nod at you.

More maesters enter the chambers, bringing midwives with them. The midwives have cloths and bowls of warm water with them.

Another contraction follows and this time you scream. A midwife is immediately at your side. She holds your hand through the contraction. A maester steps in front of you and just pushes up the skirt of your dress. You blush slightly and look up at the ceiling. You bite your lip.

The next contraction follows and you scream again. Another midwife approaches you and dabs your sweat. Your breathing is labored.

But after a while you look at the one midwife, "Prince Aemond... Where is Prince Aemond?"

She smiles at you, "He must be in a council meeting, Princess," she says gently, dabbing at your sweat.

"No... he must be here... he must be here!" you suddenly say ernergically.

She looks at you a little speechless.

Then another midwife comes forward, "I will inform him, Princess."

And she turns around and goes straight away.

You lie there, tears streaming down your face, as the next contraction follows.

The midwife, after running quickly through the corridors, comes to the room where the council meeting is taking place.

Guards are standing in front of it and they look at her.

"I have a message for Prince Aemond," she says, breathing a little heavily.

The guards just look at her.

"He's busy," one guard replies.

"He'll want to hear this," the midwife says simply.

The guards do not move. She reaches for the doorknob.

The one guard reaches for her wrist.

"Princess y/n is in labour. She has instructed me to send word to her husband. If you want to stop me, I will be happy to tell the princess," she says to the guard.

The guard reluctantly lets go of her hand and she opens the door.

All eyes are on her.

She curtsies, "Your Highness. Lords," she greets those present before looking at Aemond, "Prince Aemond. Princess y/n is in her labour, she sent me to fetch you"

Aemond takes a moment to process the statement and then stands up.

"The session is postponed" he says simply and walks out of the room.

Aemond follows the midwife. She leads Aemond to you.

As Aemond enters the chambers, he sees you lying on the bed. You are lying there and screaming. You are drenched in sweat. Two midwives are at your side and a maester stands before you.

"Why wasn't I told earlier that my wife was in labour?" asks Aemond angrily when he sees that you are already in labour.

A maester turns to him, "My prince... It is not customary for the husband to be present when the wife gives birth..."

"If you want to take away from me again the decision to be able to be with my wife while she gives birth, you have been a maester for the longest time," he hisses at him. The maester looks to the ground and simply nods.

A midwife leaves your side so that Aemond can be by your side.

"Aemond...", you gasp when you see him beside you.

He kisses your hand, "I'm here," he whispers, "I'm here now."

You cry out again and put your head back. You gasp heavily.

"You can do this, my Love" he kisses the side of your head. You just nod.

"Princess, it's almost done," the Maester suddenly calls to you, kneeling between your legs.

"Push again, I can see the head!" he says.

You whimper, but push with the last of your strength as the contraction approaches.

You cry out and Aemond continues to kiss your hand.

The maester reaches for the baby. But no screams are heard. You look at him, the maester has the baby in his arms. You look at Aemond for help, but he looks seriously at the maester. The maester just looks unimpressed and gives the baby a good smack on the ass and the baby starts to cry.

You smile and breathe a sigh of relief as your baby starts to scream.

You look at Aemond, he smiles.

The maester hands the baby to the midwife to clean.

He turns to you, "A girl," he says simply.

You give a short laugh.

"A girl," you say to Aemond and he smiles, he kisses you.

The next day Aemond comes to your chambers, you have your daughter in your arms.

You smile at him as he enters your chambers.

"My love," he says as he approaches you.

You smile and cradle your daughter in your arms. He kneels down beside you. He gently strokes your daughter's arm.

"Shall we stick with the name Myrcella?" he asks with a smile.

You nod, "Yes...it has a nice ring to it... Myrcella Targaryen"

He nods at you, "I can't disagree with you there," he smiles at you and strokes the roots of Myrcella's silver hair.

You sit there like that for some time until you look at him.

"I want your other child to come to court," you say softly.

He looks at you, "My love..." he says, "... I don't think that's a good idea"

"I want to, Aemond," you tell him.

He says nothing. Silence reigns in your chambers for a moment.

"I would like to put this behind me... I am not proud of what I have done..." he says.

You shake your head slightly, "But you did it," you say.

His face twitches briefly.

Myrcella giggles briefly.

You look down at her.

"I'm not doing this to spite you... But... I was alone at first when the birth started. I was alone and I went to see the maesters... And then you weren't told that my labour had started and I was lying there alone... without you. That was terrible. I was so helpless when the maester pushed up my skirt..."

