#as someone who just got to azteca

[joshualegendforge]

WIZARD101 WORLD 5: A post-apocalyptic hellscape, covered by an ever present blood red sky, populated by the ghosts of those whose lives were tragically cut short but yet still remain, unable to move on.

WIZARD101 WORLD 20: Australia

[ravenwoodalum]

on karamelle, why it sucks, and redeeming azteca's reputation.

I just got to Karamelle for the second time, and good lord. I hadn't forgotten how much I hated it, but it hit me like a wall of bricks. And I'm already preparing myself to marathon it and be fucking done questing here for at least a year.

I think it breaks down like this.

Baby's first workers rights movement/sugary-sweet surveillance state Listen. I know this is a game that doesn't allow for player characters to have much individual impact on the in-game narrative. I know we've had to do errands for cops. I know we work for a war criminal. I KNOW there are flaws in the system. But there's something about the way that Karamelle's set up that makes it all feel so. much. worse. And that's the fact that Karamelle has such a stellar reputation within the Spiral before this. The happiest place in the Spiral, the sweetest treats in the Spiral. Everyone seems to fucking love this place. Almost no one outside of those actually working there seem to understand how corrupt it is. And so the YW is talked down to at every turn, like this is their first exposure to a corrupt environment. And sure, maybe it is within, canon. YW gets isekai'd at a very young age and then made into a child soldier, maybe this is actually the first time in canon that they've been introduced to these concepts. But (and this may just be me) it feels really rude to the player -- who might actually have experience with these ideas -- to make them feel like a fucking idiot with the dialogue options. Karamelle's characters just feel rude.

Oh, so the Gobblers were a fatphobic, Roald Dahl type thing from the start. Cool cool cool. Any of you ever read Roald Dahl's book "The Twits"? It's a very unremarkable story all things considered, except for this bit.

Aside from Roald Dahl's unavoidable history of antisemitism, does this remind you of anything? Honestly, this reminds me of the Gobbblers.

We first meet the Gobblers around level 10 in Wizard City -- creatures driven by consumption. And then we get to Empyrea and hear that the Alphoi -- skinny "civilized" creatures -- can become Gobblers if they eat too much or are unhealthy in their eating habits. Which makes one of our oldest running enemies a loop-around fatphobic thing, ESPECIALLY when we get to them in Karamelle, the home world of the Gobblers. Rosina, especially, just oozes fatphobia and diet culture. The literal vilification of being fat isn't even subtext, it's just text.

The Old One, The Cabal, and what to do when your escape from the world ends up shoving what you were escaping from right back in your face. When I was in sophomore year of college, fall of 2019, I had one of the worst mental health periods of my life. Antisemitism was fucking everywhere, I was always a moment away from a panic attack, and it felt like no one understood. While I'm lucky in the fact that I was able to get an official diagnosis for genetically inherited PTSD, alongside the reassurance that I wasn't fucking crazy, there was a period when I just needed to go home for a moment. So when I was going back to my dorm from the dining hall to make sure all my stuff was ready to go, I opened up tumblr and made a post on a long-gone RP sideblog I had for the Swedish Chef (y'know, from The Muppets? long story), and before I'd even gotten halfway across campus, I'd received threatening and violent messages from someone RPing as Borat, which only got worse when they realized they were talking to an actual Jewish person.

That escape from reality didn't even last five fucking minutes before the horrors I was trying to avoid found me.

Now, Wizard101 has always been a source of comfort for me. I made my account fourteen years ago, and I do not know what my life would look like if I hadn't done that. There are flaws with this game, yes, sure, but over the past five years (since I got a wiz compatible laptop) I've developed a bit of a reliance on it to get me through the horrors. No better form of escapism.

But no art form is free of the horrors.

And Wizard101 has the fucking Cabal and Old One.

The Cabal within the fiction of Wizard101 is a secret, nefarious organization pulling the strings on events across the Spiral, controlling history from the shadows. This term literally originates in antisemitic conspiracy theory, with the term 'cabal' originating from the term for Jewish mysticism, 'kabbalah'. And I promise you, you've heard plenty of applications of this conspiracy theory in real life too. It feeds into the idea that Jews (or 'global elite') control the government, the media, the banks.

And then, we get to the man in control of it all. The Old One. Whether or not this was intended, he's a walking, talking antisemitic caricature. The octopus as a symbol for the mythical Elders of Zion is a longstanding dogwhistle (see attached for a guide to this and many other visual dogwhistles). "Oh, he's based on H.P. Lovecraft-" So he's based on the works of a famous racist and antisemite, cool cool cool.

It's just exhausting, walking through a world that is so clearly modeled after Germany and other parts of eastern Europe, and finding antisemitism around every corner. And even more exhausting considering it's almost impossible to tell if they meant to do it. Antisemitism is so fucking ingrained in the world at this point that I don't actually know what they meant to do here, what they did maliciously or out of ignorance, or if any of it was put in with the purpose of turning it on its head. Over the past few years, it has become glaringly obvious that a lot of people don't realize when they're running across antisemitism, or even taking part in it. Including people I really thought would know better.

Side note. For those of you who know I see Dasein as Jewish, you may be wondering how I balance that out with the antisemitic nature of The Old One, since they share a physical form. I think of it like this. Dasein did not choose The Old One. He did not choose to resemble that, but he can attempt to reclaim it. Dasein's Judaism comes not from the resemblance he holds to the hatred that haunts us, but from the love that keeps us going. He questions authority and longstanding tradition, chooses to do what's right instead of what's expected, and is kind in the face of hatred. He literally makes himself, and a world, out of nothingness. Something out of Nothing. He's so Jewish you guys.

The Spiral's "Worst World Award" goes to... I know we all say "fuck Azteca" pretty often on this website, but I don't think it deserves to be deigned the worst world in Wiz. My main gripe with Azteca is how inaccessible it gets after Xibalba strikes -- the flashing lights aren't exactly photosensitive friendly. Which further lends frustration to my completionist nature, meaning I have to finish all quests, badges, and fishing before I finish the world (making it take forever to finish). Aside from that, there really isn't that much wrong with the world (and if you argue that it sucks because you can't save Azteca, I get it, but some tragedies are inescapable by their very nature). It's a problem of gameplay, versus a problem of plot in the case of Karamelle. And maybe its just because I'm a writer, but problems with plot feel much more egregious. I really do think Karamelle deserves more vitriol than it gets.

G-d, I can't wait to get to Lemuria.

[dani-luminae]

*Poke* Pirate101 Ask Meme returned: 1, 2, 6, 9, 22 and 24

1. Favorite crew member/companion?

Ooh this is a hard one. I'd say story-wise, as in their promo quests, it's probably either Bonnie Anne or Sarah Steele. Personality-wise, I love Ratbeard as the pirate's grumpy old chaotic neutral uncle-figure. Battle/skills-wise, it's the Haywire Armada units - the Musketeer and the Battle Angel, most specifically.

2. Favorite world?

Honestly, I actually found Cool Ranch kind of fun. Of course the portrayal of the bison/ Natives could have been done far better, but aside from them, I really liked the parodies of all the Wild West like the Magnificent Seven, the Lone Ranger, etc. Also really nice music.

I just wish my Musketeer didn't have to dress like a Confederate soldier lmao.

6. Who is your LEAST favorite crew member/companion and why?

Personality-wise, Wing Chun; he's so harsh and insulting. I've just gotten to a point in his promo quests and stuff where he comes across as less harsh, like he's grown more respect for the pirate, but still. Don't like him.

Powers/battle-wise, I'm gonna say Old Scratch. He fizzles so much, he's just plain unreliable. (Honestly... most of the Witchdoctor companions fizzle a lot.) Love his promo quest stories though.

9. Any headcanons for your crew?

Most of the first few - Wing Chun, Bonnie Anne, and Louis Le Crab, or equivalents among other crews - started out joining as in "holy Spiral someone's gotta be responsible for this small child!" only to then see the Young Pirate in battle and go "oh nvm, they're competent... and terrifying!" About by the time Ratbeard joins there's a lot less underestimating the Pirate, because clearly they're doing something right if they got these companions.

My personal headcanon for Noble James Hawkins' crew in particular is that he has a habit of collecting broken pieces of Armada enemies after fights. This is how he built/repaired the Musketeer, Marine, and Battle Angel on his crew.

And yes, at some point we do remove the Crown of Command from Monkey King, but he finds the crew and our wacky adventures too entertaining to leave immediately.

22. Do you trust Captain Avery?

I wouldn't say that I trust him, but I do respect him. He clearly appreciates the young Pirate to some extent (like the quest where he's captured by Thresher sharks and he's like "I knew you were coming! What took you so long? Now let's show these sharks how big a mistake they made!") He'd probably stab us in the back if it benefitted him, but I mean. The man's a pirate. That's kinda a given.

24. Would you make any improvements to the story? (Fill any plot holes?)

Honestly I'd try and straighten out the timeline a little, especially as does it match up to Wiz or take place after??? Because in Xol Akmul, the Aztecasaur city above Blood Shoals, we're led to believe that Morganthe already destroyed Azteca... and then in Cool Ranch we meet Desmond Argleston, Wizard City Librarian, looking a little older than he does in W101... but then we get to MooShu and it seems like we are actually concurrent with the Wizard because the Emperor is weakened from Malistaire's attack, leaving chaos to run wild.

Has the Wizard not actually fixed everything in MooShu? Has it just taken forever for news of the Emperor's recovery to reach all across the world? Or is this another case of the whole "time passes so weirdly in different worlds across the Spiral" so Azteca is already destroyed long before the Azure Shining One ever steps foot there, and is still sprinting around MooShu chasing Malistaire? Not to mention we get Valencian horses in Novus in Wiz, sort of implying the disastrous Armada days are behind them...

[orifumioshi]

At the end, I don't have any other place to ramble long texts aside here; It took me a while but I think I'm finally ready to put into words what Toriyama-sensei meant to me.

I was very young when DBZ was airing over here, I don't think I was even alive when DB aired and thanks to my great grandma dementia antecedents, I don't find it odd that I have a hard time trying to remember my childhood but I have this tiny bit of memory when I was about 5 or 6, watching the DBZ Majin Buu arc, specifically when Goten and Trunks were training to fuse, I was so excited and maybe I was trying the fusion dance by myself too and after the episode (episodes? can't recall if we got more than 1 ep per day) I was tired and took a nap with the good memory of the episode, when I woke up I found that my mom put a blanket on me and closed the curtains, it was nice.

