#Spell Astra

[alexissara]

THE Comics Of The Year 2023

I'm Alexis Sara, and if you don't know me then you should know I am an Eisner [among several other award] winning comics writer and I eventually kinda left behind comics because of a massive feeling of burn out and a lack of hope for the industry. However, I utterly adore the medium and I do enjoy comics still even if mostly in indie form or Manga. Manga of the year is a separate post since I just read more Manga and I wanted to talk about more comics overall so this section is all non manga stuff from Webcomics to graphic novels to single issue type deals, everything I read is up for consideration.

Extreme Venomverse #4 Necroko story 

This story makes me even more mad than I am every day about the state of the public domain. Stan Lee is dead, he doesn't need Spider-man money but Marvel will for many many many more years hoard the amazing ideas made by so many other people that relate to spider-man and even when Spider-man enters the public domain Disney will sue people for using any part of spider-man that doesn't come from the debut time and is still with in their copyright. So an amazing character like Nercroko is stuck at the whims of some editor to see if the creators can bring her back, for how long they can bring her back, they get to decide how gay she is allowed to be, how violent, if the story fits their brand image and if a random event has her erased from the timeline or something to fuel a mans pain or something. Which is to say fuck Marvel comics, don't buy their stuff but I read this story and it's really fucking good, 12/10 it's not really worth buying Extreme Venomverse cuz the other stories are mid but as fuck but this little short story if you could find it at retail value for a single issue of Venomverse #4 pick it up for sure. It's a venom magical girl who is gay, just great, perfect, brilliant, inspirational.

IDW Sonic 

You expect to see the sapphics from me and there here, for real, but I really enjoy this series in general. Whisper and Tangle are my main draw but I did enjoy Sonic video games a lot when I was younger so the characters, designs, etc are always something I just like seeing. The IDW comics bring a great consistent art style that makes the world of sonic feel very alive, stylish an cool. The new characters are all people I want to show up as playable in new sonic games and the story lines all feel like they would be exciting to see in a video game. These comics are really well done and while it could be more explicit in allowing it's original characters to be queer [I understand main game characters not being able to have romance to give the game devs space] it's still a good time.

Ladykillers

I love when the lesbians are on an adventure, when they are poly, when they are silly, and we got it all here. Ladykillers is a silly D&D inspired webcomic that has these cute little dumbasses go on quests and get into trouble. It starts pretty one shotty and eventually gets into a continuous narrative. If you loved Bauldr's Gate but wished it was just about like three homoerotic girls getting into silly trouble, this one is for you.

My Dragon Girlfriend

My Dragon Girlfriend every year is a top series for me. The release format of release makes each update a very small dose of a larger narrative but these little romances are all compelling and sweet and fun filled with silly little sapphics. While the newest couple added in is the one I am least compelled by I still enjoyed them. The art is really cute and sweet, the way emotion is portrayed is handled really well, Country really knows how to capture emotion within the medium and masters making good use out of all the little details.

Grand Slam Romance

I don't like sports but if lesbian magical girls played soft ball I would have to convert to being the number ones sports girly. The messy lesbian drama here is so good and the jokes are really great, when I grabbed this I kinda worried it be YA toned which typically doesn't sit well with me but luckily this is in fact adult fiction for adults that just has a strong sense of whimsy. It's a really great read and I hope a lot more people check it out because it's super good and even has a follow up book coming out.

SpellAstra

These lesbians have issues and I am so fucking here for it. We got a trio of queer witches casting spells, fighting monsters, etc who are all also teachers for a school of other witches. One of the party turns into a demon if her seal is broken which causes her to get all violent and feral, one has a magical artifact tied to a bigger play happening across the universes of the world and the final is holding secrets she doesn't want to share. From there their issues run into each other, they deal with new problems they cause, their love lives get complicated and we find out the truth of all the messy lesbian fun that is unleashed between them. The translation is sometimes a little wonky but if you can forgive a self published self translation to English for sometimes saying words a little wrong but still understandably then damn there just isn't really a story like SpellAstra I've read.

Mage & Demon Queen 

After following this series for so many years it finally finished. This action comedy yuri series is fucking amazing from start to finish a fun time with some of the best jokes across all of comics for nerdy little sapphics like me. I do think near the end of the series we spend too much time with the men of the cast who simply were not the draw for me at all but they got a lot of panel time but outside of that small preference so much of this series is so perfect it's hard to even fault the parts that are a little less great.

Pink Sugar 

What a fucking book, what a queer gift that this exists, that we live in a world where this is being released on webtoon [and a ton of other places] gives me hope for queer art and art in general. This story is lesbian in the deepest ways, with the diversity of lesbians that I want to see. Masc Non Binary Lesbians, bigger fem lesbians, trans lesbians, all falling in love with each other in these gloriously sweet ways. This series is truly queer in the most real sense. The presentation of the afterlife is innovative and fun. the comedy is great, the chemistry between all four of this polycule is great, the romantic moments are super sweet, the art's fantastic, the pacing is great and all of that lends to some really fucking heart breaking moments to as we get into the deep feelings of these dead women. This is one of the best stories being told right now and maybe ever. I love Pink Sugar, I beg of you to check it out. It's currently kickstarting a physical version if your reading this near release of this post then you should go back it. You can read it for free, if you like it, back it.

If you want to help me enjoy more art then consider checking out my Patreon or Ko-fi and giving me a little bit of cash so I can do more of this kind of writing but also like make lots of my own art, art is hard to make and costs money and like maintain my chronically ill and trans body also takes money so anything helps, thank you. If you want more details on any of these I do have reviews for many of the pieces of art above but you can also let me know you want more and maybe I'll write more.

#Necroko #Comics #Web Comics #Webtoons #Webtoon #Comics 2023 #Web Comics 2023 #Webtoon 2023 #Webtoons 2023 #Pink Sugar #Sonic #IDW Sonic #Lady Killers #LadyKillers #My Dragon Girlfriend #My Dragon GF #MDGF #Grand Slam Romance #SpellAstra #Spell Astra #Mage and Demon Queen #mage & demon queen

[transhollyleaf]

kind of a dilf?

(character belongs to @hellenite's fic series event horizon)

#ITS /J BTW I DONT THINK HES A DILF #also this is just how i imagine him when hes dressed not as fancy #ad astra #de terra #event horizon #raennaron #raennaron zeethotad #spelling his name from memory lets hope i get it right >_> #my art

[the-clay-quarters]

Language thoughts always end up reminding me that Catalan doesn't get a standardized spelling rulebook* until 1913

Vincent's first language is Catalan, Spanish second, academic Latin, various neighbouring languages from traveling, and now daily use English. Their spelling must be fucking awful good lord. Poor lad is trying to piece together English spelling from spoken word with a primarily romance language background. They are Not having a good time.

