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Passion of Fire (Daemon Targaryen x original character)

The sun dipped low over King’s Landing, painting the sky with hues of burnt sienna and deep violet, as Francesca stood by the hearth in her cozy cottage. The warmth of the fire crackled cheerily, but her heart raced with worry. She had just finished preparing a simple supper when a heavy knock resounded at the door. It was Daemon.

As she opened the door, an unsettling sight greeted her. Daemon stood there, his clothes torn and bloodied, with streaks of soot staining his skin. His cobalt eyes, usually fierce and unyielding, were clouded with pain. She wasted no time, pulling him into the cottage and shutting the door against the chill of the evening.

"Daemon!" she gasped, swiftly assessing his injuries. “What happened?”

“Just a minor encounter with Vhagar,” he replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the grimace on his face betrayed him. “She’s a temperamental beast at times.”

Francesca clenched her jaw, feeling a mix of fury and concern swell within her. "You are not fine. Sit," she commanded, guiding him to a chair by the fire. As he complied, she gathered supplies—cloths, water, and salves—before kneeling at his feet.

"Goddess, you’re stubborn.” She murmured, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to clean his wounds. The fabric slipped from his shoulder, revealing an angry burn mark that ran along his upper arm. Her touch was gentle, despite the severity of the task at hand.

“I’m used to pain,” Daemon replied, watching her intently. “But it’s easier to bear when someone cares enough to tend to me.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world outside faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in time. Francesca felt a warm flush wash over her, her heart hammering in her chest. There was so much unspoken between them—a bond woven through shared laughter, whispered secrets, and stolen glances in shadowed corners.

“Daemon…” she started, looking into the depths of his gaze, now softened by a vulnerability he rarely displayed. “You don’t have to take these risks alone. You can confide in me.”

He chuckled mirthlessly, an echo of bitterness lacing his tone. “And what good would that do? My family is a web of treachery. I am hammered into a mold shaped by their expectations.”

“I see the man beneath the crown,” she countered gently, her fingers tracing along the edges of his wound as she applied a soothing balm. “You’re more than your lineage; you’re brave, and passionate. Allow yourself to feel that, to let it guide you.”

His breath hitched slightly as her fingers brushed against his skin, igniting embers of longing that simmered just beneath the surface. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for my name, Francesca.”

“But you’re here now,” she whispered, leaning closer. “With me. Let me help bear the weight of it all.”

He held her gaze, searching her eyes as if seeking approval, comfort, a lifeline. Abruptly, he leaned forward, capturing her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek. “It is you who lightens that darkness,” he breathed before closing the distance between them. Their lips met, and it was a collision of aching emotions—fury, passion, and undeniable need.

Francesca melted into him, her heart racing as they poured everything into that kiss. It was both tender and fierce, a mutual surrender that spoke louder than words ever could. She pulled him closer, deepening their kiss, exploring the contours of his mouth with fervor as he responded hungrily, eliciting soft whimpers from her.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Daemon drew her into his arms. They settled onto the bed, wrapped in each other's warmth, the rest of the world forgotten. Francesca traced her fingers along the lines of his burn marks, feeling the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips, each scar a reminder of his strength and struggles.

“Tell me you’re real,” he murmured, his eyes dark and earnest. “That I haven’t lost you to this cruel game.”

“You are real, Daemon,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “And so am I.”

They kissed again, deep and slow, a testament to the bond forged in fire and shadows. Daemon’s hands roamed over her body, igniting sparks wherever they touched, as if trying to memorize every inch of her. Francesca responded in kind, her fingers trailing down the contours of his torso, feeling every taut muscle beneath her palms.

“Francesca,” he breathed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “I want you to see all of me.”

In that tangled heap of limbs and beating hearts, they surrendered completely to one another. Their kisses grew more fervent, more desperate, as they explored each other's bodies, tasting, teasing, and claiming what belonged to them in that sacred space. Time lost its meaning, and the outside world faded away, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the intoxicating connection that pulsed between them.

As they lay entwined, Daemon cradled Francesca close, whispering promises into her hair, while she traced the scars upon him with reverence. Each mark told a story, a testimony of survival, and she wanted him to know—each wound only made him more human, more hers.

In the depths of the night, as silence enveloped them, they found solace in each other’s arms, a sanctuary built on trust, love, and an unbreakable bond. As sleep began to pull them under, Francesca sighed contentedly into Daemon's chest, realizing that in the depths of their intimacy, they had forged a connection deeper than any wound—the bond of lovers transformed into soulmates.

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It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[bunnyboo77]

Geta,Caracalla x Original Character.

In the lavish palace of the Flavian dynasty, where the sun’s rays painted the marble floors with golden hues and shadows whispered secrets long buried, Rose stood trembling. She was both a treasure and a captive, caught between the intoxicating allure of emperors Geta and Caracalla—identical in appearance yet starkly different in their desires.

Today, they had dressed her in a gown of shimmering gold that hugged her curves, accentuating every contour of her body. Jewels cascaded from her neck and danced around her wrists, catching the light like scattered stars. Despite the opulence, she felt more exposed than ever, her heart racing as they eyed her with smoldering intensity.

“Look at her,” Geta murmured, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with an undertone that sent shivers down her spine. “She is our radiant rose, crafted for our eyes alone.”

Caracalla stepped closer, his presence enveloping her, a dark cloud of obsession. “Every inch of you is ours to explore, Rose. You should feel honored.”

The possessiveness in their voices ignited a fire within her, a strange blend of fear and undeniable attraction. “I am just a girl…” she whispered, trying to summon some semblance of protest, but it came out weak, almost pleading.

“Just a girl?” Geta scoffed, his gaze hungry. He moved closer, the heat radiating off him as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are so much more than that. You are our muse, our flame. Don’t you see? You set our souls alight.”

Rose shivered at his touch, the warmth of his fingers sending bolts of electricity through her. She hated how their words made her heart race, how they thrilled her against her will. “Please, I—”

“You what?” Caracalla leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin like fire. “You want to be free? To escape? You would deny us this exquisite pleasure of having you? You should know by now that such thoughts only deepen our need.”

Her pulse quickened as they closed in on her, the air thickening with tension. “You don’t understand!” she gasped, trying to maintain some distance, but her body yearned for their touch. “I feel trapped!”

“Trapped?” Geta’s voice was low, darkly seductive. “No, my darling Rose—this is not a prison. It is a sanctuary, a place where you are adored beyond measure.” He leaned closer, and she could smell his musky scent, intoxicating and primal. “You are our very own marble statue, designed to captivate our senses. Our joys, our passions—they are all tied to you.”

They took turns stepping closer, invading her space until she could feel their breaths mingling with her own. Their obsession twisted around her like ivy, choking yet alluring. The line between terror and desire blurred as they regarded her, their gazes raw and ravenous.

“No!” she cried suddenly, panic erupting within her. “I won’t be your trophy! I am not just…an object for your amusement!”

Laughter erupted from both emperors, a sound that sent chills through her. Caracalla stepped forward, his face mere inches from hers, the intensity in his eyes simmering dangerously. “Oh, Rose, you do not comprehend the depth of our affection. You have ignited something primal within us. We crave you, body and soul. You belong to us—the sun and the moon in our universe.”

Geta’s gaze was fierce, burning with dominance. “And we will show you what it means to be loved by emperors. Let us strip away your hesitation until you breathe our names like an incantation.”

With those words, Rose felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine. A part of her wanted to fight, to scream, while another part hungered for the dark intimacy they promised. The air around them pulsed, thick with unfulfilled desire, as they closed in around her.

“Let me go!” she pleaded, though she could no longer ignore the heat pooling deep within her, responding to their magnetic pull.

“In time, you will come to understand,” Caracalla whispered, his lips brushing against her neck, igniting her skin. “Our love is intoxicating, all-consuming. You will learn to crave the darkness we offer.”

Rose gasped as Geta captured her chin, tilting it upward. “We are not merely twins, sweet Rose. We are two halves of the same desire, intertwined in obsession. You will learn to surrender, to let us consume you.”

“That sounds dreadful,” she retorted, though her voice quivered. And yet, something in her stirred at the thought—a tantalizing rush of surrender that sent delightful tremors through her body.

“Dreadful?” Geta echoed, amused, his eyes glinting wickedly. “Or exhilarating? Perhaps you are a rose that yearns for the darkness, the very thorns that protect you.”

Before she could protest further, Caracalla leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a heated kiss. The taste of him was overwhelming, a storm that raged inside her. She felt herself melting against him, her body betraying her resolve as passion ignited.

With a growl of frustration, Geta took hold of her waist, pulling her close as he joined the embrace, their bodies molding around her. For a moment, she was lost in their heat, drowning in the fervor of their touch. Their desires clawed at her, demanding submission, and she realized she was teetering on the edge of a precipice.

“Accept us,” Caracalla whispered against her skin, his lips trailing tantalizingly down her neck. “Embrace the chaos we offer. Give in to what you feel.”

“Do not fight,” Geta murmured, brushing his lips against her earlobe, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her will. “Let us teach you what it means to belong completely.”

