#Mercuria stopped her

[the-blossica-fan]

I imagine that the fanfic Matilda wrote about herself (and Sonetto) will be revised now lol

I'm writing a drabble on Matilda's new autobiography of herself, Kanjira and Mercuria, and her trying her hardest not for either of them to read it

(They do. They're flattered, but... the way Matilda describes them has them flustered. (She only means well 😭))

STOP

Poor girl can't catch a break ����

Matilda ripped that fanfic to pieces and threw it into the trash. NO ONE has to know, no one.

She writes her emotions into notes for herself, it's therapeutic to her, and since she has a history of making fanfiction, she wrote that autobiography holding everything she thinks, including about her lovers.

It's a secret she'd rather take to the grave. Unfortunately she couldn't.

Writing almost every day with such passion ends up catching the eye of people, and since her lovers are around her almost at all times, they were understandably curious. It's quite surprising Matilda's ability with the pen, she writes so beautifully and it makes every word personal.

However, this has a downside, and it is that if you write so personally, your descriptions are as well.

"Every day I see Mercuria, I fall in love more and more. Her eyes are always calm, her face straight, but it's her warmth that makes me feel at ease. She's so beautiful, if I had to compare her to something, it would be the moon, and I'm always surprised someone like me is able to even lay my hand on her own."

"Kanjira is like the sun to me, she shines by herself, her happiness and beautiful smile, beautiful personality, it makes my cold days the warmest I have ever felt. I adore how she can find happiness and optimism in every situation, and everything she does, everything she makes, to me; it's beautiful."

They never mentioned reading it.

And yes, she has described them physically, and no, I will not mention that part.

[lonelymoonbeams]

heyyo!! sorry to trouble you and i don't know if you do writing requests but i see you do write so mayhaps may i ask you to write a short fic about mercruia coming out as transfem to j? ofc you don't have to but i'd super love it 🥺anyways i love the art you do of the 2.0 cast have a nice day!!

Hi anon!! I'm kinda surprised you asked but honestly if you send in any kind of request there's a chance I'll do it if I'm interested so... I hope you like it :)))

As per usual on a Saturday night, the counter at Tang's was cheerful and uproarious, the loud laughter of J, Becket, and Hollick filling the room at the latest joke that'd been told. It was the kind of joke that you wouldn't say in front of Granny, the kind that made Ms S squeak into the kitchen and Pioneer tsk disapprovingly at the boys. "Gentlemen!" He reminded them. "If you'd be so kind as to remember there is a young woman in the room!"

"It's okay," the aforementioned young woman said. As usual, Mercuria didn't really join in the conversation, content to sit at the counter with them and drink grape juice from a wine glass. "I've heard jokes like that before. I don't mind."

"We didn't say that in front of her!" Hollick reassured hastily at Pioneer's glare.

"Even if we did, it was probably J-"

"Hey now, what are we blaming me for?!"

"No, like, way before," Mercuria cut in, stopping the guys' squabble. "As in way back. Before I even changed my name."

J nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember you did mention that. Sara, right?"

To everyone's surprise, Mercuria shook her head. "No, before I changed my name to Sara."

Becket and Hollick stared at her with wide eyes, and J blinked a few times, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned a name before Sara. "Uh... wasn't that what you were named as a kid?"

Mercuria shrugged. "I was named Soren when I was dropped off. I didn't like it, so I picked Sara because it sounded kinda the same. It wasn't really meant to be forever." She took another sip of juice, leaving the guys to reevaluate everything they thought they knew about her.

"M," J said finally, very cautiously. "Soren is a guy's name."

Mercuria nodded. "Yeah. It is."

"Are you- were- uh-" J paused, taking a big gulp of his beer before trying again. "Were you-"

"A guy?" Mercuria finished for him. At J's relieved expression, she nodded. "I was. Then I wasn't. Now I'm a girl. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," J replied. "So... is this a secret, or-?"

"It's just who I am," Mercuria said simply. "I was Soren, I was Sara, now I'm Mercuria. I've always been the same."

"So does that mean we can still make dick jokes?" Becket whispered loudly.

J gave him a look. "Hey, man! Like Pioneer said- there's a girl here. Watch it!"

The awkward silence dissolved into laughter and casual banter again. J glanced over his shoulder and raised his glass. Mercuria smiled and did the same.

[arcanistsanctum]

Character | Mercuria

Spirit Afflatus | ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Damage: Mental Support, DPS, Adjustment

She never stops too long, never gets too attached. She simply lets the universe guide her to her next destination.

[somacruising]

Tales of the Rays: Mirrage Prison

Chapter 6: The Atoning Hero and Remorseful Chosen (Part 3)

(Part 1+2) | (Part 4)

Welcome back to the next part of Tales of the Rays! Here, we get a flashback with Kratos and Mithos back on their original world, as well as the members of the Salvation Front hunting down and finding Mithos.

Part 3 (6-3 Lotus Imperial Villa)

Mithos: Oh, that’s good. I'm happy to hear that my sister's sickness is on the mend. …Without her, I’d really be all alone. 良かった。姉さまのオゼット風邪が快復に向かってて。……姉さまがいなくなったらボク、本当にひとりぼっちになっちゃうから。

Kratos: …You won’t be alone. I’m here, and so is Yuan. ……お前は一人ではない。私もユアンもいる。

Mithos: I don’t care about Yuan… Kratos, you’re…a unique human. But, you’re still a human and that means you’ll die long before me, you know? ユアンは別にどうでもいいけど……。クラトスは……人間じゃない。人間はボクよりずっと早く死んじゃうんだよ？

Kratos: I know. I’m undoubtedly going to die earlier than you. But…I’ll be sure to leave my soul to you when I die. そうだな。確かに私はお前よりは早く死ぬだろう。だが……私が死んでも私の魂はお前に託すつもりだ。

Mithos: Your soul? What, does that mean you’re planning to become a ghost so you can stay with me? 魂？あさは、それって、クラトスが���霊になってボクのそばにいてくれるってこと？

Kratos: No, that’s not what I mean. I would if it were possible, but I have no idea what happens after death. いや、そうではない。できるものならそうしてやりたいが死後のことなど私にはわからぬ。

Kratos: But, maybe I can give you some guidance on how to live… No, saying it outloud is too cliché. I’ll stop. だが、どう生きるのかという指針を……。いや、言葉にすると陳腐だな。やめておこう。

Mithos: …No, I understand. You’re saying that your way of living will remain inside my heart. ……ううん。わかったよ。ボクの心にクラトスの生き方が残るってことだよね。

Mithos: That’s how you’re going to guide me, right? In that case, I’ll feel a little less lonely. そんな風にボクを導いてくれるってことでしょ？そうしたらボクも少しは寂しくなくなるね。

Kratos: I don’t know if I can actually lead you that way… そのように導けるのかはわからぬが……。

Mithos: Fufu, I’m looking forward to it, Kratos-sensei! ふふ、期待してます。クラトス先生！

Kratos: (In the end, I wasn’t able to guide Mithos. But, in this world, I—) (結局私はミトスを導けなかった。だが、せめてこの世界では——)

     [ Scene Change ]

Zelos: Hey, Kratos! I finally found you! Why were you flying all the way over here? We've been looking for you for hours. おい、クラトス!やっと見つけたぞ！なんでこんなところを飛んでたんだよ。捜すの大変だったんだぞ。

Sync: I’m relieved you’ve found your long-lost daddy, Idiot Chosen. 迷子のパパを見つけられて良かったねバカ神子。

Kratos: …I don’t recall becoming the Chosen’s father. ……私は神子の父親になった記憶はないが。

Zelos: Funny, that. I’ve become a son, too. We can talk about our horrible memories later. Tell us what you’re doing out here. 奇遇だな。俺さまも息子になった。おぞましい記憶はねーよ。で、何してんだよ。

Kratos: I apologize. I don’t have time for this. There’s somewhere I need to go. すまない。少し時間をくれ。行かねばならないところがあるのだ。

     [ Scene Change ]

Mithos: Get out of my way!! そこをどけ！！

Caius: Mithos! What the hell is going on!? This isn’t like you! ミトス！どうしちまったんだよ！いつものお前らしくないぞ！