On school, I had a hard time getting along with girls and instead, had boy friends who liked Dragon Ball and we would play we were DB charas and me despite being a girl would often pick Gohan or Mirai Trunks (don't ask me how the roleplay went because don't remember).

Between Digimon and Dragon Ball, I began to draw when I was about 7-8 years old and by then, I was already aware of kid Goku from the original DB series but never had the chance to watch the anime, instead it was another fun story:

Don't remember my age but by then I probably already watched all DBZ and I was shopping (probably at Walmart) with my mom and I saw a magazine (Manga of course, didn't knew what manga was back then xD) with kid Goku and Krillin on the cover, it as very cheap so my mom gladly bought it for me.

When we came home, I quickly took off the envelope and opened it the wrong way (as the baby I was, didn't knew how to read manga) but read it very happy, it was the first Dragon Ball thing my mom bought for me and I would even bring it to school to read it over and over again, it was the volume of the beginning of the tenkaichi budokai where we meet Tenshin-han and Chaozu and of course, I still have it in my hands and treasure it with all my heart.

Then, around the age I began to draw, colectionable cards were released and everytime I was given my allowance, I would buy cards although there were times when I didn't had money, my mom was kind and bought them for me. My friends also bought cards so it was a nice way to bond over, at the end, the only friends I had in school was thanks to Dragon Ball (I got bullied for liking Digimon "instead" of Pokemon so it was nice to have friends with at least one of my same interest).

Indirectly, Toriyama-sensei helped me to have friends, someone as shy and introverted like me was able to have friends and when I drew Goku in class, the other kids praised me (and some where jealous) and it helped me to have a little bit of self esteem, I owe Toriyama-sensei the feeling of being praised for something I drew!

One day my mom bought me an activity magazine of the Cell tournament and by tracing a Goku drawing from it and coloring (at my home) I cheated and told my friends that I drew it by myself; honestly I felt very proud of how I colored it and even my teacher praised me. Later I decided to try my own stuff and you might know or not, but I drew two saiyajins, a red and blue one; yes, I drew the Super Saiyajin God Red and Blue when I was 11 and I still can't believe it! Although, back then I was just thinking on making Saiyajins who would control fire and water. The amount of times DBZ aired in my country open TV are years worth of my very own live, even today open TV is airing DBZ (and DBS now too) and just the day the news spread, our open TV channel Azteca 7 aired a marathon of movies from 1:30 pm until midnight (with a break of 2 hours due a soccer match) and this week, we are getting the DBZ finale once again, I don't think I'm ready to rewatch carrying these feelings but I'll do my best.

You might be aware or not, but the very reason I began drawing was Digimon and Dragon Ball as stated before.

It was Dragon Ball what gave me friends and a somehow decent primary and middle school experience, it was great when all the kids (and I of course) would sing Chala-Head chala during break or try the fusion dance, even in my university years (less than 10 years ago) we would still do those things! For almost 30 years, Dragon Ball and Toriyama-sensei have been part of my life and I assure you, it will remain.

Regarding characters, I'm pretty sure I began to had my gay awaken with Android 18, she was so pretty in my eyes and even today, I'm jealous of Krillin. Also as I said before, I began watching DBZ before DB so I easily attached to Gohan, as a kid myself I was impressed by how he survived alone in the Saiyajin arc and constantly asked myself if I would even be able to do that and also became very fond of his relationship with Piccolo.

When Trunks arrived to kill Freeza, was a turning point in my life tbh; despite Freeza being very important, I never liked that arc (yes, I thank Freeza for giving us Super Saiyajin Goku but just that) so when he destroyed Freeza, I was extremely happy and immediately became my favorite. Mirai Trunks and Gohan are still my top favorite character even today along with the androids.

I suppose is no secret that we all know Piccolo was sensei's fav character so even today, I'm very happy SUPER HERO was made, I don't have proof but I don't have doubts either that THIS was the movie he always wanted to make, it felt to DB to the core and it quickly became one of my favorite movies; sure, Broly was a great movie too but at the end, I feel it was just Toriyama-sensei agreeing on making Broly canon rather than having fun with his very own characters which is why now I feel a very dear feeling towards SUPER HERO.

When DAIMA was announced, I was very happy to finally have something cute from the hand of Toriyama-sensei, I felt like he was finally given the freedom to make something for himself rather than for us and because of that very reason, I was (still am) looking forward to it! I can already hear the very same dude bros who complained that it wasn't "serious" or "cool" enough complaining again. I hope that now they can appreciate the series, sensei literally died working! Anniversary works don't need to be serious, they are meant to celebrate things and have fun os I really hope sensei was able to fulfill his work on DAIMA having fun.

I think I went a little far with my ramble (even going off track xD) so to resume, the impact Toriyama-sensei had not just in my artistic journey but in my life is irreplaceable, now Goku and co. are in our hands so we better take good care of then for him, thank you for the good memories sensei, I promise to keep doing my best and carry on your legacy by never forgetting what you gave us.

Lastly, I would like to scream something at hollywood and the AI dude bros: RESPECT TORIYAMA AKIRA-SENSEI WISHES OF NOT DOING A DRAGON BALL LIVE ACTION. DON'T YOU EVER DARE TO TOUCH DRAGON BALL FROM NOW ON AND IF YOU HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF RESPECT FOR HIS ART AND STORY, YOU WILL STOP GENERATING AI IMAGES OF HIS WORKS. THE BEST WAY TO HONOR HIM IS LEARNING TO DRAW! FUCKING DRAW SOMETHING AND STOP DOING THOSE STUPID "Check out how [insert DB chara here] looks in real life according to AI" SHIT BECAUSE THAT'S AN INSULT NOT JUST TO SENSEI BUT TO ALL THE ARTISTS IN THE WORLD AND THE ARTISTS HE, TORIYAMA-SENSEI INSPIRED. Thank you.

[nopesirthatisillegal]

My first attempt at writing anything about anything really

I find it hard to believe that my life has been abuse- my social life, nonexistent. Maybe its all from what's been drilled into me for so long- that they're only like this "because they love me" or "its for my own good".

It's currently 1:49 a.m. on March 1st, 2023. This is the first time I've had the "courage" to write anything, in the light of a little lamp in the shape of a moon.

Its hard to believe that I've become so numb inside - that the depression has come this far in me- the fact that i can't even cry- the fact that I am so ruined inside that life means almost nothing to me. If someone was to pun a gun to my head right now, the only problem I would have with it is the fact that I would leave the only person I truly love alone.

Those that i talk to tell me that my life has been abuse- not physical- although the threat was always there- but mental and emotional. I learned to keep my emotions hidden young- that meaning I got viciously yelled at when I cried when being lectured or spanked.

They tell me "you can trust us" and that I can tell them anything, but how can I do that when all they show me is how little they trust me over and over again, until I became afraid to speak of what I love on front of them for fear that that would be the next thing taken from me. I know now that they never meant it when they said that I could earn back their trust.

Recently I've become a very nervous person- or at least noticed it- especially at restaurants. I wanted to write this down in case I forget. We were waiting for a table in this very crowded Plaza Azteca (a mexican restaurant) last Saturday night, and so I was on the verge of a full blown panic attack, and I had brought in my drawing notebook to try to distract myself, not that it worked, when my father starts trying to be funny and tells me that i should draw one of the painting on the wall- I very politely told him not, i would not and continued drawing what I was drawing until my hands started to shake so badly that i was forced to stop.

My father then makes a second comment on how I should draw this painting (it was a very detailed face btw) and so I very clearly (but politely) told him no, so he got mad (he's not used to being denied) and started questioning me on why. I told him that: 1.) I did not have the time and 2.) I did not have the skill and 3.) i did not want to. After that I don't remember exactly what was said, but I do remember straight up saying "I have anxiety (which isn't like officially diagnosed but still there) and its really bad right now", and him responding with "don't give me that attitude" when I am about to start hyperventilating because there's around 20 very loud people in an area no bigger than 25 feet by 25 feet.

I also have a memory of my parents yelling at Zak (my older brother by 8 years) that depression was a sin when he had just trusted them enough to tell them, although I can't be 100% sure it actually happened, I remember it. It's now 2:53 a.m., and all I want is to not be me.

I don't trust people easily, but for those I do I would do almost anything for them not to feel like I do. But those who break that trust- I can never give it back. I might "forgive", but i can never forget, and I am ruthless in this numbness, only feeling the desire to punch- to hurt those who hurt me and Amy. I often wonder what- or who- the real monsters are- and if I am one of them.

But its 3:05 a.m., and I am out of space, so I guess its time to sleep

[shining-scion]

ADDING ONTO THIS TBH? (I think I’m reblogging this from someone’s tags I was reading on accident and I am so sorry)

The whole bit about arc 2 was setting up the dynamic between light and shadow and about how the wizard has to become both.

I’m almost done with the last world and that’s the vibe I got, anyway?

And I’m not about to say “azteca died for the wizard’s character growth” so just. Please understand I’m talking about thematics rn and nothing anyone inside the narrative is concretely aware of.

What I am gonna say is that narratively Avalon and Azteca show the wizard the extremes of both

Because Wizard101’s overarching theme is balance

Well

Maybe a better word is harmony

The Spiral cannot exist without chaos. It cannot exist without shadow magic— because shadow magic is change. There is an argument to be made that the spiral is resistant to change in its base state, that to change is to admit something you were doing was wrong or not the best method. That’s what Raven was trying to do, in a way— keep her children and her husband in stasis forever, static and unmoving?

Shadow rejects this notion outright, enabling the caster to make change, should they be brave or reckless enough to face the backlash and consequences because no choice is perfect. Morganthe was the extreme in that she was reckless and uncaring, only wanting the power for her goals, changing and tearing apart with not a thought to the consequences— that’s why it consumed her. She didn’t acknowledge its true nature. The wizard, through their journey, learns the consequence of choice and decision and is thus able to use the shadows for good. (They say use the shadows for the light but tbh this metaphor gets confusing when everyone is suddenly talking like Mickey Mouse is in the room)

The spiral needs to be able to change, but that change should be brought by people who understand what the spiral needs. No one person can make decisions for everyone.

WELCOME BACK TO SLAY THE PRINCESS I’M SQUIDKID AND I’M HERE TO SAY THAT THIS AND WIZARD101 ARE THE SAME THEMATIC THING /J

Is anyone else insane about the fact that Avalon was its own self contained epic hero fantasy and then Azteca had the darkest ending in the entire game.

