#beautiful gothic king

[marsmad]

He did a great job with the makeup, so hot! ❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥👑❤️‍🔥

[marril96]

Matthew Gray Gubler + kissing

[ange111diary]

some of my inspo for senior pics. found these all on pinterest not sure the original source.

[meemeeh]

King Paimon/Charlie/Peter from Hereditary🎞️🫶🏼

Happy Halloween y'all🎃

IG: midalisjulissa🧛🏻‍♀️

[dnangelic]

Life/Death/Life.

A person who represents the mysteries and inner workings of the world's forces; a person who has destiny at their back, a person wielding their understanding like a weapon. A person who cycles through rebirths and deaths, growing ever more clever.

+ the Ancient Star.

A being from somewhere distant, far from here. Ethereal, enigmatic, mysterious, kind, and a catalyst for greatness in others.

the King.

Bold, majestic, burdened, responsible, an impassive and neutral face that discloses no pain, only regality.

+ the Matryoshka Doll.

Someone with layers, and a painted surface hiding deep intricacy below. A person who changes completely in a blink of an eye, a person with contradictions but something cohesive holding everything together.

+ the Beast.

Misunderstood, perceived unfairly as monstrous. A person with kindness, with a penchant for indulging and caring for other monsters if no one else will.

tagged by: @achroanimus tym!!!

[blackbeautybaby]

Black lace outfits>>>

[godslasher]

We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.

[artist-kili]

Kinda wanna draw Gilbert on a paradisial (?) island with remains of a powerful monarchy. There should be tall pillars and wall paintings that rival the extravagancy of the baroque. I wan there to be golden sunrays during the day and silver moon shine covering the island at night. I want the waves to be dark blue and I want there to be remains of skeletons, weapons and bragging wall carpets and magical animals of Greek mythology.

Nothing else story-related. Just Gilbert on a dreamy island, being bewitched by its beauty and not realizing that this very island represents the island of Thule (some myth alike to Atlantis).

[lxkeee]

Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

Part two

Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.

He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.

His first instinct is to investigate.

This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.

Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.

The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.

He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.

Crack. A twig snapped

His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.

Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.

Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.

A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.

Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.

“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.

“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.

“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”

“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.

“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”

Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise

“I don't want to intrud—”

“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”

“But—”

“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.

“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”

“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.

With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.

Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.

“So, about that tea?”

Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.

A type even.

It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.

Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.

He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.

She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.

She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.

And tall.

He likes his women tall okay?

And he likes them a little deranged.

Anyways.

She keeps teasing him.

Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.

It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.

Poor guy was blushing.

She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.

She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.

The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.

It was... Cute...

Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.

Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.

He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.

He has issues he needed to fix first.

Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.

Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.

He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.

And she just appears out of nowhere!

It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.

But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.

“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.

“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.

“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.

“Hmm? Go ahead.”

“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”

Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.

[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.

She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.

“Depending on who this friend is.”

“Just answer.” he deadpans.

“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.

Lucifer.exe has stopped working.

“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.

“Please...?”

“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.

It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.

“I like you.”

“I like me too.”

“[y/n]!”

“I am just joking, I like you too.”

[jnece-maharlika]

Pt 2. EXTRA Danny accidentally becomes the president

P2 extra: Danny becomes the president

Danny slept for ONLY a few days and when he woke up he was healed of all injury. Oh, and also, he wasn't in his room. NO, he was in a mansion, a FRUITLOOP type of mansion. A beautiful gothic inspired mansion that screamed "I AM ELEGANCE, I AM BEAUTY I AM MONEY" it was only when he one of the workers in the mansion came in did he get informed about what happened these last few days.

APPARENTLY this wasn't just a mansion, it was a WHITE HOUSE. Except it was panted like a black and green galaxy because everyone hates white now

And also he's the president.

A Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL or EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

All he wanted to keep to protect his town from the GIW. But considering that fainted he was... unsuccessful? But that slight failure did help the amity parkers decide to help themselves and finally accept him as hero so maybe not??

He was happy that they accepted him and protected him but he really wasn't expecting this at all. Why in the world did they make him president??? He didn't think they liked him that much! Also! How is he president??? Amity park is just a random town in the middle of nowhere Illinois!

Wait...what??! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMITY IS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY???!! I WAS OUT FOR 3 DAYS! THEY HAVENT EVEN STARTED CLEANING UP YET HOW IN THE NAME OF THEY ANCIENTS DID WE GET DECLARED AS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY????!

"I see..." Danny nodded after finally calming down. "So let me get this straight..." He counted on his fingers, "You," he looks at the woman in front of him "along side other people and ghosts, and mom and dad, and fright night, and Pandora...kidnapped the us president"

She nodded.

"Took him to UN headquarters, then Bribed, blackmailed, and harrased the UN members into declaring us a country"

.she nodded.

"Then declared me as king and president of amity"

She nodded.

"You know this new development is gonna attract the league of bitches right?"

"Oh we won't have to worry about that for now, but when they do then we'll be prepared." She smiled innocently.

Danny stared at her with tired eyes as he channeled his inner amity parker, the power to say well, I guess this is happening now. He sighed "Fine, but I can't be king and president at the same time. I can be king since you're all liminal, so technically all of amity is part of the whole ghost king territory." He sighed, "but I can't be president, too much responsibility, I'm already in charge of a whole ass realm"

So now they needed a new president, preferably some uncorrupt, someone who doesn't care much about the money and will always look for ways to improve the living standard, someone kind but not a push over.

Next day it was declared that.

MADDIE AND JACK FENTON, PRESIDENTS OF AMITY.

Danny was stunned when he saw the news. Did they seriously pick the resident mad scientists as president.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents and know that they're awesome but can they do this???

Turns out they can.

The president Drs Fenton's first move was healthcare for Both ghosts and humans and a free class dedicated to helping yourself.

Helping yourself classes include:

How to stitch your self up

How to use fudge as a weapon

How to fight the world most dangerous villains.

How to fight the worlds strongest heroes

Etch.

They launched some programs that might seem weird at first.

Programs like:

A defence class against sentient food.

Making friends with the realms

A school for the liminal

A class for avoiding the fae.

Using the blob ghosts as construction workers.

Etch

They might be weird but the end results turned out to be pretty usefull for the amity parkers.

At some point they decided to build a wall around the countrys property. It would ensure that only the amity parkers and people with permission would be able to enter/leave the town. There would be no gate and the only way out would be trough the portal system built by the Fenton's.

Danny thought it was too much

The amity parkers thought it was perfect, they didn't want anyone in their country, this was the kings haunt, this was their home and they would die and then come back as ghosts just to protect it.

And so the wall was raised..

Amity park continued to live in harmony and peace for many years...

-----

A couple of years later.

Flash had come across the wall.

And of course, alerted the league of bitches.

Batman was having a headache, no matter where he looked, no matter how many government systems he hacked, there was nothing. Not a single piece of info, not a single paper trail on what could possibly be whats behind the wall, and when it was built.

But it's impossible for something that big to just appear out of nowhere.

So the JL had suggested looking over Illinois via satellite, the wall didn't have a roof so they should be able to see the inside.

"What the heck" Oracle cursed as she looked at the camera. "Hey RR, look at this"

"what is it?" Red Robin walked closer, coffee mug in hand.

"Somethings interfering, I can't get a view of the wall at all" she took a sip of her own coffee as she tried hacking. Emphasis on TRIED.

The batcomputer was covered in static, then turned black. After that it flashed gold with a Egyptian like gold simbol and a message.

"NU UH"

" Get wrecked ".

Suddenly whoever was On the other side started hacking the batcomputer.

It turned into a nearly 24 hour, (Oracle: does this hacker not sleep??) battle of trying to keep the hacker away from their bat systems.

It only stopped when the hacker sent a message.

"Nice as this little war was, im getting bored so bye (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

Seizing the opportunity they tried to hack in. Only to be hit with a firewall and a virus.

--------

Life was good, life was stressful but it was good for Danny.

He thought to himself as he walked towards the wall that kept them safe.

