#nercromancy because i said so! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

passivenovember · 2 years

Text

You know what?

Necromancy for Dummies, Harringrove Week Day Two!

So, yeah.

It had been ten years since his last real relationship. A decade since Nancy Wheeler dumped him at Tina's Halloween party and Steve had heard opinions from everyone in his life about his refusal to move on.

Dustin thought there was no time limit on heartbreak. Told Steve he shouldn't be ashamed of taking time for himself, of taking a breather to work through his abandonment issues.

It made Steve feel good to have it reaffirmed, like he was getting a gold star for standard participation.

Robin, on the other hand, was of the belief that Steve should fuck anything with a pulse. Given that the thing could consent. She preached constantly about the therapy of the blowjob (both giving and receiving) and Steve thought it was a little odd for a lesbian to condone pegging like that but who was he to judge?

At least she was supportive, if a little brash, but he'd rather hear it from her than his Nonna, anyway. .

Dustin always rolled his eyes and repeated, insistently; that Steve should do what made him feel comfortable, not adhere to peer pressure or goading at the hands of a certain crowd favorite lesbian, and for a decade Steve had agreed.

It was his life. His lack of love, his mental breakdown, and Steve would experience it any way he saw fit.

Dustin was ecstatic. Told Steve he was proud of him--inspired, even, that sex and relationships weren't the hottest topic on his mind, but.

Dustin couldn't have been more wrong.

Steve thought about love constantly. Thought about holding hands and baking cookies on rainy Saturday mornings with someone who saw beyond what Steve presented to the world, and as the weeks turned into months that turned into years, it became impossible to ignore the aching in his chest to be completed.

He was good at hiding it. The want. The need for connection.

And sure, it was a primitive construct that everyone needed someone. Sure, it wasn't an actual necessity and Steve knew his worth as an individual wasn't defined by his access to a romantic partner and yada-yada-ya, but.

Then Nancy and Jonathan got Married.

And Dustin got Married.

And Mike and El moved in together.

And everyone was moving forward with their lives, even his Nonna, who had started dating new men every Saturday night after the death of his grandpappy Ralph.

And, maybe, Steve started to feel like a loser.

Just a little.

Like he was defective and unloveable and he tried not to mope his way through life, as a rule.

At least he still had Robin--the last single girls, the two of them.

But then, two weeks before Halloween, Robin got engaged and Steve didn't know what to do.

“You know that weird little friend of yours is getting married.”

”I know, Nonna.”

”The lesbian.” Which. Steve didn’t know why she kept calling Robin that. As if the two of them weren’t thick as thieves, best friends who played bag gammon together and smoked pot to quell Nonna's rising blood pressure. “And I don’t hold anything against the homosexuals, Stevie—“

”I know.”

She kept right on talking. Swallowing smoke, cough rattling the receiver against Steve’s head. “Hell, even I had my adventures back in the day.”

And. Yeah, Steve pushed his food to the side, suddenly overcome with queasiness.

“Did I ever tell you about Margot?” She asked. He could feel a story coming on.

”Nonna, I really don’t—“

”Breast’s like candy apples, for Christ-sake--"

"Please stop." He begged. Steve could barely handle the stories about grandpappy Ralph.

"Alright Stevie, I get it. Once a woman turns fifty she stops being human. You know, for a witch you have incredibly narrow views of sexuality." Nonna leaned away from the phone, the tiny plastic tops of her hair rollers rattling when she yelled at Bride, her asshole cat.

Steve bristled. "I don't have--"

"You're kind of a prude, honey bunch." She was mostly kidding. Steve had spent the majority of his childhood learning the difference and he could tell that Nonna was grinning, somewhere on the other end of the line. "I blame your father." She said.

And they always did. He was mortal, practically puritan by the way he ruled over Steve's childhood with an iron fist.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"What, like how Robin is worried about you?"

Steve nearly dropped the mug in his hand. "You talk about me?"

"Of course we do."

He was mortified. Nonna didn't seem to notice, chuckling as she poked and prodded. "What else would we talk about? Besides candy apple breasts, of course."

"Oh my god, Just." Steve groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Stop it. I swear to God I'm gonna--"

"God?" She chuckled again, that raspy smoker's laugh reaching through the phone to pull a smile out from Steve's chest. "Honey, if God were real don't you think he'd take pity on the desperate?"

He opened his mouth to argue--

And then closed it again because she was right. As usual.

Steve was, well and truly, desperate in every sense of the word. He sighed and got up from the couch to pour himself another cup of coffee, his third for the night--sleep was out of the question.

Nonna took his silence as an opportunity to clear the air. "Robin also said you're her best man."

"Mediocre is more accurate, I dunno about Best--"

"And you know it's tradition for the best man to have a date, right Stevie?" Nonna paused, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. "It's bad luck for him not to."

Steve snorted. "You definitely just made that up. Right now. On the phone." He could practically see the swipe of her manicured hand in his minds eye.