*Not a dictionary! It was mostly grammar afaik. The dictionary wasn't published until 1931

#im sure there were local rules n stuff #but these are generally recognised as The First :tm: (and fuck me researching in catalan is hard) #(no google that isnt misspelt spanish go away) #ough spelling rulebook is a dumb way to translate that but ortogràfia isnt a word in english >:( #anyway astra routinely unintentionally beams me with language thoughts #most of my ocs only know one language but languages georg vincent is an outlier #i have to be silly about their languages bcus otherwise ill think about how isolated they are from their culture and get sad #oc: vincent bell

[bellusastra]

Me when agent 4

#astra art #doodle #agent 4 #splatoon #splatoon 2 #why am I forgetting how to spell splat

[chuwush]

When I Saw Nova's brush test it looked like Astra had freckles. So here's some little doodles of Astra with Freckles¡

#spark the electric jester #spark tej #sketch #fanart #stej #astra stej #Ramalo step #Did I spell that right¿ Lmao #Mention of E.J. lol

[primeministerofantarctica]

mighta been looking away half the time but damn the little mermaid was (mostly) great. i think if you combined the plot of this version with the visuals of the og (and halle bailey's voice, god-) you'd get a perfect version of the movie. also i can't believe ariel has a kill count now

#astra rambles #personal #the little mermaid spoilers #jic? #like. *musically* i adore this version under the sea BUT THE VISUALS ON SCREEN WERE SO BLAND #come on you've seen the original. how do u take something bright and fun and colorful #and decide to make it that >_> #the script had a lot of problems with characters Expositioning but i like that they ran with the parallels between eric and ariel #they were soooo cute omg #and i like that they made it that ursula was putting him under a spell to make him marry her ToT #homeboy DIDNT just drop ariel for a new chick #although i really thought they were going to do something with the 'oh a human killed your mom' 'your parents died in a shipwreck' #like maybe the events were connected. but nooo they didn't go ANYWHERE with them :T

[krasnayavedma]

“Can’t sleep?”

Laying on the couch covered with a blanket, tired eyes stare at the TV in front of her. While she watched whatever was currently playing, Wanda's thoughts were elsewhere. Her mind kept going to Ethan, and how her feelings for him slowly began to develop more and more. With all the time spent together as friends and in bed, she couldn't shake how she felt. While she hoped it was a passing thing, at this point her feelings had gone on long enough that she knew better.

Not knowing how much time had gone by, she hardly registered his presence until his question came. Wanda shook her head, her gaze unwavering. Another heartbeat goes by before a quiet admission fills the air and she finally looks at him. ❝ I don't know if I can do this anymore, Ethan. I love you. I'm . . . I'm in love with you. And . . . and I know this isn't what we agreed when we entered a friends with benefits relationship but I can't help it. My feelings for you started ever since you took me sailing and the truth is, I've been scared to admit it because I don't want to ruin what we have. I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all. As much as I've tried to hide what I've been feeling lately . . . I just, I can't anymore. ❞

Her confession took a huge weight off her shoulders; however, there was also that little bit of fear and anxiety that surrounded her because she knew there was a chance that her friendship with Ethan would end. Their friendship meant so much to her, and it wasn't something she was willing to risk until now. She guessed being tired had a role to play for her sudden revelation. ❝ We've been friends for long enough that I know you don't like to commit but I wanna start thinking about the future. I still want to have fun and live but I also want to settle down some day, and maybe even have kids. I just don't know if that's what you want, too. ❞

Send me "can't sleep?" to have a tired conversation with my muse in the middle of the night / @coogars !

#AND THERE IT IS 😭 #coogars #❛ ad astra per aspera ❜ —【 answered 】 #omg so this was also sent when ethan was on his own #so i hope it's okay that i'm continuing from that #if not﹐ let me know and i can always change it for another muse! :) #also﹐ i'm sorry for any spelling mistakes/ typos/ continuity errors! #oh! and before i forget﹐ this is also supposed to be the thrilling sequel to the sailing thing i just wrote (except with a time jump) #i hope that's okay! lol

[lovevalley45]

this is a small detail i've noticed while watching s4 but i feel like when we see john pull out a spell for smth we rarely really go back to that spell, meanwhile with astra it seems like there's more spells that she goes back to (one obvious one being permuto)

this isn't really a nitpick i just think it's an interesting showcase in their different magic spells, john has been a warlock since before astra was even born while she's still in her beginning stage as a witch. i don't know how intentional it is but it's fun

#alli says shit #i think it's also more purpose built like. john's spells aren't really focused on as much #unless it's more crucial to the story/more dangerous #think of like the spell he uses in 'i am legend' on zari #astra uses magic casually like in 'this is gus' but she often breaks it out in bigger ways than john #which is once again another way to demonstrate how they're both magic users but in different ways/levels

[pepsitwist]

i am repeatedly in love w the way the bloodline story has been a lot of nonverbal storytelling outside of matches. promos are obviously great and they’re important, but man. the bloodline/sami/kevin story has had some incredible segments where you haven’t needed anyone to go anywhere near a mic. it’s so well done, and i really really love how it’s been done in that aspect

#wrestling is obviously super performative and a lot is told through matches #story happens in matches all the time without speaking #BUT. the bloodline stuff hasn’t just been in matches. there’s been multiple of these segments that #just straight up don’t need dialogue. we get it. we see it on their faces we see it in their movements. #they speak to each other and we don’t know what they’re saying but at the same time we know EXACTLY what they’re saying #i love conveying that message without spelling it out for you #i love portraying these characters as more than just characters #it feels so much more real and personal when not everything is spoken into a mic #it feels so much more intimate when you can only tell through body language what’s going on #and that’s not to say it’s subtle. it’s not subtle. it’s acting for a large live audience as well as tv #it’s a mix of stage acting and film acting as it’s GREAT #you could watch so much of the bloodline/sami/kevin story on mute and know exactly what it is. #i just. i really love it. i love the complexities of wrestling and how many different forms of storytelling people can use for it #astra liveblogs

[the-agent-of-blight]

do you like warhammer? Specifically the chaos god nurgle

I've always been on the outskirts of warhammer. Like i have several friends who play it, but i've never gotten into it because i already have an expensive hobby that involves a game and story. Its just instead of buying plastic minis i buy cardboard rectangles. I am vaguely, vaguely aware of the factions therefore and have to say i'd probably play like Aedeptus Mechanicus rather than Chaos Marines tbh.

#hello! #yeah i'm a magic the gathering player #heck my blog title is the name of one of my favorite cards (i play infect) #if i had to choose something other than Aedeptus i'd probably play something like Astra Militarum (?) ((i forget how you spell that one)) #but again. i dont actually play warhammer. ive tried it like once or twice in a game of kill team #blusheher

[dawnbreakersgaze]

NOPE

NO

NO THANK YOU

I don't like the way those are lining up AT ALL.

