#the nocturne had amazing achievements

[mariaashlay]

Here it is, the fic I wrote for @neondownpourzine !

I had the honor of working with the talented @maximax-x !

The art they did for both this fic and the Zine in general is absolutely amazing and I highly recommend checking out the rest of their beautiful creations, as well as the amazing art and fics that were made by the rest of the contributors!

At first everything seemed fine, it was as normal as it could be. Well, at least, as normal as it could be for the two of them.

Yomi’s emotional outbursts and Martina’s submissiveness towards him were both things that had become all too common behind closed doors at Amaterasu Corporation. The way they act around each other had become common knowledge within the confines of the company.

Currently, there isn’t a single Peacekeeper who would look upon scenes like the one in front of me with even the slightest bit of surprise. No, the only thing most of us felt while being forced to witness such acts was pure disgust, alongside the slight feeling of neutrality that most of us had acquired after having witnessed such things so often.

Which is exactly what I felt as I stared at the two of them in front of that enormous screen displaying the – at least to Yomi – amusing destruction of the hideout of the Nocturnal Detective Agency as well as a large amount of the surrounding area. All the while, he had been using the ever-so-obedient Martina as a chair.

Then, within mere seconds, like a switch had been flipped, Martina lay on the cold, hard floor. The front of Yomi’s booth lodged into her abdomen as he continued to berate her, both physically and verbally. It was almost frightening just how fast his once calm exterior had transformed into one of pure rage.

She didn't even bother protecting her head, almost like she was fully convinced that he just wouldn’t kick her there. No matter what, even when he had no qualms harming any other part of her, he for some reason just wouldn't kick her there. And, surprisingly, she had been correct.

From the corner of my eyes, I looked over at the Peacekeeper who had been standing at the other side of the door. I didn't dare move my head even the slightest, or any part of my body for that matter. My posture had to be perfect. If not, I don't even want to know what Yomi would do to me if he were to notice.

Fear of imperfection has been drilled into us from the moment we first joined Amaterasu. To the public, we have to appear like an unwavering force of power. People should feel fear at just the thought of going against us, which could only be achieved if we walked around like perfectly programmed law-abiding robots.

Though, that didn't stop the Peacekeeper next to me from shaking intensely as he stared at the sight in front of us.

With grace, Martina had lifted herself up from the ground, looking as composed as ever, with not a single thing out of place. All the while, Yomi had quickly reverted back to the calm state he had been in before, albeit with a more devious smile now occupying his face as he started talking once more.

I could hardly hear any of what Yomi was saying to her as I was trying my hardest to block out the sounds of what was happening in front of me. Though, sadly, that didn't stop certain parts of their mostly one-sided conversation from reaching my ears.

Martina listened as calmly as she always would as he began to go on about some random machine that was currently being developed. I found this a bit odd, but it wasn't all too out of the ordinary, despite what had transpired just moments ago. And it seems that Martina thought so as well. Well, at first, at least.

After he had finished speaking, she stayed quiet for just a second before her once-calm eyes turned wide from disbelief as his words finally sank in. Instantly, that calm look on her face faltered completely, as fear now showed clearly on her face.

Before she even had the chance to react, quickly, the two Peacekeepers that had been standing closer to them surrounded Martina and grabbed hold of her tightly.

Despite her intelligence and quick-witted nature, Martina seemed to have succumbed to her fear, as all she could do was continue listening to the Director's calmly-spoken words. All the while, both her and the two Peacekeepers that held her within their grasp were trembling.

What followed was something that I could only describe as a nightmare for everyone that had the misfortune of having been forced to be involved in such a wretched display of cruelty.

The sound of my frantically-beating heart was almost as loud as Martina's cries as she desperately called out to him as they dragged her away. Screaming his name until her voice went hoarse, yet he made not even the slightest effort to look back at her. He just stood there completely motionless, with his back turned.

As they moved past me to exit the room, I caught a glimpse of her expression. It was a horrid sight that I will never be able to forget. Her tear-filled eyes reflected all the years they've spent together being thrown away like just another piece of disposable garbage.

Even after they had long since exited the room, her cries could still be heard echoing through the halls. It seems that, despite everything that had just transpired, she still believed that the sound of her despair-filled pleas would somehow be able to bring him back to his senses. That the sound of her broken voice reaching out to him would make a part of him regret everything and put an end to this madness.

Those screams will continue to haunt me for years to come.

After what felt like an eternity of endless torment, she had finally been dragged out of earshot, and that's when he finally decided to move again. Turning around to face the doorway that she had been dragged through with a blank expression, though within less than a second, it had been replaced by a smile so innocent and calm that it was almost frightening.

Yomi spoke about finding the corpses of the blown up detectives to no one in particular with childlike excitement, before proceeding to calmly walk out of the room and down the dark hallway where the remains of his action still lingered. Leaving me and the only other Peacekeeper that was still in the room alone with the aftermath of what had just happened.

And although there were two of us, at the moment, it felt like I was completely alone, with just my rapidly-racing thoughts to keep me company.

‘What's love?’ Those words, and the cold, emotionless tone they had been spoken in, still lingered clearly in my mind.

Despite everything, I truly believed that what Yomi felt towards Martina was what could only be described as love. Or, at least, whatever could be considered as love to such twisted people as the two of them.

In the many moments I would see them so close to each other, his hands all over her as he admired her with such a soft expression on his face, I always thought that, despite all of the abuse, those displays of affection were out of genuine care towards her.

Even while knowing just how deranged Yomi was, there was always something about the way they'd look at each other that stopped me from ever even considering that those displays of affection could ever be fake. 

But as the sound of Martina's screams still continues to ring loudly in my ears, I finally realize just how wrong I truly had been about the Director's ‘love’ for the now Ex-Vise Director. 

But still. Even though he made it look like it, had it, had it really been that easy for him to throw away years of emotions and memories just like that? Was it really that easy for him to suddenly view his once-beloved right hand as just another useless tool used to satiate his madness?

Or did he truly never love her at all?

[circledemptiness]

Nocturnal confession

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Touch-starved, masturbation, vaginal sex ✦ Read on AO3 – Older work (and it shows)

Despite being Gotham's one true genius, Edward Nigma always struggled with his own feelings. Reader is Edward’s assistant. Enamored with the genius, she decides to risk it all and make a move on him.

Edward Nigma never needed help with anything nor from anyone. Gotham’s one true genius always made it through on his own, achieving technological prowesses, developing intricate puzzles, managing his empire with an iron fist. Relying on his remarkable intellect, he was simply excellent at everything.

Most of his precious time, Edward spent it working on his new creations, conceiving tortuous conundrums, carefully planning his next move. His days and nights were filled with the noise of metallic clunks and labored grunts, sometimes interrupted by a victorious exclamation. Absorbed by his work, time seemed to be an abstract concept; he would get no rest until he had completed all of his tasks, until he deemed his progress satisfying.

When his day was over, most often in the early hours of the morning, Edward contemplated his work with shiny eyes and a voracious pride burning inside of him. The people of Gotham will learn to fear him –even better, they will give him the respect he deserves. And where everyone else will eventually pathetically fail, he will triumphantly succeed. This was a certainty.

That night, not even the light footsteps of his assistant took him out of his daydreaming. Only when she gently tugged at the sleeve of his distressed green shirt did he get startled, suddenly turning his head in her direction, a disapproving look on his face. Glaring at the disruptive presence, he furrowed his brow; in return, she only offered him a kind smile.

Edward did not like her smile. Unprofessional, inappropriate, too familiar. This was the only appropriate conclusion he could come up with to explain his frantic heartbeat anyway. It was not her only behavior that confused him. He did not understand why she would always cheerfully greet him in the morning, and wish him goodnight once her tasks were done; yet he surprised himself expecting it to happen. Like a ritual.

He did not like the way she complimented his work, his new plans, or his latest creations. Not that it was unwelcome, but it always made him feel agitated. Perhaps excited or validated would be more fitting terms. Unbeknownst to him, he grew more used to her words, soothing and motivating. And this was unacceptable to him.

But most of all, he deeply hated the way she looked at him. Her eyes, shining like two diamonds, seemed like an invasive caress; they felt like they could both pierce his soul and comfort him. Edward felt immensely destabilized by her gaze, and more often than not avoided looking at her altogether.

His assistant loved watching him work; the way he carefully walked around his workshop, constantly busy and focused on his puzzles, was truly fascinating. His joy was contagious; and hearing him being excited about a finished machine or a complete riddle made her heart flutter. His good days erased all the bad days, the anger, the frustration… One single thank you soothed all the passive-aggressive comments. His faintest smile made her forget about the tiring nature of her job. And his laugh kept her up at night.

She was well aware of the complicated and at times frankly abusive nature of Edward’s personality, and despite all her efforts to distance herself emotionally from him, spending long hours around him eventually made her develop more tender feelings. She felt an irrational need to be closer to him, touch him, know him in a way that no one else could ever do.

They stared at each other for merely a few seconds, but it was enough for Edward to feel uneasy and look away. His assistant released her grip on his shirt.

“You did amazing tonight, Mr Nigma. Goodnight” she said in a soft voice. In response, Edward nodded and muttered a cold and barely perceptible “goodnight”. At the praising words, his heart created a terrible cacophony, his thoughts collided against each others. He hated that state of panic and vulnerability she put him in. More than a few times, he thought of firing her, but he never found the courage to do so. He would never admit it, but her presence became somewhat important to him.

A couple of hours later, Edward decided it was time for him to call it a night, and retired to his bedroom. As he undressed, and buried himself under the covers, he could not help but think of his assistant. Only very late at night, alone in his bedroom with no one to judge him, did he feel vulnerable enough to consider his feelings, even though he would try anything to make them vanish.

He wondered how long it has been since the last time he had a partner, or any intimacy of any sort. He racked his brain, trying to remember the last time someone touched him in a way that mattered. Perhaps back then, when he still worked at the GCPD, almost a decade ago. Could it have been that long? Edward sighed at the thought. He never felt lonely, or rather he never considered his own emotional state before. There was no room in his logical mind for irrational feelings. There was no use burdening himself with useless preoccupations, he was too busy developing his empire, plotting against the caped crusader, burning his name in everyone’s mind.

But tonight, a part of him, infinitely small as it is, yearned for his assistant’s presence. He wished she was still praising him, giving him attention. He thought of her soft gaze, and the power it had on him. His photographic memory captured every detail of her. In his mind, he pictured her features; he wondered how soft her hair would feel between his calloused fingers, if he could make her smile in a way no one did, or how her lips tasted. The same lips he has been carefully staring at every time he had the occasion. 

“What do you mean ‘how her lips tasted’ ?!” Edward shook his head and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. Burying his face in his hands, he took a deep breath. “Get a grip, damn it ! You are the Riddler, you do not need anyone !” he angrily whispered to an inexisting audience, his heart now frantically beating in his chest.

He rolled over on his side, frustrated and flustered. But as much as he tried to silence his mind, he could not ignore nor deny his now evident state of arousal. He looked down and cursed under his breath at his growing erection. Devoured by this now familiar internal conflict, and after a painfully long monologue, he once again surrendered.

Edward pulled down his underwear before carefully brushing over the burning skin of his sex with the tip of his fingers, still debating what his next move should be. And as usual in this situation, he ended up wrapping his hand around his demanding cock and started pleasuring himself, thinking of his assistant. He would never admit it, but it became part of his routine.

Soon, Edward’s soft moans filled the otherwise quiet room. Closing his eyes, the image of her smile burning his mind, he then started whispering her name over and over again, like a mantra. With each pump, he felt the pleasure building up, and his thoughts getting more detailed, demanding… shameful.

Only the presence of someone sitting next to him on the mattress took him out of his thoughts. In a second, he rolled over and lifted himself in a sitting position, facing the intruder. Edward’s eyes widened and he could feel his cheeks burning at the view of his assistant, wearing a delicate night robe, offering him a soft smile.

She could not sleep, that night. Rolling and tossing in bed, she thought about how she could not play pretend any longer, how she could not ignore the way Edward made her feel anymore. The grotesque masquerade that she entertained every day had to end tonight. She was going to break the walls Edward built around him, and if it meant the end of their relationship altogether so be it; but she had to try something. She left the bed, wrapped a robe over her naked body, and left her small bedroom that Edward graciously amenaged for her when she started working for him. He declared it was more convenient for all parties if she could feel free to spend the night here.

Crossing the hallway, the sound of her footsteps echoed in the empty space. Navigating between the metallic constructions, she reached a locked door –Edward’s quarters. As his assistant (at least, this was the reason he gave her), she knew the code; a complicated one that she eventually memorized in case of an emergency. After a few minutes of hesitation, she pressed the keys, each beeping sound making her heart skip a beat.

Once she crossed the hallway, she finally reached Edward’s bedroom. She put the finger tips on the cold door, carefully considering for a moment what she was about to do. And, as she felt her heart racing in her chest, she put her hand on the handle and slowly opened the door.

The light on the nightstand barely illuminated anything, but she could still see clearly Edward’s back, laying in bed. As she got closer, she could perceive more clearly his labored breath, and the very distinctive hand motion. Certain that he would probably kill her if he knew she caught him in such a vulnerable state, she first thought of abandoning her plan and going back to her bedroom. Until she heard him whispering her name. Her heart immediately skipped a beat, and she instantly froze. At first, she thought she heard it wrong, but when her name escaped his mouth one more time, she now felt more determined than ever, and walked toward the bed, until she could sit right next to him.

The look of anger on Edward’s face quickly changed to panic as he wondered just for how long she was here, and how much she witnessed. As he was about to ask what she was doing in his quarters, she quickly put the tip of her fingers on his trembling lips, effectively shushing him. Edward froze in place, unable to form any coherent thought anymore. His face burning, he maintained eye contact with her, unsure of what to do next. For the first time, the Riddler did not know what to do.