Appearantly the clan of glorified furrys tried hacking them last night. Unfortunately for them not only was Tucker incredibly good at hacking, his liminality also gave him less need for sleep so he just kept messing with them until they were exhausted.

But this little occurrence made Danny think a bit. Now that the GIW was gone and the Anti ecto acts were basically burned without a trace , there was no need to hide. There was never a need to isolate their little country in the first place.

The amity parkers are free come and go whenever they want, the wall isn't here to keep them in, it's to keep the outsiders out. The rich familys often go out, they can't just disappear from society after all, but the other amity parkers, they don't. They haven't left at all, claiming that it was better for them here as they probably won't be accepted. Just because the Anti ecto laws are gone doesn't change the fact that liminals and ghost aren't recognized as species, they were closer to myths than metas and the world, (especially the league of bitches) werent like them, they were terrified of change. So they stayed in amity.

The people just wanted to feel safe for a while, lay low until they're sure that no one would hurt them any more. But they're stronger now, better than before and more ...magical.

Danny stops waking and looks back at the town. Liminals, ghost, blobs, and humans with ghostly features from the ecto walked, talked and played together. He grinned so what if the world would have a hard time accepting them? The worlds opinion doesn't matter, destroying it or fleeing to another dimension was always a choice and his people aren't the type to back down from a fight.

Yeah, It was time to reintroduce Amity to the world. He flipped the switch and the walls portal gate opened to Gotham.

Now then? They had a plan, his people suggested he take the lead in the plan and they will follow.

The plan? The plan was to become a head ache for Bruce Wayne, aka the The Furry knight.

Rich fruitloop with a plan to takeover the business world style.

_________

Tim is stressed not only is he stressed with the whole random Illinois wall situation he's also stressing out about this random Business man that appeared out of nowhere And is competing against WE!

Okay, maybe not competing but still!! It's only been two months, TWO MONTHS since this company appeared and it was already competing for one of the richest companys in America! How?????

So he tried looking into the owner. The owner looked like about his age! Looked like a fresh 18 year old but his file says he's 25, something about slow aging that runs in the family, maybe a meta gene? But theres no way he could build a billionaire company from scratch at only 25 so hes definitely born in a rich family. Daniel Fenton, his name, a perfectly normal name. Only issue is that, THERE ARE NO BILLIONAIRE FAMILIES NAMED FENTON!.

He looked deeper, he found an interview that said he was from a country called Amity when asked where it was, he gave coordinates. Not an address, not a continent, but COORDINATES. And Guess where the coordinates led?

THE FREAKING WALL OF ILLINOIS!!!!.

This man came from the wall! Well... Most likely INSIDE the wall. But from the wall nonetheless.

So he told Bruce, and what was the best way to get a business mans attention without being suspicious?

A GALA

Tags, I'm not gonna do tags anymore, might make a masterpost so look out for that instead.

@vixen-uchiha

@sebas-nights

@whotfevenknowsanymore

@jaguarthecat

@serasvictoria02

@devilbunny612

@sumatra513

@just-lurking-dont-mind-meh

@i-love-mangoes

----

[torchwood-99]

Eowyn and Gothic Horror

I've ranted about the interpretation that Eowyn's rejection of gender roles was a symptom of her sickness, caused only by Grima's manipulations. An interpretation that doesn't hold to either Gandalf's speech in the Houses of Healing, when he specifies how the liberties denied to Eowyn and allowed to Eomer and her male peers played a crucial role in her depression, or when we see how Eowyn was really vindicated in her decision to ride to battle by her victory over the Witch King. A victory that wins her incredible renown and respect.

I think this reading comes about because people see the significance of Grima's contribution to Eowyn's despair, and think he is the sole source of it.

But Eowyn was not dissatisfied with her role and her enforced position in the house because of Grima's manipulations. She didn't rail against sexism because Grima played with her head and "poisoned" her traditionally feminine role for her.

Grima was able to prey on Eowyn, manipulate her and drive her to despair, because of the sexism that forced Eowyn to remain stuck in the house.

Look at the speech Gandalf gives Eomer about Eowyn's sufferings. The very first thing he mentions is the fact that Eowyn was denied the freedoms and opportunities Eomer had. The suffering that follows stems from that first initial injustice.

Because of that first injustice, Eowyn was rendered vulnerable, and Grima was able to exploit that. That isolation, that limited freedom, that unhappiness about her lack of choices, left her free game for Grima to take an already bad situation, and make it far worse.

Thinking about Eowyn's experience in Meduseld, what the impact of being confined to the domestic sphere did to her, and what is left her vulnerable to, makes me think of Gothic horror, and the role of sexism and domesticity in that genre too.

Eowyn's situation before the novels is that of a classic Gothic heroine. A fair, beautiful woman, trapped inside a decaying house, and preyed on by an awful monster, who hungers after her beauty and longs to possess her. Or else, destroy her.

Domestic settings and isolation are pretty crucial themes in the gothic genre, and for that reason it has historically been seen as a woman's genre. It taps into a pretty universal fear of what happens when home ceases to be a safe space, a fear that historically, has a particularly great resonance for women.

Whereas traditionally home is a refuge and respite for men from the world, the home is the woman's only true acceptable sphere. And yet even there she is subordinate. Therefore, she is vulnerable. With no place in the outside world, she has no escape, no respite, no refuge. If home becomes an evil, she is trapped. And because she has no place in the social sphere, she has no voice either. She is invisible, she is overlooked, her sufferings and her contributions are passed over,

Eowyn is isolated. Eowyn is vulnerable. Eowyn is overlooked. And because Eowyn is isolated and vulnerable and overlooked, Grima is able to get his hooks into her and drive her to despair. She is a wild animal, trammelled and caught in a hutch, a predator's helpless prey. But Grima didn't put Eowyn in the hutch. Eowyn was already there. Grima just took advantage of that.

Even after Grima is gone, Meduseld is still a place Eowyn longs to escape, and while its evil is purged and she does return, it is only for a short while. Grima's defeat is not enough to make Meduseld a place where Eowyn can find real happiness or fulfilment. On its own, it still represents a role for Eowyn that she wishes to move beyond.

The healing counterpoint to Eowyn's gothic castle of horrors, the hutch she was caught in, is in escape, and in a return to nature.

Eowyn's entire romance with Faramir takes place within the gardens of the Houses of Healing, where we see Eowyn start to recover from her ordeal. It takes place on the open, in the garden, on the ramparts, with much notice given to the sky and the sun and the elements around them.

(Also, the Houses of Healing themselves are not a domestic setting, but a public one, and there we see women working alongside men and holding authority.)

Eowyn's happy ending, her great escape, climaxes with her decision to go with Faramir to Ithilien.

Ithilien is the exact opposite of a hutch. It's descriptions are filled with natural imagery, and is known as the Garden of Gondor. It is a place for growth and fresh starts. A place of freedom. A place for a wild thing.

When Faramir suggests that he and Eowyn live in Ithilien, he reasserts again and again that they will go there if it is Eowyn's will. Both Tolkien and Faramir put emphasis on the importance of Eowyn's will, and Eowyn's right to freedom of movement.

In his plans for their future, Faramir talks of "us" and "we", removing the separation between men (belonging to the social sphere) and women (belonging to the domestic), and speaks of Ithilien as a shared dwelling place for both of them. Faramir only distinguishes between himself and Eowyn when he puts importance on Eowyn's will, and at the end, on Eowyn's influence.

At the close of his speech, Faramir says all things will grow with joy in Ithilien, if Eowyn is there. Returning Ithilien to its former glory, allowing it to bloom once more, is to become Faramir's life's work, and still it is Eowyn's influence he puts centre stage. Far from being kept confined to the domestic sphere, relegated to being Faramir's home support while he dominates the rehabilitation of Ithilien, Faramir places Eowyn's work and Eowyn's significance at the heart of their future together.

Eowyn goes from being shut in the house, where everything around her was decaying and falling to ruin, to being freed to stand in the heart of nature, where there is a chance for influence, growth, and fresh starts.

