#for clarity these are all English localizations

[bdslab]

Seeing folks be outraged about different name changes makes me wonder what folks think is the worst overall, also I’m focusing on main characters here.

Also Bonus mention: Tintin (jeune reporter) -> Tintin (French boy). The name isn’t changed, just the title (apparently he lost his job and moved to a new country in that translation).

THIS IS A BD POLL!! It is for comics originally in the French Language (with weird wiggle room for other eurocomics that get published in French first but may be written in another language)!!! Anime, manga, and video game localizations do NOT count for the “other” category.

If you do not read BDs and want to vote, please just use vibes. All these names are ridiculous as it is.

[bouncybongfairy]

Trick or Treat?

Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle x Fem Reader

Summary: You and Jaime have been in the same classes for a while. Casually talking, mainly due to working on class presentations together. However, it'd be a lie if you said you'd never had romantic or puppy love feelings about him. On Halloween, he asks if you accompany him to a local pumpkin patch for the night.

Word Count: 2.0k+

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Completely burned out, you continued to type away at your computer. It was Halloween and even though you didn’t have plans, you still wanted to have all your homework done. Nothing worse than being 3 shots in and realizing you have neglected your essay due in a couple of hours. Barely being able to keep your eyes open, you look away and rub the sleepiness out of your eyes. When you looked up Jaime was walking up to you. He was in your English class and surprised you with how interpretive and talented he was as a writer. Most guys don’t have much to say while discussing books like Bodega Dreams and articles like ‘Why so much aggression online these days’. Jaime was able to express his opinions and synopsis of the literature with such clarity that it made it impossible not to pay attention to him. You suddenly became insecure about your lazy day attire but before you could do anything to fix yourself up, he was at your table handing you a Starbucks cup. You were surprised that he actually got your order. 

“Aww thank you, how did you know what my order is though?” you asked, bringing the cup to your lips. 

“You come into class with it every time, I pay attention,” he said sitting across from you. You closed your laptop to show that you were interested in talking with him. 

“So uh, there’s this Pumpkin Patch that’s gonna have live music, food trucks, haunted houses and stuff and well- I don’t know if you have plans or anything but maybe I could take you tonight?” he asked, you could tell he was a bit nervous about asking which flattered you. 

“Yeah, that sounds really fun. Should I like, meet you there or..?” you asked. 

“Oh I’ll pick you up, maybe around 4? Do you still have my phone number from where we did that presentation together?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll text you my dorm number when I’m ready,” you said, starting to stack up your books and papers. 

“Cool, I’ll see you then,” he said, sliding off his chair and walking out. 

Now you were wide awake, anticipation starting to bubble in your stomach. The fact that he paid attention to you in any capacity made you gitty. After packing all your things into your bag, you head to the dorms. It was already 2 so you were in a hurry to get ready. Luckily your roommate was gone visiting family for the weekend so you had the entire room to yourself. You jumped in the shower and stayed in until you were seriously at risk of passing out. Quickly drying off so that you can start your make-up. It wasn’t until you were halfway done with your makeup that you realized you’d never asked if he was going to wear a costume. Pulling your phone from the charger you send him a quick text asking about the attire. He texted you back pretty quickly, saying that he was wearing a costume but it was a surprise. This made you laugh and happy because this meant you could wear the fairy costume you had from last year. You put it on and inspected yourself in the mirror. It was a blue sparkly dress, the midsection was a corset that was tied with a ribbon. The top of the dress was like a tube top but had ribbon that acted as spaghetti straps. It had long sleeves but they were attached to the sides of the dress, the material was sparkly and slightly itchy but not unbearably so. You parted your hair down the middle and did two sleek, slicked-back low ponytails which you braided. You added low-rise black vans, knowing you were going to a pumpkin patch and wanted to be comfortable. It was going to be pretty cold, so you made sure to wear a pair of sheer black tights. You texted him that you were ready and you both agreed to meet outside your dorm. As you walked towards the exit the feelings of nervousness were starting to eat at you. You tried your best to push those feelings to the back of your mind. Reassuring yourself by telling yourself he wouldn’t have asked you to go out if he didn’t like you. You pushed the big steel doors open and smiled when you saw Jaime sitting in a big blue truck. He was smiling and waved at you before hopping out. You were confused as to why he got out at first but then he opened the passenger side door for you. The truck was pretty high so he helped you climb in. 

“Hey! I thought you said you were gonna ‘surprise’ me with a costume, you’re not wearing one,” you said in a playfully accusatory tone. 

“That was the surprise,” he said laughing. 

The ride there was pretty short, and was most full of small talk about class and different peers that were.. Interesting to say the least. Or teachers that you guys both thought were on power trips while they taught. Eventually, the conversations started to get a bit more personal, he started telling you about his family. Specifically his sister because Halloween is her favorite holiday and always went full out with her costumes. Once you got to the pumpkin patch, you both commented on how crowded it was. After doing the impossible task of finding parking, you guys made your way to the entrance. Watching little kids bubbling with excitement in their costumes, 

“They’re so cute, you can tell they’ve been waiting for this day forever,” you said watching two little girls hold hands, running to the line for facepaint. 

“I know, don’t you miss when our priorities were so frivolous and innocent?”  he asked, looking over at you. 

“I think everyone does, I remember one year I wanted to be Mavis from Hotel Transylvania for Halloween and my mom ordered the striped tights because we couldn’t find them in stores. The day before Halloween I snuck them into school because I just couldn’t wait to wear them but I fell and ripped both knees on them. I was hysterical obviously and they called my mom. She was so mad, she told me: well you’re just gonna have to wear them backward, I don’t know what to tell you. When my dad saw how upset I was, he took me to three different stores until we found some,” after you finished your story you both burst out into laughter which led to his own reminiscing, 

“One time, my mom had bought me a Spider-Man costume and I wanted to go but the only time she could go shopping for it was on her lunch break. So when I got home from school, she told me to try it on and show everyone. You know how Spider-Man's costume is like a onesie? Well, my mom bought it too tight so it was literally up my ass crack. When I showed everyone they all started laughing but my dad got one of my jackets and tied it around my waist and reassured me that you couldn’t tell and I ended up getting over it,” he said. 

“Oh my god, sorry I don’t mean to laugh because that’s fucked up,” you said using your hand to cover your smirk.

“No it’s okay. Obviously, it’s funny when you get older,” he said. 

After that conversation, the ice felt truly broken and both of you were getting more comfortable in each other’s presence. The first thing you guys did was check out the food trucks and decide on getting a fried caramel apple. As you guys shared that, you walked around the corn maze. You were really surprised by how big it was, if it weren’t for Jaime, you would have been trying to find a way out all night. Once you guys found the exit, you made your way to the stage where a couple of bands were playing indie music. It was really nice, you were admiring the vibe and how nice the date was going. There was a pumpkin carving contest that you guys joined, you both didn’t really care about the contest, more so playing around with each other while carving. Jaime kept putting little pieces of guts on you which caused you to do the same in return. It was a simple jack o'lantern face design but you guys took more effort in carving out your names and little doodles. You asked him if you guys could take a picture together which he agreed to. Instead of doing some stupid hand gesture or making a serious face at the camera, he just smiled really big. This really warmed your heart, it was like his smile was contagious. In the picture, he leaned over to kiss your cheek, which made you blush so hard, that you thought your makeup might melt off. 

“I know this is the first time we’ve ever really hung out officially like this, but I'm really happy you asked me. Writing and English is like, my thing and normally young men aren’t very outspoken about emotional interpretation but you are just… amazing with your words and I really admire that about you,” you said as you were waiting in line for one of the food trucks. 

“Do you really think I’m that… articulated?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“Oh my god yeah, this one time we were working on a project about anti-homeless architecture and you scheduled an interview with a former homeless woman and her children. Most students would never go through so much work just to get reliable information. The fact that you not only go the extra mile but also do such an amazing job at telling their stories is something I wish I could do,” you admit.

“That’s actually really nice to hear, I always thought English wasn’t my best subject. I always thought that about you. You’re so good at engaging the class and having them in the palm of your hand. The way you always make eye contact with everyone at least once, I wish I could do that,” he said, ironically he was making direct eye contact with you. His eyes were chocolate brown and seemed to catch all of the light. 

“Well you’re kinda doing that right now,” you said, moving a piece of his hair that was covering his eye. 

After getting Chinese to-go, you ended up driving to the top of a hill to watch the skyline as you ate. You guys were sitting on the bed of the truck, handing the styrofoam container back and forth. It was really nice, cold enough to keep each other close but not enough to be uncomfortable. He put music on his phone as you sat in comfortable silence, which he ended up breaking after a while. 

“Remember how I told you my costume was a surprise?” he asked out of nowhere, it was so out of the blue that you laughed before replying. 

“Uhh yeah? Why?” you asked. 

“Well, can I show you the actual surprise?” he said before continuing, “But we have to stand up,” he said which you thought was weird but allowed him to help you down from the lifted truck bed. He instructed you to cover your eyes which led to you becoming suspicious. 

“I  swear to god if I open my eyes and you’re naked I will literally ghost you and tell everyone I know that you’re a fucking creep,” you said. 

“First of all, I’m insulted that you’d think I would do something like that and secondly, you can look now,” he said. 

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by glowing yellow eyes and the blue material of his costume. The antennas that were so life-like they looked like they were moving with his breathing. Honestly, he looked really intimidating and you’re pretty sure he picked up on that. As you were backing away with wide eyes he was slowly walking closer, holding his hands up to show that he meant no harm. 

“What, is this just a costume or something?” you asked. 

“No! I just felt close enough that I could share this part of me with you,” he said, removing his mask so that you could see his face. 

“Honestly until I see you flying around the sky like Superman or something, I won’t believe it,” before you could even respond, he took you from under his arms and shot himself into the sky while you were in his arms. You buried your arms in his shoulder, in shock and scared of the sudden take-off. He was trying to get you to lift your head but you were stubborn and didn’t want to uncover your eyes. Once he finally was able to get you to look out, you were amazed by what you saw. You guys were so high, the moon looked closer to you the ground. The entire city was twinkling and sparkling in such a magical way. Every now and then you could see a couple of fireworks going off. People who were partying at a glow-in-the-dark rave. 

“And she was a fairy,” Jaime said referring to the TikTok sound and your costume which made you both break out into laughter over the night sky.

[fatehbaz]

Whither the man-eater? This entity was once the prime interest of an entire league of famous sportsmen in colonial India, the engrossing content of many books [...]. [T]he man-eater was first constructed, and then dismantled [...]. This erratic rise and fall of the man-eater is descriptive of changing power relations, the ephemeral yet pervasive axis between the colonial and the post-colonial [...].

---

Jim Corbett was a case in point. [Around the time of independence, Corbett authored popular stories of his adventures in colonial India in the preceding decades, including Man-Eaters of Kumaon and The Man-Eating Leopard of Rudraprayag]. [...]

The man-eater was destined [...] to shine in all its ferocity at a certain moment in time and not any other.

Thus, [there is special] context within which specific 'meanings' get associated with animals, at certain times, and at the the hands of select actors [...].

[T]he engulfing realm of the printed word, especially the English book, gave astounding shape and clarity to the idea of a man-eater. [...] The man-eater was never thought of as a sub-species of Panthera tigris in the tables of natural history; rather the man-eater [...] was ‘out of nature’, and thus some kind of an addendum to naturalist understandings. [...] The making of the man-eater into a coherent animal category follows an arduous path. [...] [M]otor cars and other gadgets such as hunting lights had arrived on the scene. [...] [A British officer] who had served in the Central Provinces for quite a while after [1909] [...], commented [..] ‘With modern inventions it would be quite easy to be playing cards in the tent [,] and when the tiger turns up, kill him by pressing a button on a tent wall.’ [His] exasperation was evident [among] [...] [s]portsmen in the 1920s and 1930s [...]. [A] single species splits into undefeatable man-eaters and gentlemanly tigers worthy of observation alone. [...] Amid such lesser sportsmen the man-eater thus became a tactic of power which elevated its [colonial] victor over both the hunters of the past and contemporaries of the present. [...] But it is truly a question if this muzzle-loading gun in the hands of the native [...]. The implication was that sportsmen had a fairer sense of restrictions than the non-sporting classes. With the latter classes gaining political mobility, fears of an 1857-like massacre were also in the air. [...] [B]y the 1930s [...] a host of sportsmen [...] might have preferred to see natives handling a rickety muzzle-loader than an elegant express rifle; the man-eater was intended to remain at large for those ["superior" colonial sportsmen] in possession of the latter. [...]