As their hands roamed over her, setting her skin ablaze, Rose felt an awakening—a dark need entwined with fear and longing. This was their world, and she was caught in its web, a prisoner and a queen, both terrified and enchanted.

Perhaps there was a part of her that craved this obsessive love, this dominance they bestowed upon her. As the emperors pulled her deeper into their embrace, each heartbeat a promise, Rose understood that the line between pleasure and pain, freedom and captivity, was a fragile thread woven in the tapestry of desire.

“We will break you,” Geta promised, his eyes gleaming with a feral hunger. “But when the dark clouds lift, you will rise anew—a queen born of obsession.”

As their kisses deepened, leaving her breathless, Rose succumbed to the tempest within her, aware that she had walked into a beautiful, perilous trap where pleasure and pain intertwined, forever binding her to the twin emperors she both feared and craved.

[bunnyboo77]

A Bath Solves Everything.

(Aemond x Brothel Worker)

Aemond Targaryen stepped into the dimly lit brothel, the familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine enveloping him like a lover’s embrace. The weight of his day clung to him, heavy and suffocating, and all he wanted was the soothing presence of Daisy. She was more than just a companion—she was the key to his escape from the pressures of his life as a Targaryen.

“Daisy,” he called softly, his voice laced with need and urgency. He felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of her.

From the shadows, she emerged, her dark hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, framing a face that radiated warmth and comfort. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Aemond,” she purred, her voice a soft melody amidst the hushed whispers of the brothel. “You look like you’ve wrestled a dragon today.”

He chuckled lightly, but the tension in his body remained palpable. “If only it were that simple. I could use a reprieve.”

“Come here,” she beckoned, her arms opening wide. He stepped into her embrace, feeling a rush of relief as her warmth enveloped him. He leaned in, his head resting against her shoulder, the softness of her skin calming the storm within him.

“Let me run a bath for you,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look into his mismatched eyes. He nodded, any barriers between them dissolving in that moment.

As she led him to a small room at the back of the establishment, the air grew thick with unspoken tension. Daisy filled a wooden tub with warm water, steam rising in wisps that curled around them. Aemond watched her every movement—the way her hands worked, the subtle sway of her hips, the gentle arch of her back as she poured in fragrant oils.

When the bath was ready, she turned to him, her expression softening. “You’ll feel better after this. Let the warmth wash over you.”

With a teasing glint in her eye, she helped him remove his tunic. As the fabric fell away, he felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with exhilaration. His chest was taut, muscles defined from years of training and strife. Daisy's gaze lingered on him, heat pooling in her eyes as she took in the sight of him.

“Gods, Aemond,” she breathed, stepping closer. “You’re even more splendid than I remembered.”

He felt a rush of warmth at her compliment, his heart racing as she reached out, a fingertip trailing gently down his arm. “Are you going to keep staring, or do you plan to help me into that bath?”

She laughed softly, the sound sending shivers of anticipation through him. “Oh, I plan to help you. But first…”

Daisy stepped closer, her fingers brushing against his bare skin, igniting sparks wherever she touched. She knelt beside the tub, her warm hand dipping into the water. “Lean back,” she instructed, her tone dropping to a sultry whisper that made his pulse quicken.

Aemond complied, sinking into the fragrant warmth as she began to wash his body. Her hands were gentle yet purposeful, moving over his shoulders and down to his chest, where her touch left a trail of fire. He watched her, enraptured by the way her fingers glided over his skin, tracing the contours of his muscles.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” she confessed, her breath quickening as her hands traveled lower. Aemond felt a surge of desire pooling low in his belly as she explored the curves and planes of his body.

“Show me,” he urged, his voice low and hoarse. “I want to feel everything.”

Daisy smiled, her gaze locked on him, and continued her work. Her fingers drifted lower, caressing his abdomen, teasingly circling the edge of his trousers. He could feel the heat radiating between them, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“You’re so tense,” she murmured, her hands applying more pressure, kneading the knots in his muscles. “Let it all go. Just focus on me.”

The intimate directive sent a thrill through him, and he relaxed under her touch, surrendering himself completely. With each stroke, she seemed to erase the burdens that weighed upon him, replacing them with sensations that were intoxicating and wild.

“Aemond,” she gasped softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his body, exploring every inch. Her touch ignited something primal within him, a desperate need that was both thrilling and overwhelming. “You don’t know how often I’ve thought of this.”

“Then stop thinking and start doing,” he replied, his voice thick with need. He leaned forward, capturing her wrist gently as she paused, drawing her close until their faces were mere inches apart. “I want to feel you, Daisy.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into him, her body pressing against the warmth of the water. “Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes searching his, a mix of playfulness and sincerity.

“Absolutely,” he replied, desire spilling from his lips.

With that encouragement, Daisy leaned in, her lips brushing against his neck, sending spirals of pleasure racing through him. He could feel the heat of her body against his, their breaths mingling as he pulled her closer, reveling in the sensation of her skin against his.

“Let me show you,” she whispered, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze, a fierce determination sparking in her eyes. She took his face in her hands, tilting his chin up as she captured his lips with hers.

The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve ending in his body. He deepened it, craving the taste of her mouth, the sweetness of her kiss. Their passion collided, and he lost himself in the whirlpool of sensation, their bodies entwined in the warm water, the world outside forgotten.

As the kiss broke, they gazed into each other's eyes, both panting for breath, hearts racing in sync. Aemond’s hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer until she was straddling his thighs, the water lapping around them as if the world itself conspired to create this moment.

“Daisy,” he whispered, his hands slipping to her back, fingers splaying across her skin. “You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

“And you, my prince,” she replied, leaning closer, “are everything I’ve dreamed of.”

With that, she pressed her body against his, the warmth of their connection igniting a fire between them. They moved together in a dance of raw, unfiltered desire, exploring each other with equal parts reverence and hunger.

But in this moment of passion, there remained an unshakeable tenderness between them—a bond forged not just by lust, but by the care they held for one another.

As the minutes turned into an eternity, Aemond finally drew her close, cradling her in his arms as he sank deeper into the warmth, Daisy’s body molding against his. The chaos of their lives faded away, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the gentle rippling of the water that surrounded them.

In the end, Aemond rested against her, his head nestled against her shoulder, finding solace in her embrace as they both surrendered to the sensation of being utterly together—two souls intertwined, lost in a haze of warmth and longing. And as sleep began to claim him, he knew he would always seek refuge in her arms, the place where he truly belonged.

[bunnyboo77]

Midnight's Last Call

The chill of a New Year's Eve blizzard engulfed the small town of Hollow Creek. The streets, usually bustling with excitement, lay eerily quiet. While most residents were holed up in their homes, sipping champagne and munching on finger foods, six friends decided to celebrate the new year at the old Blackwood Inn—a long-abandoned hotel notorious for its dark past.

The inn stood at the edge of town, cloaked in shadow. Stories floated around about the tragic events that had unfolded there decades prior: a group of partygoers had gone missing during a New Year’s Eve masquerade ball, their bodies never found. But the allure of nostalgia brought the group—Eric, Lisa, Mark, Sarah, Tom, and Claire—to the dilapidated hotel, armed with flashlights, cheap beer, and the thrill of mischief.

As they crossed the threshold, the door creaked like a warning. The air was dense with dust and the scent of mildew, while moonlight spilled through shattered windows, illuminating the faded decor—the remnants of a grand life now lost to decay. They set up camp in the main ballroom, laughing nervously as they arranged a makeshift party.

“Let’s make a pact!” Mark suggested, raising his beer. “Whatever happens tonight, we stick together until midnight!”

Reluctantly, everyone raised their cans in agreement, unaware of the watchful eyes lurking in the shadows.

As the clock in the corner ticked toward New Year’s Eve, the atmosphere shifted. Flickering shadows danced across the walls, and the wind howled outside, slipping through the gaps in the old building. Eric tried to shake off the unease creeping in but distracted himself by proposing a game of truth or dare, a classic throwback to their high school days.

The game quickly spiraled into chaos. Secrets were spilled, laughter filled the room, and for a moment, they forgot the hotel’s sinister history. Mark dared Claire to venture upstairs, to the abandoned guest rooms that everyone swore were haunted. With a mix of bravery and alcohol-induced courage, she accepted the challenge.

“Fine, but if I find ghostly spirits, I’m throwing you all under the bus!” Claire teased, grabbing a flashlight and disappearing up the staircase.

Minutes turned into an eternity. The others exchanged nervous glances. Finally, Tom could take it no longer. He grabbed another flashlight and headed after her. The group waited, growing more anxious as time slipped away. One by one, they followed Tom’s lead, feeling the pressure to either join in or face their own fears.

What they found when they reached the second floor was horrifically unexpected. The hallway was lined with doors, all closed and still as tombs. In one dimly lit room, they discovered not just Claire, but a series of disturbing paintings—each depicting scenes of violence and terror, eerily reminiscent of classic 80s slasher tropes. And in the center of it all, something caught their eye.

It was a large mirror, cracked and dusty. As they approached, they could see reflections—not of themselves, but of masked figures wielding knives, their bodies twisted in macabre scenes, each frame more gruesome than the last.

Panicking, they turned to leave, but the door slammed shut behind them, sealing them in this nightmarish gallery. The mirror glowed with a sinister light, and whispers echoed around them, snippets of laughter mixed with screams.