"Broken free of the shackles of natural law"

We've heard/seen Zayne be referenced as "shackled" at least 3 times before at this point. By Raymond, by the 'Narrator' ("remains shackled to time"), and in reference to the Foreseer myth. This makes the 4th. I genuinely hurt every single time the story so heavy handidly reminds me that Zayne really is a dog on a chain. The Foreseer robes even have a LITERAL collar of thorns over the neck of it ffs. It's painful to watch at this point and it breaks my heart.

"Why persuade Zayne? What he really needs is a pair of hands. Ones that can carry out God's mission and allow for God's descent."

Between this, and the one below of-

"At least he has another option. His last one"

I'm torn on which one is referencing Astra. On one hand, Astra really could be a modern made "God". An elevated man of great power, someone Zayne turned to in his 11th hour to try and save MC (though we all know how that turned out, unfortunately). It would seem that Xander Sciences is playing at God, and if we know anything about the sci-fi scene, it's that human experimentation ALWAYS ends up going ~soooo well~ and nothing ever goes wrong there 👀

On the other hand, the "last option" really gets my gut feeling going. My theorist brain is telling me Zayne is gonna go full Warlock pact and make a deal with an entity in exchange for MC's life. Only it's gonna go tits up and be a Fey pact, and because we all know how MC and he end up, clearly Zayne did NOT read the fine print (or more likely, Zayne thought he could out maneuver the rules). Ever since I read the Mt Eternal anecdote and realized the Tower and Mt Eternal are in the same location, I could not shake the feeling that Zayne already has made contact with whatever "Astra" is. Be it a very powerful person, an actual God, or someone else entirely different (like another time traveler, such as Xavier and the backtrackers). We know he's traveling back there multiple times by himself, conducting research of an unknown variety, that only he and Dr. Noah are privy to. I'm just saying if ever there was a cover up for having contact with a supernatural being/aliens/a God, that's a really fucking good one.

Whatever it is, this new lore drop has really really spelled out in big bold letters, that Zayne is thought of as a tool by a LOT of people. Xander Sciences, Astra, even the Dean of the medical academy had a moment there. My poor man even thinks of himself as a tool, one that is meant to save MC (from himself he even says at one point 😭😭😭 like oh my God Zayne stoppppp). He literally considers himself expendable so long as he saves her. Once he's done his job and secured her future, even if that means passing on the ability to save her to someone else, he's fine laying down his life for that.

And that's seriously the saddest part of this whole fucking game imo.

#lnds #love and deepspace #zayne #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lore and theories #i'll revisit this tomorrow but it's 4 am and my brain is buzzing with way too much information #i need to re-read everything 10× to make sure im understanding it all ACK

[writing-havoc]

HEY! HOW ARE YOU? would you be willing to make a kaz brekker x reader? if possible a soulmate au? I'm obsessed with this trope! maybe name on the wrist or the one where with just a touch of skin you see the colors? I imagine one where r is not part of the dregs but is quite indifferent/receptive to the fact that kaz is the leader of a gang. r is a seamstress, using her skills to hide that she is a fabrikator, and she (can be gn if you want!) and kaz know they are soulmates, though they never talk about it. they can even be a 'thing' secretly, and it would be adorable if they were both childhood friends. maybe before the events of SoC kaz decided to make their relationship official (with a request for courtship alá brekker or even a marriage on paper) and after CK he is even more desperate for this, wanting to protect r at all costs. oh, it would be very interesting if r had a younger sister aged 8/9 who loves kaz and vice versa since she is very quiet and obedient and loves to listen to kaz's stories. even better if he secretly called her little crow. bonus if the girl's name is astra and she is also a hidden grisha, an inferni or another etherealki i would love to see this from your point of view and with her writing it would be amazing but feel free to decline if you don't want to. Did I already say that you write very well? well then know. YOU ARE INCREDIBLY TALENTED!!!!!!

Silent tears

♡ Summary: Before the events of the ice court, Kaz feels relatively content with his feelings and relationship with you. After? Not so much.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Mentions vomit a few times, Gun, Death, uses yn twice

♡ WC: 5.4k

Aaaa thank you sm for this request!! Loved all the little details I had to include. It was interesting writing for a reader that wasn't part of the dregs.

Thank you for your kind words <3

I made Astra a Squallor here. And it's up to your interpretation if the reader and Kaz are dating or otherwise before the ending.

As always, please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The sound of a sewing machine filled the small shop. It was loud, punching the table he knows it's rested on and creating a rumbling in the floor.

Gowns and suits and vests filled the racks around the store, some on display on fake bodices. They wore outfits, tantalizing window shoppers to enter and run their fingers along the fabrics.

The velveteen looked high quality, mixed with some sort of spandex fabric around the waist to hug its wearer. Pearls and lace flow across shoulders and down the side of gowns, some even including embroidery.

As he moved along, suits and gowns turns into vests and petticoats. The walls were decorated with hats of various function, most made for looks and flare rather than functionality. Behind the desk even existed a rack of long coats and various sweaters, more than likely just to fill up space than to be sold.

The sound ceased, and he rung the bell at the desk.

"Coming!" Called a voice. He stopped himself from smoothing out his own coat, in turn adjusting his gloves.

Heavy footsteps presented him with your kind figure, heels unconsciously stomping against the wood floor compared to the concrete of the backroom.

You smiled at him, picking off little strings of thread the fell into your lap and stuffing them into a pouch at your side.

"I've just finished your order." He felt just as much as he seen you change from business to something more lax, shoulders drooping and the lines between your brows disappearing. "Gimme one moment to put everything in the box- oh, would you turn the sign around, please?"

"A bit all over the place, are we?" He turned around, hearing you release a big sigh.

"Just about, it seems."

The people walking outside turned to look at the store, smiles on their faces. It was mildly amusing to watch them fall as he turned the sign, giving him a glare as he continued to stare them down. He didn't turn until they left, everyone else's eyes only flashing to the window for a moment before diverting elsewhere the second the closed sign came into view.

Window shopping is pointless when the building is closed.

"You wanted... two suits, one the shade of coal and the other a light purple, a wine red gown, a mask, and a pair of gloves?"

He turned his attention back to you, holding a rather large, yet flat, wooden crate. The inside was filled with the colors you just mentioned, a pair of leather gloves on top acting as paperweights for his order.

You set the crate down for him to look through. He removes the paper, taking the gloves into his hands and holding them out to examine.

And admire.

You aren't a leatherworker. You're a seamstress. And yet, you make the finest pair of leather gloves he has ever seen. Sometimes he'll even catch little designs marked into the gloves, the integrity of the material somehow unfazed.

"Make the slits bigger. Just two millimeters." He hands them to you.

