#g: rain world: downpour

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 3

Area Zero from Pokémon Scarlet/Violet

vs.

The Cycle from Rain World: Downpour

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Area Zero:

The magical sparkles vibes of the beginning are so pretty, and then the voices come in, and I get goosebumps. It's SUCH a good song, and it creates such an amazing atmosphere.

I feel like puking crying and shitting so much when I listen to this song that I genuinely unironically cannot listen to it for more than 10 seconds. It hits so hard when you first play through ScarVi. Such a good song for a mostly mid game.

[macchitea]

pov: you just finished rivulet's campaign

[cowblep]

Spamtong and his pipis- I mean danglefruit

[whakkicat]

slap his bald head

[mooroficirrus]

two rainworld art posts in two days?! unheard of! really this is for a soundcloud playback challenge (the equivalent of spotify wrapped) but since soundcloud decides to be super annoying we don't get the playlist til long after. still! give me a number 1-50 and any character and ill draw them to the corresponding song!

(p.s. youre welcome @skiddlecat <3)

[thewandererh]

monk’s obliviousness heLP—

[write-here-n-now]

What to do when you've crossed a line?

C.(S). Jeonghan x Reader | WC. 1367 | G. Angst| Pt. 4/? |

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The door shuts with a bang as you lean against it, catching your breath. 

With your eyes closed, you remember his face. 

Tired. Exhausted. Relieved. Concerned. Shocked. Emotion painted on in a blend of colours, hanging to each crease of his brow and lips.

He was a mess, more so than you’ve ever seen him

Why were you feeling concerned for his well-being? If anything, you should worry about yourself. Four days and the place you had to see him was on campus after things had been running relatively smoothly all day. Turning your head to the side, your sights fell on the bag you had made this morning—all your tangible memories stuffed in that 23 by 64-inch bag. 

You turn your body and move closer to it. Untying the double knot of the black bag, you pull out a figure of Wall-E made out of Lego, Jeonghan having the other half, Eve.  

You had started building Legos together as a joke to escape the stress of finals and the impending assignment deadlines two semesters ago which became a designated stress reliever, finals or not, you would scour the internet and save up for sets that you both liked.

“You’re doing it wrong, that’s not how the piece fits” “It’s literally what the instruction shows” “No no! That’s not the right piece”

The first Lego set you brought home had no one set design, just a wide range of pieces and instructions to make whatever you wanted but it seemed that you both found it funny to insult the creation the other wanted to make causing you to bicker over every attempt to build something together.

It was worse when you bought a more complicated set from your favourite series The Lord of the Rings—a Rivendell set. Figuring out the intricate details and piecing together the entire design put the two of you on each other’s nerves. It got so bad that you had to cool off in separate rooms and when you came back, Jeonghan sat back just watching you complete the set to avoid more fighting.  

You learned you two couldn’t build together unless you were working on completely different sets which prompted you two to buy multiple Lego sets so you could parallel play like children on the living room floor.

Long hours of just making your designated Lego set, music on low volume in the background, snacks at your side and you would find yourself looking over to see him completely focused on his piece without another care in the world. You caught yourself often, in those times, letting your gaze linger to his figure for just a while longer, turning away before he had the chance to meet your eyes.

Placing the Lego Wall-E on the floor you reach in to find a hoodie, navy blue with “MARK THE MOMENT” printed on the front.

On a seemingly clear spring day, the two of you headed out near his apartment to build a stash of snacks to sustain the two of you for a movie marathon that weekend, a celebration for finishing midterms.

Walking into the shop with blue skies, you two emerged with a heavy downpour. Had you thought of potential weather uncertainty, you would’ve worn a thicker or even full-sleeved t-shirt. Jeonghan had been more prepared, wearing that same navy hoodie you clutched in your hands, as he held the bags of your store haul.

Ready to make a run for it, he turns to you. Doubt and concern sported on your face.

Placing the bags in his hands on the ground, he begins to shed himself of his hoodie. Passing it over to you once it's off. Despite himself in just a t-shirt he urges you to put on his hoodies.

“Don’t argue, I’ll be fine” “You’ll get wet though” “We both will, but you have more to lose with the thin shirt you have on,”

Wanting to get home faster, and the rain clearly not willing to let up any time soon, you throw on the hoodie.

“We run on 3” he beams, picking the bags back up but this time both in one hand.”1….2……3!”

You don’t expect him to tuck his hand into yours and pull you forward, beginning your race against the overcast to his apartment.

It's then, the two of you soaked, laughing and running against the rain, you feel your heart flutter. It had been doing that for a little while these days, but only when you found your gaze settled on your best friend. His smile, contagious and his laugh ringing in your ear like a symphony, everyone else? Background noise. Nobody, nothing, mattered more than his hand in yours, pulling you in a frenzy through the streets desperate to seek shelter, despite water reaching your skin a sharp contrast to the heat and fuzzy feeling creeping across your entire body.

Continuing your journey through memory lane, you pull a stack of polaroids and one of your old disposable cameras—one which was yet to be developed.

