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cecilspeaks · 4 years ago

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174 - Radio Jupiter

This is Radio Jupiter calling out to all who hear. Please respond. Awaiting your reply.

[different theme song]

This is Radio Jupiter. I’m not sure who is listening. I’m not sure if there’s anyone to listen. I can only verify my own existence. I can only verify the void around me, the apparent fact of stars, the swirling atmosphere of the planet below me. I cannot verify much. I don’t know who I am or where I came from. I woke up here, and all I have to go on is my call sign. So this is Radio Jupiter, reaching out to whoever there is to be reached out to.

It is so beautiful here on my perch, here in my place, in the cosmos and the universe about which I know nothing but feel everything. I don’t know if everywhere is as beautiful, or even most places. Did I happen onto the one beautiful place in the all of it? Without perspective, there is only what is nearby. Without the burden of comparison, everything is beautiful.

If a person is the sum total of every experience they’ve ever had, is a person without memories still a person? Or are they a different creature altogether, made either limited or limitless by the possibilities of a clean slate? I am either trapped or I am more free than anyone who can hear this. If anyone can hear this.

There is a framed photo in this room. It is an elderly woman. Maybe my mother or my grandmother or an aunt. Perhaps merely a photo I saw in a magazine once and liked for whatever reason. I have no way of knowing what kind of person I am, what kind of photo I would keep. Perhaps it is a photo of you. Do you present as an elderly woman? Would you like to? I think perhaps I would like to, even for just a little while. But I only am what I only am, I ever am, whatever I am.

[distortion] This is Radio Jupiter calling all cars, all (species), all… [fades out]

Cecil: Is that any better? Is that better? Can you hear me? [clears throat] OK, my producer is giving me the signal that we are now back on the air. Sorry about that, not sure what that other signal was, but it completely took over ours, which is rude. We’re currently looking for the source of the signal. We’ve narrowed it down to up. Just right up there somewhere, beaming on down to us. But we’re back in control and we do not expect any more interruptions. Of course, we didn’t expect that interruption either. I don’t expect almost anything that happens to me, my life is full of mystery and surprise, as is yours I’m sure, but still, we seem to have this one technical issue addressed. With that settled, I think we can get to the news.

Our top story concerns… [reluctantly] Susan Willman. OK. Sure. There has been a lot of talk in town since the whole incident with the Obelisk, in which Susan Willman learned the name of an immortal all knowing being. This name now exist in her head, an object of great power reverberating through her thoughts. She has withdrawn from her duties as director of the Night Vale Community Theater and the Night Vale PTA. Oh darn, we’ll miss her and her prosaic, muddled staging and grandstanding about home-work life balance.

Susan has instead taken residence in a booth at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. There at all hours, toying with a half drunk coffee and playing with the reflection of the sun in the back of a spoon. At night, the mint light of the sign outside sends strange shadows across her face, and her friends say they sometimes don’t recognize her at all. Steve Carlsberg, who is taking over her role at the Night Vale Community Theater, went to talk to her about some finer details of the casting process, and said that she was less than helpful. She was weeping, and the only thing she said the entire time he was there was that she was afraid to speak, lest the awful name slip past her lips. “No one was meant to carry such death inside of them,” she whispered, and then said no more. “Oh sure, yeah yeah, makes total sense,” said Steve, as he (-) [06:51] down some invisible pie. Well, I think we’ve given Susan enough attention for now, moving on.

In other news, the new beer cave at the Ralphs has been closed for repairs due to occasional time loop issues reported by certain customers. Manager at the Ralphs, Dave Ball, issued a statement by spelling out words with cantaloupes in the parking lot, saying “everything is fine with the beer cave, it’s a great and refreshing addition to Night Vale. Please don’t go inside or even look at it, as we don’t know why it’s doing what it’s doing. Everything is fine, please stay safe and stay away.” Dave then rearranged the cantaloupes to create complex fractal designs that made me dizzy to gaze upon, but were beautiful nonetheless. When reached out for a comment, Ralphs corporate said they had no records of any branch in a town called Night Vale, and were tired of receiving prank calls with bizarre tales about a made up store. When provided with pictoral evidence of Night Vale, a representative at Ralphs corporate began to bleed form the eyes while shouting: “This can’t be real! My god, this can’t be real!” More on the story of the beer cave if anything happens [distortion, fades out]…

Agent N-223: [--] out there, out there? Not sure if any of this is getting thru, but continuing to narrate on the off chance anyone will hear this and come, you know, to collect me. I’ve been doing some digging through the spaceship, and I’m disturbed by what I’ve found. Weapons. Many, many weapons. Racks of guns, cases of grenades and explosives, radar that I instinctively know is for tracking combatant space crafts, even though I have no memory of receiving that training. I am armed to the teeth and ready to wage war. But on what? There are no living beings in sight, and for all I know, there are no other living beings anywhere. Perhaps I’m here to wage war upon the planet below me, that swirling gaseous titan. Maybe someone had enough of it and sent me up here to put Jupiter back in its place. If so, I think the weapons they gave me were insufficient. I experimented by shooting off a round or two out the airlock, but the bullets soared into the upper atmosphere of the planet without slowing at all. My attack had no appreciable effect on my victim. So maybe the planet is not my target. Could it be the stars themselves? I am sent here, a pinprick in the side of God to cast myself as the stars, shouting threats and tossing grenades until the entire (-) [09:42] of the universe cowers and surrenders. Perhaps that.

Or perhaps I am at war with you, whoever is hearing this. Maybe I was given this radio in order to threaten and terrorize before I attack. So be afraid, I am coming. O-once I figure out where you are. I have no idea which direction to start moving and I don’t even know if this space ship has any way of controlling movement or if I’m just stuck in this orbit. Either way, this is Radio Jupiter apparently declaring war. [distortion] Consider it declared and [fades out].

Cecil: Can you hear, they can hear me? OK, I apologize, we’ve been doing all kinds of troubleshooting, including shifting the angle of our broadcasting tower, updating all of our software, and yes before you ask, we did try unplugging it, doing a ritual spilling of blood and plugging it back in. The issue we’re having is that these broadcasts are being sent out on military frequencies, which unfortunately automatically override ours. I’m unclear why the military would be getting into broadcasting, that’s more of a community radio thing, so let’s all stick to what we’re good at. I’ll keep doing radio shows that inform and delight, and the military can spend three trillion dollars on a plane that instantly explodes if anyone tries to fly it.

We have reached out to Rudy DeJardin, the local representative of the military industrial complex. He has a little table set up outside of the hardware shop, and anyone who has any questions for the military can just ask him, and he’ll do his best to answer. Most of the stuff can’t answer because it’s classified or embarrassing, but sometimes he’ll say a few cryptic words. In this case, his only answer was to make “mm-hm” sounds and shake his head frantically, while rolling his eyes toward the heavens. Not clear what to make of that, but I sure love whatever this broadcast is off my frequency, Rudy. Any time you want to get on that.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Nature’s Caress Fountain of Youth gentle flushable wipes. Did you know in most of the world, they just wash after using the toilet? They have a whole thing specifically for doing that. It takes a couple of seconds, cleans thoroughly, and doesn’t create mountains of paper waste. If you dirty your hands, do you wipe at them frantically with an even less robust version of tissues, or do you use water and soap? Why would it be different for anything else? Because it just is, that’s why. It’s the American way, love it or leave it. Nature’s Caress Fountain of Youth gentle flushable wipes: clog the world with your debris. This has been a word from our sponsors.

And now, as a special treat, Mr. Lee Marvin himself will perform act 3 scene 5 of Shakespeare’s classic tragedy “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. This is the scene that contains the immortal line “I never knew the meaning of fear until I kissed Becky.” [distortion] OK, Mr. Marvin, take it away!

Agent N-223: This is Radio Jupiter speaking to you from a time of peace. Yes, there was that brief episode of war, and it was regrettable. I fired upon an innocent planet, although that planet seems none the worse for my crimes. In any case, that war is now over, as far as I’m concerned. I have no interest in battles and conflict, especially when I have no memory of what that conflict could involve. I have no interest in killing anyone, and I have no interest in dying quite yet.

So, peace in our time. I’m jettisoning all the guns and other weapons. Let them scatter out harmlessly into the universe, most of them swirling down the gravity well of Jupiter, where the immense pressure of the inner atmosphere will compress them into diamonds. I don’t know if that idea is scientifically sound, but I like the thought of it. All these worthless guns made glittering jewels, swirling in the endless storm of a planet that doesn’t even know they’re there.

As for me, now that I’ve declared peace upon the galaxy, I would like to know what is out there. I have found the controls for the ship and it seems I must have been trained in their use, because whatever I do appears to work as I want it to. I am turning away from the only star I’ve ever known. Because my memory is short and it’s the only star that has been there for the last two hours. I’m turning out to the dark unknown, and I’m casting myself into it. I hope there is a grander universe out there, I’d love to see it. This is Radio Jupiter, letting the cosmos know that I am on my way. I’ll see you soon. Or, given the size of space, most likely I won’t see you. But we’ll both exist, and [distortion] won’t that be nice?

Cecil: [clapping] Wow, wow wow wow. Thank you, Mr. Marvin, truly a performance for the ages, and what a treat… What? What happened? When? Oh not again!

This is Cecil Palmer of the Night Vale community radio station. I don’t know if you can hear these words, but if you can, we have identified the source of these intrusive broadcasts. She is agent N-223, sent during the early years of the space program on a secret mission. She was put into hibernation so that she could wake up and serve as reinforcement in the Blood Space War at some point in the future. But it appears that the hibernation damaged her memory, and anyway the Blood Space War doesn’t happen for another thousands years, so eh, she won’t be much use in that battle yet. Ah, thanks to the anonymous tipster who snuck us this top secret info. We owe you, Rudy.

Oh, uh it looks like we might be having more interference due to some Rough weather.

[“The Faded Red and Blue” by David Berkeley http://davidberkeley.com/]

Agent N-223: This is Radio Jupiter on the tail end of the tail end. If there was anyone listening back near that star, I think I’m getting out of range. I feel you getting out of range. Whatever presence I felt that I was speaking to, that feeling is getting hushed and fuzzy. The way I’m sure my voice is for you now.

You’re gonna have to go on without me, I suppose. Be brave about it. Or be scared. Your feelings are not my problem anymore, if they ever were. I have new problems now, problems of void and cosmos, problems of dark matter and lost memories. I am adrift in a universe that does not know I exist, but then you are too. I don’t know what is out there, but I hope I live to see it. Won’t that be something, if I get to see whatever happens next? I hope I do.

Well, this is Radio Jupiter signing off for the last time. [echoing] Stay safe out there, I’ll try to stay safe out here. Goodbye.

Cecil: The signal has faded out. It seems she has finally left our world and also left my radio frequency. I’m not trying to speak badly of a strange remnant of a war that has not yet happened, floating out into the nothing beyond the nothing, but come on, please, use a different frequency. It’s just rude. The military, through Rudy DeJardin has disavowed any knowledge of Agent N-223 or her mission. “Nope,” Rudy said through clenched teeth, “Never heard of her. Iiii certainly wouldn’t just say her name on the radio, after being asked not to. That’s not something I would do Cecil,” he said. So I dunno. Maybe we got the story wrong.

It is something, isn’t it? We are bits of life floating in a whole lot of non-life. The fact is true for us in both space and time, we are brief on any measure. And yet we can reach out our voice and be heard, even if only for a moment. And that has to mean something, doesn’t it? Doesn’t… it?

