#and i say 'seemingly' because i don't know their process but. the way that beautiful sentences just seem to flow out of them

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[meanbossart]

So I've noticed you've been getting a lot of asks along the lines of "how do I make good porn like you?" and I just thought to add in my two cents, and if you agree with what I'm saying perhaps you could publish this and it might help others, if not feel free to just ignore xD

So first of all the fact that you're also a horror/gore artist adds to your skill, there's a lot of overlap between erotisim and horror in artwork because it involves being extremly familiar with anatomy and how the body moves, and in art, like a lot of things, you needs to know how something works before you know how to break it.

People also really don't appreciate how difficult horror is as a genre, it's not enough to draw someone covered in blood holding a knife, it's mood and lighting and expression, and these are also transferable skills to erotica as so much of what sells an image as erotic is everything happening around the people involved. Colour choices, the lines around the eyes, how you depict the shine of their sweat and saliva, all these little things are part of the greater whole.

Finally, I think when it comes to improving your craft when it comes to depicting erotica is that you have to make peace with the fact that the physical act of sex is wierd and gross when you look at it objectivly. You're in wierd, undignified positions, there's a lot of mucus involved, you're sweaty and red-faced, and if you're looking at it without your brain swimming in sexy hormones it's just kinda rediculous. I think once you get over that hump of "no, I have to try and make this as pretty and aesetic as possible" and reach "okay, sex is wierd and ugly IRL" you're able to start creating things that feel more real and seemingly paradoxically become able to create things that people find arousing, because it reads as 'true' to them.

Your art is beautiful and erotic because I can believe that these guys are sticky, covered in sweat and working hard to bring each other pleasure.

Like, IDK that's how I ended up being a fairly decent erotica author, you let go of the dreamy hollywood version of sex and embrace something a bit dirtier and closer to life. If you draw enough silly 'O' faces you'll eventually find one you like!

Anyway, I hope someone finds this helpful. Also the picture of Astarion with Cazador's skull is my new favourite, the way he's pushing his thumb into the eye as the head burns in the sunlight and the blood drips down is just... so powerful, I wanna print it out and stick it in my BG3 scrap folder xD

A really useful breakdown of what makes compelling erotica and/or effective pornography!

Not a disagreement perse, but I just want to clarify to anyone reading this that being familiar with horror and gory art isn't a necessary step in this process - it just so happens to have a lot of skill-overlap, like eyesofthrone said, making the transition from one to the other easier.

Thank you for doing this write-up, and I'm extremely flattered if you or anyone reading this finds my saucy art especially compelling for any of these reasons!

[seumyo]

This is the first time I dare to do something like this, but I saw you were writing for Rook one of my favourite characters. So I was wondering if you could do something with a French!Reader, not necessarily a romantic one but someone who would understand what Rook says perfectly. It would be better if they spoke Japanese since their arrival and he doesn't know they understand him until they surprise him by responding.

ROOK HUNT ✰ UNDERSTANDING YOU

NOTE. This is so sweet, I’m clawing at the walls. Rook, my love (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) Thank you so much for this beautiful request <33 Also forgive me French speakers if the translations are rough/grammatically incorrect—I was fighting for my life against most online translators for this

You’ve always known that Rook had a way with his words. He was convinced no one at Night Raven College could fully appreciate his words, so he freely spoke his mind in his native language.

It became his way of processing emotions and, at times—his frustrations—without anyone understanding his deeper thoughts. Because of this, he was more unfiltered and vulnerable when speaking French, a luxury he thought he alone could enjoy.

That is, until you came into the picture.

You were seated in your usual spot in the library, books spread out in front of you as you studied, when Rook appeared seemingly out of nowhere. How does he do that? You could never truly know.

“Quelle concentration exquise! (What exquisite focus!) A sight you are, [Name],” he smiled, taking a seat next to you and peering over your shoulder to see what textbook you were reading.

You, exhausted from hours of reading and too distracted to think, responded automatically.

“Tu es vraiment bruyant, Rook. (You're really loud, Rook.)”

Pause.

Stop.

Rewind.

Rebooting.

“Ah-ha!” Rook almost cheered in glee, but you were able to stop him from doing so—because you were sure the librarian was keeping a stern eye on you two by now. He chuckled, murmuring this time, “Merveilleux. (Marvelous!) You speak French.”

“I—“

He, however, was already leaning closer, his grin full of delight—as if unable to stop himself from chatting your head off upon this revelation. “Why have you hidden this from me for so long? Ah, quel bonheur. (What joy!) I had thought myself alone in this vast sea of languages, but to know that you too carry the melody of French upon your tongue—it is as though fate has brought us together.”

Caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement, you duckled your head, resting your head against your propped arms on the table. “Ce n'était pas intentionnel. (It wasn’t intentional.)”

“But why?” Rook pressed, tilting his head. He almost looked like a child—unable to hold his curiosity in one place. “Was it shyness? Or perhaps… a desire to keep your origins a secret? Oh, the mystery only adds to your allure.”

“I just... didn’t see the need to?” You mirrored his head tilt, now pondering why you never spoke much French when you got to this college.

He gasped.

“But why deny yourself the pleasure of our beautiful language?”

“Je ne sais pas, Rook. (I don't know, Rook.) Maybe I just liked keeping it to myself? I’m not really sure.”

Rook studied you for a moment before smiling, softer this time. “Well then, [Name], if I may be so bold… would you indulge me in conversation every now and then? It is rare to find someone who understands the true essence of our mother tongue.”

There was something warm about the way he said it, a genuine happiness beneath his usual theatrical flair. It’s that unfiltered, unparalleled joy of finding that specific connection with someone.

You said yes, of course.

And just like that, things changed.

Where before Rook had simply been another student you occasionally encountered and was in the same dorm as you, he now became a frequent presence at your side, always eager to chat. At first, it was strange—you weren’t used to speaking French so casually in this school, but with Rook, it felt natural.

“Regarde comme le ciel est beau aujourd'hui! (Look at how beautiful the sky is today!)” Rook says as you two walk through the gardens, gesturing delicately.

“Mhm, it’s nice out,” you replied, amused at his enthusiasm.

Or, when you were focused on something, he would suddenly appear beside you, whispering in your ear, “Tu as un esprit si captivant… Que pourrais-tu bien être en train de penser? (You have such a captivating mind… What could you possibly be thinking about?)”

To which you’d flick his forehead and respond, “Que tu es agaçant. (That you're annoying.)” He’d laugh as you continued, “Really, stop creeping up behind me like that—I could’ve elbowed you.”

“Violent, how endearing.”

He, of course, took it all in stride, laughing as if you had just paid him the highest compliment.

Despite his dramatics, you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you expected. There was something comforting about having someone else who understood your language, who could switch between playful teasing and deep, poetic musings without hesitation. It felt like home in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.

A friend that made you feel at home. As you did with him.

One evening, as you sat by the lake, watching the water ripple under the fading sunlight, Rook sighed contentedly.

“Tu sais, (You know),” he said, voice softer than usual, “depuis que je suis ici, je me suis souvent senti comme un étranger dans mon propre monde. (Ever since I arrived here, I’ve often felt like a stranger in my own world.)”

You were surprised by his change of tone.

“Pourquoi? (Why?)”

Rook smiled, but there was a wistfulness in his expression. “Parce que la langue est une chose étrange. (Because language is a strange thing.) It is not just words—it carries culture, memories, the very essence of who we are. And though I love the way words dance in many tongues, there is a loneliness in being the only one to understand a particular melody.”

You had never thought about it that way.

He really had a way with words.

And an even more

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Tu n’es plus seul maintenant. (You’re not alone anymore.)”

Rook blinked, then beamed at you, warmth radiating from his smile. “Ah, quelle déclaration magnifique! (Ah, what a magnificent declaration!) My dear [Name], you are truly a treasure!”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ne sois pas dramatique. (Don’t be dramatic.)”

