#Nine Sorceresses

[gawrkin]

(From Culhwch and Olwen)

(From Vita Merlini)

I've been bitten by the idea bug and have been brainstorming about how Guinevere and Morgan can each have their own women-only orders/girl gangs.

So here's a concept of Gwen and Morgan's gangs with the caveat rule of "they're always grouped in numbers of Nine" (because Nine is a mystical number and stuff, lol). Its a work in progress through:

Morgan's Group:

Morgan le Fay/la Dieuesse

Sebile (could be identified with anyone below)

Queen of Norgales

Queen of Eastland and/or Sorestan?

Queen of the Outre Isles?

Lady of Avalon? (Possibly Enfeidas, see below)

Lady Bertilak?

?

?

Guinevere's Group:

Guinevere

Isolde

Enide

Lady of Malehaut/Bloie

Creiddylad?

Olwen?

Maleagant's Sister?

Elibel/Elyzabel?

?

Undecided, Unaffiliated, or are second-degree related:

Nimue/Vivianne

Guinevere's other relatives (Lenomie, Flori, Jandree)

Brangwaine

Fenice and Thessala

Hellawes

Annowre

Britomart

Silence

Indeg

Tegan Eurfron/Guinier

Laudine and Lunette

Perse (Hector de Maris' Beloved)

Guinloie?

Lady of Nohaut?

Isolde White Hands?

Brandegorre's daughter?

Exceptions (people who I feel shouldn't be part of either Guinevere or Morgan's groups for one reason or another) are:

Morgause, her daughters (Soredamors, Clarissant) and daughters-in-Law (Guinevak-Cwyllog, Lynette and Lyonesse, Ragnelle, etc.),

Elaine of Garlot/Blasine/Brimesent, Elaine of Benoic/Clarine/Gostanza.

Older generation ladies like Igraine, Igraine's Sisters, Isolde the Elder, Blanchefleur/Elizabeth/Tristan's mom, Enfeidas and Ganieda

Grail Saga Ladies: Dindrane/Percival's sister, Amite/Elaine of Corbenic, Brisen, Queen of the Wastlelands and Kundry.

Elaine of Astolat

Tryamour/Lanval's Beloved?

Morfydd? Gaia Pulzella?

Percival's Beloveds (Angharad, Blanchefleur, Kondwiramurs)

the Beloveds of the next generation (Blonde Esmeree, Marthe, Elsa, etc.)

The next generation ladies (Archfedd, Melora, Gyneth, Seleucia, Licorida, Andronia, Enneuawc, Kelemon, etc.)

[joemerl]

The Whumps of March 2024: "Witches"

A series of vignettes based on Arthurian legend, collected on AO3 here.

Anfortas moaned and gritted his teeth as another spasm shot through his body.

He opened his eyes—it was hard to open them; he was weary, but not sleepy, as much as he longed to slip into the relief of oblivion. The procession was coming. 

They came, with the bleeding lance. And after it...

The head. His son's. Sitting on a platter, pale as snow but not rotten, as if it had just been removed that day. His beautiful face distorted in pain and misery.

Anfortas moaned again. In his ears he could hear their laughter, just like he did every night. The Nine Witches of Caer Lloyw. The ones who had killed his child and cursed him with a wound that never healed.

His son, too, was consigned to agony. Trapped within his severed head, never to find peace until the Witches were killed.

And then, last in the procession, the Grail. Just a glimpse of it, as it passed before the table and vanished with the rest.

The only thing that could heal him. The only thing that could release his son to Paradise. One day, if their deliverer would finally come.

[fazzyfazbo]

(Ink Ninja Academy )

Hay guys

Just posting stuff I have draw for Ink Ninja Academy by

@has_zhung on Instagram it's basically #inktober but it has ninja in it!!!

This are the first 10 so enjoy I will post a part two as well.

[just-animaxiz]

The Nine Realms - The Land of Shadows

In every realm of Man, a realm of Crypt exists.

Humans have amazing speculations and doubts about the supernatural. Some theorize the primal existence of spirits and urban legends, while others speculate plain logic and falsified stories made for privacy and care. To their oblivious presence, the supernatural had already manifested within their mortal realms, but that's not their forever home to stay. In truth, the spirits lived in a set of Nine Realms called, "The Land of Shadows," which was created by the First manifestations of Man's creations.

The first creations were The Unknown and The Stars, manifested by Man’s curiosity and fear. Both are made to be equal to other, neither good nor evil; however, sentience grew within them, as well as the hunger for power. The Unknown, with quick adaptability, learned of Man’s experiences, from the old age to the first urban legend. Their energy co-existed with Man’s endangerment with desire, chasing a runaway goal that will never end at their haste. Like a mouse in a maze for cheese, Man craved for something beyond their control, and it will eat them alive if they kept turning and turning at every direction they’ve made. 