Her hand slowly slipped and laid on his heaving chest. She applied a light pressure, inviting him to lay down on his back. As he silently complied, she could not help but smile; the once arrogant and confident Riddler never seemed so confused and shy than in this moment. She stayed in this position for a minute, sitting next to him, her hand drawing gentle circles on his chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat and the softness of his hair. She then carefully removed the cover from the lower half of his naked body, making him scoff in protest at first. At his exposed erection, he felt a deep feeling of shame and panic, wondering if she was judging him. She lightly bit her bottom lip before positioning herself on top of him. She then removed her robe and let it fall on the side of the bed.

At the view of her naked body, Edward sighed deeply. Her eyes detailed him, and stopped at his fully erected cock nested between her thighs. A look of embarrassment flushed over his face as he looked away, but she quickly held his chin and made him look at her again. She offered him a tender smile to reassure him, before holding his wrists and guiding his hands on her waist. He hesitantly grabbed her at first, then a soft sigh escaped his lips at the contact of her warm and soft skin. Drawing circles with his thumbs on her waist, his green eyes stared at her body. In this moment, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Delicately, she ran her hands over his chest, then stomach. The wetness between her thighs betrayed her own arousal, and the pressure of his cock against her burning sex felt like an unspoken confession. When she felt his cock twitch in anticipation, she hissed. She then looked at him, and mouthed “are you okay?”. He gently nodded, and grabbed her waist slightly more tightly in response, silently giving her consent, permission to keep doing whatever she wanted with him.

Slowly, she started a rocking movement with her hips, rubbing her swollen slit against his hardened shaft. Every night, she dreamed of him; and tonight the long awaited touch made her core tremble. But her pleasure paled in comparison to Edward's reactions; he practically forgot how good intimacy felt and a few loud moans escaped his shaking lips. She slightly accelerated the rhythm, creating more friction against her sensitive nub. Edward could feel her warmth and wetness coating his cock.

Throwing his head back and closing his eyes, Edward gasped for air, filling the room with deep moans. He finally held her waist tighter and accompanied her movements with his own hips. As she felt her own pleasure building up, she realized that she needed more of him. Elevating her hips slightly, she slipped a hand between her legs and delicately guided his cock against her entrance. She teasingly rubbed the tip against her opening, softly moaning, under his feverish gaze.

Edward’s eyes were begging her, as he was trembling in anticipation. He eagerly moved his hips, desperately trying to feel more of her insides. He felt incredibly vulnerable and needy, and she loved seeing him desperate for her touch. To reward him, she guided his hand between her legs and on his cock, allowing him to align himself properly. His hand then resumed its position on her waist and he gently pulled her lower, as he painfully slowly entered her in a deep and loud moan.

She hissed as he gradually filled her tight and unprepared hole. When his entire length was inside, they did not move for a minute, simply enjoying the feeling of completing each other. Yet, his breath was already irregular, and soft sighs escaped his open mouth as he fully appreciated the warmth and wetness of her insides. She, on the other hand, felt her own heartbeat race, feeling whole and completely filled. His comfortable size felt divine inside of her, and the light twitch of his cock caressing her walls made her gasp. She looked at his eyes, making sure he was still okay, that she still had permission. Edward furrowed his brow and gave her waist a gentle squeeze in response. A silent plea.

Slowly at first, she rocked her hips up and down, gently hitting the sensitive spot inside of her, like an electric caress that made her sigh in pleasure. She heard him curse under her, before moaning loudly. He never realized just how touch starved he really was until tonight, and he found himself needing even more stimulation. His hands grabbing her more tightly, he encouraged her movements, a demanding look on his face. She smiled, and secured her hands on his chest before lifting her hips and riding him faster. The change of pace made him whimper and buck his hips, meeting with her own movements. Rolling his head back, he could already feel his orgasm building up. It has been so long, after all.

Noises of wet skin and loud moans filled the quiet room. She could tell by the look on his face and his repeated curses how close he was, and accelerated her pace, rolling her hips, taking his cock almost entirely out before taking it all in again, repeatedly striking her sensitive spot. As a familiar warmth developed inside of her and she felt her body tense, she cried out his name, rolling her head back. That was more than enough to throw him over the edge, and in a final and loud moan he spilled all of his essence inside of her pulsing walls. She could feel his warm cum fill her completely and drip outside of her.

As Edward was catching his breath, she delicately pulled his half hard cock out of her, spilling more of him on the bed sheets, and laid down next to him. Panting, drenched in sweat, they looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. The intimate silence meant everything and nothing at the same time, but she thought that it was good enough for now. Until he approached his face and gave a single, infinitely soft yet trembling kiss on her cheek. She offered him a tender smile in return, her eyes shining like diamonds in the near obscurity, and he suddenly looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.

She crawled closer to him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She was not naive enough to think that this was the beginning of something tender and comforting. In return, he slipped his fingers through her hair, finally.

He was not sure what would happen tomorrow.  But he did not want to think of the doomed nature of their relationship right now. Tonight, he felt something he had not in a very long time, and this was more than enough for him.

[foxandthesoldier]

My Boyfriends’ Ex-Partners Deserve to be Happy

So this may be weird for some people, so bear with me. It’s 4 am, and I’m on my first coffee as my boyfriend (secret fiance) is sound asleep before I have to wake the grouchy man up for work at 6. I haven’t been able to sleep because my throat is screaming at me for no reason. Great, it’s one of those days.

I sit at my desktop and browse through Facebook with classical music humming in the background. (Off-topic, but Nocturne by Frederic Chopin will forever be a favorite of mine.). I get a lingering thought coming to the front of my mind.

“Check his ex’s accounts.”

Why? I have absolutely no idea. But because I’m a weak-minded individual, I do it. We start with the most recent.

Let’s call her Apricot. It turns out Apricot is now in a new relationship. Soldier (my partner) was meant to meet back up with Apricot the day we met, and it turns out she blew him off for a date with this new current partner. Now, if that isn’t funny, I don’t know what is. She seems happy, and honestly, I’m delighted for her. I’ve held this very random bitterness towards her since I met Soldier. Maybe it’s because she’s pretty or artistic like me, or perhaps it’s just because if she didn’t cancel that day, I would never have met my soulmate. Whatever the answer, it has lessened now. For once, I am seeing her as a human-made me feel better about her. She seems like such a sweet soul and the kind of person I would go up to in an art gallery or museum and compliment her clothing.

The next was Victory. From what I’ve been told from Soldier, Victory wasn’t treated right by him. They met in a time of discourse (possibly including illegal substances, but I shan’t confirm nor deny anything). Hence, their foundations were highly rocky from the beginning. From what I was told about her, seeing her now makes her unrecognizable. This woman with her life together. A boyfriend who constantly takes her out on adventures, and the most amazing pair of glasses I have ever seen. This woman has gone from the wreck I have been told about many times before to a strong and well-off woman with the world at her fingertips. If Victory, for whatever reason, comes across this post and somehow knows this is about her, well done. And I’m sorry for the way the Soldier treated you. He has grown into a much better person, but I wish you could’ve gotten that when it was your turn. You deserve the best, which I’m glad you’ve found.

The third person is Lady J. Lady J was horrible to Solder. TL; DR is that she broke his heart by cheating on him and is who kickstarted his chaotic era he has (thankfully) fully recovered from now. I didn’t go into her page with much optimism. I think I was bargaining on her doing badly, that maybe she would be suffering some tragic storyline or something. This was a selfish thought for me, and I should know better than to pass judgments like that on people. However, I’ve found out she is in a long-term relationship with someone. She seems to have improved and has become very successful in her career path and relationship goals. Good on her. I still reserve full judgment on Lady J because of how much she put Soldier through. However, he has had his fair share of inhumanity, so it’s unfair to label her evil when he has been very much the same.

Lastly, we have Lilac. Now Lilac wasn’t an ex, but a fling from the summer me and Soldier met. I still see her as a threat even though I do not need to. She has the most beautiful cotton candy pink hair I have ever seen. It makes me envious (even if my hair is the same color.) She resembles a Disney princess mixed with a gothic fairy. She is the kind of girl I would date myself. Maybe that’s why I’m threatened? Because I can see her appeal? Who knows? Lilac is “single and proud,” as her bio states, so good on her for that. She has this aura of unwavering optimism that I envy greatly, but I won’t hold that against her. My envy in no way discredits her achievement of peace.

Overall, I’m glad these women are living their best lives. This early morning peak in their lives has made me appreciate how human they are. I used to see only faceless bodies when I thought about them. But now I can see them: their smiles, their imperfections, and their radiant positivity. I’m glad I belong in the same category as these women. And I hope they would be proud to be in the same category as me.

[lilacline001]

As a fic writer, how do you stay positive and not stress yourself out with constantly comparing?

I've been really struggling with that. I start spiraling when a certain chapter doesn't get as many comments as usual, comparing my hit counts and kudo counts to other fics, and it's really not healthy but I'm struggling with knowing how to stop, how to just be happy and proud of the response I've gotten. Any thoughts or suggestions would be much appreciated.

Hi, anon! First of all, thank you for asking this because you might need to hear it, but so do I! I needed to write this out, so I really appreciate your question and I’ll try to take my time to answer it.

With that, let me say, it takes an incredible amount of courage, time, & effort to create in any type of way. Writing, drawing, edits, etc are all content that fans create for other fans. Life can be hard sometimes. So it’s truly amazing in itself that people are inspired enough that they create something.

I’ve been in fandom culture a while, and it took me years to work up the nerve to create and post a story. I didn’t contribute to fandom culture; I consumed fandom culture. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it was bad that I often felt like I was tapping down an urge to create because I didn’t want to face ridicule. I was scared of a negative response, and didn’t understand that practicing is a way to hone your craft. Not everything has to be perfect. In that way, creating and posting to share any form of content is an amazing accomplishment in itself. Anon, you should celebrate yourself for taking that step! I’m so proud of you!

Listen, I have never shared my writing in real life. I was terrified of posting something and getting negative feedback & I’m doubly afraid of that happening to my face. So the closest I’ve gotten to sharing my work irl, is talking about my work to only my closest people. Right now, I can’t imagine sharing my AO3 account with anyone irl. So I take time to celebrate that I’m finally creating! I’m not tapping down the impulse anymore, and most of the time, I’m so excited to create my own story.

Also, I think an important point to consider is that social media has completely screwed with our perceptions of what success looks like. Oftentimes, we equate success with “going viral,” in a sense. The more hits the better; the more kudos the better; the more bookmarks the better. But success isn’t always having the most “popular” story.

Now, my work with the least amount of everything on AO3 is Mirrorball. It currently has 16 kudos and like 250ish hits. Which in a social media, “viral” perspective isn’t that much, but think of it like this, 16 - SIXTEEN - actual people clicked on that fic and thought it was good enough for a kudos. Like imagine 16 people in a room with you. Socially anxious, introverted me would be overwhelmed. But all 16 of those very real people gave my story kudos. They read my story and said “oh this is good!” Again, I haven’t shared any of my writing outside of AO3, so to have 16 people read my fic in general is kinda of amazing.

So that’s part of it, for sure. My definition of “success” is different, and it’s not about getting a lot of hits. Define “success” for yourself, and what you hope to accomplish. Hopefully, you can find it in yourself to celebrate the fact that you created something, that you posted anything. I’m celebrating that fact that I’m at a place in my life where I’m somewhat comfortable having people read words that I’ve written. It’s an accomplishment, an achievement that I’ve made.

Beyond that, any and all comments that come from posting, I take them and hold them close to my heart. That’s an actual person somewhere in the world that likes your story enough to leave you a comment!

And then for Nocturne some people made art! ~Blows~ my mind honestly. I vividly remember getting the notification that Byler Fic Recs had made a graphic for Nocturne. I literally couldn't stop staring at it, and it was the same for all the art that followed. It’s so special that other people loved my story so much that they drew art for it.

So yeah, celebrate where you’re at! Take joy in your success! Express gratitude if you feel led to! Appreciate where you are!

And if after that spill, you’re saying something like - “but Lilac the numbers, the numbers are so small.”

Listen, I hear you. We can’t help but compare. I feel like this is like a life thing as well. We can't help but compare ourselves to other people and other authors and their progress, their story, their journeys. But if you write looking at everyone else, who’s going to tell your story?

Personally, what finally drove me to create for fandom was that I have a story to tell. One that past me would love to read. I finally stopped tapping down that impulse to create and just started.

Tell the story for yourself. For the reader you once were. Finish the story for yourself. For the past you, that searched desperately on AO3 for a fantasy/ coffee shop/ horror AU, for a fluff/ angst / family fic that ticked all your boxes.

And if you have to compare, compare to where you started.

Has your writing gotten better? I bet it has. If anybody writes in their free time, I bet it’s gotten better. The same for drawing, making edits, if you spend time doing a hobby, you are going to get better, more confident. The words might come more quickly. The planning might become easier. And at the end of the day, you get to say, well, I’ve self-published *#* of words on AO3.

At the end of this year, I hope I’ll be able to say I finished a whole novel *cough* Nocturne *cough.*

So here’s to you anon! 🎊 You created something!!

I hope you continue to create! I hope you continue to find joy in telling a story, in making art and honing your craft!

💜💜💜

[harmonyverendez]

Nocturnal - Chapter 1

Quote: Drown out the doubt around you by repeating your future plans and achievements to yourself daily.

Three figures stood in a dark red Forest, smoke was rising in the air as the tallest one coughed and leaned down to pick up a small infant wrapped in a royal blue muslin wrap.

The figure was named Robert and he pulled the quilt from the newborn infant's face to check if he was correct about what he assumed.

And he was correct.

He had the right infant.

Beside him, his wife Courtney cooed as she saw the newborn child.

Just then a Hand grabbed her leg and she looked down to see her son Isaiah.

She smiled and grabbed the baby and got on her knees as she showed her son the baby.

“ You see her, this is Harmony”.

Two-year-old Isaiah eyed the baby as his eyes turned red then gold.

Courtney raised an eyebrow as she was confused at what she saw.

Why did her son's eyes turn a gold color?