“But it is my nature!” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You sighed quietly but didn’t move away.

You supposed that, just this once, you could let him be as dramatic as he wanted. Because Rook really did feel like he was home whenever he was with you, and that made his heart more contented than anything.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[secriden]

Something that really struck me about Style this episode is how real his fear was.

And I don't just mean his fear of the inevitable conclusion of the path Fadel's hurt and anger has set them on; although this, too, was so very real and honest and tore me to pieces in ways I can still barely process.

But it's interesting how Style talks about being afraid of dying generally and specifically how harm could come to them from an external source. How the way his fear is orientated puts Fadel on the inside ("a murderer is gonna come after us"), on Style's side and someone Style wants to keep safe.

And when Fadel makes the kind of snide joke about letting the hypothetical cannibals kill and cook Style, Style's solution still involves staying by Fadel's side. At no point does he ever stop referring to Fadel and him as a single unit, even after Fadel very explicitly frames Style as the only victim.

I'm bringing this up because I think as a fandom (myself included!!) we may have mistaken Styles unshaken confidence for a lack of fear. We saw Style stare down the barrel of Fadel's gun with an unimpressed look of disdain or the way he casually discusses Fadel killing him at the end of their journey, and we (understandably) think this is evidence of his fearlessness, of his boldness and sense of wild optimism that admittedly fits his character quite well -- but it isn't.

I think Style is very afraid, actually. He has many fears and chief among them at this point is that he does not want to die. He does not want to leave his life or is dad or his friend or his cars or his boyfriend who still thinks he doesn’t love him!

And those tears?? Those tears were real because lying next to Fadel with a metal handcuff digging into his wrist was a painful reminder of their broken trust; the terrible chasm hidden in the scant inches between them, all as the result of Style's past choices and the pressures on all our main characters.

And I think part of it was also Style finally coming down from the adrenalin rush of: (a) Kant and Bison going missing, (b) being chloroformed and kidnapped and stripped naked and tied up, (c) being threatened at gunpoint whilst still reeling from the knowledge that Fadel knows and perhaps has known since the first warning signs of his sudden affection, and (d) not being shot and then being told to drive for hours on a seemingly impossible quest with no real destination.

But I also think this was the core of why Style is so sad. Because even if Fadel forgives him, there's a very real possibility that Style's actions and choices could lead him to dying if not at Fadel's hands then maybe because Style is now at risk of getting caught in the crossfire too. Because Style may well find himself standing between a bullet and Fadel one day, and that choice has repercussions beyond Style himself.

But his fear and his sorrow makes Style's choices on this journey all the more poignant and beautiful. Because Style commits to his love at the end of the day. He is unapologetically honest with Fadel and gives him not just the weight of what it means for Style to choose him, but the right for Fadel to keep his anger in spite of it. At no point does Style demand Fadel's forgiveness or trust or the relinquishing of the distance Fadel keeps between them.

Because Style's heart is his to offer, but equally it is Fadel's to take. And I think to fail to recognise the reality of Style's fear is to undervalue the weight of what it means when Style says "You own my life" -- when this took everything Style had in him to give.

[finniestoncrane]

HI FINNIE! 💚💗

I saw your post about feeling some type of way and honestly? Me too.

Could I request a soft/fluffy prompt with Gotham Riddler x Reader?

With 💣 from your Myriad of Kisses prompt list please!I I love how you write Riddler’s so I want you to have artistic freedom<3

Thank you💕

Gotham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 650 💣 - a passionate, but angry, makeout session i would absolutely give him a big rotten smooch that had the power to break his beautiful little snoot if i was given the chance, perfect prompt for him!! 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: lil bit of angst, angry smooches that turn to fluff!!

Edward clenched his fists nervously, tightening the grip on his thumb in his palm until he felt it tingle, then loosening up, then repeating. He had to focus on something, anything, except for the look on your face.

If he had known that telling you the truth would have been quite this awkward he would have perhaps given it a bit more thought. He'd planned and prepared, but there was no telling how you were going to receive the news that he'd given you, even for someone as clever as he was.

How do you confess to someone that you're a murderer? And how do you then admit that it's because you're concealing a whole other side of your true self from them?

Not easily. And not with any measure of pleasant acceptance, at least not at first. That was painfully obvious to Edward, as he watched you, his words sinking in, settling, hitting you. Your mind, your body even, going through the motions as you processed his unwarranted confession.

He hoped you would say something, anything. But when you did, it only made him worry further.

"You... Y-You... You, you, you... You..."

It was all you could get out, so instead of stuttering like a mindless fool any longer, you pressed your lips against his and opted to put them to use in a far better manner.

The force with which you kissed him knocked him back a little, but luckily, you were clinging to his shirt, white knuckle grip so tight as you tried to refrain from using your fists to pummel him instead. Edward had winced as your nose hit his, but he was quick to shut himself up, reminding himself to be thankful that a forceful kiss was seemingly the punishment for his admission and not something far more painful.

Even without the physical pain, there was a twang of emotional difficulty, upsetting confusion in his chest as he wrestled with the concept of not quite understanding why you had reacted this way.

Between the kisses, when you stopped to let him catch his breath or let his glasses de-fog, you could get out a few words, little jabs that let him know how hurt you were, despite the fact that you were clutching his shirt and kissing him with a passion he'd never really known.

"I can't believe you would keep that a secret!"

"Don't I deserve to know who you really are?"

"Can't I be trusted with your truths?"

"Why would you think you had to lie to me?"

There were so many questions, and he didn't quite have an answer for all of them, not a suitable one anyway, so he chose to tell the truth again.

"I was scared."

Pulling back from the kiss, you took a moment to look into his eyes, your gaze softening as you realised how pitiful he looked, how terrified he must have really been. Afraid of upsetting you, of scaring you, of losing you. It was hard to stay mad at him, as his big, wet eyes, magnified by his glasses, looked deep into yours for your comfort and forgiveness.

"Hm... It's hard to be mad at you, Ed. I appreciate you telling me, even if you're a bit late in doing so... And, if I'm being completely honest..."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, slender neck convulsing with nerves as he waited for you to break his heart, despite the kiss.

"... It's nice to know there's a dangerous side to you... It's kind of hot, actually."

"Really?"

His smile spread ridiculously wide, cheeks pushing his glasses upwards as he grinned towards you.

"Mhm... so you say... you choked one of them? Care to show me how?"

His lips parted in surprise, chest rising quickly and falling sharply as his heartbeat rose, a tingle in his fingertips, his nervous system, and a deeper stirring as he watched the way your eyelids closed softly and your body moved in to his own.

[flushwithdarlings]

"My uh...whiff...is very faint thank you. Nothing a little bergamont, rosemary, and a hint of fine aged brandy can't hide. It's the perfect olfactory disguise for a corpse. Honestly, I think I missed my calling as a perfumer!" - Astarion to Shadowheart I don't know if anybody has analysed Astarion's perfume or if the ingredients were even thought of this hard by Stephen Rooney (I am kicking myself for not asking when I met him at MCM 2 weeks ago). I, however, have read about them and thought about them quite hard.

So, my findings and ramblings about Astarion's perfume:

Bergamot - From the bergamot orange. Ironically, it's phototoxic - it makes skin more sensitive to sunlight/UV damage so I guess you could say it's associated with the sun? I dunno if Astarion should be wearing it tbh...

I also saw the fruit called 'Aphrodite's apple' and 'the most beautiful fruit' but the source was kind of flimsy.

Rosemary - Used in funeral rites throughout history, it symbolises death and remembrance but also fidelity in love.

The Ancient Egyptians used it in their embalming process to mask the scent of death (makes sense that Astarion uses it to mask his faint whiff of undeath), and it used to be (and still is?) placed on or in graves.