Suddenly, Claire screamed. She pointed at the mirror—her reflection began to shift, a sinister grin forming on her face. “Join us,” it hissed, as the other reflections reached out, clawing at the glass.

The group frantically pounded on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Eric pulled out his phone, only to find it dead. In desperation, they turned back to the mirror. Lipstick-red words appeared across the surface: *"Midnight has come. Who will carry the legacy?"*

Tom shouted, "We need to break it!" Rallying together, they hurled furniture at the mirror, but the more they attacked, the stronger the whispers grew, urging them to give in.

With seconds left until midnight, the vibrations intensified, and a loud crack split the room. The mirror shattered, shards flying everywhere—but instead of escaping, they felt themselves being pulled into the splintered glass.

Time froze as they heard the distant toll of midnight bells. Then, silence. The group found themselves standing in the very same ballroom they had started in, but it was transformed—now vibrant, alive with laughter, and adorned with remnants of a bygone celebration. Surrounded by people in masks, they realized they had unwittingly stepped into the very masquerade that had claimed those lives decades ago.

As they turned to one another, confusion giving way to horror, their joy melted into despair. They were the ghosts now, trapped in a cycle, destined to repeat the night over and over again. The merry festivities would carry on without them, but their reflections would always remain in the shards of the cursed mirror, eternally pleading for release.

Outside, snow continued to fall quietly on Hollow Creek, blanketing the town in innocence, unaware of the horrors that awaited any who dared to celebrate too close to the cursed Blackwood Inn.

[bunnyboo77]

Geta, Caracalla x original character.

In the splendor of Rome, under its opulent arches and vibrant murals, a story of twisted obsession unfolded within the walls of the imperial palace. At the heart of this tale were two brothers, Geta and Caracalla, both emperors, bound by blood yet ensnared in a dark rivalry fueled by their infatuation with a slave girl named Rose.

Rose was a delicate blossom amidst the gathering storm—a vision of elegance with her shimmering dark hair and haunting hazel eyes. The twins’ gazes lingered on her like a flame drawn to a moth, each brother yearning for her attention, each driven by desires that simmered just below the surface, blurring the lines of affection and possession.

On this fateful day, they found themselves in the grand amphitheater, surrounded by the raucous cheers of spectators as gladiators fought for glory and survival. Rose sat between them, her heart racing not from excitement but from fear. She clutched her knees tightly to her chest, shielding herself from the violence unfolding before her.

“Look at how strong they are!” Geta exclaimed, feigning enthusiasm as he nudged her shoulder playfully. “Don’t you find it exhilarating, Rose?”

“It’s… terrifying,” she replied softly, her voice barely above the roar of the crowd. She turned her gaze away from the arena, feeling the heat of their stares upon her, a weight she could hardly bear.

Caracalla leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear, “But we shall protect you, sweet Rose. You will never have to fear anything while we are near.” He rested a hand possessively around her waist, drawing her closer, a grip that sent shivers down her spine—of both dread and an undeniable thrill.

Their attention shifted abruptly to an imposing figure entering the arena: a majestic tiger. Its coat glistened under the sun, a living emblem of grace and ferocity. For a moment, Rose felt a flicker of hope, a bond with the creature that mirrored the wildness inside her.

“Look at it, Rose!” Geta urged, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

But as the fight commenced, the tiger’s struggle against its fate broke Rose’s heart. When the gladiator thrust a blade into the magnificent creature, a scream tore from her throat, raw and untempered, cutting through the cheers of the crowd. “No! Stop!”

“Why do you weep?” Caracalla asked, chin tilted upward as he observed her horror with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “It’s just a beast. You don’t want to be part of such a world, do you?”

Rose could only stare, horrified, as the once proud animal fell, its lifeblood staining the sand. She turned away, tears streaming down her cheeks, wishing for the comfort of her own thoughts far away from this brutal reality.

After the spectacle had concluded, the atmosphere shifted. The twins approached her, shadows looming over her fragile form. In their hands, they revealed a luxurious rug—an exquisite tiger skin, expertly crafted, the stripes bold against the smooth fur.

“We wanted you to have something special,” Geta said, pride lacing his voice. “A piece of that magnificent creature. Envision yourself wrapped in its strength.”

“Or perhaps lying on it with us,” Caracalla added, an unsettling smile crossing his lips as he pulled Rose onto his lap, holding her close against him. She felt the weight of his desire pressing down like an iron ball.

As she settled awkwardly, unable to escape the warmth of his embrace, he continued, “We thought the rug would be perfect for our gatherings. Just imagine—life and death intertwined beneath you, with us by your side.”

Rose’s heart raced, caught in a torrent of emotions. The rug was a reminder of both beauty and brutality, and the implications of his words sent chills through her. “It’s too much,” she murmured, fighting back the nausea rising in her throat. “I cannot accept this.”

“Why not?” Geta leaned in, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. “It is our gift to you, a token of our devotion. With it, you’ll always have the power of the tiger at your disposal.”

As the tension filled the space between them, Rose felt both trapped and strangely compelled. Unspoken dread curled in her stomach as she tried to mask her true feelings, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she eventually whispered, almost as if surrendering to their dark enchantment.

“See? She appreciates it,” Caracalla remarked, tightening his hold around her waist. “You’ll come to love it just as we love you.”

The air thickened with their combined desires, suffocating and intoxicating. She could feel the possibilities unfurling around her like the vines of a serpent, coiling tighter with each passing moment. The bond she had hoped to form with the tiger now mirrored the sinister intentions of the brothers who held her captive in their sanctuary of power.

And as night descended on the amphitheater, the shadows deepened, casting their ominous hues over Rose’s fate. In the midst of lavish palaces and grand conquests, the twisted love of two emperors tightened its grip around her heart, leaving her to navigate a realm where loyalty morphed into obsession, and freedom became an elusive dream, forever haunted by the echoes of the arena and the chilling laughter of those who claimed to adore her.

[bunnyboo77]

Geta, Caracalla x original character.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was ablaze with candlelight, the flickering flames dancing in rhythm with the laughter and music that filled the air. Draped in ornate white linens embroidered with gold, the long tables were laden with the finest delicacies the empire could offer. The intoxicating aroma of spiced meats and roasted fruits wafted through the room, mingling with the sweet scent of flowers that adorned every corner.

Geta and Caracalla stood tall, regal in their attire—their armor gleaming under the soft glow, yet their attention was trained solely on one treasure: Rose. They had adorned her with a stunning golden collar that encircled her delicate neck, the metal shining like the sun against her dark skin. Each link of the collar was handcrafted, encrusted with colorful gemstones that sparkled brightly, drawing eyes towards her wherever she turned.

“Look at her,” Geta said with pride, an arm possessively draped around her shoulders. “Isn’t she breathtaking?”

Caracalla nodded, his gaze piercing, filled with a dark indulgence that made Rose’s heart race. “She is ours, and tonight, we will show the empire just how cherished she is.”

As they entered the hall, heads turned, whispers rippling through the crowd. Rose felt the weight of their gazes—some from admiration, others from envy—and it made her stomach churn. “Can we leave?” she murmured to her emperors, fear creeping into her voice. “I— I don’t feel well.”

“Nonsense,” Caracalla replied, his tone dismissive, but not unkind. He hugged her close, pressing her back against his chest as he whispered, “You are the jewel of this celebration. You must enjoy it.”

But as the night wore on, the festivities took a turn that left Rose feeling increasingly uneasy. Jugglers twirled flaming torches, and musicians played fervor-filled melodies, but her attention was drawn away from the spectacle by the darker entertainment that unfolded at the fringes of the hall—gladiators brawling, their bodies glistening with sweat and blood, the crowd roaring with a savage thirst for violence.

“Do they have to do that?” Rose whispered, her fingers tightening around the edge of her dress, a sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

“Such is the way of the empire,” Geta replied, his voice a mixture of pride and indifference. “Strength is revered in Rome, and we must not shy away from it.”

Rose's heart raced, her discomfort growing as she watched. “But it feels wrong…”

“You will learn,” Caracalla said, a hint of intensity underlying his words. “This is who we are. And soon, you will embrace this world as your own.”

With every cheer for the fighters, every victorious roar that echoed in the hall, Rose felt as if she were being pulled deeper into a whirlpool of chaos. She turned her body slightly, hoping to escape the scene, only to find herself enveloped by the warmth of the twins’ attentiveness. They pressed closer, cocooning her in their presence.

“Stay with us, beloved,” Geta murmured, brushing his fingers along her arms, grounding her amid the dissonance. “Forget the blood and the battle. Focus on the joy we share.”

“But I don’t know if I can,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It’s all too overwhelming.”

“Look at me,” Caracalla commanded softly, tilting her chin up so that she met his fierce gaze. “You are our light in this darkness. We will shield you. Nothing can touch you here.”

Their words were meant to be comforting, yet they only deepened her trepidation. As they cuddled her tighter, a mix of warmth and claustrophobia wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. “You’re too close,” she said quietly, her breath hitching. “I can’t breathe.”

“Breathe within our embrace,” Geta whispered, nuzzling against her temple, lips brushing her skin. “We will protect you from everything. No one else exists in this moment—only us.”