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Mask

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, assassination attempt, mention of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of murders ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard

Lady Walford Moodboard

Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Her father, the King, only realised how many enemies he had after a man dared to attack her while she was strolling around the fair during one of her walks. He wanted to get closer to her and slipped a dagger out from behind his cloak − if it hadn't been for the woman selling fish and her shouting, she wouldn't have noticed him or the steel gleaming in his hand.

She did what any other person in her position would have done, which is to say, she screamed in terror, stepping back, bumping into a wooden makeshift table full of vegetables, which toppled over with her − the assassin gave up at the last moment, terrified by the sudden outbreak of panic, and disappeared among the crowd.

Some elderly man helped her up, the knights of her father's guard rode up on horseback, alarmed by these frightened noises. One of them, Ser Lucas, her father's friend from his youth and the great rebellion furrowed his brow as he saw her face.

"Princess?"

She wasn't sure if her father was more furious with her or with the man who had tried to attack her. He commented on her irresponsibility and disobedience, her recklessness, and expressed outrage that her guards had not even noticed how she had escaped them.

"I just wanted to see the fair, my King." She said in a trembling voice without looking at him; she stood before him with her hair loose, wearing a beautiful navy blue gown with sleeves that reached to the ground − her shoulders were bare, on her hips a delicate golden belt made up of tiny eyes in which sapphires were framed.

"That's enough." He said agitated and impatient, raising his hand in a gesture of frustration, his dark hair and beard adding to his seriousness, his brow furrowed in anger. "Until you learn prudence, one of my ghosts will not leave your side."

She looked at him, horrified, and then turned her gaze to the man standing beside him, a few steps behind his throne, his figure hidden completely in shadow. He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head and a black mask on which a single tear was outlined under his right eye.

It was said that it was molded so that the people they were killing would have the feeling that they had compassion for them, that they were just a tool used by someone else.

People called them ghosts because they weren't seen on a daily basis – or at least that's what it was believed. They were forbidden to take off their mask or speak to anyone but her father, and were his principal emissaries that found his enemies, invigilated them and killed them.

Since the days of the rebellion and the overthrow of the earlier king, her father was perpetually in fear of an attempt on his or his children's lives, so he found, she supposed, people desperate or fond of killing, those who owed him everything and had no reason to betray them.

She passed and saw them extremely rarely, only during sumptuous feasts in the company of guests or gatherings of magnates from all over the country.

They stood then by her father's side, as always in the shadows, though invisible, constantly reminding her of their presence with their very posture, menacing and stony, the people around them afraid to look at them.

She didn't know how many of them there were in total; they were almost identical and differed only in height, besides that they wore the same clothes, masks, hoods and black leather gloves, probably to avoid staining their skin with blood.

The thought that someone like that was to accompany and guard her sent shivers down her spine − she had feared that her father would now know of her every move, that she would never leave the fortress again.

She lowered her gaze, saying no more, listening to his orders to find the man who had attacked her, whom she had described in detail to the other ghosts.

She left, feeling that if she stayed there another moment she would vomit.

It seemed to her that these black hooded figures were sucking the life out of everyone around them, that they were a walking harbinger of death and misery.

That night she heard his voice for the first time.

Her guards were outraged when he dismissed them.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" Asked one of them, a cold, deep, mocking voice answered them.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

She heard someone's growl and an unclear voice full of impatience, the clack of steel and armour proving that they had walked away − she was left alone with the cold murderer outside her door.

She pressed her lips together, felt her eyes burning due to the gathering tears at the realization that she had never felt more alone and abandoned than she did now.

She wriggled in bed, as she did every day, unable to fall asleep. It was raining loudly outside and she looked towards the window, seeing nothing but darkness. She felt small and even though she was lying under several thick furs, she was cold.

She rose slowly, putting a soft cashmere shawl over her shoulders, lighting a candle that illuminated her chamber with a pleasant, warm glow.

There is a man behind that mask, she thought.

He was not a ghost.

If she made any kind of bond with him, she would stop being afraid of him.

She walked to her door and stood in front of it for a long moment, feeling her heart pounding hard and fast. She swallowed hard and opened it with a loud creak of old wood.

Her candle instantly illuminated his figure − he was standing exactly opposite her door, leaning against the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. She wondered if he was asleep in that position, but after a moment she noticed something behind the translucent black material in the area cut out for his eyes, a blue iris staring at her.

She looked at him for a moment, wondering if he would move, but he stood like a statue − it seemed to her as if he were made of stone.

Was he supposed to stand like that all the time?

Her father had told her that he would gift her his one ghost.

Would they be exchanging? After all, he had to sleep at some point.

"What's your name?" She asked uncertainly, softly, wanting to sound as open and honest as possible.

Silence.

A long one.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked again, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to let her at least get a little closer to him, to be able to give him humanity.

Silence.

She pressed her lips together and thought something else would make him speak.

"Should I complain to the king about you not answering my questions?" She asked lowly, wrinkling her eyebrows, wondering where she had got the courage to speak to this man in this way. A shudder went through her when she heard him let out a breath, as if he had given up, resigned.

"Call me any name you see fit." He said in a low, deep, indifferent tone, as if the fact that he had to speak to her frustrated him incredibly and he didn't understand what she wanted from him.

She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought that there was no more human thing than being given a name − it was the first thing given to a child at birth, and he renounced it.

"Shall I name you?" She asked shaking her head, not understanding what he was implying − he turned his face to the side, despite the mask she could feel the growing impatience beating from him.

"Yes. My Princess." He added after a moment, his words razor-sharp, cool, angry, mocking. She had the impression that he treated her interest as something completely unnecessary − apparently it suited him to remain in the shadows and he had no intention of coming out of it.

She looked at him with pain mixed with disappointment and thought he reminded her of one of the horrific mythological beasts her mother had once read to her about before bed, a great mighty dragon that sowed death and destruction.

"Vhagar."

She heard the word she had spoken echoed, followed only by the sound of rain, and felt that there was something final in what she had done.

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She choked out with difficulty, wanting him to understand that they were condemned to each other and that this in itself was a misfortune, however, it would be even more so if they both pretended that he didn't exist, that he was just her shadow that followed her everywhere.

He did not respond.

She closed herself back into her chamber only walking towards her bed feeling that her legs were trembling. She lay down on her bed covering herself with thick furs, frozen and terrified, closing her eyes, praying to the gods to show her mercy.

That they would not lock her away in this cold, stone fortress forever until her father claimed to have found a suitable candidate for her to marry.

As she did every day, she also prayed for someone else.

Someone who had lived in this chamber before her.

The next day she got up awake, a terrible headache accompanying her from the moment she opened her eyes. She sat down at the table, covering herself with her shawl − overnight the wood in her fireplace had burned out.

She lifted her gaze as she heard the door to her chamber open, her servants entering with golden trays on which they served her breakfast.

She saw Vhagar follow them inside, his hands entwined behind his back − it seemed to her that his footsteps made no sound, that he could sneak up on someone silently.

"You're supposed to taste everything first." He said to one of them dryly and emotionlessly − the girl looked at him apprehensively, clearly already knowing stories of men of his ilk and what they did.

"My Lord?" She choked out, clearly not understanding what he was asking her.

"Anything the Princess wants to eat or drink − you are to taste it first. This is how it will be from now on with everything you bring her. Do you understand?" He asked coolly and insistently, and she nodded, lowering her gaze, pale.

"Is this necessary, Vhagar?" She asked looking at him with a furrowed brow − he turned his face towards her but answered nothing. He looked back at her servant after a moment.

"Begin."

"I've lost my appetite. Take this away. You can eat it all, let it not go to waste." She said raising her hand, allowing them to leave turning her head to the side, looking blankly at her wardrobe standing on the other side of the chamber.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that he hadn't moved from his spot, that he was looking at her, his aura giving her shivers.

She knew he was about to say something.

"My Princess…" He started and she turned her face towards him. "…are you going to eat your meal, or do I have to shove it down your throat?"

She looked at him with huge eyes, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought with horror that he was mad.