Stay tuned next for an angry buzzing from inside your cutlery drawer, but you’ll be too afraid to open it and find out its source.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Agate is a girl’s worst enemy. Emerald is a work acquaintance who a girl hung out with once and then it just – never turned into anything more.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 174 #radio jupiter

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writeyouin · 5 years ago

Note

How will the rescue bots react when they find out their s/o has a symbiote? (And maybe the rescue bots academy too? Please if not it’s ok)

Rescue Bots / Academy X Reader Drabbles - Symbiote

A/N – This isn’t in my usual format, but there are so many rescue bots that it felt easier to write it this way, so if you would like full stories anon, then please just tell me and I’ll fix this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Heatwave

Heatwave was speechless. He always thought you were keeping something from him, but he never imagined it would be anything as insane as this. How could you keep a Symbiote from him? More importantly, if he hadn’t walked in on you and that THING talking to one another, how long would you have kept it from him? Forever?

For the past three weeks, he has avoided seeing you, yelling at you the few times you’ve tried to call. He pretends to be mad at you, but mostly he is furious at himself. How hadn’t he noticed something as big as this? There were days when you were the sweetest person in the world, and there were days that you were completely distant from him; now he knows the distant part of you was actually the Symbiote, telling you Heatwave wasn’t worth your time.

One day, amidst a fire which is too much for the bots to handle alone, Heatwave sees you running inside the burning building, the Symbiote providing an organic armour so the smoke inhalation doesn’t affect you. You stay well away from the flames, instead using your Symbiote strength to lift debris off the victims, carrying them out two at a time.

After a week of thinking about the applications of the Symbiote in rescue work, Heatwave visits you and sheepishly apologises for his behaviour. If you have a Symbiote, then he will respect that; he still doesn’t love the idea, but he doesn’t say that.

At his admission of respect, the Symbiote no longer tries to turn you against Heatwave; in fact, the Symbiote even admits that it respects Heatwave’s strength and bravery in the field.

Chase

From the second you tell him about it, Chase does not like the Symbiote one bit. He has tried to argue his point logically to you in a sophisticated five-hour power point presentation and is willing to go as far as structured debate when you still disagree with him.

All you keep telling him is that the Symbiote is a part of you, but Chase is adamant that it doesn’t have to be; if only you could see that you could have a different, safer life wherein a parasite isn’t feeding off you.

It’s only when you argue that all sentient life has value and therefore must be protected that Chase starts to listen. He could never deny the statement, so it only perplexes him further when you point out that without you, the Symbiote will die. Chase loves you, and so he will make peace with the creature inside you, if it makes you happy. However, just because he maintains a peaceful relationship with the creature doesn’t mean he won’t watch your every move to make sure it isn’t going to hurt you. Chase is a protector; it will take a long time for him to trust the Symbiote fully.

Blades

Blades saw something like this once in one of those Earth movies, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He makes a big deal of telling you this, and constantly asking if the Symbiote is going to rip through your chest and kill everybody on Griffin Rock, just like that other movie.

“(Y/N), you’ve gotta make it leave,” He tries to warn you. “First, it makes you think it’s your friend then it eats your brain or turns you into a zombie.”

The Symbiote hears this and covers the entirety of your body, making you bigger, faster and stronger. “Say that to my face!” The Symbiote hisses at Blades.

Blades throws up his arms and runs away screaming, afraid the Symbiote is going to kill him.

Once you are in charge again and the Symbiote is only a tiny blob on your shoulder, you sigh. “Why did you have to do that? Now I have to spend the afternoon calming him down. He was already spooked enough about you.”

Your Symbiote simply laughs darkly, “Ah, but who could resist? He is so adorable when he is running away. I see the appeal in a relationship with this one.”

Boulder

When you sit Boulder down and tell him of your Symbiote, you expect him to be upset that you kept the secret from him, or perhaps to be angry, or even a little concerned. Instead, he immediately asks to meet the Symbiote, if that’s okay with the two of you.

Silently, the Symbiote appears on your shoulder, staring at Boulder with a curious gaze and only transmitting its thoughts to you. It becomes clear that Boulder’s curiosity has got the better of him when he asks if the two of you will undergo some voluntary tests in the name of science.

Your Symbiote discusses the idea privately with you, agreeing to do so, but only if you set some ground-rules about what is and isn’t allowed. You begin mediating between the two, until they are finally on talking terms to discuss the matter themselves.

Honestly, Boulder isn’t sure what to think of your Symbiote, but he will decide based on the conclusion of the upcoming tests.

Hoist

When Hoist finds out about the Symbiote, he pretends to accept it to hide his anxiety. He is too scared to ask you if this is normal for humans, so instead he goes to the one person who might know about these things; Professor Boulder.

Boulder tells him what little he knows about Symbiotes, and after that he suggests that Hoist should be open with you and the Symbiote about his feelings. After hearing the good advice, Hoist takes you to the Engineering room for a little privacy and he asks if you and the Symbiote would be okay answering a few of his questions. By the end, he feels like this experience has made your relationship stronger and he is thankful for that and eager to welcome the Symbiote with open arms.

Medix

Medix found out about the Symbiote when he was giving you a health check and the results were unusual. After confronting you about it, your Symbiote revealed itself, explaining to the young doctor what was going on.

Immediately, Medix is fascinated, and he is asking you every question he can think of. When it’s revealed that the Symbiote can regenerate your cellular structure, he is absolutely ecstatic.

Immediately, he starts running tests, not even waiting for permission before he’s taken a scan of the two of you. He cannot wait to see if this can advance organic medical procedures.

He’s so occupied, you sarcastically comment that you should leave the Symbiote with him.

You roll your eyes when he replies, “That would be great, thank you.”

Your Symbiote rests on your shoulder, whispering, “Should we tell him I can’t leave you.”

You whisper back, “Hang on, see how long it takes him to notice that I’m still here.”

The two of you will be waiting a long time while Medix draws up some charts.

Wedge

Wedge finds out about your Symbiote when you get trapped in a collapsed building. He thought you’d died, but as he started digging you out, he hears somebody calling his name. It’s a creature like nothing he’s ever seen. Once the Symbiote returns to the inside of your body and it’s just you Wedge can see, he starts to calm down, putting the pieces of the puzzle together that the Symbiote had protected you.

As someone who wants to be leader of a future team, Wedge is trying to be logical about this, but he can’t help being a little insecure about it.

What if you think you can handle a situation when you can’t? Just because you’re stronger and more resilient than the average organic doesn’t mean he wants you putting yourself in danger. He makes you and the Symbiote promise you won’t do anything dangerous, just because you can, and it’s only when the two of you agree that he calms down about the entire thing.

Hotshot

Hotshot came to check on you one night after a horror film. He is prepared to tell you that he’s coming to check on you but really, he just wants to cuddle because he’s terrified. His fears are only increased when he finds you talking to a slimy thing coming from your neck.

Before you know what’s going on, he’s ran in screaming and is hosing you down. It’s only when Heatwave comes in and holds him back that you get your chance to explain what a Symbiote is and how you came to have one.

After that, Hotshot makes you show him everything the Symbiote can do in the simulator room. Instantly, he becomes indignant about that- that THING.

How are you going to pay attention to all the cool things he can do, when you can do things just as cool with the help of your Symbiote? It’s not fair. He wanted to be the hero of the relationship, not you. How can there possibly be enough attention for both him and your Symbiote?

You finally reassure him when you say there’ll be twice as much love for him, but he’s still not sure he likes it.

Whirl

Whirl was practicing her stealth skills and followed you all the way from the training grounds to your room in the Academy. There, she saw you talking to your Symbiote. After watching for a few minutes to establish that the creature was non-hostile, Whirl ran in excitedly.

She loves you already and since you’re so great then you’re Symbiote will be JUST AS GREAT. There will be so much more to talk about. How long did it take the Symbiote to learn about Earth? IT LEARNT FROM YOUR MEMORIES? NO KIDDING, THAT’S GREAT. The three of you have to go on a triple date RIGHT NOW.

Whirl cannot wait to take a trip down memory lane and hear all about how the two of you met.

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scribeofmorpheus · 6 years ago

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Meet Cute (Steve Harrington x Reader)

A Steve Harrington Fluff fest, that is all.

Inspired by that hilarious 'Ahoy' Season 3 teaser. I had this idea of how the reader would meet Steve while he was working the ice-cream cones! But mostly because my little soccer mum of five needs a break and some happiness (and I totally didn’t get inspiration from eating an entire roll of love hearts sweets).

Words: 2880

Warnings: none

(GIF NOT MINE)

Starcourt Mall had recently opened to the public in Hawkins, Indiana, and it was all the rage. Everyone from kids to teens, to adults constantly crammed every space of the lot. To many this was the place to spend an afternoon with friends or simply unwind from their daily stress by doing a little retail therapy, to you it was your own personal hell.

You had decided to get a part-time job to earn some summer pocket money and gain a little experience, even though your senior year studies were time-consuming enough. You had assumed working part-time at a candy store wouldn't be so demanding. Boy, were you wrong.

Parents constantly bombarded you with their crying, bratty kids asking which sweets were the best and when you gave your humble opinion and their kids decided they had a different kind of sweet-tooth, the parents never failed to storm right back in and demand a refund or exchange of goods. It was utter chaos. To make matters worse, the mall didn't have the most effective ventilation system either, and your ridiculous uniform didn't give much breathing room, which meant when it was hot, it was really hot.

On one particularly hot afternoon, you decided to get yourself a little cool treat to alleviate the heat on your break. You had decided against a cold beverage and thought you'd settle for an ice-cream cone instead and you knew just the place.

Scoops Ahoy was uncharacteristically empty for that time of day and taking into consideration the sweltering heat of summer hadn't died down yet, you were left a little dumbfounded. It didn't matter though, you preferred the quiet. It was a welcome change from your taxing day job. As you made your way to the counter your eyes locked onto the most stultified and unamused face you had ever seen. His name tag read Steve and he honestly looked like someone had sucked the life out of him. You couldn't help but feel empathetic towards him.

"Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, what can I help you with today?" His eyes were half-lidded and he tried and failed at giving you a company smile. His voice had the same impression of that of a sleep-talker, all dull and groggy. You snickered to yourself.

"Were you replaced by pod-people or something?" You jested.

Steve blinked a couple times, cocking his head sideways. He seemed to liven up with curiosity a little, not getting you reference, "What?"

"Uh, pod-people. You know, Invasion of the Body Snatchers?" You waited for him to show any indication of knowing what the heck you were talking about, to your disbelief and slight embarrassment he didn't. He just shrugged and gave you this look like you were speaking another language. "Come on, man! You haven't seen the piece of cinematic genius by Philip Kaufman?" Your nerdy side was showing in full force as you looked at the poor ice-cream server with wide eyes.

"No, I haven't seen Invasion of the Body Snatchers." He said dryly, "It's not like fighting Demogorgon’s left me with much free time..." he whispered to himself absentmindedly. Before you could ask what the hell a 'Demagordan' (or whatever he called it) another voice joined in.

"Oh, I've seen that film. Gnarly, my brother loves that kinda stuff. I can't stand it," Steve's co-worker butted in, not at all trying to hide the fact she was eavesdropping. She was probably bored too.

"See, I'm pretty sure everyone in the world's seen that film,"

"Whole world huh?"

"Yup, the whole world."

"Well then, I guess I was replaced by a pod-person after all." His smile seemed more genuine this time. He was actually quite attractive, though that terrible sailor’s hat wasn't doing his hair any favours. When he noticed you staring at the hat, he looked a little self-conscious and nervously rubbed his neck, "So, what can I get you? Or did you just come in here to accuse me of being a pod-person?"

"Which you admitted to." His co-worker reminded him as she shamelessly watched your exchange like it was a soap opera.

"Which I admitted to, yes."

"Right!" You shouted a little too excitedly which caused colour to flare in your cheeks. "Do you have any pistachio ice-cream?" Steve seemed surprised by your choice of flavour and his co-worker wrinkled her nose. Clearly, it wasn't a best seller in Scoops Ahoy.

"No, I don't think so," He looked at his co-worker for confirmation, she shook her head, "Nope, sorry." He said more confidently the second time.

