#Ogre Enchanted

[thesweetnessofspring]

Char in Ella Enchanted: If Ella won't marry me, I'm not going to get married. 😤

Wormy in Ogre Enchanted: If Evie won't marry me, I'm not going to get married. 😣

[illustratus]

Jack and the Beanstalk

[i-like-polls]

*I am not using these as gendered terms.

I am using Witch as a practitioner who is born with magic and expands upon it with written spells/rituals.

I am using Wizard/Sorcerer as someone typical who has chosen to practice magic through written spells/rituals.

**Enchanter/Enchantress being focused on glamor magic and hypnosis.

[fortunatefires]

Anytime I try to do something relaxing that ogre from ella enchanted pops into my head saying "We lived in peace during his reign, why would we kill him?" And this fact plagues me

[tsuma-senju]

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who only cares about winning, even if he has to be the biggest asshole in the world, ignoring anything other than the next fight.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who runs away from interviews like the plague, flinching in his chair as he hears the usual inane questions. His manager, a man blessed by heaven to be able to put up with the fighter's persistently optimistic mood, tries to keep his composure, but every dry, monosyllabic answer from Sukuna makes the sweat drip down his temple.

“Sukuna, how are you preparing for the fight against the Thai champion?”

“Training”

“Any new strategies?”

“Fighting”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who was forced to be there against his will, stands up abruptly. The photographers are startled by the movement. The businessman tries to reach him, desperate.

"Sukuna! No! Only ten minutes to go!"

But it's no use. The champion is already leaving, with heavy, irritated steps, while the security guards try to clear the way. He ignores shouts, cameras, microphones and questions. And off he goes, towards the underground parking lot

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who is itching to get in and disappear in his matte black sports car.

He gets into the vehicle, starts the engine with a furious roar and begins to maneuver without paying much attention.

That's when you appear.

You, completely distracted, holding your cell phone and a shopping bag that almost falls to the ground.

The roar of the engine makes you look back, but it's too late.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, driving like an impatient ogre, almost runs you over.

“ARE YOU CRAZY, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!” you shout, slamming your palm down hard on the car window. “WHAT KIND OF IDIOT RUNS OUT OF THE PARKING LOT LIKE THAT?!”

You're furious. Your blood is boiling. Without even thinking about it, you're already hitting the bodywork harder.

"GET OUT OF THAT FUCKING CAR NOW! YOU IGNORANT"

The window starts to roll down. You're still huffing and puffing, indignant and ready to curse, until you see... him.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who is enchanted by your courage and audacity, appears like a huge shadow inside the car. His red eyes stare into yours as if studying you. The crooked smile at the corner of his mouth reveals that he is not in the least annoyed. On the contrary... he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Are you always like this?” he asks, getting out of the car with an annoying calmness and a body that makes the ground seem smaller.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who exudes imposing bearing, stretches himself to the maximum as he gets out of the car. His muscles bulge out from under his tight T-shirt, the tattoos decorating his arms like a dangerous map. You take two steps back, still holding the shopping bag as if it were a weapon.

"I-I... look, I'm sorry, okay? I... I thought you were some rich slacker"

“Technically, I am,” he replies, running his tongue over his teeth, approaching as if he were in a ring. “But your reaction... It was interesting”

Now that the initial shock has worn off, you realize who this is. Your eyes widen, the name slips out of your mouth like a secret:

"Ryomen Sukuna? The muai thai world champion?"

He shrugs.

"It depends. If I tell you no, will you keep shouting at me?"

You let out a nervous laugh, putting your hand to your forehead.

“Oh my God... I almost insulted you”

“Almost? You did” He smiles wider.

You try to apologize in every way, stumbling over your words, mixing up “I'm sorry”, “I really am sorry”, and “I didn't mean to”. But he raises a hand, cutting your apology in half.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't care about flattery or apologies, looks at you with a sharp look and says:

"Do you really want to apologize? Then give me your number."

You freeze.

“What?”

"That's it. Give me your number. I won't insist, but it would be a shame to let this story end in the parking lot."

You stare at him for a moment. He's not joking. And honestly? Maybe you're not either.

You take out your cell phone, type in your number and hand it over. He types something into his cell phone, and soon after, you receive a message:

Unknown number: "If I win the next fight, you owe me a coffee. If I lose... too. ;) - Sukuna."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who gives you one last look before heading back to his car. Leaving you standing there, staring at your cell phone screen and trying to understand what the hell just happened.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who never gets distracted by anything outside the ring, didn't expect to fall in love with a woman he almost ran over in the parking lot. In front of the strong-tempered woman, drinking a coffee that he certainly won't let her pay for.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who, a few months later, is standing in the room he himself prepared with red petals scattered everywhere, lit candles emitting his favorite scent, the one you once mentioned casually one afternoon and he memorized as if it were the next technique that would save his life in the ring.

You open the front door thinking you're just going to find Sukuna grumpy and sweaty after training. But when you step inside, everything changes. The light is low, the sweet, familiar smell envelops you, and there, in the center of it all, is him, that man no one dares to contradict, holding a discreet ring in his calloused hand, as if it were made of glass.

"I almost ran you over," he begins, with that crooked, insolent smile, "and ever since then, I've never wanted you to get out of my way. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to be cold, rough and averse to any sentimentality, now wants to hide you from the press because you're his little, and not at all defenseless, girlfriend. The woman who shouted at him without fear and who now sleeps on his chest every night. And he keeps it as a precious secret. For months, no one knows he's with someone. You live behind the scenes, away from the spotlight, safe and loved.

When you ask, he replies with the same expression as always:

"Next question."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who marries you a year later. It was a simple, private ceremony, with no paparazzi or magazine covers. The only flashes were from close friends and family. But there was too much sincerity in that exchange of vows. He wore a suit, his hair neatly combed, and a look that seemed ready to cry, even if he would never admit it.

"I'm yours. Forever. Even when I'm far away. Even when my fists are closed. Even when life wants to beat me down... you'll be the only thing that keeps me standing."

You cried. He held your hand tightly. And when you were pronounced husband and wife, the world stopped for a few seconds.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who has a dry, impersonal Instagram, with only training videos, photos with medals and short phrases like “ready” or “focus”. But one day, he surprised all of his almost six million followers with something no one expected.

One photo. No caption. Three hands.

His, scarred, rough, with knuckles hardened from so many punches.

Yours, soft, smooth, resting on top of his.

And between them, a chubby, innocent little hand, grasping Sukuna's finger as if it already knew it was safe there.

The comments explode.

“Is he a FATHER?” “Is this photo real???” “STOP THE WORLD I NEED INFORMATION” “Someone warn me that Sukuna has become a dilf”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't give interviews about his personal life, remains silent. He deactivates the comments hours later. He leaves the image there, alone, saying everything he will never put into words.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who could never have imagined that his life would change completely in four years, now wakes up at dawn to hold a baby on his lap. He sings, walks down the dark corridor with slow, careful steps, and holds the child like he holds his own heart in his hands.

He finds himself looking at you, sleeping exhausted after another difficult night, and feels his chest tighten with love.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, so no one can hear.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to think only of winning, now measures victories in quiet cries, small laughs and kisses on the top of your head.

He is still the champion. He is still feared. He still fights like a demon when he's in the octagon.

But at home, he's just the man who can't stop thanking you.

For you. For the baby. For the life he never planned to have, but which has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

[beingjellybeans]

Shrek's Swamp: A Fairytale Adventure on Airbnb

In the heart of the Scottish Highlands, nestled among the picturesque hills, lies a moss-covered sanctuary that holds a unique enchantment – Shrek’s Swamp. This Halloween, Donkey, the ever-chatty and beloved character from DreamWorks Animation’s SHREK, is temporarily taking charge of the swamp. In a delightful twist, he’s opening the doors to fairytale enthusiasts, inviting them to live like an…

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 .