As Man kept turning, The Unknown watched with glee, pleased of Man’s contribution to power the maze they’re running on. The more they run after their desire, the more they feed the invisible fear behind them. The Unknown, meanwhile, observed long while Man’s face turned grey, and all of their energy limited to that sole desire that they could no longer consider themselves as man anymore.

Hence intervened The Stars.

The Stars, created by Man’s first encounter with stars, inhabited no desire to manipulate Man’s heart into darkness. They thought that Man have potential to choose, to live by their choice rather than chasing something that didn’t exist in the first place. Their craftsmanship, free-will, resilience, and passion built its own future, while holding onto the desire they have right now. To them, Man needs balance, not power, and the Unknown despised The Stars’ perspective.

To gain more power from the creators that made them, The Unknown used desire to transform Man into horrific beasts, aimed to overthrow peace and harmony out of Earth’s existence. One of the Unknowns, an ill-witted spirit of lavender, created seven entities to drive Man from its future and into a world of chaos and insanity. She called them, “The Shadow Kings.” As much as the idea had potentials to feed their people, the costs rose so overwhelmly high, some of the other Unknowns learned the unforeseen future and paled at their greatest mistake yet. To stop it from happening, they tried to prevent the spirit from going forth with her magic. The spirit responded with a cackle and attacked her own kind, killing most of the population with only a few escaping. In retaliation, they joined forces with The Stars to stop the witch and her horrifying monsters from destroying the world. 

And so, the fight between balance and chaos reigned in the blind eye of man. The Stars and The Unknown survivors reached above and beyond to stop the Kings and the cruel spirit, causing the world in a disarray of hope and fear. With their final stance, the Stars formed a special power that pushed the Kings down and trapped them in the deepest part of the realm, namely “The King’s Prison” in The Root of Shadows. In their unbreakable cage, the realm limited The Shadow Kings’ powers and forced them to live through the meaningless time. To ensure they had no easy escape, The Stars and the Unknown Survivors created an elevated set of realms above the prison to bury the chances of escaping, whilst making it habitable for the creation of Man’s legends and spirits. They named it, “The Land of Shadows.”

Even though they had run, the cruel spirit escaped from battle, and she vowed vengeance that her creations will rise to transform the world into chaos once more. To ensure this, she crafted pearls of chaos to seek out a potential host for her to puppeteer. Her goal is to find a fool foolish enough to turn humans into cruel monsters with uncontrollable desires, which will then break through the realms and free her kings. Just then, an old peddler stopped by at a lake, seeking food and water for his travels.

After hearing the Spirit’s escape and vow, The Stars debated on the future of mankind. They could never inform mankind about their potential doom, but they cannot fight on its own or they’ll risk destroying the world even more. They need to find a way to balance a defense against the spirit’s evil schemes. Just then, The Captain’s greatest soldier offered to retire himself from the astral position so that he can blend in with humanity to find its hero. The Captain, despite having so much respect for his loyal soldier, was reluncant to have him leave his position; however, if it means finding a way to stop the spirit and cease the Kings from escaping, then he would allow the retirement.

The Captain’s greatest soldier transformed from a god-like angel into a mysterious traveler, one blending in the background among the rest of humankind. He traveled far and wide, until he spotted a determined clan training to fight against The Sorcerer.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I was thinking of RC9GN stuff and I decided to make lore of the Nine Realms! I'm not good at grammar but I hope you like it!

[saganssorcery]

Hi I'm a new follower 🩵 May I ask about best suited career for my talent? My initial is M N and I'm ♎️ sun. Thanks!

Hello! You have drawn the King of Pentacles and the Nine of Cups. It looks as if going into business would be the right step for you, this is likely talking about setting up your own business where you supply some kind of luxury product. You have good management skills and are able to keep your affairs in order in regards to money and products. This could be indicating a restaurant or a bar, something of the likes as the Nine of Pentacles loves to indulge in the finer things. This could even be indicating a jewelry vendor as it speaks about luxury. Have a think and see what feels right.

[ Tip jar ] ✨🙏✨

For an expanded reading please check out the [ full list of my services ] and DM me for any information you may need to get your reading underway 💙☄️

[secretsbehindthenine]

( Please ignore the weird white outline, I tried my best to erase as much as I could >_< )

Was rewatching Sorcerer In Love for a fic I'm working on when I had the sudden urge to make an edit of Amanda and turn her into the my OC Miwa/Rebekka, whose appearance I based heavily on Amanda for the sake of the plot of SBtN. I used that one prototype version of Amanda that gave her brown hair instead of navy blue as a base, then changed the skin tone and eye color. I also added some moles while also adjusting the lip color so it matches more with Miwa/Rebekka's complexion.