Crazy about when stories do that thing where they give you the fantasy and the idealism and it’s right there and then it vanishes like smoke.

[bartlebyarea2]

Tale of a Young Wizard

You’ve just arrived at Wizard City - a world with magic you’ve only ever dreamed of. You don’t have nearly as many classes as you did back home, and most of the ones you do attend involve getting to learn some impressive new magic. You’re held with a regard you’ve never been given before, and are excited to show everyone that you deserve to be here.

You’ve been to a couple worlds already, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel. Everyone around you is applauding your work, but whenever they call you a hero, you’re just reminded of how there was always that one small thing pulling you to the next world, always meaning you still have unfinished business that needs to be solved before you truly deserve that title.

People in other worlds are starting to be made aware of your name, so Ambrose has you change it. The wizard you once were has now settled down to continue their studies, while the real you continues on the goal of defeating Malistaire. You’re allowed to use your old name in “secure places,” but in reality you’re always out and about.

You’ve always been told that you would be the one to defeat Malistaire, and as you enter The Great Spyre, it feels like a revenge fantasy finally coming to fruition. You’ve got plenty of reasons to be angry, and for years this has seemingly been the only way to take that anger out. Yet as you enter The Crown of Fire, you see a person staring back who looks like they’ve got just as many problems as you.

You’ve just killed someone. Everyone applauds you in the name of the greater good, and awards you the title of “Saviour.” They make you change your name again in hopes of giving you some sense of normalcy, but you’re old enough to realize that’ll never be the case again.

You have no friends your age. Your class attendance had become sparser and sparser, and while everyone was always ready to jump to your aid, they always left once the job was done. All your robes these days are hooded, so most people have never seen a good portion of your face. Sometimes at night you’ll say your original name - just to keep the memory of it alive, even if you’re not sure that you’re technically allowed to.

You were getting into a pattern where the only downtime you got were the hours you spent lying awake before falling asleep. You went from warring world to warring world, in a pattern you recognized all too well from your preteen years. The name changes became more frequent - not that it mattered much, since a lot of them just called you “Wizard.” You had become very good at shutting up and following orders, but it had been so long since you had spoken in a casual conversation that your verbal communication was starting to falter too. But whenever Ambrose called, you always felt compelled to go forward with his plan.

Back when you could still attend class, it felt somewhat comforting to know that the teachers were aware of your situation. Nowadays the most you got from them were magical scrolls sent to tell you the closest location for you to learn a spell that normally involved some sort of fight you feel like you could have avoided had you been enrolled in classes. When you were still able to talk more, you remember casually letting the name and location of Nightside slip to Malorn Ashthorn, so that he could finally learn the rest of his spells. You know he’s secretly taken some of his students there so they could learn too, but you were pretty sure Ambrose wasn’t aware. After all, Ambrose was always more concerned about your whereabouts instead.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Every single minor failure you had come to expect in your journey would have never prepared you for this. Azteca was crumbling, and it was all your fault. Sure you had failed before, but never this badly. Everything felt numb as you ran back through the spiral door, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to go find Ambrose. For all the times he had insisted what you had done was a victory, you couldn’t bear to tell him the news.

You walk into the myth classroom. There’s dirt on your face, and blood on your robes. You’re not sure what time it is, but every student in the classroom is immediately rushed out until only you and Cyrus are left. You had a feeling there’d be another name change. They’d probably say something about how you had tragically died trying to evacuate as many beings as possible off of Azteca - a heroic end for an unheroic person. Standing in front of Cyrus, you don’t speak. There doesn’t even feel like a point in trying to, because nothing you could say would be able to accurately describe any of what had just happened.

The Cyrus you remembered would have snapped at you to start talking. When he doesn’t, you quietly start to break down. None of it made sense anymore. You could recall almost every decision you had made that had ultimately landed you where you were now, but none of it felt real. Cyrus had moved so that he was standing a little closer to you, but you could barely process that, or the magical scroll beside him that seemed to be writing on its own as you mumbled out bits of incoherent information.

It had been so long since anyone had used your real name.

[gayenerd]

Transcribed radio interview. From sometime in the Nimrod era I assume because they ask about Nice Guys Finish Last.

Okay, I know I said I'd give this to you all a long time ago, but it's taken me a while to type it up. The interview was done by the Seattle alternative radio station (107.7 The End) a while back. I think it was the Friday before Christmas. Anyway, here are some things you'll need to know to make this interview make sense.

 Andy Savage = DJ for The End

Steve = producer for The End 

They both were the people who interviewed GD over the phone.

End Fest = A concert they played here last summer

Okay, here we go..

.Billie: Uhhh...hello?

Tre: Hello Andy and Steve!

Mike: I thought we were Billie, Mike and Tre..

.Steve: You are. 

Tre: That's the other team, dude!

Mike: Oh! Okay, I got a little confused there.

 Steve: Hey, you guys remember End Fest, don't you?

Tre: Of course!

Mike (saying symotaineously with Tre): No, not at all!

Billie (laughing): Yeah, it was a great show!

Steve: After End Fest, the Guinness people called and said you guys said fuck more than anyone else in the history of the world, so congratulations

!Mike: Are you...are you serious!?

Steve: Yeah.

Tre: Well, tell them to give us some fuck'n beer!

 Billie: No, Tre, the Guinness Book of World Record and Guinness beer are different.

Tre: That beer is fuc'n thick! It'll make you fuck'n fat, too!

Andy: You know what was cool? When you brought that kid up on sage to play a song on guitar with you guys. That was pretty awesome of you.

Billie: Did he say anything about it afterwards?

Andy: Oh yes, and I suppose he's still talkin' about it.

Mike: I told him not to!

Tre: Has he gotten a lotta girls offa that?

 Andy: Yeah, I suppose he gets laid a lot. What did you tell him while he was up there with you?

Mike: I told him is he said a fuck'n word he would be dead.

Billie (in a big strong manly voice): Don't you open your fuck'n mouth, kid!!!

Mike: We're trying to say fuck as many times a possible now.

Steve: Yeah, we noticed. Mike: Well, you opened the can of worms, and now we're eating them!

Andy: Billie. 

Billie: Yeah?

Andy: I heard that before End Fest, you were at Linda's Tavern and you had to take a cab to the show. How much did that cost?

Billie, Mike + Tre laugh

Billie: It was really expensive. I think I had like 40 bucks on me, and my friend Will, whose in the band Sunny Day Real Estate had, uhhh...I think he had...

Tre (interrupting): He had like $243.84 on him!

Billie: ...like, $40 or $50, and it was over $100 to get there. When we were at Linda's drinking; we kinda looked at each other and said, "Oh, we're really shit faced right now." And he said, "Wait, don't you have a show to play tonight?" and I was like, "Yeah!" So really, I almost missed the whole damn show. But before hand, I was also at this Mexican food place is Seattle, and it was probably the best Mexican food I've ever had in my life!

Andy: Really?! Well, what was it called?

Billie: I can't remember the name...

Tre (interrupting): It was called "The Best Mexican Food He's Ever Had in His Life!" 

A: Well, was it like Azteca or something?

Tre: It was called Taco Bell.

 Mike: Yo quiro Taco Bell!

Billie, Mike + Tre laugh

Andy: Nice Guys Finish Last.

Billie: Nice Guys Finish Last, what about it?

Andy: Is that what you believe? What is it all about?

 Billie: Well, a good friend of mine used to have all these really great sayings. He'd say, "Nice guys finish last" all the time, and what else did he say? Something like, "It's a long road to the bottom, but I've got a lotta miles on me" or something like that.

Mike: He had a lot of great sayings. 

Billie: Yeah, he did.

Mike: Practice makes perfect, but nobody's perfect, so why practice?

Andy: Well, do you think that nice guys do finish last?

Billie: It depends on the context, you know?

Andy: In love.

Billie: In love? Yes, definitely. It really helps to be a jerk.

Tre: I mean, look at James Brown! He used a crow bar! He was the godfather of sole!

Billie, Mike, Tre, Andy + Steve laugh

Tre: Nice guys finish last... (starts to go na na na na to the tune of the song)

Andy: So, what are you guys getting each other for Christmas? 

Mike: We're not supposed to say!

Tre: All I know is what Mike got me last year, was a dildo, about...how big was that thing? He got me a fuck'n dildo!

M: It was like knee height. It was pretty brutal. 

Tre: It was bigger than any mumblemumblemumble

Mike: Actually, it was more like a mantle piece than a mountal piece.

Andy: Uhhh...okay...well, what are you doing with---

Tre (interrupting): You know what Mike? You also got me that butt plug last year!

Mike: Heh, yeah, and it's sittin' on your mantle right now!

Andy: Well, who do you like? That is an up-and-coming band that you think is kicking ass right now in your opinion?

 Billie: Uhhh, well, I don't know what label they're on, but there's this band called Dillinger 4, that I looove! They're from Minneapolis and they have a record out. I don't know when it was put out---sometime this year---but it's a really great punk rock record.

Andy: Well, you've heard about the B.S. going on with—

-Billie: What!?

Andy: Uhhh, you know, that crap going on between Pearl Jam and Third Eye Blind.

Billie: Pearl Jam?!?

Andy: Yep. And Third Eye Blind.

Billie: What's goin' on with them?

Tre (in the background): Is this the only way these bands can get recognized?

Mike: Yeah, I know!

Billie, Mike, Tre, Andy and Steve all laugh

Tre: Why doesn't Eddie Vedder pick on someone his own size?

Andy: Well, I mean, Jenkins is all pissed at Vedder because I guess Vedder slammed him, and---

Tre (interrupting): Who's Jenkins? Who slammed him?

Billie (yelling) Wait a minute! I wanna hear what's going on! Wh-what happened!?!

Tre (laughing): Yeah, tell us the dirt, man!

Andy: Steven Jenkins started slamming Eddie because he said they shouldn't be playing "Bubba O'Reily" because their version sucked, and Jenkins told Vedder to shut up. Have you heard both of those versions?

Billie: Oh, wow! I don't think anyone should be covering "Bubba O'Reily." It was done right the first time! Why do it again? Ugh, puh-leeese!

Andy: Well, do you guys do any covers all the way through?

Billie: Yeah, we do a version of "My---

Tre (interrupting): We do "Bubba O'Reily!"