# with roronoa zoro.

zoro feared the prospect of sex, for his cock was much too large for comfort. you made sure to reassure him on the contrary.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day two. smut (mdni). cock worship. deepthroat. oral (male receiving). afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

zoro was a sizable man. he was neither towering nor lean, more often than not short in comparison to the opponents he faced in the new world. his height remained above average for a common man, yet it was not length that made him; it was width. one had no need for a ten foot stature if the forethought disadvantage happened to be compensated with strength — and that was the one thing zoro did not lack in. muscles the size of a head and a body made for largeness, it was of no surprise that the same statement applied to his cock.

zoro was not prone to over-compensating competition with other men when it came to size, however, whenever the shitty cook was concerned, he was not beyond it either. sharing baths was a common activity, and he’d be caught dead before admitting to checking curly’s length — but he did. sanji was longer; whereas zoro was larger. he figured the other man’s cock would slide easier, cause less struggle, and when such thought traveled to you, zoro’s mood was quick to sour.

his yearning was nowhere near hidden. eyes trailed to your figure; a never-ending hunger; the redoubled effort to protect you alone. wasted months as a pirate-hunter, previous to the acceptance of an offer that would grant him the iridescent value of life, were but a blur of steel and blood; the meaningless pursuit of foreordained woe. a famished beast wielding sharp canines was unfit to claim the passionate touch of another, for it was meant to maim rather than to sooth. yet, under the golden grace of his captain’s command, zoro had become neither a hound nor a fiend. he was the fierce protector; the shield and the sword that soared above those deserving of his strength.

the acceptance of such character had cost him months of lonesome pondering. yearning for one he could not have; finding himself an ogre daring to dream about a deity’s kiss. being separated from the crew had countless disadvantages, but perhaps distance could present a cure for the enchantment you had placed on him.

he was — as expected — wrong.

the castle zoro had been sent to was one of many hallways and rooms, ensuring considerable privacy if one was to disconsider the ghost woman’s antics. whenever he was spent from training, a phantom at night secured under covers, his hand would trail itself to his aching cock, testing the waters; finding what pleased him the most.

you’d then invade his thoughts as though a promise of heavenly bliss. his hands were rougher; calluses born from a life of sword-wielding. his grip was brutal; his pace relentless. the length not fitting quite well around his palm, inches left uncovered. zoro would lose himself in the image of your struggle — tear-stained face and wide-opened mouth, the recurrent effort of swallowing him whole. he’d picture his hands on your head; your nose against his pubic hair. zoro would then rut his hips, pleasure born from the sound of your gagging, muffled by his cock. you’d whine and scratch at the flesh of his thighs; a trail of thin, pale, rose marking the muscles as yours to ruin. glossy eyes aimed at him, spit dripping down your chin. his bliss thereafter would be thundering, and though his load would cascade from his restless palm to his abdomen, zoro dreamt that it was meeting your tongue and face instead; coating your figure with spurs of white.

the act was recurrent. two years coated in training and masturbating. re-encountering you — the muse whose sacredness he dreamt of ruining —, zoro failed to return to the previous camaraderie. he withstood but six agonizing days before claiming your lips on the crow’s nest, the pent-up desire clouding logic. yet, the you from his subconscious — fucked-up, writhing, struggling — proved to be easier to ruin. zoro struggled to convey the idea of doing it so to the real you, meaning that, while your relationship was anything but cold, it wasn’t as passionate as you’d figured would be.

zoro feared his length to be an unwanted monstrosity; an overbearing amount of flesh. you were eager to prove him wrong.

his usual nightwatch approached, accompanied by guaranteed six hours of alone-time with your swordsman. when zoro reached the crow’s nest, a bottle of cheap sake in hand, and found you sitting the couch with a sly glint to your eyes, he seemed conflicted — both fearful and excited. you tapped on the cushion, and he grinned in faux confidence upon his approach.

zoro’s teeth dug on the cork and he spat it out, drowning his nervousness with awful-tasting alcohol. a solitaire string slipped past his parted lips to drip down his chain, a droplet of it resting on his clothed thigh. your fingers gripped the fabric of your shorts, not quite enough to contain the desire.

“how was your day?” he inquired, amused by your reaction.

“solid, nothing worth-sharing,” you rasped, glancing at his lips. “what about yours?”

“it’s better now,” he answered, intonation carrying a smoothness enough to leave you flustered.

zoro grabbed a fistful of your thigh before guiding your legs to his lap, making himself a tool for your rest. another swig; a renewed cascate of alcohol sailing through the rough seas of tanned skin.

“came to sleep with me?” zoro teased, tapping his fingers on your leg without proper rhythm. it was a double-edged sword hidden amidst inoffensive silk; ambiguous inquiry meant to embarrass, for he had never dared to surrender to lust. yet.

“trying to, but you’re a hard shell to crack,” you blurted, fearing the possible loss of bravery.

the bottle hovered mid-path; damp glass meeting chapped lips. zoro held himself with certain astonishment, unplaced doubt whose roots you could not find. he cleared his throat, perhaps pondering on a suitable approach for subject shift. you were swifter, readjusting the angle of your legs in order to sit on his lap.

zoro’s heartbeat was a wild flutter of butterfly wings under the touch. he shuddered when your lips were dragged through the flesh, tender kisses with warm tongue following-in-suit. you resisted the urge to recoil at the bitter taste of sake, smearing your palate as you wiped his chin clean. you blew a gust of air over his earrings, teeth around cheap gold.

his free, calloused palm gripped the covered flesh of your ass, the back of his head resting on the wall as zoro guided your movements; a grunt at the leisure roll of your hips.

your fingers toyed with the hems of his kimono, parting it open. the sleeves hang on his forearms before zoro freed his upper figure from the fabric altogether, allowing it to pool on his hips. your lips left a trail of kisses in its wake, hickeys drawn from his collarbone to the thin, large, scarred tissue on his chest. zoro groaned, muffling a pathetic moan with the swallowing of sake.

your figure retreated, coating his flesh with saliva, adoring the sword-wound who had once been fresh and bloodied, skin relinquishing to another’s blade. the scar was a symbol of his survival; the token of his dream. zoro had not once seen it past the image of strength, unable to convey it as an object worth-loving. yet, your lips held nothing but fondness, and that had been his uttermost undoing.

zoro’s cock hardened, a constant poking under the weight of your ass. his hips rutted after a particular swirl of tongue around his nipple, and he grew desperate; a tender attempt to nudge you away.

your fists clenched around his muscles, face pressed against his chest. you looked up at him, a voice coated in confusion. “what is the matter?”

zoro’s lips parted, yet his voice was lost when a particular roll of your hips dragged your cunt above his aching cock. his eyes trailed down to the covered bulge, breathless at the idealization of what was to come.

“zoro,” you hummed, brushing your cheek against his muscular frame.

“it’s too large,” he grunted, gripping the bottle. “you will hurt.”

you were confused, biting it down. the frustrating hesitation from his part; the absence of lustful touches. for the briefest instances, you were drawn to believe that he deemed you unattractive. yet, all could be resumed by his fear of bringing you pain. it was adorable, although not what you had the need for whatsoever. for there was a looming beast, starved and yearning for a decent prey.

“of course it will,” you grinned, aiming to provoke the creature under the man. “you would be a disappointment otherwise.”

his demeanor shifted, tenderness vanishing amidst a gust of wind. zoro leaned back, drowning down a considerable amount of sake. he raised an eyebrow; challenging, demanding.

“what are you waiting for?” he grunted, gripping the back of your head; tearing your face off his warmth. “get on your knees and work.”

your legs clenched at the command, and your figure slipped to the ground; knees pressed against the harsh wood. your figure arched, so as to offer him the clear sight of your ass. zoro grunted, pressing your face against his covered member.

“don’t make me spell it out for you,” he rasped, curling his fingers in a bruising grip. “strip me.”

zoro made no efforts to aid you in such a task. you undid the knot of his kimono; tugged on his haramaki; removed his pants and underwear all but enough to witness the sight of his leaking shaft slapping against his abdomen.

he was not one to trim. the extension was curved; prominent veins twitching the second you had licked your lips. the tip was of violent swolleness, urging to be touched. the source of previous apprehension shone clearer, for zoro — although not quite as long —, was far larger; enough to stuff your mouth full.

“done watchin’?” he mocked, wiping a drop of sake from the corner of his lips. “all bark and no bite?”

he was offered a glint of faux innocence, your lips parting to produce yet another provocation. zoro had clutched the opportunity then, shoving his member inside, groaning at the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him.

a snap of his hips had pushed his length further, his tip brushing the back of your throat. you gagged, overcome with shock. tears rolled down your cheeks, and you struggled against his grip, a failed attempt at retreat. zoro pushed you back, suffocating your nose with his pubic hair; halting the flux of air with his cock. you moaned around him, squirming under his strength.

