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#rain story
emilyaxford · 8 months
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ask-the-scugs0 · 1 month
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(A small slugpup walks up to the scugs and hugs rivulets leg)can I suck on your fwills?
(this is meant in a safe for work regard)
Uhh..... kid thats really weird. It's like asking to suck on someone's ear.
No.
Also where are your parents?
(continues in replies)
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ky-landfill · 3 months
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velvet4510 · 2 months
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Note: this list references the 1961 version of West Side Story and the 1954 version of A Star Is Born.
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colfy-wolfy · 2 months
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If I wrote a fic about the aftermath of Surv and Monk's family losing two pups at the same moment, would you guys read it?
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it'll be filled with a bunch of my headcanons about them and I promise I'll make it interesting story-wise.
happy ending? depends on how generous i am. it'll probably only be a few chaps long. simply for fun!!
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do you- do you think that maybe, sometimes when Sally's feeling sad or overwhelmed she makes an offering and Poseidon sends rain to let her know she's not alone?
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finalshockdown · 2 months
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Woahoahoahoahhhhhhh Story of Rainworld
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expelliarmus · 8 months
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druidshollow · 4 months
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in what may be some of his last moments, eleven rivers appreciates the vastness of the world, and his newfound smallness.
the snow was really really pretty tonight and it made me wanna draw. well. now its 1 am and i have to wake up in 5 hours for work. worth it
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trashiiplant · 2 months
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Me, @revolvius and @excessive-moisture decided to do the three way art collab together.
This was really fun actually- I even got a chance to try rendering water properly so hell yeah
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shkika · 11 months
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Blessed to have you.
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png103 · 4 months
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rain world real ending
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foldingfittedsheets · 5 months
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Come with me now on another story adventure.
Some types of hardship do start to feel like curses if they happen often enough. One thing I’ve experienced a lot- or at least enough to posit a curse- is my apartments flooding.
I’ve had flooding in three separate apartments I’ve lived in.
The place I lived with Betty flooded due to a massive rainstorm and poor placement on a downhill slope. Betty’s room was more effected than mine, but due to poor handling by the management it resulted in some rampant black mold and my eventual falling out with Betty as we broke the lease to escape.
My first flooding though. Happened when I lived in a third floor apartment. How, you might ask, is that possible?
Oh, Reader. Prepare yourself.
Now, I need to set the stage. Because you see, I shared this apartment with the last boy I’d ever date. For the purposes of this story let’s call him Connor. We’d known going into the relationship that I had a predilection for pussy but it finally clicked that I was just not attracted to men.
This was particularly devastating because I still loved that boy with all my heart but neither of us were getting what we needed out of the relationship. Suffice it to say, the atmosphere in the apartment in which he was sleeping on the couch was A BUMMER.
We were both sick, probably from stress, and had bad coughs. It was the night before midterms.
I was tucked up into bed, with little kitten Leeloo, ready to get to sleep. It was about 10pm. Connor knocked and poked his head into the room.
“It’s raining in the bathroom,” he said.
I got out of my comfy bed, and joined him in the bathroom. Raining was an exaggeration but there was definitely water dripping down the door jam and pooling up under the paint.
“That’s not good.”
We both stared at this problem together, sick and sad.
Finally, I suggested, “Go see if the upstairs neighbor left a faucet on. I’ll try to call maintenance.”
He left and I started making calls. At 10pm it was understandable that I was getting a lot of voicemails. Two maintenance lines deep, Connor returned.
“The people above us are getting drops too, and the place above that won’t respond.”
Four defunct numbers later, I finally got ahold of an emergency maintenance guy who was on call. “It’s raining in our bathroom.”
He was befuddled and said he’d be in soon.
That was about when it really actually started raining. Drips began pouring out of light fixtures. Terrified, we turned off the lights we could, setting out bowls and towels to mitigate water damage. Water dripped from several lights and started pooling ominously in the long flat kitchen light.
The maintenance man arrived around midnight. There was bowls and buckets littering the ground as Connor and I watched in abject misery as water filled them. The maintenance man was wildly out of his depth, having been left in sole charge while the entire rest of the staff was on vacation.
As we spoke to him, the water infiltrated our smoke alarm which began screaming in earnest at this wet invasion. The maintenance man promised to try to see what was causing the issue and fled. Connor and I regarded each other. We coughed, sick and exhausted, then went to empty the water buckets.
An hour passed. The smoke alarm persisted, it’s three shrill screeches pounded relentlessly into our ear drums. We stopped existing as individuals and became vessels of suffering. The paint in the bathroom started sloughing off the wall in wet ripples.
Connor tried to rouse the neighbor again and returned unsuccessful.
The maintenance man returned. It was 1am. He couldn’t get ahold of the apartment causing the flooding. He couldn’t get ahold of his bosses. After the update he made to leave and we begged him, please, just make the beeping stop, please. It can rain inside, and I can get no sleep the night before midterms, and I can cough miserably all night while I empty water bowls, but please, god, please, just make the beeping stop.
He promised to try and left. At some point around then, the flat kitchen light shattered under the pressure and gushed out a fall of water. Connor and I gave a bleak half hearted startle and tried to scrounge up more towels.
I started slipping into madness. The unceasing blaring beeps. The rain. The misery of being in this wretched situation with someone I used to be able to reach toward for comfort who I couldn’t anymore. This was hell, I decided. This circumstance fits into how they torture people, and I live here in this torturescape now. The maintenance man was never coming back.
The maintenance man came back with a ladder eventually.
Connor and I watched with blank hungry eyes as he fussed with the alarm and at 2am it finally ceased its shrieking klaxon of madness. I cried. The man left again. We emptied the bowls.
And finally, half an hour later, the rain began to abate. The maintenance man returned to inform us that he’d entered the upstairs unit.
Someone had become incapacitated and left their bath running. He was not at liberty to disclose what happened so presumably someone was sauced out of their gourd and fell into a deep stupor such that several hours of sustained door pounding couldn’t rouse them.
People all down the row flooded, and he looked near tears himself. We thanked him and went to collapse into bed. Neither of us took midterms the next day.
Connor and I are still friends to this day, even after a night fit to drive someone mad.
My last event of apartment flooding was a sewer main getting blocked. It was when my betrothed and I had just started dating and they were hanging out at my place while I was at work. Due to this good fortune, they were able to move my couch, entertainment system, and electronics out of the path of the flood.
It took a week and some extremely pointed emails to get the landlord to comp me rent for the week I couldn’t live there and the entire time I was just thankful I wasn’t stuck with water dripping from my lights while a fire alarm drove me to the brink of madness.
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dailyscug · 3 months
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k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl · 3 months
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what if we went on a cute lil date, walking around town and looking at cute lil stores, nervously holding hands as we rush around together.
what if it started to rain and we had no way to avoid it, running back to ur house, you dragging me by the hand as you run faster than i do, im suddenly both more and less nervous to be holding ur hand.
what if we finally make it inside, collapsing in the doorway in a fit of laughter, our clothes drenched through, giggling we dont realise how close we are
what if time almost stopped as we suddenly notice where we are, after what feels like forever one of us finally takes the leap and our lips connect, everything else falls away.
what if
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browsethestacks · 8 months
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