Billie: ...Generation," that's much better than Pearl Jam's.

 Steve: That's a good version!

Tre: Oh my God! My nipples are hard!

Andy: Well, squeeze them!

Billie: MMMMMMM!!!

Tre: What do you thing we're doing, dumbass?!? 

Steve: So, do any of you guys have any piercings?

Billie: I have a little boy--- 

Tre (interrupting): I got cosmetic surgery and now I have a nipple on my butt!

 Andy: And what do you do with it?

Tre: Believe it or not, I suck it!

Billie (imitating Tre's voice): I suck my own butt!

Billie: Heh, and Mike has an eyeball in the middle of his ass that winks at me! (in funny voice) Here's to you, kid! Well, actually, I have a small child at home that's covered in piercings.

Andy: Have you guy set anything on fire lately?

Billie (in big strong manly voice): Jest the barbecue! Out there tailgatin'! And cookin' the weenies!

Andy: Well, last time you were up here, you were at the pier, and I heard you guys started to set the table on fire, and---

Tre (interrupting): I burned a car the other day, but I'm not supposed to talk about that.

Billie, Mike Tre, Andy + Stave laugh

Tre (in funny voice): Well, I just want to say that Pearl Jam and Third Eye Blind, your version of "Bubba O'Reily" just stinks. It just stinks! It-it-it it really offends me, and it stinks! It STINKS!!! Can I say id sucks on the radio? Ca-ca-can I say that??? IT STINKS!!!

Billie (in southern accent): Wul, I thought it wuz perty cool.

Mike: Oh! Goodnight and goodbye! We have to go now. 

Tre: We have to go-nad.

Andy: Well, merry Christmas!

Tre: Merry New Year, and happy Chanukah.

Billie: Have a very hairy Christmas!

Tre: Happy Kwanza.

Billie: Have a good day.

Andy: Hey, you too, ma---

*click*

[saoirseunaronan]

why taylor should come to latin america: the ultimate post

ok, so i decided to make this post, ‘cause i just have a lot to say, so here we go with the reasons why Taylor should consider performing in Latin America this tour! @taylorswift @taylornation

1) Records

We are very dedicated fans and we’ve broken some records here of Taylor’s albums and songs! “Fearless” peaked at 18 in Brazil and 37 in Mexico. “Speak Now” was certified Gold in Brazil, peaked at 8 in Mexico. “RED” peaked 4 in Mexico, was certified Platinum in Brazil and Gold in Chile, Colombia, Mexico and Venezuela. “1989″ was certified Gold and Platinum 3 times in Brazil and Mexico, peaked at 3 in Brazil and 1 in Mexico. “reputation” peaked at 4 in Mexico and was certified Gold in Brazil and Platinum in Mexico. “Look What You Made Me Do” was also certified Diamond, “End Game” was certified Gold and “Delicate” was certified Platinum in Brazil. Also Taylor has won and was nominated for several awards here as well like MTV Millenial Awards, held in Mexico, and for Argentina’s, Mexico’s, Brazil’s and Colombia’s KCA Awards (x x x x x x x x x x x x).

2) Fans

Taylor also has a lot of fans here! Just thinking about this objectively “Taylor Swift Brasil”, one of the few brazilian fanbases here, has over 100k followers on twitter (x). Other fanbases like Mexico (over 4k - x), Uruguay (over 9k - x), Chile (over 21k - x), Peru (over 7k - x) and Argentina (over 6k - x) are also very big.

3) Energy

Latin American fans are very well-known for their energy and, as someone who’s been to concerts here before, I gotta say we are on another level of dedication when it comes to screaming (lol). A lot of artists have chosen us as their favorite crowds, because, when we do love someone, we bring everyhing to the table. We’re just a bunch of excited babies and I would love Taylor to see it live, it’s amazing! Also we’ve been holding our breaths for 13 years, these concerts would be wild!!

4) Stadiums

Another aspect that people like to point out is that Taylor is a huge performer and she demands huge stadiums. Well... I gotta tell ya, we got them! Here’s a little list for ya of our biggest stadiums!

1) Chile (Estadio Nacional Julio Martínez Prádanos - 48665 people); 2) Argentina (Antonio Vespucio Liberti - 66000 people); 3) Brazil (Maracanã - 78838 people); 4) Mexico (Azteca - 87000 people); 4) Uruguay (Centenario - 60235 people); 5) Paraguay (General Pablo Rojas - 45000 people); 6) Colombia (Deportivo Cali - 52000 people); 7) Peru (Estadio Monumental - 80093), etc.

Taylor, if you see this, please know that we love you and we cherish you and we really want this chance to show you our love!!

[zafaria]

opened my eyes, fell out the sky

To get to the stuffy grey-brick tower that housed my dorm, I had to walk. I had to walk, from where I was. 

I split my nights, spending some staring at my own face in the white-blue crystals in the underground of Avalon, and I spent some time sitting in base camp on the bottom of the sandy seafloor (I would walk to the quiet corner of base, next to the half wall, and lean on that pile of sand stacked in that corner. I would allow my clothes to get ruffled, the sand to work its way between the fibers and into the pores on my skin.). And I spent some time with the dark trees of the Zocalo looming over me, stuck by the door in that cave, staring at all the little blue rectangular mosaic tiles that ran out towards the plaza and tried to guide me, nudge me along that way. But, I knew better. 

I knew that outside of the cave, the other half of all those palm trees that I didn’t see, was burned to a wire husk. That the tiles were all crushed and cracked in the plaza. That the fountains didn’t run, the smoke still hung in the air even if I willed it to dissipate time and time again.

The journey back to Ravenwood was a daunting one. Coming back before was a homecoming, an eager experience. I’d walk in during the daytime, I’d make my announcements and updates to the Headmaster, then I’d go sit in my dorm and fidget until I was called on again.

Now, I shirked from sight. I only ever came back at nighttime. I did not need to report to the Headmaster; this was moot. The flicker of red dust was so visible, so vibrant in the sky. More than anything, I did not want people to see me. Failure in my trembling, pale hands; the way I had to hold railings and stone halfways; how I couldn’t hardly get my hand around a doorknob to open it and sulk inside; the porcelain, vacant stare and the muddled mind; the knees that sometimes flittered and popped and rolled;  the missing ends of sentences in conversation...

When I did come back, finally, the streetlights cast yellow rectangles across the undisturbed sidewalk. Some of the attic lights of the houses were on, but all the ground-floor lights, the windows where people would have been able to witness me, were off. And I was thankful.

I was only noticed by those warm streetlights, between rows of silent, sleeping houses. The world was still; the noise of the birds and voices and even the crickets had slunk out of the air, sitting on the ground with the dew, waiting until morning tided over to rise again. There was only a slight rushing sound, the sound of the world still moving on. There was a coziness in that moment that I craved to feel again. I knew by now, moments in solitude would never be comfortable again. Worse than the awkward silence that mulled between a fallen-out friend and you; or even a despicable person and you; was the silence between despicable you, and you.

And did I ever despise myself. 

Did I enjoy walking home at night like that, or, well, tolerate walking home at night like that, because the empty streets and quelled voices and the breathtaking darkness reflected something of myself? Maybe I had it wrong, maybe it was the other way around. The streets were quiet and the people hidden and the air paused because I was walking in; I was only ever moved to walk at night when I could tell that the world wanted to avoid me, that the stars above wanted to burn me, that the night-creatures hidden in the trees wanted to peer into me, peeling me apart from the inside out. I didn’t make the meaning of the dark streets, the dark streets made the meaning of me.

I crawled back to my dorm. There was only a heavy feeling as my soles faintly echoed across the pavement. I thought that with every next step, maybe I would just collapse, or sink through the ground. 

During the days, I would lie in bed, and sometimes I wouldn't, but I was unable to stir. Sometimes physically, but always emotionally and mentally. I was asleep sometimes, awake some other times. I got up early, I went to bed early, I got up late,  I went to bed late, I stayed up, I stayed up. Revisited the same conversations and same memories. I talked in circles, I talked in circles. I watched for signals. Drove myself to misery, brought myself back again in an infinitesimal moment of joy, then made a game out of slowly prodding myself back into my pit. 

Sometimes I’d read, but I couldn’t focus on the words as they fluttered away once I had finished reading them. I tried to write some ideas, an apology letter with no addressee. The mail list would’ve been too numerous, and how can you send a letter to hundreds of people whose names you never collected, who you never knew? I burned every single note, every word. The grotesque parts of me hoped that all ash ended the same place, that my half-worked and grasping attempts would fizzle and go and reach the same place as all of Azteca. That someone out there somewhere still would’ve known that I was trying, and it wasn’t and would never be enough, but I was trying so, so hard.

These days, I did not announce things in the Commons and I did not fidget in my dorm. Time could not pass quickly enough, but I rarely found better ways to make it move than being stuck in broken cycles. Writing and burning and writing and burning. Standing and picking and sitting and standing and picking and sitting. Sleeping and waking, crying and nothing. Nothing I could do ever comforted myself, and I always was doing the same things.

Now, I learned to dread being called on. I was finally at the point where I had made too large a mistake. Dispelling wayward, but ultimately good souls, freeing drakes, playing into inter-family wars, not reaching Mirror Lake fast enough. All of those were early signs of my shortcomings, hints of fundamental structural failures. But all were excusable, to an extent. What would we have hoped for anyways? A child to have not been so blindly trusting of all creatures in the first endeavours outside the comfort of school friends and family? Longer legs and larger lungs to scale mountains in less time? My errors now were much more grievous, more accumulated. I lost an entire world.

So I sat in that dorm, the lights always off, and waited in my seat and avoided people for as long as I possibly could, knowing all too well that I would soon return again, that the still air and morning noise would rise again, and life would shamble onwards.

[quesselfships]

Fic parts

So like I said I wanted to do that fic with Elnor who I’m not even bonded to yet.

Its really just three scenes, without any transitions between them, so without further ado:

“Guys, she knows me,” Chris sauntered up a farm lane, passing a large sign reading Azteca Calla. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

The lane was lined with succulents, large blue agave with smaller species filling in the gaps. In the distance, Picard could see corn, along with smaller plants he couldn’t identify at this distance. But the imposing structure behind the house is what caught their eye.

“It’s Mesoamerican,” he said to no one in particular.

“Yeah it’s a temple to Quetzalcoatl.”