"Damn," You snapped your fingers, “What do you recommend then?"

"Everyone seems to like the Chocolate Dipper, It's the ice-cream that featured in the Starcourt commercial." His co-worker offered.

"Chocolate Dipper it is."

Steve busied himself with your order as you scrounged your work apron for spare change. You pulled out a roll of pennies and coins and a few Love Hearts. When Steve was done with your order he handed you your ice-cream cone. In a moment of unusual bravery, you placed the money on the counter as well as a piece of candy that had the word 'Smile' printed on it. You giggled when he noticed the small sweet and practically skipped out of the shop with your cone of frosty goodness.

***

You had just finished ringing up a customer, your head was turned down to the register where placed the money in its designated slots when you heard Steve's voice say your name. You had started slightly and looked up at him in confusion. He pointed at your shared name tags.

"Now we're on the same playing field. I figured since you bought something from my place of work, and left an overly generous tip too I might add, I'd return the favour." His voice sounded different. Lighter, almost cocky. The remnants of his 'king of high school' persona were showing. You giggled, more out of shyness than anything else. You cleared your throat.

"Welcome to the Sweet Shack, what can I help you with today?" Steve noticed your cheeky choice of wording. He looked at you in wonder. It wasn't out of surprise, more amusement.

He grabbed a roll of Love Hearts and handed you some coins. You rung him up. What you didn't notice was that he had opened the packet of sweets and spilt all the little circular chewables onto the counter. When you noticed what he was doing you felt your heart race a little as butterflies made their presence known.

Steve boldly pushed two sweets in your direction. One was the exact same one you had given him, the other had the words 'Call Me' etched onto it. With that, he ripped a piece of paper from the sweet wrapper and used the pen fasted on his shirt pocket to jot down his number. He swept up the remaining sweets from the counter and placed them in his pocket.

"In case you wanted to educate me on the poetic genius that is Philip Kaufman," he gave you a wink goodbye. Steve Harrington, once king of Hawkins High, left you standing behind the counter looking after him with the same wide eyes as a love-struck teenager.

Part Two is here!

if you liked it, let me know. Feedback is always appreciated. Constructive criticism too. I may have a few ideas for a second part, still in the ‘draft-then-delete’ stages though.

Due to the fic getting way more likes than I anticipated, I am currently working on part two.

MASTERPOST

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #reader insert #stranger things #stranger things imagines #little sailor man in a soul crushing job #starcourt mall #I defeated Demogorgon's for this?#Scribe Scribbles #scribescribbles

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cyclopsgirlbook-blog · 7 years ago

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Cyclops Girl, Chapter 1: Week 3, Day 3 of School

First Sign: < DIFFERENT >

American Sign Language. Two forefingers are crossed, and then separated.

[Follow cyclopsgirlbook.tumblr.com for Cyclops Girl novel chapters and commentary.]

A female teacher finished chewing on her pencil, reversed it, examined her clipboard, and moved the saliva-coated eraser down a list of student names. She paused for a moment and then began, "Miss Meh—"

"Here!" The girl bolted upright. She had already memorized the position of her name on the list and stood immediately, having anticipated this ordeal for several anxious minutes. The girl held in her hands a carefully prepared prompting paper which she knew that in spite of the time that she worked on it that it wouldn't be good enough. She pressed her face close toward the paper in order to hide it from public view, but of course she had to keep it at a certain distance away so that she would be able to read it, and because according to the teacher, people had to be able to hear her.

The girl's erectness slowly morphed into a hunching posture, and her straight black hair hung down over her cheeks and in front of her face. Her hair was short, the sides and back cropped traditionally to end at the jawline and nape of the neck, the bangs [fringe] covering her forehead. Her skin was pale, almost white but with a slight tinge of yellow to it. She had a torso that was rounder about and wider than average, almost barreled, not because of fat, but from a thickness and stoutness in the bone structure that was characteristic of her race. Meanwhile though, her arms fell weakly from her sides, lacking musculature and being almost tube-like.

Her face was not pretty, but nor was it ugly, even though she often thought it so. She had a wide, flat mouth, that had thirty-two shining teeth, none missing, although the canine teeth were a bit larger and pointier than a normal human's. There was nothing wrong with her mouth. Over her mouth lay a small, flat, button-like nose with two wide nostrils that let in enough air for her to breathe. Her nose was good. And above that, lay, surmounted by a prominent brow ridge and surrounded by a large bony socket that protectively sunk into the middle of her face, one big eye.

She was a cyclops, and part of the cultural exchange program for monsters and humans. As part of her writing assignment for her English language and literature class, she had to address the class, out loud, for a total of five minutes. She began speaking.

* * * * * * *

"...In 1945, the Second Great Human War ended. The Allied Powers occupied Japan. That is, America, China, England, and the Soviet Union. T-Tokyo was divided between them and declared an international zone. Tokyo was handed over to United Nations control in 1964. In 1987, Japan regained its independence.

Then, in 1999, the barrier between the human world and the monster world was broken. War almost immediately broke out between the monster nations and the humans. The next year, a peace treaty was signed. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Tokyo was selected as the place for a special mission for human-monster interaction due to its s-status as an international zone.

Finally, in 2001, the first monster-integrated school was created. Humans and monsters have established better relations and are becoming friends. I hope that we can become better friends and work together toward achieving greater harmony..."

"C minus. Next!" spat the impatient female teacher.

"O-oh..." groaned the twelve-year-old cyclops girl. She had just finished delivering her oral report on the history of human-monster relations. From an already quivering posture, she sank down into her seat and hunched over her desk. Even the slightest hint of disapproval could throw her thoughts into disarray.

The class continued with reports from several other students, including a lamia and two taurids, who each chose their own specialization for the assignment. The cow girl and bull boy sat on opposite sides of the room, the cow girl covered in a veil, according to the requirements of their culture.

After the period ended, the cyclops girl quietly made her way out of the room, never first but preferably not last either. She wished to avoid calling attention to herself. As she exited into the hallway, a blonde-haired human girl yelled out to her.

"Umma!"

"Huh?" the cyclops girl responded, her gaze having been downward, but momentarily lifted in response to hearing her name.

"How'd it go?" the blonde girl energetically demanded.

"Oh, it's you, Stacy-san," the other recognized. "...Not so good."

"Really?" Stacy asked phatically. Then a big, toothy smile suddenly appeared on her face. "Hey, are you free tonight? I got movie tickets!"

"Eh? Tonight...? Sorry, I don't want to..." Umma replied, speeding up her pace and making her way to her next classroom, breaking with her friend unilaterally.

"But it's your favorite..." Stacy whimpered, her words falling off as Umma left into the distance. Stacy had purchased tickets to The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (the remake).

Umma loved horror movies, or at least that was what Stacy thought, as all of the movies that Umma had said she "really enjoyed" were in the horror genre. Stacy had bought the tickets thinking that this would be a nice outing with her totally best friend, but the gesture was not well received by Umma. Umma had already had other things on her mind; had already had other stresses; her English grade, and what happened this morning, among them; and for her, an outing with Stacy was just another complication to add to that.

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Umma tried to walk swiftly through the halls and courtyards, determined to get to her next class as soon as possible. But the student population presented an obstacle to her intentions, the mass being as chaotic as a sea. There was no regulation on which direction students walked, trotted, or slithered. So to simply get through a quarter mile, Umma had to do some of the most complex analysis she could manage. When she asked others how they did it, they said she should simply "go with the flow." She thought to herself, irritatedly, "Which flow is that supposed to be?"

On top of the difficulty of simply moving, Umma did not like being touched or touching other people. In this environment, of course, the uncomfortable experience which she considered a crime was inevitable. Despite her best efforts to look around to see where everyone was, she bumped into someone.

A second-year boy with a mess of snow-white hair backed up from Umma with a scowl. "Watch where you're going," he instructed her derisively, pushing up his light-frame eyeglasses.

"I was," she almost shouted at him, having coincidentally run into him when she was turning her head back to look behind her for safety purposes. But he had already brushed past her, invisibly, and so she didn't say anything. As he left her, Umma felt a chill on her body almost as though she had been suddenly shoved into a warehouse freezer.

The boy was Japanese, according to his school enrollment form, but he didn't much look like it. His face was long and thin, looking fatless, but without defined features, more smooth than bony. His eyes were peculiar. The whites of them were very white, so that they appeared almost glass-like. The irises were white as well, not the pinkish color that one would expect of an albino, but a perfect white, like that of a precious stone. His hands had long fingers that looked beautiful and almost feminine, but with a pointed seriousness such that one could call them claws or talons.

Just as the boy left Umma's sight, he was accosted by a green-skinned orc in a striped rugby uniform who clapped his hand in an all-too-familiar way on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, Yuki!"

The boy, Yukihito Tsurara, also called Yuki for short, glanced to his shoulder, saw the knobby green fingers, and immediately knew what this was about. "What?" he responded in annoyance.

The orc let off his green hand from Yuki's flesh-pink collared shirt and tried to think of the best way to put it. "Listen, Yuki, there's a big game comin' up," the orc started.

"A game, huh?" Yuki wore a shirt that was one size too large for him, on which he had fastened all but the top two buttons, so that his collarbone could be seen. The shirt was loose around the chest, but barely accomodated the length of his arms. On his long, slim legs were a pair of faded skinny jeans and on his feet were a pair of black, rubber-soled sneakers.

"It would be real nice if you could be there."

"Sorry, I don't really do sports. I don't like being in the Sun that long."

"It's the first game of the season. It's going to be at night."

"Sorry, I'm not really interested." Yukihito walked gracefully, one foot in front of the other, with a slight hip sway, like an old-fashioned lady, except that sometimes he would wildly shift to one side or the other, as if he was being blown by the wind or he was going to fall, but he would quickly correct himself up again. At times he seemed to move instantly from one location to another, within the blink of an eye, as if he had teleported.

Meanwhile, the orc plodded along heavily behind Yuki at the boy's left side, sometimes having to break into a jog when he lost track of him.

In the background, a squad of snake girls were ascending a flight of stairs, one of them clearly struggling. "Ah-yee, sistah, this scalin' don't come easy, walkas be crazy like. 'S like scalin' up a saw, innae?" The others laughed at her, covering their mouths with their claws, gold-colored bangles swaying gently on their forearms.

The orc sucked his lip in distaste as they passed the group of lamias. "Yuki..." he pleaded, "Coach says that you have to be there."

"What do you want from me, Claude?" Yuki asked, sighing.

"Lemme put it this way, Yook..." the orc explained, "Ain't you was voted the Prettiest Boy in the School last year?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"We have to get some more girls in there. We know they're crazy about you. It's a publicity thing. Gotta fill in those seats."

Even now, there were girls secretly gathered at the sides of the halls, whispering among themselves and trying to get a rare photo of the amazing Prince Yuki with their mobile phones.

Yuki asked Claude sarcastically, "Would you pay me?"

"I'll do your English homework for a month."

An orc doing his homework. "I'd rather you not. The teacher might think that I got brain damage."

"That's harsh, Yook."

About this time, the white-haired boy was nearing his next class. He wiped his glasses with a cloth while walking. The two were silent for a while. Finally, they arrived at Yuki's lecture room. Readjusting his thin lenses, he confirmed that the room number was correct. As Yuki was reaching for the doorknob...

"So?" the orc tried again.

Yuki looked at the orc up and down, and then replied, emotionlessly, "I'll see what I can do."

Pleased with this, Claude smiled an orc smile, with two bottom fangs sticking out. "Thanks, Yook."

Yuki turned back to the door, but feeling the orc's presence, turned back to him, with an annoyed expression, as if saying, "You can go now."

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Claude excused himself and started for his way across campus. He had been in a completely different location than he was supposed to be, more inclined toward athletics rather than academic performance.