Mithos: “Isn’t like me”? What the hell do you know about me!? いつものボク？お前にボクの何がわかるって言うんだ！

Shing: …Tsch. Caius, you have to get away, at least. My legs…I can’t… ……くっ。カイウス、お前だけでも逃げる。オレは……足が……。

Caius: I won’t leave you! 逃げられる訳ないだろ！

Caius: Hey, Mithos, you and Mercuria were the first people in this world to accept that I was a Leimon… a Lycanth, right!? なあ、ミトス。この世界でオレのレイモーン……獣人の姿を認めてくれたのはお前とメルクリアが最初だっただろ！？

Caius: That’s enough for me! I may not know anything else, but you’re a good person! それで十分だ！他のことなんか知らないけどお前はいい奴だ！

Mithos: I’m not childish enough to be calmed by being called a good person. Move aside or I’ll kill you!! いい奴だって言われて喜ぶほど子供じゃない。どかないなら殺す！！

     [ Mithos starts to approach them, when Kratos appears ]

Kratos: Stop it, Mithos! やめろ、ミトス！

Caius: Huh…? え……？

Mithos: ！？

Kratos: You’re sword lacks meaning. それは無意味な剣だ。

Mithos: —You…how dare you show your face to me. You filthy, traitorous human!! ——よくも……よくもボクの前に顔を出せたな。裏切り者の薄汚い人間！！

Kratos: That’s right. But, no matter how much you hate me, I will not sit by and allow you to continue swinging that sword so foolishly. その通りだ。だが、どれだけ恨まれ憎まれても、これ以上お前にこのような愚かな剣を振るわせるつもりはない。

Mithos: Don’t you dare start acting like my teacher! I let you off the hook once, but now you’re betraying me twice! 今更、偉そうに師匠ヅラするな！一度は見逃してあげたのに二回もボクを裏切って！

Kratos: I’ve decided to start over. I cannot change what I did in our old world. それでも私はやり直すと決めた。それはこの異世界でも変わらぬ。

Kratos: I should have never decided to fall with you just to get you what you wanted, nor should I have betrayed you and hunted you down. 私がやるべきだったのは、お前の望みを叶えるために共に墜ちることでもお前を裏切り追い詰めることでもなかった。

Kratos: I neglected any real attempt to save you from your suffering. お前を苦しみから救う努力をすることを私は怠っていた。

Mithos: ………。

Kratos: I’ve wished many times that I could turn back the clock. But that’s impossible. And here, you and I are nothing but reflections. 時を巻き戻せるならと何度も思った。しかしそれはできぬ。そしてここでは私もお前も単なる影にすぎぬ。

Kratos: Still—no, that’s exactly why I want to take this chance to right my wrongs. それでも——いや、だからこそ過ちを正す機会をくれ。

Mithos: …I’m not doing anything wrong. Those who hurt others should be prepared to face consequences. ……ボクは、間違ってなんていない。他人に害を与えた者は、その報いを受ける覚悟をするべきだ。

Mithos: You should know that, Kratos. You’ve already gotten revenge. You killed Kvar—you and Lloyd. クラトスもわかってる筈だよ。自分だって仇を討った。クヴァルを殺したんだから。ロイドと一緒に。

Kratos: I did. I couldn’t control my desire for revenge when faced with the one who killed my wife. All I got out of it was a momentary sense of elation and accomplishment. そうだな。私は妻を殺された復讐心を抑えられなかった。その結果、私に生まれたのは一瞬の高揚感と達成感だった。

Kratos: But it didn’t last long. All those feelings vanished and all I had left was an empty void. No matter what I do, Anna…will never come back. しかしそれはすぐに消える。消えた後に。残るのはむなしさだ。どれだけ手を尽くしてもアンナは……妻は戻らぬ。

Mithos: …So what? Are you trying to say something nice about how revenge is pointless? ……それで？復讐は何も生まないなんて綺麗事を言うの？

Kratos: I am. I can’t deny revenge itself, not after I fulfilled my own desires the way I did. そうだな。自らの欲望を果たした私には復讐そのものを否定することはできない。

Kratos: But, Mithos, even if revenge was the right option, the ones you want to take revenge on all died long ago. だが、ミトス。もし復讐が許されるとしてもお前がその気持ちを向けるべき者はすでに死んだ。

Kratos: You’re using your desire to save Martel as an excuse to hold onto your hatred. I recognize that now.  お前は憎しみという感情を、マーテルを救うための免罪符にしてしまった。私もそれを認めてしまった。

Kratos: That’s all I wanted to say. I was wrong. すまなかった。私が間違っていた。

Kratos: ………。

Sync & Zelos: ………。

Mithos: …That’s enough. I’m not interested in talking about this anymore. Kratos, heal Shing. You can do that much, at least. ……もういい。気がそがれた。クラトス、シングを回復して。それぐらいはやってくれるでしょう。

Mithos: Also, Zelos, you fly that masked guy over there. I’ll take Caius and Kratos can carry Shing. あとゼロス、そこの仮面の奴をつれて飛んで。ボクはカイウスをクラトスはシングをつれて飛ぶ。

Mithos: There's a hill a little further down the road that the Imperials rarely go to, so we'll go there. 少し先に、帝国の連中が滅多に来ない丘があるからそこへ行く。

Sync: Heh… What a surprise. I noticed an Imperial messenger came sniffing around during that lovers’ quarrel of yours. へぇ……。案外やるね。アンタたちの痴話喧嘩の間に、帝国の伝令兵がここへ来てたこと、気づいてたんだ。

Caius & Shing: ！？

Zelos: Well, it wasn’t like he was particularly good at hiding himself. まあ、気配を消すのが下手くそな兵士だったしな。

Kratos: Which unit was he from? あれはどこの部隊の兵士なのだ？

Mithos: It was Richter, judging from the armband. While he might have missed me, it’s still more trouble than it’s worth. I’m not staying. 腕章からしてリヒターだ。見逃して��れそうな気もするけど色々面倒だからね。逃げるよ。

Caius: Hey, did you notice any soldiers here? なぁ、兵士なんてきてたか？

Shing: No, I didn’t notice anything at all, there were too many confusing things happening… いや、突然訳のわからない喧嘩が始まったから、全然気づかなかったよ……。

(Part 1+2) | (Part 4)

[ihaveforgortoomany]

It won't be the same like last time

(CN spoilers for the 2.0 story)

Discussion on a developing pattern in 2.0,2.1,2.2 and what this is potentially leading to.

Again spoilers for 1.9 and CN servers (feel free to discuss in comments about this since there isnt a dedicated space for CN spoilers discussion, I mean for good reason but yeah throwing ideas at a wall again.

So far the first three patches of the 2.0 storyline seem to all hammer home this one thing: it won't be like last time, things are different.

Ofc! You say, lemme explain.

2.0 introduces a new side of Manus, the Order of Enlightenment; in parallel to Manus they attempt to remain unknown and unseen by manipulating everyone believing Arcana is dead. In the long term this will only benefit the Manus as their operations can continue more covertly.

2.1 shows growth in Vertin, Tuesday's illusion almost servers as a checkpoint to reflect on Vertin's past regrets in the Breakaway Incident: in large part she has overcome those struggles, with the Umbrella now people like Schneider can be saved from the Storm. Taunting her with these regrets will not stop her like the last time.Vertin suffered with her inability to save everyone now has the means to do so. It won't be like last time.

2.2 shows us the literal equivalent of the Green Oranges scene with Nala and Vertin (Anjo Nala and Schneider parallels go brr). Vertin being thrown into a situation where she must use a gun again succeeds and gains more (Anjo Nala's freedom and the fact that Vertin didn't nearly kill someone again). Vertin was always a sharp shooter, but this time both her and Nala can walk away alive. It won't be like last time.

Then what is different?

A fraction of Zeno under Igor have changed over to the Manus, Sophia seemingly has a new goal of immortality she pursues (I think the sudden importance of Urd is due to her knowing Marta so maybe this is a hint? Or Igor all this time has been looking for her?). Arcana's death has become a martyrdom that is probably worse than her being alive in a sense as more people flock to her side. And we still do not know what FMN is doing, but so far all the heat is being put on Sophia so he virtually can do whatever he wants now (I think either him or Ms Grace might be involved next patch with Matilda).

