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stereogeekspodcast · 4 months ago

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[Transcript] Season 4, Episode 9. Anne Rice's Interview With the Vampire

One of the best shows on television right now is Interview With the Vampire. The Stereo Geeks review the first two seasons and share their hopes for season 3. Spoilers ahead

Listen to the episode on Spotify.

Ron: Hello and welcome to a new episode of Stereo Geeks. Today we’re reviewing Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire.

I’m Ron.

Mon: And I’m Mon.

Ron: We will be discussing both seasons of Interview with the Vampire so beware of spoilers.

Mon: We have a long connection with the Vampire Chronicles. We heard about them when we became fans of the Aussie band Savage Garden, their name was taken from this series. We decided to give the first book a read and even watched the rightfully panned film adaptation. I’ve gone on to read several more of the books.

Ron: I did learn from my WWAC colleagues that the movie was a box office success in North America. That’s not what we heard in our part of the world!

Mon: Oh interesting. Let’s call it a critical failure then.

The books are an… acquired taste. They’ve certainly gone places–they’re weird, and sometimes problematic, but the appeal, for the few of us who’ve read them, has been the expansive, complicated world filled with characters who are not defined by labels.

When I heard they were adapting the series into a TV show, I’ll admit, I was concerned. What exactly would they adapt? It’s easy to fall into the traps and tropes of a vampire story featuring two male, immortal leads–the film is there as proof. Would the show head the same way?

Season 1 thoughts

Mon: I started watching the first season from a hyper-critical point of view. I was so immersed in everything that I thought I didn’t like that I clean forgot to enjoy the first few episodes.

In fact, I didn’t relax until you started watching it, Ron. And then I saw the show from a completely different angle–this is not a show that cares about your comfort. It’s a show about larger-than-life, extraordinary characters desperately trying to be normal. But what is normal when you’re an ancient vampire?

Ron: What made you so tense about the show? I remember asking you if I should watch it and you were so unsure!

Mon: The violence, gore, and depravity–these are not stylistic elements that I like to engage in in my entertainment, and Interview has a lot of that. So, I convinced myself that I didn’t like this show. It was a guilty watch, and maybe a guilty pleasure. But I was wrong–it’s not a guilty anything, it’s art; it’s storytelling. Interview is very direct about the pain and suffering these characters face and cause. This show made me realize something about myself, I don’t like being uncomfortable, and these characters make you uncomfortable. Deal with it. And now I’m ok enough to deal with it that we’re doing a whole episode on the show.

Ron: Okay wow. I also don’t like being uncomfortable or cringey but those were the exact elements that took this show through the stratosphere for me. I loved the first season. I didn’t know what to expect from it but it was a fascinating character study, and an examination of relationships. It wasn’t afraid of being camp and queer because that’s what the people of the time didn’t want to see but Louis and Lestat were shoving the campness in their faces. And it really leaned into the unbearable discomfort of unhappy relationships.

Ron: The race swap for Louis de Pointe du Lac, played by Jacob Anderson, was a stroke of genius. As was setting the start of the story in the early 1900s. It really complicates the story world and Louis’ relationship with Lestat de Lioncourt, played by Sam Reid.

Mon: You never know what brilliance will emerge from one change, but race-swapping Louis gives the show, at least in the first season, a whole new dynamic. I wrote about why this change elevated the story at Collider.com. We’ve linked to the piece in our show notes.

Ron: Season 1 took us into Louis’ world. He’s a Black man making his way in a New Orleans that is very white and segregated. He’s still treated like a second class citizen even by the people who are regular patrons at his establishment. But among his own people, he’s terrified of being his true queer self. Lestat gave him a way to transcend the social norms of heterosexuality and race. But then Lestat is the one who becomes such a danger to Louis. We get a few episodes of the two of them just being happy together and then when they find Claudia, played by Bailey Bass in season 1, they’re this happy little family. Of course everything goes to hell. And so much of that is down to the toxic dynamic between Lestat, Louis and Claudia.

Mon: The main reason the raceswap works, along with setting the story during the Jim Crow era, is that it becomes more than just a vampire story. Now it’s a story about race and discrimination, retribution and justice. Louis is white in the books, has plantation connections, which means he would have had slaves. Even if it was never addressed in the show, how much would we like, let alone, love him, in the show?

Ron: I’m going to interject here to recommend a very good YouTube video by Princess Weekes about the numerous confederate vampire stories out there. We’ll link to it in the show notes.

Mon: My favourite thing about the raceswap is that it gives new meaning to Louis and Lestat’s relationship. Suddenly the story isn’t just about lust and longing, it’s about saving and belonging.

Ron: I am very impressed by the direction they went with for Daniel Molloy, played by Eric Bogosian. He is not afraid to call Louis out for creating this fantasy version of Lestat in his head for his memoirs. He’s also the one who puts into words that Louis and Lestat’s relationship was abusive.

Mon: The role of the interviewer in a story can be such a thankless and boring choice for an actor, and yet, Daniel Molloy, is as much a character in the story as Louis and the rest of the vampires. I was initially concerned with the choice to age-up Daniel that much, but there’s a whole new dimension to his and Louis’ interactions knowing that this is part 2 of their interview, and not their first meeting.

Ron: Speaking of the change to Daniel, I haven’t read the books. How faithful is this series to the books you read?

Mon: The show differs from the books quite a bit. Daniel being older is one thing, and this is, essentially, a re-write of how Louis told his story before.

Claudia having a two-season arc is only possible because they fill out her role so much. And it’s for the better as well. I don’t remember Antoinette in the books–Lestat did not have a romantic paramour to make Louis jealous, not one I recall, anyway. He was just mean. The timelines are off, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s hard to keep track of where I am in the adaptation. It’s small fry. The creators are using beats from the books to tell their story, not necessarily the same story as the books.

Ron: So things like that reveal in the season 1 finale with Louis declaring Armand, his greatest love. That wasn’t in the movie so it was a surprise that got me. Especially since Armand, played by Assad Zaman, had been pretending to be Louis’ housekeeper Rashid all season. What a way to get us excited for season two.

Mon: I loved that reveal. Did not see it coming. And I especially like that we get a Spaniard of Indian origin. Europeans of colour do not often show up on screen in a significant way. And it made perfect sense too–because, in the books, Louis and Armand are together.

Season 2 thoughts

Ron: The second season has a very different tone and style than season 1. It’s very focused on the Théâtre des Vampires and there are extensive scenes of the rehearsals and plays the vampires put on. There’s a lot we see of a new character, Santiago, who is played by Ben Daniels.

Mon: Yeah, Season 2 is vicious, and stressful. This show does not ease up. And the tensions within tensions of who’s playing whom are diabolical. Plus, the threads that Daniel, and the viewer, keep trying to pull at about Louis’ story and Armand’s hand in everything that happened to Claudia make this riveting viewing.

Mon: I don’t remember the Théâtre des Vampires having such a large role in the books, it was probably just one section. This is a significant change in the show, but gives Louis and Claudia the screen time needed to develop their relationship, not to mention we get to see Louis and Armand’s romance grow.

For some reason, I can’t remember Santiago from the books, even though I know he plays an important part in the story. I’ve just blanked him out. The show’s version is super memorable though.

Ron: The expanded world of vampires that we’re introduced to is interesting and grotesque. The first few episodes see Louis and Claudia travelling Europe during World War II looking for vampires and instead they keep running into the worst of humanity, because you know, war. And when they finally meet vampires in Romania, it’s an absolute horror show. They’re starved and near death and being led by this vampire who’s too old and too frail. It’s only in France that the coven finds them and for Claudia especially, this is such an amazing experience because she gets to be with vampires who aren’t abusive, like Lestat, or monsters, like Bruce from season one. But that doesn’t pan out either! By the end of season 2, the vampires are openly admitting to their monstrousness, but it’s just so unfair to Claudia, who got to see so little good in her human and vampiric life.

Mon: See, this is why I’m so glad you decided to watch the show despite my apprehension. You’re watching this like a character study, which is exactly what it is. I don’t know what I was doing, but I’m so glad I get to chat with you about this show.

Ron: Gee thanks. I’m super surprised by your apprehension. We’ve had such a long association with this story that I honestly couldn’t wait to see it. I didn’t expect it to be a character study but from the moment Louis appeared on screen, I knew this wasn’t going to be a salacious, surface-level plot about vampires killing people.

Ron: The first season was really a study of the three main characters and their dynamic. In the second season there isn’t as much Louis but the world became so much richer, that I didn’t mind it as much. Lestat spends most of this season as Dreamstat, this idealized version of the real person in Louis’ head.

Mon: Dreamstat is a cool nickname.

Ron: I can’t take credit; the internet named him that.

Mon: Funny that you felt there wasn’t enough Louis in Season 2. I was surprised at how little Lestat there was. It makes sense, of course, the first book doesn’t have much Lestat, but I didn’t think the show would sideline the main white guy. I’m very cynical. But Lestat taking a step back meant Claudia and Armand took centre stage, and I’m all for that.

Ron: Delainey Hayles takes over as Claudia in the second season. Excellent choice. The casting change felt surprisingly seamless for me.

Mon: Absolutely seamless casting. She matched Bass’s energy, but brought so much more anger and pathos. Plus, she spouted so much dialogue in so many different languages.

Ron: Hayles managed to follow in Bass’ footsteps while making the role completely her own. Her screen time is expanded this season and that is for the betterment of the show. We get a proper sense of just how hard it is to be her, a grown woman trapped in the body of a child for all eternity. What was essentially a selfless act to save a child’s life has turned into a cruel and selfish decision that Louis and Lestat made on Claudia’s behalf.

Acting

Ron: Jacob Anderson is remarkable. I love watching him. He’s so expressive but knows when to hold back. That scene in the 70s when he’s absolutely tearing into Armand, calling him boring, all while this fake blood is plastered on his face, it was so incredible to watch. The loving father-daughter bond between Louis and Claudia, Anderson absolutely sells it. In season two they’re more brother and sister because of Claudia’s insistence on it but one can see that Louis loves her like a daughter. And yet! Louis struggles to deal with the harsher side of being a parent. Learning the truth about what Bruce did to Claudia, Louis sits in his coffin and cries quietly. And the whole time I’m yelling to the screen, to Louis, to go and hug his child.

Mon: BT dubs, there’s no Bruce in the books.

Ron: Oh interesting.

That final two-parter in season 2 when Lestat finally admits to having hurt Louis, and his apology, Anderson’s acting was sublime. Without a single word, just with his expressions, he tells the audience how little he thinks of Lestat’s apology. It’s a masterpiece.

Mon: He’s stellar. Where’s he been all this time?

Let’s talk about Assad Zaman as well. He’s British of Bangladeshi origin. In Interview, we learn that Armand was originally Arun from India (which Bangladesh would have been part of during that period), sold to slavery and taken to Spain, where Marius found him, renamed him Amadeo, and then turned him into a vampire. He’s so good at playing this tragic character, a reluctant hero and leader, but also so devious. I’m just floored by the layers of his performance. He can convey so much by just sitting in place with his head cocked to one side.

Ron: Assad was a delight to watch. Even with those contact lenses, you could always tell when Armand was being his true self, when he was hiding something, and when he was truly sorry about something that had gone down. I’m so glad he got such a large role here. It made up for the lack of Lestat.

Mon: And let’s not forget the Brat Prince himself, Lestat. Sam Reid is so good at stepping away from the spotlight and then stealing it when needed. He plays Lestat’s narcissism so well; he’s cruel and mean and yet he knows how to convey his heart break. In Season 2, he has so little to do and yet he commands the camera so well.

Ron: I did not know Lestat was called the Brat Prince. What a hilarious name. I feel like Sam Reid had a really tough task. Tom Cruise has such a massive fan base and people still love his Lestat. Even Stuart Townsend got some fans for his performance. But Reid makes Lestat his own. It helps that he has insane chemistry with Jacob Anderson. Their Louis and Lestat are very believable as a couple. Reid does a good job of playing up the charm when Lestat wants something, and he’s downright terrifying when things aren’t going his way. But I like that he can still bring pathos to Lestat. He’s not just over the top—Lestat is trying to live his best life when he no longer understands what living is meant to be. What’s life to an immortal? And somehow Reid manages to make that a relevant existential question for us mortals.

Ron: Both Bass and Hayles were excellent as Claudia but Hayles got to be a lot of different versions of Claudia. Hayles brings a great deal of rage and frustration to Claudia because she is so much older by season 2, yet she’s still being treated like a child. And that awful show she has to put on for the theatre. I love how committed the actors are to these characters and this story because, after all, vampires aren’t real, and immortality isn’t a problem for us, but they demonstrate the pathos of their characters’ situations to make it seem like reality.

Mon: Bass and Hayles are stars in the making. I hope they get fantastic opportunities. You don’t bring that level of energy and complexity and only get a season to flaunt it.

Queerness

Ron: This show is so unapologetically queer. Straight people? Never heard of them! Well, not really, but the central romantic triangle is these three men from three very different parts of the world. The scene in the finale when Louis declares to Lestat that he’s going to spend his life with Armand, that’s the epitome of queerness in this show. But it really sucks that Louis thinks he can only be with these two awful men. He keeps seesawing between them and they both suck!

Mon: The books are very gay, but sometimes too vague about it, which annoys me. The show is clearer and gayer, which I really like. I was worried about that going in because Anne Rice had a whole homophobe stage of her life–don’t ask me—but she walked it back, I guess, seeing as she and her son had a hand in getting this series off the ground, and the show is not shy about being queer.