“Didn’t Captain Kirk encounter an alien claiming to be Quetzalcoatl?”

“Yeah, don’t mention that to her…”

“The fuck did you bring me this time Rios?” A voice called from the lane, with a rather angry looking woman standing with her arms crossed. Her tattoos shined from the sunscreen she had put on, and Chris just awkwardly waved his hand over the rag-tag group. “We need some supplies…a place to lay low for a little bit.”

She sighed, looking over the group. “I expect help, on the farm. In exchange for room and board, and not asking questions. Dinner is in a couple of hours, you can get settled in the side house, by the temple.”

“You’re the best Lea,” Chris grinned. “My ship…?”

“You can stash it between the corn fields.”

“The best!”

 “I made the Tamal very mild,” she said, serving a platter of wrapped vegetables and turkey. She brushed the fringe from her scarf away from her face. “Mild,” she indicated one bowl of salsa, “hot,” the one beside it “and jalapeno,” the final green one. “I grew everything myself.”

Picard produced a bottle of his estate wine from somewhere and poured glasses. “How do you know Captain Rios?”

“He helped me bring supplies for this. It was him who sourced artisans who could create my sculptures.” She cut into a Tamal and drizzled a mix of jalapeno and mild salsas onto it. Elnor mimicked her.

“Aztec reproductions?” Seven cocked her head.

“Not quite. My own original ideas, inspired by sacred art and the Gods. I am a proud Anahuac,” She smiled. “That’s why I studied agriculture in school. Though I can barely keep houseplants alive.”

“You grew all of this?”

She nodded. “Yes, everything I eat here I grow, from the corn and chilies, to the chocolate and tequila. There’s only a few things I import or replicate, and most of it is meat. I don’t know how to butcher.”

“Are the cats bothering you?”

Sybill screamed again and Elnor smiled. “No. Are they all this chatty?”

“No, she’s a special one.” Sybill crawled up into Elnor’s lap and purred. “She likes you.”

“I had never seen a cat before now.”

“We have more living in the temple. They keep the rodents away from the crops.”

“Will you take me?”

“Sure, let’s go,” she extended her hand. Elnor carefully deposited Sybill onto a footrest (much to her anger), and grabbed Lea’s hand.

The temple was more impressive close up, with intricate star patterns and carvings. She pointed to one. “My birth chart, my sacred names and dates, all carved here.”

“It’s beautiful,” he looked around. The lights shone when they walked in the temple, stone echoing underfoot. “The lights look like fire.”

“I made sure they would be programmed like that. It felt more authentic to me. More fitting.”

Some cats, disturbed by the light, got up from their comfy corners and perches to say hello, purring as they rubbed themselves along Lea’s legs. Elnor bent down to pick up a white one with smooth fur. He smiled and pressed his face into her fur. She mruped, and purred, headbutting under his chin.

“Come, I’ll show you the kittens.”

The warm, secluded annex had two mothers with babies. One group seemed to be older, bounding around, and the other with younger ones who were just opening their eyes. The older kittens wobbled forward. “Sit down,” She said, handing him a few treats. “I make these too. They’ll come to you.”

Within moments, Elnor had kittens crawling on him, and the white cat he had picked up earlier was settling into a warm corner, far enough away that the Mamas weren’t upset. They were curious, cuddly and sweet. Elnor loved their soft fur and gentle nuzzles with their wet nose.

After a while, the mother cat called and her kittens came over to drink at the milk bar. They settled in in a row, dozing as they filled up on warm milk. The white cat followed them out, and perched by Elnor’s feet. He looked around at the stone, offerings and candled lined the walls. He could swear there was a scent of copal in the air.

He looked at Lea in the dim light, sparkles glinting from her headscarf, and he couldn’t help but ask, “can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me?”

He nodded, stepping closer. His hand was warm on her cheek and she felt her leg shake. She had noticed him, young and tall and handsome. Slender, lithe…things that she liked. “I’d like to kiss you.”

His lips were soft on hers, and his hair tickled her cheeks where it fell forward. She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers. She felt the stars carved in her temple glitter with delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she was kissed like this, with tenderness and sweetness and a hint of innocence.

He pulled away; cheeks tinged green with blush. “Thank you,” he said in a whisper.

Next part will be under a jump for smut. I really hope I did ok. I’ve never written a trans character before so like. I tried.

“Ah, fuck,” she said. It was early morning, but she couldn’t sleep. There was a festival coming up and that always made her wonky. But she noticed her hydroponics were running dry. She made her way to the en suite to get some water, fixing her ponytail with a yawn. She kicked aside a few clothes, probably clean but maybe dirty, and got the water.

Exiting the bathroom, she held the bottle of water but then dropped it with a gasp.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Elnor said. “I heard something, I thought you were in trouble.”

Forgetting the water, she scrambled to her bathroom door and snatched the first scarf she could, wrapping it around her head like a loose hood. “It’s okay, you just startled me.”

Elnor had stooped down and was mopping up the bit of water that spilled from the cap that wasn’t screwed on too tight. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” He nodded towards the scarf.

“No, it’s okay. It was an accident.” She crossed her arms, tugging her oversized shirt down a little. She was conscious of how bizarre it was to make sure her hair was covered, but she was pretty sure that if she turned her back, he would be able to see the bottoms of her ass cheeks hanging out from her boy shorts.

“I feel bad,” he said. “Can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t need to Elnor, really.” She pulled her scarf off. “It’s just hair. And while I haven’t done much to it in six months…” She smoothed the wispies. “I’ve been grey for half my life. I just don’t like showing it to strangers. It’s more of a comfort thing than anything.”

He nodded, “I have something like that too. Can I show you?”

“Sure.”

He stared untying the sash at this waist.

“Elnor, no, what are you doing?”

 He sloughed off his robe to his waist, and traced thin scars under his pectoral muscles. “Double mastectomy,” he said, then turned to his side. “And unfortunately, I had to have my hysterectomy this way. I had a cyst so it couldn’t be done vaginally.”

“I had no idea,” she said.

“I haven’t had all the surgery, it’s hard to get on Vashti. I feel good about this body now, so I don’t know what I’ll do in the future.”

“Thank you for telling me. It makes my hair thing seem way less important.” She chuckled.

“It’s not, not at all.” He pulled his robe back up, but kept it loose. “Why are you up so early anyway? The sun isn’t up yet.”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep I guess.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and patted for him to join. Sybill jumped up from the basket of clothes and took it as an invitation for her. Elnor grinned and picked her up, placing her on his lap to pet her while he listened. “There’s a holiday coming up and I never sleep well before them. This is one I don’t really care for anyway.”

“Why?”

“It puts a lot of emphasis on sex, but I celebrate it alone. I try to make it about growth and purification, but everyone in the community talks about some muscular guy who was channeling a god and how they fucked in front of a bonfire.”

“So why don’t you do that?”

“It’s not my style. I want to know someone before I jumped into bed with them.” She laughed and sat crossed legged, facing him, “current company withstanding.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be here when your festival happens, but do you want to try it before?”

“What, you’re going to channel a god for me? Should we get the bonfire in my laundry or my paddle plant?”

“Maybe without that part,” he said softly. “But the other part…”

She smiled, “you want to be some muscular guy for me?”

“I think I’d like that.” He deposited the cat back into the laundry basket, and scooted closer, shucking his robe off all the way now. He wore loose fitting shorts, and was flushed from his navel to his chest. His kisses were softer than they were at the temple, more hesitant but with more hunger and passion.

 She put her hand on his hip and raked her nails softly against his firm flesh. She felt his heart pound under her hand, while he slipped one of his hands under her shirt, hiking it up to expose her breasts. He rubbed his thumb over one nipple until it peaked and he trailed kisses along her soft jaw and neck. She whimpered when he broke contact to tear her shirt off, tossing it aside and kissing along her chest again.

She dragged her hand down his shorts to the mound between his legs. It was jarring at first, to not feel a solid mass, but her fingers still managed to tease through the fabric. She could feel the warmth, the wetness growing.

“I want to suck you off,” she moaned. “I want to have your cock in my mouth.”

 He shuddered, quickly getting off the bed and out of the shorts. She crawled to the end of the bed to allow him to drape himself on her pillows. She settled down between his legs, against his thigh. She kissed and licked at his skin, using her fingers to gather his own wetness and spread it around his cock, which was now filling out. She followed her fingers with her tongue, swirling it around and taking it all the way into her mouth.

He moaned, leaning back into the pillows and shifting his hips. His eyes squeezed shut as he panted, feeling the pressure build. He wanted to buck into her mouth, but stilled himself. “Finger me too,” he whispered. “Please.”

She paused her sucking to lick her fingers, pressing them into him and hooking them up. His anatomy was different from humans, it took a moment for her to find the spot inside of him to make him gasp and let out a low moan. She grinned and resumed her sucking. She could feel him squeeze around her, and his hand found its way to her hair.

“Fuck,” he panted out. “Fuck, I’m close.”

 She stroked her fingers faster, harder, stimulating his cock from the outside as well as the inside. He was panting and gasping as he kicked out his one leg gushing around her fingers. He whimpered with overstimulation as she pulled her fingers out to lick them clean.

She resettled herself on his chest, and kissed the mastectomy scars. He was still panting, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Later,” she pulled the blanket up over them. “Sleep time now. Round two later.”

[save-the-spiral]

Thoughts on if we could ask our wizard as permanently into the species of the spiral, like draconians, samoorai, ninja pigs, manders, aztecosaurs? Any fun ideas you have regarding that?

That sounds really cool! It’d be fun to have like, permanent polymorphs or something as a game mechanic, though probably wouldn’t show gear because that’s a LOT of work for the poor people making the game.

As a like, in canon story thing, I know my friend @pyromancyy has made a character who’s a marleybone dog but uses moon magic to appear like a human, and I like that idea! 

If it’s not intentional, maybe a moon magic mistake, or it could be related to another magic that fits a specific species more. Like fire magic mess up turning someone into a draconian (or part, I LOVE having hybrid type ocs).

As a story thing, some of my characters I just make part that species. I’ve got a half elephant gal who I’ve kinda developed, and since I started Azteca I have a NEED to make a half aztecosaur character. They’re gonna be a genderfluid disaster like me. It will be glorious. 

[fearlessfics]

Anywhere But Here

Gif Credit: Frentique

Summary: A twist on the later part of Fenix’s storyline in Lucha Underground. This is a story of love, redemption, and how far one will go to save the person who means the most to them.