“look at you,” he cooed, caressing your chin with his thumb. “wasn’t i the one at risk to disappoint? can’t handle it, can you?”

obscured spots overcame the crystalline tears, clouded vision and an aching head as you were drawn closer to unconsciousness. zoro laughed, pulling you back. your burning chest filled itself with oxygen, desperate gasps and coughs all but amusing him further.

“open up,” he snapped, inserting a thumb inside your mouth and parting your jaw. zoro angled the bottle and poured sake on your tongue, liquid-fire igniting your throat. once he had enough, he pushed your chin up, forcing your lips sealed. “swallow.”

you obeyed, a slap of his cock meeting the side of your face. he teased his tip on the entrance of your mouth, gripping your nape. you gave him the desired access, and without an inch of hesitation, zoro filled you with his cock. no longer unused to his largeness, you began with swirling movements of your tongue, wetting the twitching veins; hollowing your cheeks to increase the pressure.

zoro groaned with unthought loudness, raising his hips to force himself deeper. one hand massaged his ball; nails dug on his thigh, scratching the surface, fresh blood pouring from the muscular flesh. his tip teased your uvula, returning to the tip of your tongue before reaching the end yet again. the up-and-down bobbing of your head was a constant; repetitive sounds of your gagging.

spit dripped down your chin, the salt of his essence nudging your palate. zoro chugged down the remaining sake, moaning as he glanced at your tear-stricken face; sweat and spit and pre-cum maiming the sculpture of your being.

“ngh— ‘m close,” he warned, snapping his hips and forcing himself further, uncaring as to whether or not you had relaxed your throat to receive his largeness.

you hummed around him, shutting your eyes in order to appreciate the entirety of his bliss. zoro snarled, snapping. “don’t you dare close your eyes. i want you to see me.”

your lungs burned, pooled tears. zoro was but a hazed image, though you could see the pleased glint in his eyes, the face contorting with the thrill of desire.

“you will swallow,” he stated, his head falling into the wall. zoro clenched the muscles of his abdomen, offering you a clear sight of his bobbing throat. “you’re close to passing out, aren’t you? i will fuck you unconscious if you do.”

you whimpered, failing to nod as zoro’s load drowned your throat and tongue. swallowing it all was but impossible, multiple strings of white dripping past your lips; traveling down your chin and throat. the removal of his cock left your mouth oddly empty, and zoro dragged your body to his lap, pressing you against his figure. he placed a hand above your chest, guaranteeing that your heart and breathing were steadying.

zoro’s thumb pushed his essence yet again into your mouth, humming when you offered him the sight of your tongue, stained with his cum.

“not a disappointment at all,” he mused, kissing your temple. “i wonder, does your cunt stretch as much as your mouth?”

— 🐈‍⬛ : zoro fuck my mouth challenge. happy second day of kinktober!

[lyonnerileyauthor]

decided on a whim today that I'm going to make both of my ogre novellas free for a bit! mostly because I love ogres.

Tempting the Ogre's Heart

Enchanting the Ogre's Heart

I do recommend reading them in that order, as the hero of Enchanting appears at the end of Tempting.

This is Aliya and Grunagg from Tempting!

Here's Norgren and Tally from Enchanting!

There's lots of stretching and stuffing, language barrier, and a bit of some wartime themes.

[dragons-and-princes]

Before people start sowing more Discourse over Cinderella’s Castle, let me remind you that the entire premise is rooted in Classic Fairytale Tropes. Specifically One-Dimensional Villains, Good and Evil Magical Creatures, and Shapeshifters, in this case.

Historically, yes, the origination of Trolls likely has unsavory roots -I’m not claiming it does or doesn’t because I’m no expert- and potentially they could’ve used some other magical creature, but Trolls are essentially the staple of evil (and if its not trolls, its Ogres) in fairytales along with the wicked stepmother trope.

[They also show up in other Cinderella retellings such as Ella Enchanted! So I think it’s unfair to criticize Starkid as if they wrote the script in bad faith.]

Keeping with that note, it’s also very common for the Gorgeous, but evil, Stepmother to use magic to hide her true self but shapeshift into her true form during nefarious deeds to show that she may be beautiful but she’s wicked on the inside; this is portrayed both in novels and media as a quick and straightforward to convey a message to the primary audience for fairytales (usually children lbvs) that a character is BAD. [Think Ursula using magic to steal Ariel’s voice and masquerading as a desirable human, but turning into a giant version of her Squid form during the final confrontation.]

I’ve seen arguments that the Stepmother and Sisters being Trolls using human flesh to hide amongst the villagers as humans is Transphobic, but there is no suggestion that the trolls stop being women when they reveal themselves as trolls. There’s quite a few lines between the trolls about the the stepmother being a woman such as a joke about painful labor with one of the girls, and how romance between men and women is different between humans and trolls

I know in our current day and age, nothing can exist on the internet without someone calling it problematic or picking it apart; and that’s the price we all pay for putting ourselves out on a public forum, especially as artists.

But I think it’s important to use critical thinking and media literacy with these things. It’s also important to sometimes just take a day and enjoy things as they are, flaws and all, because you know there were was no ill intent behind its creation and the musical has only been on the internet for a day.

Let it settle before you start tearing it apart, please.

[thesweetnessofspring]

So SOTR made me brave in that I finally started reading Ogre Enchanted, companion novel to my favorite childhood book Ella Enchanted (I put it off because the love interest's name is Wormy) and it's so interesting because in SOTR it's like:

There are her parents!🥰 they're going to make our favorite girl! 🥰 and then one will die! 😭

Whereas in Ogre Enchanted it's:

There are her parents! 😠🥰 they're going to make our favorite girl! 😬🥰 and then one will die! 😭

Like NO ELEANOR DON'T MARRY HIM but also YES ELEANOR MARRY HIM WE NEED ELLA!

[jxckerbxtch]

FOREVER - Sandor Clegane 18+

A/N $ WARNINGS: takes place after the events of the last season of Game of Thrones. Sandor survived with a little help and finds himself in the hands of a witch with a soft spot for morally grey men that tower over her. smut, angst if you squint hard enough, size difference, y/n goes by Raven (kind of an oc tbh). They get a little drunk! Slight spoilers of the show!

Unedited :^)

Let me know if you liked it and feel free to give requests!

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The warm sun pushed through the dense canopy of leaves and warmed Sandor's face, waking him up from an impact induced sleep. His entire body ached, and it felt like he'd broken several bones from the lengthy fall he'd taken while fighting his brother. He winced at the sudden flashes of his brothers face in his mind, the feelings of relief mixed with mourning filling his chest. But those thoughts were quickly replaced by the realization that he wasn't in Kings Landing anymore. The trees above him stood taller, darker than those in the city. And he wasn't just laying on the ground, but instead he laid on the back of a wagon filled with herbs and food acting as his cushions.

"Finally awake, are we?" a soft, feminine voice lulled from the front of the wagon. Sandor tried to look at who it was that spoke but found it too painful to turn the way he needed, so he settled with looking at the trees above. He stayed silent, both wanting to yell at the woman for taking him to a strange place when he was too vulnerable to do anything about it, but grateful that he was (mostly) unharmed under her care thus far. Several minutes had passed before Sandor attempted to sit up, but was met with searing pain through his ribs and spine, letting out a low guttural groan. "Don't be foolish, you were nearly dead when i found you a couple days ago. Lay back down, in a couple of hours we will get to our destination."

Sandor wanted to lash out right then and there. Taking an order from a woman he doesn't know? And it's been days? Absolutely diabolical. But he understood that even in the presence of a woman, he was in no position to argue. With a heavy huff, he relaxed back into the sweet smell of her wagon and found himself dozing back into a deep, uncomfortable sleep.

The sun had started to set by the time Raven lead her horse and wagon into a small, easily miss-able clearing in the Haunted forest, splashing the sky in soft oranges and pinks that reflected off of the snow and illuminated the place with an elegant glow that looked otherworldly even to her. The silent, smelly man she'd come across while she had been caught in Kings Landing stayed soundly asleep with nothing more than a couple whispered enchanting words while she asked her half ogre servant to pick him up and carry him inside. At least half of her collections had been contaminated both by the smelly man and the fires that the dragon had caused while she was sneaking around the city. But that was something she'd take care of in the morning.