"That is all, Vhagar. You may leave." She said in an unobjectionable voice, clasping her hands in her lap, trying to hide how much they were trembling.

He stared at her, his black tear-streaked mask seeming even more frightening and mocking to her, cold and lifeless.

"Mmm." He hummed, though it sounded more like a purr, bowed barely visibly and left her chamber.

She let out a loud breath, burying her face in her hands, feeling a desperate burbling in her stomach from hunger, thinking that she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him dominate her life, ordering her servants around, locking her in a cage.

She asked her servants to help her dress − she put on this time a light-coloured gown with a fine gold belt around her hips made up of tiny chains, some of her hair pinned back in a bun, some falling down her bare back, her sleeves reaching all the way to the ground.

She walked out of her chamber without looking at him, without telling him where she was going, hearing that he immediately moved to follow her.

Her shadow.

She saw the ladies of the court looking at her, terrified of who was accompanying her, as if she were being followed by death itself − people turned their faces away and froze in silence, not knowing what to do, how to react to this unwanted sight.

She headed for the main castle library hearing him enter behind her − he stopped at the door when it slammed behind them, standing in front of it with his hands folded behind his back.

She was starving and decided to distract her mind with some reading. She picked up a few books on the history of her kingdom, sitting down at one of the large oak tables right by the window to get more light. She opened one of the books in front of her, looking for the chapter that interested her.

"You may sit down, Vhagar." She said dispassionately, not wanting him to think she expected him to stand there like some stone pillar, but he didn't move from his place.

An hour passed before he spoke to her, snapping her out of her reverie.

"You need to eat." He communicated a little more softly than before − she felt him looking at her, but she did not lift her gaze to him, uninterested.

"My servants will not taste my food. You yourself watch the cooks and what they put on my platters." She replied with reserve, answered by a long silence.

"Very well."

She looked up at him, sighing quietly, his face turned towards her − she knew what was the reason for his impatience, what he was afraid of.

What would the King think if it turned out that under his watch she had begun to refuse food and starve herself? How would that reflect on him as her protector?

She rose from her seat, putting her books slowly back on the shelf, returning to her chamber without changing another word with him.

As she sat down to supper with her father, her younger brother, and his closest associates, the King immediately asked her what she thought of her new sworn protector, who stood behind her chair right next to the wall, as usual, hidden completely in the shadows.

She swallowed loudly a piece of the roast she had just had in her mouth, noticing with a kind of discomfort that her father spoke of him as if he had given her a thing, not a man.

"Thank you, Father, I do indeed feel safer in his presence." She lied, clutching the wine cup in her hand and taking a loud sip from it, wanting to end the subject quickly.

The King nodded, looking impatiently to his confidant secretary, a companion to all the major battles won during the rebellion.

"Has Prince Aemond's body been found at last? It's been eight years, for goodness sake." He said sternly, impatient; as far as she understood, only his body of the entire Targaryen family had not been found after the great massacre that had taken place in the fortress where they were now feasting.

Lord Ronan grunted loudly, shifting in his seat, blinking rapidly as if thinking of what to answer.

"We are getting closer, my King. We're searching the city's underground, likely to find his corpse soon. The cut of the sword fell right on his face, he couldn't have survived that." He said with a certainty that was filled with the need to sound as convincing as possible, which did not escape her or her father attention.

She lowered her gaze, setting down her cup with a loud clang of steel on the wooden tabletop, looking down at her plate, losing her appetite completely.

The entire royal family slaughtered in their beds after her father at the head of the army stormed into the fortress, elected by the people to rule after the inept reign of King Viserys.

"With apologies, I will retire to my chamber. My King. My Prince. My Lords." She said bowing in turn and moved ahead, not waiting for her father's permission − she heard rustling behind her, she knew her ghost had not left her side.

They walked in silence through the dark corridors of the fortress illuminated only by the warm light of torches − she knew the way to her chamber by heart. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, wondering what would happen if Prince Aemond lived.

If he came in with his army and slit their throats as her father had done to his family.

She stood in front of the door to her chamber, glancing up at his tall black figure towering over her like a cold shadow.

"Thank you for your devotion, Vhagar. Rest now." She said turning her head and opened the door, but stood in half step, surprised to hear his voice behind her.

"How does it feel to sleep where she slept?" He asked with a kind of excitement, as if the thought of it gave him satisfaction.

She felt her heart start pounding like mad, a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Princess Helaena bleeding to death in the bed she was now sleeping in.

She looked up at him − in the light of the torch she could see through the black fabric his blue irises, his pupil looking at her in such a way that she had the impression that he was a predator who was looking at his prey, whose entrails he was about to tear apart.

She was silent for a long moment.

"Horrible." She said dispassionately lowering her gaze.

"I imagine her lying in my place and all I can think about is that the same thing will happen to me one day." She muttered, feeling his heavy gaze on her − there was some kind of tension between them, though she didn't know why. "I pray every day for her forgiveness."

"Ghosts do not forgive." He said coldly, as if stating some foreboding, indisputable fact − she looked at him with a pained expression, furrowing her brow.

"What else can I do?" She asked in a trembling voice, but got no answer, his black mask with a tear running down his cheek looked at her indifferently.

"Sleep well, Princess."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[1800-fight-me]

Death and His Lady

Death!Aemond Targaryen x Female Assassin!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Extreme violence, explicit smut, allusions to reader having prior trauma

Word count: Almost 6k

Synopsis: As the King's assassin, Death becomes your most trusted confidant, but his influence along with unexpected events lead you down a path you never thought you'd walk.

Author’s note: I have literally been so excited about this fic I can't even deal with it!! Here's another gothic horror romance vibez fic from me! Thank you so much @lauraneedstochill for the beta read! Also the new trailer has me freaking all the way out so here we go! This fic is a rollercoaster ride and I really hope y'all enjoy it!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You courted with Death in this endeavor, that you were certain. 

Death must be enamored with you, given how many times you have brushed against it. Once, Death held even you in his arms, his embrace warm, but you spun free before he could sink his claws in you. 

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to outwit him. 

Like a fox evading a hound, you toyed with Death, amused at his growing frustration at your continued escapes. 

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you enjoyed being chased as much as you believed he enjoyed chasing you. 

But now, as blood spurted from your lips, your vision hazy, you thought you might very well fully succumb to Death’s clutches today. 

“No,” you groaned as the vision of him flickered in your view. 

White hair, pale skin, one eye of sapphire and one of violet, a jagged scar down his face, clothes of all black to match the black feathered wings at his back.  

He looked like an angel- the fallen avenging kind, and he smirked as he cocked his head at you, the promise of conquest in his gaze. 

There was a yearning deep in your chest, a desire to have his attentions on you and only you, a pull that left you intoxicated at the sight of him. Perhaps that was why you continued this game. 

It was one you could only ever lose.

The wooden chair you were tied to as the men mercilessly beat you groaned in protest from the backwards momentum of your body as your enemy landed another punch, blood spurting again. 

You were too far gone for quick witted comebacks, for speaking at all. Being the king’s most trusted spy and assassin was always a dangerous job, but one you flourished in. 

Today, however, was particularly dangerous it seemed. You couldn’t even remember what information the men wanted from you anymore. 

It didn’t matter, you would never give anything away, you’d sooner greet Death like an old friend than betray your kingdom. 

He flickered in your vision once again. His savage beauty was a welcome sight. Like a fallen prince. Like an avenging angel. Like your heart’s darkest desires. 

Perhaps it would be a relief to sink into his embrace, to give up, to cease the fight. 

His expression changed, no longer self satisfactory, no-  he looked angry with you as he strode across the dank dungeon to stand before you. 

Time paused completely and you let out a gasping breath of relief as fists paused from meeting your skin. 

He leaned down so his face was close enough that your nose nearly brushed his, like a lover would, but no- fury  filled his gaze. 

“Fight,” he growled at you. 

“I can’t,” you gasped. 

“You can and you will,” he ordered, “you will not give up and die. Today is not the day.” 