She decided to let it go as she looked down at the infant and her eyes widened.

Oh, no.

“ Robert, Lucas. Let's go, we need to get out of here before we burn” the blonde one said.

Lucas held out his hand as his mother grabbed it, and all three of them carefully but fastly moved out of the forest.

They didn't stop moving until they found the underground tunnel they went through the first time.

The family walked through it, ignoring the awful smells.

It wasn't until at least thirty minutes later that they finally made their way out of the tunnel.

And standing in front of them was a large field, just grass. No people, no animals, just a huge land with flower fields and a large river.

Courtney smiled as she softly rocked the infant back and forth. “ This would be a good space to build our community, since our old one is gone.” she stated.

Robert wrapped his arms around his wife as he came closer and stood next to her.

Their son was standing beside them looking amazed at the sighting in front of him, he wanted to go play in the field! But surely he could play before they leave and might not come back.

The family just stood in the clearing just taking in the beautiful sight.

It wasn't long before the infant woke up.

Robert looked at his wife. “ Come on, let's go find a place to sleep for the night. Tomorrow the pack will help build a cottage house for now. Then we'll build other things.”

Courtney nodded and shushed the newborn infant as they turned and went the opposite direction.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The next day Courtney and her mate Robert along with her two-year old son met up with the rest of the pack. There were four hundred of the pack members and the alpha of the pack ordered them to build a cottage mansion.

The pack members obeyed their alpha, and they started to work immediately.

The house was done three days later, and the Alpha and the leader of the pack couldn't be more proud.

The leaders of the pack took a long look at the cottage house and were amazed.

The house turned out well.

Now they could all go inside and begin to build their community once again.

The members went inside after the Alpha's/Leaders.

They all took their own separate rooms, and the house was divided into multiple sections.

Each had their own room, Harmony did as well.

Since she was an infant, she had to share a room with her parents.

All was swell, until…

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

[ ONE YEAR LATER ]

It happened so suddenly, Robert and Courtney held harmony in their arms, they were playing with the toddler.

Lucas was playing with his toys, and the rest of the community was at the pack house taking care of business.

It all went in slow motion.

It seemed to them.

Fire erupted in the forest, and Robert immediately stood to his feet.

He let out a growl as he clenched his fist and looked through the forest.

He looked down at his mate and responded. “ take Harmony and Lucas and go. I'll send the Zeta's to check the situation” he replied with a dark tone.

Courtney nodded but shakily grabbed on to three-year old Isaiah and one-year old Harmony.

The female Alpha runs carefully with the children in her arms trying not to fall with them, but as she got close to the secret underground basement, she heard a strange noise.

Turning her head, her eyes widened as she saw a large wolf standing in front of her.

She backed away slowly, with tremendously fear shaking in her bones.

‘ No ‘.

Harmony started to cry as she sensed something was wrong.

Just for a second, her eyes flashed purple. But no one saw or monitored it.

Isaiah narrowed his eyes, his eyes turned pitch black as a small growl left his lips.

‘ my… mate. Nothing will happen to her'.

He slowly stood in front of his mother reading himself to protect them both.

But before he could do that.

A powerful energy sent him flying , the female Alpha gasped as she clenched the toddler in her arm.

Courtney whimpered, she wasn't a wolf but couldn't shift at all.

So someone would die or get injured.

The wolf finally lunged, Harmony flew out of her hand, but Isaiah caught her and held her in his arms.

Courtney braced herself as the wolf came at her with its large claw, its claw slashed her arms causing her to bleed and get dizzy.

Across from her Isaiah stood up with Harmony but she was yanked out of his hand and his vision went black.

Courtney looked at her son and her eyes widened, she wanted to go to him. But her vision was darkening.

Her knees gave out and she fell to the ground with a loud crack as her knees burst open.

She gasped and fell fully and looked one last time at the wolf.

The wolf came running at her with full speed roaring.

She didn't get a chance to see what happened next as her vision darkens.

[journals4546]

11/24/08

Here is the truth, what I do not write in my journal.  My journal is honest also, but a separate honesty, one I would allow Ryan to be a part of.  The truth in this side journal is for myself only, what I would not allow him to know.

The truth is, I have slept with four guys since Ryan & I broke up, in the six months since I have moved back to Iowa.  JLove, a few days after the fourth of July, a disappointing dance brought on by the intoxication of a simple night, the kind you’d remember in the latter of your life as just… perfect.  The night at Big Creek, with JLove, Racha, Meanz, Krystal, Brandon, & others, boating, midnight skinny dipping in a secluded cove, live music, an ecstasy achieved not by libation but by the simple perfection of the night.  Conclusion coming with naked cuddling with JLove in his bed, which turned into sex not out of attraction but a certain loneliness, missing Ryan, my eyes clamped shut & seeing his face, imagining it was he who was pounding into my body, though Ryan was never as awkward as JLove.  With Ryan our bodies moved to the same rhythm, one I can’t seem to find with any else.  No orgasm on my end, no reaching the height of pleasure.  Forgettable.

Then Jon Leopold, one boring, drunken night in Ames.  A way to pass the time.  Nothing worth remembering but the regret.  Maybe only done to see what it would be like to have bedded one of the most popular guys in my school, a reason too embarrassing to admit to anyone.  Leopold is the stereotype of all high school jocks - cocky & popular, with a future of drowning out his ten bastard children & job at the gas station with the beer that gives him his spare tire around his waist, looking fondly back on when girls used to giggle to be pinched on the ass by him.  I think Bitchtoria put it best when the next day she asked me, “So how disappointed were you?”  A night I’d sooner erase from my memory.  Funny how attractiveness in youth causes cockiness, in middle-age brings an inflated sense of entitlement, & in old age begets gratefulness.

The third, my own private secret only Racha knows, a half-asleep nocturnal two-night bout with Nich.  “I don’t want things to get weird.”  “Trust me, that’s not something you need to worry about.”  Neither time did he seem to enjoy it (though he instigated it), & it was only a form of stress release for myself.  An end to our late-night cuddling parties, as apparently he did let it get weird.  Not a bad way to spend two nights, but not worth how disconnected he’s seemed since, like he was afraid to be alone with me, as if he’d feel obligated.  I don’t understand; after the second tryst I had no further interest in having sex with him, & I’d never behaved any differently than I usually did, I’d even stopped flirting with him.  But ever since, our relationship has altered from the great state it once was in, & this saddens me.

The final, & by far most gratifying, satisfying person ironically, was just a boy, eighteen years of age, still holding onto that innocent sweetness that I’m sure will begin to dissipate in about a year or two, when the hardness of the world begins to slowly retard his zest for life.  He is the new roommate of the friends in the apartment above mine: tall, muscular, swooped white-blonde hair.  He is almost translucent, he reminds me of the yellow-haired boy in the film “Elephant.”  A bourgeoning hippie with a taste for metal music & hockey, a very boyish masculinity, smokes pot & drinks rum straight.  I met him for a moment in my living room the same night I went to the bar with Fake Plastic Dave, & then again two nights ago in James & Dylan’s apartment.  We flirted, he loved my dimples & I could tell he had found an idol in Nich.  He & I were up long after the rest had left, playing my SuperNintendo, he was thrilled & amazed that I still had one.

Then yesterday at work I texted Dylan, “So… I know it’s very eighth-grade of me to ask you, but…  What’s up with your friend?”  Dylan gave me his number.  I messaged him “Are you at the apartment, because I want to play some Mario!”  Awhile later when I’d gotten off of work, he messaged me back, “Who wants to play?  I’ll race you to the room!”  I laughed, told him I had to get dressed first.  He told me no way, we’ll play naked!  Too late, I responded.

In the midst of a movie, with James asleep on the couch & Dylan in bed, Blond & I were on the other couch, bundled up in blankets.  Too shy to be bold, I began texting him on the phone, being flirtatious & coy.  I was definitely rusty, not having had to flex those muscles since Ry & I first met.  It seemed he also had just gotten out of a relationship recently & was not looking for it again.  I told him I was in a similar state, & only looking for non-awkward fun.  He jokingly asked if I wanted to do the “triple-B-D” (Racha-speak for “boom boom banana dance,” or sex) & I responded “Are you really asking me that through text?”  Later, after a short silence, I asked him, “Wanna cuddle up?” & he responded with a smart-ass “Are you really asking me that though text?”  I laughed, told him aloud I was shy, & he said “Well come on over here!”  So I did.

We eventually went down to my apartment, got in my bed to “watch a movie.”  He took his shirt off at one point, & I was breathless at the beauty of his body, in its prime, a small amount of chest hair as blond as the hair on his head, & a darker patch of hair beginning around & below his navel.  Flat stomach, not deathly skinny as JLove but not chubby, muscular but soft.  Absolutely beautiful.  Ryan’s body is warm, comforting; I take comfort over beauty any day, I’m always intimidated by beauty, as much as I enjoy it.  His beautiful body was in stark contrast to my own scarred & misshapen battlefield, tangible proof of experiences he probably couldn’t fathom yet in his innocence.  No matter how old I get, I will always lose my breath at the visage of a perfect eighteen-year old male body, its ripples, muscles, flanks, hair, hips, forearms, collar bone.  I could lay down in worship of a beautiful form like Blond’s, I’d never seen quite as flawless a specimen, the build that results from years of hockey, working summers in construction, & a diet of pot, rum, cigarettes & fast food.

After a bout of more flirting & coy teasing, he suddenly turned over & began kissing me, hard, quick, barely stopping to breathe, his hands running all over my body, lightly, then adding more pressure.  He was somewhat shy until this moment, quiet unless spoken to.  Here, he seemed more in control, confident.  His lip ring pressed into my bottom lip & I immediately thought of Ryan.

I believe my favorite, most addictive sensation is that of right before the point of entry, that flushed, tingling, rushed anticipation.  I like to draw it out, suspended in ecstasy, eager endorphins rushing to my head, making the wetness between my legs flow thick as honey.  The previous three men failed to allow me even a moment of that enjoyment.  With Blond it seemed to last for twenty minutes, when in reality it was probably no more than two or three.  He moved at a leisurely pace, as if we had all the time in the world; he took his time exploring my ragged body, leaving a trail like electricity everywhere his fingertips traveled.  A young boy, eagerly pawing a new toy.  There seemed to be an unexpected grace in everything he did, like it was all one fluid motion.  And then, entry, the feeling of fullness, a sense that my body was no longer my own, not in my control, every slight move a source of pleasure.  The feel of strong muscled arms holding up my writhing body, rigid until orgasm, then limp, weakened until the sensation had passed & the energy returned in search of the next heart-shaking explosion, eruption.  His body convulsed, shook in a rapid succession that sent jolts of pleasure through my insides, when I rode atop him & he was thrust as deeply as possible inside of me.

Still entranced by his beauty, I did not mind bowing my head to him, taking him into my mouth, as I do with others.  Even his penis was beautiful, large, throbbing, tasted only of skin, not sour as others can be.  He & Ryan are the only two experiences where I felt enjoyment in that act, which for myself seems so much more intimate even than copulation, more personal.  I wonder if it was only his beauty that made it pleasurable for me, a joy & not a burden, when I would never otherwise perform this task for someone I had only met twice before, or was it some other reason I’m consciously unaware of.  Something about him reminds me of the relationship I had with the Asshole, before its terrible demise.

After the act & its conclusion, we were relaxed, tired, comfortable with each other.  Jokes were made about the parallel between his former hockey career & the hat trick he performed that night.

After he left, I collapsed, satisfied, exhausted, into my pillows now caked in sweat, & slept hard through the night, better than I have in months.

A text to Racha before I closed my eyes, “SO.  WORTH.  IT.”

Then I woke this morning in a great mood, a smile on my face, a bounce in my step.  I played hooky from work for a few hours, I needed the rest.  Not much could ruin this good mood for me, not even Nich laughingly telling me he’d read the texts I’d sent & received.  Embarrassment didn’t redden my cheeks, I’m sure I practically glowed from the previous night.  It was exactly what I’d needed, a night of good sex with a beautiful body, after these cold months of loneliness.

I haven’t seen him yet, gone upstairs, or ran into him in the halls of our apartment building.  I’m not horribly rushed to see him, this is the part I hate.  We made a deal not to let it get awkward, but I have no idea whether he’ll keep to it or not.  And although I would not mind repeating the experience, I’m not sure if he’d be interested.  Also, being the young, unassertive guy he is, I’m not sure he’d even tell me if he was interested.  I don’t have much faith that he & I will share a similar relationship as I did with the Asshole, as easy & carefree, able to just call each other up & put out the invitation.

Yet, were we to achieve this level, what would happen if or when Ryan were to actually make good on his promise of a visit?  Would Blond get weird?  Would Ry catch on?

No; Ryan will never know about this, there is no reason for him to know.  We are not together (his choice, not mine), & I’m certain that if he were to do something with someone (if he hasn’t already), he would never tell me.

Blond had wanted to discourage me against a relationship with himself; I felt like telling him, “dearest, there is but one boy with whom I would ever have a relationship, & not even you with your beautiful body are within lightyears of measuring up to him.”

[lumingi]

#HA99Y9THANNIVERSARY

120315 ~ A path of stars that never ends, meaningful in a way only we know. Becoming a source of warmth for us, holding all of the light in the world. These songs and moments are forever ♡

[lorazx]

Shin Megami Tensei V Broke My Heart

(hey! this is an old post i wrote on my medium!)

(This post contains spoilers for Shin Megami Tensei V)

Shin Megami Tensei V was supposed to be my game if the year.

Atlus’ newest numbered entry into the cult classic Shin Megami Tensei series was announced in 2017, and from the first showing of SMTIV:A’s version of Odin in all his vaguely Kamen Rider-esque glory rendered in Unreal 4 made me feel a level of excitement I hadn’t felt for a game in years.