Klein set Sandor carefully on the small lounging couch by the fire burning in Raven's small hut, careful not to hurt him more than he already was, but watchful not to break his lady's things as well. "Fetch me a fresh pale of water, please. And warm it up over the pit outside before you bring it here." Raven stood by the couch, looking down at the dirty, half dead man before her. How he'd even woken up was beyond her, after the condition he was in when she found him, she half expected him to die sometime during her travel back home. And yet here he is, sleeping on her couch. 'How peaceful he looks, sleeping.' she thought to herself, admiring the burn scar and rugged way he looked.

She always found the beauty in broken things, and there was no other man alive more broken than this man.

It was a matter of minutes until Klein brought her a pail of perfectly warmed water and a fresh sponge made from wool and moss. The two of them spent the next couple of hours cleaning the man up, careful not to hurt him or inappropriately expose him. Once he was cleaned and his wounds dressed, she lifted her enchantment with a small wave of her hand and waited for the effects to ware off.

it wasn't until morning when Sandor finally woke up, feeling better both physically and mentally than when he'd woken up the day before, even if he'd been awake for just a few minutes. This time, his gaze met a wooden roof of yet another unfamiliar place. He glanced around him, finding that he was in a small, modest hut filled with herbs, animals furs, wooden furniture, and what looked to be a cauldron in one corner opposite of where he laid. "A witch." he grumbled to himself. "Great."

Looking over himself, he found that he was lying on a couch too small to properly hold him, his legs dangling over the armrest and his head resting on the other. He was cleaner than before, though his clothes hadn't been moved save for his shirt, which had been unbuttoned. All of his wounds were dressed, his ribs wrapped in tight linen, and one of his legs taped to two thick tree branches to hold his left shin straight. Even his left pinky and ring finger were wrapped in a splint and lathered in an unfamiliar, purple ointment that smell both minty and of flowers.

"I see you've woken up. Good to see you made it through the night." a woman spoke from next to the fireplace a foot and a half away from where his head lay. Had she been there this whole time? How didn't he notice her before? Sandor sat up as quickly as his aching body would allow him. "relax, I'm not going to hurt someone I've just spent the better of my night healing." She smiled sweetly and walked around so it was easier for Sandor to see her. Her hair fell past her waist in jet black, thick waves. Her dress showed years of ware and tear, but hung to her body perfectly. And her eyes, sharp and watchful as a fox, never left Sandor's face. For the first time ever, he felt like a prey sitting in front of it's predator, despite her being small enough he could lift her with one arm if he wanted too.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled, pulling himself to sit up more so he felt less threatened. Raven chuckled softly, a sound that was oddly soothing to Sandor despite his unfavorable position. "Just as you said. A Witch. A servant to Mother Nature as we know her. But you can call me Raven, Y/N of the Haunted Forest North of the wall of Ice."

Sandor's eyes grew wide at the knowledge he was beyond the wall. How? How did this little woman carry him into her hut? how did she bring him North of the wall without anyone seeing? How the fuck did he get here and why the fuck is he here to begin with? "Relax. The white walkers are gone, now. The free folk don't come around my part of the forest. And once you're at full health, you can leave if you like. After you are healed, however, and not a moment before."

"Like hell I'm staying here." Sandor was about to try and stand, but Raven looked at the door of her hut, causing Sandor to look as well. A large, ugly man that could be nothing other than a half ogre stood, ducked partially and glowering at him with a promise of consequences if Sandor disobeyed. He sat back in his seat and huffed, glowering at the small woman. He had no choice. He knew it. She knew it. Even the ogre knew it.

And so, he was stuck in the care of yet again, another stranger kind enough to care for a monster such as himself.

It took almost a month before Sandor could move without his ribs and back hurting. and another 4 months before he could walk without a limp. At the end of the 6th month, Sandor could finally lift things like he did before, and swing his sword like nothing had happened to begin with. During this time, he spent most of his days doing what little chores around the cabin to help keep himself busy, occasionally going out to hunt with the help of his the giant he now knew as Klein. Klein never said a word, and for that Sandor was greatful.

But Raven on the other hand. Though she never asked more than what he was capable of, he felt as though she was always watching. It took longer than he'd like to get used to her presence alone as a witch. Her rituals made him uneasy for the first couple of months, but when he realized that they did no real harm, and even seemed to actually help, he grew to almost like them. It was her gaze that always made him freeze up. The way her eyes seemed to strip him of his clothes, his skin, his very being until they stared into his bare soul, that made him uneasy.

Sometimes, if he thought about her long enough, he'd even find himself wondering about her intimately. What her soft skin smelled like. What her delicate breasts tasted like. What her sounds of love sounded like. He even found himself thinking about staying here. There was no war. No unnecessary fires. The only threats being that of the few wildlings that did dare to walk her land and the wild animals they'd often use for meals and equipment around the property.

Klein had even built him his own hut with a bed big enough to fit him, that Raven mentioned turning into a shed if he left. If he left.

At first, all he could think about was leaving. Getting away from the forced baths every three days. Getting away from her watchful gaze and her endless worrying about his health. But as the days went on he found himself thinking about her hair as he worked. How it smelled of vanilla and bark every time she walked past. How small her frame was next to his and how it made him feel a need to stand guard at her door and watch for something, anything that dared to threaten her, his, or Klein's life.

A week, 5 days, and 4 nights had passed after the official 6 months mark since he'd first been brought here, Sandor found himself sitting on the cabin flood in front of Raven's couch next to the warmth of the fire, the snow especially harsh this night, while Raven brushed out the Knots in his hair after he'd bathed. The sun had been down for at least two hours, now, but neither of them felt tired.

"Sandor," Raven finally spoke after a long silence had passed. "Do you still plan to leave?" Her voice trailed off as though her thoughts were unfinished. She set her brush down on the armrest next to her and leaned back, looking at him with a tilted gaze. A long pause fell over the two of them, Raven anxious to hear his answer.

In truth, since he arrived, she found him more interesting than anyone or anything else that she'd ever met or seen with her own eyes. His silence was welcome. His help was almost needed, now. She'd even grown fond of him in a sense that she didn't even realize until the words left her lips. The idea of him leaving had loomed over her ind for months now, and she almost hated the idea of it. She wanted him to stay. She could tell that even Klein had grown to like him.

Looking at his back, Raven found her gaze wandering over his broad shoulder and bare back. He was covered in scars and she wanted nothing more than to trace every one of them with her finger tips. She found her mind wondering to what his skin tasted like. What it felt like if he looked over her little frame. She wondered what he tasted like.

After what felt like forever, Sandor lowered his head and cleared his throat. "Y/n..... Raven.. I wondered. Do you think I could stay a little longer. I think my leg could use more time, and my ribs still ache, and I might be coming down with something.."

He didn't turn to look at her, and for that Raven was ever so grateful. The smile that pulled her lips would have looked maniacal. But she could also tell he was lying. Taking a deep breath, she stood and walked around him to face him, leaning into the lie and closely examining him the way she normally would. She looked into his eye, Sandor finding it hard to keep the contact, and saw that they weren't in the slightest bit watery. She pressed her wrist against his forehead and felt that he was fine, still. She even poked at his ribs and leg and found him to be a horrible actor when it came to faking pain.

"I suppose." She said, trying and failing to hide the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Raven was kneeling in front of him now, between his knees, and even then she still had to look up at him. This caught her off guard, causing her to flush a bit from the ears down. Sandor caught this and smirked. "Only if you continue to help me around here. You have to... pull your weight, y'know." Her gaze traveled down his thick chest and well trained arms. He was just so huge.

She wasn't the smallest woman he'd ever seen, but she still looked so small in front of him in her lounge gown. She wore no undergarments, and he could see her perked breasts from under the gown. She could see him staring and flushed even more, standing to her feet and turning around to avoid anymore eye contact. He stood behind her and watched as she busied herself with some wine and cups. Raven sat back down on the floor by the fire and set the two cups down, inviting Sandor to sit with her.

"Wine?" she asked, though she'd already starting pouring for the both of them. Sandor chuckled and sat down in front of her, leaning back against the couch and taking the glass from her delicate hand, his fingers grazing over hers. Raven felt her stomach doing somersaults and immediately drank half of what was in her cup to try and keep her cool.

They mostly sat in silence, watching the fire and listening to the howling of the wind outside. Sandor spoke first, half way into his second glass of wine. "How long have you lived out here?" He peered over his cup at her while taking another drink. One thing about this wine, Raven makes it herself. It was the strongest wine he'd ever had, and even now he could start to feel the effects of it.