Mon: The Season 2 finale comes down to one thing–this is a love story. It’s about a man, Louis, desperate for love. He’s known it with Lestat and Armand, and they’re both devils, but they’re safe and known devils. It’s cute in the most dramatically violent way. You can’t blame Louis for his poor choices in men—he had to hide his sexuality for a long time and he struggles with being a vampire, at least in the past, so vampires who love him back, even if they’re toxic, is perhaps comforting to him.

Ron: And then Claudia gets a romance with Madeleine which isn’t in the books, is it?

Mon: Is it a romance here? Or is it a companionship? Claudia’s an old soul in a child’s body, so can Madeleine love her romantically? I like that they leave it vague.

Ron: In the book, Madeleine and Claudia had a mother-daughter relationship but that doesn’t work in the show’s story. Claudia wants to be an equal so she wouldn’t have wanted a mother. But it’s so tricky with Claudia being 14 forever—how do they give her a partner who isn’t immediately suspect for wanting to be with a 14 year old. I like how they built up the friendship between Claudia and Madeleine, laid the groundwork for Madeleine understanding what Claudia is, and they only get together after Madeleine is turned into a vampire. It worked for me. Of course, now they’re both dead so… I guess we don’t have to think about it anymore.

Hopes for season 3

Ron: The show has now been renewed for a third season and it’s set to be following Lestat’s music career. The finale of season 2 sets that up very subtly! I would love to spend more time in that world but I’m worried about where Louis might fit in.

Mon: Lestat starting his rockstar career is going to be wild. But who he’s starting it with is even wilder, because the characters mentioned in the Season 3 summary weren’t in the band in the books.

Mon: The show is now so different from the books, that I can’t predict what a Season 3 will look like. I mean, they mention space in the Season 3 summary. Space! Dude, it’s too soon for this space stuff.

Ron: So I’m trying to avoid all this information about season 3 but space huh?

Mon: Yep, space. Let’s leave it at that.

The fact that Lestat has Akasha’s blood in the past is a huge change in the timeline. Akasha and Enkil are the original vampires, from whom all vampires are born. That’s been retconned, somewhat in recent books, but let’s not get into that. Lestat having Akasha’s blood is the reason he’s virtually unkillable. It explains why he survived Season 1, but this throwaway line in the finale makes it tricky for them to adapt the storylines from Queen of the Damned onwards.

Anyway, back to Louis. Louis’ fate is with Armand or Lestat. In the books, Louis is with Armand. Them breaking up in Season 2 is a big deviation. Who’s he going to end up with finally, especially since Lestat has other lovers from the books who could be introduced.

Ron: I’d also love to see more of Daniel Molloy. He’s a vampire now. Who turned him? Is it Armand? How does he feel about being an older vampire? I want to see the world through vampire-Daniel’s eyes. And I would really like to explore his relationship with Louis. They’re clearly fond of each other.

Mon: In the books, Armand turned Daniel. And Louis seems to suggest the same in the finale, but who knows. They’re always surprising us.

Mon: I’m intrigued by the introduction of the Talamasca in Season 2, and I understand there’s a show coming as well. The Talamasca are a secret society, kinda like the X-Files but for occult creatures. How interesting will that be? I’m not sure. I watched the first season of the other AMC show, Mayfair Witches. That’s also adapted from a series in the same Immortal Universe, and Lestat popped up in the books a couple of times. I could not get into that show at all. Not enough gay people. Hehehehehehe.

Ron: The queerness of Interview is such a highlight for me. It’s hard to watch straight shows now. Haha.

Mon: But, honestly, I think we’re invested in Interview because Lestat and Louis have been a part of our lives for a really long time, and the creators have made a show that’s not just about them being vampires. It’s about people, and the messiness that comes with it. I didn’t find that in Mayfair. So, what’s the Talamasca show going to have? Lestat’s long-time partner, David Talbot is/was part of the Talamasca. He’s not joined Interview yet, so that’s a possible connection to interest us.

Speaking of David, I don’t know if they’ll be able to introduce him, or if Daniel will take over that role. I say that because Daniel has met Raglan James–the Talamasca dude in the sushi bar in Season 2, and David enters the books when Lestat encounters Raglan. I’ll admit, I’m gutted that Raglan seems to be an old white guy on the show. He’s a body snatcher in the books, and when Lestat meets him, he’s in the body of an Anglo-Indian man. I think, in a way, the creators tried to appease us by making Armand Indian instead.

All to say, I haven’t a clue what to expect next. There are so many books to be adapted, but Louis’ not in them much, if at all. If they pivot to Lestat being the main character, I worry that they’ll lose the viewers, many of whom have tuned in specifically because Louis is Black and has a certain lived experience. But I want more seasons, and I have hope that the creators will make the right choices in telling the stories needed.

Ron: I want to add that this show has such a fan following. Two podcasts I’ve been listening to did entire series on this show because they became so obsessed with it. I’ve had random people I follow on Twitter regularly calling on more people to watch the show because it is literal perfection. I can’t think of anything I would change. I’m desperate to get my hands on some of the scripts because it’s going to help me become a better a writer. And some of the direction for this second season especially, that scene when the Theatres abduct Louis, Claudia and Madeleine and the background actors are frozen, or rather acting frozen, they really knew how to ratchet up the suspense.

Mon: This show is literally art–there are screengrabs from this show that are homages to artworks. We need more of that. And we need more shows that effortlessly include queer stories and feature characters from different races and ethnicities. This show has done that for two seasons. It could do so much more if the seasons continue.

Season 1 was about racial dynamics and interpersonal relationships in a world that doesn’t accept queer people. Season 2 was about autonomy, especially bodily autonomy, and monstrosity—what it really means when applied to people, be they vampire or human. The show can examine anything and everything and wrap it around a glorious romance. I’d love to see that.

#interview with the vampire #podcast #stereo geeks #tv review #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #claudia iwtv #claudia de pointe du lac

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mckiwi · 1 year ago

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“Nobody asked me about my writing” meme

I was tagged by @aelaer (thank you btw)

1. What are you currently working on?

I’ve kinda been flipping between “Oblivescence” and “Heat of the Moment”. When I get tired of one I’ll switch to the other.

2. Summarize your current project.

Currently at about 3k words for “Heat of the Moment,” it’s just a simple oneshot I’m nearly finished with. Basically Loki seeks out Stephen and Thor for assistance because there’s mysterious murders happening in Jotunheim. Unfortunately they can’t use magic and daggers for all their problems. “Oblivescence” on the other hand is at about 7.3k words. A multi chapter fic that’s being a pain in the butt cause I’ve run into a plotting problem. Essentially Stephen in the fic is struggling to deal with all the memories from Dormammu and the time loops, so he starts to use a spell to get rid of his memories. You can imagine how well that turned out.

3. Summarize your current project poorly.

In one project Stephen is solving other peoples problems, in the other he’s creating his own.

4. Describe your favorite character or characters.

Stephen Strange, a boy born in Nebraska (a fact that gets featured in “Oblivescence”) and rose to fame in New York. He’s a family man at heart despite no longer having blood relatives to turn to anymore. For this reason, particularly the death of his younger sister, he made a career for himself in neurosurgery. He enjoys trivia, music, music trivia, reading, studying, pop-culture, helping people, and annoying his friends. He feels most comfortable in situations where there’s a high success rate and/or he’s in control. He’s a broken man but he always pieces himself together again. Loss and pain are two things he knows well. The loss of his family, the loss of Christine, the loss of his hands, and the loss of his inner peace are all things that have made him who he is today. He’s an incredibly deep character but there’s a summary.

5. Post a line from your current project without any context.

From “Oblivescence”: He didn't like sleeping in the dark, never had. Part of him wanted to put some of those plastic glowing stars on the ceiling like he had in his childhood bedroom.

From “Heat of the Moment”: Stephen looks up from where he had been absent-mindedly stepping in Thor's larger footsteps in the snow, only to face the opening of a cave.

6. How do you get through writers block?

I start reading the fic I’m working on, cause I’ll eventually either get in the momentum of the fic and start writing for it, or I answer some asks on @askthesorcerersupreme so I can get in the “writing for magic” mindset without having to stick to a plot.

7. Would you want to live in the world of your current work?

Imma have to pass on that. The world we live in is crazy enough, no need to add alien invasions to that.

8. Briefly discuss your outlining process, if you outline.

Almost all of my fic ideas start out as just a basic idea, then I have to develop an actual fic out of it. “The Raven” started out as just Oh wouldn’t it be cool if Stephen collected the infinity stones in Infinity War? But then I had to break it up in sections. How does he get each stone? Why does he want the stones? What gets in the way of him achieving his goal? And eventually all those points are lined together into an outline I can write something about. So I suppose I use a sort of “divide and conquer” technique to make an outline.

9. What is the aesthetic of your current project?

“Oblivescence” gives of AU vibes but also Fix-It cause apparently the mcu refuses to even acknowledge Stephen’s trauma and backstory. Overall… oddly I’d say a vintage aesthetic idk it just fits. “Heat of the Moment” gives modern. A fun little fic with cool tones.

10. What song sums up your current work the best?

“Heat of the Moment” is literally named after “Heat of the Moment” by Asia. “Oblivescence” was actually a bit inspired by the song “Won’t Remember” by Tors. You look so much like him / The man that you were and It hurts just to miss you / When I’m there by your side are the two verses that inspired the way Stephen still has his same personality, just without knowing why he is the way he is. He has problems trusting people. Does he know why? Nope. But he knows that he does.

I’m tagging: @atypical-snowman @hithertoundreamtof23 @harpywritesfic @doctorwhitefox @webtrinsic1122 @rosewrites (and anyone else who wants to join)

#doctor strange #stephen strange #marvel #writer memes

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xochitomat · 2 months ago

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Enter the Berryverse, Part 1: Brazen Promise and Pure Imagination

Based on characters from Roald Dahl's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

“Oh no, this cant be happening!“

Fucia Benitez chewed her wad of gum faster. She felt the knot of dread in her stomach grow larger.

“I - I - I totally blew it!”

The college girl pursed her lips and shut her eyes in dismay.

POP!

went the piece of chicle between her teeth as she bit down on it again. The rhythmic motion was the only way she was coping with the results of her term paper staring back at her on the laptop screen. Her first semester of business school was not going great.

Though she had started off strong and with lots of determination, her grades gradually started to falter. Now, an economics essay on the dangers of inflation stood to seal her fate for good.

“I could fail out because of this. I could lose my scholarship.” She knew her parents couldn’t afford to pay tuition out of pocket. Even with her own savings from summer jobs, it would only be a drop in the bucket.

This couldn’t be happening, Fucia thought. She was the first person in her family to go to college. She couldn’t drop out - not after her family had put so many expectations on her. If not for the money, then the shame. As if the pressure wasn’t high enough, her roommate was blaring the TV in their dorm. Something about a reclusive CEO putting out an apprenticeship sweepstakes or something.

“Ugh, can you please turn that down, Carolina? I'm kinda freaking out here!”

Her roommate slumped unbothered in her bed, glaring lazily at the television. “I turned up the volume so I could hear it over your incessant gumsmacking, Fucia. And are you not listening to the news? That candy factory in town is re-opening after all these years.”

Fucia groaned. “Are you not listening? I'm about to fail out of school!” She watched her roommate shovel a few more corn chips into her mouth without as much as a flinch. Finally, the silence prompted the girl to cast a brief gaze in Fucia’s direction, a look that reluctantly said “I’m listening.”

“I've been a great student up until this semester! I don’t know what's going wrong. I mean sure, its a lot of work. It’s not like I can quit my job or my side business, I mean that looks good on resumes. Maybe I’m stretching myself too thin.”

“Huh. I'm not sure thin is the word I’d use, girl.” her roommate said, gesturing down at Fucia’s midriff with her eyes.

Rude, Fucia thought, as one hand self-consciously clutched the love handles protruding slightly over the waistband of her track pants. So she’d been stress eating a bit since the start of the year, so what? It wasn’t even a freshman fifteen. Chewing the gum had been helping curb that habit lately, plus those martial arts classes she was taking as an elective had to be doing something.

She shot an angry glare at Carolina Perez, who for all her constant lounging and snacking had yet to gain or lose a single inch of her figure for it. Not once had Fucia seen her study or stress, and yet her grades remained as unbothered as her attitude. How could she just coast like that? Just the thought of it made Fucia’s blood boil over. It was too much.

“I’m going for a walk” she said, heading for the door. She grabbed her purse with the hand that wasn’t still tenderly clutching her soft sides, “and a coffee”.

Carolina’s hazed eyes shot open at the word. “Hey, do you think you could bring me a -“

“Oops, sorry, I can’t really hear you over the TV. Bye!” Fucia gave an artificial wave before quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. A muffled “Rude!” faded out quickly from behind the door as she walked away.

The walk across the quad proved just a little too warm for the velvet tracksuit she had left her dorm in, leaving the pink jacket tied securely around her waist by the time she walked into the air-conditioned campus coffee parlor. If the cool air relieved her overheated body, it did nothing for her mind, which was still awhirl with desperations and half-made plans to stay in school. Not of it would work. It wasn’t a plan she needed; it was a miracle. She needed a godsend.

The unamused look from the blue-haired barista across from her interrupted her frantic train of thought for a moment and prompted her to order. The barista’s sharp eyes remained unmoved from behind thick-rimmed eyeglasses, fixated on Fucia as she pondered the menu options in between loud smacks of gum.

“Hmmm...lets see...can I please get a medium caramel frappe....”

