#longest continuous relay race

[bumblebeeappletree]

Meet Abe Lim, the activist who just completed the longest continuous relay race ever, all in the name of climate education

This video was created in collaboration with Nature's Newsroom.

#Earth #Environment #ClimateCrisis #NowThis

[somedayonbroadway]

May I humbly request the Phantom Newsies au??

In honor of the longest running show on Broadway announcing its closing date, here is the Phantom of the Opera AU. This is actually an AU that me and my good friend @bexlynne had discussed years ago. I will be changing a few things, but the basics are still there. Please enjoy!

TW: mentions of abuse

The year is 1881. A young ballet dancer is stretching with her ensemble as madame Hannah takes the stage to rehearse the show stopping aria of her show. Hannah has been the leading lady for years. Always standing center stage and singing along while the dancers trot and leap behind her. But something about this performance was different.

In the middle of Hannah’s solo, the backdrop collapses and a sandbag falls from the ceiling. The young ballet dancer, Katherine Pulitzer, and her only friend rush to help only for her friend, Race, to scream and insist that the phantom is here and that they should not proceed against the wishes of the phantom.

There are new owners of this theater. There’s always new owners and sponsors. People can only take so much of the phantom's antics. Eventually, they were too spooked to continue being in the opera house.

Hannah, who has had enough of the phantom’s vandalisms on her stage, promptly quits. She storms off the stage and the director of the dancers, Miss Medda Larkin, suggests Katherine in Hannah’s place as she has been well trained. She performs instead and an old friend of hers, recognizes her. Darcy Reid, a new patron of the opera house.

After the show, Katherine finds Race crying backstage and asks him what’s wrong. What isn’t wrong? Race has been with the opera house since he was young. He was found, a young orphaned boy and he was taken in by the opera’s original owner, a Mr. William Snyder, who eventually signed him over as property of the opera house. Race legally can’t leave until he’s eighteen and to make matters worse, he is being abused sexually by a stage hand, Drake Dillinger, who will often want to adjust his costumes or fix his choreography when it isn’t necessary just to get close to him.

Race admits Drake had been messing with him again and Katherine takes him to her room where she confides in Race and tells him about how the phantom has been speaking to her and coaching her. Race insists that she be careful and tell no one else of this. Before he can convince her of the danger, Darcy is coming to greet Katherine. Despite the warning from Race, Katherine still confides in Darcy about the Angel of Music. Darcy excuses himself to speak the opera house’s owners and the phantom makes himself known in a jealous manner, and Katherine, mesmerized by the mysterious mask he wears, falls through the mirror in which he shows himself so she can be with him.

Katherine is taken through the beauty of the phantom’s hideaway and eventually falls asleep in his bed, only to be awoken by the music the phantom is playing and composing. She removes his mask only to find the horrific burned face of a boy, maybe even younger than she is. The phantom is distraught and angry and eventually falls to his knees in fright at what she might think of him, but she returns his mask to him and kisses him on the cheek, allowing herself to be led back to her dressing room.

The stagehand, Drake is now telling the tales of this mysterious phantom who he makes fun of and prodes at. Race warns him against this, but Drake laughs it off.

When Katherine returns, Race asks her where she disappeared to and she tells him. Race tells her never to go with the phantom again but she shrugs him off as a letter from the phantom is delivered to her father, Joseph Pulitzer, the opera house’s main composer and writer. He relays that the phantom has demanded to see Katherine replace Hannah, who has come back for her job, in the new opera that has just been written. The new owners refuse.

Race quietly sneaks into Katherine’s dressing room, kneeling in front of the mirror and begging the phantom not to interfere.

Katherine only spots him for a moment before rushing to rehearse with the others. The performance goes well, initially, until the phantom enchants Hannah’s voice to croak like a frog. In attempt to diffuse the situation, Pulitzer announces that Katherine will be performing the rest of the show and the dancers move to entertain the audience as Katherine rushes to prepare. Race is in the front of the ensemble when a body falls from the rafts, right in front of him.

The chief stagehand, Drake Dillinger.

After this, the chandelier falls to the ground and shatters. Race runs off the stage immediately, vomiting at the sight he’d just seen and a hand comes down on his back to comfort him. When he turns around, he sees the phantom standing right before him. Terrified, Race begins to scream at him until a hand touches his forehead and a voice commands him to sleep. Race is wrapped in the phantom’s cape and taken to his secret hideaway, left sleeping on his bed.

The phantom overhears Katherine and Darcy on the roof, talking about how frightened she is of the phantom and Darcy vows to protect her. The phantom then vows to get revenge on Darcy for turning Katherine against him.

When he goes back down to his hideaway, the young boy on his bed wakes up, confused, but eerily calm. He asks if the phantom understands what he’d just done, only he addresses the phantom as Jack, and Jack, removes his mask and holds Race, explaining it's what had to be done, that Drake needed to die or Race would’ve been waking up in a different bed that night.

Race is horrified at this and allows himself to rest in Jack’s bed, asking Jack how he’d gotten so good at hypnosis. Jack doesn’t answer him. He lets him sleep.

Months later, at a masquerade, The phantom reappears to a newly engaged Katherine and the owners of the opera house and he lists his demands. That his own opera he produced with Katherine as the leading lady and the opera house to release its hold on Antonio Higgins, whom he calls a prisoner of the arts.

The owners at first refuse and the phantom challenges them, asking if they wanted to see who would be lost next. So they agree and Darcy uses this as a plot to trap the phantom, first locking Race in a room and demanding he explain what he knows about the phantom. Katherine tries to stop this, but when Darcy threatens to turn him in as the phantom and sentence him to death, Race caves.

He explains that the phantom’s name is James Francis Kelly. He was found after a fire when he was young, his family burned and dead. He was cruelly turned into a traveling fair and put on display in a cage for his new disformity. When Race was little he was allowed out on a field trip to the fair, he let Jack out of his cage and helped him find refuge beneath the opera house. Jack then became very protective of him and began to haunt his abusers. Jack then got attached to Katherine, who he began to do the same for, only Katherine didn’t know he was a real person.

Darcy locks Race up and plans to kill Jack and Race begs him not to, as Jack is his oldest friend.

Darcy then tries to convince Katherine to help lure Jack into a trap and Katherine is conflicted but ultimately agrees. However, on the night of the performance, Jack kills the leading man and takes his place on stage. When Katherine realizes this, she removes his mask onstage and Jack then grabs her wrist and drags her offstage, back down to his hideaway where Race is standing and waiting for her, revealing that he’d heard of Darcy’s plan and told Jack everything.

Jack gets down on his knees and begs for Katherine’s mercy, only for Katherine to kiss him and help him escape. Katherine stages the scene to make it look like Race had drown and the phantom had run, leaving her alone in the sewers when Darcy comes to find them.

What do you guys think?

Here are some moodboards!

Jack Kelly as The Phantom

Katherine Pulitzer ad Christine Daaé

Racetrack Higgins as Meg Giry

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 9 - To Beyond (Part 2)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

There was a huge upheaval in the Leg 2 of Flowers.

Rikudou and Bousou were in the lead. Those two schools were being furiously pursued by Manaka University, which relayed their sash in ninth place at the Tsurumi relay station. Yokohama University, which had been in second place at Tsurumi, had dropped significantly in the rankings in the opposite direction.

The lead group, which had become a three-way struggle, was in a dead heat clash of willpower and spirit. But even in the lower-ranked group, there were developments one couldn’t take their eyes off.

Jounan Bunka University, which had been in eighteenth place at the Tsurumi relay station, was running at a pace that was close to the leg record. Naturally, the schools running in front of and behind Jounan Bunka were also maintaining a high pace in order to not be overtaken or lag behind.

Musa, who had left Tsurumi at the tail end of the race, was hot on the heels of Doujidou and Jounan Bunka and on the verge of running side-by-side with them. A student staff member was standing on the roadside, holding up a placard that read “one kilometer.” Musa checked his watch; he had completed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-eight seconds.

It would be impossible to run the entire twenty-three kilometer leg at this pace. It was obvious that the second half would be difficult, but there was no way he could improve his ranking if he faltered here. Musa overtook Teitou University and was a little behind Doujidou and Jounan Bunka. The gap between Musa and Teitou, which had been seventy meters at Tsurumi, was reduced in an instant.

The roadside was crowded with people. So this is what “a mountain of people” is, Musa thought. People holding the small flags distributed by the co-sponsoring newspapers lined the sidewalks in every direction. Everyone had cheerful expressions on their faces as they cheered on the runners who passed by in a flash. The excitement of the qualifiers and the Ageo City Half Marathon were incomparable to this.

This was the Hakone Ekiden. Furthermore, he was running in the ace’s leg.

Musa was happy. He wasn’t born in this country, and there were people who didn’t welcome him. He knew that. But, at this moment, what a free and equal place I am in! I'm sharing the same time and space as the runners running alongside me and the leaders so far ahead I cannot even see them.

They had been practicing and practicing, transforming their bodies into bodies for running, and now they felt the same wind on their skins.

What Fujioka had said was correct—as a foreign student in the Faculty of Science and Engineering, he would never have been able to experience such excitement and unity. Only those who had faced running in earnest could feel the buzz of boiling blood.

The cheers became noticeably louder, and Musa finally realized that he had passed in front of Yokohama Station. It was the 8.3 kilometer point. When had he run this far? The elevated tracks of the Third Keihin Line curved away to his right overhead. Pale sunlight descended from the cleared sky. Musa continued to run with Jounan Bunka and Doujidou on the road surface that was beginning to dry.

As Musa got into the rhythm of the race, both the fact that the landlord had told him “slow your pace” at the five kilometer point and that the tough spot of the second leg—Gontazaka—was ahead of him completely slipped from his mind.

---

“He’s going too fast.”

Kiyose pulled the radio earphones out of his ears and called the landlord.

“Yes, this is the coach car.”

“Did you make sure to tell Musa at five kilometers?”

“Don’t sound so scary, Haiji. I told him, I told him. But he didn’t listen, so what can I do?”

“At the ten-kilometer mark, call out to him to hold himself back again.”

After hanging up the phone, Kiyose rested his head against the hard back of his seat. He furrowed his brow, closed his eyes tightly, and sighed.

“He's been completely swallowed up by the atmosphere.”

Kakeru put his hand on the back of the seat and stooped a little to take in the scenery passing by outside the window.

“It’s a good thing there’s no wind today. I still can’t see the sea.”

He saw Kiyose open his eyes and look up at him as though to say, “What are you being so carefree about?”

“I’m sure Musa-san will notice before it’s too late. Let’s believe in him,” Kakeru said, still looking out the window. Kiyose put an earphone into his ear again.

“We can only hope so,” he muttered.

---

Of the ten legs of the Hakone Ekiden, the second leg, which ran from Tsurumi to Totsuka, was the longest at twenty-three kilometers.

Moreover, after fourteen kilometers, there was a 1.5 kilometer uphill slope, Gontazaka, ahead. There were small ups and downs even after overcoming the slope, and in the last three kilometers after the twenty-kilometer mark, there was another uphill.

With a distance of twenty-three kilometers and plenty of ups and downs towards the end, the course was both difficult and flashy enough to be described as the “leg of flowers.” In addition to overall running ability, runners were required to have strong mental strength and persistence to overcome pressure and pain, and they also needed to have a clever mind to read the race development and the dexterity to change their running style according to the ups and downs of the course.

Musa ran in a steady rhythm on the relatively flat road to Yokohama Station. He charged onto Gontazaka with that momentum and four seconds into the ascent, he realized, “Oh, it’s Gontazaka.” His legs no longer moved forward, as though weights had been attached to them.

The gap between him and the Jounan Bunka and Doujidou runners, who he had been running alongside, was getting wider and wider. Musa rushed to keep up with them, but realized it was impossible.

What was I doing? Musa finally became aware of the cold wind hitting his face. The tight-fitting arm covers had absorbed his sweat and were now damp.

It seems like the blood was rushing to my head. Musa’s surroundings flowed into his eyes and ears, like the wind blowing through a room and shaking the curtains through an open window. Small stores lined up one after another along Route 1; loud cheers from the spectators forming an uninterrupted wall; it was a peaceful New Year’s scene in the suburbs.

Didn’t I watch the TV with Kakeru at the Tsurumi relay station? Eleven of the runners in the second leg have a time of about twenty-eight minutes for ten-thousand meters, and the same goes for Jounan Bunka and Doujidou. Even if I tried to keep up with those two outright, I would only destroy myself.

What’s the fun in a competition where it’s easy to guess the outcome based on the athletes’ times, the twins had said. But that’s not true, Musa thought. Even if the difference in ability can be easily clarified by the simple numerical value of time, this isn’t a track event; it’s an ekiden. I’m running now because I was handed the sash and I need to pass it off to the next person. It’s not like the ten-thousand meter where we all start running on a flat track—this undulating twenty-three kilometers is only a tenth of the distance from Tokyo to Hakone. It’s only a small part of the huge race that’s put together by ten people.

The second leg is just the prologue, something from which one can derive the unknown development of the race in the future. I should not be overwhelmed, but rather run in a way that’s appropriate for the prologue; in other words, I should run calmly and steadily to improve our ranking as much as possible. Even if I cannot match their speed, I should read the race carefully and look for an opportunity.

First of all, let’s get some water at the fifteen-kilometer point, Musa thought. He had expected it to be chilly, but he had been running at a fast pace and sweating quite a bit. And then…that’s right. Musa remembered the warning Kiyose had given him.

“On the descent of Gontazaka, be careful. On the way up, if you’ve been running well up to that point, you should be able to keep the rhythm going, but that doesn’t mean you should rush down the slope, because you’ll definitely fall down. On the descent, you need to hold back a little to conserve your stamina. The real battleground of the second leg is the uphill slope in the last three kilometers. Control yourself and keep chasing until that point.”

Understood, Haiji-san. Musa nodded to himself and silently ascended Gontazaka. The highest point of Gontazaka was fifty-six meters above sea level. In front of Yokohama Station, it was 2.5 meters, so they would have to run up more than fifty meters in one go.

Just before the highest point was the fifteen-kilometer mark. A member of the short-distance team, wearing a Kansei jersey and a water supply bib, held out a drink bottle provided by the tournament to Musa.

“You’re in eighteenth right now. There are seven people huddled together in front of you. You can make it.”

In the short time they were running together, he was able to convey the information quickly and efficiently. Musa nodded and slowly rehydrated himself, holding the water in his mouth. He drank just enough to keep his stomach from getting too heavy and then tossed the bottle to the side of the road.

He was in eighteenth, which meant that he had already passed another team besides Teitou while he had lost himself in running. The water supplier said there were seven people in a huddle, but two of them were probably Jounan Bunka and Doujidou—those two would probably go further ahead. He wondered which teams the other five were from.

Taking advantage of the gentle descent of Gontazaka, Musa looked ahead. A broadcast van was following the Doujidou runner, who was spurting ahead, in order to capture him on camera. The coach cars for each school were also hurrying ahead to give instructions at the fifteen-kilometer mark. The cars were in the way, so he couldn’t get a good look, but it seemed that several people were competing with each other.

Musa moved a little closer to the center line and took an angle. From the other side of the cars, he could see the green and white vertically-striped uniform of Eurasia University.

Eurasia? I believe they left the Tsurumi relay station in fourth place.

It was only then that Musa realized that there had been a major upheaval in the rankings.

The fact that Eurasia's runner was so far back was a sign that he wasn’t in a comfortable position. Maybe he was sick, maybe he wasn’t feeling well, or maybe he couldn’t get into a rhythm.

The broadcast van was getting further and further away; Doujidou and Jounan Bunka must have broken away from the group. Musa decided that it was possible to catch up with the remaining five. It was possible to overtake them. Let’s not rush and close the distance little by little.

From the coach’s car behind him, he could hear the hoarse voice of the landlord.

“Musa! I hope you’re not snorting and shrivelling up your balls like an excited racehorse!”

The voice over the speaker stopped for a while—it seemed that he had been given a warning by the watchman in the car. With a cough, the landlord spoke again.

“You remember what Haiji warned you about, Musa-kun! If you do, do three somersaults on the spot!”

How is such a haphazard person our coach? Musa laughed. He felt his shoulders relax as he laughed, and his brain became calmer and clearer.

Musa lightly raised his right hand and sent an OK sign to the coach car.

---

At the Totsuka relay station, Jouta and King were sitting on a plastic sheet, talking as they watched a portable TV.

“They barely show the lower ranked teams. I wonder if Musa’s doing okay.”

“It can’t be helped, there’s so much competition at the top.”

On the screen, Manaka University was finally starting to gain a wide lead on Rikudou and Bousou.

“But I’m sure Musa-san will be fine.”

Just then, the rankings at the fifteen-kilometer mark appeared on the screen; Kansei was in eighteenth place. Excluding the selection team, they were in seventeenth place. The camera switched to show the offense and defense of the lower teams. Musa was rapidly approaching the five runners ahead of him.

“There he goes!”

“Yes!”

Jouta and King happily shook hands.

“There’s no time to sit around, Jouta. Musa might be here pretty soon.”

“I think I should sit still before I run.” Jouta, who had finished his jog a long time ago, was doing stretches as he sat. “Anyways, King-senpai, how’s your job hunt going?”

“Why are you asking about that now?”

“If we don’t talk about something else, I’ll get nervous.”

“You know I get sweaty when it comes to this topic.” King got sulky, but his mission now was to keep Jouta’s mind at peace before he ran the third leg. He reluctantly answered, “I’m not doing anything. I don’t have time to look for a job with this life.”

“Huh, so what are you gonna do? You’re gonna be a jobless graduate?”

“I guess I have no choice but to stay another year.” King hugged his knees, sighed, and looked up at the sky. The blue winter sky was covered with thin white clouds. “I wonder if my parents will forgive me.”

His sighs spilled out and drifted slightly, melting into the air with the same texture as the clouds.

“Stay a year, stay a year.” Jouta sat grasping his knees as he rocked his upper body back and forth with his bottom as the fulcrum. “Then, let’s go to Hakone again next year.”

“Idiot, the year just started and you’re already talking about next year. I’m not doing it. I won’t be able to go look for a job again,” King dismissed Jouta’s suggestion at high speed and then suddenly shut his mouth. “…Are you going to participate next year too?”

“I am.” Jouta stood. “Of course I’m going to participate.”

Jouta’s eyes had a seriousness in them that had never been there before. He’s motivated. Feeling Jouta’s fighting spirit right before his turn, King was also inspired.

“Alright.” King also sat up from the plastic sheet and stretched out his knees. “Let’s do some dashes one last time.”

Jouta and King began to run back and forth through the crowded Totsuka relay station.

Musa was running the last three kilometers of the hellish ascent with nothing but his willpower.

He had overtaken Eurasia before the slope. Running alongside him was Tokyo Gakuin University, Akebono University, Kita Kantou University, and the runner from the selection team. He couldn’t catch sight of the runners ahead of him; he couldn’t tell if the distance was great or if he just couldn’t see them because of the competition vehicles and terrain.

For now, he had his hands full just watching the movements of the four running with him. They couldn’t afford to fall behind here. If possible, they wanted to put on a spurt, pull ahead of this group, and hand over the sash to the runner of the third leg; Musa could feel everyone thinking the same thing and planning their moves.

No one wanted to come this far and be the first to drop out of the group.

His physical and mental strength were at their limits, but his tenacity was enough to keep him going without dropping his speed.

The Totsuka relay station was midway up the slope. Five hundred more meters. The view to the left was blocked by a soundproof wall, but the crowd on the sidewalks told him that the relay station was close. Musa saw that the selection team runner, who was right in front of him, was sweating more than he was. All the runners were breathing hard. Of course, Musa was too.

He had to go right now. Musa passed the selection team runner and got to the front of the group. It was his final spurt, which he put on with all his might.

As long as I can get this sash to Jouta at the Totsuka relay station. I don’t care if I collapse and can't get up; my time was far from the record for this leg, but I’m running with all my strength. I’ll show this running to everyone, without crashing in the last few hundred meters.

His chin was up and his form was unbecoming of a long-distance runner, but he couldn’t care about his appearance. He could see the relay station. He could see Jouta slowly raising his arm. Musa bent forward and dashed. He wasn’t sure when he took it off, but the fist he held out to Jouta had Kansei’s sash in it.

“That was an ace’s run.”

Jouta slapped Musa’s arm twice with the hand that had received the sash. Musa could hear Jouta’s light footsteps as he ran off coming directly from the asphalt he had fainted on.

The next thing Musa knew, he was lying on top of a plastic sheet in what appeared to be the parking lot of a ramen shop and a used car dealership. The whole place was filled with the buzz of the race officials, the runners who had finished running, and their attendants. It seemed that he had only lost consciousness for a short time.

“Are you awake?” King’s tearful face filled his vision. “You’ve done well, Musa.”

Musa received his explanation and then took stock of the situation: Musa had won the final battle and arrived at the Totsuka relay station in thirteenth place. He overtook seven teams and ran twenty-three kilometers in one hour ten minutes and fourteen seconds. That was the twelfth fastest time among the twenty runners of the second leg.

Even though they had moved up to thirteenth place, they were twenty-seven seconds behind Shinsei University in twelfth place and only had a six second difference with Tokyo Gakuin University in fourteenth place. It was still a tricky position to be in, but thanks to Musa’s tenacity, there was still hope for Kansei.

“Jouta was so enthusiastic seeing you run.” King rubbed his nose, which was red from being outside all day.

I’m glad. I was able to run well.

Musa’s lips trembled and he nodded silently. If he said anything, the tears would overflow, pouring out of him along with the words.

---

After arriving at JR Odawara Station, Kakeru and Kiyose walked through the station to transfer to the Hakone Tozan Railway.

“I see, understood. Good work.” Kiyose finished his conversation with King and snapped his phone shut. “He said Musa woke up immediately. The two of them will be heading to a hotel in Fujisawa.”

“Is that so.”

Kakeru was relieved. He had been worried ever since seeing Musa collapse at the Totsuka relay station on TV. King had seemed shaken as well and hadn’t answered his phone for a while even when they called him. Finally, King had called to report that Musa was okay.

“Shouldn’t we have called Jouta before he ran?”

They bought their tickets and went through the ticket gate. Kiyose checked the electronic bulletin board for the departure time of the train; the Odakyu line, which would take them to Hakone-Yumoto, seemed to be arriving in about ten minutes.

“The twins will be fine even if we leave them alone. They’re the type who would call themselves if they’re anxious.”

He has a point, Kakeru thought. They walked down the stairs side by side. On the platform, there were a few people wearing their best clothes.

“Putting that aside, the real problem here is Shindou’s condition.”

Before the train arrived, Kiyose began dialling a number on his phone. “Is that Yuki-san?” Kakeru asked, and Kiyose nodded. Then it seemed that Yuki picked up.

“It’s me,” he said. Kakeru reached for Kiyose’s phone from the side and pressed the button to switch it to speaker phone, thinking it was probably fine since they were in the middle of a crowd. Kiyose's head was tilted and Kakeru grabbed hand, changing the way the phone was held so it was right before their eyes.

“How’s Shindou’s condition?”

“I don’t know,” Yuki’s voice answered. “I can’t see his complexion, and he absolutely refuses to let me take his temperature. I guess it’s not good.”

“What do you mean you can’t see his complexion?” Kiyose’s eyebrows raised. “I do hope you’re attending Shindou.”

Yuki was supposed to be at the Odawara relay station with Shindou, who was running the fifth leg. Kiyose felt frustrated that he couldn’t go check on him even though he was so close.

“Shindou is next to me,” Yuki said. “But he's covered everything below his nose with a towel and he’s wearing masks on top of that. He’s wearing two masks: one’s for colds and the other’s for pollen allergies. I can’t even see his face, much less his complexion. Can you breathe, Shindou?”

Shindou had apparently put himself in full quarantine in order to not infect the attending Yuki with his cold. They heard Yuki handing over the phone.

“Hello.”

It was Shindou’s voice. It was a mumbling, unintelligible voice, like a kidnapper demanding ransom.

“How high’s your fever?”

Kiyose had cut straight to the point, but Shindou only answered, “It's not at all. I’m at the normal temperature.

“Kakeru is there, right?”

“Yes,” Kakeru said and took a step towards the phone.

“If you can, I want you to buy a mask on the way. I’ll leave the ones I’m wearing to Yuki-senpai.”

“If you have a normal temperature, then there’s no need to be so cautious,” Kiyose said.

“How did Haiji-san hear me?” The shock could be heard in Shindou’s voice. It’s the speaker phone, Kakeru explained in his mind.

“Got it. I’ll buy one, so don’t worry,” he answered out loud.

“Shindou, drink as much water as you can,” Kiyose instructed. “Even if you wet yourself while running, it’s better than being dehydrated.”

“I don’t want either of those things,” Shindou laughed, and then the call went dead.

“That’s a pretty useful function,” Kiyose said, staring at his phone. Kakeru turned off the speaker phone.

“Didn’t you know about it?” he asked.

“I never even noticed.”

Then what did you think that button was for? Kakeru cocked his head in puzzlement as he ran to the store on the platform. The train to Hakone-Yumoto arrived right as he returned to Kiyose after buying the mask.

Kiyose got onto the train, looking down slightly.

“It’s hard not to say, ‘You don’t have to force yourself to run.’”

Kakeru tucked the mask into his pocket and silently followed Kiyose.

Previous | Next

[criticalroleisdestroyingme]

Oh Death

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

After losing the Mighty Nein in Nicodranas, Astrid and Eadwulf are sent on their next assignment. Tracking a loose end in the Frozen North, they stumble across a few more surprises, and the pieces start to add up.

The aforementioned songfic of "Oh Death" by SUGR?. Canon divergent at the end of C2E131. Written from the perspective of a highly angsty Astrid with plenty of Blumendrei and Shadowgast. Advice for Essek based on this post by @slayerscake.

A note to those who count the words of Sending - I kept it accurate to where Matt took a pause for Astrid’s Sending back to Jester, of 26 and 24.

Read more below!

Oh, when I see her looking at me

You best believe

She's only looking past me

What a mess Bren left behind him before he again vanished to the North. It took a full day for Trent’s ire to settle from a raging forest fire into a controlled burn, sending his operatives to seek out their trail. Curiously, Trent did not allow any others into his vault to pick up any trace of Bren - he must have found the amulets, otherwise the search would have been simple. It didn’t take a spymaster to determine what else Bren must have spirited away to send him on such a determined chase, and Wulf quickly agreed that whether intentional or not, Bren now had in his possession the most damning evidence of the enhancements all Volstrucker wore beneath their skin.

Was this their chance to finally…? Bren hadn’t reacted the way she hoped during their meeting, eyebrows furrowing as she had quietly whispered her seditious musings in his ear. He didn’t trust her, didn’t trust them, of course he shouldn’t, Wulf added. She bitterly hoped their actions in Nicodranas would cement that trust, but maybe Bren no longer operated on their wavelength. He couldn’t, shouldn’t allow himself to trust his compromised classmates, only using them for his ends before moving on to that thing that was so much bigger, so much nobler. His eyes never truly met hers as they waltzed, staring through her skull, focused on his own goals, convinced he would be saving the world. She had shared the contents of the meeting with Wulf, of course, but not that wave of guilt that had surged through her for forcing her ambition onto him, collapsing in the alleyway after leaving the dancehall. He had moved on, had so many bigger things to deal with than the crimes of a single man and petty politics.

After dispatching two agents to the coast to board a ship, she was again summoned to Trent’s side with Wulf. Darktow, really Bren? The ruse had seemed so obvious from their clandestine conversation about his goal, but her master was determined to contain the leak and to Trent, no lead was worth overlooking. Trent had hissed that their next assignment was to pay a visit to that Crick loose end, since they were clearly too compromised to be trusted with more important missions. The traitor’s position was confirmed via scry to be in the heart of Eiselcross - fortuitous to be so near to Bren’s destination. Maybe after they dispatch the Shadowhand, they could seek him again, Wulf suggested, and finalize plans to rid the world of another corrupted mage.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

Her trail goes cold a few hours after they pass through the mountain range ringing the crash site of Aeor, but they’re nearly to Kryn outpost, which was still the best place to check first. Recent reports indicated the drow was getting twitchy (reasonably so, she thought), so it came as no surprise that he had procured divination wards on his latest visit back to Ghor Dranas. Strange that he had not engaged them until after his position was reconfirmed in the frozen north, and the coincidence tickles the back of her mind. She and Wulf decide to press on towards the outpost regardless - to relay this to Trent before confirming the target’s position by eye would earn them a scathing reply.

Easily obscured by invisibility, they slip past the spires of ice ringing the Xhorhassian outpost once they arrive. After around fifteen minutes, they spot the Shadowhand as he exits his chambers and rushes to the storerooms, reemerging a few minutes later with supplies for travel and a heavier mantle. Good, it should be a simple task to take out him and whatever scouts accompany him, rather than dealing with the entire outpost. He lingers outside his chambers, discussing something with the captain of the guard too quietly to be heard from their position on the outskirts. Wulf creeps forward to listen in as she maintains her position, memorizing the guard patrols out of pure habit. She’s making a mental map of the outpost when a familiar but unexpected voice creeps in.

“It’s me… Jester-” whispers into her mind, followed by… a fit of giggles? “Hey, I don’t know if you’re alone. If.. you’re.. not-” another fit. How did Bren’s companions get anything done? “-and you’re following us…” the longest pause yet. Should she start her reply? What did the woman even want? As she opens her mouth to speak, eyes on the perimeter for any unforeseen patrols, it finally comes in. “Clear your throat,” she chokes out amid giggles, “if you’re not following us.”

“I’m so very…” lost? Disturbed? Overwhelmed by the lack of any meaningful information presented in those twenty-five words? “Confused.” She settles on. “What did you say?” Entertaining further conversation in spite of her location may not have been wise, but she couldn’t help herself, needing to know Bren’s next move.

