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fictive-fodder · 3 years ago

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||Painting : XII : Aberforth||

The first time you came to Hogwarts you were 18, freshly graduated from a different school, and about to start a 6 month long artist residency. Not only did you learn how to paint portraits that move, but you also became close friends with the marauders. You would have never guessed that 15 years later you’d return to Hogwarts, commissioned to paint each faculty member’s portrait, and be reunited with Remus Lupin as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Read this on A03 here!

||Word Count 11K ||

Warnings: Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Story Chapters-

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV - PART V - PART VI - PART VII - PART VIII - PART IX - PART X - PART XI - PART XII - PART XIII -

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PART I - PART II -

|| Author’s Note || Here it is. The last chapter of my first ever fan fiction- and what a journey it has been. I want to thank everyone who has shown interest in Painting. My heart does a weird little flip when I think about the fact that over a thousand people have given Painting any consideration at all.

I started this story as a very angry, bitter queer person wanting to force space into a creative world that had been hurt by it's intolerant and small minded creator. I am finishing this story incredibly humbled and warmed by the amount of interest you have all given me, by the absolutely... heavenly... warm feeling that is receiving as beautiful of comments as I have. I am incredulous- and I should be speechless, but here I am going on.

As silly as it may seem, I have a few people I want to thank in particular. I'm not even sure if they'll see this but here it is.

First and foremost I want to thank @thedorkyastra for being the reason this story has an ending- Painting might have helped heal some of my anger, but through your gentleness, your care, and your gorgeously creative mind you've made me a better creative, stronger, and happier to take on challenges. Thank you.

To my friends Cameron and @the-biggest-mt, thank you for impatience. Hehe, that is to say- there are very few things that feel more meaningful and wholesome than having your work coveted by another. You've both managed to survive my constant obsessive wonderings of where Painting should go and what it needs, while also finding a way to still enjoy the story. No mean feat. Thank you for giving me that time, it is a feeling I hope to remember, and forevermore chase.

And at the risk of being a little too extroverted, I'd to thank every single one of you who has made yourself known either by liking the story, commenting, or reaching out to me on tumblr. I started to write out a long list of names, but then I was worried that would come off as a lot- and I'd hate to forget someone. I know some of you have been reading this since I first started to post in 2020, and honestly, I'm just so overwhelmingly flattered. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.

I hope I managed to scrape a satisfying ending together for you all. I hope this story has helped you feel included and full of the potential to enchant those around you with who you are.

And, if you ever miss my version of these characters, or want me to expand on anything- I am more than happy to write something up for you. Just message me here : ) With, absolutely, every. inch. of. love. I. have~ please enjoy the end!

Groggily, you turned over in your bed and winced as you rested too much of your weight against your shoulder. The sting of it woke you up, your eyes squinting open dryly, as you watched Remus quietly exit your dawn lit bedroom.

You wanted to ask him what time it was, but before you could speak, sleep overcame you once again.

The school grounds were dark and empty. It was the sort of night that carried sound too easily. Your breathing seemed loud, it irritated you but you couldn’t control it. Your chest rose and fell as you looked up into the pitch black sky to find a glowing white gold moon.

“RUN!” you heard Sirius cry from behind you, his voice broke and echoed over the grounds.

The hair on the nape of your neck rose sharply as a snarl came from behind you. You pivoted, eyes wide as you desperately tried to take in your surroundings, to see anything.

Sirius bellowed your name as a jagged set of white, long teeth surfaced from the dark. The wolf’s fur perfectly camouflaged itself against the shadows, making it impossible to see. A pair of golden eyes appeared, pupils dilating as it came closer.

The growl of a dog lurched closer, you jolted awake as your door creaked loudly open.

“Sorry-“ Remus whispered, gingerly closing the door behind him as you rubbed your eyes.

“It’s ok- you breathed, willing your heartbeat to slow through deep breaths. It had only been a day since you brought Remus to the hospital wing, since Sirius had escaped, but it felt like so much had already changed. “Were you speaking to Dumbledore?”

“I was.” Remus replied, moving to sit beside you on the bed. His hand twitched as if he was about to smooth the blankets over your hip, but he refrained.

“And?”

“And… there are a lot of moving parts to everything, of course. He has some idea of where Sirius and Buckbeak may be headed, where Peter might be headed…” Remus glanced to your eyes, his expression tense. “Professor Dumbledore fought me on the resignation but…” Remus shook his head, staring at the candle light flickering across the wall. “I know it is the right choice.”

You felt your face grow hot. As if Severus hadn’t already done enough harm, Madame Pomfrey had told you that Snape had made Remus’ condition known to the school, in an apparent slip of composure. If you hadn’t been so weak from exhaustion the anger would have already driven you to violence. “You wouldn’t feel that way if Severus hadn’t told his students.” you muttered bitterly.

“I would have resigned even if he hadn't.” Remus replied patiently. His face was stoic, the frustration and pain he had felt about the night Peter escaped was barely tenable in his expression.

“Why?”

“Because as much as I have enjoyed my time here, there is something of greater importance to address.”

A wave of anxiety coursed through you in anticipation of Remus’ next words.

“I mean to go looking for Peter.” Remus said low, holding your gaze. “I am going to find Sirius, and we are going to hunt him down… before he can find his master.”

“Hah-” you breathed, eyes widening. Your head suddenly felt light and you had to sit up and rest your back against the headboard of your bed to steady yourself. “I see… The Order of the Phoenix is-”

“Dumbledore doesn’t think reviving The Order is… a proportional response to the information that we have. But I disagree with him. What are we waiting for? Are we waiting for more harm to come to Harry? To have Voldemort gain enough strength that he is known to the world once more? I’d rather be proactive- I’d rather stifle his rise if possible.”

“Do you think Sirius is up for it, though? I know he’d hate for me to say it but you saw how he looked. He needs care, he needs time and probably a lot of comfort.”

“Of course I agree with you, but do you think he’d elect that help over hunting down Peter?”

You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head as you breathed through your fingers. “What did Dumbledore say to all this?”

“He thinks it is worth it, but he can’t give me the opinion I need.”

“What?” you asked, your hands falling to your side once more.

“I need yours?” Remus nodded, looking nervous.

“Mine? Of- of course? Of course I think you should, if you really feel like there is a chance. And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Remus smiled and closed his eyes for a long moment, taking in your reply. “This is what I didn’t have the last time.” he said softly.

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well I might have but–” he winced, “it was different! I didn’t know that you loved me, I only had hoped.”

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. Remus flexed his hands, unsure of what else to say. You got up and headed towards your desk, opened the topmost drawer, and pulled out a box made of brown board tied with festive red and gold twine and a red wax seal.

“Does this look familiar to you?” you asked, smiling.

“Yes.” Remus breathed, eyes wide.

Sitting beside him, you handed Remus the box. He broke the wax seal with an enthusiastic, crisp snap and pulled the twine aside. It was a relief to see Remus look happy after everything he’d just been through. As if it were made of glass, Remus carefully dipped his hand into the box and pulled the locket out. He glanced at you before opening it.

“Why am I so nervous to see-” Remus chuckled. You watched his face as he opened the locket and looked at the self portrait you had painted inside. It was always a delicious moment watching someone take in your artwork. Remus’ green eyes flickered all over the small painting, he glanced at you over and over to compare the small details you managed to include. The painting smiled at him brightly, clearly delighted that it was finally given to its intended recipient.

“Thank you-” Remus smiled, leaning closer to you. He rested his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as he moved to kiss you, but then sharply pulled away.

“I’m sorry I-” Remus sat further back from you and pulled the locket over his head to wear, glancing at your shoulders. He shook his head. “I’m sorry I just can’t touch you yet, it’s too difficult.”

You felt your heart sink as you watched him toil inwardly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Remus. It’s okay for your comfort level to change based on how you’re feeling.”

“It just seems so unfair to you.” He sighed, looking down at his lap.

“The only thing that’s unfair is that you think these-” you gestured to your bandaged shoulders, “are your fault. Because they aren’t.”

There was a flash of irritation in Remus’ eyes, before he nodded with a heavy sigh.

-X-

Lupin’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The grindylow’s empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full.

“Ah,” he tapped on the Marauder’s Map that lay sprawled over his desk. “Harry is on his way up, he must have heard.”

You began to flip through your sketchbooks faster. “I hope he likes this… that it won't be weird or anything.”

“He will like it.” Remus assured you with a warm grin.

Moments later you saw Harry appear at the open door. He smiled briefly at you, distractedly, before turning to Remus.

“I saw you coming,�� he greeted, smiling. Remus pointed to the map.

“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “And he said you’d resigned. It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“Why?” Harry asked, frowning at the two of you. “The Ministry of Magic doesn’t think you were helping Sirius, do they?”

You crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. Remus winked at you in silent thanks as he started to explain.

“No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that we were trying to save your lives.” he sighed. “That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he- er - accidentally let slip that I’m a werewolf over breakfast.”

“You’re not leaving just because of that!” said Harry.

Remus smiled wryly.

“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents… They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And I see their point. I could have bitten any of you…” Remus glanced once again at your shoulders. ”That must never happen again.”

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

Lupin shook his head and didn’t speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives, Harry. If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it's how much you’ve learned.”

“Will you be going too?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“I was only ever meant to be here until the end of the school year.” You sighed, “But… I will miss it very much. And I am so happy I got to meet you and your friends, Harry. Oh! Here- we brought this from the Shrieking Shack,” you said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak.

“And…” Remus leaned over, hesitated, and then held out the Marauder’s Map too. “I am no longer your teacher, so I don’t feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It’s no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it.”

Harry took the map and grinned.

“You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would’ve wanted to lure me out of the school… you said they’d have thought it was funny.”

“And so we would have,” said Remus, now reaching down to close his case. “I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle.”

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.

It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry there.

“Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” he said.

“Thank you, headmaster.”

Harry looked between you, Remus and Dumbledore and hung his head.

“Why so miserable, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“It didn’t make any difference,” said Harry bitterly. “Pettigrew got away.”

“Didn’t make any difference?” Dumbledore responded, “It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate.”

“Because of you Sirius gets to have a relationship with his Godson, with you.” you added, “That will mean more to him than anything else.”

Harry nodded, smiling a little.

“Speaking of Sirius-” You glanced at Harry nervously, “As you know Harry, I knew you parents and was lucky enough to spend some time with them before they graduated. I’ve always kept sketchbooks and I wanted you to have some of these old memories, if you’d like them.”

You presented Harry with a stack of sketches you had curated that morning while Remus packed. Harry pulled open the folio you’d presented them in, watching his young mother and father dance with Sirius on a bleacher at the quidditch stadium. You tried not to stare too intently at his face as he carefully turned the yellowed pages. Remus reading a book with Lily, James posing while riding his broom.

“This is… brilliant-“ Harry said distractedly, watching how Lily’s smile came up into her eyes as she and James tied a letter to a very tiny owl.

Harry finally tore his focus away from your sketches to look up into your eyes. “This is brilliant!”

You fought to ignore the stinging sensation in your eyes as you smiled at Harry. “It is completely my pleasure.” you nodded, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I feel quite out of step, I didn’t bring Harry any gifts for Professor Lupin’s departure.” Albus said gravely, though there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh! Professor Lupin! Professor Dumbledore- before you go I wanted to tell you that -two days ago, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very - very strange.”

“Indeed?” said Dumbledore, exchanging a glance with you and Remus. “Er- stranger than usual, you mean?”

Remus snorted.

“Yes… her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said… she said Voldemort’s servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight…. She said the servant would help him come back to power.” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “And then she sort of became normal again, she couldn’t remember anything she’d said. Was it- was she making a real prediction?”

Dumbledore looked mildly impressed. You exchanged a severe glance with Remus as Albus kept a pleasant demeanor towards Harry.

“Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been,” he said thoughtfully. “Who’d have ever thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise…”

“But-” Harry looked at him, aghast. “But I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew! That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back!”

“No Harry-“ you and Remus said simultaneously.

“It does not,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt… When one wizard saves another wizard’s life, it creates a certain bond between them… and I’m much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servants in the debt of Harry Potter.”

“I don’t want a connection with Pettigrew!” said Harry. “He betrayed my parents!”

Remus put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry.” he started, “Trust me… the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew’s life.”

“Harry.” you said gently. “James would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.”

“Yes.” Albus agreed, nodding deeply.

Harry looked up at you, his eyes searching your face worriedly.

“James and Lily both would have.” you emphasized. “You were smart and very mature to reason that Peter should be tried for what he had done and clear Sirius’ name… you did everything that was in your power, Harry. None of us can control what will happen, we can only do our best to make the right choices.”

“And that’s exactly what you did, Lily and James would be so incredibly proud of you.” Remus said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. He appraised the empty room he had lived in for the last year, before kneeling down to look at Harry eye to eye. “Harry, it has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we’ll meet again sometime.”

“Goodbye, then, Remus,” said Dumbledore soberly.

“Goodbye,” Remus said. Carefully taking your hand in his, he gave a final nod to Harry, and you both left the office.

-X-

“Where to first?” You asked, looking up at Remus as you both walked through the front door of Hogwarts.

It was a glorious, sunny day and far too pleasant for the bittersweet, sinking feeling in your heart.

“Stop by Lyle’s first.” Remus responded, distractedly. “Let him know that I’m alright.”

There was a long break in conversation. You began to feel panicked, so you concentrated on the feeling of his fingers being laced between your own. How long would it be until you were able to see him again? Would it feel different then it did 13 years ago?

The beauty of the day was beginning to irritate you. The walk to the front gates of Hogwarts was a long stroll, through lush rolling land and ancient trees. Sunlight flickered through the flora, dappling your path with gold.

As soon as you could see the carriage in your view, you began to feel worse with every footstep. You were ashamed to feel poorly, knowing how important it would be to send Remus off with good spirits. You did your best to smile as you looked up into his face, but when Remus glanced over to meet your gaze, he stopped.

“You know, I will forever regret it if I don’t kiss you before I leave.” Remus said, turning to you and setting down his belongings.

“I am content with this-” you replied, holding up your interlocked hands.

Remus huffed, and then abruptly broke into a laugh.

“What?” you asked, smiling.

“If Sirius were here he would be threatening me.” he chuckled, and then made his voice huskier to imitate Sirius- “If you wait too long, I will!”

You laughed loudly, blushing. It occurred to you how nice it was, to be able to invoke Sirius’ name and associate it with the friend you’d come to love so much, and not a murderer. You looked up into Remus’ sunlit face, smiling. “I want you to take your time, and I wish you knew, like I do, that you never hurt me.”

Remus gazed into your eyes, you could tell it was difficult for him to accept what you’d said as fact. The sunlight reflected up from the dirt path, bouncing light up into Remus’ face. Your heart leapt as it suddenly felt like his portrait had been superimposed over reality- the color of his skin a wash of sunset, his scars turned to white gold, and his eyes keenly illuminated, a fiery green, viridescent.

He took a step closer to you, his hands timidly reaching to rest on your shoulders. Remus bowed his head. “By now, I should have exhausted all of your grace.” he started, under his breath.

You held still, continuing to look up into his eyes.

“You should-“ Remus struggled, wincing at his own thoughts. “I am so grateful to you-“ he sighed, “You have been so patient with me… Hell, too patient. And, and I wish so much to convey how deeply I appreciate you. You all- James, Lily, Sirius… I never have felt that I deserved any of you. I never felt like I deserved Albus’ trust… and this whole year I could have told him Sirius was an animagi and I didn’t. I am still-“ Remus grimly gestured to your shoulders, “I’m still ruled by lesser impulses-”

In the past it would have been hard for you to not interrupt, to reassure and correct Remus in the rare moments he spoke to his insecurities and fears. But now you felt quite calm and confident in your silence, watching him with a softened gaze as he looked into your eyes, searching for reasons he was right to hesitate but he found none.

“I wish-” Remus bowed his head. Moments passed by where the sound of swaying bows from overhead trees was the only thing to fill your ears. Every time you wondered if you should encourage him to talk, that it was safe, you stopped. He already knows you reminded yourself. What you wanted more was to run your fingers through his hair, to gather him into an embrace but in this moment it felt important for Remus to come to you in all ways.

Remus took a large breath and then looked at you once more. “We’ve given so much of ourselves to this story.” His smile was bittersweet. “My time at Hogwarts was spent learning many things, most of all the love of friends. When I became sick, my family never thought I’d be able to have what you and I have shared with James, Lily and Sirius.

“These last few days I have felt very similar to the night James and Lily were killed. Of course I was in the worst grief I’d ever known but I also felt so much regret that I hadn’t-” Remus’ focus flickered to your lips. “I’ve never felt able to ask for things. I get so upset with myself for even entertaining the idea that I was entitled to my position here, to the friends I’ve had, to you… I want it all but I’ve never learned how to bear with living with myself wanting more than I’ve already had. I shouldn’t have had any of this. But I did get to leave my family’s home and I was able to attend Hogwarts. And I had Sirius, and James, and Lily and then we met you and I felt like…”

Remus shook his head as he grasped for words, “I felt like everything I could ever hope for was within reach. James did that. He saw the war coming and he threw himself into the resistance but he also threw himself into a life. He married Lilly. He had Harry. I thought that I could wait, that it was too hard and too unfair to try and live for the things I wanted while each day held pain and horror but I was wrong! And it isn’t just the war, I’ve been doing this my life over.

“You can go outside and play once mum and dad find a cure. You can talk to your classmates if you don’t feel sick this week. Just… keeping my own desires from myself at nauseum. And… I do not think I can do that anymore.” Remus rested one of his hands on his chest. “Feeling that grief again made me realize how much I regret not taking advantage of, even if I hate myself for trying. But... that hate can’t be worse than realizing I’ve spent the last eighteen years wanting you and never taking a crack at it. It can’t be worse than dreaming of a home and never stepping foot in one.

“I may never look at myself the way you’ve painted me.” Remus warned, reaching his hand up to cradle the side of your face. “But, this whole time you’ve been saying yes to all this… haven’t you?”

-X-

It wasn’t until you had started packing and decided to take a walk around the school for a break, that you realized how lonely you had been when returning to this school. The loss of James and Lily, and the alienation from Sirius and Remus had not just separated you from your closest friends, but from the ability to reach out for others.

You made your way down the stairs from your room, heading towards the classroom full of your portraits. What had you done in all the years since Voldemort’s downfall? Worked from place to place, a portrait for a notable wizard here, a restoration of a historical landscape there- never staying in one area for too long, never looking beyond your work, insular.

It was shocking to reflect on, contrasted to how open you felt now, how often you caught yourself wondering how Remus was, even though it had only been an hour, an evening, overnight, a day. Where was Sirius in the world? Was he thinking of you as much as you thought of him?

It felt reassuring and heavy in your chest, to love outwardly and hope for affection in return.

As you made your way downstairs to see your gallery one last time, the morning light cast dim purple tones over the castle walls. You rounded the corridor into the exhibit and jumped in surprise to see a darkly clothed figure standing at the center of the gallery. Severus turned slowly to look at you, his eyes did not meet yours before his focus turned back to Remus’ portrait.

The painting emitted the soft golden light of sunset into the dawn filled air. It illuminated Snape’s sleepless face as he stared into Remus’ likeness.

“You do truly love him.” Severus said quietly.

Your jaw ached as you clenched your teeth together, shoulders rising into a tense posture. It was the first time you had seen Snape since the night he’d bound and gagged you.

“The way you painted this-“ he continued, under his breath. Severus did not seem to have any trouble ignoring your obvious irritation. “you painted heaven on his face.”

With a forceful, grounding breath you regained some composure. “I’m sure that isn’t why you made me the Phosphen, Perle and Port.”

“No-“ Severus breathed, glancing at his own portrait darkly. “That was not why. Quite the opposite.”

“Severus…” you said, fighting to keep your tone and your expression neutral. “I-”

“Yes?” he asked soberly, turning to look at you. He did not cower under your gaze, in fact he looked much the same as he always did. A new lick of fury rose in you, but you fought to keep your temper.

Your mind raced, you felt like he should owe you something. But how clearly could you be thinking? Did it matter? Would you ever see this man again?