Polaroids, some blurry, others confusing without context but one in particular, a haphazardly taken selfie from last summer. Staring straight into the camera, Jeonghan’s arm reaches around your head, as his hand grabs the underside of your face, pushing together your cheeks, giggling at your dismay. He snapped a picture before you could get away from his grasp. Your eyes shut, lips both frowning and pouting and his hand smushing your cheeks together like you were a child.

You stare at the picture a bit longer, wishing to go back to summer, a time in which your worries had all but disappeared, it was just you and him.

You dig around the bag until you find what you’re looking for. The beanie. Brown and now a bit worn due to use.

Whenever the colder season began, it would be the perfect weather for hats and beanies in the morning but by lunchtime, Jeongan’s beanies would either be in your bag or lazily stuffed in one of his pockets, much too hot to put on his head. It would be one of the things he would leave around your home and so you would often collect them and deliver them back before he had the chance to complain about how his hats seemed to be disappearing.

This particular beanie was a gift, from him to you, though it ended up as a shared article of clothing. Pulling it off each other’s head to sport it on your own was a childish game you enjoyed partaking in. Despite a million times you fought to wear the beanie, your fondest memory was tied to a bittersweet day. An exam that particularly seemed to disrupt your academic career ended in a less-than-ideal conclusion. You held it in all day, but the minute you saw him, all bets were off, one question was all it took for you to start bawling in the middle of the library.

Unable to understand your sudden outburst and concern for you, he pulls off the brown beanie, sticking it over your head and pulling down the sides over your eyes, concealing your sorrow from the world. The suddenness of his actions startled you, your crying abruptly cut short during his ministrations to straighten the beanie on your head. Now silent, you sat across from him contemplating the situation.

“Wow…I didn’t think that would work…” “…why…did you do..that?” you ask, sniffing, still blinded by the fabric constricting your view.

He shrugs to an imaginary audience, forgetting that you can’t see him.

“Hold on stay like that, I’m gonna take a picture," he explains before giving you a proper explanation of his thought process.

Face red, tears drying on your cheeks, beanie pulled too far down, your lips a thin line, the profile picture he still kept as your contact.

You laugh at the ridiculous memory, which despite your best tries, turns into tears, once again crying over how messed up everything has become.

You can’t rid yourself of these items, just like you can’t throw away your feelings. Each and every memory tattooed to the depths of your mind, how would you remove those?

[nebulousbrainsoup]

dancing in the rain with ateez - hyung line

SUMMARY: what it's like to dance in the rain with ateez's hyung line, and how it happens. PAIRING(S): ateez hyung line x gn!reader GENRE: fluff! AU/TROPE INFO: implied idol!au, dancing in the rain, established relationship WORD COUNT: 1.7k WARNINGS: mild language RATING: g A/N: i've had these thoughts rolling around in my head for an absurd amount of time. what better time to get them out than the teezer 5 year anniversary? maknae line coming soon. and a huge shout out to my twinnie @pocketjoong for the beta, mwah. NET PINGS: @wonderlandnet

hongjoong (wc: 422)

it’s a near torrential downpour when the two of you finally emerge from his studio. you were deaf to it in the soundproofed walls of hongjoong’s second home, but in the halls of the kq building, the pounding rain echoes clear as day. his eyes widen and you sigh. 

“we could stay and see if it passes?” your boyfriend suggests, and you roll your eyes.

“joongie, it’s three in the morning. we need to get some sleep tonight. and besides, i told you to bring an umbrella. this is just karma.”

resolutely, you start for the door, and you hear hongjoong groan behind you. his footsteps pick up again a moment later.

“i just don’t want you to get soaked, sweetheart, i—”

you reach the door and turn, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at him. “are you sure you're not more worried about your hair?” you tease, reaching up to ruffle the freshly dyed shock of blue.

he rolled his eyes  and batted your hand away, pink tinting his ears. "that, too."

grinning, you take his hand. before he can react, you yank him through the doors and onto the sidewalk. your laughter and the roar of the sheets of rain are not enough to drown out his squawk of protest as you're both doused. 

when you turn to face him, there's an exasperated grin on his face. he tugs you back to him, your own surprised shout leaving you as you collide with his firm chest. 

his arms lace around your waist as your hands settle on his shoulders, and he slowly starts to sway to whatever tune is playing in his head. a soft smile overtakes your features and you reach a hand up, carding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

you both sigh as your lips meet and you melt into each other, the rain muffling the sounds of the city and wrapping you up in your own little world.

you're still swaying when you part, eyes closed as you press into each other, fighting off the chill sinking into your bones with each other's body heat. 

hongjoong pulls back when a shiver lights down your spine, and you reluctantly let your hand drop back to his shoulder. 

a shock of color catches your eye before you can meet his adoring gaze, and you bark a laugh at the pale blue tinting your fingertips and under your nails.

“maybe you were right about your hair,” you hummed, waving your stained hand between you.