Art is not my strong suit, but I'm pretty proud of how this edit turned out! Now I have a good visual of how Miwa/Rebekka would look in the show's art style 🥰

[elgaberino-mcoc]

ENERGIES & DIMENSIONS Divisional Round 2 match KARNILLA THE NORN QUEEN vs THE ORB

Winner gets Divisional 2nd seed for Round 3 Loser gets eliminated

description & match result

[cosmo-lexies]

Nine lines

Tagged by @janec23, thank you for including me! Here you can read her post.

This is a part of an my unfinished and unpublished story

"The Imperial Sorceress"

"The alliance was using a creature, one of those that changes shapes," the emperor said. "A shapeshifter?" "One of those. That was terrible. We should have reconquered the city but this thing has killed dozens of men and the others have fear to attack again." I got up and went to the door. "A hunter can take on a simple werewolf."  What audacity, call me for this foolishness, I'm the high sorceress of the imperial. My coven selected me to protect the imperial family as part of the Coven Treaty. If a dragon is attacking the castle call me. If the prince is cursed by a fairy call me, if a cheap monster attacks the army, don’t. On top of that, werewolves are essentially mindless creatures, even a squad with silver weapons could kill them. I thought "Lady Dominica, it's not a wolf. It's a bear," a dark figure stated from the door of the studio.

Okay, they aren't 9 lines but I'm new here, give me a break. The next time I will do better :)

I don't know a lot of people here for this reason I'm not tagging anyone but I tried next times when I meet more new people. Thanks again @janec23

[inamindfarfaraway]

I love reimagining Sofia the First episodes where Elena is inside the Amulet of Avalor from her perspective. You’re a sixteen-year-old heir to the throne trapped in a gemstone as a disembodied spirit with murdered parents, living family still in danger, a colonized country in need of liberation and untreated PTSD who nobody around you even knows exists. This has been your life for thirty-nine years by the time you finally find someone who might have the potential to free you. But first, you have to help her grow as a person. And all of these shenanigans keep happening. What was she thinking the whole time?

Sofia: (boasting to her friends about getting to sing the Enchancian anthem)

Elena: Oh my God, shut up. You sound like Esteban, and not in a good way.

Elena, a teenager and older sibling who hasn’t had the chance to tease anyone in roughly four decades: So… you’re expected to sing in front of a huge crowd tomorrow? Would be a shame. If something were to. Happen.

***

Amber: (deceives and manipulates Sofia and steals her amulet for personal gain)

Elena: You fucking brat! How dare you take advantage of your own sister’s trust after she’s been nothing but kind to you? Don’t you know how lucky you are? I would do anything to be able to just see my little sister again, talk to her, hug her, know that she’s safe and okay, let alone make her happy myself. You have so much, but you’re too spoiled rotten to appreciate it. You mistreat your family? Fine. Let’s see how you like them being threatened by an evil sorceress trying to take over your kingdom! ‘Cause trust me, it isn’t fun. Learn to be selfless or lose everything you’ve ever had! A BITCH FOR A BITCH!

***

Ivy: (takes the amulet to destroy it, which would kill Elena)

Elena: Shit.

***

Cedric: (deceives and manipulates Sofia and steals her amulet for personal gain)

Elena, who’s been onto him since day one, but feels completely unthreatened: You could be coveting any source of powerful magic, but no, you want the only one that you already know has a moral compass and will curse you for doing wrong. Genuine question: what are you doing with your life? I’m just gonna give you literal sticky fingers, and I’ll revoke that if you’re nice. You obviously don’t need much help to fail.

***

Miranda and Roland: (have sweet, bond-affirming moments with their children as good parents)

Elena: Aw, that’s nice. That’s - that’s nice. I’m fine.

***

Sofia: (is ten)

Elena: I’m so proud of Sofia. I think it’s time to enlist her to release me. Now how can I communicate that? Visions of Shuriki killing my parents and trying to kill me will get her started, right?

[gawrkin]

[...]

(From Peredur, son of Efrog)

Similar to Orddu from Culhwch and Olwen, I've noticed how these "sorceresses" don't actually do any sorcery (other than the implied propheticism).

If anything, they're more amazons than witches, wearing armor and fighting with weapons. It's to the point that it's they who teach Peredur/Percival the martial arts of Chivalry, rather than a traditional male figure like Gornemant.

I wonder if this is a translation quirk or a Welsh terminology quirk ("sorceress/hag" being a catch-all term rather than specifically about magic-using women).

There's a Celtic precendent for sorceresses being also skilled warriors/martial artists (Scathach) and this is perhaps the Welsh manifestation of that conception in Arthuriana.