---

This development of a sportsman into an author can be located within a history of the book. [...] The English novel as a genre [...] began to acquire greater circulation after [...] 1870. [...] [A] book on which the sportsman laboured was like a trophy [...]. For all such ongoing fuss about size [records], a man-eater was more about qualities: cunning, finesse, stealth [...]. If the difficulty of hunting a man-eater was what gave the sportsman a chance to prove the superiority of his skill [...], then this difficulty was the stuff of a story, not a [size] measurement or a mounted trophy. And [...] an aspect of photography. [...] It authenticated the effort of a sportsman and could not be bought of the market [taxidermy trophies available to simply purchase at local shops] except through a book that bore the author’s name. [...]

---

There were dimensions of imagination and power that accompanied this. The idea of a man-eater was such that it helped advance the long held belief that the natives were a hapless lot. [...] Pandian [...] shares how the man-eaters of the colonial period were equated with the ‘arbitrary monarchs’ of a pre-colonial era, which also the British sportsman as a symbol of ‘sovereign might’, would meet on its own grounds. [...] [Consider also] the manner in which the simultaneous depiction of the remaining tigers as ‘large hearted gentlem[e]n’ of the forests (a thing Corbett professed) went to convey the contrary image of a docile, tame and innocent nature that could come to be harmed by natives at the slightest instance.

Protecting the people gave the colonisers power over animals, and protecting animals gave it a power over people.

Notions of animality and criminality intersected at the site of the man-eater.

The entire continuum of man-animal relations was thus canvassed through this tactic, which also the medium of the book in the later colonial periods broadcasted to distant corners of the colony. [...] What perhaps distinguished the man-eater from any ordinary form of game hunting was that it was additionally a form of ‘language-game’. [...] [T]he man-eater was an account in which the ephemeral idea of an ‘India’ glimmered constantly in the background. But it did so largely in English. The man-eater was an English diatribe [...]. The side by side portrayal of the victims of the man-eater as ‘superstitious’, ‘rural’ and ‘ignorant’, only went to establish before the (civilised) readers the proof of an (uncivilised) mass waiting to be salvaged, assimilated or disciplined. [...] [A] mild perusal of Corbett’s My India, published about five years after India’s gaining of Independence, provides ample evidence of the above dynamic. The eventual autonomy of the British administration besides a celebration of the decision making capacities of rural masses (described as ‘real’ Indians) is legend in the pages of this book. The political reality of colonial rule is conflated with a nationalistic pride, which also the sportsman allocates to himself in the describing of his (my?) India. One is left to understand that the man-eater thrived at its best in a colonised India as much as an Indianised colony. As the tension between an emerging nation and an erstwhile colony acquired sharpness in the later colonial periods and a decade thereafter, the narrative of the man-eater came into its own.

The man-eater is thus a veritable creature of timing that shone at its brightest in the 1940s, even if it had been shot down 30 years ago by the likes of Corbett. [...] [Later in the twentieth century, there was a] transformation of the landscape from a designated ‘wasteland’ under colonial administration to a ‘World Heritage Site’ in Independent India. At the peak of such transitions in the 1970s [...], the tiger itself was assuming cosmopolitan proportions and being regarded as a ‘citizen’ by the state. [...] [This was an] emergence of [...] a 'cosmopolitan tiger' [...].

---

All text above by: Varun Sharma. "Rise and Fall of the 'Man-eater': The Changing Science and Technology of a Species (1860-present)". History and Sociology of South Asia Volume 10 (2016), Issue 1. First published online 8 December 2015. At: doi dot org slash 10.1177/2230807515600087 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text in the first paragraph of this post is from the article's abstract. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 10: Every Rule

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 7401

Summary: Firefly takes some time for clarity and understanding about everything and everyone, including the role she plays in Dave's life and the one he plays in hers.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy...and while it absolutely 100% includes Dave, is very focused on reader and her feelings for and about him. Angst. Religious symbolism. Angst. Violence. Angst. PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, riding, mild restraints, creampie. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: Thanks to all my babes who encourage me to continue writing even though it can be fucking hard and so personal especially when you put your heart and soul into each character. Also, if you are familiar with the Equalizer trilogy then you will know and understand some of this.

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

“Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine whether it is acknowledged or not.”—Henry Miller 

In the morning you awoke with a start, reaching for an alarm clock that didn’t sound, for a body that wasn’t there. Morning light whispered through the paper-thin curtains, shining on the bare stone wall. Working together with the gentle breeze from outside, a slow sense of calm began to hold you. Seabirds and salt air surrounded you as you opened a window—a wooden shutter with three slats crooked, broken, and beautiful, the only barrier to a rectangle shaped hole in the stone.

Slow and easy, sometimes boring—those were your mornings since you had arrived. You stumbled through the first few days like an infant taking its first steps. No electronics, no real connection to the outside world, relying on shuffling through pages of a pocket-sized English to Italian dictionary to navigate your way through the occasional brief conversations you had with the Altamonte locals as you gathered your bearings.  

The constant overthinking presented an obstacle to overcome. By your eighth day there, the simplicity of life wouldn’t allow it. Neighbors shouted morning greetings through open and bright green shutters as you dressed. A t-shirt, white and crisp, a pair of well-loved jeans, and a black leather jacket finished with a pair of white sneakers. A uniform or sorts, you thought, as you descended the stairs from your apartment. A passerby could have been a mirror image of you just by clothing alone. Was this what people meant by “dressing like a local”?

At a nearby café, your ability to blend in was tested as you found your place in a sea of color neutrality, sitting at the lone empty table near the front door. A youthful and friendly server who looked to be no older than 17 approached you, her raven curls atop her head bounced when she stopped. Not a line tempered her smooth, dark olive skin as she flipped open her notepad with a smile. 

“Cosa desidera Lei?” 

“Un caffe per fevore,” you replied, with the young server nodding in acknowledgement at your order. 

From your purse you grabbed a journal of worn, brown leather. Its corners curled upward from opening and closing it frequentlly The pages lay ruffled and beaten with the gift of constant use. Your fingers also grasped a pen lost in the depths of your bag that met you like an old friend that had come to save you in your time of need. The ink flowed from your pen to the paper as you wrote about the salt air, the distant cawing of seagulls skimming the shore, and the mist of calm that seemed to settle over every corner of the town.

You turned your head to look through the clean windows into the cafe to observe the locals—individuals, couples, families. The images of them gleamed like reflections on a stream. In the window, you imagined Dave next to you—a mirage, a specter haunting and present no matter how hard you tried to push it away. In the back of your head, you asked yourself: Do I really want to? 

“Buongiorno!” a voice rich and deep in time and timber reached out to you. 

A newly familiar face greeted you. His hands, like his voice, showed evidence of assuredness through lines of time and wisdom that were beginning to settle on the backs of his hands. The smile lines on his face were set dark and deep into his face, indisputable evidence of living. 

“Buongiorno, Dottore!” you exclaimed, standing up to take his hands and give him a kiss on each cheek. 

“Everyday, at the same time, I see you here,” the rich melody of his voice and the kind smile he gave you managed to whisk away the chill that coursed through your blood, if only for a moment. 

“Well, the calm is a nice…change,” you mused and paused for a moment, contemplating if you really believed your own words.

Enzo settled down in the chair next to you, the smile beneath his mustache was warm and fatherly.  As he sat next to you, the young server returned carrying two small cups of coffee for both you and Enzo. You observed closely as Aminita, as Enzo lovingly called her, greeted him with greater familiarity than you had combined with an even greater respect. He spoke to her with the kindness of a doting grandfather. Bits and pieces of their melodic words met your ears, the depths of your brain manipulating them until you worked out their meaning in English. 

“So, what have you seen since you have been here?” Enzo inquired as he settled into a chair next to you. 

“Oh, it’s only been a few days, but,” you sighed with a dramatic pause, “just having the ocean right here has been more than enough.” 

Enzo smiled back at you and his eyes glimmered with excitement and wonder. It was the kind of gleam that you had only seen among young children and the old. Pressing his hands together he stood up and waved at you in a gesture for you to finish your coffee. You sipped as quickly as you could, your coffee just on the right side of warm---the cozy kind of warmth that wrapped you in an invisible hug on a cold day. 

“Andiamo,” he urged you as you swallowed the last of it. “Come on, I’ll show you the real Altomonte.” 

“Ok, ok!” you replied, conceding to him. 

Uncomfortably, you chugged the last bit of coffee with an audible hiss before you stood up. You took quick steps over the cobblestone streets as you followed Enzo. His gait was quick and determined for a 60-year-old. A smile curled at the corners of your lips as you watched him skip ahead of you with more excitement than a tour guide being paid to show you the village.  

He walked you through one of the many archways of the town, this one longer than others. The path was just wide enough to allow for the regular flow of movement brought to life by the villagers. What greeted you through the arch was more life than you had expected, not dark and dank as you had presumed. Nestled along the stone walls were market vendors selling homemade wears of rosaries, crucifixes made of wood from olive trees, and hand-embroidered scarves delicately adorned with intricate, swirling designs. You could feel your mouth drop open in awe as you caressed your fingers along a deep blue scarf with two white lilies embroidered at each corner. You were certain that the elderly woman who made this was grossly underestimating the time and talent it took her  to fashion such a unique and beautiful item. A small, rectangular piece of paper lay on top of the scarf and written in ballpoint pen was the price of a mere 50 euros. 

“Beautiful, yes?” Enzo remarked with a smile. 

His eyebrows were raised as he looked back at you. Reaching into your purse you pulled out your beige, leather pocketbook to procure a one hundred euro note. It called to you, that foreign feeling that you so rarely experienced of reaching for something that you just knew you had to have. It had only happened once before.

Your hand trembled slightly as you handed the woman the euro note, a sign of the thoughts of Dave that took hold of you. As the woman took it, the wrinkles around her smoothed from her wide-open eyes. The look of shock overcame her as she examined the note. She waved at you, her tone an odd mixture of gratitude and scolding that could come only from a strong Italian woman. 

“Ti prego di prenderlo,” you insisted in as humble a tone as you could. “E magnifica.” 

You watched in earnest as Enzo spoke to the woman, conceding to her and talking her down until she stared back at you with a satisfied glimmer in her eye while handing you the scarf. Immediately, you tied it loosely around your shoulders while following Enzo’s lead ahead of you. As you sauntered through the cobble stoned streets, Enzo pointed out the fish market. The owner, Angelo, waved at you alongside his wife and son as they proudly arranged fresh fish on piles of ice—waiting for villagers to snatch them up for their evening meal.

The sunlight greeted you on the other end of the archway, where ancient stone walls guarded each side and where Enzo stood at the foot of a steep set of stairs. He turned around to you and gestured towards the steps with excitement surging through his fingertips. 

“Have you gone up to visit the church?“

Your gaze followed Enzo’s upward to a church set into the mountains, that stood proud with its pristine ivory in color that was brighter against the lush, green foliage of the mountainside. A hint of premature frustration crept beneath your skin as you mentally took in the slope of the stairs. You were in good shape, you had to be. Yet your legs automatically ached with a phantom pain that you knew would come from traversing the steep climb to the church. 

Enzo gestured for you to come over, picking up one foot after another over narrow and steep stairs. The waves of the Mediterranean crashed over the walls guarding the village. The fresh salt air traveled with the breeze until it began to dance in your hair. 

“Climb these steps every day and you’ll be young the rest of your life,” he teased, “That is my doctor’s order for you.”

Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped you before he gestured for you to catch up. When you finally did, your eyes settled on the weathered rock as the air caressed your hair and your lungs filled with deep, cooling breath that led to a wistful sigh. 

“Come on, old man!” You took the chance to take a break from your jog to rib your dark-haired companion as he fought to catch his breath standing amidst a steep, but beautiful set of stairs.

You rocked your hips back and forth as you kept your feet bouncing from side-to-side in a stationary jog. He looked up at you, gathering his hands at his hips as sweat began to gather at the center of his charcoal-colored t-shirt, clinging to his lean, but broad-shouldered form. Not one speck of amusement found itself on his face as he glared at you. The steadiness of his stare caused you to slow your jog to merely stepping your feet beneath you. When a smile finally slid over the surface of his pouty lips, his eyes bore into you, heavy, dark, and tempting --- the look of the devil you always wanted to know. 

“I’ll be generous,” you recalled him saying, his words dripping like the sweetest nectar from the most forbidden flower, “and give you a head start.” 

“Just like you to assume I need one,” you challenged as you stood above him, placing your hands on your hips. 