“karma.”

seonghwa (wc: 357)

you’re on a quiet stroll through your favorite park, one hand wrapped around your favorite drink and the other laced with seonghwa’s. clouds have hung in the air all morning, the smell of petrichor lingering in the air. but they’ve been there for longer than just today, so neither of you are particularly worried about it.

until, that is, you feel seonghwa startle next to you. he looks up with a furrowed brow, patting the top of his silky hair. 

you tilt your head at him, curious and questioning. “what’s the matter?”

he frowns, reaching an open palm out and shaking his head. “nothing, i guess. i thought i felt rain.”

you frown, reaching out a hand and looking up. nothing. still, you turn your attention back to your boyfriend. “we can head back home, if you’d prefer.”

to your surprise and delight, he huffed a sigh and pouted, shaking his head and tugging you back along the path you had been following before. “no. i’m enjoying this too much.”

it only takes a few minutes before you’re both regretting that suggestion, diving for cover underneath the branches of the trees around you as the rain starts to patter to the ground.

you’re both laughing as you run a hand through your hair. “maybe we should have gone,” you sigh, blinking up at him.

seonghwa hums thoughtfully, a soft smile playing at his lips. “or maybe it’s a good thing we stayed.” 

he stepped toward you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you into his chest and you can feel the warmth radiating from him as you offer him a confused smile, resting your open hand and your near-empty drink on his shoulder.

slowly, he steps back out into the rain, giving you ample time to protest before you’re getting doused too. for a moment, you flinch, but as he starts to sway, you relax in his arms again. 

sighing, you match his rhythm and press your lips against his own. “maybe it is a good thing we stayed.” 

your hopeless romantic of a boyfriend beams, pulling you closer and kissing you once again.

yunho (wc: 409)

you’ve found yourself like this countless times, leaning back against yunho’s warm chest as you both watch the rain fall in curtains against the window. for as long as you’ve been together, rainy days have been for curling up together and keeping dry, but today a certain romanticism tugs at your heartstrings.

“what are you thinking?” he murmurs against your temple, ever-aware of the smallest shifts in your mood.

“just being wistful and dreamy again,” you sigh, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “nothing bad, i promise.”

“okay,” he sighs, a curious lilt in his voice. “then what is it?”

“thinking about dancing in the rain, like we’re in a music video or something.” 

you saw him brighten in the reflection, his sunshiney grin warming your heart. “let’s go, then. let’s do it.” 

you turn in his arms, blinking back at him in confusion. “are you… are you serious? we don’t have to; it’s just one of those dumb little romantic tropes—”

he nods eagerly, releasing his hold around you to take your hand instead, tugging you toward your front door. you follow him in a bit of a daze, a disbelieving smile plastered on your face.

he barely stops to grab your keys and doesn’t give you time to put your shoes on before he’s dragging you out front and into the grass. you squeak at the chill, startled, but follow him as he tugs on your hand, spinning you back into his arms.

the look in his eyes is one you can only describe as “pure adoration” as your open hand lands firm on his shoulder, and he hums softly as he sways with you.

“is it everything you thought it would be?” he teases, eyes twinkling down at you.

“all that and more, yuyu,” you giggle, leaning up to catch his lips in a chaste kiss.

a flash of mischief glints behind his eye, and before you can process the movement, he’s dipping you back toward the ground and locking your lips, kissing you deeper than he had all night.

he swallows the gasp that leaves you and you melt into him, finding yourself completely breathless as he pulls you back up to your feet.

“so much more,” you sigh, giggling against his lips as you trade smaller, sweeter kisses, completely lost in each other as you sway to nothing but the sound of your own breaths and the water falling around you.

yeosang (wc: 527)

“how are you entirely out of batteries?” you groan, flopping back against your boyfriend’s bed. “you’re a gamer, aren’t you supposed to be well-stoked in these things?”

somewhere on the other side of the bedroom, you hear him grunt, huffing an annoyed sigh as you realize the sound was likely accompanied by a noncommittal shrug. “most of my stuff is rechargeable or hardwired. and if i need a flashlight, i usually use my phone.”

“well, maybe you shouldn’t have let it die, then!”

“like you’re any better. i saw you playing pocket camp until yours died, too.”

he’s right and you know it, so you don’t press the issue any further. you can already feel boredom sinking under your skin, though, and you breathe another sigh. outside, lightning flashes and thunder rolls, briefly silhouetting your boyfriend against the window.

“it looks like the convenience store on the corner has power. we could go grab snacks and batteries, then come back and play board games? or maybe the power will be back on by then.”

you join him, huffing an annoyed sigh as he’s proven right. “so the shady corner store has a backup generator and your top-of-the-line dorm doesn’t?”

“there are more fridges in there.” you shudder at the thought of his own fridge. “c’mon, let’s beat the rush, just in case.”

it isn’t until the front door of the building clicks shut behind you, the familiar electronic buzz of the door’s lock glaringly missing that you realize your mistake, “yeo, we can’t card in.” 

he stops in his tracks, blinking with his head half-turned to face you. “shit, you’re right.”

heart dropping, you reach for the door handle, groaning when it doesn’t budge. you try again, tugging harder and harder, panic rising in your throat—

until a warm hand envelopes your own, gently prying your fingers from the metal before pressing a kiss to the tip of each one. you look up at your boyfriend, an apologetic smile on his face, and let yourself slump against him. he hums quietly, the low rumble entwining in his chest with the beating of his heart, and you feel the tension slowly drain from your body as he rocks you gently from side to side. 