Reaching over, you took his hand in yours, pulling him out of the gallery and through the corridor. You expected to meet some resistance but Severus came with you complacently. You headed towards the dungeons.

You pulled Snape into his own classroom and stopped at his desk. Severus raised his eyebrows at you faintly, “Yes?” he repeated himself, “Do I look as if I am taking orders?”

“Don’t-” you warned, looking over the shelves of ingredients that lined the walls. “Severus you’re… “ you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. “You’re going to teach me how to make Wolfsbane, right now.”

Severus’ dark eyes met your gaze, his expression impossibly blank. He was struggling to maintain eye contact with you as you glared into his face.

With a wave of his hand, a cauldron and several ingredients jumped from their places on nearby shelves and landed beside your hands. A bottle of living spiders, vials of opalescent liquid marked with moon phases and dates, as well as a sprigs of aconite and aloe vera.

“The process must begin a month before you wish to make it, as you will need to allow eight pints of water to rest in each phase of the moon. One per phase. If you cannot get that right then you have already ruined it.”

Severus gestured to the vials of opalescent water, you now noticed that each date was for last month’s moons. “They gain this effect if you have done so correctly. Full moons create the highest concentration of iridescence within the water, whereas new moons will give no effect. I recommend keeping a chart of the phases for the month and year- if you are inexact it will only cure thirst.”

You fought rolling your eyes to this comment as he continued. “Only once you have accomplished this will you be remotely prepared to continue. I recommend using a freshly seasoned cauldron for this, as well as the finest copper athame you are able to procure. Runic carvings on either tool, as well as your spoon, ladle, and goblet should utilize such symbols as the Thurisaz, the Uruz, Raidho and Kenaz. Now-“

Severus lit a fire beneath the cauldron with a wave of his wand and picked up the jar of spiders. “You will want to leave a male and female alive each time you make this so by the next month you will still have enough Carrow spiders to last you.”

You had to stop yourself from flinching away as Severus speared one of the spiders with the tip of his athame and placed it on the table before you. He pressed the flat edge of the blade against the spider, crushing it slowly into the table top. “What you want is the ichor within their abdomen- the exoskeleton can be disposed of.”

Snape then handed the athame to you, his eyes appraising.

Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stuck the athame into the jar, but before you could spear one as Severus had, a Carrow spider had begun to quickly crawl up the athame. You jumped, but before you could let go of the athame Severus grabbed your wrist tightly. “Focus.” he commanded sternly.

You guided the athame down to the table, flipping it quickly so that you crushed the spider against it.

“Good.” Severus muttered, “Now be careful with the ichor. You will need all you can get from only two Carrow spiders.”

You watched as the thick, honey-like liquid dripped from the athame into the cauldron.

“Now-“ Severus continued, plucking the athame away from you. “We continue with myrrh and vinegar.”

-X-

The night sky was alight with endless fireworks. It had been days of constant, glittering lights in the sky. And owls- so many owls flying through the skies that even the muggles were beginning to take notice.

You didn’t realize that you had been sitting at your kitchen table for the last five hours, holding the same mug of tea. The tea had been a gift from Lily, and as soon as you realized you weren’t able to keep it down.

Your bedroom was only a few feet away but you slept on your couch that day. When you woke up you winced to see your sick still on the kitchen floor. You could have sworn you cleaned up already. Fireworks rattled the walls of your flat in warm rumbles. You heard people cry and cheer. You cried.

Sirius had been with you all week and then vanished. It was only days ago, but now it felt like your life had happened to someone else, illusory. You hadn’t seen anyone since the war worsened. You hadn’t heard from James and Lily in a year. Remus and Sirius sometimes wrote to you, but with increasingly less familiarity. You glimpsed that it wasn’t only you, as when you did hear from Sirius and Remus they seemed at odds with each other, at odds with everyone, always tense.

You felt like a child, desperately wanting for everyone to act as friends.

You had been renewing the protective spells on your flat when a crack rang through your home. You jumped in surprise and held your breath as you peered through your flat to see who had entered.

From around the doorway, you saw Sirius Black peering through your home, brow furrowed.

“Sirius?” you exclaimed happily, rushing up to him. “What… what are you doing here?”

The joy in your voice was not reflected in his face. Your heart sank to see the darkness around Sirius’ eyes, the tight line of his mouth as he looked over to you, unenthusiastically. “Hello-” he greeted, his grainy voice low.

Your arms jerked as you made to embrace him, before you stopped yourself. His eyes looked just the same as Remus’ the day he put you into hiding. Not angry, not sad, but walled off- unwelcoming and unable to emote.

“Why… what brings you here?” you asked uncertainly, folding your arms behind your back, unsure what to do with yourself.

“Can I stay with you?” Sirius responded, unchanged. “For a few days?”

You felt your stomach flip in pleasure and excitement but it was quickly tampered by a sense of shame. Stop acting so childish, you told yourself, you’ve been hiding while he has had to fight for people like you.

As Sirius’ stay turned from a few days to a full week, the affection you first felt ashamed to show began to transform. By the end of Sirius’ sixth, quiet, tense day with you, you weren’t struggling against feeling shame- you were panicking when you felt affection at all.

It had never been hard for you to talk to him. But now, as Sirius spent his days staring out of your windows and glancing into your fireplace, you felt your mind turn, hushing your feelings until they were too quiet for you to notice.

“Sirius-” you said meekly, into the dark of your kitchen. “What is it?” his voice rang out.

“Um- just, goodnight. I’m going to go… sleep?”

There was a long pause.

“You can sleep?” he asked.

You stifled something between a laugh and a sigh. Your mind clouded over in quiet fear as all of the playful things you would have once said escaped you. Suddenly you felt like crying.

“I don’t know.” you finally answered.

“Right.” his voice now carried an edge that you were not used to. You frowned, was he angry with you? Was that possible? Was it selfish to ask?

Not everything is about you, you thought. Not everything is about you. Not everything is about you.

You stood in the dark of your flat, reciting your mantra, holding your breath as you willed the tears in your eyes to recess. Your throat felt impossibly tight.

It started to rain outside. Glancing down through your window, you saw a muggle mother quickly usher children into her home. They were dressed in costumes.

You fell onto your bed and pushed your face into your pillow, forcing yourself to breathe slowly. Your head got light as you struggled to get enough oxygen, but it somehow calmed you. Your throat and chest strained painfully as you began to feel dizzy. You pushed your knees and palms against the mattress, trying to remind yourself that you were already laying down. The world didn’t need to spin.

Your eyes squeezed closed as you remembered reaching over your hospital bed to lovingly, gently, tug on a strand of Sirius’ hair. "Well, I have to try." he had sighed, pouting. "And if Peter has done or said anything to you- I won't let whatever he's playing at continue."

The torches in the hospital wing were low, as it had been very late that night. The soft orange light had caught Sirius’ features beautifully. His angular face, his softly pointed nose, and how these youthful features were so neatly juxtaposed against his thick, expressive brows and his deep set eyes. Eyes as dark as coal, that seemed to pick up candle light as brilliantly as the vastness of space embroidered itself with stars.

His voice rang out in your memory. “I am going to look out for you.”

A strangled sound erupted from beyond your bedroom. You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, but it was still very dark. Grabbing your wand, you jumped out of your bed as you heard furniture fall to the floor.

“Lumos!” you called, darting out of your bedroom. Your magic illuminated Sirius, who was standing up from the fireplace, his long, dark hair had glowing embers falling from it. He looked wild, eyes wide, his hands shaking as he turned towards you.

You didn’t even see Sirius reach for his wand.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” he growled. Your wand went flying to the other side of the room. You didn’t have time to react as Sirius darted forward and, pushing his forearm against your throat, rammed you against the wall behind you.

He pushed the tip of his wand against the side of your head. Sirius leaned his full weight into his forearm, pinning you to the wall by the clavicle. “Do you know where he is?” Sirius asked, his voice unrecognizably sharp.

Your hands reflexively raised to try and pull his arm away from you. You gasped for air as great tremors shook through your body. “W-what?” you cried, looking into his eyes with terror.

“Peter!” Sirius barked, his wand jabbed at your temple. “Do you know where Peter is?”

“Sirius I- I haven’t spoken with Peter since we all- since we all saw Lily and James! Since we stayed with them!”

“Are you lying to me?” He growled, jerking his forearm to shake you.

“No!” you yelled, pushing against his weight in another desperate, frustrated attempt to free yourself.

Sirius pulled away and you fell to your knees, gasping. He paced your living room back and forth as you held yourself up on your hands and knees.

“What is going on?” you gasped, shakily rising to stand.

Sirius pivoted, your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you. Sirius’ eyes were wide and scared, his mouth bent, bottom lip trembling. “Peter is gone from his hiding place-” he started, voice wavering, “...and if he’s not there, it- it means som-”

Before Sirius could finish his thought, you caught a silvery orb floating in your periphery. It was outside your window, bobbing unnervingly in the rain before it passed through the glass to hover between the two of you.

The patronus flared with white light. “Order members Potter, James and Potter, Lily have been killed as of 13 minutes ago, at Godric's Hollow, according to emergency owls arriving from neighbors to the Daily Prophet. Order members Potter, James and Potter, Lily have been killed as of 13 minutes ago, at Godric's Hollow, according to emergency owls arriving from neighbors to the Daily Prophet.”

The patronus then vanished in a wisp of smoke.

You and Sirius stared at each other, eyes wide, open mouthed, soundless.

“Oh-” you whispered, though you hadn’t meant to say anything.

The quietness of your surroundings fizzed loudly in your ears, it irritated you. How could the world be so silent, and so still?

You winced as Sirius burst into a sharp, broken laugh. A shiver ran through his body as he threw back his head, tears streaming down his face, and laughed. He was gripping his wand so tightly you could see the whites of his knuckles, even in this dark. He glanced at you, his eyes red and overbright.

“Sirius?” you called out, feeling a horrible, unknown urgency.

With a wave of his wand and another cracking sound, he was gone.

It only took a few hours for the fireworks to begin.

-X-

You managed to say goodbye to everyone too efficiently. It felt all too quick, like you were trying to preserve the last interactions you were to have with everyone, only to realize that the goodbye had happened already and there was nothing more to say. Hogwarts became emptier and emptier.

You packed up all of your tools, your robes, your sketch books. You appraised your empty living quarters, chest heavy, as humility overcame you; the year you worked at Hogwarts had not gone anywhere near how you had imagined. It was humbling to have been so wrong and feel so entirely happy, satiated. There was only one thing left to do.

The walk down to Hagrid’s was going too fast. You fought your feet to stare into picturesque corridors illuminated by dusty shafts of light. To memorize your favorite paintings just how they hung. When you reached the front door and stepped out onto the stoop, you thought back to when you had first arrived and Remus had been waiting for you. Despite the fact you hadn’t spoken in so, so long, despite the fact that he had wondered if you were a spy, Remus guessed around when you might arrive, left his office and all his work, to come out and stand by the front door until he saw you approach.

His smiling face filled your memory. You remembered being a bit surprised how much gray was in his hair, the wrinkles that had begun to join up with his scars. Remus had picked your luggage up for you, as carefully as he had when you met at King’s Cross so many years ago, and said. “All you must do is tell me where and when.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as you carried your paint stained luggage in the direction of Hagrid’s hut. As you walked, you nodded silent good-byes to each passing tree, to the garden patches, to the Whomping Willow. When the Gardener’s Cottage came into view, you stopped and set down your luggage.

Raising to the tips of your toes, you peered through the glass wall and into the empty home. Memories projected themselves through the glass- The night you made a trivia game for Lily, James, Peter, Sirius and Remus to study the hardest N.E.W.T.S. questions, which devolved into silliness as soon as Sirius became restless. The morning James and Lily woke everyone up with scones they baked, their arms and hair splattered with powder, your kitchenette devastated. The many midnights Remus would appear quietly and sit beside you, his words tracing around the affection you had now hard won.

Your heart ached. Closing your eyes you kissed the stained glass. “Thank you.” you said, under your breath.

Then suddenly, with a rattling clatter, something fell from the roof onto your head and bounced off to the grass beside you. “Ouch!” you stammered, looking around you for what it was.

Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar, sorely missed ring. You picked it up, turning it over to fully see the brass rabbit that decorated the band. “Is this permission to steal?” you laughed softly, glancing up at the cottage. With trepidation, you slipped it onto your finger, delighted that it still fit you.

With a content sigh, you gave one last nod to the cottage, and turned in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, which was now in view. Picking up your bags, you walked over to his home. You could feel your eyes stinging with tears as the finality of your time at Hogwarts set fully in. Knocking your knuckles against Hagrid’s door, you smiled as Fang barked sharply from inside.

Hagrid pulled open the door, nudging Fang aside with his knee. “Calm down Fang- calm down! It’s not like we haven’t had company before!”

You looked up into Hagrid’s warm, bushy face and grinned. “Hi Hagrid-“

“Well hello!” He greeted brightly, smiling down at you.

Your lips parted to ask after him, but the words got caught in your throat. Your eyes stung worse than ever, and with a sudden catch of breath, you began to cry.

“Oh!” Hagrid frowned worriedly, “None of that! C’mere now.”

Hagrid ushered you into his home, wrapping one of his heavy arms around your shoulders. You leaned into the embrace, ignoring the dull pain it caused from your wounds.

“Now sit-“ he cooed, pulling you down into one of his arm chairs. “An’ tell me, what’s the matter?”

“I’m so sorry-“ you hiccupped through tears. Hagrid took his tablecloth sized handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to you before sitting down.

“Thank you.” you accepted it and wiped your face. The handkerchief draped over you like a blanket.

“You’re the last person I have to say goodbye to.”

“Goodbye?” Hagrid blinked, taking a moment to think through what you meant. “Oh no- no use in sayin’ goodbye! It's not like yer not welcome back, or nothin’. I surely ain’t goin nowhere an’ I wager you could say the same ‘bout anyone else!”

“I know, you're right-“ you croaked, pushing your face into the handkerchief.

“It’s not worth yer tears.” Hagrid chuckled, “Fang an I will always be ‘appy ter see ya. Besides! I still gotta take yer to Hog’s Head!”

You brightened at this. “That’s right!” you smiled, “Would you… would you have time to go this afternoon?”

“Usually go right about now anyway!” Hagrid replied, rising to his feet. “C’mon then!” Hagrid extended one of his enormous hands out to you and helped you stand.

The long walk to Hogsmeade was helped by the crisp dusk air. Hagrid insisted on carrying your bags for you, but seemed to have trouble fitting his fingers through the handles. Ignoring your protests he hugged the two suitcases to his side as you both made your way to the little village.

“So…” Hagrid started conspiratorially, “did yer hear about Beaky? Got away, he did! I don’t know how he managed it!”

You laughed, “Of course I heard, I was so relieved.”

“It’s such a pity ‘bout Black though.” he grumbled. “If I had known he was locked up in the castle I’d of sat on him, pinned ‘em down, no chance he’d scurry off then.”

You willed yourself to not picture this scene for fear of laughing and did your best to match Hagrid’s disappointment. “At least Harry is alright.”

“Aye. He’s turnin’ out to be such a good bloke too. Jus’ like his father.”

As the two of you reached the beginning of Hogsmeade, Hagrid turned up a narrow, winding street. Tucked away at the top of the road was the small, dingy pub. Something about the name jogged your memory.

“Oh this…” you started, still trying to remember why the name sounded so familiar. You stared up to the sign of a severed boar’s head, as Hagrid reached for the door and opened it for you.

The pub was as rough looking on the outside as it was on the inside. There were no other patrons, as it was still early for a dive like this to be busy. Your mind reeled as you laid eyes on the man behind the counter, who was polishing a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag.

The barkeep’s bright blue eyes met yours, and his thick, expressive eyebrows furrowed together. It was his guarded, challenging expression that finally jogged your memory.

A snap. “It’s done, Painter. You’ve made the decision. No use wondering if it was the right one. Now go on and sort yourself out and- If you ever don’t know where to turn again, try the Hog’s Head Tavern… I might have use of you there.”

Did he remember you?

“Blimey Hagrid-” Aberforth greeted with a sharp grin. There was no other way to think of him, other than a less put together version of Albus. It was uncanny how similar their features were, except how indelicate Aberforth was in comparison. Now that you knew Albus and had seen him in person, it felt like some trick was being played on your eyes.

Hagrid gave Aberforth a nod in greeting and ushered you to sit at the bar.

“Wanted ter bring me mate to me favorite pub.” Hagrid smiled, as Aberforth reflexively began to pour Hagrid a stout that, now that you could smell it, was something you’d associated with Hagrid for a long time.

“That so?” Aberforth indulged, glancing at you wearily. “Is there some special occasion?”

Hagrid turned to smile at you. “Well I suppose you just finished quite a big job.” he nudged you with a proud smile and took a large gulp of his beer.

“I suppose so.” you granted meekly, feeling Aberforth’s eyes on you.

“What will it be, then?” Aberforth asked, reaching below the bar for another dirty glass.

“I’ll have the same thing as Hagrid, I suppose.”

It was like someone had managed to liquify a loaf of bread and squeeze it into a bottle. The taste, while pleasant, was only something you could manage to sip every once in a while, as you enjoyed the banter between Aberforth and Hagrid.

Your mind had been racing the last few days, making decisions, committing important thoughts to memory, planning what was best for Remus, what was best for you. You leaned into the back of your bar chair, surrendering to the heavy, almost sleepy feeling of not thinking much. The last rays of sunlight fell against your lap, you sipped your cool beer, lulled by the cadence of their voices.

Hagrid had already had 5 stouts by the time you had finished your first. The day grew darker and other patrons came for a drink, but you felt like the corner you and Hagrid sat at together was separate from all else. .

Hagrid smiled, rosy cheeked and patted your shoulder. “Well-” he started, standing up and patting his stomach, “I best be on me way back now. Helpin’ Professor Sprout in the mornin’ with a new garden patch an all.”

“Thank you for spending the evening with me-” you said, rising from your chair to give Hagrid a tight hug.

“It’ll happen again soon, you’ll see.” Hagrid promised, resting one of his impossibly large hands on the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, soothed by the warmth that he radiated.

“You gotta place to go?” Hagrid asked quietly.

“Oh yea-” you lied, grinning up at him, “Don’t worry about me! I’ll send you an owl in a few days.”

Hagrid nodded, patting your back once more before making his way to the door. You watched Hagrid push himself through the small door, which swung wildly as he exited. With every swing you saw a flash of him walking farther away.

Your heart sank. You rubbed your thumb against the rabbit ring anxiously. You were officially done.

“Will you be having anything else, Painter?” Aberforth’s voice came from behind you.

You pivoted to him, eyes wide. “So you do remember me?”

Aberforth’s shoulders rose and fell as he chuckled. “Am I right to believe,” he began, his brilliant blue eyes squinted and glistening, “-that you do not know where next to turn?”

You felt your face grow hot, though you didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been in similar situations before so there was no reason to feel as ashamed and panicked as you did. “I didn’t intend to come here.” you said and immediately regretted how defensive it sounded.

Aberforth raised his eyebrows. “What a shame,” his low voice rang out. “I was hoping you’d finally be willing to take me up on my offer.”

The two of you stared at each other. The other patrons of the bar kept to themselves as your mind raced. You didn’t know anything about Aberforth other than that he was in the Order. What could he have wanted from you in all this time?

“Come with me-” he said, making his way from behind the bar and towards the back of the bar.

Aberforth unlocked a door against the back wall and held it open for you. Wearily you stepped through and entered into a more residential, but equally dingy room. Beside a rusting wood burning stove you saw a small cot which took up most of the room. The only other pieces of furniture were a leather armchair that was cracked in several places and a side table that was covered in empty bottles. Mounted onto the wall was a striking, gilded frame. The canvas it surrounded was blank, except for a very light sketch.

With a groan, Aberforth leaned down to pull out a journal from underneath the armchair. You thought the journal’s cover was gray until Aberforth smeared the layer of dust off using his sleeve, you wrinkled your nose as dust flew into the air, tinting his long white beard gray at the ends.

“This was my mothers.” Aberforth began, holding the journal out to you. “And this…” he came to stand by the frame, “-was supposed to be a portrait of my dear sister, but they both died before it could be finished.”

