#Formation of Latin Words

[interretialia]

Formatio Verborum Latinorum / Formation of Latin Words

ὁ Ἀκιλλοβάτωρ -ορος / Achillobator -oris m. “Achillobator”   [Ἀχιλλεύς “Achilles” + баатар “hero”]   [Ἀχιλλεύς + βάτωρ] баатар Grecianized   [Ἀχιλλευ- + βατορ-] stems   [Ἀχιλλο- + βατορ-] ευ becomes Connecting Vowel ο   [Ἀχιλλοβατορ-] new stem   [Ἀκιλλοβάτωρ] nominative singular   [Achillobator] Ἀκιλλοβάτωρ Latinized

(Fons Imaginis.)

[dozydawn]

Maya Usova and Alexander Zhulin Original Set Pattern “Samba” 1990.

[dykesbat]

batman and latin poetry (for the ask game)

wayne manor library definitely has some latin poetry in it bc the wayne’s are collectively that kind of weirdgirl <3

[howtofightwrite]

I don't know if you covered this before, but how does being left-handed effect handling weaponry? I imagine it doesn't impact too much with guns, but I've heard it can alter how using a sword works. How true is this, in the end?

That's sort of backwards. With a handful of exceptions, being left-handed doesn't do much to how you handle most melee weapons. The big exceptions are if you're wielding a shield, and in some medieval siege assault situations. Being a left-handed shooter, on the other hand, comes with a host of considerations, and in some cases, requires modifying your firearms so that they're convenient to use, or in others, it straight up requires learning to shoot right handed.

So, the part about this that is true, has nothing to do with which hand is dominant. Speaking from personal experience, it is much easier to accurately shoot with your off-hand, than it is to wield a melee weapon off-handed.

So, the issue with being a lefty with a shield is that your shield will be on the right side of your body while your opponent's shield will be on the left side of theirs. This means you're mirroring each other, and blocking an attack with your shield (or your opponent doing the same to you) is far more vulnerable to stepping out of line slightly and striking your opponent's weapon arm. This goes both ways, though a left-handed fighter is more likely to be prepared to immediately exploit this opening, simply because there are more right handed fighters, so they'll be encountering this situation more often.

The second exception is architectural. We've mentioned this on many occasions, but medieval castles were designed to favor the defenders. This took multiple forms, but among them were stairways designed so that someone invading the castle would have their right arm pressed up against a wall, while their left hand was free. (This was true both with open stairways, and also with spiral stairways inside the keep.) The assumed word here is, “designed to favor right-handed defenders.” A left-handed assaulter would be able to use their dominant arm freely as they assaulted, because the keep was (accidentally) built to favor them. In some cases, they might even have advantages over the right-handed defenders, such as being able to attack freely from above as they descended.

I'm been mostly thinking about the standard infantry sidearms of the era, but is worth remembering that a left-handed spearman would be a problem in a tightly packed formation (such as the phalanx), because their arm would be running extremely close to their fellow fighter on the left side of their battle line, while leaving a gap to their right.

It's also worth knowing that most lefties train (often involuntarily) some degree ambidexterity. Everything from doorknobs to jars are built for right-handed people, so, you learn to do things with your off-hand that a right-handed individual would never even think about. Hell even just putting on your clothes in the morning will train some dexterity in your right-hand, which a right-handed individual would never do with their left. (Amusingly, the major exception to this would be some articles of women's clothing, which were originally oriented opposite a man's clothes so that a servant could fasten her clothes for her, using their right hand for the more dexterous bits.) (Actually, if you know your Latin, there's a pun in the previous sentence, and I am truly sorry for that.)

Now, when it comes to firearms, being a left-handed shooter can be annoying. It also means you're far more likely to write about firearms in some public capacity. So, that's a weird trend.

The biggest problem tends to be the controls. A lot of firearms will position their controls to be convenient for a right-handed operator. If you're left-handed, you'll find yourself having to reach over the weapon, or break fire position, to interact with those settings, more than a right-handed shooter would. This can include safety switches, fire control groups, magazine releases, slide/bolt catch releases, and even decockers.

It's fairly rare to encounter a handgun where the slide release and safety are ambidextrous. Ambidextrous mag releases are a bit more common these days than they used to be, so that's always nice. But, whenever someone breaks out a 1911, yeah, that's really expecting you to be right-handed.