“we can still go get snacks, if you want,” he murmurs after a time. “then we can just… hang out until the power’s back on.” 

“not like we have much choice,” you grumble, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

he hums once in affirmation before picking his tune up again, shifting in a small circle as he sways with you. you feel his sigh more than you hear it, his lungs expanding for a moment before he lets his eyes slide closed.

“besides, isn’t dancing in the rain with the love of your life supposed to be romantic?”

you’re silent for too long, and when he opens his eyes, he’s relieved to find you grinning up at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “am i the love of your life, sangie?” 

his eyes go wide, cheeks and ears blossoming pink as he realizes what he said. well, there was no going back now.

“yes. you are.” 

TAGLISTS: (open, send an ask to join) permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @thatonenoonaateez: @pyeonghongrie-main

© October 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[prominent96]

The bigger the better1!1!

Another batch

[wannaeatramyeon]

Alright hear me out.. Jonggun x a big deal member reader.. 🫣 like, both of us hating each other to guts, but somehow an odd feeling causes us to desire to spend time with each other etc while not even knowing the reason, and once gun feels close enough to us to inform us about his Yakuza clan and his whole shiro oni side, it turns out we were actually gun's childhood friend back then 🤭

Anon. You'll be the death of me. Apologies for the delayed response as usual! I started this today with a small idea. Came back to it tonight and 2k words later, it's now nearly 2am. I... I think I really like this. Let's sleep on it anyway. Hope it hits the spot and thanks for requesting!

Gun Park x Big Deal!Reader: Yamazaki Yuzuru

G/N. Enemies to lovers. (...Childhood friends turned enemies to lovers).

Cynics would say you sold your body in a different way, although you hate to think about it like that. You suppose that it may seem so for someone on the outside looking in.

Big Deal is famous for its passion, its romance. You never thought it applied to you. Not like it did to others.

.

.

The first time you meet on Big Deal street, Gun studies you. Gaze hidden under his sunglasses, curiosity piqued as he wonders who you are.

A sea of gangsters but your face sticks out like a sore thumb. Familiar. Like a distant memory just out of reach, like trying to recall a dream.

Notices your scar-littered knuckles faded silver with time. Hardly unusual for gang members yet Gun still peers down at his own hands.

They're similar. Almost matching. A pair.

Ever watchful eyes burn into the side of your head.

When you turn in his direction, you know for certain he is only looking at you.

Age old scars start to itch. Absentmindedly, you scratch at your hands.

.

.

Gun asks for your name during your second meeting.

"Who are you?"

Jake Kim frowns, searches your face for a reason why he would be asking you. Why he would be taking an interest.

You give your boss an imperceptible shrug.

"None of your business," is all you offer. Clipped. Brusque. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Big Deal by outright ignoring him.

What you mean to spit is fuck you.

What you mean to scream is I want to kill you with my bare hands.

You don't look at him today.

"Oh, this one is feisty," Goo Kim steps forward, duffle bag of cash in hand and eyes roving over you with approval.

Trouble still finds you.

Jaw clenching, hands scrunching into fists; Jake ready to defend his crew-

Gun beats him to the punch.

"Let's go. The money is all there."

His blonde associate throws him an odd look. Nevertheless, they still leave. You're not sure if you've ever seen anything better than their retreating backs.

Big Deal survives for another day.

.

.

Your luck runs out on your third meeting.

Gun finds you when you're miles from Big Deal and alone. When the rain drenches the earth and the air suffocates. When instead of water bringing life, it brings an omen.

This time you have no choice but to look at him, glaring into his pitch-black eyes. Fear eclipsed by loathing as he holds his umbrella over you, downpour providing a shroud and shielding the two of you from the world.

A strange game of silence starts, neither of you wanting to speak first.

Minutes tick by. The feeling of hatred is tiring to keep up. Holding onto the anger at the surface drains you. Infinitesimally your gaze starts to soften until Gun's curiosity is mirrored in yours.

To your surprise, he cracks first.

He tells you he recognises the vitriol in your voice from last time, no matter how much you thought you had successfully veiled it.

(A tiny smirk, almost fond, graces his features as he is reminded of your animosity.)

Offers you a chance, an escape line, a tantalising small glimmer of hope for Big Deal to leave the four crews.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, he proposes, "You can have your freedom if you can kill me."

Oh?

The odds are not in your favour. You agree anyway.

.

.

You manage to land a hit on his left arm, even as he turns and deflects most of the damage with a roll of his shoulder.

Had it been successful, it would have left it limp and hanging. Unfortunately, Gun only seem inconvenienced at best.

Your next attack manages to break the skin on his cheek. You miss your mark, wanting to gouge out his eyes instead.

Still, seeing the trickle of blood pleases you.

Gun Park takes no prisoners. Aims to incapacitate at the best of times, if not to maim or kill.

The thrill and adrenaline surges once he notices the cut. Feels the blood rushing to the surface and it already swelling.