“Sorry-” Warranted. “I need to know if you’re following us. If you know where we are. What’s the plan with you guys? Hope you’re alone! If you’re not-” the message cuts out. She rubs her temples, considering her response a moment. How to impress upon her the importance of what her party now carried with them, what she wanted them to accomplish? This was going to take more than one message, she thought, pulling her wire free from her components.

“A Volstrucker has never disentangled from Trent before. No one who knows what he does, how he breaks us, has shared their trauma with the world,” effortlessly continuing her response with another Sending, “with the king. Imagine the threat you are to him, now that you carry respect of both Crown and Kryn. So, yes,” she concludes, “he’s invested.” Was it enough? No further response.

“Who was that?” Wulf’s voice shocks her as he returns, still cloaked in his invisibility.

“Bren’s companions. The tiefling.”

“Ah,” he grunts. Lingers in silence for a moment. “Will he…?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Glad to still be invisible, despite Wulf knowing exactly the look on her face. Probably has the same look on his. Her hand reaches out, contacting his upper arm blindly, then gives it a rub. “Later. Our target?”

“Too far, too quiet. Something about the ruin; an entrance his rangers are guarding.”

“Well then, we will have to make our move during his journey to them,” she replies, not keen on chasing this wizard into the depths of Aeor. A grunt of agreement, and they settle together, crouched on the icy ground, awaiting further movement of the traitor and his forces. A few more minutes and the guard captain nods and walks away, barking orders in Undercommon to his men, and the Shadowhand floats alone outside his door. His hand raises to knock, lowers, raises once more, then softly taps the door before opening it.

“He’s not alone in there,” Wulf interprets easily. She squints her eyes, trying to block the glare of the snow and ice to spot the reason for his hesitation, but the low-lit room gave up no secrets before the door closed behind him. Another minute and the door reopens, and neither Volstrucker notices the Shadowhand’s relaxed shoulders as he drifts out, sucking air through their teeth at the sight of who follows him.

Oh, I- I- I- I- I- I- I never wanted anything as little as I want this now

Oh, I- I- I- I- I take my pistol, gonna make you proud

“We should have known, we should have fucking known-” Wulf spits as they tail the group to the northwest, the pair’s white cloaks obscuring them well at this distance.

“Shh! Let me think.” Her words bite at her own tongue, mind racing. It was so obvious - Bren’s party spent so much time in Xhorhas, were so close to the Bright Queen herself that their word alone was enough to halt a full scale attack on the capital. Of course they would know the Shadowhand, at least know of him, and with their connection in the North from the Empire extinguished, of fucking course they would be allying with the Dynasty once more. The source of the Shadowhand’s protection from divination was now also unfortunately obvious - he had been recruited by the team to go stop the supposed end of the world.

This was going to get messy. It would be impossible to take out the Shadowhand without alerting Bren to their presence. How could they convince Bren to work alongside them to expose Trent if they ended up in battle against him? “Scheiße,” she hissed, Wulf growling in agreement.

She wondered what the Shadowhand would be getting in return for his assistance. Protection from the assassins hot on his trail? Yes, but surely this master manipulator would have gotten more out of the deal than that. The drow had fooled his entire country, betrayed his own religion, just for the sake of some arcane research.

She smirked, jaw clicking into place. That’s it. He’s a traitor to his own nation. Make him confess to it, surely Bren would want him dead as well after learning their ally was a conspirator with the Assembly, had stolen the beacons his group worked so hard to return to the Kryn. They could still make this work, and come out of Eiselcross both having completed their current mission and securing Bren, all of them, as allies in their next.

Wulf growled again, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking back at the Shadowhand, he had fallen in line with Bren and was conversing while they pressed onward, taking comfort in a glowing orb he held outside his mantle. Bren had moved in shoulder to shoulder with the drow, leaning in and wrapping his hand around the drow’s forearm in a supposed bid to get closer to the source of light. His group carried on ahead of them, saying nothing as they snuck glances back towards the pair. She felt her cheek burn where Bren had previously leaned his face on hers during their waltz. Wulf was saying something but the blood pounding in her head was far too loud.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

It's way too wet on your cheeks to be nothing"

But what does she know?

Really, what does she know?

The troupe had slowed for a short rest now, and she crept closer unthinking, Wulf trailing behind her. The cold wind whipped her hood back and pulled her light locks free, carrying snips of conversation back to them. “The- I’m sorry, the lesbians?”

“Yes, Yasha there and Expositor Lionett. They’re quite capable on the frontline, and often I find the best means of dealing damage to the enemy is through enhancing their abilities and staying out of sight. So ja, buff the lesbians.” Concluding with a pat on the Kryn’s forearm, Bren appeared to finally spot his hand’s location and jolt back, sheepish grin mirroring one she had not seen for years since she caught him and Wulf outside her dormitory door with a bottle of whisky and a proposal. That pink tint to his cheeks is visible from here, betraying his intentions so plainly. Betraying them. Betraying her.

“I- I see. Any other... tips I should be aware of?” the Shadowhand had asked, looking to the rest of the group and quickly pulling the orb back towards himself once Bren had released him, before thinking and proffering it to the others. Her own cheek stung still. To her side, Wulf reached over and too-gently touched it, rubbing away a layer of ice built up. The half-orc sat up from his resting point across from them, putting his hands towards the orb without any comment on the pair’s previous position.

“Ah, yes - while Jester is a cleric,” he intoned, leaning towards the blue tiefling gently, “try to go unconscious near Caduceus.”

“Fjord!”

“What?! You prefer a more… proactive approach to battle!”

Soothing with a hand on her shoulder, the gray firbolg also leans in and places a teapot atop the orb. “The Wildmother is interested in preserving the natural cycle of life, and if it is not your time, She will not let you pass. At least, not while I have anything to say about it.”

Bren had pulled away now, eyes softening as he looked between the drow and the rest of the group. She drew a wire from her pocket and she took a breath, steeling herself before casting Sending once more.

“Bren.” He stiffened stick-straight. “Do not be alarmed. Wulf and I are approaching your position.” She paused. “Just us. We wish to speak.” She does not trust herself to use the remaining words without stumbling.

“Caleb? Trent again? Or...” The Cobalt Soul expositor perked up, but Bren had lifted a hand to her and shook his head.

“Astrid.” Came clear into her mind as she heard the monk curse in the distance. “If it is just the two of you, please approach. I’m sure our company raises questions.” A pause of his own. “You could have told Jester you were here.”

Overlapping Bren’s voice, Wulf whispers, “What are you doing?” but she’s already stood tall and pushed her hair from her eyes.

“Just trust me.”

Oh, I- I- I- I- I never wanted it to be this way

Oh, you know I- I- I- I hold on to everything you say

“Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, Essek Thelyss. Please meet my, ah, associates Astrid and Eadwulf of the Dwendalian Empire.” Bren gestures. They had all stood as the Volstrucker approached, remaining in their previous circle, but the halfling had drawn her crossbow from her hip and the dark woman had also unsheathed a gleaming blade.

Careful with his words, as if his present company could be spooked like a horse, the Shadowhand spoke with low, smooth tones. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes betrayed his tone, flitting towards each of Bren’s group in turn. “To what do we owe this visit?”

She smiled coolly. “There is no need for deception here, Herr Thelyss. In fact, it would benefit us all to be forthright. You needn’t pretend this is our first encounter.”

These words should have shook the Kryn to the core, so blunt and expository, the jaws of her trap slowly ratcheting open. His demeanor had not shifted, however, as Bren glanced between the two. “Fair enough, Madam Beck.” The Nein jumped slightly at this, far more than her initial reveal. Had Bren never shared her last name with his companions? “And Mister Grieve, I assume you are well?”

“Well enough in this frozen waste,” was Wulf’s gruff reply, arms crossed to the left and slightly behind her, but within her field of view.

“Then please, join our circle,“ came Bren’s voice, shaking surely due to the cold. She stepped forward at the invitation, and took the space to his other side, the halfling stepping aside but cautiously keeping a hand on the base of her crossbow. “Come now, Veth, there’s no need for that among friends.” Wulf stepped through the circle, taking a position next to the firbolg he liked so much during that dinner before. “We have plenty to share, and I’m sure they do as well.”

Bren always had such a way with words, she thought. Certainly better than Wulf, a perfect voice to tug at one’s heartstrings. He could say so much with so little. If there is any love left between us, cursing his words as they came back to her. Perhaps he was even greater a manipulator than the spymaster to his right. Plenty of love was left, it seemed, but how much belonged to her?

“Ohmigosh Astrid, we are so happy to see you! Why didn’t you say you were close before? We could have been traveling together this whole time!“ the tiefling bubbled, a little too enthusiastically. She was no fool.

“My apologies, Jester.” She gave another cool smile, then directed her gaze around Bren to settle on the drow once more. “There were matters we had to confirm before we could make our presence known to you and Bren.” He stiffened alongside Bren, glancing down at the other wizard with a question in his eyes, and her smile turned slightly more predatory. “Herr Thelyss, might I inquire as to your business in Eiselcross? Seeking additional Beacons, I presume?”

The level of confusion did not rise in the group as she expected, however. The Shadowhand’s eyes narrowed and turned back to her as she pressed further. “Had the Martinet not already promised to share our research?”

“Astrid.”

Bren stepped forward, blocking her line of sight to the Kryn.

“Caleb, please.” A dark hand touched his shoulder (how dare he, her fingers twitched), pushing the man back towards his previous position. “Madam Beck,” he continued, “your insinuations would be quite dangerous in almost any circle but this one.” His shoulders back, he lifted slightly higher off the ground. “I am not interested in being toyed with. Clearly you were sent to dispose of me, so go ahead. Complete your business. But do not waste my friends’ time with your attempts to reveal that which is no longer concealed from them.”

He knew? Bren fucking knew? They all knew what this man had done and walked out into a frozen hellhole with him? Showed him trust, and affection of all things? Her mind swam, staring her target in his face as she searched for any fracture, any sign of weakness. He can’t possibly have told them everything. How could they forgive him for starting the war they had foolishly pledged to end on their own? How could Bren trust him, but not-

“It’s true, Astrid.” Bren said softly in that verdammt voice. “We caught on before the peace talks out at sea. Lord Dezran Thain,” he gave the honorific a teasing lilt, “was a bit too careless. He should not have chosen to be a lord in a city in which he did not know of its main attraction.” He smiled towards Jester.

“Yeah, I don’t know of a single person from Nicodranas who doesn’t know my mamma. Sorry Essek,” she winked at him. He gave an awkward smile in response. Silence hung over the group for a moment.

Wulf finally piped up again. “Well, you’re correct that we were here to kill the Shadowhand.” The group quickly tightened at his words, apart from the firbolg who still stood beside him casually, focused on making tea in that pot on top of the orb. “But... how we do that now is a mystery to me.” His lazy glance cast over her, then Bren, then narrowing briefly on the traitor. He gave a shrug as he unceremoniously sat in the snow. “So let’s talk.”

“Yes, I think there’s much to discuss,” the firbolg said, pulling the now-warm pot from the orb and beginning to pour cups. He smiled towards her sympathetically, somehow looking through her and reaching across the circle with a mug before sitting back and offering another to Wulf. She took it delicately, glancing at the pattern of soft petals on a dark branch.

As the other cups were passed out and the group slowly sat back down, Wulf popped open his flask and poured his whisky into the cup until it reached the brim, then capped it and flicked it across the circle to her. Barely looking up from the cup, she caught the flask mid-air with practiced precision, choosing to take a swig from it directly rather than sullying the tea. A calloused hand with blackened fingertips entered her view from the left as she tilted her head back down. Requesting, but not demanding. Too kind, too tender, and it made her heart ache as the liquor burned her throat. Not meeting his eyes, she passed the flask along.

“Prost.”

Oh, k- k- k- k- k- keep your pity to yourself

Oh, I'll make you wish that you didn't love someone else

[bokutos-eyebrows]

Reactions Pt. 2

THIS TOOK so long to find motivation for I am so sorry lmfaoooooo BUT I have a steady plan for part 3 which will come soon! <3 thanks for ur patience guys :))))

Poly Tsukkiyama x Fem! Reader 

Word Count:1,334

Warnings: NSFW 18+

“Y/n, I really don’t get what you’re trying to do.” Tsukishima finally turned to face you. 

“It’s okay,” You grabbed his hand encouragingly, “Because I feel the same as you.”

“What are you-”

“Kei, I know you love me. I have never once doubted that. And I wholeheartedly love you, too.” You stated, cutting Tsukki off, “ But I also know that you and Tadashi have been in each other's lives for a long time.”

“Fine.”

“What?”

Tsukishima sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He knew it was better to tell you everything he felt rather than try to keep it in. 

 “I have had some minor feelings for Tadashi since highschool. Well, maybe they developed before then, but that was when I accepted them for the first time.” He started to go red.

“I had always thought that they were just background noise in my mind, he’s my best friend of course I have special feelings for him. And then you came along, and I wondered if I had mixed up my feelings.” Tsukki continued. “And then I got to see both of you together every day, and I’m so happy with you, but something did feel missing for the longest time.”

“And the missing link is him.” You put a hand on his shoulder, “I feel the same way. I didn’t realize it at first either until this morning.” 

You relayed the events of the coffee shop, and your lunch with Yamaguchi to Tsukki. Making sure to detail your feelings toward the cute freckled boy as well. You and your boyfriend had always been honest and open when communicating with each other and this time was no different.

“I saw you both at lunch today. I felt so jealous I couldn’t be there with you two.” Tsukishima murmured. 

You giggled, “Well, I’m glad that I brought this up tonight. I love you, and I’m so happy you feel comfortable enough to confide all this to me.” Kei hummed in agreement.

“So,” you fiddled with Kei’s fingers. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to be with you, y/n. And if you are comfortable with it, I want to include Tadashi in our relationship.” 

“I want that too.”

“How are we going to approach him with this whole mess y/n? Tadashi is a little feint of heart; we can’t just attack him with our feelings.” 

“Well, we better figure it out now, he’s coming over tomorrow.” You and Tsukki pondered how to introduce Tadashi to the idea that you both liked him. Did he even feel the same? What if he only likes Tsukki in that way? You worried slightly.  

“You know, Yams was my first kiss.” Tsukki muttered, trying to lighten the mood after sensing your unease. 

“WHAT?” 

“Yeah, we did that whole ‘let’s practice so we’ll be ready for our actual first kisses’ thing.” Tsukishima put his hand over his face in embarrassment, internally cringing. You laughed, relieved that the confrontation had gone well, and that your boyfriend trusted you enough to confide in you. 

“If it makes you feel better, I definitely fantasized about a threesome with you two when we first met.” 

“Oh really,” Tsukki grabbed your hips, pushing you against the counter lightly. “I may have done the same thing…” You felt his growing length press up against your stomach. “I’d love to see what you look like with Tadashi in your mouth while I fuck you.”

“I wasn’t expecting this reaction,” You moaned as Tsukishima started kissing your neck.“You got excited fast, Kei, how often did you dream of the three of us together hmm?” You teased.

“Am I not allowed to lust after the two people I love?” He murmured in your ear. You reached down and started palming Tsukki’s hard crotch. He sucked on your neck as he slithered his fingers towards the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitched as you felt him lower his hand fully into your pants. 

Ready to feel the pleasure of Kei’s fingers, you close your eyes in anticipation and spread your legs. The tips of his fingers slowly started massaging your clit, sending shivers up your spine. Tsukishima left wet kisses on your shoulder before opening his mouth to speak. You prepared yourself for whatever smart ass remark he was going to say about how wet you were, when his phone rang.

“Ah, it’s the man of the hour.” Tsukki said, checking the caller ID. He kept rubbing circles on your clit as he picked up the phone. “Hello?” 

“Ahhh hi Tsukki! I’m sorry I’m calling so late, I just wondered if you and y/n wanted anything specific from the store for tomorrow. I can pick something up on my way over.”

“Oh, yeah y/n told me you were coming, let me put the phone on speaker.” Tsukishima turned to you, hand still down your pants, fingers creeping closer to your entrance.

“Kei, I swear to god.” You hissed.

“What was that y/n?”

“N-Nothing, hi Tadashi,” you stammered as Tsukkis fingers rubbed your slit. “Uhm, Tsukki and I can make lunch if you want to bring drinks? I-I’m ah.” You covered your mouth as Tsukishima’s fingers entered you, rubbing your weakest spots.

“Drinks sound good! I’ll get some soju and strawberry lemonade!” On the other side of the line. Yamaguchi could sense something was up. Why is y/n whispering..and Tsukki seems to be in a good mood… He tried not to let his thoughts wander somewhere they shouldn’t.

“Thanks Tadashi.” Tsukki spoke over your muffled voice, “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes! Have a good night.” Yamaguchi heard Tsukki set the phone down on the counter, forgetting to press ‘end call’. He knew he should probably be the one to hang up but, he let his curiosity take over. 

You and Tsukki’s voices were muffled. Tadashi strained to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. 

“Kei! What if he had heard…”

“You would have liked that huh….” Tsukishima teased, “If everything goes right tomorrow, he’ll be hearing this often anyways…” 

If what happens tomorrow? Tadashi’s eyes widened, just what are they talking about???? He was ripped from his thoughts as he heard you moan out in pleasure. Yamaguchi felt his heart racing as he listened to your seductive calls for Tsukki.

“Please, enough teasing, take me now.” He heard you demand the tall blonde.

“You want to get fucked on the counter y/n? Pretty naughty of you, but if that’s really what you want…”

“Yes! Oh fuck” 

Yamaguchi’s face went red as he realized the gravity of the situation he was in. His two best friends were having sex, and he could hear it all over the still live call. He knew he shouldn’t be getting hard, but he couldn’t help it. By the time he snapped back to reality, his length was fully erect.

The next few moments were a blur for poor Yamaguchi. Thank god he was in the privacy of his bedroom. He lied in bed, dick in hand, pleasuring himself to the accidental voyeurism of his friends.  

“Kei, harder! Aaaugn..” Yamaguchi could hear the slapping of skin as Tsukishima railed into you. Your moans were like music to his ears as he stroked himself.

“I can’t wait to share you with Tadashi, y/n, you’re so fucking hot when you get fucked like this.” A small gasp slipped out of Yams’ throat as he suddenly came with one last pump of his hand. The mere thought of sharing you with Tsukki pushed him over the edge.

“Ahn, did you hear that?” Tadashi’s eyes widened as he quickly hung up the phone, praying neither of you noticed. Struggling to catch his breath, he cleaned up the mess he made with his release. Then, the big realization hit him.

WAIT

Hold the fucking phone…

Tsukki said out loud, “share you with Tadashi” to y/n….

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, heart suddenly palpitating in shock as his mind raced.  

What the hell is going on?????

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Tag List <3 : @bubblebabytae @neonfoxes666 @oktamaki @aproperthottie @jelatine-lei @saturnmoon @tarotiz @chicalmeida @burntcilantro @justxtulyyy yy @marie622​ @xoxo-dede​

[admelioraii]

Vasaloppet; from bloodbath to friendship.

Vasaloppet

is the oldest, longest, and biggest cross country ski race in the world, with the highest number of participants. The course starts off in the village of Sälen, continues through the wood covered landscape of the province of Dalarna (meaning, the valleys); one of the most naturally rich provinces in Sweden, and ends in Mora.

This event takes place in March of each year, this year it is to take place on the 6th of March 2022.

The 90 km long race, has an average winning time of 5 hours and it has a yearly average of 15.000 participants from all over the world, for the main race only. Excluding the main race there are; korta Vasan(the short Vasa), tjej Vasan (ladies Vasa), halv Vasan(half Vasa), ungdoms Vasan (youth’s Vasa), öppet spår (non competitive), stafett Vasan (relay Vasa) and natt Vasan (two persons team at night). There are also sister races to Vasaloppet in various other countries including; USA, Japan, China and Finland.

The rope, also referred to as “the dreaded rope”, is a series of ropes drawn across the track at certain points to prevent participants who have no chance of reaching the finish line in time to continue. 

The beginnings of Vasaloppet

Vasaloppet was inaugurated in 1922 and its founder was Anders Pers. Traditionally warm Swedish “blåbärssoppa” (blueberry, or bilberry, soup) is served at the stations throughout the course. During the one week duration of Vasaloppet a total of 50.000 liters of this hot blueberry soup is served, which is very rich in vitamin C. It is commonly know among indigenous swedes that when this soup is served hot, it helps maintaining heat for a long period of time.

The motto of Vasaloppet is; “I fäders spår för framtids segrar” (in our forefathers traces for future victories).

The reason for this is Vasaloppets close connection to Swedish history. Vasaloppet or Vasa race owes its name to the legendary Swedish king and father of the country (Lat. Pater Patriae) Gustav Vasa. Gustav Vasa built a new Sweden and brought it from the Middle Ages to modern times. He built what was later to become a powerful and great country.

In schools, Swedish students are taught that this great man and founder of today’s Sweden was heroic, kind, and a man of the people. These romanticized stories are nice but they are far from the truth and give us a wrongful image of the man he really was.

Gustav Vasa

Gustav Ericsson Vasa is said to have been born on the 12th of May 1496. His mother was Cecilia Månsdotter av Eka and his father, Erik Johansson, belonged to the legendary ancestral family Vasa. Thus, he was a descendant of a very prominent ancestry from the highest aristocrats in the country on both sides of the family. He was even related to the head of state Sten Sture.

Contrary to common beliefs, since youth Gustav Vasa was used to having things his way. Ruthless, inconsiderate, and clever, he knew how to use his power to his advantage. Greed was another of his characteristics and he learned to, through tort and abuse of power, benefit economically from his position. No king in Sweden, neither before nor after, would ever have such a large private fortune as Gustav Vasa.

Gustav Vasa was not a knowledgeable man, as education in Sweden at the time was lacking and adding to that he quickly got tired of studying and left school prematurely. He hardly understood German and his Latin was lacking, to say the least (Knowing Latin was a necessity at the time).

Nevertheless, he saved Sweden from disaster and organized and built a strong country, he was ambitious and also took care of the commoners interests. Sweden benefited greatly from him as he did from it!

The cold Swedish winter

Christian II of Denmark began a war operation never before experienced in Swedish history. He entered Sweden and started a war in the heart of winter!

Winter was a season in which military confrontations were widely avoided in the area at the time, as low temperatures and weather conditions were unfavourable. With the help of French artillery, Scottish elite forces, and German soldiers they stormed into Sweden in a so-called “blitzkrieg”, an attack as quick as lightning.

They instantly got a hold of most of the country. The Swedish ruler at the time, Sten Sture, and his sons lost their lives in the fierce attacks. Soon, the whole country had fallen, and as expected, the nobility were in opposition to the aggressors, Christian II (Christian the Tyrant) and Denmark.

In a move to silence the Swedish aristocracy, Christian II invited them to a reconciliation party in Stockholm, only to have them massacred. On November the 3rd 1520 all the guests and Swedish aristocracy, royal advisers, and nobility were brutally executed by Christian II and his men.

Everyone who was a potential threat to the rule of Christian II, including Gustav Vasas parents and family, were decapitated in the main square, which is modern day’s “Gamla Stan”, the old parts of Stockholm. This massacre is what later came to be known as Stockholm’s bloodbath.

The blood streamed through the narrow streets of the inner city as a river of blood, and it took three days to get rid of all the bodies.

The once blood filled street, Gamla Stan, Stokholm

Just before the invasion took place, Gustav Vasa was coincidentally abducted to Denmark. He was treated well but soon realised that he had to escape if he wanted to stay alive. He ran away to Lübeck, Germany, which was at the time, one of the most powerful cities in Northern Europe. With their help he could return to Sweden, now in tumult.

When Gustav Vasa finally reached the outskirts of Stockholm, he was tired and needed to rest. He saw a group of street vendors approaching from afar, and he learned from them about Christian II advances and the bloodbath. All his family and relatives were eradicated and he was ruined, he couldn’t sit and watch any longer, he had to come up with a plan. 

He had no time to rest, immediately he realised the danger he was in, and without delay, he began his long journey north. His plan was to travel north, to Dalarna, first of all because it was the province of Sten Sture, the killed Swedish ruler and his family, as Sture’s close relatives were there, it wouldn’t be too difficult to gain their support. 

Moreover, it was one of the few provinces that was still not completely in the hands of the Danish. Lastly, they had armed soldiers and people willing to fight for Sweden.

The journey was long and dangerous, he was almost discovered twice by king Christian’s elite troops. Once, he escaped by hiding in a haystack close to a farm, while another time, he had to hide in an outhouse (an old-fashioned outdoor toilet). Exhausted and anxious he arrived in Mora, where he spoke to the leaders, desperately trying to convince them, but sadly, without success. 

Realizing his fragile situation and failure to convince them he sat out again, this time his travel path was supposed to take him to Norway via Sälen. Just after Gustav Vasa had left, the elders in Mora got bad news from Stockholm, news that made them realise that Gustav Vasa could be their last hope.

They suddenly changed their minds and sent two of the fastest skiers in pursuit of Gustav Vasa; they caught up with him in Sälen. Thus, they traveled from Mora to Sälen in his pursuit. Vasaloppet is supposed to recreate this pursuit but is today skied in the opposite direction.

Swedish winter landscape

The two speed skiers convinced him to return with them to Mora, where he was later elected “leader of the resistance army” against the Danish. Afterwards, with the help of other resistance factions in the country, and of course with the help of Lübeck, he was able to liberate Sweden from the Danish occupation. This was the first and last time in history Sweden was occupied by a foreign power. Gustav Vasa was elected king of Sweden on Saturday 6th of June 1523, this day was to become Sweden’s national day.

Every year this skiing race is celebrated as Vasaloppet in Sweden, every first Sunday in March now together with friends and sportsmen from all over the world. Joined by friends and in our forefathers tracks for future victories, Vasaloppet is celebrated again and again!

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

Apparently, this is the eighth chapter!

Link to the first one here (for the new readers if there are any)

This one's the longest so far!

Reviews and Comments appreciated. It fuels me to keep on writing. Enjoy!

VIII - Samantha

Samantha felt that she lived for a year inside her dream realm. She was aware that this was all a dream because it wasn't possible that Connor was alive, but then again it pains to see how she's fooling herself with fake memories.

Certain moments while she's walking along the beachside with Connor, he would immediately dissappear, and would never come back until a few more days in her dream. She wondered what time it was outside but all she knew was she kept living the same tragic day again and again and again. She found a loophole though, she prevented him from taking that yacht but would find himself a different situation where he ends up dead. It felt like she was meant to feel extreme sadness from loss.

This wasn't what her captors wanted from her. They wanted 'something she accidentally saw on her father's drawer'. Then it dawned on her, those were numbers and dots separating them, almost like an IP Address. Just as she tried recalling it, thanks to the drug flowing in her bloodstream, the numbers began to slowly melt as a faint smell of cheese wafted around her. With one soft gasp, she found herself awake.

Thick oak trees covered the windows as she turns around the room. She's in a log cabin, but fancier. She slowly ripped her dextrose as she quietly made her way down to the living room. She knows where she is, TV taught her that only the evil people could afford expensive things. Grabbing a medicine tray beside her bed, she slowly descended the stairs, readying herself as she attempted to beat her abductor with an aluminum tray.

Following the scent of melted cheese, she tiptoed across the living room to the kitchen, a man was standing behind the sink. Athletic build and arms sprawled with tattooes. He pretty much looked like Alex, but this one reeks evil.

The loud clang of aluminum rang as she hit her abductor square on the head, knocking him down temporarily dazed. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal Alex, who's rubbing his head and wincing in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Alex. I thought I was still held captive!" She quickly assisted him up and grabbed a bottle of cold water for his head.

Alex was too hurt and surprised to talk but as soon as their eyes met, it almost felt like he wasn't hit by a medicine tray just now.

"You're awake!" was all he said as he hugged her tight. Then he realized, he wasn't supposed to do that. Samantha just sat beside him by the kitchen floor, confused. He immediately let go of his arms and pretended to be still dazed. He was just too overwhelmed to see her okay.

"Is your head okay?" She asked, with an expressionless face. Alex nodded.

"Nothing major. I just need ice maybe."

"Got it." Samantha quickly stood up and opened the fridge. Her warm cheeks couldn't feel the cold breeze. She was blushing hard and staring blankly at the contents of the fridge.

"I think we don't have ice. A cold water bottle would be fine." Alex commented as Samantha snapped back to reality. She remembered she had an injured person to tend to. Quickly grabbing the bottle, she plopped herself beside Alex who groggily found his way to the sofa.

The bump was slightly obvious and Samantha can't help but laugh at him. It was a funny mistake but what matters is that she finally saw him again.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at Alex trying not to laugh.

"CIA Safehouse 110197" Alex mouthed.

"Which is... where?"

"Classified. Even I don't know where we are." he lied.

"And where are the others?"

"It's actually just you and me." he replied, looking down, his eyes rolled trying to see her reaction. Samantha rolled her eyes somewhere else evading to meet his gaze.

"Great. Guess I have to tend to my mistakes." She quickly got up and went up to the bedroom. Alex simply sat there waiting for her to come back.

"This house is complete. There's actually a medicine box by the bathroom sink!" She exclaimed in excitement as she set her kit and prepared the gauze.

"You'd be surprised on what you can find by the sofas." Alex chuckled and immediately winced in pain as Samantha placed a plaster by his bump.

"You could've said something!" he complained, Samantha just laughed.

"I always wanted to be a doctor..." she said.

"Why didn't you?" Alex shifted his seat and placed the water bottle by the table.

"I can't be a professional doctor while on a fake identity, Alex. You probably knew by now that I'm uh.. redacted? You did scan me when the CIA was here right?" She smirked, making Alex amused and clueless was a beautiful view. If only she had her camera, she'd take a photo of it and pin it by the fridge back at home.

"Yeah. That's right." was all he could say.

Samantha placed her hand by the back rest of the sofa and raised her leg comfortably to the sofa. She was still wearing Alex's clothes from the other night and all Alex could think of is why?