More importantly we have been given more clues to who Urd is, and the single fact driving me up the wall since I heard it that people psychically do not die in the Storm. (For Vertin this is a win win situation in a sense, ignoring the fact that Urd was kidnapped the act alone proves she has a greater role than previously thought so now more reason to hunt her down and now save her)

This is BP. How bad are things going to get now? The game is completely different and now there are more stakes involved.

Overall I think BP did a good job in setting up the 2.0 storyline, even if I think characterisation in some places may have suffered a bit (looking at Lopera and Mercuria, until these patches come out in Global so far, especially Mercuria I am meh on them until further info). I guess I would call these growing pains? Early chapters did struggle with pacing (I mean Book 1 and 2 was juggling Sotheby, Druvis and Schnieder and sometimes pacing did feel off but overall they were very good ).

Death flags? So far no but Moldir is likely I think?

Uh going to Antarctica makes sense actually, references to the Transatlantic Arctic Expedition in the Prologue and the general theme of travel writing (we could predict the book this again possibly). But BP if we are going to the fucking Polar caps you cannot tell me no one is getting an outfit change (I mean maybe not right on the polar caps but still).

Garment predictions? Horrorpedia, Kakania (which I am not ready for), Windsong (again not ready), maybe Getian? Since 2.1 and 2.2 already gave skins to most of the characters in these patches (excluding limited ofc). Maybe Necrologist?

[snufflepup]

I mean it's good, I could've sworn I sent it last night, but I was super tired so maybe not lol. I do wanna get them for completionist reasons, but its likely they wont come back cause theyre collabs with companies. They did a sonic collab before i started playing, and i wish i played sooner cause itd be funny to have sonic and tails and shit. It's really cool! There's these phenomena that just turn back time in isolated spots on earth in random times and kill everyone that gets caught up in them. The mc is the timekeeper, the only person that's able to survive in the storm on her own. She's forced to work for the st. Pavlov foundation to find a way to stop the storms. (Forced, because she started working as a kid, and her immunity to the storm was found out when she tried to escape the foundation with some of her friends and all her friends died because they didnt have her immunity. Its really sad how sheltered they are and how badly they want to actually see the world outside the foundation). There's also this other group called manus vindictae, they're trying to speed up the storms happening to eradicate the humans and leave behind just arcanists that. Humans were historically super shitty and racist to arcanists, so the translation of their name "hands of vengence" makes sense! They used to have the only immunity to the storm, but in the most recent chapter, the st Pavlov foundation managed to find one out too, but their immunity item can protect humans too! God I'm so excited about this game!! The most recent patch (2.0) takes place in 1990 in San Francisco and it's so cool so far! We got the first adult guy character in a bit and he's so so hot and cool! It's gonna be a struggle to save up for him over mercuria, the other 6 star that got released in this patch before him. Oh There's also like a good couple canonical gay married npcs too! I love how casually they mention it and how respectful they are with it. A lot of the characters are girls, which I don't really prefer, but their designs are so gorgeous that i found myself actually liking them a lot^^ my favorite character is an italian half-blood arcanist named pavia! Hes so cool, though hes just a 3 star :P. My favorite 6 stars would be isolde, lucy, spathodea, Joe, and jiu niangzi! A cool thing about arcanists too is that theres awakened arcanists, items born from concepts and arcane! Lucy actually is one. Her core is a cog, and she came into existance when the first steam engine made a sound! And shes immortal as long as the concept behind her creation is alive. her concept would be progression and advancement, and omg thats soo cool to me, especially with how her representation of that concept was the first steam engine!! I could go on forever, i love this game so much, ive played since launch and im so glad i did! Things have gotten better with her, but I still think she's trying to limit how much we talk, so I'm gonna try and talk to her about it in a bit. I went trick or treating yesterday, so I wasn't really able to reply sooner, sorry. Did you do anything for Halloween? I walked around so much it still hurts lol.

-ike<3

aaa maybe ? Tumblr can . be a bit odd sometimes and mess up !! I understand how you feel, theres some games and things I like that I want to have everything in as well ! Those sound really awesome ! I'm sorry you missed out (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) That sounds really interesting ! oh my god that's so sad :(( The manus vindictae group sounds really really cool too, I can understand why they would . hate humans after all that ! The story sounds really really amazing, I'm glad you like it so much ! I think it's nice you are so passionate over it ^–^ He sounds . expensive . good luck getting him and saving for him !!! aaa yay ! That's good then, it's always good when there are canonically queer characters ! Lucy sounds SO cool omg omg ! It sounds like the game did things in a really awesome and interesting way !!! I see. . . It sounds like a really hard situation, but I think you're doubg the right thing by talking about it with her ! It's okay !! Did you have a good time ? What did you dress up as ? If you did !! I didn't really . do anything for halloween . I planned to watch scary stuff, but I never actually got aroubd to it . and by the time I knew it Halloween was over !

[slate-skylar]

JANUARY - JULY 106

One month. Kya lifts her head during the strange ritual called tummy time. She likes to stare at her parents' faces. Her eyes are big and when she cries it's also big and very loud. She smiles once and it maybe is because she has pooped but he and Cress both cry.

The days pass in an exhausted blur. He doesn't accomplish much by way of revolution because he is busy accomplishing the smaller, more granular parts of life: cleaning blowouts, figuring out how to warm up the bottle just so, endlessly supporting Kya's little head, himself panicked and careful, not a natural at this at all. But Enna has agreed to let him help. Nano might be moved. He wants back in.

Two months. She coos and gurgles a lot. She is less jerky, she picks her head up more consistently when they do the tummy time. Slate reads to her several times a day, in part to pass the time, breaking it into chunks of one book to the next. She reaches for the pages with splayed fingers.

Spring coming to the Capitol. They go on walks with her, strapped to one of their chests. In Eleven things intensify. In every District, they intensify. Slate longs for the drugs that numbed him. He has nightmares almost every night now. He wakes to Kya screaming as if she too has seen Mercuria's death again in her mind's eye. He goes to her and finds comfort in her little body and her small, human needs.

Three months. She laughs now and smiles when they make silly faces. He is better at being silly than he'd thought he would be, better at making her laugh than he'd feared. At tummy time she tries to push herself up. It's like she, too, wants in on the action.

Free Eleven. It exists. It's out there. He keeps himself from whooping with joy when he hears. The neighbors, the walls, the light fixtures all have eyes, all have ears. And then shortly after, the Victor's Ball. An announcement. The age limit is gone. No one is safe. Cress isn't safe.

Four months. She grabs things. She still babbles: babababa, dadadada. When she says this, dadadada, he cries again and is surprised at himself for the outpouring of all this emotion, all this water. Maybe it's the water he soaked up in the Arena, finally draining out.

Free Eleven is a mess but it's free. Difficult to get reports. He wants to go, itches to go, but he won't leave. He can't leave. He's being watched. He and Cress fight off cameras, the press; they all want a piece of Kya but if they each take something she'll have nothing left. Instead they offer themselves up. Smiling and patriotic. At night he helps Enna sometimes. He does what he can.

Five months. She plays with her hands and feet and thinks these limbs of hers are a miracle. She rolls from her tummy to her back. She can sit up for a moment, sometimes two, all on her on.

The 136th Reaping draws closer. Tensions rise. He and Cress get word from friends, other sympathizers, about advances and defeats in Two. The news talks about how exciting this next Games will be, how great for everyone to be able to be involved.

Six months. She is ready for solid food and Slate samples some of it and nearly retches. Cress laughs at him. Kya jabbers and seems to recognize her own name. She puts lots of things in her mouth.

The Games draw closer, closer. The fever pitch the country is at; deafening noise from everywhere. Pressure and fear. He sometimes feels like he can't stop screaming, though he's making no noise at all, no noise ever. He's being perfectly silent. Perfectly good.

[odysseywritings]

Planetary Posse

@flashfictionfridayofficial

WIP: The New Milky Way

Aboard a cramped yet tolerable clump of spacecraft, the four distinctly foreign travelers search for a decent home. Space was becoming less of an awesome adventure avoiding asteroids and aliens. Most of space was... well, space. Devoid of stars, rocks, or other phenomena that could rock them. The biggest fear was a little rupture that could suffocate them. Yet after a while, they adapted to that fear and headed on, looking for the right galactic signs for life.

