#I think the only ocs I love as much as them are ellis and raven who I have in a neat little gameplay save with their kids

[earthmoonz]

remade 2 of my oldest ocs in my current sim style and started feeling insane.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 20

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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Piotr figured if he waited long enough, Rhonda would get hungry enough to come to the kitchen for some dinner. His patience was rewarded when she came in with an all too familiar satisfied smile and heavy breathing. She only smiled like that after dancing to some music she was really excited about.

Rhonda filled a glass of water from the dispenser in the fridge, drank almost the whole thing right away, and refilled it before turning and smiling at Piotr over the glass. She leaned against the counter by the fridge, a certain ease in her relaxed slouch.

“Had some fun?” he still couldn’t stop smiling at her green and yellow hair.

She nodded and hummed her affirmative as she drank another half glass of water.

“Are you going to eat tonight?” Piotr crossed the kitchen, leaving the big granite island between them.

Blowing some hair out of her face, she huffed, “Yes, I’m starving.” She angled toward the fridge, but Piotr was already opening it to pull out a few casserole dishes.

“Good answer,” he chided. Holding up two options, he asked, “Spaghetti or stir fry?” She made a face like he had just asked her if she would rather visit London or Paris. He let her struggle with her indecision for all of three seconds before he said, “Some of both, then.” With a little snicker and a wink, he plated almost twice what should be considered a normal portion of food. 

“Oh my god,” Rhonda laughed, “You know I can’t eat all that!”

Piotr knew better, but he played along and shrugged, “I will finish whatever you don’t eat, but I don’t want to put all this away just to have you--” he imitated a whiny voice, “Ooh, I’m still hungry, I need more!”

The microwave dinged and they sat at the table for Rhonda to eat -- with her third full glass of water. She ate a few bites of stir fry, then switched to the spaghetti, back and forth. Her husband’s cooking had always been good, but it was even better lately. Maybe he had found better recipes, maybe she had gotten so used to prison food, or maybe she was just ravenous from a few solid hours of dancing. 

As she ate, Piotr teased, “So, how was Mr. Hozier?” 

Sipping at her water, Rhonda answered between bites, “He made me forget how out of practice I am.” After handling a particularly big bite of spaghetti, she elaborated, “I tried to do some certain jetés, not thinking about it, but I can’t jump as high as I used to, my timing was off, stuff like that.” She sounded mildly disappointed, but mostly analytical.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Piotr barely resisted the urge to glance at her ankles, remembering all the times she had downplayed injuries like broken toes, bruised knees, or twisted ankles.

She shrugged it off, “Nah, no worse than I ever have.” For the look Piotr shot at her, she insisted, “I’m fine, really. What about you? How’s your evening been?”

Piotr held out his hand for her fork, and he stole a bite or two of stir fry before giving it back. “A lot of paperwork. I’m not on field duty, but I’m curating files, coordinating some things.”

“You miss it?” Rhonda asked softly. “Field work?” She wiped a stray spot of sauce off her mouth.

He hesitated, searching her face. Her shoulders had gone rigid when she asked. It had been a couple months since she had returned home, and he had barely left the house in that time. Of course he missed working on missions -- going out and handling young mutants losing control or adult mutants who had lost their way and turned criminal. Finally, he replied, “Not as much as I missed you.” Piotr took her almost empty glass and got her more water. “There will be more time in the field later. For now, what I want most is to know you are doing well.”

His cheerful smile melted the tension in her shoulders, and she resumed eating, but he could tell she had something she wasn’t saying. 

Rhonda looked down at her plate and realized there was only one bite of stir fry left and maybe two bites of spaghetti. Except for the bites Piotr had stolen, however, she’d had a huge dinner. Leaning back in her chair, she nudged her plate away from her. “I told you I couldn’t eat all that, babe.”

He slapped his thigh with a clank as he laughed, “I knew you would eat most of it!” His hearty laugh faded to a chuckle as he finished off the last few bites and pushed the plate aside to take her hand. Piotr let out a soft exhale as he studied her dark eyes and the fine lines around them when she smiled. His own expression faded as he schooled his features to something more neutral. “Sladkaya,” he began delicately, “Earlier today, with Russell.” Rhonda’s smile faltered and her brows started to furrow. “What did he...did he call you...Guestbook?”

She instinctively pulled away from his hand, just a fraction of an inch, but just before she fully broke contact with his steel fingers, Rhonda leaned closer to him and held her husband’s hand with both of hers. “It was,” her voice came out in a raspy whisper before she cleared her throat and started again. “It’s what they called me in the Icebox.” When she raised her eyes to meet his, they had that haunted look she got whenever she shared any details about what happened there. “I don’t want to ever hear or say that name again, if I can help it.”