Anyhow, here's your launchpad for justifying any Arthurian female magic user - famous and obscure - being also a swordswoman.

(Like, remember that one famous tumblr post about (re)imagining the Lady of the Lake being some jacked blacksmith? No no no, this is how Lancelot's foster mom would actually be interpreted in a Celtic fashion as muscular and also being able to kick your ass) (Not to mention the fact that Lancelot's mom IS NOT the Excalibur-Giver in the first place...)

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[blue-lotus333]

💀Goddesses of death💀

Ereshkigal: Mesopotamian goddess of death, the dead, and the underworld.

Ereshkigal is the queen of the underworld, the keeper of balance, the punisher of evil & maintains order against chaos. She may have also been associated with the earth & the waters of life in Mesopotamian legend. She was associated with the city of Kutha and featured in the myth of Inanna's Descent to the Underworld. She was also connected to other deities such as Nergal, Ninazu, and Ningishzida. Ereshkigal was said to be the sister of Inanna.

Oya: African Goddess/orisha of death, storms, winds & thunder.

Oya is a powerful goddess/orisha in Nigeria who controls storms and death and is married to the thunder god, Shango. She is a shape-shifter who often appears as a mortal woman or animal while overseeing justice and bringing sudden change. She is also a guardian of women and the dead, able to call forth death or delay it. Oya is associated with rebirth and magic, and her favorite colors are maroon and copper.

The Keres: Greek goddesses of Death, bloodshed & violence.

The Keres were female death spirits and goddesses who personified violent death. They were drawn to bloody, intense deaths on battlefields and were daughters of Nyx, Goddess of Night. They did not have the power to kill but would wait and then feast on the dead. They were described as dark beings with gnashing teeth & claws, with a thirst for human blood. They would hover over the battlefield and search for dying/ wounded men.

The Morrigan: Irish Goddess of death, fate, war & sovereignty.

The Morrígan, also called the Phantom Queen, is a bewitching goddess associated with war and fate, often appearing as a crow, encouraging bravery and strength in battle, & foretells doom or victory. The Morrígan is often described as a trio of sisters, representing the goddess's role as a guardian and warrior. She can appear in many forms like an old woman, a crow, a beautiful sorceress, or a fearsome creature.

Mictecacihuatl: Aztec Goddess of death & the underworld.

Also known as the Lady of the Dead, Alongside Mictlantecuhtli, her consort, she rules over Mictlán, the lowest Aztec underworld realm. She guides the departed souls on their transformative journey from life to the afterlife and embodies the profound duality of existence. The Dia de los Muertos is a vibrant festival that allows families to honor deceased loved ones with ofrendas and calavera imagery, inspired by Mictecacihuatl, who is now called Santa La muerte.

Kali-ma: Hindu Goddess of destruction, death, change & time.

Kali-ma is the wrathful & protective force of Shakti (energy), She's a caring mother to her devotees/innocent people and the destroyer of evil, she expresses the dual nature of the destruction that must come before new beginnings. Kali ma embodies the power of all, transcending good & evil to protect her people against negativity. Kali ma is Mother Nature, primordial, nurturing, and devouring, She is vested in freeing beings, granting salvation.

Hel: Norse Goddess of death, the underworld & decay.

Hel, the half living and half dead goddess, is one of Loki's children, and rules over the realm of the dead, she mostly receives those who died of illness or old age in her realm. Hel is often depicted as a fearsome figure, and in Her realm, Helheim, is considered one of the nine worlds in Norse cosmology and is located in the lowest part of the universe. In the events of Ragnarok, Hel plays a crucial role. It is foretold that she will lead an army of the dead to fight against the gods.

Morana: Slavic Goddess of death, winter, magic & dreams.

Morana is a Slavic goddess associated with seasonal agrarian rites based on the idea of death and rebirth of nature. the death of Morana at the end of winter becomes the rebirth of Spring of the Goddess Vesna, representing the coming of Spring, joy & life. She is still worshipped to this day and is often described as a vengeful, powerful goddess. She is married to the spring/love God Yarilo but their relationship is not seen as healthy.

Izanami: Japanese Goddess of Death, darkness & creation.

Izanami is a Shintō creation mother goddess who became the Japanese goddess of death after she died while giving birth. Her name, Izanami, means ''the female who invites.''. She can create many lands and other divine beings, has the power of death and could command gods/spirits of the underworld. Izanami & Izanagi are the creators of the Japanese archipelago and the creators of the powerful deities Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo.

[saganssorcery]

I want request a free reading, my question is what will be happening for this year for me. My initial are AL.

I am a Taurus moon and sun. Also my rising is Virgo.