Relieved, Yuki finally opened the door and went inside. As his hand left the brass doorknob, it left a coating of frost on the surface.

Meanwhile, in the mechanics building, was the cyclops girl. After English, Umma had a lecture / lab class in "Human Machines," one of which demonstrated was a can opener. She took part in the practice for the can opener, even though she already knew how to use one. Thinking about the negative experiences of that day, the girl gritted her teeth and worked her strength into turning the knob, which had the blade crunch and cut through the metal until it ended in a satisfying "pop". A whispering student across from her complained about her making a fearsome face.

After that, the daily announcements were made, and the teacher gave cleaning assignments. Umma was given the task of sweeping the halls in the mechanics building. While she was cleaning, three of the orc boys from the rugby team came by and started roughhousing in the hall. One of the boys slammed into the locker beside her. She froze and waited for them to pass.

One of the orcs got a certain bright idea and ran up to Umma and grabbed the school utility broom she had been using for sweeping.

"What are you doing, Pierre?" another of the orcs asked.

"Oi, look at this, mate," the orc said, putting his legs on either side of the broom and pointing the handle side in front of him at an upward angle. "I'm a knight, lads."

"Ay, look like right on Roland you do."

"Chevalier majestique [majestic cavalier]."

The orc with the broom then began backing up. "I'm gonna joust you, mate."

"Oh hell," his friend cried in mock terror. The two orcs without the broom began jogging at a moderate speed, looking back expectantly.

"Waaagh!" Pierre cried, charging at the others with his broom as steed and lance in one.

Umma was shaking. In no time, the orcs had disappeared down the hall and around a corner, taking Umma's calm, and the only broom she had, with them.

"What's wrong?" a voice said, coming from beside Umma.

She turned, not expecting someone to respond to her.

There stood a boy wearing a khaki-colored leisure suit and black tie, holding a trilby hat in one hand. He had a childlike oval-shaped face with almond eyes. That face was framed by soft, downy, light brown hair, which was mostly short but had two sections which were longer, which fell over his ears and down onto his neck. Over that face lay an idle smile, not of someone that was particularly happy at anything, but happy with life.

"Cleaning..." Umma mumbled.

"Cleaning?" the boy repeated.

"Me... cleaning..." Umma tried again, louder this time.

"Do you speak English?" the boy inquired, trying to be accommodating. "I speak Chinese too."

"No," responded Umma. "I mean yes." She tried to make her situation comprehensible. "I was cleaning and... They took my broom..."

"I bet it was those orcs, huh?" he guessed, not with judgmentalism but with an almost laughing reaction.

"Yeah..." What Umma thought was, "How did you know?"

"Wait right here, just a sec," the boy with the trilby hat said to her.

"Huh, for what?"

The boy had already walked off a bit. "I'm going to get you another one."

"Oh..." responded Umma. "Thank you..." she muttered. But by the time she said that, he was too far away to hear her.

The boy walked over to the janitorial closet, which was in a different section of the building. He tried the door knob, but it was locked. He pushed in and out. It didn't open. He looked to each side to make sure no one was watching. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pins. He set his hat down on a nearby hall bench. Then he put his head near the knob and began working the two pins into the lock opening. It took him about half a minute to figure out the mechanics, and then he opened the door.

"Really simple lock for this one," he thought to himself. After all, it was not a commercial lock, or even a house lock, and was only there for not having students mess with the supplies. The boy scanned the closet, which had a single glaring incandescent lightbulb hanging above, which hurt his eyes, and he brought out two brooms. Then he locked the door, got his hat, and walked back.

Umma was surprised when he brought back two brooms. "I only need one..." she said, not understanding.

"You have cleaning duty, right?" the boy responded, resting the brooms on a wall and taking off his suit jacket. His biceps and triceps bulged under his shirt, contrasting with his baby face. "Let me help you."

"Oh..." Umma recognized, blushing. "Thanks..."

"No problem." His suit jacket and hat were now rested on a hall bench, his jacket neatly folded and the hat on top of it. Handing one broom to her and taking one himself, he instructed, "You take that side, and I'll take this side of the hall over here."

Pleased but feeling this was happening too fast, Umma stammered, "But... Your name."

"Akechi. Akechi, Sumire."

"Sumire? Isn't that a girl's name?"

"Yes, I know," he said, smiling. "You can call me Kesh."

"Kesh... Okay..."

"And yours?"

"Umma..."

"Umma?" he repeated, hoping he got it correct. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl like yourself."

Umma blushed. "It's not, really --" Umma tried to say, but she was interrupted by Sumire.

"You get that side, I'll get this one," he said, reminding her of the task.

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After that, they broke to their respective sections of the hall. Umma looked at Sumire intermittently, as if amazed, but Sumire didn't look at her, only staring at the floor and at his work. When he had worked for long enough, and was nearing the end, he wiped the sweat from his face with his hand, two gold rings gleaming on it.

Before Umma knew it, they were both done.

"Good job, Umma-san," Sumire praised her.

"No, it's thanks to you, Kesh-san..." He had done half the work, nearly.

Sumire aired out his shirt and donned his jacket again, putting his hat in hand. "Let me know if you need anything. Any time."

Umma smiled and opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

"You go on home," said Sumire. "I'll stay behind and take care of these things," meaning the brooms.

"Okay," said Umma. "Th-thanks again." She walked away and out of the building happily.

Sumire returned the brooms to the closet, unlocking and locking the door easily. Then, when he got outside, he received a call on his mobile phone. The phone was a cheap, "disposable" black flip phone, one of the cheapest models at the store, its value contrasting with the clothes he wore. "Hello?" he answered. A man spoke on the other end of the line, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

"Yes," Sumire affirmed. "Uh-huh." His smile disappeared and his face turned grimly serious. "I understand," he confirmed in Chinese. His eyes darted around. Then he ended the call and closed the phone.

On her way home, Umma stopped at a local convenience store. She had expected to buy a strawberry cake there, because there was supposed to be a 50% off deal for the personal-sized strawberry cakes for that day, and she had been expecting it all week. But when she got in the store, they were all sold out. Umma frowned in disappointment, but tried to find something else to buy. While she was searching, a cockroach emerged on the floor. Surprised, Umma yelped and backed away haphazardly, knocking her head on a shelf for potato crisps and falling on her butt.

"You alright, ojou-chan [little miss]?" the shopkeeper yelled.

"Y-yeah," Umma replied, sweating.

Umma tried to ignore the cockroach. After some time deciding, she settled on a fruit parfait which came in a little plastic bowl and had yoghurt along with strawberries and blueberries and some kind of granola mix on the top. It wasn't the strawberry cake that she wanted, but it was a good substitute.

Umma bought the fruit parfait, thanked the shopkeeper, who was an old Japanese man, and went out of the store. Pleased and wanting to have at least a taste before she went home, just outside the store, on the street side, she popped off the lid and got the spoon out.

It was just then that a primary school boy quickly rode past on a bicycle, splashing from the roadside motor oil in Umma's direction.

The oil did not travel too far up, missing Umma's face. But it did stain her dress. Umma stared down at her newly-opened fruit parfait. The petroleum now ran over the fruit and granola and soaked into the yoghurt. Umma grimaced, put the lid back on it, and threw it in the trash can. Then she started for home again.

After Umma got home, she went into her room, put on headphones, planted herself on her bed, and listened to Faith and the Muse. It had been a terrible, awful, very bad, no good day.

* * * * * * *

Second Sign. < SUPPRESS >

American Sign Language. A hand is brought down over the chest and closes tightly as it descends to the stomach.

Earlier, that morning.

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Umma walked through a poorly-paved, half-dirt path on the outskirts of West Tokyo. A gunfight had occurred the previous evening, around 3 AM, between rival gangs of the Chinese immigrant community, the dispute having been over the rights for importation of a new shipment of illegally acquired antiques from the mainland. About 17 people had been injured, and 4 killed, the largest amount in the last eight months for one night for the municipality.

A load of priceless jewels, jade, and gold had been burst open from their poorly constructed crates in the melee. After, and even during the crossfire, defending gang members attempted to recover their goods, stuffing jewelry and necklaces haphazardly into the back of their Ford pick-up truck. Cleaning up after the battle, they recovered most of it, but fearing spending too long and being caught by the Metropolitan police, they left a few items behind. One of these was a small, almost unnoticeable, yet very beautiful, black-streaked milky-white pearl.

Umma had a tendency to collect and form an attachment to mundane, everyday objects that she personally thought were interesting, pretty, or sensorily pleasing in some way. As she ambled on the path going toward the train station, the item caught her eye, its perfect alabaster and ash existing in contrast to the modern gray of the pavement. Her steps quieted and retarded, she stared at the thing in small bewonderment before kneeling down and picking it up.

It was rare, she thought, ethereal, although she did not treat it any different from the rocks she sometimes collected. It was small, albeit tangible, substantial enough, about an inch [3 centimeters] in diameter. She did not know how delicate it was. In care that may or may not have been excessive, she loosely cradled it in her virginal hands.

The texture was somewhat similar to that of a chicken egg, albeit smoother, and it had the same weight as one, although it was much less in size. The dark streaks upon the light surface were long and wavy, seeming to have their own spirals and tendrils, with splattering here and there, almost like an image of a galaxy captured in inverse. Umma thought to herself, she would keep this, treasure this, and this would be her happiness for the day.

She walked the out-road for a while longer, and as she approached closer to the train station, the signs of urbanization became more apparent. Modern glass-and-steel buildings adorned the skylines, and the hum of cars and rumble of street crowds were audible. Yet, the more negative effects of city growth manifested. The path came upon the slum quarters of the city, the last stop before the glistening paradise of downtown, although it was less than half a mile [one kilometre] away.

Umma had become distracted by her newfound treasure, which had occupied her thoughts for a good thirty minutes before she gave in to the impulse to examine it in her hands once more. Thinking she knew the route well enough, she had not looked where she was going, and soon found herself in the area of city known as the "eagle's den."

"Oiiii," an irritated female voice rang out.

"Where do you think you're going, little girl?" said another.

"Huh?" Umma looked up in confusion.

"We said," an adolescent reiterated, clutching Umma's blouse collar in a sharp claw at the end of a feathery blue arm, "Where do you think you're going?"

Umma's mouth opened and trembled as she struggled to say something.

The assailant released her and backed up. Umma almost fell over backwards and tried to right herself. Two older girls, one with blue feathers, the other with green, now flanked Umma on each side. Gaudy jewelry including ear piercings of interlocked dangling rings was worn by one of them. A silver cross, a Western novelty, the meaning evidently lost on them, was worn by the other. They both wore loose socks, falling to and scrunching down onto the ankles of their scaly feet. They were harpies.

At a slight distance stood a third girl, turned away, but keeping tabs on the situation, who wore distressed denim jeans cut off raggedly at the thigh of her thick horse legs, and smoked a cigarette. She was their leader, and a two-legged centaur.

"What are you doing coming around here? You looking for trouble?" the blue-haired harpy asked annoyedly.

"N-no..." Umma sputtered. "I always walk here... It's the shortest route to my school..."

"Is it now? You must have been lucky for us not to find you up until now. You're walking into the territory of the Stregheristas [witches]. That's us, if you're slow in the head."

"I'm sorry...?"

"'I'm sorry?' Are you or aren't you? You make it sound like a question. Come on, Vinka, let's have some fun with this one." The harpy girl strafed behind Umma and batted the latter forward with the span of her wing.

The other harpy picked up the idea and swatted against Umma in the other direction, back toward the wings of her friend. "Got you, Carla."

The two thus played something similar to a game of catch with Umma's body between them. As this went on, Umma clenched her teeth and held ever more protectively on to the pearl which she still held in her hand, guarding it against damage more than she guarded her own bodily health.

"What's this?" inquired the blue harpy as she pushed Umma onto the ground.