“Mmkay, anything else?” The hipster girl behind the register offered robotically.

Anything else? What else was there? Fucia scanned the expanse of the counter, quickly scooping up a pack of Rico’s Chicle. She was almost halfway through chewing her current pack and anticipated needing a refill soon.

“Just this and...”

Her gaze hovered over a brown, foil-wrapped package adjacent to the assorted gum flavors. Ornate spiral lettering spelled out a name on the front: Waldo. A Waldo’s chocolate bar; the gaze, though momentary, sent hunger pangs through Fucia’s stomach. The potential for stress relief and a complementary pairing with her beverage enticed her to pick it up. But should I? She thought to herself, recalling her roommates earlier degrading remarks.

Oh, screw you, Carolina.

She quickly picked up the bar before paying. Her desire for its sweet cocoa flavor was stronger than she anticipated. Before her drink had even come she had peeled back the wrapping and sunk her teeth into the sweet chocolatey slab, relishing the satiety of the first bite. In the throes of her bliss, she temporarily swept aside all her other cares and worries.

As she chewed the chocolate, a subtle vision materialized in her head - a future where she did this every day. Her velvet sweats might start to hug much more than simple love handles as time went on. People might stare as her overstretched pink pants trembled softly past them with thunderous steps, but she’d be much too immersed in her own delights to care. Only the blue haired girl behind the counter would know how small and slim of a thing the rotund young woman before her had started out as. Not once would she even feign shame as people glanced towards her pink, porcine figure. She could get as big as an elephant, or at least eat as much as one if she wanted to, who’d care? She could maybe even drown herself in its deliciousness...

Wait, what?

She bit down on something hard.

Reality? Yes, but also metal. Confused by the strange object and equally strange daydream it had pulled her from, she peeled back the foil of the chocolate bar.

There was something lodged behind it - gleaming, shiny and bronze in the midday light of the cafe’s large window. As she pulled it free of the wrapper and let the sun’s rays illuminate its colorful glint, the word “GANASTES” danced in fanciful lettering across its façade. She waved the small metal sheet around in front of her face.

“Oh shit,” the exclamation came from behind the counter. Fucia whipped her head around to see the cyan-haired girl smirk coyly and adjust her beanie, “you got a brazen ticket”. Several heads and gasps shot up around the coffee shop and in her direction at the mention of the word, as if it were a name of some infectious disease or long lost treasure.

Fucia gave the barista a confused look. “Did I...win something?”

“Only the chance of a lifetime.” The barista answered her with all the gusto of a tour guide who’d worked on the same ride for 20 years. “Have you not been watching the news, friend? Mr. Waldo just re-opened his candy factory. And you’re one of five lucky winners who gets a tour. Congratulations.”

That's right. On the TV. The reclusive CEO. The sweepstakes. The apprenticeship. As Fucia stared down at the shiny piece of metal in her hands, a plan began to form. She tossed the rest of the chocolate bar in the trash. She didn’t really want it anymore. She opened the fresh pack of gum and began to chew vigorously - not out of nervousness this time, but a determination as new and shiny as the ticket in her hands.

For it was a ticket she held indeed - and not just to a factory tour. It was the one and only ticket out of all her current problems. The barista was actually quite right. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to prove herself - to save her future, her family, everything. If she played her cards right, she could easily beat out these other four competitors for the prized apprenticeship. It was practically her own personal scholarship for the taking. All she had to do, she told herself, was reach out and seize it.

“Hey!” called the barista as Fucia walked off, too far already to hear, “you forgot your coffee!” She shook her beanied head and sighed. “All the same, aren’t they?”

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸺-

Fucia lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright flashes of the news cameras. Of course her finding the brazen ticket was big news. Of course there would be a press conference. Reporters gathered around her like piranhas in a news feeding frenzy, microphones and notepads extended out at her expectantly. All those cameras on her - she couldn’t help but feel nervous. She couldn’t help but have slipped not two but three pieces of gum into her mouth before walking up to the podium, chewing down the knots in her stomach as best she could.

“Miss Benitez, how does it feel to be only the second person to find one of Mr. Waldo’s highly coveted tickets?”

“It feels amazing!” She exclaimed with manufactured cheer, “I’m so excited to have this opportunity. I honestly feel like...like the luckiest girl in the world!”

Another flash from the cameras glinted white off the bright wide smile she faked for them. It was a momentary façade as well as a suitable way to hide the chewed-up wad she not-so-subtly chomped on while the reporters peppered her with their questions.

“How about the other four contestants? Given there are still three more potential winners out there, are you concerned with what they might bring to the table? Are you worried they might beat you to the prize?”

Fucia let out a nervous laugh. “Oh...uh...”

She hadn’t had time to anticipate a question like that. Yet the reporters looked on expectantly for an answer. They were reading her, trying to guess how that thought might make her react. And she was indeed reacting. She felt her heart start pounding. Knots turned to bigger knots in her stomach, and she could feel herself chewing away all the faster for it. They were testing her resolve, and she was about to falter.

No! She thought to herself. Don’t let them see you nervous. Don’t let them see even a glimpse of weakness. You can’t. Otherwise it’ll be over before you even start this.

She quickly threw her head back in exaggerated laughter. “Ahahaha! Why would I be worried about them? I mean, I was top of my class in high school, broke records in track every year, won championships galore since I was ten, plus I’m currently in business school on a full scholarship and making top marks. I'm even on my way to a black belt in karate. I’d love to see any of the others come close to that. Why, if anyone should be worried, I’d say its them!”

The crowd oohed and aah’ed at her boastful attitude. It was working - they were buying it. Pride beamed up inside her, and she smiled all the brighter, perhaps even more genuinely. She chewed openly, as brazen as her ticket for all the paparazzi to see. “In fact, I think I’ll win so quickly and easily, I’ll probably still be chewing this same piece of gum when I do!”

The crowd cheered all the more at her bold vow. Only one reporter quietly asked his neighbor “She knows the tour isn’t for another week, right?”

“And Mrs. Benitez, you must be so proud and excited for your daughter at this moment.” another newscaster probed.

“Oh yes,” Fucia’s mother put an arm around her and smiled just as brightly for the crowd. “We raised our daughter to do well in everything and we are sure that is what she will do.”

Of course her parents had found out about her finding a brazen ticket. And of course that meant she would be expected to come back home with the big news, even though she would have preferred not to. She was not expecting, however, to have had the dozen or so reporters her parents had called crowded around their front door.

“And will you be accompanying her as the plus-one that all the recipients are allowed to bring?”

Her mother smiled assuredly and held her daughter. “Well of course, I’m her mother! Who else would she bring?”

Of course this was the first conversation she and her mother were having about it. She had been hoping to go alone - a plus one would be too much of a liability. Though the interview was over, the knot in her stomach only grew bigger as the two of them walked back inside.

When she had returned home with the big news, her family had been ecstatic. Here was their oldest child, not only coming home from a successful semester of college, but with a golden opportunity in hand to boot. It was all their expectations for her finally fulfilled. Her parents called called cousins, aunts and uncles from far and wide by telephone to boast about their daughter’s good success and merit.

What would they think of her if they knew the truth - that this ticket was the one thin string tethering the great wide balloon of their collective dreams for her to reality?

But they didn’t know, and they were so proud. Even her siblings looked at her with newfound respect, admiration - even a little envy.

She would just have to continue the façade: she was the ticket winner, the girl for whom nothing could go wrong. And as the week went on, as praise was piled onto praise, she began to believe it . The only remaining sign of her true internal apprehension was her incessant daily gum-chewing; but who cared? She was the gum-chewing ticket winner - and she was too big to fail.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The day of the tour grew closer, and Fucia’s mother revealed a grand announcement: they were going to host a send-off party for the two of them, with relatives from near and far invited. Now, it was the morning of and Fucia was working on her own plan to make the best possible impression on the factory owner, this Mr. Waldo. Of course she would make it a point to show off her educational background, but she needed something more, something bold. Some....act or gesture that would make her stand out from all the rest.

For now, she was focused on putting together the perfect outfit. She settled on a

black pencil skirt and a low-neck cotton top, paired with her favorite red blazer. It was professional enough to show she meant business but also striking enough to stand out from the crowd - or at least she hoped so.

As she dressed in her old room, she looked around at the pictures that covered the walls - framed milestones of her life. Snapshots of soccer trophies, track medals, scholastic championships and decathlons, awards and certificates all adorned the pepto-pink painted drywall. She noticed now in this moment of reflection, how few there were pictures of friends. Sure, she’d been popular, but she really had never been close to any of her classmates. Other students were competition, or at best, a distraction. They either held her back or just got in the way of her being the best. And whenever she could, she had. to be. the best.

Listen to yourself. To what you’re saying.

A voice crept in from the back of her mind; it was hers, although seldom did she let it speak. It was barely a whisper of a thing, but it struck her to the very heart.

Why are you like this?

She examined herself in the body-length mirror, adjusting her small gold hoop earrings and admiring how the belted blazer complemented her figure.

Like what? Driven? Focused on success? That wasn’t a bad thing. She'd fought tooth and nail to get where she was. And not just for her. For her family. The family that had come from nothing. The family that had sacrificed so much to lift her up - that had put so much faith in her. So many expectations to do well, just like her mother had told the reporters. And it wasn't just their dream. All her life, she’d dreamt of becoming successful enough to repay them for all of their sacrifice.

Was that why she was always so competitive, so eager to get ahead of everyone?

To prove herself?

Is that why you always push everyone away?

Now was not the time to probe further into that question. There was a room full of guests and relatives downstairs waiting. She brushed off her jacket one last time and smiled a big smile. They were waiting to see the ticket winner, after all. She felt good, she told herself. She hadn’t even chewed a piece of chiclé all day. Besides, parties were fun - if she could navigate the guests properly.

“Fucia, todos esperan abajo”, her mother stuck herself halfway into the room. “They all want to see -“

She paused and looked her daughter up and down. “Que haces aqui?”

“Im getting ready...”

“Not dressed like that you’re not.”

“Mamá, I’m...”

“No, no no no. That skirt is much too short! You are not going out, representing us like that! I already picked out something for you in my room. Go, go change. And then meet us downstairs. They’ve been waiting too long already.” Her mother's head disappeared behind the door, like a phantom, though her orders still lingered heavily in the air. Fucia knew protesting any further would get her nowhere. With a sigh, she went to her mother's room to see what was laid out.

“Oh, no.”

There on the bed lay a sickeningly vibrant blue collared dress. Frilled edges, poofy sleeves, a line of silver buttons running down the chest - it was a relic from three decades past, maybe more. Perhaps the only redeeming qualities were the embroidered floral patterns along the neckline.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

A pair of stylish white gloves lay next to the hideous dress. It was terrible: Her mom was trying to dress her like an abuela.

It was even worse once she tried it on. The skirt was knee length and clearly made for a larger woman, so it hung down in an “A” from her shoulders like a circus tent.

No, this simply would not do. Longingly she eyed her rejected blazer, the belt of which had snatched her waist so nicely. She got an idea. “Fine, you want me to wear the dress?” She said as she pulled the belt from the blazer and wrapped it around the blue bedsheet that draped her now. She pulled the buckle tight, and locked it in place. Like magic, the ample fabric contoured to her form. It was properly fitted and uniform on top, with the line of silver beads stopping right at her midriff where the band of red outlined an hourglass form for her so nicely. Then it flared below her waist, the gathered material forming well- proportioned pleats at her knees. With the tights and heels she wore already, it looked professional, if not a little vintage. The white gloves actually complemented the ensemble nicely. It wasn’t ideal, but she could work with this.

Downstairs she saw her mother was already surrounded by people, soaking up the attention like a dry sponge. Nevertheless she was soon bombarded by kin and family acquaintance alike, each bringing their own questions and observations about her.

How are you doing in school?

(Great.)

Do you have a boyfriend?

(No.) As if she had any time for dating in her life.

Are you nervous for today?

(No, of course not). Not yet, anyway.

We cant believe you won! Our son was trying so hard to find one, we thought he got close one time. Your parents must be so proud of you.

(Me neither and Yes, they are)

Have you gained weight since we last saw you? (Just smile, don’t even dignify that with an answer).

Normally the nagging and heckling bothered her a lot more, but there was something much larger looming in her mind. The hour of fate - or destiny -whatever one might call it - was growing nearer and nearer. She was starting to feel the weight of it. Still, she refrained from reaching for the pack of spearmint in her purse.

Finally her mother came over to her, arms open wide. "Mira? That looks much better!” She exclaimed, gesturing with her eyes at the antiquated ensemble she had put her daughter in.

Some of her cousins giggled to each other in the background.

Her mother ignored what Fucia could not and excitedly motioned her daughter towards the vacant area by the door. “Come, its almost time to go.”

Fucia reluctantly began to follow, but the knots in her stomach twisted tightly. The weight of everything felt so heavy now. She couldn’t take another step. “Come, mija," her mother said. The order hit her ears, as it had a thousand times before. Like clockwork she moved to obey, as she had a thousand times after. But this time, something was caught in the cogs. The gears wouldn’t turn. The obedient daughter wouldn’t budge. In the struggle, a single phrase took advantage, springing from its cage, fluttering up her throat and out of her mouth before she could even think to catch it.

“Ma, no.”

Her mother froze. The word was like a gunshot in the empty lobby. “What do you mean, ‘no’”?

That one word had cracked the barrel in her head. Now it had burst and everything was spilling out at once.

“No, I’m not following after you, because no...you’re not going with me!” Her mother immediately frowned.