Could feel her taking a swig of gin, blotting her mouth with a napkin as she said, "Details. The point is, honey bunch--the homosexuals are getting married. Hell, Nancy's been married for three years to that patient stoner boy." The distant flick of a lighter filtered through the receiver. "What was his name again?"

"Jonathan," Steve said around a slice of pizza.

"Yup, that's the one. And even that scrawny kid with the law degree--"

"Mike," He scrubbed a hand across his face. Nonna tried to remember the names, but. In her words: there were too many fuckers to take seriously.

She snapped her fingers at the realization. Smug little shit.

"Uh-huh, even Harvard has a live in partner. Point is: they can get married. All of them in their nerdy, scrawny, pale faced glory. And if they can somehow find love, why can't you?"

Steve felt his checks go pink with embarrassment. Here he was, gobbling pizza in his living room though no one was around to see it, and.

There were about a trillion and one answers to that question.

Why can’t you.

As a rule, Steve tried not to mope his way through life. That's not to say that there weren't things to complain about--Steve kept an itemized list in his sock drawer, for Christ’s-sake, and liked to pull it out for a refresher when things were moving a little too well.

He was so uncool. The absolute lamest, whenever shit got hopeful.

For starters, he was twenty eight and still afraid of the dark. Call it the result of phantom trauma, call it good sense--he had to use the tiny flashlight on his phone when moving about his house after the sun fell from the sky.

Setting appointments over the phone was his worst night mare. He let the trash get smelly before taking it out to the bin and spiders took up entire rooms when they made an appearance in Steve's apartment. He slept in front of the T.V. most nights because his bed felt too big and too empty but perhaps the worse thing of all--dweebiness and general child like wonder aside--was that his Nonna had started to notice.

And Nonna was a powerful witch, but she wouldn’t be able to pick up on a rotting corpse if it was dead in her living room

Steve shrugged, remembering again that no one could see him. "There aren't any hopefuls on my list."

"None at all?" Nonna said in disbelief. "Come now. My grandson is strapping--handsome and smart and a wiz with potions and brews." Nonna fell silent for a moment, the soft puff-puff-puff of her cigarette reaching through the atmosphere like limbs from a tree.

Finally; "We could always find you a love spell, slip an elixir into someone's tea. Someone you fancy."

Steve snorted. "Right, because that'll do wonders in quelling the rumors that I'm a stage five clinger."

"Who's saying that?" Nonna demanded. "Give me a lock of their hair and I'll make sure they stop saying anything."

And Steve knew she would.

Nonna had hexed three kids for stealing his lunchbox in the fifth grade for a whole lot less, and he had no doubt she'd do it again.

Still. He was reluctant to spill the metaphorical beans. "Just, kids in high school,” Steve clarifies. “When I was with Nancy--"

"Doll, that was ten years ago. Ten years." Nonna said, her smoky voice cresting the height of annoyance. "Besides, clinginess is just another term for loving selflessly and fearlessly, even when it's inconvenient."

She lit another cigarette. "What would Nancy Wheeler know about that?"

There were rules that came with being a witch. An etiquette, you could say, specifics that sucked all the fun out of having unlimited power. In many cases witches weren't exposed to higher magicks--either for lack of skill or self-control.

Steve's family colored outside the lines, so to speak.

Nonna believed that there was no such thing as white or black Magick--just spells.

Just desire and intent and power. Truckloads of it, all waiting at the tips of his fingers if he knew where to look, and Steve never got in trouble for following his gut instinct. Not when he turned Tommy H. into a frog, not when he used magick to cheat on tests, and certainly not when he hexed people who deserved it.

Thus a culture of independence emerged around the young witch. A steely belief that there was no right or wrong, only his will.

His design.

You could say that was the first mistake.

The first time Steve reanimated a corpse was the day his lizard died.

Corncob was his familiar, which made it immensely difficult to wrap his head around the possibility of death. Steve's mother said it was a bad omen, that he hadn't properly sorted his intent before casting and thus the energies had taken something from him as payment.

Nonna said it was just the way of life.

All God's creatures pass on, Stevie. God notwithstanding.

But it was a fact he refused to accept. Steve didn't eat for days after Corncob's passing, refraining from drinking water, even, as he figured out what to do.

No right.

No wrong.

Only his will.

So Steve broke into the attic. Wrapped himself in a corner stacked with books and manuscripts on darker subjects, read until it felt like his eyes were melting out of his skull.

There among the cobwebs Steve got his answer; necromancy.

The world felt slippery in his mouth. Steve knew it was mostly forbidden, especially for younger witches, but the thick, leather bound volumes had said it was rather simple to reach through the veil and breathe life into those one couldn’t bare to part with.

To bend the rules to fit his will, Steve was desperate; familiars weren't supposed to leave their masters, and he missed his friend dearly.

So, a life for a life.

That was the price, the books said. Steve made sure to iron out his intent this time.

