rainofcolours

[rainofcolours]

Always wanted to do a landscape piece! As it turns out, drawing a non-descript mountain (with a pointy full moon) is the quickest lol 🗻 (Nov, 2024)

[rainofcolours]

the scars that bound my present to our pasts (7905 words)

[ (4/? clashes to ashes, trust to dust) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | @hurtcember 2024 Day 4: Scars ]

Summary: Why was it even when Katsuya was alone, eons of light years away, his actions remained shackled by the scars of his past? (Or emotional trauma meets melon soda float banter meets dodgy bad friend.) Continuation of "hierarchy of collapse". (Myst's usual brand of hurt-no-comfort Kaijou; potential triggers in ao3)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

He lifted his head from the coffin of his own embrace, surprised his migraine had mostly departed, eyes still adjusting to the mise-en-scène of caliginous absence that had characterised most—, now all of his daily existence. Awaiting the commencement of his wordless soliloquy, he sat in desolation – ringed by the disintegrated ashes of a will conquered; framed against a foreground of cacophonous clutter that diffused the ambient light from the streets below until all of him was pulled into a desaturated monochrome.

After minutes, or perhaps an hour – the passage of time seemed to dilate non-linearly to Katsuya these days – of impassive passivity, holding conversations he should have had but never did in the language of blue; imagining the hypothetical splintering of their history into prisms of alternate hues, Katsuya forced his mind to replace the replays with static and awaited the thrumming of his heart to slow to a more steady cadence.

Katsuya cracked the soreness from his spine, feeling his lower back cramp in resistance. I really am gettin’ old, huh. Rationalising that cleaning up the aftermath of his outburst took precedence over the affordances of wistful fancies, he drove his knuckles into the floor to unhinge his legs, forgetting the injuries he had sustained the night before.

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[rainofcolours]

This time a proper spoopy piece for the now-past Halloween! 💀 It’s so hard to photo cause I gave it a liberal silver wash lol (Oct, 2024)

[rainofcolours]

the exsanguination of my lifeblood for yours (4713 words)

[ (3/? clashes to ashes, trust to dust) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | @hurtcember 2024 Day 3: Blood ]

Summary: In a world where not everything can be black and white, Seto repainted his chessboard in profusions of reds. Continuation of "hierarchy of collapse". (Myst's usual brand of hurt-no-comfort Kaijou; potential triggers in ao3)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

By the time Seto felt the temporary effects of his breathing meditation kick in, he had managed to string together the conclusion that Katsuya was either giving the dead a run for their money, actually dead, or had ran back to whatever dismal place he was renting this season. Insistent on not removing his arm, he stretched a leg out, padding softly across the grid of his hardwood floor. Expecting the probable contact with his slippers, Seto instead felt his foot tap against the crystal of his wine glass. The same one he had sequestered in an obscured corner – away from the persona he had spent a lifetime curating; away from the smoulder of accusations from flashing amber—

He removed his arm abruptly, eyes fixated on the lack of a presence he had not realised had melded into the normalcy of his routine. The rim of diaphanous burgundy at the fringe of his vision glinted tauntingly from the shadows.

That is none of your business, Jounouchi.

He shifted his gaze from his bed and surveyed the rest of his room.

A singular king bed stood starkly empty in its centre, flanked by a carved wooden desk and a single business chair. Since a year ago, its perpendicular edge was framed by a worn settee his occasional companion favoured – one Katsuya had finally managed to convince him to move over from his family home. The rest of his room was filled with empty walls and white lights, a staged set of still life; devoid of warmth, vacant of soul – did his space always feel this cold?

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[rainofcolours]

Getting a little bit more comfortable with the medium a month later, so more work angst 🏆 (Sep, 2024)

[rainofcolours]

blue, white and brown (1980 words)

[ (2/? clashes to ashes, trust to dust) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | @hurtcember 2024 Day 2: Breakdown ]

Summary: Now that he and Seto have parted ways less than amicably, Katsuya is left with the ghosts of blue, white and brown. Continuation of "hierarchy of collapse". (Myst's usual brand of hurt-no-comfort Kaijou; potential triggers in ao3)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

“Go ta hell, Seto Kaiba!”

The cacophonous banging of erratic fists on wood exhausted.

Katsuya hung his head in the gallows of his wrists; each uneven rasp he drew stilted by the weight of iron buried somewhere in the grave of his chest. With every surge of his veins, he felt the sear of pain burrow deeper into his left eye, coating his vision in a miasma of grey. Was it the void of solitude or the taint of his resentment that filled the darkness he was seated within?

He rolled his neck, imprints of his rage still reverberating in his ears. The cold metal of the chair an uncomfortable anchor for his limp body, limbs distending until they grazed the floor as he gave in to the weight of his own gravity. There, Katsuya sat, unmoving – his inner hurricane encased in the vacuum of Domino’s midnight; dim eyes, unfocussed, at the far wall – wondering if it was the absence of light or his own delusion that made the edges undulate and distort.

How did we end up like this?