Heading the navigation was Skye, the first human born in space, and a master of piloting despite being a teenager. Her most constant challenge was boredom.

"You know, I'm starting to think I Spy gets kinda old when everything is a blip away. Anyone have some fun alien games or songs? I can't be the only one singing ABBA, y'all have to contribute, too."

"On my planet," the black armored yet small Mercuria started, "games were made to prepare us for war and death. Losers received the first tastes of defeat on the battlefield."

"A good start, but," Skye thought of the right words for this aggressive alien. "Do you have anything that won't break our shuttle and send us spiraling into darkness?"

"No."

"Cool, thanks."

"Halt!" Skye jumped back as another figure boomed behind her named Prince Shaushko II. A tall, regal man adorned in gold posed as a statue with a smug face.

"It appears these fair maidens long for entertainment! Such as it is, my qualifications were for mastering not for 'jestering.' Lest we suffer the indignity of drudgery like common pedestrians, I command thee at the starboard point to tantalize us with bardic tales of grandeur!"

He pointed a mighty finger at the red, scaled musician at the far end of the ship. Muscular yet smallish, Laris sluggishly moved his head.

"D'you need something? I was looking back if we missed anything."

"Yeah, do you know any good songs," Skye asked. "We're hitting our snooze buttons fast. How about something nice for travel?"

"I'm not one to turn down a request," he smiled.

He tuned his guitar-like instrument and began strumming a mid tempo song while thumping the side as percussion and whistling an airy tune.

Skye relaxed and moved her shoulders to the rhythm. The prince sat in luxury while Mercuria stood still, almost agitated by the sound, as though it was blocking out dangerous threats.

The youthful pilot saw a cluster of dust from a dead star, billowing with a mountainous cascade of green, yellow, and orange specks longer than the sun. Combined with the music, her awed mind felt the mixture of natural and artificial beauty, the power of progress that has allowed sapient species to hear and see things unknown to animal life.

The journey was long, and Skye had doubt of ever finding home, but to stop now was suicide. Nor was she lonely as her unlikely group gave her company and kept her from going insane in the eternal black void. The search for a celestial body to replicate Earth harkened to her as her wagon pushed on.

[m-tribs]

@nettleberry

It was always a delicate dance with the Gamemakers. Anything that could be seen from anywhere in the Arena was one of two things: to be avoided or to be rushed towards. Often times, as decades of Hunger Games had shown, it was both. If she fled from this ghostly ship, it was more than likely she'd be pushed towards it. Either by deadly fog, a forest fire, a swarm of Mutts... there were hundreds of ways Mercuria could think of to shepherd her towards this thing, and she wasn't even a Gamemaker.

So towards the terrifying, awful ship she went. It wasn't hard to predict its movements; the thing was like a beacon in the sea. It was clearly making rounds to each of the islands, and Mercuria saw her route clearly from the top of the mountain to the shore. She even plotted out a route through the trees to keep herself disguised and hidden from others who might be on the oasis island - others like Helios who might still have a nasty bone to pick with her. She moved quickly and with purpose; if she was going to meet anyone she wanted to, it would be on that ship.

With eyes cautiously peeled for anything small and creepy crawly, Mercuria began the many-hour trek down the mountain. She was stuck, momentarily, at the edge of the water. The water that so many times had tried to take her under. And yet, there was the ship, begging to be boarded. Loose, fraying ropes dangled from its sides like ladders. And so, she chanced it. When the ship was at its closest, she closed her eyes and sprinted. The splashing was loud, but before the water had reached her chest, she was there. Hands closed around rope before breath seized in her chest, so that had to be a win.

Hand over hand over hand, Mercuria muscled her way up the rope. She heaved herself over the edge with a wet plop and looked up in muted horror at the scene. Walking skeletons, with rusted blades, everywhere. Like the one that had laughed at her and Bramble as they nearly drowned. But alive. Luckily, none seemed to notice her - or, if they did, they paid her no attention as long as she stayed away. But there was no guarantee that that truce would hold, so she shoved a fist into her mouth to stop from screaming and ducked behind the first thing she could find: a barrel. Always with the barrels on ships.

A moment's pause gave her time to assess. She needed to be indoors. It was a ship, after all. It must have a captain's quarters. If this ship were designed anything like the one that was wrecked and served as home base, then she'd know exactly where it was. The only problem? She had been found out by something living, but less skeletal. Something more fleshy. Another Tribute.

[slate-skylar]

Slate followed, always happy to do as she asked in these moments, though in others he had -- as she said -- that clever mouth. He had his obstinance. Something which had come between them the night before and bled into the day, but he seemed to have successfully dispelled that for now. He still didn't know what he'd do come morning, if he'd leap off the podium and take martyrdom and Cress's anger alongside it, or if the thought of the child and Hestia and his siblings and Cress, too, of course Cress, would stop him. If the thought of Bramble, Nettle, Mercuria, all of them out there alone, without his help in the Arena would stop him. If Mercuria's threat to kill herself if he did so would stop him.

This wasn't the moment to think of it. The display on the clock by the bed showed that the hours were counting down too quickly already. And so he followed her to the bed. He was obedient. He laid her down in front of him and climbed on top of her, hovering over her, taking a moment to stare, to memorize her face to use for memory later, if it became needed. And if he didn't jump -- it would be needed. "You're beautiful," he murmured, still hanging above her.

Cress held the front of her dress, hand splayed across her bodice as she peered back at Slate. "Is that your expert opinion?" It was better ruined, lest it end up in some museum, commodified for Capitolite consumption. They'd transcribe every word stitched into the fabric, put them up on the wall beside its case. A colorful depiction of star-crossed lovers: heart-wrenching and tender, intimate and doomed. She'd rather they be destroyed than displayed. Slate's love was hers. Only hers. "Good thing, then, that you got it off when you did," she quipped, sweetly sarcastic. "For all of Panem."

But in truth, Cress had already moved past it. Any worry she held for the fabric could be fussed about later -- after Launch. Their time was running out, tapering to a close, and she didn't want to spend this last night strategizing, or arguing, or concerned at all with the outside world. She simply wanted to be together -- together alone. "Now come here," Cress turned, stepping backwards, coaxing him to follow. "Bring me that clever mouth."

[the-blossica-fan]

Actors AU!

Vertin's dad and is he helping out with the set, or is he non-existent?

Vertin's dad does exist, he's probably a backstage artist like Theophil.

There's a recurrent joke on the set that Vertin's parents are so hot and Vertin, Vert and Mercuria are so done. Imagine Regulus just makes a comment on how hot Vertin's dad is and she sighs.

Regulus: I can see where you come from, Vertin. Your dad is a true God of beauty! Look at that face and-

Vertin: No more, please no more.

Bessmert and Vertin's father, idk how to call him, are happily married and content with their relationship. Doesn't mean others are not staring at them 24/7

Vertin's dad is a nice and charismatic but also quiet man, he doesn't talk much but when he does, he's quite funny. Definitely friends with Shamane and Knight.

[somacruising]

Tales of the Rays: Mirrage Prison

Chapter 6: The Atoning Hero and Remorseful Chosen (Part 8)

(Part 7) | (Part 9)

It's time to see what Chester, Sync, Kratos, Zelos, and Hilda are up to. Last time, Hilda agreed to help the Salvation Front group infiltrate I Pucelle Castle. Let's see how that's going~

Part 8 (Lotus Imperial Villa)

I Pucelle Castle Armory イ・ラプセル城内武器庫

Zelos: Oh, I hope my sweet Hilda is doing all right. I wish we could have stayed together~ ヒルダちゃん、大丈夫かね。やっぱ俺さまも一緒に行ってあげたかったぜ～。

Chester: That wouldn’t have worked out. Hilda can pretend to be a messenger, but we’re outright intruders. そりゃ無理だろ。ヒルダは出入りの商人の使いだって顔ができるけど、オレたちは単なる侵入者だぞ。

Sync: Not to mention the traitors among us. しかも裏切り者がいるしね。

Zelos, Kratos, & Chester: ………。

[ Hilda and Caius enter ]

Hilda: Sorry for the wait—huh? What’s with everyone’s expressions? お待たせ——って、何？みんな妙な顔してるけど。