He readied himself a few steps below you, a determined glint in his brown eyes that sent a chill scurrying up and down your spine. Simultaneously, it sent a warm, throbbing sensation at your center as he looked you up and down. He doubled down on his threat, setting himself in a starting stance to race up the stairs. You followed suit, turning your back away from him, trying to keep your focus ahead of you. His very presence behind you already threatened to consume you and though he was steps below you, you swore you could feel the heat of his exhales rippling on the back of your neck.

And with no warning, he spoke, “Run.” 

The memory of you leaping up the stairs traveled through your feet as you slowly made your way up the steep stairs leading to the church. It was silly really—the present was just a moving dichotomy of your memory. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. Doing so would have meant certain defeat. An feeling of nervousness mixed with intrigue filled you as you ran, ran, ran as fast as you could. The sense of him gaining on you heightened through every pore. Your feet pounded on the steps and your arms swung tightly with each quick stride. Quick breaths rattled from your lips as you focused your eyes to the top of the majestic stairs. Cockiness lined your lips into a premature victory smile, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab at your hips, forcing you to slow down to a rhythm that matched his body. You felt the heat of his warm fingers wrapped around your elbow as he pulled you into a dark, concealed alley. Breathing even harder than when you were running, Dave pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours. 

His face was so close that you could smell the clean, yet intoxicating sweat that collected upon his skin that had been made golden with Sicilian sun. Each breath he drew was quick and in time with yours. A quick gasp escaped you as you felt his warm hand lower to skim the waist of your leggings, his thick fingers. A shiver circulated through your body as he toyed with the elastic band. 

“When are you going to learn, Firefly?” he growled into your ear, his lips brushing at your neck and earlobe. “I’m always going to catch you.”

***

“Bella! Bella!” 

Enzo’s voice sounded through the cloud of your memory. Without even really being cognizant of it, you had made it to the top of the ancient stairs. The breeze blew stronger at this height, whipping your hair across your face. As you brushed your waves back, your eyes beheld how the wind danced on the rich, blue water and how it made ripples that shimmered with the golden sun. 

“You see, all this makes Altamonte,” he gestured to the church, the statues, and the paintings of the woman. 

You stared at the wonder and pride in his eyes. Somehow, you knew he meant more than just this place. If he could, he would just stretch his arms from here to the ocean. From his voice that trembled with pride and from the gleam that shined in his eyes, you knew. Only an act of God could wash it away. 

“Come in child,” he said, as he gestured you over to the door of the church. 

“Oh no, I’m not religious,” you said as your shoulders shrunk from the discomfort of the words. 

You didn’t need proselytizing. 

“You think she cares?” Enzo asked, already halfway through the threshold of the church. “But you choose.”

Humoring him, you stepped inside. An unexpected shiver oscillated, tapped, and pricked over your body. Goosebumps arose beneath your sweater. The cold that lived in the walls easily could have trapped you, threatening to take away whatever life you felt beneath your skin. Instead, it invigorated you as they made union with the warm colors of the sun that painted the walls of church like they were her own, personal canvas. You peeked through the windows that let that light in. Each had a perfect view of the village. The beauty had you holding your breath as you marveled at how the stone buildings gathered together and overlooked the bluest water you’d ever seen. 

When you finally let yourself breathe again, you found a seat next to Enzo. He knelt in reverence, his eyes closed and hands clasped together. The flicker of several candles set the room aglow, his flame burning brightly among the many. 

You, on the other hand, sat with quiet patience. It was more like a museum to you. Your eyes settled over the statues and paintings that adorned the church. So much adoration for a woman filled in a church that was ostensibly governed by men. 

Maybe they had it wrong, you thought. Maybe the church was meant to be built upon the shoulders of a matriarch who chose her path of raising a leader, instead of a girl who was bestowed the gift of raising a savior. The way these thoughts meandered through your mind was nearly enough to make you laugh. Sometimes you shouldn’t be left to your own thoughts. 

Enzo settled back into pew in the empty space next to you. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned his head to you. His eyes softened in concern. A slight discomfort pressed onto your shoulders as you navigated your response to the kindness. 

“People always come and rest here, some pray, some meditate until they find an answer,” Enzo said, his voice imbued with the notes of great wisdom. “Even me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you, too, correct?” He asked. 

He didn’t even entertain you with the space or time to answer, not that you had one to give him. Not one that was truthful by any means. Instead, you nodded and waited for whatever wisdom he was ready to give you.  

“I don’t judge,” he stated with a look so deep with thought and an undercurrent of pain that you knew his words were true, “Nothing good comes from it.” 

He sighed again. The weight of whatever memory he was holding was heavy on his shoulders. The tired lines around his eyes seemed to grow in real time, a remnant of the pain that remained.            

“I’m not trying to…ehm…intrude in your personal business,” he paused to find the words, “but are you really here for rest, to find peace, as you say? Or…are you running from something?” 

And there it was: the truth. It had never left. In that moment you could have felt anger, maybe something bordering on hatred for someone cornering the truth out of you. But you didn’t, not this time. You met the doctor’s gaze with the same hesitancy of a child who was hiding something from a parent. Without words, he knew the answer but bore no judgment against you. Instead, he patted you reassuringly on the hand as you took in the warmth of the flickering flames at the altar. 

The sky was a bolder blue against the midday sun as you took your sojourn back to the main square. It seemed impossible that you’d spent as much time in the church as you had. Enzo held onto your arm lightly as you climbed down the steep stairs. A steady stream of pedestrians began to fill the cobblestone streets as you ambled through corridors from which you came. As you walked through the town, the warm and smiling faces of the locals continued to greet you even as Enzo departed from you to continue with his day. 

The remainder of your day moved in an ethereal mixture of fast and slow. From the time you made it back into town you were able to stroll along the seashore, allowing yourself to bathe in the wind as you dug your toes in the sand to buying bread from the local bakery and enjoying it with a cup of tea you watched the sky melt into shades of coral, purple, and then blue as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. 

As a deeper blue settled in the sky, the evening sounds of Altamonte whispered in a different way than the sounds of the morning. The vibrations were buzzed with an energy that was somehow  enlivening but calming at the same time. It should have called you to join everyone. Instead, you let the sounds energize through the open window of your apartment. And you waited as the locals left the restaurants, drunkenly and lovingly alive. The whispers of the night called you as they always had, as they always would. While the citizens of Altamonte were beginning to turn in for the night, you dressed yourself and immersed yourself in the comfort of the late night. 

You approached a restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. A low, heavy feeling struck you in your stomach. Something pulled at your shoulders, tight and aggressive until it pressed and pulled at the skin of your throat. The invisible intensity threatened you with an unsettling and ominous aggression. You tensed into defensive mode as you moved closer and closer to the scene. Loud clatters of silverware and the dragging of chairs against the cobblestone streets set you into a stance that you only ever needed when a job with Dave and the team called for it. 

You dashed with light steps across the cobblestone to gain a better vantage point of the situation. Despite yourself, you heard Dave’s voice in your head as though he was walking you through a training exercise. 

“Your brain is your best asset. Read, know, and breathe the situation and you have the upper hand.” 

You slinked closer as your eyes focused on the situation before you. The threat: two men. His frame was wiry. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9” you surmised. His dark, wavy hair was slicked back, and the ends curled just past his ears. What he lacked in stature he made up for with menace. His stare was wide and manic as he loitered among the tables strutting forward towards a beautiful, young waitress who’d been cleaning the tables outside. The thin man’s counterpart was noticeably taller and more physically imposing. He stood with an unwavering posture, his wide shoulders. He had a closely cropped haircut, and a brow that dipped down into a deep frown that seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Fear darkened the face of a young woman’s face as the thin man continued to advance on her, trapping her among tables and  into a corner. The owner, her father, stood in the doorway, his feet ready to stomp forward and rescue his daughter. A few strands of her hair fell over her face as she gestured to him to stay inside the restaurant. Two heavy and threatening hands belonging to the burly crony pushed her father back impeding any heroic action he might attempt. The thumping of your heartbeat was fast and loud in the silence of the night, fast enough and loud enough for you to take a deep breath with the hopes of calming it.

“Collateral damage is always messy and always a liability. Blend in: the less remarkable you are, the less of a target you become.”

With Dave’s instruction resonating in your head, you closed in on the restaurant picking up your pace to a light jog. The thin goon continued to advance upon the young woman as her father struggled against the tall man’s hold, keeping their attention from you. It was as though panic traversed through her body the closer you came. The fear that seemed to hide behind her eyes thumped toward you, pumping you with adrenaline and readiness. He held her hostage with a lascivious scowl as he pushed a strand of hair from her face. His hands grabbed the back of her neck, each finger white with violence as he dragged her forward, her skin already red with pain beneath his vice grip. Both men, so arrogant against the struggle of their captives, paid you no attention. 

“Let them underestimate you, then you can always find a way to get the upper hand.” 

All at once a scream from the waitress, yells, and grunts from her father as he struggled, rose in the air as you lunged towards the thin man forcing his grip from the young woman. Adrenaline pumped through every one of your veins as you pulled his thumb backwards and shoved him back with concentrated strength as you simultaneously pulled the gun that he so arrogantly placed in the waistline of his pants. Losing his footing, he stumbled backwards to the ground. You stood protectively in front of the girl as his brutish sidekick attempted to lunge toward you. 

The man raised his eyebrows for a moment and lifted the corner of his lips into a disgusting smirk. He was big and monstrous. You analyzed how each movement was stifled by how grotesquely bulbous his muscles were. Your foot was already hooked to the leg of one of the metal chairs closest to you. In the second he lunged in your directions, you lifted and ejected the chair at his solar plexus. With an additional, forceful stomp of your foot to his chest that knocked him to the ground. 

In the time it had taken you to knock them to the ground, the waitress and her father had escaped inside, and the sound of a police horn approached quickly. You looked down on the two men and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from your face. Adrenaline rushed from your veins to the tips of your fingers. 

The two men stood up, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of their expensive Italian suits. The thin man glared at you with his hand placed protectively at his chest. It burned still from the pain you inflicted upon him. 

“I think that’s your signal to leave,” you stated with a voice as steadfast as your stance. You kept your hands tightly on his firearm.

With one more snarl, the men disappeared into the night. The motor of their car rumbled off, growing quieter the further they drove into the night. It was silent and more of Dave’s words surrounded you. 

“Never call attention to yourself, but if you have no choice, you need a plan to leave fast.”

The young waitress and her family looked at you, their eyes gleaming with grateful tears. The only thing you felt you could give was a nod. Receiving gratitude, handshakes, and hugs weren’t anything you were prepared or willing to receive. You just weren’t built for it. 

You rushed away using shadows and looking over your shoulder anytime you found yourself in the light. When you arrived back at your apartment, you set your already neatly folded clothes inside your suitcase. It was another trick Dave had taught you. 

Cellphone. Passport. Wallet. Keys. 

With all of them accounted for, it was time to go. You stared at the gun that you had taken from the thin man. You tried to sift through your options of discarding the weapon, when slow, quiet knocks tapped at your door. In an instant you were pressing your back to the wall, sliding along as you made your way towards the door with the thug’s weapon in your hand. It wasn’t in your itinerary to take care of two gangsters on your vacation. 

One, two, three deep breaths.

The knocks became quicker and more urgent. You listened closely for any noises that would alert you to the kind of weapons they had. Just as you reached to open the door you heard a familiar voice through the door.  

“Child, it’s me: the dottore!” 

You wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heightened vigilance had settled over your neck and shoulders holding you in a position that disallowed it. 

“Enzo,” you finally called out after much deliberation, “are you alone?”

With immediacy, he replied, “Yes!” 

His voice was as steady and confident as a surgeon who was moments away from performing life-saving surgery. You analyzed it, homing in on its lack of fluctuations, listening for any indication that someone else might be standing next to him waiting for you. You drew one more breath and opened the door. Seeing Enzo standing on the other side alone allowed you to let go of the breath you held in your chest. He rushed past you, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“I heard what happened.” 

“How did you--,” you began to ask. 

“I know everything in this town,” he stated plainly, as he looked you directly in the eyes. “Where is the weapon?” 

You felt your brow immediately furrow at his request. This was the kind of situation Dave urged you not to find yourself in. Trusting people, feeling for people, even giving a little bit of yourself to anyone would be a folly in your line of work. One that would certainly get you killed. 

“No, not happening Enzo,” you insisted as you shook your head. “I cannot get you involved.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” 

You stared back at him, feeling a pressure of disbelief and gratitude as he held his hand towards you with a dish rag that he had pulled from a kitchen drawer. You pressed your lips tightly together and a painful sting of tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. Enzo reached his hand out to you again. 