You raise a brow, knowing that you made everything to his usual specifications.

But you take them back, entertaining him. You look at the locked door, and then raise your hand over the gloves.

Grisha power isnt super fascinating to him anymore. When he was little he would beg you to demonstrate your power, handing you pieces of worn fabric to do as you pleased with.

He would watch the thin threads thickened and the material became warped around the edges. Jordie would stand next to him, watching you solely because Kaz dragged him over every single time. You would hold out the newly mended piece of cloth, and he and his brother would clap ans rejoice.

But he still likes to watch you work. To see as your mouth opens and your tongue folds over your canines as you focused.

You give them back to him, and he inspects them once more.

"These will do." He ends up saying, appreciation left for the darker hours in the night.

You roll your eyes and rustle around with the paper held underneath your arm, fingers quickly calculating the math of the order.

Usually he doesn't do a batch of this size while he's still figuring out a job, but the way he sees it there's no way he can't have just about everybody present. Which these days is incredibly rare.

A pin is taken from the cushion on your wrist, planting itself into the red gown. But as you take out two pieces of paper, writing probably a total and your name, he can't help but stare at the ink peeking out from beneath it.

He knows what it says, just as well as he knows the name on his own.

He's seen it once as you pulled up your sleeve during the summer, the fine etching displaying his name, his old name, clear as day before you hurriedly slipped the pin cushion back onto it. He looked away that day, pretending he didn't see.

It feels so much harder to pretend now.

"This is your total. And I will need your signature on both of them, Mr. Brekker."

Your smile is playful, then. As he takes the pen from your outstretched hand.

"As I've told you before, yn, Kaz is fine."

"Oh, but how could I be so informal, Mr. Brekker?" You put your hand on your chest, face twisted into a poor impression of someone who has just been scandalized. "We are business partners, after all."

And just like in those books you always read, he feels his eyes soften, if only a bit as his brows and jaw relax. "Business partners doesn't cover the surface."

You take the confession and relax with it, rubbing the center of your chest. "You're right."

He thinks back to a time when you were both little, each staring at your blank wrist with solemn eyes. He would look at you as you rubbed the soft skin, fingertips and dirty nails gently tracing lines into it.

He would sit next to you, shoulders knocking together, and you would look up at him, expression changing as you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

At the time, he would never say it, the thought turning his ears pink and quickening his adolescent heart, but he would hope that your wrists would match, displaying the others name. He would hope that one day that sad and far off face would cease to exist, and instead would be full of complete and utter joy as you looked at him and exclaim that you knew it. Because you wanted him, too.

But now that he knows, he still wouldn't say anything. You never said anything, and he wasn't in any position or state of mind to say anything to you when he eventually saw his, ash sticky and cold flesh tainting the memory, your scream as you watched him swim to the harbor on Jordie's corpse, and his own as you went to grab him.

It stays locked away, with the rest of the things that feel too hard to touch.

He signs a fake name on both of them, taking one and handing the other to you for your personal records, and then takes out the kruge and hands it to you.

"Is Dirix out back to handle these or do you want a bag for them?"

He sighs. "Dirix is down at the Harbour. A bag will have to do."

"Can I pick the bag?" A new voice calls from the backroom.

He holds back a smile, but fails to stop the corner of his lips from turning up temporarily. He averts his eyes to the doorway where a little girl peeks around the corner, a wide smile on her face as she looks right at him.

"Of course, Astra." You say, and immediately she scurried up to the counter to take a look at the load she has to find a bag for.

Your younger sister, Astra, was moved up here a few years after you were, your parents having passed from the flu and grandparents too old to take on the task of raising a six year old. Much less a six year old who could summon the wind at any time she wants.

Thankfully, you had started your seamstress business a year before that, and had this store with your living space up above to take her in with.

Business was always booming here, your talent for fabrics and all things fashion put on display and loved by the masses. You spent pretty much your entire life studying the trends that wormed their way here, even getting ahead of the train numerous times and working into the darkest hours to make your profit.

Now you can afford the more pricey fabrics, and get the attention of the richer folk over in the Geldstraat.

He helps, of course, with his dirty work.

"I know the perfect one." Astra scurries away.

You chuckle, hearing a small "wow!" and a flurry of footsteps. "She's going to pick the most obnoxious bag, I hope you know."

He takes a breath then, and looks down at the gloves still in his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

There's a moment of silence, watching you from his peripheral as you stare at the gloves too.

"I didnt like the last pair." You admit. "So I made the design more low-key. The last one was too flashy for your aesthetic."

He's wearing those gloves now, and they aren't even flashy. The design is just slightly more pronounced.

The way you measure how flashy something is has a much smaller threshold than most. Even by his standards, it's very small, and he's far from the most colorful being in Ketterdam.

Astra comes back with, of course, a large bright pink fabric bag, twine tied in the shape of a flower tied around the handles.

"Good choice!" You praise, taking the clothes out of the crate and laying them neatly in the bag while she beams at him.

"Do you like the bag?"

And normally, he'd say something incredibly passive aggressive.

But he actually likes Astra, and knows how easy it is to stamp out a child's heart, that level of emotional regulation and individuality not yet found in them.

"Its wonderful, little crow."

"Alright, give this to him, like I showed you." You pushed her along, and she rounded the counter, holding the sides of the bag, leaving the handles free for him to grab.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little moved by that.

Astra wasn't allowed to help you until a few months ago, when she basically got on her hands and knees and begged to be of some help. You claim that you didn't give in right away, but he knows you better than that.

You have told her that he doesn't like to be touched, and it was a little hard for such a touch reliant girl to wrap her mind around that. After a few close calls, she got the general idea down.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He tips his hat, and watches as her little cheeks become pink as she curtsies.

"Ill be making stew like my mom made if you want to stop by later." You suggest.

Astra grins from ear to ear. "But not too later, if you can help it. I want to hear another story."

"At this rate I won't have any stories left to tell you."

She thinks about that for a moment, lips pursing and looking around the room. "Oh!" She shouts, face lighting up. "Can you tell me that one story again? About you and my sister getting lost in the woods down south?"

He pretends to think about it, looking around the room as if in search for the memory. "I think I can do that. You and your sister might have to fill in on some of the details, though."

She grins, pride welling up in her chest that she puffs out, holding out her hand. "The deal is the deal."

He takes her hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "The deal is the deal."

Kaz takes a moment to look back up at you, and his heart nearly leaps out his chest when he sees the way you're looking at him, a small smile he doesn't think he's seen before and eyes filled with so /much/ that he's surprised your whole eye isn't black. Your head rests into your fingers, arm wrapped around your waist. It's an expression he's seen rarely, but it always seems to catch him off guard.

It looks a lot like yearning, he thinks.

But he puts it away for later.

When you catch that he's looking, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression and wiping off imaginary dust from your clothes.