Some deep primal part of you woke at those words, at the steel in his tone, at his orders. And the rage and fury inside of him reminded you of your own and it filled you once more. Filled you to fight, to survive.

You would not lay down and die today. 

He smirked as he saw the change in your eyes. He brushed a whisper of a kiss to your lips, soft and swift enough that it hardly even counted as a real kiss, but it ignited a flame in you and when your eyes fluttered back open, he was gone. 

The tie around your wrists had been cut and as time started again, you caught the fist aimed at your face and you fought. 

You gave Death a tribute as your torturers met their bitter end at your violent hands. 

Maybe that was why he had always seemed willing to let you go, you mused, you were practically his handmaiden with the amount of souls you gave him, the amount of lives you ended brutally. 

You walked out of that dungeon battered and bloody, but alive enough to continue your game with Death, to live for another day. 

This game had gone on for years, but never once had he interfered the way he did today, never once had he prevented you from passing over into his realm. No, every other time it had been your own grit and guile. 

Today, Death showed his hand when he prevented you from dying. 

He enjoyed the chase as much as you did, that you were certain, and you were determined to continue it.  

————————————————————

You knelt before your king and the silver white of his hair brought up the memory of your obsession. They say that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Your death god was testimony of that. 

Once, when curiosity won over practicality, you spend days in the royal library researching and reading about all of the Targaryen ancestors until you found a book weathered and brown from age that contained artist renditions and you found him. 

Your personal demon was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the legendary Vhagar, harbinger of death even in his mortal life. 

You read everything you could about his life, drinking in every aspect of his personality that you could learn about him. You were infatuated, perhaps even loved him after his actions to save you. 

Your king told you to rise and you reported to him the events of the past few days, leaving out details about your kiss with Death. 

The king’s looks were nowhere near the godlike chiseled beauty of his ancestor, you mused as he told you of your next mission. Although it’s not like you were one to talk, earlier as healers cleaned off all the blood and stitched up your cuts, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and had to look away from your bruised and battered form, you were nearly unrecognizable. 

“Rest for a few days, then take your leave,” the King ordered. 

“Yes, your majesty,” you bowed, then left the throne room. 

You retreated to your chambers and immediately tumbled into bed. Sleep took you swiftly and deeply, and like the night after every other near Death experience, he was waiting for you in your dreams. 

You asked him once how it worked, and he explained that the veil was always thin after your near crossovers, and he was able to influence your dreams. 

And influence them he did… you whimpered as his cock filled you to the absolute brim. 

He grunted and pulled your lips to his, tongue tangling with your own, and you wrapped your thighs around his trim waist pulling him closer, wanting him as close as possible. 

The angle changed and you shivered, despite the heat of his sweat slicked skin, as he hit the spot inside of you that made you forget anything but him. 

“Aemond,” you moaned and he stopped his movement, became still as Death. 

“How do you know that name?” He asked, his hand on the side of your neck as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze. 

His voice was low and cold, dangerous. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“I researched, I needed to know more about the one who haunts me,” you said, putting steel in your voice despite your nerves. 

Amusement flickered in his expression, “I knew I picked the right woman.” 

“You probably say that to all the assassins you save,” you teased. 

He chuckled darkly and you clenched down on his length where he still remained inside you. 

His chuckle turned into a growl and he unleashed himself on you, filling you and your heart’s blackest desire. 

In the darkest part of the night his sounds of ecstasy tangled with your own until you both found release in one another, the type of release you’d never found with anyone else, and a feeling of comfort and satisfaction unlike any other filled your chest. 

With him, you felt whole, but that feeling dwindled as you woke the next morning in your bed alone. 

————————————————————

“Lady Death,” the pirate king before you said in an attempt to flatter you. 

His handsomeness was average, nothing exciting or remotely comparable to the sharp features of your devilishly handsome death god. 

His words clanged inside you and hit upon something true and vital. But, you could not show your reaction. 

“Skull King,” you replied, your lips pursed as you lifted your chin. 

He laughed, like a sword scraping over stones, and your hand drifted towards the dagger strapped to your thigh. 

“You are more beautiful than any descriptions I’ve ever heard,” he said. 

“I do not leave many alive to describe me,” you said back with considerable bite in your tone. 

He merely laughed once more and waved a hand at you. 

“Let us cease with the back and forth and discuss why I am truly here,” you demanded. 

“What does your king want?” He asked with a sigh. 

“For you to cease your pillaging of the costal villages,” you said. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, “And why would he send you to negotiate with me?” 

“He knew you would not want or need riches as a bribe. I offer you my services. In exchange for no longer attacking our villages, I will assassinate an enemy of your choice,” you explained. 

His broad feral grin was an answer in itself. 

————————————————————

“Lady Death Lady Death Lady Death” a deep dark voice hissed at you from the inky black. 

Eyes blinked open, shining bright, one sapphire and one violet, and you jolted awake. 

You took a shuddering breath, your skin slick with sweat. It had been weeks since you’d seen or heard from Death, and you’d spend that time trying to forget about your last encounter, though your efforts were entirely futile. 

But the pirate king’s words to you yesterday had shaken something awake inside you. 

You shook your head and arose from your bed, as you readied yourself, strapping an ungodly amount of weapons to your body, you cleared your mind and prepared yourself for another day of offering your midnight lover tributes. 

You crept across rooftops, having spent the entire day and most of the night tracking the Skull King’s most bitter rival. 

Honestly this whole rivalry seemed trivial to you, but you would do as you were bid. 

The man was a piss-poor drunk, having bought himself and the whole bar rounds and rounds of drinks. You watched through the crack in the ceiling as he pulled a barmaid onto his lap despite her protests. 

Certainly, now you were more than happy to be the bringer of his death. You gritted your teeth and reminded yourself of patience as he squeezed her curves and she pushed off him, managing to disentangle herself from his drunk and reeking presence. 

He yelled after her, slurred and vile words that had you gripping your favorite dagger. 

Just wait, just wait, just wait, you reminded yourself. There was to be only one death tonight. If you unleashed yourself now the death toll would be far too great and the act would be sloppy, more easily tracked and blame pinned quickly on the guilty parties. 

So you continued to watch and finally when he stumbled to the alley to relieve himself as you knew he would, you crept off the roof and hid yourself in the shadows. 

Death himself stood there where the rogue pirate should be. Your heart stumbled but you managed to stop yourself from gasping. 

“My lady,” he purred and bowed. Death bowed before you then stepped aside and gestured to the man you were targeting, the man whose life only had moments left. 

As Aemond faded back into the shadows, you knew he was still watching, and you blinked twice, gave yourself a second for one steadying breath, then moved. 

The man’s back was to you and it took little effort to leap upon his back and slit his throat. 

Blood sprayed and you jumped off his back, retreating quick enough that as his body fell to the ground, it did not hit you. 

You waited the moments it took for the gurgling noise of him choking on his own blood to cease and made certain he was well and truly in Death’s grasp before you yanked the ring off his finger, the proof of a job well done, and turned to leave. 

Before you turned completely, you saw Death as he crouched over the bloodied body, he shot you a wink and you shuddered as you ran off. 

You covered your tracks, and when you were certain there would be no possibility of the death being traced back to you, you returned to the office of the Skull King. 

You slipped through the shadows and waited for him, lounging in his chair like you owned it- like it was your throne. 

When he entered, you threw a knife so that it buried itself in the wall close enough to his head that he felt the whisper of its kiss. 

He glared at you and you smirked. 

“It’s done,” you said and threw the ring at him. 

He caught it, his expression torn between impressed and still angry at your nonverbal threat. 

“It needn’t be said, but I can end your life just as easily should you not uphold your end of the bargain,” you said. His face blanched at the tone of your voice, the look in your eye that held Death. 

He nodded slightly and with one more smirk at him, you vanished into the dark. 

You scrubbed the blood off you and prepared yourself for a night’s rest before beginning your journey back to King’s Landing. 

————————————————————

This was the first night Death appeared to you in your dreams even though you hadn’t nearly greeted him in the afterlife. 

“How?” You asked breathlessly as his lips broke from yours to create a blazing trail of fire across your jaw and down the side of your neck. 