The chair screeched on the floor as Rhonda suddenly pushed her chair back and made to leave the kitchen, but Piotr gently caught her around the waist. “Of course, sladkaya.” His long fingers spread over her ribs. He eyed the green sleeve that covered her right arm. “If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me.”

Her throat too tight to speak, Rhonda nodded, and before the tears welling up could fall, she slipped her arms around her husband’s neck. He shifted in the chair to give her space to stand between his legs. Rhonda gave him a few kisses on the cheek before fully pressing herself against him in a tight embrace. He held her as tight as he could without risking some bruised ribs; his steel armor didn’t have the same give as his unarmored form. “[My sweet wife, I love you,]” he murmured in Russian against her ear. When she took a deep breath, he loosened his hold slightly.

“I think I could go for a shower,” she kissed her way from his cheek to his lips again. “I know it’s kinda early, but I’m ready for bed. Would you come sit with me for a while?”

Piotr took another taste of her lips before saying, “Of course,” and following her upstairs.

--

The next day, Rhonda was so sore she could hardly move. Piotr teased her about getting older and said she couldn’t roll around like the was twenty anymore. All the same, he brought her a protein shake in bed and massaged her feet and calves until she felt good enough to get up and start her day.

Piotr went about his day of handling paperwork and compiling case files while Rhonda continued working with the light bulbs and relearning how to stretch her abilities. To try to ease her soreness, she also did very light dance work, and stretched as much as she could. The sleeve cut from Yukio’s tights stayed in place pretty well while dancing, and Rhonda decided she would have to ask where she could get more. It definitely made it easier to walk around in tank tops without pulling on hoodies or cardigans.

In the afternoon, Rhonda checked in with Hank, who was developing ways to test the strength and control of her electrical charges, and it seemed like she was making a decent recovery, if still slow. “I think you’re ready to start practicing in the Danger Room, if you want to try a low-level simulation,” Hank suggested.

A cold feeling flitted over her as she remembered the echoing emptiness. “No, I can’t go back in there.”

--

Rhonda’s routine became less predictable over the next week or so. Ororo, Ellie, and Yukio had started insisting Rhonda join them for breakfasts, lunches, and afternoon coffee. Rhonda loosened up a bit and started to enjoy these low-pressure, small setting hangouts, but it was hard to shake off an underlying discomfort. Yukio had been right - maybe Rhonda was spending too much time on her own. Despite this, the feeling nagged at her that an hour for coffee was an hour lost that she should have been practicing dance or rehabilitating her electrical abilities.

Piotr grew worried when he started seeing dark circles return under his wife’s eyes. She was eating enough, she wasn’t waking up from nightmares as often anymore, and she was in bed at a reasonable hour. Despite looking tired, she also looked focused and happy. To his surprise, he realized she also wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder and actually held her head high when she walked. “You walk like yourself again,” he noted, “Shoulders back, toes turned out, like the dancer I’ve always known.” She smiled at the comment, but the dark circles worried him. While she was busy at lunch or something else Yukio and Ellie had talked her into, he checked the sedatives on her nightstand. It looked like she had stopped taking them, because there were a lot more pills than he expected.

At bedtime, Piotr stayed awake, pretending to sleep. He waited, and after an hour or two, he heard Rhonda stir beside him. He kept still, listening to the sheets rustling as she got up and tiptoed around the room. She hardly made a sound, even taking care to miss the one creaky floorboard near the closet. When the bedroom door clicked shut, Piotr waited another few minutes before sitting up and turning on his bedside lamp. 

Rhonda had taken her phone and the speaker from her nightstand, and her pajama shorts were laid out on her side of the bed. Piotr guessed she changed into some leggings, and also noted her old hoodie was gone from its spot on a chair. 

After careful consideration, Piotr decided not to get up and go look for her. Instead, he would wait to see how long she was gone. He thought it was possible that she stopped taking the sedatives, but still had trouble sleeping, so maybe she was taking walks in the middle of the night to help her sleep. He turned off his lamp and waited some more. It took a solid three hours before he heard the door open and softly click shut again, and the barely audible sound of her feet ghosting over the floor. There was a rustling of fabric, and Piotr guessed she was changing back into her pajama shorts or putting her hoodie back on the chair where she liked to keep it.