It's also mentioned a bunch in Shakespeare's works, specifically in scenes to do with death, which is quite appropriate and ironic for this silver-tongued, theatrical vampire who hates poets.

FRIAR LAWRENCE:

Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary

On this fair corse

- Romeo and Juliet

OPHELIA:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,

remember.

- Hamlet

Aphrodite pops up again here because in some versions of her creation myth, she arises from the sea adorned with rosemary.

Brandy - A biiit of a stretch maybe but there is a category of brandy known as eau-de-vie - water of life - so-called because medieval alchemists would ascribe miraculous properties to alcohol such as immortality.

In the late 19th and early 20th century, brandy was also used as a cardiac stimulant (so an association with life?) because it seemingly increased cardiac output and blood pressure. Which doesn't really help Astarion in any way but hey he is wearing it, not drinking it or getting it injected up his butt (that was one way it was used to resuscitate patients apparently yeah idk).

SO basically, his perfume ingredients are associated with life, death, the sun, immortality, devotion in love, and maybe the Greek goddess of passion, pleasure, beauty, and sex.

It also smells amazing.

[lking-creation-hub]

So I'm replaying Slay the Princess now that the Pristine Cut is out, starting with a quick run of the game mostly to get the Stranger's ending in the heart of the Princess. Somehow that was the first Ending I found in my first playthrough of the original game, and I wanted to recreate it in this new 'universe' and keep a save file with her there right next to the original save file, before I go back and comb through for new content, so I was playing through a first run pretty quickly (and still somehow got to the new Damsel content, those who have seen it will know).

I'll admit I cried a lot of times in my first playthough, and I know I would probably cry again in this one. Maybe not at the same places, but probably the new content.

But even in my first playthrough, when I cried, I kept going. But just now I've come up on one line that made me have to fully stop for a few minutes (which is what I'm doing now, processing by posting this). I don't know if this line was in the original version, I think I would have remembered it, but...

(Spoilers below)

In response to the Princess saying 'It took courage for you to make your way down here, away from the paths others would have had you walk. We find that courage beautiful,' The Contrarian says this:

And something about that line damn near broke me just now. I could (and maybe will) go on a huge ramble about how heartbreaking it is for the seemingly-confident and seemingly-lighthearted Contrarian to so casually describe himself as 'the worst part of us', as if that's a fact. I'm genuinely sobbing at that thought, partly because I do relate to it. He has such a factual tone when he describes himself as just completely bad, the 'worst part of us' in his entirety, and god I know how much it hurts to think of yourself like that, to believe that every part of yourself is awful and makes things worse. This was the last character I'd expect to relate on that, but it adds so much depth to him.

And past that, the complete compassion in the Princess calling that part of them beautiful. The idea that these things we look at in ourselves and hate can be held with such compassion by someone else. I just can't describe how light and kind of overwhelmed it feels. Like I'm still typing mostly because I don't think I'm ready to go back into the game and see the next line. The game is still sitting on the screen I have screenshot above, because this scene is just so overwhelmingly beautiful to me that I actually need a break to process it (in the MOST complimentary way, of course).

@blacktabbygames You nailed it the first time around and from what little I've played of the Pristine Cut you've somehow improved on what I had previously considered a perfect game. I can't wait to explore all of the rest of it (and probably pick up Scarlet Hollow after I've fully explored Slay the Princess).

[mjalti]

Mjalti, I wish you a lot of happiness 💖 please feel free to ignore if you have already answered some variation of this.

I have turned 19 and everybody in my life keeps telling me not to waste my precious moments now, I should maximise my potential, and do things that will make me happy to look back on decades from now. But when I ask them for advice on what exactly to focus on, everyone says "you'll probably figure it out" or "if I knew, I wouldn't be regretting my adolescence". I feel kind of scared, frustrated and lost!

All I have been doing now is studying and hanging out with my friends, I don't have much free time but I am trying to develop a few skills like whittling and playing piano. So there is nothing remarkable, and I am not thinking of romance right now. What would you advise I should push myself to do in this stage?

happy 19th, beautiful. 🎉 And honestly, I totally get where you’re coming from. Everyone loves to dish out their "wisdom" about how you should be "maximizing" your life, but nobody really tells you how to do that. On top of that, most people's "wisdom" is some fucked up revenge fantasy that can't exist organically in the natural world. When people give you advice, they often aren't even "talking" to YOU; they're talking to their younger self. And you haven't made the choices that their younger self made, so you can't speak to the regret or trauma they're processing.

At every point in life; at 18, at 20, at 25, at 35, etc there is this immense pressure to have everything figured out. It can feel like you're expected to have everything figured out, and the pressure is heavy. you know this organically but just so im sure you hear it

NO ONE has it all figured out. Not me. Not them. But it depends on (1) who is being honest about the things they do not know, (2) who is willing to share the things they honestly do know, or have learned and (3) who is emotionally mature enough to help lead you through carrying the weight of the pressures around you .

The truth is, there’s no one-size-fits-all answer to "what should I focus on?" You’re exactly where you need to be — learning, growing, exploring, and just being. And here's the kicker: even when you're just "studying and hanging out with friends" right now, you're building your future self in ways you probably can’t see yet. Those little moments, those skills, those friendships — they all matter.

But if you’re feeling restless and want to push yourself in a direction, I’d say this: dive into things that make you curious. Not things you feel like you should do, but what you actually find exciting, even if it's small or "unremarkable" to others. Maybe it's a new hobby, like your piano and whittling, or maybe it's something deeper — travel, even short trips, different perspectives, or even challenging yourself to step outside your comfort zone in other ways (like learning a new language, or just speaking up more in spaces where you feel shy, going to a therapy session to explore the concept of inner work, etc anything!!). The key is to keep your heart open to what excites you and be patient with the process. My personal tidbit is to find someone famous/set that you admire. Read their books, find what paths they followed in life, what courses they took, what adventures spoke to them, and "try" it on yourself!!

And tbh... try your best to not get too caught up in romance or any other external "milestones." Trust me, you’re in a stage of becoming, not rushing toward something. Be kind to yourself, and let your journey unfold in its own time. You are allowed to figure things out, even slowly, without that pressure to be some perfect version of yourself.

You're on the right path and when you look back, those seemingly small moments will be the ones that shaped you. Keep exploring, keep dreaming, and keep doing you because you are the only person that knows who that is and how to do that best. 💖

[punkerpepsi]

ok so i was able to entertain you beautiful people with age gap punkintyre where drew's being trained by cm punk.

now, consider the following scenario:

drew is not a man with a fragile masculinity, he's very secure of himself. he can say "damn, that's a beautiful dude right there," but he never felt the Attraction before. and with punk he goes all???@*$&@*&$ maybe because punk's taking care of him, making sure drew does his best, giving him advice and tending to his wounds when drew gets hurt.

we all know that happens to be VERY intimate.

picture this: drew going out for drinks one night and going back to punk's training center a bit tipsy. he also happened to hurt himself and his forehead is bleeding but he isn't sure what he's done. all he knows is that it hurts like a bitch.

when punk sees him, punk gets very upset. drew can easily tell. he's tight lipped, not talking a lot, seemingly disappointed because punk doesn't drink and doesn't smoke, but drew's a young scottish fella.

"you're a mess. and you reek of booze," punk complains, standing between drew's legs as drew's sitting in a chair and punk disinfects his cut. it stings, and drew holds onto punk's waist, tightening his grip a little bit.

"but i'm not drunk," drew mumbles, his eyes closed. he can smell punk's cologne. it's sweet yet spicy. he likes it. "don't be a bore. i'm not gonna fuck up my career for having one night of fun."

"i don't care, andrew. as long as i'm training you, you're not drinking anymore. you busted your forehead open, but something serious could've happened. find some other ways of having fun. simple as that."