He lunges after you, launching an open hand strike straight for your chest.

Throwing up both arms just in time, you manage to negate most of the intensity of his hit. Even still, you are flung to the other side of the street and hard into the ground.

Death would have been on the cards if not for your quick thinking.

When Gun sees the crimson falling from your lips, you spluttering and winded, choking on your own blood and body barely able to move-

All he can think about is how intriguing it is that you are still breathing. How peculiar that you managed to defend yourself, like you had foreseen his move. How mesmerising that particular shade of red.

Gun doesn't kill you today.

He tells you you have failed and leaves you to wallow in your own humiliation. You watch his figure growing smaller into the distance and find no joy in this retreat.

Blood and sweat mingles with the rain, cold seeps into your bones. When you think all hope is lost-

You catch a glimpse of maroon beneath your nails. Even as your body lies broken and beaten, you think of how you have managed to spill droplets of Gun Park's own blood.

It's a pleasant thought.

.

.

The fourth time he asks again for your name.

You wonder how he manages to find you once more during heavy showers.

As if he is only able to venture out during storms, like a worm awakened with the pitter patter of raindrops and slithering out of wet soil.

Fitting.

Amused both at this and the audacity of his question, you chuckle at his tenacity. The action causes you to wince. Body still recovering, a result of your fight from last time.

Gun takes a step forward and you flinch away immediately. Worsening your injury, grimacing and groaning as black spots appear in your vision.

"Stop," he orders and you are tempted to do it again just to defy him. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. I'll ask you for the final time, what is your name?"

In no fit state to fight, loss inevitable even if you were, you finally give it up.

You tell him through gritted teeth and a seed is planted in his mind.

"And you know mine."

"Gun Park."

He loves the fury in your voice. He wants to hear you say it again.

.

.

Gun slams you into a wall during the fifth time. Pins your arms above your head as you thrash against his hold.

Desperately trying to regain your footing, regain your strength as he has once again bested you.

He leans into your ear, voice taunting and infuriating. "Y/N." Relishes the way your name sounds, "You've failed again."

You whip your head around, ready to do something, anything. Bile in your throat and venom on the tip of your tongue-

His face is centimetres away from yours, breath hot and your skin prickles.

Own breath hitching as he drops his eyes to your lips. Desire and hunger plain on his face.

He doesn't lean forward and you wish he did.

He lets you go and you wish he didn't.

You hate yourself for it.

.

.

Sleep becomes difficult. You lie awake at night and think about him. Replay the scene in your head.

Your self hatred builds.

.

.

Thoughts of what-ifs tiptoe through your mind during the day. Conjures up scenarios of what if Gun Park actually did brush his lips against yours.

You hate yourself more than you hate him.

.

.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, it happens during the sixth meeting.

All fight dissipates from you as your traitorous mind wanders and strays.

Gun Park catches your fist. He doesn't shove you away. Sees your pupils blown huge with lust and slams your body into his instead.

Your lips crash together, all teeth and snarls. It is both everything and nothing like you had imagined.

The umbrella lies forgotten on the ground as he rams you up against a wall in a forgotten alleyway.

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes into you.

.

.

Meetings end in a stalemate.

.

.

Meetings end in more sordid alleyways. A quick and dirty sprint to the finish line.

.

.

In backseats, cramped and rushed and hot. Leather sticking to sweat slick skin, windows fogging up with steam.

.

.

In hotel rooms and tangled sheets.

.

.

In walks of shame at 3am.

.

.

In showers, exploring each other's bodies.

.

.

In baths with your back against his chest.

.

.

In his bed and waking up together in the morning.

.

.

You don't act differently when Gun Park and Goo Kim come to collect their dues.

But the bruises left by his fingers under your Big Deal uniform pulses and throbs.

You still hate yourself but you hate Gun less.

Seeing him reminds you of the way he moans your name. The additional scars you've scratched into his back. The way his hips rock against yours.

(When it's just you two, you can't bring yourself to hate him at all.)

You stay still and silent as Goo counts the bills.

Under his sunglasses, Gun always observes you.

.

.

"Where did you get these scars?"

Gun traces over your knuckles. Touch gentle and tentative. A far cry from your first contact.

Truthfully you can hardly even remember. It was another life. In the land of the rising sun, when you saw the world through childhood innocence.

You piece together what you can.

"I used to spar when I was younger. With another boy that was on my street..."

Eyes affecting a far off look, reliving what you can of your memory.

Snapshots of a small stature, below average for his age but lightning fast reflexes and a terrifying strength.

You were never a match for him. Not really. But he still insisted on seeing you everyday.

Training together. Developing a language of your own through punches and kicks.

Above all, you fought. But that small quiet boy, who talked infrequently, whose bite was just as bad as his bark gave you the first taste of something real.

"You lost more than you won." Gun's voice cuts through. You thought they were teasing words but- "Cried when he beat you and he would bribe you to shut up. Spent three summers together getting stronger until he had to leave."

Gun holds his own scarred hand up.

You remember the scar the boy got when you kicked him into the ground, how you bandaged it afterwards. Unravelling as soon as you wrapped it, handiwork sloppy and inexperienced.