In the morning, he noticed a little dirt caked around her fingers and toes, but said nothing. He let them go about their day, following their respective routines. At night, Rhonda got up again, and again Piotr waited in silence, pretending to sleep. After a waiting a while, bored, he turned on his side toward the window, and saw bright flashes of lightning through the shades. He frowned, thinking it was weird he didn’t hear any rain or thunder. Then he realized there was something rhythmic about the flashes of lightning.

Piotr got out of bed and pulled back the drapes to look out the window, and saw the flashes weren’t coming from the sky, but somewhere on the ground. Another bright flash drew his eye and he saw Rhonda, near the old lamp post and bench.

She was cartwheeling and turning wildly on the grass, the same patch of lawn where she had sprawled after the Danger Room, and arcing brilliant pale green electrical charges from her hands and feet. Piotr watched for a minute, stunned, before noticing she was playing Hozier on her speaker.

The music layered earthy, deep drums and a twangy guitar that sounded like it had wandered in from an old blues song. Piotr was too far away to place the song or the lyrics as he watched Rhonda dance. She dove into a handstand, strong legs waving and wheeling around before throwing them past her head, which arched her back and carried her back to her feet. She leaped high in the air -- and tumbled to the ground, feet over shoulders. For a nerve wracking second, Piotr gasped, and relaxed once he saw her roll smoothly back to her feet, as if it were all one motion. The dramatic fake-fall-and-tumble was one of Rhonda’s signature moves that she loved incorporating into her performances. Piotr shook his head at himself, feeling ridiculous for having forgotten. All the while, Rhonda flashed lightning from all her limbs in time with the claps in the beat, streaking over the grass and high in the air.

As quietly as he could, Piotr climbed down from the balcony and crept closer. She was so beautiful, the way she moved, hair flying and no regard for how much grass and dew and dirt she got on herself. Rhonda didn’t move with the same flexibility and fluidity that she used to; there was something rougher, more raw than Piotr remembered. This was new, and he loved it.

One song ended and another began. Closer, Piotr could finally hear the vocals more clearly, and he was utterly transfixed. He was able to recognize part of the chorus:

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

A weight settled in Piotr’s heart. He remembered their picnic on her grave and how she had been so quiet, staring at her headstone with a stern brow. It wasn’t just that Rhonda was dancing, she was processing something. 

He dared get just a little closer -- an arc of lightning snaked through the grass and Piotr stifled a grunt when it hit his bare feet. The sound was enough to draw her attention.

Rhonda paused and locked eyes with him. Her green hair was a tangled, sweaty mess, and torn pieces of grass were stuck all over her bare arms. Just when Piotr was afraid she would be angry, she smiled. It was an impish grin, like he had come across an actual mythical creature who was about to enthral him with her dance until twenty years went by without his notice. 

She went to her phone and tapped a few times, glancing at Piotr as she restarted “Work Song.” For a moment, she stood still, except for the heaving of her chest as she panted. Then she moved. She closed her eyes and let her limbs make slow, lazy lines. Her head rolled, the yellow tips of hair caught the lamp light. 

There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

I’d never want once from a cherry tree

Cause my baby’s sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me 

Piotr let out a soft gasp when he realized he’d been holding his breath. Every time her eyes found his, her lips pulled in a smile that was sweet and wistful. She still flashed her lightning in a way that artfully meshed with the music, but she was careful to send the bolts upward so they wouldn’t hit her husband, just a few feet away from her with his bare metal feet on the grass.

Weak in the knees, Piotr beamed until the elation and love he felt was overwhelming. He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Rhonda seemed to melt until she was a fluid mess of shoulders and spine and hips on the grass. She rolled and twisted on the ground, adding a sensual edge that made Piotr desperately want to put his hands on her and feel every inch of her curves. He knew better than to interrupt his wife when she was dancing, but the desire was there.

The song ended, and Rhonda sat up on her knees, showing her teeth in an exhausted grin. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said just loud enough to be heard over the beginning of the next song. 

Piotr rushed to pull her up into his arms and spin around, burying his face in her hair. “You are amazing,” he chuffed breathlessly. 

Rhonda circled her arms around his neck, bracing her toes against his legs. She pressed her cheek against his, and with the steel of his back under her fingers, realized he was out on the front lawn in just his underwear. “Did you jump off the balcony?”

He chuckled sheepishly, “I was afraid I would miss it if I took time to use the stairs.” He supported her weight with an arm around her waist, and pulled back to brush her hair away from her face with his free hand. “I have been wondering when you would let me see you dance again!” Piotr’s brows twitched together with concern, “Why sneak out in the middle of the night like this?”

Rhonda pressed a soft kiss to his steel cheek and rested her face against it. “It’s just…” she sighed, “It’s been hard to be around people, and...it feels so good to be outside and moving and touching something that’s not concrete and rebar.” She gave him an extra squeeze. “Does that make sense?”

