day three of rain


it’s raining men. 
based off this video, i say based but its literally just a redraw of one of the scenes
also nnnooo i didn’t draw him with white skin its pissing me off that it looks like that but the pink overlay and pink lighting makes him look white fuck

work out the knots

It happens again, two days later, when they lose three people to black rain. Three people who, coincidentally, all had spots on Clarke’s list. 

“So, who is lucky enough to make the cut now, God?” Jasper asks her that night. She doesn’t answer him, instead storming off to her quarters and ripping the list to shreds.

Bellamy finds her standing in the tattered pieces, not crying but not exactly keeping it together either. He places both hands on her shoulders this time.

“We’ll figure something out,” he says slowly. 

“I am so tired of figuring things out.”

Bellamy hums in agreement. His thumbs dig into her back and she groans.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, quickly retreating. 

“No!” Clarke turns and grabs his hand. “It, uh, it felt nice.” Then she flushes, struck by the absurdity of it all. “Sorry, never mind.”

“I can, um,” Bellamy clears his throat, nodding towards the couch and keeping his eyes firmly trained on the floor. “If you want me to work out the knots, or whatever.”

Did he just offer to give me a massage? Clarke wonders. 

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Flavoured water in the summer time is great, even if it does look like its going to rain for the next three days. I never realised how well cucumber and lemon go together. I love using my journal, even if my titles or layouts arent the best. Its helping me improve my productivity and inspiring me to be a bit creative. I hope everyone is enjoying their day and achieving their goals.

It’s raining outside, but a cold lingers like air from a fresh pack of gum still waiting to be chewed. It’s been raining for three weeks. Some days it’s light, some days it’s heavy.

I’m hungry.

(Boiling water, pours water)


I got some on my finger.

It’s still raining. I’ve been empty since we talked from last time.

Noodles are gone. I’m not full until the cup of water is gone too.

I don’t do much on my off days. I have a lot of books, but nothing is ever finished. I’m bad at finishing things.

I roll onto my bed. Maybe I need sleep.

The desk light is on. I should turn it off.

I knock over everything. As clumsy as ever.

A book I’ve forgotten. A book I didn’t own.
A strange book. Something foreign inside of my gut. Someone wants me to read this book like a lover waiting for that first kiss.

I’m holding the book at this point, where did I get this thing anyway? Probably one of hers.

There’s still drinks everywhere. I should probably clean this place after a few pages.

The book is titled “you”.

No title. No date. No publisher.
Nobody owns this book.
Nobody wrote this book.
Nobody knows this book.
Nobody, but me.

The first page smells of her brown hair.
Maybe it’s hers.

The only sentence is–

“i’ve missed you, how’ve you been?”

I thought to myself. I’ve been okay.

I say, but I guess I could be better.

An italicize sentence grows from the page
in red ink.

“so you haven’t been okay?”

Out of shock, I close the book.
This is not happening. I must be going crazy.
This isn’t real and if it is, I must be crazy.
Books don’t do this kind of stuff.
Hell, stuff don’t do this kind of stuff.

I call my best friend.

You’ve probably been off your medication for too long. Maybe go see a doctor, she says.

Maybe go see a doctor. Pfft. I’m not crazy.

I’ll prove it to you.

I open the book, the sentences–
one black, one red.


Maybe it’s just the lighting. Maybe I am really losing my wits…

the red ink says–

“don’t close me.”

… can you hear me?

“why couldn’t i hear you?”

My thoughts are trapped. This isn’t happening.

how are you doing this?

“doing what?”

you know… THIS.

“I’ve always loved you. So whatever this is, we’ll pull through it together. We’re on our last day. Have you forgotten?”

The red ink starts to drip from the page like tears of a toddler that hasn’t been fed for hours.

Last day? I don’t know what you’re going on about. I’m still confused about today. What’s today? What are you? Why can’t I remember? Why are you talking to me like we’re friends? What’s going on?

The rain eases up, but it’s still rain indeed. The thundering does start though. A lot of it.

“Today is the day you’ll die.”