You looked from Aberforth and the shining gold frame to the rest of the dirty, dark studio.

“I’d like you to finish it.” he said solemnly.

Your brow furrowed as you considered the offer. Aberforth watched you think, agitatedly shifting his weight the longer you took. You accepted the journal and opened it with as much care as you could manage.

It was a little unnerving to see sketches so much like your own. Most of the drawings were of an angelic young girl, but there were some of her with two older boys who looked very similar to each other. You traced the flickering sketches with your fingers, overcome with a sadness you couldn’t explain.

“Could you use those to finish it?” Aberforth asked, his tone tinged with urgency.

“I believe so, but-“

“Have something better to do, eh?” he asked curtly.

“It’s not that-” you started, looking up at him. Despite his tone, Aberforth looked a bit vulnerable. “I still don’t know where I’m going to stay, where I’ll be living. I was caught up in some matters before I left Hogwarts and I-”

“You mean the business with Black and his friend.” Aberforth concluded. You winced at the brazen volume of his voice.

“Yes-”

Aberforth jerked his head back to the door. “C’mon then.”

Your eyes widened, his abruptness was beginning to stress you out. “No- I’m not saying no, Aberforth, I’m sorry. I-”

Aberforth pushed past you and held the door open for you again. “Come with me.” he interrupted, leading you outside the bar.

Bewildered, you picked up your suitcases and followed him, as Aberforth led you around the back of the Hog’s Head. The hill behind the bar was steep, the forest more dense. Directly behind the bar were several goats, munching on grass in the last of the day’s light. Aberforth pointed up to the top of the hill, where the trees were thick and dark. You squinted, and could just make out a small cabin speaking out of the trees.

“It’s empty.” Aberforth explained, “Not fancy, but it’s a home. As long as you work you can stay there, just keep out of my way and I’ll keep out of yours. And don’t bother my goats.”

You frowned, did he mean that he wouldn’t inquire about what company you kept? Because that was what it sounded like. “You mean-“

“I mean what I said, Painter.” Aberforth folded his arms over his chest. “Well, give me your answer.”

“Uh- yes.” you replied, turning to him. “Though something like this may take a long time.”

“You don’t know what a long time is yet.” He grunted, his brilliant eyes sweeping over you. “Only rule is that you have to paint in that room, it’s not coming off the wall or out of that frame.”

“Alright-“ you replied, tilting your head as you thought about how to go about it. “As long as you don't mind me in your room?”

“Do I look like the type to mind?”

“No…?”

“Well then. Go and get yourself settled, and we can talk things through tomorrow morning.”

“Right. Okay- thank you. And tomorrow say, ten?”

Aberforth looked at you like your head was fixed backwards. “More like one…. one thirty.”

“In the- in the afternoon?”

“One thirty.” he sighed, making his way back to the bar.

The cottage was more of a shed with a loft. Whoever had last entered it left most of the windows open and the front door ajar, so the floor was densely covered in brittle leaves and dirt. You winced as you looked up to the rafters and glimpsed a village of spider webs and their inhabitants. “Brilliant.” you muttered, setting down your suitcases, you took your wand out of your pocket.

-X-

The next morning you awoke to a small owl staring at you from outside the window. You had fallen asleep on a dubious sofa you had done your best to clean, your limbs splayed in all directions as you twisted and turned throughout the night.

You and the owl stared at each other for a long time as you tried to remember where you were and what had happened. Then with a jump, you lept towards the window and opened it. The little owl’s feathers ruffled in surprise, but it quickly regained composure and professionally held out it’s leg to you.

Carefully, you untied the note and placed a sickle in the owl’s pouch. “Thank you-“ you yawned, patting it’s head gently. Then heart racing, you opened the letter.

Darling,

I hesitate to use your real name in case this letter is intercepted, even if we're only trying to find our Puppy. Time with Lyle went well enough. He was surprised to see me but I don’t blame him. He heard about what happened and even though we didn’t talk much about it, I know he was a bit disappointed. The saving grace was telling him about you.

That’s something I had always daydreamed about being able to do. He wants to meet you, perhaps when we’re more settled. I don’t know if you’re up for meeting parents already, but it’s on the table if you are.

Please write back and let me know where you’re staying and how things are. I have a decent idea of where our Puppy has run off to, now I just need to get there.

I already have worn a mark on the locket from pushing it open so often.

With all my love, Moony

P.s. I told this owl to not give up until you wrote me back.

You closed your eyes and pushed the letter to your chest, as if hugging it. The owl hooted behind you, and you turned to find it staring up at you, it’s leg already outstretched.

“Goodness little one!” you laughed, walking over to your luggage. You pulled open your sketch book for the year and carefully tore a piece of paper out. The owl hooted again as you sat on the floor and propped your ink, quill, and paper on the sofa as a makeshift writing desk.

Moony,

I am so happy to hear from you so soon. It feels like it has been more than two days since I last saw you.

Meeting Lyle would be delightful. I look forward to that happening some day.

As for our Puppy, I am impressed you think you know where to look. I will try not to get my hopes up that your search is simple and short.

I have found myself settled not too far from where we last were. I’ve already found some work that will hold me over for a while. The situation is a little unorthodox but I think my life needs some excitement this year, it’s been a bit droll.

I trust you, Painter

Rolling up your letter, you gently and securely fixed it to the owl’s leg and gave it another pat. “Thank you for your patience.” you said, smiling.

With one last hoot, the owl pivoted on the windowsill and set off. You watched it fly into the sky, wondering where Remus was.

Then you turned to look at your surroundings in the broadness of daylight. The cabin was a little bigger than you had thought and behind all of the dirt and dust, there was charm. It felt antique with its creaky wooden fixtures, the water pumps in the kitchen and bath, the old, handmade glass windows that waved and bent light.

By the time you were supposed to meet Aberforth, the cabin was looking far more hospitable. You had done your best to remember every scrubbing charm, dust repelling spell, and bug banishing hex you could think of. You found some beautiful wood furniture that you dragged outside and beat the dust out of while your spells scoured the house down. You even found a surprisingly intact bed in the loft and cast every manner of house cleaning charm you could recall on the mattress and pillows.

You didn’t know what to expect from Aberforth as you walked back over to the Hog’s Head. Your mind kept focusing on the sketchbook and how sad you had felt as you flipped through the pages. It was strange because the drawings were rather happy and simple. It felt like the people in the sketches were happy and it felt like the artist drawing it was happy too.

Resting your hand on the doorknob to the Hog’s Head, you took a deep breath and jerked the handle. The door did not budge. “Locked?” You sighed, exasperated. “ABERFORTH?” You called, your knocks on the door quickly turned to pounds. “HEY, ABERFORTH?”

After a few minutes you gave up and walked the perimeter of the house, wondering how furious he would be if you tried to knock on a wall or window of his living quarters instead. Halfway around the house, you heard the tavern’s front door open. You cursed under your breath as you quickly made your way back to the entrance.

Aberforth gestured to you from the front door, squinting in the sunlight. “Gave up so quickly.” he said, brows furrowed.

You didn’t know what to say to this, so the two of you were caught in an awkward silence as you watched Aberforth stand before you, swaying slightly.

“Alright-” he belched, holding the door open for you. “Come on in.”

You did your best to keep your face neutral as you followed him inside and your nose was filled with a sharp, bitter smell. Perhaps it was the influence of having cleaned all morning, but you bitterly wished you could have kept the front door open to air the place out. The floor seemed soaked in the scent of rye and bitters.

When you got to his room you noticed that nothing had seemed different since the last time you were there, even the bed was untouched. Aberforth was running his hand down his beard, looking around at the area near the frame.

“So…” he began more soberly, “should I move any furniture out of the way for you? What’d you think you’ll need? A covering for the floor?”

“Oh- I can provide that.” you replied, also looking around. It was so cramped with the few bulky pieces of furniture there that you didn’t see how space could really be helped. “I think I’ll be able to work with this.” you looked up into Aberforth’s tired, red eyes.

“I like to hear that.” Aberforth nodded, some stress falling from his shoulders.

“Am I allowed to remove the sketchbook from this room?”

“Why?” Aberforth asked, frowning.

“I’d like to make studies for the portrait before I just start painting. I’ll need to look at what’s here and try to understand what she should look like. I’ll draw a few portraits and then I can show them to you, and you can tell me if it seems like it’s right?”

“Oh. Yea-” Aberforth continued to frown.

“As I said…” your voice was gentle, “this could take a long time to complete.”

“Anything that is worth doing, does.” he replied, sounding more tired than before. Aberforth picked up the journal from the seat of the armchair and handed it to you.

You accepted the sketchbook and nodded to him. “You can expect some sketches from me in a few days.”

“Go on then.”

-X-

Drawing Ariana had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. As soon as you began to get a sense of what she looked like, your sketches of her began to react to you more vividly than drawings normally did. She would smile brightly, she would be overcome with anger and sadness, it was startling. You didn’t know anything about her, but the more you drew her and the better you achieved her likeness, the more she seemed able to sway your own emotions, which often left you exhausted.

Your working periods began to feel more like a séance. You developed an intense connection with the sketchbook, with who you eventually recognized as young drawings of Aberforth, and who you suspected to be Albus.

The cabin was beginning to feel like a home. You’d managed to thrift bed linens and cookware from Hogsmeade. Madam Rosmerta, when realizing that you were moving into Hogsmeade, gave you several antique lanterns and a beautiful rug that lit up the cabin beautifully. Over your first few weeks there you realized that the outdoor soil was rich, and planted some of your favorite herbs to cook with. You even inquired about aconite and aloe seeds.

You learned to bring sketches of Ariana to Aberforth not too often. The more accurate you became, the easier Ariana’s drawing recognized her brother, the more pain you saw in Aberforth’s eyes and the worse he would be the next day. You tried to stay out of his way and let him run his tavern, but by the time you’d lived in the cabin for a month you caught yourself worrying about him throughout the day.

-X-

It was the beginning of summer and it was dusk. The evening held a warmer breeze than you had known for months. You sat between the side of the cabin and the small garden you’d managed to start. Beside you was a basket of your first harvest. Inside, you could hear the fire you’d kept going all day crack and shift, almost extinguished as there was so little need to feed it another log on an evening as warm as this.

You knew you should head in and get dinner started, but it was so nice outside. The occasional bleat of a nearby goat was the only sound to permeate the quiet dimness. Your eyes closed as you laid down in the grass, soft and cool against your sun warmed skin. You could feel yourself lulled to the edge of sleep, a soft breath of wind pushed the grass against your skin like an embrace.

The rattle of the tavern door. Laughter. People walking and talking happily in the streets below, it all faded away as your mind lost focus.

CRACK! You jumped, sitting up dizzily as you heard the logs in the fireplace slip further. You put your hand over your chest to ease your startled heart and stood up to look through the window and check that no sparks had made their way past the fireplace. There were two figures in the cabin, silhouetted against the low light of the fire.

“Bloody hell!” A scratchy voice coughed leaning over on their knees, “Awful- that was definitely not pure floo powder.”

The two figures stood, their dry coughs turning to chuckles as they got their bearings. Your eyes widened. Could it be?

The taller of the two stretched and then slowly pivoted, looking around the cabin. “Hello?” Remus called softly.

You gasped, your heart thrown fully back to beating wildly inside your chest as you sprinted to the door and threw it open so forcefully Remus and Sirius jumped back in alarm.

A strangled, euphoric sound escaped you as you ran to them, and found Remus and Sirius’ arms gathering you into a tight embrace. “I can’t believe it-” you cried breathlessly against them. You felt Sirius shudder as his tears hit your cheek.

“You’re home!” you looked up into their weary faces. “You’re home!”

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin fic #remus lupin/reader #harry potter fan fiction #HP POA #sirius black fan fiction #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders era fanfiction #tw: violence #tw: alcholism #non binary reader #slow burn

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 3: Storkules in Duckburg! aka THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES TERRIBLE BUT WELL MEANING ROOMATE OUT OF MYTH

Hello all you happy people! And welcome and welcome back to Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my look at the season 2 arcs of Ducktales! This arc was paid for by WeirdKev27 and I truly enjoy his support. if you want to know how to commission your own reviews or to get a guarnateed review of me of your choice from me a month, stick around to the end. I realized that shoving all my plugs in up top may be driving people away and while I DO make them because I want to make a living off this, i’ts not fair to those of you who simply can’t afford to buy a lot of extra shit like myself to keep shoving it in your face.

Previously on the Louie Inc Arc, Louie, after believing he had no skills and it was a matter of when not if he ws going to die, found his talent: seeing all the angles and thus being Sharper than the Sharpies. With newfound confidence and a chip on his shoulder from Scrooge saying he could one day be a bigger success than Scrooge himself, founding Louie Inc as a result. But what is Louie Inc? Does he actually have a plan or a bunch of buzzwords. And what does STORKULES, MANLY GAY OUT OF MYTH have to do with any of this? Join me under the cut to find out.

We open with Louie giving Scrooge his sales pitch that is essentially...

Naturally Scrooge buys none of it. I mean he’s somewhere in his hundreds, he’s probably seen about 80 thousand pitches that amount to “I have no plan but give me money anyway”. There’s a reason there’s a Butch Hartman shaped crater on the lawn from where he threw his ass out.

Scrooge does mentor the lad, or at least attempt to pointing out he needs an actual product or service (Louie rejects the idea of a lemonade stand as too easy), or as he puts it “Find a problem and create a solution”.

While the basic PRINCIPAL isn’t bad, find something people want or need and provide it, phrasing it that way sounds like “find a problem people are having and exploit the shit out of that problem for fun and profit.” Granted that IS a guiding principal of business, it’s just not something an uncle should be teaching his kids. They should be teaching them about the anime and cartoons they grew up with as I do with my niece and nibling.

He does show him a valid example of this in action in the form of Donald. Turns out Donald has found a good way to make money while he looks for a job, can relate: since Duckburg is facing a housing shortage, likely because several square blocks probably get destroyed by Scrooge’s Adventures, Glomgold’s Schemes, Superhero Battles, whatever creation went horribly wrong for Gyro, etc at least once a week. So he’s taken it upon himself to offer up the spare room to whoever can rent it.. and to steal Scrooge’s chandelier which even when caught he still takes anyway. Scrooge.. you called the guy a god-damn moocher in the season premiere, despite the fact he lives there soley because YOU offered and because he’s you know, being responsible and staying by his boys so they have their father figure around. So yeah I feel he’s doing this partly out of spite as is the McDuck way. I mean if your going to call him a freeloader just for being a responsible parent, then he’s going to take it up a damn notch.

Scrooge proceeds to laugh off Louie wanting a million dollars and gives him a dime instead because of course he was. Seriously Louie there are two other billionaires in town who are FAR dumber and far more easily swindled. Just go get star up capital from them. Hell with Glomgold all you’d have to do is tell him it’d upset scrooge and he’d literally throw money at you. Or give you a shark full of money. He needs the shark back though. He’s family.

Meanwhile Donald prepares for his new tenant and finds.. THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES! Who to his mounting horror as he realizes it, IS the new tenant. And who throws him into the sun. Cue credits.

So after Donald somehow survives being thrown into the sun, Storkules explains why he’s here: Zeus responded to his son playing the lute a lot like any rational reasonable

No of course he responded to the “crime” of “playing his instrument a lot” with sending a swarm of harpies on the town then blaming Storkules for it and casting him out. What’s most shocking is not the action, this is honestly him staying the course of being a fucking disgrace, but that Zeus somehow ISN’T the biggest asshole i’ve dealt with this week. No that honor is reserved as always for this bitch:

Keep in mind she manages to be this obnoxious in only TWO scenes. Also keep in mind I had to put up with Julie for a MUCH larger chunk of the previous two volumes I covered before volume 5 yesterday for my Scott Pilgrim Retrospective and she is ALWAYS like this and you now feel my pain.

This does create a problem though: Zeus casts Storkules out until he’s a responsible adult.. and thus paints Storkules as the bad guy... in a situation where the only other person in the story sent a swarm of HARPIES down at him for simply playing his music too loud. It just dosen’t work as a catalyst: Storkules objectively did nothing wrong. The only person he annoyed was a person who clearly dosen’t love, respect or like his son in any way shape or form anyway and essentially assaulted him and a bunch of innocent people via harpie and then cast him out. Zeus is an abusive asshole and i’ts weird the narrative sides with HIM and not our well meaning doofus. Zeus being an asshole with harpies is not a bad catalyst for the episode, and the harpies being unleashed is used well.. it’s just not a good catalyst for THIS story to try and portray an abuser as in the right. And make no mistake Zeus is a domestic abuser: he had his son mind controlled to try and MURDER innocent people, something Storkules begged him not to do, sent a swarm of creatures after him for the crime of playing his music too loud and in his next episode manipulatives Storkules sad emotional state for personal gain. Why would you try and paint THIS jackass as in the right?

Speaking of painting this jackass in the right sadly.. this episode does not do my boy donald justice. In most episodes he’s pretty nuanced and i’ts fair enough he’d be frustrated by Storkules as a roomate. Storkules has little sense of personal space, breaks his stove thinking theirs hydra in it, makes a mess of the kitchen making them a meal, and in general clearly dosen’t know how to live with a roomate much less in modern society. He has valid concerns and the episode COULD have used it that way.. but he’s also horribly impatient with Storkules. He refuses to get the guy just hasn’t had to live in a modern society and dosen’t know HOW to function in it and instead of helping him just gets mad again and again and gets really pissed when it’s clear Storkules dosen’t have a job and didn’t consider paying rent. He’s not WRONG to want him to pay Rent, despite what ironically the musical Rent would try and have you believe, but he dosen’t have any patience with the guy. And stork isn’t nearly coming on as strong as he normally does. The worst he does is cook the guy lunch and bring his donald fan art with him. Which we don’t see but I am assuming is mostly naked. What i’m saying is for once that while still bombastic, Storkules isn’t trying to force a relationship/friendship on him and simply wants to learn t be an adult from his best friend.. and Donald isn’t bothering teaching him.

Asking for rent or for him not to destroy the stove is fine, but not explaining WHY he needs either of those things or why he needs boundaries, he makes a roomate list, isn’t helping the guy. And this would be fine... but the episode dosen’t call Donald out on it for no real reason. It feels like it’s setting up for a “you should learn to wokrk with someone instead of just screaming at them aseop” that never comes and like with Zeus takes his side because shutup. I’d also LIKE to say this is the only time the writers reduced one of the cast to a caracture of themselves.. but I can’t. Several episodes in season 3 forgot Louie’s character development and another episode in season 2, The Duck Knight Returns!, somehow reduced both Scrooge and Dewey to parodies of themselves with Scrooge SOMEHOW, despite Della as stubborn as she is being in his care and by his side for decades and Movies bein ga huge business, not having seen a movie since the 1920′s and not knowing how they work and Dewey being reduced to just hyperactive moron. It isn’t as common as other shows like say Regular Show, The Loud House or, for the exact reason I lost intrest, Rick and Morty, but I still expect better, especially since they went into this season KNOWING Donald would be gone for half of it and this would likely be one of his only spotlight episodes.

Back at the good part of the plot, Louie is having a company meeting aka already treating Huey and Webby like his employees. Webby of course is glad to sign on, if little help in actually coming up with a product while Huey just wants to nope out. And if your wondering why Dewey isn’t involved Louie outright says he’d make a bad employee and while Dewey rises from his bed to object.. he stops halfway to opening his mouth and concludes he has a point. Best gag of the episode. Louie being louie easily cons Huey into staying by making Webby his charts officer.

So the three have a corporate retreat at Funso’s... granted they don’t have a product but Louie figures this might help. Huey.. still wants out of this and suggest since they already spent what they had on ski ball “Company over?”. It’s clear that Huey just sees this as another one of Louie’s short sighted schemes... and while he’s not ENITRELY wrong, Louie has genuine ambition.. he just has no earthly idea what he’s doing and is shooting way too high.. but for understandable reasons. 1) He’s 11 at this point. 11 year olds aren’t great at business strategy or reinging it in. 2) he wants to live up to what Scrooge said to prove he can be successful and really be worth something like his mom was.