"Alright Astra, Kaz has important business to attend to."

Astra pouts from beside him, but gives him her goodbyes and walks into the backroom again.

He straightens. It's oddly difficult to keep eye contact with you, but he does anyway, flicking between the both of them.

"If I have time, I'll stop by." He gives in.

You're happy with that. "Ill even add extra broth for you."

"Sweetening the offer I see."

You put your hands on your hips, shrugging. "A girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The implications of that are hefty, too hefty with a cane in one hand and a bright pink bag of clothes in the other.

So he ignores it, and nods, taking his leave out the front door and back to the Slat.

-----

He stares at the plan before him in his mind, going over each and every way this can and probably will go sideways.

Breaking into the most secure prison in probably the whole world with nothing more than the scrapings of a plan, one of the essential persons in a different prison, and your presense completely plaguing his mind.

The third one isn't exactly new, but he can't help but think about you when his survival rate went from low on the daily average to basically zero with one handshake.

But thirty million kruge...

Thirty million kruge could go a long way. That's four million for him, most of which he could put towards the crow club and expanding his empire, taking down Pekka, and securing his place as one of the top bosses in Ketterdam.

He could secure his place in the food chain, and maybe, maybe then he...

Maybe.

He entertains the thought of a marriage certificate. Having something that ties you and him together both eternally and in the eyes of everyone else. Being able to hold that slip of paper when he can't hold your hand and feeling like it matters.

It's hard to keep the thought away, now that he's alone with a glass of kvas and death staring him in the eyes.

He doesn't plan on dying soon. Not for a long time. He has vengeance to exact and many more dinners to join you for.

But it's a very real possibility, and he must debate with himself going to you and telling you all this before he leaves.

If it was any other job, Kaz would send Inej to tell you that he would be gone for a few days and to not expect him. If it was literally any other job, he wouldn't even consider getting up from his chair, marching down those stairs and up yours, and discussing the undiscussable to at least satisfy the gnawing in his stomach.

Because he knows that if you find out he died and he knew that he was basically guaranteed to do so and he didn't bother to tell you himself, you would never forgive him.

Granted, he would be dead, so in theory it doesn't matter.

He picks up his cane and gloves, shoving them over his hands and throwing on his long coat. He doesn't even have to look at the coat rack to find his hat, putting it on and making his way out of the Slat and to your address without a word to anyone else.

The theories mean nothing, in the face of reality.

You're making stew with extra broth, he might die in a few days, and he doesn't want you to think ill of him when he can't look you in the eye and try to convince you to feel otherwise.

As the cold bites his nose, he thinks back to that look you were giving him when he made that deal with your sister.

It's nearly enough to make him turn around, muscles tingling and a shiver rolling down his back that's unrelated to the cold. He feels sick. Warm and a feeling in his stomach he only feels late in the night in the comfort of his own bed.

He can't do this.

He picks the lock on your door.

He can't tell you.

He opens the door, locking it behind him.

He can't think of you like that.

He walks up the stairs, the smell of stew just barely reaching his senses as he enters the kitchen.

He can't.

You're sitting at the table, two empty bowls on the table and fabric thrown over your legs, threading them together. Your finger is bleeding, and he wants to wipe it away.

"You're late." You smile, eyelids heavy.

He takes off his hat, putting it on the hook you installed when he started coming over. "Or I'm just in time."

You laugh quietly, sticking the needle in the fabric and pulling it off your lap. "Just in time about sums it up."

He's a monster.

You turn your back to him and enter your room, draping the project on your desk.

The pot is still steaming, and his throat feels clogged.

"Ill be gone for a while."

You turn around, and he can't watch you anymore. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair.

"How long?" Your voice is soft, approaching him.

"Few weeks."

He's a coward.

You hum, setting down a bowl of stew with extra broth in front of him. "Thats a long time, even for you."

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding in his ears. The light catches the stew, making rainbows in the broth. Chunks of lamb, potatoes, pieces of ham, carrots, and greens he can't see dance in the soup as he stirs it.

"Bigger reward for the troubles." Is all he says.

The troubles, he thinks, that he can't get past the lump in his throat. The trouble that you of all people deserve to know.

He glances up at you, and he recognizes the look on your face all too well.

You're very aware of his gang affiliation.

He actually attempted to cut ties with you after he got associated with the Dregs. You threw a crate at him and called him mad for suggesting as such. He only risked to bring it up one other time, and you had yelled at him and about cried when he turned to leave, throwing a rock at his freshly poorly healed leg.

He swiveled around at glared at you, but you didn't flinch in the face of Dirtyhands. Just glared at him, told him you're not going anywhere, and then left /him/ before he could protest.

It took him a week to figure out that, despite you not wanting to cut ties with him, you didn't completely agree either. You didn't bother trying to convince him to leave, but you have on numerous occasions begged him to be careful, adorning this exhausted look.

You don't say a lot anymore, but the expression has stayed relatively the same, if a bit rounder on the edges.

"How bad?" You asked.

He abhors the way his heart squeezes, like it has a mind of its own while his brain yells at him to keep you out of it.

He wants to throw up.

How does he tell you there's a greater chance than not he'll die, now matter how much he wants to make it back to you?

How does he tell you you might never get to see him again? Or see Jesper or Inej?

He swallowed some broth, licking his lips.

"Pretty bad."

He's such a fucking coward.

"Ynnn." He hears a hoarse voice call. He looks up, seeing Astra stroll in and rest her chin on the kitchen table. "You didnt tell me Kaz finally came."

When he looks at you to see your response, its to his absolute horror that he catches you wiping your eyes, then pull your little sister to your side.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"M'you should've."

You glance up at him, and smile against Astra's hair.

"You're right. I should've."

-----

'Damn it all,' he thought in a panic. 'Damn everything. Go find them.'

It was a dangerous, recurring thought that he had when he went anywhere near the Zelver District, whenever he had to go through the canals that run along its edge and connect to nearly every other canal.

Even now as he puts everything in place to send Kuwei off on a fake bodyboat. It only half surprises him that the sight doesn't make him all that uncomfortable. He's exhausted, lovesick, and has had the experience of several lifetimes within just a few weeks.

He wanted to send word to you to stay put during the alarms. But Pekka's crew strolled through your storefront not a few days ago, asking about your wares and probing for information. Inej had seen as such when she finally had the opportunity to check on you.

There was no guarantee that this plan would work. Pekka would have been dealt with regardless but the auction with Kuwei could have gone differently. No matter the confidence with which he laid out facts or with Wylan's newfound acting skills, there were too many variables that relied heavily on the actions of people outside his control.

It worked out, though. But now he has to worry about being unable to find you. It makes him nauseous. He actually feels his mouth begin to fill with saliva, but he keeps it down. Right now, he just has to get rid of Kuwei, and send off Colm, Nina, and Matthias to the boats that will take them to their respective countries.