I was ready to tell all my friends about it, to finally have a new game in this series to recommend to friends and strangers who may have been turned off by one of the previous entries or the various spin-offs (especially the Persona series post-3, with it’s long and slow openings before the true action began). It was coming off the heels of an internet that was getting tired of Pokemon, and no other developers were putting out this sort of “Befriending various creatures to take out a great evil” game in the triple A space. It was perfectly timed.

Every year without it was torture. In between the reveal and its release Atlus put out five games under the greater Shin Megami Tensei banner; a remake of the semi-mainline game Shin Megami Tensei Strange Journey for the 3DS and four Persona games. Each new entry reminded me how much I wanted V.

But eventually it was released on November 12th, 2021; two days after my birthday. I was ecstatic. A new Shin Megami Tensei game? On my birthday? It was the perfect gift.

I played all of it down to almost every sidequest. It took 70 hours of tough battles and grinding. I picked my ending, and the credits rolled.The weight of what I had played washed over me.

I hated it.

There are positives, the combat is the standard fare; which means that it’s amazing, although while the essence system allowed for a wide breadth of customization; the specialization system left over from Apocalypse meant that the truly broken stuff (which means the truly fun stuff) was always just out of arms reach because your demon wasn’t “good at fire”. The soundtrack by Ryota Kozuka and Toshiki Konishi masterfully jumps from industrial to EDM to all manner of other genres so deftly that not even the random encounter theme got tiring after the copious amounts of battles you had to got through. It was beautiful, the Switch being pushed to its limits to make the world look appropriately post-apocalyptic and the demons as terrifying, epic or adorable as they possibly could.

But the graphical intensity also made the game run poorly, attacks that would kill multiple enemies would cause the game to freeze or chug for full seconds, or would make enemies or buildings pop in front of you while moving around the overworld.

Said overworld, for all it’s aesthetic brilliance, is a massive pain to move around in with the Nahobino sliding around like they’re on ice. The whole game my Switch felt like it was going to explode, or simply melt into goo if I played for more than twenty minutes. They had to patch a dungeon.

But the biggest disappointment for me was the writing. Shin Megami Tensei V aims to balance the “vibe” based open ended and thematic storytelling of the oft-memed Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne, while also maintaining the character driven plot of that defined Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse (or the Persona series, if you haven’t play IV:A). But while striving for both they failed to achieve either. There’s too much of the characters and “plot” for it to completely rest of vibes and suggestions but the characters and plot is so all threadbare and all over the place that there is nothing to latch on to.The game jumps from a “save your friends at school” to “actually go help the Japanese gods become the ruler of the world” to “Choose your ending” with such little variation that the beginning and the endings might as well not even exist.

Yuzuru, the game’s “Chaos” rep, is a cardboard cut out, who goes from “polite and friendly” to “polite and friendly and only a little upset” if you don’t side with him. His sister appears once at the beginning, then disappears with new demon and other wasted character Konshu to be part of a late game sidequest. Sahori and Tao both die in the aforementioned “save the school” plot with Sahori never coming back, and Tao returning as another character who only appears at the end, then leaves if you pick the one ending she doesn’t like. Aogami, who is this games attempt at IV:A’s Dagda, has a major plot point of trying to rediscover who is he is. You are told by the president of Bethel midway through the game to no fanfare or drama. Aogami isn’t even there. This wasted potential goes on for every major character, sans Dazai, who might be the most interesting take on a Law protagonist in the entire series though it isn’t worth much when he’s surrounded by nothing.

The choices the series is so well known for had basically no effect on the overall plot, there was no pushback for suddenly changing from one alignment to the other at the final choice. Hell, the fact that the ultimate decision of your ending was one choice in the final dungeon almost felt like an insult. It could’ve been so much more, but it wasn’t.

I thought I was dreaming. The game was getting good reviews! And was selling well! It was what I wanted! Why didn’t I like it?

I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for three whole months and I still can’t figure it out. Maybe I had built up too many expectations on in my head that no game could deliver. Maybe the people at Atlus ran out of time, leaving a lot of the plot unfinished just to get it out. Maybe they will release an updated version in a few years. Maybe after years and years of playing games, both from this series and others in the same genre, I have finally stopped wanting to play JRPG’s and have gotten so used to their cliche’s that I can’t find them fun anymore.

I hope that last part isn’t true. I want to be able to get just as excited for any game as I did for this so many years ago, and I hope that no matter how long I wait, the games that come out of it are worth it. And I still hope for more Shin Megami Tensei in the future just entries that are better than this, because I know it can be better.(hey! you can also read this on my medium!

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

So I have no freaking idea how I did it or why y'all are here but I hit 300 followers (and on my birthday?! Wtf is happening?!)! So here is a smooch for every single one of you because you're all amazing and I am incredibly lucky to share internet space with you 🖤

To celebrate here is a list of the fics I've found that just absolutely wrecked me and healed me and made me feel all of the things:

Be Prepared to Bleed by @nocturnal-milk-dud the way Emily writes Ossie so tender and earnest feels incredibly true to his character. And her reader is badass and flawed and very human. I am hopelessly invested in this story.

It's Been You (1 & 2) by @mesmorales the way Mary wrote her Whiskey shook me up. He's caring and wounded and loquacious and so full of love that it makes my heart ache. I have never read a Whiskey fic that actually made me yearn for Jack until I read this. He's so well rounded and an actual character as opposed to a caraciture. I did not expect to love him like this and yet here I am, desperate for part 3.

No More Than a Name for Yearning by @velvetmel0n this fic made me weak. Like fucked up for an entire day, sitting there thinking about my choices kind of weak. The longing, the yearning, the absolutely devastating smut, and then to end it all on those feelings?! Ty has given us A Gift™️

Quivering Flames by @paper-cloud The amount of notes this fic has is criminal. I am legitimately shocked it's not the damn Mando fic bible. The way Matilde uses her words leaves me speechless every time I re-read. There's something so delicate and lovely about this retelling of Eros and Psyche. Her phrasing and the vivid way she weaves it all together is incredible. When I grow up I want to be as talented as she is.

Helter Skelter by @mothandpidgeon when I tell you that I would risk it all for this Ezra I fucking mean it. Yes, he's a cult leader. Yes, he's batshit fucking insane. BUT I LOVE HIM, YOUR HONOR. The nuance in his character is something I think authors rarely achieve and she absolutely nailed it. Cee's characterization is so melancholy and beautiful and I think there's something of her in most young woman. This fic is an all around wild fucking ride.

Bloom by @charnelhouse I had to take several fucking seats after I finished this bad boy. I had to drink an entire gallon of water, touch some grass and just lay tf down and recover. Just...go read it. And take a shower after.

Wednesday by @asta-lily look, I am not feral for Pedro the way most of my friends are. But Frankie? This Frankie? I love him and he is my husband now. Rarely do I read and enjoy fluff but there's just something so pure and comforting about this fic.

So to really mark this whole occasion I've opened up my requests for the first time! I'll write a fluff/smut/angst drabble for any character on my masterlist + Poe, Josiah (In the Dark), Oberyn, Kevin Jimenez, Frank Castle, and Din.

[dasphinxone]

Book of Nile: Werewolf and Witch AU

Alright, yes, I’m late for Halloween. But that also means I used Halloween to discuss an awesome AU where Booker is secretly an werewolf and Nile, his new neighbor in a rural town on the edge of the woods, is secretly a witch. Shoutout to @lady-writes​ @winterequinoxx​ @nevermindirah​ @highlightcity159​ @druidspell​ @rainofdreams29 @ruby-white-rabbit​ and the BoN chat for this amazing brainstorm.

Nile has just graduated from veterinary school after her time in the marines. She’s moved to a rural area in the northeast that’s in need for a vet since the old one plans to eventually retire. Renting a cute little cottage on the edge of the woods, she settles into a quiet life there. 

Nile does her daily runs on the trails through the idyllic woods in the mornings and sometimes at night. She gets to know the townspeople as well. They include  Andy, who runs a law firm in the town. Along with her wife Quynh, who is an interior decorator. Couple Yusuf and Nicolò run the coffeeshop/bakery across the  street from the veterinary practice where Nile works. They get to know Nile first since she swings by the shop every morning for breakfast. Soon, they start inviting Nile to dinner with them. It then eventually expands to dinner with Andy, Quynh and Booker. It’s the first time Nile meets Booker and he reveals he’s also her next-door neighbor. She’s surprised that she hasn’t met him yet. After all, she moved into the the town weeks ago. 

Booker is apparently the only single person among Andy, Quynh, Yusuf and  Nicolò. So Nile suspects the group is trying to set them up to date since they always seat her next to him. Booker’s nice enough (and pretty damn good looking). But he also seems distant towards her. While she’s fine with his company at dinner, there’s not really a huge connection there for her. However, they settle into a steady friendship, especially as she sees more and more of him as a neighbor. 

One night, Booker’s hanging out on his front porch when he catches Nile coming back from a night run. He’s stunned to see her out so late, especially in the woods. He warns her that there’s a lot of dangerous and aggressive wildlife out there that like nocturnal hunts. She waves him off and expresses that she can take care of herself just fine. Especially since she’s an ex-Marine. Booker tries to warn her again, looking worried. Nile again laughs him off and bids him goodnight. 

That’s because unknown to Booker, Nile is secretly a witch. In fact, her family has practiced magic going back generations and even before they survived the Middle Passage. She uses the excuses of her night runs in the woods to cover up the fact that she’s doing magic rituals there. Mostly because her magic is very nature based. In fact, it’s part of the reason why she became a veterinarian; her nature-based magic gives her a healing hand with animals, including wild ones. Other rituals she does are for self-protection, opening pathways, remaining in balance with nature and warding off evil influences that seek to harm in general. That’s all why she’s not particularly scared of the woods.

In the meantime, Nile runs into Booker on her own at the supermarket while she’s running weekend errands in town. He has a whole hot lumberjack aesthetic going on as per usual, with a plaid jacket over a denim shirt, jeans and hiking boots. Nile jokes that he must be having some sort of party at his place that he didn’t bother to invite her to since he’s buying so much red meat and food for a single person Booker insists he’d never be so rude. He just...eats a lot. 

Without warning, he quickly excuses himself and all but flees from Nile. She finds it odd but continues her shopping. When she gets back to her cottage, she finds Booker reading a book and drinking coffee while sitting on his front porch. While he waves hello, he quickly goes inside. Nile is annoyed; as far as she can tell, she didn’t say anything offensive to him. So why in the hell does it seem like he’s avoiding her?

One night later, there’s a full moon. While Nile is aware that wolves are native to the area, she’s surprised at how loud they are that night. Yet the constant howling doesn’t bother her much. If anything, it soothes her to sleep. However, she wakes up the next morning to find holes dug up throughout her backyard, like some sort of dog or wolf has been messing around back there. There’s no damage or blood, so she just fixes up her yard and moves on. 

Over the next few weeks as the autumn gets colder, Nile realizes she’s going to need to start stockpiling wood for her wood stove that helps warm her cottage. She heads back into town where she runs into Booker at the general store. This time, he’s much more friendly with her. 

When she explains that she’s going to have to spend more money than she thought stockpiling wood, he quickly offers to start chopping it for her. She’s taken aback at how quickly he does so. Yet he’s super friendly about it. At the same time, she doesn’t want to take advantage, so she tries to decline. Booker insists that it’s no big deal. He’ll just add whatever surplus of wood he doesn’t need to her pile at the side of her cottage. She won’t even know he’s there. Nile agrees. 

She starts finding herself running into Booker all over town. She also finds out from Yusuf and Nicky that they’ve known Booker for a long time. It turns out he’s a computer coder/programmer who works remotely from home. They also assure her he’s a good guy. At the same time, he can get a little melancholic sometimes and drinks a bit. Mostly because his wife divorced him after she had a string of tragic miscarriages. His wife also missed their native France. She let him keep the house and moved back to France. Last they heard, his ex is happily married to someone else and has kids.  

Nile starts noticing a pattern; Booker is either super friendly with her or oddly distant. Every few weeks, he’ll just disappear and she’ll see no trace of him at his cottage next door. She chalks it up to his depression over his breakup with his wife. While she’s not a therapist, she leaves him little care packages of her baked goods whenever he disappears. He always returns her Tupperware to her after a few days. Though the first time she includes chocolate treats, he politely tells her he’s allergic to them. From then on, Nile avoids giving him chocolate.

Eventually, Booker and Nile grab dinner together and get a bit tipsy. They end up sleeping together and both have a damn good time. Nile notices that Booker is a bit possessive in bed and seems very much into her, in a good way. He’s also super tactile. And really into how she smells. He also doesn’t seem to mind hanging around the next morning and immediately offers to cook Nile breakfast. Everything goes off without a hitch and Nile and Booker soon start sleeping together regularly.

That’s when Nile starts noticing more of Booker’s slightly odd behavior.

He’s always leaving his sweaters and sweatshirts at her place. When she tries to return them, he refuses and insists that she should wear them to keep warm. Whenever he sees her wearing one of them, he gets super excited. He offers to fix things around her house instead of her wasting money on a plumber. He always makes sure her firewood pile is stocked up. He loves taking walks with her in the woods. He’s always offering to cook for her whenever she likes. Especially because he seems to pretty much inhale a ton of food. However, he always makes sure her fridge stays stocked and she never runs out of anything. He’s protective of her but not in an overwhelming way. Nile’s not sure if they’re exclusively dating…but she wouldn’t mind if they were.

Meanwhile over Thanksgiving, Nile’s mother and brother come to visit her. Nile’s mother is still a practicing witch and her teenage brother is a warlock. As he’s not an adult yet, he hasn’t achieved his full power but he’s still able to cast lighter spells and do rituals.

Nile also has Booker over for Thanksgiving dinner since it'll be nice to introduce him to her family. As soon as Nile introduces Booker, her mother and brother immediately raise their eyebrows. For they both realize that Booker is not the human he appears to be.

Nile’s brother tries to tell her something is up with Booker. But she assures him that Booker has been nothing but sweet to her. He gives her space when she wants it. Yet he’s always willing to help her out whenever she needs it. Almost as though he revels being at her beck and call. Besides, Nile’s a powerful witch in her own right and has enough protection spells wound around her.