"I'm Samantha Coleman."

"Coleman as in..."

"Yes. The daughter of the Head of National Defense, Richard Coleman."

Alex froze in amazement and the puzzle pieces finally make sense. What's missing now is why they're after her and what's with the memory serum.

"So um... any idea on what they want?" Alex asked, his eyes felt intense and curious. Something Samantha can't help but stare at.

"I guess it's a childhood memory... Of my father's office. They're looking for an IP address... Does it ring any bells?" Samantha explained, her hands fiddled on the sofa's fabric, squeezing it and rubbing her thumbs against it.

"No. But I could relay it to those assigned to the case. It could help a lot." Alex's hands slowly trailed to hers, squeezing it a little bit.

"Thanks for cooperating, Samantha. What you just did may save the lives of those missing." A soft smile escaped his lips. Samantha froze in shock. Maybe it's the sincerity of his face, maybe it's the feel of his hand on hers, maybe it's her heart racing so fast. She wasn't sure why she found herself unable to move or speak.

Awkward silence filled the room, neither one of them moved an inch. The crickets outside sounded louder as the silence grew between them. Then burnt toast filled the air.

They both snapped out of whatever trance they were making, eyes quickly diverted away as Alex removed his hand above hers.

"Oh Crap! The toast!" The CIA agent hurriedly rushed by the kitchen and turned off the oven toaster, showing a very burnt piece of bread.

"You're not supposed to put it on an oven, Alex" Samantha giggled as she assisted him. They quickly became cook and assistant as Alex started to learn something from the expert, whereas Samantha proudly taught him how to make basic breakfast specialties.

"How come you didn't know how to cook?" Samantha asked, pouring oil to the pan.

"We don't usually prepare meals." Alex replied rapidly whisking the eggs, Samantha looked worried that he might break the bowl.

"So what do you eat?"

"Energy bars, ready to eat meals, beef jerky, chicken. You know, the simple stuff but filled with essential nutrients." Alex proudly replied.

"Boooring! You know you should try some of life's greatest meals sometime."

"Someday."

***

Samantha became very comfortable around Alex. Despite her judging him at first glance, she actually enjoyed his company. Over the course of the day, they found themselves mostly talking about every possible thing, leaving an impression that he's really good with people.

It felt warm and fuzzy that the idea of them being alone in one roof felt appropriate. She almost wished they'd end up like this forever, but that meant the criminals are still out there. She wanted to be selfish just for once as she literally gave up her life just to blend in. Would it kill for her to have a good time?

Nighttime came and they settled for barbeque, something Alex claimed he's good at. Samantha watched him from a safe distance as he showed off his cooking skills at her.

He was wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron over his black tank top and camo pants, a sight admirable for her. She found herself a cozy silk spaghetti strap nightgown from CIA's supply box. She just looked at him from the moment he unboxed a dusty grill box until he assembled it fully, asking him questions about his work to which he answers with certain confidentality.

"You hungry?" He asked teasingly as he placed the meat on the grill letting it sizzle as it puffed smoke toward him.

She wanted to say she's hungry, but not for food. But it felt inappropriate, she knew he's with her because it's his job to, but she couldn't help but feel needed. Especially that she spent the last eighteen hours of her life mourning about sad memories.

"So, silence means yes?" Alex tilted his head to meet her gaze. It's that stare once again.

"Uh yeah. Impress me Mr. Chef!" She cheered as they continue talking while they prepare dinner.

As the meat started to become tender, so did their conversation. They slowly diverted the topic to something private.

"Have you been into any relationships before?" Samantha finally asked the question she's dying to ask him. Alex's movements became cautious and his eyes slowly looked at her. He could tell that she's really curious and excited about the question as shown by her widening pupils.

"Yeah. Here and there. They don't last long as I always had to move when reassigned." He replied eating a mouthful of steak.

"So where would you be after all this is over."

"Wherever they'll send me."

"Are you happy with it? Being sent here and there?"

"As long as I could save the world." He smiled. A smile so genuine, Samantha slightly felt goosebumps.

"Cool." She replied, wiping her face with a napkin.

"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Chef. I'll go take a shower and sleep." She stood up, her voice almost felt sad.

"Samantha, wait! Did I say something wrong?" Alex quickly grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

"No. You said everything that I need to know."

Tears start falling out of her eyes, Alex noticed this and wiped it off with his thumbs lifting her chin up to meet his face. She couldn't stare at him, not with those sad eyes.

"Look, I know what you feel, because I feel it too, from the moment our eyes met..." Samantha looked at him.

"...But I can't risk it enough because I know I'll hurt you... I can't show affection to you because after all of this is over I have to leave." Alex stared at her, his words stung more than that needle from yesterday.

"But, you already made an impact in my life. It doesn't matter if we go too far..."

"I can handle the hurt... but you've already lost a lot. I can't let myself be the reason for it." Alex closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

She knew this would happen. Hence the questioning earlier, she wanted to make sure she's right about her suspicions. She was right to resist his charms the moment they met, but then again she took the risk and fell for him. A choice she willingly took.

"I've mourned the loss of my boyfriend for three years. What's a few more for you?" she breathed, almost cracking as she held back a sob. Alex nervously stared at her. She was willing to take the risk of getting hurt, all for s short moment with him.

Alex did the math. If she's true to her words it's a win-win. No more pretending, they'd both be happy and they both accept the impending end as soon as this was all over. What's holding him back is the end of both their promises, but it didn't matter when he let his heart decide for once.

He licked his lips as he slowly kissed her. It was awkward at first but as soon as they both felt comfortable, it felt relieving. Each moan signified the supressed feelings they had toward each other since day one. Each clash of tongue meant hope after years of mourning. It was a kiss that lasted longer than they could remember.

[phroyd]

Rest In Peace, Alex! - Phroyd

Alex Trebek, who became known to generations of television viewers as the quintessential quizmaster, bringing an air of bookish politesse to the garish coli­seum of game shows as the longtime host of “Jeopardy!,” died Nov. 8 at 80.

The official “Jeopardy!” Twitter account announced the death without further details.

Mr. Trebek had suffered a series of health reversals in recent years, including two heart attacks and brain surgery, and was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2019. He continued to host new episodes of his show until production was suspended in March because of the coronavirus pandemic, and then filmed socially distanced episodes that began airing Sept. 14.

For more than three decades, Mr. Trebek was a daily presence in millions of households, earning near-rabid loyalty for the intellectual challenge of his show, in which questions were presented as answers and answers were delivered in the form of questions. By the time of his death, “Jeopardy!” was one of the most popular and longest-lasting programs of its kind in TV history.

Mr. Trebek, the self-made son of a hotel chef, had no sequined co-presenter to match Vanna White on host Pat Sajak’s “Wheel of Fortune.” His show neither attracted nor allowed histrionics, no galloping, shrieking contestants such as those summoned to “Come on down!” on “The Price Is Right” with Bob Barker. Even the “Jeopardy!” theme song, one of the most recognizable jingles on television, was restrained in its dainty dings.

There was no “hot seat” like the chair for contestants on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” with Regis Philbin — a show that “Jeopardy!” purists disdained for its elementary subject matter and inflated prize money.

On “Jeopardy!” there were only questions and answers — or rather, answers and then questions — leavened by the briefest of banter before Mr. Trebek directed his three contestants back to business.

He became known, a reporter for the New Republic magazine once observed, for his “crisp enunciation, acrobatic inflections [and] hammy dignity” as he primly — and with precise pronunciation — relayed clues in categories such as “European Cuisine,” “U.S. Geography,” “Ballet and Opera,” “Potent Potables” and “Potpourri.”

“The folding type of this cooling device became accepted in China during the Ming dynasty,” Mr. Trebek might declaim, as competitors raced to buzz in with the reply, “What is a fan?”

“Jeopardy!” was the creation of singer and talk-show host Merv Griffin, whose TV empire also included “Wheel of Fortune” and “Dance Fever.” His wife, Julann Griffin, proposed the show’s conceit. If players provided questions instead of answers, she said, then “Jeopardy!” would be safe from the high-profile cheating scandals that plagued TV quiz shows in the 1950s.

The Griffin brainchild aired on NBC from 1964 to 1975, then returned as “The All New Jeopardy!” from 1978 to 1979, both times with the stately actor Art Fleming as host. Mr. Trebek took over when the show was revived in syndication in 1984, also serving during his first several seasons as producer.

Much like his program, Mr. Trebek indulged in few frills. He favored conservative suits. When he shaved his signature mustache in 2001 — “on a whim,” he said — his viewership erupted in titillation.

The most exuberant flourish about the show might have been the exclamation mark in the title. Mr. Trebek, for his part, emitted few if any exclamations as he led contestants through the first round of clues; then a second, higher-stakes round dubbed “Double Jeopardy!”; and then “Final Jeopardy!,” in which players could wager all or some of their earnings on a single stumper.

“My job,” he told the Associated Press in 2012, “is to provide the atmosphere and assistance to the contestants to get them to perform at their very best. And if I’m successful doing that, I will be perceived as a nice guy and the audience will think of me as being a bit of a star. But not if I try to steal the limelight! The stars of ‘Jeopardy!’ are the material and the contestants.”

(Perhaps the show’s greatest stars were Ken Jennings, who reigned over the grid for 74 shows in 2004, claiming $2.5 million in winnings, and Watson, the IBM computer that defeated Jennings and another champion, Brad Rutter, in 2011.)

Fans who attended tapings of the show received a rare insight into Mr. Trebek’s dry humor when he held forth with them during commercial breaks, cutting up about how he didn’t “like spending time with stupid people,” which resulted in his having “very few friends.” He often regaled the crowd with tales of his DIY home-improvement projects.

He said his breakfast consisted of a Snickers and Diet Pepsi, or a Milky Way and Diet Coke. And he was not always as staid as he might have seemed, once tearing his Achilles’ tendon when he chased a burglar from his hotel room in 2011.

But to most “Jeopardy!” viewers, Mr. Trebek was akin to a neighbor they saw every day without becoming intimately acquainted. In a tribute to Mr. Trebek after his cancer diagnosis was announced, Jennings affectionately described him as “a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a Perry Ellis suit.” One of the few clues to his past was his slight Canadian accent.

George Alexander Trebek was born in Sudbury, Ontario, on July 22, 1940. His father was a Ukrainian immigrant, and his mother was French Canadian. In a memoir published in July, “The Answer Is . . . Reflections on My Life,” Mr. Trebek described a childhood marked by poverty and illness, including a painful form of rheumatism that he developed after falling into a frozen lake at age 7.

Mr. Trebek said that he considered becoming a priest but did not enjoy his experimentation with a vow of silence. “I was a very good student, but leaned more toward show business than anything else because I had a way of entertaining the class,” he told the Toronto Star. “I wasn’t the class clown, but always prominent — even when I was quiet.”

He said he was nearly expelled from boarding school and then dropped out of a military college after three days because he did not wish to subject himself to a buzz cut.

Mr. Trebek began working at the Canadian Broadcasting Corp. while studying philosophy at the University of Ottawa, where he graduated in 1961. As a broadcaster for radio and television, he delivered coverage in English and French, reported on news, weather and sports, and hosted “Reach for the Top,” a popular teen quiz show.

In 1973, Mr. Trebek came to the United States as host of “The Wizard of Odds,” a short-lived game show created by fellow Canadian Alan Thicke.

“It was canceled on a Friday, and I was disappointed, of course,” Mr. Trebek once said on “The Dan Patrick Show,” a sports talk program. “It was replaced the following Monday by a show called ‘High Rollers,’ which I also hosted. . . . After two and a half years, it was canceled, and it was replaced by another show which I hosted. So I have the either great honor or dubious honor of having replaced myself on three different occasions.”

Mr. Trebek, who became a U.S. citizen in 1998, also hosted shows including “Double Dare,” “The $128,000 Question” and “Battlestars.” He subbed for Chuck Woolery, Sajak’s predecessor on “Wheel of Fortune,” bringing him to the attention of Griffin. For a period Mr. Trebek hosted “Classic Concentration” and “To Tell the Truth” while also presiding over “Jeopardy!,” where he reportedly commanded $10 million a year.

As “Jeopardy!” host, Mr. Trebek participated in national contestant searches and shepherded the first teen, senior and celebrity tournaments. He also contributed clues, drawing from his knowledge in such arcane fields as oil drilling and bullfighting. He personally reviewed all clues before taping a show and claimed that he could answer about 65 percent of them correctly. If he judged one too difficult, he asked writers not to use it.

“I’ll say, ‘Nobody’s going to get this,’ ” he told the New York Times in a 2020 interview. “And they usually take my suggestions, because I view myself as every man.”

By the time Mr. Trebek completed 30 years as host, “Jeopardy!” reached 25 million viewers a week. His Emmys included a lifetime achievement award, and, in 2013, he ranked No. 8 in a Reader’s Digest poll of the most trusted people in America. Jimmy Carter, the highest-ranking president on the list, arrived at No. 24.

A ubiquitous presence in pop culture, Mr. Trebek appeared in the “Got milk?” advertising campaign, in films including “White Men Can’t Jump” (1992) and on television shows including “The Simpsons” and “The X-Files.” In a memorable episode of “Cheers,” Mr. Trebek welcomed as a contestant the postal carrier Cliff Clavin (John Ratzenberger), the sitcom’s most undesirable bachelor, in a round of “Jeopardy!” with categories including “beer,” “mothers and sons” and “celibacy.”

Mr. Trebek was spoofed on “Second City Television,” the Canadian TV sketch show, and “Saturday Night Live,” with comedian Will Ferrell, as his impersonator, barely containing his contempt for dimwitted contestants on “Celebrity Jeopardy!”

“I’ll take ‘Swords’ for $400,” Sean Connery, portrayed by Darrell Hammond, intoned in a Scottish accent when the category of clues was in fact “ ‘S’ Words.”

Mr. Trebek’s first marriage, to Elaine Callei, ended in divorce. In 1990, he married Jean Currivan. A complete list of survivors was not immediately available.

Little changed about “Jeopardy!” as the years wore on for the show, for Mr. Trebek and for fans. Newfangled topics, such as twerking, were occasionally introduced. Over time, contestants revealed themselves to be more familiar with Dan Brown, author of “The Da Vinci Code,” than with the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the New Republic noted. And Mr. Trebek was called upon to learn to rap to read certain clues.

But mainly the show stayed “comfortable, like an old pair of shoes,” Mr. Trebek once said. In its constancy, it became all the more comforting for the legions of fans who turned to “Jeopardy!” for its promise of clear right and wrong answers in a world where the matter of what is true was increasingly subjected to partisan debate.

“There’s a certain comfort that comes from knowing a fact,” Mr. Trebek told the Times in July. “The sun is up in the sky. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change that. You can’t say, ‘The sun’s not up there, there’s no sky.’ There is reality, and there’s nothing wrong with accepting reality. It’s when you try to distort reality, to maneuver it into accommodating your particular point of view, your particular bigotry, your particular whatever — that’s when you run into problems.”

Phroyd

[dimpledinnie]

hiraeth - yang jeongin

hiraeth- (n) A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.

summary: The world has always been divided. Not by race nor by species, but by season, with borders dividing the drastically diverse climates. Crossing into non provincial land would rob someone of their life, but despite knowing that, the feeling of finding an entirely different world creates a craving far too strong to ignore. But maybe it’s the person on the other side making that curiosity so insatiable.

pairings: yang jeongin x reader

before I start, I want to thank you jihyung​ for helping me write this story. I have been wanting to write a story for the longest time but I never got to do it. I’m so very excited to be working together with him to write this story. We hope that you’ll enjoy this story as much as we enjoy writing them 💞

Chapters: Intro 1 2 3 4

"Yeji, I'm not going any further." You panted, placing both arms on your knees as you lowered your body to catch your breath. Your best friend stopped in her tracks and looked back at you, her ponytail flicking away the snow that was coming down softly.

"Come on, you said you wanted to go for a hike! Hyunjin and Chan are already way ahead." Yeji pouted, both of her hands now across her chest. You slowly straightened your back and looked at her with desperate eyes, and she rolled her eyes, knowing what exactly that look was telling her.

"Look, I'll just go back down to the shop we passed before and wait there,” you suggested, referring to the small hiking shop near the start of the hiking trail. “You can go after the boys and call me when you're on your way down."

Yeji looked at you, letting out a sigh knowing that she wouldn't be able to change your mind even if she tried.

"Fine, but you're getting me a hot chocolate in return," she huffed. You nodded your head vigorously in return, even giving her both thumbs up. You were rather excited to sit down, and it was written all over your face.

Yeji gave you a soft smile before turning around to call out for her brother, Hyunjin, to wait for her, who was already halfway up the stairs stopped, shouting at her to hurry up. She quickly ran up the stairs two steps at a time, and you watched fondly as she disappeared behind the railing.

You made your way down the stairs and back to the hiking trail as you said you would, making sure to really take in the scenery that you have missed trying to keep up with your three eager hikers. Tall trees lined the hiking track, all equally covered in thick layers of white powder. You reached out for one of the branches and gave it a little tug, watching the snow glide off the bare branches. The falling snow collided with your hoodie sleeve and you let out a little squeal, feeling the coldness seeping into the fabric and onto your skin. After shaking it off, your eyes started to wander behind it, where numerous rows of similar trees stood. As you looked closer into the woods, you noticed that one of the trees had a blue ribbon tied around its trunk. There was another following the first one, then another…

"A trail?" you mumbled to yourself; you knew you weren't supposed to, but with your curiosity at its peak, suddenly you found yourself on the other side of the fence. You followed the trail, the hiking track slowly disappearing behind you as you eagerly headed deeper into the woods. As you continued on, the trees slowly started to sprout… little plants on top of them, just like the ones you had seen on television. Sure, you’d seen these… leaves, were they called? You had seen these before, in photos, videos, movies, what have you, but never did it strike you that these were real.

You reached out to hold the nearest leaf between your fingers, and immediately its texture and temperature shocked you. It felt something like a mix between paper and cotton, and as your nails pressed into it, a hole tore through the material, startling you. They were delicate and secreted some type of water when broken.

Fascinated, you slowly moved to the next tree, whose branches held more, bigger leaves, and even had a small creature slinking along the wood in a strange fashion. It was maybe an inch long, bunching its string-like body into an arch before flattening to move forward. Your hand reached forward to touch it, and it happily climbed onto your finger. You looked closer to see that it's patterned green skin had little hairs sticking out of it, but the strands were very spread out and thin, like the ones on the spaces between your knuckles, and it didn’t seem to have a mouth. At least, not one you could see.

The snow on the ground began to lessen until it was gone completely, more greenery coating the ground. Your hand allowed the little creature to find a new place to rest in the grass, as it was called, as you swept it under your palm, feeling the silky, almost sticky texture.

A new creature came your way, this one with a concerning amount of eyes.

Your startled confusion had made you completely unconscious of what is around you until you tripped on what seemed to be a rope. You fell face-first to the dirt, letting out a small groan. You pushed yourself up with both of your arms and turned your head around, looking to see what it was you had tripped over. A low hanging rope fence came to your vision, which extended both ways as far as you could see. A sign reading the words "winter border" hung loosely in the middle of the rope, seeming unkempt and unattended to in the way it almost touched the ground.

"Are you okay?" A foreign voice spoke behind you and you let out a yelp, scrambling to your feet and jumping behind the fence before whipping your head towards the source of the voice.

Just a few feet away stood a strange looking boy, dressed in a pale yellow shirt paired with some light blue jeans. His fox-like eyes grew big and he had both of his hands in front of him, his rosy lips slightly agape.

Were you hallucinating? Yeah, that was definitely it. You had absolutely no explanation for how the… the thing in front of you looked like a human, but had glowing amber eyes, hair as brown as wood, and rather skin the colour of coffee. Not to mention how so much of his skin was exposed, and he didn’t seem to mind. There were even a few marks spread out along his arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, craning his neck to look at you from other angles. “I heard something fall and came to see if everything was okay, and…”

"It's okay, I-I’m" You reassured the boy, but it was more for yourself.

The both of you stood there in silence, the rope fence the only border separating you. He took a few step backs and moved back behind a similar looking rope fence. You looked him over once more then back at the fence, and he seemed to acknowledge your confusion, opening his mouth to speak.

"Well as you can see from the sign, this is… this is the border between winter and spring. To remind people that in a meter, they will reach the line."

"What line?"

"The line that really separates the winter from the spring." He stopped for a moment before continuing, "You're not supposed to go beyond a meter from there because the drastic temperature can and will kill you. No one’s survived going more than five meters before." He explained.

"Wait, wait,” you laughed nervously. “So you're telling me I almost died?"

"I don't know how to put it in a nice way, but yeah, pretty much. That's why I ran over as fast as I could when I heard you. I had to stop you from crossing the line before… you know."

You paused, taking a moment to yourself to process what he had relayed to you, the overwhelming amount of information poking at all sides of your head. Slowly, as you let them in one by one, things started to make sense. You looked in front of you, seeing how snow stopped falling not too far from the line he mentioned. Behind the boy the forest continued, but changed drastically. The trees no longer had their familiar poking pines but rather the soft leaves you had just observed, riddled with small creatures you had never seen before.

Your gaze dropped to beneath his white sneakers, where there was actual green grass, greener and fuller than what you had seen behind you. It was something you had only observed on television and, like the leaves, had previously no idea even existed. The sky above him was blue and bright, and you could almost make out the faint sounds of animals chirping and singing in the background.

"I-I guess I owe you one for saving my life. Thank you..." You tilted your head slightly and pouted your lips, dragging out the last word for him to insert his name into your sentence.

"Jeongin." He gave you a warm smile, dimples poking out from both his cheeks.

God, you were such a sucker for dimples.

"...Jeongin,” you repeated, trying the sound out on your tongue. “Thank you, Jeongin. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you."

"That's a pretty name." His response immediately sent blood rushing towards your cheeks and you dropped your head low, trying to cover up your red cheeks.

Seeing your reaction, his eyes widened.

“You’re turning red, you need to go back,” he spoke fearfully. “Please, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

"No, no, I’m...” you let out a breath. “I’m okay, I’ll just…”

You took a few steps back, now there being two meters between the two of you. It felt too far for comfort.

“I just… I didn’t know seasons were real. How do you know so much about them?”

“There are people that defend the borders to keep us safe. My dad is one of those people.” He turned to point at a tower behind him that you wondered how you hadn’t noticed. “He watches from there. People usually come to the border, start to feel ill and turn back, but he’s there watching in case someone goes too far.” He let out a sigh. “There's so many things I want to teach you… How much time do you have?"

"I have all-" you were interrupted by the sound of your phone going off. “Sorry, sorry, I have to get this quickly. Hold on.”

He nodded understandingly and you quickly pulled out your phone from your hoodie pocket, sliding the answer button, hoping to finish the call soon so you can listen to what Jeongin had to say.

"Y/N! We decided not to go all the way up so we're coming down now!” Yeji’s overexcited voice came suddenly, startling you and making you hold the receiver a bit further from your ear. “Better start ordering those hot chocolates, Chan and Hyunjin want some too! See you!" "

“Yeah sure. See you,” you responded, feeling low that you had to leave Jeongin now. Yeji and her oh, so perfect timing.

"I take it that you've got to go?" Jeongin asked, pouting slightly, and you gave him a small nod.

"Meet me here tomorrow?”

[god-fucking-dammit-mizutani]

Just This Once

Word Count: ~3600 Part: 1/? Summary: Taichi gets invited along on a free vacation with the Izumi family to a quaint little cabin where there promises to be great food, plenty of activity, and sun in the forecast. The catch? The whole family thinks he’s dating Koushirou.

Taichi wishes it were true.

Read below or on AO3

"This has got to be the most ridiculous thing you have ever done," Yamato decides. Even under his sunglasses, Taichi can feel the heat of his glare. It could rival the sun today, already sitting at the highest point in the sky, without a single cloud in view to obscure it.

Taichi looks away, frowning. "It's not the most," he protests. Yamato takes a long, audible sip of his iced latte. Nothing in Taichi's memories leap to his defense. 

When they come to the longest patch of shade along the dirt road, Taichi feels their pace shorten to a leisurely, measured gait. Wind races past them, a wonderful reprieve from the heat. August has been brutal. Yamato reeks of several coatings of sunblock, masked ever so faintly by an overdose of cologne. Taichi's nose tickles with the repulsive combination; his iced tea tastes like chemicals just from the smell of it. 

Yamato pins his bangs up against his head with the slide of his sunglasses. Somehow the dark makes his eyes all the more brighter. He kicks at a collection of pebbles on the dirt path. Taichi watches them skitter along, some rolling into the tall, uncut grass on either side of them. "When are you leaving?" 

For a while Taichi doesn't answer. He can hear a mother shouting at her kid for something on the playground nearby. 

"Tonight," he finally shares, tugging at his shirt in quick bursts like it's a fan. Bits of the fabric are already damp with his sweat. 

Yamato stops dead in the path. A jogger who had been catching up on their tails just narrowly leans out of the way to miss bumping against him. Taichi watches her blaze down the pedestrian pathway, his muscles twitching with want to follow the same path, to enter a secret race against the other runners at the park fueled only by the desire to be faster. 

Maybe it's just his instinct to run away, begging him. 

It's too hot. 

"I told you it was too late to back out," Taichi mutters, picking back up on their previous pace. Yamato jogs up beside him a moment later and Taichi hates that he feels kind of sorry for how strenuous that must be when the air just tastes like heat. 

"Backing out," Yamato scoffs— wheezes—" is not the point. Have you no sense of self preservation?" 

Taichi can't argue with that. He's been wondering the same thing himself since the moment he woke up, since the memory of his promise had solidified from some fever dream into reality.

Maybe it was heatstroke.

Taichi frowns. He knows it wasn't. 

It had, after all, been Koushirou asking. With his eyes so wide on the other side of their video call, it had felt like Taichi was staring down a deer trapped in his headlights. "Just this once," he had pleaded and Taichi just couldn't say no.

Yamato kicks at another collection of pebbles sleeping in their way, his black slacks covered in a layer of dust so thick the fabric looks almost as if it were tip dyed beige. Taichi watches as the stones arc along the air, before sprinkling back to the dirt like a smattering of shooting stars. He wonders if he could make a wish on every single pebble, but he knows he'd only ask for one thing. 

He almost chokes on his iced tea, not preparing for the bath of pseudo chemicals it coats his tongue in. Throwing it out after all the money he spent would only put a worse taste in his mouth and so Taichi takes another long chug.

"Pretending to date the guy you're in love with is your most boneheaded idea," Yamato doubles down. He shakes his drink, ice shuffling around the barely there liquid. When Yamato sips around his straw it sounds like he's sucking on air. Taichi takes another chug of his own drink and wishes they could switch. "And on vacation with his goddamn family."

Taichi lets out a long huff. He hates to admit Yamato's right, even if it technically wasn't his idea, so he keeps it to himself, kicking at the ground instead. All it earns him is a blanket of dust on the cuffs of his jeans.

The line between the shade and the sun is striking. Heat clings around Taichi like a toxic friend welcoming him back, and he wishes he were anywhere else.

Almost anywhere else.

"Hey," Yamato starts, knocking his shades down over his eyes in a deft swoop. Taichi mourns the sunglasses he had every intention to grab on his way out of the house this afternoon as the light of the sun burns his eyes. "At least I've got a whole week to plan your funeral." 

Taichi feels the edge of his lips twitch into a sardonic half smile. "It's great to have friends you can depend on when it counts." 

Yamato crosses over into him for a moment, their shoulders brushing minutely. "Don't mention it." 

Taichi throws his drink out in the closest receptacle. His tongue feels heavy, like someone bathed it in sunblock. 

"I won't." 

Early evening does little to abate the heaviness of summer. Taichi had hoped they'd leave the mugginess behind in Odaiba, with the exhaust fumes and high rises. It's too cold with the wind of the highway whipping by them to keep the window down completely, but too warm inside the car to keep it shut. Taichi doesn't trust the air conditioner to not burn out again , and so he settles on leaving the window open just a crack. 

Even with little competition from the wind and other traffic, the radio can barely be heard. Taichi only knows what's playing because the station only seems to have the license to just three songs. 

He doesn't ask why they're leaving so much later than the rest of Koushirou's family. Taichi can guess that much himself; an attempt to stave off the inevitable embarrassment and barrage of intrusive questions. A breath of fresh air before the oncoming storm. 

Taichi wishes it would storm, just for the night. It's so hot.

His leg bounces without his permission. "Should we set some, uh, ground rules?"

Koushirou hums, tapping his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. Taichi hoists his seat back a little bit, watching Koushirou watch the road for a while before the other repeats, "Ground rules," quietly to himself. Just a little bit behind Koushirou's ear is a deep, inset stain Taichi had forgotten about from when Mimi had drunkenly thrown a ketchup-saturated burger at his head. Taichi frowns. He can't remember why. It was probably deserved, he decides begrudgingly.  

It's weird being the passenger in his own car, but Koushirou had insisted on letting him rest the majority of their ride. Taichi breathes in, tightly. It's a nice thought. 

Koushirou spares him a quick look, almost as if he's alarmed to see someone else in the car. Taichi’s fingers tap the console of his own door, a small impulsive voice in his head telling him it's not too late to tuck and roll. He withdraws his hand, playing with the bridge of his seatbelt instead. 

Koushirou looks back to the road. "What do you suggest?" 

Though it pains him, Taichi suggests, "No kissing?" He tries not to be bothered when Koushirou readily agrees, as if the thought is burning something unpleasant into his mind. 

"Anything that you find congenial," Koushirou decides a second later. "Short of kissing," he adds, "just treat me as any other partner you've had." 

Taichi turns his head to look out the window instead, the suggestion somersaulting in his stomach. Outside the trees and guardrails are nothing more than blurs of color. Taichi makes a game of trying to pin them into their proper shapes until it strains his eyes and makes his head dizzy. 