"I was born on this land. In this very cabin. These woods were all i'd known until the white walkers started showing up. I'd only left to keep me and Klein safe on the other side of the wall." She looked into the fire with a frown. "The Night's Watch took us in for a short while. Before John Snow was stabbed. Then we left for Anywhere that would have been safer. That's how we found you." She looked over at him and smiled sheepishly, remembering how smelly and broken he had been when she found him lying on top of an impossibly bigger body that reeked of horrible magic.

Sandor met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "You thought Kings Landing would have been safer?" He mused, chuckling. "Foolish girl."

Raven rolled her eyes. "I don't know anything of the south. How could a Northerner know that your City was about to be burned to the ground by a Dragon." She sighed, thinking back to what little she could gather of the situation. She'd been lucky enough to speak with someone from the army that the Mother of Dragon's led, and her story made her heart ache for the woman. A woman, alone, fighting to right the wrong doings of men, only to fall to a fate that some would call destiny. But she was a victim of a war that's been ongoing for centuries.

Sandor chuckled. "You got me there. We call ourselves civilized, but at the end of the day we are all just wild animals. Pretending to be better than what we really are." They both drank to that, finishing their wine. This time, Sandor reached for the bottle and poured them each another glass more full than the last two.

"My turn to ask a question." Raven eyed the man before her, taking a deep breath. "Where did you get that scar?" Sandor hesitated, eyeing Raven cautiously before inhaling deeply and gazing into the fire again.

"My brother gave it to me." He took a sip of his wine before continuing to tell the whole story from the moment the burn happened to the moment he jumped out of the castle to ensure his brother died, only looking at Raven when he finished.

"That's horrible... i'm so sorry you had to go through that." Raven said earnestly. She scooted closer to him, wine in one hand, and slowly reached out to brush the hair out of his face. She waited for him to pull away, but when he didn't, and instead gazed back at her, she allowed her fingers to trace the scar from misshapen ear to the edge of his jaw. The skin on his scar was tight and ridged under her touch, and for a moment she swore he leaned into her touch.

"It's beautiful." she blurted before she could stop herself, her words barely above a whisper. "I.. I mean. It's like a part of what makes you, you. And, well, y'know, you're a really beautiful man. With, well, I mean... y'know, all the things you've gone through, it... it's inspiring." Raven pulled away, sipping heavily on her wine and trying to act like a deep flush had crept back over her face, ears, and neck.

Sandor stared at her. He'd never been called beautiful before, Not in his whole life until just now. His heart swelled with joy, and for a moment he almost believed her. Silence fell over them again, both feeling the effects of their drinks. Both feeling a little braver.

When their eyes met again, Raven's heart felt to have skipped several beats. His gaze had fallen dark, hungry. He shamelessly looked over her frame and licked his lips like a starved animal. Raven let her gaze wander, too, eyeing his muscular chest, his large arms, his whiskered lips, the obvious bulge in his pants. Mustering up courage she didn't know she had, she slammed the last of her wine and all but crawled forward, closing the distance between them and pulling Sandor in for a kiss. Sandor gripped the back of Raven's neck, holding her in place, while his other hand guided her to straddle his lap.

Sandor's hand explored Raven's body, slipping up under her gown and following the curve of her hip. He gave it a little squeeze before flattening his palm against the small of her back and guiding her to grind down on him, eliciting a moan from the both of them. Raven tangled her hands in the hair at the base of Sandor's neck, moaning into his kiss as his other hand found its way to her breast. He squeezed her soft flesh, finding her nipple between his finger and thumb and pinching it hard.

Raven moaned and pulled away, exposing her neck to him and panting as he trailed scruffy, open mouthed kissed down her neck and over her collar bone. In one, fierce motion, Sandor wrapped one arm completely around her small frame and laid her down on her back. He pushed up her gown until it was off of her and immediately planted a kiss between her breasts.

One hand fondled her hip as the other bulled her leg up to wrap around his waist. He grinded himself down on her, his lips finding her nipple. He nipped at her sensitive bud, pulling another soft moan from her. His hand slipped from where it gripped at her waist to her thigh, slowly but forcefully pushing her leg to one side and he trailed his fingers to her core. he dragged careful fingers through her slit, feeling just how much she wanted him. How wet she'd become already. "Fuck," he rasped, rubbing small, slow circles over her bundle of nerves, earning more consistent but quiet moans as Raven gripped at his biceps and dug her nails into his skin.

Trailing more kisses and nips over her neck, Sandor pushed one finger in and curled upwards, Raven's grip on him tightening and her eyes flicked down to where is hand connected to her body. He leaned back on his haunches, watching the way her body squirmed with his finger alone, staring of with a slow but forceful pace. He smirked and pushed another one in, finding a more brutal pace that left Raven heaving and mewling. She felt so exposed and vulnerable like this, and there's no other feeling she wanted more than what he was doing to her now.

He watched her all but unfold in front of him, his free hand rubbing her beautiful skin and pinching at her breasts. Raven felt her stomach start to tighten, one hand gripping his wrist to try and prevent him from pulling away while the other searched for anything to grip onto as if to help her through the feeling. Sandor leaned forward and grabbed her other hand, pinning it above her head and looming over her, making Raven feel even smaller and more turned on than she'd ever felt.

"C'mon," he grumbled, meeting her gaze with his own intense one as he worked her through her first orgasm. He felt her walls flutter wildly around his thick fingers, a lewd, drawn out moan filling the cabin as Raven came down from her high. He didn't pull his hand away until he was sure she'd finished, standing up over her and looking down at her as he unbuckled his belt.

Raven drank in the sight she was being graced with. His fingers were shiny with her slick, his muscles rippled with every movement, and he just looked so big standing over her like this. It made her crave him that much more.

"Please, Sandor..."

He tsked. "Impatient girl, aren't we?" Once his pants were discarded off to the side, he stood over her and slowly gave his thick shaft a few pumps, watching as Raven all but drooled and moaned at the sheer sight of him. He was huge in every way. Part of Raven questioned if he'd even fit, but the alcohol in her system threw all caution out the window.

Sandor grabbed a pillow from the couch, one Raven made out of soft pelt, and lifted Raven's hips so he could slid it under her. He kneeled in front of her, rubbing her thigh with one hand and aligning himself with his other. Raven inhaled slowly, biting her lip until she tasted iron as he slowly inched himself in, both of them curing and moaning. "You're so fucking tight, I don't think I can control myself." He groaned, starting of at a slow paced to allow her to get used to him.

He hurt in a way that could drive Raven to addiction, her head thrown back and body arched into him. "So don't," she moaned out softly, pulling a low, guttural moan from Sandor.

He wasted no more time, planting one hand by her head to hold himself up while the other found her throat in a tight grip, his hips harshly snapping at a brutal pace that immediately granted him loud, pornographic moans. She felt like she was being split open, Sandor filling her pretty little cunt so full that both of them were seeing stars. His grip on her throat tightened, his fingers squeezing the sides of her neck until her face turned red, only to let go long enough for her to catch her breath before his grip tightened again.

"Please," she choked out, unsure of what she was even begging for. Sandor leaned down and pressed a harsh, sloppy kiss to her lips, his tongue invading her mouth and immediately assuming control. His pace didn't falter, a bulge pushing up on her lower abdomen as he abused her pussy like it was his from the start.

His hand finally let go of her throat and trailed down to push on her lower abdomen, her moans becoming almost a scream at the new, overwhelming feeling. Her head was spinning from a the lack of oxygen, the intense orgasm building up in her belly, and the alcohol making everything feel that much better.

"I can't... it.. it's too much!" she whimpered, her body trembling. But she made no effort to pull away, arching down on to him as much as she could.

"You will." Sandor grunted, slipping his hand down further and rubbing fast, erratic circles on her clit like it was his job. "You'll take everything I give you, y/n, like the little whore you are. All for me." He moaned out. "All mine." His eyes locked onto her pretty little cunt, a thick, white ring of her slick forming around his shaft and all over his pelvis.

With a scream, Raven's body shook and her core clenched uncontrollably around Sandor, her high hitting its peak. A puddle began to form underneath them, but Sandor didn't stop. Even as tears began to fall down Raven's face, he kept his pace until his own orgasm almost hit, only pulling out to let his load spill all over her belly with a loud moan of his own.

Raven was too spent, too exhausted to even move the pillow out from under her hips. Sandor, panting and covered in sweat, reached for his pants and used them to clean up a majority of the mess he'd made all over her and underneath her.