With a sigh, he returned her warm squeeze and she felt his voice rumble through his chest. “You are not in the Icebox, sladkaya. Do you feel like you must hide from your friends?"

Rhonda tapped his shoulder and he let her slide back down to her feet. She went to turn off the music and grab her phone and speaker. In the quiet dark, she answered softly, "It's not that simple." She took a seat on a little garden bench next to some shrubs. "I'm not in that place anymore, but I still can't dance like I used to, talk to people like I used to... being there has changed how I do everything in my life now."

Shuffling his feet through the damp grass, Piotr came to sit beside her on the bench, listening.

"I'm different now, and I know everyone can tell, but they either ignore it or treat me like glass," she huffed, then added with an edge of surprise as she realized for the first time, "Except Michelle." Resting her head against her husband's shoulder, she continued, "I just think if everyone was paying attention, you'd all treat me with some reservation, like Michelle does."

He slipped an arm around her, as much to pull her closer as to keep her bare arms warm in the night air. "Has it occurred to you," he asked, "that we know you're different, and we love you just as we always have?"

"I am marked as a murderer," her jaw grew tight, clenching her teeth to keep her emotions from spilling too much. "How can anyone trust me in a house full of children?"

The answer was so obvious to him, he was baffled that she didn't see it herself. "The things you did, you haven’t told me much, but from what you have said -- you acted against your values, your nature. And it bothers you.” He shook his head, "If those things bother you, then deep down, you are still the same person we love. I love.” Glancing up at the stars, Piotr rubbed her arm, took a breath and said, “I think it’s important for you to forgive yourself and move forward.”

Nestled against him, she took a minute to let his answer sink in, mull it over. “I’ll try,” she said, “I mean, I’ve been trying, but...it’s hard. Sometimes the only thing that makes sense is music and moving.” Rhonda looked up at her husband, with his square jaw and chiseled cheeks. It had always been easy to talk to him, pour her heart out, but the Icebox had changed that too. She was afraid he just couldn’t understand, and that if he ever did, she wouldn’t be able to handle his disappointment. “And all this?” she flicked a little shot of lightning off into the grass. “This is all flash. Hank read me the volts and amperage and they aren’t anything useful. Not like when I could power an abandoned warehouse or overload the circuit breakers.” She chewed her lip, trying in vain to stave off tears, dreading saying it aloud: “I’m barely even a mutant anymore.” She concluded scornfully, “I’m a human party trick.”

 “Rhonda!” he gasped incredulously. Piotr left the bench to kneel in front of her, and made sure she was looking at his face. His brows met in a hard, angry line. For a moment, he just stared into her face as her teardrop tattoos were slicked with actual tears. Her four-fingered right hand clutched her phone and speaker. His furrow softened as he exhaled. Smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks, he said firmly, “Being a mutant has never been about whatever special thing you can do. Being a mutant is about adapting in order to survive.” Piotr paused, then continued slowly, “You were in dire circumstances that you would not have survived, but you adapted. And for that, you are every bit as mutant as the rest of us, even if you never light another spark again. Do you understand?”

Rhonda sniffled. Her face scrunched as she fought to control her tears, deliberately taking the slowest breaths she could manage so they wouldn’t come out as sobs. Eventually, she nodded. 

“Okay,” Piotr said in a soft whisper, “okay.” He laid his hands on hers and rubbed them. “[Rhonda, I love you. You deserve better than hurting all the time.]” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “[You must be exhausted. Ready to go back to bed?]”

Smearing away some tears with her knuckles, she replied, “[Yeah...one more dance first?]” Under the lamp and the stars, he saw her muster the slightest smile.

“[Of course, my love. I’ll watch from the bench here.]”

[gotatext]

PREFERRED NAME — nora. i think i started going by it in like, 2009?? my full name is eleanor but i hated it n thought it was way too pretentious n i never felt like it fitted me so when i started writing on forums i decided i’d be a nora rather than eleanor and then my school friends called me it and it just kinda stuck, the only person who calls me eleanor is my mum

PRONOUNS — she / her / ethereal being beyond comprehension

AGE — 23 but i tell everyone im 21 because even tho time is literally fake im desperately clinging to that fleeting thing we call youth trying to catch it like smoke in my hands

PINTEREST — i actually have two. this one is my main one where i just cram all my shit n i’ve had it for years and some of its super unorganised. then i also have this one which is one i made for exclusively female characters. it started as mythological figures but now its like, women in literature and the occasional oc as well. variety is the spice of life!