Thank you 💕

Hello! You have drawn the Seven of Cups and the Nine of Cups. This year you have some decisions to make regarding your happiness and what brings you a feeling of well being and security. This decision won't be the easiest, it's likely you will have to sift through what is an illusion of happiness, and what is the real path towards it.

[ Tip jar ] ✨🙏✨

For an expanded reading please check out the [ full list of my services ] and DM me for any information you may need to get your reading underway 💙☄️

[elgaberino-mcoc]

KARNILLA has been added to the MCOC Wishlist

One of the strongest sorceresses in the pages of Thor comics and beyond, Karnilla is ruler of Nornheim, and queen of the fates. She can definitely face whatever challenge the Battlerealm can throw at her. #MCOC @MarvelChampions

[omgthatdress]

Elora Danan — Last Blood of Kymeria, Semprum Sorceress of the Nine Realms, Empress of Tir Asleen

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun : Chapter one: Happy Little Family

This is series two of a fic I have already written.

Master List

Relationship: Astarion x Tav

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: The year is 1548 it’s fifty-six years after Tav and Astarion defeated the elder brain with their rag-tag group of friends. So much has changed since then Astarion changed careers and is now a tailor while Tav runs the counter. While their daughter attends Gale’s School of Wizardry. That's right their daughter. Everything is going smoothly until something dark threatens to destroy all of Faerûn and it's up to Astarion, Tav, and their Daughter to stop it from happening.

Being a parent to a Dhampir was not the easiest thing in the world. Over the last six years, Tav and Astarion had their fair share of ups and downs when it came to raising Apple, Starting at only eight months old when, after a short nap, Apple had decided that playing on the ceiling was better than waiting in her crib for Tav and Astarion to wake. A simple message to Gale to get some perspective on Apple's new magical abilities and simple solutions before something could indeed be done about them. Apple was only an infant, so her magical abilities were more challenging to control; she did not have the sense of self to know what she was doing. So until then, if she was going down for a nap or Tav or Astarion would have their eyes off of her for longer than a few seconds, a long piece of string was attached to Apple's clothes, and she was then effectively turned into a balloon.

Everything came to a head, however, when, at age four, Apple was having trouble making friends in the neighborhood, so she summoned a fairy from the Faewild, and between the two of them, no closed door could keep them contained, nor would they keep them out. It all seemed harmless until they started playing tricks on anyone and everyone around them, which made others in the neighborhood anything but happy. So when Apple was four, Gale received another message via a sending spell begging him for help, and now there was a permanent portal in the downstairs lining closet that led straight to Waterdeep and vice versa. A year later, Apple was enrolled in Gale's wizard school for gifted children, and Tav now found most of her days, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon five times a week, empty and devoid of Apple. Despite Apple being a sorceress and not a wizard, no one seemed to care in her class, and everything she learned helped her understand her magic.

Astarion had opened a small tailor shop out of the back room of the manor house they had acquired the day Apple was born, and for the most part, Tav manned the front desk while Astarion took clients and fitted them. He seemed genuinely happy with how his life turned out. Astarion now had a real family, not something forced together as the one Cazador had made, where they were brother and sister in name only. This family he chose was something he cultivated and nurtured over the years, filled with nothing but love and devotion.

Tav sometimes felt horrible for how she felt as she looked at how happy Astarion was where they both were, with their beautiful daughter and thriving business. It just felt like everyone had something but her. Everything was doing something, and she became a housewife and mother. Tav sometimes missed the feeling of blood in her hair, hearing an arrow fly through the air, and the sound it made when it hit its target. She loved Astarion and Apple dearly and wouldn't trade anything for what she had now; she sometimes missed the life she had before. She missed being an adventurer.

"You look amazing."

Astarion's voice woke Tav up from her daydream of years gone by. She looked up to see Astarion walking someone out of the back room. The man was dressed head to toe in a new suit Astarion had made specifically for him. On the front, beads of sapphire, jade, and ruby had been sewin in by hand in an intercept design. From where Tav sat behind the counter, it looked like flowers, but she wasn't paying enough attention to care. All that mattered was that Astarion and the customer liked it. What she thought of it didn't matter.

The customer was a large, dark-skinned man who was a part of the small consul of Baldur's Gate. Tav didn't recognize him and only vaguely remembered Astarion telling her he had booked a client off the consul. Saying that it was for a midsummer's party, they would be attending and that it would require a lot of beadwork. Tav was excited for Astarion; it was the first time someone from the upper city had requested a suit from him. The amount for the suit alone was enough for them to take several months off. Not that Astarion would since he had found a genuine love for his work now that his days of adventuring were behind him.

"I think this might be your best work, Astarion." The customer looked at himself in a mirror, and Astarion stood behind the glass so he wouldn't notice the missing reflection. "How do you manage to get such intercept designs?"