Slowly he got up and found a proper rag, using it to finish cleaning her up. Once he was done, he picked up her naked body and carried her to her bed, laying next to her and pulling Raven into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her in a protective cage and nuzzled into her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and humming in contentment.

"Please... stay as long as you like. Stay forever." Raven whispered, too tired to even talk. Sandor hummed and gently kissed her shoulder, his eyes closed as he pulled her blanket over the both of them.

"Y/n, I'll be here for as long as you can deal with my bullshit. If that means forever, then so be it."

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tags;

[tinkerbitch69]

So just replayed the deep roads/primeval thaig section of da2 while pondering the implications the new veilguard titan/dwarves/blight lore has to *vaguely gestures at the weirdness* all of it and it’s got me absolutely gnawing on my keyboard so I gotta talk about it.

So ok, easy one, sandal’s got stone magic! The same Harding has. Now we know that’s a possibility it’s the only explanation that makes sense for finding him next to a petrified ogre and his ‘NOT enchantment!’ answer. It just fits too perfectly to not be true. But then that means SANDAL HAS AN OPEN CONNECTION TO THE TITANS!!! This explains how his diary ended up in the fade in tresspasser, if he is connected to an awakened titan, he’s probably had a connection to the fade as well this entire time. Probably even able to enter it at will like a mage but also like…are the titans speaking to him? are they influencing him? are they up to something that sandal is helping them with? Aaaaaaaa I need them to bring sandal back and reveal these things *gnaws*

Next point of order, the profane. Aah the profane… what the fuck ARE the profane????!!!! Like I have some theories thanks to the new lore but I’m still not certain. Anyway, one of them is seemingly a demon in disguise and when you fight him, he dies and an abomination, standard old abomination, no rock wraith shit or anything, rises out of him. Now a DEMON rising out of a possessed vessel, we’ve seen before, but an abomination? A person possessed by a demon? How does that work? What about the giant ancient profane with a skull that seemed to control the others? What the fuck is going on? How does this all tie into red lyrium and the blight and the dreams of the titans and the ancient elves’ sundering of the titans from their dreams???

Well…

*carefully places tinfoil hat on head*

Well…

So we know the place is old right? Like stupid old. Literally called primeval, that’s like the oldest you could possibly be, so what if this thaig is not just older than the first blight, like Bartrand said, but also older than the veil, older than arlathan, older than the blight itself???? 👀👀👀

What if the primeval thaig was where the dwarves once lived when they were still connected to the titans? When both the titans and the dwarves themselves could dream and thus access the fade and magic. This lines up with lore around the thaig mentioning it seems to have been shaped by magic, which should be impossible since dwarves can’t do magic right? WRONG! and we know that now!

But if this was a relic from a time when the dwarves still had their magic and their connection to the titans, what would happen to those dwarven mages when the titans were effectively tranquilized by solas? What happens to dwarven mages that are turned into rock golems or whatever the fuck happened to branka after the descent?

Well what if the profane ARE those dwarven mages? What if the titans pain and anguish and rage, the blight itself, transformed them into something PROFANE! *roll snare drum* this makes sense as to why there are so many shades and demons in the thaig and why one of the profane is possessed. perhaps the demonic possession even occurred long before the profane were transformed and the abomination that resulted from said possession was just already hiding amongst the dwarves that got transformed too! what if the giant ancient profane is just their version of Volta, a dwarf closer to the titans that became something more than a dwarf or a golem *gnaws*

Finally, the idol, what the fuck is up with the idol??? How did it get there??? How did it get blighted in the first place???

Well, we know what the idol is now. Solas’ lyrium dagger. The one he used to create the veil, but more importantly, this was not its original purpose! Solas regrets reveal he originally crafted a lyrium dagger to sunder the titans from their dreams, (which I’m presuming is the same one even if it does introduce some problems later on) the thing that created the blight in the first place, soooooo…

WHAT IF THE PRIMEVAL THAIG WAS WHERE HE DID IT? 👀 THE PLACE WHERE THE TITANS WERE TRANQUILIZED 👀 THE PLACE WHERE THE BLIGHT WAS BORN👀👀👀

This would explain how the dagger got there because ofc the dagger would still be in the entry wound essentially, it would explain how it got blighted as it is essentially both the bomb and ground zero, it would explain why the profane occur here and and only here (as far as we know) as they were at the epicentre of the blast, it would explain why they turned it into an idol, as being born of the blight (aka the titans rage and pain and suffering) the dagger is a very symbol of all the things that the blight is made of!!! it would be a reminder to never forget the atrocities committed to them and also a source of power for their blight magic. Finally it would also explain the name of sundermount, a region on the surface we know to be somewhere nearby the primeval thaig that the ancient elves very much had a presence in as (presumably many centuries/millenia after their war with the titans) a battle was fought there but the elven empire and the tevinter imperium. The only wrench in this is how solas got the dagger and took it all the way to skyhold to create the veil only for it to end up back in the thaig? Maybe the one used in the veil ritual was a replica dagger since several key plot points of veilguard involve replicas of this dagger. maybe solas took it back there and sealed it back up so it wouldn’t be a danger, maybe it was reclaimed by the profane and taken back to serve as their idol once more, idk but all the rest fits too perfectly to be coincidence and holy shit holy shit holy shit

*gnaws gnaws gnaws*

[markrosewater]

Maro’s Teaser for Murders at Karlov Manor

Before previews for Murders at Karlov Manor officially begin, I thought it would be fun to do another of my Duelist-style teasers where I give tiny hints of things to come. Note that I’m only giving you partial information.  

  First up, here are some things you can expect:  

 • white gets a card that lets you play a subset off the top of the deck

• a new enchantment subtype Case

• a card with four different hybrid symbols in its mana cost

• a popular mechanic returns tweaked with a new name

• a green sorcery that you can have any number of in your deck

• a keyword mechanic not printed in a premier set since 2008 returns on a single card

• a creature that allows you an alternate nonmana cost for all your spells

• some creature tokens in the set: (note that some have abilities) 0/0 green Ooze, 0/0 colorless Thopter (also artifact), 0/1 green Plant, 1/1 black Bat, 1/1 white Dog, 1/1 red Goblin, 1/1 white Human, 1/1 blue Merfolk, 1/1 white and black Spirit, 1/1 colorless Thopter (also artifact), 2/1 black Skeleton, 2/1 black and green Spider, 2/2 white and blue Detective, 2/2 red Imp, and 5/5 green and white Wolf

• And yes, Murder is in the set

 Next, here are some rules text that will be showing up on cards:  

  • “Whenever a creature an opponent controls dies, if its toughness was less than 1, draw a card.”

• “Choose any number of target players.”

• “Creature cards in your graveyard gain ‘You may cast this card from your graveyard’ until end of turn.”

• “Then sacrifice it if it has five or more bloodstain counters on it.”

• “you may search your graveyard, hand, and/or library for a card named Magnifying Glass and/or a card named Thinking Cap and put them onto the battlefield.”

• “target opponent gains control of any number of target permanents you control.”

• “If an ability of a creature you control with power 2 or less triggers, that ability triggers an additional time.”

• “As long as there are no cards in your library,”

• “If one or more tokens would be created under your control, those tokens plus a Clue token are created instead.”

• “Whenever you sacrifice a Clue, target opponent gets two poison counters.”

 Here are some creature type lines from the set: 

 • Creature – Vedalken Artificer Detective

• Creature – Ogre Cleric

• Artifact Creature – Insect Thopter

• Creature – Lammasu

• Creature – Weird Detective

• Creature – Goblin Bard

• Creature – Viashino Assassin

• Artifact Creature – Clue Fish

• Creature – Elf Crocodile Detective

• Legendary Creature – Mole God

 Finally, here are some names in the set: 

 • Airtight Alibi

• Caught Red-Handed

• Deadly Cover-Up

• Eliminate the Impossible

• Homicide Investigator

• Innocent Bystander

• It Doesn’t Add Up

• Person of Interest

• Private Eye

• Scene of the Crime

 Follow the story each day this week and tune into the debut at 9:00 am PT on Jan 16 on twitch.tv/magic or youtube.com/@mtg to learn whodunit! Can you solve the mystery before detective extraordinaire Alquist Proft?