But sometimes fate throws you one and the harpies bust in. And while Louie wants to do nothing and hope they go away Huey and Webby spring into action.. as does Storkules, who had to leave but warns donald there’s Orzo in the slowcooker and to not open it “LEST THE PASTA FAIL TO ABSORB THE BROTH!” Which is just.... Chris’ best line dleivery the episode. He says it like he’s saying the title of an old Stan Lee and Jack Kirby comic, i’ts wonderful.

So our heroes defeat them and Louie steps in to charge for the service and quickly comes up with a company idea and name “Harp-B-Gone” (A Subsidary of Louie Inc). Louie hires Storkules on the spot. Storkules proudly tells Donald he has a job the next day and goes off to it. What follows is our heroes hilarously shooting a commerical with Storkules playing a baby to promote themselves so they can help who needs it. They just need to find out what they want.. and thanks to the JWG and the harpies stealing it find out they go after people’s most treasured posessions Cue Ghostbusters-Style Montage

And this isn’t just me saying thing. The Rewriting History Entry (Which as a series weirdly stops around mid-season 2 and I don’t get why frank hasn’t gone back and finished it since) states they specifically based this whole operation on ghostbusters and the entire sequence of our heroes cleanin up the town reminds me of it. The highlight of it is a glomgold cameo where he’s kidnapped.. and refuses to pay so Louie just lets him go. And were this an innocent person who couldn’t afford it, i’d call him a monster.. but it’s glomgold. he brought this on himself.. and also sues himself for it. Wonder if he won.

So with their stars rising, our heroes get booked on the hottest show in town: Dewey Dew-Night! I had honestly forgotten there was a Dewey Dew-Night segment in there, and delighted I get to talk about this recurring bit. It’s one of the shows funniest runners and just perfectly FITS Dewey: of course the most egotistical and energetic of the kids would not only want to be a late hnight host but make up his own show. I also love the slow evolution of it: it started as something everyone clearly knew about but he stlill tried to keep hidden, slowly escalated to him allowing the rest of his siblings (Webby very much included) and the giant man who stalks his uncle in, and by later this season he’s putting the show online in the web shorts and gladly shooting it into space, with Season 3 having him spend the first half of let’s get dangerous making a documentary that includes an episode of the show featuring Darkwing. It’s a small thing sure, but it’s the little things like this that make the show special.

The show does reveal a problem though as it turns out they’ve GOT all the harpies and while Storkules merely wanted to help, Louie points out they need more to keep a buisness going and naturally never bothered to ask Storkules just how many there were. They need SOME plan to get going. Webby submits a legitamte and great idea, training the harpies as she’s been trying to do in the background of the episode and aside from a hole in the floor they are starting to listen. But Huey is an ass about it and not only shoots it down saying let’s keep the dangerous creatures contained, even though A) he has no idea WHERE they’ve been kept so he can’t verify it’s safe, and since i’ts Donald’s Closet no no it’s not. and B)There’s no where he knows of to keep them. He isn’t aware of the other bin till next season. and C) it’s not ehtical to keep creatures locked up forever epsecially since while the harpies are dangerous they arent’ MALEVOLENT and are clearly acting on instinct. oh and for D) at least she has a plan to keep the company going instead of just wanting to end this and cash out.

Which Huey tries to.. but naturally Louie spent all their money on...

So their broke.. and Storkules has no rent money and feels like a failure despite having done NOTHING wrong. We do get a clever little nod to Disney’s hercules though “I”m not a hero, i’m a zero”. Webby rightfully glares at Louie who decides to fix it... by sneaking into Donald’s house that night to free the harpies.

Though to the shows credit it’s a VERY bad idea, and Storkules coming in mid attempt and congradulating Louie when he lies about checking the door gets the kid to come clean. And it’s a nice character moment: He could still go through with it.. but it’s clear he realizes just HOW low he was about to sink to save his own skin and that as much as Storkules WANTS a paycheck and deserves one, it’s not worth hurting people to get it. Louie tries to justify after this.. but can’t.

Unforutnately Donald took a lot of stupid pills this episode, yells about his no pets rule and frees them instead of you know, THINKING for five minutes.

So yeah NATURALLY Donald is an angry shit about it , refusing to actually TALK to Storkules about this or maybe admit this is partly HIS OWN FAULT. Yes their both at fault, Storkules shoudln’t of shoved a bunch of harpies in a closet. That’s a classic blunder. But Donald still opened it and isn’t called out on taking zero responsibility. Huey sees the fracas and just takes down their days without an accident placard, good stuff and he and webby arrive to help. Donald fights with Storkules and Storkules worries about loosing his friend.. lead to them going after the thing he values most aka donlad and hyjacking the house boat, though the kids manage to get aboard.

As Storkules saves Donald, Louie realizes the most precious thing he has is his merch and willingly gives it, and his buisness up to save everyone. It’s good character stuff and shows that despite his problems with greed, Louie IS a good kid and will do the right thing. It’s what seperates him from the Rouges Gallery the family faces: He has FLEXIBLE morals but he has morals when it comes down to it. So everyone tosses the stoff to help direct the hapries and make it home tying them up. Donald has a heart to heart with Storkules and agrees to help him find another place, but still considers him a friend and they hug. Awww. One intresting thing I DID find out from rewriting history is they originally fully intended to have Storkules STAY on the houseboat. He was going to be a permenant member of the household, at least as far as Season 2 was concenred and plans were made for several episodes down the road: the whole bit with him in “The Golden Spear” was simply because he lived there, he was going to be the one Della met in the houseboat, obliviously guilting her about what she’d missed, and he was going to set off the kids subplot in “Whatever Happened to Donald Duck?”

This ended up not happneing for logistical reasons: Frank, and I swear this was the term he used, felt they already had the perfect Himbo in Launchpad and it was just too much HImbo energy for the two to coexist without one taking the others screen time or neither getting a lot.

The next reason was having a god around simply broke the story: He cited the gilded man from “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!” as a specific example. There were just too many hoops to jump to have him not break any story he should be around for. Finally with Della being added to the cast soon there simply wasn’t room in the main cast. Della brought it up to 9, Storkules would make it 10, and as i’ve gone on about the show already had trouble ballancing it’s cast, something Frank admitted to. Adding him would both be too big a stiatus quo change and be one on top of the massive one of Della joining the cast. So he was dropped back to recurring and only showed up one more time. And while it was the right call I am dismayed he didn’t show up for the whatever happened to donald duck subplot and it does feel very weird he never adresses Donald being gone despite, at least for season 2, apparently living in Duckburg. Otherwise though as funny as this wouldv’e been.. yeah it was the right call.

Scrooge returns... having been absent all episode because otherwise it wouldn’t work and easily saw Louie loosing it all coming.. but gives him a can of lemonade for his troubles and comforts the boy. The heart of htis arc and what makes it work at it’s best.. is these two. Scrooge GENUINELY wants to help Louie see his potetial successor in buisness: oh sure adventure wise he’s throughly covered.. but Webby, Dewey and Della all are more focused on the addventure part and that’s where their passion and talent lies, Huey’s better at science and given his close frinedship with fenton and how much that part of things seems to truly inspire him, i’ts what he was born for, and Donald just wants a regualar life and can’t manage his own life much less a company.

Louie is the only one in his family whose the right fit to inhereit that part of his legacy and I feel that’s why he takes a special intrest in him and webby over the other two: While he loves all of them and will clearly again leave a piece of his fortune and empire to all of them, Webby is the most like him, as we later find out not coincidentally in the slightest, when it comes to adventuring and curosity and a love of exploration. But Louie is the most like him in other ways; He’s cynical, money driven and passionate. Scrooge simply wants him to be as good a person and buisnessperson as he can be and is trying to push him in the right direction. And does so here by pointing out that failure isn’t a huge problem..it happens, comes with the terriotiry and as we’ve seen with life and times, even with portions of it clearly not happening in this universe, he failed a LOT to get here. What matters is that he tries and tries to do it the right way.

Scrooge also sympathizes as he was buying a lemonade company in cape suzette, giving Louie the can as a present... but laments there’s no cheap effective way to deliver the lemons. Louie notices the harpies going after the can after he throws it and Webby controlling them with it and muses that theyd idn’t think about what THEY wanted.. nad rightfully gets punched across the lawn by Webby, whose had to spend an entire episode having her surrogate brothers talk down to her and ignore her valid ideas. She dosen’t even open her eyes she just bops him one.

So we end with Scrooge having enlisted the hapries, Louie trying to take credit again and both realizing they might just steal the lemons instead of work for them. Ha ha ha their going to get so sued.

Final Thoughts: This one was mediocre. It has some good points, Louies arc continues to fascenate me, Huey’s done with this shit attitude is hilarous, and Storkules is at his best in this episode: his crush on Donald is toned down from this..

To this

To the point I could see shipping them off this one if Storkules episode didn’t have him do eveyrthing short of .. well see above. So it’s not WITHOUT merit: I love me a ghost busters style plot, there are great jokes and Chris Dimatopolis is a gem as always. Glad he’s getting work after this show on Invincible and hope he gets to play Darkwing again some day. But the Donald stuff and the fairly predictable plot drag this one down. I’ts fairly obvious they’ll run out of harpies, Louie will have spent the money and they’ll somehow get free. It’s not a terrible episode but it’s it’s sandwiched story wise between two straight up classics on both sides: the previous two episodes were even better than I remembered and the next two are incredibly good: Whateve Happened to Della Duck?! is one of their finest hours and The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck, while not making my best of list for the series as a whole is still one of my favorites for the season. It’s just disapointing this one wasn’t nearly as good as I remmebered and it’s understandable why I forgot almost all of it, unlike the previous two episodes. Thankfully as I said better’s over the horizon.

NEXT TIME ON OF MOONS, MILLIONARES AND MOTHERS: I’m taking a break for a week. One of two weeklong breaks for the arc, the other being the first week of July where i’m on vacation anyway (Though i’ll be doing the episode I would’ve done for that week the week before to keep the pace up, so no worries),

As for why, it’s my utmost honor to announce GOOF WEEK! Goof Week is a weeklong celebration of Goofy’s birthday. The idea came about because as I do for the big three, I intended to just do a shorts special. But Kev , the guy who made this very review possible, suggested doing the two part Goof Troop pilot. And since kev pays for a house of mouth episode a month anyway and thaks to you lovely people I hit my patreon stretch goal to review the goofy movie, I figured “why not make a week out of it. Hence Goof week. So next week we’ll have a review of the two part pilot for Goof Troop, the special Sports Goof, the House of Mouse episode Super Goof, your regularly schedule shorts spectacular, with The Goofy Movie for the grand finale! yaaahoooooieeee!

When we come back i’ll be shuffling episodes around slightly so I can do the Della comics from the Ducktales Tie-In Comic before her debut and in time for Donald’s own theme week in June, i’ll be saving “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?” for the week after Donald Week. Instead next we get a fun wild west adventure as Scrooge tells a story of his outlaw days, his tension with goldie and his encounter with a certain robber baron as John D Rockerduck FINALLY makes his screen debut. Yee-Haw!

If you liked this review, subscribe and follow for more and consider joining my patroen, patreon.com/popculturebuffet. I have exclusive reviews, my most recent duck based one being an obscure carl barks story about wigs and the boys attempting to murder a guy with a blow gun, and your contribution helps me reach my goals and thus gets everyone, patreon or not, a bunch of neat new reviews. If you get me to 20 dollars a month, i’m currently at 15, EVERYONE will get a monthly darkwing duck reviews, reviews of the two remaning ducktales 87 mini series including the origin of GIZMOOOODDUUUUUCCCKKKK, and a review of the Danny Phantom movie The Ultimate Enemy. And with the month running out NOW’S the time to join. YOu’ll also get to pick one of the shorts for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month, so if you want to join in NOWS the time. But wether you can or you can’t, thank you for reading, i’ts been a pleasure.

#ducktales #louie duck #storkules in duckburg #dorkules #donald duck #storkules #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquack #huey duck #flintheart glomgold #dewey duck #funzos #disney #disney+#disney plus #disney xd #harpies

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reversemoon255 · 3 years ago

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(This is the second of a three-part series chronicling the story, concepts, and original Pokémon that appeared in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I worked on for several months. This entry will be more focused on a lot of my original designs and how their encounters would play out, rather than concrete story. Also, much of the art was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter, and I suggest you check them out.)

Dungeons ‘n’ Dragonites - Phase 2: Ultra City

The Queen Durant would prove to be a difficult foe, able to use all manner of elemental attacks to strike from a distance to compensate for her low speed. Furthermore, she would have full command of the Duranthill, using her followers to guard herself. As the battle rages, the team slowly begin to evolve, and their newfound strength and Types, along with the aid of the Princess, would have them see victory.

I was unsure as to the ultimate fate of the Queen. Either having it disappear into the tunnels alone, or be sucked into another Ultra Wormhole like the Poipole. And with the Queen vanquished, the Princess would choose to become partner to whoever she felt most worthy (a combination of good role playing and damage dealt).

I designed every Pokémon in this campaign under the pretense that it could actually exist. The Queen and Princess fall under the category of “Rare Variants.” There’s only one queen in a colony of thousands of ants, so it makes sense for it to be rarely seen. They’re still Bug/Steel, but special attackers, with the three spheres on each of their abdomens made to mimic the pattern of Tri-Attack, symbolizing their ability to use those Types.

As for the Starter evos, Flymph has evolved into Epipesis, gained the Electric-Type, and become a full Dragonfly. Calfyre into Steared, staying mono-Fire, but growing considerably (4 feet at the shoulder, the largest mid-stage Starter). Squisque into Knaval who’s now Rock, because he’s a rock lobster! And Utaw into Uteteo who may still be pure Fairy, but has gained some gold adornments.

=====

My working title for this campaign was “Ultra City.” Hinted at by the appearance of the Poipole early in the game, my intentions would come into full swing during this portion, with boss encounters against many of the known and some unknown Ultra Beasts. I had a few encounters planned, from a pickpocket Pheramosa that they’d fight in a mall store room full of mannequins, to a Blacephalon that had kidnapped several children, hypnotized them, and had them watching his performances, to a beach episode where there’s just a Buzzwole hanging out and not causing trouble.

Things would take a twist when a Guzzlord would take over the abandoned district, raining destruction down from its highest building. The crew would have to climb a multi-floor dungeon in order to battle it, many scared and aggravated Pokémon blocking their paths. After reaching the top however, after initiative had been rolled, a mysterious Pokémon would descend from the sky, felling Guzzlord in a single strike...

Majra, the Dragoon Pokémon (a slurred portmanteau of Magic and Dragon). A Dragon hunter with a unique ability, “Hunter of Evil,” that removes all its resistances but makes it immune to Dragon, Dark, and Ghost. This Pokémon came about as I was trying to create a dramatic encounter that would interrupt an expected one. As I was thumbing through DnD and fantasy ideas, the idea of a Dragoon who furiously hunts Dragon-Types came to mind. Ice/Fairy seemed the perfect combination, and the sentient suit of ice armor fell into place soon after. As Pokémon don’t typically hold weapons, I made him part scorpion, having him hold his tail as a workaround, and also informed how his extremities would look. The Haxorus skull buckler also helped drive the Dragon hunter aspect home.

Ultra Beasts were the second category of original Pokémon in my campaign, and encompass all purely original Pokémon (including the Starters). However, I didn’t want to just haphazardly make a ton (as commissions cost money), so I gave myself the condition that if I made an Ultra Beast it had to play with weaknesses and resistances in a way to trip up experienced players, hence Majra’s ability.

Majra would not attack our players in their first encounter, unless someone was using a Type he hunts. He would be a reoccurring boss character, helping or hindering the players depending on their enemies or allies.

The next unique encounter would have been a tutorial battle against another Rare Variant, a Shiinotic possessed Parasect. Every boss encounter is technically 4-on-1, so I wanted to give a Pokémon a reason to have multiple turns, and fused or symbiotic Pokémon felt like a naturally occurring way to have that happen. I created this Shiinotic as a way to teach the players how these Pokémon work.

As Shiinotic is a bio-luminescent mushroom, I wanted to have Parasect faded in color from its light. I also thought it’d be a nice touch to have Shiinotic’s spindly fingers act as puppet strings to move Parasect’s arms around. It would have been encountered after a swarm of scared Paras started flooding out of the sewers near everyone’s school.

Then would be Fortifiend, who would be encountered a few times as an easily circumventable castle wall in the middle of the street before Majra would eventually attack it, forcing our players to take a side in the battle (with Fortifiend possibly joining them if they help it). His ability would make all attacks not very effective while it had over 50% HP, and the opposite when under 50%. Despite the name, I pictured him being very nice, and giggle whenever he heard someone compliment his stone structure.

I imagined that the world he came from had naturally occurring stone structures similar to him, and his folded castle form was a sort of net to help him catch large prey; partly why he doesn’t attack the smaller people and Pokémon of the game’s dimension (he’s around 30ft tall). He could be encountered anywhere, so he wasn’t a full quest; just a fun “what the heck is this” moment to confuse players.

Also, while it wasn’t purposeful, Fortifiend and Majra both also matched the DnD aesthetic. That definitely helped them stand out as some of my favorites, and Fortifiend barely missed the final pass for the last round of commissions.

Then was the twin encounter of Feyerre, a Fire-Type igloo and snowmobile Pokémon, and Eyescse, an Ice-Type pyramid and four-wheeler Pokémon (probably the most Ultra Beast-esque concepts I came up with). They would be messing with the weather across the city, causing disturbances until the players eventually found one of them, in when the other would appear. Their ability would flip their weaknesses and resistances, and they would have an attack that could do the same to a target. And fun fact: there’s meaning to the color and number of their eyes! Feyerre’s are F.I.R.E (Fire=Red, Ice=L.Blue, Rock=Brown, Electric=Yellow), and Eyescse’s are I.C.E (Ice=L.Blue, Sea=D.Blue, Electric=Yellow).

But their defeat would incur the wrath of a mysterious Pokémon they had encountered a few times:

“As you turn around, you see a grey Charizard standing there. It stares at you for a moment, wide-eyed and unblinking. Then it begins to open its mouth, wide, wider, and wider still, stretching beyond what should be possible. Then a hand reaches out of it...

“Suddenly you’re falling. The lights and sounds of countless unknown worlds whir past you incomprehensibly as you plummet through time and space. You try to close your eyes to shut out the flurry of stimuli, but it’s impossible to drown out as your minds begin to feel the strain of the void. Then, after what feels like hours, time seems to stand still as the heavy rain of an unknown world hits your face. For a brief moment you are able to take in the desert that surrounds you before a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, revealing a titanic silhouette looming above you before you are once again thrown into darkness. And as you come to outside the warehouse (where you encountered Feyerre and Eyescse), in the distance, you hear what sounds like laughing.

“Fofofofofo...”

The final original encounter I had planned for Stage 2 was Meadew. It would have been wandering the city, spawning grasses and flowers wherever it went. However, while beautiful, the sudden growth would be causing havoc and destruction to all the buildings and vehicles it could root into.

Unlike the other Ultra Beasts, Meadew’s ability didn’t affect its weaknesses, but instead created Substitutes since I wanted a way for it to form its own adds (the concept behind its inception). However, it wasn’t without a Type gimmick; rather than an ability it has a signature status move called “Radiance” that raises its attack and special, as well as give it the Fire-Type, making it Grass/Water/Fire (the 3 Starter Types). It would invoke this after its adds were defeated, but could be talked down through diplomacy, unlike some of the other encounters.

=====

I’ve mentioned Rare Variants and Ultra Beasts, but there was a third Type of original Pokémon that could appear: Mutant Evolutions. Essentially, evolutions like Probopass or Leafeon where being in an energy charged area or coming into contact with a huge ore deposit (what I interpreted the Mossy and Icy Rocks as, since they became Leaf and Ice Stones in later Gens) could force an unusual evolution in a Pokémon already shown to be susceptible to unique evolutionary conditions. Due to a future encounter, I already knew there would be large Metal Coat and Ice Stone Ore deposits in the mountains to the north, so I wanted to do some test prototyping using each of those items, whether I used those evolutions or not.