Aemond just looks at you, reaching for your hand.

"I don't want a child to grow up without its father. It should be here... Have the opportunity..." you say softly.

Aemond is silent for a moment and sighs briefly.

"You're asking a lot of me..." he looks at you.

And you just nod.

"I will not bring her, my cousin, here, though. You can't ask that, my Love," he says seriously.

You nod after some time, "Okay... I'm okay with that"

He smiles slightly at you, "Do you know that you have a good heart? That you're too good?"

You smile at him, "Don't be too sure... Maybe I just want to torture you after all"

He has to chuckle softly.

And Aemond initiates it. He gives himself the shame and talks to his mother.

Aemond makes his way to Alicent's chambers.

"Mother," he says as he enters the rooms.

She looks at him and smiles.

"Aemond, how good to see you," she says softly.

He smiles slightly.

"How are y/n doing? How is she coping?" she asks smiling.

He smiles too, "She's doing well and thriving in her task," he says softly.

"Oh that's so good to hear... I'll visit her later, I want to see my grandchild," she says happily.

He smiles and nods.

"But mother... I am here for another thing," he says softly.

She looks at him.

"Can you remember when Cousin Naerys was sent to Dorne? Because of what she did...?" he asks quietly.

Alicent nods, "Yes. How could I forget. Giving yourself to a man before marriage and getting pregnant too..."

Aemond's cheeks turn slightly red.

"Mother... you don't know the whole truth... She slept with me," he finally says.

Alicent's eyes grow wide. She is speechless for a moment.

"Aemond... how... what?" she asks incredulously.

Aemond looks at the floor, "It... it's not excusable... It was a mistake... and... I didn't say anything when she was sent away..." he says.

She walks towards him, and grabs his forearms.

"Aemond..." she says simply.

He looks up and into her eyes.

"y/n wants to bring the child to court," he says.

Alicent's breath catches in her throat.

"Y/n wants what? She knows about it? She wants the child here? You can't do that," she stammers.

Aemond shakes his head, "It is important to y/n that the child comes to court... that it does not grow up without a father," he says gravely.

"And I support her in this... it is important to her," he continues.

"Aemond... please consider this... you would have a bastard child at court," Alicent says seriously.

His gaze turns a little cool, "It wouldn't be the first Targaryen bastard child"

Alicent takes a step back. But she finally nods, "Okay... I'll see what I can do"

And a few weeks later, Aemond comes into your chambers. He has a letter in his hand and he smiles. You sit with Myrcella in front of a canvas and try to paint something. You look up and smile at him.

He stands in front of you, "My daughter is coming to court," he says simply.

You continue to smile.

"Her mother is dead," he adds.

Your smile fades.

"Excuse me?" you say.

"It's in this letter. I guess she died shortly after giving birth..." he says as his gaze goes over the letter again.

"But who took care of your daughter until now? She must still be an infant?" you ask, turning further to him.

"Apparently the ladies of the court... I'm not quite sure," he says quietly, continuing to read.

"Aemond... that's terrible..." you say quietly.

He looks up, "I guess that's true... but she's coming here now"

You nod at him.

You look down and stroke Myrcella's cheek gently. As she looks up at you, you see her emerald green eyes shine. You smile softly and hold her close to your body.

A few days later, the time has come. You stand in the courtyard awaiting the arrival of Aemond's daughter. With you and Aemond, Alicent stands in the courtyard. You all say nothing. Aemond has Myrcella in his arms, cradling her gently.

As the carriage approaches, you are excited. You tug a little at the skirt of your dress.

The carriage pulls into the courtyard.

As it comes to a stop, you take a step forward. The door of the carriage opens and a lady steps out. She has a child in her arms. The lady looks at all of you first and then approaches you.

"Hello," you say softly.

"Hello Princess y/n," she says.

"This is Rhae," she says, turning so that the little girl is looking at you.

You smile at her, "Hello Rhae," you say and gently take her hand.

Purple eyes beam at you. The lady hands you little Rhae.

You hold her close and turn to Aemond. He looks tense. You can see that he is ashamed. But you smile at him and go to him.

"Little Rhae... This is your father, Prince Aemond. You are a princess," you say softly.

Aemond looks at you with raised eyebrows.

"Please show respect to the princess," you say playfully to Aemond.

He shakes his head slightly, but has to smile.

He hands Myrcella over to Alicent. Alicent just stands there, trying to smile.

Aemond turns back to you.

"Princess Rhae...," he says softly.