This isn't just with modern firearms either. One of my favorite handguns is the Colt SAA. The gun is over 150 years old, and if you're left-handed, reloading it will see you dropping spent brass onto the back of your hand. (Or cradling the gun, and clearing the cylinders that way, which is entirely valid.)

Sometimes, you can modify a gun for left-handed use. This will often involve things like replacing the magazine release (and praying that the mags' manufacture considered someone would switch the release button, or cutting new release notches into your mags.) Revering the safety (which in some of the most obnoxious cases, also means replacing the grip paneling.) This is all doable, but you're going to put a lot of work into making the gun comfortable for your left hand.

Though, there are other solutions. The H&K USP's massive slide release leaver, designed for use with gloves, can easily be operated by a left-handed shooter's index finger. (Also, the USP has an ambidextrous mag release, and the safety/decocker is positioned so that you can, at least, safe and unsafe it with the first knuckle of your index finger, though, good luck decocking it, without moving your left hand out of the way entirely), and in other cases, you can flip your thumb over the slide to adjust it.

In the case of most push button releases, you can simply eject it by drawing back your middle finger and pressing the button directly. Though, this does lead to another problem. Your hand is not supposed to be right over that button at all times, and until you learn how to manage the recoil on a gun, it can very easy for a left-handed shooter to accidentally drop the mag after they fire. This is especially an issue for Glocks and SIG P220 series pistols. (Ironically, this is less of a problem with the Beretta 92/M9 family of pistols, given how the push button sits in the grip.)

If you what a modified left-handed pistol can end up looking like, McClane (Bruce Willis)'s Beretta from Die Hard was modified to accommodate his left-hand dominance, with the major differences being the slide release being modified, and the mag release being replaced with one that was easier to reach.

Behind the controls, is the slightly less common non-ambidextrous grips. I still remember this MP5 variant with a contoured thumb rest on the left side. Perfect for a right-handed shooter, but if you're a lefty, it would dig into your palm. This is slightly more common with hunting rifles, and sporting guns in general, but as the MP5 above indicates, it's not exclusive to them.

It's also worth remembering that this last issue can pop up with melee weapons as well. If a rapier is designed to be held in the right hand, it might not be compatible with your left hand. I've never seen this personally, but it's something worth remembering.

The end result is, a lot of left-handed shooters learn to shoot right-handed for situations where the firearm simply isn't compatible with their dominant hand. (Cue: multiple people saying, “hey, I never learned to shoot with my right hand.”) I don't know who those individuals are, but, frankly, unless they've only handled customized, left handed guns, I'm dubious about that one.

So, it is certainly a thing, but it affects firearms far more than melee weapons.

-Starke

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[isa-ghost]

Fuck it, I wanna start something sappy and fun. Reblog this and follow the format I'm establishing below.

You don't have to make as long of a list as me, but go nuts if you want!

QSMP has for me:

Gotten me into streamers I never would've discovered without an intercultural medium to facilitate it. Streamers who I fucking adore, who are queer/nd/etc representation I didn't have before now, who I would die for and will always at least hover on the outskirts of if there's a language barrier in my way

Gotten me into media from those streamers that I would've never discovered otherwise (ex: Ordem Paranormal)

Strengthened my interest in foreign language

Gotten me more into Latin music

Gotten me interested in Latin culture

Taught me even more about important aspects & new perspectives of discussions about race/culture/etc

Taught me more, albeit misc, words in certain languages

Taught me how to identify more country's flags than I previously knew

Made me even more friends and mutuals that I love to see, support, and be silly with on here or in Discord servers every day

Makes me excited to encounter people in real life who have a language barrier with me

Makes me even more excited than I already was to hear languages I don't know spoken in real life

Inspired me to write my first ever *proper* fanfic, the first one I've written in general since 2016.

Inspired me to write *2 more* fanfics besides the first one. Prior to now, I have *never* been a fic writer or interested in being one

Gotten me more interested in reading fics, when prior to QSMP, I really wasn't much of a fic reader unless I liked a certain ship that much

Made me chill with mcyt shipping, when previously I was very strictly against it in any way.