"What are we going to tell your parents after this week?" He asks as soon as the thought occurs to him. Taichi meets Koushirou's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"That we weren't compatible in a romantic capacity. Naturally," he adds. 

"Yeah," Taichi drawls out. "Naturally."

"We'll relay that we worked best as friends." Koushirou tilts his head back just enough to offer Taichi, what he suspects, is supposed to be a reassuring smile. It doesn't work. Taichi just thinks he looks cute, trying to still be attentive to the road and him. "Lay low for a few days," he continues. "Then we proceed as if nothing has changed." 

Sunset stains the sky above them, bright blues just giving way to rose-pinks and burnt-oranges. It looks like someone painting over a used canvas, and Taichi watches the colors bleed towards the horizon through the driver side window. He hates how pretty sunset looks on Koushirou, like the world created it just to softly compliment this boy. 

Taichi feels it when the car starts to roll along the highway slower. "Traffic," Koushirou reports without Taichi having to ask. "Seems we still hit rush hour," he tacks on apologetically. Taichi leans up from the chair just enough to see the forest of red lights glow all at once in front of them. They're still some ways off, but Taichi knows Koushirou is prudent when it comes to literally everything, so he refrains from commenting. 

He lets his head fall back down, the strain in his neck evident only now that he's resting. 

Taichi catches the sun by some far off mountains. He closes one eye, reveling in how the orange-red deathball seems to shift perfectly between the hills at his whim. He tries with his other eye, then back and forth. 

"I never asked," Taichi realizes when the car finally comes to a full rest. For a moment he worries that his words have been swallowed by the scream of emergency vehicles racing towards them until Koushirou hums for him to continue. "But what started all—" Taichi looks up at him for a moment, pursing his lips for the word to come to him. His leg bounces again. "You know, this ?" He gestures at the air between them. Koushirou snorts.

"Our ersatz relationship?" Taichi thinks the sentence would sound best without ersatz—whatever it means— but he makes a noise of agreeance. "My cousin obtained a partner this year." 

Taichi waits. In his peripherals he catches the bright, red lights of the emergency vehicles long before the ambulance comes up beside his car. Koushirou always drives in the slow lane. Taichi doesn't think he even moves to pass other cars. More often he's just content to ride shotgun while Taichi drives. 

He catches Koushirou watching the police cars as they pass, his knuckles on the steering wheel white and straining. 

"It was a calamity," Koushirou recalls, eyes back on the road. His stare looks more pointed, less dutiful. It's been a while since he cut his hair, Taichi realizes. It curls around the shell of an equally reddened ear and Taichi tries not to sound pushy when he asks him to continue. "My aunt started interrogating my mother if everything was okay, if I needed help finding someone because I'm a recluse and never get out." 

Taichi whistles.

"She means well," Koushirou says in defense, "but she is tenacious when she sets her mind to something." 

"Right," Taichi agrees. He's got a few of those, but he's lucky enough to have a large extended family, that he and Hikaru tend to mostly fly under the radar. 

Koushirou breathes in. He presses off the break briefly and the car rolls forward before jerking to another stop. Taichi watches his eyebrows knit, or twitch, like Koushirou's still in the middle of an argument with her. 

"My mother knows I have the propensity to like people," Koushirou continues, his cheeks now staining a pleasantly warm red, "so I couldn't lie there." 

Taichi nods along, twisting the seat belt around his hand, then again, and again, until there's no more give. 

"I started getting calls," Koushirou admits. His eyes are almost as wide with terror as they had been the night before. "She was giving out my number to her friends, for any of their interested children." His face pinches. Taichi understands, a bit. If it's not one of their friends, Koushirou will rarely answer his phone, text or otherwise. "She started making all these plans to go to bars during the trip, and then she offered to—" Koushirou swallows tightly. "Telling her I was already in a relationship seemed the only way to appease her." 

Taichi scrunches up his legs and straps the top end of the seat belt around his knees, let's the weight of them pull until the belt fastens around his midsection tighter. "So," Taichi starts, "you told them we were dating?" 

Koushirou hums. "Not," he stops. His one hand falls to the gear shift on the console between their seats. "Not quite. I'd hoped just saying someone was enough, but then they insisted I bring my partner to the family vacation, if my cousin was bringing his and I, well, originally excogitated asking Jyou, but," Koushirou presses his lips into a thin line, "it didn't quite develop that way."

"Oh," Taichi says intelligently.

Koushirou lets out a long sigh, as if he'd been holding the breath in this whole time. Taichi looks out his own window, at the dotting of stars already freckling the sky. With everything darkened, he can vaguely see Koushirou's reflection. Taichi frowns.

"We can turn around," Koushirou says all at once, his head turning towards the rear of the car. On instinct Taichi sits up and looks behind them as well. There's already a line of cars sitting all the way down from where Taichi can see. Koushirou thumbs the button, as if he might actually put the car into reverse and drive them out of there. 

"Koushirou," Taichi starts, putting his hand over the other's until he looks up, dark eyes still wide. 

"We can tell everyone the highway shut down," Koushirou asserts. "Or one of us developed food poisoning—" 

"Koushirou," he repeats, offering a vaguely reassuring smile. "It will be fine." Taichi sends a swift look back over his shoulder, and then a pointed one before them. Koushirou follows his eyes. Taichi squeezes his hand where they're still connected over the gear shift. He grins the best he can. "No matter what, we're going to have a fun week, okay?" 

Koushirou smiles back. The night sky halos around him and Taichi thinks that, maybe, the dark compliments him better because Koushirou looks so bright and ethereal. Taichi hopes Koushirou can't feel the rabbiting of his pulse when their hands are still connected.

"Thank you," he says, quietly. Taichi only moves his hand when Koushirou shifts the car into neutral, sinking back in his seat as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders. The radio blares loudly, now that it's hitting the first commercial break. Taichi reaches over to turn it off. It's really disconcerting to him, being the passenger.

"I really mean it," Koushirou enthuses a second later. "I'm very gracious you're here."

"Yeah?" Taichi says. He hopes his grin doesn't look as dopey as it feels. "That's what—" he pauses—"ersatz boyfriends are for." 

Koushirou laughs. The car in front of them moves forward just a second and Koushirou lifts his foot off the brake to follow along.

"You are perhaps the world's most superlative, ersatz boyfriend." 

Taichi throws a hand emphatically over his heart. "Thank you," he says, "all of my actual relationships have been simple practice for this moment." 

Koushirou snorts.

Cement eventually gives way to dirt roads, trees and boulders the only way to mark their journey. The car jitters back and forth on the uneven paths; Taichi worries they'll lose the right wheels when the vehicle jumps over a poorly laid stone. Mother nature is a terrible architect. 

The driveway is rectangular, paved sloppily with pebbles. Rustic, Taichi thinks. Koushirou kills the engine as soon as he slips Taichi's Honda right between the two SUVs already lined up.

"Looks nice," Taichi comments, slipping carefully out of his side of the car, keeping the door close enough to his body so as not to scrape the black paint of the other. Over the hood of his car, Koushirou settles him with a look. Quietly he repeats, "Looks nice." 

Koushirou beams at him. 

They meet around the trunk, Taichi already curling his fingers under the indent above the license plate, waiting. 

Taichi stares. 

Koushirou stares. 

"You have the keys," Taichi reminds him. He tempers his own laughter as Koushirou startles, almost dropping them from his hands. After a few seconds of him fiddling around with the key fob, the trunk opens with a light thunk . Taichi only lifts it part of the way open. He grabs for the green straps of the laptop bag first and offers it over to Koushirou. "You can go in first," he whispers as Koushirou takes his bag. 

Unsteady on his feet, Koushirou tilts his head as if to question him, and Taichi smiles. He insists, "Go ahead," unable to resist ruffling Koushirou's already untamed hair. His heart twinges when Koushirou does not push away, instead leaning against the weight of Taichi's hand, midnight eyes drifting shut. He looks as if he could rest there, with only Taichi's hand to keep him steady. 

"Thank you," Koushirou says, barely above a breath. 

"Yeah," Taichi answers, retracting his hand. "Get some sleep, I'll bring in the rest." 

He hears the drag of Koushirou's feet along the driveway, disturbing every stone on his way. 

Taichi grabs for the duffel bag Koushirou had helped him fill before they left, and the recycled grocery bag he'd filled with some odd snacks he'd meant to eat on the way and his swim trunks he’d almost forgotten. He checks the trunk to make sure the keys aren't there before frowning. He’d forgotten to take them back. 

He hears the lake before he sees it. Lights from distant cabins along the farther shore ripple infinitely in the dark water. Taichi breathes in and the residual smell of campfire reminds him of summer camp and barbeques and for the first time his chest swells with something other than anxiety. He takes a minute more to admire the scenery until the duffel bag on his shoulder reminds him how late it really is.

Taichi does his best to be quiet, taking every step up the porch deliberately, trying to pick up his feet— but it's the screen door he doesn't expect to betray him when it recoils back to it's post with a thunderous wham. 

He stands in the front room, stock still, waiting for a hoard of angry Izumi's to come rushing in and reprimand him. Instead only Koushirou turns around the corner, standing in the open concept kitchen just in front of him. He has a finger up to his lips, as if reminding Taichi to keep quiet. Too late. 

"My dad was waiting up for us. He just went to bed," Koushirou relays on a long yawn. Taichi notices he's already changed into a set of pajamas and he tries not to think how adorable he looks in them. Koushirou points somewhere past the wall and tells Taichi, "Our room's that way." 

Our room sits heavy in Taichi's stomach. He hadn't really given it thought before this moment as he follows Koushirou down the longest hallway. They'd shared rooms in the past, he has to remind himself, but it feels different somehow. 

His stomach somersaults again when Koushirou opens the door. 

"They were being courteous giving us this room," he explains, moving his laptop bag off the single bed. "Since—" 

"We're a couple," Taichi remembers. It is nice of them, he tells himself. They're being supportive. Not trying to kill him. 

Koushirou smiles back at him over his shoulder, his eyes muddled with sleep. "Bathroom's across the hall," he says and Taichi understands that he's really telling him to get ready in the most polite way he can. 

Taichi shrugs the duffel bag off his shoulder by the side of the door, and tosses the plastic bag next to it. He rummages through for one of his night shirts and tells Koushirou, "I'll be back."

Koushirou's already tucked into bed when he’s finally finished. Taichi turns out the light by the door. Little bits of light filter in through the barely closed curtains, and it is the only way Taichi finds his way in the dark.

"I'm sorry," Koushirou breathes out the minute the mattress dips with Taichi's weight. "For dragging you," he trails off for a long while. Taichi watches the ceiling. The fan in the corner of the room is loud. He hopes it becomes white noise. "Dragging you into this," he murmurs out of nowhere. 

Taichi laughs, adjusting on the bed until his cheek touches the pillow, facing the other. 

Moonlight sits lightly on Koushirou's cheeks, elongating every angle of his face. He looks otherworldly sometimes. "I'm kind of glad," Taichi says finally, huffing out the words like he's lost all of his rights to oxygen. "It's rare for you to ask for something like this." Koushirou hums, his eyes fluttering minutely. It sounds like a question so Taichi answers, "Something for yourself." 

Koushirou huffs, a nonverbal protest.

Taichi laughs. "Go to sleep."  

Taichi never falls asleep himself.  Even with his eyes closed his heart just feels restless in his chest, his mind racing with intangible thoughts. Even with the fan humming in the background it's too hot to feel comfortable.

Taichi decides that dawn is just as lovely as sunset, when it crests over the distant treeline outside their window and sits gently on Koushirou's cheeks and wonders how Yamato's doing, if his plans for Taichi's funeral are going swimmingly. 

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 2)

I will finish this novel by the end of summer...no matter what

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. According to Wikipedia, the second leg of Hakone is 23.1km from Tsurumi to Totsuka and the longest leg of the race, so traditionally the fastest runner of each team runs this leg. It’s called the “Leg 2 of Flowers” because all the aces of each school take part in it

Previous | Next

The race unfolded at a fast pace right from the start.

Kakeru and Kiyose were part of the first group that consisted of twenty to thirty people. Kakeru was impatient to do a spurt, but he was admonished by Kiyose, running next to him, to “calm down,” and he managed to control his impatience.

Two black transfer students from Saikyo University were in the lead. In no time at all, they had established a lead from the first group and were already rounding the first corner of the runway. Iwanki, the black transfer student from Koufu Academy and a Hakone regular, also followed them resolutely. Iwanki was an ace in his final year of school who had run the second leg (1) of Hakone for three years in a row, and Kakeru felt the ace’s pride and ardor for Hakone as he stared at Iwanki’s distant back running far ahead.

As though influenced by the three in the lead’s running, the first group also passed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-nine seconds. It might have been due to the fact that the JSDF’s runway was so wide that it was difficult to get a sense of distance; considering they were running twenty kilometers, it was a pretty fast pace. More and more people couldn’t keep up, and by the time they rounded the second corner, the runners were already all stretched out lengthwise.

Kiyose checked his watch and turned around. The other Chikusei-sou members were in the third group that consisted of seventy to eighty people, and they were running together.

Kiyose went out to the edge of the course, where it would be easier to see him from behind. His palm was facing down, signalling them to “restrain themselves.” According to the rules they had decided beforehand, he indicated numbers with his fingers in succession, telling them to “run up to five kilometers within three minutes and ten seconds per kilometer. The rest is decided by you.” “Decided by you” was indicated with a gesture of opening and closing his palm near his temple. He could see Yuki and Shindou nodding and quickly informing the others around them.

“Are we slowing down too?” Kakeru asked.

“Are we?” Kiyose asked back.

“No.”

He had absolutely no intention of doing that. As Kiyose ran, he lightly tapped Kakeru’s back.

“Once we’re on the regular roads, there will be new developments. When the time comes, just launch forward without worrying about me.”

Hanako had finished gathering the bags near the start point and was cheering on the residents making the second lap on the runway. It was so expansive that when the runners were running at the farthest side, she could only see specks. But as the group approached, she could feel the earth shaking, and when they passed before her eyes, she could feel the breathing of the runners and the heat dissipating off their sweaty bodies.

With a stopwatch in hand, Hanako was amazed.

Everyone is running at such a fast speed. They’re even faster than I would be if I pedalled my bike with all my strength. The runners are passing by so quickly that I can barely make out their faces—and they’re running a whole twenty kilometers at this speed.

The three black runners passed by, and about forty meters behind, the first group arrived. Kakeru and Kiyose were among them; they were still carrying themselves lightly and compactly, with calm expressions on their faces. The surrounding spectators cheered, “Let’s go!” Hanako also tried to call out to them, but she couldn’t; a lump of air was stuck in her chest.

The twins were in the third group. The eight people of Chikusei-sou were together, running as hard as they could to not fall behind—to get even a little bit further ahead.

“The lead is at a pace of two minutes and forty-nine seconds. Don’t let yourselves be dragged along!” As Hanako conveyed that information, she realized that she was on the verge of tears.

I never knew that the running form could be this beautiful. What a primitive and lonely sport this is. No one is able to support them. No matter how many spectators there are around them, no matter if the teammates they practiced together with are with them, those people are currently continuing to run using everything in their bodies, all by themselves.

They ran two laps on the runway, and after they had run five kilometers, the gap between the black runners in the lead and the first group was more than a hundred meters. A middle-aged man near Hanako clicked his tongue.

“Japanese runners are so weak.”

Not at all, Hanako wanted to say. What are you looking at? There’s no difference between those leading and those following. Why can’t you see the seriousness in their faces and their determination to overcome their physical limits? There’s no weak person here.

Clenching her fists tightly, Hanako’s eyes chased the Kansei uniforms. Don’t lose. Everyone, please don’t lose.

Even Hanako herself didn’t know what she was praying that they wouldn’t lose against; was it the rivals from the other schools, the people who were spectating along the route while making arbitrary judgements, or was it they themselves who were running? She didn’t know, but Hanako prayed with all her heart: she didn’t want them to lose. To anything.

Yaokatsu called out to her.

“Let’s go, Hana.”

Hey, hey, Yaokatsu prompted Hanako. “Everyone looks like they’re in a good position. Let’s wait for them at the finish line.”

The plasterer sniffed and nodded. It was the first time the people of the shopping district had seen track athletes running at close proximity. The speed was breathtaking, and they couldn’t help but be moved by how bravely the people of Chikusei-sou were competing, by no means inferior to anyone else.

They’re always laughing like idiots, but they were serious. They were serious about running. Watching the qualifiers, they finally realized that.

The people of the shopping district picked up the towels and water bottles and began to move through the park. They had to secure a good spot on the grass clearing to welcome the runners after they finished the race.

Hanako was blinking, drying the tears that had welled up. This was no time to cry. The race had only just started. She had to believe in them and do what she had to do.

Holding the plastic sheet, Hanako vigorously walked through the grass wet with morning dew.

The race took on a new dimension when they passed the five kilometer mark and went out onto the regular road. The first group began to come apart. The gap with the lead didn’t shorten, but it also didn’t get longer. It was still a very high-paced race, and some were falling behind.

Kakeru and Kiyose were firmly in the first group, which had about ten people; they were surrounded by ace runners from TSU, Kikui, and Koufu Academy. Kakeru confirmed that Sakaki wasn’t there. No sense of superiority or, of course, sympathy sprouted in Kakeru’s heart. He only thought, “Oh, I guess he couldn’t keep up with the pace.” But I’m going further. I’m gonna break away from this group.

At that point, the staff inside the leading car that was loaded up with TV cameras shouted in admiration, “Oi oi, there’re Kansei runners here. They’re doing pretty good!” But of course Kakeru and Kiyose had no way of knowing that. Where would the race go? They were playing a silent game with the runners around them.

Large track teams had backup members posted along the route, who were able to relay the positions of each runner and the pacing instructions from the coach. However, Kansei didn’t have enough people, and Kiyose had to pay attention to the other runners as well, not just his own running. Occasionally, he turned around to look at the situation—the eight people from Chikusei-sou were still huddled together, taking rear positions in the expanding second group. The previous second and third groups had also broken up, and those who weren’t left behind seemed to have merged with those that couldn’t keep up with the first group.

It could be seen from the twins, Musa, and Yuki’s faces that they still had spare energy left. Shindou and Nico-chan were calm, striving to maintain their own pace. King was managing to keep up, but Prince would soon be at risk. The Chikusei-sou group was also stretching out vertically.

More than that, if the members stuck together any longer, those with slow paces might drag them all backwards.

They passed the seven kilometer mark. The first group’s time for the last kilometer was 3.05 minutes. The race had slowed down a bit compared to the initial fast pace. This was probably due to the group psychology of being afraid of running out of steam in the latter half, as well as the slowing down of Iwanki, who was in third place, running a little further ahead.

It would only be after ten kilometers that some from the first group made a spurt, which Kiyose had judged would happen. There, of course, Kakeru and Kiyose had to cling on, but they also had to consider the impact on the rear. There would definitely be those who fell behind or fell off their pace because they lacked stamina, and the people of Chikusei-sou could not be swayed by it.

Kiyose approached the center line and made another signal towards the group in the back. He rotated his right arm widely. “Move out soon.” He fluttered his right hand’s fingers near his temple. “You guys can break up.” Next, he made a fist with his right hand and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

Except for Prince, who couldn’t afford to do it, everyone raised their hands lightly to indicate they understood.

“Kakeru. Starting from the ten kilometer mark, the first turning point of this race will come. Don’t fall behind.”

Kakeru nodded at Kiyose’s whisper. He could sense that, both from the breathing of the runners in the first group and the fact that the scrambling for positions that would make it easier to break away was intensifying. The runners were inferring with each other, keeping each other in check, and waiting for their chance.

Even as they left the street in front of the station and approached the monorail overhead, there were spectators lining the streets along the way. But their voices were distant. They only caressed his ears like the roar of the sea, and tore back in an instant. It was because he was concentrating on the race, and Kakeru was reminded once again that today, his body was moving well.

There were times when his body felt light, but his pace didn’t reflect it. On the other hand, there were days when he felt like he wasn’t doing well, but was actually running at a very good pace. No matter how much he practiced, there were many times when his body and mind didn’t sync well in a real race, creating illusions.

Just to make sure, Kakeru dropped his gaze to his wristwatch for the first time; he had come this far at a pace of two minutes and fifty-seven seconds per kilometer. It’s not an illusion. Just as thought, I’m in good form today. Even if the race speeds up, I can still do it. I can go even faster.

Kiyose seemed to sense Kakeru’s confidence. Running next to him, he said “Whoa there,” as though calming a horse. “Wait, Kakeru. You’re free to do what you want after we pass the ten kilometer mark.”

If he put on a spurt too soon, he would self-destruct. Kakeru answered “Yes,” and controlled himself, not dropping his pace.

As soon as they passed under the monorail and saw the ten kilometer mark, the first group moved as expected.

A third-year from Kikui and the TSU captain put on a spurt. They pulled ahead of everyone except for Kakeru and Kiyose.

Using them as a shelter from the wind, Kakeru stayed right behind Kikui and TSU, who were competing against each other. After running about five hundred meters, he murmured, “I’m going.” Kiyose nodded without a word.

Kakeru overtook Kikui and TSU by running around them from the center line, and he continued to run according to his own rhythm. He didn’t have the leisure or urge to look back, but the sound of footsteps moving away from him was enough for him to know that he had pulled ahead and was in fourth place alone.

I feel great. The cutting wind and the road I’m stepping on are all mine for just this instant. As long as I’m running like this, this is a world only I can experience.

His heart was hot. He could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers. He felt heavy—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this yet. He had to change his body more. Like a nimble beast that ran through the grassland without knowing pain. Like a silvery light in the darkness.

At the 11.2 kilometer turnaround point, Kakeru turned so cleanly that he looked like a brand-new aerodynamic machine. Slowing down is a sin. Because everything I have is for the sake of running.

Kakeru was already in range of Iwanki, who was ahead of him.

Seeing Kakeru accelerate right before his eyes, Kiyose was ecstatic.

Show me that run. The beauty of that existence, born for running.

The figure that easily surpasses frustration and envy. Like it’s some other creature. What a difference from me, who’s bound by gravity and struggling to supply oxygen to myself.

Kiyose managed to suppress his urge to shout. As expected, it’s only you. You’re the only one who can embody running like this. Kakeru, you’re the only one who can spur me on and show me a new world.

He wanted to catch up to Kakeru, but that was impossible for Kiyose, who had a bomb in his leg. He matched the pace of Kikui and TSU. Both of them were doing their best to get over the shock of being overtaken by Kakeru even though they had put on a spurt. How would this affect the ups and downs after they enter the park? The only tactic that remained for Kiyose was preserving his strength and taking a gamble on the end. He didn’t have the leeway to look behind him anymore.

But, he could feel it—the other eight had definitely witnessed Kakeru flying out from the group. He could tell that they were excited to see that sparkling running.

Jouji saw Kakeru, who was running past the turnaround point, from the front. He had the same face he had when he was jogging, his breathing composed and no hint of pain in his face. But, his eyes are different, Jouji thought. Kakeru’s dark eyes were shining with joy. It was the joy of just being in the act of running.

Kakeru probably didn’t know what kind of face he makes when he’s running. Jouji felt jealousy and affection at the same time. Can I run as purely as Kakeru? So innocently and freely to the point it’s inhuman. I want to run. Jouji thought. I want to run like Kakeru too.

Nico-chan groaned at Kakeru’s running as he ran right past him. I didn’t think he’d be that fast. How fast can he run when he’s going all out? That glint in his eyes is dazzling. It’s like he’s proving that there is such a thing as chosen ones.

But I’ll run through to the end. Nico-chan sucked air into his lungs that were beginning to scream. I can’t afford to fall behind Kakeru in my will to run.

The people wearing Kansei’s uniforms, with Kakeru in the lead, were connected by their passion and strength, and like a constellation shining in the night sky, they formed a single shape to reach the finish line.

---

Hanako staked out a spot on the grass clearing and then hurried towards the park course. The cheering squads from each school were crowding near the finish line. The spectators also formed a double or triple wall of people waiting for the runners to arrive. Since it suddenly became very noisy, the birds flew out of the park trees in surprise.

About fifty meters from the finish line, Hanako finally found a gap in the wall. Saying “Excuse me” as she slipped through, she was able to join the front row. She was wearing a Kansei jersey, so the spectators guessed that she was a staff member and considerately made room for her.

Hanako looked at her stopwatch; fifty-three minutes and thirty-five seconds had passed since the start of the race. They’re running twenty kilometers, so it’s going to take a while no matter how you look at it.

Just when she thought that, the sound of cheers approached like a wave. The cheering squads of each school were singing their school song and waving their flags about as though this was the critical moment.

The leading runner appeared from the shade of a green tree: it was a black international student from Saikyo University. Next was another black student, also from Saikyo.

“Amazing…” Hanako murmured.

Amidst the roars of the crowd, the two international students crossed the finish line in fifty-eight minutes and twelve seconds and fifty-eight minutes and twenty-eight seconds respectively. The word “unrivalled” would be a fitting word to describe their physical ability. Hanako wondered what happened to the Chikusei-sou members. While applauding the runners who finished, she stood on tiptoe and looked at the course.

A figure appeared, turning the curve. Hanako screamed in spite of herself. She couldn’t find the words.

It was Kakeru.

It was Kurahara Kakeru who approached the final stretch right before the finish line in third place.

“The top places are going to be the black runners anyways.”

Even the spectators who had been whispering that to each other erupted in undulating roars, unmatched by the ones earlier. Hanako forgot herself and was shouting, “Kurahara-kun! Kurahara-kun!”

It didn’t seem like Kakeru was hearing anything.

The ragged breathing passed in front of Hanako in an instant. Kakeru was only looking at the finish line straight ahead and dashed through the fifty meter distance as though he was running short distance. The spectators were swept away by his running which was brimming with persistence and fighting spirit.

The area in front of the finish line was silent for an instant, as though a saint had passed through.

Hanako checked her stopwatch. Kakeru had finished in fifty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds. Iwanki finished five seconds later. Kakeru had beaten the ace of Koufu Academy.

A buzz filled the area in front of the finish line.

“That was Kansei. I’ve never seen that school in Hakone before.”

“They have one amazing runner there.”

He’s Kurahara-kun. He’s Kurahara-kun, who’s still a first-year. Hanako wanted to say that to everyone around her. However, there was no time for that, because the trailing runners were reaching the final stretch in front of the finish line one by one.

---

When Kiyose passed fifteen kilometers and entered the park, he made his spurt as planned. Kikui and TSU increased their pace at almost the exact same time, but he had no intention of losing.

When he sped up on the upward slope, he felt a faint discomfort in his right shin. Shit, he thought, but he didn’t mess up his breathing or show it on his face—he was done for if his weakness was discovered. Right now, every second counted. It was not the time to worry about old wounds.

Kiyose continued to speed up without hesitating. The cheering squads’ musical performances were in complete harmony, singing in a chaotic scale. A few familiar faces from the shopping district seemed to be shouting along the course. However, he couldn’t hear anything. The Kikui runner pulled another step ahead. Every time his sole touched the ground, he felt a numbness in his shin. Even so, Kiyose had no intention of being outdistanced.

“Haiji-san!”

He definitely heard Kakeru’s yell. Kiyose poured his last strength into the muscles of his legs and practically collapsed through the finish line. He managed to move to a position where he wouldn’t be in the way and put his palm to his shin. It was hot. He was tied for sixth place with the Kikui runner. His time was exactly sixty minutes.

Previous | Next

[chillax-kass-w]

After All | RM8

[Reiner Braun/Reader]

[TW: Canon-Typical Character Death/Violence]

Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all. 

Read on AO3

[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]

Previous

Nothing could prepare a person for sitting in front of a gate that held certain peril. No training, no mind tricks, nothing. It was as if everything was out the window save for the absolute terror of the Titans and the memory of the formation.

Thank goodness that had been drilled into her memory.

“Thirty seconds to opening!”

She knew for a fact that this would be the longest thirty seconds of her life. Glancing around, she recognized Reiner’s crown a little ways away. She didn’t know what made him turn to her, but she was glad he did. Even though she was head over heels in inner turmoil, she relished in the safety she felt when she looked into his eyes. He didn’t smile, and neither did she, but the quiet resolve in his heavy eyes was enough to assure her, if only in that moment, that she would be okay. He would be okay.

“This is it! Now the human race takes another step forward! Show me what you learned!”

She raised her fist, solidarity and strength held within her grip. She would survive. She would not succumb to the fear the Titans engendered. She would stand tall with her comrades. She would trust them.

Trust is all they have.

“Open the gate! Launch the 57th Expedition outside the Wall! Advance!”

With that, she shook the reins so tightly held in her hands. Alice, her horse, held her ground beside the other steeds of the Survey Corps. Immediately, they crossed through the remnants of a town, long abandoned since Wall Maria was breached. Immediately, a ten meter Titan was upon them. She almost reached for her triggers to engage it, but she remembered the plan. The support team would hold off the Titans close to the Wall to give them time to get into formation and leave civilization. She trusted them, so she returned her hands to the reins.

“Long Distance Enemy Scouting Formation, deploy!” Based on her higher than average kill count in the Battle of Trost, she was tasked closer to the right flank of the formation. She was in the immediate first column, the first wave of enemy detection. Not surprisingly, most if not all of the new recruits had been tasked with message relay and spare horses. Even Mikasa, who’d had a higher kill count, was positioned nearer to the center of the formation, but (f/n) assumed it was due to Eren’s position at the left center of the formation, the same squad that held Mikasa. She would protect him to the death; the Commander must have planned that accordingly. Based on that, (f/n) was technically the next best recruit to fill an empty position that would normally hold a veteran.

Despite that explanation, she felt immense terror as soon as she spotted her first Titan. Shaky hands made to reach for a smoke signal, but the leader of her squad shot off one without delay. This continued for a while, the Titans slowly coming into the light. The terror in her gut was dissipating as she saw the formation at work; they hadn’t had to engage once.