“After all I did, put this party together just for you, you don’t think you can-“

“You put this party together for you, Ma! I don’t know half these people. I never asked for it. I never asked you to come with me. You gathered all these people here yourself. You invited yourself."

“Fucia,” Her mother warned.

“No, this is my moment. I’m the one with the ticket. I’m the one that has to win this thing! God, the only reason I’m doing this is so that with the money I can support you! And dad! And everyone else in this house! So I’m going, and you’re staying here because I am going there to win, and you’re just...you’re just going to get in the way!”

She expected her mother to shout. To scream maybe. And although her mother looked as if that last remark had slapped her across the face, her expression was cool and collected. It was only her eyes that went cold. “Fine” was all she said in response. She turned her back and picked up an empty plate that had been left by one of the partygoers.

“If that's what you want, I won’t go with you. But you aren’t going by yourself. You take your Tia Sepha with you.”

“Tia Josepha? But, shes like a hundred years old, Ma!”

Her mother shot her a glare that told her there was no more negotiating. “You take your tia with you or you don’t go at all.” The verdict was final.

Fucia groaned in frustration. If her mother was a liability, her Tia Sepha, who could barely walk, would be twice that. But she was no longer in a position to argue. And she was out of time.

Tia Sepha was sitting in the corner of the living room by herself, draped in a blanket. Fucia mustered her kindest, clearest voice and placed a hand on her great aunt’s shoulder. “Tia Sepha, its me, Fucia.”

Her aunt looked at her for a moment then smiled warmly. “Oh, hi, mija. Lovely party.”

“Gracias. Ahora, me voy a la fábrica de los dulces. Quiere ir usted conmigo?”

Her tia’s eyes opened wide. “Los dulces de Señor Waldo?”

“Si."

At this her aunt nodded, rather excitedly, and Fucia helped her with her walker as they started for the door. “Oye mija...pero, no viene tu mama?” she asked. She looked back at the waving relatives bidding them goodbye and good luck. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

“No, tia. Shes not coming.”

She helped her great aunt out the door to the car, threw the old woman's walker in the back, and closed the trunk.

She took a few minutes just standing there, thinking of everything and yet at the same time not being able to think at all.

“Ugh.”

She looked down at her handbag, opened the flap, and pulled out the pack of spearmint gum that was waiting for her inside. She shoved two sticks into her mouth, letting the cool rush of menthol wash over her as she frantically chewed her worries and apprehensions away.

As she got into the driver seat, her tia looked over at her and smiled. “You look so pretty, mija. Such a lovely dress."

"Thank you, tia."

"Pero... sabes que estas masticando como una vaquita, no?”

Fucia let out a sigh, “Yes, I know. Lets go.”

And with that, the two women headed off, where factory and fate alike awaited their imminent arrival.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻—-

There was a crowd already gathered when they pulled up to the factory gates. News folk and eager spectators crowded either side of the grand carpeted path that stretched from the car, past the gnarled, wrought -iron gate, and finally all the way into the massive stucco building beyond.

As they exited the car, Fucia noted the great smokestacks which billowed out from either side of the building like ancient sacrificial pyres. It sat like a temperamental volcano in the distance, one that threatened to blow everything to smithereens given the right excuse.

Once she had fake-smiled her way past the cameras and cheering crowds, all the while scooting her hobbling aunt along beside her, she finally got the opportunity to size up the other contestants already waiting at the gate. She honestly hadn’t heard or seen much about them before this time - too focused on her own preparations and worries.

She wedged herself between the first two. To her left stood a young woman about her age - although she was maybe two or three times her size. She reminded Fucia keenly of the bizarre, bloated daydream she’d had of herself that week or so earlier.

The girl clasped her ticket tightly in her hands , which were crossed and resting on her wide, soft middle. In her candy-striped dress, she looked as plump and sweet as a three-layer strawberry-vanilla cake, made up with cherry red lipstick and sparkling scarlet eyeshadow. She gave Fucia a wide, doe-eyed glance before quickly reverting an expectant gaze back towards the gate ahead and beyond.

On her right another young woman in designer sunglasses held her ticket with gilded claws in one hand, while the other hung tightly upon the arm of a much older, equally well-dressed man. She contorted her botoxed lips into a frown as Fucia stepped next to them. Fresa , Fucia thought accusingly as she shot back an equally unpleasant stare. The woman simply flipped her bleached-blonde hair with a heavily- jeweled hand and turned her head.

A skunky, pungent odor reached Fucia’s nostrils as she gazed further down the line, where she found it belonged to a disheveled man in a carpet hoodie who fiddled aimlessly with is ticket as a cigarette protruded out of his mouth amongst wispy , scattered face hairs. Looks like I could have worse addictions, she thought with a smack of her gum.

Past the stoner, at the opposite end stood a small, lanky figure dressed in oversized rags and a faded baseball cap. The stranger was covered from head to toe - despite the border town’s sweltering summer heat. Fucia could only make out two, icy blue eyes behind a mop of blond windswept hair.

Suddenly the crowd behind them began to stir. In the distance, the building doors opened. Someone was coming out from behind it, at first just a purple speck in the distance.

Everyone stood in silent shock as the figure lurched forward slowly, leaning unsteadily on his cane. He was bent over, his face obscured by a rather large black top hat. This is taking forever, Fucia thought to herself. Each wobbly step seemed to threaten a sudden fall headfirst into the hard concrete below. How was he supposed to give a tour like this? It was only a matter of time before he -

Just then he did lose his footing, stumbling clumsily and falling headlong, straight into a - a full, flawless somersault?

Wait, Fucia thought, did he just...pretend to walk with a limp the whole way up here? What the hell?

The top hatted man now stood fully erect. He stretched out his gloved hands theatrically. The crowd behind Fucia gave a cheer, as did the other ticket winners. Fucia rolled her eyes before donning her fake-smile once more and joining in on the clapping. The man took off his hat, letting his well-greased mop of black hair fall forward. He gave a little bow and a whimsical wave of his hat in hand as he tucked the cane behind his back with the other. In a sing-song voice, he addressed the ticket winners and the crowd.

“Weclome y bienvenidos, one and all, to my marvelous little factory. I am Mr. Waldo, your most gracious host...and tentative benefactor.”

He have a little twirl to his waxed mustache and a tug on his tapered goatee.

“If you are one of the five standing before the gate, that means you found one of my brazen tickets...hopefully. Congratulations! You’re about to be amazed, astounded, maybe even flabbergasted! But beware, for not all is as it seems...but as long as you remember-”

God, this guy loved to hear himself talk. His eccentric orating was starting to give her a headache. She had heard Waldo was a little strange, but nothing quite like this.

“Now now, with no further time to waste, come in, and please, present your tickets.”

He swung open the gate and held out a poised hand, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning motion while flashing a wide, almost sinister grin.

The fat girl scurried up to him first, proudly presenting her ticket to the candyman.

“Muchisimas gracias, señorita”, he cooed , “and your name?”

Her plump face beemed. She spoke too fast, Fucia thought. “Thankyousir, itsamazingtomeetyousir, I love your candysomuch! Mynameis Alejandra. Alejandra Garcia. Ohandthisismybestfriend, hehe! Cynthia.”

“Always a pleasure to meet a fan,” he said, and motioned her along, “next?

This is it, Fucia thought. She smiled her best fake smile, fixed her hair as best she could, guided her tia alongside her with one hand, and presented the other assertively to Mr. Waldo.

“A pleasure to meet you, Señor Waldo,” she began, “My name is Fucia Benitez, I’m a local bussiness student and a - “

He grasped her hand. “Ah yes, Miss Benitez. I remember you from the news.“ Her tone skipped in surprise. If only for a moment, her bold exterior faltered.

“Y-you do?” she asked.

He peered into her - past her failing artificial demeanor, past her nervousness - and into her very being. His eyes did not resemble those of a man, she thought, but a coyote: Intelligent. Crafty. Unpredictable. And most assuredly dangerous.

“Well of course. You made quite a bold vow on camera. Pray tell, are you still chewing that same piece of gum as we speak?”

“Oh! Ha, well uh, no, not exactly...”

“And the lady accompanying you, as young and lovely as she is, is not your mother, if I’m not mistaken?”

“N-no sir, this is my great tia Sepha. She’s always wanted to meet you.”

He averted his soul-piercing gaze and his gloved hand slipped from her own, and extended toward her aunt’s.

“Un gusto, señora” Her aunt stared wide eyed as he smiled kindly before letting her go and waving them along. “Next.”

Fucia began to walk away with her tia.

“Ah, Miss Benitez -“ Waldo called behind her, stopping her in her tracks, “one more thing.”

She spun around quickly, “yes, Mr. Waldo?”

He still faced away from her, albeit for two fingers extended outward behind him. “Your ticket, please?”

“Oh, right. Sorry...” She fumbled in her purse for a moment before pulling it out and handing it over. He snatched it promptly between the two fingers without even so much as a glance towards her.

“Thank you.”

Fucia walked off to join her tia, who waited by Alejandra and her friend. She swore under her breath, unsure of what to make of the introduction that had just transpired. He seemed impressed by her boldness on TV, but quite unimpressed on her ability to follow through. And she had forgotten the ticket. Stupid! She was frustrated, but could do nothing more about it but stand and watch the other contestants walk through.

The fresa and her husband were next. She placed her ticket gingerly in his hand as Waldo asked her name. “Veronica. Veronica Fue- well, actully, its Saltillo now, right my love?” The old man smiled and shook Waldo’s hand in turn.

The man in the carpet hoodie walked up next. “Hey, bro, good to meet you” he went in for a side hug catching the tycoon off guard. Waldo seized up, trying his best to remain cordial despite the obvious discomfort. “Your name, sir?”

“Huh? Oh, Miguel, but everyone just calls me Mikey, man. I heard there was like, some snacks or something here if I turn in this ticket?”

“...Something like that, I assure you,” replied Waldo, unamused, but polite. “This way.”

“Hey, thanks, hombre.” Mikey sauntered off in a daze.

Finally, the pile of animated rags stepped up, quiet and sly as a mouse. “And your name, my young friend?”

“Oh. Uh. Charli - Char -lene.” The mysterious female stranger stuttered. “Charlene Parcél. Its..French. But I was born here, which is why I don’t have an accent. Plus, I’m new in town anyway....” Waldo cocked a pointed eyebrow, and waved her along with the others.

“Very well then,” he said , “the five of you follow me. So much time and so little to - no, wait - switch that, reverse it -ay, que vale - Vamos!” And waved to the crowd before doing a full cartwheel away.

This guy is certifiable, Fucia thought with increasing anxiety as they approached the factory’s huge metal doors.

“Ohmygod. Can you believe we are actually here, girl?” Alejandra gushed to her on the left. “ I just LOVE Waldo candy, since I was a kid! Even if I don’t win, I betcha there's stuff in there nobody’s ever even TASTED before! I can’t wait to try it all!”

Fucia smiled and nodded. Alejandra was clearly easily distractible and didn’t pose too much of a rival. Businesses weren’t typically run by fans, anyway. Her eyes turned to Veronica. Was there an imminent, competent threat hiding behind those Versace sunglasses? Or perhaps she was a puppet for her wealthy husband?

She quickened her pace to catch up to the two of them. “I don’t suppose you have any experience in business, do you Mrs. Saltillo?” she probed, somewhat coyly.

Veronica smiled and laughed, albeit condescendingly, “Oh, well I’ve dated quite a few CEOs if that counts. But that was before meeting my much handsomer, not to mention wealthier, husband here. We were just talking about how we might just buy this old run-down place, win or not, right mi amor?” She threw her head back as the two of them laughed and walked on.

They crossed through the open door to a steel-lined lobby. The factory’s great metal jaws slammed behind them with a loud and uneasy clang. No turning back now, Fucia thought. She was in this. But what other choice did she have? Her focus was set. She had to win, no matter the cost.

“Now before we begin,” Mr. Waldo began in his already-getting-old sing-song voice, “a few minor details of business,” he produced several clipboards and pens, “this is just standard precautions, I assure you: It’s not as if I’m making you sign yourself away as company property or something like that!”

Weird that he would even mention that, Fucia thought, but it didn’t matter. She signed for her tia, herself, and handed them back. With one swift motion, he tucked them all into an inner pocket and turned the knob on the door before them.

“Señoras y señores, without further recourse, may I present...paradise.”

Fucia drew in an involuntary breath. She had prepared a thousand visions of what awaited behind that door, and none of them had prepared her for the fantastical scene that lay before her now.

A lush and verdant canopy, winding paths adorned with vibrant flowers of every conceivable color, bubbling fountains and springs equally as glittery and comely to the eye - and all of it, she realized as she stepped into the large arboretum with the others, was candy. As light trickled in from the beautifully stained-glass ceiling, bathing everything in a kaleidoscope of colorful hues, she forgot for a moment her present cares. She found herself seized by a wave of childlike wonder - each sight was new and exciting, inviting exploration and delight. There were few times she could remember feeling such levity, no - not since she was very young.

“Mind your step down the alegria staircase, please.” Waldo cautioned as he motioned them off the platform overlooking the fantastical landscape.

Fucia looked toward her aunt, who bore an enamored and awestruck gaze similar to her own. In a rare moment of harmony, niece and aunt smiled at each other with giddy excitement.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She heard Waldo tell the group. “Please, enjoy the ‘fruits’ of my labor.”