DISCORD — lindsay lohan’s meth#8664

TUMBLR (PERSONAL/MUSE/RPH) — i used to be froseths but now im pvrscphones cos ya gal is a fucking whore for mythology 

OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE — oi oi guvna ere’s me twitta. also here’s my letterboxd n my goodreads if anyone still uses tht

MYER-BRIGGS — enfp / infp border .... the classic profile of a lit student

HP HOUSE — hufflepuff, am fuckin mad. 

ZODIAC — libra which is a joke because i am in no way balanced but i guess i AM indecisive and a peacekeeper so?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY? — i believe it when it says good shits gonna happen in my life and blame it if bad shit happens but i don’t strongly follow it i just find it interesting

HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU STARTED RPING ON TUMBLR — maybe like 14?? my first rp blog here is literally so embarassing i wrote as clove from the hunger games n my best friend irl wrote cato :/ it was wild

WHAT YEAR WAS IT? — like 9 years ago?? 2010 maybs

NAME A RANDOM ROLEPLAY THAT STICKS OUT IN YOUR MEMORY — me n my friend ellie made this really cool group the summer before we left for uni which was loosely based on a concept mentioned mayb once in the divergent series, but it gave us loads of freedom to make it our own thing. it was called the fringe n it was like..... this dystopian society where people with different genes were cut off from the rest of society n lived in overrun slum cities where different groups had like, a monopoly over weapons, produce, etc.... my character jack was the leader of this lost-boy-esque tribe called the wolf pack who were hunters n used to run across the rooftops wearing the skins of animals they’d killed and engage in tribal rituals with sacrifices to the gods n shit. sounds lame but everyone there was so invested in their character arcs that it was a shame to see it go. but ! it kind of reached its end point so we blew it up w nukes n they all died. tragic.

WHAT WEIRD ANIMAL WOULD YOU HAVE AS A PET IF IT WAS REALISTIC — a fox?? do ppl keep foxes? idk i’ve always just felt a sense of connection w them like when a fox stares at me im like this shit is life i am living and breathing in this bitch.... visceral

NAME THE FIRST SONG ON YOUR DISCOVER WEEKLY ON SPOTIFY OR THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES ON APPLE MUSIC / ITUNES SHUFFLE — everbody party tonight by cobra man n summer girl by haim..... not my usual stuff but big summer chillin vibes,.....

NAME A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT YOU SURPRISINGLY LIKED — lord of the flies and also the handmaid’s tale. one of assignments was to write a chapter from another character’s perspective n i chose moira

NAME A BOOK YOU HATED THAT MOST PEOPLE LIKED — skellig. fuck off with ur asprin ugly bat man i don’t care. also of mice and men. don’t care about the rabbits or curley’s goddamn wife.

WHAT TV SHOW DID YOU RECENTLY BINGE? — im not a big binger bc i find it jst makes me depressed if i watch tv all day but im nearly finished stranger things season 3 n i recently finished euphoria (big rec but proceed w caution as quite triggering content)

FAVOURITE QUOTE — cool girl speech from gone girl. but also “there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” i know its like.... such an overused quote but it really encapsulates this kind of feral girlhood that a few of my characters like bridget n greta have tapped into. i also loved the line “i feel like i could eat the world raw” from song of achilles, that really captures this kind of.... pure n childlike enthusiasm tht i wanna achieve w rory 

LINK TO A VINE THAT EXUDES YOUR ‘ENERGY’ — this is my energy completely am always covered in glitter n staring broodily out of the windows of ubers at 4am like im in the sad bit of an indie film 

DO YOU WRITE OUTSIDE OF RP? WHAT DO YOU WRITE? — uhh.... not as much as i shd.... i want to be a writer so i shd be makin some effort to get my stuff Out Into The World but im just not.... lol. ive done a lot of poetry collections . i wnt to finish a novel @ some point too.

THREE YOUTUBERS YOU STILL TRUST — bold of you to assume i trust any youtubers

A CELEBRITY CRUSH THAT JUST WON’T QUIT — id literally die for saoirse ronan n timothee chalamet :/ chance perdomo also owns my ass. 