The scars when you both would practice your punches, strengthening tendons wherever you could. On whatever surfaces available.

And one scar in particular: when you bit down hard on his hand after a particularly gruelling fight and refused to give him the victory.

How have you missed this? How has the string of fate managed to stretch across land and oceans and borders and years?

The fog lifts and the name slams into your mind.

"Yuzuru."

Gun kisses you, hand cupping the back of your head and other curling around your waist. Whispers your own name against your lips. The one you were born with. The one he used to call you.

A name you haven't heard in years, but he never forgot.

"Say my name again." His voice is rough, choked.

"Yamazaki Yuzuru."

He kisses you more fiercely than ever before.

The first meeting wasn’t on Big Deal street. It wasn't even in South Korea.

.

.

You didn't sell your body.

The Big Deal passion and romance flares within you. It just always belonged to someone else.

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 3

The Coast / Shoreline from Rain World

vs.

Ancient from Rain World: Downpour

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

The Coast / Shoreline:

A Neat song that sounds like something you would listen to while studying, relaxing, or just chilling out.

[elryuse]

*cough cough* yandere Lily showing you the wedding band meaning you're her husband now. can I request a yandere ex-gf Lily?

Dangerous Melody!

YANDERE LILY X MALE READER

The faint smell of bleach stung Lily's nostrils, a counterpoint to the metallic tang that clung to the worn chopping board. She stared down at the discarded blonde hair, the vibrant color now a dull, lifeless mess, mirroring the hollowness that gnawed at her. Minnie, another pretty face removed from the equation.

Lily used to mock Y/n's obsession with K-Pop. Now, she was the one consumed by it, living through his memories, fueled by a twisted jealousy that had curdled into a horrifying obsession. Y/n, her Y/n, the nerdy guy who used to stammer compliments about her singing voice, was now a rising star. He was surrounded by a glittering constellation of K-Pop idols - (G)-Idle, Kep1er, ITZY - each a potential threat.

The initial thrill of revenge, of watching them fall one by one - a "clumsy" fall for Miyeon, a "sudden illness" for Chaeryeong - had morphed into a chilling emptiness. The closer they got to Y/n, the further he seemed to drift, withdrawing from the public eye, a ghost haunted by fame.

One rainy night, Lily found herself huddled in a doorway opposite Y/n's old apartment. She'd become a stalker, her once carefully curated social media presence abandoned, her life consumed by the flickering glow of his window.

A lone figure emerged, his silhouette obscured by the downpour. He moved with the slumped shoulders of a defeated man, the rain blurring the lines of his tear-streaked face. Y/n. Her Y/n, a broken shell of the boy she used to know.

Anger, raw and hot, pulsed through her veins. All this suffering, all this scheming, for a man who didn't even fight for her? He wasn't worth the effort, the thrill of the chase. But a cold, unsettling voice whispered in the back of her mind – he was hers. He'd always been hers.

The next morning, Lily stood before his building, a manic glint in her normally cool blue eyes. The security guard, a young man who'd always fawned over her fleeting visits, stammered in surprise.

"Miss Lily? But Mr. Y/n doesn't want guests."

Lily's lips curved into a chilling smile. "He doesn't have a choice anymore, does he?"

The fear in the guard's eyes was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her fingers closed around the handle of a heavy duffel bag, its contents a terrifying promise.

Y/n didn't notice the rustle of movement outside his window until a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. He threw it open, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Lily, her face streaked with a mixture of rain and something much redder.

"Lily?" He whispered, his voice thick with terror. "What… what have you done?"

Her smile was predatory, devoid of any warmth. "Oh, Y/n," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "Just making sure there are no more distractions. Now, come here."

Before he could react, Lily lunged, dragging a rusty chain with shackles from her bag. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so petite, the cold metal biting into his skin as she secured them.

"We'll be together again," she crooned, her voice a chilling melody. "Forever this time."

He struggled against the restraints, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and loathing. "Lily, no! You're insane!"

"Insane? Perhaps," she conceded, her eyes glinting with a terrifying amusement. "But only for you, my love."

Ignoring his pleas, she hoisted him onto her shoulder, his screams swallowed by the sounds of the rain. The once vibrant city lights blurred past in a dizzying kaleidoscope, a cruel reminder of the life he was being ripped away from.

Their destination – a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods, a place she'd inherited from a distant relative. There, in the heart of isolation, a twisted love story bloomed. A love bound by fear and obsession, where Y/n became Lily's captive, a broken idol trapped in a gilded cage of her own making.

The K-Pop world mourned their missing star, whispers of foul play turning into cold acceptance. But for Y/n, trapped in the suffocating darkness of their love-turned-prison, there was no more music, no more fans. Only the horrifying reality of his ex-lover, now a monster, and the chilling words that echoed through the lonely cabin: "Forever, Y/n. Forever with me."

[hpdrizzle]

🌦️ Welcome to our week two wrap-up for HP Drizzle 2024! 🌦️

The wonderful, weather-ful works continued this week, with ten more amazing creations! Check out last week's works here!