“You are mine, and as you do your king’s bidding- slaughtering - our bond strengthens and so does your power,” he said and then ran his tongue up the column of your throat. 

You gasped and you couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or his tongue. 

You are mine. You are mine. You are mine. 

The words echoed in your brain as his lips trailed down your body to your core where he pleasured you with that wicked tongue. 

Every time you killed after that night, he appeared in your dreams, joining your bodies in ecstacy and strengthening that connection. 

He appeared in a vision every time you unleashed yourself in violence and spilled blood, ending lives, and living up to your new infamous title that rippled across the seven kingdoms, Lady Death.

You no longer lived in the shadows, you became the shadows within men fell. 

————————————————————

In the following months, the King kept you busier than ever. You weren’t certain if it was due to the power that your growing reputation provided him or if he wanted to keep you away, that same reputation striking fear into his own heart. 

Lately you hardly completed a mission before you received correspondence from the King with instructions for your next kill. 

He kept you far away from King’s Landing. It was fine with you, that den of vipers was never your home anyway. You didn’t have a true home. Perhaps that was why the embrace of Death felt like home. 

These days you hardly scrubbed the blood off you before you were covered in more. You killed nearly daily. Your connection with Death strengthened, to the point that his presence became near constant, in your waking hours and in your dreams. 

The more he appeared, the more you could feel it, that sensation like something prowled beneath your skin begging to burst forward and shatter the world. 

There had been no mention again of powers, but yet you could feel them growing. 

Months passed, and the first time they manifested, you leveled a building. 

You were trapped, well and truly, and it was due to your careless fatal mistake, overconfidence having become a rampant part of your personality due to your successes, and the strength of the death god who worshiped you. 

You were surrounded, having not been careful enough to ensure your targets were alone, too cocky that you wouldn’t be followed, and now you fought against twelve men.

”Kill them,” Aemond hissed from where he stood behind you, his rage growing stronger and directly influencing your own emotions. 

You could not determine where his emotions began and yours ended, so entangled the two of you had become. 

You tried, you used all of your skill, all of your strength, and it was not enough as the sword sunk into your gut. 

You hadn’t been this close to joining Death in the afterlife in a long while. 

“End them, destroy, and take what is yours,” Aemond growled through clenched teeth. 

You knew he would not do it for you, if he did then you wouldn’t be who he thought you were, who he needed you to be, who he loved.  

And you could feel it again, that thing that prowled beneath your skin begging to be released. 

So you became Death Incarnate as liquid fire filled your eyes and soul and exploded from your body. Black cold flames that instantly killed everyone they touched. 

“Good,” Aemond urged, those same wild flames in his eye. He pressed a kiss to your throat and the flames only grew stronger. 

His hand grazed your stomach, healing the wound. 

Your chest heaved as you took ragged breaths and surveyed the carnage around you. 

The fire grew out of control as you started to panic, but with Death’s careful instruction, you grounded yourself and reeled it all back in. 

You stood, dead bodies littered the ground around you, and only moved when the building groaned and threatened to fall atop you. 

You walked out of the ruined structure side by side with Death, as it crumbled behind you, leaving devastation in your wake. 

————————————————————

One night, during a dream, as you lay breathless in his arms after you both reached such high peaks at one another’s tongues, you asked him the question that had been so heavy on your mind. 

“Why me?” you asked curiously. 

“Hm?” 

His fingers traced patterns on your back. You turned your head from its place in his neck- you were half lying on his chest, and looked over at his wing. 

“Why did you choose me?” 

He chuckled softly. “Never before have I seen someone turn Death into such a beautiful game. You intrigued me.” 

You brushed a finger down the most sensitive part of his wing and he shuddered. 

“And now?” you asked. 

“And now, sweet temptress, you have convinced me to devote the entirety of my eternal being to you,” he growled before flipping you over suddenly so you were beneath him. 

You grinned at him, breathless and in wonder, and had no words, so you simply pulled his mouth to yours and proved to him how utterly devoted you were to him as well. 

————————————————————

It took time and Aemond’s careful instruction- months as you continued killing daily, fulfilling the King’s requirements, but you learned to control your newfound powers, that death fire. Still you couldn’t hide their manifestation in your eyes when you were angry or prepared to kill. 

You stood before your King once more and offered a several months long report detailing your actions since you last saw him. 

“Do not leave out any details,” he warned you through narrowed eyes. 

You pursed your lips and revealed as little information as you could about this magic, these powers that have recently manifested, but enough to please him. 

You knew he’d gotten reports, you rarely left eyewitnesses, but still rumors spread, you could hardly downplay it. 

You saw the wariness in his expression. 

Death manifested at your side. 

“Kill him,” he murmured. 

You ignored him, continuing to report to the King. 

“When were you going to tell me of this new magic you wield?” He asked, distrust in his voice. 

“End him, take his power for your own, sit on the Iron Throne,” Death whispered in your ear, purring like a lover. 

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in months, my King, you’ve kept me busy far away from the Red Keep, one could only wonder why,” you said, with only a little bit of bite. 

The King narrowed his eyes at you once more. 

“I do not have to explain my decisions to you. Your role is to serve and not question,” he sneered. 

For the first time while you were awake, you could feel Aemond’s hands on you. The bond between the two of you was stronger than ever as he stood behind you and intertwined his fingers with yours. He slowly brought your intertwined hands down from the small of your waist to the front of your hip- threatening to go lower, an echo - a memory of the night before he knew he triggered by that action. 

You remembered your dream last night, in a very similar position except then you sat before a mirror as he guided you to touch yourself, to aid him in giving you release, insisting you watch yourself as you moaned his name in ecstacy and he poured honey filled praises in your ear. He pulled two releases from you, forcing your eyes back on yourself, before he finally filled you, and the sight of him inside you, both your expressions twisted in pleasure, was the most erotic sight of all. 

The memory flashed in your eyes and you saw his current actions for what they were, a blatant attempt at seduction, as he used that same deep velvety voice as when he was trying to make you come, as his lips grazed your ear and beautiful silver hair fell over your shoulder, as he said, “Kill him, my love.” 

And you thought… 

You thought he might be right. 

Maybe you should kill this condescending king. You were more powerful than him. You were more powerful than everyone but your lover, no, to Aemond you were his equal. 

His Lady Death, and maybe it was finally time to take what was your own, to use your skills and powers for yourself, not in the service of others, not in the service of a king who didn’t appreciate you. 

You indeed felt that power within you begin to rise to the surface. 

And the king blanched, fear changing his expression. 

“What are you?” He gasped. 

And just like that, the fire that had begun to build inside you, which you were sure was molten in your eyes, sputtered out as if water had been thrown on you. 

“Your loyal servant,” you murmured with a curtsey. 

Death growled his discontentment, but you ignored him. 

The king nodded, his lips pursed, and dismissed you. 

For the first time in a long long time, you were uncertain of your own actions and choices. 

————————————————————

Two weeks later, you were in the North with a list of targets from the king to dispatch. 

The image of the king’s fear of you constantly flashed in your mind, regret and pride creating an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions within you. 

The regret was waning as Death continued as your constant companion, seducing and urging you forward. 

Your days became routine, although it was a comforting routine. 

Wake up, eat, train your magic, prepare, kill, be rewarded in the form of Aemond fucking you, sleep, and do it all over again the next day. 

The last name on your list of kills in the North was one you were actually eager for. This kill you would savor rather than committing without feeling. This time, you were able to use your skills for both your King and your own gain. 

This man had been one of your tormentors in your youth, you’d never had the time to track him down after he fled from King’s Landing, and now you would grant him the slow painful death he deserved. 

He sat in his home, a candle in the window, and you knew the timing was right. You’d watched him for days and knew you had a window of time of about two hours before his preferred courtesan arrived. 

Hate had your heart beating like a drum, your power rising, but you stifled it. You had to be clear headed and you didn’t want to use your powers to grant him an instant death, no, he deserved something wholly different. You wanted to feel his death, his blood on your own hands. 