Needing no further encouragement, the entire group scattered among the confectionary marvels. Alejandra and her bestie jumped up and down on a giant block of bandera de coco. Veronica’s husband snapped off a paddle from a nopal to reveal it was made of fondant and chocolate filling. He offered it to his much younger wife, who just rolled her eyes and waved it away in disgust. Mikey went off to take a snooze under the shade of a large cacao tree. Fucia helped her aunt over to the bushes of honeysuckle, sweet rose, ginger, and chocolate mint that grew along the carbonated water spring.

Gingerly, the old woman pulled off a sprig and held it close to her nose, breathing in deeply the comforting nostalgic aroma.

Then Fucia saw it - shrouded by a small shrubbery of cotton candy bushes, yet still visible enough for her to make out its colorful contours- a rainbow slide of candy-coated chocolates. As she approached, she realized it poured down the into a wider pool at the bottom of the slope, like a ball-pit at a playground. She swiveled her head around. When she was sure no one was watching, she rushed toward it, as if her feet were possessed by the ghost of her childhood days.

With a leap, a crash, and a yipe, she slid on her bottom down the hill, holding down her spacious dress to keep the skirt from flying up. Candies scattered around her until she tumbled forward into the pool of them at the bottom, coming to a grinding, clattering halt amongst the tiny chocolate pebbles, feet up in the air and hair strewn across her face. She couldn’t help but stare up at the stained glass twilight above her, hands clasped over her belted waist, and laugh. She laughed fully, freely. When was the last time she had allowed herself to have so much fun? To just let go? Her anxiety melted away like chocolate in a hot car as she lay there alone in the pit. She breathed a relaxed sigh that was years forthcoming. It felt good - it felt right. At length she sat herself up, kneeling amidst the pool of tiny candies.

She picked one up, studying it in her carefully manicured fingers. Its vibrant color was inviting - tempting even. At last, she lost all resistance and popped it into her mouth. She knew right away it was Waldo chocolate; the sweet and blissful sensation danced like fire upon her tongue. With increasing enthusiasm, she picked up another, and then another, savoring the flavor of each one, though they all tasted the same (it would have been nice, she thought, if there was some variety, but no matter). There was no one around to stop her, to judge her. No one to tell her no. And it felt amazing.

“Hey, quit that!”

She had scooped up a handful and was about to pour them into her open jaw when a voice from behind stopped her cold. Instead, the candies spilled through her fingers and clattered back into the pile. Oh no, had Waldo caught her acting like an absolute fool in his candy pit?

She whirled around in shock. It was not Waldo - only the ragdoll, Charlene, standing there slouched with her hands cooly set in her pockets.

“Um, excuse me?” Fucia replied, making it clear she was annoyed. Who did this ragamuffin think she was?

“Look, just trust me. This thing will go a whole lot better for you if you just...if you just don’t touch anything. Okay?”

Who was this, lecturing her on how to win? Did she think she had a leg up or

something?

“I think I know what I’m doing, thanks.” To prove her point, she threw a few more candies in her mouth and swallowed. Charlene’s cold blue eyes just closed and she wagged her head underneath her dusty stained cap.

“How long were you watching me, anyway?” Fucia asked, standing up and brushing off her dress. She should never have let her guard down in the first place. If it was Waldo who had seen her, she could have kissed the apprenticeship goodbye for sure.

“Long enough to see you get carried away. Look, I’m just trying to help...”

Fucia felt her expression sour. She didn’t need this bundled-up wierdo’s condescending advice. Anger boiled in her belly, and ran hot behind her ears. She stormed past the strange girl, clipping her shoulder as she did. “Well I don’t need your help, so just...stay away from me, freak!"

“Hey, wait, look, there’s no need to be rude...“ Charlene called out behind her, but she was already out of earshot. Her moment of peace was gone. The pressure and determination of the game at hand returned. She plodded back to her aunt and the rest of the group, who had reconvened further down the amaranth-cobbled path.

She saw the that the underbrush of sweets had opened up into a great pond further down. More accurately, it was a lake, but it shimmered with a deep rich brown that she had never seen in a lake before. She was afraid it was sewage at first, but as the sweet smell of anis and cinnamon floated toward her nose, she knew different. It was chocolate - bubbling, warm, chocolate, as spiced and aromatic as a Christmas Eve cup of champurrado.

And there, in a grove of cacao trees by its lapping shore gathered the group, led by Waldo. He was....singing. Oh god, the man was actually singing some impromptu verse about the wonders of his factory, waving his arms dramatically to the notes of his voice. It was also purely a capella.

Just when I thought winning this guy over couldn’t be any harder, Fucia thought with a groan.

She rejoined the group just in time to clap and smile artificially with everyone else as he finally finished. Charlene had also rejoined them, although at the opposite end. Fucia turned away from her piercing eyes. They were icicles; like Waldo’s, they cut into her very soul - judging her every move, every merit - dissecting her character down to its very core. Fucia couldn't stand it.

“Mi amor, look, coming over across the lake! Its looks like a funny little duende, doesn’t it?” Veronica waved a bejeweled hand halfheartedly in the indicated direction.

“Why, yes, I see it too. What, or who is that, Mr. Waldo?”

Waldo smiled, “Ah, you are half right, you see. And just in time for the next segment of our tour. As you know, I haven’t hired anyone in years, and I simply couldn’t have done all this by myself. It was on one of my many voyages to the Yucatan, the ancient birthplace of chocolate, searching for the best cacao trees to propagate here in my factory, that I stumbled upon a long-forgotten city relegated to only legend. There lived the magical folk which guarded the forest - only half as tall as I, but with hearts twice as big, and pointed ears to match! Quite the athletes they are - they do triple the work of a man, and in half the time! Please treat them with utmost respect when you meet them. Which should be any second now!”

The group strained their eyes as a giant rowboat filled with small figures surged closer and closer to shore.

“Is there a reason they are blue, Mr. Waldo?” Alejandra asked.

Waldo laughed. “Blue? Well, they are traditionally fond of body paint. But they usually prefer orange, not bl-“

Shoomp!

Something whizzed past Waldo’s head and buried itself in the side of the nearby tree. It was a long, wooden dart.

“Careful there!” Waldo shouted playfully across the water, “that one nearly hit m -“

Another dart whizzed across the water, flying into the candy-maker’s top hat and pinning it to the tree next to the first.

“Que diablos!” He swore. “What the blazes has gotten into them?”

Suddenly, a man the size of a small child crashed out of the bushes close to them, clad in only a breechcloth. His eyes, larger than a human’s, were filled with fear. His pointed ears twitched as he shouted frantically at Waldo in an unintelligible tongue.

Behind the halfling, a clawed, blue hand shot out from the bushes, grabbing the poor miniature fellow by the back of his breechcloth. He hadn’t been running towards Waldo - he was running away. From something terrifying. The clawed creature leapt from the bushes and pinned its prey to the ground.

The creature was small, like the halfling man, but monstrous. Its larger, bat-like ears were pulled back, fangs bared as it subdued the little man who struggled fruitlessly to break free underneath it. And, most contrastingly, it's skin was blue.

The tour group gasped and panicked. Eyes darted towards Waldo, whose cool, calculated complexion was all but gone. “N-now everyone, p-please remain calm...I-I assure you, all is under control!” His eyes told the true story, irregularly wide with confusion and fear: This was not under his control. This was not part of the tour.

The halfing man screamed in pain as the fanged, blue, goblin-like creature sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Fucia watched in shock and terror as a wave of blue spread from the bite wound across the little mans body. His muscles clenched, his eyes bulged and burned with a glowing red fire. Teeth grew into fangs. His brow thickened and his pointed ears flayed out. He snarled with feral savagery.

To the crowds horror, the halfling had been transformed into another of the same creature. The two blue vampiric imps now edged their way closer and closer to the crowd.

“My...my halfling workers!” Waldo exclaimed, “What...what has been done to them?”

A second slurry of blow-darts whizzed past the tour group from the fast approaching ship behind them. Veronica screamed, pushing her husband aside and heading towards the trail that led back to the exit. Two more snarling blue homunculi stepped onto the path, blocking her way. She got two steps before they pounced upon her as well. She screamed.

“Oh, shit,” Fucia heard Charlene exclaim.

To their backs , the boat scraped onto the rock-candy shore. A dozen or so azure gremlins came pouring out - some held weapons like blowguns, others simply brandished claws and teeth.

Waldo cowered away from them them, a strand of the slick-oiled hair on his hatless head falling in front of his face. “Now, look here, my good halflings,” he began, “I’m not quite sure what the meaning of this is, but if you could ju -“

Four or five of them covered him in a flash. Fucia had never heard a grown man scream quite like that. Her tia quivered next to her, and so she did her best to hold the old woman close as the rest of the goblins closed in.

“Cynthia...help!” Squealed Alejandra. Fucia turned to see the poor round girl had wandered by the bank of the lake in an effort to get away. But not in time. With a sneer, one of the gremlins gave her a shove backward.

“Aaah - Aaaaaaaaeeeeee!” The girl cried, waving her arms frantically to regain her balance. But it was no use. The momentum of her body was too great and she went flying headfirst into the lake of champurrado below. Her pudgy legs and shoes kicked and thrashed above her before disappearing with a great and thunderous splash.

“Alex! Oh god, somebody help her, she can’t swim!” Her friend exclaimed. Fucia searched as best she could for any trace of the peppermint-striped young woman under the chocolate’s warm bubbling surface. At length she broke it, sputtering and crying for breath, covered in the brown, sugary cinnamon water. She was getting dragged further and further outward, Fucia noticed, towards a large steel pipe that shot up to the ceiling from the lake...

“Damn it all,” from behind her, Fucia heard Charlene mutter. Without an uncanny burst of strength and agility the strange woman catapulted herself over Fucia’s shoulders, cartwheeling past the snarling imps and diving headfirst into the chocolate lake, rags and all. She cast off her sweater and cap as she swam, desperate to reach the flailing plump damsel before the pipe claimed her.

A guttural growl brought Fucia’s attention back to the close and personal. Three armed and slobbering blue goblins edged towards her quivering aunt. Fucia met the closest one with a swift pointed-toe kick to the jaw. “Tia, get behind me,” she ordered. Waving her purse around she managed to send the second gremlin flying with a well-timed swing of it. She tore a white glove from one hand with her teeth as the final imp charged, claws slashing. One swipe sliced against her midriff, scraping the metal buckle of her wide leather belt - but not before she sent a concentrated knee-and-fist combo strike to its throat and chest. It fell to the ground before scampering off to a short retreat with its companions. It looked like all those martial arts lessons had paid off, after all - love handles be damned.

To her left, she saw Mr. Saltillo grappling with one of the creatures behind a pair of brass knuckles. She kicked it free for him, allowing enough time for him to deliver a serious punch. He looked up and gave a wink of gratitude, when suddenly his eyes went wide. A host of the creatures grabbed him by his pristinely polished duranguense boots and dragged him off, along with the slumped bodies of Waldo and Veronica.

Fucia heard a splash behind her. Charlene struggled to haul the hefty Alejandra up to shore. “She fainted, but she's ok,” Charlene huffed and puffed. Her eyes looked up at Fucias once more with that frozen icy stare.

“What?”

Charlene had shed her oversized sweater and hat, revealing a sleek waterproof tracksuit underneath. Her hair was still a mess of blonde, although her bangs were tightly cropped across her forehead. And as the chocolate dripped off her skin, so did her flesh-colored foundation, revealing a much more bizarre hue underneath. She was blue. Her skin was as pale and as icy blue as her soul-piercing irises. Fucia shrieked, “Y-you’re one of them!”

Charlene rolled her eyes, before delivering a spinning roundhouse kick to the wave of blue demons that approached. “If I was, would I have done that?”

Fucia delivered her own swift kick to one that got too close. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” The pale blue girl backflipped away from the upcoming torrent of blow-darts, landing perfectly beside Fucia. “Ah shit. I really didn’t want to have to call for backup.”

The goblins closed in on them from all angles. In the confusion, Fucia realized everyone had been dragged off except her, Charlene, and Tia Sepha.

“Charlene...what...who are you?”

“Oh. Well for starters, my name’s not actually Charlene, sorry. Violet Beauregarde, at your service. And I’m gonna get you out of here.”

#willy wonka #violet beauregarde #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #spiderverse #blueberry #charlie and the chocolate factory #berryverse #totally spies

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yuexuan · 11 months ago

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[Review]仙道第一小白脸

Title: 仙道第一小白脸 The #1 Pretty Boy of the Immortal Path

Author: 一十四洲

Length: 210 chapters

Tag: xianxia, romance, genderbend

Summary [taken from novel updates]:

I belong to a good sect that has never turned its back on me for my poor potential, has never forced me to study martial arts, and even helped arrange a betrothal for me when I was young.

My fiancée is a much renowned hot-tempered young miss. She’s beautiful, strong, and deeply loves me. Upon my start down the path of the Jianghu, I entirely relied on her to provide cover for me and before long, I became renowned as the #1 Pretty Boy of the Immortal Path.

Yet one day, I discovered that this person is apparently a man. A man in drag!

More unforgivable is that he thought I was a woman dressing as a man!

Me, as if my liver and guts are being cut to pieces: “Brother, what have you done with my fiancée?”

Him, as if a knife has been twisted in his heart: “Brother, what have *you* done with my fiancée?”

The waters of the Jianghu are indeed murky. Even if I am starving, even if I’m dying far from home, from this point on, I will not eat even a mouthful of rice prepared by him.

—So fragrant.