"what do you suggest me to do?" drew opens his eyes, and finds punk looking at him.

"i don't know. you're younger than i am and there's plently of shit to do in chicago that does not involve drinking. go have sex or something, i don't fucking know."

drew hums. "sex? yeah, i like that."

punk chuckles. "of course you do. you're very good looking. i bet a bunch of women are dying to have one night of fun with you."

"and what if i don't want none of them? what if the one i want is... a man?" drew licks his lips. he notices punk's silent gasp, but he doesn't pull away from drew at all.

"well, that's fine too."

"and what if the man i want is you? what would you do, phil?"

maybe punk will lose control for a second and say, "why would you want a man much older than you? what could i possibly offer you, andrew?"

and drew would say, "dear god, you're obsessed with age and being older than me. what if you being older than me is something that attracts me? you're wiser, you lived through many things, you've traveled all around the world. you're confident in yourself, but then i say that i want you and you get scared. why's that?"

punk chuckles, shakes his head. "you're new to this universe. you too will travel a lot, and you will wrestle a whole lot of guys and you're gonna meet people, and for sure you'll get involved with some of them. i'm not gonna be the one to stop you from living and experiencing the world. i'll be here in chicago and you'll be, let's say, in london. and then you might meet a beautiful woman or a cool guy and you might want them. and then you'll remember that you can't do that because you're with me."

drew is taken aback for a second. "do i give cheater vibes to you? do you think i'm not capable of being faithful? do you think i can't separate finding someone objectively good looking without wanting to stick my dick in them?"

that's when punk pulls away, running his hands through his face, rubbing his eyes in the process. he's smiling, but drew can tell that he doesn't think that none of this is funny. "that is not what i'm talking about. i'm saying that i'm a retired wrestler, that i have enjoyed my 30+ years of career and that i'm not going to stop you from doing the same."

"what makes you think i can't enjoy my career and make the best of it while being committed to you?"

[slightlyhozy]

“Through the Cold, I’ll Find my Way Back to You” || Chapter One - “Honey, Don’t Feed it, it Will Come Back.”

Characters - Púca! Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Original Female Character

Summary - Maisie Quinn, after inheriting a home in Ireland from her late grandmother, slowly learns a dark past about the land in which it was built on.

Word Count - 2,184

Warnings - Nothing for this chapter other than light animal death!

A/N - SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! I will try to be consistent and write interesting chapters, we will get a real introduction to Andrew in the next chapter, I just wanted to introduce Maisie first and the setting. Please leave thoughts!

If you don’t know, a púca is a monster across European mythology that tends to be a shapeshifter, commonly taking form as a horse, goat, dog, cat, ect. They also take forms of humans which tend to have animalistic traits. They are known to play tricks on humans but never truly harm them. There’s a lot on them, so if you’re interested, I recommend looking into it. I am pretty consistent with the traditional idea of them but I will add my own elements as well. I will also explain any important information or facts if I feel is needed, feel free to ask as well!

“What’re you doing now?” I can hear Elsie snacking on carrots through the phone.

I sigh, hauling another box off of another, using my earbuds, we had been able to call all day despite the time difference. “Right now,” I grunt, setting the box on the ground, moving to search for my box cutter. “I am unpacking everything for the studio…” The room in question was a beautiful conservatory with beautiful glass windows curving upward. Outside, bushes with thorns and small berries could be seen, desperately in need of a trim.

“How different is it over there? I mean, you must’ve noticed something by now.”

“Well,” I huff, stepping back to appreciate the natural light coming into the room. “I live 40 minutes from Wicklow, which is nice…But I do miss the city already; it feels all so stretched out now.” It was terribly ironic of me to complain about Europe being big in comparison to America, but after being raised in downtown Seattle all my life, to be thrown into a village where I have to drive to get my groceries was different.

“We miss you.” Elsie pouted. “Who’s going to bring disgusting vegan dishes to every game night?”

I let out a laugh straight from my chest. “Sorry, babe, you just need to find another pretentious vegetarian then.”

Carefully, I pulled out my easels and canvases I hadn’t used yet. The room was mostly boxes, with only two work benches being built and a random spinny chair thrown out. Making this house look like the ones on Pinterest was going to be a process.

“Say, are you and Lydia going to be able to make up here for Christmas?" I ask, fighting the wooden easel to unfold.

I can hear her hiss, disappointment sinking in. “I… I don’t know, May…It’s just…busy right now. You know, if we can’t this time, we just will come up for our anniversary! We’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” My voice came out a bit more upset than I hoped, and I could feel the burning in my eyes, a small sniffle escaping me.

“Maisie..” Elsie said sweetly, making me butt in immediately.

“No! No, it’s ok. I get it. You two are working…married, busy, have all your friends there, it’s fine.” I hated how I reacted—so reminiscent of a child, I didn’t even notice the tears on my face.

“Maisie, I…” She paused, seemingly looking for the right words. “It’s going to be hard for a while, ok? But you’ll make lots of friends! And we will still talk every day, ok? Don't feel bad because you’re upset; it’s okay to be upset.”

“I know, thank you.”

I had moved from Seattle to New Castle, County Wicklow, a few weeks ago. A year before that, my grandma had died, who, other than Elsie, had been my best friend. The loss still hurt, but hopefully something good was coming out of it. In her will, I was left to this beautiful property near Greystones. The house itself was pretty humble but charming and well kept. The garden was very large yet outgrown. After living in the hustle and bustle of a city like Seattle, I needed this, something different, it was like she knew.

My grandma inherited the house from her grandmother, who’s grandmother owned the home before the "famine." My Irish family had left Ireland some time in the 1840s to New York, where we eventually found ourselves in Washington. Thinking back on how hard it had to have been to just be Irish in either country made me a bit proud to find myself back at this house, just like how the women before me wanted.

While modest, the home was well built and was a good distance from the beach, which I had been utilizing for walking Lenny. Since the 80s, our richer part of the family had used it for a vacation home, but as my grandmother got older, the only thing she made sure of the home was keeping it clean, despite the fact it was empty now.

——————————————————————

A while later, still unpacking, now in the kitchen, Lenny began doing circles around the kitchen, licking at my leg. “Shit, you’re out of dog food.” I whispered to myself, leaning down to pat his head. Now that I had actual utensils, pots, and dishes, I could finally move on from adapting to their version of Chinese takeout and cook myself a proper meal.

At the grocery store, I spent a lengthy time deciding which shape of pasta was the most appealing.

In my pasta-induced haze, a voice broke me out of it. “Gosh, you look just like her, all grown up.” I turn my head to see an older woman, around 70 or so, smiling up at me.

“Oh, did you…”

“Know Evelyn? Of course, I met you when you were just a wain.” Heat rose to my cheeks, It was always embarrassing to meet someone who knew you from your family in public. All I could think about was getting out of it. “I saw your…pictures on Facebook, and I mean, it was identical until…”

My hand instinctively went up to my head. “Oh? My hair? Yeah, uh, I mean, at least it’s going to a good place.” A few months ago, I had completely cut off the long hair I had growing down near my waist into a pixie cut; liking how it’s growing out, I plan to keep it.

“Such a shame what happened.” The older woman shook her head. “She was a good woman, ye grandmother.”

Awkwardly, I nodded along.

“Nice to see the property put to use, I hope the stories don’t get to you though.” That caught my attention.

“Stories?”

“Oh? You don’t know? There’s a saying that hundreds of years ago, when your family bought the land, it belonged to a monster…called a púca…Something about it torments the humans who lived on the land in an attempt to scare them off.” A small giggle escaped me; I was no stranger to legends and myths.

“It’s all coincidences though; lots of dead animals are found near the property; I’ve never heard of any real trouble happening.” She smiled sweetly. “God is on your side.” Obviously, being a devote atheist for over 10 years, I had no real fear of any monsters.