But Rose felt more trapped than ever, longing for freedom while caught in their adoration. “What if I want to go home?” she asked, the words rustling in the air like fallen leaves.

“Home?” Caracalla echoed, amusement lacing his voice. “You are home, dear Rose. Here with us. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His eyes sparkled with a manic intensity. “To be loved? To be adored?”

“Yes… but this isn’t love,” she protested, her heart racing against the pounding noise around them.

“Love? This is devotion,” Geta interjected, leaning closer, gaze unwavering. “In this world, we possess what we cherish, and you belong to us now.”

She heard the truth in his words, that their affection was overshadowed by their twisted need to keep her close. Rose turned her face away, unable to meet their expectant gazes, struggling with despair. “I just wish things were different…”

Suddenly, Caracalla’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Different? Why would you wish for something other than perfection? We gave you everything, Rose. Love, protection—”

“Obsession,” she mumbled, feeling the walls close in.

“Obsession is merely passion intensified,” Geta interjected, his tone turning almost tender, yet chilling in its insistence. “And we are passionate about you, little Rose.”

As the night loomed on, with laughter and cheers echoing around them, Rose felt the chains of their devotion wrap tighter. She knew she was caught in a web of their making, torn between the allure of their love and the shadows lurking beneath their golden exterior. In the heart of the empire, she stared into the abyss of their twisted affection, wondering if she would ever truly escape.

[bunnyboo77]

Geta, Caracalla x original character.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was ablaze with candlelight, the flickering flames dancing in rhythm with the laughter and music that filled the air. Draped in ornate white linens embroidered with gold, the long tables were laden with the finest delicacies the empire could offer. The intoxicating aroma of spiced meats and roasted fruits wafted through the room, mingling with the sweet scent of flowers that adorned every corner.

Geta and Caracalla stood tall, regal in their attire—their armor gleaming under the soft glow, yet their attention was trained solely on one treasure: Rose. They had adorned her with a stunning golden collar that encircled her delicate neck, the metal shining like the sun against her dark skin. Each link of the collar was handcrafted, encrusted with colorful gemstones that sparkled brightly, drawing eyes towards her wherever she turned.

“Look at her,” Geta said with pride, an arm possessively draped around her shoulders. “Isn’t she breathtaking?”

Caracalla nodded, his gaze piercing, filled with a dark indulgence that made Rose’s heart race. “She is ours, and tonight, we will show the empire just how cherished she is.”

As they entered the hall, heads turned, whispers rippling through the crowd. Rose felt the weight of their gazes—some from admiration, others from envy—and it made her stomach churn. “Can we leave?” she murmured to her emperors, fear creeping into her voice. “I— I don’t feel well.”

“Nonsense,” Caracalla replied, his tone dismissive, but not unkind. He hugged her close, pressing her back against his chest as he whispered, “You are the jewel of this celebration. You must enjoy it.”

But as the night wore on, the festivities took a turn that left Rose feeling increasingly uneasy. Jugglers twirled flaming torches, and musicians played fervor-filled melodies, but her attention was drawn away from the spectacle by the darker entertainment that unfolded at the fringes of the hall—gladiators brawling, their bodies glistening with sweat and blood, the crowd roaring with a savage thirst for violence.

“Do they have to do that?” Rose whispered, her fingers tightening around the edge of her dress, a sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

“Such is the way of the empire,” Geta replied, his voice a mixture of pride and indifference. “Strength is revered in Rome, and we must not shy away from it.”

Rose's heart raced, her discomfort growing as she watched. “But it feels wrong…”

“You will learn,” Caracalla said, a hint of intensity underlying his words. “This is who we are. And soon, you will embrace this world as your own.”

With every cheer for the fighters, every victorious roar that echoed in the hall, Rose felt as if she were being pulled deeper into a whirlpool of chaos. She turned her body slightly, hoping to escape the scene, only to find herself enveloped by the warmth of the twins’ attentiveness. They pressed closer, cocooning her in their presence.

“Stay with us, beloved,” Geta murmured, brushing his fingers along her arms, grounding her amid the dissonance. “Forget the blood and the battle. Focus on the joy we share.”

“But I don’t know if I can,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It’s all too overwhelming.”

“Look at me,” Caracalla commanded softly, tilting her chin up so that she met his fierce gaze. “You are our light in this darkness. We will shield you. Nothing can touch you here.”

Their words were meant to be comforting, yet they only deepened her trepidation. As they cuddled her tighter, a mix of warmth and claustrophobia wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. “You’re too close,” she said quietly, her breath hitching. “I can’t breathe.”

“Breathe within our embrace,” Geta whispered, nuzzling against her temple, lips brushing her skin. “We will protect you from everything. No one else exists in this moment—only us.”

But Rose felt more trapped than ever, longing for freedom while caught in their adoration. “What if I want to go home?” she asked, the words rustling in the air like fallen leaves.

“Home?” Caracalla echoed, amusement lacing his voice. “You are home, dear Rose. Here with us. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His eyes sparkled with a manic intensity. “To be loved? To be adored?”

“Yes… but this isn’t love,” she protested, her heart racing against the pounding noise around them.

“Love? This is devotion,” Geta interjected, leaning closer, gaze unwavering. “In this world, we possess what we cherish, and you belong to us now.”

She heard the truth in his words, that their affection was overshadowed by their twisted need to keep her close. Rose turned her face away, unable to meet their expectant gazes, struggling with despair. “I just wish things were different…”

Suddenly, Caracalla’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Different? Why would you wish for something other than perfection? We gave you everything, Rose. Love, protection—”

“Obsession,” she mumbled, feeling the walls close in.

“Obsession is merely passion intensified,” Geta interjected, his tone turning almost tender, yet chilling in its insistence. “And we are passionate about you, little Rose.”

As the night loomed on, with laughter and cheers echoing around them, Rose felt the chains of their devotion wrap tighter. She knew she was caught in a web of their making, torn between the allure of their love and the shadows lurking beneath their golden exterior. In the heart of the empire, she stared into the abyss of their twisted affection, wondering if she would ever truly escape.

[bunnyboo77]

Geta, Caracalla x original character.

Geta and Caracalla stood by the tub, their commanding figures silhouetted against the golden light. They were both breathtakingly handsome, their features chiseled, their expressions alight with mischief and desire. As Rose entered the chamber, her heart raced at the sight of them, her cheeks flushing crimson.

“Join us, Rose,” Geta called out, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with authority. “The water is perfect, just like you.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, anxiety knotting her stomach. “I… I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” she stammered, glancing nervously at the steaming water that seemed to beckon her closer.

“Nonsense,” Caracalla interjected, his tone dripping with indulgence. “You are ours to command. You mustn’t shy away from what we desire.” His eyes gleamed with that familiar intensity, sending shivers down her spine.

Rose felt trapped between her obligations and her own discomfort, but she understood her place within the imperial household. She was a slave first and foremost; her desires mattered little in the grand scheme of their world. With a deep breath, she approached the tub, the fragrant steam enveloping her like a shroud.

“See how beautiful it is?” Geta murmured, beckoning her closer. “You’ll feel renewed, my flower.”

As she stood at the edge of the tub, Rose swallowed hard. “I’m not certain…”

“Come now!” Caracalla said with a hint of impatience, stepping forward to take her hand, his grip firm yet not unkind. “We won’t bite,” he added with a teasing smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

With a resigned sigh, she stepped closer, allowing the warmth of the chamber to seep into her skin. The water shimmered enticingly, the rose petals floating upon its surface creating a delicate contrast to the stark white of the tub.

“Let us show you how to enjoy this,” Geta said softly, guiding her towards the edge of the tub. “You can trust us.”

Rose slipped out of her simple garment, feeling vulnerable under their unwavering gazes. Her heart raced, a mix of fear and trepidation as she stepped into the tub. The warmth enveloped her, soothing her muscles as she sank lower, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty despite the intimate setting.

As she settled in, the twins slid into the tub beside her, their presence dominating the space. The water swirled around them, petals floating like tiny boats amidst the waves they created. Rose felt the heat radiating from their bodies, and it made her acutely aware of how close they were.

“This is perfection,” Caracalla grinned, leaning back against the tub and stretching his arms. “Isn’t it, Rose?”

She nodded hesitantly, her eyes darting between them, unsure of how to respond. The tension in the air thickened as Geta moved closer, his bare arm brushing against hers, sending a jolt through her. “Relax. We’re here for you. Let the worries fade away.”

“But I—” she started to protest.

“Shhh,” Geta silenced her gently, his fingers running through the water, splashing a few petals toward her. “It’s alright. We only wish to bathe with you, to celebrate your beauty. You deserve to feel cherished.”

“I… I don’t feel cherished,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caracalla chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Then allow us to change that.” He reached for a small jug of oils, pouring a few drops into the water before swirling it around, releasing a heady fragrance that filled the chamber. “This will make it even better.”

Rose inhaled deeply, the scent intoxicating, yet it did little to quell the unease gnawing at her. “I’m not sure I should be here. It feels wrong.”

“Nothing feels wrong when you’re with us,” Geta replied, his voice dripping with conviction. “You are safe. You are ours, remember?”