Novel | Novel[translated] | Audio drama

Comments **Contains spoilers**:

The summary only covers the first one-third-ish of the novel, when Lin Shu (MC) and Ling Fengxiao are still studying in cultivation school. The rest of the novel covers more complex political struggles between Beixia and Nanxia, between the Empress and the Emperor, and a lot of philosophical questions regarding the roles of cultivators in a world filled with strife and chaos.

Do note that for a large part of the novel (I’ll say around at least 70%), ML is presented as a bad-tempered young miss. So if this is not your cup of tea, you might want to skip this novel.

Highlights

The beginning of the story is entertaining. I enjoyed the banter between Lin Shu’s housemates and the constant anticipation of when MC and ML will discover each other’s true gender. It is basically a slice-of-life regarding life at cultivation school, with quite a lot of details about the different classes, the sword techniques, and the layout of the school (especially the dreamscape where they can train with one another).

Per the previous point, there is a lot of worldbuilding in this novel, not just within the cultivation school, but also the larger geography of Nanxia and Beixia. There are different strands of history, especially between the royal families, that eventually get tied together.

The novel also ends on a strong note, touching upon my favorite topic of time paradoxes. It’s rather unfortunate that this portion is pretty rushed through in the last few chapters of the novel, but I definitely enjoy reading about how everything falls into place and having some of my hypotheses confirmed.

Something I like is the discussions on the roles of cultivators. I do enjoy reading about how Lin Shu contemplates whether he should intervene in some of the political affairs between mortals. There are even times when the narrative seems to frame cultivation in a negative light. It is definitely a refreshing angle!

Cons

There’s not a lot of dynamic between the main couple beyond the cultivation school section. It’s definitely slowburn, though it feels even slower for me because I am not really invested in the main pairing. I think this is the result of the worldbuilding taking precedence over the characters or the plot and not weaved in well, hence it is hard to be invested in the latter. Also, at times it seems that the novel just wants to inject angst for the sake of angst. For example, the whole segment about the 无情道. My understanding is that both characters agreed upon MC taking this route, so why all the drama and sadness later regarding MC’s choice?

Just as a matter of personal preference, I am not a fan of characters calling each other cute pet names (e.g. baobao). It’s really awkward, especially if they are supposed to be a 强强 pairing and this is supposed to be a historical setting.

#review #danmei #仙道第一小白脸 #The #1 Pretty Boy of the Immortal Path

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heavenlyeros · 2 years ago

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i came for the cat and i stayed for the delightful visual worldbuilding and endearing characters

this game really moved me, in part with nostalgia but in larger part because it’s such a beautifully crafted work of art. i’m halfway through my second playthrough and i keep discovering more lovely little details and more and more clues that only raise questions about the history of this world and its inhabitants. i’m so happy the game is doing so well, and i really hope there will be dlc and sequels

i am working on a very complex piece of fanart that is quite out of my comfort zone, but until then i did some studies <3

(some very story spoilery thoughts below the cut)

this is the cardboard box the kitties sleep on at the beginning. i thought at first, going into the game completely blind, that maybe they’d been dropped off in a box as it often sadly happens. that of course isn’t the case, but this box has been exposed to the elements in a very humid semi-outside place for a very long time. i know we find the days as counted by the companions since their “birth” and they translate to almost 7 million years, but unless this is some futuristic magicardboard, it would not survive that long. some of the companions mention 300 something years - one as their age and one about another’s jail sentence. i have no idea how they count time compared to how we do at present, but i doubt it could have been 7 million years. i also do not know exactly how fast cardboard decomposes but i’ve had boxes in milder conditions turn to mush in very little time in my garden... it made me wonder if perhaps this box isn’t from before The Disaster but far more recent... would inhabitants from other cities have gotten out? humans? did the companions evolve in the other cities as well? who knows. this game is so thoughtfully put together that i lean towards believing this isn’t an accident on the devs’ part, and i like theorising, so i choose to read too much into it :D

i absolutely loved the social commentary of the companions of the humans living in the slums evolving into these compassionate, creative, curious and very loving people. they have a long way to go, but they are absolutely on the right track. meanwhile in midtown we have the police state but no shortage of dreamers, and finally the companions that never became more at all in the highest part of the city. it does make me wonder how many other humans attempted to transfer their consciousness into companion bodies, like b12 did. i am very glad the game didn’t press the possibility of all companions having once been the humans and not remembering. i love that this game doesn’t use the trope of the evil ai that brought about the downfall of humanity - instead they are our legacy, and the best of humanity lives on through them. their culture is a treasure. they call us the soft ones, they call us their ancestors: they are not something wholly new that came after humans, they are a continuation of humanity

very many windows and balconies in the city have rain/sun shades. that could be to defend against unsavoury upstairs neighbours throwing things, or perhaps the aircons dripping, but i find that explanation highly unlikely. instead, i wonder if at first the city was intended to be open. the game doesn’t outright state what happened, but it does tell us the world was uninhabitable and needed time to... heal? that cat coming from the outside means it’s safe now. environmental disaster due to global warming, or possibly nuclear fallout was my first thought, but it could have also been war, or even the pandemic. the roof being open could have been the norm for a while - the city was safe not because it was sealed, but because it could be sealed as needed. perhaps against storms or massive floods or terrible heatwaves, or any other reason. eventually it had to be sealed for good, and the lockdown protocol we discover in the control room again doesn’t give me the vibe that the city’s original intention was permanent isolation

we don’t know exactly how long into the city’s existence the pandemic hit and how long it took for it to wipe out the humans, but we do know from scanning a neon sign memory of b12′s that it was the humans who started putting these up because they missed the light and colour of the outside. it’s never stated whether the city was fully sealed before the pandemic or as a result of the pandemic (though i don’t believe its existence was due to the pandemic). but if the city was sealed before, it means the pandemic came from inside, and knowing the origins of the zurk and... that organic growth with many giant eyes, it does make one wonder what went wrong

i have so many questions that i am burning to have answered, and i must satisfy myself with scouring the game over and over to start discovering more bits of information. how long has it really been? how long did it take the seeds of love we planted into the companions to grow into the civilisation they now are? what exactly is the deal with the cities? are there surviving humans in other cities? what about companions that evolved? what’s up with the consciousness upload? and so many others...

i am absolutely in love with this game. i love that it’s about love! about the love we put into everything we create and how important that is, especially in the darkest of times. the companions make art too, because we did, because they are us. it’s about the love we can’t help extending to others who are not human, be they little furballs or sweet robots, and the companions too kept nurturing the plants that make the air in the city breathable despite not needing it. it’s what we would have wanted. i love that it’s about companionship and the power of many to carry on when one would have given up. i love that it’s ultimately about our similarities and not our differences. and it’s about legacy. it’s about moving forward and moving on knowing what we’ve created lives on and we through it, that there is more to humans than our fleshy bodies

it’s about humanity, not as in humankind but as in the quality of being humane - to show kindness, care, and sympathy towards others. perhaps someday we will need a new word for “humane”, but for now it tells me this: what makes us human is not our species but our compassion

100000000/10 absolute game of the year

(i wrote my masters thesis on this exact topic - of otherness and of connection and of what humanity really means, specifically through the lens of alien and robot characters in scifi media. i am really glad this game came out a month after i finished that because i worry the entire paper would’ve just been straystraystray)

#stray #stray spoilers #stray 2022 #stray game #cat game #concept

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hardestgrove · 2 years ago

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THE MUNGROVE FILES: ELRIC/LOTR

Fantasy as a Means of Examining the Dynamic Between Billy and Eddie Or Why I Think You Should All Read Elric and Associate It With Billy

This is another unhinged essay from me and I will be doing a lot here, arguably the most, certainly too much. But fuck it it’s 2008 and I’m writing a shipping manifesto bc tbh I think LJ had it right and long ass metas are fun. In this essay I will be talking about why I think Billy would be a fan of the Elric Saga, how this works thematically with Eddie and why I think that the difference in which series mirror their character cores enhances the dynamic.

For starters, Elric of Melniboné — what even is that?

The Elric Saga is a series of about 7 books written by the English author Michael Moorcock from the 60s to 00s, the majority being written in the 60s-80s. They were printed in magazines and then novellas and then compiled into larger books so it can get a little confusing when you looking for information about them. The Elric Saga is a seminal piece of dark pulp fantasy that has been just as much of a foundational piece of western fantasy media as The Lord of The Rings if not as well known by the masses. It’s been referenced by countless bands including Blue Öyster Cult, given Edward Elric of Full Metal Alchemist and White Wolf Publishing their names, been one of the foundations of Dungeons and Dragons entire creation and is the inspiration for the Targaryens and Valyria in George R. R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire — just to name a few places where Elric has had an effect.

(Also the Eldar from Warhammer 40k are LITERALLY the Melniboneans. Almost to a T.)

The story of the series follows Elric of Melniboné, a sickly albino sorcerer king of a decadent and corrupt empire still clinging to it’s glory from when it ruled most of their world. Elric at first determined to somehow do something about their slow decline, not just in power but in humanity, exiles himself and sets out to travel the Young Kingdoms of the humans to learn more than he could from books and study. Because of Elric's introspective self-loathing and hatred of Melnibonéan traditions, his subjects find him odd and unfathomable. However, his cousin Yyrkoon (next in the line of succession, as Elric has no heirs) interprets this behaviour as weakness and plots Elric's death. Complicating matters is Yyrkoon's sister Cymoril, who is deeply in love with Elric; Yyrkoon covets her, and part of his plan for usurpation is to marry Cymoril himself.

Elrics greatest aids in his quests for peace for his people, and then later only himself when he realizes there is no hope for Melniboné, are his patron and master Arioch, a Lord of Chaos and Duke of Hell and the evil eldritch blade with a mind of its own bestowed to him by Arioch, Stormbringer. The sword confers upon Elric strength, health, and fighting prowess, allowing him to do away with his dependence on drugs, but it must be fed by the souls of intelligent beings. In the end, the blade takes everyone close to Elric and eventually Elric's own soul as well. This is the most constant element of the Moorcock’s stories, that anyone who is too close to Elric for too long shares in his tragic fate by Stormbringer’s or Elric’s hand. The other is that Elric is trapped as a pawn in the cosmic war between Order and Chaos (this is where the DnD alignment chart comes from).

Elric himself is a handsome but weak and miserable man forever fighting against his own depression and despair as he feels his situation in life becomes more impossible to bear. He also has a lot of sex for someone who’s so miserable to be around which is pretty impressive. He’s a byronic anti-hero, at times really even more of an anti-villain and literally everything about him is sexy and tragic. He comes from a cycle of cruelty and is considered somewhat impure of breeding, that impurity is also likely why he still has even scraps of basic decency left compared to many of his country men who revel in atrocities. Even with him being the least terrible he’s still cruel, arrogant, prideful, spiteful and generally apathetic to life and most joys.

You see, Elric and his people are doomed. There is truly no hope for them. Thanks to an ancient deal made thousands of years ago the Melniboneans are tied to Arioch and as Arioch is a Lord of Chaos this means he is a monstrous corrupting force and the source of all the depravity bastardizing Elric’s people over the generations. Elric as their king is in many ways little more than a slave to Arioch’s wishes. While Elric as a facet of the Eternal Champion inevitably works for Balance and works with agents of Order at times, he is an agent of Chaos because the pact with Arioch which cannot be broken and Arioch is happy to bring him back to heel when he sees fit. There is no peace or happiness or safety for Elric, his god —and his sword— do not wish it so and Elric cannot fight back.

Elric became a very popular place to pull inspiration from for Hard Rock and Metal artists because of these darker themes. It’s noted that Elric’s relationship with Stormbringer is similar to an addiction. He relies on the sword to feel better/be healthier but it’s evil. It has it’s own agenda and frequently robs him of his own will or control over his own body, forcing him to cut down his own friends and loved ones. It fuels him by devouring the souls of others, damning them to a fate forever trapped inside the hell that is the sword. This dark parasitic/symbiotic relationship helped it hit home with musicians of the era.

Many people in the community consider Billy to be a secret bookworm or just more passionate about reading than you’d immediately think from seeing him. I throw in my hat for the Elric Saga being Billy’s favorite series. It’s fantasy, it’s metal, it’s got sex in it, it’s got a very handsome man absolutely going through it in conflicts he has largely no power over that get into questions of fate and self determination, all that shit. It reeks of Big Billy Energy™. You can even see parallels between his character in season 3 and Elric in what I just said about Elric and Stormbringer. Fun fact— The Eternal Champion always bears an aspect of the Black Sword as his or her weapon, though it may not always manifest as a sword (black veins anyone?).

I can see Billy finding Elric’s life and struggles much more engaging and emotionally resonant to his own than he ever could with say, The Lord of The Rings which as one of the biggest fantasy series of all time and present in this era I know many like to use when talking about what he reads. Elric is a miserable fuck, he hates himself and wants to die but he persists through everything. He curses the gods, picks himself back up, gets back into the pit and commits a few atrocities, fights a dude, saves a kingdom, accidentally kills his new best friend, saves the universe, weeps into his wine over his dead girlfriend, has sex with some lady, kills another dude—rinse, repeat. It’s honestly pretty impressive since he so clearly needs a therapist or 80.