A small part of his conscious nags at him. Of course he feels grief for his fallen Crow, incomparable to the grief Nina will have to face for the rest of her life.

But there's that much larger part of him that can't feel anything except the itching for your eyes on him.

Kaz makes a snarky comment about Kuwei's dead position, and leaves everyone to fill in the silence around him. There isn't much talking, aside from Jesper and his father, and then they're hugging and parting.

He hardly has it in him to stay while they leave, and eventually, before they even disappear from his eyesight, he's turning and marching up the Van Eck lawn towards the Zelver District.

He feels like he's going insane. Energy is surging through him like there's a heartrender pumping his system. When everything becomes familiar, that coffee shop you like with the Stroopwafel's coming into view, he can't help but break out into a run.

His leg feels like it may splinter.

But he's 4 million kruge richer, and he has something to ask you.

He's learned a lot, quite a bit of it against his will, since he left for Fjerda.

He will not let you become another life lesson.

Your door comes into view, and he nearly slams into it when his legs can't seem to stop and one of them is straining against his own body weight.

The lock picks nearly fell to the floor before he manages to unlock the store. He didn't even let the door close behind him before he rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You were at the top, rifle in hand, pointing it at him with a fierceness in your eyes.

It all but crumbled when you seen who he was.

"Kaz?" You called, disbelief choking your words.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, most of his gasping done before he unlocked the door. But again, hes exhausted and lovesick, so air isnt really a luxury he seems to be able to afford. "The bruises don't make me that unrecognizable." He stands straighter, favoring his left leg.

You had half the mind to put the rifle on your kitchen table before you completely broke down in tears. Your arms hug your sides while your eyes boil over with tears and hot rage.

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled. "Getting put on the Stadwatch and the entire barrels shitlist? What the fuck kind of job did you take?"

He stepped forward, setting his cane next to your rifle and dropping into the chair next to you.

It still made his skin crawl. It still made his lungs burn with freezing cold water. It still made deadly blue hands grip at his legs and pull him under.

But he reached out, pulled you between his legs, and hugged your body to his, his cheek resting against your stomach.

You were warm. So very warm from working yourself up. And stiff. He could feel it under his arms as your thighs stuck together and the muscles surrounding your spine tightened into stone.

"Ka-Kaz?"

He ignored you in favor of ignoring his own body, tightening you into him as the waters punched his stomach and licked up his back.

You were warm, and as you relaxed, his face further sinking into your stomach, the water began to still. Still crushing against his organs, but not going any further.

Tears pushed on the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, taking in a shakey breath.

He was doing it. He was holding you, touching you, and it only made half his mind scream to be yanked away.

"I fought." He whispered. "I fought to come back." He swallows. "To you."

Tears thumped against the crown of his skull. He could hear your heart pounding despite its location.

"You left-" Your voice cut off in a squeak. Clearing your throat, he could feel, felt like a chore. "You left. And then you didn't come back. Your face was all over Ketterdam, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep- I couldn't answer Astra's questions because I didn't know anything-"

"I was tricked." He gritted his teeth, loosening his grip on you just as you reached down and dragged your fingers over his shoulder, fixing a loose thread. "Deceived, and made a complete fool out of. I couldn't come back because they would have got you too."

Your fingers stopped. "Who did they get?"

A few tears leaked out the side of his eyes. The only tears, he decided, he was going to allow through. He was not a crier. And he had no intention of becoming one.

"Inej." You gasped, hand flying away from his head to cover your mouth, he would presume. "Which is why I couldn't get word to you. Why you had to remain in the dark."

He pulled back, looking up at your tear stained face. You wiped them away, sniffing up any snot that remained in your nose and cleared your throat.

For a while you didn't speak. You just stared at him. His hands had fallen to his knees, fingers barely touching your leg while your own held your elbows.

You were deep in thought. Occasionally a silent tear would work it's way down your cheek and tick against the floor. He remained still, watching as you worked your way through your thoughts.

Whatever you had to say, you were fighting for a better way to word it.

Eventually you reached out, swallowing as you searched for any indication he would retreat.

Instead he stared you head on, sweat building on brow. He was all touched out at the moment, but you wanted this. And he thinks it's the least you deserved after the complete emotional shipwreck he just put you through.

Your thumb brushed over his bruises, watching him wince when you accidentally pushed on them.

Scabs had begun to form over some of the wounds he refused to be healed. Two thin lines on his lips, one on his cheek, and one to his brow. You went over all of them, touching his lips last.

He thinks you meant to do that.

"If I had known this would be my fate when I saw my name on your wrist when we were children," you whispered, "I'd have slapped you stupid."

That makes his lips twitch. "And now?"

You swallow again, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead so that your nails barely scratched the surface. "Now, I just want to look at you." You smiled, taking your hand back. "Somebody's already slapped you stupid for me."

"Believe me, there was no slapping."

The words make your smile disappear. He regrets saying them.

Somethings missing though, and he realizes it a lot later than he likes.

"Where's Astra?"

You smile, an airy breath escaping your nose. "She went down about half an hour before you stormed in here."

"You didn't send her off to your grandparents when the sirens went off?"

You scoffed. "And go where you couldn't find us?" You looked down, scuffing the floor with your sock covered feet. "You'd have lost your mind."

And that, you knowing him so intrinsically, is what he's going to use as an excuse for what he says next.

"Marry me."

It's so unlike him. He should have been less forward about it. Presented it to you like a business offer instead of demanding it of you.

Your head snaps up. Eyes wide as they stare at him.

"What?"

He scoots back, chair scraping across the floor as he stands.

"I do not present this to you lightly. After the events that have taken place, there will only be more people willing to tear me down. People who will want to use you to get to me."

The thought almost makes him want to back out. But if Kaz Brekker is anything, he is not someone who back tracks.

"It would be done in private. No one would know but the Dregs, or only the Crows, and your family. But if anybody does any digging and finds that certificate, you and Astra would be in danger."

You continue to stare, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Sweat beads down his back, not helped by the long coat he neglected to take off. He also realizes that he's lost his hat somewhere on the way here, probably flown off in his rush to get here.

You close your mouth, clearing your throat. "I will marry you, Kaz, on one condition."

He shifts on his feet, leg still horribly sore. "That is?"

You cant help but smile. "I won't have to wear white."

And a giddy, childish sort of glee bubbles in his chest. There isn't anything, he thinks, that could have stopped the smile forming in his face, growing so wide as to show teeth. "You could wear the muckiest yellow the nation as to offer if you so wished."

Your nose scrunches, and one day he thinks he could kiss it.

"Astra will want to hear about your adventure." He could see your exhaustion from just thinking about that, your gaze averting once again to her door. "She'll be so excited to hear about your proposal too."