Genuinely started helping me get better at accepting compliments and being more confident in certain things about myself

Taught me how to be more nuanced about drama as well as serious issues

Improved my media analysis skills

Given me endless inspiration for my own personal creative projects and OCs

Somehow connected me even deeper to my religion

Motivated me to try new foods and other fun things

[fragbot]

Should the interpretation of words in a poem be fixed or fluid? How much energy and commitment do we have to argue for one side or another in debates about meaning that are likely to remain unresolvable? How much do either/or and wrong/right matter, or can we have both? It is hard to fit either/or into the format of traditional literary criticism, especially into the structure of an essay, because writing takes its thread from the medium of a single, looping line. We are not well able to read in twos, and that means we are not well able to present an argument in twos either. Except that classicists do sometimes read like this. Many readers are not entirely fluent in reading ancient languages, and so the practice of translating ("drawing across") may be one of reading sideways as well as down -- across the page if with a facing page translation, or across the desk or screen to a lexicon or commentary. For a beginner or intermediate student of ancient Greek or Latin, this horizontal style of reading may come more into play even than vertical reading, as the eyes travel right and left between words, sentence, commentary, and lexicon, in a practice of pausing, checking, returning, rereading. In graduate school, I once was told that a good classicist could read the English on the left-hand page of the Loeb with one eye as she could simultaneously read the Greek or Latin with the other eye on the right (this was a joke, but it does speak to something about the way ancient texts are mediated).

- from "Two Ways of Being Alone: Dual Form in Sappho Fragment 168B," Alex Purves

[written-by-3racha]

"I love you!" ft. stray kids hyung line

note from étoile : I knew i forgot something. I forgot my favorite part of formatting: the note. idk I just think it's cute saying stuff to a partner in another language.

WARNINGS : None really, fluff? just how they'd react to you saying i love you in a different language

♡ bangchan has always found Spanish an attractive language. In his eyes, he definitely won the gold mine when he started dating a latine person.

"Thanks Chan, te quiero mucho," you tell him one afternoon after he brought you lunch.

Chan started heating up, face and ears turning red. "Yeah, um, you're welcome, babygirl!" His big grin made you feel butterflies.

"Do you like when I talk Spanish, cariño?"

"Okay, stop teasing me!"

♡ lee know and you had an... odd relationship. You weren't sure if he liked you or not. You wanted to try something. You knew it was stupid and he probably wouldn't understand, but it was worth a shot. "Я тебя люблю."

Lee Know smirked at you. "Правда?" His smirk grew wider when he noticed your shocked expression. "You're funny, y/n. Definitely wasn't expecting this, hm?"

You didn't comprehend a word he said too busy processing the fact that he understood and responded in Russian.

"We'll go out together tomorrow, okay? Take some time to rest. You look like you need it."

♡ changbin and you went on a special day-long date to celebrate your anniversary. as the night was about to end, you muttered, "Je t'aime beaucoup, mon cœur," you were just barely audible for him.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it's something good..?" He responded, smiling his signature smile.

"What it means doesn't matter, mon cheri, what does matter is that I love you. Happy anniversary." You kissed his forehead, to which he hugged you tightly.

"Happy anniversary, bunny!"

♡ hyunjin had been your person of admiration for a long time. He was so beautiful, so kind, so funny. "大好きです."

The words had slipped out of your mouth so suddenly. It felt right to you, like the perfect piece to finish the puzzle.

Hyunjin looked at you, corner of his lips turned upwards. "That means... you like me, right?" He had performed some Japanese songs before, so he had some knowledge of the language.

"Please, forget what I said!" You flushed.

"Well, y/n," Hyunjin tilted your head and moved closer to your lips, "愛してる," He whispered before closing the gap.

[ariseur]

OKAY SO I SAW YOURE ALSO A LATINA AND , WANT REQUESTS; IVE ALWAYS HAD THIS THOUGT, what if Satoru and Suguru were BOTH dating a foreign reader (Mexican if you wanna be specific) idk I just though it’d be kinda funny when they remember the reader has an entirely culture than them!!

((btw that “BOTH” was about a poly relationship with satosugu, which you obv don’t have to do!!))

FOREIGN LOVE - SATORU GOJO

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - decided to change up my formatting a little bit, just experimenting lol. but!! unfortunately i don’t write for suguru ( yet, i’m still trying to get a better sense on his personality n his character since i’m almost done w/ s2!! ) and i dont write polyamorous pieces!! so i just decided to write about gojo for now 🫶

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - intended lowercase, mentions of japanese culture that i’m not educated on so lmk if there’s more common stuff i could mention instead, lmk if i missed any warnings!!