“Oh!” The woman beamed, reaching into her purse for a pen and notepad. “Here’s my number if you need anything, love, just a call away.” I watched as her shaky hands scribbled down her home phone, pressing it into my hands. Mary.

“Thank you, Mary; I’ll be sure to get in touch.” I smile as we part, my mind drifting back to the word. Púca… It sounded like puta. I stifled back a laugh.

——————————————————————

Later that night, while Lenny was eating out of his dog bowl in the kitchen, I guarded my large bowl of pasta on the makeshift pillow-blanket couch I had crafted for myself. I sighed softly, checking my phone every minute in case someone wanted to ask me how I was or send me a funny video. Instead, I sat alone in the room, rewatching episodes of Gilmore Girls until there was nothing left in my bowl.

As I washed out my bowl, laying it on the rack, Lenny ran around my legs with a toy, eagerly waiting for me to throw it across the house for him. I smiled fondly down at my boy, the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. “Hey boy, want me to throw it?” I cooed at him, kneeling down to his level, excited by my tone. He wagged his tail and did circles, coming back to me with the small rope. Taking it, I tossed it across the floor, enjoying his nails scraping the tiles as he ran towards it, prompting returning it.

After a few rounds of this, a scratch on the door caught my attention, causing my brow to raise and my anxiety to heighten. It’s fine. I thought to myself, tossing the toy again, watching him retrieve it. It could be anything. Anything? Like a…no. Stop. Wiping my face, I waited for Lenny to come back. As he trotted to me, the scratching was louder, more aggressive.

Setting him off, the small retriever began to bark at the door, his little body jumping back each time. Shushing him, I walked to the window, looking out; there was nothing I could see. Púca. I scoffed, shaking my head; it was just my brain. I took a deep breath, opening the door slowly, unreasonably anxious about what I might see.

As I did, my leg instinctively went to barricade the door, Lenny barking at the small creature in front of me. I didn’t know how to react to the fox in front of me; it stepped back slowly, looking at me, making sad chirp-like sounds. My brows furrowed at the sight. “Ok…” I drifted off; my initial thought was that the animal was hurt, but the way it walked around my patio indicated otherwise. Perhaps whoever took care of the house before fed it, but it hadn’t come before.

Being a natural animal lover and suck up, I close only the glass door, letting me see him still. The fox pranced around still before sitting down in front of the door, clearly with no intention of leaving. Lenny stood, his tail high on alert. “Lenny!” I called out disapprovingly as I heard his familiar low growls. In a small bowl, I scooped some of his food with a few pieces of left-over pasta on top.

Laying the bowl down, I went back inside; even if it wasn’t aggressive, I didn’t want to invade its space, even if I was guilty of interfering with nature in the first place. My eyes drifted over the animal’s fur; it was a warm brown all around, and the ears and feet were black. Under the jaw and belly of the fox, the fur was white, as was the tip of its tail. Mostly, I was looking for signs of mange—anything to indicate it was sick. On cue, it looked up; the way its green eyes flashed at me caused my face to stiffen as I saw the reflection of light in it’s eyes. I looked back; there was no light to cause the eye to shine, and as I looked back, it was gone. The house was silent except for the low growling of my dog and the crunching of the fox’s feast.

——————————————————————

“It was so weird!” I complained to Elsie over the phone, clutching my colorful robe, tea in the other hand.

“Maisie, usually you make amazing choices, but this was dumb.” She said it matter-of-factly.

I shake my head, pacing around the cold floor. “How? It was hungry, Elsie; what was I supposed to do? Let it starve.”

“No, you’re supposed to call the Irish Animal Control, obviously. It could have had rabies.”

“Rabies? I don’t think so.” I chuckled, so sure of myself. “It wasn’t like…foaming at the mouth or aggressive.”

“Maisie, when animals have like…early rabies or something, they act oddly tolerant to humans, was there mange? Was it dehydrated or anything?”

“No… It looked really healthy, actually. It just wanted food; no one got bit, no one got hurt. Elsie, It isn’t that big of a deal; it’s a one-time thing.”

I heard a deep, disappointed sigh escape her. “Maybe you should’ve been raised in the mountains…Look, when you feed animals, they expect that you will give them food; they’ll come back. When I was little, growing in Bend, I accidentally fed a raccoon once, and she brought generations of baby raccoons for years.”

Walking to my porch, wanting to enjoy my tea with the cool air, I open the door. “If it comes back, I just won’t feed it; I learned my lesson, ok.” My eyes immediately drifted down in front of me.

“Maisie?”

“Uh, sorry…” Carefully, I set my tea on the railing. On the concrete, I stared at a small rodent in front of me, absolutely gutted. “There is a mutilated mouse on my porch.” I said breathlessly, always hurt by any dead animals.

“Oh, see! Now it’s rewarding you!” She complained over the phone as I stayed silent.

“Do you think they’re like cats? Like, they’ll bring you dead stuff because they think you stink at hunting or something…” I wasn’t too sure what to do with the body.

“I don’t know,” Elsie said flatly. “What I do know is that you should stop feeding it; just for your and Lenny’s sake, I don’t want you calling me at 3 am because you have to get rabie shots in your ass, ok?” On my side of the phone, I nodded, immediately looking for a reason to hang up. “Oh shit, it’s already so late, ok, Maisie, I love you; I’ll call you later, ok?” Thank god. Is all I could think.

After using a poop bag to toss the animal into the outside bins, I went to pull out my laptop, pulling up my laptop and searching: What is a Púca?

[xxxsharpcheddar]

I'm gathering that he betrayed your trust. *sigh* I'm so sorry. It's genuinely saddening. Of course it doesn't affect anyone more than you (and possibly him if he holds the capacity to understand what he's lost), but it feels sad for all of us, albeit in a far smaller, but still significant way. I keep seeing this exact pattern play out recently.

(The astrology shows that it's a massive time for hidden structures that aren't serving you & things you may feel are solid but actually have rotting foundations to be forcibly cleared from your life: due to Pluto finally leaving Capricorn and not returning for the next 200ish years.)

The reason why it's so saddening is because it makes us disconnect in order to protect ourselves, when all we want is connection. It's this disparity that causes the discomfort of sadness, the feeling of being pulled apart.

We're a very small community (FFA+BHM) spread across continents, and your relationship was a symbol of hope for many of us. Not the only, but certainly one of the few. And here I am angry and sick to my stomach that you got treated this way by a member of our own tiny little community. I'm sure it's made you want to disengage massively, I'm sure it's made others more wary and guarded, and I'm also sure that's not how any of us want us to feel in this space.

It sucks and I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say, aside from can we all please try to do better for each other? Be open, be honest, be brave. But that feels like empty advice that no one wants to listen to.

Les, I hope you're getting all the support and love and kindness you need, so you can heal super quick. ❤️ In the meantime, I ask rhetorically: guys, what the fuck??

Yes. It was calculated. He’s a very intelligent person. He was the perfect boyfriend on paper. There were no red flags in the ways he treated me. Thank god for intuition.

Oof “it makes us disconnect when all we want is connection.” I felt that.

I honestly felt so much pride and joy sharing our relationship here because I thought what we had was rare and beautiful. My normie friends were fooled by him too. I thought we were crushing it on the personal front and the fetish front. He was my first experience with this community. He exploited my trust in such a large scale it’s hard to come back here. It’s hard to look at other couples thinking that’s what we had. It’s hard to look at the most seemingly insignificant things because it brings me back. I keep dreaming he’s betrayed me in different ways and I’m begging for him back. I thought we could be a pinnacle of hope for people. I thought I found someone who loved me and shared the fetish - fucking hole in one!

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I hope my experience can help prevent someone from going through this. I never should have let my walls down so soon.