You snuck through the back door, through the broken lock you’d disabled the night before. 

You ensured you were well and truly alone- besides your Angel of Death, creeping through the dark house towards your quarry.

You stepped into the sitting room and relished the way his eyes widened in fear, then recognition as you threw back your hood. 

He breathed out a name, not one of your many titles, a name from a past life, a name no one besides Death knew, a name not even your king knew. 

The flames in your eyes guttered, replaced by cold rage. 

His eyes again filled with fear as you threw a dagger that embedded itself in his shoulder. 

A yell of pain and outrage as he tried to stand, but quick as an asp another dagger fled from your hand and buried itself into his other shoulder. 

Another dagger was in your hand, poised to throw if necessary. 

He gritted his teeth, blood flowing heavily, and you smirked. 

“Bitch,” he spat out. 

Aemond appeared behind you, and hissed in disapproval. 

Anger fell to cold terror as he beheld the Death God behind you. 

His haunting beauty, both terrible and great, that was the other side of the coin to your own- that made you the perfect pair. 

“You can see him?” you asked. 

He nodded and the smell of urine filled the room. 

“Interesting,” you murmured even as your nose wrinkled at him. 

“It’s high time I teach you what real fear feels like,” you purred, your words an echo of the ones he’d said to you in your girlhood. 

And show him you did. 

Even after you were done, your rage was a jagged thing in your chest that threatened to swallow you whole. You didn’t know how to put it back in that carefully constructed box that allowed you to play the part of the disinterested assassin. 

Aemond crouched over the body, pressing two fingers to the forehead, sending the soul to the afterlife- to eternal torment, as he always did after you killed. 

He was the beginning and end of the destruction you wreaked on others, on the world. 

Slaughter, that was what you had done today. You couldn’t decide if it made you feel better or worse. You supposed it didn’t matter, the man was no longer capable of hurting others the way he had hurt you. 

Death prowled to you, and you looked up at him, chest still heaving and beating hard from whatever today’s actions had both shattered and healed within it. 

He stood close enough that his steady chest brushed against yours. 

Dark flames danced in his gaze, the same that danced in your own when your emotions were heightened, you both had the same unholy powers as a result of your bond, your union. 

And you knew he understood you completely, when he said nothing, for there were no words that would soothe now, no he simply leaned down and kissed you, thoroughly and deeply. 

When he pulled back, only slightly, brushing his sharp nose against yours, he murmured, “You taste better when you mean it, when your heart is in the kill.” 

You let him make love to you in the blood spattered room. 

————————————————————

Your waking hours and dreams bled into one, so filled with him and the pleasure only he could provide. 

This was indeed one of those moments, where the release he pulled from you was so strong, so heady, that you could not be certain if you were awake or dreaming. 

You moaned as he gripped your hips and continued a brutal pace as he thrusted inside you. 

Your power, his power, flames of Death danced and burned in the bed along with you as he joined himself with you. 

You burned with heat, with love for the only one who truly understood you- your mirror image due to the brutality inside both of you. 

But suddenly, he stopped. 

“Wake up,” he ordered, an expression you’d never seen on his face before, something akin to panic. 

“What?” you asked in confusion. 

“Wake up!” he yelled, and at that primal dominance in his tone, you obeyed. 

You held in your gasp as your eyes opened and you beheld the scene before you. 

You were not alone. The room was filled with men all with weapons in their hands.  

“The king sends his regards,” the assassin in your bed hissed as he lifted a dagger to thrust it into your heart. 

You had less than a heartbeat to react. 

Just as the sharp tip of the dagger broke your skin, black flames exploded out of you, ravaging the room and everyone in it. 

You sat up, hand on your chest and blood coating your fingers, and surveyed your destruction.  

The room was filled with fire. Every man was instantly dead, and now your black flames turned them to ashes. 

Aemond stood in the center of your storm, and watched you, pride evident in his gaze. 

Betrayal twisted in your gut, making you feel sick, and you extinguished the fire. 

“He tried to kill me,” you rasped out. 

Your angel of death, your protector, your lover in life and death nodded. 

“He fears you and the power you hold. He is a jealous coward,” he said, cold anger filling every word. 

“You were right,” you whispered, hoping that if you said them quietly enough that they wouldn’t be true. 

He simply nodded again. 

And it finally sunk in. The king you had devoted your entire adult life to, the king you had defiled yourself for through all manner of heinous acts of bloodshed, had betrayed you. 

He had turned on you, quickly and easily, despite your continued loyalty. He’d sent a group of men to kill you in your sleep after you just finished killing everyone on his list. 

He always had someone else do his dirty work, the coward he is, but usually you’re the one he sends out. 

This time he’d sent others to kill you as if you were no more than a loose end, a task to check off his list, and inconvenience that had grown too taxing. 

You met the heavy gaze of Death and said, “I know what I have to do.” 

————————————————————

The entire journey back to the Red Keep Aemond reviewed and revised the plan with you over and over again. 

You were ready. You were prepared. 

All of the skills, techniques, and powers you had acquired you were going to use for your own gain, for yourself today - with Death at your side. 

No one knew the secret passages of the Red Keep better than the King’s Assassin. You crept in at night, using the darkness as a cloak and remaining completely undetected. 

You set yourself up high in the mezzanine above the throne room and settled in for a long wait. 

Patience was key to your plan, to all of your plans generally, but it didn’t mean that the fury didn’t still burn as hot as ever. 

You let the black flames twirl and dance around your fingers and promised yourself that this time, it would be different. This time, you would come out on top. 

Hours passed, your legs cramped, but you ignored it, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment. 

You watched as dawn broke, bathing the room in golden light that bounced off the Iron Throne. 

The king eventually sat on that throne, meeting with petitioners, and you continued your game of patience. 

Finally, the moment was right, the room was no longer teeming with people, but not empty enough that there wouldn’t be an audience. 

You leapt from your hiding spot and landed nimbly right before him. Shock and fear changed his previously bored expression. 

You smirked, a cutting spiteful thing, as you stood. 

There was yelling from the king’s guards, but your midnight fire surrounded and circled the king and you, separating you both from everyone else in the room. The few who tried to cross it died instantly, the others learned from their mistakes and stepped back from your flames and watched.  

“Surprised to see me?” You asked. 

The blood drained from his face. 

Satisfaction only fueled the righteous fury in your chest. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“You tried to kill me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

“Yes,” he merely repeated. 

“I have given EVERYTHING for you and to protect your rule. Have done EVERYTHING you asked. And this is how you reward me? By sending others to murder me in my sleep?” You said, lip curling in a snarl and angry tears pooling in your eyes. 

Death became visible at your side, not behind you like your puppeteer- beside you as your equal. He was not only visible to you- no you knew he was always with you - he became visible to everyone in the room as your fire pulsed higher and hotter. 

His hand on your back steadied and reassured you. 

Gasps filled the room once more. 

You glanced at Aemond, his long white hair juxtaposed against the black of his wings, his beauty something of dreams and nightmares. He had an intense look on his sharp face, but underneath it was love for you and only you. 

The king looked at his ancestor, made eye contact with his own demise, then looked back at you. 

“You were too dangerous to be kept alive,” he said. 

“I was completely loyal to you until your lackey tried to stab me in the heart,” you spat. 

“I suspect it will be the last mistake I ever make,” he said. 

“That is correct,” Aemond replied, his voice smooth and confident. 

“Kill him, my love,” Death urged. This time, you listened. 

A ball of fire appeared in your hand as you bared your teeth at the man who would no longer be your ruler. 

“You were right to fear me,” you said darkly, and threw Death Flames at your king. 

————————————————————

Aemond walked forward slowly and reached towards the king as you took gasping shuddering breaths.

You stopped seeing him, stopped seeing anything, as the impact of your actions crashed over you. 

He was before you once more, and with gentle fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back so you could meet his gaze. 

“My Lady Death, My Queen,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear before he pressed his lips to yours. 

His kiss enveloped and steadied you. 

Your flames sputtered out, but no one made a single move, for fear of the two of you. 