✧˖° SATORU GOJO dating a foreign reader would actually be a pretty cool dynamic to experience — anon i like your way of thinking about how gojo ( and geto ) would sometimes forget how their foreigner significant reader has an entirely culture from them because .. they probably would lol

✧˖° if you’re not that well versed in japanese / asian culture and traditions, i feel like he would just like casually bring up certain things or events that go on in japan like obon or setsubun or maybe you’re unsure of certain common etiquette, so he’s confused when you’re like “???”

✧˖° but!! if you’re interested in learning stuff about japanese culture then he’ll be like “you’ve come to the right person” and i can just imagine GOJO making that one tiktok emoji face— like the [proud] one lol. he’d love to tell you all about it though, he thinks you wanting to learn more about his culture is just another sign that you love him, and he wants to know more about you too!! he’s willing to sit with you for hours on end and ask you questions about what you do for your culture.

✧˖° if you’re new to japan and you’re unfamiliar with certain places around town and stuff, i think one of the best things that GOJO likes to show you is the food around town. i dunno about you guys but i literally love takoyaki and yakitori and that’s not even relevant to the headcanon i just felt like sharing that for no reason it’s so good to me. but of courseeee!! we can’t forget about kikufuku, a small daifuku with mochi and we all know how SATORU recommends the edamame or cream flavor, so lord forbid you don’t like it — he’ll be so dramatic 😭

✧˖° howeveerrrrr—!! since anon mentioned about shedding light on reader possibly being a latina or mexican, let’s talk about a hispanic!reader with GOJO, yeah??

✧˖° i love the idea that he can’t handle spice, and i dont even know where it came from and i feel like he probably could handle somewhat spicy foods? but i just love envisioning GOJO freaking out over like a tiny lil poblano chilé or something like that. i’m sure he’d love the food but i feel like he’d be so confused watching you make foods from your culture. like, tres leches??? why are you just soaking cake in milk???

✧˖° i’d say SATORU is a somewhat good dancer .. when it comes to certain songs 😭.. he’s not the worst when there’s some spanish music in the back but he will def try to improvise and will make both of you trip. i think he’d like dancing norteñas but i can just see him doing all these unnecessary dips in the middle of the song because he’s just seen it somewhere. he might even give you a kiss when he dips down a little lower, usually towards the end of the song. and when you call him out on it, he’s just like, “what? i can’t give my baby a kiss?” like the bastard he is ugh i need him rn

✧˖° don’t even get me started on him speaking spanish. he swears he’s suddenly this suavé latin genius once he surprises you with a few words. i think he’d be like that with any language though honestly except i’m pretty sure he knows a little bit of english since someone said he traveled abroad?? but with certain languages, he’ll definitely butcher them a lot lol. in the end, you praise him for trying and that alone results in him giving himself a pat on the back.

✧˖° i dunno about you guys in hispanic households, but growing up the way to shush someone or like a baby or something would be like “ya”. it could also be used in like “ya callaté” which is like “shut up already,”? i’m not sure if there’s a direct translation in english but i think like the closest thing to it in english is kinda like, “enough”, in that context?? so im just imagining you saying it to a dog barking or a baby crying and he’s just confused all “wdym ya ya, are they a horse??”

✧˖° i think you and him would really bond when learning about each other’s cultures, though. it’s a learning experience for the both of you and you unlock a new topic in which you guys can both learn about. you can count on your tour guide, SATORU GOJO—!

𐙚 join my taglist here !!

𐙚 requests are open — june thirteenth, 2024

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

A Website/meme shared on Dreamwidth:

Your Name (or any word, really) Spelled out in Landsat Images from NASA

Type your name, or any phrase you want (in Latin Alphabet Letters), and you'll get a string of images of those letters as seen from space.

You can download the image in .png format, or, like I did, screen cap and crop. Here's "CapricornOmnikorn:

And here's "love you":

On the website, if you hover over each letter, it will tell you where on Earth it is.

[interretialia]

Formatio Verborum Latinorum / Formation of Latin Words

solstitium -ii n. “solstice,” “solis statio”   [sol “sun” + stare “to stand (still)” + -tium abstract noun suffix]   [sol- + STA + -tio-] stem, root, and stem   [sol- + statio-] stem and new stem   [solstatio-] new stem   [solstitio-] medial a becomes i   [solstitium] nominative singular

(Fons Imaginis.)