Thank you for sending this. I know my response is muddled with venting, but thank you. Let’s do better. Let’s work on ourselves before we engage with others. Let’s unpack our shit before we hurt people in the process. Let’s heal ourselves so we can find meaningful and true connection.

Also if you’re comfortable with it could you DM me the astrological snippet?

[farewellneverland2004]

Being a reincarnation sucks! and UWMA told us, but we were too happy for DeanPharm to listen!

Okay! This might be a little bit of a hot take, and also possibly a little theorizing. But I will stand my ground and die on this hill!

UWMA is my all-time favorite BL, and might I even say, one of my favorite web dramas ever!

It's a compelling, heartbreaking, beautiful story about a wonderfully healthy relationship between two very traumatized people. Finding each other, and in the process, reconnecting the tortured souls of two people who loved each other but weren't given the option to be happy together.

Now, though that scenario is not likely to happen to me or you, it's still an interesting story, using the soulmate trope to its ultimate advantage. I love the idea of a healthy, yet unconditional and unending love that prevails through all.

However, although I love the reincarnated love trope, there is a blatant fact that I, and many other UWMA fans have been oblivious to. and that is how much it would SUCK to be in our beloved Dean and Pharm's shoes!

What invoked me to make this post?

Well, it's plain and simple. I'm sick of all the complaining and making fun of My boy Pharm for being a cryer!

Am I biased because Pharm is my favorite character and I relate to the inability to stop myself from crying and it usually takes a while for me to stop, so I see a lot of myself in him? Maybe, but that's not important!

What's important is that I believe, people who complain or laugh at Pharm for this know that this is a response to PTSD, but don't take time to really acknowledge how bad this PTSD would be if you were faced with it in real life. This is why I want to shed light on how being the reincarnations of Korn and In have done little to nothing beneficial for Dean and Pharm, other than the fact it's what brought them together.

(But just an FYI, crying is a normal reaction to things, and maybe Pharm is just a very emotional and expressive softy and there is nothing wrong with that! MEN SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO CRY GODDAMNIT!)

Well, since I just ranted about the Pharm crying disrespect, might as well start with him and his respected past life counterpart, Intouch!

As we see all through UWMA, Pharm probably has the more blatant PTSD from his past life out of the couple, and it makes sense.

In was left to watch the man he loved take his own life in front of him. He was the one to witness his improvement, his confession, and his mutual decline until he had nothing left to say but "I love you" and "I'm Sorry", and in the end, he was still left alone. he is left cradling the body of not only the first man he probably ever openly loved but also the first person who he could actually relate to in a world that told him if he wanted to survive, he had to hide who he was.

This user makes an interesting point on how Korn dying isn't just a traumatizing event for In, but in his mind, also an act of betrayal. Because he promised him, yet he traumatized and left him alone in a world that would hate him for who he is.(in Intouch's mind ofc). Yet he also knows that though he is hurt, all he wants is to be with Korn, so he commits suicide to escape the life he'd have to live without him.

These very hard-hitting and intense feelings are already bad to live with for the one who actually experienced the trauma firsthand. But imagine, being a normal kid with a happy loving family, yet you are plagued by vague but traumatic memories that are not your own? you wake up crying every morning, you panic at any unsuspected loud noise, and you get seemingly random panic attacks that you can't even explain why they happen.

You seemingly have no valid reason to act this way. You want to stop, or at least to know why, but can't for the life of you understand. I think many people can understand the feeling of being depressed, angry, anxious, etc., and don't really know why. So they feel guilty and exhausted from these strong emotions they don't want or understand.

For Pharm, the more he learns about his situation, the more he's around Dean, and the more he learns about Korn and In, the more intense his episodes get. he has more nightmares, more flashbacks, and he's less able to discern In's emotions and pain from his own.

At one point, he even realizes that the more he finds out about In, the more power In's feelings of betrayal and anguish have on him. He ultimately decides he doesn't want to know how In died, believing what's done is done and it's best to leave it in the past, just for him to find out later and for all his efforts to stay himself to be diminished by In's immense grief.

He straight up almost DIES because In's soul can't distinguish Dean from Korn, and therefore Pharm from Intouch. And people still thinks he doesn't deserve to cry all he wants?

Moving onto the titular man that, for lack of a better phrase, "started it all", and his green-flag of a reincarnation! Dean and Korn.

(If you don't agree with the dean, green-flag statement, I respectfully disregard your opinion)

So... let's just get this out in the open. I believe Korn was always suicidal. Or at least, very depressed.

Now when I say that, I obviously can't know how his childhood went or when his mental health began to decline, but considering the family he was born into, and the time he was in when he realized he liked men, it's not too hard to suspect that these feelings have been festering for a while.

Korn was the eldest son of a mafia loan shark. We don't ever find out about his mother, whether she was around or not, but considering how his father treats him and his children, I can assume that even if she was in their life, his father would still be calling all the shots.

We know that Korn is expected to carry on the family business, and at the point of his life where we are introduced to him, we see his father is beginning to put even more pressure on him to start taking up jobs and practicing to take over when he's gone.

But we see that Korn doesn't want to take over. He doesn't want to hurt people and he just wants a normal life for his brothers and himself. However, due to familial obligation, and threats from his father, Korn is submitting himself to a life he hates for the sake of his brothers, so neither of them has to throw their lives away for their father's business.

At this point, the existence of Korn is miserable. He's being pressured to do something he desperately hates, to submit himself to a life he does not want. He's ostracized at university for his affiliation with loan sharks and his general anti-social demeanor(which is definitely a coping mechanism) He's being berated and called useless by his own dad, which would definitely hurt his view of himself. He cares about his brothers way too much to ever let them know how much he's hurting, isolating himself from their care. finally, his sexuality would make him a target for discrimination, so he's forced to hide more about himself until he's probably forced into a marriage with a person he does not love, producing an heir to take on the job he hates and officially restarting the generational trauma and cycle of abuse.

This person better explains what Korn was going through mentally and what In truly meant to him than I ever could. But basically, they say that before In, Korn had practically dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of, and he was living on autopilot. Just moving through the days, until the day would come when he couldn't take it anymore. I very much agree with this. and every flashback, when they get closer and closer to the day, you can see that he doesn't know how much longer he's gonna last. So now that he is at the point of hopelessness, all he can do is let him know he loves him, and apologize to him and their dads for making them witness what he was going to do, but also for leaving him.

Now, I see a lot of comments about how Korn was being selfish with taking his life, because not only did he do it in front of the person he loves, but also in the process, he left him alone in the world. I personally feel like these comments tend to push a little too much on Korn being selfish that it ends up almost coming off as victim blaming. And I want to make it perfectly clear, people who commit suicide do so (mainly) as a last resort. almost no one who is going through with committing the act is doing so out of spite or to hurt others. They do so because they believe there is no other way to escape or fix what's wrong in their life. Korn is no exception. He was in pain, and he needed help, but he believed there was nothing that could be done, and probably felt if he was out of the picture, he would no longer be a burden on In and he would finally put an end to all the war and suffering in his heart and in his life.

However, suicide is an act that at the end of the day hurts everyone the victim is close to. people who are affected by a loved one taking their own life can feel a piling number of emotions. Confusion, anger, guilt, etc. We see those emotions expressed in In, An(In's Sister), Korn's brothers, their dads, and even Pharm. These emotions are valid and it's a common response. So I won't blame the audience for empathizing with In more than Korn in this series. To be fair, even Dean holds resentment towards Korn once he finds out.

Which brings me to why it'd suck to be Dean. He's possessed by the soul of a very depressed and broken man with anti-social tendencies. He's having issues similar to Pharm where he has memories that are not his own, not to mention he's always preoccupied with looking for someone he has no idea may or may not exist. He also chooses to isolate himself from his parents and siblings for the sake of his paternal grandmother, making his relationship with them more strained once he has to be in their lives. (which may or may not be influenced by Korn due to his tendency in life to self-isolate.) He puts on a stern and responsible act for everyone to mask his social awkwardness, still looking for someone he does not know.