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 8 Oni

Oni are horned, ogre-like creatures in Japanese folklore. They have also been described as orc-like, demon-like, goblin-like, and troll-like. However, an oni is best categorized as a type of Japanese yōkai, which includes wicked otherworldly monsters, goblins, gods, ghosts, and spirits.

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

Once long ago there was a very powerful shogun, and he married a beautiful woman. Together they were happy with no want for anything in their comfortable lives. Except for one thing.

A child.

Even though they tried for many years, they still went without children. One day the woman of the couple decided to take a long walk in the woods to try to forget about her troubles when she came across a mysterious healer.

"My lady, you seem quite troubled. Would you like to tell me?", the man offered.

"Why? You wouldn't even be able to help me. It's no use."

"Try me. I might surprise you."

"My husband is happy with life and we wish for nothing but a child however it seems that the gods do not seem to want to bless us with one."

"Oh. Is that all?", the healer laughed before reaching into the folds of his cloak and pulling out a small box which contained three seeds. *I have the exact solution. Take these flower seeds and plant them in your garden in a place only you'll know. One month from now on the night of the blue moon, three flowers will appear."

"What good will flowers do me?"

"They're blessed by the goddess of fertility," the man explained, "Of the three there will be three flowers. A white lotus, a red spider lily, and a black rose. If you eat the white lily you'll gain a son as pure and kind hearted as the heavens. If you eat the red spider lily you'll receive a son as fast and strong as the fiercest warrior. If you choose the black one you'll receive a son as smart as a hundred scholars! Eating any two of the three will result in twins with all the traits of both flowers!"

The woman was so pleased with her gift. It would be the solution to all her problems and she left with the seeds. However the healer gave her a grisly warning.

"These flowers are enchanted by magic no mortal body can handle so there's a limit to how much you can have without a blessing turning to a curse. Remember. You may only have up to TWO. Eating all three will have deadly consequences that even I don't know what could happen. Heed my warnings, My Lady. Or disaster will befall thee."

The woman promised to remember the warnings given to her and that night planted the seeds in a place only she knew about telling no one. A month later on the blue moon she went back out and found the three flowers the man spoke of. She had already decided to eat the lily and lotus, but at the last moment decided to eat all three. It was a blessing from the goddess of fertility after all. Nothing really bad could come from a blessing. And she wanted her children to have all the traits the flowers promised.

Against the healer's warnings, she swallowed the black rose petals right after the first two flowers. Sealing her fate by her foolish mistake.

Soon after the woman indeed fell with child. Twins. Both husband and wife were so happy and the entire countryside rejoiced with the news. Nothing truly was wrong and the woman forgot about the consequences of her actions. Until nine months later-

Her husband was called to battle, while away his wife delivered their children in the middle of the night. However the children born that night were not infants.

But horrible monsters from nightmares.

The woman screamed in fear and horror as the doctors looked on in shocked silence as the cursed infants cried out into the darkness. Both grotesque and disfigured. Monstrous and horrifying to look at.

One they say was born with horns like an oni and eight limbs like a slightly humified jurogumo. The other one was more horrible. Half it's body writhing and squirming like an upsidedown centipede and so many eyes that they were spinning in different directions at once. They cried but no one dared touch them or show them any empathy. Their own mother scrambled away and shrieked out in fear.

"Take them away!," she cried out, "Take them far away! I don't care what you do with them just take them far away and be rid of them! I'd rather have my husband think we suffered a loss than look upon these ugly things! No one shall tell him of this!"

One of the woman's most trusted servants placed the crying children in a chained basket and took them away that very same night. No one knew what became of them. They were never seen again. The maid never did return either. And the woman never told her husband what had happened. No one else who was there that night never dared repeat what they saw in fear of drawing the cursed creatures back to them.

However they say that they still roam the lands. And if you are unlucky enough, you shall be the next to run into such a horrible monster.

It was a quiet night when it happened. The birth of the fated one.

The sobs of the woman didn't even stop as she held her baby close to her crying her eyes out in sorrow despite healthy little girl in her arms. The father just sat there in silence staring at his wife and daughter.

"He can't..H-He can't!" Was all the sobbing woman could muster out between tears.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They had just a few more days and then it would've been summer. They wouldn't have had to worry about anything then. It would've been someone else's problem. Someone else's daughter to be fated to become the bride to the beast. But his child unexpectedly had been born this night in spring. If only she waited just a few more days. If only he had a son instead.

Then he wouldn't be loosing his child to the demon. 

It wasn't their fault really. The last few years of harsh drought and little rain caused hunger, famine, and most of all desperation. The many offerings and prayers to the gods seemed to be doing nothing! The local priest blessing the stubborn soil did nothing. It was still cracked, hard, and as barren as a rock. There seemed to be no hope in sight. The people were desperate loudly cursing whatever deities were responsible for this plague upon them and pleading to anyone who could hear them to end the suffering, the starving, the deaths caused by the drought. 

It was then their pleas were answered by the monster.

He showed up right out of the blue one day, as of he manifested out of the very air. He may have walked like a man, but he was a monster that would  devoir them all because of their desperation would be their destruction.

"I couldn't help but notice that you people seem to be on hard times." He hated how he smiled at them, like he was doing them a great service. "I can help you surely. All I ask is one thing in return."

He'd fertile the lands. Bring forth rain. End the suffering. All for the price of one life. He'll return in twenty years and request the hand of the first maiden to be born that spring. Without thinking about the consequences, they agreed and as mysterious as he arrived, the monster departed back into nothing.  

The creature kept his word. Rain storms came back to pour water into the ground. Soft soil nurtured new crops, and the hunger of many satiated. However the price was not forgotten. At least not by the local doctor and his wife. Now here they were staring down at the one who was going to be made to wed that monster in twenty years. Out of all the children born in the village, why must it be their child?! It wasn't fair! They never agreed to this! They had no say in it at all! But-

"W-What are we su-supposed to do?!"

"Hush woman. The others will hear you. Nobody will know about this. About her!"

"H-How? We can't just hide her! S-Someone will notice sooner or later."

"Then we'll make sure no one knows of her existence. Get up. We must make haste."

"For what?"

"We'll leave. No one will know about her if she's not here to be seen but we must go immediately. Tonight. We'll let one of the other families deal with the fate they brought upon themselves."

"Where will we go?"

"Somewhere. ANYWHERE! As long as it's far away from here."

Your parents fled in the middle of the night. Walking slowly due to your mother's condition but left either way. The small village left behind and forgotten about in return for giving their daughter the freedom she deserved. It wasn't easy to start all over in an entirely new place so far away, and they had to live on the streets for almost a year. But eventually a doctor would get clients and they were able to get a nice small home in a nice town far, far away from the dangers of demons and threats of never seeing their daughter again as you grew. 

You had a normal and happy life honestly. Going to school, exploring the nearby forest, making friends, and gaining a job at the nearby tavern once you were nineteen. Waiting tables, bringing orders, and helping to clean up at the end of the day. There was even a local man your age that took interest in you. Your parents encouraged you to accept his offers to court you, but you haven't decided if you liked him that way. 

However things were about to change. 

The winds churned and a faint storm rolled along the sky on your twentieth birthday. Exactly twenty years after the dreadful move long ago. 

The pub you worked at was alight with excitement. A group of hunters were in the middle of the large space. Laughing over the successful hunt they managed to bring in, celebrating by drinking ale and feasting. A few other patrons also were around the area minding their own business and eating away in the cozy warmth the tavern provided in the middle of the windy storm outside. You gathered up the plates from the hunters' table from their third round of food and just did your job of bringing it up to the bar to be taken away by another worker. Nothing out of the ordinary for you tonight- 

That was when the door opened up with such a loud sound that it startled everyone who was in the pub to stop talking and look over. Wind from outside swept throughout the building and made you blink from the sudden rush of air hitting your face. Candlelights flickered but thankfully didn't go out. 

Silence continued on around the gushed pubs and many of those faces turned from curious to horrified. 

A clattering tray fell to the floor from a fellow waitress's hands as she stared. Many eyes continued to stare at the thing that came in from the storm. The door slowly creaked closed again behind him allowing the wind to be closed off once more. No one moved. No one spoke. No one dare looked away.

...STEP. STEP. STEP. STEP.

His feet turned as he began walking around the massive group of men seated in front of him and towards the other side of the room. 

STEP. STEP. STEP. STEP.