Her brother explains that he’s not worried about Booker doing anything to her. He’s far more concerned with the trouble he can bring to her doorstep because he’s not what he appears to be. At the same time, Nile’s brother says that it’s not his right to reveal to Nile what Booker is, as he’ll have to do that himself. 

Nile is confused, but takes her brother’s words to heart. She also appreciates how her brother does a protection ritual for her and her cottage before he and her mom leave. Nile's mom also leaves her a ton of fresh ingredients and blessed items for her spells and rituals.

Two days after Nile’s mom and brother leave, there’s a full moon. Which means the wolves howling in the forest are back. Again, it doesn’t bother Nile and soothes her to sleep. 

That is until she’s woken up by noise coming from her front porch. She peers outside her window to find a VERY large wolf-dog looking animal whining and pawing at her door. It’s massive. Yet when it spots her, it doesn’t attack but rather starts nosing at the window, as though it’s trying to get her outside. Nile cautiously opens the door to find the wolf-dog bleeding from a nasty looking wound on its shoulder. The wolf-dog is nearly passed out and is losing blood fast. So Nile gets her veterinarian’s kit and drags the animal into her house.

It never attacks her. Not even when she sedates it. If anything, it’s exhausted but friendly. Sewing up the wound, Nile also casts some spells of healing for the wolf-dog so that it can heal faster. Not wanting to leave a traumatized animal alone, Nile falls asleep in the living room with its head in her lap. She doesn’t worry about a wild animal attacking her due to her own protection spells for herself.

When Nile wakes up the next morning? She finds Booker asleep and curled up with his head in her lap. Completely naked. And with a healed scar in the same exact place on his shoulder where she stitched up the wolf-dog the night before.

Booker quickly explains to a stunned Nile that he’s a werewolf.

In fact, the first time he met her at the dinner Yusuf and Nicolò had, he immediately picked up on how good she smelled. Just an intoxicating blend of spicy, boozy, vanilla, cinnamon and a hint of flowery deliciousness. It was so overwhelming that he mentally freaked out. And it got worse the next time he ran into her at the supermarket. That was because the closer he is to the full moon, the better and stronger she smells to him. It in turn makes him come off as awkward and weird. Mostly due to his general behavior getting more animalistic the closer he gets to the full moon.

He tells Nile that he’ glad she didn’t seem to notice his weird behavior. At the same time, Booker admits he finds it odd that out of the people he’s had a romantic interest in, Nile’s scent overwhelms him the most. Even more so than his ex-wife. Not wanting to scare her away, Booker initially thought a friendship with Nile would be enough to sustain himself. Well, that was until they slept together.

It also turns out that the reason that Booker is so close with Andy, Quynh, Yusuf and Nicky? Well, Andy and Quynh are a werewolf and witch pair, with Andy a werewolf and Quynh a witch. Joe is a warlock to Nicky’s werewolf, forming their pair as well. 

When Booker was bitten by a werewolf, his wife was initially surprisingly accepting of it. They actually ended up moving to the town soon after his first full moon so that he didn’t have to deal with too many people knowing his secret. However, she came to hate him due to going through the trauma of her miscarriages. She blamed the fact that he was no longer human for not being able to have children. Booker blamed himself as well. After his wife left him, Booker never believed that he’d ever find his mate. Well, that was until Nile moved in next door to him. Her scent set off something primal in him that had him attracted to her nearly at first sight. 

Except werewolves Andy and Nicky never got around to explaining to Booker how their witch mates have an attractive smell to them that only they can pick up on. So Booker was going nuts trying to control himself around Nile. He of course didn’t want to be a creep and be all up in her space, scenting her.

The reason Nile smells so wonderful to Booker? He was picking up on her hereditary witchiness. However, he didn’t realize that she was a witch until she stitched him up in wolf form and cast her spells to speed up his healing. He swears he’ll keep her witchiness a secret. Especially since he trusts her to keep him being a werewolf a secret from everyone else outside of the other four.

Nile is stunned by this information. She’s also concerned about him potentially biting her and turning her into a werewolf. Booker is horrified at the concept. He explains:

1.)    Modern, enlightened werewolves do not turn people without their consent. It’s rude as hell.

2.)    Even if he were to non-lethally bite someone in werewolf form, they have to be genetically predispositioned to turning. So not everyone who’s bitten even turns.

3.)    Nile is full of powerful, generational magic flowing through her veins. Plus, her protection spells (which Booker was also picking up on before he realized she was a witch) protect her from getting turned anyway.

Booker being a werewolf also explains how Nile’s mother and brother realized that he wasn’t quite human. Along with Booker basically courting her protective wolf style while in human form. Leaving his sweaters and sweatshirts around her place means she’s constantly wearing his scent. Constantly cooking for her shows he’s a good mate who provides food for his beloved. Fixing up her place on his own, making sure her fridge stays stocked and getting her firewood also shows he’s a good mate who provides the best shelter.

Basically, modern and enlightened werewolves hunt big game during the full moon. Booker does so with his pack of Nicky and Andy. Witch Quynh and warlock Joe will sometimes accompany them because the nights of the full moon are when magic is the strongest. In fact, Booker is surprised that they’ve never run across Nile in the woods on full moon nights.

She explains that due to the wolf howls she’d hear on those nights, she practices her magic at her cottage. Which also explains why wolf Booker showed up on her doorstep when he got injured; the magic spells protecting Nile and her home ensured that he wasn’t there to harm her but actually needed her help.

Basically, Nile and Booker are both adorable dumbasses who didn’t realize each other’s true natures.

When Nile facetimes her mom and brother to let them know she and Booker are not only together but that he’s also a werewolf, the two of them joke that they’re shocked she didn’t realize something was up with Booker. After all, he was all over her and the house when they visited her for Thanksgiving. And in what were clearly wolfy courting rituals. He also was pretty submissive to Nile’s mom and especially her brother. That was clearly a sign of Booker accepting her family. Also, witch and werewolf pairings occur pretty naturally in the mystical world.

So it was no wonder that Booker was literally sniffing around her for months on end before they slept together. His scenting of her also increased afterward. Didn’t Nile realize how much Booker loved it whenever she wore his clothes? Because it meant Nile was voluntarily wearing his own scent and accepted him into her life .

Nile is aghast. Her mother and brother roll their eyes but are happy for the pair of them.

As Nile and Booker settle into their relationship and Nile’s friendships with the other four deepen, things are going well. That is until Merrick and his assistant in Keane suddenly show up into town.

It turns out they’re trophy monster hunters who have heard rumors of witches and werewolves out in the woods. The townspeople immediately find Merrick extremely irritating and Keane scarily aggressive. With Merrick and Keane sniffing around, Andy, Quynh, Yusuf, Nicolò, Booker and Nile are on high alert.

Will they be able to survive Merrick and Keane’s invasion of their little town? And will Booker and Nile’s courtship be able to weather the coming storm?

[everygame]

Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne (Nintendo Switch)

Developed/Published by: Atlus Released: 25/05/2021 Completed: 04/11/2021 Completion: Beat it with the Freedom Ending (although I finished the Fifth Kalpa, so could have went for the True Demon Ending. I just didn’t.) Trophies / Achievements: n/a

First up: this reminds me why I so rarely play Japanese RPGs. This is the first in a very, very long time (the last one I’d count is Valkyria Chronicles II at the tail-end of 2019, and even that isn’t a straight RPG). They just take so bloody long!

Secondly: man, it did make sense to play through Wizardry when I did! It’s amazing how you can see the elements everywhere here, from the spells, buffs and debuffs to the map design which has barely moved on from the grid-basis (even if you move as in a third-person game) with clear squares, pits and teleports.

Anyway. This isn’t my first Shin Megami Rodeo… sort of? I actually beat the first Persona back in the day in its PSP version, although I’ll be completely honest and say I don’t remember too much about it. Well, outside of the fact that even if there are a lot of common elements (dungeon design, the demons, etc.) they’re different enough that Shin Megami Tensei III took a while to click for me but when it did it was a revelation [“it was actually Persona that was localised as Revelations”--Ed.]

You see, Nocturne, and I imagine now the Shin Megami Tensei series is kinda just… Pokemon???

I didn’t get it at first, but what you do in this is you have your main character (the Demi-fiend) and then you have his demon team. He doesn't get to have as many as you would in Pokemon (just 12 at max, at once) but as you go around the world, you want to collect as many as you can to make the best and most capable team.

Initially, this didn’t make sense to me, but then I noticed that each pokemon demon only has a limited amount of skills they learn, and after that, you’re best to just fuse them with another demon, cherry-picking the best skills, to make another demon that you level-up until you fuse that one.

(I believe you didn’t get to pick the inherited skills in the original PS2 release, which sounds like a misery of restarting your PS2 to me.)

It is extremely addictive. There’s a nice aspect in that the game keeps a catalogue of all the demons you’ve ever had (and you can save them as their best versions--if you remember) so there’s not a ton of risk of making up a new demon because you can always get a previous one back. However, that didn’t stop me pouring over my demons trying to work out what the best one to make would be, what the best next evolution would be… which skill to take over which other skill… and so on. For hours.

To be fair, there isn’t really that much else to the game: the narrative is quite scant, the dungeons are quite samey with lots of Wizardry-style “big empty rooms” (and the ones that try to be more interesting with puzzles just got on my tits hard.) The joy is mostly in constructing a murder-team and then using said murder-team to press the advantage via the game’s savvy “press-turn” system (use a attack vs. an enemy’s elemental weakness and score an extra turn) and then use the experience to construct an even better murder team. It’s an enjoyable loop, and it kept me entertained with what the game clock claimed was 55 hours but what Nintendo's end-of-year round-up told me was 89. Can’t really say fairer than that!

Will I ever play it again? There are several endings, but I (essentially) refused them all, and I don’t think I’d take any of them, so I’m happy with my single playthrough. I’ll also happily play another one of these. Lord knows I’ve got all the Personas...

Final Thought: Can’t finish a write-up on this without discussing the “merciful” difficulty. This new version of Nocturne is fantastic in that it lets you choose whenever you like to increase or decrease the difficulty, but initially I was quite disappointed. Nocturne is legendary for difficulty spikes, but in merciful mode encounters are vanishingly rare and all battles--including boss battles--are so easy that you can just leave it on auto-attack and walk through the game. I played about half of this in normal, but I realised that what “merciful” is for is basically to act as a way to “turn off” battles for a while when you can’t be arsed with them, and started to use it for backtracking, or when I was just tired of having to think when smacking enemies in a dungeon (honestly, outside of boss battles, Nocturne is pretty well balanced for people who play the fusion game, but you constantly have to remember weaknesses.) It’s a nice system that works well… as long as you face every boss properly on normal. They’re lovely and challenging and interesting, and even using merciful mode more and more I wasn’t massively over-levelled or anything by the final boss. So my suggestion is… play it that way!

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[sciencespies]

These Conservation Stories Prove 2020 Was Not All Bad News

https://sciencespies.com/nature/these-conservation-stories-prove-2020-was-not-all-bad-news/

These Conservation Stories Prove 2020 Was Not All Bad News

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Dec. 14, 2020, 10:44 a.m.

Without a doubt 2020 will go down in the history books marred with loss in the face of a global pandemic attributed to zoonotic disease spillover from the illegal wildlife trade and a renewed public skepticism of scientific research and data. But quietly dotted throughout the 366 days of this chaotic leap year were a number of important findings and successes that showed that there are reasons to be optimistic for our planet. From new discoveries to indigenous-led protected areas, this year was not without its conservation wins. Here are just a few of the most unique and impactful conservation stories of 2020.

New Lemur and Langur Species Described

The newly described species Microcebus jonahi, a mouse lemur—the smallest primate genus.

(Dominik Schüßler)

Lemurs are considered one of the most endangered animals, with roughly 98 percent of classified species threatened with extinction. Despite their gloomy outlook, lemurs sparked a little bit of hopeful news this year when scientists officially described a new tiny and adorable species—Jonah’s mouse lemur or Microcebus jonahi, named after the respected Malagasy primatologist Professor Jonah Ratsimbazafy.

Researchers first captured this pocket-sized primate during a survey of northeast Madagascar in 2006. Researcher Marina Blanco explained the process of using lights at night to find the nocturnal creatures. “To study mouse lemurs in the wild, our team patiently searched for “eyeshine” through the thick and dense vegetation of the eastern rainforest at night. Occasionally, we could get a quick glimpse of an elusive lemur jumping out of sight. Determined to find out more about their biology, we briefly captured a few mouse lemurs at Mananara National Park. Even after a closer look, we could not put a name on it!”

Describing a new species that doesn’t look all that different from its relatives is no easy task. Scientists have recently improved the way they use genetic analyses along with morphology and other characteristics of closely related species to help decipher taxonomically-relevant differences. “It took years of sample analysis and teamwork to identify these mouse lemurs as a new scientific species. Mouse lemurs are evolutionary and ecologically amazing,” says Blanco. They are one of the most diverse groups of lemurs, with more than 24 species currently described. They occupy every available forest type and habitat in Madagascar. Morphologically, mouse lemurs display incredible genetic variation, indicative of unique evolutionary trajectories. “Thus, mouse lemurs, as species, are generally “microendemics,” restricted to specific forests and specialized in resources that may not be available anywhere else,” says Blanco.

As a result, the team was able to determine that this particular lemur is a separate species based on its distinct genetic makeup and some outward characteristics such as coloration and ear size.

The Popa Langur (Trachypithecus popa), was also described by scientists this year using a similar method. The research team conducted DNA analyses on collected droppings and used the findings in concert with morphological characteristics such as tail length to support a new taxa. Found only in a small region near Mount Popa in Myanmar, conservationists estimate that only about 200 individuals of this species exist.

World Leaders Sign 30 by 2030 Agreement

This habitat protection helps polar bears and the people who rely on the same ecosystem.