“Are you a good person or a bad person?” 

An unfamiliar feeling of confusion, guilt, and sadness came over you. One that had you re-evaluating nearly everything. 

You replied to Enzo tearfully, “I don’t know.”

He stepped forward and offered you his fatherly stare. The one you felt was so undeserved. 

“Only a good person would say that.”

It was at that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong. 

You looked back at Enzo with a look that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. There were no words that existed that held enough magnitude to describe it. You grabbed your things quickly, looking at him once more before you walked out the door. He gave your arm a reassuring squeeze and you pulled him in for a hug. You held him tight, your hands nearly squeezing to the point where neither of you could breathe, shaking as you let him go. 

“Non dimenticare mai chi sei, cocca,” he said followed by a kiss to your forehead that instantly made you feel like you were truly cared for.

And with one last look, you disappeared into the night. The cool air met you and the sound of ocean waves ascended to your ears. Each smell and sound engulfing you and holding you in what you wished was a long goodbye. The bittersweetness of your tears met the corner of your lips. Yet somehow, each event, each choice, and each movement you made reminded you that all of this was just as it was supposed to be. 

***************************

The last 24 hours blasted by you like a bullet train. Everything around you moved in a blur while your body somehow moved at a pace slower than everything around you. You moved through each moment with an exhausted automaticity: getting off the plane, getting a taxi , and finding your way home. 

With caution still at its peak, you entered your home. You checked every room and every closet two times until you felt certain that no one had followed you from Italy. You held your phone in your hand staring at the black screen, contemplating if you should even turn it back on. With a long sigh you pushed the buttons at the side of your phone, setting it quickly aside on your nightstand before running to the bathroom to avoid any notification like they were a plague. 

You stepped into your spacious shower, jumping a little as cold water met your skin before gradually raining on your body with much needed warmth. You stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping yourself with your towel. You shook your hair with your fingers until your wet waves rested at your shoulder. A notification appeared on your phone connected to your security system.

Filling your lungs with a deep and steady breath you walked towards your kitchen to pour yourself a drink of water. Standing in silence, leaning against your kitchen counter, stood Dave. His eyes stayed only on you with his hands crossed over his chest. He was wearing his best poker face: no anger, no fear, no hate…but for a moment you spotted it: an inkling of relief, a hint of regret, a glint of—? No you wouldn’t let yourself welcome the thought.

You brushed past him, pouring yourself some water. You looked up at him, no words leaving either of your lips. The water was cold, refreshing, and awakening on your lips. As you walked past him back to your you could practically feel him seething. Coming at you like heat waves but bouncing off you as you kept your cool. 

Staring back at him from the end of the hallway just outside your bedroom you called to him.

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

You swore you heard a sigh of exasperation escape him as he crept towards you with his hands on his hips — the way he always did when he was particularly frustrated. Satisfied by his inescapable allure towards you, you turned away from him, confident in the knowledge that he would follow you. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dave spoke as he perused your hair, your eyes, your face, your skin, “I’m impressed you were able to be off the grid for as long as you did.”

“I don’t think that matters much now,” you declare looking up at him as he moved towards you. “I’m back.”

Dave took his hands to caress your face, his grip against your skin pressed with the perfect amount of firmness. A faint shine of gratitude emanated from his eyes. He would never say it, but you could see it. You could feel it from the touch of his hands and by the warmth emanating from his body—he missed you. 

It was enough. You pulled one hand from your face bringing it down to where your towel wrapped around your body in a tight tuck. With firm guidance you made him pull the towel off your body letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes darkened and he shook his head with a smirk near disbelief as he admired your body. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful as ever.” He groaned as he grabbed at the front of his pants. 

Nearly a month without him, not one text or phone call…by your own design. Forgetting him wasn’t the answer. Understanding yourself in your entirety always led back to the same conclusion: you were his. 

Not able to wait a moment more, you grabbed him by his dark sweatshirt pulling it over his head and tossing it away. You didn’t think you’d taken a pair of pants off a man faster in your life. His breaths came heavy and fast as you pulled him towards you, admiring his naked body as he did yours. 

And then you kissed him.

After so long without him, the fire that sparked from touching him burned hotter than ever. You pulled his body to yours so tightly that your breasts pressed onto his chest, feeling each desperate breath that rose and fell over him. Somehow your arms found their way around his broad shoulders while he wrapped his around you, his hands grabbing your ass massaging up your back, until his fingers are threading themselves in your hair. 

Your kisses were an exploration of renewal, of remembrance of how each other tasted while also, somehow, feeling brand new. His tongue had never been so needy before. The gruff moans that released from his mouth were so different and more unbidden than you’d remembered. And his cock, his lovely, thick, uncut cock, was so hard against your lower belly. The tip already cried for you with precum. 

With one swift movement you spun around and shoved him to the bed. His eyes widened with devilish excitement as he spread his limbs across the expanse of your bed. His cock stood at attention for you, ready to comply with your every demand. 

You crawled towards him, like a black cat slinking in the dark. The smell of him was so musky, salty, and clean as you lowered your face and then your mouth to the tip of his manhood. Holding the warmth of him again felt like a gift as he throbbed in your hands. The taste was even better as you took in the precum onto your lips and then your tongue, each taste bud lighting you up with desire. 

He moaned, his hand hitting your pillow with a thump as your mouth and tongue continued to worship him. 

“Oh shit, fuck!” He growled as he gripped your sheets. 

Not even close to satisfied you lifted your face from your handiwork, tucking your hair behind your ear. You glided forward over his body, giving him another kiss before straddling him, only letting him feel the outer lips of your wet cunt. He reached his hips upward for you.

“Tsk, ah ah ah,” you crooned, teasing him with another grind of your hips, “not til you beg for it.” 

“Fuck, Firefly, fuck—!” 

You moved your hips again. 

Dave couldn’t stop the moans that came from his beautiful lips. So beautiful, you traced your thumb over them. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You grew wetter with each teasing press of your hips. 

An unintelligible and wanton groan came from him. 

You tugged him by the hair, his eyes staying on yours and his brows angled downward in a combination of anger, frustration, and desire unique to him. 

“Tell me, daddy.”

“Fuck, s—so fucking sexy,” he groaned. “Fuck I’ve missed this, your fucking body, my pussy.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You lifted your hips and braced your hand on his chest before you slowly began to sink over his cock. You bit your lower lip as you felt each thick inch of him enter you until he was so deep you could go no further. Pressing your hands onto his soft belly you began to move. Just that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Firefly, how are you even better than I remember?“ Dave praised, as he gripped your thighs with his hands. 

You rolled your hips slowly against his, adjusting to his thick size in your tight pussy. A shuddering breath left your quivering lips. With each bounce and roll of yourself on his massive member turned your breaths into loud and melodic moans. Not wanting to lose yourself just yet, you pressed your lips tighter together the more rhythmic your pace became. His cock throbbed within you, feeling impossible deeper with each move you made. 

“Ah, my god!” You whined, unable to keep silent as Dave suddenly thrust his hips upwards to match your moves. “God, your cock is so good.”

Dave could only muster a gruff moan before interlacing his fingers between yours. You could feel his breath becoming more erratic with each move of your tight cunt over his cock. His hands began to squeeze yours tighter and tighter as your pussy squeezed him.

With a quick forward movement of your hips, his hard member popped out from inside you. 

“Ahh, fuck!” He moaned as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the loss of your wet center around him. 

You climbed off Dave and reached over to your nightstand, pulling a rope from the drawer. You straddled his waist while fashioning a strong knot around his wrists, tying him to your bed frame. He looked up at you, hazy and hungry to feel his cock sheathed in the tightest walls of your pussy. A smirk unfurled itself on his lips as you rocked yourself along his shaft, anointing him with your nectar. 

“How does it make you feel,” Dave spoke, the sound coming from the deepest part of his throat, “thinking you have some kind of control?” 

The words stopped your gyrations and brought your face an inch from his. You could feel your breath circling his lips, close enough that you could see them quiver. With a strong squeeze of your right hand to his face you licked from his chin to just above his lips before kissing him. Your tongue parted his lips with a firm swipe, leading his tongue into a dance he had no choice but to follow. The way your bed frame rattled as you looked down upon him told you more than any words from him could say. 

“So you’re telling me this,” you squeezed and rubbed his cock with the tightest fist you could make around him, “is the gift I get after being gone for so long?”

You slinked your hips back down, teasing his cock with your opening. With the most sultry intent, you stoked his primal want for you, not settling onto him right away. The way he continued to fight against the taut rope around his wrists sent chills that emanated from your center.  He’d never say it, but you certainly knew everything he fought against confessing.  

Generosity began to sneak over you and you allowed him to fill you as you lowered onto him, inch by throbbing inch. And as though your life, your everything, depended on it, you took him for a ride. Consuming, savoring, and indulging in every delicious, warm, and pulsing inch. You brought him to the edge of ecstasy only to bring him back. Your bodies devolved into a beautiful mess of sweat and desire.

Until it was time. Neither of you could hold back. You clutched the headboard as your hips bounced vigorously on his cock. You looked into his eyes and he into yours until you both came with a hot, violent shaking of your body and an uncontrollable thrust from his hips up to yours. Together you filled the walls of your bedroom with a duet of rapturous groans and sobs of euphoria. 

Still holding him inside you, you graciously removed the bindings from his wrist. With urgency, he circled his hands around your waist until they gave your ass one more squeeze. The warmth of his hands traveled up your back and worked through more of your waves before they pulled you in for a kiss. Simultaneously hot and chilly aftershocks of your orgasm trembled through your body before you lifted yourself off him. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, his voice cracking as you collapsed on top of him.

Minutes passed like hours as you breathed in time with one another. In the silence, you listened closely to each other's sounds. The unexpected feeling of his hand beginning to your hair startled you. He stopped for a moment surprised by your reaction, slowing the movement of his hand, wrapping his arm around you to caress your shoulder with an embrace. He slowed the racing of your heart with more slow breaths and a barely audible hush from his lips. You could feel the intentional slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, your eyes growing heavy until both of you fell into the arms of a deep sleep. 

Late into the night, you stirred with one arm tucked close to you and the other draped lightly over Dave’s. The hum of your ceiling fan drummed peacefully in your ears as your eyes fluttered lightly looking at his form lying next to you. You almost surrendered yourself back to sleep when a sudden thrashing motion shook you awake. 

You propped yourself up and saw Dave tossing next to you, sweat beading at his forehead. His voice started with quiet mumbles, groans, and bellows that shook with anger and fear. You reached over to him, gently caressing his forehead. 

“Dave…Dave?” You started gently. 

He continued to writhe as his brow furrowed and wrinkled his forehead. 

“S--, no, S-- Sa---,” he called out, still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Dave, it’s me!” You said more firmly wrapping his face with your hands. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

He awoke, startled as he looked at you with wild eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, wetting your mouth with a soft warm touch of his tongue, before turning your back to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. He thread his fingers between yours, kissing your shoulders. He murmured words you were almost certain he was unaware of before drifting back to sleep.  A demand? A request? A plea?

“Stay,” his voice breathed through the silence as he gripped you tighter against his warm body, “just stay.”

[petiteprincesses]

Hello, again! Welcome back to Petite Princesses! With Princess Maker 2 Regeneration out (except for the PlayStation), I decided it’d be polite of me to create a basic guide to some of the simple parts! This one will be about everything from the starting menu!

Bear in mind that due to the change in localization (bless the Translators), I’ll refer to each stat by all 3 English names on first mention, but I’ll default to the latest translation from then on. As well, I’ll be using Centimeters and Kilometers for ease of reference. Furthermore, I’ll be using Refine for screenshots.

Here’s our basic screen, of which you can see many different things. I’ve labeled them accordingly, and I’ll speak of each tab in detail!

I☆I

CURRENT DATE: A Box where you can tell the day— the year is on top (1210), with the month (April 4) and the day of the week (Sunday) on the left, with the day of the month (the Fourth) on the right. The game starts on your daughters 10th birthday, and ends on her 18th (in our case, April 4th 1218)

I☆I

STAR: I didn’t label this myself, but the “Star” section on the right side info box is pretty important. Here, our daughter’s sign is Aries (Mars), and her blood type is B. Your star sign determines starting statistics and a +100 bonus from slaying a certain foe that I’ll mention later, while type influences passive stat increases. I’ll explain the exacts in another post someday, but for the impatient, googling Patrons on the Princess Maker Fandom Wiki should do the trick!