"Years of practice. I am an Elf, so I have the time." Astarion gave a little bow. "If you pay upfront, you can wear it out; My wife will help you at the counter."

The man looked Tav over with an assessing stare. Going over every part he could see. Tav quickly looked for something to do in order to make herself look busy and not as if she was simply doing nothing but keeping the counter in place. In a way, she was only sitting at the front counter to give herself something to do, not attributing to the business other than taking coins and maybe reading in her downtime.

"I wish I had been born an Elf." He pulled out his coin purse and proceeded to walk over to Tav. "You get all the perks; you only have to sleep a few hours, live for hundreds of years, and stay young longer than any of us."

"Maybe you'll get lucky, and when you die fat and happy, you'll be resurrected as something with a little longer life span." Astarion moved behind the counter with Tav. "Though you seem to be making the most out of this one already."

"I would still like more time; my life must seem like a drop in a bucket to you." He placed the purse down on the counter. "It's all there and a little extra for such beautiful work."

"Until next time." Astarion picked up the pouch, assessing its weight as he did.

"Oh, I will definitely be requiring your services again." The man turned. "And I'll be sure everyone at the party knows just who to go to if they want to look as fabulous as I will be."

The councilman walked out, strutting every step, dripping with confidence. Tav thought he wouldn't last more than ten minutes walking down the street in a suit beaded with gems. Surly, some thug or cutthroat would have it off him the second he walked down an ally or crossed into the slightest shadow.

Tav looked at Astarion, who looked like a cat who had caught a particular juicy rat. His lips were perfectly composed into a practiced smile that oozed trust, but his eyes were sharp, focused, and assessing. He likely thought the same thing Tav did and was betting on it. Hoping that the councilmen would come back begging for another suit and Astarion would oblige for double the price.

"He's going to get the crap beat out of him for that jacket," Tav said what they both thought.

"Oh, most definitely." Astarion purred as he spoke. "And that's precisely why I made a second suit, and when he comes back, I'm going to act like it's a huge inconvenience." A sly smile broke across his face. "So much so that he'll offer me extra just for my time."

"You're so cruel." Tav turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But that's one of the things I love about you."

"It's not my fault he chose to put a target on his back." Astarion snaked his hands around her waist. "A man like that will always let his pride get the better of him."

"I guess it doesn't hurt that after you so graciously make him a new one, he'll be more inclined to tell people about you." Tav gave him a small smile.

"Exactly!" He leaned down, placing a kiss on Tav's head.

Tav pushed up on the balls of her feet to extend her reach, kissing his lips gently. Astarion returned the kiss, pulling her flush against him to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him in, and he obliged her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, leaving nothing unexplored. Tav felt heat flush into her body, pooling deep in her core. A moan escaped as she felt Astarion harden against her, a promise of what was to come.

He broke the kiss, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting gently. Tav moved her hands into Astarion's hair, weaving them in before tugging at his soft white curls. It was Astarion's turn to moan as his head dipped back slightly, leaning into the tug. Tav took advantage of his now exposed neck as she planted a soft kiss near his jugular. A gasp escaped his lips as Tav's kiss quickly turned into a gentle bite.

"I don't think I have another client for the rest of the day." Astarion's voice was breathy as he spoke. "What do you say to going up to our bed and having a little fun?"

"Whatever could you mean." Tav moved her lips around his neck, teasing him as she placed soft feather-light kisses on his exposed throat.

"You know exactly what I mean." Astarion moved his hands to cup Tav's face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Now, don't play dumb, or I'll have to show you what I mean right here where anyone could walk in and see."

"Well, when you put it that way." She gave him a wicked smile. "I wouldn't want anyone to see and get jealous."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Astarion gave Tav a rough, demanding kiss. "They would need to pay for it first, at least."

Tav chuckled as she thought about someone walking in on them. She was not interested in being watched in the slightest, but the thought still made her heart race. Moments like these were rare. Offend times took place in the dead of night when they thought that Apple wouldn't be awake to hear them and on days when Astarion wasn't exhausted after filling orders and stitching all day. It had gotten so bad that they had to plan out days in advance when they would have sex. Tav often missed the feel of his fingers caressing her body or the feeling of his lips on her neck. Their lives had changed in so many ways. Having to plan when they would have sex was never something she would have imagined. So when days like this happened, Tav was all but gitty with excitement.

Their passion was cut short when a crackle of magic filled the air, signaling the arrival of Apple coming home from her day at school. Astrarion let out a sigh before moving away from Tav, giving her a look that let her know they would continue where they left off later. Tav blew him a kiss in confirmation before turning away and slowly making her way to the linen closet. Astarion stayed behind the counter as he waited for his arousal to quiet down.