(Jason Hillier)

A new protected area in Northern Quebec was announced this November as a next-step in Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s promise to the United Nations to safeguard 30 percent of Canada’s land and water by 2030 and as part of the Canada Nature Fund’s Target 1 Challenge. The $1.4 million project created the Arqvilliit Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area (IPCA) on the Canadian Arctic archipelago, commonly known as the Ottawa Islands in the Hudson Bay. The Inuktitut name for these islands, Arqvilliit, translates to: “a place where you will see bowhead whales.” This is not just a conservation win for arctic fauna such as whales and polar bears.

The permanent protection of IPCA is also a modest climate gain and a prime example of Indigenous engagement in conservation.

“We are in a way blessed to get this project” says Shaomik Inukpuk, the chairman of the steering committee for IPCA, and the town manager for the nearby Northern Village of Inukjuak in Nunavit. “It’s good for the people, it’s good for the polar bears, it’s good for the environment. It’s good for everybody,” he says.

“Now more than ever, Canadians know the value of nature and wild spaces. Our government is committed to conserving 25 percent of Canada’s land and inland waters and 25 percent of Canada’s oceans by 2025, and the Arqvilliit Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area is helping achieve that goal, as well as fighting climate change and halting biodiversity loss. It’s also an important step towards reconciliation with Nunavik Inuit by conserving the polar bear habitat, a species that is significant to Inuit culture and livelihood,” says Jonathan Wilkinson, the Minister of Environment and Climate Change. IPCA will continue to be managed and assessed by Inuit peoples as outlined in the Canadian government’s Indigenous Guardians program.

Indigenous-Led Protection Advances in the Arctic

Pakistan, home of Deosai National Park, is one of the countries whose leaders signed the pledge to protect 30 percent of land and water.

(Waqas Akhtar)

At the onset of 2020, the United Nations Convention on Biological Diversity drafted a framework calling on its international constituents to protect 30 percent of their land and seas by 2030. Many conservation organizations and scientists had proposed this protected area blueprint in previous years. Ahead of September’s United Nations Summit on Biodiversity, 71 world leaders signed the Leaders’ Pledge for Nature—a commitment to adopt the post-2020 global biodiversity framework. Then in October, the Environment Council of the European Union also committed to the target.

The multilateral environmental agreement was met with some skepticism, after all, none of the 2020 Aichi targets agreed upon in 2010 were met. “Every few years, governments gather to make solemn promises about the action they will take to defend the living world, then break them before the ink is dry,” noted the environmental writer George Monbiot. There are also a few considerations, particularly in the area of human rights violations, that this “30 by 30” agreement needs to reconcile. The hope is that the Covid-19 pandemic and its origins in biodiversity loss has finally lit a fire under these leaders to actually follow through on this most recent critical promise for protecting the planet.

Conservation Diversity Goes Viral

One of the Black Birders Week co-founders, Chelsea Connor, uses social media to showcase the valuable work that BIPOC contribute to conservation and encourage others to join STEM fields.

(Chelsea Connor)

The global pandemic and subsequent lockdowns forced many events and campaigns to migrate to digital platforms. One virtual event stood out most of all due to its thoughtful timing and ongoing impact. Amid racial justice movements calling for action following the death of George Floyd and many subsequent atrocities, black and BIPOC conservationists found an opportunity to highlight equality and equity issues in their field while inspiring others.

From their collaborative efforts, the inaugural Black Birders Week took flight on social media. One of the co-founders, Sheriden Alford, explained the idea to Smithsonian’s Earth Optimism: “After the incident involving Christian Cooper surfaced on the internet, a lot of the members in the group [BlackAFinSTEM] identified with the pressures of being black and carrying out our field tasks in a world that marginalizes minorities. We wanted to create a positive initiative…” And they succeeded. The reaction to Black Birders Week was so overwhelmingly positive that it launched additional spotlights on scientists of color across disciplines, including mammalogy, botany, and herpetology.

After the campaign, National Wildlife Federation announced, “#BecauseOfBlackBirdersWeek, the National Wildlife Federation is expanding its Conservation Fellowship & Intern Programs to create opportunities dedicated specifically for young biologists of color (students & recent grads) to help more #BlackBirders launch careers in conservation.”

Black Birders Week sparked many of these long-overdue conversations about the shortcomings of diversity initiatives and how we can all do our part to truly manifest a more equitable future for conservation.

Tasmanian Devils Make a Mainland Comeback

For nearly a decade, the Australian organization Aussie Ark has been working to save the iconic Tasmanian Devil from extinction.

(Aussie Ark)

Tasmanian Devils were eradicated from the Australian mainland some 400 to 3,000 years ago, depending on which paleontologist or natural historian you ask. But this year, the carnivorous marsupial with its devilish scream made a small comeback in the state of New South Wales on the country’s east coast.

For nearly a decade, the Australian organization Aussie Ark has been working to save this iconic creature from extinction. The species suffers rapid population declines in the face of habitat loss and a transmissible type of cancer known as Devil Facial Tumor Disease. Despite new findings that suggest evolution might help the species overcome this disease in the long run, the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species lists Tasmanian Devils as endangered and decreasing. This status hasn’t discouraged Aussie Ark’s efforts to breed in captivity and reintroduce the species. The goal is to reverse the species’ decline permanently. “In 100 years, we are going to be looking back at this day as the day that set in motion the ecological restoration of an entire country,” says Tim Faulkner, President of Aussie Ark.

The first trial release earlier this year reintroduced 15 captive-bred Tasmanian Devils. This September, eleven additional Devils received a red carpet-level release with a little help from the award-winning Australian actor Chris Hemsworth and his wife, Elsa Pataky.

Faulkner adds: “Not only is this the reintroduction of one of Australia’s beloved animals, but of an animal that will engineer the entire environment around it, restoring and rebalancing our forest ecology after centuries of devastation from introduced foxes and cats and other invasive predators. Because of this reintroduction and all of the hard work leading up to it, someday we will see Tasmanian devils living throughout the great eastern forests as they did 3,000 years ago.” More releases are planned to ensure the species’ chances of success.

Honorable Mentions

Here are a few honorable mentions to read more about when you need a healthy dose of optimism in your day.

Scientists rediscovered a chameleon in Madagascar that was last seen 100 years ago.

The swift fox was reintroduced to Northern Montana’s Fort Belknap Reservation.

The Great American Outdoors Act was signed by the president and enacted into law.

A critically endangered smoky mouse that feared lost during bushfires was found alive in a New South Wales national park.

China’s Wildlife Trade Ban was expanded to the consumption of wild animals due to the ongoing Covid-19 crisis

A wild population of New Guinea’s singing dogs, believed to be extinct, were found.

Colorado voted to reintroduce wolves into the Southern Rocky Mountains.

#Nature

[aquilaofarkham]

title: blood moon risen rating: general summary: During a night of insomnia, a young Alucard wanders throughout the castle before learning about the lunar eclipse—or the blood moon—from his mother and father. As an adult, he experiences a similar bout of restlessness and tries to look back on his memories with fondness.

AO3

--

“You don’t have to be afraid—this is your home. It will never harm you.”

The castle doesn’t frighten the boy, not even as he lies in darkness as the distant sound of skittering and fluttering bat wings surround him. His bright eyes are wide open; tiny hands grip the hem of his bed quilt. Shadows slink from wall to wall. It’s been a year since Adrian was given his own bedroom. During those first months, he yearned for the warmth and presence of a loved one sleeping nearby. There was the probability of nightmares plaguing his sleepless nights. Or worse, rogue creatures waiting to snatch him out of his bed. But just as his mother so kindly reminded him, Adrian knows there is nothing to fear.

Still, something keeps the dhampir awake and alert. Bedtime is always hard for a boy of his particular nature. How does someone who belongs to both the day and the night find time for sleep? He wants to be there when the castle comes alive, when its magic and other inhuman inhabitants no longer have to hide from the sun. His mother loves the sun and it loves her in return; the hair she gave to her child shines in its rays like honeyed silk. She also loves a man who scorns the daylight yet adores his sun touched wife.

Adrian is young. There’s still enough time to find that balance so perfectly achieved by his parents. For now, his mother would rather have him asleep and ready for the next day. He closes his eyes only to wait five minutes before they open on their own. He finds little, inconsequential things to pick apart—the blanket is too hot, the room is too cold, the pillow too hard, the bed frame too creaky. Thoughts that anyone would be bothered by but seem far more monumental to a five-year-old who cannot sleep.

A small frustrated whine escapes, about as loud as a mouse’s squeak. The next thought that begins to perturb Adrian is his empty stomach. It’s a long trek down to the kitchen—it’s a long trek walking anywhere within the castle. Too many diverging paths, secret doorways that appear on their own, and things that always appear different when one looks away before turning back. But he’ll have no hope of getting anywhere if he stays in bed.

Throwing the heavy quilt off, Adrian instinctively reaches for one of his closest friends: a black and white wolf stuffed with a plush filling and sewn by hand from the softest fabrics. He has many toys including a wooden sword, some blocks with letters that taught him his alphabet, and another doll with a fuzzy face and green tunic. The wolf is Adrian’s favourite as it’s easier to hug against his chest. With his most trusted companion in hand, he opens the door with a drawn out creak and peeks outside. Candelabras line the stone walls, their individual flames standing tall and still, lighting a hall with no end in sight—only more darkness.

Adrian and his wolf follow the trail of steady fire, entering the darkness. His pace is slow as his two left feet keep tripping over his long nightgown. He carries onwards, corridor after corridor. There’s not a single menacing shadow or sudden noise that can make him retreat back underneath the security of his bed sheets.

Though perhaps there is one thing that can make Adrian stop. He rounds another corner only to hide behind it after catching a glimpse of what awaits him down the hall: two figures, a man and a woman wearing dark colours, illuminated by soft candlelight. One looms over the other like a storm cloud casting itself over a field of golden wheat. Adrian looks closer, keeping himself and the wolf hidden. He notices their smiles as they speak. The towering man lets out a subdued yet genuine laugh before taking the woman’s hand in his claws and kissing it. She returns the gesture by standing on her toes and chastely places her lips upon her suitor’s cheek as best she can. Now ready to continue with their leisurely midnight walk, they remain supposedly unaware of Adrian’s presence. Then the man draped in black and red speaks.

“Do not be alarmed, my love, but I believe we are being watched.”

Dracula’s tone is low, methodical, enough to turn the blood of any mortal man into ice. Yet in his statement, it becomes gentle with a light-heartedness that seems alarmingly uncharacteristic of him. It doesn’t stop Adrian from being frozen to the spot. To think he had the foolish plan of sneaking past them.

“By whom?” Asks Lisa, both of Lupu and now of a castle hold with a mind of its own.

“A certain bat who likes to fly about in the moonlight.”

“Bats are nocturnal by nature, dear. And who isn’t drawn to the moon?”

“But this one seems to prefer gallivanting off on his own well past his bedtime... against the certain wishes of his mother and father.”

There’s no point in using the corner as his hiding spot any longer. He has been caught, time to play fair. Staring down at his feet still obscured by the nightgown, Adrian emerges and bashfully scurries towards his parents. “... I can’t sleep.” Blunt, but truthful.

“Did you have a nightmare? Does being alone in your room frighten you?”

“I’m not scared, but I can’t go to sleep.” Adrian presses the wolf close to his mouth, muffling his words. Lisa kneels down and cups his flustered cheeks.

“You’re just like your father. A little night owl.”

“I’m hungry.”

Lisa looks to her husband; whose regal expression softens with understanding for his son. There are moments when the castle lord can be strict—never cruel—yet as often as possible, he allows his golden eyed dhampir to melt whatever’s left of his dead heart. “Come along. We’ll find something to fill that empty belly of yours. Then it’s straight back to bed with you. Understand, my little bat?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Dracula and Lisa exchange smiles as Adrian toddles between them. Clawed fingertips carefully stroke the top of the boy’s soft head. Like the castle, he doesn’t fear them and neither does Lisa. They never should.

Before reaching the main floor where the kitchen resides, they first make their way down an open corridor guarded by pillars, bridging one area of the castle to the next. A cool breeze passes through the glassless windows. Adrian clings to Lisa’s leg in an attempt to sap up as much warmth as she will give. There are no chandeliers here for the moon has always offered enough light. But there’s something odd about tonight; the only one to notice this is Adrian. His gaze wanders to the skies, settling on what appears to be a large bloody circle splattered upon a dark blanket of stars. He’s never seen the moon so red before. It strikes him with morbid fascination, something Lisa is very familiar with.

“Do you like the moon, Adrian? I like it too.”

“Why does it look like that?”

“It’s the blood moon, or a lunar eclipse.” Answers his father.

“What’s that?”

While Adrian continues to stare in awe, Lisa tries turning scientific explanations into simple terms easily understood by a child. “Do you remember the diagram in one of your books? Of the moon, the planets, and how everything revolves around our sun?”

“Mm-hm.”

“A lunar eclipse occurs when the sun shines on one half of the world while the moon hides itself in the earth’s shadow. This can only happen when the sun, moon, and earth are all aligned.” Lisa gestures with her fingertip, drawing an invisible horizontal line, to further illustrate her brief lesson. “The reason why it looks red is because the sun cannot reach it, thus leaving it in complete darkness. When the moon passes in front of the sun, that’s called a solar eclipse. There’s far more to be discovered in your father’s astronomical tower.”

“I want to see! I want to go to papa’s tower! Can I go see now? Please?”

“Calm yourself, little bat.” Dracula interjects with another pat to Adrian’s head. “I will take you up there myself and we can watch the skies together. But not this night.”

“Okay... I’m sorry.”

Another good-natured laugh from the lord. “No need for apologies. A healthy fascination for the sciences does nothing but good for a growing mind such as yours. You are just like your mother in that regard.”