The younger girl's hand went loose and let out the pearl, which fell earthward and rolled before settling. The green-haired harpy spied the object and immediately took hold of it. "It looks valuable. I wonder if we could pawn this for some cash."

"Hey!" the blue-haired one objected. "I found it first. Give it here!"

The green-haired harpy squawked. "No, I did!"

The blue and green harpies proceeded to fight over the item, shouting at each other, "Mine!" and "Mine!" over and over again.

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"Enough, you two!" The centaur girl tossed her cigarette and stepped into the fore. "Give it to me."

"Alright, boss..." the green-haired harpy reluctantly agreed, depositing the gem into her humanoid hand.

The centaur girl briefly took the ball up to eye level for inspection, rolling it between her thumb and forefingers, then held it non-chalantly thereafter. "We don't have time to pawn anything. We have another deal coming up today. You two will get plenty of cash after that. Of course, you two wouldn't remember that, would you? That's why I'm the boss, and not you two bird-brained idiots. The best thing to do in a situation like this... Is to destroy it."

"Yeah, boss. It's probably worthless anyway. It's probably a fake."

"This'll teach her a lesson about going into our territory," the centaur concluded, dropping the pearl onto the ground. She glanced over to Umma, and not even looking at the thing, crushed the pearl under her hoof.

"N-hoh!" yelped Umma as she struggled to breathe under the weight of the harpy's leg on her back.

The centaur trotted over to Umma, the harpy moving aside to make way for the horse girl. The gang boss laid her hoof at first lightly on Umma's back. "Don't come around here again, you hear?" She then lifted her leg and struck down hard, forcing the wind out of Umma's lungs. "That was only half-power. Any more and you would have had your ribs broken." The centaur stepped off of Umma's body and made her way to leave. "Come on, girls, we're going to be late for class."

The two harpies followed. "But we're always late anyways..." one protested.

Umma sobbed after the three had left, her tears soaking the dirt of the ground. When she finally managed to stand, leaving the comfort of that patch of earth, she went over to look where the pearl had been. The item lay broken into pieces, which varied in size and lay splayed out over the surrounding dirt. Not knowing how to possibly bring it with her or repair it, Umma left it there. At first she desperately reversed herself, running in the opposite direction as the girls had come from, but then she corrected herself, and went toward the train station.

Unseen to her, a dark cloud began rising from the fragments of the pearl. Concentrated over the most intact piece, a fragment of the lower shell which lay on the ground like a shallow incense bowl, a wispy black tower rose toward the blue sky.

* * * * * * *

Third Sign. < DAUGHTER >

American Sign Language. The arms are placed together and rocked over the chest.

After school. Umma's bedroom.

When it came to be late enough, and she had cooled down emotionally, Umma unpacked her bag and began working on her homework. This is the part of school that she enjoyed the most. Or, she thought, it had the least potential for a problem happening. The first assignment was a math worksheet. The girl got out her best mechanical pencil, and carefully but calmly wrote her name in neat letters on the top line of the page: "Umma Megaloculus."

When it was about 6 PM [18:00], she received a knock on her door. "Onee...chan. Onee...chan [big sis]," came a voice from without, small but aggressive.

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"Oi, oi, you don't have to knock so much," Umma said, opening the door and coming out.

"I only knocked ten times," her sister responded. She was a cyclops too, but younger, aged eight years old.

It was time for dinner, Umma guessed. She stepped into the dining room to smells of steaming chicken.

"How was your day, honey?" her mother asked, not turning to her but attending to the kitchen. Her mother was not a cyclops.

"Fine," she might have said, but she didn't say anything, pulling out her Western-style chair with a squeak and sitting down at the table.

"I made kateh [sticky rice]," her mother said, explaining herself.

Across from Umma, at the opposite side of the table, sat her father, who involved himself in a newspaper, still half-dressed in his suit from work. He had a slight underbite that revealed two triangular lower fangs when he wasn't attentive to it. When he heard Umma sit down, he turned up his eye, and looked at her sympathetically and briefly, then returned to his paper. "Japanese President in Scandal Once Again" and "Prime Minister Unveils New Economic Plan" ran the headlines.

"Oogie," Umma's mother requested, "Put that thing away. And get dressed for dinner."

Her father silently complied. Oogie was her pet name for him, his proper name being Augebert.

While he was away, the house phone rang. The wife picked it up. She was about to answer, "Moshi moshi? [Hello?]" but the calling code indicated it was an international number.

"Hello?" a man asked in a heavy Eurasian accent.

"Yes?" the wife responded, trying to remember her English. "Who's calling?"

Umma's sister overheard from the phone, "Department... Family Affairs... Former Soviet Union..."

As Umma's mother tried to finish the dinner, stirring pots and mixing things, she listened to a government official speak at length. As she bent her neck to hold the phone against her shoulder, wavy locks the color of burnt wheat fell out of her headscarf onto the milky white of the receiver. "Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."

"What's going on?" the younger daughter asked innocently.

Covering the phone, the mother answered, "It's about Grandpa."

"Oh."

"Don't tell your dad. He would be sad." She returned to the phone, responding to the man again. "Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh..."

Some indistinguishable sounds from the other end.

Umma felt too tired to pay much attention.

"What do you mean?" The woman clutched the phone angrily. "He's my father!"

More sounds from what seemed to be some kind of bureaucrat. "...Calm down, Demetra."

"'Demetra'? That's Miss Chagani."

The woman started speaking in her native Persian. The children did not understand the language, but from the sound of it, they would describe it as some kind of very fast yelling.

When Augebert made his way back to the table, he had changed into a rough tan tunic with button clasps down the middle. This was a kind of traditional dress for his people after they had abandoned nakedness and wearing loincloths.

Demetra Megaloculus (nee Chagani) served the meal, which consisted of a roasted chicken, rice, and an assortment of sliced eggplant, squash, and other fruits of the land.

Umma's father resisted picking up the whole chicken with his enormous hands. He waited as the meat was prepared, and the plates made with rice and vegetables and allotted to each person.

"Ahem," Umma's mother intoned, raising her arms skyward. "Let us thank Arimaz and the spirits for this meal we are about to receive."

"We humbly take the flesh of your kind. Your fire, light, and thunder is with us, O Lord." These words were recited by the members of the table, most emphatically by the mother, monotonously said by Umma, imitated by the younger sister, the father merely nodding at the end of it.

"How was your day at work?" Umma's mother asked.

Umma's father further resisted touching the meat with this bare hands, remembering the fork and spoon that were placed beside it. He thought about the question, staring blankly forward, and then responded, "Same as usual."

Augebert had been hired as a consultant for an electrical energy company in Tokyo, and so this had been a major reason for the family's move to Japan. Cyclopses, popularly known among humans for creating the thunderbolts used by Zeus, had independently developed their own knowledge of electrical science. When the human-monster relations began a few years ago, human scientists had been eager to integrate the corpus of cyclopean knowledge.

After a time, he added, "There's someone there that's annoying me."

"Oh really?" his wife inquired.

"Don't worry about it." Umma's father looked down.

The mother turned to the smaller sister. "What about you, Dora?"

"Good!" she promptly responded, reflecting more of her general happiness than any specific assessment of her day.

"Umma?"

Umma stayed fixed on her food and near-silently grunted. She did not want to be interrogated more and waited, hoping it would stop. Her mother stared at her for a while expectantly, but eventually relented and turned to her plate. Umma pretended to eat, picking at her food with her utensils, but did not have much of an appetite.

After dinner, Umma's father washed his face and bald head, then returned to the table with his reading glass and a novel for leisure reading.

Umma by then had left already for her room.

Umma's mother worked on cleaning the dishes, and then further cleaning in the kitchen and dining area.

Dora was planted in her seat, bent over a stack of 8x12 [A4] paper and a jumble of crayons that was spilled over the table.

Her mother continued cleaning, but occasionally looked over to see Dora's progress on what she was doing.

[Follow cyclopsgirlbook.tumblr.com for Cyclops Girl novel chapters and commentary.]

She drew a picture in crayon of herself. She made the background first, in what looked like the mall. She gave herself a pretty dress. She gave herself hair that looked like her own, short and black like Umma's, content with that. When it came to the face, she thought for a moment, then drew herself with a smile and two beautiful eyes.

"What a nice picture," her mother said, holding it up. "But what about the eyes?"

"Having one eye is ugly," the daughter responded. "I want to be pretty like you, mommy."

Her mother smiled, but her expression soured as she thought about her daughter's condition.

Augebert put his book down and grabbed the paper. He immediately understood. The cyclops turned toward his daughter and said, "You should be proud of your race."

Dora lowered her head. She felt a mixture of guilt, shame, and dissatisfaction with her father's demand, but given that she was a child, she had no way of expressing this. She almost cried, but held back.

Dora got ready to take a bath, although this meant having to consider her body more. Dora's mother and her took baths together, but Umma preferred to bathe separately now.

Umma's father wasn't able to fit in the bathtub, and so restricted himself to showering with the extending shower-head that the Japanese-style bathroom was fitted with. For this purpose, there was a small but sturdy wooden table placed in the room, which Umma's father used as a stool for squatting on. He was, after all, over 8 feet [2.5 metres] tall and weighed over 380 pounds [170 kilograms], and would have broken any normal-sized stool.

Dora and her mother scrubbed themselves off, the latter reminding her daughter to clean behind her ears. They then soaked in the tub together. Demetra sat her daughter against her chest. The mother's pillowy breasts lovingly surrounded her daughter's head.

When the water to the bathroom was running, the pipes made a rumbling sound that disturbed Umma. This was only one of the sounds which potentially disturbed her, and one of the more mild ones. Other sounds included that of the motorcycle, and that of the garbage disposal truck [rubbish truck].

Umma's bedroom may have been perceived as tenebrous and menacing to outsiders, but to her it was sedate and relaxing, utilitarian. The walls were gray. The bedsheets were gray. On the back wall was fixed a stainless steel grating, from which hung various small personal effects, including pink and purple keychains, and a palm-sized karakuri [mechanical puppet] doll of a young girl.

Beside her bed stood a small dresser-drawer [chest] on which sat an altar to La Anciana [The Old Lady], a deity venerated in rural Mexico. Next to her framed icon were placed two cheap, short, glass-encased white candles. Umma made sure to light these candles every day at night with a stick from the hearth fire. Occasionally, the icon changed, but she kept up the candles all the same.

Umma's white blouse hung in front of an open closet [wardrobe] which housed four identical copies of the same.

Along the middle of the back wall stood a heavy, solid wooden desk, both elegant and fortress-like, Romanesque [medieval], which looked at least a hundred years old, which she used for doing her homework as well as doing her personal writings.

On her bed lay a stuffed doll of a sheep, a gift from her father. The sheep was big and round and cartoonish with white wool. Albeit, on the tag, Umma had drawn the Sign of the Wolf, with vicious pointed teeth and a long tongue. Really, it looked more like a laughing black dog than a proper wolf. Sometimes Umma turned toward the sheep and thought it was making a face based on the lighting in the room.

The only light in the room, other than that from the candles, was provided by a single lamp on her desk. The lamp was incandescent, because fluorescent lighting gave her a stomachache. It had to be incandescent.

Seated at her desk, Umma entertained herself with a dry paintbrush that she kept just for this purpose. She felt the soft bristles on her palms... On the backs of her hands... On her cheeks... On her arms... It was titillating for her, but at the same time, calming, in a meditative sort of way. She made careful not to get it too dirty, because then it would have to be cleaned and then properly dried. She changed out of her school clothes. As she pulled the blouse up, she felt the rough fabric tickle against her nipples, which became erect. She had the beginnings of two small breasts. "I wonder if I should start wearing a bra..." she thought. She slipped her arms into a black hooded jacket, and then zipped up the front. She liked the sound and feeling of the zipper. So she unzipped it and zipped it again. Zip, zip. After she was satisfied with this activity, she got out a dark brown, faux leather book which was marked with a pentagram on the front cover.