[thebunnyslibrary]

In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people.  Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

                “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

                “Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

                “No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

                “Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

                “Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

                “I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

                Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

                “That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

                “Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

                “My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

                “What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

                “Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.             

                “That’s…. you’re not…”

                “Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

                “If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

                “I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him.  His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

                “If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

                “Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

                “How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

                “Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

                “I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

                As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance.  The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

                “I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

                “I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself.  He paused and smiled.

                “In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

                “It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

                “Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

                It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

                “I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

                “Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

                “Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

 His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways.  “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

                “No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

                “No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

                “I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

                 He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

                “When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

                “Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

                “Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

                “Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

                “Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

                “I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.   

                “Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

                “I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

                “Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

                “Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

                Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

                “Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

                “How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else.  You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

                “Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

                “You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

                “Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

                “Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him.  He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

                “Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

                “When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

                “Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

                “If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

                “Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said. 

                Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

[new-dinosaurs]

Gandititan cavocaudatus Han et al., 2024 (new genus and species)

(Type specimen of Gandititan cavocaudatus, from Han et al., 2024)

Meaning of name: Gandititan = Ganzhou geology [in Chinese] titan [in Greek] (the authors also note that the first part of the name happens to be similar to the Old Norse word for magical entities, "gandr"); cavocaudatus = cavity tailed [in Latin]

Age: Late Cretaceous (Cenomanian–Turonian)

Where found: Zhoutian Formation, Jiangxi, China

How much is known: Partial skeleton of one individual including multiple neck, hip, and tail vertebrae as well as a small part of the hip.

Notes: Gandititan was a titanosaurian sauropod. Titanosaur remains are often quite fragmentary, but the type specimen of Gandititan qualifies as being fairly well preserved. It is estimated to have been about 14 m long in total body length, and appears to have been closely related to several other Asian titanosaurs such as Abdarainurus, Dongyangosaurus, and Baotianmansaurus.

Reference: Han, F., L. Yang, F. Lou, C. Sullivan, X. Xu, W. Qiu, H. Liu, J. Yu, R. Wu, Y. Ke, M. Xu, J. Hu, and P. Lu. 2024. A new titanosaurian sauropod, Gandititan cavocaudatus gen. et sp. nov., from the Late Cretaceous of southern China. Journal of Systematic Palaeontology 22: 2293038. doi: 10.1080/14772019.2023.2293038

[wendelsae]

words that I have assumed are straightforward Latin loans and in fact aren't:

nostril (Lat. *nostrilis, in fact A.S. nosþýrel)

care (Lat. cárus, in fact A.S. caru)

dismal (Lat. *dismális, in fact a French formation from dies malos)

[isobug]

Reicioplatonic ( Reicioapl / Reicioaplatonic )

A platonic orientation characterized by limited or no platonic attraction / interest / activity due to emotional exhaustion from repeated rejection, or an intense fear of rejection. It is similar to, and can overlap with or be used alongside, Requiesplatonic and Friendship-drained / Plato-drained.

( One example of someone using this label would be an individual who is Aplatonic, was Plato-neutral, who is now Plato-drained due to repeated rejection. They now consider themselves Reicioapl as they’ve lost all platonic interest in and their urges for platonic activities with those individuals. )

The flag colors and their meanings are inspired by the Requies- and the Aplatonic flags ( taking the bottom stripes from this Apl flag and this alternate Apl flag. ) Following the format of the other Reicio- flags, eg. Reicioaro, Reicioace, and Reiciorose.

Gold ( Yellow ) / Cream for Aplatonicism / Being on the Aplspec, Blue for exhaustion / rest, and the Grey stripe going through the Apl apple represents the absence of platonic attraction / interest / activity.

Reiciō is a Latin word which literally means to throw or repel, but can also be used figuratively to mean to reject. It’s pronounced /ˈrei̯.ki.oː/, [ˈrɛi̯kioː].

Requested by anon but as always, free for anyone to use anywhere! Help with accurate ALT text is appreciated.

Taglist - @radiomogai, @contracorvid, @aplatonic-flags, @aroapl, @daybreakthing

[cq-studios]

This one screenshot has so much I want to talk about in it so I’m gonna babble about it below the cut

(TLDR: CQ geeks out about translating the Scala Language)

Okay, so first off I’d like to say how much I love the newspaper vibe they are going for and achieving with menus. It has me gnawing on the walls. There’s just Scala Script (the Scala language, for clarity’s sake) everywhere and my code breaking brain is eating it up.