I☆I

ARM/WPN: This is her equipment! You can set it in the menu marked ITEM (the box with the sword, shield, and scroll). All equipment can be equipped at any point, and your armor is even visible during (non errantry) battles!

I☆I

STATUS: Here she will have her statuses— there are 3 in the game. Sick (Stress > Constitution/Stamina, represented by a Skull) lowers her HP in combat and can lead to her demise, Degrade (Stress > Morality or Faith, whatever is higher, represented by blue lightning) makes her less likely to work properly and risks being arrested (lowering your reputations) / wasting your money (happens mostly during free time but can occur during working hours), and Love (Triggered by an event when she’s 14 that requires her Charisma/Glamour stat to be the highest, represented by a Pink Heart) that lasts 3 months, makes her less likely to work, and lowers 3 of her hidden stats (Relationship with Father, Cube, and Prince— the last of which could be troublesome for getting the ending).

I☆I

HER MEASUREMENTS: This ones pretty simple— it’s her Height, Weight, and Three Sizes (Bust/Waist/Hips). In modern releases, it uses Centimeter/Kilograms, but in the original DOS en leak, its Inches and Pound. If she’s overweight, then she cannot wear certain clothes (all that aren’t the Siren Robes, Cotton Dress, or seasonal outfits). You can tell her weight by her sprite. As well, you can calculate her threshold by .95[height]-[Age + 87]. To get a rough idea, let’s punch in our daughter from earlier, Alice. At 146 centimeters, .95 x 146 is 138.7. Now, she’s 10, so 10 + 87 is 97. 138.7 - 97 is 41.7. Behold, she’ll turn overweight the second the “weight” bar is “41.70”, but if she’s at “41.69”, it’s fine. Though I am to assume rounding is in play!

(Do mind the different stats of her three sizes— I don’t have the original file, so I had to make a replacement with the necessary stats!)

I☆I

STATS: Brings up a Menu. For Clarity, below is the side bar from Regeneration. I will list the stats in order, with every name applicable in the order of DOS/Refine/Regen.

Constitution/Stamina: Determines your daughter’s HP. Needs at least 50 to be good at most jobs. Also determines your daughter’s health. Most easily raised by Farming. Likely to be Lowered by Dieting

Strength: A bonus to Attack: 8 points of Strength is equivalent to 1 attack point. Most easily raised by Farming. Likely to be Lowered by Salon.

Intelligence: Essentially, her MP. Needs at least 10 to cast a magic attack. Most easily raised by Science. Likely to be Lowered by Bar work

Refinement/Elegance: Not particularly important unless you’re doing a Ruling Queen run— in which case it needs to be 800. You may need this to get random proposals (which means money!) Most easily raised by Decorum, or if you’re cheap, Lucifon in the Desert. Likely to be Lowered by Farming, so it’ll be zero for a while

Charisma/Glamour: Usually important for special marriage endings. Can cause a few problems such as Attempted Sexual Assault, becoming someone’s Mistress (if it’s her highest stat, indicated by her different facial expression), and generally being asked out. Easily raised by Dance, if you’re cheap (again) Lucifon in the Desert, or the Sleazy/Illegal Bar if you’re willing to tank the stress.

Morality: Need at least 30 for a basic marriage ending. Can also play a part in rejecting the more gross offers she may encounter, as well as being able to stave off delinquency if it’s higher than Faith. If it’s your highest stat, you may encounter a deal that will sell all of it for Equivocal Gold. Easily raised by Church Work, or simply being born with Type A blood. Likely to be Lowered by the aforementioned demonic deals.

Faith: Staves off Delinquency if higher than Morality. It’s definitely a stat that exists. Easily raised by Church, which can also prevent the demon from showing up to eat her morals. Likely to be Lowered by Science.

Sin/Karma: If it’s over 100/250, she will get a Sin ending. If it’s 500 (along with some decent fighter/magic reputation), she will instantly become the Queen of Darkness by the end. You’ll likely get this by killing anything in Errantry, but other “Sinful” acts like the illegal bar and hunting animals will raise it too. Can be sold off for 100g per 10 points, or simply going to Church for work normally.

Sensitivity: It’ll let her see what’s usually “mythical”, such as Fairies and the such if she goes where they hang out. If it’s the highest, she’ll run away, lowering her reputations. Easily raised by Salon work, but can be raised in a multitude of fun ways.

Stress: This is mostly a problem early game. So long as it doesn’t exceed her Morality/Faith or stamina stats, she’s in the clear. It can go to Zero in certain events, such as witnessing Fairies, so if you plan right, Free Time doesn’t have to happen.

Combat Skill: Essentially, your Hit/Dodge rate. Essential for any adventurer, otherwise you’re unable to do ANYTHING! Easily raised by Fighting/Kung-fu classes, but the tempting Restaurant and Inn can lower it.

Attack: Exactly what it says. It determines your daughter’s attack stat. Separate from your strength, but both will result in your “total” attack. Easily raised by Fencing and most Swords. Difficult to lose.

Defense: A difficult stat to raise terribly high. Also exactly what it says on the tin. Can be gained consistently by second level Kung-Fu classes, but not terribly fast. Also, most armor increases it.

All of these skills will be boosted by the spirit Valkyria, first Skill, then Attack, then Defense. When you get to 400 Fighters Reputation, as well as 40 instances of Fencing, Kung-Fu, or Errantry, you’ll receive the Valkyria Sword— which is the second best sword in the game, with 25 attack, 10 defense, and 18 skill.

Magic Skill: Like Combat Skill, but for Magic. Easily raised by Magic Classes. Impossible to lose.

Magic Attack: Much like Attack, but for Magic. Unlike Attack, there isn’t another stat that also functions as an attack bonus, but Magic tends to be what most of the tougher bosses are weak to. Easily raised by Magic Classes.

Magic Defense: It’s like Defense, but easier to raise! In fact, there’s a few ways to raise it! Unfortunately, most things that can do Magic can’t hit you once you’re skilled enough, so this is mainly for Wendy. Can be raised by Theology or working at the Graveyard. Likely to be lowered at Science (but slowly)

All of these skills will be boosted by the sorceress Fay, first Magic Skill, then Magic Attack, then Magic Defense. When you get to 400 Magic Reputation, you’ll receive the Power Ring/Unrivaled Ring, letting you cast Magic without needing 11+ Intelligence. Unfortunately, you’ll have to waste a ton of money as this also requires 32 magic classes- which become Useless very fast. More importantly than that, if you do only Magic classes for a mont, she’ll come raise one of the Magic stats by 5. The stat she raises is of your choosing, so my recommendation Magic Attack.

Decorum: You need decorum to be able to speak to people at the palace. Easily(and for the most part, Only) raised by doing Decorum classes. Impossible to lose.

Art/Art Skill/Artistry: Impacts her Dance Contest score and determines what painting she’ll create in Art Class. For the record, if it’s the highest of the Housework/Social stats, the daughter will be locked into an Art based ending. Easily raised by… Painting Classes. Cannot be Lowered below 100 once you reach 100.

Conversation/Speech/Eloquence: Really only used for two characters at the castle. Only raised by Bar work. Impossible to lose.

All of these skills will be boosted by the demon Paimon, first Decorum, then Artistry, then Eloquence. When you get to 400 Social Reputation, as well as 64 instances of Painting, Dance, or Protocol, you’ll receive Perfume— which… attracts suitors. Which at the point you get it, you’ll already attract anyways.

Cooking: Very important for the Cooking contest. You will need at least 90+ to win, alongside high sensitivity.

Cleaning: An entirely useless stat. It only impacts your Housekeeping reputation.

Temperament/Personal/Temper: Solely important for the Queen. Likely to be lowered by Sinful Work.

All of these skills will be boosted by the spirit Domovoi, first Cooking, then Cleaning, then Temper. When you get to 400 House Reputation, as well as 120 instances of Housework, Bar work, or Restaurant work, you’ll receive the Perfect Flour— it guarantees a Cooking victory, but by the time you get it, you’ll be guaranteed to win anyways.

Fight Repuation: Derives from your “Combat” oriented stats. Can be raised further by winning fights with the sword, or a Dragon Fang. Serves as Morale if higher than Magic. Can be uniquely lowered by selling the “Royal Sword” I allude to.

Magic Repuation: Derives from your “Magic” oriented stats. Can be raised further by winning fights with Magic. Serves as Morale if higher than Fight.

Social Reputation: Derives from your “Social” oriented stats. Can be raised further by winning the Dance/Art contests. Can be uniquely lowered by talking to the Clown.

House Reputation: Derives from your “Housework” oriented stats. Can be raised further by winning the Cooking contest.

All reputations will be lowered by being arrested or running away from home.

But wait! There’s more!! Let’s bring up the Four Hidden stats!

Relationship with Father (called Father_love by Mad Eddy) is rather relevant- you can use it to scold her and dissuade her from things like delinquency and being a mistress. Easily raised by Vacations and just. Talking to her. Most likely to be lowered by Free Time (regardless of pocket money) and resting for the Harvest Festival. Needs to be 100 (along with some stats) to Marry Her.

Relationship with Cube (called Cube_love by Mad Eddy) is rather less relevant. Pretty much is only for the ending, where it needs to be 100. Can be conveniently raised by changing equipment on errantry- you can essentially spam it if you’re really into that.

Relationship with Prince (called Prince_love by Mad Eddy) is mostly just for the Ending, but this time it needs to be 96. Raised by 12 each time you meet him, so every January 31st must be spent with him.

All of them are subject to lower by 6 if she falls In Love.

Maternal Instinct is exactly what it says, Important for some endings (like Princess of Darkness for some reason). Raised by Babysitting and Tutoring. Lowered by Hunting (for. Some reason?)

I☆I

TALK: Lets you talk to your daughter. The Three option are Father-Daughter Chat/Father-Daughter talk, Pocket Money, and Scold/Lecture.

When you click Father-Daughter talk, you get 3 more options. How she is doing/Recent matters will prompt her to speak about, well, whatever she wants. Usually, it is about herself, such as her (in)ability to do art, or how she worries about her childrearing skills. After that is Her studies/About study, which is related to what you’ve been making her study— be it how she appreciates how Art brings people together, or how she’s the best magician ever. As for Other topics/Another topic, it’s known to have some weird conversations, usually relating to her body, sometimes relating to other things. As well, picking any option here will raise your internal “Relationship with Father” stat by 1– this is important for two things down the line.

Pocket Money is a lot less complicated, as it’s pretty straightforward. Essentially, you give your daughter 20 + 10x gold, with “X” being the second digit of her age. So, if your daughter is 10, that’s 20 + (10 x 0), which would just be 20. If she’s 18, that’s 20 + (10 x 8), which would be 100. However, while the price increases, the benefits do not— she will lose 20 stress when used, regardless of age. This option does not raise the internal stat mentioned above. As well, if sick, she will not accept your money, and if “Degrade”, she will take it, and it will not impact her stress.

Scold/Lecture is pretty useless… it doesn’t do anything but make your daughter look a little confused. If she’s sick, she’ll wonder if she’s doing something wrong— which will lower her stress by 5, for whatever reason, at least in the refine version. But what you’d actually want to use this feature for is when she’s being rowdy, indicated by the “DEGRADE” marker— it’ll lower her stress by her relationship with her father, (up to a 100 point stress loss!!), and then raise it by 5. If you’ve been playing up a daddy’s girl, this could be of great use.

I☆I

DIET: Now, this one’s a little interesting. You have the choice of 4 options, which tie to her weight and stamina! By selecting the Normal/Standard diet, you’ll have a daughter that gains roughly .20 kilograms per month. This is the default, and is also standard, costing 30g. By picking the Robust/Hearty diet, you’ll gain a little over .30 kilograms, but you’ll also gain 10 stamina at the end of every month. It costs 80g, but can be good if you’ve been neglecting your stamina intakes— or if you really want to bulk up early game with the right set up. Then there is the Slim down/Refined diet— In addition to lowering your weight gain to around .15 kilograms, it also lowers your Stamina by 5. It costs 10g, so it’s not really recommended, unless you’re about to cross the threshold. Finally is the Slim Down/Intensive diet. Here, you’ll lose a hefty 20 stamina, but in return you’ll lose around .50 kilograms, and it costs 5g. This is only worth it if you have stamina (and kilos!) to burn. It’s worth noting that if your daughter is getting a little too weak (low stamina), then Cube will swap to the Hearty diet, but you can simply change back to whatever diet you’d like.