[Follow cyclopsgirlbook.tumblr.com for Cyclops Girl novel chapters and commentary.]

She opened it. On the first page, there was written in solid black letters: "If you read this, I'll curse you!" She flipped through to the next blank page for an entry. This was her diary. She wrote about her day, according to her current feelings. This was one of the few times when she wrote in ink. She promised herself that whatever she wrote, she wouldn't erase it. With a black nib pen, she scratched to her heart's content and filled up three pages worth. Then she put the pen down.

She thought about closing the book and putting it away. But then she remembered something someone had told her, someone she called "sensei" [teacher]. If she wrote a diary, she should read back on the old entries from time to time, and compare it to the present. This would put her emotions in perspective. So she flipped back to an entry from three weeks ago. It was her first day of school.

[Follow cyclopsgirlbook.tumblr.com for Cyclops Girl novel chapters and commentary.]

Cyclops Girl, Chapter 2: Week 1, Day 1 of School

Fourth Sign. < FEAR >

American Sign Language. Both hands are splayed across the chest, and the mouth emits a silent scream.

In a large, cold, tiled-floor auditorium gathered an incoming class of 240 students. On a stage stood a woman whose white blouse accomodated six gesticulating arms and from whose matte gray tube skirt extended two hard, chitinous, pointed black legs.

The arachnid woman directed the staff who stood on the auditorium floor, as they worked to corral the incoming students into seating groups based on their gender, size, and body type. She communicated almost without saying a word, relying upon an elaborate system of hand signals that she produced in simultaneous and dextrous sextuple. Perhaps in order to better survey the audience, she occasionally paced upon the stage, and when she did, she walked with finesse, but making distinct clacking sounds as someone wearing stiletto heels, albeit these sounds being made with the ends of her own feet.

(To be continued...)

[Image: Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, illustrated c. 1750 by an unknown artist, now in public domain. From the Osaka City Museum of Fine Arts.]

[Follow cyclopsgirlbook.tumblr.com for Cyclops Girl novel chapters and commentary.]

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lumierebros · 8 years ago

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Movie Buff Questions

1. Favorite action film?

Imogen: Die Hard, Terminator 2

Shakya: The Dark Knight, Terminator, Alien, Ip Man +any Tarantino

2. What movie(s) could you watch over and over and not get tired of?

I: Grease, Inception, Gone Girl, Superbad, Hot Fuzz

S: There Will Be Blood, Deathproof, Grease, Django Unchained, Birdman, Whiplash, plus again, any tarantino let’s put it at that)

3. Any old school favorites (pre-70s)?

I: Rear Window, North By Northwest, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

S: On the Waterfront, Citizen Kane, Rebel Without A Cause, Psycho, A Streetcar Named Desire, Casablanca, Singin In The Rain, Dr Strangelove, 2001, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Apartment, The Graduate, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 12 Angry Men, Ben Hur are allllllllll amazing

4. Top 5 directors?

I: David Fincher, Sofia Coppola, Christopher Nolan, Wes Anderson, Denis Villeneuve

S: Paul Thomas Anderson, Martin Scorsese, Stanley Kubrick, Quentin Tarantino, Coen Brothers, Damien Chazelle/Alejandro G. Iñárritu

5. Favorite dead actor/actress?

I: Grace Kelly, Heath Ledger, Audrey Hepburn, Anton Yelchin

S: Heath Ledger had a lotttt of potential and Brando was great too

6. Favorite movie from the 90’s?

I: Clueless, Fight Club, Seven, Saving Private Ryan, American Beauty

S: Goodfellas, American Beauty, The Big Lebowski, Boogie Nights, The Usual Suspects, Good Will Hunting, Reservoir Dogs, Fargo, Dances With Wolves, Scream, Sister Act, Trainspotting. American History X, Forrest Gump, Casino, Leon, Schindler’s List, Jurassic Park I could go on and on

7. Ever been/are you such a hardcore fan of an actor actress you watched/will watch any movie they were/will be in?

I: James McAvoy

S: Christian Bale, Gary Oldman, Leonardo DiCaprio

8. What movie are you looking forward to coming out the most?

I: Star Wars the Last Jedi, Blade Runner 2049

S: Alien: Covenant, Dunkirk

9. Pixar or Dreamworks?

I: Pixar

S: Pixar, but Dreamworks for Sinbad, Prince of Egypt and Spirit

10. Favorite animated movie?

I: Fantastic Mr Fox

S: Spirit, Fantasia, Ferngully

11. Favorite musical?

I: La La Land, Grease, The Lion King

S: Singin’ In The Rain, Grease, Moulin Rouge, La La Land, Oliver!, The Sound of Music, (does High School Musical count )

12. Are you against book-to-movie adaptations?

I: Nope

S: Noooo

13. Your guilty pleasure movie(s)?

I: The Narnia movies, X-Men Apocalypse, The Proposal

S: Burn After Reading, Snatch, In Bruges + Independence Day, Ace Ventura hahahaha

14. Robin Williams or Eddie Murphy?

I: Robin Williams

S: Robin Williams easily

15. Favorite chick flick?

I: Clueless, Ever After

S: When Harry Met Sally (is that a chick flick or)

16. Ever watched a movie just because you heard the effects were awesome?

I: Star Trek (ending up loving it), Avatar

S: Avatar, Gravity, District 9

17. Favorite indie film?

I: Memento, Lost in Translation, Drive

S: Reservoir Dogs, Drive, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, American History X

18. Favorite movie heroin?

I: Sarah Connor, Princess Leia, Liz Bennet, Lisbeth Salander

S: Ellen Ripley

19. Favorite movie action hero?

I: John McClane, Indiana Jones

S: Jason Bourne, The Terminator (arnie)

20. Ever read a book so you could understand the movie?

I: Gone Girl, The Life of Pi

S: A Clockwork Orange: Watched the movie to understand the book, but never got past the first 20 pages or past the rape scene in the film

21. Favorite kids movie?

I: How To Train Your Dragon, The Parent Trap

S: Space Jammmmmmmmmm

22. Favorite Disney movie?

I: The Beauty and the Beast

S: Snow White (childhood fav)

23. Favorite movie soundtrack?

I: Anything by Hans Zimmer, Howard Shore (LOTR)

S: Anything by Hans Zimmer, Justin Hurwitz and Howard Shore. PLUS Proven Lands - Jonny Greenwood, Dirty Walk and Doors and Distance - Antonio Sanchez, Revenant theme- Ryuichi Sakamoto, Nightcall- Kavinsky, The Child Pt. 1 & 2- Jed Kurzel, any classical pieces in Kubrick films.

24. Movie that makes you cry every time?

I: Atonement, Schindler’s List

S: Schindler’s List, Titanic hehe

25. VHS, DVD, or Blu-ray?

I: I watch my stuff online srry

S: VHS was amazing, we had a massive collection when I was younger. Nowadays I would say Blu-ray purely because of quality. Quality of sound is more important to me though (BOSE!!!).

26. Best experience going to the movies

I: Seeing Star Wars The Force Awakens in Gold Class

S: When my boyfriend randomly picked me up at 10pm to go see Arrival as a surprise because I’d mentioned I wanted to see it once.

27. Top 5 actors?

I: Matthew McConaughey, Christian Bale, Ryan Gosling, Ethan Hawke, Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel Day Lewis, Ewan McGregor plus all the ones Shakya mentions that I don’t mention-- I LOVE EVERYONE

S: Daniel Day Lewis, Leonardo DiCaprio, Kevin Spacey, Robert DeNiro, Jack Nicholson, Gary Oldman, Christian Bale, Ed Norton, Benicio Del Toro, Christoph Waltz, Javier Bardem

28. Top 5 actresses?

I: Amy Adams, Lupita Nyong’o, Viola Davis, Naomie Harris, Felicity Jones, Natalie Portman, Kate Winslet, Brie Larson

S: Natalie Portman, Frances McDormand, Emma Stone, Ellen Page, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Michelle Williams, Kirsten Dunst

29. Movie you completely regret seeing?

I: X- Men The Last Stand

S: 2012, The Accountant, Pacific Rim, Nymphomaniac P1 & 2

30. Movie you wish was never made?

I: X-Men The Last Stand HAHAHA

S: Eragon

31. Movie your parent showed you?

I: The Wizard of Oz, Grease

S: Legit everything, we still have Movie Night every Friday (and we’re not allowed rewatches)

32. Last movie you watched?

I: The English Patient

S: The Apartment

33. An overrated movie?

I: Batman (1989), also agree about The Notebook

S: The Notebook, Super 8, 500 Days of Summer, Brokeback Mountain, Zoolander, Rain Man

34. An underrated movie?

I: Before Sunrise, In Bruges, The Nice Guys

S: Nocturnal Animals, Drive, Snatch, Blood Diamond, Dogma, Biutiful, Tree of Life

35. Favorite comedy movie?

I: Hot Fuzz, Superbad, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Blazing Saddles

S: Burn After Reading, Tropic Thunder, Annie Hall, The Big Lebowski, Wayne’s World, Snatch, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, Borat

36. Movie quote you live by?

I: “I’m so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically, missing.” You know, bc fuck Nick Dunne.

S: There’s not any quote I LIVE by but I do love this scene:

‘Michelangelo? You know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations. Him and the pope. Sexual orientation. The whole works, right? I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seeing that. If I ask you about women, you'll probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more into the breach, dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watch him gasp his last breath lookin' to you for help. If I asked you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feelin' like God put an angel on Earth just for you, who could rescue you from the depths of hell.’

37. Movie quote that will always make you laugh?

I: “Where the white women at?”

S: ‘I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!’ ‘You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?’ -long pause- ‘No!’

‘Shut the fuck up fat man this ain’t none of your goddamn business’

‘I have uh..uh.. lactose reflux’ ‘You’re lactose intolerant or you have acid reflux? They’re different things’

‘A shootout is a fucking shootout!!....Like a Western’

‘You think that’s a Schwiiiiiin’

‘I eat the Canadian? I don’t know what you’re talking about’

‘I don’t read the script, the script reads me’ ‘What the hell does that even mean??’

‘oh nothing Tommy, it’s….tip-top, it’s just i’m not sure about the colour’

All the other quotes I find funny are completely random movie quotes that my family has just turned into a joke and that we can easily incorporate into conversation e.g. ‘whadaya gonna do ranger rick, shoot me?’ ‘I could do that’, ‘you sir, too sir’, ‘I don’t want Nenat’, ‘I drive’, ‘you want uhhh money or something’, ‘yeah i like dags’, ‘there is no spoon’ ETC you get the point

38. Film(s) you’ve watched on a date?

I: Any action/superhero movie that has come out recently.

S: The Conjuring 2, La La Land, Arrival, Sausage Party, The Accountant (bf loves accounting but it was shit), Fantastic Beasts, Captain America: Civil War, Shine (anniversary reshow with Geoffrey Rush doing a q&a after teehee), Nocturnal Animals, Suicide Squad, Moonlight, Sully, War Dogs, Jason Bourne, heaps more that I can’t remember

39. Favorite cult film?

I: Pulp Fiction, Fight Club

S: The Big Lebowski, Taxi Driver, Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction

40. Directors you’d like to see work together?

I: David Fincher and Denis Villeneuve could be interesting

S: Coen brothers and Guy Ritchie would be fkn awesome OR Coens and Tarantino would be screenplay heaven

41. Actors you’d like to see work together?

I: Felicity Jones and Oscar Isaac (can you imagine the chemistry)

S: Miles Teller and Emma Watson ;---)

42. Films you wanted to watch, but never got around to watching?

I: American History X, 28 Days Later

S: Amadeus, The Deer Hunter

43. Favorite teen movie?

I: Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, Fast Times at Ridgemont High

S: Juno, Grease, The Breakfast Club, Rebel Without A Cause

44. Top 5 favorite films?

I: American Psycho, Her, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Seven, Inception, There Will Be Blood, Inglourious Basterds, LOTR, No Country For Old Men ARGH SO MANY

S: There Will Be Blood (no. 1 fav), Good Will Hunting, No Country For Old Men, Raging Bull, Fargo, The Dark Knight, Goodfellas, LOTR, American Psycho, Deathproof, Tree of Life, The Usual Suspects, So many so many.