Poliwhirl is already shown to be capable of multiple evolutions, all of which use items, so I thought having it come into contact with a massive amount of Ice Stone Ore (since it should be chemically similar to Water Stones) could force a Mutant Evolution. This is Policuti, from the Latin Cutis meaning skin, and Poli-Cutis would mean “multiple skins,” as it wears the shed skin of preevolution. And being freshly shed is why its skin lacks pigment. It’s just a cute little frog in a raincoat! Also, the swirl on its jaw is actually its tongue.

Since Magneton evolves into Magnezone through being electrically charged, I thought about how it might evolve if charged with Steel energy. I imagined it being magnetically attracted to the Metal Coat Ore, fiercely trying to pull itself away, being stretched and elongated in the process, resulting in the bullet train Pokémon Magneline. The Mutant Evolutions weren’t supposed to be anything important to the story or that they’d run into in the wild. They were more so surprises to excite the players who would be expecting something, well, expected. I had considered doing at least one for each player if they caught a compatible Pokémon, but as no teams were filled out, I was merely left with my prototypes. The only reason I had these two commissioned was because I was very happy with their designs.

=====

As we reach the end of Stage 2, the reoccurring group of rowdy Onix would return once more. Following them deep into their tunnels, our heroes would come across a massive chamber with a giant metal stalagmite and frozen stalactite in the center of it. The Onix would then appear, twisting around them, forcing their evolutions. One into Steelix, and the other into Glacix...

#Pokemon #dungeons and dungeons #DND #dnd homebrew #durant #shiinotic #parasect #poliwhirl #magneton #onix

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vasiliquemort · 3 years ago

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Are you going to continue the game? It's literally the most beautiful piece of art I've played

Hello;ззз

Yes! I still work on them - so many worries with commissions and personal projects (which is just gorgeous - there is nothing better than meeting wonderful people and being able to create something special - both for myself and for them), but I try to do something every day something especially for Secunda - although I don't always have the courage and energy to show it to someone else. I have a few things I want to share - and before I was eaten by uncertainty and anxiety, but I plucked up the courage to get down to business.

There is ... A small part of Tizian - he, like the rest of the heroes, lives his own life and changes in his own way, and I hope to make for each of them clothing options for each occasion - which depend on their occupations, and state of mind, and position in the world.

And I also have a few words about the visions of Tizian and the Archon (I hope that I will be able to answer a few past questions;з) - although, rather, about their common past, and about Cybele as an invariable part of his story, about feelings and concerns which will haunt him both until the very moment of their meeting, and will remain, hanging between them, much longer.

Titian loves the Archon - who else? Who else was with him in the crushing cold, whose company was dearest to him than anyone else during his long travels after which he remained gray and exhausted? Whose words and knowledge were open secrets for him, the source of the old and dark, like his soul, but still so distant, witchcraft?

Tizian treats his soulmate with such adoration and infinite respect that he is only capable of - and for him this love is natural, like breathing, it is as close to his heart, his insides, as the blood that flows in him. He would offer the Archon whatever they would like to take, and his devotion is endless.

But Tizian is not so gentle and simple to accept the gifts of Cybele without hesitation - he is closer to her than many others, he understands and knows about her passions and games, and although he has no choice but to trust his gloomy patron, he knows better. He knows that Cybele is not always gentle with her children - and very few people were gentle with Tizian, and that her gifts can be as much a curse as a blessing.

When Tizian met the Archon for the first time, it was like a dream - the most stunning and gentle in his life, but still a dream. They were flawless in many things - in their gloom, darkness of soul, power of art, in how high they look and how sharp their eyes are. He saw in them a gift of the night after a long journey, relief from burdens and a pleasant memory - he looked at them like the sun, could not stop admiring their view and listen to their language, which he did not know, but understood.

Tizian's soulmate in his eyes is an exact reflection of his mistress - his desires and fears, all his world and struggles in one person. They were so changeable with him - soft and affectionate one moment, dangerous and sharp the next. They were power - over life, over the world, over own demons and gloom, which he had been looking for all his life. Things for which he crossed thousands of leagues, crossed thousands of fields - both gold and crimson, were given to the Archon easily - from the birthright, from talents, from the world in which they lived for so many years.

He did not remember when he met them in his dreams for the first time - this meeting was subtle, so natural, as if they had already known each other for millennia. They were a ghost in his eyes - something that you see every day out of the corner of your eye, he did not recognize in them anything more than a sweet fantasy - about a person strong and powerful, but so gentle and attentive to him. He did not recognize them. He saw nothing more in them than a half-asleep glimpse of consciousness, heavy from insomnia.

They met in hundreds of different places - sometimes he invited them to his tent, where they read their volumes to each other, sometimes - they sat in front of the steppe fire on such a beautiful starry night, and shared wine from one goblet. Sometimes they walked in the cities - those he had visited and those that were unfamiliar to him, and they were all invariably empty and submissive to them. Sometimes the cold of the north opened up to him - the impenetrable dances of white glass, but even then he and the Archon were a haven of silence and warmth to each other. It has always been travel - ships among the Black Sea, the ruins of the old world, foggy forests and the frosty air of the mountains. They were lovers one night, and sworn enemies the next - but always invariably close, as if the whole world revolved only for the two of them.

He took and kept his pleasures zealously and thoughtlessly - but each of them has its own price, and one day he realized that the gift, so beautiful and precious, was not his own dreams - but visions of a goddess, dark and ancient as the night itself, like love itself. He was like her - changeable and passionate, bright and crushingly seductive, but so deceptively gentle, sharp and dangerous.

Cybele is the mistress of the most intimate gifts, but, like the night itself, her gifts do not always bring happiness - and her visions of black mares become a portent of both great love and inevitable death. Tizian did not believe and did not rely on these visions - and no matter how sweet, crushing dream his soulmate was, his mind was drowned in fear and calculation. Tizian does not trust either the Archon or Cybele - he invariably needs them, like breathing, but goes only on his own path - he saw how dangerous the cunning of his mistress, and how crushingly furious on some days his love.

He reached for them like a birds to the sun, and loved them as much as a knife loves a heart - and in an empty, broken and warped world - the worlds of new and old witchcraft, he was lonely and dangerous in his detachment, but he found order for himself, found a destination. He did not know what the North predicted for him - but he was ready to accept his fate as he always did - fiercely and greedily, desperately and invariably deceiving. Whether they turn out to be on the same side or not, whether a soulmate loves or hates him, it is no longer so important for him - after all, he was never against becoming a villain in his stories.

#tizian #secunda #visual novel #devlog #tizian x archon #archon #imagine #dark fantasy #gothic #x reader #Cybele #ask #headcanons #yandere #male character

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saizoswifey · 4 years ago

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Hello, I hope you're doing well, wifey. I have a question that's been bothering me if you don't mind answering! What's your take on the practice of taking commissions for fanfiction? I've seen people get aggressive enough to threaten to report any fanfic writers who advertise/take commissions. And while I'm aware it goes against the ToS for many companies (but then so does creating fanwork under copyright law smh) I also feel like it's a very slippery slope, seeing how the majority of our fanartists widely rely on fanart commissions alone to support themselves and I feel singling out and judging fanfic authors with far more derision is very hypocritical.

I would really like to hear your thoughts on this, if you do decide to answer. Thank you!

Hello, anon! I am doing well, hope you are too!

First of all, people get weirdly aggressive when they see fanfic writers opening commissions and I can not, for the life of me, reason as to why this is. Other than the fact that they think writing is a ‘lesser’ craft (compared to digital/traditional art in fandom). Which is bullshit.

And if you are someone who subscribes for an artist's patreon, has ever paid for an art icon of your favorite character, likes and reblogs fan art etc etc and you attack a writer for opening up commissions you should really take a good look in the mirror.

I not only think it's acceptable for a writer to take commissions, I actually encourage it. For a few reasons.

You deserve to be paid for your hard work. Writing is difficult and takes a lot of time. Time you could be spending doing other things. If you are at a point where you’re taking requests often and rearranging your day, losing sleep, in order to fulfill them--it’s time to get paid for your work.

Taking commissions will make your writing better. If you plan on taking your writing into the professional field at any point, commission work will help you see what it’s like to work with deadlines and crunches as well as taking someone else’s concepts and creating something with it. Even if you don’t plan to move into the professional field, these are all still great skills to have. It can also shed light on areas you’re weak in so you can work on them. Whether that’s certain tropes or genres, or whether your time management needs work. Commissions will help show you things you didn’t even know about your own writing.

All fanworks are technically against copyright, yes. But fanfiction for the most part does have a safety blanket of ‘fair use’ which allows us to create works with characters as long as it’s transformative and not using any direct quotes from source material etc. The reason why so many people are still creating fanworks is that most of these companies really don’t give a shit. These big statements are an umbrella to cover their ass. They don’t care about someone writing fanfic commissions here and there. They don’t care about someone doing 12 $5 art icons of the characters for some followers.

What they DO care about is someone making thousands selling a line of sweaters with the characters, or someone plagiarizing the work and putting it out as their own, or selling a book that’s a word for word a copy of the game/media. Stuff like that. They know they can’t stop every single person from creating, and I don’t think they want to. What they want to protect themselves against are people abusing the system.

Here is a take you can read originally here that I really think will help people understand what I mean:

“Think of it like this: You're having a wedding and you hire a band. You pay them to turn up and play your favorite songs because it's YOUR wedding and you want to hear the songs YOU love.

That band isn't breaking the law by playing covers. Nobody's going to refuse to go and see Ed Sheeran because you can just individually pay a cover artist to play Ed Sheeran songs instead.

And it's the same thing with individual commissions for fanfic. Intellectual property laws are there to stop plagiarists from co-opting the income streams of original content creators. For this to have any kind of impact on that creator, it needs to be widespread and easily distributed. Getting paid to write a fanfic for someone else's personal enjoyment doesn't impact the original author's income stream in the slightest.”

If you are hesitant in any way that a particular game or company may not allow you to do a commission, email them. I’ve done it and most of the time they say they don’t care, esp if it is a person-to-person exchange for PERSONAL use and you’re not ripping off the media and trying to sell an ebook out of it or something. Or they may say sure that’s fine as long as the profits are under X$ amount.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writers #fanfic commissions #little lady speaks #anonymous

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be-ace-write-crime · 4 years ago

Text

Lovely Bride (Ch4)

The search for the stone is on as time gradually slips away for you and your husbands. If you cannot find the stone in time, your husbands will be forced into a thousand year slumber, while your mortal self is forced to perish.

Whatever happened to this Santana they speak of? What project is so important it has been consuming all of Kars' daylight hours? Is time really the only enemy still working against you?

“Wamuu! Come, I have something to show you!” you said, a grin almost splitting your face as you took his hand and guided him towards the river bank.

“Has your training born fruit so soon, beloved?” he asked, following obediently as you’d requested. You had been practicing your hamon while your husbands were out and while you couldn’t really say you’d gotten better at it in the two days you’d had it, it was getting easier to use.

“Well, rather, there’s a trick I wanted to show you,” you said, focusing your energy and stepping onto the water. You sank in about an inch or so, but were effectively walking on top of it.

“Incredible,” Wamuu breathed, his voice filled with awe as he continued to follow you. “You have advanced to the point of such a divine feat already!” he gushed.

“But this isn’t even what I wanted to show you!” you said, pulling him close. The water was up past his knees, and while the stream didn’t hinder him at all, he couldn’t tread on top like you did. You were almost smirking when you tilted his chin up with a single finger and got to lean down to press your lips against his.

The warm chuckle you got when he realized what you’d brought him here for made you giggle right back. “All this for a kiss, my darling? You could have just asked,” he said, his arms draped around your hips when he moved to hug you closer.

“This is more fun,” you said, pecking his forehead. He let out a deep sigh and you felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

“I wish I could stay with you longer like this,” he said, leaning in to rest his head against your chest. “I fear for you out there by yourself in the daytime. Humans are no less vicious than vampires if given the chance.”

“I won’t be alone,” you whispered softly, carding your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t nearly as soft as Kars’ flowing mane, but the short, bristly strands felt so nice running between your fingers. Their height, Wamuu’s especially, was an obvious part of what made them so glorious to behold, but something about holding your lover this way and having him let his guard down because he felt safe in your arms just filled you with warmth.

“Right, Aries will be a worthy companion to you on your journey, beloved,” he agreed. “I’ll see to it a meal is ready for you when you return. Please be careful,” he warned, lifting you onto your horse’s back and seeing you off before he returned to the temple.

You were dressed inconspicuously for this journey. Your clothes were of a finer make, but modest and plainly colored. You had finally gotten Aries to submit to your reins and a saddle and the massive black horse should deter anyone from trying to get too close.

You had enough money to simply purchase the stone, as it would be considerably harder for you to steal it than it would be for your husbands. You took great care to hide the money you had and disguise the jingling of coins in your purse to avoid being robbed.

Plenty of women in the capital were left unattended by their husbands if their husbands were traveling merchants, sailors or soldiers, but they would usually have a chaperon or at least a handmaid to escort them. You didn’t feel unsafe per se, but you knew a rich woman by herself, carrying a great amount of valuables, invited trouble.

The ride to the capital was easy enough. A well beaten path led the way and no one paid any mind to yet another stranger on a horse. At most some children looked and pointed at the massive steed, but no one stopped you. Aries might have been better suited for one of your husbands to ride, given his size, but he responded well to your calming presence and went wherever you guided him.

There were plenty of merchants selling jewelry by the side of the road and you stopped to examine their goods a handful of times, but you had seen enough gold and gems by then to tell these were mostly just trinkets and given their quality the red stone couldn’t possibly be among their wares.

You’d made it down to the docks with no luck, telling various lies as to what you were looking for and why. “My husband has been commissioned by a senator to create a great art piece.” “My father’s estate was stolen and the stone is a treasured heirloom.” “A servant stole it and my husband will be furious if I do not retrieve it before he returns.”

It didn’t help. No one knew of the red stone and while they could point you to the parts of town where you might find such a pricey gem, they had never even heard of an Aja.

It was late afternoon, going on in the evening, when you tied Aries down to rest and drink for a while before returning home. Everyone around you seemed to be gathering in anticipation of the departure of some imperial vessel, so you were left alone.

“I’ve never been here. How will I find some jeweler who is wealthy enough to have the red stone…?” you pondered out loud, sighing tiredly. “The stone isn’t just beautiful and rare. It’s a weapon in its own right. Like master Esidisi said, it would garner attention if anyone were trying to sell it, so why hasn’t it?” you mused. Then a thought hit you and you almost smacked yourself because it was so obvious.

“They’re not trying to sell it. It’s already been sold to someone who intends to keep it for themselves! Someone rich and powerful enough to wear such a gaudy and massive gemstone…” you said, grinning at Aries. “No merchant will know about it, except the one that sold it, because it is no longer for sale! It’s sitting in the collection of some affluent statesman or scholar,” you concluded, untying Aries and mounting his back as soon as he had finished drinking. He could rest all night once you had returned to the temple to discuss your findings.

The crowd of people parted easily for a horse his size as you made your way back to the main road, passing the caravan that was to be boarding the large roman war vessel that docked a few minutes prior.

“The stone is with someone powerful and rich who could afford to buy something so precious and also wear it without getting killed for it. Someone… Someone like…”

You were passing the lead of the caravan’s formation now, a group of soldiers riding horses that matched Aries in size to bear the weight of them and their armor, when your gaze was met by the coldest, most vicious eyes you had ever seen on a human.

Time almost seemed to slow to a crawl and you needed every second of it to tear you gaze from that icy, indifferent stare, for it to land on the very stone you had been searching for. It was the brilliant, glittering center piece of an amulet larger than your palm and there was no mistaking what it was, or who it belonged to.

“Someone like the emperor of Rome…”

When you returned you passed through your village first, finding your husbands there, rather than at the temple where you expected to find them.

“It is already dark. You are late,” Kars said.

“Lord Kars was becoming worried,” Esidisi said, noticing the way you flinched at being scolded. You could tell some of Kars’ more obvious signs of nerves at this point. His sitting on the edge of his seat, tapping his fingers, the pinch in his brow that made the markings around his eyes look sharp and threatening. He would sooner express his concern for you through discontent than affection, but you saw it for what it was and weren’t offended.

“Aries was tired. I didn’t want to push him too much,” you explained, glad an abundance of hay had been laid out to feed him already.

“If he is tired, that means he has served you well today,” Wamuu said, petting the horse’s flank. “How was the capital?” he asked.

Before you could answer Kars stood and scooped you into his arms, carrying you over to sit on his lap, making you smile. “It was fine. No one tried to hurt me, masters,” you assured him.

“They better not, or their head would roll before the next sunrise,” your master huffed bitterly at the thought. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and you returned the gesture in the hope of calming him down.

“I have… some good news and some bad news,” you started.

“Let’s get the bad news over with first,” Esidisi sighed. He probably figured you had found nothing, as they had found nothing for the past few days. He couldn’t fathom what the good news might be.

“The red stone has left the continent by sea…” you answered, noticing the harsh shift this statement brought in their demeanor. Something anxious and bordering on the rage they never wished to show you, but you had their full attention now.

“How do you know this?” Kars asked.

“I saw it. The stone is part of an amulet worn by the emperor now. I watched him board an imperial vessel and was told its destination was to be the city of Alexandria…” you said, wringing your hands together nervously. If only you could have taken the stone then and there, but obviously you would have been killed if you had tried that.

“Are you sure it was the red stone?” Wamuu asked. You nodded.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I wasn’t completely sure. It was a super Aja the size of my palm at least. The way it shone, it couldn’t possibly be anything else…”

“It would explain why we found no one advertising such a treasure… But the stone departing by sea is the worst thing that could have happened,” Esidisi groaned.

“We can traverse land far more quickly than any humans so long as we can avoid the sun, but to cross the ocean we would be bound to the speed of a human made ship. It is impossible to swim across the ocean to Alexandria in a single night and there would be nowhere to hide from the sun... “ Kars said, near shaking with rage.

“It takes a week to sail from Rome to Alexandria,” Esidisi said.

“It takes only five if we depart from the southernmost point of Sicily,” Kars said, standing up.

“Aries isn’t fit for that journey tonight and I see no other way for (Y/N) to keep up,” Wamuu said. Neither of you wanted to leave him behind, but your poor boy was exhausted after a full day of traveling.

“I have a solution for that. Prepare to depart within the hour,” Kars announced, vanishing to retrieve whatever the four of you might need on this journey.

“Will we be coming back here?”

“Unlikely,” Esidisi answered, looking up at the temple. “Best you gather anything you would like to see preserved. This may be the last time you see your home at all,” he professed gravely.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and asked Esidisi to bring you up the mountain. Your belongings already consisted of very little. Of course, of the treasure your husbands had gathered you wished you could bring all of it, but you wouldn’t have much use for wealth. It was so jarring to think you might never see your home again. Some other humans would find this shell of a village and move in eventually, but a thousand years from now, would any of it still be there? Would anyone know about your people?

You gathered all the things that had become significant to you. The wreath you had been given by your people, the dagger you got from Wamuu, the scrolls detailing the use of hamon and your people’s history from Esidisi, and the vial of antidote from lord Kars. That and whatever clothes you deemed worth packing. Kars emerged from his chamber with a large bag hanging from his shoulder, a single stone mask with a hollow fit for the red stone and a small wooden box. Your candle barely shone into his large bedroom, but you could see the faint glittering of gold and the numerous maps and tapestries that he left behind.

“Have you gathered all you needed to?” he asked. You nodded, holding the somewhat heavy bag with both your hands. It felt like a lot to bring along and yet far too little if it was all that was going to be preserved of your entire way of living. You kept reminding yourself if only you could find the stone in time this wouldn’t be the end.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring anything else?” you asked, just to be sure.

“I remember everything that is written in those scrolls and drawn on those maps. If we are forced to sleep those would turn to dust before we return and we have no use for material goods like humans do. I am only bringing items that may serve a purpose or cannot be easily replaced,” he said, taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder as well.

Esidisi had gathered up enough money to buy a small country and a single change of clothes for Wamuu and himself. None of them were very sentimental about worldly possessions it seemed. It made sense, given their immortality, to not get too attached to material things, but your little mortal self still felt a pang of hurt leaving the temple and all that was left there behind.