As the tension hung in the air, they began to wash her, gentle fingers gliding over her skin, the touch both soothing and overwhelming. She bit her lip, torn between wanting to pull away and the strange comfort their caresses provided.

“You see? This isn’t so bad,” Caracalla said, his hands working fluidly through her hair, washing it with scented oils. “You were born to be cared for, Rose.”

“Care or possession?” she countered softly, though part of her longed to surrender to their attention.

“Is there a difference?” Geta mused, his voice thoughtful as he cupped her chin, tilting her face so their eyes locked. “We want to cherish you in all forms.”

Rose felt the heat rise in her cheeks, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. “But I’m still a slave. I don’t have the right to feel this way.”

“A slave? No, Rose,” Geta said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You are our beloved. We’ve chosen you, and that is far more significant than any title society has given you.”

As they continued to bathe her, every stroke ignited a flicker of warmth within her, entwined with fear and confusion. The intimacy draped around them like the steam swirling in the air, an intoxicating mixture of affection and possessiveness that made Rose question everything she had ever believed about love.

But deep down, as their strong hands guided her, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she could learn to embrace this new reality, even if it came steeped in shadows. All at once, she felt both cherished and ensnared—a captive of their twisted affection, navigating the fine line between desire and dread in the heart of the empire.

[bunnyboo77]

Porcelain Eyes.

(I don't own the image below)

The October air clung tightly to the small town of ash hollow. Every year he could barely contain her excitement for Halloween. The crisp smell of autumn leaves the flickering of candlelight in hollowed pumpkins and most of all the costumes. She lived for getting dressed up transforming herself into something otherworldly and mysterious. This year she had outdone herself spending weeks sewing a vintage inspired Victorian gown complete with delicate lace and intricate embroidery.

Penney's friends were already buzzing about it “you're going to win the costume contest this year for sure,” her best friend Olivia said drain their usual coffee meet up.

“You're going to look incredible” Carson added always the support of one.

Penny smiled imagining walking into the neighbourhood party heads turning as she made her dramatic entrance. But there was just one final touch you needed: the perfect mask.

The day before Halloween penny had wandered through the local antique shop hoping to find something unique. The bell above the door chimed as she entered the musky scent of aged wood and forgotten treasures filled her lungs. Shelves were cluttered with strange artifacts old books tarnished mirrors and faded photographs. The place had an unsettling stillness as though time moved differently within these walls.

“Can I help you Little Miss” a voice rasped from the shadows of the counter. An elderly woman stepped forward her eyes Milky with age but oddly sharp in their gaze.

“I'm looking for a mask” penny replied “something unusual”

the old woman smiled thinly her lips curling in away that sent a shiver down penney's spine “I think I have just the thing”

she beckoned penny towards the back of the shop where dust covered shelves seemed to grow taller and darker as they move further from the light. The old woman reached high and pulled down the small wooden box its surface worn smooth with age. With a careful hand she opened it revealing a mask.

It was beautiful striking even made of what looked like porcelain with delicate gold filigree around the edges it had a haunting almost expressive face a sad smile eyes slightly hollow and downturned. The white surface seemed to shimmer under the dim light of the shop.

“This…. This is perfect” penny breathed “how much?”

The old woman narrowed her eyes “this mask comes with a story young lady you should know before you decide to wear it”

penny hesitated “a story”

the woman nodded shifting her weight as if the tail itself was heavy “it was handcrafted centuries ago by renowned venetian mask maker. He created it for his beloved wife who wore it to a grand masquerade ball. That night she danced and charmed guests but as the evening waned she grew faint. By midnight she had collapsed her heart stopped and the mask refused to come off”

penny frowned “refuse to come off”

the woman's voice lowered “they tried for days to remove it but no matter how hard they pulled it stayed locked to her face. In the end she was buried wearing it”

penny almost left but there was an intensity to the old woman expression that made her think better of it instead she asked “then how did it end up here”

“the mask……. Travels. When the wearers dons the mask it becomes part of them entwined its faith with whoever has it next” the woman's eyes gleamed “but beware once you put it on strange things can happen it's not something to be taken lightly”

Penny who loved a good scare but rarely believed in such things grinned I think I'll take my chances”

the old woman's lip twitched as if suppressing some dark amusement 2 very well but remember midnight is the hour you must be wary of”

with a shrug penny handed over the money and left the shop mask in hand.

Halloween nights arrived and penny’s grand entrance at the party went exactly as she imagined heads turned drinks were set down and people gasped at the sight of her her friends rushed over showering her with compliments.

2 where did you get that mask” Olivia asked eyes wide.

“It's so detailed creepy but enchanting” Carson added running a finger along the golds filigree.

Penny smiled beneath it feeling a strange sense of power it was as though the mouse had transformed not just her appearance but her whole aura. She felt bolder more confident than ever.

The night progressed with laughter music and dancing but as the clock neared midnight penny began to feel a subtle shift. Her head felt light her vision blurred at the edges maybe she had too much to drink.

She excused herself from the group and made her way to the edge of the party where the noise was softer. As she glanced at her reflection in the nearby mirror a flicker panic seized her. The mask….. It looked different. The sad smile had twisted into something else something to sinister. The hollowed eyes seemed deeper darker.

She reached up to remove it but her fingers couldn't find the edge. Panic surged. She tucked harder her nails scraping against smooth porcelain but the more she pulled the tighter it seemed to cling to her skin. Her breathing quickened her heart hammering inside her chest.

She stumbled away from the mirror, her hands trembling she ran toward the bathroom locking the door behind her. Staring into the mirror again her own eyes stared back in terror framed by the cold and moving porcelain of the mask.

She clawed at it desperately trying to remove it but it was as if the mask had fused with her own face. Tears streamed from her eyes pooling at the bottom of the masks hollow cheek every pole every attempt to wedge her fingers under the edge was met with searing pain as if her skin itself was being torn away.

A sudden knock on the door startled her. “Penny” it was Olivia's voice “are you OK there”

no penny wanted to scream **** no I'm not OK**** but when she tried to speak her voice was muffled as if it was coming from far away the mass tightened suffocating her words into silence.

Midnight stroke the sound of the clock's chime echoing through the house with each tall penny felt herself slipping further Into Darkness as though something ancient and malevolent were awakening inside the mask pulling her under.

A final desperate thought crossed her mind *** the woman in the antique shop she warned me***

and then everything went black.

The morning after the party Olivia and Carson stood outside penney's house knocking in increasingly. No answer. Concerns etched on their faces they pushed the door open it had been left unlocked.

Inside they found the house exactly as it had been the night before. Except for one thing.

The mask. It sat neatly on the kitchen table its porcelain surface gleaming in the morning light. But penny was nowhere to be found.

Only the mass remained its sad hollowed eyes now filled with tears of sorrow.

[bunnyboo77]

The Last Batch

In the heart of Maplewood, a small town that came to life every Halloween there was a bakery renowned for its seasonal treats hallows doughnuts each October people from miles around would line up eager to taste the famed doughnuts that only appeared once a year. The air around the bakery was almost thick with the warmth of spices cinnamon nutmeg and something else something different this year,

Emily Swanson had inherited the shop from her grandmother who had run it for as long as anyone could remember. The recipes were passed down to the generations but there was 1 Emily had been warned never to touch the hollow doughnut a legendary swirled around that pastry something about it bringing bad luck or worse but as a skeptical 25-year-old she dismissed it as nothing more than family superstition.

As Halloween night drew near business was booming Emily worked late into the evening determined to bake her biggest batch yet but in the chaos of mixing dough she accidentally knocked over an old dusty cookbook her grandmother had kept hidden on the highest shelf its pages floated open revealing a smudged recipe labeled the hollow doughnut at the top.

Curious and certain it was just another forgotten doughnut flavor Emily couldn't help herself she gathered the ingredients listed many of which were far stranger than anything she'd seen in typical recipes grounded black salt a splash of moon water and a single strand of hair a chill slipped through the kitchen but she carried on kneading the dough until it formed the perfect round shapes.

When it finally emerged from the oven smelling of something almost otherworldly Emily found herself entranced by their rich dark glaze and their hollowed centers twisted like spirals leading to nowhere, I'm thinkingly she placed them in the display window alongside the pumpkin spiced and caramel doughnuts.

That evening as townsfolk strolled by and costumes some noticed the new edition in the display case intrigued by their unfamiliar sight, they eagerly bought up the hollow doughnut Emily smiled with satisfaction unaware.

But soon after strange things began to happen.

It started quietly and people reported feeling cold after eating the doughnut despite the warmth of the bakery or their own homes. Their breath fogged the air unnatural like winter chill creeping into their bones worse, yet they looked in the mirror their reflections would ripple as if submerged in water as if something else stared back beneath the surface of the glass.

As midnight approached Emily locked up completely exhausted from the busy day but just as she turned to leave, she noticed something horrifying a faint trail of black crumbs leading from her register to the back storage room.

The atmosphere in the room was different, now oppressive and heavy. The temperature dropped sharply as you followed the trail it led to the walk in freezer she rarely used always assuming it had been broken but now as she touched the handle it flung open with such force that she stumbled back inside wasn't a storage room at all instead it was a vast spiraling darkness a void.