45. Favorite superhero film?

I: Logan, X-Men Days of Future Past, The Dark Knight

S: The Dark Knight, The Incredibles

46. Favorite cop film?

I: 21 Jump Street, Hot Fuzz, The Departed

S: Reservoir Dogs, Fargo, Seven, Mystic River, The Departed, Silence Of The Lambs

47. Favorite road trip film?

I: Fear and Loathing Las Vegas

S: Borat HHAHAHAH

48. A disappointing film from your favorite actor?

I: Pick any rom-com of Matthew McConaughey’s

S: Jack Nicholson in The Bucket List and Anger Management. So fucking bad. Good actor, shit movies.

49. A disappointing film from your favorite director?

I: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

S: The Lovely Bones, Only God Forgives

50. The first movie you ever remember watching in theaters?

I: I don’t remember any, but the first film I saw was A Bug’s Life

S: I genuinely have no idea

51. A movie that was better than the book?

I: The Shining (lmao bc Stephen King hates the movie)

S: Yeah The Shining and There Will Be Blood (based on Oil! which was beautifully written but nothing beats PTA’s adaption)

52. Vin Diesel or Bruce Willis?

I: Vin Diesel is so cute but I like Bruce better

S: it’s not a motorcycle baby it’s a chopper

53. A movie that not many have heard of that you’ve seen?

I: Hunt For the Wilderpeople

S: Vampire’s Kiss, Children of Men, Ip Man (VERY good foreign film), Dr Strangelove, Inherent Vice, Shame, Biutiful, Macbeth, Cool Hand Luke, Room In Rome, To Sir With Love

54. A movie that changed the way you view the world?

I: To Kill a Mockingbird

S: American History X

55. Favorite sci-fi movie?

I: Star Wars, Star Trek, Interstellar, Arrival, Gattaca

S: Alien, Predator, The Thing, Interstellar, Arrival, Terminator, 2001, Matrix, The Fifth Element, E.T

56. Movie you completely nerd-out over every time it’s mentioned?

I: X-Men, Star Wars, LOTR

S: LOTR obviously

57. Movie that you’ve seen all the behind-the-scenes action for?

I: Inception

S: LOTR again, hours on end of it omf

58. Movie where your favorite actor was the only good part?

I: Natalie Portman and Ewan McGregor in the Star Wars prequels

S: Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries

59. Movie from an actor you hate that was better than you expected?

I: Kristen Stewart (Adventureland), but I don’t hate her at all, I was just surprised at her performance.

S: Mo’Nique in Precious, never hated her, she’s brilliant, it was the first performance I’ve seen of hers and it made me despise her character so much. SO GOOD but so awful.

60. Most visually stunning movie you’ve seen?

I: The Revenant

S: Tree of Life, 2001, The Revenant, Apocalypse Now, The Master, Interstellar, LOTR, Jurassic Park

61. A movie your parents introduced you to?

I: The Wizard of Oz, Life is Beautiful, Grease

S: Hahahaha basically every movie no joke, but my dad showed me lots of Chaplin

62. Favorite genre?

I: Thriller/crime/mystery/suspense

S: Drama, gangster movies, thrillers/horror/psychological thriller/horror you get the jist

63. Least favorite genre?

I: Romantic comedies

S: Romcoms or superhero movies (not including tdk)

64. Comedy movie that you didn’t find funny?

I: Sausage Party

S: How to be single, Anchorman, Sausage Party

65. Horror movie that didn’t scare you?

I: The Conjuring, Paranormal Activity

S: Insidious just so bad, The Exorcist, The Shining, Rosemary’s Baby, Let The Right One In (Swedish version NOT American Let Me In). None are terrifying, just extremely unsettling and disturbing

66. Favorite remake of an old movie?

I: The Departed, True Grit

S: True Grit, The Thing, Scarface, The Departed

67. A movie that started a passion for you?

I: Her. The first “good” movie I watched that got me into film culture.

S: Well I was brought up with hundreds of great movies from my childhood which made me love film as a child, but standout ones from my childhood I can remember especially well are LOTR, Spirit, Fantasia, all very music based films too

68. A movie that sparked an interesting conversation?

I: Interstellar (about time, paradoxes, and space)

S: Donnie Darko, No Country For Old Men, Psycho, The Usual Suspects, 2001, Whiplash -- all have brilliant final scenes, Split: my bro and I spent an hour talking about what makes a good movie and why it was so bad

69. The main movie you remember from your childhood?

I: Grease… slightly inappropriate for a kid but most of the adult stuff went over my head anyway

S: Lord Of The Rings of course, first full length film I was shown and Neverending Story is another one I remember well.

70. The first movie you saw on it’s opening night?

I: Star Wars The Force Awakens

S: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows P1 and P2, La La Land

71. A move that made you ache for love.

I: Before Sunrise

S: Blue Valentine

72. Favourite foreign film/s?

S: Let The Right One In, Life Is Beautiful, Cinema Paradiso, Ip Man, City of God, Pan’s Labyrinth, REC, Biutiful

73. Favourite horror film/s?

S: The Shining, The Exorcist, Rosemary’s Baby, Carrie, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw, Psycho, REC.

#q #lumierebros #questions #sorry for long post

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mldrgrl · 8 years ago

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Bang Bang, My Baby Shot Me Down

by mldrgrl Rated: PG Summary: Post-Tithonus. Mulder makes a confession that Scully can’t agree with and ends up getting herself (more) hurt in the process.

She tried very hard not to resent his hovering, but it was a difficult task. She was grateful, truly grateful to him for staying in New York and for driving her back home as soon as she could get herself released. Though her relationship with Mulder had some ups and downs lately, she had felt, at the time, that allowing him to escort her back to DC was an easier option than calling her mother. At least she could bid Mulder adieu at her door, or so she thought.

Displaying more stubbornness than usual, Mulder insisted on seeing her comfortably ensconced in her apartment, which meant not just bringing her, and her bag, inside, but changing her sheets, getting her videos from Blockbuster, books to read, and groceries. She let him run all the errands he could think of because at least it got him out from underfoot. She just wanted to be alone with her pain and not have to pretend to be fine for anyone. Pretense was exhausting.

One of the more frustrating aspects of the nature of her gunshot wound was that no matter which way she turned, sat, lay, or breathed, she always felt a slight burning in her abdomen. Even if she was making a remarkably speedy recovery, something the doctors attributed to her overall health and fitness, it didn’t mean the healing was easy. Alone, she would’ve felt free to give in to the need to groan or curse in frustration. With Mulder there, she had to hide her grimaces. The smallest squeak and he was by her side asking if she was all right and what he could do.

She had been laying in bed for over an hour, propped up slightly by a pillow and lightly dozing. All that morning, whenever she sat up or stood up, a hot and cold flush would wash over her and she’d sway slightly with the feeling of being faint. It was an aftereffect of the blood loss, she knew, but the little pauses she took to collect herself had kept Mulder on her like a barnacle since she’d woken up and found him making oatmeal in her kitchen. She finally escaped him by feigning the need for a nap, which turned out to be the truth.

She heard the shuffle of Mulder’s feet outside her bedroom door, but she didn’t open her eyes. The door, which she kept ajar at his insistence, eked open and she felt his presence in her room. He whispered her name and she sighed, but kept her eyes closed.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Just wondering what kind of soup you want for lunch.”

“Go away, Mulder.”

“The doctor said you-”

“I don’t care what the doctor said,” she snapped and opened her eyes, annoyed and feeling smothered. “Why won’t you just go home?”

“I took the hippocratic oath before we left New York and it compels me to stay.”

“Well, I release you of your self-imposed indentured servitude.”

“I can’t do that, Scully.”

She sighed in exasperation and pushed herself up, gritting her teeth against the flare of throbbing pain it caused in her abdomen. The icy hot chill ran up her spine and a sheen of sweat instantly bloomed across her chest, making her flannel shirt stick to her skin slightly. She sucked in a breath as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and Mulder put his hands on her knees as though she might fall. She flung his hands away from her and he stumbled back with a look of shock on his face.

“Go home,” she growled.

“Scully, you need-”

“What I need is for you to leave me alone.” Her stomach began to burn with nausea and she swallowed hard to keep it down. “You’re not responsible for what happened, so just quit it with the guilt complex and go home. I’ll be fine. What I don’t need is this...this hovering and smothering and...and whatever it is that you’re doing here. I can take care of myself.”

Mulder blinked a few times and pursed his lips. She blew out a shaky breath and bent her head a little. Her muscles ached terribly and she had to slap a hand over her mouth as she felt the burn of bile rising from her gut to her throat.

With lightning reflexes, Mulder grabbed the wicker trash can that was at the side of her bed and held it up under her face. It took a few moments, but she finally shook her head and pushed his arm away. Her lips were wet from the pressure of her hand and she wiped them with her sleeve. Her shoulders tensed when Mulder tried to put a hand on her back.

“Go,” she whispered.

“This isn’t about guilt,” he said.

“I don’t care what it’s about. I don’t want you here.”

“I won’t think less of you for needing-”

“Dammit, Mulder, what I need is for you to get the hell out!” she exploded. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

Her outburst caused another flash of heat to rush through her, this time from her toes to her scalp. Prickles of sweat dotted her hairline and the skin under her eyes and above her lip and the back of her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was making herself worse, but if only Mulder would just leave, she could deal with it. It was her pain to deal with, and hers alone.

“You’re in pain,” Mulder said.

“Well thank you, Dr. Mulder, for stating the obvious. It’s called getting shot. It’s also called recovery, something I’m perfectly capable of achieving on my own.”

“Jesus, Scully, is that what this is about?” He tried to put a hand on her shoulder again, but she shrugged him off. She was too hot and it hurt too much for him to touch her. He backed away from her and clenched his fists at his sides. His posture was rigid.

“Go,” she said.

“No.”

“Go!”

“You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with,” he shouted at her. “It’s not fair, but you don’t! When you’re in pain, I’m in pain. I just want to help. Dammit, Scully, I just want to make you soup, because there’s nothing else I can do!”

She gaped at him. He paced away from her and threw up his hands in the annoyed, dismissive manner he had a habit of doing when she refuted one of his outlandish theories.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said. “It shouldn’t come as such a shock, and it’s not the point.”

“Now you want to tell me how I should feel?”

This time is was Mulder that gaped. He stared at her for a long while and then his mouth snapped shut and his jaw clenched. He turned, but paused in her doorway. They were both still and silent for a long stretch of time. Without looking at her, he broke that silence with a hushed and strained voice.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, and then he lowered his head and chuckled. “I guess I’ll see you when you’re cleared for desk duty.”

After he walked away, she waited until she heard the front door open and close before she slid off the bed and stood on shaky legs. The nerve of him for dropping a bomb on her like that at a time when she couldn’t fight back. She was angry. So angry.

If he had told her he loved her, she could handle that. She could roll her eyes and forgive him for being his typical jackass self. But, what did he know about being in love with someone? How could he say that to her? It was cruel and it was unfair. If it was a fight he was looking for, she was too weak to argue. Honestly, how dare he?

She slowly made her way to the kitchen, taking light, easy steps. A hand on the wall or the furniture helped. On the counter was six different kinds of canned soup, two bowls, and two spoons. A can opener sat on top of the can of chicken noodle. She knocked it off and it landed in the sink with a clatter. There was a slip of paper behind the cans, a list of some sort in Mulder’s handwriting. She picked it up.