EVER MEET A CELEBRITY? SHARE YOUR STORY — i once high-fived dani harmer, the actress who played tracy beaker. today my sister text me tryin to make me guess what celebrity she just saw on holiday in wales and for ages she let me think it was timmothee but it was actually bradley walsh from the chase :/

WHAT’S YOUR PICTURE-PERFECT NIGHT? — i am in a bomb ass crop top and mini skirt, several scrunchies in my hair, glitter all over my face, wearing cowboy boots. we eat dinner in a trendy but affordable pub that doubles up as a cocktail bar n then we drink zombies or sex on the beaches n go to a rave where everyone is on the same wavelength n i share drugs with girls in the toilets and we swap numbers knowing we will never text each other but its ok bc in that moment we feel like we are soulmates and everyone is super drunk n touching everyone else n its all very visceral and we walk through the woods when the rave ends and lie in the grass because we wish to suck out all the marrow of life 

A CONSPIRACY THEORY YOU KINDA BELIEVE IN — princess diana was murdered 

ARE ALIENS REAL? — maybe the real aliens are the friends we made along the way

PLAY ANY PHONE GAMES? WHICH ONES? — love island game im addicted and way too invested in my fictional relationship with bobby, a cartoon

WHAT’S A FILM YOU LOVED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG AND RECENTLY WATCHED, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU DON’T ANYMORE — bold of u to assume i remember my childhood. but if we’re talking last 10 years angust, thongs n perfect snogging is so so cringe 

DO YOU COLLECT ANYTHING? — pairs of glasses belonging to other ppl when they break / get new ones even though i can see perfectly well. 

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BUT YOU’RE TOO LAZY? — mythology...... always a craving and a wish i’d read like ancient texts but my school wasn’t good enough to do greek or latin or any of that shit n even tho i could read english translations i cant be bothered. also criminal psychology

THREE LANGUAGES YOU DON’T SPEAK, BUT WISH YOU COULD — italian, french and latin

MOVIE YOU’VE WATCHED MORE THAN 5 TIMES — ladybird, about time, angus thongs, shrek 2, what we do in the shadows, the history boys, atonement, coraline, the breakfast club, ferris bueller’s day off

NAME A FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TV/FILM/MOVIE/GAME/BOOK THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF PROJECTING ON / YOU RELATE TO — cecilia lisbon. rue in euphoria. alison brie in glow. adam parrish in the raven cycle. richard papen. olivia cooke’s character in thoroughbreds. allen ginsberg in kill your darlings. lily in sex education. holliday grainger’s character in the film animals --- i too am an aspiring writer who never writes and just gets drunk instead .

DO YOU FOLLOW ANY SPORTS? WHO DO YOU ROOT FOR? — no. cba

HOBBIES BESIDES WASTING AWAY HERE? — i go to the movies basically every day bcos i work in a cinema. im also a voracious reader n i occasionally do theatre or costume making

PLUG A TV SHOW / MOVIE / BOOK / VIDEO GAME / ETC… YOU WISH MORE PEOPLE WOULD CHECK OUT — where the wild things are (film by spike jonze).  animals. beats. the book fen by daisy johnson and a girl is a half formed thing by eimar mcbride. andy warhol’s biography from a to b and back again

WHOSE BRAIN WOULD YOU LIKE TO PICK, ALIVE OR DEAD? — phoebe waller-bridge on how i get her life. carey mulligan on how she got to be such a good actress n how i can become her. maybs wes anderson. maybs gillian flynn. i tend to listen to podcasts w the ppl i really wanna pick the brains of.

TEAM EDWARD OR JACOB? — edward :/

LAST MOVIE SEEN IN THEATRE — blinded by the light n i lovd it

DO YOU STILL READ? — when i finished uni i kinda got out of the habit but this week i finished two books so ive set myself the challenge of a book a week.

IF SO, WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING? — i finished song of achilles yesterday n i also finished call me by your name yesterday. started circe by madeline miller today, im also partway through milkman by anna burns and the plays of annie barker

ON A SCALE OF 1-10, HOW MUCH DID YOU HATE FILLING THIS OUT? – 3 i didnt hate it bcos at heart i am self-indulgent and love fashioning some sense of self when i feel lost in a world that is scary and constantly changing 

[arashi-the-dumbass]

12-26-2019

The Chiming of Bells – Chapter 32

There was that familiar feeling again. She just merely blink (that was all it took) before she found herself standing in the familiar scenery of an endless ocean. Memories she had briefly forgotten came rushing back and an eye started to twitch.

“I was talking to someone!”

The older girl, who was checking out the rose bushes which currently dominate the floating garden, jumped slightly and turned to Je’hel. She had her back towards her and she looked like she was about to rip her own hair off.

“Hey, don’t tug at your hair and ruin it.” She frowned at her. “There’s still votes coming in for what hairstyle you’ll have for your entire stay.”

Then she paused to think, the same time that she turned robotically at the other girl. She looked aghast at what she had just told her.