From within the endless black something emerged a figure not human its form withered missed its mouth contoured into an impossible grin its hands long garnered fingers like those of someone who hadn't touched the light of day for centuries reached out holding one of the hollow doughnuts.

It spoken of voice that echoed inside her head more felt than heard “you bake wasn't meant to be baked.”

Emily's heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow gasps, the figure took a step closer its eyes or where eyes should have been radiating hunger she couldn't comprehend.

“The recipes hold power. Some locked doors…… and others opened them.”

Desperate and terrified Emily tried to move to flee but her feet felt glued to the floor as her vision began to blur the shadowy figure reached out closer now its impossible long fingernails grazed her arm cold enough to burn.

Certainly, a sharp ring jolted to the air her antique clock striking midnight the figure hesitated then shifted backward into the darkness of the freezer “for now,” it rasped retreating into the void.

The door slam shut sealing the cold behind its Emily stumbled back grasping for air, her hand clutching her chest her mind raced unable to process the horror.

At dawn when the town awoke, and the bakery opened again Emily didn't show up when concerned locals entered the shop, they found it empty except for a note scrolled hastily on the counter.

“Do not eat the hollow doughnuts.”

The display case was shattered every Shard of glass scattered across the floor every doughnut's gone.

And if you ever ventured near Maplewood these days locals would tell you if your hair faint knocking at night coming from an old freezer long abandoned in the vacant storefront do not answer there's no telling what door might open.

[bunnyboo77]

With the spooky season, finally here a lot of childhood memories of classic movies such as Halloweentown and twitches bring me back to my childhood during October.

[bunnyboo77]

Púca Boo

In a small village nestled between rolling hills and gnarled woods, Halloween was always a night of caution. The villagers knew the stories how on this night, the veil between worlds thinned how spirits wandered, and dangerous creatures roamed free. But none were as mischievous and fearful then the Púca.

The Púca was a shapeshifter a trickster spirit that could take the form of a sleek Black Horse with fiery red eyes or a Raven with wings as dark as the void. It had a reputation for mischief-stealing crops scaring livestock leading travelers astray in the dead of night but on Halloween the creature was said to demand an offering in exchange for sparing the village of brochure from its chaos.

It was October the 31st and the air was thick with anticipation the children of the village dressed in their homemade costumes of witches and ghosts running through the streets collecting sweets and laughing carelessly. But once the sun dipped below the horizon’s tradition dictated that everyone returned home and locked their doors and stayed inside for the remainder of the night. A solitary Lantern was left burning at the entrance of each house and offerings were placed out for the Púca. A basket consisting of freshly picked apples from the orchard or of loaf of freshly baked bread consisting of saltines and fruit. This was supposed to appease the spirit until the morning light chased it away.

But not everyone believed in the old ways.

Finn a young man who recently moved to the village to stay with his grandparents had never been one for superstitions. He was headstrong prone to rolling his eyes at his elders warning and always curious about the legends that haunted his grandparent’s homeland. This year he decided to break tradition and see firsthand at what all the fuss was about.

While the others huddled indoors Finn made his way out into the fields the moon hung full and bright casting an eerie glow over the landscape the autumn wind whispered through the trees carrying with it the distinct sounds of unseen creatures but Finn ignored it all he was determined to prove that the Púca was nothing more than a silly story told to frighten children into bed early.

He reached the edge of the woods where the land sloped down towards the river there in the shadow of a large oak tree he saw something he had not expected tall figures standing by the water's edge silhouetted against the moonlight at first Finn thought it might be another villager perhaps someone out late like him but as he drew closer he realized this wasn't a person that at all

The figured flickered shifting shapes as if caught between forms one and it was towering man with wild tangles of Black hair the next it was a great black stallion muscles rippling beneath its midnight coat its eyes were never human or horse burning with unnatural fire.

The Púca had to come.

Finn froze his bravado gone in an instant he had always thought it was just a myth but there before him stood the legendary creature of chaos.

“You're bold to come here empty handed,” the creatures voice echoed deep and melodic it was neither entirely human nor beastly but something in between” do you not fear me?”

“I………. I don't believe in nonsense” Finn stammered trying to stand tall even as his legs trembled.

The Púca let out alone unsettling laugh stepping closer until it towered over Finn a scent was earthly like rain-soaked soil mangled with something sharp and metallic like iron.

“Nonsense, is it?” The creature formed shifted once more setting into the shape of a tall lean figure with gleaming black eyes almost unnatural to witness. “I visited your village for centuries. Taking what is old but you stand here without an offering mocking the old ways.”

Finn swallowed hard this was real too real his heart raced as he tried to think of something anything that might save him.

“You need not be afraid” the Púca said it's green widening. “I thrive on bargains and tonight child you made a grave error. But I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“What do you want?” Finessed his voice barely above a whisper.

“Ohh nothing so costly just a simple game” the Púca eyes gleamed with wicked amusement “if you can solve my Riddle by the stroke of midnight, I will spare you and your village from mischief tonight. If you fail however well……. I will claim my due.

Finn's mind spun what choice did he have he nodded barely comprehending as the Púca spoke once more.

“Listen carefully young one.”

“I am not alive, yet I grow.”

“I have no lungs, yet I need air.”

I am not thirsty, but I drink.”

“What am I?”

Finn's heart pounded in his dress as he tried to think. The Púca grin widened as each second passed.

The wind howled through the night and the clouds began to gather dimming the moonlight Flint looked around frantically his mind racing. “Not alive yet it grows no lungs, yet I need air not thirsty, but it drinks.”

the answer dense just beyond his grasp mocking him as the minutes ticked away.

And then just as the church bell and the distance told midnight it hit him.

“fire” Finn shouted, “the answer is fire.”

The Púca eyes narrowed and for a moment the world seemed to hold its breath then suddenly it smiled not the playful grin of before but something darker heavier with unspoken meaning.

“Well done young one” the Púca said softly. “You've escaped my grasp for now.”

with that the creature turned shifting back into the form of a great Black Horse it gave one final glance over its shoulder flames flickering in its eyes before galloping off into the shadows disappearing into the night.

Finn collapsed on the ground his heart still racing he had won but he knew that the Púca would not be so easily outwitted next time. The creature would return next year or the year after that and when it did it would be looking for more than a simple Riddle.

From that night on Finn never questioned the old ways again. And every Halloween he was in the village when the lanterns were lit, and the offerings were left out he was the first to lock his door.

Because some legends it seemed were more than just a story

[bunnyboo77]

I’m sorry, but seeing Daemon being at harrenhal is reminding me of the skit done by Pete Holmes. Anyone else thinking he’s losing his marbles (I don’t own the picture)

[bunnyboo77]

Short Story ( Final Destination )

Warning (Blood, Hunting, Blood, Death and Gore)

The night was late and yet the sound of the city never ceased with the noise of life. All around cars honking, people yelling, and the little humming of neon signs filled the air. Claudia, who had just left, after working late at her job, fast paced down the street. Though there was noise there were no bodies around, which is strange as it always bumping into someone or being insulted. Cursing under her breath as she made her way down the tiled steps to the subway, she kept beating herself up to insist on staying late. Her decision was completely voluntary and though she couldn't bring herself to say no to Simon, his soft brown eyes and charming smile hypnotized her into doing whatever he wanted that included picking up his slack.

Clicking of black leather heels against the tiled hall echoed as she made her way to the platform. Stale smells of urine and cheap alcohol invaded her nose and made her stop to slightly vomit in her mouth. Such a disgusting place she thought but unfortunately there were no taxis around and quite frankly she was too annoyed to wait around for one to drive her way. Simon, who was her employer, asked her to stay late with him thinking she had finally won him over with her sweet gestures of coffee every morning and sweet buns or even the low number she wore to work one day was shattered the minute she stepped in his office. Before putting her hand on the doorknob faint sounds of voices could be heard from his office

“don't worry sweetheart I'll be home soon.”

“I promise I won't stay late I just have to finish something up here.”

“I love you.”

Those 3 little words are what broke Claudia, it wasn't just those words but his whole tone, the soft sweetness of his mellowed voice. “I'm an idiot”. Rushing back to her cubicle she grabbed her bag and coat and made her way to the lift before he could talk or see her. All the while the buttons made their way down the floors, she continues to think why she ever bend over backwards for a pathetic scumbag like Simon. She didn't even care if he came in the next day and asked why she left after agreeing to stay behind. Quite frankly she couldn't give a rat ass about a good excuse for him, she simply chalked it up to woman's problems.

As she made her way onto the platform the last train just had pulled out, groaning in frustration she then began stating “ shit, shit, shit” without thinking if there was anyone else around. Luckily that night the platform was eerily quiet, no body of both human nor rodents could be seen or heard. Claudia knew the trains ran all night, so it wasn't going to be her last, the only problem was the next one was in half an hour. Contemplating whether to walk home or simply stand out in the cold waiting by chance if a taxi would show up. At this stage of the night, she was willing to wait half an hour for a train, so she took a seat on one of the empty metal chairs against the wall. Though it appeared clean she was not all convinced so taking out one of her handy wet wipes she gave it a quick clean before parking her ass and waiting.