He planned for days; gathered supplies under the guise of mischief--simple spells like making someone's hair fall out--until the moon was waxing and he convinced his mother to let him cast during the witching hour--his first of many. The incantation was to be said right as the clock struck midnight. Thrice thine and thrice mine, and thrice again to make up nine--

Steve sliced his palm and let an offering of blood feed the energy of the night.

Come morning corncob was eating flies like nothing had happened. Talking, like always, like before. The books said sometimes the soul got trapped in the in-between, but. Steve didn't notice a difference and Nonna didn't ask questions.

She told him he was powerful.

She told him it was rare that a witch of his age had the fortitude to reach into the veil, and he should be proud that he had been given such a precious, valuable skill.

Nonna told him that death was his gift.

You could say that was the second mistake.

Steve couldn't get the conversation with Nonna out of his head.

Robin was getting married and he was desperate. Single and restless, undesirable and frumpy--a whole list of things--stuck in a big Scooby-doo house with manuscripts on Wichcraft and Embalming that definitely were no help in getting him laid.

After Nonna turned in for the night Steve poured himself a glass of wine, which he drank over a book on potions.

He poured himself another to make it through an embalming session; the corpse had started to smell and it was gravely unpleasant.

Steve took a shower and drank another to help him fall asleep.

It didn't work.

He poured a fourth glass of merlot and sat in front of the fireplace with the bottle cradled to his chest.

It was true.

Everyone in Steve's orbit had moved on. Found love and success beyond running a Mortuary and Steve had thought about returning his gift so many times. Apparently botany and hearth witches were hot on the ticket of romance; everyone wanted flowers and tea cakes from their lover but the gift of death--helping spirits cross over, providing relief to grieving families, reaching into the veil in his search for lost spirits--while practical in use, was too weird for many.

For most. Of the people Steve had dated, at least.

No mater what, witch or mortal, the same complaints always arose; Embalming fluid is not a valid form of cologne! Reanimating dead opossums on the side of the road is Creepy and Gross when they start following us around, asking for food! Conversations with dead people are not appropriate when I take you to meet my parents!

All the attributes Steve possessed weren't high on most people's lists when looking for a suitor. It's not like there were many witches running around, and even then.

Necromancy could be frightening.

What with the vengeful spirts and the gaping hellmouths ready to swallow unsuspecting mortals, but Steve's gift was useful. And valuable. He felt whole and helpful and good when he could help people process complicated topics like death and he felt.

Powerful.

So powerful when he could fix it for them; bring back a child who had died too soon, or a man who had passed before the birth of his son. The kind of rush he received--Steve was taught never to fear power but to take it. Wield it. Forge his own path, create his own story--

"I should build a boyfriend." Steve said suddenly.

As wine dribbled down his chin, Corncob awoke from his terrarium in the corner, cocking his head to the side like ‘Pussy won't.’

"Pussy will, you fucking dick." Steve rose on shaky feet and pulled his manuscripts from the book case. Leafing through them recklessly even as the words slipped around the page, he ached to find the answer. Five glasses of wine would serve him well tonight.

"I can't believe I never thought of this before." He stared at Corncob. "Why didn't you think of this before?"

The lizard stared at him, glassy eyes quizzical. ‘Don't look at me, I'll have none of your necromancy.’

"You choose now to harness a sense of mortality?" Steve tossed the first manuscript to the side and propped open a second, biting his lip as he scanned the index for his favorite passage.

‘What are you searching for?’

"The Abi-Dalzim passage." Steve lamented distantly. They knew it well, had employed it when the Markson twins died of cancer before their fifth birthday.

Corncob wasn't on board with it that time, even though the children's mother had stopped eating.

Corncob was never on board with anything.

He was a terrible familiar. ‘Is that really a good idea?’ The lizard reasoned.

Steve closed the second manuscript and opened the Demonomicon. Volatile energies worked best, sometimes. "Every idea is a good one."

Corncob's tongue flicked out to lick his eyeball. ‘We haven't exhausted our other options.’

And that.

That was laughable. "I haven't had a partner in over ten years, Corny." The light from his lamp flickered once. "If I was capable of meeting one the usual way I'd be married with kids by now.”

‘What's that round friend of yours always saying?’ Corncob feigned interest. “’Self worth is not determined by outside factors...’”

Steve couldn't believe he was taking advice from a lizard, Goblin or otherwise. "You eat arachnids for a living. Hardly one to judge."

‘Something could go wrong.’ Corncob lamented. ‘The air. It worries.’

Steve opened a third manuscript. "Worries how?"

Corncob fell silent. Thoughtfully brooding as Steve copied the specifics from the Abi-Dalzim passage.

A graven image.

A list of attributes.

A lock of human hair, and. An orb of Thesula.

‘We don't have access to a spirt orb.’ Corncob concluded. As if that would somehow stand in the way. ‘They're extremely difficult to locate--’

"Difficult but not impossible." Steve pocketed the list and shrugged on a coat. Fall in Hawkins was brutal, the leaves paving a way from unrelenting cold. "I'll go see Keith. He always has the hook ups."

‘You despise Keith.’

Steve shrugged. "I despise you as well, but here we are.”