“W-What?” She spluttered. “I haven’t even come into terms with you being my creator and you’re already planning on cutting my hair!?”

Arashi hummed, crossing her arms, “I think that’s a decision for the next update so you’ll still be okay.”

“…the wait is much worse.”

The girl was relieved to hear that but not at all fully. She wanted to keep her hair the way that it is, not cut it according to others’ votes. Even so, she went towards her creator, watching curiously as she went back to inspecting the red flowers.

She was quick to get distracted, the older girl had noticed, but maybe she had decided to ask about it for another meeting instead.

“You have a lot of roses compared to the last time I was here.” She had said, blinking when she was suddenly handed a steaming cup of tea. She took it and sniffed. “…rose tea?”

“We’re supposed to have tea every time anyone visits so please, do have some.”

Je’hel took a small sip. “I didn’t know anyone else visits you.”

She smiled at her, waving around a thorny rose she plucked with her bare hands (bad idea, by the way). “I’ve had four so far, including you.”

That caught her interest and she immediately started asking questions. “Creations like me? Who are they? Where are they? Will I ever see them here?”

“Slow down with the questions,” Arashi told her, sweat dropping, but she didn’t look like she’ll be disinterested anytime soon. So the other sighed. “Well, the one that came after you was Esher. She’s currently in Kou right now.”

“Ohh, so kind of like a Kou creation that you made?”

She saw the corner of her lips twitched up into an amused smile.

Not quite.

“No, she’s not a native.”

She made a look of understanding. Je’hel went to ask but shook her head instead. She’ll save that question for later too.

“And who else?”

“The third one is named Abi. I believe she’s heading to Tison right now.”

“Why is she heading to Tison?” She asked cautiously and the other girl didn’t help alleviate her suspicion by moving on to the last person.

“Then the final one—”

“Don’t ignore me!”

“—is Ellie. From what I remember she’s at…” Arashi paused, before rubbing her chin in thought. She then came into a realization. “Actually, I forgot the name of the place. But I do know she’s in America. Boulder, maybe?”

“You’re terrible at this,” Je’hel commented, unimpressed.

“Maybe you’re right…” She decided to switch topics and asked about the current happenings in younger girl’s life. “How’s life going so far?”

Je’hel blinked at the sudden question before her eyes widened. Wait, why haven’t I put two and two together earlier!? She looked like she was distressed and the reason for that came to light when she suddenly pointed an accusing finger at Arashi.

“You had Maader killed!”

She took time to register what the girl meant before she understood. “Ahh…”

“Why’d you do that!? Sinbad hadn’t gone through being a slave and— and—!”

She shushed her, bending down slightly so that their heights match. “Calm down.” Je’hel stared at her but she hadn’t made a fuss yet so she continued. “I didn’t kill her.”

“But.. But you’re the creator,” she reasoned and she received a smile in return.

“I am. But sometime after you were seven, all the characters in your story have their own thoughts and I merely wrote about it.”

Je’hel was still confused. She gets what the other was saying but… really? Then who killed the woman if not for her?

The smile that was pointed at her turned innocent almost, and when she opened her mouth to question her further, the girl saw her body turn transparent before disappearing in a flurry of light.

Arashi was then left staring at the cup on the ocean floor.

The Raven at the Boundary – Chapter 2

See, Ellie was in the middle of the an intense reveal when she happened to find herself standing in the familiar ocean world. The memories came rushing back. She can’t remember what the world was called though but her fear just overpowered her need to ask.

She shrieked. “Ack! Why am I back!?”

She looked around and it was the same as before. The table and chairs are still there, it’s still very much a wet world, and the sky were clear. The only major difference was that the flowers were now replaced by red roses.

“I have an inkling that we’ll continue on meeting until your day is over,” someone had said and she whirled around to look who it was.

Ah. It was that older girl from before.

“Why am I back?” She meekly asked as she hugged herself like before.

She received a shrug from the other who had knelt down to pick up a discarded tea cup from the ocean floor. The contents of it was gone when she raised it. But when it was offered to her, it miraculously had tea in it again.

She hesitantly accepted it, and the strong smell of roses penetrated her nose.

“I was expecting the same tea from before,” she told Arashi before taking a sip. Rose tea definitely has a weird flower, but not that she doesn’t like it.

“Well, it’s been ten days since we last met.”

“It’s been thirty minutes!”

Arashi laughed which made the girl even more confused.

“What?”

“Sorry,” she calmed down enough to answer her. “I just find it funny that our times are different. It’s been thirty minutes to your side, but for me, it’s been days.”