☀️ See this week's works below the cut! ☀️

☔ tenderness of the wind [Fic, T, 1867]

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle 💧Summary: Harry is an ethereal being of wind that only manifests physically during a heavy downpour near magically potent places—specifically, in the Forbidden Forest. That's how Tom finds him.

☔ 2 Weeks on a Desert Island [Fic, T, 10342]

💧Pairing: Lily Luna Potter/Scorpius Malfoy, Lily Luna Potter/Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley 💧Summary: Lily Luna Potter was excited for her voyage to Slytherin Kingdom. But that soon turns into a nightmare as they end up stranded on a desert island. With the sun blazing down on her, Lily’s life is about to change.

☔ Water Music by Goddess47 - a Podfic [Podfic, G, 34:16]

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape 💧Summary: Severus keeps hearing piano music...

☔ A Tale of SeasANAL Relief [Fic, E, 8383]

💧Pairing: Firenze/Ron Weasley 💧Summary: “Firenze, I want you to understand something so please look at me,” Ron waited until Firenze looked him in the eyes again then continued. “I am the Keeper of Keys and the Gamekeeper for Hogwarts. My entire job is accomplished outside. The irony of this situation is not lost on me. I will do anything to be rid of these allergies,” Ronald said with as much confidence as he could muster. How bad could this magical cure be? OR Ronald and Firenze bang away Ronald's allergies and find love in the process.

☔ In his Element [Fic, G, 3318]

💧Pairing: Neville Longbottom & Trevor the Toad 💧Summary: When a massive spring storm engulfs the castle, everyone retreats to the Hogwarts castle to escape the rain--everyone but one Neville Longbottom and his trusty toad Trevor, who instead set out to their favourite local haunt - a pond. This is a light little story on the friendship that binds Neville and his familiar together and their shared enjoyment of nature.

☔ No One Ever Died From a Little Rain [Fic, T, 2286]

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: This has gone on long enough. We will get Potter and Malfoy together. Once and for all.

☔ (I've Got) Sunshine on a Cloudy Day [Fic, T, 20233]

💧Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini 💧Summary: When a magical pandemic rages across the Wizarding World, Neville is enlisted by the Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, to grow a rare plant that just might be the cure. The only problem is that the plant is extremely temperamental and requires very specific weather conditions to grow. Fortunately, there is an Unspeakable whose speciality is weather magic. Unfortunately, that Unspeakable is Blaise Zabini.

☔ a little deluge [Fic, T, 1591]

💧Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley 💧Summary: a misunderstanding leads to a kiss in the rain

☔ The Bite [Fic, T, 7225]

💧Pairing: Gregory Goyle/Hermione Granger 💧Summary: There is an uptick of werewolf bites and Gregory Goyle is a victim of one. Hermione brings him wolfsbane to get him through the transformations and a friendship develops.

☔ by august, he was mine [Fic, G, 2908]

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: It starts with an umbrella. Or, well, actually, it starts at Hogwarts.

[mikazuki1709]

Squall | Ratiorine Fic

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Ship: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine, Ratiorine

Rating: G

Words: 4.634

Tags: Insomnia, Nightmares, Memories, Trauma, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Aventurine needs a hug, Aventurine has issues, Soft Dr. Ratio, Protective Dr. Ratio, Lack of communication, Rain, Thunderstorms, Sleeping together, Hugs, Trust issues

Summary: There are things Aventurine isn't able to talk about with anyone, not even Ratio, and there are things Ratio wants to know about Aventurine but is afraid to ask. On a stormy night, they both work hard in their own ways to reduce the unwanted distance between them.

Preview:

The moment the first lightning cuts through the darkness of the night and illuminates the bedroom is also the moment Aventurine finally abandons his last hope of finding any sleep.

He has been lying on his bed for hours now, with his eyes wide open, constantly staring at the ceiling without actually seeing anything at all. 

It feels a little unfair. He really has tried everything to exhaust himself. Has spent half of his day with tedious paperwork he usually leaves to his subordinates. Has even taken it upon him to actually write those stupid reports instead of dictating them to his phone like he usually does, fully aware that he is the slowest writer around. Ratio once told him that it is because he learnt how to write pretty late and that he only needs some more practice, but most of the time he is just too busy to make time for this. Or maybe too lazy, like the doctor blames him to be. Anyway, it is nothing he does voluntarily on a normal day. 

Today, however, is not a normal day, and since even ten pages of reports were not enough to bring him closer to the prospect of sleep, he also tried the opposite approach and went to the gym where he trained until every fibre of his body cried in pain. It only helped to make him feel hungry and miserable, but there was no way he was gonna grant himself the nutrients necessary to build up new energy afterwards. No - after all, the plan was to go home and turn dead to the world the moment his head hit the pillow.

Of course it didn’t work, and he should have known this. Even with his muscles shaking, his stomach growling and his head spinning from the way he maltreated himself, Aventurine just could not bring himself to close his eyes. The moment he tried to do it, the pictures in his head started to go crazy, leaving him unsure if sleep was something to desire or to dread. The moment he heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, the scales tipped into the direction of ‘dread’. The moment he saw the lightning, he knew it was over. 