“Is there anything else in the village you wish to bring, dear (Y/N)?” Wamuu asked. He’d made the effort to gather roughly a week’s worth of food for you on your journey and the supplies to care for Aries, but your boy still looked tired and ready to get his saddle off and rest.

“No, there’s nothing here that would be sensible to bring along. I’ll miss it, but it’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Lord Kars, you had a way for Aries to endure the journey to Sicily tonight?” your first husband asked. Kars opened the box he’d brought along, showing a very different stone mask from the ones you’d seen before. One made to fit the face of a horse.

You stared at him for a moment, slack jawed. A vampire horse?!

“I’ll ask your permission, but really, you’ll need a proper mount for this journey and either you let Aries be transformed, or you’ll have to leave him behind,” he said, holding the mask out to you. The stallion still liked to nip at your master or try to when he got too close. He preferred Wamuu and yourself as his caretakers.

“That’s alright,” you said, stroking your horse’s neck and ears. To you it didn’t matter much if he was transformed. You’d feel guilty for depriving him of the sun, but in exchange he would remain by you and your husbands’ sides forever as an immortal creature of legends. If he did have to eat meat from living things you wouldn’t mind, so long as he didn’t turn his appetite on good humans. “I love you so much, sweetie. This will hurt for a moment, so please forgive me,” you said, placing the mask over his face. Esidisi kindly spilled just a few drops of blood on it and a series of spikes dug itself into his skull with a loud crunch.

Aries staggered and cried. Wamuu pulled you back and you winced in sympathy for your sweet boy as his hooves slammed down like a sledge on an anvil and he shook off the mask. His teeth were razor sharp and he seemed even bigger and more imposing than before. There was a clarity in his now blood red eyes, like he understood he had been changed. For a moment you were scared, thinking he might turn on you for allowing him to be hurt now that he was a vampire, like the wretched old man you’d been forced to kill, but Aries settled and bowed his head, nudging you gently like he’d done the night you first met.

“The transformation went over well. Better than I expected,” Kars said, reaching over to stroke the horse’s head, but Aries still snapped at him and now he could have likely taken several fingers off. Your master yanked his hand back and scowled. “Still as temperamental as ever, I see… He retained his overall memories and attitude. He’ll have the stamina and speed required for this journey now. Are you all ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yes, my masters. I’m ready,” you answered.

Truth be told, you were tired. You’d been up before sunrise and out all day, but sleeping was the furthest thought from your mind right now. Hoofbeats came down like rolling thunder in the night's darkness. The new moon left the path enveloped in shadow, but Aries galloped straight ahead wherever he was led to, never hesitating or fussing to show fatigue. You were hardly guiding him; you didn’t know where you were going, but you could sense your husbands nearby, even in the dark. Brief flashes of light or warmth, or the wind whipping unnaturally, told you they were close.

“Are you alright?” Wamuu asked you at some point. You’d completely zoned out for a while now, only focussing slightly when you passed through the occasional village. You were aching from how long you’d been riding for, even with hamon to ease the strain on your body, and exhaustion was taking its toll.

“Are we almost there?” you asked back. It felt like you were going so fast you might be, but you wouldn’t get your hopes up too much. You jerked as you felt yourself being suddenly lifted out of your saddle, but calmed down quickly in the familiar embrace of your husband’s arms. He’d taken your place as the rider, cradling you in his arms instead. “Isn’t both of us too heavy?”

“Normally, yes, but Aries is a vampire now. He can easily carry both of us,” he assured you. Esidisi had once told you the strength of a vampire was between five and ten times that of a human. If the same applied to vampire horses carrying both of you shouldn’t be a problem. He was certainly big enough for Wamuu to ride as well. “You seem tired,” he pointed out.

“I am,” you sighed. “But more than that, I’m nervous,” you said. Being held in his arms eased the aching of your legs and back, but you couldn’t relax completely just yet.

“Come what may, my shining dawn, we will persevere,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Very soon we will reach the ocean to cross onto the island of Sicily. We will travel along its shore until we can go no further and from there we will take a ship to Alexandria,” he explained, helping you sit up. You knew the plan already, but still couldn’t keep a grin off your face.

“You want to show me the ocean?” you asked. You did remember asking before, but you’d almost forgotten about it already.

“I realize it’s not exactly what you intended, but I would like you to enjoy it regardless,” the wind god answered. “I remember first seeing the ocean myself. Lord Kars and Esidisi hadn’t bothered to explain it to me and proceeded to laugh when I asked which way would take us around this lake the fastest. My brother Santana tried to drink from it. That was a very unpleasant surprise,” he told you, making you laugh. “Lord Kars says a great thinker should be able to imagine an ocean from seeing a single drop of water. I suppose that is why he is a philosopher and a scientist and I am a warrior,” he added.

“You possess wisdom in different walks of life, my love,” you said, leaning your head against his chest. “Whatever happened to your brother? You’ve mentioned him before, but I’ve never seen him. Where is he?”

You couldn’t see very well in the dark, but you could tell Wamuu’s mood fell instantly with that question.

“Lord Kars killed every member of our tribe who rejected his views, nearly all of them. Most because they sought to bring him down, but many simply because he didn’t deem them worthy if they only strived to wait out eternity underground… Santana and I were children when this happened and for many years we resided where our tribe had once lived while lord Kars sought to perfect the stone masks. Eventually he came to the conclusion mere stone would not suffice and we would leave in search of a catalyst that would perfect his creation and us in turn. Santana and I were… adolescent at that time, he was younger than me by a thousand years or so, but old enough to make his own choices,” he explained, voice tinged with sadness. “When lord Kars said we would cross the ocean and not return, he rebelled, deciding he would rather remain by himself in the ruins of our old tribe by himself. He and lord Kars had grown somewhat indifferent to our training in favour of their… our pursuit of the stone… Master Esidisi thought it a childish rebellion. He persuaded lord Kars to wait for his return… We waited on that shore for a decade. The human population was dwindling. We left and that was the last I saw of him. About 3000 years ago,” he explained.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, bracing yourself to ask the next question. “I-Is he alright? The sun… were there hamon users on this continent as well…?”

“Hm? Santana was young, but strong and smart enough to stay out of the sun. There were no hamon users there and enough stone masks that I am sure he is alive and well!” he said, although he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as you.

Aries pace began to slow. Over the sound of his heavy breathing and the trot of his hooves you could hear the subtle lull of waves dragging over the shore. “Best not mention this to lord Kars or master Esidisi. They will deny it, but the loss of my brother has caused them great pain.”

You nodded, standing on shaky legs as you were let down onto the sandy shore. Kars had killed all who didn’t share his views, yet he waited on Santana for ten years. Clearly this testified to some sort of greater love, even if they hadn’t chased him when he left. If after ten years he didn’t come find them, he likely wouldn’t have changed his mind about the search for the red stone if they had. Even you knew Kars wouldn’t be dissuaded from his plans, so perhaps it really was for the best that he stayed behind somewhere familiar. You hoped the stone masks meant he had some kind of companionship, although you were pretty sure Wamuu meant to imply he had plenty of vampires to turn into food.

“I warned you riding that horse would slow it down,” Kars said. You could just barely make out his face in the dark, but your eyes were caught by something possibly more beautiful than that. The ocean was as smooth as a mirror and the stars illuminating the sky reflected off the pitch black depths like an infinite cosmos.

“Forgive me, lord Kars. Our dear bride looked like she needed some company,” Wamuu explained, followed by a sound like a whip cracking and an uncharacteristic sound of surprise from your first husband. You were sure you’d never heard him gasp for anything, but that’s what it sounded like.

“Don’t use her as an excuse, Wamuu. You were the one craving company,” his master corrected him and you snorted a laugh while he put a hand over his sore backside where he’d been struck.

“Hah! You have not resorted to physical reprimands in a long time, my lord. Don’t be so harsh on him. I’m sure he just wanted to spend some time with someone a little closer in age,” Esidisi said and you bit your tongue hard to a barrage of comments and questions to yourself. You usually prided yourself on being able to keep secrets, but this was a lot to take in, let alone keep it there.

“He can do so without telling lies. There is a ferry that will take us across to Sicily. From there it will be about two more hours to the southernmost point of the island. We’ll need to secure a ship before dawn breaks, so don’t waste any more time on pleasantries,” he warned back.

“Understood, master,” Wamuu said. “I’ll recover the time I wasted by blowing wind in your sails. I’ll swim across easily,” he said. You could only make out this ‘ferry’ by the sails blocking out the stars in one spot.

“It’s impossible to blow wind in the sails when you’re on the vessel with us?” you asked. “I mean it seems unlikely, but the god of wind…”

“His control of wind is a physical ability, not some divine magic from human myths. It might create some motion, but more likely it will damage the mast,” Kars answered, picking you up and lifting you onto the ship.

“I still don’t fully understand your powers or what you are. You’re not the gods of legend I was taught to worship. Since your arrival, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you said. You were hurting all over and couldn’t see a thing, so that was probably best you let yourself be carried. It would also give you a brief window to talk to Kars away from Wamuu before you would be confined to a ship together for a week. Aries made the leap aboard almost as easily and Esidisi was right behind you when a sudden torrent of wind disturbed the mirror-like surface of the ocean and the ship jerked into motion.

“We were born from two parents each, just like humans. We were always immortal, living vicariously through the living things around us, but the masks I made gave us the powers you would call magic or miracles. We have seen hundreds of human communities, all worshiping their own gods and sometimes worshiping us as well. We never did encounter any of your human ‘gods’ and in many cases they seemed to worship perfectly natural things as miracles. I for one don’t concern myself with any gods, unless they should attempt to stand in my way,” Kars explained.

“And there is no one else like the three of you?” you asked. You didn’t expect him to give a straight answer, but you didn’t expect him to lie either. You were curious either way.

“There is one more like us. A youngling by the name of Santana, who still resides on the continent we hail from,” Kars answered, pausing for a moment. “Perhaps you will meet him when we have obtained the stone. Besides him there is no one,” he said simply, handing you off to Esidisi before you could ask anything else. “The crossing will be swift, so restrain yourself. The horse has done enough to bruise her loins tonight,” he warned, making you blush.

“My loins are perfectly fine,” you insisted in a huff.

“I could fix that,” your second husband promptly offered. Luckily he could see your flustered expression in the dark and just laughed. It was true it was your legs and back that were hurting, but you were in no mood to spread your legs in any capacity. “You were wondering about Santana?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Wamuu asked me not to press the matter, but if you’re the only ones left from your kind… Even lord Kars said that once you have obtained the stone…” You trailed off as your hand was brought up to your lover’s face and you could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I treasure him and Wamuu as I would my own children, dear (Y/N),” he murmured, clearly holding back worse tears. “He was becoming so strong and I had nothing left to teach and he took this as neglect… When Kars decided we would depart from our homeland where we were worshiped as gods in search of some way to further advance the masks it was the last straw… Ten long years we waited, but he never came around… I knew in my heart of hearts he lives, but…” Esidisi trailed off, his shoulders shaking with heaving sobs and you quickly hugged him, letting him soak the fabric of your dress with tears.

“Esidisi… my king of flames, you will see him again… Soon you will have the stone and when you do-”

“Will he still want us in his life after all those years? Will he forgive us for leaving? It’s been so many years, he’ll have grown up and I will never get those moments back~!!!” he sobbed, partially muffled against your chest.

You gently pat his head, shushing him softly while he wailed.

“He’ll still love you. It’s true you can’t change the time you spent apart, but you can’t change the centuries you spent together either…” you tried to remind him. You didn’t want to tell him to stop crying. He had never once told you to stop crying, and you had cried a lot. However, you weren’t supposed to bring this up and now Esidisi was in hysterics.

The ship jerked to an abrupt halt, the wooden boards creaking from the amount of force dragging the vessel onto the shore.

“That was quick…” you noted, blinking in surprise as Esidisi’s crying stopped just as abruptly.

“Ah, yes. It is a short distance and Wamuu’s winds are exceptionally strong. Thank you for allowing me to vent these thoughts and emotions with you, my darling,” Esidisi said, standing and lifting you up with him. “I am glad to have you, my dancing flame, to ground me when my emotions run too high.”

“Y-You’re welcome? You calmed down very quickly,” you said, a little confused. You winced as you were lifted back into your saddle. This ride was not going to be a pleasant one.

“Relieving pent up feelings through crying like that keeps me in control of my emotions when I need to be. Now is no time for crying or we won’t make it before sunrise. Come on, let us hurry!” he said, a light smack to Aries’ rear spurring him into a gallop as he gave chase to your husband.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Wamuu to catch up?” you asked. Riding along the beach shore would be easier. The sand was easy to ride on and the water’s edge gave you a rough idea of where you were headed, instead of riding blind.

“That would defeat the purpose of the head start he gave us. When we arrive at our destination, we still must secure another vessel and hope the wind turns more favorably,” Kars answered.

Logically you knew it would be alright. Even if you didn’t make it before dawn, you would reach Alexandria in a few days. Finding the emperor of Rome shouldn’t be too hard and you had no doubts your husbands could take the stone easily.

Still, you were uneasy. What if you didn’t make it in time and your husbands got burned in the sun? What if something happened while you were out at sea? What if you had made a mistake, and you wasted your husbands’ time for a gaudy piece of red glass? What if you didn’t find the stone at all?

These uneasy thoughts plagued you. If this all turned out to be for nothing, you would have no one but yourself to blame. They would have no one but yourself to blame.

The coming day colored the distant horizon a pale blue and the stars flickered out one by one against the dark sky. The threat of sunlight loomed in that distance and you were so ready to just collapse.

Exhaustion began feeding into your worries. They hadn’t made you a vampire so you could help them find the stone and what good would you be if you failed at that?

Esidisi might have had the right idea about crying the way he did, but crying to him about this would mean openly admitting to your worries and fears. You would have to tell them and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to, so these feelings stayed cooped up inside you.

You could already see clearly when you made it to a harbor town on the southern cape of the island. Fishermen were getting ready on smaller boats and you and Aries followed your husbands at a calm trot as they slowed to board the largest vessel on the small dock. It was another ship belonging to the imperial navy and it was guarded, but your husbands walked almost right through them onto the ship. You still flinched seeing it, those soldiers didn’t even know what hit them before they died.

“How much do you know about sailing a ship like this?” Kars asked you as he and Esidisi began preparing for departure like they had owned it for years.

“My family didn’t think I should be outside of the kitchen. I don’t know a thing about sailing…” you answered. Why would they teach you anything about finding your way if you were never supposed to leave your little village?

“Right. I expected as much. You see where the sun is rising? That’s the direction we’re heading in. By noon the sun should be behind you. We can teach you how to properly navigate later,” he sighed. You wanted to sigh back at him, because you needed to rest. You could go a single night without sleep, but not a night like this one.

“Yes, master… Do you not get tired at all? Ever?” you asked, standing at the ship’s helm.

“I get tired of waiting,” Kars remarked snidely. For someone who supposedly didn’t get tired then, he sure sounded like someone who hadn’t had his coffee after four hours of repeatedly interrupted sleep.

That being said, you were getting worried. The sun was almost up and there were no mountains or trees, or anything that would provide shade for them to walk safely.

“Is Wamuu going to be here in time?” you asked, looking for reassurance.

“If I’m being honest, he might not be here before dawn,” Esidisi said, getting Aries settled below deck and out of the light. You jerked and sputtered for something to say, but they both laughed.

“Wamuu has been working on a new technique to get around his vulnerability to the sun’s light. He wanted to surprise you with it, but I suppose it would be better to tell you now than to have you fear for his life once the sun rises,” Kars said, joining Esidisi in the shadow of the ship’s hold. You were stunned at how casually they brushed off the risk, or rather the inevitability, of their companion burning in the rays of the sunrise.

The ocean current and a strong breeze were already pulling the vessel away from the shore and you had no way of controlling its pace, only its direction. The horizon was set awash in a blaze of red and gold, sunlight reflecting off the surface of the waves to the point where it was almost blinding. The light was warm, but all you felt were cold chills as you clutched the ship’s wheel to stay upright, looking out across the beach where you still didn’t see Wamuu.

You felt yourself about to start crying again, when your tired, bloodshot eyes noticed something moving rapidly towards you. At first it looked like it was just the wind, carrying a gust of dry sand with it, but it was too oddly shaped. It took until the strange creature leapt into the air, over you, and onto the main deck that you understood what was happening. Wamuu had encased himself in a tempest strong enough to have the vapor in his currents refract and reflect light away from him, essentially creating his own shadow from wind. While it certainly wasn’t the glorious sight of the morning sun washing over his bronze skin, to have him stand beside you in the daylight made your heart leap with both relief and utter joy.

“I-I’m so glad you’re safe! That’s incredible! You’re incredible!” you almost yelled.

“I’d say that puts us even for yesterday morning,” he chuckled.

“Heh, only if I get a kiss!” you said with a big grin.

“Later. Best not to break these winds in the light of day,” he said, a little gust of wind dancing through your hair and making your skirt flutter like a playful caress before he went to join the rest of your little family in the dark hold of the ship.

Relief from having him safely in your care was enough to unwind the knot of anxiety in your stomach and you could finally relax somewhat. Your already shaky legs were getting used to the rocking of the ship. There was something slightly surreal about being the only one on deck like this, watching the sunrise, steering a ship of this size.

It was also a little surreal to think of the three pillarmen and the vampire warhorse below deck as your family. You made an odd combination. Three man eating demigods, a forsaken sacrificial bride, and a carnivorous horse, but you couldn’t have wished for a better family looking back.

Thinking about family brought back the memory of your sister and her two girls. Your nieces. You had no way of telling what they were up to right now, or if they were okay. Your sister was a fighter, always had been, but it was one thing to keep herself standing as a widow in your village and another entirely to be all alone in the world.

The day seemed to drag by slowly and when the sun was high you had grown hungry. You locked the ship’s wheel in one position and headed over to the hatch that led down into the hold. Your husbands had created a den of sorts that bordered on a massive nest in the area that would have been designated for a crew to sleep in.

You had no cargo to move and no crew, so the hold was spacious enough that Aries could stand and walk around and your husbands could lounge around on the extra pillows and bedding like kings.

“Hungry?” Kars asked knowingly. You nodded and grinned when you noticed Esidisi holding a steaming pot with some kind of soup. For a second you worried he might burn his hands, but then you realized he was probably the reason that the pan was hot in the first place. Probably a good idea not to start fires inside a wooden cargo hold.

“I wanted to ask something,” you said between bites, scarfing down half the meal in record time. Your husbands didn’t eat very gracefully either, and putting it all in your mouth looked sort of odd to them whether you minded your table manners or not. “After we find the stone… Would you mind if I tried to seek out my sister and her children? By now you must be sure I won’t leave you and even if I can’t convince them to swear allegiance to you after what happened, I would like to see them again,” you asked, looking up shyly and waiting for a response.

“Hmm? You’ll be free to pursue whatever your heart desires once we have obtained the stone. Go wherever and do whatever you want, within reason,” Kars answered, returning his focus to a new stone mask he was carving.

“Within reason?” you asked. Your definitions of reason and reasonable had become incredibly flexible in recent weeks, given the invasion of vampires, marrying three gods, learning to fight vampires, walk on water, riding a hoofed demon to the end of the continent in pursuit of the roman emperor to steal a magic stone, etc.

“Avoid things like orgies or stealing humans, killing human monarchs unplanned, that sort of thing. Meeting with your sister isn’t counted among such things, obviously,” Esidisi said.

You almost choked on your food and snickered. “Oh, and I had such great plans!” you joked. “I just hope they’re okay… They’re the most precious humans in the world to me and I miss having them around…”

“They’re ours as well, dear (Y/N),” Wamuu said. “As far as humans go, they’re important to us as well, right after you of course.”

More so than even the meal, his words made you feel warm inside. To know that what was important to you was important to them was such a blessing.

“I’d like to have a larger family again,” Esidisi said cheerfully. “Say, do you think our family will continue to grow?” he asked, his gaze falling on your stomach and you took a solid five seconds to process the implications of that question.