He follows your gaze, seeing the little drawing nailed to surface of her door.

One of them shows you and him with smiling faces, a little heart above your heads. You're holding hands, Kaz's gloves a distinct part of the portrait, with Astra above, clouds and a sun at the top of the page.

"Little crow will blow the entire building apart." He grimaces, thinking of a way to cover that up if the neighboring businesses hear it.

You sigh. "I have no idea what to do with her."

He turns back to you and leans forward, arms clasped behind his back as he presses his lips to your temple.

It didn't feel real, the way he could initiate touch despite his body screaming at him to stop. Your hair stuck to his lips as he pulled away, but it was worth it to see the way your face fell open, eyes boaring into his.

Silently, he tells you he'll get better. With time, a long time, he'll be able to hold your hand, kiss your lips, stand shoulder to shoulder and lay with you. He tells you that fleeting kisses and barriers will be a thing reserved for bad days only, and even on those bad days he'll still love you in other ways.

He thinks you understand.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #fanfic #morrigan-crowmwell

[fluffychubbydragon]

Here are two of my girls for my au series, Astra and Raven.

Astra is a descendant of skeletons who are related to the original dragons. She has so much magical build-up that it escapes in the form of wings and coats her tail, yet she knows no spells or any way to use a ton of magic, and even if she were to use a lot of magic at once, she would run the risk of shattering her own bones, but that doesn't mean she couldn't build up her physical strength in order to use mass amounts of magic. Her moon shaped eye waxes and wanes along with the moon. She is a part of a caravan that travels around the world much like Gypsies, yet she is free to leave and do what she wants to do. She has a secret talent for singing and does not perform well in front of people. She has light freckles on her face.

Raven is a hybrid skeleton, mixed with a race of avian people and is a dancer for the same caravan, performing at every tavern they stop at. She has a talent (although not intentional) for attracting men to her in which she confusedly shuts down any of their advances. She hates feeling trapped with no way to escape, whether physically or metaphorically. She doesn't have much in terms of magic, but she can blow someone away with her wings if need be. She also has rainbow freckles all over her body that she loves to show off. Her eyelights are almost always star shaped as she is almost always happy.

If you want more information, just ask so I know there's someone who actually wants to know...

#oc #original character #my art #skeleton monster #utmv oc #utmv au #ut au #utmv #utau #undertale oc #Ormrverse

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mk-writes-stuff!

Character Voice Tag

My line: "I don't feel so good."

(Featuring everyone's weirdly specific issues!)

Your line: "How romantic!"

Izjik: "Oh, that's... That's pressure in my brain. Fuck. You guys gotta go, I won't be in control for much longer."

Sepo: "Fucking shit, my head's spinning. Have any of you seen my staff?"

Twenari: "Agh- It's- It's fine. Just an overdrawal headache. It'll pass."

Djek: "Gods beyond, my guts feel like pasta on a fork... The kid's lucky, she just gets headaches when she casts her big spells - I'm the one who loses my lunch every time I summon a fireball."

Astra: "Motherbitch, that smarts! You'd figure a witch like me'd be more used to burns by now. Gods a'mighty, I'm gonna go ice this."

Mashal: "Huh, I think something's off with my runes. Oh damn, does this mean I have to run a diagnostic? I hate doing that."

Ivander: "S-sorry. Not a good day. Always worse in the rain. I... I think... Gonna go lay down."

I'll tag @raiden-makoto @bard-coded @faeriecinna @cartoonghosts @bargainbincheese and anyone else who wants to play :)

#writing #my ocs #author #writerscommunity #writblr

[krasnayavedma]

[ OUTSIDE ] : sender and receiver have sex outside.

It was her first time sailing and Wanda couldn't hide nor contain her excitement. She'd been looking forward to it ever since Ethan invited her; an entire day out on the water. Everything was set for recreational cruising, which allowed for overnight accommodation, so she and Ethan were able to stay aboard for the night without any stress or worry. With her sun-kissed skin and wind in her hair, Wanda didn't think she could stop smiling if she tried. Her unwavering happiness only grew when Ethan let her take the helm with his guidance.

As the sun set and the air grew chill, Wanda found plenty of blankets from inside the modest sailboat to bring outside. Little did she know they would come in handy later. Covering herself with one, she continues to take in her surroundings until she feels Ethan hold her from behind. She leans into him realizing that, aside from the gentle rocking of the boat, they had found a safe place to dock for the night. Not knowing what had suddenly gotten into her - maybe it was because of the absolute bliss she felt from being out all day - she turns in his arms to face him and peppers his neck in gentle kisses. One thing led to another and before she knew it, the pair began having sex outside, under the stars. She was appreciative of all the blankets she was able to carry earlier, as they helped create a makeshift bed so her and Ethan weren't entirely uncomfortable.

What starts as soft mewls at the simple feel of him in her, eventually progress into stunted breaths and moans that fill the cool air. Wrapping her legs around him, she basks in the warmth of his skin and their current position. Her moans continue as his name escapes her lips, pleasure building in her core. Not wanting to come like this, Wanda soon finds herself on top of him. Hands settle on his chest as she controls the pace. Starting things nice and slow, she tilts her head back thoroughly enjoying the feel of Ethan's touch on her body. She gasps when he sits up, though not even she could deny how satisfying this new position felt, along with the intimacy of being able to hold and kiss each other while still moving.

Wanda lets out a frustrating whine when their bodies suddenly disconnect. However, it doesn't last long when she's turned on her hands and knees. She lets out a loud moan when she feels him reconnect from behind, and she knew it wouldn't be much longer until she came. Settling fully on her stomach to be more comfortable, her mewls came more frequently. This was deeper than she ever remembered experiencing but she wasn't about to complain. Nearly reaching her pinnacle, she begs, ❝ Don't stop, Ethan. Please. Don't . . . don't stop. ❞

nsfw memes pt. 2 / @coogars !

#coogars #usfw #ns.fw #❛ ad astra per aspera ❜ —【 answered 】 #i guess this counts as having sex outside? lol #also﹐ this was sent when ethan was on his own blog﹐ so i'm going off that #i hope that's ok! #and i don't know anything about sailing or boats so i'm kinda winging it lol #i'm also sorry for any typos or spelling mistakes!

[deathmimedream]

::::Ad Astra, Per Inferi::::

(Warnings: blood, torture, decapitation, non-consensual drug use, gore, trauma, character death)

@alastors-radioshow

He had felt safe. He was simply playing cards with his brothers, omega in the infirmary, Alastor home, catching up on work.

He hadn’t expected this.

The last thing he remembered hearing was Imperator declaring they were all going back on the road.

He was not so foolish as to believe her, and swallowed the last of his herbal tea as the other papas voiced confusion, and elation.

He was certain something wasn’t right.