Corncob stared at him thoughtfully. ‘You are a powerful and kind master. Perhaps love will find you.’

Steve was almost moved.

Almost touched, to his very core, but he had grown tired of sleeping in this house alone. Had grown weary of filling out dating profile after dating profile only to be rejected for oozing outside a rigid set of standards, and.

Why wait?

The last of the single girls was leaving him. Marrying the mortal love of her life and Steve didn't see a reason to show up to the wedding without a date, when he could build one for free.

Why leave it to fate when Steve had the power?

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, and perhaps not." He held open the lapel of his jacket, exposing the pocket Corncob lived in when they ran errands together. "Now are you coming or what."

The lizard sighed. Big and dramatic and so bratty that Steve almost regretted bringing him back to life.

‘Alright, have it your way,’ the lizard told him, ‘But I'm going to complain the entire time.’

Keith was insufferable and not just because he was a vengeance demon.

They had done business together countless times. Keith always came to Steve whenever he needed payment from a recently deceased customer and Steve kept Keith’s Cart of Mysteries in business by purchasing all of his stolen goods.

The guy had everything loaded into the back of his Dodge Neon; from enchanted rabbits feet to vials of blood from the holy lands, Steve's least favorite underwordling was the hottest ticket in Hawkins for any and everything Dark Arts.

And he was an asshole.

A stingy, self righteous asshole who just so happened to have exactly what Steve needed and of course was choosing tonight to be difficult.

On a full moon.

During the height of the witching hour.

"How do I know you won't break it?" Keith snatched the orb to his chest, eyebrows drawn in a grimace.

Steve so didn't have time for this shit. "What?" He was freezing, hugging his arms to his chest. "It's made of solid glass, you're telling me this thing is--"

"Yes. Thesula's are fragile. Practically shatter when placed in the wrong hands, and this is my only one 'til Tuesday, so." Keith polished the thing on the lapel of his jacket, just to be an even bigger dick. "How do I know you'll use it correctly?"

Steve blinked. "Because my incantation requires a--"

"Do you even know a Thesula's intended purpose?" Keith preened. "To retrieve souls from the veil. Any ol' soul you want or happen by and Thesula will call it fourth, no hidden fees and no take backs. Easy peasy."

Keith blew a raspberry and Steve? He wanted to scream. "Just sell it to me."

"Ask nicely."

"No." Steve concluded. Absolutely not. He gestured to the sky, eyebrows lifting in mock humor. "Kinda running on a clock, here, so--"

"What're you using it for?" Keith leaned against the trunk of his car.

"Like fuck I'm telling you."

The vengeance demon grinned. “If you want my orb bad enough you will."

And.

Shit.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Robin's getting married."

Keith immediately brightened. The two of them were friends, though Steve didn't really understand why. Vengeance demons could turn on you at the drop of a hat but he assumed the guy liked Robin's wit. Her spunk, maybe, and she was the spunkiest witch by far.

"Oh, Mazel Tov." Keith told him.

Steve held out his hand. "Yup, I'll pass along the message, so--"

Keith smirked. "Riddle me this." He tossed the Thesula in the air, catching it with a rough crack to his palm. "A satanic necromancer owns a morgue and comes downtown in search of a sprit orb. He finds one, thank his lucky stars, and discloses that his best friend is getting married."

"I don't uh." Steve was humiliated. "I don't think--"

"This warlock has a knack for raising the dead. Solving the inconvenient issue of mortality, the whole town knows it. Hell, the whole world knows it, I mean." Keith whistled, low and hard as he pocketed the orb again. "Guy's a big wig. But he has trouble with romance."

The vengeance demon stared at him. "What are you planning to do."

And Steve was desperate.

He sucked his teeth. "I'm building a--"

"You're building yourself a boyfriend." Keith said hysterically, like it was the funniest thing on Earth, and.

In a way it was.

He tossed the Thesula to Steve without warning, laughing harder when he nearly dropped it on the ground.

"Fuck," Steve winced. It was lighter than he had expected, glowing bright blue in the palm of his hand. "What's that mean?"

Keith looked away from packing his stuff, pushing the hair out of his eyes with another whistle.

"Means the God's are guiding you on your journey," the demon said casually.

Like the whole thing was casual.

Steve felt every bit like King Arthur as he fumbled for his wallet.

Keith stopped him. "Free of charge."

Which.

"Nice try," Steve chuckled. He fished a couple hundreds from his wallet, handing them over with a wink. "I'll be sure to credit you."

"Nah, no way." Keith pocketed the money with a vigorous shake of his head. "When your little boy toy goes wacko and eats half the town I don't want it getting out that I'm the one who made it happen."

Steve slid the orb into his pocket, forcing Corncob to shuffle in his perch. "Thanks again."

Keith waved dismissively, returning to the pile of garbage he was trying to fit in his trunk.

"Oh, and Steve!"

He turned around, confused.

Keith grinned. "Give him a smooch for me."