The darkness was a kind tormentor: Within its negative space breathed that which was coveted; what the heart wanted, the darkness granted. Ideals and caricatures alike strung to life by determined longing, dancing in the wisps of suggestions in your mind’s shadow. Its stage was built upon your projections – helping shed your armour, creating the suggestion of safety, and catching when your knees buckled in confession; so it could coax inspiration from the deepest alcoves where you thought amnesia had long put what you held most precious to rest. 

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[rainofcolours]

hierarchy of collapse (2400 words)

[ (1/? clashes to ashes, trust to dust) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | @hurtcember 2024 Day 1: Collapse ]

Summary: When it's apathy and not acrimony that precipitates the collapse of one's not-really-relationship.

(Myst's usual brand of hurt-no-comfort introspection-driven Kaijou)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

Shades of grey pooled in the tired corners of Katsuya’s eyes, filling the spaces between the faint spirals of misted dust agitated by his overly-eager slamming of the shutters. He gave the aluminium rolls a kick in farewell, hearing the rusted hinges buckle and sway piteously upon impact. In the outskirts of Domino where aged brutalist buildings sit silently in the shadows of the steel and mirrors that dominate the heart of the city, crime was slow and business was slower. Even for the most opportune criminals, the prospect of extracting Schrödinger’s loot from a locked store with daily footfall that rocks a naught point something seemed too much effort to bear.

If Katsuya had any other options, he would have left this god forsaken city years ago.

The dull rhythm of the floor’s yellowed clock, stubbornly clinging in precarious balance to the bent nail hammered in before the turn of the century, echoed across the silent corridor, mocking Katsuya’s fading footsteps as he trundled out of his occupational prison.

Katsuya inhaled the December air deeply, feeling it expand into the tension of his extremities. He breathed – carefully pulling it close into his weary chest, folding it into tessellations of wordless regrets before willing it past his throat and into the coils of his neck; twisting, tightening his tongue until the last of its crispness dissipated into the dryness of his mouth.

He felt his fingers itch in response, uninvited twitches as they distractedly fumbled towards the familiar side pocket of his backpack, reaching for the zipper that always hitched unless it was yanked at an awkward angle—

“You are late.”

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[rainofcolours]

Above is the official Hurtcember 2024 prompts list.

Below are alternative prompts in case one doesn't want to do a few of the prompts (but still do the whole challenge) or for those who just want to write/draw more.

Both lists are typed out at the bottom of this post.

RULES 1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing 2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly 3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #hurtcember2024 so that we can find and repost them 4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "Hurtcember" and/or "Hurtcember 2024" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s) 5. The challenge officially starts on December 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you 6. Be kind to other participants 7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. Collapse 2. Breakdown 3. Blood 4. Scars 5. Faint 6. Touch-Starved 7. Abandoned 8. Cuddle 9. Exhaustion 10. Touch Aversion 11. Caretaking 12. Cry 13. Nightmare 14. Near Death 15. Trauma 16. Bruise 17. Concussion 18. Fatigue 19. Desperate 20. Panic 21. Afraid 22. Self-Harm 23. Bed-bound 24. Dissociate 25. Accident 26. Guilt 27. Pain 28. Captive 29. Dehydration 30. Dizzy 31. Hyperventilation

Alt Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. "Don't leave" 2. "Help me" 3. "Leave me alone" 4. "It's my fault" 5. "Take my hand"

[rainofcolours]

Product of being made to do a team bonding art jam after not touching acrylics for two decades 🐦‍⬛ (Aug, 2024)

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Fly high, Kimchi. We’ll miss you.

Barely managed to squeeze a pseudo-sticker out in time for the bestie’s birthday! (ft. one of her two conures: Kimchi the Greedy)

(The second image has a transparent background!)

[rainofcolours]

RIP Takahashi sensei 😭 Thank you for all the joy, hope, and memories for the past two decades.

I never would have gotten where I am now without Yugioh.

This series is the reason why I kept at creative writing and dabbled in art as a hobby from my teens until now – both of which have allowed me to pivot to being a comics editor and a marketing manager from a solid finance background, all without relevant experience, after my quarter-life crisis.

When I was at my lowest after my GCSEs, it was the reminder of Katsuya’s fighting spirit that drew me forth from the unyielding grasp of depression. Seto’s grit then pulled me into a new confidence when being “encouraged” to do a major I didn’t want to, from which I’ve excavated technical and lifelong skills that have allowed me to thrive in environments far beyond my comfort zone.

Thank you for helping me along this life trajectory.

You did it, partner. Farewell, be well.

[rainofcolours]

虎年快乐!

[rainofcolours]

Is anyone interested in purchasing VIXX Live Fantasia Utopia Posters Set B? Brand new!

Edit: Sold!

[rainofcolours]

[rainofcolours]

Forever late to the party welp. Have a WIP of a mermaid that I'm not sure if I can finish before May ends, oops.

[rainofcolours]

Selamat Hari Raya! Have a safe breaking of fast, and a happy and peaceful celebration ahead!

ft. Aqilah from The Makers Club comic series (by Tintin Pantoja; used with permission)