Speaking of which here’s what I’ve been able to translate so far (out of what I’ve been able to make out… the writing is pretty scuffed up in places and it’s not the highest quality image lol)

So the first thing I’d like to focus on are the banners. Each one has something written in Scalian underneath. Those things in order of left to right are “Daily”, “Item”, and “Avatar”, which uh, makes sense lol.

I think it’s a little strange that “Item” is the only one that isn’t exactly translated… like did they just forget the “S”?

On a more interesting note though, this one for one translation here means we now have an official Scalian character for “V”. Unfortunately the character used is pretty scrapped away, so I can’t be 100% sure, but I do think I know which character is used.

(Click/tap on the images below… for whatever reason they were just not formatting correctly)

I also considered it being the one below, but because of the location of the flecks I lean more towards the first one.

I also might have translated another new Scalian character but I’m not sure…

See, on the bar at the top of the screen it says “[unknown character]ho[same unknown character]colates”. I spent at least an hour trying to find out all the possible English words what it could be. I just filled in the blanks tried anagrams, the whole shebang (except for trying that with the other languages that are most likely to be used. Those being Japanese, for obvious reasons, and Latin, which has been used in Scala Script before on the manhole covers in KH3 Scala) and came out with one possible word: Chocolate.

And I must be wrong because that makes no sense, but in case I’m right, it’s here.

I tried to cross reference with KH3 signs to no avail so I’m a bit stumped…

Maybe the little blurb on the other side makes it make sense but it’s too blurry for me to read.

Next up I’ll talk about the “Weather”.

The top text is decently clear so I was able to work that out pretty quickly (pros of being fluent in this fictional language I guess lol) and thanks to that clear text I was actually able to make out a bit more of what was below it than I would’ve otherwise. See, the smaller letters are pretty blurry but I’m able to vaguely make them out. The “L” and “W” were what I caught first and I filled in the blank between pretty fast with some pretty simple connections. Once I’d seen that I realized that there was probably a high there too, and there do seem to be “H”s on either side of the word above it… and a “G”… and an “I” (I think, I was trying to double check but my iPad has significantly worse image quality than my computer).

As for the temperature, I tried my best but the numbers are probably inaccurate. They are very blurry.

Last but not least, here are a few of my smaller notes.

I’m a big fan of the Moogle stamp, but I could not tell you what the first word on that thing is. The second is “news”, clear as day but the first word doesn’t have any characters I recognize other than the “S”. I tried coming up with possibilities through context but I’m drawing a blank.

I also love the little Potion and Elixir advertisement in the bottom corner. Like, I’m so charmed by the art for it. That being said though, I also have no clue what the text next to this one says. I’m sure it’s an onomatopoeia of some sort but once again my brain wasn’t working with me.

If you guys have any ideas please let me know. I always love to have discussions and help.

(Also I know I left a whole text box out… I honestly have nothing to say about that. Not enough characters I recognize to decipher anything at this point)

[wayfind-er]

Psyche (Myth & Butterflies)

Cupid and Psyche ◦ Art Credit (Antonio Canova, 1808)

"...I would rather die a hundred times than forgo the supreme joy of my marriage with you. For I love and cherish you passionately, whoever you are, as much as my own life, and I value you higher than Eros himself." - Psyche to the unnamed Eros; Golden Ass

Psyche's greatest story is undoubtedly her love story with love itself, Eros—son of Aphrodite and the Greek God of Love and Desire.

Their story is most commonly found in Apuleius' novel, Metamorphoses (of Apuleius) or better known as The Golden Ass. While Metamorphoses is said to be the only Roman novel in Latin to survive in its entirety, Psyche and Eros originates in Ancient Greece, where Apuleius adapted their story. (Synopsis & Art)

💜 TOO LONG ; DIDN'T READ Psyche betrays Eros by glancing at his true Godly appearance, and Eros abandons her. Aphrodite, angered by Psyche, forces her to undergo four Herculean trials to regain Eros' love. Psyche barely completed all the tasks with the help of others. Zeus rewards Psyche with a cup of ambrosia so that she may live among the Gods as Eros’ wife. Hermes, at the request of Eros, gathers the other Gods and they act as witnesses to Psyche and Eros’ wedding. This only touches on like, 2% of the story, but you probably get the gist.

Aphrodite's Four Trials

Sorting Grain in a Night: Aphrodite demands that Psyche sort a pile of barely, poppy seeds, beans, and other grains in a single night. Ants help her.