And when he finally feels happy and relieved because he's found the thing he's always felt was missing, it only gives him more questions of who those memories actually are, and what he and Pharm have to do with it. The more he finds out, the more his true anxieties begin to take over and he desperately tries to put on a brave face for his boyfriend because he knows Pharm is already going through a lot, and he wants to make sure he's not worried.

When he actually finds out who Korn and In were, and What Korn did, he immediately starts cursing Korn for what happened. But it's so much more than just him being hateful towards a man who took his own life. Because to him, whether he likes it or not, Korn is an aspect of him. Whatever Korn feels, he feels. Korn's actions are his actions. So whatever Korn did, Dean is responsible for.(at least in his mind)

So Dean is practically cursing himself, calling himself a bastard. to Dean, He's the reason Pharm is terrified whenever there is a loud unexpected noise, he's the reason Pharm has panic attacks, and he's the reason Pharm cries in his sleep. He thinks it's his fault that Pharm was so scared of being in a relationship with him, Not to mention he's probably dealing with Korn's soul feeling the same amount of self-loathing. To Korn, everything is his fault, and because of his actions, he abandoned, hurt, and killed the one person that made him keep going.

So now, Dean is left with double self-loathing, and blaming himself for things that were most definitely NOT his fault.

Now, onto my final point on what the worst part of being the reincarnations of two unresting souls. Which is the lack of being your own person. When your body is holding two separate souls constantly fluctuating on taking the wheel, don't be surprised if you feel just a tad bit unsure of who you are or what things in life are your own.

Now, there are some things that their past life events influence that are not bad and are in fact quite sweet. like how In always wanted to be good at cooking, and so Pharm is born with a mother who is great at cooking, and in the process learns to be a good cook. Or Korn going to the beach for the first time with In being one of his happiest memories, and so Dean grows to love the beach, and therefore swimming. But the main thing that this drama shows as its conflict through the series is both Dean and Pharm trying to stay themselves. To have their actions be their own. and also, when the whole reason they are reincarnations of these two men specifically is to reconnect them and fulfill a promise made long ago, there's also the conflict of how much of their love is genuinely theirs. That's probably the worst anxiety in the world! You finally find a person who can truly relate and understand what you're going through and you feel an intense unexplainable love for them, only for you to fear that the relationship you built together isn't based off of love that is yours. It makes you fear that you are hurting the other person because why would you stay with someone if you're not sure if you love them? This is something they both have to face in the final episode. They separate for a little bit to give themselves time to reflect on their own feelings and only after they know that the souls of In and Korn are content, do they know that the love they have is real and it's theirs.

So...Still think reincarnation is cute and fun?! There's a reason people work to finally escape Samsara! Thank you for coming to my rant lol!

[atlas-the-bastard]

I don't usually post non fandom art on here but I'm pretty proud of this :33

these r two characters my best friend and I made for a VERY COOL webcomic we're in the process of creating - mavis (redhead) and her currently unnamed girlfriend because we needed side characters and I felt like she deserved a sapphic relationship 😌

i did use a reference for the pose/clothes but it turned out way better than I was expecting??? kind of insane??

anyway if you want more deets about the characters uhh under the cut bc I want to tell people about this so bad😭

SO (and may I just say thankyou for clicking see more cant believe people want to KNOW about my SILLY LITTLE GUYS)

Mavis (full name mavis nic coitir) is the bassist of a 5 person band in a world pretty much the same as our own except there's monsters n magic n people have powers n shit. dont think about it too hard the world building isn't designed for scrutiny.

Mavis' "power"/ability is mostly that she's just freakishly smart. she's the tech junkie of the group, the gadget girl, all that jazz - and also the biggest pop culture nerd ever. she's also the mom friend, she had adhd, she's 20 years old, Irish, and born on the 10th of february. she's a total loser and also the coolest person you'll ever meet.

she has a shit ton of awesome body mods/cyborgy stuff (which I didn't draw because I didnt feel like it💀), including a prosthetic arm - all of which she made herself.

she (like all of our other characters) is an amalgamation of a bunch of different traits and tropes we thought would be funny or cool, and also because I cant keep my sticky fingers out of anything, is losely inspired by one piece characters (namely franky and nami) - again, like most of our other characters💀

i, being a faggot, needed to give her a girlfriend and my friend said "sure :D". I thought it would be funny if she, being the loser ever, somehow pulled like. a beautiful celebrity or actress. and I think the idea in my head has now kind of morphed into like...a really cool artist/content creator who lives in their city and who everyone knows...so like microcelebrity...but still a celebrity to mavis's band mates. I havent yet run this past my friend, but I'm thinking some flavour of blasian for the gf.

also these aren't their actual outfits I just drew the clothes that were on the reference cos it was easier and also I think I am a lot better at drawing clothing folds now so win win. for the record mavis normally wears like an oversized band/pop culture tshirt and some old cargo pants/overalls.

anyway yeah that's mavis :DDD

(If u wanna know the other 4 band members are Soren Fayez , the seemingly cool calm collected popular girl who is actually a total ditz, and plays violin; Dante (full name Durante Alaric Hunter Dio Galloridge), the vampire vocalist and sometimes keyboardist with big dick energy and chaotic bisexuality; Calvin Smith, drummer and the most normal guy ever - completely trauma and angst free and the himbo ever; and Evan(geline) Mori, guitarist and the black cat to cal's golden retriever, bursting with childhood trauma and a Midwestern emo musical influence. Evan and Cal are in love with each other but Evan is too angsty to do anything and Cal doesn't waste time doing things like using his single braincell to pick up on Evan's faggotry that to anyone else except the two of them is more unsubtle than a giraffe in a swimming pool.)

[seaprofound]

there's just something about a woman with snakes for hair... (a psa)

it's been a month or so now since I gushed over the idea of giving Medusa a happy ending and while I do still think that she deserves one—if only in an AU (or something similar)—I've decided to keep the relationship that she has with Po as a tragic one because I am an angst monster.

what made me decide to go this route was the rediscovery—I swear that I got a strange sense of déjà vu—of this vase painting that depicts Po rushing towards Medusa after she's been beheaded while one of her sisters tries to shield Po's eyes from the grisly sight. that made me get just so !!! because Po usually befriends her lovers before ever getting together with them—I say usually because she's not immune to one-night stands (they're just rare)—and, thus, she would dedicate time to them, becoming utterly devoted in the process. because of that, it never made sense to me that Po would seemingly have no reaction to Medusa being slain because when she cares, she cares deeply, and there's nothing she wouldn't do to avenge the ones she loves if they were hurt in any way.

I'll elaborate more on Po's reaction to Medusa's death in the future—but, for now, know that it ate her up inside.

besides my decision to keep Seidusa—yup, this is the ship name I've decided on—tragic, I'm writing this post to discuss another decision that I've made. or, rather, one that I didn't make.

in the days leading up to me writing this post, I came this 🤏 close to writing off interactions with Medusas for good after dealing with years of frustration from the general Greek mythos community—as well as people outside of it—because of the prevailing notion that Ovid's interpretation of Medusa is the true Greek version (it isn't) or, worse, it's the only valid interpretation.

it didn't help that although I've interacted with Medusas that made the sexual encounter between Medusa and Po consensual like the Hesiod version—which is the oldest written version mind you (but that's besides the point)—they all still took elements from Ovid (usually the idea that Medusa was once a beautiful maiden). as a Hesiod!Medusa truther who longs for a Medusa that's scary and unapologetically ugly (albeit still hot if you're a monsterfucker like Po), this desire for such a specific niche drove me to start creating my own Medusa in earnest. I can't wait to tell you all about her because, ugh, she is just so gender tbh. I love her.