Sync: Who knows. Ignore them, I thought we were meeting with Shing? That’s Caius. さあね。それよりそこにいるのはシングじゃなくてカイウスだよね？

Caius: Shing was summoned by Mercuria, so I don’t think we’ll see him for a while. シングならメルクリアに呼び出されたから当分会えないと思う。

Chester: What for!? どういうことだ！？

Caius: Mercuria is angry about what happened with Mithos. ミトスの件で、メルクリアが怒ってるんだ。

Caius: They let me go after questioning me about what happened, but Shing started to complain about Kohaku… That idiot… オレは事情を聞かれてすぐに解放されたけどシングはコハクの件で色々文句を言っちまったから……。あの馬鹿……。

Chester: Damn it! How are we supposed to help Ami without Shing!? くそっ！シングがいなきゃアミィはどうなっちまうんだよ！

Caius: I think Hilda said we just needed a Soma. Since Shing can’t be here right now, I brought Kohaku’s Soma instead. 確かヒルダの話だとソーマが必要なんだろ?シングはいないけど、代わりにコハクのソーマを持ってきた。

Caius: I didn’t bother asking, so Shing might get angry at me later. But this will help, right? 勝手に持ってきたから、あとでシングに怒られるかも知れないけど、役に立つか？

Kratos: I’m sure this will be helpful. May I hold onto it? きっと参考になるだろう。預からせて貰えるだろうか。

Caius: Sure. Just be careful not to break it. もちろん。壊したりしないでくれよ。

[ KRATOS TAKES THE SOMA ]

Kratos: I promise to be careful. 約束する。

Caius: And…about what you said before about helping me out. Were you being serious? それと……前に言ってた力を貸してくれるかも知れないって話。あれ、本気か？

Zelos: Hmm? Did something come up? ん？何かあったのか？

Caius: Nothing yet… But I’ve got a bad feeling that something’s about to happen. まだ何とも……。でもそうなりそうな気がしてる。

Hilda: It’s about Rubia—her friends were taken from the Warrior’s Hall and declared traitors. ルビア——この子の仲間が反逆者として戦士の館から連行されちゃったのよ。

Hilda: I’ve been investigating where they might be being held and I’ve finally come up with a few ideas. 何処に収容されているのか私の方で調べてたんだけどようやくいくつか候補が挙がってきたの。

Chester: Oh Rubia… damn it! ルビアが……。くそっ！

Kratos: …So you still haven’t found Rubia. ……まだルビアの居場所は特定できぬのだな。

Hilda: No, I haven’t. It’s going to take a little more time to narrow it down. ええ。絞り込みにはもう少しだけ時間がかかりそうなのよ。

Kratos: In that case, take this, Caius. ならばカイウス、これを持っておけ。

Caius: A mirrage…? この鏡は……？

Kratos: It’s a communication device. They stopped working after the Mirror Shift, but this one is back in service now. 通信装置だ。鏡殻変動以降使い物にならなくなっていたがまた使えるようになった。

Kratos: You can use it to contact us if you need help. 必要があればそれを使って我らに声を掛けてくれ。

Caius: …Oh, thank you! ……ああ。ありがとう！

Sync: …*sighs* You’re a real softie. You always go the extra mile, huh? ……はぁ、お人好しだね。ほんとゴクロウサマ。

Caius: Oh, right! Everyone, you should all get out of the castle as soon as you can. Nazar and Tigr are coming soon. そうだ！みんな、そろそろ城を出た方がいい。ナーザとチーグルがこっちに来るって話だ。

Sync: A cheagle—oh, you mean that odd blond guy. I thought you were talking about a particularly ugly monster. チーグル？……ああ、あの金髪の妙な男か。ブサイクな魔物のことかと思った。

Chester: It’ll be trouble if we run into Nazar. ナーザと鉢合わせすると面倒だぞ。

Zelos: Agreed. We should get out of here. What about you, my sweet Hilda? そうだな。さくっと脱出するか。ヒルダちゃんはどうすんのよ。

Hilda: —Can you please stop calling me that? ——その呼び方、いい加減やめてくれない？

Zelos: Eeh~!? How about Madam Hilda, then~? ええ～！？じゃあヒルダ様～！

Hilda: No! ぶつよ！

Zelos: It’s so nice of you to let me know ahead of time before you hit me, Madam Hilda~! ぶつ前に言ってくれるなんて優しすぎるぜ、ヒルダ様～！

Hilda: Ah…can one of you do something about this idiot? ��ー……。この馬鹿何とかしてくれない？

Kratos: My apologies. The Chosen… Zelos just wants to play around with you. すまぬな。神子……ゼロスはあなたとじゃれ合いたいだけなのだ。

Zelos: Why are you saying something like that with such a serious face!? 真面目な顔でそーゆーこというのやめてくれねーかな！？

Hilda: —Anyway! I need to have a few more discussions with Caius about the search for Rubia. ——とにかく！私はカイウスとルビアの捜索についてもう少し打ち合わせしていくわ。

Hilda: You all should go on ahead. あんたたちは先に逃げなさい。

Kratos: …Caius, where is Mithos? ……カイウス。ミトスはどこにいる？

Caius: Mithos? …I think he’s at the shelter he built in the nearby forest. ミトス？……多分近くの森に作った避難所にいると思う。

Sync: What shelter? 避難所って何。

Caius: …Mithos was getting ready to hide Martel there, but she was kidnapped before he could do that. ……マーテルさんを匿うために準備してたらしいんだ。その前に攫われちゃったけどさ。

Kratos: Can you give us its exact location? 詳しい場所を教えてくれ。

Caius: …Well, I’m sure it’s fine if it’s you guys. Here, I’ll draw you a map. ……まぁ、あんたたちなら大丈夫か。今、地図を書くよ。

Kratos: Hilda, I’ll pass on Aster’s message. Is that all right with you? ヒルダ。アステルからの伝言は私から伝えておく。それでいいか？

Hilda: Yes, it’d be helpful if you would. そうね。そうしてくれると助かるわ。

Chester: Wait. I don’t have time to go meet up with Mithos! 待った。オレはミトスに会いに行ってる暇なんてないぞ！

Sync: Then we’ll have Zelos take Chester back to the Kerykeion. だったら、ゼロスがチェスターをケリュケイオンへ送ってやればいい。

Kratos: Will you be coming with me, Sync? シンクは私と共にくるのか？

Sync: Mark will get angry if I leave you alone. アンタ一人残して帰ったらマークが怒るからね。

Sync: Well, I don't particularly care, but listening to him go on and on would be annoying. I’m doing myself a favor by going with you. まぁ、それでもいいけどしつこくくどくど言われるのも面倒だ。アンタに付き合えば義理は果たせるだろ。

Kratos: …Heh. ……フッ。

Sync: …Tsk. What’s with that knowing expression on your face? I've figured out why Zelos hates you. ……チッ。何もかもわかってますって澄まし顔か。ゼロスがアンタを嫌う理由がわかったよ。

Zelos: Ehehehehe. Right? Glad we’ve finally bonded, Synkun. でひゃひゃひやひゃ。だろー？仲間になれて嬉しいよ、シンくん。

Sync: I refuse to be friends with you, Idiot Chosen. アンタと仲間になるのもお断りだねバカ神子。

Chester: …Who cares, hurry up! Ami is waiting for us! ……何でもいいから急ぐぞ！アミィが待ってるんだ。

(Part 7) | (Part 9)

[slate-skylar]

pink tourmaline

time: after the parade

ft. @cress-meadowforge

“I wish we could live somewhere else. You and me. We deserve to live somewhere else. That’s what I want. I don’t want to die, I want to live, but not… like this.”

tw: suicide attempt

-

The cheers of the crowd echoed in his ears even now, in his room. No one had kicked him out or forced him to take the tribute room, so here he still was, staying where he’d always stayed. The night before, after arriving at the Tower and a chaotic first day, he’d fallen asleep easily in Cress’s arms. He’d slept like the dead. Today had been different, though. Waking up as a tribute and going to bed as one made it all feel more final. This wasn’t a nightmare that had begun in today’s waking hours; it was a nightmare that had been sealed by his sleep and asked to be sealed again. Tomorrow he’d begin training, or a continuation of it. He’d see the other tributes with knives and swords – Ezra, who’d promised him a quick death, would be there; Bramble and Nettle, who had not trained for this, hadn’t known they would have to; Mercuria, who had promised him her life; Callisto, Cress’s blood, her sister (was there anything more cruel?).