Steve had thought a lot about what he wanted in a boyfriend. Who he'd like to come home to after a long day and it was easy to envision the man he was going to create.

A being who was smart and strong, beautiful in the sense that it was insulting. Kind in a way that wasn't overt--sweet in a way that complimented himself and as he sat down to sketch an image Steve knew exactly what he was going for.

He made a point in outlining his desires.

Thought for hours about his intention--true love, someone to share his life with--and the orb glowed blue.

The Gods were smiling down on him and Steve tried not to let it go to his head as the the clock struck three. He situated himself in the embalming room. Lit candles, laid out his supplies for the evening and began.

On a metal slab he had fashioned a man made of clay.

The shape was vaguely human. Shorter than Steve but stockier around the middle--beefier.

Corncob chortled. ‘Twink.’

"Shut up," Steve mumbled. The lizard quieted instantly as Steve pressed the orb through the center of its chest, watching as the bluish hue lit the clay man from the inside. "His essence consume." Steve said.

Corncob swallowed, movement palpable in the thick air.

"Ready?"

As we'll ever be, I suppose.

Steve spoke in a loud, clear voice.

He awoke in bed. Sunlight streaming through the open window, birds singing--the whole nine yards. Steve tossed a pillow over his head and burrowed deeper under the covers because fuck this.

Fuck all of it, until--

Something was laying next to him in bed.

Something warm and solid, a thick wall of muscle shifting closer and closer still; "You are done sleeping, now?"

Steve peeked out from behind his pillowcase.

Blue eyes the color of high noon stared right back at him. Blonde ringlets spread across the bed tickled Steve's neck as his creation smiled, plush pink lips curving with secret warmth. His eyelashes practically touched Steve's from where they were pressed together, and. Holy shit.

Holy fuck, he was beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt, and.

The clay man pried the pillow from Steve's hands and sat up, his muscular shoulders catching the sunlight in a frilly of sculpted ridges. He blinked his pretty blue eyes, taking in the bedroom as he turned to watch Steve fall apart against the mattress.

Steve swallowed. "You. Um. Gorgeous. Very, um. Hot." Nice. Very smooth.

The man smiled, soft and sweet. "Thank you.”

Which.

Steve scrambled into a sitting position, back hitting the headboard with a painful Crack.

"You can talk?"

"I learned how, hearing your thoughts," The clay man said, blue eyes rolling to look at the ceiling. "You made me in your image."

Steve snorted. He gestured to the guy's whole thing; the muscles and the long blond hair and those pecks, Jesus Christ.

"No, um. I wish." Steve chuckled.

The clay man grinned wider at that, eyes sparkling like Steve was something special.

Something beautiful.

He sat on his knees, the silk blanket falling in a heap around him and--

"Holy shit, you're." Steve covered his eyes. "You're naked um. Do you--"

The man started climbing up the mattress.

Holy fuck.

Steve could feel the bounce of it, the jostling of his weight as he settled on Steve's thighs with a coo, and.

Holy--god, in heaven--

Steve was instantly hard when the man tugged at his wrists. When blondie pulled Steve's hands away to show his face.

Steve peeked at him through one eye. "Do you want some? Clothes, or."

The man was watching him. Just staring, eyes wide and cheeks pink as Steve tripped over himself to get a grip. He brushed his fingers over Steve's mouth softly. Pressing to make him stop, to shut him up.

"You are good." The man said.

"Huh?" Steve wished he had the vocabulary to understand this moment because it felt heavy.

Massive, as the Man's fingers moved to cup his jaw. To tilt his face toward the light.

His brow furrowed around the thought. He parted Steve's lips with his thumb, eyes glued to the tender pink muscle of Steve's tongue as he muttered, "Let me kiss you."

And.

Steve tried to speak around the finger in his mouth. "I don't--"

The man inhaled at the feeling of Steve's tongue sliding over the pad of his finger. He shushed him, hinging Steve's jaw open with more force than necessary.

Steve thought distantly that he liked it.

"Let me taste you." The man said.

Holy fuck.

Holy-- "I don't even know your name." Steve whimpered pathetically. Because it was important to him. That this creature, this man, had an identity.

A personhood.

The man frowned. "I am yours." He leaned forward to mouth at Steve's neck, as if to prove it.

He only succeeded in making Steve think with his dick.

"Right, but I could, uh." He moaned softly at the sweet drag of teeth against his throat. "I could be yours, too--"

"You are mine."

"Yeah, that's um. That's alright with me, no complaints here, it's just--" Lips on his chest. His stomach. His thighs. Steve couldn't think straight.

He yelped when the man licked at the cotton of his boxers.

Right over his cock, teeth hot and breath warm, and--

Steve pulled him up by his shoulders.

The man frowned, hurt flickering and cracking on his face like candle light. "Do you not want me to claim you?"

Holy fuck.

Steve swallowed. "No, I. God, I want." The man leaned in again, eyes hungry on Steve's mouth. He stopped him with a gentle hand to the chest. "I have to get through this part, okay? Will you. Could you listen to me for a moment?"