( my Medusa is agender, for instance, and she does not give a fuck as to how she's perceived due to a gender neutral upbringing. to her, Medusa is Medusa. )

as my Medusa became a more fleshed out character, I began to wonder what I should do about the Medusas that I've already interacted with (or expressed interest in doing so). on one hand, Medusa is an important character for Po and I've never felt more free than when I started creating my own version of her and really detailing the relationship that she and Po had with each other. on the other hand, I didn't wanna hurt anybody by closing off interactions because I worried that that would come across as callous or as if I thought other interpretations inferior.

that's not the case at all.

I don't mind other interpretations of Medusa. if you wanna write her, go ahead and, by all means, have your fun. I'm not gonna stop you. ultimately, I just wanna have creative freedom in my Medusa retelling—which is why I've decided that my Medusa will be the main Medusa for Po. what this means is that, unless I indicate otherwise, any mention of Medusa will be referring to my Medusa specifically.

what does this mean for other Medusas you may ask? simple. provided that they're NOT purely Ovid-based, I'm still willing to interact.

I have just one caveat if they take a couple of influences from Ovid, though (e.g., such as Medusa originally being human, her stunning beauty—as mentioned before—or the idea that she was once the priestess of Athena which is arguably fanon for it was never directly stated in that passage from the Metamorphoses): Po did not have intercourse with Medusa in Athena's temple.

no shade meant to her male counterpart, Poseidon, but Poseida is different. although Po may have had a bit of a rivalry with Athena at times—a friendly one, though, mind you—she respects her far too much to just. do that.

( Po will stick to flowery meadows, thank you very much. )

TLDR:

Seidusa is tragic once more ( I am the monster, rawr, rawr, rawr )

I created my own Medusa and she will be Po's main Medusa from now on

that said, I'm still willing to interact with other Medusas if they're not purely Ovid-based and, if they're willing to bend on the idea of Medusa and Po having intercourse in Athena's temple if their interpretation takes any cues from Ovid

[teddywesworl]

about the attention i do think there's a difference between wanting an audience to experience your art and doing art for attention, no?

in my understanding, for any performance and any form of art, you have to capture your audience's attention, that's true. all art forms are taught around what the spectator/viewer/reader will experience, read and understand when they see it. if you want to attract a certain audience, you skew your art in a certain way, ("fanservice"), or make it more palatable for your core message to reach as many people as possible. creating your art FOR an audience IS a part of making art, on that, i agree with you 100%. even when drawing/writing for my own cringe sake, i still technically think about a hypothetical audience because clarity and observable technical skill, while they're seemingly not important when you only make art for yourself, are still a way to "measure" your skill in that art form.

BUT

i think that when people criticize artists by saying they're doing it for attention, i think they mean making art ONLY to "shock" the audience or be "sensational". there is no real thought process to it, no intention to show certain point of view or share a message, or even to be read/seen more than once most of the time. making something sexual, something that is not conventionally considered beautiful, something that doesn't display your technical skill to all it's ability or REJECTING art's rule to make something unique : THOSE ARE ALL COOL AND AMAZING. but making art for attention means to literally put no thought into anything, surface or substance, regarding the piece. you literally just want to provoke a big emotion without a discernable goal other than capturing people's attention. i'd use an example in comedy (stand-up or otherwise) for this : a joke can be spontaneous, stupid, easy-to-write, and only serve the purpose to make people laugh. a joke does not need to be observational or make LOTS of sense to accomplish the goal : MAKING PEOPLE LAUGH. BUT. the people who make red-pilled-dark-humor jokes or generally demeaning jokes only make them to shock people, not actually to make you laugh. you could argue a red-pilled joke is "to send a political message" but most comedians who go that route are trying to SHOCK you when showing their political opinion because deep down they know that opinion is shocking in nature. maybe they even adopted that political stance to feel "different" from "the woke society" or to show how "brave and daring" they are to display the stance. all in all, they don't do it to make you laugh. so making art to provoke strong emotions is cool, making art to only offend the majority and NOT EVEN TO MAKE YOU THINK ABOUT WHY IT OFFENDED YOU. AND NOTHING else further. that's making art for attention in my opinion. and that kinda sucks.

i hope this makes sense because i'm tired so maybe some sentences are not totally understandable but yeah. sorry for the long ask, you just made me think about this! have a good day/evening/night/whatever :)

i don’t want to be super dismissive, but “im trying to say something, and im not gonna say it in an empty room” should probably have been your clue within the text of what i want the attention for

[pilot-boi]

Catsvdogs

What if when fighting the cat or at some point when Jaune finally puts his foot down to the cat his own shadow starts to crawl its way out of the ground life a giant creature from a game or movie coming out of the water and starts fighting Jaune and the other

( got the idea thinking out artorias for dark souls also I was the one who made the post about Alex poisoning Jaune because of the shadow don't know why it says anonymous)

Believe me, you are not off base, because I already imagined this happening in the timeline

The time Jaune puts his foot down, btw, is after Ruby drinks the tea

CC is much more involved in breaking her down than they were in canon, wanting to speed up the process so they can have a proper Remnant-ready vessel. It’s thwarted, ironically and darkly, by Ruby drinking the tea

This time, instead of CC getting batted away by Neo, CC gets rid of Neo literally just before she convinces Ruby to drink, making it seem like they were just an illusion created to hurt her. And then CC starts their whole possession thing

“I was wearing down my Sunshine for DECADES, loving him and killing him in equal measure, but then you… Why I only had to know you for a day and a half! How weak you must be, little Huntress…”

WBYJ charge in to help her, see CC sitting on her chest with the claws sunk into her chest, and see Ruby drink the tea. Her last option

“I’m sorry guys, this was the best I could do”

CC screams and leaps back. The Tree swallows up Ruby. And that’s just one lost friend too many for poor Jauney

“I TRUSTED YOU!!”

He screams at CC, fury and sorrow in equal measure the only thing left in his once-bright eyes. A harsh reflection of a school lobby a lifetime ago, when the only thing that stood between him and death was Ruby Rose

But Ruby isn’t here anymore. Her teammates are all that are left, Yang in shock, Blake holding her hand, and Weiss holding him back.

Gods how could he have been so stupid

CC blinks at him, shaken from their failure by the voice of their Sunshine. His shadow writhes on the ground behind him, unseen by the three remaining Huntresses, the smallest one seemingly holding him back and holding him up in equal measure

Tears are running from those beautiful eyes

Tears

All this time they’ve been wondering what it would take for Jaune to break. It seems they finally pushed him as far as he could go. And all it took was Ruby Rose

CC’s eyes widen. Jaune screams at him, voice hoarse with tears, and shadow like a yowling cat behind him, but CC can scarcely hear him

Because an idea has crossed their mind. A wonderful idea. A wonderful TERRIBLE ideA

Jaune takes a step forward. The shadow springs from the ground, lashing at him with dark spectral hands that fractal into technicolor static at the edges. The children all yell, shocked and drawing their weapons, as Jaune is suddenly engulfed by his own shadow

CC laughs unbidden, their face stretching into a grin like a saw blade

Because while Ruby would’ve worked perfectly well, there is ONE way to guarantee a chance to see Remnant and keep their Sunshine in line all in one fell swoop

They stride forward, feeling lighter than air in the face of this unexpected victory. Jaune lays before them, entombed in darkness that parts only for their insubstantial form. His friends strike it with swords and bullets that don’t act fast enough

His Sunshine stares up at him. Tears cutting through the darkness like diamonds. Those eyes have never looked more beautiful than while set in a face so terrified

“You are MY Sunshine. My only Sunshine,” CC murmurs, holding Jaune’s chin. He’s shaking his head, or maybe he’s just shaking. “Don’t worry, I can be you for you.”

And then they kiss him fit to devour him whole