Slate threw the costume to the ground, kicked it with some reserve of anger he hadn’t known he had, and tossed himself onto the bed. In the moment of the parade, standing on the chariot, he had found some sort of peace or calm that he could only hope he’d be able to muster again in the Arena. But that calm had no room for thoughts or feelings, and here in the room with Cress, those were everywhere. Swirling all around and him, unable to catch any of them to hold them for more than a moment at a time.

Cress lingered at the threshold, observing, trying to understand her place — in this Tower, on this floor, within this room. Tribute spaces didn’t have locks (a measured precaution, she was sure), but the others did, so as she stepped inside, closing the door, she locked it too. It wouldn’t protect them from Peacekeepers, but very little could. The illusion was comfort enough. She kicked off her shoes, tugged the zipper down her side. Cress wished he would stop her, murmur let me from behind, but the dress pooled at her feet unceremoniously. This was not their apartment. This was not their life. From a drawer, she dug out a shirt, his, only in the sense that it had been bought for him. He’d never worn it himself. He probably never would. Everything truly theirs had burned.

The edge of the bed dipped beneath her weight. The mattress shifting as she crawled beside him, settling, reaching, propping her head on a pillow as her fingers traced his ribs. Tomorrow she was due back at her station, back in this world, with the lines drawn clearly: Trainer Cress, with a fresh batch of tributes; Victor Cress, with a familial legacy on the line; Cress Meadowforge, with a reputation to repair or ruin; and Cressida – with him. Only him. She could be that, only that, for tonight. “Where are you?” she asked, searching in the haze, wishing for his thoughts. His eyes were unfocused. Cress could feel him sinking deeper beneath, getting lost in his headspace. “Slate,” fingertips along his skin, “don’t go where I can’t reach.” 

Slate turned his head toward her, focusing his gaze on her after a moment of effort. Was it exhaustion that made it difficult to really look at anyone, anything? “How do I stay within reach?” he asked, a genuine question. But Cress wasn’t sure, did not truly know. Perhaps this was enough – that he was aware of her presence, that they were conversing coherently. He touched the bracelet on his wrist. They’d let him wear it on the chariot – or they hadn’t forced him to take it off, anyway. Maybe they just hadn’t cared. Hestia had been a tribute; Cress had been; and he’d hardly talked with either of them about their time in the Games, or just before it. He knew they’d experienced it but he hadn’t wanted to force them to dig into the memories. Now, though, he found himself entirely unprepared. “I feel like I must be in shock, or something.”

“Must be,” Cress agreed. They’d studied shock in the Academy, in a class called Psychology of a Tribute. She’d been fascinated by it: the chemicals that were released in the brain during the Reaping, the different ways the mind and body reacted in the days leading up to Launch, how these could be predictors for failure or success in an arena. “It will pass,” gentle assurance, as honest as she could give. “Being out of the environment will help; it just takes time to come down.”

Slate nodded, as if he believed that were true. He wanted to ask her what environment she referred to – he felt like his current state of mind had been created by the entirety of his life and his country. What environment could he possibly have left?

Cress wiped soot from beneath his eye as her own drifted, to where he was fidgeting against his wrist. Familiar as she was with his body, this piece was new. Well, not quite. The bracelet was worn, frayed lightly. Certainly not part of his costume. Cress dipped to touch it, “What’s this?”

“Hestia’s,” Slate said. “Her token. Now mine.” It seemed full sentences wouldn’t come when it came to this. The braided leather. “Never thought I’d have one. A token. What do I even do with it? What if it gets fucked up?” It could get wet, or it could fall off, or it could be cut off. Someone could take it. He suddenly felt fearful, responsible for this important thing. 

Cress adjusted, pushing herself up to sit on the bed, feeling the material, assessing its current condition. “You wear it. You let it remind you of home, what you’re fighting for, surviving to get back to.” They hadn’t spoken much of her experience. He’d watched her Games when they first started training, but Cress had never pressed, never offered more than needed. She didn’t want Slate to see her like that, the amalgamation of everything he had once accused her of. “I wore a necklace,” she said, rolling the frayed ends of the leather between her fingers. “My parents made it, selected and set the stones.” Cress hadn’t worn it much since her victory, but she’d started again, after the fire. It had gotten her through one impossible period of her life, perhaps it could propel her through another. 

She dipped beneath her shirt’s collar, pulled the pendant forth, held it between them for him to observe. Her fingers moved blindly over the four stones. The knowledge was rote, a list she’d recited each night: a reminder in the arena that she was still alive. “Black diamond, a shield,” bringing invincibility and beauty to its bearer. “Aquamarine, for clarity and conviction. Pink Tourmaline, to soothe. And Aventurine Green, for luck and wealth.” The gems were set in gold, though Cress had never polished or cleaned it. She needed to, but something held her back, like wiping the dirt, and blood, and tarnish from it would drain its power. Erase her past. 

Slate looked, then reached out his finger to touch it. She tilted her head up so he could better reach. The necklace was small, delicate, but with the stones inlaid, it carried immense power. Power even Slate could feel. He remembered Cress holding the stones from Marble, how they’d brought her comfort in the Hob during the reading. He could feel now, beneath his fingers, that these stones had brought her comfort many times. He could see, too, how it had been well-worn by her own fingers.

“I could have yours looked at,” Cress offered, dropping the pendant, which fell against the hollow of her throat. She took his hand again, focused on his wrist, tracing her thumb across the material. “Leather is extremely porous, so it’s impossible to make it entirely waterproof. But a treatment will largely protect it from moisture. If you want to leave the fraying, we can–” It was likely of sentimental value, if it had been worn by Hestia. “But it needs to be oiled, broadly, so it doesn’t crack, and sealed here at the edges, so it doesn’t unravel further.” It would help, keep it in good condition so that it would see Slate through. The intentional destruction of tokens wasn’t commonplace, though. It was a particular cruelty, an unspoken boundary rarely crossed. And besides, if another tribute was close enough to take it, or if an event was strong enough to ruin it, then you were probably dead as it was. “Would you be open to that? Just a bit of care?” An offering of support, an ounce of love.

Slate bit his lip. Perhaps that would be nice, but this wasn’t his bracelet. It was Hestia’s, and she might not like it being messed with, even if the intent was to better preserve it. That way, when it arrived home on his body, she could remove it and keep it. It would comfort her. “We need to ask Hestia,” he said, “it’s not mine.” Those words – it’s not mine – so common for him to speak. He had so few things, and though Hestia had given him this, he still felt like it didn’t belong to him really. It wasn’t his. He was borrowing it.

Cress hummed softly in disagreement. “It is,” she said, knowing Slate, knowing he would deny it. “We’ll ask Hestia, though I’m confident she’ll defer to you.” He made a slight face, an expression of uncertainty, suggesting that he didn’t agree with her, but he knew she was probably right. Hestia wouldn’t make any demands of her own right now, and if this would make Slate feel better, he was sure she’d give her blessing.

Cress’s fingers trailed up his arm, along the slope of his shoulder and down, to brush the hair from his neck. There, still there, that pink line. Not a figment of her imagination, or a trick of the light. Cress traced the scarring, the skin lightly textured, her fingertips following along the discoloration of his throat until he met her eyes. “Will you talk with me about it?” What you did to yourself. What was done to you. “If you’re willing, I’d like to.”

The skin there was sensitive, still healing, and Slate fought the urge to close his eyes, to refuse to speak about it, as he’d done before. She wanted to know. She had wanted to ask earlier, hadn’t. And he wasn’t willing to talk about it, didn’t want to discuss any of his time in prison, but he knew that he owed her an explanation that would, at the very least, calm any concerns she had. He didn’t want her to think that he’d done this after finding out about the pregnancy. He knew she might think it, with her concern over his willingness and interest to have a child. He knew what this could look like, in the long nights that would follow his death.

“It was after they stopped trying to get information out of me,” he said, “before you came.” His voice was dry, as if he were discussing the events of ancient history. The act of removing his clothes, tying them together with knots as tight as he could, knots she had taught him to make as part of their training. Of jumping up, hanging the noose around the top bar of the gate. Doing all of this in the short moments between the guards passing by. The eye of the panopticon always on him, though, never away. Watching him and his naked body as he scaled the bars and slipped his head through the noose.