The man nodded, sitting back on his ankles to reveal a thick, pink head trapped between the skin of his legs.

Steve forced himself to press on.

"It's important to me that you have a name. Because you aren't mine." His face fell. Steve grasped at him, desperate. "I mean you are. We belong to each other. As equals. You can live here, with me, if that's what you want. And I can help you see the world. I don't own you. That's what I'm saying."

"Maybe I want to be owned."

And Steve hadn't expected that.

"You're ten hours old, you have a lot to learn." He swallowed thickly, ignoring the ache between his legs.

"Did you not create me so I could be of service?" The man asked.

And. "Yeah, so I wouldn't be alone."

It was pathetic, admitting it out loud. Steve felt tears swamp his vision--he bit his cheek to make them go away. "I wanted to prove that someone could love me. My friend's getting married and I didn't want to show up without a date, and." Steve looked up, into those pretty blue eyes and felt like the worst kind of person. "Shit, this was a bad idea. I was being selfish."

The man shook his head. "It is not selfish to crave love and companionship."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Steve said thickly. "I never should have--"

"You do not have to worry about that." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Steve's chest. "Your heart is pure. Clean."

As if that explained it all. Steve watched him, tracking the movement of those eyes across his face.

"I was made in that image," The man concluded.

Steve hung his head.

It was true, what they said about him. Steve was power hungry, pathetic, clingy. The worst of the worst and add God Complex to that list; you could create a clone of the worst person alive. Steve wanted desperately to disappear as a gentle hand moved his face toward the light once more.

The man smiled. "You are kind and fair and good. Let me be yours. Please."

"It wouldn't be right."

"I am giving myself to you because I love you." Those lips said. Steve relished the sweet slide of skin over skin as the man climbed into his lap. "What will it take for you to give yourself to me?"

Steve sighed. Opened his mouth to accept gentle, sloppy kisses from a gentle creature.

Steve pulled away. "We could start with names? I'm Steve," He said, reaching out a hand. The man kissed his knuckles.

"Who should I be?"

Steve shrugged. "Anything you like."

He allowed himself to be lowered to the mattress. Allowed the man to suck and kiss at his neck until, with a breath as soft as summer air;

"You can call me Billy."

#harringroveweek #day three #nercromancy because i said so!#harringrove #halloween #fluff and humor

170 notes · View notes

dbamountaineer · 4 years

Text

Note: I do apologize for more than 6 months rest from writing my travel adventures, had been busy, but still got a chance to visit some cities in USA and even got a chance to return to Japan for a while. This post is a continuation of my previous post that focusing about Dotonbori.

Before leaving Dotonbori, I visited a museum which included in the Osaka Pass that I bought. Since I love museum, I was curious what to see inside of Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum.

One of the Ukiyoe Prints with the name of museum (sorry as it was blurred one)

Finding the museum was quite a challenge, I used my GPS in my phone and I knew that I was in front of it, but I was not sure since I did not see immediately the English Version name of the building (which can be seen only at one side) as I stand in the corner of it. The museum is a two-storey small and narrow building, because of that I had doubts if it’s the museum. Then, I entered the building and asked someone if it’s the museum that I was looking for, the Japanese lady confirmed to me that it was. Next, I showed my Osaka Pass to the lady in the counter and she exchanged it to a ticket. Then, I took upstairs to see the current exhibit displayed at that time.

Dotombori (Dotonbori)

As part of my learning in the museum, “Kamigata” refers to Kansai region where Kyoto, Osaka and Kobe belong but not used anymore when Emperor Meiji moved to Edo (now Tokyo).

Some of the display that I found describes the old days of Dotombori (Dotonbori). The exhibits displays the entertainment information of the area including theatre descriptions and maps. Here, I understood why Dotombori is called as Japanese Broadway, because the best theatres in the country can be found in the area. Other displays even shows how busy and festive Dotombori area at its earlier times.

Settsu Meisho Zue

Settsu Meisho Zue (illustrated famous-place picture collection which introduced Osaka’s famous place)

Detailed description of Dotombori

Kaomise at Dotombori (Naka-za Theatre)

Kaomise at Kado-za Theatre

Takeda-no-shibashi (Takeda Theatre)

A piece of history every time I discover it made me sad because a piece or part of history has been destroyed because of war. Below mentioned that almost all theatres were gone during the air raid in March 1945.

And the Best Theatres to see in Dotombori during its old days (where some of it still exist as of this time).

Ukiyoe Paintings (Prints)

Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum is a private museum and mainly focused to display traditional Ukiyo-e artwork depicting Kabuki performers. Kamigata Ukiyo-e was produced mainly in Osaka during Edo period. The museum changed their display from time to time. At the time of my visit, they are displaying ukiyo-e paintings with the theme of “Actor’s Make-up in Ukiyo-e paintings”. It means that the exhibits features the make-up of kabuki actors.