Softer pillow for the couch That removable handle thing for the shower from that infomercial Those girly sponges with the soap inside - the mall body shop? Water bottles More gauze and tape? Relaxation CD (Enya?) Decaf coffee Anti-itch stuff

“God dammit,” she muttered, crumpling the list in her hand and hurling it across the counter.

With slow, calculated steps, she made her way to the living room and eased herself down onto the couch. There was a stack of Blockbuster videos on her coffee table and she studied the eclectic choices from afar. L.A. Confidential. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Die Hard. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Dr. No. The Neverending Story. The Swiss Family Robinson.

Her brow furrowed with puzzlement. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the choices Mulder made. When it dawned on her, she closed her eyes and bit her lip. Nothing in that group was liable to make her laugh or cry.

So what? So what if he did all these thoughtful things for the first time in six years. Okay, that wasn’t true, he’d done a lot of thoughtful things for her in six years, but none of it meant he was in love with her. In love meant...in love meant...she didn’t know what in love meant. Certainly, that couldn’t be true. It might have been awhile, but she knew what being in love was like.

She thought back on her past and tried to recall the way she had felt about Jack and Daniel. Daniel had captivated her and thrilled her with his want for her; it was the first time she’d ever experienced being pursued so passionately. He was the first man to call her beautiful and to make her feel like her intelligence was something to be desired. She’d been in awe of his confidence and his brilliance. She did love him, but she also had to admit to herself that he also left her feeling unnerved most of the time. He could be belittling and controlling and when they disagreed, she often felt reduced to that of a teenager with a hopeless schoolgirl crush. Quite often, it seemed like he was trying to convince her that she should consider herself lucky to have caught his eye.

The enthrallment with Daniel dissipated and it soon became clear she was just the other woman. He was living a double life and she was a burden to him. When she’d tried to walk away, he’d told her he would leave his wife and child for her. That had caught her off guard and she did give the notion serious consideration. She tried to see her future as his wife and all she could envision was heartache.

When Jack entered her life, she was initially reticent about her feelings for him. He was yet another older and wiser teacher figure that she grew enamored of. She admired his passion and dedication to justice. When he spoke about making the world safer and making a difference, it moved her, inspired her, and she felt a great connection with him. His lofty, selfless ideals made him irresistibly attractive to her and in the end, she did the pursuing.

Because the affair with Daniel had left her feeling young and naive, she felt like an adult for the first time when she was with Jack. She had far more control in that relationship than with Daniel. It didn’t take long for her to realize the reason she played a dominant role was because the only thing Jack was truly passionate about was his work, not her. He wasn’t giving her independence, he just never really cared enough about her to require her presence. When she finally left, she wasn’t quite sure he really noticed.

Those were the two men in her life that she’d been the closest to being in love with, but she couldn’t conjure up the feelings she’d had past mere infatuation. The difficulties in the end overshadowed whatever else had been there.

She had no idea how to define her feelings for Mulder. Yes, she did love him. They were too close and had been through too much together for her not to feel some sort of love for him. He certainly had a combination of the qualities Jack and Daniel had that had initially enchanted her, but that she wasn’t so foolish to fall for again. He was brilliant and passionate and confident and dedicated. But, he was also narrow-minded, moody, unpredictable, and needy.

The nature of their relationship was not what she wanted to be thinking about with an aching gut and lethargic body. She should be focusing on putting mind over matter and convincing herself that the pain was a necessary, temporary evil that she could work through. Angry, she pushed herself up from the couch, got caught up in the blanket that fell at her feet in her rage, and hit the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table as she went down.

For just a moment, there was no discomfort, only the shock of the fall, and then a sharp, blinding pain exploded from her abdomen and radiated outward. She moaned in agony, couldn’t stop herself from clutching at her stomach as though the press of her hands could stop it, but it made it worse. She felt wet and didn’t know if it was from sweat or blood, terrified she’d ripped her stitches, but unable to lift her head to check.

Her arm was about the only thing she could lift and her fingers fumbled for purchase on the coffee table. By some miracle, her cell phone was the first thing in reach and she clutched it gratefully and hit speed dial number one. It rang for an unusually long amount of time before Mulder picked up. The tone in his voice was flat when he said his name. She swallowed the pain and tried not to sound as breathless as she felt.

“Come back,” she said.

“What do you need?” he asked.

She licked her lips and breathed through her nose. “I need you to please come back.”

“Why?”

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” Obviously it was a lie, she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t even get off the floor, but she knew if she threatened to do something dangerous and stupid, he would stop her at all costs.

“I’ll be right there.”

The click of disconnection was loud in her ear. She figured she had twenty to thirty minutes, tops, to try not to look so helpless. Tears burned at her eyes and slid hotly down her temples and she angrily wiped them away, but they kept up a steady stream. It was ridiculous. She didn’t even cry when she’d been shot, yet there she was, lying on her floor feeling sorry for herself and crying. She needed to pull herself together before Mulder got there to preserve at least some of her dignity.

The sound of locks turning startled her and she heard her front door swing open while Mulder softly called her name. She wiped at her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the pitiful sniffle that drew him to her.

“Scully!”

“I’m fine,” she said, automatically.

He crouched beside her and shoved the coffee table out of the way. “You are not fine. What happened?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You called me.”

“I know, but you left at least half an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “I was sitting in my car.”

“Doing what?”

“Thinking.”

“I tripped,” she whispered, and her chin wobbled as a fresh wave of emotion came over her.

He slid his hand under her neck and lifted her head gently to slip one of her throw pillows underneath and then wiped her temples with the side of his hand after he laid her down. “Should I call an ambulance?” he asked.

She shook her head, but then her eyes flicked down to her abdomen. “I don’t know if I ripped a stitch.”

“Do you want me to check?”

“Could you?”

“Okay.” He started to unbutton her flannel shirt at the bottom, working his way up just enough to expose her wound.

She watched his face until she felt his fingers lightly trace the square area of surgical tape holding down the gauze covering her wound. She didn’t see any blood, which was a good sign. He was going to need to pull the tape off though so they could determine if there was any damage. She closed her eyes.

“Just...peel from the top down,” she said.

“Okay.”

He put one hand on her ribs, above her wound and just below her breast. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to steady himself or her. She bit her lip when he started to peel the tape back. It didn’t hurt much more than she already was hurting, but it did slightly elevate the aggravation.

“Looks fine,” he said. “I think.”

She opened her eyes inspected the site. The stitches were intact and aside from the same normal redness and swelling, it looked okay. She nodded in agreement and closed her eyes again.

“Do I need to get a new bandage?” he asked.

“In the bathroom.”

He left her and then returned with the package of gauze, tape, and scissors that were given to her at the hospital. He’d also pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the box she’d put out with the supplies. They were sized for her hands and would never fit him.

“Let me,” she said, taking the gloves from him as he knelt beside her. He gave them up wordlessly and after she snapped them on, gave her the package of gauze. She plucked out one of the sheets and folded it into a small square. “Could you cut the tape?” she asked.

She held the gauze lightly over her wound as Mulder cut strips of tape and gently affixed them to her skin. She peeled the gloves off when he was done and he buttoned her shirt back down before he took the supplies back to the bathroom. He crouched down next to her again when he came back and looked her over.

“Would you like to get off the floor?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I don’t know.”

He rubbed his hand across his chin a few times and then got down on his hands and knees. She watched him as he crawled over her at an angle, one hand between her hip and the couch and the other up high by her opposite shoulder. He leaned down so their noses were almost touching and her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“Can you put her arms around me?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He nodded and then angled his head to the side and lowered himself down even further to his elbow. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and he slid his arm under her thighs.

“I’m gonna lift you up,” he said. “Just stay relaxed, but keep your arms locked.”

She nodded against his cheek and he slowly tilted his upper body so that hers rose up with his. When she was nearly sitting up, he wrapped his arm around her back and paused. She nodded against his cheek again to let him know she was alright, and then he rearranged himself to get up on his knees and lift her up into his arms.

“Okay?” he asked once he was completely on his feet.

“I’m okay.” Her face was pressed against his neck where her arms were locked tight. Her upper body was erect and slightly angled into him, but it was comfortable and less painful than having been sprawled out on the floor.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked.

“Back to bed.”

He walked slowly to her bedroom, careful not to jostle her and overly cautious about moving her through the narrow hall and doorway so they wouldn’t accidentally bump a wall. He eased her onto the bed and lowered her in much the same way he’d lifted her, slowly and in stages, moving with her so that he was doing all the work. Once he let go of her, he stood back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I can call your mother,” he said. “Someone should be here in case…”

She gave him a slight nod. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll stay until she gets here. I’ll just...I’ll be in the other room.”

“Mulder.”

“What?”

“I need you to know that I don’t think I’m in the same place that you are.”

He dropped his head and looked uncomfortable. “Just forget about it, Scully. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I don’t want to forget about it. I want to know how you’re sure that what you feel is really what you think it is.”

“You think I wouldn’t know?”

“I think it could be mistaken. I think I’ve been mistaken in the past and I...I’m not sure I would know what it felt like. So, I’m asking because I just don’t know. I just...don’t know.”

“Oh.” He looked a little surprised at that and moved one of his hands out of his pockets to rub the back of his head. “You’re the first thing I think about in the morning. As I’m getting ready for work I’m usually wondering what kind of mood you’ll be in, if I should get you coffee, what you’ll be wearing, if you’ll have a different haircut from the day before, if you’ll have finally forgotten to cover the mole above your lip, stupid things like that. If I get a new case before I see you, I wonder what you’ll think before I try to determine what I think. When I go home at night, I think of excuses to call you because I miss your voice even though we only said goodbye an hour before. When the call came through that an agent had been shot, and that it was you, I don’t even remember driving to New York, I only remember needing to be there and needing you to be okay. Maybe I am mistaking it for something else, but it feels real to me.”

All the things he said had definitely not existed in her past relationships. She was surprised by most of it, because she was never made to feel like a priority to him, and she didn’t mean that negatively. He’d hidden his feelings very well, but she would admit that it felt genuine.

“There are other thoughts too,” he said. “Ones I can’t say because they’d just embarrass us both and would probably get me fired.”

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she lowered her eyes a bit. Of course attraction played an important part of being in love, and even with all Mulder’s flirtatious banter, it never crossed her mind that he might actually find her attractive. Not in the way that someone in love would feel.

“Say something, Scully, you’re making me nervous.”

“I had no idea.”

“None?”

“Not even a little.”

“Either I’m the world’s biggest idiot or you need to quit your day job. And I think we both know you’re the best thing the FBI has to offer.”

“You know I’m not very good at needing people.”

“You don’t say?” He smiled at her and she gave him a small smile in return.

“I can’t really claim to have the same perspective. It’s different for me. I think I need time to examine my own thoughts before I can come to a conclusion.”

“That’s what you do best.”

She reached her hand out to him and he took a step forward, but didn’t slip his fingers into hers. He took her wrist instead and moved her hand back down to the bed. He brushed his thumb along hers once and then stepped back again.

“I’ll go call your mom,” he said.

“Before you do that, would you think i was taking advantage of you if I asked you to make me some soup?”

“Scully, you know you could take advantage of me six ways from Sunday any time, any place.” He grinned and it earned him an eye roll. “Yes, I’ll make you soup. Which one do you want?”

“Chicken and rice?”

“Coming right up.”

She watched him leave with a bit of sadness. She wanted to be in the same place Mulder was and feel those things he felt. When she’d said to him that she was bad at needing people, what she really meant was that she wasn’t sure if she was capable of sharing herself with someone. She was too damn independent for her own good. She didn’t know what it was going to take, but she wanted to love him the way that he loved her. It didn’t sound like much, but letting him make her soup was a start.

The End

#xf fanfic #i wrote this #angst with a side of angst #the title has nothing to do with the song #mulder #scully

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