Each step he took seemed to heavily echo through the bar entirely as the tallest figure they've ever seen slowly walked with heads turning to follow his movements. Walking, walking, and walking. You froze in your tracks as the tall form just slowly walked past you without a word or even looking your way or really at anyone for that matter. Going all the way to the farthest table in the far corner, silently pulling out the chair allowing the legs scraping against the floor to sound out, before he wordlessly sat down in it. Staring straight ahead at nothing. The silence was deafening with only the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the wind outside to make sound.

"I'd like a bowl of tonkotsu and onigiri with unsweetened green tea please."

His voice made you jump. It wasn't because he said it in a rude or threatening way, but because he still didn't look at anyone. Just kept staring into the void at nothing. It was incredibly eerie. In question you finally broke away from staring at him to look at your staring boss. The chef looked as stunned as the rest of everyone else in the tavern but eventually he turned to slowly walk back into the kitchen area. Maybe he had the right idea. Give the man the food and hope he leaves once he was done. 

You only turned back to watch along with everyone else as the faint sounds of food being made in the back carried on. What was the creepiest part of it was that whoever this man was, never stopped staring ahead. Didn't even move once the entire almost half hour you all were anxiously waiting for the food to be made. Like he turned to stone. Felt like eternity before the chef slowly came from the back, startling you with his footsteps. He went back to staring at the man as you slowly and shakily picked up the tray scooted towards you. It felt very heavy in your hands as you held it and slowly took step after step towards the table at the farthest corner of the building. Your very steps seemed to echo through the building itself as you approached closer and closer and closer. His eyes never looked up at you as you approached. Never moved an inch as you got close enough to place it down on the table. That's what you were gonna do. Just place it on the table and scoot it closer to him.

Until his hands reached out.

You completely froze as a hand reached out to grab the bowl of hot tonkotsu off the tray. A second hand grabbed the cup of tea next.

A third hand grabbed the small plate of rice balls. And a forth grabbed the chopsticks.

You stood still and frozen as the man finally moved. Four of his six arms reached out and grabbed the food from you while his other two remained sat neatly upon his lap. The entire time he still didn't look at you until the hot tonkotsu bowl and chopsticks were raised to his face, and finally his face reacted. Turning up to you with plum red eyes and a gently smile upon his lips.

"Thank you." 

You were too frozen in shock and slightly fear to respond..but the gentle smile on his face brought a bit of hope that no one would be harmed tonight. However you couldn't bring yourself to stare at the smile for long, too focused on the fangs between those lips and the two black horns protruding from the tops of his head and the pointed ears where two hanafuta earrings dangling from and swaying with his movements. 

Oni. 

This man..was an ONI. 

A spirit no one would dare mess with in fear of enduring it's wrath. Why on earth was there an oni in the middle of your town and in the tavern ordering food? You had no idea. Perhaps it was just passing through and got hungry. You just hoped that he wouldn't stay. Shaking you only bowed before slowly backing away a few steps as he continued to smile at you gently. Before he turned back to start quietly eating the food.

The entire time the entire plate remained silent and watchful as he ate. What felt like an eternity must've really been only maybe half an hour before his bowl and plate were emptied and the cup drank. Not wanting to offend him you tried to remain calm and polite as you approached him again and shakily began to pick up the dishes and place them back on the tray. His now smiling face stared at your work before you bowed to him again and turned to return the tray to the bar-

"I would like some momiji and daifuku with more tea please."

You paused mid step taking the tray back to the counter before whirling around wide eyed at the man who was still looking right at you with that small smile before you exchanged shocked glances with the chef. How did the Oni know that there was daifuku and momiji in the kitchen when your boss hadn't written it upon me sign behind the bar with the other food items for the day?!  After a moment your boss motioned for you to silently come over. You did and the same pattern repeated after he took away the tray. Only this time he wasn't looking into the void. Instead he just stared at you softly with a smile. 

It wasn't creepy or had you feeling anything bad though. It felt more like a customer politely waiting for service to be provided to him which technically it was since he ordered desserts, which arrived quickly and you took to him but it was so strange to be serving an oni sprit. The same thing played out. Everyone watched in silence as he ate what you served him silently as you waited to collect the dishes. You once again did again and this time when you turned-

"I'd like your name please."

Once more you paused wide eyed and turned to look at the smiling spirit staring at you... Everyone's shock reignited anew as silent looks were given to one another in question. What should you do?! He wanted what?! Your name?! Why did he want your name?! You didn't know what to do! Looking around it looked like no one else did either. Feeling your throat tighten you swallowed thickly before shakily replying.

"Y-Y/n."

"Thank you."

"What's your name?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. It surprised both yourself and the man who blinked before again smiling at you gently.

"Yoriichi."

"That's..a very nice name."

"Thank you. Yours is beautiful."

"Oh. T-Thank you."

You just turned back to get the remaining dishes to the bar as the man slowly took his time getting up, pushing in his chair, and reaching into his pockets for some yen to leave on the table and pay for his food. By the time you were done with the dishes and turned around, you found the man smiling down at you. Gosh..He was..tall.

"I'd like to walk you home please."

You were put on the spot right in front of everyone else staring at you with the man still smiling at you. He wanted to walk you home?! Why? Did he plan on robbing you?! He was an ONI spirit so was he looking to haunt you?! Your parents?!  You didn't know what to say. You wanted to say no..But would he be offended if you did? Would he become angry? What would happen if you made him angry? You didn't know what he'd do. He's..been pretty nice so far but no one did anything to make him angry. 

Deciding to bite the bullet, you gulped again before nodding. "A-Alright."

You felt like you were walking to your death sentence as everyone watched you silently make your way outside in the windy air with the spirit right behind you. The squeaky door closing behind you like a coffin lid behind closed. 

You stiffly walked your way down the street home with the wind blowing your hair back. You didn't look at him but you knew he was there. You felt his presence looming next to you and saw his many arms out of the corner of your eyes. You could run. Maybe if you were fast enough you could lose him and get home before he knew which house was yours. However you dreaded what might happen if you offended the spirit so you kept your mouth shut and walked. Maybe he was only doing this to return what polite service you gave him? You hoped so and hoped to not see him again after this. 

Five minutes of silent walking later and you felt relief full you as you came upon your front door. Hoping to end this as fast as possible, you turned to politely bow to him. "T-Thank you for walking me home."

"Your welcome. May I have your hand please?"

...You blinked. Looking up at him. "What?"

He still smiled softly at you. "May I have your hand please?"

"M-..My hand?" On instinct you clutched your hands together. Was he going to cut one of your hands off?! "I-..I d-dont think I taste good. The food at the tavern is much more tastier than I am, I promise you."

He simply chuckled.  "Not in harm." One of his hands extended out to you. "May I have your hand please?"

He wanted to...hold your hand?? Was that what he was asking? Why? What could he possibly want to do that for? You were so confused staring at him, then his still outstretched hand, then back to him. He remained unmoving other than the wind blowing his hand and earrings and clothing about. Why? His smile remained unwavering as he still smiled at you.. before you slowly looked back at his hand. Not in harm? Well at least he didn't want to hurt you. Maybe all he wanted was a grateful handshake. Either way it was better not to offend him.

"Y-Yes." 

You shakily reached out a hand until it touched his warm but calloused hands. Slowly the much larger hand closed around you before a second one came to be placed on top of yours.

"Thank you for accepting."

Accepting? You looked back up to him. "A-Accepting what?"

His only answer was to lean over and to your surprise kissed your forehead. 

"My hand..In marriage."

[snowivyimconfusi]

Will never get over the fact that Rumplestiltskin was NOT wrong about wanting Bae to dodge the draft. AND purposefully hurting himself to get out of going to the front was not cowardly. Do you know how hard it is to physically cripple yourself? Man that's not a cowardly thing!

Honestly that episode's pro-war tones kind of bother me. Like sure, it's faithful to the "time period" (in quotations because it's a magical realm, but I think that it's heavily based on Viking-era Britain or Germany, with the Ogres being representative of the Vikings. There is also Beowulf. (Don't get me started on how I think the later Enchanted Forest is based on the Holy Roman Empire, which would fit with Rumple being ~ 300 years old. Anyway!) Despite the pro-war and pro-warrior overtones being realistic to the era, I feel like they should've done more to show; actually he wasn't wrong to not want his 14 year old son to be killed at the front. Like, come on. Yeah sure they had the guy rounding up the kids be horrible, but there was no indication that Rumple was right to try and leave to not die and stay alive for his son.

Man idk. That bothered me.