Apple burst through the door holding a small black book bag, a large smile plastered on her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in her parents, practically vibrating with excitement. That's how it was most days when she came back from school with her uncle Gale. She had a thirst for knowledge, and since she started at Gale's academy, her hunger only grew. She was a second year, which was noted by the patch sewn onto her breast pocket. The green patch matched her eyes and went nicely with the dark brown of the robe.

As the students aged, the color of the robes would change, and since Apple was still in the youngest block, she got to wear the plainest robe color. In a few years, she would move to blue, then purple, before finaly, in her final years, she would be able to choose her own clothes. Since then, she would be an adult and thus able to go off on her own technically. But Tav didn't want to think that Apple was still her baby girl and would stay that way for a long time.

"Mommy!" Apple bounced toward Tav as if she were a rabbit. "Guess what Uncle Gale had us do today!?"

"What would that be love?" Tav crouched down to get down on her level to talk.

Apple wrapped her arms around Tav's neck, nearly knocking her over as she crashed into her, too excited to temper her excitement. Tav kept her footing as she hugged Apple tightly, placing her hands behind her head to touch her soft white curls.

Apple looked more and more like Astarion every day; there was no mistaking whose child she was. Her curls swept down past her shoulders and fell in delicate rings. Despite her eyes being a deep emerald green accented with gold flecks, the shape of them was the same as her father's. Tav had to look hard to find anything that resembled her in her own daughter, and even then, she was growing up so fast even those things changed.

"Watch this mommy." Apple took a step away from Tav to ready herself for casting magic.

Tav pursed her lips together as she watched Apple stick out her tongue in concentration and shimmy her shoulders. The little sorceress closed her eyes and chanted the incantation she had learned today, only stumbling a little at the end of her sentence. Within seconds, lights appeared around her, dancing around her in a circle. Tav knew that with this spell now in Apple's repertoire, she would surely use it to stay up late and read under her covers at night. This was not the end of the world, but Tav knew it would lead to a grumpy Apple the following day.

"That is amazing, sweetheart!" Tav clapped her hands together. "Why don't we celebrate you learning a new spell by letting you choose what we will have for dinner?"

"Really! Anything I want?"

The gold in Apple's eyes glowed like stars at the thought of her getting to choose dinner. Tav heard Astarion's footsteps approaching from behind and turned to face him. He had a look of awe on his face. Not from the spell. It was one of the simplest spells that could be done, but he was in awe of his daughter. Every time he looked at her, he got a glimpse of his own face, something he hadn't seen in over two hundred years.

"Anything you want, darling, I will make." Astarion smiled.

"Can I have shepherd's pie?" Apple ran so that she nearly stepped on Astarion's feet and craned her neck to look up at him.

"Of course, we'll need to go and buy the ingredients." Astarion picked Apple up so that she was dangling in front of him. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes!"

"Will you be coming with us, love?" Astarion looked at Tav, who had turned to watch the exchange.

"Well, of course!" Tav moved to tickle Apple. "Once our little sorceress goes and changes out of her school clothes."

Apple was helpless as Tav's fingers found their mark. Moving up and down her sides, causing her to break out in uncontrollable laughter.

"Stop it, mommy! I'll get changed! I promise." Apple tried and failed to get Tav to stop. "Daddy, help me!"

"I'll Save you." Astarion spun and placed Apple on the ground. "Now hurry and change. I can only hold your mother back for so long!"

Astarion moved to embrace Tav, trying his best to make it look as if he was genuinely restraining her and not just holding her tightly against him. Tav played along, pretending as if his embrace trapped her. Mock struggled as if she was trying to break free.

"Thanks, Dad; keep her like that till I get back!" Apple retreated towards the stairs in the other room.

"Oh, I won't be letting her go, my sweet little Apple!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Not until I am delighted, at least." He whispered the last part so Apple wouldn't hear, but Tav indeed could.

"I Don't think we have time to satisfy you truly." Tav gave him a seductive smile. "She'll be back down in just a few minutes, and we both know you're not that quick."

"Then we better make it count." Astarion moved to the shell of Tav's ear. "For now, I'll just give you a taste of what is yet to come."

A shiver ran down Tav's spine. "Just kiss me, you beautiful fool."

"That's all?" Astarion moved his lips until they were nearly touching Tav's. "I would have thought you'd have a more vivid imagination."

"I do, but we don't have the time," Tav growled out her following words. "But I'll be sure to show you just how vivid my imagination is tonight."

Astarion chuckled. "I'm looking forward to that."

He finally touched Tav's, kissing her softly as they both listened for Apple's footsteps.