There it was, his ‘blessing’, Aventurine thought bitterly. Gaiathra Triclops had graced his people with a heavy downpour not unlike this one the day he was born, making him and his good fortune a ray of hope for their suppressed and ill-fated tribe. Even now, so many years later, in nights like this, Aventurine cannot find a single positive thing this blessing ever brought him.

[...]

Read the full fic on ao3

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

I found him screaming in the wind, laughing like a maniac, with his running shoes tattered and his hair drenched and draped over his face.

My tea stall only had the usual customer at this time of the night, and we both turned to look at this banshee of a teenager running along the road. We turned the other way when he passed us by, leaving a trail of muddy splashes behind him.

"What a madman!" Sudesh said, laughing over his steaming glass of tea.

"I hope he doesn't get hurt," I craned my neck, hoping to still see the boy.

The rain battered the tarp over my stall, and cars and lorries sped past the highway, their blinding headlights lighting us up. It was hard to make out a screaming, laughing teenage boy in this downpour.

"We're lucky to be in a tea stall," Sudesh laughed. "If I was somewhere in the dark, alone, I'd be afraid all my past sins have caught up with me. Give me that pack of biscuits."

I pulled down a tan packet of Parle-G biscuits from the wooden plank that served as a shelf and handed it over to Sudesh. As he tore it open and allowed the biscuits inside to fall out like dominoes on the plastic stool, I took a seat in front of him.

Sudesh hummed in surprise. "The tea stall man is the customer tonight? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I grinned and took one of the biscuits. "I can't resist the magic of those glucose biscuits. And I know you're one patron who won't say no to my filching a few off of you."

Sudesh would have laughed, but he turned his attention instead to the boy, who approached the stall, hunched, drenched, and red-eyed.

"Look who's here. The howling ghost of Mirdanpur himself."

I got off my seat with three more biscuits and retreated to behind the counter. The boy looked unsure of what to do at a tea stall in his state, so I tossed the counter rag at him. He looked at it confusingly, until I suggested he use it as a towel.

Sudesh swore at the glass of tea that took away the Parle-G biscuit he had been dipping in it. Now it was mush at the bottom of the glass, unseen until the tea would be drained.

The boy mimed a glass of tea himself. "How much?" he asked hoarsely.

"On the house, mate," I answered, "If you'll tell us why you were running and laughing like a madman along the highway at 1 am."

I heated up the kettle of tea and motioned toward the empty plastic chair. Sudesh pushed the packet of biscuits to the other side of the stool, but the boy politely refused.

"Go on, it's on me," Sudesh laughed.

"I don't like those biscuits," the boy answered sheepishly and sat on the chair. He tapped his leg violently like a drummer, and looked up at the tarp.

"I don't know if I can explain what I was doing," he said, and yawned. His lean, long face made the yawn seem cavernous, like a cat's.

I put a glass of tea on the stool - right at the edge of it, really - and leaned against the counter. "Teenagers do a lot of things that can't be explained."

The boy picked up the glass with two fingers along the rim, and blew onto the surface to cool it down. "I'll try."

Sudesh exchanged glances with me and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm in a server full of people who don't like to be alive. We call ourselves the Prisoners of Consciousness. We've been together for years now, and we've been miserable for so long, miserable at this existence, at this world, at everything. Including ourselves. Especially ourselves. And now… the admin is going to shut it down, because… well, never mind the because."

"Well, fuck," Sudesh leaned forward. "This sounds like a police matter."

The boy laughed weakly. "The admin lives in Finland, so good luck with that."

"Kids these days," I groaned.

"Anyway, so he suggested we do something to mark the end of the server. Something we'll remember all our lives. I didn't think much of it at first, but then, I was running in the dark, in the thunderstorm, along the highway, at midnight."

"Hard to forget madness like that," I said.

"Exactly. But do you understand the keyword? It's something I'll remember the rest of my life. And I want to remember it for the rest of my life. I want to live a long life so I can remember that moment for as long as possible. Does that make any sense?"

"No," Sudesh said.

"Yes," I said at the same time. "I don't understand what your situation is, or what this whole business was with your prisoners and servers, but I understand wanting to carry a memory for a long, long time."

The boy smiled now. It was an honest smile. He put the glass to his lips and tears blotted his eyes, perhaps from how hot the tea was.

"Now, thanks to you, I'll remember this moment for a long time too," I said. "So while your memory is your own, it has also touched my little stash of memories. Now I have something to remember for the rest of my life."

The rain was lighter now, and Sudesh got up from his seat, stretching himself as much as he could with the low ceiling of the tarp.

"I'm off. If I take too long, wife's going to think I've taken up drinking again."

He opened his umbrella and stepped out of the stall.

"Kid, listen. Try the biscuit with the tea. It's really good that way - just be careful not to hold it in the tea too long, or it'll fall in."

The boy nodded, and picked up one of the biscuits from the stool.

[mudkirby]

You're too kind. Now I shall love and admire this art aggressively.

Stares aggressively in happiness

@kelnexia , I made an oops, these are the correct Kipper colors. Feel free to completely ignore this, thanks.