She tried to recall how he had appeared during her visit, but the memory was unclear. The details that she could conjure were focused elsewhere: his face, his words, the pallor of his skin. But whether it had been concealed, or she’d had not seen, the fact remained that Slate had navigated that encounter while nursing this, harboring this secret against his skin. Cress shifted, hoping his body would follow without resistance. She wanted his head in her lap, and he complied, closing his eyes and allowing her to touch him, to give him comfort. Her hands over him, fingertips trailing his ribs and his back, or else toying idly with his hair, raking gently against his scalp. In this, Slate would not have to look at her. In this, Cress could continue her questioning. He allowed it, eyes closed, the world quiet except for her words, her impossible questions.

“Why?” But that was a poor question. Overbroad and unfair. He was being tortured, and when they were through, he would be put to death. Why wouldn’t he wish for relief? She rephrased. “What did you think about, when it was happening?” And then, brow furrowed, “were you stopped?” Found? Caught?

He didn’t speak for a moment after she stopped, allowing her last words to hang in the air. And when he did answer the questions, he went backwards. From the end to the beginning. “The knots didn’t hold,” he said. “They did for a bit. But not long enough. Fell on the ground.” Gasping and trying to figure out if this was what death felt like and if so, why it hurt so badly. Cress’ acknowledgement came only through her touch – constant, careful not to startle him away from vulnerability. “Thought about… how I didn’t want them to televise my death.” It was an ironic thing now, but it was true. He hadn’t wanted everyone to see. Cress and Hestia and his siblings and all of his friends. He didn’t want them to watch it happen.

She thought that nothing should touch him harshly, his body a sacred thing harboring an imperfect soul. Then she thought of honor, of the notion of a fitting death, of her world, which was filled with so much duty and its consequence: shame. “Do you wish for death?” Cress asked, searching for common language, for something she could understand. “Enough to exact it at your own hand?”

His eyes opened at that, he adjusted so that he could look at her. “I didn’t,” he replied, honest, working his way through the murky feelings surrounding this. In the prison everything had been harsh, confusing. Here, it was different. There was comfort and warmth and Cress. He didn’t wish for death, not in this moment, not at all. “I don’t want to die, no.” It was honest. He laid his head back again, breaking the eye contact. It was enough to say that; it was true, and better to leave it at that. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to be a tribute. He didn’t want to be a victor, either. He wasn’t sure he’d been left with any choice after all.

“I believe you,” Cress murmured, and though he settled again, his eyes turning away, her gaze remained fixed upon him. “But I would understand if you did.” She brushed across his forehead, fingers skimming down the bridge of his nose. It sent a contented feeling down his spine, despite the subject matter. “I’ve felt that way.” A secret for her lover, who had given one to her first. “The inexorable desire to die, to be dead.”

He moved his hand, tracing slow circles on her thigh, a response or some type of comfort, the touch she had provided him being returned. Cress welcomed it, this tactile reply. He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t see how you could go through something like this and not feel it. The desire to die. To have died. And Cress had been through so much, in the Arena and after. Victorhood, life, neither had been kind to her. “I wish we could live somewhere else,” he said quietly, a response, an offer of a comforting thought, because there was nothing else appropriate. I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. “You and me. We deserve to live somewhere else. That’s what I want. I don’t want to die, I want to live, but not… like this.”

“Mmm,” she smiled, but it wasn’t a joyous, elated grin. Rather something tired, the expression of relief in being permitted to give in. He would not judge her for it, for her past and present exhaustion. Cress trusted Slate unconditionally. “That’s what I want too,” her fingers slipped down his nose again, the dozenth time down this well-worn path, but they did not slide up again. Instead, she continued, over the slope and tip of his nose, finding his mouth: ghosting over it, tracing his Cupid’s bow, smoothing out along the soft plane of his lower lip. She loved his mouth. Loved the words that came from it. Loved their presence over her pulse, her flesh, dipping down to meet her, to consume her, to set her free. And here they were, spinning a beautiful mirage, a place to rest upon the long journey. “I’d like to live somewhere else with you.”

Another time, maybe. A different place. A separate life from this one, where they would be permitted their soft landing, their happy family. They both envisioned it, silent, allowing it to blossom in their separate minds, the details perhaps differing but both of them containing the same core, essential peace.

“This will pass,” Cress murmured, fingers splaying over his cheek. “That’s what I told myself.” Even when it felt impossible to believe, it kept her breathing. “I couldn’t stop it from happening, and we can’t stop this, but you can survive it. You can come back to me.” It would change him. He would always carry this weight. But it had changed Cress too — her arena, what came after — and Slate still found her, still loved her despite the anger, and the sadness, and the panic. They had learned to live with it, to navigate it in their dynamic. To hold space for the shrapnel that remained.

Slate allowed himself to be swept away by her words, the idea that he could come back to her, her faith in him and her hope. Training would begin tomorrow and time would continue to wash over him. He couldn’t stop it or slow it. But he could be here now, with her hope and her love, and allow himself to be still. “I love you,” he said quietly, a request to end this conversation, to speak no more about death for now if they could help it, to just be here, still, happy – for now, for as long as they could.

[slate-skylar]

"Yeah, I mean, guess they figured they like pizza, we would too," Slate said. "And it was delicious. It also made my stomach fuckin' hurt, it was all that Capitol cheese. I'm used to it now but back then, it was just... I mean, it was out of touch. It was stupid. We needed houses, we needed consistent electricity, heat, water, food, education..." The list could go on and on, and he had gone on and on about this very topic in TH3 T0MMYKN0CK3R.

Slate nodded. "Definitely would have been cooler. You know, there's always ways to get involved..." He started, then stopped, because this very conversation that he'd had with Mercuria years back had led her to volunteer. Now she would die. "But, dangerous ways. High price to pay."

"They just, they just put them in twelve? for real? what, did they pitch a little tent to hand them out under??" it was crazy. The idea of pizza being donated, just... full on, warm, hot and ready pizzas being handed out in district twelve was hilarious. almost hilarious enough to distract from the question, of whether they'd be just as brainwashed if they'd been born there. Enna didn't answer, though, because she was embarrassed. she was fairly sure if she'd never seen nine, if this had been normal her whole life, she was fairly sure she would've believed in it.

"guess I desecrated that, then." Enna shrugged, looking at slate. "Yeah, still here. but you still shook the foundation. that's more than I've ever done." more than any one person could do alone. and it spoke to some idea, that working together could create change. that idea hadn't been one she'd understood before she'd been exposed to it by force. in nine, collectivism had been stomped out quickly. in the capitol, there was no need. but eleven had found a way to make it grow, spread, let it kindle. The bombing hadn't ended the games, but it had shown the world that people united could do big things. to enna, that wasn't nothing. but she could see how it might mean nothing to slate, a tribute regardless. "Wish it had worked, though. that'd have been cooler."

[morrigan-sims]

Casting Call: Romancing the Queen

a historical/medieval/fantasy-ish bachelorette-inspired story!

Attention all citizens of Anvia and beyond.  Queen Fallon of Anvia has recently announced her eligibility to be courted.  All citizens of Anvia or its neighbouring lands who hold a title* are eligible to apply for a chance to win Her Majesty’s heart.  If you are interested, please read on for details.

So, I was inspired by @teayo  and @mousysims and @foxsimthings to do a semi-bachelorette.  But I didn’t want to copy either of them directly.  So, I decided to flip the tables, and this was the result.  If you’re curious about the story, and/or want to submit a sim for Fallon, take a look under the cut!

READ THE UPDATED SUBMISSION INFO HERE (google docs)

Disclaimer: This won’t be exactly like a bachelorette.  It will be a bit more story based than gameplay-based.  At this point I’m not even sure how much if at all gameplay stuff such as attraction or relationships will have an effect!  So, yeah...  