About Ukiyoe paintings

Paints Used for Ukiyoe paintings

Different color information used for Ukiyoe paintings

Ukiyo-e is a genre of Japanese art which flourished from the 17th through 19th centuries. Its artists produced woodblock prints and paintings of such subjects as female beauties; kabuki actors and sumo wrestlers; scenes from history and folk tales; travel scenes and landscapes; flora and fauna; and erotica. The term ukiyo-e (浮世絵) translates as “picture[s] of the floating world”.

–Wikipedia

Kokusenya Kassen

One of the display found in the exhibit was Kokusenya Kassen (The Battle of Coxinga) Ukiyoe print. It shows the puppet play created by Chikamatsu Monzaemon which portrays the historical figure named Koxinga or Coxinga (Chinese Ming loyalist resisted Qing) and depicts a jidaimono play (historical episode) restoring the rightful dynasty of China. Utagawa Yoshitaki (also known as Ichiyosai Yoshitaki) is a famous Japanese designer of ukiyoe woodblock prints in Osaka whom created more than 1200 ukiyoe prints during his time and commonly portrays kabuki (classic Japanese dance-drama) actors.

Kokusenya Kassen (The Battle of Coxinga)

Hagi wa Sendai Na wa Matsumoto (Matsumoto and the famous autumn flowers of Sendai)

The story of the play was said to be a rework of another play called “Meiboku sendai hagi” (Bush clover, the famous tree of Sendai) which dramatize the intrigues over the succession within Date clan of Sendai. One of the main character named Nikki Danjo conspired to overthrow Ashikaga (represents the Date Clan) Yorikane which in the end was slain. This was made by Shunkōsai Hokushū whom recognized as the most important artist in Osaka.

The ghostly rodent is actually Nikki in metamorphosis — he possesses magical powers, including the ability to turn himself into a giant rat. Nikki holds his hands in the manner associated with nercromancy as the rat emerges from his human form (note the lighter shading of the tail and hindquarters, indicating that the transformation is still in progress). Nikki is a prime example of an important role type known as jitsuaku (or tategataki) — unrepentant evil samurai who plot to overthrow their lords. They are also referred to as kuni kuzushi (“demolisher of nations”) to signify their intention to usurp an emperor’s throne or a daimyô’s domain.

The rat clenches with his teeth a scroll containing a list of conspirators planning to wrest power from Yorikane. Later, pretending to have reformed, Nikki will substitute another list and offer it as trumped-up evidence of the conspiracy, only to remove a dagger hidden within the scroll and mortally wound a counsel and ally of Yorikane’s son.

–osakaprints.com

Hagi wa Sendai Na wa Matsumoto (Matsumoto and the famous autumn flowers of Sendai)

Arashi Rikan Lineage by Yoshikuni

Arashi Rikan Lineage by Yoshikuni (Portrait of different roles of Arashi Rikan)

Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura (Yoshitsune and the Thousand Cherry Trees)

Sato Tadanobu, Yoshisune’s follower who has accompanied Yoshisune’s lover, Shizuka Gozen, is in fact a fox. It has transformed into Sato Tadanobu because the drum-head of Yoshitsune’s drum was made from the fox’s parent’s skin. Finally. Shizuka Gozen finds it out.

–Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum

One of the three most popular and famous in the Kabuki repertoire

— Wikipedia

Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura

Sugawara Denju Tenarai Kagami (Sugawara and the Secrets of Calligraphy)

Same with Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura (above) ukiyoe, Sugawara Denjun Tenarai Kagami is one of the most popular play in kabuki repertoire. In the act III of this play where it titled as “The Struggle for the Carriage (Kurumabiki)”.

This famous scene, “a classic example of Kabuki’s stylized beauty”,[13] takes place in front of the Yoshida Shrine in Kyoto. The scene opens as Umeōmaru and Sakuramaru try to stop Shihei’s carriage, and are confronted by Matsuōmaru, a member of the entourage. As the pair begin to unlash the oxen and tear apart the carriage, Shihei emerges, his blue face makeup marking him as a villain. He glares at them malevolently, halting their attack.

–Wikipedia

Sugawara Denju Tenarai Kagami

Shinpan Kikugoro Zukushi

Shinpan Kikugoro Zukushi (created by Kuniyasu)

The memorial performance for Danzuo IV

Is a 9/1824 tsuizen-e depicting Ichikawa Danzo V (1788-1845) on the stage of the Kado Theater commemorating the 17th anniversary of the passing of his celebrated forebear Danzo IV (1745-1808). The 17th anniversary (actually falling in the 16th year, due to the way Japanese count such things) is an important milestone in ancestor worship. Beyond that date the deceased’s generation is understood to seriously drop off in numbers; so does interest, one can assume, even within a family.

Danzo IV (known as Shiko) had the final curtain drawn on him before single sheet Osaka printmaking had reached its flowering.* Perhaps this is one reason why Umetatsu (n.d.), an otherwise unrecorded artist, inserted him so strongly, peering down in ferocious mie from inside the triple black frame — actually the mimasu crest of the Ichikawa acting family.