Resting her head in her hand she didn't know what came over her but a sudden heaviness in her eyes brought her into a short yet sweet sleep. Feeling head dripping down she was almost in a slumber when something unexpectedly woke her up. Boots, hard heavy boots could be heard echoing down the hall. Normally it wouldn't have bothered her but something about their pace unnerved her, slowly she started to hear them make their way down the hall and then out of nowhere they began to pace themselves quicker and then almost like in a Sprint-like motion. Turning your head to the only entrance to the platform (other than the guards emergency exit) she waited patiently as the boots got closer to the platform wanted to know what kind of person was in such a rush that they sounded like they were running on all fours.

Clutching her bag close to her chest, she took her nails into the leather as she could feel the pounding in her chest. Why was this sudden appearance of another person making her feel uneasy was it the fact that was late at night or was it the fact that she was all alone on a platform and her imagination began to play tricks on her, whatever it was its sparked her paranoia. Digging inside her bag she wanted to be prepared even if it was just her mind, she took out her pepper spray and was ready to act if it came down to it. Knowing it wasn't a long hallway darling she didn't have long she stood up an aimed her pepper spray but as the sound was about to reach the platform no body appeared.

Waiting for what seemed like hours she then began to pluck up the courage and peek around the corner. She took it step by step slowly as she predicted this body who owned these pair of boots was waiting around the corner and wanted to jump her at a surprise. Inhaling deeply, she peeked her head around the corner and surprisingly there was no body just the grimy-looking hallway with the above lights that were flickering on and off. Trying to rationalize the whole scene she chalked it up to her mind playing tricks on her as it had been a long day, and she was quite tired.

Just then a train approached the platform, and a great sigh of relief escaped her body as she was fondly about to head home. As the door was open Claudia Hastily made her way onto the train and took a seat away from the door. The raspy voice over the intercom announced the closing of the doors and with it the train took off. The train, though large, didn't seem to have another person as a passenger, quite odd she did not think much of it. Travelling for a few minutes the train then abruptly halted, throwing Claudia forward on her seat. As the train stopped the intercom turned back on instead of the high pitch full voice that was normally broadcast an almost animalistic sound took its place. It frightened Claudia so much that she stood up and made her way to the back of the train hoping to find someone or at least open the emergency door to get back to the platform.

About to leave her carriage, something made her turn around though she wished she never gave in to this inkling. The doors were seen through what she witnessed was delights to the top carriage turning off and with the darkness came a pair of white eyes. A feeling inside of her told her to get off the train to break the glass if she needed to but she had to get off the train. Panicking, she ran down the carriages, finding not a soul but instead the darkness continued to follow her and with the appearance of the white eye came with it the sound of the heavy boot she heard earlier on the platform. Not wanting to stay any longer she got to the last carriage and tried pulling on the emergency door trying with all her might it would not budge. As panic set into her chest, she turned around and saw that the eyes had stopped the carriage before hers. The eyes himself reminded her of jackdaws, those small little birds they felt as though they were studying every inch of her.

Taking her heel, she managed to break the glass but had cut herself in the process of unlocking the door she was about to jump onto the rail lines but turned back for one more look. The eyes they had vanished and the lights all around turned back on in the previous carriages. Feeling the train move she did not know if it was safe to return or to simply jump. Unfortunately, she did not have time to think before a figure jumped through the emergency door and pinned down Claudia.

The last thing she saw was the pair of white eyes staring back at her with the pale complexions of a creature with teeth small yet sharp plunging into her neck. The ripping of flash along with the accompanying of growls and animal covered up the ear pierced screams of Claudia.

The train stopped at the next platform and waiting for it were two people waiting patiently accompanied by plastic bags and a mop. The doors opened and with it presented a freshly coated masterpiece. Dark Crimson blood stained the walls of the carriage still oozing in heavy droplets, pieces of organs draped the railings hung like party banners all the way down. Walking out of the carriage the person who created this mess dragged with him the upper half of Claudia’s body, her face permanently scarred with fear, flesh and bone still visible from her ripped torso, so you dragged her along onto the vacant platform.

“You could have made this kill a lot cleaner than it had to be this is going to take all night to clean” stranger number one set as he groaned in annoyance in the aftermath.

“I didn't feel like snapping her neck I wanted the thrill of the hunt I wanted to feel her heart beat her panic her fear it makes the blood ever so sweeter” the white eyes man spoke swiping away the blood from around his lips.

“Stop bickering and let's get this over with. This time you saved some flash” stranger number two spoke.

“What can I say Big Brother always provides for his family.”

[bunnyboo77]

The Mad King's Bride Chapter 5

Aerys who is now in his own chambers sitting with his eyes fixed on the secret people through which he watched Francesca. She stood among the other servants, her beauty shining like a beacon at midst the mundane surroundings of the bathing area. Aerys obsession for her was growing by the day a twisted desire that consumed his every waking thought.

He watched as she was tended to by the other women, with their hands grazing her skin with a gentle touch that sent a surge of jealousy coursing through him. The king loved the thought of anyone else laying a hand on what he considered to be his, even if it was another woman. Watching every detail as the servants removed her grubby garments showed her soft gentle skin that was coated in patches of dirt. The very thought of dirt being on her skin was an absolute disgrace to her beauty. The king made note of every curve every freckle every blemish that lay upon her skin. As she gently lowered herself into the metal bath the King's vision was obstruct it from seeing francescas beautiful curves. The light moans escaping her mouth as she lowered herself peaked the King's ears as if it was music to him.

In his dreams Francesca haunted him her image imprinted on his mind like it was branded with a hot iron. She appeared before him clad in the colours of his house a vision of beauty that both entranced and tormented him. Her eyes shone with a light that seemed to Pierce through his soul igniting a fire of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

Abruptly the king was entranced with the scene before him women anointing her skin with oil as two washed up and down her arms and legs though he could see that she wanted to pull away as the servants got lower down her body.

“Ohh my darling soon no one will touch your beautiful skin only me and I promise you you will never want to pull away from me whether you like it or not”

Considering he had watched her long enough the king close the hidden peep hole. As he got up from his chair two servant girls entered the room their faces blank and devoid of expression. They were here to wash and dress the king as he himself was getting ready for the first of many nights with his darling Francesca.

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As the servants washed and dried Francesca adoring lavish dress was then presented to her. The dress itself was mainly red with trimmings of black running through the center of the dress with golden thread. The dress itself was exquisite and fitted her body perfectly, and she ran her hands through the dress the silk was nothing she'd ever touched before in her life. It felt almost like a dream but she knew it was not a dream but a nightmare.

“This dress is it's beautiful” she said hoping to start a conversation with one servant girl.

Not getting any response back she dared not open her mouth again as even though she's with others she feels alone in this world. Guided to the vanity her hair was brushed and then gracefully half braided that was all hold together with beautiful pins of flowers. The flower pins reminded her of the flowers in the gardens she would secretly walked through when she was not busy in the kitchens or anywhere else. How odd she thought her favorite flowers though no one could have known this.

As the servants finished with her makeup and hair they said not a word and vowed exiting the room.

As she paced about the room her mind raised questions and doubts. Would she ever be able to escape the confines of the gilded cage in which she was trapped.

“Ohh what am I to do” Francesca muttered to herself her voice tinged with anxiety.

“How did I come to this fate to serve a king who sees me as nothing more than an object”

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The candles surrounding the table reflected the tearful eyes of the servents as they careful place each fork and knife in it place. The room was dressed as if it was expecting Lords of the land but instead it was set for the king and his new plaything. Aerys awaited Francesca in his lavish dining room a look for excitement in his eyes. He was eager to have such a beautiful maiden adore in his arm her presence a symbol of his power and wealth. As Francesca timely entered the room her eyes downcast and expression fearful, the King's gate swept over her taking in her beauty with possessive delight.

Francesca was now visibly wearing the sigil of the dragon the emblem of the King's house a stark reminder of her newfound position at his side. As the king drank in her body from head to toe he couldn't help wonder how the dress would look on his floor or rather that the table as he ripped pieces off her and took her right there and then. Fearing that she would reject him Aerys paced himself as he wanted her to want to be with him to be touched by him willingly. The depiction of her bouncing on top of him was his goal but he wanted her to want him in everywhere possible.

The king did not notice the fear in her eyes as he ushered her towards the beautiful lady table adorned with an array of sumptuous foods and wines, rose water Shimmered in the candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. Francesca and if curiosity rose her eyes never has she seen so much sumptuous items laid before her in one place not counting the time she was expected to serve people in the grand hall.

As the king made his way towards Francesca, he gently escorted her to the lavish seat beside his own. Seemingly he was acting with such kindness and grace that itself was unknown to even himself.

“Before we sit my darling I do have a gift for you I had it made especially for someone as beautiful and radiant as you” the king spoke while taking a box that was placed in front of her chair. Teen presented with a gift was something huge Francesca as she grew up in a poor village she was not one for receiving gifts other than the wooden toys that was crafted by her father that was given every name day.

Hesitant to open the box Francesca knew if she didn't she would risk enraging the king for not accepting his gift. Pulling the bow the box opened by itself and presented in front of her was a gold chain necklace of which had a three headed black dragon with rubies in their eyes.