You hand her to Aemond and you see her looking closely at him. Aemond holds her and you see a smile on his face.

Throughout the day you and Aemond spend time with Rhae and Myrcella. Towards evening, the nannies come to put the children to bed. You stay with Aemond in the chambers. You lie on the bed and cuddle.

"You were sweet with Rhae..." you say softly.

He chuckles lightly and kisses your head.

"I'm serious..." you whisper.

"I have to admit it felt good too... With two daughters..." he says softly.

You smile and snuggle closer to him.

"I don't want her to ever be called a bastard..." you say after a while.

"She's not a bastard. She's your daughter and she'll grow up with us..." you say softly.

Aemond closes his arms further around you and nods.

"She won't be a bastard," he says softly.

You look up at him and smile.

You kiss him as he gently caresses your arms.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list:

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @bellaisasleep @amazingnerd @yentroucnagol @introverbatim

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O brought Skeleton to a pride parade

Undertale Sans - You are a bit worried because the crowd is gigantic and your skeleton is very small. After like ten minutes, you completely lose him and starts to freak out, only to find him an hour later on a float full of trans people, just hanging there, charming everyone around. He usually doesn't have an opportunity to show off his trans puns because people don't know he's trans so he's having fun!

Undertale Papyrus - He got immediately kidnapped by the lesbians. Undyne wanted him, Alphys wanted him, so now all the lesbians want him. He is now in bright pink, with flags painted on every bone visible, and he's a very proud lesbian as well right now! He's a little confused about what's going on to be honnest, but everyone is happy so he's happy! He was supposed to say he's aromantic though? Oh well, that works too!

Underswap Sans - He's a little too excited, and the people screaming everywhere is not helping. Blue is on hyper mode, running everywhere as well, carrying flags, water bottles and banners from one part of the pride to another. He's like the official messenger between the two ends of the parade. He's having fun, and for once he's even tired when it's time to go home!

Underswap Papyrus - He accepted to take care of a child for five minutes, and now everyone is giving him their children and he's so confused??? He's hanging at the end of the parade with ten children or so as their parents are walking and parading. It's fine with him though. He feels safer out of the crowd, even though it means he gets to be insulted more often by the stupid queerphobe people waiting for the pride to arrive to insult them. But that's fine, he doesn't care. He has his three service dogs with him and they're big enough to scare the pests away.

Underfell Sans - He ditched you to flirt with the gay float people. You're a bit offended until you realize he's doing this only to climb on the float because he's so tired of walking and would gladly sell all of his limbs if it means he can sits on one of the floats lol. If it doesn't work, he goes to flatter the acearo people. And he's going to try this with every float he finds.

Underfell Papyrus - You're surprised not so much people are insulting you this year. That is until you notice Edge giving a death glare to a Karen about to insult some trans people. What's even cuter is that he has Frisk on his shoulders the all time and a unicorn horn on the head that the kid insisted he wore. He's acting more as a royal guard than he is having fun though.

Horrortale Sans - He has no idea how the hell he ended on a float in the middle of a huge crowd. He's so confused what's going on. His hands and face are painted with random colour flags and he's staring at everyone in complete confusion. Some random people he pretty sure he never met kept checking on him once in a while to give him water and food so it's not too bad. It's rare people are friendly with him.

Horrortale Papyrus - People noticed he was struggling to walk, but was very determined to parade with everyone. He cried when a random person proposed to give him their wheelchair to rest for a bit. He's a bit overwhelmed by everyone kindness. He talked with a lot of disabled queer people during this pride and learned quite a few things. He's a bit sad when it ends and insistes to stay in touch with everyone.

Swapfell Sans - He went just because his S/O wanted him to come, he got out of there having an existential crisis as he realized he might be asexual. He's not sure what to do about it, he needs to think this a little more.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's on high heels, dancing on a float, and he's having so much fun. He didn't know pride were a thing and now he wants to go to every of them. He had no idea people could celebrate being gay. It's just so normal for Monsterkind it's a little cultural shock. He loves it though! He can show off his body, look at him go!

Fellswap Gold Sans - He had no idea humans could be genderfluid too??? Why does he discovers this only now? He spends the day talking with enby people and has his mind blown as he discovers there's a ton of differents way to be non binary??? He promised all of them once he takes the control of the world, they will have good places in his kingdom. Everyone is a bit confused, but ok???

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's holding your hand for dear life and he's terrified to let go. There are too many people around, too much noise and too much colours everywhere for him to focus. He's probably going to have a panic attack in ten minutes or so, but he's holding on!