Also of interest is the jaw line of the kneeling Danzo V. Thanks to regional differences in actor portraiture, the same thespian’s face was usually drawn thin and angular in Edo and soft and pudgy in Osaka.

In this case, though the print lists an Osaka publisher, Danzo V’s visage (pointedly sans make-up) betrays the narrower Edo look.

One possible reason may lie in the first part of Umetatsu’s signature — “Azumaya,” or “Easterner.” If the artist was visiting from Edo, (where he presumably would have used a different name, and where, incidentally, both Danzos were hugely celebrated), that could explain both the obscurity of the signature, and the actor’s severe jaw line.

It might also explain the rarity of this print. True, Danzo V was not performing in Osaka at the time, but one would still expect a special Ichikawa lineage tribute image like this to sell well. Perhaps Osakans reacted particularly negatively to the cut of his jaw.

–OsakaPrints.com

The memorial performance for Danzuo IV

Azumakagami Mikari no Maki

The Ukiyoe print shown below is portion of the play of Azumakagami Mikari no Maki designed by Syunko.

Azuma Kagami is medieval text chronicles events of the Kamakura Shogunate from Minamoto no Yoritomo’s rebellion against Taira clan. It was compiled after 1266 under the directive of the Hojo shikken. It is an enormously detailed record of different activities centering on the shōgun with almost daily entries that include even notes on the weather.

–Wikipedia

Azumakagami Mikari no Maki

Hadekurabe Ise Monogatari

Sugawara Denju Tenarai Kagami (Sugawara and the Secrets of Calligraphy)

From the scene IV of the play Sugawara Denju Tenarai Kagami, a print depicts the scene from Tempaizan (Mount Tempai). The ukiyoe print designed by Syunko

Kan Shojo who is leading his quiet life in exile goes to Anrakuji temple to hear the story that the ume (plum) tree that he loved in Kyoto came flying overnight. Umeomaru arrives at the scene and tells Kan Shojo about Fujiwara no Shihei’s conspiracy in Kyoto. Kan Shojo transforms into a thunder spirit from anger and ascends to heaven.

–Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum

Sugawara Denju Tenarai Kagami by Syunko

Tenmangu Natane no Gokuh (The Rapeseed Offerings at Tenmangu Shrine)

The ukiyoe print was based from pure kabuki play entitled Tenmangu Natane no Gokuh which is one of the play that was written more to exploit the principles of feudal loyalty than to depict court romances.

–Rising from the Flames: The Rebirth of Theater in Occupied Japan, 1945-1952

The print displays the Kabuki actor Nakamura Shikan III is in the role of magician Ki no Haseo in the play, “Tenmangu Natane no Goku” performed at Naka Theater. The print designed by Utagawa Sadaihiro, a Japanese artist that produced portraits from the beginning of his career. He was said to be a student of Kunisada, but then changed his name to Hirosada and became student under Sadamasu. He was active artist from 1830 to 1850.

Nakamuraza Sankai no Zu (The Third Floor of the Nakamura Theater)

Another ukiyoe displayed was made by Utagawa Kunisada, the most popular and most commercially successfully designer of ukiyoe during 19th century in Japan. The print depicts the kabuki actors in the third floor of Nakamura Theater.

Nakamuraza Sankai no Zu (The Third Floor of the Nakamura Theater)

The museum also showcases a display and information of the old Dotonbori. Through exhibits, it can learned that Dotonbori was a large scale entertainment district and the south side of Dotonbori called as “play side”. Dotonbori has not only kabuki theaters, but also as puppet theaters, and even place for acrobatics or sumo matches. “Settsu Meisho Zue” (1796-1798) the picture collection of Osaka’s famous place illustrates famous places, temples, shrines, events, customs, and traditions in the particular area.

Other stuff that found being exhibit in the museum are below:

Notes : Plan to visit Osaka ? Please check latest information here. Location : Osaka, Japan Directions / Transportation to Osaka : 1. For official access to Osaka coming from anywhere in Japan, please check here. Official Website : Osaka Info

Plan to visit Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum? Please check latest information here. Location : 1-chōme-6-4 Nanba, Chūō-ku, Osaka, 542-0076, Japan Directions / Transportation to Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum: 1. For trains, there are four Namba Stations where different train lines stops near Dotonbori. a. Take Yamatoji Line for JR Namba Station or b. Take Hanshin-Namba or Kintetsu Limited Express or Kintetsu-Nara Line for Osaka-Namba Station or c. Take Modosuji Line or Sen-Nichimae Line or Yotsubashi Line (all subway lines) for Namba Station or d. Take Nankai Line or Nankai-Koya Line or Nankain Limited Express for Namba Station 2. From different station, follow the walking path towards Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum 3. For official access link, please refer here. Official Website : Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum, Dotonbori

Visiting Kamigata Ukiyoe Museum (Part 3 of 3) Note: I do apologize for more than 6 months rest from writing my travel adventures, had been busy, but still got a chance to visit some cities in USA and even got a chance to return to Japan for a while.

0 notes