Good things never last, though.

“What the hell?!”

“Abnormals! A bunch of ‘em!”

Black smoke signal.

“Prepare to engage!”

“Is that female one leading them here?!”

White noise.

She turned her head, only to feel bile well up in her throat. At least twenty Titans were headed their way, and at their center was what looked to be a blonde female, easily fourteen meters high. There was little time to think about that, though. The Titans would be upon them at any second. Shaky hands reached for her grips, then for her swords. Dull comfort filled her chest at being armed, but the adrenaline wasn’t enough. She froze when she saw the first of her squad dismount and engage a six meter class Titan. It was Colette. As soon as the woman struck the nape, another appeared behind it, reaching for her comrade. So close, so close to Colette, yet she spun out of the way and struck its nape too.

So close to her…

Sarah…

She couldn’t sit idly by and watch her comrades be devoured. Colette, Ivan, Declan, Stella, Schultz… None of them deserved to meet Death. She wouldn’t allow it. As she placed her feet firmly on the saddle, she extended her promise to them. She would protect them; she would bring them home. So, with that in mind, she met the air. The Female Titan hadn’t reached her position yet, but three Titans were bearing down on her group. They had to get rid of them if they wanted a chance against the horde behind them.

Near her, Declan took out an eight meter Titan’s achilles, so she latched onto its neck and closed in. His shout barely met her ears; her heartbeat was too heavy. The rest of her squad took down the remaining two, and they were left to wait for the Female Titan to close in.  

It didn’t take long .

Instantly, she kicked Ivan’s horse from beneath him, and he flew through the air with sickening velocity. Next went Colette, then Stella, then Schultz. Declan screamed, dismounting and engaging the air. The Female Titan caught his wires, throwing him away as if his life meant nothing.

Nothing.

She could do nothing.

(f/n) couldn’t even find her voice. The panic, the dread, the immense grief kept her rooted to her spot. Bile flooded her taste buds, and her heart threatened to cease its beating. She barely registered that her hands held her blades tighter than ever. The dull comfort was gone; the adrenaline left her veins; lactic acid took its place. She was vaguely aware of the blood coating her skin and clothes. Who did that belong to?

Thump, thump, thump.

Was that her heart, or the Titan’s approaching footsteps?

Blue eyes…

Shocking was the fact that the Female Titan stopped to look at her, its hand outstretched to crush her. Death was there, standing by her side; (f/n) could feel it, see it, taste it. Time stood still as that gaze bore into hers. Blonde hair reminded her of Reiner, of their days in the forest cracking walnuts and watching the clouds. How ironic that a blonde Titan would crush her, just as Reiner had crushed so many walnuts.

She didn’t, though.

The Female Titan turned away from her, ran away from her, left her there, alive.

As much as she wanted to stop and stare, she couldn’t. She couldn’t contemplate the implications in that action. Screams for Life, screams of Death, filled her ears, and she begged her legs to move. They were upon her now, finding her comrades’ broken bodies strewn throughout the grass.

Move!

P l e a s e !

Out of sheer will, she picked up her blades. She couldn’t recall when they’d fallen from her hands, but she wouldn’t let it happen again. Adrenaline finally decided to flood her being. Bile remained, for she could hear the sounds of her friends being devoured. In her stupor, she’d been too late to save Colette, too late to save Stella.

She’d never forget that sight.

There were too many to fight alone; that much she knew. There would be no show of prowess here, no blaze of glory. Two Titans were leering down at her, and she almost let them grab her. Almost, but almost is never certain. With every ounce of hope she had left, she leaped from the saddle. The first was easy to take down, so easy she couldn’t remember the technical aspects of the kill. The second, however…

She missed.

Out of sheer luck, it missed too, but she knew luck wouldn’t have its way again. She had to get out of there. Treason be damned, she had to live. She had to save whoever she could, and she had to leave that hell. So, rather than engage again, she whistled for her horse, and she screamed for anyone that was alive. They were bearing down on her, five or six taking notice of the meal in front of them.

“Is anyone alive?!”

A voice, to her right. So close, so close.

“Somebody tell the others…”

It was Declan. A small Titan was grabbing his leg, his hand outstretched in a final gesture for Life. He was barely recognizable, what with the blood veiled across his face. Even as he clawed at the ground, (f/n) could tell he’d given up.

She wouldn’t let him.

“Right flank… Scouting Squad is nearly wiped out…”

“Shut up!”

First, she cut the wrist, then she went for the nape. It was all muscle memory at this point. She was running on autopilot, her only mission to save Declan. She’d do anything, anything at all. The Titan’s blood was satisfying, if only for the fact that it added a little more time to Declan’s clock. With a whistle, she landed beside him. He looked to her, looked through her, barely managed a cough. She picked him up, quickly mounting Alice and heading off in the direction of the Female Titan. A group was following her, but she believed in her mare’s speed, even with the added weight. Declan was still mumbling about the destruction at her back.

Thump, thump, thump.

Dissipating green smoke told her she was headed in the right direction. Everything was moving so fast, so fast. A cluster of Titans told her she was on the right track, but why were they staying at the base of such large trees? Faster, faster. Above the Titans, she could see soldiers in the trees. So close, so close. When she was within range, the Titans surrounding the trees noticed her. Fear coursed through her veins at that. She was truly between a rock and a hard place. The Titans at her back weren’t slowing down. Her only option was to dismount her horse and try to make it over the wall of Titans with Declan in tow. There was no way she could engage with him in her arms. So, she readjusted her hold on the man, and she jumped. The rest of her adrenaline, the rest of her gas, pushed her forward, and somehow, just somehow, she made it onto a branch.

She didn’t know how.

She didn’t want to know.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as she set her comrade down, she doubled over to vomit. Voices were at her back, but all her focus was on the dry heaving that shook her lungs. She curled in on herself, wanting nothing more than to vanish. All she could see was Death. Colette, Stella, devoured. Blood on her skin. Blame on her skin. Blame, blame, blame.

“(f/n)! Snap out of it!”

Someone was shaking her, but she couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t find her resolve. She couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone, for fear they’d die in front of her again.

Strong arms turned her around.

Hazel…

“(f/n), calm down. Breathe with me.”

The rise and fall of his chest assured her he was alive. The rise and fall of her chest assured her she was alive. Up, down, in, out. Up, down, in, out. She hadn’t realized she’d lost her peripheral vision until it came back, and she saw her friends surrounding her. That dull hope rose again, as did her blame, but nothing trumped the fact that they were alive, alive and breathing.

Why did it all feel so wrong?

Next

[blankdblank]

Blood and Bonds Pt 2

@annwoods91​, @sherala007​, @lilith15000​, @himoverflowers​, @alishlieb​, @deepestfirefun​    -- Pt 1  ---

**

Sharply Bilbo gasped and shot up coughing making Thorin jolt up off his chair beside the bed to settle beside him folding his arms around him, “I am here, Ukrad. I am here.” In the light of the fire he said, “The color has come back into your face..” cupping his cheek sweetly.

Bilbo looked around asking, “Where are we? I thought you, you were sick, how-?”

Thorin hummed back, “The men helped me, same as how Pluto got rid of Smaug.”

Bilbo’s brow inched up, “So they drowned you?”

Thorin chuckled weakly, “Nearly. How are you feeling? I have some lembas here,” he said collecting the plate from the nightstand he set on Bilbo’s lap. “Eat up, you need your strength.”

Curiously Bilbo looked up, “Why is it so dark?”

“Smoke and ash has been pooling out of Angmar for hours now. No clue why.”

“Is Pluto sleeping? I wasn’t very polite to her when she tried to give me a tonic.” In Thorin’s pause he asked, “What is it?”

“Pluto left, not long after you took ill. We assumed it was something to do with a cure for you and me.”

“So she’s out there alone! We have to go help her!!”

Holding the Hobbit in bed Thorin replied, “Bilbo, there’s two hours to sunset and it’s pitch black outside. None of us can see. No one is leaving this mountain.”

“But,”

“I know, Ukrad. But we must hold our keep until she finds her way back. She took out Smaug on her own. I doubt there is much that can harm her. Besides, the most logical paths would take her through or past the forests, where she could find shelter with the Elves.”

“Yes, let us hope she is with them..” he said lifting the top slice of lembas to take a bite.

 ***

Packed and turned back for the forest the Elves kept their eyes darting between you and the path they could only see with the help of the glowing mice charm scurrying across the path lighting it for them. Panting and coughing to keep a steady pace with hold of a fox you kept running hoping not to be going too slow for the marathon ready from birth trio behind you. A snug lasso around your middle on Legolas’ decided rope chain to keep from losing one another. A day and a half you had been running from Angmar feeling the heat of the still flooding lave behind you casting fumes even your bubble charm had little effect on filtering out.

Smack dab into something your face collided and groaning in pain you fell backwards into Glorfindel’s arms clutching at your now gushing nose with your free hand while the startled fox curled up with claws latched onto your belly. “Perfect. Just perfect.” Glorfindel’s lips parted as did the other’s, whose faces came into view at the light made mice crawled up your body to your shoulders lighting you blood soaked face. “Darling,”

Again you groaned, though this time followed by a crack of your broken nose healing halting the blood flow from your face, “I’m fine. Not the first time..” slowly you found your footing and stood again seeing the nearing glow of the oncoming lava “We gotta go. I’ll make some birds too..”

Flashes of giant peacocks with ample light enough to see the cracked tree branch dangling from the wilting tree above clearly damaged in the escape of an animal you ducked under and cleared your throat in sloppily wiping your face with your sleeve. Step by step you tried to remember the path here and clambered in a relay team fashion for the foxes, climbing up together and then hopping down just the same keeping an eye on the glowing waves behind you rounding the corner you had just passed.

Down again you slid on the tall drop from the entrance you had used into the rocky void. Steadying yourself you set the foxes down and turned in a half circle heading the groans of the trees in the not too distant forest feeling the heat coming. Lowly Legolas mumbled, “The forest…It will go up in flames, even the stones are burning on those peaks.”

“Shh,” his eyes turned to you as you shut your eyes using the lingering improved hearing your shift had given you, “Is that water?”

Tauriel in your bubble of light pointed, “Ocean fed lakes are above that cliff side. These lands often flood when they spill over in storms.”

With a nod you loosened the rope around your middle saying, “Head for the trees.”

Glorfindel, “Darling-,”

Locking your eyes on his as you drew your wand from the sheath in your bag you passed him, “Trust me.”

With a nod and his hand sliding across the back of yours to claim the bag he did as you said and led the others away watching you in your bubble of dimmed light from their brighter one with more glowing birds on their shoulders as you raised your arm sounding another loud crack before rushing water could be heard. Backwards you stepped and in the ground a deep tunnel was formed and collapsed with the water rushing through it.

The beaming glow of the lava grew closer and heavier the water flowed the closer the lava came. Sizzles and hisses were heard as you raised your arm and stepped back again at the growing heat raising a giant wall of ice to block off the end of the opening that began to glow bright red at the pooling of the lava behind it. Open mouthed the Elves watched you holding the rushing wall of water you raised up and packed more and more ice onto the opening until the glow finally started to dim after minutes of whistling rushed of steam filled the air mingling with the water still crashing around you. Firmly you held the wall until nearly a half hour later making you collapse to your knees urging Glorfindel to you.

 Natural

A beating heart of stone

You gotta be so cold

To make it in this world

Yeah, you're a natural

Living your life cutthroat

You gotta be so cold

Yeah, you're a natural

 Coughing again you watched the ice melting revealing a shiny new rock wall blocking off the peaks entirely with the glow behind it fading as the water from above strove to join the rivers bordering the lands below Erebor. “Just tired,” You panted out and into his pack the Prince found a pack of lembas for your first break since the night before. “Here, we should rest now.”

Tauriel, “Yes. It would give us the chance to confirm the river holds back the volcano.”

Legolas asked while Glorfindel combed his fingers through your knotted ponytail laying it down your back, “Will it continue to flow forever?”

Covering your mouth in pushing your mouthful into your cheek, “No. A day or so it should stop. It only has so much lava that can reach the top until it stops. Longest eruption was recorded for a week and a half. Actually give it a month or so and you could go digging for gems.”

Tauriel, “Gems?”

Legolas, “Would that not wake the volcano again?”

“No. Once the lava cools it’s hard. Whole islands and mountains are formed when volcanoes go off. With some stunning variations of stones mixed in between.”

Glorfindel, “Perhaps we might leave that to the Dwarves.”

Legolas, “Once you are fed and rested we should head to inform Ada we are safe.”

In a turn of your head you said after swallowing, “Looks like the smoke hasn’t dropped too low in the forest.”

Legolas, “Our trees protect us greatly.”

Tauriel, “Will the smoke damage the trees?”

“No. Actually there’s usually a burst of growth after. Really, I think it’s the heat and the ash, just adds to the soil. Makes it more fertile. Not that you have trouble with that.”

Legolas, “Let us hope Ada will accept that glowing thought to calm him through this darkness.”

A few bites later you shifted slightly when Glorfindel returned with a cloth from your bag he wet to try and help get the dried blood and spot off your face and neck. “There, much better.” After wetting his lips in another puff of smoke and fumes wafted towards you dimming your bubble of light for a moment he asked, “Are you up for trying a bit further? Get us some fresher air.”

You nodded and stood with his help and turned in his shouldering your bag folding his hand with yours to start the walk again and enter the forest. Barely a mile in and you could see the scared animals the Elves spoke to in your passing and glanced behind to see them grouping and following your light. Seeing the number of them you drew your wand again sending out countless orbs of light to soar through the forest and settle giving them a bit more ease in traveling to where they found safe to wait out the smoke.

 Natural

Yeah, you're a natural

 .

“My King, lights, in the forest.”

Hurrying from his pacing in his chambers after another sleepless night he raced after the guard who led him to a hidden window on their outer gates showing the glowing orbs forming strong lanterns cutting through the seemingly ever thickening smoke. Now groups of animals could be seen timidly inspecting the lands round them and he kept watch seeing the lights brighten until a group of people were seen climbing over a fallen log laying across a stream in the distance. “Ready the gates. There are people out there!”

To the gates he strode watching and waiting until his eyes widened seeing his son and Captain beside Glorfindel, around a curious fourth member whom he ignored in his path around the others. “Little leaf! Where have you been?!”

Legolas chuckled weakly at the tight hug the King pulled him into, “Angmar.” That had the wide eyed King pushing him back to see his face searching for any lies, “Miss Pear found the One Ring, and woke the smoking mountain to destroy it and free-,”

Sharply he barked back, “You did this?!”

Legolas, “Ada-..”

He was cut off in the exhausted King’s turn to face you, “What were you-,” only to have his rage drop drastically seeing the neck of your sweater coated in dried blood, “you’re coated in blood. Were you attacked?”

“You could say that, trying to get away from the lava and a broken tree snapped down and got me in the face.” His eyes narrowed a moment at your weak chuckle, “Then again it was pitch black, might have scared it. But what’s a broken nose. Easy to mend.” Stepping forward his hand tilted your head back and you mumbled, “My neck doesn’t really bend-,”

Thranduil, “I see no injury, your face at least seems in tact.” He released your face and your eyes blinked in a roll of your head while he claimed your hands seeing a braces set of fingers you taped together and countless cuts, scrapes and bruises then caught your eyes again, “They’ll heal. Been through worse.”

Glorfindel, “Miss Pear has stated when volcano smoke clears it can trigger the soil to be more fertile and increase growth.”

Thranduil huffed releasing your hands turning to inspect his son folding back the ends of his outer shirt and moving his hair to check for any visible injuries, “Volcano, I know nothing of this term.”

Legolas, “Like Mt Doom, a smoking mountain full of liquid fire. When they erupt they let out smoke and seas of the liquid fire called lava.”

Thranduil turned his gaze back to you when you said, “Lot of times things don’t get a name until they do something you’d least expect.”

“True. Were you set upon? Is that why you fled in the dark?”

Tauriel, “No, it was the heat and fumes from the river of lava. We managed to get back in time for Miss Pear to wall it off and blocked its path from the forest with a new river fed from the cliffs.”

Thranduil looked to Glorfindel, “Lord Elrond wrote to us you had gone missing.”

Glorfindel nodded, “Not missing, per se, I wished to find Miss Pear’s company again. Good timing too managed to find these two following after her.”

Legolas smiled widely, “Yes Ada, she kidnapped us!”

To which you rolled your eyes and smeared the grime across your forehead with your hand as you groaned out, “I did not kidnap you!”

Thranduil, “Why would you not kidnap my son and Captain?!” Seemingly offended by your rejection, “They are well distinguished-,”

Your hand rose and you stated, “I believe this must be a translation error. When you kidnap someone you take them unwillingly from their families and lives with usually the intention of a ransom to return them alive. Usually dismemberment is involved to force payment.”

Tauriel, “Yes, you kidnapped us.”

Again you groaned out, “You’re all maddening.” Shaking your head.

Thranduil, “Come, we will wash you up and we can discuss ransom.”

Lowly you mumbled back, “Fine…”

Legolas beside you was nearly skipping saying proudly to his father, “Bound up and everything,” seemingly stirring a smirk onto his face at the gesture of force now that he was free.

Shirtless you found yourself in the bathhouse with the Healers around you using the crystal lanterns you conjured to light the room to help in their careful cleaning and inspection of our wounds that easily healed before your private bath. The sight of you out of your shirt still stunning the Elves with your toned slender partially starved frame clearly showing a cat like quality attributes to your growing strength to ready you for the next phase of your shift.

On full display with your full bust held up by your bra making the Elleths wonder how it was constructed. Another topic added to the list of topics to touch on once you were scrubbed and changed into some cut off sweats and a tank top in a blue matching your hair you were winding up into a high bun. At your bag again you found the King, who watched you pull out a sphinx topped obsidian decorated hair comb to secure the bun in place leading to his curiosity at a Wizard having such an expensive looking adornment. While curiously his eyes trailed around your ears with three piercings in each, simple studs and tight hoops each with stars of a compass on them.

Thranduil, “Miss Pear, these volcanoes, how did you come by this knowledge?”

“My family is sort of, experts on the topic. Questions?”

“Yes.” At that you nodded and from your bag pulled out a stack of books on volcanoes tilting his head and luring Elves closer to inspect the brightly illustrated books. Curiously he asked while your trio joined you again freshly bathed and changed, “Why is your family so, attracted to these volcanoes.” Briefly you paused then told him about your curse.

And Glorfindel stated in a pat of his hand on your shoulder, “You see, her curse and young Bilbo’s all in one.”

Thranduil looked you over, “Why would that woman curse your ancestor?”

Softly you exhaled then stated, “She claimed she was cast off by her lover, who then chose my namesake as his bride for her pure heart. The woman said she would show the world just how pure her heart actually was, and that she could be just as cruel as another to save herself and her children. Only she refused. Most of the women did, and my family took, measures, to not have daughters.”

Thranduil, “Measures?”

“I would rather not say. But eventually a daughter came around and in belief the curse was no longer valid after being bested for so long, they chose the same name to rub it in. Only, she sprouted fangs after giving birth to her third daughter, and she sent her family away while she went to a city called Pompeii.” Opening another of the books you showed them the moving picture on the eruption. “But she was too late, it had been passed on and she turned anyways. Nearly killed her husband. They never touch their children though. They can smell their scent on their children.”

Tauriel, “She killed these people, for nothing..”

Another book was brought out, “One girl succeeded, Krakatoa. One of the longest eruptions recorded. But her brother was the one whose line I came from. They carry the dormant curse in their blood. Assumed he was safe. But his girls all refused, and turned until I came along. I know it’s cruel-,”

Thranduil’s hand claimed yours, “The curse is cruel. Your children are safe now. Our people are safe for not having to watch you suffer through the change. Glorfindel is safe from losing you. Now, food, and then bed. You have had a difficult few days, as we all have.”

 ..

It was hard to fall asleep with echoes of those screams and that first crack of the earth. Surely it would haunt you forever, yet the support of your Elven friends and Lord whom you had supposedly shared intentions with who was now calling you darling helped to shut your eyes. And once they were closed you were gone to the world, lost in hopeless dreams of nonsensical wonder with the murmurs of “Darling,” lulling you back to consciousness. A cart with food had been rolled in and with a flower bulb in a vase of water he set by your bed.

Deeply you inhaled brushing your curls from your face asking in a groggy slide to sit up, “What did I miss?”

Lowly Glorfindel chuckled and sat beside you on the bed, “King Thranduil sent for a private breakfast for you, to allow you to rest while he tries to inspect the inner circle of the forest. The smoke has dropped again in the outer rings.”

“How easy is it to climb up those trees?”

“Fairly, for those who have practice in it.”

With a nod you asked, “If I asked, would you be able to carry me up to the canopy?”

“Of course.”

“Alright,” you said sliding your covers down to move to the table in your room to eat while he stood and claimed the seat beside you stealing glances at you in setting up the table.

Timidly after a few moments he asked, “Are you asking?”

With a nod you said, “Yes, after food of course.”

A grin began to split across his lips in responding, “Of course.”

.

Fully fed you pulled on socks, jeans and your boots again joining the Lord out of the castle with wand in hand until you reached the tree and accepted the piggy back hold from the Lord, who drew the eye of the returning King and guards a third of the way up the tree. Into the smoke you vanished using bubble charms to breathe and a glowing lantern to light your path up until you were upright standing through the pitch black canopy. Lowly you muttered, “Ventus Tria,” swirling your wand in a circle stirring up a spiraling gust of wind that rose above you encircling a great stretch of the forest sucking up the smoke from under the canopy in a brighter yet still dim glimpse of the sun.

Open mouthed the Lord watched the clear moment pass and the smoke descend again, only to wash down over the rippling barrier charm you set around the forest giving off a faint rippling glow down to the ground before fading from sight. Glorfindel wet his lips and asked, “Was that all?”

“Bout all I can do. I can’t force a wind enough to blast it all away, but I can keep the smoke from coming in again. Not much, but it’s something.”

Glorfindel, “It is so much more than not much. I assume if the smoke has reached Rivendell Lord Elrond would have been welcomed to your aid as well.”

In a gasp you said, “I forgot about them. It must stretch for miles…”

Glorfindel, “I will climb down now.” Tightly you held on to him and your wand until you were on the ground in the circle of awed Elves looking you over.

Moving closer to the King when let down you asked, “Would you let me set a door to Rivendell and, well I’d have to visit Lothlorien too, in your kingdom?”

“A door?”

“So I won’t have to go weeks on foot, I can use the door and just pass from one to the other.”

Thranduil, “That is possible?”

“Anything’s possible.” You said with a hint of a smirk making him turn and hurry after you back to a seemingly open hallway out of the way by a garden you enchanted to have a wooden door with an owl etched into it.

Easing it open you started in Rivendell, or what you knew to be the location of the thriving city now pitch black from thick smoke and ash. All around you an explosion of glowing balls of light lined each hall and courtyard while muffled whispered conversations of the Elves from Greenwood timidly inspected the walkway in a main garden you had landed in. In a huff you strode to the next opening in the walkway and hopped up onto the half wall turning around to stand, gripping the roof of it you scrambled your way up onto with the help of two guards pushing your feet up.

Awkwardly you walked to a decorative spike looping your arm around it saying, “You may want to hold onto something, Ventus Tria.” All at once a heavy gust cleared the courtyard and in a sideways walk across the roof you sent the spell out into the next section of the city clearing a greater path.

In your clambering path across the roof the Elves hiding inside believed the calls of the Elves outside to peer out at the gently lit city with the smoke clearing until all the living sections of Rivendell you then locked in a barrier in time to see Elrond in the courtyard below turning to look at you in shock. Thranduil took his side sharing what had happened only to turn with Elrond at Arwen’s shriek in your backwards slide off the other side of the ash coated tile roof.

Another crack and a badly dented shrub later you squeaked out in pain only to be swarmed by Elves hoping to help you up. Your wand was in tact, more than you could say about your arm. “It is not broken,” Elrond said peering up at you seated with your forehead on Glorfindel’s shoulder avoiding to look at the swelling and throbbing arm, “Badly fractured.”

“I’m sorry about your bush.”

Unable to help it Elrond chuckled and said, “I do believe with proper supports we can mend it.” After a gentle cradling of your arm he said, “Let us get you to our healing wing so we might do the same with your arm.” That had Glorfindel scooping you up into his arms to carry you while the Lord stabilized your arm. It barely took ten minutes and ignoring sight of the metal cast they had made for you the curious Elves followed you to Lothlorien where you set up another door at the base of a circle of trees encircling a courtyard. Peering upwards you heard the scrambling of Elves to block out the smoke.

Not giving them a chance to talk you were seen racing off towards a tree that led up to Celeborn’s quarters off the main greeting ledge. Shaking their heads the Elves chased after Glorfindel in his muttering, “Sure, let us just go and fracture your other arm, Darling…”

Against the burning of your lungs and legs you cursed your way up the impossible staircase too far up to quit until you were in the Lord’s quarters seeing him halting his pacing to look you over. Still looking up you walked from one room to the next straight for an open wall hearing Celeborn questioning Glorfindel, who managed to grab you and help you up onto his back so he could climb you up to the canopy through the calming pants of Thranduil and Elrond between gasping tries to explain what you were doing.

The higher you went the more glowing orbs you had to send out making you mutter, “I don’t understand, why is it so dark here? Angmar is too far away, it should be darkest there.”

A burst of wind and a barrier later he turned to head back down again and into the room of Lords you muttered, “I don’t understand,” plopping into a chair smoothing your hand over your mouth in thought staring off into the distance.

Glorfindel approached the others explaining, “The smoke is darker here than above Greenwood.”

Celeborn, “Yes, we saw the smoke from the North and not five hours past more from the South.”

At that your head perked up and you said, “Mordor! Of course! Oh Rohan must be-, I have to make another door!” Suddenly you aparated the group down to the ground making them turn around curiously wondering how you had done it only to see another door you raced through.

Coughing harshly you found yourself in the center of the throne room and another wind charm was sent off starting the task of freeing the trapped villagers from their houses you burst into to clear and seal each before sealing off their city. Into the main courtyard you went hearing the curious Men gathering to look you and the Elves over in the few moments you lingered until you vanished through another door without reason or time for them to thank you.

“Oh, this-,” Coughing harshly even through your bubble charm you cleared ring after ring blasting the gates blocking the next off open arguing to the guards who had refused to open them, “You can’t breathe, what good is the gate?” Another gust of wind had the Men staring in awe at your race away sealing off section after section you lit with more glowing crystal lanterns until you were atop the overlook.

In the distance you eyed the glowing red lava flowing freely from the clearly destroyed black gates and the stretching fires blazing towards you sure to reach Gondor in a matter of days. “I need a map,” turning around you blew open the doors the King’s chambers and raced into each room you entered and spun around in until you found the King’s study where you found a pile of maps Elrond helped you to lay out in your soft lingering coughs.

Elrond, “What are we looking for?”

“I need water,” Pointing at the map you said, “Osgiliath, I need to go to Osgiliath..”

At your race around the table to the door again he asked, “Why?!”

Again following you the Lords watched you race to the new doorway straight into the heart of Osgiliath where you held your breath and their eyes widened seeing the waters on the borders rose up in a wall you began to flood out into the sky in a spiraling column that fell on the lands right beside the fires. More and more you sent walls of water to fall onto the flames after summoning a rainstorm at the charred and smoking lands stretching to Mordor helping to halt the spread of the slowly cooling lava and taking a great deal of the smoke with it.

Back through the doorway when the fires had been left to smoke you destroyed the door behind you once all the Lords were confirmed to have returned to prevent others from using it. Lowly you muttered, “Ok, so I killed the ring and that set off Mt Doom, double smoke, double trouble…ok, I have no clue where Iron Hills is, or anyone there, so all I have left is to check on Erebor.”

Back through the doors you went destroying those between Gondor and Rohan while Celeborn said you could leave the one from his kingdom to Rohan on your way back through Rivendell to Greenwood where you summoned your bag and made another door right inside the main gate of the mountain you had rightly guessed was sealed up airtight.

Floor after floor you checked the mountain only to stop in the bathhouse calling out, “Guys?!” A shadow in the water had you summoning a brighter ball of light making you mumble seeing the Kelpie and hippocampus freely swimming in the waters, “What did you do?”

Thranduil, “What is that?”

“Harmless, if those are free, that means-,” a roar of a Sphinx had you turning to race through the mountain hearing shouts and cries of  the Dwarves and things being thrown.

 **

“What was that?” Kili asked in a whisper.

Dwalin, “For the last time-,” a distant purring had his sentence die and the glimmer of eyes in the dark reflecting the light of the torches nearing them had a curse slip from the warrior’s lips.

“Guys?!” Faintly your voice echoed and the clicking of claws and a low growl had the group on their feet.

Lowly Thorin in his nudge to his consort’s side rumbled, “Get to the study.” In the next snarl he pushed him mildly and said, “Bolt the door!” shoving Fili and Kili as well while Nori and Dori urged Ori as well. The men all readied unarmed but grabbed what they could to hurl at the creature now with another pair of eyes behind it.

Dwalin, “Must be the totems..” He said hurling a table at one of them making the one on the right lunge forward to avoid it making his lips part seeing the woman’s face identical to yours on the creature with a cat’s body. Turning sharply he tugged Bofur back out of its reach urging him and his family onwards into the other room.

“Guys!”

Again they heard your voice and Dwalin shouted back, “Pluto!” Giving Oin a nudge back after Balin had joined Bifur through the door to the bath after the small study was packed and bolted.

Into the doorway you slid to a stop panting under a glowing line of floating orbs that filled the room and hall around you and you said, “Leave them alone.” The tone more of a plea than an order answered with a pair of growls from the Sphinx pair approaching Thorin and Dwalin who nudged Gloin back more into the bath.