Francesca's eyes widened at the gift that was presented to her.

“Your majesty this is such a thoughtful gift and I appreciate such a kind gesture that you have made towards me, but a servant like me could never except something like this from you”.

With those words spoken the hope in his eyes faded and were replaced by rage.

“Nonsense you are no longer a servant you are my personal companion and I deem what is worthy for whoever whether that be gifts titles or even sentences”

with that last turn of phrase Francesca knew she had to paint on a smile and accept the King's offering.

“My apologies your majesty I did not mean to offend you only that I was never gifted with anything like this before, please forgive my rude behavior”.

With that trouble sees turned calm and the king took the necklace from the box placing it around her neck. The touch of his fingers around her collarbone sent a shiver down her spine but she did not want to show a reaction. Francesca could feel the boniness of his fingers as he ran through down the back of her neck.

Want you not to scare her he graciously took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it and spoke with such gentle words” shall we my dear the food is getting cold”.

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It had been an hour into dinner and already Francesca spoke with simple words with the yes or no with the King's never ending questions. Where did she grow up did she have siblings what is her favorite and least favorite things.  

“My dear have you any brothers or sisters” thinking spoke with Joey and his eyes.

“No your majesty”she said.

“Have you any interest such as reading writing cooking” he spoke.

“no your majesty” she spoke.

Growing rather tired of her simple questions the king rose from his chair grabbed her throat of which he brought his face close to hers their nose touching ever so slightly.

“My dear you interest me but I have to say my interest will disappear if you speak like a simpleton”

with that he released her throat and she began choking. The act itself made something stir in his breaches. A soft pinging which he remembered he felt when he gazed in her doe eyes.

“I know this life my dear may seem like a prison but I assure you the prisons that are in this world far worse than the ones you will have with me” he spoke sipping on his cup.

“I shall give you time but I will grow impatient and I want you willing to be mine in both mind soul” and leaning closer to her ear he spoke  “and body” licking the corner of her earlobe.

“Please no” she spoke staring at the lust filled eyes

[bunnyboo77]

The Mad King's Bride Chapter 4

The sweet sound of laughter echoed in the halls, strong sense of oil wafted through the room as Aurora and Heidi we're busy sorting through piles of clothes that were left on the bench.

“You must tell me more Francesca I want to know more about what happened after the festivities” Heidi inquired like a curious little girl.

That night was not magical to say the least, in fact Francesca found it's quite odd. The hall in fact was decorated beautifully, tables were filled with the most sensational smells their tables were filled with flowers of fast colors and high noble ladies were decorated in such styles and materials that you can only dream of.

“True it was full of color and dancing and music, but I couldn't help but feel that everyone around was acting strange.”

Heidi scoffed at Francesca’s remark thinking she had just been paranoid. For as long as they had known each other, which was quite long as they grew up in the same village, Heidi has always seen Francesca as someone who is paranoid about everything. Though staring at her friend, she couldn't help but feel this was something more than paranoia, something more that was bothering her to the point where she felt like fear was wrapping around her heart.

She then approached Francesca and gently placed her hand on her shoulder “my dear friend what is troubling you and there's no point denying it I see that much in your eyes”.

Sighing, Francesca knew she couldn't keep anything hidden from her friend “truth be told the ball was grand it was quite exquisite to be honest but the thing that is really troubling me is with the king”.

Raising an eyebrow, Heidi couldn't understand what she meant after all her friend was still standing before her alive instead of hanging from the castle walls as a lifeless corpse.

“What do you mean I thought you had done an excellent job after all you're still alive today”.

Looking to the side Francesca couldn't explain to her what it was she was feeling. Closing her eyes she can still see the intense stare the king gave her the way his rough hands gripped her wrist and how even though it was not highly noticeable to the other guests around she could feel the way his hands would stroke her arm and slightly whisper “so soft”.

“I guess you're right it's just how he acted towards me that made me feel uneasy” Francesca said grabbing one end of a bed sheet. Thinking she is over dramatizing the event Heidi grabs the other and says, “you were just nervous that night after all the King's reputation what's scary even is skeleton”. Abruptly laughter escaped Francesca ‘s lips as did her friends which again filled the empty silence of the room.

She can always count on her friend Heidi to put her mind at ease. She had always been there for her even when they were children though she couldn't really think of her as her friend anymore, she was more like her sister as her family took her in and they were raised together. It was in fact nervous that was getting to her as she was pushed into the position of cupbearer by the head kitchen matron Marguerite.

As the two girls continued the rest of the bedding, which quite frankly was a pain to sort and organize. The loud clattering of metal hitting together was becoming more noticeable the closer it got to the doorway. Soon enough two guards burst through the doors and without speaking grabbed Francesca's arm harshly. Before she could even think about what was happening, she was dragged kicking and screaming after the kitchens with her friends screams becoming distant.

“Let me go you pricks” Francesca screamed as she tried hitting one of the guards but only injured her hands as she banged against his back armor.

Continuing to hit and scream, her efforts did not affect the guards as they continued their way up the stairs avoiding the young girl's questioning. As she was about to speak once more her journey through the halls stopped and without a word was taken inside the room and abruptly thrown onto the large canopy bed.

Launching off the large bed Francesca bolted for the door but unfortunately closed unlocked before even laying her hands on the doorknob. Screaming and hitting the wooden door, Francesca's words continued to be John answered.

Francesca couldn't help but wonder why she was out of all the people in the castle taken.  Feeling nerves slowly creeping in, she then began to pull on the doorknob but unfortunately was unsuccessful at her attempt. Sliding down the door in the feet the young maiden then began to weep silently in her hands. She did not think this was how her life would end.

Rising herself from the floor she then began to take in her surroundings. It did escape her notice when she was first brought in but the room in which he was imprisoned in who's that of luxury. The grandeur of the room snapped her out of her sorrow and nervousness that plagued her mind. The room is adorned in rich opulent fabrics of deep burgundy and gold. The walls are covered in tapestries depicting scenes of Knights and battle and regal courts being held. The floor is layered with plush rugs in jewel tones adding to the cozy and luxurious feel of the space.

Francesca then ran her hands onto the bedding, which she was abruptly thrown onto is it. It was a grand four poster with intricate carved wooden dragons’ details. It is dripped in sumptuous velvet curtains allowing for privacy and a sense of seclusion Which she wanted to feel in this moment. The bedding is a mix of soft linens and heavy brocade providing both comfort and warmth during cold nights. The soft fabrics were those of nothing she's ever felt in her life.

Next to the bed sits an ornate carved vanity adorned with silver candlesticks and mirrors framed in gold. The vanity is filled with handcrafted jars of sweetly scented lotions and potions along with brushes made of fine Bristol’s and polished silver Combs. A small silver tray holds decorative crystal balls of perfumes and oils adding a touch of luxury to the space. She could not help each bottle she took in her hand she brought closer to smell the sweet spicy tones of the perfume’s creams and other concoctions in the jars.

Stepping away from vanity, her eyes met what she longed for at that moment. In the center of the room is a large wooden table surrounded by high backed chairs upholstered in rich red velvet. The table is laden with platters of fresh fruit and cheese along with goblets of wine and pitchers of water. The room is filled with the cozy warmth of the nearby fireplace where a fire warms the space and casts a soft glow over the room.

As dear Francesca was about to pick up an apple the doors to the chamber song opened and the young girl's heart raced in anticipation of the King's arrival. She had heard tales of his reputation, of his fearsome demeanor and unwavering power as well as the ever-growing madness soon to take over his mind. As he entered the room his presence was as imposing as she had imagined.

The King's eyes bore into hers and she instinctively took a step back, fear creeping into her every nerve. Though to her surprise instead of anger or dismissal the King's lips curled into a faint smile. He found her fear amusing a mere amusement in his grand court.

“You intrigue me young one” the King's voice boomed through the chamber causing the girl to quiver slightly. “Your boldness is starting to catch my eye has not gone unnoticed”.

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief as the king continued to speak his words commanding attention and respect. They spoke of how she had been cured his interest, how her present had ignited a curiosity within him that he could not easily shake.

Continuing not to say anything, his slight smile only grew wider. “And so, I have decided” the king declared his voice ringing out with authority. “You are to be mine and mine alone. No one else should have claimed over you for you have captured my attention in a way few have done before”.

Francesca's mind was raised with confusion and fear. She was but a humble servant, a temporary mirror cupbearer who had crossed paths with royalty for a fleeting moment. How could she now be claimed by the king himself to be at his back and call.

But as she looked into the King's eyes, she saw something beyond the harsh exterior, a glimmer of something more. Beneath the veneer of power and control is a flicker of humanity and the vulnerability that spoke to her in ways she could not explain.

And so, as the king extended his hand towards her, she hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, her fate now entwined with his. In that instant the young servant became more than just a mere slave to royalty. She became a part of the King's court, a figure of intrigue and mystery and a world filled with power and passion.

As the King's hand closed ran her sealing their fates together, Francesca knew that her life would never be the same again. She had captured the attention of a king and now she stood on the precipice of a new and uncertain future.

“No, my sweet shall we sit I want to hear everything there is to know about my sweet Francesca.”