The hint of a happy expression begins to form on Adrian’s face. Even as they continue downwards, scaling the very spine of their castle, he cannot tear his eyes away from the moon. Revealing its red light every so often through an open window or crevice. In the kitchen, Lisa pours him a cup of milk, pairing it with a small jelly tart. “Only one for tonight,” she chides before Adrian has the chance to ask for a second or third.

He finishes the pastry with haste but drinks down his milk with more thought, as though his mind has gone off somewhere else. “Does the sun miss the moon?”

Lisa and Dracula turn to him with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?” They listen, waiting to hear whatever grand philosophical theory their young scholar has concocted this time. Adrian stumbles with his words at first, thinking them through carefully. They need to sound bigger, older, and more important. 

“When there’s no luh-loon... the sun can still see the moon. And the moon can still see the sun. But when the moon goes into the shadow... they can’t see each other. That’s why the moon gets bloody, because, because it’s hurt and... and lonely. So, when the moon gets out of the shadow, the sun can heal it.”

All eyes are on him. Lisa raises her eyebrows in amazement; Dracula strokes his beard in a contemplative manner. “My boy, I do believe you have just created your own folklore about the moon.”

“F-folk? Lore?” Adrian gulps down the remainder of his milk, leaving a thin line above his upper lip before Lisa cleans it with a handkerchief.

“Folklore are stories that have been passed down for generations. They seek to explain what is supposedly unexplainable. And there are many stories about the blood moon,” she responds.

“Some humans believe they are a sign of the end times or a warning of oncoming change. But we vampires see it as a good omen from the universe itself. After all, it’s when our powers are at their utmost peak.”

“Are the stories true?”

Dracula gives his son a mischievous look. “Not all... but perhaps some. Now remember your promise to go back to bed.”

“Okay! I’ll follow the moon!” Adrian darts out through the kitchen doors with his wolf tucked safely in his arms.

“Not so fast!” Lisa shouts after him. Dracula simply glides close behind them. Seems all that talk about moons and suns coupled with a late-night desert has made the boy more active than ever. But he climbs into bed, letting his mother and father tuck him in. They kiss his head before wishing him pleasant dreams. Adrian makes himself comfortable, happy that his bed no longer feels too hot or too creaky and responds with a goodnight of his own. 

The door closes and shadows surround him once again. His eyes quickly adjust as they observe the room; every book, every toy, even the scraps of drawings littered across his desk. Then there’s the glow of the moon. It hangs just outside his window as though it were looking through, hoping to be let inside.

“Goodnight, blood moon.”

--

It’s difficult to look back on certain memories and regard them as anything else but pleasant. Every time the urge strikes, a strange feeling begins to form at the bottom of Alucard’s stomach. It could be a simple case of nausea passing by and he should rummage through the old medicine cabinets for something that could soothe it. Perhaps it’s guilt. The sense that after what he did—what they both did—any desire for nostalgia is wrong.

He can’t shake it and wandering the castle halls with nothing but a thin night shawl, a fruitless attempt to keep him warm, doesn’t seem to be helping. All it does is remind him of more. More memories of those childhood sleepless nights, more of Lisa slipping him milk and pastries to make him go back to bed. More of a father that once was. Arms cross over in front of his chest, wishing there was something for them to hold other than his own body. 

Alucard stops in the middle of an always familiar corridor and sits in one of its glassless windows. He teeters from side to side, never falling to the ground below. Heavy yet gentle eyes aimlessly drift upwards. There it is again, bright as ever, seeming closer than it actually is. No longer a deep morbid red, no longer crying out in pain for its sun.

“Hello, old friend.”

Out of the silence, Alucard hears footsteps. Followed by an unmistakable voice. “Is everything... alright?”

He turns to Sypha; scars healed, robes repaired, and short hair still tousled. She must not have heard his little greeting to the moon. Alucard forces a smile.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem to need a lot of sleep.”

“I certainly need it, more than the inhuman half of me does. But I’ve always had difficulty sleeping even as a child.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Too many thoughts running through your head as well.”

“You could say that.” Sypha rests her elbows upon the windowsill while the smile on Alucard’s lips grows. Only one day into an unexpected visit that might not last for much longer and out of the castle’s main occupants, she’s made herself more at home than anyone else. It took some time to admit due to sheer awkwardness and fear of intimacy, but Alucard appreciates how much the companionship of two people can ground him. He needs it, especially when that desire for nostalgia tempts him.

“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen it so big before. To be honest, it scared me that night it turned red.”

“I don’t believe you get scared for a moment.”

“Well, I just couldn’t show it to either of you.”

He expected nothing less from her. “In any case, I’ve never thought there to be any fear in looking at the blood moon.”

“Why do you think so?”

“All it does is signify a change—good, or bad, or something in between.”

“Do you think something changed for good that night?”

Alucard could answer that question in a number of ways. He could give Sypha the optimistic response, which might be what she needs to hear. He could be honest and blunt, perhaps to a fault. But before he can open his mouth, another figure in the corridor makes himself known.

“Are you two talking about me?” Trevor joins them by the window, his tunic unbuttoned and untucked. Hair just as tangled as Sypha’s, if not more so.

“Not at this moment. I presume you’re having trouble sleeping as well.” Alucard has been all things from honest to outright rude towards Trevor, yet now his voice takes on a far gentler tone. With every interaction, minor or grand, the walls they’ve built between each other are being broken down stone by stone, word by word. They can feel it, Sypha can feel it, but no one mentions it.

“The moon isn’t making it easier.” Each syllable drawls out from Trevor’s mouth as he wipes the lack of sleep from his eyes. It’s rare to see the Belmont like this, so off guard and vulnerable. Part of Alucard prefers this side of him.

“You don’t like the moon, Trevor?” Inquires Sypha.

“It’s always made me feel uneasy. I blame all the stories and cautionary tales my family taught me.” He pauses, his eyes squinting in the moonlight. “I like stars more than I like the moon.”

A phrase that neither Sypha nor Alucard thought they would ever hear from Trevor; they liken it to his mind being softened by insomnia. A comfortable silence passes between all three.

“Can I offer either of you a drink? Or something small to eat? I find it helps with restlessness.”

Sypha blinks her wide eyes while Trevor stares at Alucard. The night is still long and there’s not much else they can do, nor is there any other place they can go. “That would be nice.”

[charlieottaway]

Ways of Seeing: New York

Expectations vs Reality 

The expectation of New York was daunting. It is a place that appears so familiar yet it’s so alien. I expected to walk down a street I have already walked down before, through film or a video game. However, I can only experience something by being there. Looking at a building or street in a painting and photo does not compare to the real New York atmosphere - I became accustom to. The promise land, America’s home of art. Reading the Great Gatsby has made me feel like I’ve already experienced the buzz surrounding the iconic city, one quote has always remained clear in my mind from reading two years ago.

“The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.” – The Great Gatsby

The beauty of a city full of promise and opportunity, fuelling the American Dream. Many migrants entered the city in hope of becoming rich, they believed in the city to find themselves and become someone they were not. Perhaps this echoes the way I wanted the city to produce a striking image for my art. I wanted to take 1,000 photos to fill a hole I have always wanted an unlimited bank of material for my artwork. Compared to London, the way I saw New York before even being there was incredible. From reading about it, seeing it in art, films and photos. It presents itself as the place to be Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein and Edward Hopper all made themselves there. 

On arrival, in JFK, what struck me most was the fact I was in America. Considering I have only been to Paris and Spain I found it crazy I was in America; it still doesn’t feel like I’ve been there. On the first night I experienced walking around, night-time, Times Square. Strolling along the illuminated street was surreal, however once I’ve looked at it for a couple of minutes I am just staring at the same screens of advertisement for a long time. The experience was something from an episode of Black Mirror. Advertising consumer products, suffocating the eye. The lights hit every part of the street, forecasting unnatural shadows from the false lights everywhere. Effecting every part of the avenue, when I looked away, I was drawn back like a moth to a flame.

The empire State was incredible, but I somehow felt like I had already experienced it before. As I had already been to the top of the Eiffel Tower – although there was a big difference. New York was much denser; the skyline was claustrophobic and condensed. Whenever I have seen London’s skyline it has always appeared spread out.

Brooklyn was very different and perhaps a regret of mine that I never fully experienced it by walking around the famous New York Borough. Even though, I was staying in the heart of Manhattan. Brooklyn felt as if I was in a living environment – it did make me feel more attached to the people of Brooklyn.

Chinatown was another experience I think I will struggle to achieve again. The cultural difference is colossal, we left one street and entered another country. From the Asian market stalls to buildings – Chinatown is an area of New York I am very glad I experienced. It was busy, compact and densely populated. On the same day I visited Soho. The streets were long, clean and the sky was blue. Incredibly, it felt like I was in an American sitcom. Furthermore, it was comparable to parts of London. It wasn’t until I entered the Nike Store, and everyone spoke in American accent - I remembered where I was.

Walking on 49th street was interesting because it was so lit up at 10 in the morning, it felt very Americanised. If I went at night, I could have easily visualised the nocturnal street as a painting. Walking downtown from the northern side of Times Square was bizarre, as I was so used to seeing it pointing

north. I could see a hint of lights in the long distance on 7th avenue. The moment which has stuck with me the most was visiting the 9/11 memorial museum. Walking around was very eery. It was silent, the museum managed to bring people together in a mutual respect. It was very emotional, listening to the witness’s stories and felt very personal – everyone knew someone who was affected by 9//11 and I felt like an intruder listening to their stories.

The last experience was the ferry to see the statue of liberty and it fell flat. I was excepting an impressive towering statue and the iconic skyline to be situated behind, but everything seemed so small. Perhaps the irony is because everything in America was so big, the burgers, milkshakes, skyscrapers, lorries, trucks, roads and cemeteries. To compare them to such an historical landmark is a weird remark and perhaps an American insult but I found myself more taken aback by the size of the lorries, rather than the size of the Statue of Liberty.

New York museums was one of the biggest attractions to New York for me. Along with the skyscrapers dictating the horizon and streets. The galleries and exemplary museums are renowned for holding such prestigious artwork. The first museum was the Met. However, my experience was cut short and felt very rushed. Luckily, I managed to find 3 of Edward Hopper’s artwork and really study them. ‘From William’s Bridge’ was the first piece brought to my attention. The work of art depicts an unembellished façade of four apartment buildings tiptoeing the glimpse of steel (attached to the bridge which gives the piece a name). By just a small hint he has given the still image noise and life. The bridge connects Brooklyn and Manhattan – the image of the 4 apartments buildings is now manipulated by the constant noise of a train flying through. Rocking the lives of those who are so close to perfection. They appear high in the sky without trouble, but the building looses being the main character when I spotted the small figure in all white. Now the sitting buildings just become a home for the isolated figure and it creates sympathy – empathizing her alienation in urban life. Although just walking past the piece, it could become unnoticed in such a large museum the piece carries so much meaning. The shadows are what interested me and made me focus my photos to capture the effect of light and dark in cityscapes. The other two paintings I saw was ‘The Lighthouse at Two Lights’ and ‘Table for Ladies.’ The later coveys an image which I feel Hopper creates beautifully in his artwork, to capture a moment. The painting is of a waitress leaning forward to adjust the vividly painted foods at the window. In my opinion, the action of the waitress could be pulled from any situation, someone at a grocery shop or supermarket. The lady could be anyone but because Hopper paints her in the waitress uniform, she is immediately given this role. At the time he painted this the importance of where Hopper has situated the three different ladies has showcased a social comment. One a waitress, one a cashier and the third as a couple. Although, they appear weary and detached, these two working women hold jobs newly available for female city dwellers outside the home. Before then, if a woman was seen to be dining by herself in public she would have been classed as a prostitute. The paintings ability to create such a symbolic message indicates Hopper’s brilliance and why he is such an adored American Great.

‘From Williamsburg Bridge,’ Edward Hopper, 1982

‘Table for Ladies,’ Edward Hopper, 1930

Two days after the MET, I visited the MoMA and it is easily the best museum I have ever seen. I couldn’t believe I was standing looking at some of the most famous pieces of art. There was a strong influence of American Pop art, consisting of Andy Warhol’s incredibly famous ‘Soup cans,’ Keith Haring’s mural-esque work ‘untitled,’ Roy Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns and Jackson Pollock. Furthermore, I just casually strolled past the likes of Barbra Kruger, Wolf Vostell, Janet Sobel (an influence in Pollock’s work), a whole section dedicated to Picasso and Henri Matisse. I was amazed at finding Frida Kahlo’s self-portrait, as it’s an image which has been used in popular culture so many times as an image for feminism, it was interesting to witness how small it is. The same could be said for Salvador Dali’s ‘Persistence of Memory.’ Seeing Dali’s work was amazing, having seen the image so many times previously I was shocked to find the piece was so small. 

‘Campbells Soup Cans,’ Andy Warhol, 1962

The last room I properly explored included such symbolic artists it is hard to showcase this through words. Firstly, James Ensor’s piece ‘Masks Confronting Death.’ It is a piece of work I would never have expected to have seen, after I studied the artist in GCSE, I grew fascinated by the way he produced his horrifying artwork and to see it in person was amazing. Next to his work was Seurat, Edvard Munch and lastly Vincent Van Gogh. The two pieces of Van Gogh’s artwork was his ‘Portrait of Joseph Roulin’ and ‘Starry Night.’ To see ‘Starry Night’ in person made me speechless, It was so amazing because it was so famous, I have never been obsessed with Van Gogh’s artwork and would rather visit a piece by an artist I actually adore however to see his art was memorable. Considering people race across Europe when an exhibition of his work opens, it was astonishing to see it in the flesh.

‘Masks Confronting Death,’ James Ensor ,1888

In the MoMA I did see another piece by Edward Hopper, ‘New York Movie.’ The Painting was produced in 1939, the same year the first movie was made in colour. The movies during this period was to become engrossed by the whole experience of a cinema. What become apparent is how sparse the cinema is. Hopper’s style is distinctive, as he has managed to use an area which is associated to an emotionally joyful place. Typically, busy and compact, Hopper has reversed the expectation into a deserted and virtually unpopulated space. No one has any interactions, similar to all of his art. The screen is marginalized and ignores the happy experience but emphasizes the isolation to create a melancholy atmosphere.