Instantly your brows furrowed and you said, “Fine, No more riddles!” Turning on your heel making the now bristling pair halt in their tracks to glance back at you now being watched from down the hall by the panting Elf Lords exhausted from the goose chase you had been leading them on. Wide eyed with the Dwarves they watched you walking to the edge of the walkway without a rail to keep you from falling off making the creatures turn and bound after you.

Sharply at the edge their tails wrapped around your leg and uninjured arm and used their tails to drag you back from the edge to nuzzle with you. The press of your forehead to one had the Company creep out again pooling into the room to see you mumble, “Don’t hurt them Mom.”

The other stroked her cheek against yours and hummed, “If they are yours we will not.”

Your mother growled out, “There is no food.” Her eyes locking with yours.

“I know. They set you loose by mistake. I would have had food for you.”

Approaching the doorway Dwalin asked with Thorin at his side, “Mom?”

Your eyes met his then shifted to Thorin, “You’re not the only one with a blood curse on your family. My Mom and Gran. How is Bilbo?”

Between them Bilbo poked his head out saying, “I am here, all mended. I assume with you to thank for it.”

“Found a way to break your curse and mine. I had hoped to get back and handle Thorin myself, only it seems you beat me to it.”

Dwalin, “It couldn’t wait. We did everything just how you did.”

Ori, “Only your totems were gone when Thorin was healed.”

Thorin, “And there is something in the bathhouse.”

“My Kelpie and Hippocampus. Perfectly harmless, temperamental but safe to live with. I hoped to tell you about them, and these two, before setting them loose. The totems can only be used once a moon phase or they free the creatures inside.”

Dwalin, “I, did not know that.”

Onto your feet you climbed and said, “Down in the main floor, follow this orb, you can reach the river there they funnel to the farming peaks, there are ample fish there for you.” The pair purred and contently followed the glowing orb while you turned to face the Dwarves again, who had just noticed the Elves, “Now, both the volcanoes in Mordor and Angmar have let off smoke, pretty much all of eastern Middle Earth is covered in it. Any clue on how airtight Iron Hills is. Might have to send word to them as well.”

Dwalin, “How do you suppose we do that? Smoke like this we’ll never get a raven out.”

With a smirk you summoned another doorway and the Elves groaned and entered the apartment the Dwarves were in to plop down onto the couches and chairs remaining there with Legolas saying, “I am not moving.”

In a giggle you eyed them and heard Dwalin stating, “Best you stay here, Lass. With them. Dain won’t be in the best of moods.” Over to Glorfindel you walked curling a leg you raised to sit on his lap stirring an exhausted grin onto his face while shouts filled the Dwarven halls of the Iron Hills. The grin on your face dimmed as you counted on your fingers the totem you had, “Nundu,” the mating pair you had shrunk had you leaping up muttering, “Where did you go…?”  

The Elves remained behind only to have their eyes flinch wider at the prickly head sliding over Thranduil’s arm making his lips purse a moment. In a clearing of his throat he asked, “Just who might you be?” The playful purr next was not expected as the giant cat slid up the King’s torso to lean against his chest nuzzling her head into the wide eyed King’s chin signaling Tauriel to slip out of the room to silently chase after you when another poked his head out from under Celeborn’s robes hanging under the chair he was in.

In his roll over the giant prickly cat batted his paw at a tassel contently purring until you came back into the room and the male wiggled out to rub up against you and hop up onto your shoulders stunning the men at the weightless giant cat now stroking his cheek against yours. Moments before the pair lounged out on the carpet for a nap after having clearly found the fish days prior aiding in the female’s rounded belly showing she had conceived and was readying for her coming cubs.

Clearing his throat again Thranduil asked, “Miss Pluto, who, might your friends be?”

In a smirk you went back to Glorfindel’s lap saying, “Rosko and Bumble.”

Thranduil, “Ah,”

“We’re not related. But they are family. Found them as cubs set for being put down when taken from an illegal breeder.”

Celeborn, “Are you a certified breeder?”

“No, but I had gold. Silence was a bargain that day.”

[ravynfyre]

Togo, the REAL hero of the Nome Diptherea Serum Run

Togo was ill as a young puppy and required intensive nursing from Seppala's wife. He was very bold and rowdy, thus seen as "difficult and mischievous", showing "all the signs of becoming a ... canine delinquent" according to one reporter. At first, this behaviour was interpreted as evidence that he had been spoiled by the individual attention given to him during his illness. As he did not seem suited to be a sled dog, Seppala gave him away to be a pet dog at 6 months of age. After only a few weeks as a house pet, Togo jumped through the glass of a closed window and ran several miles back to his original master's kennel. This devotion to the team impressed Seppala, so he did not try to give him away again. However, Togo continued to cause trouble by breaking out of the kennel when Seppala took the team out on runs. He would attack the lead dogs of oncoming teams, "as if ... to clear the way for his master". However, one day, he attacked a much stockier malamute leader and was mauled and severely injured. When he recovered, Togo stopped attacking other teams' lead dogs. This would eventually prove a valuable early experience, as it was difficult to teach a lead dog to keep a wide berth of oncoming teams. When Togo was 8 months old, he proved his worth as a sled dog. He had run after the team yet again and slept, unnoticed, near the cabin where Seppala was spending the night. The next day, Seppala spotted him far off in the distance, and understood why his dogs had been so keyed up. Togo continued to make Seppala's work difficult, trying to play with the work dogs and leading them in "charges against reindeer", pulling them off the trail. Seppala had no choice but to put him in a harness to control him, and was surprised that Togo instantly settled down. As the run wore on, Seppala kept moving Togo up the line until, at the end of the day, he was sharing the lead position with the lead dog (named "Russky"). Togo had logged 75 miles on his first day in harness, which was unheard of for an inexperienced young sled dog, especially a puppy. Seppala called him an "infant prodigy", and later added that "I had found a natural-born leader, something I had tried for years to breed" Togo began training, and after a few years filled the lead dog position. He became one of Seppala's most treasured dogs, a close and mutually beneficial relationship that would continue to the end of Togo's life. At the time of the historic Serum Run, he was 12 years old and had been a lead dog for 7 years. According to the historian Earl Aversano, in 1960, in his old age, Seppala recalled "I never had a better dog than Togo. His stamina, loyalty and intelligence could not be improved upon. Togo was the best dog that ever traveled the Alaska trail. "The first batch of 300,240 units of serum was delivered by train from Anchorage to Nenana, Alaska, where it was picked up by the first of twenty mushers and more than 100 dogs who relayed the serum a total of 674 miles (1,085 km) to Nome, Togo and Seppala traveled 170 miles (274 km) from Nome in three days, and picked up the serum in Shaktoolik on January 31 - The temperature was estimated at −30 °F (−34 °C), and the gale force winds causing a wind chill of −85 °F (−65 °C). The return trip crossed the exposed open ice of the Norton Sound. The night and a ground blizzard prevented Seppala from being able to see the path but Togo navigated to the roadhouse at Isaac's Point on the shore by 8 PM preventing certain death to his team. After traveling 84 miles (134 km) in one day, the team slept for six hours before continuing at 2 AM. Before the night the temperature dropped to −40 °F (−40 °C), and the wind increased to 65 mi/h (105 km/h). The team ran across the ice, which was breaking up, while following the shoreline. They returned to shore to cross Little McKinley Mountain, climbing 5,000 feet (1,500 m). After descending to the next roadhouse in Golovin, Seppala passed the serum to Charlie Olsen, who in turn would pass it to Gunnar Kaasen and Balto. Katy Steinmetz in Time Magazine wrote that “the dog that often gets credit for eventually saving the town is Balto, but he just happened to run the last, 55-mile leg in the race. The sled dog who did the lion's share of the work was Togo. His journey, fraught with white-out storms, was the longest by 200 miles and included a traverse across perilous Norton Sound — where he saved his team and driver in a courageous swim through ice floes."

Credit: Laura Mathews

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2019, Day 24: Sunrise/Sunset

The ground was dark, the grass wet with dew and shrouded in shadow. Crickets and cicadas chittered noisily from every direction, and the deep blue sky was smudged with a bright nimbus of yellow, orange, red, and pink. The large, looming mountains that ringed Hinamizawa's small township were hulking masses of shadow in the predawn light, hemming in the anciently-thatched collection of small buildings.

"Ugh…"

Keiichi Maebara hung bodily over the worn wooden railings that fenced off the outcrop near Furude Shrine. The centuries-old wood was smooth, dew-damp, and heavy, holding up the drowsy-eyed brunette easily as he drooped over it like a wilted stem of grass.

Why did I agree to this?

"Still feeling sleepy, Keiichi-kun?" a disgustingly chipper voice came from his other side –though Rena did sound more tired than normal. The auburn-haired teen wore her usual white dress, and her purple bows were tied as neatly as ever at her throat and the small of her back, and her favorite white beret was at its usual angle on her head; the only concession to the abnormally early hour was the dimmer gleam of her blue eyes and the slight droop to her head as she leaned against one of the posts to the same fence he was draped over. She didn't seem concerned about the damp stone of the pavement under her white dress, or the potentiality of crawling bugs –like him, she was waiting.

"Oh-ho-ho~! It seems as though the two of you have grown too old to be waking up so early!" Satoko laughed triumphantly from one of the stone benches behind them, swinging her jean-shorts-clad legs exuberantly to and fro as she did. Rena spared her a fond smile, while Keiichi only grunted and weakly flapped a hand with a vague attempt at threatening menace.

Satoshi might have scolded his younger sister for her acerbic statement, but he was sprawled, asleep, with his back against the other low, armless stone bench, one arm folded over his chest as the other dragged against the ancient stone pavement. Even though, technically, they were all supposed to stay awake at this point, no one felt the need to disturb the pale, wan-faced boy's slumber.

"Mew, Satoko, you shouldn't be so mean. They did have to wake up earlier than we did to get here on time." Rika supplied cheerfully from Satoko's left side, wriggling her bare toes inside her loose white sandals. "Our house is right next to the shrine, after all."

"Hauuu…so…tired…" Hanyuu yawned from Rika's other side, leaning against her cousin with drooping eyes. Out of all of the gathered members, she was the most visibly exhausted; her long lilac hair was even curlier and more full of volume than normal, and the strap of her pink sundress had slipped over one shoulder as she leaned against Rika, half-asleep.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's with all the sleepyheads?" came an exuberant voice from behind the group, back towards the path that lead to the shrine, and Keiichi grunted and weakly turned his head to look as Rena raised her eyes and the trio on the bench glanced over their shoulders. Satoshi's eyes slid open as he lazily turned his cheek to glance towards the voice.

Mion Sonozaki stood at the entrance to the outcropping, flanked by shrubs and other various riotously growing summertime greenery, her sister Shion behind her. The elder Sonozaki twin was grinning, and a notepad was tucked under one arm, a pen behind her ear. "Aright losers, who's ready to greet the sun on this fine Midsummer's morning?"

"Me!" Rika trilled, raising her hand brightly.

"Ready, sir!" Satoko saluted, swiveling her hips to face herself the other way on the bench and cocking her arm in an exuberant, if probably not correct, salute.

"Hau..." Hanyuu yawned again, slumping slightly as the support of Rika's body shifted.

"All right, Mion, let's get this party started!" Keiichi said with forced energy, heaving himself away from the brink and groggily punching his fist in the air.

Rena stood up and smiled, locking her hands in front of herself. "Ready, Mi-chan!"

Satoshi slumped his way upright and yawned behind one hand, peering at the two green-haired twins in befuddled exhaustion. "Muu, why do we have to wake up before the sun does, Mion?"

"Like, duh!" Mion brandished the clipboard at her assembled companions like it was a policeman's badge, flashing her bright white teeth in a gleaming grin that was almost threatening in its enthusiasm. "Today is the summer solstice, the longest day of the entire year! We aren't wasting one single minute of daylight!"

"What Onee means, basically, is that today is the endurance trial for the Hinamizawa Club." Shion announced with equally ominous cheeriness, pointing one slender finger upright in illustration. "From the first light of the dawn until the last gleam of sunset, this summer solstice will hold an Olympic-level matchup between the fearsome members of our organization!"

"Hell yeah!" Keiichi showed wakefulness for the first time that morning, straightening his shoulders as he clenched his fists, periwinkle eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Today will be the day that the sun rises on Keiichi Maebara's empire! What's the first challenge, Mion?"

"Yeah, Mi-chan, what are we doing?"

"Bring it on!"

"Alright!" Mion laughed. "That's the kind of attitude I like to see from the Hinamizawa Club!"

She plucked out the pen that was tucked behind her ear and spun it rapidly around her fingers before putting its tip to the paper. "As you all know, I canvassed each member of the club for an activity that they'd like to see, host, and judge, and I, as your leader, have spaced these activities throughout the day accordingly. After we see the sunrise, and greet it appropriately, we'll retire to Rika and Satoko and Hanyuu's house for a spot of Russian Roulette Breakfast, suggested and hosted by our dear Rika Furude. Whoever can eat the most and tell us the most about what they ate wins –bonus points for not revealing it when you bite into something nasty. Following that, Rena Ryugu has submitted the contest of River-Raft Pooh Sticks –we each build a raft to the best of our ability, and the first person to drift past the suspension bridge on a raft without paddling, swimming, or otherwise helping move their raft in any way wins."

"That's why she said to bring our swimsuits." Keiichi muttered under his breath, eyes lifting upwards with his epiphany.

"Afterwards," Mion continued brightly, unfazed by his near-silent interruption. "-Satoko-chan has put forth the challenge of Mountain Capture the Flag. The same general rules of capture-the-flag apply, except we'll be holding it on Satoko's trap mountain!"

"Oh-ho-ho~!" Satoko cackled, holding a hand to her mouth, as everyone else shivered and edged away.

"In the next slot," Mion grinned, flashing her bright white teeth. "-my most munificent sister Shion has suggested a Frozen T-shirt Race –players must melt and then put on one of the waterlogged T-shirts that's been chilling in our freezer for a few days, then run a race from the shrine to the school and back. Afterwards, we'll have lunch for my own suggestion; a Picnic Basket Relay. Two-man teams will race to see who can lay down their picnic down first; one puts out the blanket and accoutrements, and their partner then puts it all back. This game has an additional penalty; whichever team comes in last has to set up everyone else's picnics for real before we eat, and clean everything up after."

"Mew, I hope everyone is a very neat eater." Rika chirped from the bench, closing her eyes and swinging her bare legs merrily as her green dress swished around them.

"Hehehe." Mion chuckled, her teal eyes glinting in a way that would more befit the Prince of Darkness than an average Japanese schoolgirl. "No promises. Anyways, after lunch, we have Keiichi's suggestion, which is your average game of Dodgeball –but with water balloons! Whoever stays the driest by the end of the time is our winner! That'll tide us over for a while, and then we have Satoshi's game –a Blanket Run! In the same teams as our Picnic Basket Relay, we will have one partner get on a blanket, and the other will drag them in a race across the lawn. But this is no ordinary race!"

Everyone jumped at Mion's sudden increase in exuberance; a fearsome thing, and something one would previously have thought impossible. The mint-haired leader of the Hinamizawa Club flourished her clipboard again, eyes gleaming as she assumed the stance of some victorious general about to lord it over her defeated foes. "The course of this blanket run is up the steps of the shrine, through the woods, across the stream, and then back to the school again, and the partner on the blanket may not leave the blanket at any time!"

There was a universal gasp and paling of faces; also, a decent amount of sparks glinting in the eyes of Mion's comrades as ambitions and plans were kindled, and thirst for blood rose.

"Following that, our dear Hanyuu Furude's suggestion; a Sponge Launch, in which our teams have one partner use a slingshot to launch a wet sponge at his or her teammate, who then catches it and wrings it out into a bucket. Whoever fills their bucket first, wins, however you might discover that finding your bucket is harder than it looks. To keep matters fair, the rest of these suggestions are of my own design, as there isn't quite enough time in the day to do a double-down for everyone else. And so!"

The clipboard was raised high to the sky.

"A rapid-fire set of endurance trails for our evening set! First! Firefall, in which we all gather tinder and firewood for our barbecue dinner, followed by a Marshmallow Race, in which we get American, and whoever roasts the most hotdogs and the best marshmallows for smores is our winner! Afterwards is our Christmas in July, in which we race to build the best forts out of any outdoor material we can find and then exchange a barrage of snowballs, in the form of more water balloons! Whoever lasts longest, without their fort falling apart or getting themselves wet, snatches the victory! Last but certainly not the least, a firefly-catching game, in which whoever catches the most fireflies before the sun sets is the winner! What do you say, my fine band of friends!"

The answer, as always, was unanimous. Every fist was clenched and punched into the air, and the words "HELL YEAH!" rolled across the predawn clearing.

Thus, the battle lines were drawn, and an almost palpable aura of readiness and bloodthirst shuddered across the dimly lit clearing as all eyes turned to the thin line of gold along the tree-studded horizon, and all minds turned to plans on how to snatch victory for themselves.

Mion, as usual, had calculated things to a nicety. It wasn't more than a few moments after she and her twin had arrived, that Satoko shouted aloud and pointed to the distant horizon, where a burningly bright sliver of orange-gold peeped over the edge of a mountain slope, scattering spear-like rays the same color of the inner flesh of a grapefruit over the velvety mass of trees.

"Whoohoo!" Keiichi cried, pumping both clenched fists in the air as the sun showed its edge, piercing a golden dot in lower edge of the rosy dawn sky. "Today, sun, you rise on my day of triumph!"

"Alright!" Rena laughed, waving merrily to the infinestably-slowly rising ball of fire as it crept millimeter by millimeter into the skyline. "I feel like today's going to be a fun day, I do!"

"Oh-ho-ho~!" Satoko laughed behind her hand, springing up onto the ancient wooden railing and hanging off it by her feet and one hand as she waved exuberantly to the sun with the other. "On this Midsummer's day I shall taste triumph over all you pathetic peasants! Oh-ho-ho~!"

"Mew. I feel like much blood will be spilled today." Rika chirped in the background, smiling as her violet eyes briefly closed.

"Hau, hauhauhau!" Hanyuu whimpered, clutching both hands to her petite chest. "W-who do you think will rise victorious?"

"Ha! That shall be none other than me, Shion Sonozaki!" the younger Sonozaki twin cackled, folding her arms as her teal eyes gleamed with confident bloodlust.

"Ahahaha!" Mion laughed. "Good, good, this is what I like to see! Well then, with the sun having dropped the checkered flag, let's all head to Rika's house and get ready for pain!"

Keiichi surveyed the battlefield grimly. After the group had all packed into Rika, Hanyuu, and Satoko-chan's dining room, which was also their bedroom, the meal had been laid out by an innocently-beaming Rika-chan on a low table in the center of the bare floor. Everything was a bit squished, since the room itself was small and there were eight inhabitants, but they made it work, especially since Rika-chan retired to the small kitchenette, wide, seeming-innocent violet eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

The brunet swallowed hard as he looked at the feast laid before them. Everyone had been given one paper plate of tamagoyaki, miso shiru, and natto, with a communal plate of salmon and pitcher of milk. Keiichi's right eye twitched as he surveyed his opponents, wondering who would be first to crack. Both Rena and the Sonozaki twins had scary-competent poker faces, so they were currently his biggest threats. Satoko was a grinning demon, used to expressing her emotions, and Hanyuu practically radiated everything she felt, so they were not as likely to come out on top.

Rika-chan was already munching on her own breakfast with a notepad close by, cheerfully immune to any suffering the rest of them would be cast into within the next few minutes. Keiichi's eyes narrowed; perhaps that would give her an undue advantage in the next course, as she wouldn't be curled around her stomach and writhing in agony.

"Well!" Mion scoffed, snapping her chopsticks apart briskly and grinning at the meal laid out before them. "It's not gonna get eaten just by staring at it! Let's get this party started!"

The others followed her example, some with bravado, some cautiously, and Keiichi gulped again as he looked at his portion. The "tell what you ate" was such an obvious blind; it was clear that this was just an excuse for Rika-chan to feed them disgusting ingredients and watch them struggle to save face. But what to sample first…

The milk was probably alright, but he couldn't smell anything untoward from the rest of the meal, and that worried him. Cautiously, Keiichi reached for the pitcher and poured himself some, taking a sip of milk to calm his nerves.

He nearly choked as an obnoxiously salty taste assaulted his tastebuds, but managed to swallow quickly as the others looked in his direction.

"Something wrong, Kei-chan?" Shion grinned, and he managed a feral grin of his own, fingers tense around the cup, before his eyes slid to Rika, who was smirking to herself in a way rather indecent of a cherubic-looking ten-year-old.

She put salt in the milk! No wonder I couldn't smell anything –its soluble!

That sort of diabolical planning was par for the course with the club, and Keiichi seethed at being caught out by it so easily.

"Oh-ho-ho~! I'm glad Keiichi-san fell for such an obvious trap –it shows the rest of us what not to do!" Satoko crowed gleefully, red eyes gleaming at him. "Such a stupid mistake –why on earth would such a small pitcher of milk be used to serve all seven of us? Its obvious that there's something in it we won't like, which will limit our consumption! Oh-ho-ho~!"

She cackled gleefully, and Keiichi scowled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Alright, so what?!" he barked back. "The milk's got salt in it. It's no problem! Its fine! I could eat this whole damn meal and never flinch!"

Mion laughed, and the game was on again as Rika made a single mark on her notepad.

Keiichi soon ate his words –quite literally– as he decided to commit everything to a simple strategy; scarf down everything in front of him in the hopes that the taste would not register until he had already swallowed, and get the entire charade over with in a single fell swoop.

He regretted this strategy quite fast, as a medley of different disgusting flavors met his tongue –hot, spicy, sour, salty, and bitter, and Hinamizawa's Magician of the Mouth howled in agony, a burst of steam escaping his mouth as he collapsed back onto the tatami matt, twitching vacantly with comatose eyes.

Rika made a mark on her notepad. "Keiichi's first out." she commented brightly.

The remaining combatants looked at each other uneasily, watching Keiichi quiver on the ground like a broken insect as something misty that they were fairly sure looked like a chibified version of his soul hovered above his slackened mouth.

As Keiichi had predicted, it was indeed Rena who won this challenge of bluff and tells, and it was she who led the other club members outside, groaning and clutching their stomachs, minus Rika, who was all-too-cheerful at the success of her game.

"Let's get changed!" Rena chirped brightly, indicating the canvas bags everyone had brought their effects in and left by the stoop of the house, and Satoshi bent down to haul the still mostly-comatose Keiichi behind the shed, the brunet's heels dragging in the dirt and leaving two furrows behind him. Satoshi dropped him and came back for their satchels, carrying both back with him so they could change and afford the girls their privacy.

In the interests of fairness, Rena had merely told Mion that a swimsuit was necessary and made her commit to a decision before telling her what kind of contest they would be staging, so therefore the club president was no more prepared than the rest of them, except for Rena herself. She, Satoko, Rika, and Hanyuu were all in their school swimsuits, while Mion had opted for her two-piece red swimsuit, and Shion her blue flower-print bikini.

The girls were just pulling on their shirts when Keiichi and Satoshi walked back around the edge of the building, both in swim trunks and sandals, with weathered T-shirts of their own. Keiichi had revived somewhat and was walking under his own power, though he still looked a bit groggy.

"Alright!" Rena giggled, skipping a little as she led them down to the bridge crossing the river near the Furude Shrine. Bugs darted around the group's faces in the humid summer heat, and so the cool breeze and the scent of water as they walked out onto the steel expansion was welcome. Rena pointed down the dark, blue-green ribbon to a place upstream.

"You guys can build and launch your rafts down there, I left a flag at the starting point. The first person to drift past the bridge right here on their raft without paddling, swimming, or helping themselves whatsoever wins!"

"So basically, we just need to craft a raft and sit on it, and let the current carry us." Satoko replied, eyes narrowed as the wind ruffled her short blonde hair.

"Exactly!" Rena chirped. "You can lay on it, or drape yourself across it, but you still have to be mostly on your raft when you cross the bridge."

"Alright!" Mion laughed, cracking her knuckles. "Bring it on, you guys!"

"Muu, w-we won't let you take our victory so easily!" Satoshi cried, clenching his fist and attempting to look intimidating as Keiichi swayed groggily beside him. He grabbed the other boy by the shoulders and bodily steered him towards the other end of the bridge, where the path that led to their assumed docking point started. "C'mon, Keiichi-san!"

Satoko studied her options carefully. The pebbly beach that led to the water was safe enough, she supposed. The problem was the actual construction of the raft itself –Rena had left them only a few coils of light rope each and a sharp, long knife. They would have to, quite literally, build their rafts from scratch, and not only must these rafts float, they must also be light enough to carry a person…and tough enough to deal with any interference from the rival players.

Logs, she decided. Bind together logs with the rope. They would be buoyant enough to carry her, and solid and heavy enough to stand up to all but the most determined punishment. Thus thinking, Satoko grabbed her knife and brandished it, looking around the small scrap of clear space for some proper saplings. She was too small and far too weak to chop down an actual tree, so she would have to either settle for their straighter branches or the trunks of the more slender new growths.

She spotted some delicate, thin branches over the crest of a small slope. Perfect –those would be growing from saplings of the right size.

Machete in hand, swatting a few errant bugs with her other, Satoko climbed through the undergrowth, well aware that time was a problem as well as the proficiency of her craftmanship –she could build a sea-worthy raft, probably, given enough time, but there wasn't any time. She needed to build her raft and get it out on the water before any of the others, because then her victory was practically assured. It didn't matter if she built the slowest raft in existence, if she got it out when everyone else was still fumbling for raw material, the sheer size of her head start would bring her triumph, in the end.

The saplings were birch, white and slender, and Satoko knelt beside the nearest one, starting to hack at the base with her knife. Even with her childlike strength, it only took a dozen chops before the sapling was severed from its base, and Satoko gripped and lifted it briefly, testing how heavy her new log was.

Not bad. She could probably carry two or three.

She shimmied to the side, and a few quick scrapes with the knife rid her of any dragging, trailing branches, and she got to work on the next trunk. Before long, Satoko had a decent pile of about size or seven trunks, with the accompanying litter of discarded branches and leaf debris, and she exhaled in satisfaction, wiping some sweat off her brow with the back of her wrist. Grabbing as many trunks as she could lift –four– Satoko began to haul them laboriously back to the beach.

When she got there, it was clear what everyone else's plan of attack was. Keiichi and Shion, with their wretched high-end urban education, were clearly copying designs taught to them in class –while Satoko was merely going to construct a simple square raft, they were both obviously trying to craft more streamlined designs in the same method. Time would tell whether or not the increased construction time would be balanced by the swifter movement in the water.

With Keiichi, probably not. He seemed more focused on his design appearing functional than being functional, and Satoko quietly but smugly edged him out of her mental check of the race. Form was not more important than function, and focusing on the latter was a sure way to lose this game.

Mion, on the other hand, seemed to be trying for something similar to Satoko, but her tree trunks were thicker, and she seemed to be planning to layer them in a grind, for greater durability. Satoko would have to watch out for that.

Rika was also very clearly going for the streamline design, with a raft longer than it was wide –if Satoko was reading her right, the blue-haired miko was planning to construct something similar to a surfboard, something she could float upon on her belly and slide through the water with. Another design to be wary of.

Hanyuu, somehow and strangely, was weaving branches of a plant Satoko didn't directly recognize into a circular shape, apparently planning to create a raft like a dish. Satoko didn't understand the logic behind such a decision, and was therefor also wary of it

Yes, Hanyuu and Rika would be her main concerns here –the older club members may have more craft and guile, but the three who shared Rika's house had one thing in common: they were all much smaller, and required smaller rafts and less cumbersome materials to keep them floating. The three of them would all likely be launching at the same time, or near it, and their designs would be so different that it was hard to say which one would have the most immediate head start.

Satoko turned her head to cast a concerned eye on her brother. Satoshi was working patiently, and seemed to be crafting a raft halfway between hers and Rika's –long and thin, but with longer logs bound together with rope, rather than Rika's series of short, flat ones. That would be something to watch out for, too.

The blonde trap-master focused back on her work, smirking in anticipation. The raft wasn't the only thing she was planning to make for this race, oh no.

Satoshi swallowed nervously as he dragged his finished raft to the water's edge, pushing it in carefully. It floated, which was one goal accomplished, and he quickly followed the wooden construct into the shallows, grabbing the rough edges of the outermost logs and laying himself stomach-down on his craft as the current began to tug it forward. He would feel pretty stupid if he lost because his raft ran away from him.

Keiichi-san was the only one behind him, now –all the others had already launched their rafts, with Rika-chan, Satoko, and Hanyuu-chan starting off first. Since Shion and Mion-san had started off somewhat earlier than he had, Satoshi calmly folded his arms, resting his chin on them and relaxing as the current carried the raft. The wet, green, growing scent of the river surrounded him, the birds twittering in the trees alongside the banks and the irritating gnats and suchlike banished to the water's edge. The sun was warm on his back, the water cool, not cold, and everything was peaceful.

If this wasn't a race, he might have dozed.

There was a splash behind him at some slight distance, proving that the last club member had entered the race, and Satoshi raised his head a little, looking ahead. He could just spot Mion and Shion's backs, nearing a curve in the river.

Well, there wasn't anything he could do…now…

Satoshi blinked as Keiichi passed by him, a clumsy T-bar of logs fastened to his raft, and from it hung…his shirt?

Yes, Keiichi had removed his shirt and was floating bare-chested down the river, using his shirt like a sail and grinning madly at Satoshi as he passed by!

"See you on the flip side, loser!" the brunet crowed triumphantly as he floated ahead, and Satoshi shrugged and nestled his chin back down into his folded arms. If he lost he lost –Satoshi's raft was too small and thin to support him sitting up on it at all: the only thing he could do to increase his speed was straighten his feet so they didn't drag in the water behind him, and since the current was coming from behind, having some drag was actually beneficial, because it gave the water something to push against.