Death? I’m too young to die. It’s raining outside. The storm is happening. This bowl of noodles didn’t get me full. And I’m inside reading a book that writes itself. Maybe I’m in a loonie bin.

“You wrote it yourself.”

The ink reforms into a picture:
a black list of things to come

“I’ll die the same day I open this book twice.”

“Today you’re out of routine. Today you’ve forgotten.”

I still don’t get it. I thought that you loved me? Why am I dying?

“This is the part where I tell you about you. You’re suffering from Alzheimer’s. You’re old and grey. You forget everything as the days go by. Darling, we fell in love back in 2016. It’s 2090 now. Seven decades later, the technology is amazing. The technology has changed us. From mind to body, we’re all displaced. Brains can now place their memories, data and everything important is inside of a hard drive. You’re not really going to die. You’re just being transferred. Your thoughts. Your memories, whatever that’s left of it. You leave it. In your world, it’s all just living to die. In this world? The things you see, it’s there, but until you’re truly transferred into here. You won’t be as alive as I am. The red ink and black ink? The black means I’ve been there. That I used to be there. The red is a reminder that I still want to be there. The emotions you’ll always have. The emotions you used to have. It’s in here. Safe with me. Times have changed. We don’t love the same. Your Alzheimer’s hit early. We’ve been trying to help, but technology makes it easier. Noodles were your favorite, so we left you a lot. We refill it when you’ve eaten it all. You never notice. You forget by morning.”

Who is we?

“We are you. Didn’t you read anything? We’re the pieces of memory you’ve given to others. We’re transferred versions of you. A code of who you are. We’re deeper than DNA. This is how you control your Alzheimer’s. We set the weather to rain because rainy days, they’re your favorite too. You don’t get along with others, so the other patients– we opted out of a building with them for a place for just you. It’s just us. The things you’ve experienced. The lovers you’ve held. They’re all in here. The world is in such a critical state and technology is just too advanced to give a care. The world is flawed. Always as it was, we’re just a part of the story. A small part.”

Am I going to be okay?

“You’ll find out once the book is closed, but remember there’s no going back. Once you’re gone. You’re gone. All the lovers you’ve had. All the people you’ve met. All the memories you’ve written down. All the people you’ve missed. All the thoughts you couldn’t express. It’s all gone like pressing the back button. You can’t undo this. You have a few more years of solitude, but once that’s over…. you’re going to join us anyway. So you said it yourself. The day you close this book twice. That’s the day.”

Will closing this book help me forget her?

“That’s the thing about today, it’s been so long since you’ve remembered anything about her. Maybe that’s why you chose today to close it twice. Everything you’ve remembered– about her. It’s in here. In this world, your memories reenact themselves everyday. All you have to do is close your eyes. These memories– good and bad. It’s in here. Your life it’s in here. Everything you’ve done until this point. That’s why they call it the transfer. A life that repeats itself into grey. That’s why she left you this book. The only one ever made. The only one ever sold. She gave it to you because of your condition. She left you under those conditions. Because one day, she hoped that you’d let her go. But you didn’t. You kept her alive even through your Alzheimer’s. Love can’t be written down. Love can’t be there for you if you’re constantly pushing people away. That’s the thing about this book, we’re just different parts of who you were. We’re designed to help you remember. We’ve been doing an awful job.”

Does it get better? Will this help me?
Who gets you next?

“That’s up to you. Close the book. Find out.”

She comes home, and he’s on the floor.
The book closed. She was a second too late.
She went out to the store,
she got his favorite apple.

A pink lady.

A smile across his face, some words strung out all over the first page.

“Please, don’t close this book, I don’t want to die”

It’s still raining outside, a soft quiet rain–
it’s just more of her crying.
—  2090
Jimin Scenario: I Just Wanna Dance

Pairing: Jimin x Reader.

Genre: Fluff / Songfic.

Word Count: 820

Originally posted by bwipsul

A/N: This was so short, but cuteee. And the song is such a bop, I had to write.