Viewing Hopper’s work in the flesh is incredibly important for my FMP. His work isn’t as vast as I expected but rather, they appeared small and very rough textured. The paint work is what surprised me the most. It was thickly painted, there was patches of white in certain points where he hadn’t completely covered the canvas. In response to this piece, I wanted to understand a New York cinema and see the changes from Hopper’s painting. Additionally, seeing the artwork made it obvious of the theme focusing on isolation, detachment and capturing a moment. Visiting New York certainly lived up to my expectations, the longer I was there the more I want to come back. Leaving the apartment become a drug, just to catch a glimpse of the New York lifestyle and experience.

‘Tables for Ladies,’ Edward Hopper, 1931

[inexpensiveprogress]

Paul Nash at Avebury

Avebury is a Neolithic henge monument containing three stone circles. The Village of Avebury in Wiltshire was built around them and now bisect the circle with a High Street. Avebury contains the largest megalithic stone circle in the world. Constructed over several hundred years in the Third Millennium BC, during the Neolithic, or New Stone Age, the monument comprises a large henge (a bank and a ditch) with a large outer stone circle and two separate smaller stone circles situated inside the centre of the monument.

 Paul Nash - Avebury, 1936

When England was converted to Christianity, Avebury was considered a non-Christian monument. At some point in the early 14th century, villagers began to demolish the monument by pulling down the large standing stones and burying them in ready-dug pits at the side. During the toppling of the stones, one of them (which was 3 metres tall and weighed 13 tons), collapsed on top of one of the men pulling it down, fracturing his pelvis and breaking his neck, crushing him to death. Trapped in the hole that had been dug for the falling stone he was found by archaeologists in 1938. They found that he had been carrying a leather pouch, in which was found three silver coins dated to around 1320–25, as well as a pair of iron scissors and a lancet. 

In the latter part of the 17th and then the 18th centuries, destruction at Avebury reached its peak. The majority of the standing stones that had been a part of the monument for thousands of years were smashed up to be used as building material for the local area. This was achieved in a method that involved lighting a fire to heat the sarsen, then pouring cold water on it to create weaknesses in the rock, and finally smashing at these weak points with a sledgehammer.

In the 1920s Marconi wanted to build a radio station on the hills above Avebury and the Air Ministry wanted to close Wayland Smithy area with standing stones as a bombing range in the 1930s . †

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Personage, 1933

In July 1933 the ailing Nash went on holiday to Marlborough with his friend Ruth Clark. From there they made a day trip to nearby Avebury. ‡

 Paul Nash - Avebury Stone (Double Exposure), 1933

The epiphany that Paul Nash had to use he standing stones artistically, seems to have come with an interest in the Neolithic period in publishing with the British Public. It is an era where Paganism has become popular, as many alternative religions did after the First World War. In trying to make sense of the carnage and brutality of the War the public looked for ancient wisdom and this maybe why we have to tolerate people smothering themselves over Stonehenge every solstice.

In these paintings and photographs Nash was also documenting an interest that other artists such as Henry Moore had in the primitive. Moore looked towards early Peruvian pottery and flints for organic shapes and old works made by early man. These monuments are the few examples of art that survive. Even in the medieval period the only arts to survive in Britain of the common man would be the carvings of bench-ends in churches, pottery or other folk art.

 Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths, 1934

Margaret Nash said this was Paul’s first painting of the Avebury stones, which he saw in August 1933. Nash himself gave the following description of Avebury in ‘Picture History’ The preoccupation of the stones has always been a separate pursuit and interest aside from that of object personages. My interest began with the discovery of Avebury megaliths when I was staying at Marlborough in the Summer of 1933. The great stones were then in their wild state, so to speak. Some were half covered by the grass, others stood up in the cornfields were entangled and overgrown in the copses, some were buried under the turf. But they were always wonderful and disquieting, and, as I saw them then, I shall always remember them . . .   Their colouring and pattern, their patina of golden lichen, all enhanced their strange forms and mystical significance. Thereafter, I hunted stones, by the seashore, on the downs, in the furrows. ♣

 Paul Nash - The Nest of Wild Stones, 1937

I found my first nest of wild stones on looking closely into a drawing I had made of some bleached objects on the Swanage Downs. It lay just below the level of my consciousness, slightly out of focus. But there was no mistaking its lineaments a moment later when I moved the dry thoughts to one side. ♠

Below Paul Nash writes of the effect of Avebury on his work. That he wasn’t only painting the stones themselves but placing ordinary stones he found in a picture as if they were large monuments. 

In most instances, the pictures coming out of this preoccupation were concerned with stones seen solely as objects in relation to the landscape. But later certain stone personages evolved, such as the stone birds in the ‘Nest of Wild Stones’ and the more ‘abstract’ forms in ‘Encounter in the Afternoon’. ♣

Many of these works may be down to another external influence, Eileen Agar. Nash had met and fallen in love with Agar, who was a surrealist artist and using stones and found objects in her works around the same time.

 Paul Nash - Photograph of Stones in his Studio, 1936

 Paul Nash - Encounter in the Afternoon, 1936

 Paul Nash - Landscape of Bleached Objects, 1934

 Paul Nash - Circle Of The Monoliths, 1937-8 

In the painting above (Circle of the Monoliths) is the stepped hill what is likely Silbury Hill. The construction of the hill in the Late Neolithic period was originally stepped, then filled in. Silbury Hill is very close to Avebury.

When the artist Paul Nash first visited Avebury in 1933 he was amazed by the scale of Silbury Hill and by the ancient circle of megaliths, the great glacial boulders that had been dragged from the Downs in prehistoric times. ♥

 Paul Nash - Silbury Hill, 1938

 Paul Nash - Silbury Hill, c1937

All Nash’s other statements about Avebury and stones are much more direct, it is almost as if he contrived to intellectualise his ideas simply to be provocative, but in face the Landscape of the Megaliths Nash does resolve the equation. The picture shows the adventure of stones receding away from the spectator, in the foreground in the convolvulus curls round a snake which rises upwards. ♦

 Paul Nash - Avebury Stone, 1933

The stones at Avebury come up again when Nash was asked to illustrate a cover to the magazine Countrygoing. Though I think it was commissioned in 1938 it was published in 1945.

 A Paul Nash Cover to Countrygoing, 1945

 Paul Nash - Circle Of The Monoliths, 1937-8

Above is the finished painting of Circle Of The Monoliths. Below is the study for the work that was found painted on the back of The Two Serpents c 1937.

 Paul Nash - Circle of the Monoliths, 1937-1938

Nash’s abstraction of stones in the 1930s went on with his distortions of landscapes, found stones and the real Neolithic stones. In we see Mên-an-Tol and the stone ring there placed in the top right corner in front of more found stones. To the right is a grid that can only be echoing Encounter in the Afternoon and Circle Of The Monoliths.

 Paul Nash - Nocturnal Landscape, 1938

Below we see the same Avebury stone used on the cover to Countrygoing with the wedge shaped cut in the side.

 Paul Nash - Druid Landscape, 1938

Initially, using a No.1A pocket Kodak series 2 camera, Nash captured images so that he could refer to them in the creation of his paintings. Increasingly, however, he saw his photographs, not as aids or sketches, but as artworks in their own right.

Here Nash depicts one of the Avebury Sentinels, and his choice of subject matter is characteristic. Nash was always interested in landscapes and aspects of the natural world, not for their historical or aesthetic interest per se, but more because he thought that certain places as he called them (see Biography) had about them a mystical importance, a genius loci; which lent the place, the stone, the tree, an importance which transcended its apparent properties. As he wrote there are places whose relationship of parts creates a mystery, an enchantment. It is this mystery, this enchantment, which Nash tries to capture in his photographs. ◊

  Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1933

Some of the quote below may be a repeat of what has been read about Nash, but I featured it for the Convolvulus park that features in Landscape of the Megaliths. In the background of the watercolour and lithograph below are two hills, both likely to be a Neolithic Sidbury Hill and how it looks today. 

Last summer I walked in a field near Avebury where two rough monoliths stand up … miraculously patterned with black and orange lichen, remnants of the avenue of stones which led to the Great Circle. In the hedge, at hand, the white trumpet of a convolvulus turns from its spiral stem, following the sun. In my art I would solve such an equation Paul Nash, “Contribution to Unit One”, in Andrew Causey (ed.), Paul Nash: Writings on Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 107–110.

 Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths - Watercolour, 1937

Some time ago I made a blog post on Paul Nash and the process of colour layers used to make the lithograph below. 

 Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths - Lithograph, 1937

The photographs below are dated 1942 by the Tate. I don’t know is Nash went back to Avebury or if they are catalogued wrongly. But I thought it was worth including them with the car by the roadside. 

 Paul Nash - Avebury, 1942

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1942

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1942

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1944

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1944

 Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1944

 Paul Nash - Avebury, 1944

† Joanne Parker - Written on Stone: The Cultural Reception of British Prehistoric, 2009   ‡ David Boyd Haycock - Paul Nash, p54, 2002 ♠ Andrew Causey - Paul Nash: Writings on Art - Page 142 ♣ Paul Nash - Paintings and Watercolours Exhibition Catalogue, Tate, 1975 ♥ Julius Bryant - The English Grand Tour, p16, 2005 ♦ Paul Nash, Places, South Bank Centre, 1989 ◊ Art Republic

[heliotrope-journey]

Good evening, vampire hunters.

As you may have seen on my latest Instagram post, a leprechaun with sickly green skin was spotted next to a preview of the four-leaf clover patch that has been released on my Society6 store yesterday. “What’s the matter with it? Is it sick?”, some of you may be asking. While this leprechaun isn’t under the weather per se (I was last weekend because I had the flu and that experience partially inspired the appearance of this creature. Good grief. >_<), its monstrous appearance is the result of excessive acquisition of black magic. In other words, the leprechaun along with its fellow brothers and sisters living in present-day Ireland, were once humans that had hunted magical creatures down like game back in the late 1100s when the British invaded the land.

https://society6.com/product/lucky-mountain-clovers_carry-all-pouch

So let me explain to you how magic works in Heliotrope Journey’s lore;

Anyone, mortal or not, can acquire the ability to manipulate aspects of the world as they see fit. They don’t have to be born in the magical sector to achieve it. All that it takes is the careful observation of one’s environment. Many have subconsciously failed to do so because they preferred to stay in their comfort zones and quietly refuse to take risks. The reoccurring witch trials and continuous persecution throughout world history have also damaged any chances of curious mortals to come across a mysterious otherworldly artifact and get lucky. Or randomly receive a letter of acceptance from an isolated wizarding school’s admissions office. Life is full of surprises either way, right?

Magic is distinguished into two types; white and black. White magic is acquired when a mortal is given a deity’s blessing. It is often recognized for its passive spells such as healing abilities, communicating with animals, growing crops with the flick of one’s finger or wand, change one’s hair color like a photograph’s hue in Photoshop, and conjure up powerful shields to defend their allies from harm in combat. For example, a mortal that had been given Apollo’s blessing can conjure up palm-sized suns to supplement their light-based sorcery without relying on the sun. He or she may also have increased attention to detail and can likely become an excellent healer. The first magic practitioners that came into existence were obviously the gods and over the years, their half-mortal children such as Heracles have inherited a portion of their power. The demigods then passed it on to their children and so on. This enormous ancient family tree reveals that white magic is hereditary.

Black magic is acquired when a mortal commits a crime against nature. A common act that constitutes as such is the killing of a magical creature. Black magic can also be acquired when a mortal is enrolled in The Scholomance, an underground wizarding school in Transylvania that is notorious for siring vampirism. However, the process is much longer and can increase the target’s vulnerability to sunlight. Black magic is recognized for its combative elemental spells, necromancy, draining a victim’s life force to extend the caster’s own, summon a demonic entity from the netherworld to gain an unfair advantage in battle, and manipulate the weather to apocalyptic levels. For example, if a mortal was lucky enough to slay a minotaur, he or she would gain super strength at the cost of becoming prone to going uncontrollably ballistic. One must be extremely considerate with black magic because if we can take away how the leprechauns were born during the Middle Ages, it’s that obtaining too much can result in a mortal becoming bestial in appearance and their human emotions will gradually recede. The changes to their bodies vary depending on the magical creature they have killed and whether they’ve attended The Scholomance or not. Black magic is not hereditary compared to its white counterpart, but the leprechauns’ ancestors trifled with black magic so severely that the physical and psychological changes inflicted in the process have cursed their descendants as well. Black magic is overall a punishment for the death of an extraordinary and innocent animal.

Michaela is a well-known individual who is no stranger to black magic but she is not power-hungry. She had acquired elemental powers from eight magical creatures she had slain during her travels as a young woman. Why her appearance and personality have not been altered drastically as a result is because eight is a relatively small number compared to the amount of slain magical creatures that gave the leprechauns their present forms. In addition, Michaela’s incorruptible moral code and strong-willed attitude gave her the willpower to forcibly reject additional incoming energy from other creatures she had killed either because her life was threatened or she was trying to protect Einsam from getting captured. On top of that, every vampire hunter that sparred with Vlad the Impaler and the Veiled Nocturne throughout history possessed some degree of black magic despite claiming they were good men and women that seek justice. Although it sounds like they are hypocrites for doing so, the truth is that their abilities do not make them good or evil. It is their choices alone that decide where they stand in this never-ending battle. It causes the subject regarding black magic to fall under a gray area.

Speaking of magic, Advarsky, an independent game developer our team is currently partnered with, has been tasked with designing some of the new monsters for the third pilot episode, including the titular boss. Please do take a closer look at these monstrous amphibians because they will be encountered over the course of the installment. Plus, Advarsky has been doing an amazing job with the artwork and he’s been a real lifesaver due to my busy schedule with the development process and IRL. ^_^

Sincerely,

WN