There were shrieks from up ahead, and the two boys blinked as they neared the bend in the river.

"Oh my god –look, there's a trap!"

"Go back! Go back! Its –ack!"

The second cry was cut off with a splash, and Keiichi and Satoshi looked at each other uneasily. But it was too late to think of whatever vague retreat they could accomplish –they had rounded the bend in the river, and Satoshi was just in time to see Mion squirm strangely on her raft, something white and thin bobbing alongside her, then fumble and drop off with another splash. Her head popped above the water as her raft floated some distance down the stream, scowling in disgust.

Then Satoshi saw the trap.

Someone –no prizes for guessing who– had saved some of their rope and made a lasso, which they had swung across the river and caught tightly on a branch, then somehow fixed to the other side of the bank. Knowing Satoko, she'd probably tied some logs together in an X to form a rough grapple and made sure to catch it between some rocks.

The end result was a cord stretched diagonally across the river at roughly navel-height for the kneeling club members, and it had unseated both Mion and Shion, the younger twin currently swimming for her remote raft, already some distance down the river.

Keiichi looked in both directions frantically, but there was no way to duck under the trap. In a last-ditch attempt, as the current swept him closer to his doom, he reached out and grabbed the string, trying to pull it up and over his makeshift sail, but alas, too late. The string caught near the top, and the slow inevitably force of the current overset the raft and dunked Keiichi, just as it had dunked the two Sonozaki siblings.

Satoshi, lying flat, passed right under the rope easily. He wondered for a moment, as Keiichi flailed and spluttered to the surface, if that had been intentional on Satoko's part, and paused to give Shion a sympathetic wave as he floated by her frantic attempts to remount her raft without using the distant bottom of the river or by delaying her time in getting to a bank.

Thus Satoshi moved up to the middle of the race.

The cries of Keiichi, Shion, and Mion became fainter as he floated on, and Satoshi was fairly sure that he heard several more splashes, as if they were engaging in some creative interference on each other by themselves. That would only further the distance between them, though, as the trio focused on petty revenge and unseating their rivals instead of getting ahead –and so Satoshi floated on, unconcerned, and feeling pretty good about his chances to win, or at least, not come in last.

He drifted on the river current for a little while longer –enough to privately vow to do this again sometime, under less strenuous circumstances and on a more comfortable raft– before the river curved again, the current rushing a little faster as the water was forced around a sharp turn. His goal lay before him, the distant line of the suspension bridge crossing the river as a thin grey smudge. Lighter, higher shrieks and triumphant laughter carried back to him over the water's surface, and he could spot three indistinct splotches of color, much closer, on the river. Satoko's diabolic cackling in particular was distinctive, and Satoshi sighed through his nose as there was a despairing cry and a splash. What was his sister getting into now?

Apparently, he saw as he floated closer, Satoko's bag of tricks had not ended with the tripwire. She had somehow gotten clods of dirt –not hard enough to injure, but certainly heavy and dense enough to hurt a little when thrown and do damage to rafts– in a rough-woven basket on her raft and was throwing them gleefully at both Rika and Hanyuu…at least in theory, because it seemed as though Hanyuu's frantic attempts to dodge had overset her own raft, and the small lilac-haired Furude was paddling with her raft over to the bank, "hauhauhau"ing her distress all the way.

"Mew, Satoko, no fair!" Rika cried petulantly, arms over her head, as Satoko bombarded her with pellets, her raft slowing a little as she wiggled to try and avoid them.

"Club Rule Number Two: You are required to put forth all your effort into getting first place, no matter what!" Satoko replied with a wicked grin as she floated closer, reaching out and overturning the raft as Rika squealed and spluttered.

Satoshi sank lower on his raft and guiltily attempted to look inconspicuous as he floated past Hanyuu, who had by now managed to kneel again on her dish-shaped raft and continue forward.

Rika surfaced again and spat out a stream of water –directly at Satoko– before shaking her wet curtain of hair out of her face and paddling towards her best friend, vengeance in her innocently-gleaming violet eyes.

"Rika –Rika, no, don't you dare-!" Satoko squeaked as the miko swam closer, grinning evilly as her blonde friend gulped. "Rikaaaaaaa!"

Satoko wailed as her own raft was overset by a strong push from below, surfacing with a splash as she immediately swept her hand out, flicking a wave of water at her best friend.

"How dare you!"

Rika and Satoko promptly began a splash-fight, either ignoring or not cognizant of Satoshi and his raft as he quietly floated by, instead too focused on making the other pay for their overset.

"Hau, and serves you right." Hanyuu said primly as she drifted by the two, and then squealed as they exchanged a glance and promptly overset her as well, splashing the lilac-haired goddess for good measure when she came up, spluttering.

Satoshi blinked and turned his head a little as he floated onwards, leaving the trio several dozen yards behind him. Wasn't he…in first now?

Let's see, Keiichi-san, Mion-san, Shion, Satoko, Hanyuu-chan, Rika-chan…yes, he was in first.

Huh.

Satoshi shrugged quietly to himself and settled down against his raft, lowering his eyes and sleepily gazing out at the world as he quietly drifted towards the bridge.

"The winner of the River-Raft Pooh Sticks competition is…Satoshi Hojo!" Rena announced happily, blinking a little as she looked over the others, who were all in varying stages of dripping wet and grumpy about it, while Satoshi, standing at her side, was the only one who was but mildly damp. "Did you guys have fun?"

"Muu, it was very relaxing." Satoshi answered with a gentle smile, while the others glared viciously at his grinning younger sister.

"I'll get you for this, Satokooooo!" Keiichi, as usual, was less than subtle, and lunged for the small cackling blonde, hands upraised into tickle-ready claws as he chased her around the pebbly beach underneath the suspension bridge.

"Ah, but Keiichi-san, if you get me, then who will give us all your new challenge?" Satoko squealed gleefully as she and Keiichi circled cartoonishly in a run around a dizzy-looking Hanyuu.

"Alright, enough of that." Shion huffed a moment after, grabbing Keiichi by the collar of his transparently wet T-shirt and bringing him to a choking halt.

"Yeah, save your energy for the next game, Kei-chan." Mion added, wringing out her long tail of wet hair.

"Indeed!" Satoko skidded to a halt and turned around, flinging out her arm dramatically as her eyes gleamed with evil intent. "For the next challenge was submitted by none other than me, Satoko Hojo – Mountain Capture-the-Flag!"

The club members calmed and gathered, Rena moving to take her place with the others as Satoko was left standing alone, facing the group.

"This is but a simple, ordinary game of Capture the Flag." the young trap-master began, though her wicked grin belied the words as she rubbed her hands together diabolically. "Hosted on my very own mountain, your objective is utterly basic –be the first person to grab the golden flag which I, Satoko Hojo, have hidden somewhere on my mountain. For this game there are no official teams, and the rules are as simple as the game itself: find the flag, which is indisputably on my mountain, and the first person to do so is the winner! The simplest game of all, today!"

The entire club deadpanned as she ended her speech and beamed, a cloud of gloom soaking over them.

The amount of traps Satoko had waiting for them must be absolutely legendary.

A short hike later, and they were at the place Satoko had deemed fit for a starting location, changed out of their swimsuits, inasmuch as they had put more substantial clothing over them –no one trusted Satoko not to have a water-based trap lurking somewhere about on the mountain currently looming above them.

"I will be supervising your efforts through binoculars on the roof of that shed over there, and the game will be ended by a whistle blown by me, followed by another rocket for those of you who don't hear." Satoko began pompously, gesturing to the small shack they all remembered from their efforts against the Wild Dogs and Takano. She reached up and patted Kasai, who had met them here in canvas trousers and a green T-shirt, along with his usual treasured dark sunglasses –there was something amusing in the image of the tiny blonde girl so condescendingly patting such an imposing-looking bodyguard at the easiest place for her to reach, which was about his knee. "Kasai-san has kindly volunteered to be your supervisor for the duration of this match. Should you encounter any, heh, difficulties that you are unable to get out of, Kasai-san will meet you and blindfold you, then take you back to the starting point here. Any questions?"

"Can I get some hints from you?" Shion asked her bodyguard, wiggling her brows coyly.

"Regrettably not, Shion-san." he answered, stoic-faced. "Hojo-san has instructed me most stringently to not give any of you aid beyond that of rescuing you from her traps –and she was very specific about providing any outside assistance to you in particular, Shion-san."

"Boo, boo! Kasai, you're such a spoilsport! Why can't you cheat and give me a leg up?" Shion whined, sticking her tongue out at him. The mustachioed guard did not dignify her response with a reply.

"Alright then! Kasai-san and I will make our way up the mountain, and after I shoot off the starter's rocket, you can begin your path down to hell!" Satoko chirped, her red eyes glinting demonically as she grinned. She then reached up and took some of Kasai's fingers in her smaller hand. "C'mon, Kasai-san, and remember to step where I tell you."

The two made their way up the mountain along the path, and the club members were left to strategizing. Rena eyed her friends sidelong –she was pretty sure that Keiichi would be knocked out of the running fast, what with being so susceptible to Satoko's traps ordinarily, even outside of the advanced ones on her mountain. Shion and Rika, especially, she would have to watch out for –they knew Satoko best, and Shion, whatever Satoko might have ordered, may just receive extra help from Kasai anyways, even if it was something as mild as him hastening to her aid more quickly than the others.

She wondered how adorable the flag would be, and a certain powerful gleam began to light Rena's sparkling blue eyes.

"Man, I wonder what the other villagers will think of our signal-" Keiichi began, folding his arms behind his head, but cut himself short as there was a shriek of tortured air, and a bottle-rocket soared up from near the shack, exploding in the air with a sharp pop.

"That's our cue to start –let's go!" Mion cried, waving her arm forward as she and the others charged recklessly into the forest, and were swallowed up by its branches.

Ten minutes into the game by Kasai-san's watch, which he had generously left with her on the roof, Satoko watched through her binoculars, eyes gleaming avidly, as the pitiful fools swarmed over her mountain, like fat flies blundering into a spiderweb. Predictably, Keiichi-san was the first to fall, and had the blonde rolling around on the rooftop with giggles as she watched his expression –as Kasai, needing to guide the victims blindfolded, simply opted for sweeping the younger brunet up in his arms and walking back to the start with Keiichi-san held bridal-style, and the discomfited, embarrassed expression that Keiichi-san had on even underneath the blindfold made Satoko laugh hysterically.

Rena was making good headway, but even she failed to navigate the bamboo maze of traps Satoko had left out along the eastern slope, a trap which had already claimed both Mion and Hanyuu –soon all three hung gloomily in the air, waiting for Kasai to rescue them. Satoko waited until he deposited the sulking Keiichi-san at the start before radioing in their location, and then resumed her surveillance. Rika was threading the needle up the mountain, using a surprising memory of Satoko's preferred patterns and methods of safe-pathing to cautiously worm her way upwards, meter by meter. Ni-Ni was stewing sadly in a mudpit trap she had left out, somewhat lower down than Rika but higher up than Mion, Hanyuu, and Rena. And Shion…

Satoko paused, and swept her binoculars around some more, her eyebrows squinting into a furrow.

Where was Shion?

Shion, creeping through the underbrush behind Rika-chama, was being clever –or so she had figured. After all, who knew Satoko-chan the best? Rika Furude. Satoshi knew his sister well, of course, but he had only recently gotten out of the hospital, and Rika-chama had been living with Satoko for years and been friends with her for even longer beforehand. Rika-chama would know the most about Satoko's preferred traps and what patterns, if any, the devious blonde laid out. However, since this was the God-Sent Master of Traps, Satoko Hojo, it was beyond likely that Rika-chama would, eventually, fall victim to one of the many traps lying in wait around the mountain.

And since Shion was right behind Rika-chama, faithfully copying her every step, Shion would benefit from that mistake, whereas Rika-chama would be taken all the way back down the mountain in disgrace.

They both seemed to have the same goal in mind: to get to the shack where Satoko was holding court. After all, the rest of the club knew by experience that it was the best vantage point on the mountain, and Satoko as a matter of course would want to keep an eye on the fateful flag while also cackling at the misfortune of her victims –Rika-chama was taking the safe course, that of rather than wandering all over the trap-infested mountain, make her way to a key vantage point and work onwards from there with a clear goal in mind.

Shion's goal, of course, was to follow in Rika-chama's footsteps and wait for her to misstep, then carefully proceed onwards, likely with a stick of some sort in hand to test the ground ahead of her.

And sure enough, soon Rika-chama was clasped tight in some sort of mattress-pitfall, and Shion sunk down into the bushes, hiding herself best she could as she waited for Kasai to show up. If this were the only safe path along the traps in this area, she would have to risk moving aside when she heard him coming…

Crackles in the undergrowth.

Shion slowly sunk down a little more, making sure to keep her movements subtle and as minute as possible. Her green hair did help her blend in rather well, after all. Crouched on her haunches, she waited for Kasai, one hand splayed against the dusty mountain grass as she listened with all her might.

He was coming from the right –excellent, that was the same rough trajectory as the small shack.

"Mew, I guess I messed up." Rika-chama chirped regretfully from beyond Shion's line of vision as the rope she hung from creaked a little, Kasai's footsteps almost on top of them.

"Indeed. Please exercise patience, Furude-san, and I will have you down shortly." her bodyguard replied gravely, and Shion heard the snick of his pocketknife being flicked open. There was a slight twang as he sliced the rope (and in all likelihood, caught Rika-chama in the same movement) and the branch that had held the trap sprung back to its original position, and Shion mentally rubbed her hands in glee, squirming a little to peer through the gaps in the bushes around her.

As expected, Kasai had Rika-chama safely in his arms, and even cradled her one-handed with ease as he calmly replaced the pocketknife in his canvas trousers and pulled out a blindfold in its stead. "Please put this on, Furude-san, and I will take you back to the start point."

"Mew, guess I can't see the safe path, huh?" Rika-chama agreed with a theatrical sigh, taking the blindfold from his hand and putting it on obediently. A radio, secured on Kasai's hip, buzzed suddenly, and he again cradled Rika-chama's tiny body with one arm as he reached down and activated it.

"Yes, Hojo-san?"

"Oh-ho-ho~! Keiichi-san has gotten himself stuck in another trap, Kasai-san! That's the second one in twenty minutes, the pitiful fool!"

"I see. I shall be there shortly, as I must deliver Furude-san to the base of the mountain." Kasai replied calmly, his deep voice even. "Please be patient, and I will be able to hear the location from you soon."

He turned to leave, and Shion froze –even more– as his gaze swept the undergrowth. She didn't think he could see her, but then again, Kasai was one of the elite of the Sonozaki forces, so it figured he'd be good at spotting people hiding like this…

Footsteps crunched away. He hadn't seen her…or if he had, he was keeping quiet about it.

A devious smile curled Shion's pale lips. Despite Satoko's orders, it seemed as though fortune –and Shion's butler/bodyguard– was favoring her.

"Cheating! Cheating cheating cheating cheating!" Keiichi roared, flapping his arms angrily as Shion grinned at him, the shining golden flag gripped securely in her hands.

"Nope~!" the younger twin grinned, flashing him a peace sign with her other hand. "I won fair and square, you know~?"

"LIAR!" the disheveled brunet bellowed, making Rena jump, the mud caking her body flaking a little with the suddenness of her movement.

Every club member –minus Shion– was in varying stages of unkempt as they stood there at the outcrop near the Furude shrine, ranging from Mion, whose hair was merely snarled with twigs and leaves and her pants bearing a few smudges from dirty ropes, to Hanyuu, who was covered head-to-foot in mud and paint and with several small rips in her clothes. Keiichi had several thorns and burrs tangled into his shorts and shirt, which no doubt explained the sudden bite of his temper.

"Don't you think its slightly suspicious that Shion won in a game chosen by Satoko-chan and marshaled by Kasai-san?" Keiichi added desperately, jabbing a finger at the grinning Sonozaki as he looked around for support.

"Muu, I think its fair." Satoshi shrugged, scratching a few flakes of paint away from his cheek from a paintball trap.

"Shi-chan didn't get any help from Kasai-san though, did she? Did she?" Rena asked, tilting her head, and all eyes turned to the impeccably outfitted outdoor marshal for their contest.

"I exchanged no information with Shion-san in any way, shape, or form during this contest, or beforehand regarding this contest, except the conversation which was witnessed by all of you at the beginning of the game." Kasai responded promptly, adjusting his black glasses with a single finger. "I did not even see her for the duration of the game until its end."

Shion's smirk widened, and she brandished her glittering trophy at the others smugly. "So then! That's one victory for me, one for Satoshi-kun, and one for Rena-chan! Honestly, the rest of you should really step up your efforts~!"

"Gaaaaaah! You just wait, Shion!" Keiichi roared, fire flashing in his eyes and darting from his mouth. "I'll get you the next round!"

Shion grinned. "Oh, I don't think so, Kei-chan. For you see…"

She clapped her hands twice, and Kasai, dutiful as ever, grabbed a small cooler from near the stone benches and dragged it over.

"The next contest is one of my own design! Here within this frigid cooler lies seven T-shirts, soaked with water and stored in the Sonozaki freezer these past three days! It is your challenge, now, to grab one, get it on, and run all the way to the school, and the first one to make it back to the shrine here, wins! Simple enough for everyone."

Keiichi paused, rubbing his chin. "When you say get the T-shirt on, like it's a challenge…"

Shion grinned wider, baring teeth. "Why yes, Kei-chan. The T-shirts are, indeed, frozen pretty much solid. Have fun~!"

"Ggh!" Angrily, Keiichi beat his stiffly-frozen T-shirt against the wooden railing of the outcrop near the shrine, grunting with the effort of trying to soften it up. Mion was whacking hers against the stone benches with the same determination, while Satoshi and Rena seemed to have opted for wrapping their arms around the frozen white boards and hugging them, trying to warm the glittering fabric with their body heat. Rika, Hanyuu, and Satoko had gone off somewhere else to try a different strategy, of which he knew nothing.

Bare-chested, Keiichi occasionally paused to press the ice-cold fabric against his sweaty skin, a bone-chilling shudder sliding through him at the frozen contact against his flesh.

Oh, this would be a very cold race.

Finally, he had managed to beat off enough ice crystals, and the sun and his own heat had warmed it enough, that the fabric was roughly pliable, and huffing and struggling, Keiichi pulled the white shirt over his head, shuddering at the icy touch as goosebumps erupted across his skin. Mion, too, had thumped hers into submission, and strained to pull it over her head and down her chest.

Down her very…curvaceous, chest.

Keiichi coughed and looked the other way. This was going to be a challenging race, in more ways than one.

Sure enough, halfway down the steps, Keiichi found his prediction to be correct –this was going to be a very, very tough race, for him, specifically. There were two very attractive young ladies running the race with him, two young ladies with bosom sizes ranging from modest to bounteous, and they were only wearing swimsuits underneath these frozen, white T-shirts, and the ice was slowly melting, turning the white fabric transparent and, moreover, making it cling to their youthful curves, with water droplets rolling down their athletic legs…

"Gah!" Too distracted with his competitors to focus, the teen boy tripped and rolled head-over-heels down the stone steps, ending up faceplanting on the dusty ground at the very bottom as his legs were flung upwards and then fell flat, the twitching brunet belly-down on the ground.

"Kei-chan! You okay?!" Mion asked in concern from a slight distance as she jogged down the steps, and he raised a vague hand and waved it dizzily.

"No, no, I'm good…" Keiichi mumbled, not looking up or even moving his face from the ground, afraid that the girls would see his flushed grin and the blood dripping thickly from his completely undamaged nose.

Above near the shrine, Shion smirked and made a note on the clipboard she had borrowed from Mion.

Kei-chan –first out. Cause of eventual elimination: Perversity of Thoughts.

As it turned out, Rika was the winner –with the ingenuity to melt her T-shirt over the stove, and the speed of feet to outrun Satoko and Hanyuu, who had the same idea. There was a slight pause, what with the sun now high in the sky, to fix any wardrobe issues born from Satoko's traps in her earlier contest, before Mion plucked another, larger basket from the redoubtable Kasai and led them all to the grassy space by the shrine.

"Alright!" the green-haired leader swung around, brandishing her enormous basket at the group. "I've heard some growling stomachs from the rest of you, and its already just around noon, so now is as good a time as any to start this trial –the Picnic Basket Relay! Hosted and participated-in by me, teams of two will rush to set up a full picnic –blanket, plates, silverware, and food– and take it back down again, timed by Kasai over there." She gestured to the mustachioed Sonozaki guard, who now held a pocketwatch timer on a cord and Mion's clipboard from the sunrise earlier. "The fastest team to do so is our winner! The slowest team to do so is, with all the others, our losers, however, this team will also be the ones to clean everything up after the rest of us are done!"

Rena giggled and rubbed her hands. "This sounds like its going to be a fun competition, it does!"

"Oh-ho-ho~!" Satoko giggled behind her hand, sending a sly glance towards Keiichi. "Will poor Keiichi-san be able to keep from being our nursemaid? After all, he's come in last in nearly every game so far~!"

"Poor, poor Keiichi-san." Rika chirped gleefully from beside her. "Doomed to be a frilly-dressed maid and a loser forever, mew."

"Screw that!" Keiichi snorted at them, and wiped the lingering traces of blood off his nose, before crackling his knuckles, periwinkle eyes shining with determination. "What are the teams, Mion? I'll crush anyone who stands in my way!"

The club leader smirked and rolled her shoulders a little, before setting the basket down on the ground. "I like your spirit, Kei-chan! First off, it's you and me, Kei-chan. Second, Shion and Satoshi-kun. Then Rena and Hanyuu-chan, and finally Satoko -chan and Rika-chan. Does that arrangement sound fair to everyone?"

"Sounds great." Keiichi said, eyes gleaming as he sent a sly grin of his own towards the others. Rena intercepted it with a bloodthirsty smirk of her own, and Satoko cackled as menacingly as she ever did, rubbing her small hands together. After all, the longer each team had to wait, the more methods and shortcuts they could study and implement on their own.

"Mion-san, when you are ready." Kasai rumbled from near the verge, nodding towards the large basket. Mion nodded back, and she and Keiichi took their positions as the others quieted and, hawklike, fixed their eyes on the first members to run the gauntlet.

"On you mark. Get set. Go!" the Sonozaki guard announced loudly, and Mion whipped the lid up in an explosion of movement, diving her hand recklessly fast into the basket and coming out with the faded blanket in hand. With an expertly-placed snap of her wrist, she sent the worn fabric out as the cloudy pink blanket unfolded, billowing, and knelt just as quickly to set the corners as it rustled to the ground. Mion plunged both hands into the basket again, coming out with the plates.

"Sonozaki Dish Diagonal!" she cried with a determined glint to her eyes, twirling and flicking her arms out in a move very reminiscent of anime combat arts as the heavy-duty ceramic plates flew out and skidded into place on the flattened blanket.

"Demon Chopstick Rain!"

"Goblet of Fire!"

"Feast of Furudes!"

Within five minutes of nigh-on impossible martial antics, a panting Mion stood over the spoils of battle –in other words, the more-or-less-perfectly set picnic, spinning on her heel to slap her hand against Keiichi's in a high-five, tagging out as she stumbled a little and moved to sit down.

"R-right!" Keiichi cried, rushing forward to undo Mion's hard work. He grabbed the tupperware the food had been stored in and began scooping various dishes back into their containers, piling them rapidly into stacks on the inside of the basket. With slightly more exaggeration in his movements, he began a similar sequence to Mion's, his periwinkle eyes flashing light a demon's as he moved across the picnic field of battle in a blur of movement.

"Maebara Mop-Up!" the brunet cried, sweeping the plates into a stack, similar to how one would, say, sweep up a clutter of painting pallets from a distracted parent for the dishwasher.

"Paintbrush Clenched-Fist!" he roared, raking his hand across the blanket in a flash as he gathered up the chopsticks, flinging them carelessly into the basket.

"Cosmos Can Carry!"

"Canvas Retrieval!"

Kasai clicked the timer as Keiichi slammed the basket shut with somewhat undue force. "8 minutes and 12 seconds." he announced in his deep voice, and the exhausted Mion and Keiichi looked at each other and grinned, high-fiving again. The bodyguard's glasses-hidden eyes raked the field, landing on his young charge and her partner. "Next is Shion-san and Hojo-kun, correct?"

Shion and Satoshi squeaked in at 8 minutes and 58 seconds, which was neither fast enough to give them victory nor, as they watched Hanyuu and Rena start off, slow enough to assure their fates as the after-picnic cleanup.

Definitely not in line to be the cleaners, what with how Hanyuu and Rena started.

"Hau, hauhauhau, Rena-san, let go!" Hanyuu squealed, wriggling in Rena's grip as the ecstatic older girl charged down the stone steps to the shrine, Kasai in hot pursuit (timer in hand) with the rest of the club not far behind. Apparently, Hanyuu's panicked expression and flustered movements as she frantically arranged the picnic were enough to trigger Rena's dreaded Take It Home Mode, and thus the worriedly-squealing shrine maiden was tucked under the happily-squealing auburn-haired teen's arm as Rena ran headlong back to her house –all the way across the village. "We still have to finish setting the picniiiiiiiiic!"

"Awwww, you're so cute! Adorable! I'm taking you home~!" Rena sang happily, her blue eyes gleaming with a manic shine as she hurled down the steps.

"5 minutes 23 seconds." Kasai announced, deadpan, as he glanced down at the timer in his hands, still running, legs pumping, after the fleeing teen. "I recommend you return to your task soon, Ryugu-san, or else you will slip into last place."

"No way~! I'm taking Hanyuu-chan home with meeeeee~!"

"18 minutes 29 seconds." Kasai told the group, barely breathing heavily despite the exhausted club sprawled across the clearing, as Rena hung, pouting and whining, in the makeshift lasso Satoko had hastily formed and then slung over a thick branch in one of the nearby trees after they'd caught her.

"Hauuuu, Rena-san, how could you!" Hanyuu whimpered, tears gushing from her eyes. "Now we'll be in last place and have to clean everything up!"

"Aw, I wanted to take Hanyuu-chan home with me…" Rena whimpered up above with crocodile tears in her blue eyes, either uncaring or oblivious to the plight of her partner.

"Next is Rika-chama and Hojo-san." Kasai interrupted brusquely, turning his gaze to the two youngest members of the group.

Though the two girls put in a valiant effort, coming in at 8 minutes and 37 seconds, Mion and Keiichi were still the clear winners, and they celebrated with the typical exuberance of the Hinamizawa Club, while Kasai unbent enough to accept some pickles and juice of his own.

"I am given to understand you do not need my services for the rest of the day, Mion-san?" he asked respectfully between bites, and Mion nodded, swallowing her hamburger steak.

"I can judge the last few games that I submitted, they don't need a supervisor." she agreed as she came up for air, flicking casually with her chopsticks. "It's all objective –counting how many of such-and-so everybody got. Thanks for spotting in for me for these last two games, though."

"It is my honor and privilege to serve the Sonozaki family in any capacity I can." Kasai responded calmly, his somber business demeanor somewhat offset by his khaki trousers, green shirt, and the flower-patterned plate that held the scanty gleanings he begrudgingly accepted from the club members.

The club members all laughed at the contrast of images, and continued chattering, bantering on the losses of each member so far, boasting of the achievement a few of them had gained, tallying up the leaderboards so far, and eagerly planning for the games to come, the adventures for tomorrow and all the days after. The merry chattering continued as Rena and Hanyuu wearily packed away the dirty dishes and so on in the hamper, and even down the steps, as Mion led her companions towards the now-abandoned school, parting from Kasai by his car, which had been waiting on the shoulder of the road nearest to the shrine this entire time.

He bowed goodbye, and the group, once again clad in swimsuits underneath clean white T-shirts, marched towards the school, where several bucketfuls of water balloons waited, a plump array of jelly-colored plastic missiles lying in ominous wait for their victims.

"Alright, now remember the rules!" Mion cried, kicking her foot up onto the edge of one of the bins, near the outdoor school faucets. "This is a free-for-all, a battle royal with no holds barred and no teams! You can grab any water balloons you want, as many as you want, as often as you want! There are no safe zones, and you cannot leave school grounds! One hit does not constitute an out –we are in play until the end of this kitchen clock right here." She pointed to the innocuous-looking timer set out on the concrete lip of the facilities. It was set for one hour. "At the end of the time, everyone congregates back here, and whoever has the least amount of water on them –whoever's driest– is our undisputed champion! Now, any questions before we begin?"

"Are you ready to lose?" Keiichi sneered, rubbing his hands together, and Mion barked out a laugh.

"I was about to say the same to you, Kei-chan!"

"Bring it on, Onee!"

"Rena's really excited for this, she is!"

"Oh-ho-ho~! You are pitiful fools indeed to set this contest within the school grounds that I know so intimately!"

"Muu, I've never played this before…"

And so lusty and furious battle was joined.

An explosion of warm liquid splattered the ground, and Hanyuu fell back with a hair-raising shriek, a wet patch growing on her chest as her limp body flopped down onto the war-torn ground, droplets flying everywhere.

"Hauhauhau, no fair!" the Furude maiden wept in the dust of the schoolyard, her chubby cheeks puffing out as she rolled over and hastily scampered behind a low wall. "No fair, no fair!"

"All's fair in love and war!" Satoko cried triumphantly, before bending down and loading one of her catapults with another squishy water missile as she cackled, and across the yard, Shion ducked out of Rika's range, the miko ensconced firmly on a stack of barrels as she bombarded her opponent with a carefully-coordinated barrage of balloons.

Satoshi was getting his belated exercise in, not even trying to hit anyone back –not even carrying any water balloons– as he jumped, ran, and slid across the schoolyard, proving to everyone why the Hinamizawa Fighters had held him in such esteem. A long stay as a coma patient did not seem to detract from his muscle memory at all, though the same could not be said for his strength and stamina –the young blond was winded easily, and his stamina was low, forcing him to frequently duck behind hiding places as Mion, in hot pursuit, peppered the ground behind him with water balloons.