Ellie was sure that she looked miffed. And to be honest, just the thought of what she had said was making her head spin. She was never really good with math so instead of trying to figure out what the time difference, she decided to just accept it as it is.

The older girl went back to picking roses with her bare hands, unminding of the pricks and cuts she was getting from the thorns, and Ellie took a sip from her tea again.

For a moment, she was reminded of her childhood back in England. Those were simpler times as she was still too young to understand what was going around her.

When she had moved to America with her mother, things had been especially hard as she used to be that one kid everyone either avoided or bullied. Not that she didn’t make them taste their own medicine but after a year, everyone just sort of ignored her.

Then Larry came into the picture; the very first person to have talked to her like they were friends for so long. It was truly a great time but… she just had to ruin it, didn’t she?

Before she knew it, her reflection in the tea was shedding tears and one drop caused a ripple that made it disappear. She immediately wiped her face of said tears, just in time for the older girl to look back at her.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked and Ellie just shook her head.

“Nothing,” she muttered. “This is just a really good tea.”

Arashi stared at her disappearing form for moment before she went back to the roses. “Come back anytime, and we’ll talk, alright?”

Ellie paused, before smiling slightly at her reflection.

“Sure.”

And then, she was gone.

The Aligned Stars – Chapter 1

The fourth OC to appear in the vast ocean world, was named Elliot Midford. While she was distressed about the current state of the house she was to live in Weston, she managed to find herself in Susanoo, a place she hadn’t seen before though it looked oddly familiar.

The wind was blowing softly all around her. The smell of the ocean that she was expecting to smell was overpowered by the strong scent of roses. She could see the petals getting swept of the winds and almost raining down on them like a light shower of rain.

She looked around and was surprised when she realized that she wasn’t alone.

“Excuse me,” she had called out, slipping into a polite stand with her hands clasped in front of her.

She watched as the other girl flinched from her voice before she turned to address her. She was wearing a form fitting black dress that came down to her knees with a plaid shirt atop. Her short shoulder-length hair was swaying in the wind as she was holding roses in her hands.

She was bleeding. It seems she hadn’t been careful with picking the thorny roses.

“Oh… uh…” She turned to face her. “I was expecting you before Weston but I guess I had been too lazy to meet you earlier on.”

Elliot tilted her head at her, her face carefully inquisitive yet blank. “What do you mean?”

She merely smiled at her and she found the gesture suspicious. But fine. She’ll play stupid for now.

“I’m Arashi, and you’re currently in Susanoo.” She bowed at her which Elliot reciprocated with a curtsy.

“And I’m Elliot Midford. Pleasure.”

Arashi approached her and handed her a cup of tea, the familiar scent of roses was coming on strongly from the cup.

“Rose tea!” She exclaimed in delight, taking a sip. “I haven’t had one in ages.”

The other looked intrigued. “Oh? When was the last time you had one?”

“Before I was even a baby,” she answered vaguely, happily drinking the tea. Ah, it had definitely been too long. “I remember I used to drink this almost obsessively. Such a lovely tea.”

“That’s amusing.”

She followed the girl in the black dress as she headed towards a set table. She sat down and she mirrored her action, sitting right across from her.

“How was Weston?” She had immediately asked, making Elliot pause from her happy thoughts.

“What about Weston?”

She watched the girl arrange the thorny roses on a clear vase (which wasn’t there before), and she was arranging it quite amateurly. Still she looked proud as she answered her.

“Well, I believe this is the first time you’re entering an all-boys school. How is the experience so far?”

Elliot looked at her from behind her steaming cup, suspicious. Though a smile was lacing her features. “Oh so you know about that? What else do you know?”

The other shrugged, unminding of the suspicion from the girl. “A lot. It’s not all concrete yet but I know a lot.”

“Hm…” She took a sip on her tea, finishing it in one gulp. “Well, to answer your question, it’s been fun so far. I’ve met three of the people I needed to avoid and no one seems to be the wiser as to my true identity. Which is a positive thing for me. No need to take the fun out of things, after all.”

Arashi nodded her head. “That’s good then. I believe things will be much more amusing in the later days.”

“Now that’s something interesting.” She chuckled before delicately placing down her cup down. “My tea is finished so I need to get going. I have an entire house to clean and weep over, after all.”

“Ah but… I don’t think you could—”

She disappeared in a flash of light. Just like that.

“—make yourself disappear by will…”

Arashi trailed off before she sighed.

“Ahhhh, of course Elliot the genius figures it out on her own after one fucking visit.”

She crossed her arms and gazed at the roses on the table with a glare.

Stupid geniuses. Took the fun away from being dismissed out of the blue.