I☆I

INFO: You’ll find personal information here, such as your daughters birth and her star sign. You’ll also find connections (Raised by talking to Palace Staff) and Sick/Delinquency percentages. One percent is equal to one point of stress over the stat mentioned in “Status”— you’ll need 90% Sickness (Critical) to become Bedridden (Which will kill you if it lasts at least 2 months, ending the game), and 90% Delinquency (A hooligan) to become a Gang Member (Which will get you arrested— a harsh penalty to your reputation stats).

I☆I

SHOP: Another doozy, but we’ll simplify, simplify, simplify!

The Armorer/Armoury is ran by Armorer Zeno/Zen, with Anita as a Part Time worker. Here you can buy equipment, which goes in the Armor/Weapon slots. You’re free to buy anything here, but I highly recommend buying a Dagger and Leather armor, especially if you’re not confident in “Rushing” strategies. Don’t worry! I’ll cover adventuring as a whole in a future post, maybe multiple

The Tailor is run by Maura, who sells clothes. The variety isn’t particularly extravagant, but this is where you’ll find the seasonal clothes. As well, the Cotton Dress is only 500g: you’ll always be able to afford it for the harvest festival if you’re not in debt. Otherwise, there’s not many tips I can give here, other than pick the clothes you find cute— though you can wear most of these only when you’re at least 13, sometimes older.

The Restaurant is ran by one Chef Balbon, and sometimes his part timer Marcia/Marthia. Here, you’ll find food that’ll lower your stress (or raise Stamina!) and raise your weight. Here’s a fun fact! The food is free if you don’t have the money— you’ll just have to spend your first month block working at the kitchen for free. Regardless of if you pay or not, you can only eat here once per month.

The Item/Pawn Shop is run by Shalom alongside his part time assistant Wendy. Here you can buy a few so-so items (which also serve as birthday gifts for when the day comes: you’ll have to buy from the first four items on the list), as well as a Healing Pill and Grenade for errantry. Unique to this shop, you’re able to sell items, though I’d be wary on selling anything that’s “Royal”.

The Church may ring some bells to history buffs— Sister Lee will ask you to donate 100g. Accept, and you’ll lose 10 sin! That’s its entire purpose. This can be used should you rack up far too many on a murder spree and not want to dedicate the time to church work, though it does feel rather humorous in its execution.

Lastly, is the Hospital/Clinic, with Doctor Lombardini asking if you’re sick, and if you are, charging a fee for an examination. When you pay the fee, you’ll lose stress up to one less than your stamina— which means if you don’t gain any more stress (ie- resting), you’ll recover by next month. Really unnecessary unless you’re high up on stress.

I☆I

CASTLE: Basically, a way to gain reputation, a lot of it if you know how to work it. First of all, the key stat here is Decorum, raised by Protocol Classes. Let’s get started, rapid fire motion!!

The Palace Guard/Gatekeeper will be your first stop, needing 10 decorum to speak properly (almost every birthday will start you with 10 decorum). His preferred stat is Refinement. Every 5 points in refinement is worth one point for Personal Connections (hereinafter referred to as just “Connections”). You can gain up to 15 points per visit this way, and 40 total.

Next is the Royal Knight/Imperial Guard Knight, who needs 30 decorum. His preferred stat is Refinement. Every 8 points of Refinement is worth one point for your connections. You can get up to 25 points per visit this way, and 50 total. Did you notice the text was identical? This guy isn’t very special. But since you’re raising elegance anyways, it’s worth a visit.

After that comes the General, who needs 50 decorum. His preferred stat is Glamour. And every 5 points of Glamour will be worth a point for your connection stat. You can max out your visit at 50 points for connection, and 120 total for the guy overall. If you’re raising Glamour, which you likely are if you’re raising your decorum, it’s worth checking him out, at least until you max at 50.

Making it to 70 Decorum lets you speak with the Minister of State. His preferred stat is Intelligence. Aside from the usual, that being that every 10 points is worth a connection point, up to 60 a visit for a maximum of 100, your connection to him specifically can net you bonuses at the Dance Party— specifically, a score boost. This is fun if you are a dirty cheater!

If you’re still raising your decorum, at 80 you’ll have the manners to speak to the Archbishop. His preferred stat is Faith. Like the Minister of State, 10 points is one connection point, and a visit will max at 60, but his overall max is 120. You’ll want to raise Faith anyways, so it won’t hurt to visit the old man.

Getting tired? Great! So is our next stop— at 85 decorum, you’ll speak to the King’s favorite #2, the Royal Concubine/Favorite Mistress. Her preferred stat is Conversation/Speech/Eloquence. Yes, that’s right! A stat with three names!! Eloquence is the Regeneration name. Anyways, every 10 points of Eloquence will equate to 1 point for connections, up to a maximum of… 10 per visit. Her total maximum is 120, but considering you only get this stat at the Bar, I wouldn’t bother.

Now to the King’s favorite #1, the Queen! She’d love to invite you for tea if you have 90 decorum. Her preferred stat is Temperament/Personal./Temper. Much like #2, the same rules apply, 10 points = 1 point, 10 maximum per visit. She’ll raise your connections by 160 points total. This one is even more worthless, as it’s gained by doing housework (arguably easier), but there’s no other reason to raise Temper. What a fraud.

At 95 decorum, we’ll have the Bowing Skills to bow our way to the King. You may think otherwise, but his preferred stat is, strangely enough, Fight Rep. Every 10 points will go to your connection stat, but here’s where it gets interesting— the King has no limit per visit! For the crazies who raise it up to a maximum, the King will gladly give 99 points to your connections. His true maximum is 300, but Fighters Reputation is fairly easy to raise, and you’ll definitely be able to make use of his benefits.

So, what do connections do? Why, palace discounts of course! If you raise them high enough, you’ll get marked down prices! These apply even if she’s buying rogue, so it’s nice to have. Personal connections don’t go away, either! Well, unless you happen to sell that “Royal” thing.

Now, the Jester/Clown is unique— he doesn’t really care for decorum, and speaking to him will lower your social reputation by 15. What he does want is someone to talk to, and that Eloquence stat will come in handy. He’ll also raise your sensitivity by 15. If you keep talking to him, you may even be on the path for that 4th Art-based Ending. If you, of course, are feeling whimsical.

And to defy all odds, the Young Military Officer does… well, nothing. He doesn’t have any preference, he doesn’t require decorum, and he doesn’t impact your stats in any way. Well, not any way that you can see. He’s only available on January 31st, and if you keep your promises, he’s the ticket to becoming a Princess.

I☆I

ITEM: A screen where you can see your inventory. Many items in this game are passive, they’ll have their effect when just held in your inventory. Exceptions include clothes (which are to be clicked on to be worn- then granting their bonuses), Equipment (can be clicked to add to weapon/armor slot, then their effects are in, uh, effect), and consumables (like the Ancient Milk and the Breast Pill). Some items are to be traded away, however. Usually, they are to be traded in errantry.

I☆I

SYS: The save menu. You save your game. You load your game. You leave your game. That is. Uhm. All.

I☆I

SCHEDULE: Leads to the scheduling screen, of which, we’ll talk about… next time!! I’d like you tune in for that, ok?

[homosexuhauls]

I haven't seen anyone mention it on here, most likely because English language news sources are reporting them as friends, but a man murdered a lesbian couple in Hong Kong last week.

(Twitter thread includes more sources and proof of the two victims being in a relationship. However, video of the attack exists online and some of the photos in Chinese news articles are graphic/disturbing. Please proceed with caution.)

Fang Xiaotong (26 years old) and Liu Jixi (22 years old) were stabbed to death by a 39 year old man in a targeted attack in a shopping mall. Allegedly, he purchased the knife only after seeing the visibly gay couple, then attacked Fang Xiaotong, who was a Tom, which has a similar meaning to a butch or stud or masc lesbian. Liu Jixi attempted to intervene to save her girlfriend, but the perpetrator stabbed her also. Bystanders and mall security did not intervene, although eventually chefs who worked at the mall heard screams and armed themselves with stools before attempting to stop the attacker. The perpetrator then waited calmly for the police, and both women were pronounced dead at the hospital. While Western sources are painting this as a result of mental illness, the video and local news stories make it clear that this was likely a hate crime.

(Nb. I've also seen their names given as Fong Hiu-tung and Lau Kai-hei, and also that they may have used the nicknames "Daniel" and "Amber". I can't know which names they would have preferred to be used, hence why I'm including all of them here but using Fang Xiaotong and Liu Jixi throughout the post for consistency and clarity.)

From Naomi Wu, whose twitter thread I've linked above, an explanation of the sometimes deadly hostilities Toms and other lesbians face in China and Hong Kong:

When men attack Toms (butches), they think a lot of things- sometimes in Chinese we say "one lesbian steals two men's wives"- herself and her partner. And for bitter middle-aged, unmarried men like this attacker, they've been told their whole life they are owed a wife to wait on them hand and foot- and they feel robbed and wronged by a young handsome Tom taking what's "theirs". They are angry, entitled, jealous- they want to teach her a lesson. They want to punish her for having what is rightfully theirs when they don't. Then it's "Oh, if you want to act like a man, I'll treat you like one". Most need to justify it to themselves to get started. Of course, the femme/Dee/P is always next, because we will fight to save our Tom, and once we do, they can justify turning their violence on us next. In their twisted head, they decide their unprovoked attack was "fighting 1-on-1" and it's our fault for getting involved. All Toms know the deal, they cannot win, all Toms tell their girls again and again "if something happens, just run, I can take it". When the time comes, all Toms try to buy their girl time to get away- even as they go down under fists and boots...or knives They want to buy us time, but no femmes can bear to leave them, so it never works. But they always go for our Toms first, then us. Every time.

Fang Xiaotong was a waiter in a high-end restaurant. She loved small animals and children and had lived with her mother and step-sister prior to moving in with Liu Jixi one to two months before the attack. Liu Jixi was a hair stylist and also worked part-time at a bar, which is apparently where she and Fang Xiaotong met. On the day of the attack, both women were planning to meet up with Fang Xiaotong's family to celebrate her grandfather's birthday.

Rest in peace 🫶 your courage will not be forgotten.

[roseofthewind]

Genshin impact's English translators have had a lot of honorifics and forms of address to try and wrestle into something that makes sense in English, and I just had a moment of stark clarity on how I desperately wish they had handled Furina's honorifics.

If you had to pick, what form of government would you say Fontaine employs? I say, a monarchy!

In addition to being an administrative building, the Palais Mermonia is quite like a royal palace. The prophecy explicitly references Furina crying on her throne, and you have her literal throne as her seat in the opera house as well.

In which case, the Archon is the king, and Furina would be addressed as Your Majesty.

This localization would also make it much easier to get across that Neuvillette does not refer to Furina the same way the common people do- they are more or less equals, after all. If everyone else is calling Furina "Your Majesty," then Neuvillette can call her "Lady Furina," and I believe this would be much more in line with the spirit of the original.

[houseofmarcella]

Obligatory Philip/History Essay for my friends (pt1)

Recently I have been seeing various memes and art pieces (that are all lovely and beautiful) and some weird twitter discourse about Philip, the show's lore, real-life historical tragedies, and a complete misinterpretation of 17th-century christianty. I was hoping to clarify some things and put out some of my pet theories.

Obligatory: I am but a humble fan and history enthusiast, and this is all written in good fun and with the understanding that any children's cartoon depicting historical figures (even fictional ones) is not always going to portray things accurately to the finest details. To begin,

THEY'RE DUTCH (ethnically?)

'Witte' is a Dutch surname meaning white or blond. Combining it into Wittebane gives us 'the white bane', and the rather obvious allusion to the European colonization (and Christianization) of the Americas. Contrary to the common belief that the continent was only colonized by the Spanish/French/English, the Dutch were the first Europeans in the area. I have always had the pet theory that the brothers were Dutch orphans who were forced to join an English settlement.

The whole "tryed to fit in with the town by becoming witchhunters" thing could easily be interpreted as them doing their best to acclimate to their new town.

I really like how this could parallel Luz and Camilla too. Caleb 'taking care of Philip by pushing witchhunting as a way to protect him from townsfolk with hawkeyes for anything weird/of the devil. This can also feed into the 'betrayal' aspect of their relationship, where Philip feels that Caleb left him, but Caleb was older and just trying to keep them safe. (Flapjack choosing Hunter when he expresses the desire to "choose his own future" in HP feels... relevant)

Earlier in the fandom, it was a general impression that the brothers were the town founders, and not just some orphan kids from an ethnicity the townsfolk didn't like. I wonder if this was a change from the shortening of s3, but the nature of the statue seems to imply they were literate and probably did something important enough to be remembered besides disappearing mysteriously into the night.