Gather Golden Wool: Aphrodite tells Psyche to somehow collect the wool of some extremely hostile golden sheep. She gets advice from the green reeds from the stream the sheep drink from, and safety gets the wool.

Collect Water from the River Styx: Aphrodite then tells Psyche to collect the black water from the River Styx. This is especially dangerous, as Psyche has to climb the face of a rock formation while pregnant, but then Zeus sends an eagle and retrieves the River Styx water for her.

Get a Beauty Box from Persephone: Finally, Aphrodite tells Psyche to obtain a beauty box from Persephone, Queen of Hades. At first, Psyche doesn't know how to get to Hades, but then a sentient tower gives her directions. Psyche manages to get the box from Persephone, but she makes the mistake of opening it and gets hit with a sleeping powder that immediately kills Psyche. Eros, who had begun to miss Psyche, decides to go look for her. He finds Psyche's dead body, wipes the sleeping powder off her face, and revives her with a kiss.

Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss (Antonio Canova, ~1870 )

“Poor, dear Psyche,” he exclaimed, “See how, as before, your curiosity might have been your undoing! But now hurry to complete the task imposed on you by my mother's command; I shall see to the rest.” - Eros to the revived Psyche; Golden Ass

Psyche comes from the Greek word for Soul [ ψυχή ].

In the Homeric Epics, Homer describes the psyche as the last fleeting breath before one's soul returns to Hades, the Ruler of the dead. Aristotle was the first recorded person to refer to butterflies as psyche. He found similarities between buttterflies' and our mortal life cycles.

Butterflies are undoubtedly associated with intense transformation and change—similar to death.

These associations exist in different cultures, not just Greek. In some cultures, two butterflies symbolize a tragic romance; in others, butterflies are souls themselves or leading the recently departed to the afterlife.

The meaning of butterflies can greatly vary from culture to culture, but many of them revolve around some sort of transformation or the death of one thing so something new can begin. Understanding the different symbolism and meaning of butterflies can help put into perspective what Ancient Greeks may have thought of Psyche despite her not being celebrated or honored like other deities.

The Ancient Greeks called the chrysalis stage, where the caterpillar enters a cocoon to become a butterfly, nekydallon or nekydalios, meaning “the shell of the dead."

In much of Psyche's art and depictions, you'll find motifs of butterflies (surprising, I know); however, some are more common than others. In many artistic depictions of Psyche before she's married to Eros, Small Whites (Pieris Rapae) are often drawn above or near Psyche.

For many, Small Whites symbolize childlike innocence, wanderlust, and healing. There are no definitive sources of Ancient opinion of Psyche; however, for the Ancient Greeks, Psyche may have been a symbol of hope personified in the shape of passing butterflies.

[Zeus] gave her a cup of ambrosia and said: ‘Take this, Psyche, and become immortal. [Eros] will never part from your embrace; this marriage of yours shall be eternal.’ - Zeus to Psyche at her wedding; Golden Ass

In many paintings, like in Psyche in the Temple of Love, Psyche entertains herself with a Small White and a sprig of honeysuckle, a symbol of happiness in Ancient Greece (and love in the West).

Psyche is the personification and Goddess of the Soul, and her association with butterflies may be a story of the mortal hope to find a place where we can belong.

She acts with love for herself and love for those she considers beloved. She shows us that human souls need to love and be loved; we yearn to devote ourselves to those we love and to our passions, whether that's our hobbies, people, or a special third thing. She is the childlike hope to give up our burdens and dedicate ourselves to love.

After Psyche is married to Eros, wings sprout from her back. In many artistic renditions, her wings look just like Small Whites, although her wing design is consistently inconsistent. In some, she has Small Whites with Eyes (spots on the wings); in others, her wings are brown, blue, fully white, etc.

Her new wings symbolize her transformation into a new phase of life: a deified mortal and wife of Eros. This immense change shows that Psyche is no longer the young Princess introduced at the beginning of Psyche and Eros' love story but rather a woman who has learned the pain of love and loss, seen death for herself and faced numerous trials and tribulations in the name of love for another.

Marble Figure of Psyche, Psyche in the Temple of Love (Edward John Poynter), Cupid and Psyche (Antonio Canova), The Abduction of Psyche (William-Adolphe Bouguereau), Butterfly banners (k1ssyoursister)