As he pulled back, he smiled at you, took a step back, and placed the conqueror’s crown on your head. 

“How do I taste now?” you asked. 

“Exquisite,” he murmured, his voice deep and soft as velvet. 

You grinned back at him, a wild feral thing.

He took your hand and led you to sit on the Iron Throne. 

Death then kneeled before you, bowing his head. 

“Kneel before your Queen,” he ordered, loud enough for all to hear. 

Everyone in the room followed suit. 

You became the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with Death at your side. 

You would rule together, side by side, using your powers for your own gain, as Queen and King, as Death and His Lady. 

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #21

✦

Gotham's Phantom Royals

What if Sam was Lady Gotham? Just like Danny's haunt is Amity Park, what if Sam's became Gotham when she turned liminal/became a ghost?

You can't deny that she'd definitely love to call a gothic, aesthetically pleasing city with a penchant for chaos her own. I'm not sure how this would work timeline or dimension wise, but I like the imagery of her and Danny, in ghost form, going out on the town like the lovebirds they are and people catching flickering glimpses of a handsome, white-haired King lovingly escorting a beautiful woman dripping in black and violet, both decked out in their respective regalia that hints towards their stations.

The Bats have no idea what's going on, but the citizens have turned the sightings of the couple into a tourist trap and everyone is dying to know the whole love story. Some people have even come up with their own tales about them to the point that no one knows which one they want to believe most. Even Gotham's rouge gallery is completely invested, so far to the point that if the couple is seen anywhere near an ongoing takeover, everyone freezes as they watch them walk/prance/waltz across the scene with smiles and silent laughter. They never speak or look at anyone else besides each other.

It's only when one takes it a step too far and dares to try and capture the lovebirds that they find out just who they're dealing with. Never have a pair of green and purple glowing eyes turning to peer into the depths of their twisted soul felt so terrifying.

✦

To make it even more interesting, what about making it everlasting trio? What city does Tucker haunt? Are there sightings of the three in his city too? Either way, everyone who catches a glimpse of them and their relationship is absolutely smitten with the couple/throuple and see them as peak romance.

[anitalenia]

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙛*𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 ( • 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬, 𝙨𝙛𝙬 • ) ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ mummified, Egyptian pharaoh comes back to life millions of years later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ mermaid boy (merman) takes you to his secret cove after saving you from a shipwreck ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ghost /phantom takes care of chores while you’re gone and helps you with anything you need (making your bed, brushing your hair, skincare, etc.) ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren sings you her favorite song ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ incubus teaches you how to touch yourself for the moments he can’t do it for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ succubus gives you a makeover ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid loves when you scratch behind their ears ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bunny hybrid being too shy to talk to you and ask for what they want ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vine monster always blooms your favorite flowers ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband needing his tusks sharpened ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband being a cry baby when it’s just the smallest scratch you’ve ever seen ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ constantly buying werewolf boyfriend new clothes because he shifts in the ones he’s wearing and rips them to shreds ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire boyfriend who only likes feeding from you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ witch girlfriend that makes you remedies and herb mixtures to heal your wounds because you’re a klutz ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren afraid of the sea and spends her time frolicking in lakes (idc if they’re supposed to be in saltwater it’s fantasy 😜) OR fresh water siren ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ merman teaching you how to swim ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ alien being confused on human biology and how you’re able to feel arousal ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband making you the best beef stew you’ve ever had ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid leaving dead things on your front porch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon boyfriend with limitless power and influence whose too shy to talk to you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ minotaur never letting you leave his maze ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ Angel having dirty fantasies about the object (person) of their desires ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ big, beefy, nerdy werewolf boyfriend helps you with your science homework ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ plant monster bursting with beautiful flowers every time you kiss them ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sleep paralysis demon taking your virginity ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sexy circus freak fingers you in his tent after the show ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who doesn’t fit in your home and constantly has to slouch, his horns scratching your ceiling and head banging into the lights, constantly knocking things over ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ fire bending boyfriend / girlfriend always having such warm hands & hugs ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ice princess whose breath comes out frosted and wears gloves as to not freeze everything they touch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king who leaves hell very frequently to visit the girl of his dreams. she can’t go down to his fiery domain / human or angel girl ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire s/o who overindulges in blood and must go to vampire rehab 😜 ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ shy succubus who has never felt the touch of anyone ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere guardian angel who kills any potential suitors until you realize they’re the only one for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere pack of werewolves that kidnap you for themselves to use as they please ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king’s butler who believes he can service you more than the king can ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon princes taking turns with their favorite maid ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ warlock boyfriend teaches you how to cook ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire girlfriend squeamish about killing the little bunnies who hop in her backyard and would much rather kill people because bunnies are too precious ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who can read your mind but doesn’t tell you, just likes to listen to your dirtiest thoughts and act them out later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ gothic hardcore werewolf girlfriend takes cute and precious bunny hybrid girlfriend to rock concert ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ buying your big bad alpha werewolf husband baby kittens because he loves cats ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ forcing your orc husband into wearing Christmas sweaters with you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bull hybrid boyfriend being stereotypically hotheaded and always getting into silly fights ⟡ ࣪ ˖

[emrowene]

Webserials and Why You Should Read Them

Welcome to a short primer on webserials! The concept behind them is pretty simple: webserials, also called webnovels or webfiction, are serialized online novels. If you read long fanfics OR webcomics, you're probably already familiar with the concept. Authors release new chapters on a fixed basis, usually one chapter a week (but sometimes more, sometimes less).

You can find webserials in several places: on big platforms like tapas and royalroad, on individual authors' websites or patreons, or on newsletter platforms like substack.

So now we know what webserials are, but why should we support them?

Because webserials are fun. Because webserial authors are sharing amazing works online for free! Because the publishing industry is disproportionately hard to get into for queer and marginalized folks, and those are the people writing webserials.

To climb a little higher onto my soapbox, I believe webserials are the future of accessible and diverse publishing. There's been more and more discussion about the problems with traditional publishing: how publishers are turning it into a "fast fashion" industry, spitting out books while overall book quality decreases. Regardless of whether you believe that, it's true that the industry prioritizes "marketability" over anything else. Experimental books, passion projects, books that have a lot of heart but no pithy "tropes" -- they stand little chance in the world of traditional publishing, and self-publishing is incredibly inaccessible for most of us. It's expensive, but more than that, it takes an incredible amount of time and effort. It's a business, and at the end of the day, some of just want to share the stories we love with people we hope will love them too. And that's the beauty of webserials!

One complaint I've seen about webserials is that "you never know what the quality will be like" - and I've seen this from people who regularly read fanfiction! Like fanfiction writers, we have our beta readers, we have our editors, we pour our hearts into developing our stories. So give us a try!!

Some recs and places to get started under the cut:

My webserials:

Fractured Magic - A queer epic fantasy series about a broken hero’s hunt for redemption and an elven prince’s quest to rescue his kidnapped king. The two estranged friends are racing against time - and dead gods - to achieve their goals. Will they make up and work together before it’s too late? (This story is currently ongoing)

The Case Files of Sheridan Bell - An old-school detective mystery set in Tamarley, a fantastical city with magical murders and doors to other worlds. Basically (queer, autistic) Sherlock Holmes but with more faeries. The first mystery is complete; the second will be published soon!

Some other webserials I follow/followed from start to finish:

What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling - a queer gothic romance novel about a priest and a vampire.

The Warthog Report by @warthogreporter- this substack contains a selection of nonfiction writing, misc. fiction writings, and Battles Beneath The Stars, a serialized story about a tournament in a fantasy world, styled like a fighting game script/walkthrough.

Kiss it Better by DogshitJay - A (definitely 18+) queer adult romance about the messy endings and messier beginnings of love.

Warrior of Hearts by Beau Van Dalen - a queer slice of life romance following an online friendship that blossoms into something more. (Beau has lots of other great webserials as well!)

More places to look:

Tapas (Community novels page)

Royalroad (mostly known for its litrpg scene, but you can find other novels and genres here as well!)

The ao3 "Original Works" tag!