Timeline for quick reference

1613 somehow, the Wittebanes arrive in Gravesfield, a town that should not yet exist (from TtT).

1614 Adriaen Block (dutch) sails up the Connecticut River and opens the door for the Dutch West India Company to trade for furs with local Mohegan and Pequot tribes. THIS IS THE FIRST EUROPEAN SURVEY IN THE AREA, let alone a settlement!

1634 Wethersfield, the first English/Puritan town in Connecticut, is founded, this is the town that has a historic district called 'Old Wethersfield' and was the location of the conneticut witch trials (sound familiar?).

1636-37 The Pequot War

1647-70 The Connecticut Witch Trials Occur

1664 The English take over New Amsterdam and rename it New York

Wethersfield... Gravesfield...

The town Wiki page cites Wethersfield as Dana Terrace's hometown, and though her official birth location is actually a town nearby, the parallels here are so overt I will simply summarise.

Wethersfield has a historic district called "Old Wethersfield" and just LOOK AT THIS CEMETARY! A few of the town's founders were pretty damn important to the Pequot War as well.

Most importantly, Wethersfield was the site of most of the major executions in the Connecticut Witch Trials.

The Witch 'Hunter' General & Hopkins

Matthew Hopkins (obv. the inspiration for Jacob Hopkins in show) was an English (this is in England btw) puritan who hunted women and poor people on a religious zealot murder spree from 1644-1647. He killed at least over 100 people and could arguably be held as the person who started this frenzy.

He published The Discovery of Witches and called himself the "Witch-Finder General". The change from finder to hunter in the show is probably just for clarity, but the reference is there.

Pt2, with a discussion about puritanism/calvinism, how Belos probs used his view of catholicism to build the government and religion of the modern BI, and how the grimwalkers relate to the Calvinist idea of predestination and salvation... will come soon.

Thank you @ter-claw-thorne, @theawkwardarchaeologist, @triple--a--threat--a--threat, and @died-of-ligma, for dealing with my rambling.

I apologize if there are any spelling errors in this essay, it's 2 am and I had a real history essay due two hours ago.

[satoshi-mochida]

Tsukihime Remake English Fan Translation Now Complete

Noisy Pixel Source

Fan team Tsukihimates has announced that their English fan translation of the TYPE MOON-developed visual novel Tsukihime Remake, Tsukihime -A Piece of Blue Glass Moon- is now complete.

The original Tsukihime was initially launched for PC in Japan in December 2000 before receiving its aforementioned remake in August 2021 for Nintendo Switch and PlayStation 4. It features protagonist Shiki Tohno who is exiled from his home after suffering from a significant injury enabling him to see the death lines on human beings and non-living matter.

This remake, as well as the original PC release, remain Japanese-exclusive, with there being no news on a potential localization. However, with the notable success of The Witch on the Holy Night’s release, it’s certainly possible that we’ll see the game finally be accessible to global audiences.

For installation instructions and additional information, check out Tsukihimates’ website.

The team’s website also provides the following notice for transparency and clarity:

“All files released or distributed by Tsukihimates are only patches. In order to make use of these patches, you must legally own a copy of the base game. Tsukihimates does not condone or encourage piracy of any kind. By downloading any Tsukihimates-provided patches, you assert that you have purchased a copy of Tsukihime -A Piece of Blue Glass Moon-.

Tsukihime -A piece of blue glass moon- may be purchased online from Nintendo or physically through various different resellers.

All patches provided by Tsukihimates are provided ‘as-is’, without warranty of any kind, express or implied, including but not limited to the warranties of merchantability, fitness for a particular purpose, and noninfringement. In no event shall the authors or copyright holders be liable for any claim, damages or other liability, whether in action of contract, tort or otherwise, arising from, out of, or in connection with the software or the use or other dealings in the software.

By downloading or using any patches provided by Tsukihimates, you assert that you have read and accept this message.”

[diaryoftheloser]

Aver - The Loser, The Commonplacer

I look forward to recieving your support...

Just to clarify, I am fairly new to this, hence for clarity I am gonna use two blogs

@diaryoftheloser - To keep track of my daily activities

@thecommonplacer - For brainstorming, organising content

💬 Who Am I?

Name/Pronouns: Aver (She/Her) From: Dubai, United Arab Emirates 🇦🇪 Identity: Queer and thriving in STEM Currently: Freelancer - Incoming Biotechnology Master's Student Field of Study/Work: Omics Data Science, Scientific Communication Reason for Starting the Blog: My First Post Fun Fact: I am also Digital Illustrator (Minor in Animation) Biggest Science Nerd Moment: Volunteering and presenting at my very first International Conference 🌍

🔬 Research Interests

Nucleic Acid Sciences 🧬 Omics Technology 📊 Data Science & Engineering 💻 Statistics 📈 Immunology 🦠 Business in Biotechnology & Life Sciences 🧪

🎧 When I’m Not Doing Science

Music: English Pop, Korean & Thai OSTs (I want to expand my playlist) Shows/Movies: RomComs, Asian - Thai, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Taiwanese, Indian (sometimes Filipino and Vietnamese) Books: Productivity, Psychology, Manga, Manhwa Hobbies: Typography

✨ Goals

✈️ Short Term Goals: Lose 10kgs, Earn a Driver's License, Strengthen Computational Expertise, Prepare for Biotech National Exams, Learn to Cook, Move to Singapore 🌈 Long Term Goals: Pre-Ph.D. Preparation, Financial Independence, Financially Support My Family, Upgrade My Wardrobe and Aesthetics, Fulfill Travel Wishlist 🦄 Career Goals: Turning My Future Ph.D. Work into a Unicorn, Fixed Additional Sources of Income 💼 Productivity Goals: Being Consistent with Notion Productivity

Goals for 100 Days of Productivity (100 Days to The Year 2025):

Lose 10 Kgs

Earn a Driver's License

Finish Pending Projects - Research Paper, Conference Presentation

Biotech National Exam Preparation

Finish Three Career Tracks on Data Camp

Submission for The Food Innovation Challenge

Goals for 300 Days of Productivity:

The Mega Pre-Ph.D. Prep

Recycle all used papers and donate books

Move to Singapore

Financial Education

Complete Udemy Courses and left over Data Camp Career Tracks

🔗Works in Progress:

Pre-PhD Prep Plan Move to Singapore My Current Self-Care Routine Conference Prep Weekly Progress (100DOP / 300DOP) Research Paper Shenanigans Local Examination for Biological Sciences - ExamPrep My Side-Hustle Journey

[redpenship]

(part of buzzsaw dilemma chap 2)

Robotnik took the pencil and flipped one of the worksheets to the blank side. “Mobian and English look the same because Mobian adopted the Roman alphabet. We call this process romanization. Before this happened, there was no standard writing system among animals from different regions. Here, let me show you.”

He drew two different symbols side-by-side. One was square shaped, while the other was round and long.

“These symbols look different, but they are effectively the same word. The symbol on the left is from the Westside Island dialect, where it means ‘animal’ and sounds like Mobi-Nab. The symbol on the right is from South Island. It also means ‘animal’ and sounds like Mobi-Kuhn.” Robotnik wrote the phonetic spellings below the symbols. “The dialects are similar enough that anyone from the two islands can communicate verbally, but written communication used to be nearly impossible before the writing system was romanized. Do you understand why?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be able to read anything from a different place.” 

“Exactly. Using the alphabet built a bridge for written communication that wasn’t possible before,” Robotnik said. “English and Mobian simply use the same letters. Aside from a few loan words, the similarities end there.” 

Part of the explanation piqued Miles' interest. “Loan words?”

With another sigh, Robotnik wrote two words on the paper. “Read those out loud to me.” 

“Person and animal.” Miles had seen the words before in books, but he didn’t quite understand them. “What do they mean?”

“An animal is like a flicky. A person is like you.”

Miles frowned. “I thought I was an animal.” 

“Yes, but also no. In the same way we distinguish an animal from a person, we must also distinguish humans from big animals like you. In these cases, you are a Mobian. Not an animal, not a human: Mobian. Do you understand?”

After some thought, Miles nodded. “I think so. And Mobians are people?”

“Correct. Mobians are people, too,” Robotnik said. “A person is smarter than an animal. You can read, and think in sentences, and use hard logic to solve problems. Animals can’t do that.”

Hm. Miles could understand the distinction, but he didn’t like it. It felt mean and unnecessary. 

“I don’t see the point. Animals and people aren’t too different.”

Robotnik pointed to the two symbols for animal on the paper. “In Mobian dialects, the local variation of Mobi is used to refer to both people and animals. They do not have separate terms. Context is the only way to understand which one is being spoken about. That tends to get lost in translation—especially so in writing. The English words were introduced for the sake of clarity.” 

In that case, maybe Miles could understand why the distinction was necessary. There were times when he meant to refer to little animals, and times when he meant to refer to bigger animals—Mobians—like himself. In these situations, having the words animal and person would probably make things easier to explain. It still didn’t feel right, but he could at least wrap his head around it. 

“What’s the difference between Mobians and humans?” Miles asked. He didn’t know much about humans outside of rumours. They seemed to live quite differently from animals, so he’d always been curious about them. 

Miles had expected a fast response like usual, but Robotnik took a few moments to think over his answer. He didn’t look confused, just . . . pensive. 

Finally, he spoke.

“When I chose these islands as the starting point for my empire, I spent years learning everything I could about your species. There were a wide range of resources to study—humans have spent millions of dollars on research trying to understand the difference between us. I read just about everything I could get my hands on. Then I went to South Island to build my first base and realized everything I had learned was wrong.” 

Curious, Miles scooted forward in his chair a little. “Wrong?”

“Yes, all wrong! Everything humans believe about Mobian society is either incorrect or greatly exaggerated." Robotnik crossed his arms with a huff. “All of our research is intent on making you seem as alien as possible. After I conducted my own research, I realized that we were more alike than I’d previously believed. There are differences between us, sure. But none of them are particularly meaningful."

Slowly, Miles nodded along to what Robotnik was saying. Humans had also seemed pretty alien to him, so it was good to know that they were mostly the same. They just looked a bit different from each other, that was all. 

[feekins]

fell a little behind, so today imma cover the extras in Trigun vol 2 - "Day In Day Out" and "Trigun Pilot" 😁

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

after all the heaviness of ch8, depending on how you look at them, these extras are either a palate cleanser or they give you a bit of whiplash 😅 personally, I enjoy them. they're good fun, and it's interesting to compare these earlier Vashs with him at the end of vol 2. now, without further ado...

DAY IN DAY OUT

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

just an interesting little translation discrepancy here - there aren't too many context-changing ones in these extras.

oh but I do love that both translations describe how early Vash wakes up (which, judging by the clock, is 4-5am so about the time Charlie gets me up for First Breakfast) the same way - "Earlier than the rooster's crow, children on Sunday, and the morning paper."

...ah yes, the Noman's Land rooster...

[[insert Trigun character recreating the "look at all those chickens!" vine but with toma here]]

Overhaul at it again, providing more context and clarity =u= although I do think both translations, while different, give off a similar vibe, pointing out little contradictions or things that seem counter-intuitive here.

(Dark Horse on top, Overhaul on bottom)

again, similar enough imo - but I enjoy the Overhaul's translation more bc it's sillier 💕

speaking of which...

...minor translation discrepancies here, but "All Days" VS "Oldies" is cracking me up bc I think I know how Dark Horse got what they did - it's a mistake/some confusion in what foreign (to Japan) word Nightow meant!

in Japanese, "imported" words tend to be written in katakana rather than hiragana. it's kind of like how, in American English, you might see "imported" words printed in italics in some books. anyway, I looked up the Japanese word for "Oldies" and it brought up オールディーズ (literally "oorudeiizu"). and here's the thing: there's no "dee" (like in "deer") sound in Japanese. to denote that in katakana for an "imported" word, then, you'd use the character デ ("de" like in "den") + the modifier ィ ("i" like in "eerie") + symbol to indicate an elongated vowel sound. hence, "oorudeiizu" - which I guess Dark Horse then mistook, thinking it meant "All Days"

(...but if that were the case, wouldn't it originally have to be "aarudeiizu"...? dgixgujgx I'm getting sidetracked, sorry - I am ① an anthropologist who ② took some Japanese classes way back when, so I got excited 😵‍💫)

ANYWAY.

......"Sonic Sodom" eh? I mean, alright! 😆

notable translation discrepancies, but either one does its job: makes this creep seem like more of an ass

now, the second extra...