Song: “Anywhere but here” by SafetySuit

Warnings: Smuttish. He’s a naughty bird.

Notes: I was listening to this song and Fenix came to mind for some reason. Then I saw all these gifs of him with Melissa and yeah this is the result.

Scenes of Fenix and Melissa training inside of the ring in a darkened gym played out on the screen and it was like someone had poured ice cold water over the woman that was standing in front of the monitor. Her heart ached at the sight causing her to turn away. Taped fists clenched as she walked away from the monitor. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Uno más , Princesa.” Fenix instructed from his spot in the ring.

The dark haired luchadora nodded her head taking a deep breath before flying off of the top turnbuckle just like he had taught her. She landed on him leaving both of them stunned for a moment. The woman adjusted herself moving so that she was now straddling his body and gazed down at the masked luchador.

She bit her lip smiling softly at him. “How was that?”

“Perfecto.” He grinned as their lips met in a kiss.

Hot water rained down over their sweat glistened bodies as her back hit the shower wall. Their tongues tangled in a passionate kiss while his hands gripped her hips tightly lifting her off of her feet. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he drove his hips forward eliciting a loud moan from her mouth.

A Grave Consequences match. Her heart thudded against her chest at the announcement. A feeling of dread coursed through her body. It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in his abilities. She just had a very bad feeling about this match. It also didn’t help to see Melissa failing to convince him not to be in the match. The dark haired luchadora searched out the Bird of War backstage with no luck. She turned around only to catch a glimpse of his mask as he walked out of the arena.

Running after him, she got to the exit and rushed out looking around the parking lot. “Fenix!”

“Princesa?” The masked luchador slowed to a stop turning around at her voice.

She caught her breath stopping in front of him. “Don’t do the match. Please.”

“Not you too, Princesa.”

The brunette sighed gazing up at the Bird of War. “I just have a very bad feeling about this match.”

“I will be fine. Trust me.” He assured her tucking a few stray strands of her dark hair behind her ear.

She relaxed a bit and leaned up pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

“Good. Te amo, Princesa.” Fenix kissed her back before walking away.

Her eyes teared up a bit as she touched her lips whispering. “Te amo, Fenix.”

The lid shut on the coffin as she watched on in horror. Her Bird of War was no more. She sobbed letting the grief overcome her. In the weeks that followed, she became a shell of herself. Full of rage and vowing vengeance for her loss. The monitor caught her attention again. Melissa and Catrina were fighting somewhere. Her brown eyes rolled in annoyance and she was about to look away when she saw the demise of Catrina. Well good, she never liked that bitch anyway. It was her fault that Fenix was gone. She turned to walk away when she heard Aerostar utter the Bird of War’s name. Her blood ran cold at his words yet she couldn’t help being curious.

Her face softened when the sight of Fenix laying in his coffin appeared on the screen. Her fingertips brushed against the image and she sighed. Suddenly there was a bright light and Aerostar was back where he had left Melissa. The camera turned and she gasped when Fenix appeared on the screen alive. Her heart leapt at the sight. Then his eyes turned black and her anger overcame her again. She shoved the monitor before storming off.

Upon his return to the ring, Fenix shocked everyone with darker gear and a colder demeanor. He even shoved Melissa away from him and El Dragon Azteca Jr came to her rescue. The dark haired luchadora watched the events unfold from backstage. Shaking her head, she left the building. Fenix arrived back at his place a short time later slamming the door shut behind him. The lights flicked on surprising him when he saw her standing there. 

She walked right up to him looking straight into his eyes. “I don’t know who or what you are. What I do know is that my Fenix is still in there and you won’t keep him down for long.”

“You should go.” His tone was cold, but there was a hint of something behind his words.

Her head tilted slightly as she continued to look at him. “No. You may scare everyone else, but you do not scare me.”

“Princesa...”

The dark haired woman’s features softened at him. “Fenix?”

He lifted her up into his arms pulling her into a kiss. She melted into his embrace returning it. This was her Fenix. This was the man that she loved. Clothes were thrown everywhere and her back was soon pressed down against his mattress. With one quick snap of his hips forward, they were once more joined together and for a moment everything felt right with the world. They were exactly where they were meant to be, dark force be damned.

“Fenix!”

Her voice had echoed through the nearly empty parking lot as the rain began to pour down. He continued walking toward his car though his pace had slowed considerably. She called out to him again and he sighed turning around to look at her.

“We can’t do this, Princesa.” 

She stepped out into the rain not caring if she got wet. “You say one thing and then you call me that. I know you feel it too, Fenix. So why fight it?”

“Because...” He trailed off catching her as she ran up to him jumping into his arms.

The dark haired luchadora cupped his masked face and gazed down at him. “Because why? Give me one good reason and I will walk away right now.”

“Oh Princesa.” Fenix licked his lips gazing up at her own masked face and sighed giving in pulling her down into a kiss.

She smiled against his lips returning the kiss as the rain poured down over them.

He was still in his dark gear when Ultimo Lucha Cuatro arrived. Fenix was facing El Dragon Azteca Jr in a two out of three falls match. The dark haired luchadora appeared at ringside wearing a red mask with white flames that looked a lot like one of Fenix’s masks instead of one of her usual masks. At one point, El Dragon Azteca Jr had Fenix set up to go through a table. At the last second, she shoved Fenix out of the way taking the hit instead and went crashing through the wood. Her body crumpled on top of the broken wood. His opponent appeared apologetic, but Fenix saw red. He viciously attacked El Dragon Azteca Jr while medics tended to the injured woman.

The more he hit his opponent, the brighter Fenix’s eyes grew until the whole room was suddenly engulfed in a bright white light. It was gone just as suddenly leaving behind a haze of smoke. His gear was back to its normal colorful hue. He got the second fall winning the match and slid out of the ring instantly going to her side.

“Princesa...”

She grinned softly at him. “Fenix.”

“Lo siento. Te amo, Princesa. Te amo mucho.” He apologized pushing her hair away from her face.

Wincing as she sat up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Te amo, Fenix. Te amo mucho.”

[lithuanias]

Title: Šūdas, How Long Does it Take to Make Tamales? Rating: G Relationships: Lithuania/Mexico Word Count: 2312 Summary: Nobody told him it took six hours to make them. Notes: Written for Day 1: Cooking for @aphrarepairweek2018 .

Lithuania knew as much about Mexico as Mexico knew about him, which is to say, nothing. He knew that she bordered America, rarely had snowfall in winter, and had spicy food.

He looked at the address Mexico had given him and back at the unassuming white restaurant front.

He stepped inside. The interior of the restaurant was filled with elegant chairs and white tablecloths. A bar was on the side.

A waiter asked him something in Spanish, and he blinked.

“Table for one, sir?”

“Ah no, I think a friend of mine made a reservation.”

“What name?”

“Maria Juarez Hidalgo.”

The waiter looked at something on the tablet. “Of course.”

“Your other half is already here,” the waiter said. “Follow me.”

Lithuania blushed.

The waiter brought him to a table in the back of the restaurant.

“Here you are, sir,” said the waiter.

“Oh, hello, Toris,” said Mexico, standing up.

This was the first time that Lithuania had seen Mexico outside of United Nations meetings. She had brown hair a few shades darker than his and wore a black dress patterned with flowers.

“Maria,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to see you.”

“How have you been enjoying Mexico?” she asked. “Alfred told me you were visiting Yucatan.”

“It’s been a wonderful change,” Lithuania said truthfully. “I miss summer weather. December in Cancún is summer in Lithuania.”

“Really?” Lithuania could see her contain a shiver. “I’m glad I can help you remember summer.”

“And the food was spectacular.”

Mexico smiled. “I haven’t come across a country who doesn’t like Mexican food. It must be a bit different than what you’re used to.

“At any rate, I’m glad you’re enjoying Mexico. Mi casa es tu casa. ”

“I…vaguely understood that.”

“Make yourself at home.”

“How do you take your mezcal?” asked the waiter.

“My…what?”

“Mezcal,” said Mexico. “It’s an alcoholic drink made out of agave.”

Lithuania blinked. He had no idea what agave was either.

“It’s like tequila.”

“Oh! Ah, straight?”

The waiter poured them two shots of mezcal and set a plate of peeled oranges on the table.

“Do we drink them like shots?”

“You can,” said Mexico. “But personally, I prefer to sip it and then eat a bit of the orange.”

“Okay.” Lithuania took his glass. “One, two, three…”

“Salud.”

“Salud.”

Lithuania drank the entire shot.

Lithuania gasped. “That is…strong.”

“It’s nice,” said Mexico. She laughed. “You didn’t mean to drink it all, did you?”

Lithuania shoved an orange in his mouth. “I normally take shots of vodka.”

Lithuania looked at the menu. He had eaten a few of these dishes back in Yucatan.

“Tamales?”

“Sorry?”

Lithuania pointed at the line on the menu. “The dish. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of these before.”

“You’ve never heard of tamales?”

“Alfred may have mentioned them in passing, but I’ve never eaten them. What are they?”

“They’re meat stuffed in a corn dough and cooked in a corn husk.”

“Oh, would you recommend them?”

“Personally, I don’t like buying them at restaurants,” said Mexico. “I’ll either buy them from stands or make them myself.”

“If you have time tomorrow, I’d love to make some.”

“You really want to make tamales?” asked Mexico.

“I’d like to,” said Lithuania. “They sound like very interesting.”

“Really?”

“Have you been to Puebla?”

“No, but I’d like to have gone. Why?”

“Ah, then I’m guessing you haven’t had mole.”

“Mo…lay?”

“It’s a sauce made out of chile, spices, chocolate—”

“Did you say chocolate?” asked Lithuania. “I’d love to try it. What do you serve it with?”

“Oh, here they serve it on top of enchiladas. Have you—”

“I’ve had those!” Lithuania said. “Alfred used to make some frozen ones.”

Mexico stared at him. “I think you need to eat these instead.”

***

Thank God, Mexico had cleared her schedule the next day.

Mexico woke up at seven the next morning and raced to buy the ingredients for the tamales. A large pork shoulder that needed to be broiled and shredded, corn husks for the wrapping, and poblano chiles for the sauce. She always had an unopened package of dried corn masa at home.

First was the pork, which took the longest. She filled a pot full of pork broth, chiles, garlic, salt, and cumin, added the pork. Now she just had to let it simmer for three hours.