The idea for many as to why Billy reads is for a certain amount of escapism from Neil and the abuse which I agree with. But I don’t think that LOTR has the kind of escapism Billy would resonate with because of its more optimistic and comforting tones. I don’t think that even in his escapism Billy likes to be “lied” to. He prefers stories where while it might not be the focus, the harsh realities are there. His escapism is in power fantasies, in stories set in rich and compelling worlds (which yes, LOTR also has), and in putting his pain into a character. I think many things that are baked into LOTR because of who Tolkien was don’t always sit well with Billy. Sometimes you win, but it’s a pyrrhic victory and you also kinda lose because the cycle of conflict continues. Sometimes the exiled king isn’t some stalwart dude who’s rule will fix everything with no good explanation as to why that would be, sometimes he sucks and there is no way out of the tailspin anyway. Sometimes you end up alone because of your own cruelty and selfless. Sometimes it takes the Apocalypse to finally get a chance to free yourself from your masters. Elric is as compelling as he is tragic and he’s only one facet of the Eternal Champion, a being that exists in different forms throughout the Multiverse. The Champion exists to uphold the Cosmic Balance, and could even be said to be an aspect or reflection of the Balance.

Most Champions don’t even know that they are a Champion and multiple can exist in the same place at the same time. I can see him fantasizing about being one. Billy is at his heart a protector, I can see him daydreaming about being a warrior for Balance, protecting the world from the war being Law and Chaos, and never even knowing he was. I think for Billy, who feels worthless and unwanted, the inherent fantasy of being just Built Different™ is more appealing than the “anyone can be a hero” vibes of LOTR.

With that let’s get into why The Lord of The Rings is Eddie’s favorite series and then the whole compare-y constrast-y “and that’s why they should kiss” part.

If Billy looked at Elric and said “yeah I’m about to make this dude my whole personality” then Eddie did that with Frodo. Frodo is essentially the town eccentric who was raised by his uncle, the other town eccentric. He’s intelligent and kind and no one’s idea of a hero at a glance. But he is heroic and he takes on an incredibly heavy burden because someone has to and he cares too deeply to let someone else be stuck with it, even if he wishes anyone else could have it. LOTR at it’s core is a story of hope, of unlikely friendship and heroism that stands up against time, distance and unspeakable evil. It’s a story of faith in your beliefs and your friends. It talks about surviving through harrowing events and the darkest times and how love and friendship can do so much to help you continue on against the odds.

It feels like a no brainer why all of that would appeal to Eddie. Unlike Billy, Eddie has a loving uncle and has managed to build a support system. His life is by no means perfect but he’s certainly doing better than Billy is. Eddie prefers the story where good inevitably triumphs over evil in a pretty clear cut way because that’s what he feels is right. It’s his escapism. Frodo’s struggle hits him emotionally and the plot itself is likely part of the foundation of his belief system. When asked to go with the party he says they’re asking him to walk into Mordor which yeah, fucking stupid, was stupid in LOTR too. But it was also the only option and the only right/good thing to do. Even if they didn’t succeed they would have at least tried. So of course Eddie goes too.

“Man was not born to a world of justice. But he can create such a world!” ― Michael Moorcock, Stormbringer

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Their choices in favorite media are basically symbols of their philosophies, beliefs and aesthetics. Elric is one man’s quest to find his place in the world and failing that, making a new world. Of overcoming endless adversity in a harsh uncaring universe. It’s got all the aesthetics you think of when talking about 60s-70s pulp fantasy— scantily clad ladies, handsome sword boys, crazy shit, totally unpronounceable words, weird architecture etc. LOTR is the story of a group of people working together to end a war and save their world. They have total faith in each other and their friendship, love and humility is in the end what helps them win. It’s aesthetics are more classic because well— it fucking codified the classical fantasy genre look. Also like fucking 8 million poems and songs everywhere constantly.

Billy does not take pride in his softness, he takes pride in his resilience, in his anger. Eddie takes pride his creativity and his care for others and his kindness. He talks about how he saw the boys alone in the cafeteria and went out of his way to take them under his wing and he runs a whole club built on collaborative creativity. Billy has worked alone his whole life to find ways to deny Neil’s shrinking of him. He plants his feet when he’s hit and refuses to be someone you forget. He refutes a universe that would walk by his existence, he will not be denied his space. He’s miserable and arrogant like Elric— Elric who only wants to be at peace. Eddie has found is little niche and he’s content in it, but when pressed he will stand up to defend it even if he’s scared. Because it’s the right thing to do, because he cares, because he couldn’t bear putting someone else in danger just so he’d be safe. He’s adventurous and loving like Frodo— Frodo who saved the shire for everyone, but not for himself.

Billy and Eddie are complimentary forces. Their differences create a conversation between them which can lead to growth and change and their similarities ensure it happens on even footing. They’re both poor, from dysfunctional families with bad dads, they both love metal, they’re both unlike the people around them. Billy can say the world is shit and Eddie can say “is it really?” and a dialogue can be opened that gets them both thinking. Billy ensures Eddie’s kindness isn’t abused, that the Shire remains unscoured. Eddie gives Billy the affection he craves and gives him the space he needs to feel peace. Because Billy is a protector and Eddie is a carer. Eddie shows on multiple occasions his emotional sensitivity and compassion. Like Elric traveling the Young Kingdoms, most people look at Billy and see a threat, a villain, because of what he is (a Melnibonean/an abuse victim with unhealthy mechanisms). Like Frodo, Eddie has the big heart and open mindedness to show pity and compassion even to Gollum who would’ve absolutely loved to bash his head in with a rock. And that kindness is what allows what’s left of Gollum’s humanity to shine through as Sméagol, the man he used to be.

I’m losing mental steam here because I’ve been at this Billy/Elric shit all day but I feel like this quote from Moonglum, another aspect of the Eternal Champion, kinda says what I’m getting at here.

“He had never understood his friendship with the albino. It had always been a peculiar mixture of reserve and affection, a fine balance which both men were careful to maintain, even in situations of this kind.

Elric, since his passion for Cymoril had resulted in her death and the destruction of the city he loved, had at all times feared bestowing any tender emotion on those he fell in with.

He had run away from Shaarilla of the Dancing Mist, who had loved him dearly. He had fled from Queen Yishana of Jharkor, who had offered him her kingdom to rule, in spite of her subjects’ hatred of him. He disdained most company save Moonglum’s, and Moonglum, too, became quickly bored by anyone other than the crimson-eyed Prince of Imrryr. Moonglum would die for Elric and he knew that Elric would risk any danger to save his friend. But was not this an unhealthy relationship? Would it not be better if they went their different ways? He could not bear the thought. It was as if they were part of the same entity different aspects of the character of the same man.

He could not understand why he should feel this. And he guessed that, if Elric had ever considered the question, the Melnibonean would be equally hard put to find an answer.” —The Vanishing Tower by Michael Moorcock

#mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #stranger things meta #meta #writing.doc #JUST FUCKING TAKE IT #no one is gonna read this why do i keep writing these things i know no one is gonna read lol

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 3 years ago

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Desperate Times

Doctor Strange x OC, Angst, Demon Summoning, honestly just Strange having a hard time, semi-character study

Summary: Ellie's powers are only growing and Strange no longer knows how to control it. So, he turns to the one person in the universe who can, her father.

Prompt from @lucywrites02: You know what I would love to see? Stephen meeting Ellie's dad (was his name Damien? Daniel? Idk, I don’t like him either way). I don't know how much Stephen knows about him and about Cassandra's past in general, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be happy to see his girlfriend's ex asshole boyfriend. How do you think this meeting would go?

A/N: So I've been developing Damien more as a character and he's been becoming more complicated than my original posting about him here. If you'd like to know more about him, let me know! Also, for anyone who is curious, I'm face claiming Matt Smith as Damien.

Word Count: 1.4K

Strange knew deep inside it was a bad idea the moment he completed the circle.

The magical community all but unanimously agreed that summoning a demon on purpose was not a wise decision. It was also drilled into his skull that summoning a demon when you’re desperate is certifiable. The problem was, he was desperate and there was only one being he could turn to.

He stood back, opening the book he had taken from Cassandra’s collection and spoke a name.

A rush of air swirled around the enclosed room. His eyes darted to each corner of the pentagram. The lights of the candles rose higher and higher, encompassing the circle in a black smoke. A red light flashed from the cloud. For that brief moment Strange caught the outline of a figure. The light pulsed faster and faster as the form grew larger, a great ram’s head perched on top of it all. And then suddenly, the red light vanished. For a full second the black smoke clung to air before dropping like a heavy curtain.

In the center of the circle was now just a man grinning like the devil.

“Hello Doctor Strange.”

His spine straightened on instinct. He already knew there was a good chance Damien would know who he was, but a demon knowing your name was never a good place to start. It also didn’t help that he looks so…normal.

The demon was about his height, his face almost boyish despite the square shape and large chin. His hair flopped in front of his face in that style that reminded him of a 60s boy band. He also dressed the part, wearing a perfectly average suit and tie.

He tried his best not to linger on it, even if the pettier part of his mind was left to question if it was the British accent a teenaged Cassandra had swooned over.

“You know who I am?” Strange said, purposefully making his voice more commanding.

The demon nodded. “You keep your list of threats, I keep mine. Even if those threats get, well…demoted.”

He pressed his lips into a line, decidedly not grabbing at the obvious bait.

“So what do you want, sorcerer? I take it this isn’t a social call.”

He took a breath. “It’s Ellie.”

Damien’s features froze. All confident smiles vanished. For a moment Strange remembered the ram’s head and just how very old it was.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice all blood soaked teeth. “What’s happened?”

“She’s alright,” Strange assured. “She hasn’t hurt anyone or herself.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Damien strode forward only to be launched off his feet, landing hard on his side the second he touched the edge of the circle.

Strange didn't know whether to feel satisfied at seeing the demon on his ass or insulted he thought that would work.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Damien shook his head, pulling himself back to his feet. “Well, you never know. In my experience, wizards have more arrogance than sense.” He took a moment to look down at the pentagram, nodding appreciatively.

“You must think I’m a nasty piece of work. You even added a psychic shield. I’m flattered. And is that a tracking dampener? I was wondering why I was having such trouble finding this place.” He glanced up. The easy grin was back. “Sandy tell you to add that bit?”

Strange kept his mouth shut. Apparently that was enough as the demon’s eyes narrowed.

“She doesn’t know about this, does she?” He took a step forward, minding the border as his head cocked to the side. “What are you planning, sorcerer?”

Strange’s jaw clenched, trying desperately to keep his face as neutral as possible. “Ellie’s powers are growing exponentially,” he said, carefully. “I’ve been trying to get her to control it, but she won’t… She doesn’t listen to me. I don’t know how to help her and if I can’t, we both know what she has the potential to grow into.”

Damien’s lips quirked up into a mocking line. “And what would you do then? Stop her.”

“My duty is to protect this reality.” It was what he had been telling himself, but the clenched fist at his sides told another story.

“So you would stop her.”

Strange again, said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. The look Damien was giving him now left him stuck. For a moment he felt as if he were the one in the cage.

“How would you do it?” he continued. “If she reaches her full power she’d be a god. Little g, maybe but enough to level a few continents. And, of course, her human half would still be intact. The source of her power and weakness. Humans can be killed easily enough. Would you kill her, Strange? To save reality.”

He knew what his answer should be. The only acceptable response was to say yes. Whether or not he was still Sorcerer Supreme, the lives of millions could not be sacrificed for one. He had allowed Tony Stark to live knowing he needed to die later to defeat Thanos and save billions.

The problem this time was, he knew Ellie. She was just a kid.

After a prolonged silence, Damien nodded his head, his expression turning almost friendly. “Good answer. So what do you want from me?”

Strange took a deep breath. “She was supposed to be your weapon. If there is anyone who knows how to control her powers it's you.”

“And you’d be correct.”

“So help me,” he asked. “Tell me how.”

The demon took a long moment, seemingly in thought before shaking his head. “No. I don’t think I will.”

“But you–”

“Unless,” he interrupted. “I’m the one to teach her.”

Strange bristled, his voice going low. “That’s not on the table.”

Damien just shrugged. “Then we have nothing left to discuss.” He turned, lifting his hand, allowing the candle lights to rise once more.

“You’d let your daughter turn into a monster,” Strange snapped.

“It’s what she was born to be,” he countered, spinning back to face him. “Her purpose in this universe is to destroy, just as it was my purpose to create her and now your purpose to stop things like us. Except, this time, you won’t stop her. You want to know how I know?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“Because, for all our differences Stephen Vincent Strange, you and I have something very much in common.” He stepped closer, his voice going low as if to share a secret. “Losing Ellie, losing Cassandra, that is the worst thing that could possibly happen to us. So, if you’re anything like me you would be willing to do unspeakable things to keep them safe.

“Of course, you would have to tell Sandy about our little conversation. And that would mean having to tell her, you’ve failed. She would know what you considered having to do.”

A cold stream of dread slid down his spine, landing in his stomach.“She knows what Ellie could do,” Strange said.

“She thinks it,” the demon corrected, “but human minds are funny. You can come up with all sorts of things; terrible, wonderful things. But as soon as you say it out loud, suddenly it becomes real. So, if she were to hear you say Ellie may have to die to save the world, well… you said it, not her.”

Strange kept silent. He knew it was true. From the moment he had decided to steal the book, he had failed. Perhaps Damien was onto something. Saying it out loud made it unavoidably true.

“Tell them,” Damien said, “and let them decide. I can hardly just make a deal with you anyhow.”

“Nothing you want from me?”

“Oh there is plenty I want from you.” He smirked. “But, this isn’t the time or the place. I can only proceed with the full consent of the concerned parties.”

“Since when.”

“Since creation.”

Strange blinked in surprise as Damien straightened, plunking some non-existent dirt off his suit.

“One more thing, sorcerer. You hurt my daughter, I will find my way back to this plane, take your pathetic sack of meat for a body, and do…well one dares not say it in polite company.”