Not since he’d been dragged off stage in the middle of a ritual, had things been right.

Terzo had NEVER trusted Imperator.

NEVER.

He understood what she meant when he was roughly grabbed from behind, and felt the needle in his throat.

He felt his limbs grow heavy, everything slowing to a crawl, vision going gray and dim.

The burning sensation that accompanied the sudden lethargy and numbness told his mind what this was.

Not what his brothers were receiving.

They were poisoned, murdered.

He.

He was being paralyzed, but the years of his practice in the dark arts had given his body strength. His careful work conditioning himself through herbology and infernal rituals had seen to that. The protective efforts of Alastor and Omega had turned misfortune aside.

He numbly watched, willing himself into sluggish action.

Secondo roared, fighting against the ministry ghouls that had killed him, managing to banish one, and wound another before he fell.

Primo had fired off a spell and hit a third ghoul, but age was against him, as was the quick actions of the cyanide and holy water cocktail he and Secondo had been injected with.

He, himself, didn’t go fully limp, but they were trying to pin him down and restrain him.

He bit, clawed, punched, kicked, even fired off a few minor infernal spells…but in the end, the drugs won, and he blacked out.

Though his body had ceased functioning properly, his mind continued to, and he realized what Imperator had initially been planning.

On the road, yes.

But not alive.

They were all going to be exhibited in those damn glass coffins that he’d seen brought in.

They had set him on edge, and he’d been so very careful to watch for tainted food or drink, especially after Cici had brought evidence to Alastor about holy water and drugs being slipped into their food.

He’d been aware, and warned the others, of the drugs in their food, but Primo and Secondo had waved him off.

They were papas, and imperator wouldn’t dare harm them!

Their hubris signed their death certificates.

He had only survived because he had been so careful.

But it hadn’t mattered.

He was still drugged, paralyzed by it, and unable to move or communicate.

When he COULD move, and think again, mind less hazy, he was stripped to his waist and strapped down to an autopsy table.

Imperator stood over him, grinning like a lunatic.

He was aware he’d been gagged, (Lucifer only knew what had been shoved into his mouth and tied in place with…again, who knew what, but he was incapable of sound) so he was more than aware that this…bitch of a woman, didn’t want to talk this over.

Nor did she wish to allow his charming voice a chance to spit out some rather effective curses and spells, or use that charm natural to his bloodline to sway her will.

Clever bitch.

He had no idea how long he’d been out, but imperator had cruelly planned for him to live.

He gave a muffled growl at her, struggling with the bindings until he unhappily realized he could not escape this fate.

The high dose of holy water in the drugs he’d been given had sapped his magic, all he managed was a dirty fizzle of sparks from his hands.

She let him wear himself out before stepping closer.

A small tilt of his head to either side gave him nightmarish images of both his brothers, already cut open, and their bodies being embalmed.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to not let his last sight of them be so brutal.

Imperator leaned closer, a scalpel in her hands.

“You are too dangerous and disgusting to deserve a seat beside Lucifer. You’re going to suffer, and you will die…but you will never see our dark lord’s face. You will never see hell! “

He braced himself, and thought of other things as she slowly began to cut into him. He knew what she was doing and he had no way to fight it.

She cut, not enough to kill, but enough to leave scars, if he had time to heal, and shed blood.

His mind, instead, wandered to Alastor. Roses.

Music.

And back to his Beloved Diavolo once more.

Similar tricks to how he used to make it through the scourgings she inflicted on him when he was younger.

Time bled away as he, too, bled away.

There was barely enough blood left in his body to fight, let alone stay conscious.

His arms burned from the bloody, inverted crosses cut into each them, a parody of a catholic saint’s suffering.

He must have passed out, but he had no idea how long.

A tired, dizzying glance at the clock showed him the time, but not day.

Everything had just bled together since that bitch had taken him down.

Tired eyes slid open, to an unwelcome sight.

Sister stood over him once more, and he all but sobbed, knowing what was about to happen.

She held the ritual dagger, and his face paints.

She had to paint over the gag in his mouth crudely, but didn’t care.

Once he was in near-full regalia, well, still shirtless, she began carving the ritual symbols over his heart.

She then drew on her magics, and began the ritual, speaking loudly, shrill, angry, voice echoing in the room.

“Io, Sorella Imperator, nel nome di Lucifero e della chiesa empia del suo nome, ti scaccio. Papa Emerito terzo, tu hai mangiato con la presente SCOMUNICATO da questa religione, e dannato per sempre alle sofferenze eterne del Purgatorio!”

(“I, Sister Imperator, in the name of Lucifer and the unholy church of his name, cast you out. Papa Emeritus Terzo, you are hereby EXCOMMUNICATED from this religion, and damned forever to the eternal suffering of Purgatory!”)

He felt omega’s panic as their bond was torn to shreds, at least somewhat thankful the ghoul had been spared the dragon’s wrath, but only slightly.

This time, when the syringe of drugs went in, everything faded to black.

This time, amidst tears, and soft, distressed cries, he welcomed it.

He wasn’t going to hell.

Never to see his sweet, beautiful, kind Diavolo ever again.

Excommunication meant no hell. No reward in death, no Alastor.

This broke him more than anything else. The thought of, even in death, being denied his beloved.

When he came too, he was too weak to do more than open his eyes, or twitch a finger.

They had stitched the cuts and slashes closed, washed him up…removed the gag, then fully painted his face for Ritual.

He was in his chasuble, papal hat tugged onto his head, staring up at glass, drugged into near full paralysis.

Staring foggily up at fans, Worshippers, and the ghouls and Cardinal that replaced the emeritus line.

He bore no ill will toward Copia, he was simply another pawn in Imperator’s game.

Copia was imperator’s child, so he had that insurance from her.

He was young, childish at times, naive, and sadly, under her thumb.

He drifted for who knew how long, in and out of consciousness, until he awoke enough to realize he wasn’t in the coffin.

But back on the autopsy table, strapped down, and gagged once again.

He attempted a spell against her, but he was too weak, and the curse fizzled away once more on his gloved fingertips.

Imperator had finally grown bored of him, it seemed. But he still had a purpose left, as a symbol of martyrdom, proof his reign was ended, clearing the path for Cardi.

He barely reacted as the thin bone saw started its slow journey through his neck.

He managed a gurgling snarl, before there was just, too much blood.

By then his mouth was full of blood, Chin and chest painted in crimson.

He was choking to death on his own blood, exsanguineated long before she would finish her grisly act.

His last earthly thoughts were of his beloved Diavolo, and how he would never see, or hold him again.

Then, the blade sliced too deeply, and he knew nothing more.

He choked, tears smearing his paints, his blood on Imperator’s hands, literally.

It felt like forever, but was over in a heartbeat.

Papa Terzo Emeritus was dead.

Long live Emeritus the fourth.

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