You stared at the digital clock on your study desk and sighed. The rain had been pouring down for three days straight now. In a second of boldness, you dared thinking of running out of home just to dance under the furious droplets of water that hit the asphalt forcefully. There were small steams that accumulated with the successive days of downpour and tumbled along the curbs, dragging the dirt and dust away.

The city felt cleaner and fresher, for certain; you were relieved for that. However, a never-ending yearning bothered you during the time you had spent tucked under your bed sheets, watching k-dramas and fanning yourself with your little brother’s Pikachu cap - it’s the only thing that can blow more air, you justified to your parents, - you wanted to dance on the streets and let the wind take wherever it decided to.

Looking out of the window, you saw no one walking on the sidewalks, but thankfully the rain had stopped. You were eager, gathering your phone and earplugs, you sprinted towards the entrance door; yelling a simple ‘mom, I’ll be right back’ as you did so. She knew you enjoyed some time alone, she wouldn’t worry much since you always came home at acceptable hours, seeming spotless. The air from outside held a thick humidity and it waved through the streets, creating a cooling breeze. It was nice. There were neon lights panes that reflected on the pavement and you found yourself being stimulated by it. The skyrocket buildings being your audience as you danced a little bit haphazardly, but reveling in the movements you could do so freely, without any worry. The music that bounced back out of your earplugs engulfed you in an inexplicable trance.

It felt so good to have your body moving, and you loved it.

Jimin couldn’t pay attention to the movie the boys had picked for them to watch. They had settled to eat on the new Moroccan restaurant that was located two blocks away from their apartment, as the rain wouldn’t stop, they canceled nonetheless. On the contrary of his friends, who were too engrossed on the sad melodrama flashing on the TV, he couldn’t keep an eye on it.

Tired of fidgeting, he walked over to the window to find out the rain had finally stopped. Not that he hated rain, in fact, he loved it, but being confined at home for the last three days drove him crazy. Jimin silently paced to the entryway, grabbing his jacket and slipping on his boots. He texted Namjoon-hyung halfway to let him know he had gone for walk and then, rushed to the elevator.

The streets were still wet and the lack of people walking from side to side created the impression of an empty stage after a show, he liked it. The headlights glimmered to no cars, so he pretended it was for him, giving the rhythm he wanted. His steps quickened when he glimpsed a familiar figure on the other block, he had become quite observing of you after witnessing you dancing and jumping around at night, wary that something might happen to you and definitively intrigued.

Furtively, he strode towards you, standing in your way as to make you bump on him. Which you did. You slammed into him with a thud, unable to breathe for a second. Grinning in amusement, Jimin took your earplugs off, absorbing the sight of you sweaty and disheveled.

“I’m so sorry, I-” you stammered, mortified as you were caught in the midst of action.

“It’s okay,” he waved swiftly, “my name is-”

“I know who you are.”

He looked surprised, “you do?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “of course, I do, Jimin.”

You were avoiding to even take a glance at him, but when he eye-smiled, you coudn’t help but gaze him. You tought he was too gorgeous to be true.
“What’s your name, then?”

“Y/N,” you merely stated while eyeing him, now with no shame. Openly staring.
He was a cinnamon roll - too cute, too precious for this world.

“I’ve noticed you like to dance, Y/N,” he said and nudged you to walk along with him.

“Yeah, when I’m dancing I feel like all my masks fall off and I’m the real me,” you nodded, kicking the pebbles ahead of you.

Jimin was bewildered by your statement, not expecting it at all. Neither did he expect the warm fuzzy feeling on his insides. Your movements weren’t the most synchronized or stable, however they were smooth and confident, he thought you shone very brightly when you danced and he craved to see more of it. More of you.

“Would you like to dance the night away with me?” He whispered, streching his hand for you to hold.

You giggled under the moonlight, blushing slightly as you took his hand with yours, “Why not?”


“Do you love her?” Ghaly looked at her, and xer voice was quiet. There was no curiosity, no particulars in the tone. It was a simple question. 