It took Apple fifteen minutes to choose from her massive wardrobe and come downstairs. Astarion had been busy over the years, making her dresses, pants, tunics, and whatever else he could think of. She was the best-dressed child in the neighborhood. Maybe even in all of Baldur's Gate.

The three of them went to the shops they needed to get the ingredients for the shepherd's pie Apple had asked for. They stopped by the butcher Alphones to pick up the ground lamb and a few jars of blood. Apple was nearly drooling at the sight of blood, and Tav quickly took the jars and headed outside. From there, they bought the rest of the vegetables on the way home, and Astarion and Tav set to peeling, chopping, and preparing for dinner while Apple read from her textbook.

After an hour or so, dinner was ready. Astarion poured himself and Apple a glass of blood while Tav made her and Apple a plate. The food smelled delicious, and Tav felt her mouth watering in anticipation of the meal she was about to devour. Apple sat across from Tav, and Astarion sat to Tav's left at the head of the table. Silence fell across the table as the meal started to be consumed.

"Oh!" Apple broke the silence after cleaning her plate. "I forgot to tell you the most exciting part of the day!"

"Learning a new spell wasn't at the top?" Astarion took a sip of his glass. "I'm surprised."

"Did something funny happen?" Tav stopped eating to listen to Apple speak, giving her full attention to her child.

"No, Urdrar told me he's going to get to be a big brother!" Apple was nearly standing in her seat.

Tav knew that Urdrar was a Dwarf and that he was Apple's best friend in her class. He had visited the portal several times with Apple for play dates, but Tav had never met his parents. Urdrar was a nice enough child, polite, and didn't like getting into trouble; unlike Apple, it almost seemed like trouble followed her wherever she went. She could often get the small, stocky, dwarven boy to do almost anything, taking advantage of his small frame to squeeze into all places. Being excited for her best friend made sense, but Tav could sense there was more to this excitement than just being happy for her friend.

"That's exciting for Urdrar." Tav looked at Astarion, who was still sipping on his glass.

"Yeah! But I was just wondering." Apple looked away from Tav's gaze.

There it is, Tav thought.

"Could I have a baby brother or sister?"

Astarion nearly choked on his blood at the words that came out of Apple's mouth. Tav got up from her seat to rub soothing circles on his back till he was no longer choking on the blood that had entered his lungs. It took a few more seconds before Astarion answered her question. Having a hard time finding the words to say.

"It is more difficult than just going to the store and picking a baby out, darling." Astarion turned to look at Tav, pleading for help with his eyes.

"He's right, dear. It's… complicated." Tav struggled to find the words.

"Why?" Apple knitted her brows together. "How do you get a baby then?"

Tav's heart felt like it was pounding against her chest. “Well… ummm… That's something only grown-ups get to know."

"Why?" Apple placed one hand on her hip. "What do you have to do?"

"We'll tell you when you are older, but not now." Astarion looked as if he was going to die all over again. "Why don't you go wash up and study? Your mom and I need to talk."

"Are you going to talk about how to make a baby?" Apple didn't move.

"No honey, we already know how to make a baby." Astarion smiled. "We don't need to talk about how it's done."

"Astarion!" Tav turned red.

"What? I didn't say anything." He stood, grabbing Apple's plate as he did. "Now go, Apple, I'll come up in a little while to read you a bedtime story."

"Ooookaaaay." Apple elongated the word as she rose from her seat and headed towards the stairs.

Tav and Astarion waited until they thought Apple was no longer within range to hear the conversation that they were about to have. The room was silent and thick with anticipation, both waiting for the other to speak.

"Well, we should probably clean up, huh?" Tav grabbed her plate and started making her way to the kitchen.

"Tav? It's not like we haven't discussed this before." Atsrion followed behind her.

"I know, but now she's asking about it." Tav let out a long sigh. "How do you tell a six-year-old I'm sorry, mommy and Daddy can't give you a brother or sister because having you was a miracle in itself, and it's a long shot if it ever happens again."

"Well, I think, just like that." Astarion placed the plate he was holding in the sink. "It's not like it's impossible; we've done it before."

"By accident!" Tav whirled around so that she was face to face with Astarion. "It was blind luck that I got pregnant the first time, and you know that being an elf makes it even harder."

Astarion grabbed Tav by the shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to try." Astarion smiled. "Gives us more of an excuse to… practice."

"I suppose we can read the paper for any elves that have died recently, or maybe there is a tea or potion that helps elves conceive." Tav smiled at Astarion despite feeling like she was going to throw up. "I mean, Drow have whole families; maybe they know something we don't."

"There we go!" Astarion wrapped his arms around Tav, pulling her into a tight embrace. "This time, we'll do some research that should make things easier."

"Yeah." Tav hugged Astarion back. "Easier..."

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