He almost laughed. “If I hurt Ellie, Cassandra won’t leave enough left of me for you.”

Damien paused before his mouth split open into an appreciative grin. “Truer words. You have my number.”

And with that, a whirl black smoke spun high and dropped leaving Strange in silence and dim light. Decisions would soon have to be made. He could only hope he’d make the right one.

#stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange x oc #doctor strange x oc #marvel #mcu #marvel oc #mcu oc #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #cassandra jackson #ellie jackson #Damien #2022 fic

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teddy06writes · 4 years ago

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Locked Away

Requested by this anon: “Heyo! Can I please request an Awesamdude x Fem!Reader in which the reader is an inmate at Sam’s prison? Not Stockholm syndrome or anything because the reader already had a crush on Sam before being put in there. Thanks!”

And also this one: “ please i will cry if i don’t get more awesamdude content. i’ve scrolled to the very end of his every hashtag.”

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, manipulation (dream’s the reason your in prison), character death

premise: In game AU; or the past three months you’d been under Dream’s control, only half aware of what was going on, the last thing you can remember from before was talking to Sam almost telling him your feelings, but now, as you are suddenly yanked from his control you find yourself being thrown in prison, now under his watchful eye

{oh there is no fluff here fellas}

“blep” talking

‘belp’ talking but its the green bitches voice in your head

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You were drifting, drifting through your strange, foggy world, doing your best to forget about the way you could barley control your own body, just a puppet on strings, when yelling, not of the voice that you’d been hearing, but of someone else, cut through the smog.

-“It’s over!”-

-”none of this will ever be over”-

The voice, it was your own but it didn’t belong to you.

-”Dream has Surrendered (y/n), we can’t allow you to continue on his work”-

Growing bored you begin to drift away again, barley seeing, or feeling the people dragging you away.

Sometime later, you’d been drifting, and then were suddenly plummeting back down into your body, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you regained control of your own body.

“What the fuck?” A loud voice asked.

You jerked your head up, turning to see that it was Sapnap who had been restraining you as you shuffled along, weakly asking, “Wha-? Sapnap- what’re you? Wh- what?”

You looked around frantically at the smooth Blackstone walls, and down the hallway to where Bad and Sam are moving through unlocking a series of locks, “Where? Wha- Where I am I? Wh- wh- wh- what’s going on?”

“Yeah nice try,” Sapnap scoffed, “I’m not letting you go because of fake amnesia.”

“No- it- I-” Panic was rising in your chest as Sam and Bad finished with the locks and pulled open a door to what looked like a cell.

“You think we shackle her like we did with him?” Sapnap asked, all but dragging you forward.

Bad was clearly about to nod when Sam stopped him, obviously conflicted as he searched your eyes, “No. She won’t need them.”

“What is happening right now?” You asked desperately.

Ignoring you Sapnap nodded, pulling your forward and pushing you into the cell, the barred door closing behind you, “Well, you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go talk to Dream.”

“Be careful.” Bad advised and Sam began to relock the door.

You slowly, shakily, pulled yourself to your feet, look through the bars at Sam and Bad, “What is going on?”

Bad frowned, almost glaring at you, “(y/n) this is what happens to people who do bad things. Siding with Dream is just about the worst thing you could have done.”

“Side wit- side with Dream?” You blinked, rubbing at your temples as panicked tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, “I- I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

Bad simply turned away as Sam finished the locks, taking in a shaky breath, “We trusted you, you know?”

“I- Sam- I didn’t- Sam I don’t know whats going on? Where am I? I didn’t- I didn’t side with Dream- I would never side with Dream.” You said desperately.

“This is The Prison (y/n), entirely unescapable, made for people li- like you,” His voice wavered, and quickly he turned, “There's no getting out.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night, small sobs echoing through the empty halls of the prison; in his office Sam felt each new sob in his chest; in his cell, with each new sob Dream’s smile only grew larger.

Sam sighed, blocking out Dream’s monologue as he slid the tray of food through the opened slot in the door.

Dream’s cell had no bars, just a full steel door, and a tiny window in the ceiling, yet the man seemed to enjoy it, far to much.

“You know how funny it was to see (y/n) getting dragged in here?” Dream laughter shrilly.

“You were in here, there was no way you could’ve seen anything.” Sam replied sharply.

“Oh but I hear everything,” Dream laughed again, “Stupid bitch didn’t even know what was going on, god I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get in her dumbass head.”

“Don’t call her that,” Sam hissed, slamming the slot shut and locking it, “I don’t want another word out of you until you’re giving me that fucking tray back.”

Ten minutes later the hallway your cell was in was deadly silent other than Sam’s footsteps, “Food time.”

He slid the tray into the slot of your door, and look picked your head up from leaning back on the wall to look at him, “You do realize something’s wrong here, right?”

“I mean, you siding with Dream was certainly wrong.” Sam muttered.

You sounded utterly broken and defeated as you moved to lay back on your cot, turning to face the wall, “I didn’t realize manipulation was a form of agreement.”

Sam sighed, “Are you gonna eat this or not? I’m not suppose to leave till you do.”

“Then I guess your going to have to sit here.”

The first 15 minutes passed in silence, Sam resigning to sit on the floor outside your cell as the minutes ticked on, eventually asking, “You were saying you didn’t remember anything, what exactly do you remember?”

“You.” The word was simple enough, “We were talking- you said you thought you could do something. Tried to walk me home but I said I’d be fine. Dream was waiting at my house.”

Sam hummed, a slight anxiety rising in his chest, “What did I think I could do?”

You sighed, studying the Blackstone wall, “You said ‘I think I might be able to love you’ but with whatever I did there's no way it’s true anymore.”

Sam stayed quiet, thinking back on that night nearly two months ago, plans for the building of that very prison were being finalized, he’d felt so on top of the world he’d admitted the feelings weighing him down, but then you had become strange, distant.

“Why did you do it?” He asked eventually.

“Do what?”

“Y- you were helping Dream, with fighting New L’manburg, exiling Tommy, blowing up L’manburg again, you- you helped him round up the things that hold power.”

You frozen, distant foggy memories flaring up in your mind, a thousand answers presenting themselves, ultimately deciding on, “Do you know what it feels like, to not be in control of your mind? To be stuck in the passengers seat as a madman takes to the road?”

He was silent as you continued, “To have your consciousness so nearly severed from your body that you can barley see or feel what’s going on? I didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He was just there, in my brain. Do you know what that’s like? I’d say you shouldn’t. Just take that food back and leave. Let me go back to dreaming of a future I missed out on.”

“How did it happen?”

Another quiet question, another quiet silence interrupted.

“It’s- foggy,” You admitted, more to the ceiling than to Sam, “But I think- I think it was like a switch got flipped. Could still be flipped. Then he’d be in control again.”

A week had passed since you’d been locked away, and still Sam would sit, until you finished your food, or, more like, until you finally pushed the food away, still refusing to eat despite the pangs of hunger.

“I- I didn’t kill anyone, did I?” You hazarded.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “Even if you did, that wasn’t you. Nothing you did then was you.”

“Stop doing that.” You muttered, rolling over to face the wall yet again.

“Doing what?”

“Saying things you would’ve said before,” You said bitterly, “You can’t treat me like a monster one second and then like a lover the next. I may be a monster thanks to him but I do not think I deserve that.”

“You’re not-”

“A monster?” You cut him off, “That why I can still fucking hear him sometimes? Taunting me? Threatening to take over again?”

Sam froze, looking back through the bars to your turned back, “You can here him?”

Your hands began to shake, thinking about the barren whispers that filled your head at night, forcing yourself to sit up and turn back to him, plucking a small piece of bread from the tray, “Sometimes.”

“How? His cell is on the other side of this place.”

“He’s in my head, still hasn’t fully left, that is,” You sighed, biting off a small chunk of the bread before tossing it back on the tray and pushing it toward the door, “Thank you.”

Reluctantly Sam took the tray, standing up and starting to trudge back down the hallway, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Soon, he journeyed back down to the level where Dream was being held.

“I had a feel you’d be down here.” Sam could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice.

“What did you do to her?”

Dream chuckled, “I guess that depends on what you mean. Technically I didn’t do anything, that was all her.”

“What did you do?” He repeated.

“Nothing of consequence. For me at least. Honestly it was really quite easy to get in her head, didn’t even fight it,” Dream shifted, letting out a harsh laugh, “Part of me thinks it was like she was already that bad. Just as evil as me.”

Sam crossed his arms, “No one could be as evil as you, least of all her.”

“Of course you’d think so,” Dream laughed, “Course you’d think better of a monster.”

‘you think he’s ever going to forgive you?’

‘you’re a monster (y/n) nothing can change that.’

‘no matter how much you beg, no matter how much you try to get them to understand it was me, they will never let you out.’

His voice haunted you, keeping you up far into the night, words etching themselves into the walls of your mind.

‘he will never forget what you did.’

‘you ruined people, you worked for me, and that makes you evil.’

‘Your a monster. And even if you weren’t one before, I’ll make sure you become one.’

“You don’t control me.” You muttered up into the darkness.

‘oh (y/n) your so naïve.’

“Shut up.” You muttered more forcefully.

‘you think I can’t control you from here? you are a fucking fool.’

Almost immediately a feeling of panic surged through you as something changed, the switch in your head being flipped once again, the last thing you could truly hear as he took over was two harsh words.

‘you’re mine.’

It was early in the morning when Sam had woken up to a panicked sounding Bad over the coms, “I don’t know what's happening!! It- it sounds like- like someone's trying to kill her!”

Almost immediately Sam was up and sprinting down the corridor.

It took him all too long to reach your level, where Bad was frantically trying to undo the locks on your cell.

“Get out of the way!” He yelled, pulling out the master key card as he heard the obvious sounds of someone being choked.

It took yet a moment longer to get the cell door open, to find you one hand clamped around your own throat, the other desperately trying to pry it off.

“Bad go get healing pots!” Sam yelled, immediately rushing forward to help you as Bad went running.

It took him a moment to wrench your hand away from your neck, just long enough for you to cough twice, looking up at him in fear, “Sam, run.”

His brow furrowed, looking down at you confused as your face seemed to shift, and then suddenly you were throwing him across the room.

Sam watched, dazed as you bolted out of the cell and down the hall, master key card in hand.

By the time he had dragged himself to his feet, and his vision had cleared itself of the spots that had drifted through there were several alarms going off, and distantly, he could hear people running.

“Bad! Ant! Give me an update, what’s happening?!” He yelled into the coms, already starting to run to where he suspected the noise was coming from.

“The key cards! She got the key cards! They’re headed for south sector!” Ant yelled back.

“I want someone back in the control room,” Sam ordered, “Turn the mining fatigue up, set the lava traps and get guards on the outer perimeter. We can’t let Dream escape.”

Sam continued to run, listening to chatter over the coms as to where you were headed, quickly gaining.

“Freeze!” Sapnaps loud voice echoed through the corridor.

Dream turned from where you were toiling to break the wall to see Sapnap, Antfrost, BBH, and Sam all aprouching, crossbows drawn.

“Surrender now and we won’t take your last life.”

Dream merely laughed, looking his former friends in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”

“It’s four on two, seems like pretty good odds in our favor.” Sam hazarded, stepping forward and breaking the line.

Dream seemed to size him up, before glancing to you, “Kill them.”

The words were simple, and clear.

You stood, dropping your pickaxe and donning the armor nabbed while on the run.

“(Y/n), don’t-” Sam said cautiously, lowering his crossbow.

Dream sneered at him, drawing the other sword taken from the armory as Sapnap drew his own, “(y/n), fight him, I can take care of the rest.”

You nodded obediently holding up your sword before launching yourself towards Sam.

Sam raised his shield, blocking your first thrust, and then the second, quickly trying to back away from you as Dream attacked his comrades, “(y/n) don’t do this!”

His words fell upon deaf ears as you attacked again, this time grazing Sam’s arm with your blade.

He yelped in pain, instinctively starting to swing back, though not heavily enough to hurt you.

The sounds of fighting echoed through the corridor as you and Dream clashed with the guard, the men Dream attacked falling quickly until it was just you and Sam battling it out.

You slashed again at his arm, this time penetrating deep into the exposed skin on his inner arm, using his pause and yell of pain as time to kick him back knocking the sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground with your boot.

Your sword poised at his throat you looked to Dream, waiting for confirmation.

When the man nodded Sam desperately reached out to you, “(y/n), (y/n) please- don’t- plea-”

You’d been drifting again, thinking of the night before Dream had taken you.

It had been late, you had stayed to long gazing at the sky, and Sam had found you sitting by the prime path.

He’d sat down next to you, and for a while you talked about everything and nothing all at once, until you’d laughed, and in some sort of sleep drunk state, leaned in and tried to kiss him.

Much to your surprise he had kissed back, giving you a murmured confession, the same one you heard now, yelled and frantic.

-”(y/n) please! I- I think- I love you- Don’t do this! Don’t-”-

The strings were cut, and you plummeted back into your own body in time to see a blade cutting into his neck.

“S-Sam?” Your eyes traveled up the blade, to the hand clasped around the grip- your hand.

“Sam!” You were desperate now, tossing the sword away with a clatter as fresh tears sprang in your eyes.

Distantly you could hear Dream laughing as you leaned over Sam’s body, “Sam no! Sam- Sam- I told you to run- I told you to run! Why? Why didn’t you? Sam! Please! No!”

The only thing you got in return was Dream’s wild laugh, and the blade being thrust into your back.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #awesamdude x reader #teddy06 writes

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