“Of course I do.” it was an easy enough question, it had an easy enough answer. So she said it. But it meant: “She’s the light of the sun shining down after three days of rain. She’s the tender night, the sweet dreams, the rested spirit. She’s the sweet breeze on the dead of winter, the promise of spring, the flowers blooming, the earth smiling, the universe spinning.” It meant: “I met her when I was seven and I have loved her ever since.” It meant: “She’s the best thing that has happened to me, and she’s been the road to the other good things that have happened to me”. It meant: “I know no happiness that can’t be tracked back to her.” It meant: “ She’s been in my heart for so long, I could never tear her apart.” It meant: “She’s been in my heart for so long, I can’t even tell her apart.”   But she couldn’t say that.  And so, she added “She’s my best friend.” 

For @juliana-bailarina, who ships these babes hard. 

[Description: An inked drawing of Halis and Seryal, from Theurgy. They are holding hands, looking at each other. Halis is wearing a long sleeved dress, with a ¾ sleeves,button up dress with a lace neckline and ruffled bottom on top. She’s also wearing a long skirt and pants underneath, as well as a pair of boots with lace embellishments. She’s also wearing a hijab. Seryal’s wearing a pullover, a skirt, garter and thigh high socks. Her hair is up in two loose buns. She’s wearing an eye patch on her right eye, while Halis is winking with hers.]

It was raining, actually it hadn’t stopped raining in like three days and to say Amy wasn’t used to the intense weather change Seattle was from New York was an understatement. She had been transferred from her familiar NYPD job, where she knew where all the best coffee carts were to Seattle which seemed like no one served a decent cup of dark coffee. It all tasted watered down, and not nearly strong enough to put up with the bummer that was the weather in her new location. Taking a sip of what felt like the fourth coffee spot she groaned, watered down again. “where can a girl find decent coffee around here?” She said to herself not noticing the figure aside her. She wasn’t sure how to survive this move let alone do her job without a cup of decently strong coffee. 

Sentences [part 7]

Series: Soul Eater
Main pairing: Soma
Genre: Romance, humor
Setting: AU: Soul Mates
Rating: T
Type: Multi-Chapter.
Read on:, Ao3
Read other chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven

Synopsis: In which the first sentence your soul mate will speak to you appears tattooed on your skin once you turn 18, and Maka discovers that not every sentence is romantic. (based off of this post)

A/N: For SOMA week day three - Stuck In the Rain
((Does this story have a plot? Is it going anywhere? Who knows! But I’m having fun anyway.))

Soul has always hated the rain.

It always made it harder to ride his bike, and he hated taking the bus or taxis. Public transport was never really something he enjoyed.

And yet here he was, crammed onto a bus downtown, stuffed between a near hundred year old woman and her groceries and a father with his screaming child. He was wet, suffocating, and way too tired for his own good.

Soul really, really hates the rain.

Keep reading


Request: If the requests are still open, can you please write a scenario of SVT Seungcheol with #10 and #15? Thank you!

10) Your bias confesses to you.

15) Your bias tricks you into giving them a kiss

Original prompt list can be found here! New prompt list can be found here!

Member: Seventeen’s S.Coups x Y/N

Type: Fluff

It had been raining for three days and i was sick of fogging up the window with my breath just to draw designs in the cloud it formed. My forehead had long left spots against the glass and my thumbprints littered the pane. The electricity had flickered a few times, so I already had a few candles burning on the coffee table and down the hallway. 

When I first came to Korea I had assumed my life would be filled with cherry blossom trees and sunlight. I hadn’t prepared for all of the rain that the season would bring. I had Amazon primed rain boots last night, but that didn’t help me regain freedom today. 

I jumped as a knock landed heavy on my front door. My ears had grown accustomed to the sound of thunder rolling through the sky, but not the sound of wood under knuckles. 

I shuffled across my living room and wrapped my blanket tighter around me. Maybe my rain boots had come early after all?

“Y/N,” a voice breathed. I looked up to see a tall figure (well taller than myself) hiding behind a large bouquet of flowers, wilted with an assault from the rain. 

“Yes?” I questioned, tilting my head. 