You hadn’t even considered you might get pregnant. You hadn’t really thought much beyond the month you had been given on the night you got engaged, but obviously you were planning further ahead now.

You should probably not indulge that line of thinking before at least six hours of sleep, but the idea was in your head now. Could they get you pregnant? How long would that take given how long they lived? Would you be raising a child like them or would it be human? Would it have to live in darkness with them or would they be putting a stone mask on a baby? You had slept with all three of them, so would there be a way of telling whose child it was? Would that even matter? Was there a chance you were already with child?

“C-Can I even… We’re not exactly the same species, right?” you asked. “Lord Kars?”

If anyone would know it was him. Kars seemed to be as caught off guard by the question as you, looking up and staring almost blankly into space for a few moments, but then looked back down to his work, his brows pinched together as he tried to regain his focus. “No, you won’t,” he answered simply.

You’d been a little scared of the prospect at first, but somehow being told that it was impossible to bear any of your husbands’ children was worse.

“Why not?” Esidisi asked, pulling you into his lap. He felt hot all around you and you guessed this was another way in which his emotions showed.

“Is there nothing you could do to make it so?” Wamuu suggested, a tinge of hurt shining through in his own voice.

“Our species aren’t incompatible by any means. The child would be most similar to us, before we were changed by the stone masks, however -” Kars explained, casting a harsh look at them. “No child of either species responds well to blunt force trauma or extreme heat while it is in the womb. You can’t expect to father any offspring through battering and boiling her insides,” he scolded them, making the three of you flinch collectively.

“But if… uh… maybe…” you trailed off, unsure of what you were really asking.

“You’re in good health and if you don’t attempt anything more violent than what you have done so far, you’ll be able to bear as many children as you please when the time is right,” Kars assured you. “In the meantime, try to practice your hamon. It is the best way for you to endure mating and remain healthy. If you wish for a child, you shall have it, but by the stars don’t ask me to give you one right now,” he sighed, having too much to deal with already. You chuckled and nodded.

“I understand. Thank you, master,” you said, Esidisi dragging you onto his lap to cuddle. “Now would not be a good time for me to be pregnant. It might actually be better if it doesn’t happen until we’re in agreement it’s a good time.”

“The fact most humans don’t even consider that is the reason they’re such an invasive species,” Kars mumbled. “If we are forced to sleep I expect the population of humans will have grown tenfold across the globe, if not more,” he huffed.

“That many?” you asked. “There are already so many who starve and wars over territory…”

“And those will be even greater by then. Trust me, humans are more persistent than rats in that regard,” he said. You wanted to argue, but were unsure how. You couldn’t exactly disprove his claims, but it was hard to wrap your head around what he’d said. You’d seen so little of the world before and lived such a short life in comparison to them.

“Whether we sleep or find the stone, we’ll live long enough to see,” you decided eventually, figuring he’d either be right or you could tell him he’d been wrong later.

“If we find the stone and become gods I fully intend on culling the worst of the human population. Starting with its greedy oppressors and ending with each and every one who so much as looks at a dog wrong,” Kars muttered. It sounded harsh enough to make you flinch, but you couldn’t disagree with the types of humans he’d want to get rid of. Being a god it really was his call to make.

It was a strange process, coming to accept this, realizing there really was no one who could stop him or challenge his authority on who he was allowed to live. It was hard, but the more you got to know the three of them the more you trusted him to actually make that call.

Your people worshiped several gods who had done worse things than wipe out a single village that opposed them like yours had. If they did conquer the sun and decided they would decapitate the emperor before his senate, what else was there to be done, except bow to their wishes?

“I can’t help but notice, beloved, that you said we ,” Wamuu pointed out.

“If you’ll have me that long, I’m sure you’ll find a way for us to stay together,” you said with a small shrug. “I trust you.”

Those words brought smiles to their faces. It was a comfort to know you no longer feared them the way you had when you first presented yourself as their bride and you finally viewed yourself as being worthy of your status as their bride.

“You should get back on deck and adjust our course. The ship has been pulling north. After sunset we will take over and you’ll be free to sleep,” Kars said.

You groaned loudly and leaned back against Esidisi, who’s unnatural warmth was beckoning you to fall asleep for a while now.

“It’s an important job that only you can do,” he said, moving you from his lap, which felt like the height of treason. Would he also push a tired kitten off his lap?!

“Hmm, I know. I’m going. Maybe before becoming immortal, you should be mortals for a day. Just feeling tired and having headaches from not drinking enough water and inexplicable stomach gurgles from eating the wrong thing, like the rest of us,” you said, relishing in their expressions of absolute horror and disgust as you climbed the stairs.

“Maybe we’ll give you a stone mask and you can live hiding in a cave like the rest of us,” Kars yelled after you in retort, but you knew he wouldn’t.

“With my three husbands who can still go outside and 200 vampire servants? I’m in!” you called back jokingly, letting the hatch fall shut as a means of ending that debate.

You wouldn’t want to become a vampire, but if your husbands were going to be keeping you awake for two days straight while dragging you around a thousand miles, you might as well remind them the sun was the only part they were missing out on in the human experience.

You were so ready to sleep by the time the sun was setting you didn’t even speak to your husbands for the rest of the day. You were offered the captain’s quarters, but refused, choosing to sleep in the nest they had constructed in the hold. You thanked the stars you were apparently the kind of person to not experience sea-sickness easily, actually finding the rocking of the waves very soothing as you went to sleep.

It was almost dawn when you woke up, feeling infinitely better than you had the night before. You climbed out onto the deck after you had changed your clothes and fixed your hair, surprised to hear a faint sound of music.

Kars was laying back on the railing, plucking the strings on a lute with his eyes closed like he was Apollo himself. Wamuu was the one standing at the helm and Esidisi was seated at the opposing railing with a fishing line cast.

“I didn’t know you played music…” you said. Kars opened one eye and chuckled.

“These past millenia would have been awfully boring without it. There are many things you don’t know about us,” he said, while you leaned against the heavy wooden railing.

“Such as?” you asked, watching his fingers carefully dance along the strings in a playful melody.

“Esidisi is an excellent poet,” he offered, to which the fire god nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Don’t tell her that! In our language, yes! But certainly not in this one!” he complained.

“I could translate! Why don’t I tell her what you were saying while she slept before?” Kars said, smirking like the evil bastard he was.

“Do NOT tell her that!” Esidisi yelled, which only made you more curious.

“Lord Kars is especially fond of birds and dogs,” Wamuu interjected. “And he was the first to devise a compass, many centuries before humans thought to. Why don’t I show you how to read it while our masters coordinate their serenade?” he suggested, picking you up and taking you out of the crossfire that was about to ensue between his elders.

“An excellent idea, Wamuu. Esidisi, get over here!” Kars called out.

You felt a little bad for abandoning him, but your curiosity won out. Besides, you needed to learn how to navigate properly. He pointed out which stars in the sky to follow to your destination, how to read the compass and then went into which ropes held up which sails and when to lower or raise them. You’d have some serious calluses on your hands by the end of this trip, but you were still grateful to learn.

The lesson was interrupted when you noticed something had taken the bait on Esidisi’s fishing line.

“Were you fishing for me?” you asked curiously.

“You can have it if you’d like, but that wasn’t the main reason I wash fishing, beloved,” he answered, gutting the struggling fish that was about the length of his forearm. He dumped the blood and guts overboard and it expectedly drew some larger predators to the surface near the boat. A shark made the mistake of leaping out of the water and was promptly caught by your husband through the use of his extended veins.

“Aries! Dinner time!” he called out, hauling the shark onto the deck. Aries gracefully ran over and bit into the still struggling shark. You’d never heard the noise a shark made. You weren’t sure how to describe it, but it made some kinda noise as the horse consumed it whole, the entire ordeal accompanied by Kars’ upbeat strumming in the background.

Wamuu and Esidisi snickered at the shocked expression on your face as you began to sputter something about your horse devouring a shark. They ignored most of your indignation, you’d get used to it, and Esidisi asked if you would still like to have the fish before the sun came up.

You listened to Kars play for a little while longer at the top of the hatch as you ate and watched the sunrise. Esidisi recited some of his poetry at your request and Kars translated. It sounded beautiful the way he said and according to your master it meant something along the lines of how the blazing sun looked so gentle in your eyes and like the sun his love would burn eternally. You hid your grin behind your hands, blushing bright red at the explanation.

“He’s quite the romantic,” Kars chuckled, getting hit with a pillow by Esidisi, who looked so red that pillow might catch fire.

“Please return to the helm, if you would, my lovely flame? Lord Kars and I have something to discuss,” your second husband instructed, to which you nodded and ran off, giggling like a little girl.

If this was how the rest of your journey would go, you’d be alright.

For the most part it did. With little you could do in the lay of training and nothing else to occupy your time you found yourself with your three husbands vying for your attention throughout most of the nights. During the day you had taken to copying the scrolls detailing your people’s history, planning to leave the originals at the library of Alexandria when you arrived there.

You knew your husbands had noticed, but they hadn’t stopped you. Maybe they saw some value in preserving your people’s history and ways, or maybe it was just a small show of sympathy to you personally. It was reassuring to think the good things you had experienced with your people wouldn’t be lost forever and you could do them this small service.

You once told Esidisi maybe it was right for you to pass on as your people had. Maybe that was more fair. He’d called it survivor’s guilt and insisted you didn’t need to justify your survival, least of all to people that would have sent you to die, but the feel still gnawed vaguely inside of your chest.

Throughout the night it would be a contest for who got to have you to themselves. Kars liked to veto your attention whenever it looked like you weren’t busy, so you had to try to look busy with your first two husbands. It wasn’t all that hard, Esidisi was happy to let you touch his hair or cuddle, so was Wamuu but you would normally just sit in his lap or talk about animals.

You in turn had had your hair braided in all sorts of ways and would talk about flowers or animals that were only around during the daytime.

When Kars had you, he would have you read to him as you sat in his lap or as he read aloud one of Esidisi’s poems. Shamelessly stealing his partner’s thunder in that regard. Many of his scrolls were in languages that you couldn’t read and he would translate for you, so that you might learn some of the wisdom they had gathered over centuries.

At your master’s suggestion you had also taken to learning more intimate practices from them. Wamuu didn’t have much to contribute there except second hand knowledge. You were his first as he was yours.

Esidisi had more to add, and in a stolen moment of private time, he taught you the proper techniques of pleasing them, aided by your hamon breathing. It helped that he didn’t mind when you choked or the one time to actually gag and bit him. You could only marvel at his patience with you. Something both the other pillarman lacked as they disturbed you in several compromising positions repeatedly, at which point you threatened to get off and walk to shore come sunrise and finally you were allowed to finish.

They didn’t mention it directly, but Wamuu took great care to remind you he was always glad to help you ‘practice’ in any way.

You wrote down what you learned from them. The history of your people gaining a new chapter about the erotic arts that could be performed with hamon and the techniques to please your immortal lovers. Future generations might get some use out of them. You took care to keep these texts and illustrations separate though, as you didn’t want your history to end up burned and have your tribe labelled as obscene.

On the fifth night your husbands emerged after sundown and Kars perched himself on the bow of the ship without a word.

“What’s happened now..?” you asked worriedly. You could tell something was up, but it was safer to ask your companions first.

“The winds have not been in our favor this journey. We should have made it to Alexandria by now. It’ll be another day at least…” Wamuu explained. You knew this well, as you had been the one single handedly hoisting and lowering sails and steering the ship during the daytime. You could heal the blisters on your hands, but not the calluses that roughed up your palms and the pads of your fingers.

“The imperial vessel that departed from Rome will have travelled a different route and had a head start by a good 16 hours. It may have arrived already,” Esidisi agreed.

“He’ll be easier to find once we do reach our destination,” you tried to reassure them with a soft smile.

“We know, darling. It’s just that with what seems like the final leg of our journey approaching, we can’t help but grow restless,” Esidisi explained, flexing his fingers. “My joints are growing stiff. That’s always the first sign. The petrification of our flesh will set in about a week from now if we do not uncover the stone.”

The idea itself made you shudder. To slowly turn to stone while you were powerless to stop it.

“It won’t come to that,” you said with all the conviction you could muster. In the distance on the horizon you could see nothing, but Kars’ shifting gaze told you there were likely other ships and sandbank islands you passed.

“Your determination is admirable, dearest (Y/N). Thanks to you, we will soon have the stone at last,” Wamuu said, kissing your forehead.

Food was starting to run low on the ship too. You hadn’t really thought about it, but staying awake as much as you did had led to you eating more without even realizing it. You were also getting a slight cabin fever from sharing such close quarters. On the ship you were always within earshot, given their heightened senses and they never slept. Their presence didn’t make you feel anxious the way it once did, but a week without any sort of privacy was wearing you down.

“Maybe you could distract Kars from his worries a little while?” Esidisi suggested, kissing your cheek and taking over at the helm.

You approached the bow of the ship quietly, but Kars knew exactly where you were and what you and your other husbands had been saying.

“I don’t need your attempts at comforting me. I’ll be perfectly content once I have the stone…” he huffed once you were a few feet behind him, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

“Standing there won’t get us to Alexandria faster,” you pointed out.

“Neither will your creature comforts,” he responded, staring out across the dark ocean impassively. “I promise you, you will spend eternity in my arms as a goddess, but I can’t afford to lose my focus now,” he said, finally casting a look over his shoulder. “You should go take the antidote now. You have waited long enough. I don’t question your devotion.”

These words went through your chest more violently and painfully than having your wedding ring forced into your heart in the first place. Was he doubting himself? No, that was far too unlike Kars. He’d wanted you to keep the ring as a physical proof of his ownership of you, of your bond. You had plenty of other tokens now, but none as powerful as the one inside your heart. The one that would take your life in ten more days.

“I don’t need it,” you said, climbing the bow with him.

“Stop being petulant. There is no sense in carrying around poison in your heart.”

“Then why do you?!” you asked sharply, glaring at him. Before he could answer you jumped overboard. You couldn’t see the water’s surface, so you still ended up getting wet.

“What on earth are you doing?” Kars demanded.

“Helping!” you responded, grabbing a rope and focussing your energy as much as you could to solidify the water’s tension. You felt like Sisyphos pushing a boulder uphill, trying to pull the ship forward. Maybe it was fitting. A punishment for hubris thinking you knew better than a god. It kind of worked, much to your shock.

“(Y/N), stop this nonsense immediately!” Kars yelled, pulling at the other end of the rope to haul you back on board. You tried to keep pulling, but that tug of war game was never going to turn out in your favor and you ended back right where you started.

“I’m tired…” you complained, nearly in tears.

“Then go to sleep instead of wasting your energy trying to pull this ship like a stubborn mule!” Kars scolded.

“I’m tired of chasing that damned stone, Kars!” you clarified. “I know it’s important… That it’s the most important thing… It is to me too. How could it not be when it determines if we’ll have a future together, but… If we only have one month, I don’t want it to be dictated by the hunt for the red stone constantly… I want to be with you… I want us to be happy together in the time we have… I want you to look back and think of me fondly when I’m gone…”

Kars sputtered, expression flitting across his face in rapid succession, ranging from sorrow, sadness and pity, to pure unadulterated rage. He trapped you between his arms, gripping onto the railing of the ship so tightly it splintered in his grasp.

“I… love you… and I don’t fear dying as you do, but I fear eternity without you more than the sun itself…”

“Same difference,” you said, tears running down your cheeks. Gods, you hated arguing and arguing with Kars was the absolute worst. Why couldn’t you just scream and be angry? Why did you have to cry? “Death would be eternity without you. Of course I’m scared…”

“Which is precisely why we need the stone…” Kars hissed like you weren’t understanding. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping another thousand years. I’ve lived this long already! I could have gone to sleep after exterminating your wretched kin if you hadn’t made me love you, you naive beguiling witch…” he spat, the floorboards under his feet cracking as well now. “I can’t give you the life you deserve if I fail… One mistake and I’ll lose you forever… I already treasure you beyond what any poetry could describe. Don’t give me these tender moments to long for if I fail you…” he pleaded, and for the first time ever you heard his voice crack with grief and uncertainty.

You threw your arms around his neck and by now Wamuu and Esidisi had been hovering just behind you, ready to step in, but you waved them off.

With Santana Kars could be sure he was alive and safe somewhere. With you he didn’t have the same luxury.

“What did I just tell you not to do, you defiant little welp…?” he asked.

“I’m positive we both feel fucking awful and there are no fond memories to be made, so I can hold you as much as I want, you headstrong, ill tempered brute…” you answered, fisting a hand in his hair and standing on your tiptoes for a kiss. “You won’t fail me… Kars you are a god to me and I have absolute faith in you, no matter what…” you insisted.

He let out a long sigh, holding you against his chest.

“My glorious, foolish little sun… Come here...” he murmured. “I hadn’t intended to give you this so soon, but to know you have it would ease my mind greatly,” he said, bringing you back down into the hold with a lantern Esidisi had lit for you. “I have been working on this since the night you recovered the Aja your people had tried to keep from us,” he said, opening a box to reveal a small stone mask of smooth marble, with far more delicate features than the ones you had seen. At the center of the crown like headpiece across its forehead rested the Aja you had offered him so many nights ago. The mask was carved from the slab of marble he had ripped from the god’s throne in his rage.

“The stone is too small to be of any use to us, but you are smaller, more delicate, and your body is already receptive to the light of day,” he explained. “This mask shall grant you eternal life, without taking the sunlight from you or forcing you to feed on the life of others,” he explained, closing the box and putting it away. “The catch is that I haven’t tested it yet. Decidedly few human women have ever been subjected to the stone mask at all and the brain is a delicate organ,” he explained. “I wouldn’t wish for you to change. It is your kind and merciful nature that compelled me to fall for you. If you were made to be any less than the goddess you are right here and now it would be on par with killing you and I could never forgive myself,” he explained.

You could feel yourself trembling where you stood.

Kars was ruthless, cold and dare you say selfish in nearly all his endeavors. Yet here he offered you every single thing he had dreamt of for the tens of thousands of years he had been alive. The power he sought for himself, which he’d struggled, fought and killed for, and before it was even within his own grasp he was giving it to you.

“I love you,” you whispered, almost reverently. “And I trust you,” you assured him. “And when you’re ready I’m sure it will be perfect.”

It took a day longer than it should have to arrive in Alexandria, and the sun hadn’t set by the time you arrived. You couldn’t dock the boat alone and certainly not without arousing suspicion, so you lowered the sails and put an anchor out a mile or so out from the coast. Once the sun set you would walk to shore and deliver the scrolls to the library of Alexandria to preserve them and your husbands would find the emperor and claim the stone.

You would meet by the lighthouse come morning and with the stone they would become the pinnacle of creation.

“The time of ascension is almost upon us. Can you feel it, beloved?” Wamuu asked. He was in good spirits and it was a relief to see some glimmer of hope restored to them now that their goal was within reach.

“I can’t wait,” you agreed, gathering the scrolls you had dutifully copied.

“Once we conquer the sun, hamon will be of no consequence to us,” Kars said, watching you roll the parchment and stow them in a bag.

“Well then, maybe once you do, I’ll have something to teach you,” you offered. Kars startled by the idea and Esidisi and Wamuu laughed.

“I suppose that might be possible. Could you imagine, lord Kars? The three of us, hamon users! The fathers of the future hamon tribe!” Esidisi announced.

“Well, you’re not wrong. And I should like the future generations of hamon warriors to be raised to have some respect,” Kars agreed, planting a kiss on your lips. “The sun is setting, my shining dawn. When we meet again, the world will be at our feet,” he whispered. With a flourish he leapt from the hatch, diving into the water with barely a ripple to suggest it had been disturbed, as he shot like an arrow towards the shore.

Wamuu and Esidisi followed with the same divine grace and you led Aries to a small lifeboat, which you could easily pull towards the shore while walking on water. You could see the lighthouse where you would meet at the end of the night and felt a thrill of anticipation.

The library lacked any sort of formal guards, but you received some strange looks when you entered. You were dressed like a wealthy roman woman and they were never unaccompanied, but no one made an effort to stop you. All around scholars were lighting candles to continue pouring over their texts into the night and you knew right away you would be here all night as well, less you were dragged out.