And then she waited.

The doorbell rang. Her Chihuahua ran to the front of the apartment, barking her head off.

“Diablita, ¡cállate!”

Mexico stopped the mixer and opened the door, pushing Diabla out of the way with her foot.

“Good afternoon, Maria,” said Lithuania. He held out a bouquet of red roses.

“You’re so sweet. Did you find my apartment alright?” said Mexico.

“I did. Oh, hello!”

Diabla panted and jumped up on Lithuania’s leg, wagging her tail and whining.

Mexico rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She just craves—”

Lithuania had already bent down to give her pets. “I normally don’t like little dogs, but she’s so sweet. Hello, there—What’s your name?”

“Diabla.”

“You named your dog after Satan?” Lithuania exclaimed in horror.

“It’s a natural name for a Chihuahua. Come, let me show you the kitchen” said Mexico.

A black, hairless dog with upright ears on the couch stretched his legs and yawned.

“Wh-Is that a dog?”

Bonito looked up at Lithuania and then plopped his head back on the couch.

“Yes.”

“He…has no fur.”

“He’s a Xolo.”

“A…xolo…?”

“Xoloitzcuitli,” Mexico said proudly. “They’re my national dog.”

“I’ve never seen one of these before. Hello,” Lithuania adopted the same dopey tone he had with Diabla. “You’re a very interesting dog, aren’t you?” He scratched behind the dog’s ears. Bonito groaned and squinted his eyes in pleasure.

Mexico smiled softly.

“Well, I’ve just started the masa,” said Mexico.

“The…?”

“The dough.”

“I’d like to help,” said Lithuania. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hm.” Mexico looked at the packages of dried corn husks. “You can start by cleaning those.”

“Do you have a…”

“The strainer is in the drawer under the oven.”

Lithuania got it out the drawer.

“And when I’m done with that?”

“It shouldn’t take you too long. You can shred the pork. I’m pretty sure it’s done. Just use any bowl on the counter for that. Keep some of the broth I’m going to need it for the masa.”

“Here you go,” Lithuania said, putting down a mug filled with the pork stock.

“Thank you.” She blended some of the stock into the

“Done!” exclaimed Mexico. “Thank, God, I can work on the sauce now. Masa can take hours.”

“Hours?” said Lithuania. “How long do these take to cook?”

“I put the pork in at noon.”

“Noon?” exclaimed Lithuania. “It’s three-thirty right now. I had no idea how much work you had to put into this. If I would have known—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mexico waved away his words. “I’ve never had someone ask to make them before. Now for the chile…”

Lithuania’s eyes watered. “What are you cooking?”

Mexico looked at the dark red chile searing on the stove. “These are just poblano chiles.”

“They’re so strong.”

“Poblano are some of the gentlest chile!” she exclaimed.

“My cuisine isn’t spicy! You saw me at the restaurant yesterday. I could have died.”

“That wasn’t even hot!” Mexico pressed more of the blended chiles against the strainer, making the sauce as smooth as possible. “You’d die if I was filling these with habanero.”

“I don’t want to know what that is.”

Mexico kept herself from rolling her eyes, as she opened the kitchen window.

“Thank you,” said Lithuania. He looked down at the bowl full of shredded pork. “How many tamales would this make?”

“Around fifty.”

Lithuania sputtered. “Did you say fifty?”

“We’re not going through all this work to make twenty,” said Mexico.

“What’re we going to do with all the rest?”

“Freeze them, give them to the homeless, maybe I can ship some over to you in a cooler. I occasionally give some to America if I’m feeling generous.”

Mexico took the bowl of shredded pork and poured the red chile sauce onto the meat, blending them with her hands.

“Phew, finally.” Mexico wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Now we can start filling them.”

“Oh yes,” said Lithuania. “How can we do that?”

“I’ll make one as an example. You take a cornhusk, fill it with the masa like this—” Mexico took a spoonful of the dough and spread it against the corn husk. “—and then you fill it with meat.” She took a spoonful of meat and spread a dollop of it on the dough. “And you fold the husks like so, and we’re done.”

Lithuania nodded. “I can help you with that.”

“Join me,” she said.

Lithuania stood next to her and started preparing his own tamal. “I did one!” he exclaimed.

Mexico looked over his shoulder. “That is going to be a very tiny tamal.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. See.” Mexico spread more masa onto Lithuania’s corn husk. “Don’t be afraid to make it bigger. It’ll cook fine.”

“Okay,” said Lithuania. “Thank you.”

They worked in silence for a little bit, occasionally Diabla would bark at something outside.

“Say, can I ask you something?” said Lithuania.

“Sure.”

“When I visited Yucatan and saw the Mayan pyramids, there were a number of serpent statues. What are they?”

“Snake motifs, specifically feathered serpents, were very popular with indigenous people before the Europeans came over,” Mexico explained.

“Really?” Lithuania’s eyes sparkled. “Before I converted to Catholicism, snakes were prominent in Lithuanian culture as well. I’ve always liked them.”

“Seriously?” said Mexico. “I thought Europeans hated snakes.”

“Christians hated snakes,” said Lithuania, folding another corn husk and beginning to make another tamal. “The Baltic people used to worship them. We held them in very high regard.”

“I’m neutral towards them. My mother used to worship them. I think. You two would get along.” Mexico shook her head. “I don’t remember her much.”

“You remember your mother? Who was she?”

“Azteca.”

“Like the Aztec Empire?”

“Yes, that was her.”

“Where is she now?”

“Oh, Spain killed her.”

“O-Oh.”

He looked at his bowl. “I’m out of meat,” he said suddenly.

“I am too,” she said, thankful for the change in conversation. “There’s plenty of masa left. We can just make a few naked ones.”

“How long do these take to cook?”

“Water’s boiling,” Mexico said, looking at the steam rising from the tamalero. “I would say we steam them for about a half-hour per batch. We can start putting some of them in.”

“How many can the strainer fit?” asked Lithuania.

“About fifty.”

“That’s huge.”

“Let’s put them all in, and see how much it really fits.”

Mexico and Lithuania washed their hands and painstakingly placed all fifty-two tamales inside the steamer.

“It’s over now.” Mexico put the lid on the tamalero. “Would you like a beer?”

“Would I ever,” said Lithuania. “What kind do you have?”

Mexico opened her fridge. “How about a Noche Buena?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s typically sold around Christmas. It’s a dark beer.”

“I’ll take one.”

Mexico pulled one out for him and her. “We can relax on the couch.”

“Salud.”

“Salud.”

They clinked their bottles. “You’re catching onto Spanish,” said Mexico.

“Just a little bit.”

Diabla crawled into Lithuania’s lap. “Hey, there,” he said softly.

“Now I have a question for you,” said Mexico. “How did you end up being good friends with America? I don’t remember there being a large Lithuanian population in the US.”

“After World War I and…a few developments with my neighbors, I briefly moved in with him to work. He offered his home to me. His kindness meant so much to me.”

“Oh.” Mexico’s mouth went dry. “That’s a bit different than my experience.” It made her feel strangely distant from Lithuania.

Lithuania’s eyes softened. “I…I understand,” he said.

Mexico gave him a skeptical look.

“Considering my…history with a large neighbor of mine, I’ve heard rhetoric calling us paranoid whenever we express concern. Us, meaning me, Latvia, and Estonia,” Lithuania said. “They just don’t understand.”

Mexico knew very little about Lithuanian history. The most she had ever heard about the country was in the 90s. “No, they don’t.”

The heat from the kitchen filled the room.

“You’re one of the most sincere Europeans I’ve ever met,” Mexico blurted out.

“I…I’m what?”

“That was a stupid thing to say,” she said suddenly. “S-Sorry.” Oh, she was an idiot.

“I know that they’re not done yet, but I’ve had a wonderful time making the tamales, Maria,” Lithuania said. “I don’t know anything about Mexican culture, but I love learning about it.”

Mexico’s heart skipped a beat.

“I think we’re both drunk,” said Mexico.

“I’m not,” said Lithuania. “Are you?”

Mexico shook her head. “No. I haven’t even finished the beer.”

Lithuania stroked Diabla’s back. “Are…Are the tamales done yet?”

“No…”

Mexico drank more of the beer.

“Do you want to check on them?” asked Lithuania.

“No…” she replied.

“What do you want to do?” “Can I kiss you?”

Lithuania set down his beer bottle and looked pensively at it.

He turned to her. “Yes.”

Mexico put a hand on his rough face and kissed him. His lips were smooth and tasted slightly of the beer, but also something else—rye and grass and everything that made Lithuania that Mexico knew so little about.

They pulled apart. Diabla stepped off Lithuania’s lap with a growl. Bonito grunted and jumped off the couch.

“I think we offended the dogs,” Lithuania said. His hand was on her arm now.

“Oh no we didn’t! I think the tamales are done now!” said Mexico, suddenly getting up. “Want to try some?” She held out her hand.

“I’d love to,” Lithuania said and took it.

[dykewizards]

Jasmine Nightflame’s Backstory

Jasmine Nightflame originally came from Avalon. Raised by the foxes Mariota and Caera, Jasmine grew up thinking that lesbian couples were the norm. She was in for a huge shock when she came to Wizard City and met her first heterosexual couple. But that comes later. Dubbed originally Aanor, Jasmine chose her first and last name at the age of 8. When she was 8, Jasmine was told that in two years time, she’d be sent to Wizard City. Instead of keeping her Avalonian name (the name her mothers gave her), Jasmine decided to dub herself after two things. Jasmine (the flowering bush that grew above the trellis in her backyard) and Nightflame, her room was lit at night by her very own flame. Of course, the Night part of her taken name would turn out to be disturbingly apt.

The reason Jasmine was sent away from a loving home at age 10? Easy. You see, Mariota was a more Balance inclined fox, worshipping her own goddess of Adrestia. She excelled at keeping the peace in her home, giving Jasmine a happy, if rowdy, childhood. Caera took after a more myth based magic style. Allowing minions to appear and help her child in whatever Jasmine so desired. But of course, as happy as she was (and as great parents as Mariota and Caera were), Jasmine was a pyromancer by nature. Even at the tender age of 5, she was accidentally starting fires on an almost monthly basis. After 3 years of dealing with fireproofing an entire cottage, the two agreed that it would be best for all of them if Jasmine took a tutelage in Wizard City to master her natural talents.