The bouquet moved to the side, dripping water as it went to reveal the exhausted face of my dear friend Seungcheol. His hair was wet and matted against his forehead and his clothes were soaked to the deepest stitch. 

“Coups!” I squeaked, pulling him into the door by his hoodie. “You’re going to catch a cold!” 

“I’m fine,” he sighed, a careful smile on his face. He pulled his feet from his shoes and it made a sad squish noise. “Just…wet…”

“Seungcheol, why are you here?” I gasped. “You have the day off, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can rest here,” he smiled, placing the bouquet of flowers on the table by the door. 

He took the few steps forward and met my blanketed body to pull me into a bear hug. His arms snaked around my shoulders and locked me into position against his chest. He began to walk me backwards towards the living room and we shuffled around idly. 

“Yah!” I shouted. “You’re so moist!” 

“Accept it,” he hissed. 

I groaned as I tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it. Although he was nearly dripping with rain water, his clothing clung to his thin frame. I could feel his chest beneath the wet fabric and could smell expensive cologne on his neck. Seungcheol was an extremely good friend of mine and I’d lie to myself if I said that I didn’t find him attractive and hadn’t thought about kissing his dumb face on more than one occasion. 

“Why are you here Seungcheol!” I chirped. 

“I had to tell you something!” he said sternly, releasing me from his damp arms, but keeping me within reach. 

“Something so important that you couldn’t wait out this rain storm?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. 

“A wasn’t going to melt,” he chuckled, sliding his hand down my shoulder and placing it slowly into my hand. He intertwined our fingers and shot them a caring look. 

“Coups?” I whispered. 

“You’d melt,” he said, a sly smirk on his face. “But that’s because you’re pure sugar.”

“Yaaaah!” I screeched, stamping my foot in mock anger. He was exhausting me. 

“I wanted to come here to tell you,” he began, taking a deep breath. He gave another gentle squeeze to my hand. “to tell you…that this weather has me inside a lot…and I’ve been thinking a lot…and talking to the members…and I thought if I didn’t tell you…they’d get to you first…and everything would be awkward and wrong…”

I shook my head, complete confusion still fogging my understanding. 

“I didn’t want them to tell you…that for the past year…I’ve been too stubborn to realize that I completely adore you?”He choked out. 

“You…you do?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. 

“So much,” he said, his voice raspy, looking me directly in the eyes. 

“Oh,” I breathed, frozen. 

“And I couldn’t wait…so I trudged through this storm…to let you know,” he nodded, finishing his confession. 

I looked at him blankly, still lost in shock. 

“So…you aren’t reacting as expected,” he chuckled again with a grimace. “Second plan of action…”

He let go of my hand and tugged at my blanket, forcing me to close the gap between us. 

“You didn’t grow up in Korea,” he sighed. “But I did. You know, there’s an old superstition, how to make the rain stop pouring when it’s been coming down for days?” 

I looked at him, nodding along. 

“Someone who is completely dry,” he whispered. “Should kiss someone completely drenched by rain…and it’ll stop raining.”

I let out a small chuckle as his face inched towards mine. “That’s a cute story…how long did it take you to come up with?”

“The walk over here,” he laughed. “In Korea, when it rains you just have to put up with the rain, but kisses definitely make the time go by faster.”

I smiled, letting his lips meet mine. He was gentle as his hand reached up, cupping my face. His lips worked against mine, following a rhythm that I was damn sure he was rapping to me, just without actual lyrics. He pulled my bottom lip in between his teeth, leaning back to let go and look at me with heavy lids.

I blowed slowly against his neck as he winced, the air making him shiver. 

“What do you say you get me some dry clothes and we can order some take away. You can even make me watch that awful romantic movie you always try to turn on,” Coups smiled. 

“Or, we could you know…try to get it to stop raining?” I said, wiggling my brows. 

“Y/N, I made that whole story up to get you to kiss me,” he said, his face blank. 

“I’m aware captain obvious,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. I took his jacket into my hands and pulled him against me again. “Just kiss me, okay?”

Originally posted by yogyurts