Submission Guidelines: - Like I said above, every sim must have a title.  This was on the urging of Fallon’s advisors, in hopes of attracting only honorable and eligible nobility.  However, when writing the decree, they never specified what sort of title the sims must hold.  So, go wild.  However, you sim must have some kind of title. (ie, Duke, Countess, etc.)  But, like I said, the rules here are kind of loose. (Pirate Queen, anyone?) - Fallon is bisexual, so sims of all genders are to be accepted. - In this realm, magic is VERY rare, and there has not been a true Sorcerer(ess) in nearly a century.  Therefore, please don’t spam me with hundreds of magical sims.  I want mostly “normal” human sims.  However, if you want to discuss the potential of a minorly magical sim, feel free to send me an ask/dm!   - Sims must be young adults.  Fallon is 27, so try and keep your sims somewhat close in age to her.  (Within 3-ish years maybe?? Idk, I just don’t want like, an 18 year old or a 40 year old, I guess.) - You may use romantic traits, because this is more story based. - I have the more traits in CAS mod by thepancake1, so feel free to give your sim up to 5 traits. - Custom traits are allowed, just use your best judgement.  (Aka, no OP sims, please.) - I am maxis-mix so try and make your sims accordingly.  NO alpha hair.  If you only have alpha hair, I will replace your sim’s hair with something similar or fitting for them that I have in my collection.  Also, NO fullbody alpha skins.  Alpha-ish face details are okay (ex: lamatisse’s mercuria is okay), but no fullbody skins.  Also, if you use your own default eyes, I will just replace your sim’s eyecolor with the equivalent from my defaults, which is ratboysims’s impact eyes.  Also, I use lamatisse’s BARE skintones, the non-genetic version.  So try and limit custom skintones to being from that pack. - I will be accepting somewhere in the realm of 5-10 sims.  Please note that even if I get exactly 10 sims I might not accept them all, depending on what I get and what I need.  5 is the minimum, 10 is the maximum, that’s all I’m saying. - OH, one more thing!  In your submission post please tell me your sim’s name, title, give me a decent ammount of backstory (the more the better honestly), and also tell me where they live!  Your options are Anvia (Fallon’s kingdom), Oryn or Oraine (the neighboring kingdoms).  Relations with Oryn are rather sketchy right now, so keep that in mind.   - Not all the sims will necessarily live in the castle.  If sims are from Anvia, they might choose to live at their own place and stop by and visit to court Fallon, or host her at their own manor or dwelling.  So, if you want your sim to have their own living place, that’s fine! Idk exactly how this is going to work into the story, but just tell me in your submission post weather or not your sim would be living in the castle. - I realized I forgot a deadline.  So, we’ll put the tenative deadline as Jan 15th! (my b-day!)  Sorry, about that!

Thank you so much to anyone who read all that chaos that I wrote!  I look forwards to seeing your submissions!! If you have any questions, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE send me an ask or a dm!  Both are always open, and anon is on, if you want that, ig.  I’d rather have you spam me with questions than you have to retcon your entire sim bc I didn’t make sense!  

tagging @ts4bachestate even though this isn’t exactly a BC....

[m-tribs]

task 10. the interview

Mercuria had never been much of a talker. But to have to face the entirety of Panem after her private training? With a two? How was she meant to put a face to that score? Or a voice? It was unfathomable.

She felt the eyes of the nation on her as she stepped onto the stage. Her outfit, while certainly more glamorous than her parade outfit, was still on theme - dirty, sparkly reminders of the nothing she came from. What was she going to say - the shadow of the great Meta Morphic? What did she have to contribute?

"Everyone welcome Mercuria Trout," Calix purred. "Please, come, sit down." Maybe it was just her, but she felt like the applause was muted, hushed, less than the others she had heard from backstage. But it wasn't impossible that she was projecting her own insecurities onto the crowd. Maybe they were... maybe they were what? Actually glad to see her throw herself into death's open arms?

As she strode across the stage, each step felt like her feet dragged deeper and deeper into the floor. Bramble and Nettle flashed through her head. Slate. She couldn't say anything. But then what would she say? What could she say? She had never been good at lying. So then, she would have to find the truth somewhere.

She sank into the overly plush seat beside Calix, and mercifully remembered to force a smile on to her face. It probably looked as pained as it felt. She simply nodded in response to his greeting, unable to form words at the moment. But that would have to come to a head soon. She'd have to figure it out.

"So, Ms. Trout..." Calix's voice was like poisonous honey. "You know we have to start with the obvious. Why did you Volunteer?" Mercuria's blood ran icy; of course he would be starting with easily the worst question. Her fake face fell, and she could feel the cameras zoom in even more on her face.

"Uh." Strong start, Mercuria. Strong start. She looked to Calix, but his eyes gave her no support, no warmth. Nothing at all. She blinked back her nervousness and began again. "Uh, well. Thing is in Twelve, you know someone's gonna get drawn. And thing is, I don't have mucha anything to lose. And some o' those people back home, they have a lotta things to lose. So I figure... I guess this is my little way of givin' back to Twelve. Take someone's place who doesn't need ta worry about it. At least not for another six months."

"So it has nothing to do with Slate Flint?" Calix shot back, hardly letting the last sound of her voice finish before his question was out.

She shook her head. "Nah. Didn't even really know 'im 'til the train ride. I mean, I'd prob'ly seen him once or twice before. But he ain't anything special to me."

"Indeed," Calix mused. "Nothing special at all. So tell us, then. What's been your favorite part of the Capitol so far?" A snaky smile traced his lips. Mercuria shuddered. What an easy transition it was for him. As if she should have a favorite part.

"Uh." God, she needed to find a better way to start any of her thoughts. "I dunno, I guess."

"If you had to pick something."

"I dunno. Not much to like 'round here." Her tone took the slightest bit of edge, and Calix's eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

"Not much indeed, I suppose, coming from where you come from. Isn't she charming, folks? So down to earth." The sea of faceless audiences members barked out polite laughter as if on cue. Mercuria started to feel sick to the stomach. They were only two questions in, but she felt something on the horizon. She felt like he was controlling this in a way she couldn't stop.

"That's fine, Ms. Trout. We don't have to spend too much time on the Capitol. Tell us about the Arena. You have a plan?"

Mercuria recoiled. "No?" she replied, confused. "A plan? For th'Arena?"

"Well certainly you're planning on winning."

Mercuria blinked. She couldn't let on that she had any plan other than that, of course. It was like he knew. It was like he was trying to get her to say it.

"Oh. I mean. Yeah. We all do, I guess. But when my plan was just to keep someone else outta the Arena, I guess I don't put too much stock in my own shot."

"And did it work?"

Mercuria's brow furrowed. "Did what work?"

"Your plan. To keep someone out of the Arena."

"Yes," she lied. "Someone got spared this time."

"I see." Calix smiled, his eyes boring into her skull. The cameras felt claustrophobic around her. "Tell me, Mercuria, is there anyone you're worried about in the Arena? Any rivalries those of us on the outside should keep our eyes on?"

"What do you mean?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I just mean, sometimes the outer Districts rub people the wrong way. They make enemies. And that can be very entertaining for us to watch - all those little storylines playing out."

"I don't think so," she replied, her voice a little shaky.

"Really?" Calix pressed. "Helios, perhaps? Or Ezra, from Two? What about the pair from Four? They are quite formidable. I just finished talking to them not moments ago. And they were talking about you."

"Are... are they?" Her voice quivered. Certainly this was a trap, a trick, a lie. But what if they were talking about her? After all, she had plotted with Bramble and Nettle. Who was to say they weren't plotting against her?

Calix sat back in his chair, an easy smile on his lips. "Well, no matter about that. Tell us about the friends, then. Who will you be relying upon in the Arena?"

Finally, a question she felt she could answer. "Nettle," she said, nodding. "And I guess Bramble by extension."

"Not Slate?"

"And Slate."

"I see."

Mercuria's eyes widened. Had she slipped? Had she said something she wasn't supposed to? She stuttered out, trying to explain.

"Just 'cuz she was - Nettle, I mean - she was nice to me. In training."

Calix held up a hand to stop her. "You don't have to explain your reasoning to me. But there you have it folks, little Ms. Mercuria Trout will be relying on the pair from Eleven to help her and Slate Flint. Let's hear it if you think they will go far!"

It was perhaps the quietest Mercuria had heard the polite applause, but perhaps that was her projecting again.

"Well, that's all the time we have together, Mercuria. Thank you so much for your time."