When she turned 10, Jasmine was sent away to a (thankfully fireproof) dorm. Since her mothers were (in comparison to Wizard City prices) very well off, Jasmine could dip down into the Shopping District. There she bonded with a fire breathing dragon named Max, (which made her roommates glad that the dorm was fireproof), and showed him off to her friends: Calamity Drakebringer (a lovely necromancer from Wysteria), Rowan Mythhunter (a Marlybonian conjurer), and Calamity Legendwhisper (a Krokotopian Theurgist).

When she began her formal (as formal as Wizard City provides) schooling under Dalia Falmea, Jasmine grew to have better control of her powers. The second she could, Jasmine learned her secondary school of Life under the teachings of Moolinda Wu (dead set on keeping her teammates alive from a fear of hurting others). Slowly, she began to climb the ranks, finishing up with Wizard City as a whole. Firecat Alley was difficult and frustrating for her, but she shouldered through it with the help of Calamity^2 and Rown. Helping out Rowan with Cyclops Lane, the four became fast friends and adventuring partners.

Krokotopia was the beginning of the beginning of the end for our lovely Pyromancer. On the more harmless side, Jasmine was a fanatic when it came to decorating her new castle with the loot she...pillaged from the pyramids. But the bad thing? With Krokotopia, came the Krokonomicon and all of its necromantic secrets. Now Jasmine’s a fire wizard (with a life secondary to keep her teammates alive), so she'd be the last expected person to get into necromancy (even with the fact that one of the Calamity’s is a necromancer). But during a solo dungeon (one her friends couldn't follow her in), she found a book. A book that allowed her to learn her first necromancy spell: Deer Knight. This was the first step onto a downward slope of learning necromancy (much to the chagrin of Drakebringer).

Grizzleheim came next, learning the runestones and their meanings. Defeating Grendels and Spiders and learning the Bigger Picture. It only fueled her fear of death, of what comes after, and whether or not someone is pulling her strings. She never liked Grandmother Raven, never enjoyed how she was made to obey a raven who wouldn’t move. Fighting bosses and almost dying over and over again. It brought her face to face with death over and over. Jasmine visited the Hall of the Ice Forge, looking up at the frozen giant, and she realized something: she would last forever no matter the cost. She made a small circle of runes behind her house, a circle for preparation.

Marylebone came after, and it was boring. All except for one part: electricity. Watching the inanimate golems walk around and even talk, not to mention Dr. Katzenstein's attempt to create life from dead body parts. But that was too storm-centered (not one of her strong suits, she’s too brash), and the only reason she enjoyed the world was meeting Rowan’s parents. A rather nice couple, if vaguely disapproving of the Necromantic Calamity and the darker leaning Jasmine.

Mooshu was unremarkable, for the most part. None of her friends came from this world, but it did gift her a perfect house for her pets to live. Of course, there were the spirits. Buried and then unburied and Jasmine realized how finicky death is. Such a simple thing to ruin and unearth. She made another promise to herself, for her body (if she ever did die) to be burned (what comes from fire must return to fire) and her ashes scattered. She wasn't going to risk losing herself to a necromancer who needed a body.

Dragonspyre solidified her ideals. The ghosts (tormented) tried to warn her away, but the crystals (trapping energies trapping memories) were her goal. So she gained them. Gained a sash of crystals (different sizes but multiplying and growing like a belt), and there was where she put animus. Trapping minor (level 5 and below) enemies into smaller crystals, and boss energies in main crystals, Jasmine’s new sash had all the lights of the Aurora Borealis. Animus became almost an obsession of hers.

Celestia brought mainly two new revelations: astral schools and Morganthe. But not all of the schools did Jasmine enjoy; moon spells bored her, star spells never lasted long enough for her plans (once quick tempered and rash, now terrifyingly strategic, she gets the job done fast, leaving her teammates staring at her in muted horror). But sun spells? She learned the damage ones, the accuracy ones, but never bothered with the healing ones. Healing comes second to dealing the most damage. With more damage, the battle ends sooner and the sooner she can get more animus.

But of course, I did mention two developments that were happened to her. The most damaging one was named Morganthe. Jasmine first realized something was wrong when Morganthe showed up and she found herself agreeing with the spider queen. This led to her shutting herself away in the bowels of her Balance house, and it was a chaotic house afterwards. You see, Jasmine (throughout her trails through the Spiral) was a collector of pets, and put them in separate rooms according to what school they belonged to. And let's just say all seven rooms of her underground Balance house (her mother was a Balance leaning woman, and she chose this house because the statue of Lady Justice reminded Jaz of Caera and home), were fucked up in response to Jasmine's emotions.

Ruled by her emotions, that's the best way to define Jasmine post learning Deer Knight. So when she realized she was slowly turning to the dark side, her house reacted in kind. The life room began to grow vines, coiling up and choking everything that wasn't the pets. The ice room was in a constant state of blizzard and frostbite. The death room stunk like a freshly robbed grave and made her sick to even enter. The storm was a monsoon and the myth room blinked in and out of existence. The fire room was an inferno. The only room left safe? Balance. There Jasmine stayed, whispering reverent prayers in the tongue of her mothers in front of Lady Judgement to save her. But of course, as she feared, no one answered.

From Celestia (and the freak out that was caused there), things went in a slow (almost unnoticeable until it was too late) downward spiral. Wysteria (though it was the home of Calamity) only served to fuel her competitiveness, anger at the stuck up Pigwick students and the cheating natures there. Tower of the Helephant made her vicious, prepared to do anything to defeat her enemies. There was very few undead enemies there, which was good. Jasmine didn’t think she could deal with the idea of her inevitable mortality so soon after realizing she was now working against her school.

Zafaria taught her the ways of political power, how to say just the right things to get people on your side. She had to play safe there though, after all Merle was watching her closer after rumors of what Morganthe had told her spread. Jasmine successfully got him off of her back, after all she did rescue an entire field trip worth of students, that was certainly heroic of her. But really, after seeing the skeletal body of an old king shake itself back to life, Jasmine thought again on what will happen when she dies. ...If she dies.

Avalon...hurt. Her mothers were alive, of course I'm a dyke I don't kill my lesbians, and they still loved her. But there was a darkness that her Balance mother and her Storm mom could see, and it worried them. But they welcomed their daughter back into their home with open arms, and just had to pray to their goddess that she would turn out alright. Avalon hurt in another way as well, in the backstory of Morganthe and what exactly she did to gain her power. The tangled crown of roses put upon King Artorius’s head made her decide on buying a life house.

In the basement of the lifehouse, Jasmine created her shrine. A tapestry of the Spider Queen flanked by swords, with an obsidian chest placed down in front of it. Grinding and fighting for hours upon hours upon days, Jasmine eventually siphoned enough animus from Lord Nightshade to trade his spirit inside of her house. Now he and his Field Guard minion guard her chest.

Azteca taught her consequences. Taught her how fragile a world could be and how it could end. Of course, there was also more Morganthe. More honey soaked lies that Jasmine was eager to believe. It was lucky she wasn't doing the dungeons alone, as her traveling companions pulled her back from the brink time and time again. (Jasmine feared the solo dungeon that would tip the scales). Or did she anticipate it eagerly? It’s been too long for her to remember or care to try to.

Aquila gave her pride, she defeated gods themselves and did it over and over again just for the fun of it. Her traveling companions worry about the gleam in her orange eyes as she struck down Hades himself. She struck down countless gods, uncaring about how ruthless she had become. As she donned the gear of the gods, her hands came ablaze with blue fire, and she burned her handprint into the throne of Hades himself. A marker for all those who follow in her footsteps to defeat the gods.

Khrysalis...changed her. She learned shadow magic. She learned how to take advantage of what drove Morganthe to the cliff's edge and she took the bull by the horns. Her eyes gleamed and her freckles turned stark white against her dark skin. Shadows (blacker than the natural tone of her skin) curled around her arms and legs and torso like the shadow of a light source that wasn't there. And there...she defeated Morganthe, and she became Morganthe. And she no longer cared.

[marlaluster]

My new friend will end the world, it is being said in my mind

I didn't exercise today again. I talked to my new friend on Facebook Messenger, went to a support group for people who hear voices on Facebook Messenger, wrote a couple of posts on Facebook, and ordered my groceries and that's pretty much all I did and I felt pretty busy.

But the most important thing is... I felt okay. I didn't feel bad, hardly. Something made me feel a little bad a little while ago, but it stopped. It also made me not feel like ordering my groceries at first but it stopped.

"Soon I could leave her alone. I still make it so she doesn't feel to do things, so she can't get a job. But Iono, I think Marla talking to her new friend will make it so I don't go on," the entity that talks more often than other entities in my mind said.

He said, "Iono" because my new friend says that. It's funny that he says that.

"I am trying to make Marla feel like she doesn't love her new friend, but she does," the entity said.

My new friend says, "I love you," to me. The entity tries to make me feel I don't feel that, but I feel it's of high importance to me that the person is okay because he is so valuable to me. He's someone with whom I can be myself.

But in other news, I got to drive home yesterday from eating at a Mexican restaurant with my sister called Plaza Azteca. My sister had a strange leg cramp, so that's why I drove. It was so fulfilling to drive again. I haven't driven in many years, not since 2015 I don't think.

"It has been -- I just tried to make Marla not remember that. I do it because she acts like someone is okay who will look really okay soon," the entity that talks more often than other entities in my mind said.

It was making my memory of the last time I drove before yesterday difficult to recall.

"I can tell something more... Marla and her friend are something where I can't be. They both are who can tell but be who they are. They can walk the talk. They can tell about their lives and not lose. She can. He can. She can't, her high school friend," the entity said in my mind.

The entity was saying two friends from my past can talk about their lives. But I think they are not the same as my new friend whose name begins with a "K," partly because my new friend isn't in a romantic relationship like my old friends were and I don't believe there can be romantic love here.

"I can tell I'm better but people won't go on soon," my new friend said in my mind. "... Do you want to know who I am? I'm her end of the world."

My new friend was saying in my mind above that he was my end of the world.

"I have something. Did you want to hear from me, life itself? This is what we've been looking for?" Life itself said. She was like asking if I wanted her to say that last thing.

"It is what we've been looking for. Someone to be. It is him. Can I say his name. Kenny. Can he? Yes, he can. So we go. I can say more. It's me now. I'm becoming one as who can be him. Kenny. So that's it. It's me, too. I'm him now," Life itself said at a point talking as the entity.