“I have come to submit these pieces to the library,” you said softly to a man behind a desk once you saw him welcome a returning patron.

The man quirked a brow at you, but gestured for you to present what you had brought.

“Family history? Trade records? Poetry?” he asked, thankfully speaking in Latin as well.

“Transcripts on combat and historic records of a tribe that was recently vanquished by the wrath of gods,” you explained, using the most official sounding phrases you could come up with on the spot. The man’s mouth dropped open, but he clacked it shut just as quickly and started unrolling some of the scrolls you had brought.

“These… wouldn’t happen to be from the hamon tribe, would they?” he asked, eyes flying over the parchment as he spoke.

“Yes!” you said, glad he was taking an interest in them. At least you knew the scrolls would be in safe hands and your history would be preserved. Now that your husbands were about to claim the stone, the task had lost its urgency somewhat, but you were thankful to know you were not alone in saving the legacy of your people. News of their demise must have traveled faster than you realized if the scholars of Egypt already knew.

“I had someone… show in interest in such texts… just today…” the man said, plucking at his beard as he spoke and scanned the text. “I will go fetch someone to bring these into our collection officially. Please hold on to them while I do, my good lady,” he said, rushing off and leaving you alone with the scrolls. You tucked them back in your bag with a grin and started browsing different texts to pass the time. Most were in languages you didn’t know and even fewer were very interesting, but in a collection of this size that made sense. You knew you’d spend more time browsing than actually reading, but if you would actually be reading, but if you would soon have eternity to wander around whatever library you pleased, it didn’t matter.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around expecting the old scholar, but who you saw instead nearly had you leaping into the shelf with a loud yelp. Standing there with her beaming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and dimpled her cheeks was your older sister. With another cry of joy and relief you fell into her arms, hugging her with a vice like grip.

You’d feared you’d never see her again. Of all the people in your tribe, she and her daughters were the only ones whom you missed and longed for every single day. You’d prayed for her safety to your godly husbands and whatever ethereal gods might still reside in the skies above, and your prayers were answered!

Now as everything was about to fall into place, fate had brought you back together!

“Oh, my sweet mayflower…” she whispered, cupping your cheek and wiping away tears of joy, even as she began to cry as well. “I’ve been so scared for you… I never should have let them send you away. I never… Oh, but you survived and I’m so glad I get to see you again!” she whispered. “And you saved us… That brute who came to…” she sobbed, wiping her face of tears. You couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly your sister would need some time to get used to her new in-laws.

“When he had us exiled, a few others knew something was off… We’re not alone, sweetheart,” she said, proudly hauling the bag of scrolls over her shoulder and taking your hands.

“W-Wait, what? There’s more who survived?” you asked, the implications of that not yet sinking in through the veil of elation. Whatever made your sister happy would make you happy and Kars did say hamon would soon be nothing to them. You might really have it all now. Both halves of your family forever, you thought until the overjoyed smile your sister wore perked into a full on smirk.

“Quite a few! We warned the emperor before he departed when someone saw you questioning jewelers in the capital,” she laughed, pulling you closer into a hug once more. “Those wretched creatures will never have their stone. Come on, (Y/N). Time to go home to our tribe!”

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #jjba wamuu #wamuu x reader #kars jojo #kars x reader #esidisi #esidisi x reader #sfw #chapter 4

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berrylover0571 · 1 year ago

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It must have been fucking Magic with regards to PR how easily a bunch of fucking people managed to spin the AI art discussion into a philosophy of art discussion.

Like I'm pissed that I watched and tried in real time to get people to stop talking about the philosophy of art with regards to this bullshit and to start talking about the labor shit that it was influencing. Fuck your bullshit philosophical definition of art that talks about the human spirit and drive, we can have that discussion when working artists and the labor of art is considered something of Worth to preserve and encourage and not something to be constantly cut corners on.

I mean, not to spell out the original fucking post, but they literally had to themselves because even my neurodivergent ass understood this: it doesn't matter what Innovations happen there will always be banal, bland, cookie cutter art that is made pretty much terribly, even from a gracious art critique standpoint giving them the benefit of the doubt. I could probably off the top of my head scroll through deviantART right now, and after cutting out the fucking chaff of AI art, I could find feasibly at least 30 different furry artists, all of whom make it a fucking God damn priority to post the same five Disney characters they're cribbing from. Like I get it, maybe they're trying to develop a style uniquely tied to it, I don't know, but we all know a bland artist. Hell, I'm part of a fetish art community, there are banal, uninspired artworks in that community, a niche fetish community has people making art that might as well be Bland bullshit nonsense.

If you get stuck trying to define the philosophy of art with people who use philosophy to justify why they should be able to just be given a blank check to make a fucking website or algorithm that reinforces eugenics, causes genocides, or contributes to suicide and eating disorders, you're going to lose. These fucking idiots talk bullshit philosophy constantly, they could talk circles around you doing it. So don't talk on their terms, talk on your terms.

Your terms should be, and I cannot stress this enough, treating the work of artists and working artists as well as regular artists as something that is meant to be valued in terms of its labor. Not a damn thing makes me want to drink more than people talking about preserving the efficacy and culture of Art and then refusing to support artists near them. I am not a rich person and I even can shell out $30 every once in awhile to get a commission of myself in some dumb fetish scenario because, one the artist will get attention and people will happily propagate new stuff from their favorite artist, and two make it financially supported which is more important, because it helps them have at least some supplemental income as they try and build a platform.

You know that infamous pukicho post with doctor yiff and bullshit? The only way you can get furry artists that charge thousands of dollars for commissions is if you create a sustainable ecosystem of artists being valued for their labor and not devalued in the eyes of fucking the entire world. One of the reasons my weird Niche fetish Community has been able to sustain itself so long, despite the fact that it probably shouldn't, is a mixture autistic hyper fixation, really weird fetishes, and the constant support of work that servicing a niche group can give.

Not only does it piss me off that people got locked into philosophical debates about the meaning of Art with some jackass who wants to fucking turn art into this money printing machine, it pisses me off that we're still having debates about it. We all value art in some way, everyone wants it, that's why they keep trying to get us to use or validate AI art because it then legitimizes it within the social consciousness outside of a weird novelty. That being said, do they value art in the same way that a CEO values employees, they treat art as this disposable or interchangeable series of random things put together by some person in a specific way that appeals to some people. They value art in as much as they can spend and as much as they can make, and I assume you value art in how much it means to you and how much it means to people you care about, which on the surface can sound very similar. In each situation there is a metaphorical or literal cost, there is a number, a tag on it that means something, something substantial. So you can talk endlessly in circles about how much either of you value art, but at the end of the day they want you to legitimize AI art for the pure and depraved reason that they don't have to Value artists and they don't have to pay artists. They want to cut Corners again. The value in them legitimizing the AI art is not valuing or legitimizing shit art that's utterly atrocious and probably shouldn't be made, the value is in them legitimizing it and then completely not using or soliciting The Works of artists.

They don't have to pay money for commissions, they don't have to hire graphic designers, freelance or otherwise, they don't have to insure or pay an entire branch of their organization, something that Tech Bros will constantly do. They will look for any reason to cut corners, to cut down to the Bare Essentials and run those thin for as long as possible making sure they're stupid fucking websites last the longest. It happened with facebook, it's happening with twitter, I guarantee you it's happening at YouTube and Snapchat and Instagram, it happened at google for fuck sake. They want to trim down as much financial status possible because they don't want to fucking lose money, and they are losing money.

The internet, like all media, is becoming this monolithic platform of almost nothing. They're not making profits because people don't fucking go on the internet anymore because they're bored out of their mind, and when they do they want to stream something, they don't want to pay for 19 different services, so they don't fucking pay for them, they pirate them. Websites from the old culture of the internet are dying, those that aren't dying or being subsumed by other websites, and honestly if you don't see what's happening, if you get stuck in that cycle of debating whether or not AI art is philosophically art, you're going to be taken to the cleaners.

The old internet is dying and in its place is a giant advertising sphere, with pictures made by no graphic designer, and stories written by no writer, led by a CEO who thinks they build all of their profits on their own, while desperately trying to fight off Nazi allegations pretending like they don't give a shit.

AI art and it's debate is not about to philosophical substance of AI art, it's about distracting you from the actual debate that should be had about art and labor and the even greater conversation about how we are currently devaluing in Mass entire swaths of culture simply because it's cringey, or it's not worth preserving.

As a sociologist in utterly terrifies me that there are entire sections of the internet, nishap cultures, conversations, groups and platforms that don't exist anymore. Platforms with thousands of users active but not making a profit, thus dying. And the ones that sustain are the ones that become the most bitter, corrupted, or the most Advertiser friendly. It utterly terrifies me that the remnants of the old internet will only live on in Legacy through some of the worst places, because some of the best places died and were erased from history.

All for the sake of profit. So don't fucking get stuck in that stupid debate.

AI art and it's philosophies are very clear: we don't care about you, we don't value you, and the only thing we want from you is to extract as much money out of you as possible. All the while you beg for meaning, you beg for food, and you beg for your house not to be taken from you because of your shit rent.

Its not about trashy art, its about labor and value.

Do i think AI artists often make shitty, trite art? Yes. Do you want me to name a list of furries whose art i also think is creatively bland?

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magiaordinaria · 4 years ago

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In Defense of Frida Kahlo

◊please see my note on these images at the end of the post, because yes, this is a form of imitation for the sake of expressing desire to belong.

Frida Kahlo has become a difficult subject, some would argue an easy target- which to me is tragic because she was a person with a life and with struggles and today she can no longer defend herself. I personally think she doesn’t have to. I understand her as a historical figure that shaped Mexican history and the Mexican image. Lately I found myself understanding her on a different, more personal level when in October 2020 I came across an episode of the Nerdy Latinas Podcast, who were responding to a Tweet by an Indigenous Mexican woman accusing Frida of cultural appropriation. My interest was piqued.

“Frida was Mexican. How is it appropriation?” I thought.

In the episode, Chismeando About Frida Kahlo, the hosts explore Frida’s background and a bit of her social context. I listened and I recommend you do too. I gave a few comments to one of the hosts and was later invited to share my thoughts on the episode.* Below is bit of background and my response to the episode follows after that.

Prologue

When I initially listened to the episode my gut reaction was to become defensive, protective of Frida, despite not having had a single artifact of hers (my stance on purchasing her work or her image is a different story). I began to explore those feelings, and once I talked myself through this gut reaction, I realized this is actually very much worth exploring. It’s important to take into account the complexity of the social, personal, and historical context that Frida was experiencing and a part of.

One of the things the Nerdy Latinas brought up was the fact that Mexican schools during Frida’s childhood emphasized that the indigenous cultures of Mexico were the true cultures of Mexico. Frida, it is well-known, is half german and half Mexican. This conflict in identity was something that I deeply related to as a Mexican woman born in the US.

They pointed out that there were indigenous women who spoke out about Frida’s use of their clothing at the time, but were ignored. In the same episode, they talk about how indigenous women who make these clothes live off the sale of their indigenous clothing- Which makes me think, who is allowed to buy or not buy these clothes? It reassured me that there is more to cultural appropriation than simply wearing or using things “not intended for you”. Does intent matter? How are we verifying a person’s, in this case Frida Kahlo’s, intent? Short answer is, we can’t really.

Later in the episode, they ask the question, why aren’t other dark-skinned Mexican women artists spoken about? There are many indigenous artists that were overshadowed by Frida. An important example they bring up is Maria Izquierdo (ees-kee-ehr-doh). She was a contemporary of Frida’s and a student of Diego Rivera. She was doing well in her time and “showing promise” according to Diego himself. But when she spoke out against Frida’s feminist group Izquierdo lost a prestigious art commission to Diego Rivera and his male artist friends. I consider this claim of overshadowing pretty unfair, because it’s not entirely up to Frida who gets seen or not. And if we’re being perfectly honest, Diego and his friends probably jumped at the opportunity to take it for themselves.

She is still, after the paint dries, a woman in a white man’s world.

In my response, I come from a personal perspective with a lifetime of identity crises to fuel it. I focus in on the question of whether Frida can be accused of appropriation as well the concept of appropriation itself.

Is it fair to say that Frida had all the cards in her hands?

Is it productive to be upset over her perceived appropriation when there is so much today that is so blatantly grossly appropriated and mocked from my culture?

My Response:

“I definitely think it’s worth exploring Frida’s Use of clothing. I think, understandably, it brought up a lot of personal feelings because it’s something that I personally grapple with; this idea that my appearance could constitute grounds for appropriation.

...I think when Hispanic*** Americans learn about negative criticisms of Frida Kahlo they take the criticisms personally because that’s what they and myself included..., understood it looked like to be Mexican.

And if she’s wrong about her use fo clothing, it can’t easily be understood as an homage or as uplifting or as an act of rebellion against the whitewashing of the Mexican culture, which i think is something that is important when you live outside of Mexico. I think hispanic people--we just want to take care that our culture and our identity doesn’t get erased. so without the clothing that Frida wore the rest of us have only what we are calling the colonizer’s version of how to present ourselves as Mexicans.

Additionally, I didn’t really find her mixed ethnicity all that significant because since Mexico’s inception as a hispanic country most if not all non indigenous Mexicans are mixed.

our DNA is a map of people having been invaded, transcontinental travel in Europe, and slavery,

so i never really understood Frida as a white woman, even though her father was german. I’m 48% indigenous, the rest is North African, European--and on top of that I’m born in the US. That’s all to say that Mexican is a complex ethnicity but it’s Mexican all the same. I do see Frida as separate from indigenous and I’m also understanding that the way a person lives the culture is important. Personally, I feel sometimes I can’t consider myself Mexican if I’m not living the cultural practices. I find it hard to justify, for example, celebrating Day of the Dead. In contrast, I feel a responsibility to connect with those aspects of my culture in order to feel like I belong somewhere, or I know who I am, what my point of view is, and what I could do in order to impart a positive view of my culture to the Americans watching me now.

My thoughts are maybe Frida [thought so] too. In a way, maybe that was her intention. This episode brings up the idea of a crisis of identity for Frida and I think because she was born in a time when Europeanism** was being criticized heavily her schooling was perhaps in reaction to that. To give you a very popular example, the poem La Calavera Garbancera° most commonly known as La Calavera Catrina was written by Jose Guadalupe Posada around when Frida was born. That icon we have today (La Catrina) was actually a symbol of derision for Mexicans adopting European values. And I think when you’re taught certain ideals in the wider space in which you’re meant to integrate, it’s going to create a conflict between the way you’re raised and how you would like to see yourself in order to fell like you belong. So a personal example would be me growing up in the US. Saying the word Mexican was like saying a dirty word. For a very long time I was convinced that I should be ashamed of saying that. I tried more and more to become what was considered American- which was synonymous with being “correct” and for that I have been called a coconut or whitewashed by the same people who would deride me for being so Hispanic.

Today I want to undo all of that,

and i find myself [thinking] if I buy from indigenous craftswomen a handwoven dress to wear and to show to my wider audience that “this is Mexico, this is what indigenous women can do and it’s beautiful,” I fear I’ll face the same criticisms as Frida when I genuinely find [the dresses/clothing] lovely to wear and I only want to support the craftswomen of Mexico. So I don’t think appropriation happens when you buy indigenous crafts directly from indigenous men and women. As an artist myself, I would think they’d want to sell as much as they could, sharing their pride in their work. I think appropriation is buying from American corporations that are making money off of a diluted form of culture from oppressed people, stealing those complex designs expertly executed by thousands of years of knowledge and skill. To buy these goods from white companies, from huge manufacturers is to really whitewash culture. And on the flip side, I think it would be way worse for me to say,

oh no I’m not buying from indigenous people because I’m not indigenous.

But then turn around and buy something cheap from a huge manufacturer instead.

I think there’s room in this conversation to believe that Frida felt some kind of genuine desire and made a genuine attempt to connect to the Mexican identity she was taught in school.

I think she made a choice to embody what she felt was fundamentally Mexican but to what end, I honestly can’t say. Was it to bring awareness? was it to feel like she belonged? was it a statement? And that’s the thing we just can’t be sure.

All of this is not to say she didn’t offend people, and in the process took the light away from indigenous women. Or that this topic isn’t worth confronting. I was confronted with the question, though, of how much of that is or was her fault or her intention and how much of that is the time she lived in and her society’s discrimination. I’m glad you guys brought up her social milieu because

it matters a lot who were and are the voices speaking of her and approving her for public consumption.

I think Frida’s international travels and being on the cover of Paris’s vogue at the time, and the mystique she built around herself coupled with the fact that her skin color was internationally acceptable made her the icon that she is today around the world. That much is true, but can it also be true she made an honest attempt to honor Mexican heritage in defiance of those popular racist attitudes? I think there’s room for that.

I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say Frida is guilty of appropriation not really today, especially because we have much more blatant and grossly offensive forms of appropriation happening in our time. I’m sure I don’t need to go into that if you do a simple google search of “Mexican Costume” you can actually find white people dressing up as caricatured versions of Mexicans.

So I think a more productive conversation regarding appropriation in our world and in our culture today would be how to teach our diaspora across the globe to value handmade crafts. sure it can be more expensive, but you’re not buying a single object, you’re buying hundreds of years of knowledge and tradition. I would even argue that homemade is preferable to buying cheap, ready made stuff from corporations that have no regard for tradition or quality and who are actually drawing attention away from indigenous communities and diluting our cultures.”

Further Musings/Conclusion

I think that we are learning a valuable lesson in what is done is done, but what do we do now? My main concern is that there is outrage over the women that Frida Kahlo “overshadowed”,

but the simplest solution is to stop talking about these indigenous artists within the context–in the shadow– of Frida Kahlo.

They should be spoken about in their own right. If the dialogue about these women doesn’t revolve around or rely on Frida and her history, it would do these women justice. They are out there and they can exist. The problem is, how to talk about them without drawing comparisons to Frida? Should we avoid placing them in the same context? Questions for which I personally lack the answers right now.

What I do know is that I think we should avoid turning this into a situation where we tear down one woman-

who in the grand scheme of things accomplished a lot- in order to raise another. No, no mijita, as my mom would say. Eso no se hace, that’s not something we should do.

This feels too much like a situation in which someone like Frida becomes the target of appropriation because it’s easier than confronting really tough situations like white companies selling “ceremonial grade” chocolate.

Let’s tackle that sometime.

Personally, as you may have been able to tell, I understand Frida from the perspective of a person caught in the middle of two worlds. I don’t exactly feel like I belong in my American homeland nor in my familial, ancestral home of Mexico. I am part of a community that feels a sense of disconnection from our roots and therefore, lack meaning; we lack a true sense of self. But the more I interact with others like me, the more I create a community for myself, the more I understand that my place is where I want to be seen. I think it’s possible that that’s what Frida chose.

notes

◊This set of pictures is a type of homage centered around a very conscious imitation. I created these images back in September 2020 about a month before I learned of the Frida Kahlo tweet or the podcast episode. They were created in an attempt to portray a desire to belong to the culture I come from. Everything worn is a symbolic imitation in search of identity. In contrast to the last set of images where I wear the braid headband again. Here it is inspired by, rather than imitation; a carrying forward of traditions (like those seen here) into a more understandable form for myself. The evolution of the outfit is taking me one step closer to figuring out what my place is and what my voice is within the greater scope of my Mexican heritage.

*I recorded a few thoughts in audio format, sent it off to Short Latina and that was that. To what extent my comments were included, I’m not sure, I haven’t had the chance to listen to their follow up episode. Perhaps I was proven completely wrong!

**Europeanism- I know it’s not a real word, but It felt right :P

***I imagine Frida is important to a lot of Latinx, but for the purposes of this argument, I specifically mean Mexicans and Mexican-Americans because of the specific ties to cultural attire.

°It’s actually called: Remate De Calaveras Alegres y Sandungueras; Las que hoy son empolvadas Garbanceras pararan en deforme calaveras

#frida kahlo #frida #kahlo #khalo #frida khalo #appropriation #cultural appropriation #chicana #middle child #xicana #chicanx #born in the USA #whitewashed #mexican #mexican heritage #you are allowed to disagree

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