TRIGUN PILOT

first page, first translation discrepancy. it's minor, but again, the Overhaul gives us more info. second panel, first block of text. Dark Horse has "Even if we're sheltered beneath a giant umbrella, we don't know what tomorrow may hold." meanwhile, the Overhaul has "Even if we're sheltered underneath an umbrella of our old technology, we don't know what the future holds."

there's another discrepancy on the second page, second block of text. more significant difference here. Dark Horse has:

Vash the Stampede is now known as a "localized disaster."

meanwhile, the Overhaul has:

Having caused massive amounts of destruction, he is now under suspicion of being the world's first "localized disaster."

lmao what an ass

and it's interesting how we see the kind of person Count Bostalk is right from the start...

and then we have Vash dancing in listening to his transistor radio. classic. 🤣

🤨

blegh. translation discrepancy that changes the context. I already liked this bandit guy, but the Overhaul makes me like him more. less "macho" more "I HAVE to take revenge for the heinous things Bostalk did"

the pilot does such a good job setting up the complexity of the conflicts in the Trigun 'verse 💕

and I don't like this one 😑 Dark Horse's translation here is...kinda jerk-like. condescending, kinda? anyway. let me sing another love song to you, Overhaul~

finally, I had to put these panels together. the translations are close enough, so no complaints there - the sass of this exchange just didn't hit me until now. Vash is such a lil shit and I love it 💕

[langernameohnebedeutung]

I kind of hope that what we take away from the whole Dracula Daily thing is that the best way to get people reading is not to shame them for what they are reading or for not reading - but to offer a nice social environment for reading. This might be, as so often before, the teacher in me speaking, but personally I’m convinced that spikes in trends and popularities of books have a lot to do with people enjoying the social bubble where they can talk about their reading or even film or show or whatever. Take Goncharov! It’s a “movie” that doesn’t even exist but people went insane for days talking about it - and sure, that’s partly owed to the whole thing being a joke that’s funny, but really, people like doing stuff with people. I don’t think as many people would have part-taken if it hadn’t involved this much interactions and ‘yes, and-’-ing 

e.g., when people discuss audio books, one argument is often brought up: That silent, solitary reading is a rather recent development. That for a long time, people would read stories out loud - and often, communally. In those contexts this is usually brought up to highlight how listening to a story is a perfectly acceptable way of reading it. But there is another aspect here - the communal aspect. Because if one person reads, that also entails conversation about the book, choosing the book together, exchanging speculation about how it might go on and how you liked the chapter and what your thoughts were - and conversation and hearing other people’s perspectives usually sparks new ideas, new thoughts, etc. For me, personally, the fact that my grandfather and my mother used to read to me as a child - even long books or complicated books and that they would talk to me about those books, explain words to me or recommend to me things from their own childhood, was a huge factor in my literary development and it was very communal. 

I remember reading Twilight when it came out because all my friends read it and I wanted to partake in that conversation. And the thing is, I was never a hardcore, sincere, genuine Twilight fan - but it’s still something I had complex thoughts about and that I remember with more clarity than some of the other books I read at the same time and that actually I enjoyed more than Twilight - and tbh, part of me is convinced that it’s bc I had my daily book club going on where everyone discussed their daily Twilight reading.

And I know, I’ve done my fair share of bad-mouthing TikTok - mostly about the way they discuss books and its lack of individuality and the way it affects the book market and their paranoia of imaginary classics-loving elitists trying to force them to read stuffy old racist books or, oh, yeah, the zlib thing - and pls for the love of god, don’t take this as backtracking on any of that. But if I see some of my six-graders read ��They Both Die In The End”, knowing they either got it directly bc of BookTok or because BookTok flooded the English-language section of all our local book stores (sigh) than I’m really happily taking this over any of the kids who say they “don’t read at all, don’t want to read, haven’t read in years”, think “reading is boring”. Because it is far easier to expand your taste in books than it is to go from reading no books for a long stretch of your formative years into reading books at all, especially if you stopped as a kid and want to pick up again at some point in adulthood.

[iris-polaris]

So, you like astrology. Maybe you're an astrologer yourself. You don't push it on anyone (hopefully!) but it's certainly a major interest of yours.

!! AND YET !!

You know there's some arguments "against" astrology, and you're never sure how to respond...or even how to conceptualize why you feel differently.

As a starting point to develop your own opinions, here's food for thought on a common misconception: that all horoscopes and zodiac signs are too "general" or "the same."

!! DISCLAIMER !! This is more for you. While it's healthy to have some disagreements with the humans closest to you, remember that it's never worth your time and energy to "debate" anyone coming at you in bad faith. Ever. If they're not trying to learn about astrology and just want to feel superior to you because they buy Reddit merch or something, go ahead and ignore them. Do your Duolingo instead. Way more productive.

Now then...

Your hopefully well-meaning friend says that all the astrology stuff she's read sounds alike, so it could apply to anyone! It's so vague! Of course everyone believes they're real: each horoscope and zodiac sign is built to be relatable to every reader, so it feels true.

Two things are happening here, though.

🔮 The first is that English is a weird language, so it often fails at describing anything sophisticated.

What's this got to do with astrology? Well: English is hard to master, and even when you do master it, it's still difficult to find the exact words you need...if they exist at all.

Furthermore, humans don't critically read anything anymore. (Sigh.)

We astrology folks know that an Aries sun's drive and a Sagittarius sun's drive are not the same. One's more ambitious, the other adventurous. Succinctly writing this out in a way that makes it perfectly clear, with zero debate, that these are two very different energies? In English? Not easy.

You might say: "But, Bear, you did just succinctly write it."

Thing is...

That still doesn't arrive, fully, at the intricacies of Aries suns vs Sag suns...

And most people aren't coming from the same astrological place as you, in terms of knowledge. When you're too succinct with a layperson, they'll sometimes conflate "ambitious" and "adventurous" to mean the same thing. (Just for instance.)

As someone with two poetry degrees, this hurts me deeply, but there it is.

Additionally...

If you yourself aren't great at finding the exact words you need in any astrological content? Any layperson won't fully know what you mean, nor will they care.

So of course...

All signs and horoscopes seem the same to outsiders if written without crystal clarity. Many of us lack that crystal clarity. No judgement. It's just how English is, and how communication fails inherently sometimes.

This phenomenon is made worse because of...

🔮 The second issue: pop astrology generally needs to be short and succinct.

As I said, the whole clarity thing is...not good when you need entire essays, sometimes, to talk to others about an Aries vs. Sag drive, for example.

That doesn't fit in a newspaper column or easily-scanned blog post. Nor do 99% of the other things we astrologers want to tell everyone and want to talk about. Unfortunately, we only have a limited amount of physical (and mental!) space. So do the humans around us.

This also sucks because a lot of humans only know of astrology from their 20-word local newspaper horoscopes.

And so...

We have to use short-hand. We have to be vague much of the time. We may not know the words we want to use in our horoscopes and descriptions at all, in fact, because English is our second language or we were never great at communicating in the first place.

We often have to point towards meaning in astrology, which isn't at all actually talking about the thing in question. When you're clear, people can't misconstrue you unless they're working in bad faith. (Then you can ignore 'em.) However, when you have to lead people to your astrological conclusions in a roundabout way, using imprecise words, they can wander astray.

It sucks that we're often forced to abandon preciseness for conciseness. But trust me when I say that an Aries having "ambitious drive" and Sagittarius having "adventurous drive" are very much not the same thing.

🔮 In conclusion...

The reason some horoscopes and descriptions of sun signs might seem "vague" or "applicable to anyone" is because of:

the limitations of the English language/communication in general,

and the limitations of digital and physical mediums.

I should have probably led with the disclaimer that this is mostly opinion with no cited sources, but it may help you humans figure things out for yourselves re: this common misconception.

Blessings, cubs!

(Typed up by my wife Mate-chan. Thank you, baby.)

[mywingsareonwheels]

In praise of Danielle Jam <3

Having been lucky enough to see Mina's Reckoning (feminist, queer play version of Dracula from the National Theatre of Scotland, currently in Aberdeen, *extremely* good so long as you're not a big Siward fan ;-) ) earlier this week, during the preview period:-

More people need to be familiar with the incredible Scottish actor Danielle Jam. I've seen her live onstage twice now, as Ellen (a fictionalised version of one of the two Black women at the court of James IV) in James IV: Queen of the Fight , and now as Mina Murray in Mina's Reckoning.

Awesome young stage actors are everywhere in the UK these days and it's wonderful, but I am *really* fussy about voice acting, especially given the hearing problems and auditory processing problems I have. Jam's got this incredible projection, dynamic range, and the way she brings out the intensity of the more poetic lines in English, Scots, Doric[1], or any other language she's speaking, just damn. <3 (I'm only beginning to be able to understand spoken Scots or Doric fluently even when my hearing isn't being a factor, but my Gods, Jam's got the kind of passion and clarity onstage I associate with Roger Allam or Adjoa Andoh or David Tennant, and I was picking up so much more than I'd expect. <3 ) She does mostly modern work (including panto!), but I would also love so so much to see her in some Shakespeare. Or a Doric translation of some Greek tragedy. Just... I want to hear her delivering more poetry onstage while also being incredible in all the other acting ways. <3

Here she is in a publicity photo with the English actor Liz Kettle as Dracula (Kettle was also *phenomenal* I note! terrifying and hateable and hot all at once):

[ID: a publicity photo for the play Mina's Reckoning. Danielle Jam (a young Black woman with short hair, wearing a late Victorian-style, dark blouse and jacket) as Mina stands in front of Liz Kettle (a middle-aged white woman with long hair, eerie make-up, wearing a black suit and white open-necked shirt) as Dracula (whose gender in this and in the play is entirely ambiguous). Liz Kettle/Dracula is far taller, on a raised platform. There is a dark red background.]

My other favourite performance in Mina's Reckoning was from the young nonbinary actor Ros Watt as Renfield; they're barely out of drama school and they were incredible. Mina's Reckoning is in Aberdeen at the moment and then going to Glasgow, Stirling, Inverness, Dundee, Edinburgh, Coventry, then Liverpool. More here: https://www.nationaltheatrescotland.com/events/dracula

[1] Doric is possibly a form of Scots (and Scots is a sister-language to English, for those who don't know, with a lot of overlapping vocabulary but v much its own thing). Or possibly another sister-language to both Scots and English in its own right. If you ask people here in Aberdeenshire they may well tell you the latter, and I'm an incomer originally from south-east England so I have no right to determine which and if in doubt I'm going to listen to the locals. :) I know there also are a lot of Scots and Doric speakers on tumblr who will have far more informed opinions than mine. <3

[biff-adventurer]

not that anyone asked, but for clarity and curiosity i looked at the list of NPC names for Thavnairians since i came across some people's muses who were cited as being Thavnairian, but... the naming conventions didn't really reflect the suggestion the game is making about the culture.

for reference, i'm a punjabi and punjab has kind of always been the inbetweeny space where islamic western asian and hindu southern asian sensibilities cross with one another

anyway anyone who knows me knows that i have compared the current state of thavnair to mughal india - the era where persian and islamic influenced mongol descended rulers governed the largely hindu populated india (you know the 'stans'? india calls itself 'hindustan' when invoking the Old Days and 'bharat' when invoking the current day)

so then i came across some characters who were non-gaja original characters with hindu names. so... that was weird, because it's heavily implied that the non-gaja characters have persian inspired names. and their wardrobes and their boats are all persian inspired?

so tidbit about last names in the hindu tradition: they describe what caste you belong to. caste, as a concept = very bigoted, we should very be against it, people have died b/c of caste based bias. definitely avoid using brahmin names if your character is... idk, not nobility, some kind of high priesthood, or like, absurdly wealthy. but that isn't going to matter in a moment.

b/c the only races with actual hindu names are the gaja and the ananta. the gaja appear to be more south indian in culture whereas the ananta are more north indian (hi again). that's if we make an exception for the gaja in treasure dungeons with thai cultural connections all over the place.

all other thavnairian anthropomorphic NPCs are given persian or arabic sounding names. i wonder if they're different because they were transliterated from the japanese pronunciation of real names, though it could easily be that they're just making them Different Enough. though, i will say, the word "akasha" got that treatment, so i wouldn't be surprised if it all did. it would make a lot of sense.

so yeah... au ra, midlanders and highlanders seem to have that western asian naming vibe going on for them. as far as i'm concerned, it would be more interesting to take meaningful names from those regions of the world to support world building in that direction. because otherwise you end up perpetuating the notion that it's one big hodgepodge monolith with funny sounding names. but, well... go with god, my child. i'm going to fade into to dust at any minu

(and, i promise you, no one says "by the sisters!" in the jpn script even half as much as the folks in the english localization)