Keiichi and Rena…well, it was a good thing that Rika was occupied with Shion, because if she had seen the two flinging water balloons at each other, a hoard of the squishy missiles held in a schoolbag bouncing on both combatant's hips, on top of the school roof –a battle measured by an hour-long timer, no less– it was fairly likely that the young miko would have had a déjà vu-based heart attack.

"You cannot win, Rena!" Keiichi howled, charging down the slope of the baking metal roof as he hurled a water balloon. She dodged, and the fragile plastic split open upon its violent impact with the roof, spilling tepid water across the roof as the hot metal sizzled and hissed.

"Tough words from the club's most heavy loser, Keiichi-kun!" she shot back, replying with a missile of her own in kind.

The two teens jumped and slid and ran up and down the roof, bodies moving athletically as they spun and twisted to avoid the rainbow storm of pastel-colored balloons each flung at the other, spitting barbs and insults and banter just as thick and fast as their watery missiles. (Rika definitely would have had a terrifying flashback to Atonement, if she would but just look up.)

Keiichi's shirt clung to his heaving chest, sweat and water making it stick to his skin, and the entire left side of Rena's hair stuck to her cheek in dripping spikes and strands, from a lucky near-face shot from her brunet partner earlier.

Thus the lusty and furious battle continued.

At the end of the stipulated hour, the club gathered again, all in various stages of soaking wet. Keiichi and Rena, their supplies of missiles exhausted from their valiant duel atop the school roof, were absolutely drenched, to the point where their sneakers squeaked and squelched as they walked. Rika was drier, but her entire back was soaked from when she had seen Satoko's barrage coming and quickly turned away to protect her face, the young miko's long blue hair a wet curtain that clung to her back and arms with her every movement. Satoshi had the misfortune to run into not only Mion but also Shion's ambush at one point, and was dripping wet from the waist up, though not overly concerned about being so. The twins, in turn, had engaged in a furious competition of their own, and were nearly as wet as Rena and Keiichi.

It was Satoko, who had only sustained a few errant blows from those bold enough to test her defenses (and garner her attentions), who was the clear winner in this contest, a fact she did not cease rubbing in as the club waited for Mion to fetch blankets once more.

"Alright, so…this is my contest." Satoshi began vaguely as the dripping club leader squelched back with four blankets, likely pilfered from the Sonozaki family's shed. "We have the same partners as the picnic relay, I guess, and one of you gets on the blanket and the other drags them up to the shrine and then back here. You can't progress any farther if the person on the blanket leaves the blanket –you have to go back to where they fell off and make them get on again before you can move forward. Whoever gets back here first wins."

Everyone looked at him, and sighed exasperatedly a little.

"So then…any questions?" Mion asked with a tentative grin, clapping her hands together.

"Sounds pretty straightforward." Keiichi answered for everyone with a shrug, scratching the back of his dripping hair. He glanced at Satoshi. "Who goes on the blanket?"

"Muu…I guess the teams figure that out between themselves. Would you like to do it, Shion, or should I?"

As it turned out, a good few minutes were spent arguing between each time about who was going to be bruised and dragged about on the blanket, and only the fact that Rika and Hanyuu agreed to be the blanket-layer to Satoko's and Rena's blanket-bearer within a few moments kept the arguments from continuing for ten minutes or more. Satoshi, who had been disputing with Satoshi about the advisability of him dragging anyone anywhere, was pushed down on the blanket, and Mion, disdaining subtlety, had gaped at the retreating backs of Rena and Satoko, and then judo-flipped Keiichi onto their blanket with a cry.

At first, the race was fairly normal, so far as such races went, with the blanket-runners dragging their passengers behind them and the passengers curled up into fetal balls, typically with one arm around the head and the other keeping their purchase on the blanket. Occasionally a runner would lag, hitching up and reaffirming their or their passenger's grip on the blanket, but otherwise the teams seemed to be fairly even as they ran across the Hinamizawa roads and their partners bumped along behind them.

It got challenging as the road skittered off, and the scrub-laden forest began.

It got worse at the river.

Rena barely broke pace at the head of the pack, turning to scoop Hanyuu up, blanket and all, before she charged across the shallow ford, and the others were quick to follow suit, some with more efforts thank others, as their partners were of more incompatible weights and the runners of disparate strengths. But the whole group got across, somehow, some with more comic staggering and panicked squeals than others, and continued fighting through the forest towards the shrine path.

And the shrine steps.

"I –should– really –have– a –helmet!" Keiichi gasped as he bumped up the rough-cut stone, both arms curled around his head protectively and only the pinch of his elbow and knees keeping him on the blanket.

"Hauhauhauhau!" Hanyuu wailed faintly from the top of the staircase, apparently having faired no better.

"Eat dust, Onee!" Shion cried from slightly closer, one hand keeping Satoshi steady on his blanket as she charged up the steps, leaving the blond free to protect his head as much as he pleased.

"Grr, just you guys wait! I'll get you on the home stretch!" Satoko shouted from the bottom of the steps, Rika's normally-chirpy cries interspersed with squeaks of alarm as the blonde began to drag her up the steps.

Ultimately though, her threats and the others' efforts were of no use. Rena had too much of a head start, and the size difference between her and Hanyuu made it easy for the auburn-haired teen to drag and manhandle the young Furude as she saw fit, and Rena came in first by a mile. This, as the others quickly realized after a brief tally, put her in first: everyone else had won exactly one game each, but with the team-victory of her and Hanyuu, Rena was now sitting pretty on two victories.

The sun was beginning to slip down to the opposite horizon, though still bright, as Hanyuu told the others to wait near the school shed, while she went out to fix the components of the next game. Both sides of the last game were all too ready to take a break, and interposed their languid, semi-exhausted and bruised wait with sips of mineral-tasting water from the faucet and flapping their damp clothes and hair, encouraging a breeze.

At length, Hanyuu returned, wiping some sweat off her petite brow.

"Okay!"

The other club members, sprawled in varying stages of rest across the schoolyard fixtures, sat up and offered their attention. Hanyuu smiled timidly and clasped her hands together, fiddling with her fingers.

"S-so, we're playing my game now…a Sponge Launch. We're playing in teams again, and each team must pick one of the catapults I've set up along the school wall. One partner has to fire sponges at the other, who must catch them across a certain line, then go find their bucket and empty them out. You can't use a sponge that you haven't caught –you have to be able to catch them to wring them out, and if you don't you have to send it back for your partner to try again. The buckets are the same color as the catapults, and they're all on school grounds. Whoever fills their bucket to the white line first wins the game. Any questions, hau? It's pretty simple, right?"

"Its veeeery simple." Rena hummed, eyeing the others with a suspiciously innocent smile as her blue eyes gleamed. "And if we win, again, then Rena's going to very, very far in first~!"

"Hah!" Satoko threw back her head with a mocking laugh. "Bold of you to assume I would fail in a contest of catapults, Rena-san! Let's get started!"

The teams hastened to the other side of the school, where they found catapults tied with red, blue, yellow, and green rubber bands, and a line of jump-ropes stretched across the dirt at a respectable distance away on the other side of the yard. There was a few moment's pause as they teams found their catapults, and then a bit more nonsense as they decided who would be which partner, but at length, Keiichi, Shion, Hanyuu, and Satoko were seated behind the catapults, a huge basin of dripping sponges behind them for ammunition, and across the yard, Mion, Satoshi, Rena, and Rika were all stood waiting, ready for the first sponge to be flung.

"Hau, on your mark, get set, go!" Hanyuu squeaked, and with that, the second battle of the Hinamizawa School Branch began.

Everyone's strategy was pretty clear, Mion thought as she raced headlong through the schoolyard, looking everywhere for a red bucket. The throwers were the ones that could afford to be lax –the best of each team was placed on the opposite side of the jump-ropes, the best catchers and the best athletes, the best to search and find and seek and run. Between her and Keiichi, it was obvious who was the better choice –Keiichi was still working off the effects of being a cooped-up city-boy, while Mion had been running and playing in the tough terrain of a mountain village with all the rugged energy of a tomboy her entire life. She also knew the special Sonozaki family martial art, but that was mostly for elegance and self-defense, and also really not relevant to this situation.

Most importantly, they needed, at all costs, to keep the victory from Rena. There were only four games left after this, and in the high-stakes club competitiveness, it wasn't likely that any one person would definitively triumph over the rest. Therefore, if Rena won this race –or any of the subsequent ones– her place as the victor would be all but assured, and Mion refused to let that happen. She had her place and her pride as club leader to consider.

So it was pretty clear, as Rena ducked and dodged under the thrown branches of Satoko, that sabotage and delay would be the name of the game for the rest of the club, while Rena had to contend with both their misdirects and her efforts to find and fill her own bucket before the sponges she carried dried out.

Mion grinned as she spotted the flash of red, situated awkwardly atop the roof of the school shed. How Hanyuu had gotten that bucket up there without them hearing or seeing…oh well.

Mion Sonozaki had a target and a mission, and she was not about to lose.

"Hau…" Hanyuu whined sadly about an hour later, pouting as Mion proudly displayed her full red bucket, sparing a hand to high-five Keiichi with a grin. "That makes Rena-san, Keiichi-san, and Mion-san tied for first place, doesn't it?"

"So it does." Mion hummed, grinning wider and rubbing her hands. Then she abandoned the pretense of a plotting villain and looked around, squinting a little. "Anybody got a timepiece?"

"We can use the clock from the dodgeball game." Rena answered, going over towards the outdoor faucet and picking it up. She turned the small plastic box over and squinted. "Its just about five o' clock in the afternoon, Mi-chan."

"Excellent…" Mion smirked and rubbed her hands again. "Well, I guess we're going into my last stretch of games, aren't we?" She spun in place and pointed towards the distant mountains. "Everybody back to the Furude Shrine, where we'll finish out this most munificent Midsummer's Day!"

"Right!" Mion announced near the outcrop looking out over the village, ticking off the various marks of the club and their achievements on her clipboard, updating the scoreboard from the last few games. "Home stretch! These games may be interconnected, but make no mistake, each one counts as a separate victory towards your cumulative whole!" She spun her pen and pointed towards the small ring of stones that had been gathered and formed on a stretch of bare rock that peered through the shallow dirt and dusty grass. "First off, we have Firefall! Each club member goes off into the woods and gets some timber and kindling and branches and sticks and twigs and –well, whoever collects the most firewood for our summer campfire wins! And remember, the amount of tinder is almost as important as its suitability –you get less points if you just bring back a whole mass of logs! It's the collective whole that's important! And as an additional treat, whoever brings back the most wood also gets the honor of being the first one to try and start the fire! Any questions?"

"None whatsoever." Rena grinned, and beside her, Keiichi formed his features into something vaguely resembling eager approval, while he frantically tried to remember just what kinds of wood were suitable for fire-making.

"Let's see…" Mion hummed as she strode along the line of firewood materials, hands folded behind her back as she marched with the air of a conquering general. "Very well-done Rena, a thorough presentation. Not that many, but definitely well-chosen."

The auburn-haired teen smiled modestly. "I picked out all the pieces that seemed cutest, Mi-chan~!" she sang, and Mion nodded with no small amount of relief, glad that Rena's compulsion towards her Take-It-Home Mode had kneecapped her for once instead of the other way around, since there were a limited amounts of tinder that could be deemed "cute" by Rena's taste in the woods, and there were only so many she could pick up even in her super-fast state of taking-home ecstasy.

"Rika, nice job. You got a lot of kindling, though the number of logs is a bit substandard." the club leader graciously added as she passed the miko, looking at her respectable pile of bark shavings and slender twigs.

"Keiichi…" Mion trailed off, and shook her head sadly. She'd hoped otherwise, but it was painfully obvious that Keiichi had no idea of what he was supposed to gather beyond "sticks and logs," and had spent far too much time covertly spying on the others to try and figure out what he was supposed to bring in. His pile was smaller than the others, and most of the non-log pieces were at least slightly substandard in some small way. "Good try for your first attempt."

He flushed bright red, and didn't say anything as Rena giggled and reached out, sympathetically patting his shoulder.

"Very nice, Satoko." Mion added as she passed the small blonde, seeing her neat piles of kindling, twigs, and logs. Satoshi's pile, beside hers, had nothing to comment on –perhaps he had slightly less, but then again, that was to be expected from a former coma patient. Mion had full confidence that the older blond would improve steeply once he got his old fitness back, and give everyone some real competition.

"Hanyuu…that's very impressive." Mion said blankly as she looked at the surprisingly large pile of materials that Hanyuu had assembled. The lilac-haired Furude smiled and "hau"ed modestly, beaming in pride at her accomplishment.

However, the winner was clear. Though Hanyuu and Mion both came in at close second, Shion's enormous pile of tinder put the rest of them in the shade –almost literally.

"And our winner –Shion Sonozaki!" Mion announced with some small amount of inner pouting, gesturing to her twin with a flourish. "As such, she will be the first to attempt to build and light out little campfire. Shion?"

"On it." her twin replied smugly, starting forward and crouching down near the circle of rocks. She scooped some of the kindling into her hand, creating a careful hollow nest in the center of the rocks, laying sticks along and over it, before carefully looking over some larger logs and sticks and selecting several that she laid aside the stones, but did not place in the makeshift firepit yet. "You got Kasai's lighter, Onee?"

Mion pulled out the Bic lighter and handed it to Shion. Flicking the lighter a few times, Shion made sure the slender flame caught in the fluffy bundle of bark shavings and fibers, which slowly but surely smoldered and spread towards the twigs caging it in as she pulled her hand away. As they caught, Shion began quickly lying larger lengths of wood in a pyramid around the little nest of flames, which gradually bit into the bigger branches, the fire growing. After carefully dropping some wrist-thick logs of wood in another pyramid around the flames, Shion pronounced herself satisfied and sat back on her heels, watching the warm glow of the fire with a smile on her face. Although the sun was westering in earnest now, the light of the day fading, it hadn't even come to the point where the glow of day turned orange and red and gold –night was coming, but not yet immediately imminent.

"Okay then!" Mion smiled and clapped her hands together. "This part isn't a competition –but everyone find something to sit on while I go get our s'more and hotdog supplies from Rika-chan's house."

Despite her words, there was a somewhat vicious if unspoken competition for Best Improvised Chair as soon as their president was out of earshot, which ended when Mion returned with a load of supplies –a wheeled cooler with a box of chocolate and graham crackers strapped onto it, a large plastic bag of marshmallows tucked under her arm, and a strange arrangement of long, thin, forklike metal implements under her shoulder.

"So, who knows how to roast marshmallows and hotdogs?" Mion asked, pulling the cooler to a stop and setting down the fluffy plastic bag. No one raised their hand –such an occupation was rather uniquely Western, and Shion's Catholic school had been too prim and uptight for such festivities.

Mion nodded at the expected silence and sat down on the cooler, passing around the long forklike instruments. Everyone took one –the instruments consisted of a long steel wire, a bit thicker than that of a coathanger, with both ends forming two prongs at the instrument's tip, which then curved down like horns to meet and twist together about five inches down, creating a fork, before the two sides of the wire twisted apart once more as they continued in two parallel bars down to the base, which was rounded in a seamless, rubber-covered whole.

"See, you stick a marshmallow on one or both of these prongs here." Mion explained, ripping a jagged hole in the soft plastic bag before retrieving two marshmallows, and impaled the puffy white globs on both ends of the stick. "Then you hold them over a fire, and rotate them periodically, until they're just a little bit golden on all sides.

She clasped the pronged instrument between her knees, quickly rummaging in the other two boxes before pulling out a bar of chocolate and a single cracker, which she broke in half. Handing one half of the golden bar to Shion, she held the other on her knee, stacking a fragment of the chocolate bar on top of it. Mion picked up the pronged instrument and rolled it slowly, roasting the marshmallows, until they received the proper golden texture a few minutes later, and then brought them out from above the fire, laying one on its side on top of the chocolate.

"Cracker please." she asked Shion, who handed her the requested item. Mion took the cracker and squished it down on the top of the marshmallow, creating something rather like a puffy chocolate-marshmallow sandwich. She held it up with a triumphant grin. "Ta-da! The American delicacy known as a s'more! Pass it around, guys, give it a try!"

She handed the s'more to Shion, then quickly broke another graham cracker and squished the second marshmallow between it and another snippet of the bar of chocolate, passing the finished s'more around the opposite side of their little circle.

"Wow, these are really good!" Satoko hummed in surprise after she took the requisite tiny bite, licking a smear of slightly melted chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

"We've also got hotdogs, buns, and some seasonings." Mion announced, getting up from her makeshift seat and opening the lid, picking up several plastic packages of hotdogs and hotdog buns, as well as several bottles dripping with icy condensation. "Everyone knows how to roast a hotdog, right?"

"Yup!" the club members replied cheerily.

"Well then!" Mion sat back down, grinning. "The next competition is also our dinner –whoever roasts the best hotdogs and marshmallows wins the game! We're not going for volume here, this is a gourmet event, and we're looking for what's tastiest!"

"But Mi-chan, isn't that mostly subjective, isn't it?" Rena asked, tilting her head as she blinked curiously. Mion nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement.

"Yes, but this is a group battle –everyone's food will be judged by everyone else, and a cumulative vote decide the winner!" she explained, holding a cautionary finger up in the air. "No interference with anyone else, if you please. We are dealing with open flames, after all."

The gathered group nodded. They may be more cavalier with various safety rules than Keiichi, for example, was used to, what with being rural children with far more independence and access to slightly-to-very-dangerous materials than their urban counterparts, but fire was another kettle of fish entirely. One wrong move could not only harm them, but also burn down a significant portion of the surrounding woods, shrine, and village.

Mion passed around the bags of food, and everyone settled down to a slightly less frenetic challenge, relaxing in the warm, comfy aura of the flames as they slowly spun their roasting forks and chattered about various things, bantering on the day now almost gone by, reminiscing on some of their previous challenges, or simply sitting in contentment and basking in the presence of their friends.

As the sun sank further, the air turning a rich orange-gold as the sky began to change hues, they finished up, licking sticky fingers and berating and congratulating each other on the results of the game. Despite Rika's culinary mastery, Satoshi's patience –and experience, perhaps, with past baseball cookouts– had carried him and his expertly-toasted marshmallows over all the rest, though Shion, who had attended one or two of those same barbeques herself, came in close second.

This changed the color of their competition somewhat, as Satoko, Rika, and Hanyuu were the only ones without two victories to their names, and there were but two competitions left. One of them would, undoubtably, be in last place, whereas Satoshi, Keiichi, Rena, and the twins were sitting pretty on two victories each, leaving them comfortably in the lead –except in the highly-unlikely case of one of the three girls snatching two consecutive victories.

"So then," Mion began briskly as she led them towards the edge of Rika, Hanyuu, and Satoko's backyard, twirling her pen in one hand. "-our swimsuits have all dried off from sitting by the fire, have they not?"

"Yup." Keiichi answered with a slight yawn, hands stuck in his pockets. The day had been long, and he'd woken up obscenely early, after all.

"All dry here!" Rena added brightly from behind him, smiling.

"Truly, such excellent pacing and planning is a hallmark of our club's devious leader, isn't it, Onee?" Shion asked with a grin, fluttering her fingers at her twin coyly. "Running around getting all wet, and then sitting in front of a nice toasty fire for long enough to dry off –just in time for more water! Really, I must congratulate you."

"Yes, yes, yes indeedy!" Mion cackled, sticking her pen in between her fingers as she rubbed her hands deviously, clipboard under one arm. "For now comes our penultimate challenge – Christmas in July! Once again joining forces in teams, each of us will undertake to build a "snow fort" out of the material available here –trees, branches, and so on– and arm ourselves with the buckets of water balloons the redoubtable Kasai has so kindly left out for us. There is a time limit of thirty minutes to construct our forts, and not even a leaf may be added after the timer goes off. Much like our earlier game of dodgeball, the objective of this particular challenge is to not get wet –whoever gets the most soaked by the end is the loser, with additional points removed should their fort collapse. Any questions?"

"Are you all ready to surrender now, mew?" Rika asked cheerily. After all, this was she and Satoko's backyard –what they didn't know about the terrain wasn't worth knowing.

To the surprise of absolutely no one –Keiichi included– both the race to build the forts and the exchange of watery missiles afterwards was a long and bitter battle, with each of the four teams striving with varying levels of desperation for the ascendancy. For Rika and Satoko, this was one of their last two chances to keep from receiving the dreaded club punishment games –for Hanyuu and Rena, it was a chance to avoid the same and to crown her achievements with glory, respectively. Each club member drew forth their fullest and deepest potential but, alas, by the end of the match it was no use.

Rika and Satoko knew too much about their surroundings, had known where to find the best pieces of wood to construct the sturdiest fort, and their diminutive size had allowed them to hunker down behind its formidable bulwarks and rain a never-ending hail of squishy balloons at their collective foes, thus earning them victory.

Mion noted aloud as she ticked off marks on the clipboard of scores, to much frantic "hauhauhau"ing and gushing tears, that this left Hanyuu as the only club member without two victories to her name, and with only one game left, it seemed unlikely that she should prove ascendant.

Especially with such an arbitrary game.

The sun was sinking well and truly now, the orange disk bleeding out into the horizon as it dyed the Hinamizawa crimson, and shadows were falling thick and fast on the forest-shrouded mountain slope as Mion gathered them together again, this time near the back of Hanyuu, Rika, and Satoko's house, where a series of odd globes had been stuck into the ground.

"Our last challenge for this glorious Midsummer's Day, everyone, is simplicity itself." the club leader announced gravely. "You all see the fireflies?"

The soft, yellow-green blinks of light were indeed beginning to weave among the trees and tall grass, and everyone's eyes briefly followed the tiny dancing sparks. The club acknowledged that they did, in fact, see the glow of the bugs.

"Well, for this, our twelfth and last game, the objective is simplicity itself. The sun will set at precisely 7.01, and whoever catches the most fireflies by that time is our final winner!" Mion cried, jabbing a slender finger up in the air as she punched her fist towards the sky. "So everyone grab a sphere and let's go!

With a laugh and a giddy cry, the club members seized the globes and plunged into the cool velvety darkness of the woods around the shrine, eyes gleaming as they chased after the elusive flicker of the drifting fireflies. Grass swished around bare legs, resinous swatches of sap clinging to palms as they lunged and half-fell to swing the globe and stick like a flyswatter at a fleeing bug, scrapes rubbing across knees and elbows as the children chased the flickering spots of light through the tangled, chirping mess of nature, the drone of the cicadas slowly fading away as day gave into the inevitably slow approach of night.

Calls echoed among the trees, faint and far like the whispers of a ghost, the club members laughing, congratulating, and taunting each other as little seeds of light grew and glowed inside their crystal balls, catching firefly after firefly as the tiny bugs landed and crawled around inside, the globes bouncing and clanking softly against their sticks as the children ran after the next glimpse of ghostly light-sparks.

"Well…" Mion began, then trailed off. There really wasn't anything to say, and everyone seemed beyond even understanding such an outcome –except for Rika, who was glaring daggers at her oddly sheepish-looking cousin.

For Hanyuu's globe was shining brightly, with dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of the pin-sized insects fluttering and crawling inside, and even as the other club members looked at her, more of the bugs seemed to settle softly around the shyly grinning Furude, circling around her head and horns and drifting around her body.

"Mew, Oyashiro-sama must have really blessed you, Hanyuu." Rika said at length, placing odd emphasis on her words and narrowing her eyes as Hanyuu squeaked and flushed guiltily, for some strange reason. "Now we all have two victories each, which makes this day a club-wide tie, doesn't it, Mi?"

"Eh…" The club president coughed and looked down at her sheet again, double-checking the scores. "Uh, yeah…no doubt about it. Double-wins for everyone! Well, isn't that convenient? I thought for sure Hanyuu-chan was going to end up with the triplicate club punishment for today!" she laughed.

Hanyuu began to sweat as Rika eyed her even more obviously. "H-hau! Yes, it must be a miracle! So the games for today are done, yes? My goodness, it was fun!"

Rika turned away from her cousin with a slight sigh, as though resigned to something, and smiled up at Mion. "Mew! Today was pretty fun! What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Who knows –but I can promise you it'll be fun!" Mion laughed, putting both hands on her hips.

AN: This one was so fucking long, I gave up trying to write actual thorough scenes of each game after I got a little more than a third into it. I was gonna do this originally for the summer solstice, but, alas, it took too long to write, even though I actually started this before June even began. Oh well. ITS FINALLY FUCKING DONE AND I DON'T HAVE TO CARE ABOUT IT ANYMORE, HA-HA!

[scribeofmorpheus]

I Don’t Dance To Dubstep part 3 (A Deadpool Fic)

Part One, Part Two

Here is a deleted scene of dialogue for this chapter if you are interested!

A/N: Okay so the conversation with Cable about the scars isn't intended to be a metaphor for self-harm or hint at bad parenting. Instead, it is meant to be a metaphor for embracing ones perfectly imperfect flaws like stretch marks or cellulite or skin discolouration. In short, it's nothing ominous. Also, this is the longest chapter yet! And don’t mind the fact I inserted myself into the fic, he does like to break that fourth wall of realism that darned Wade Wilson! Readers mutant power given alter ego is DJ, so no ‘Y/N’ in this chapter.

Words: 2399

Warnings: Mature Language,

(Gif isn’t mine)

"Okay be honest, what would you want your stripper name to be?" Wade continued his useless musings with Domino over the comms.

"That's easy: Lady Luck," Domino said without having to think about it.

"Huh… I'd go with Shiklah the Divorcer, abbreviate it to STD." Wade said wryly. There was a larger story behind his words.

"What?" Domino asked, completely oblivious to the context of the STD jeer, although truthfully, no one else seemed to get it either.

"Are we all in position?" asked Wade over the secure channel. Your earpiece felt like nails on a chalkboard due to your ability to focus sound waves. Your head snapped to the side and you made a hissing noise. Cable, who had been partnered up with you shot a concerned look your way. You raised your scarred hands up to signal you were fine.

"We're in position," Cable answered, the feedback from your proximity to each other caused another intense soundwave to vibrate through you. You winced and decided to remove the earpiece. "Won't you need that?" Cable asked you.

You gave a half crooked smile, "That's what you're here for, isn't it? Kick ass, not take names and listen to Wade's annoying voice shouting profane nonsense into your ears?"

Cable hummed, unamused by the image you just painted in his mind, "Unfortunately," he said. He opened his fanny pack- Ahem! His utility bag- and grabbed his lip balm, applying some on with a very serious expression on his face while maintaining eye contact with you. It felt both intimate and weird all at once. You were definitely confused by it. According to Wade, he did that a lot.

You cackled in a dramatic fashion after the eye contact turned from intense to awkwardly silly, filling the empty street with a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West sounding laugh echoing through the empty street. Bored, you used your abilities to amplify the frequency, making the laugh boom louder.

Cable tilted his head as Wade undoubtedly had something to say about your use of your powers for no reason other than boredom, "Wade said to keep it down to the 'sexy octave levels of James Earl Jones'," Cable relayed to you.

You whispered "Fuck you, Wade Wilson," and amplified the sound of your words into an even louder pitch until the glass windows groaned from the intensity and Cable was forced to cover his ears from the sheer volume of it.

"That's not exactly keeping things discrete, DJ, might want to tone it down a bit!" Cable shouted in discomfort, his words drowned out by the frequency of your own.

"Yeah, well we've been sitting in this car park dressed like background characters of a Will and Grace special for two hours now. If she was indeed on her way here, she'd have been here by now!" You huffed.

The two of you were on rear exit duty. If Wade and Domino failed to trap and kidnap the new contract, the two of you would give her a rude awakening. To your annoyance, your target was uncharacteristically tardy today, so for now, all four of you waited, dressed in the most unflattering disguises, staying incognito while stalking around the building your target regularly frequented. It was a Chinese restaurant that acted as a front for an illegal underground gambling ring. Your target was a pill pushing 'Madame' who had a habit of gambling away half her profits.

Cable closed his eyes and leaned against the hood of the car you drove in, it was a taxi, Deadpool had called up his pal Dopinder, who was out on a coffee run, to drive the four of you to the location. You sat cross-legged, shades shielding your eyes from the sun, on top of the warm yellow hood, there was an odd impression on the opposite side of the bumper that looked like the kind of mark someone who had been run over would leave.

Cable was taking slow, thoughtful breaths, not at all bored by the inactivity. You had noticed he always carried a teddy bear everywhere with him, it was quite the juxtaposition to his otherwise serious, brooding default setting. Letting curiosity win over you, you blurted out: "What's the deal with little Osito there?"

Osito was Spanish for bear. You had grown up in a bilingual household. Your mom was the one who prominently spoke Spanish at home, you had an easy time picking it up as a kid.

"What's the deal with the scars on your hands?" He asked, deflecting his personal question by asking you a personal question of your own. Smartass. He thought he had the upper hand, he assumed you wouldn't be comfortable talking about your scars, everyone always assumed that. He was in for a rude awakening!

"Casualty of being such a badass!" you quipped playfully. Cable gave you a small chuckle making you feel like you had just paved through a new milestone in your… acquaintance-ship?

"Is that so?"

"I managed to bring the great Cable to his knees on our first meeting, so yeah, I say so," you smirked proudly at him and he scowled.

"As a kid, my parents didn't understand what I was. I didn't either. I'd cause small quakes when I was angry or sad or happy or excited. Murdered a lot of Mom's fine china. Busted Dad's TV once. Eventually, they couldn't pretend anymore, and I saw how much I scared them. I scared myself if I'm honest. They told me to be normal, stop with all my craziness. I didn't know any better, I didn't know my abilities were as much a part of me as the colour of my eyes or the slant of my nose, so I repressed it. These-" you rotated your hands this way and that, giving Cable a show of spirit fingers, showcasing all the scars and tears from years of cuts and numerous surgeries, "These were the resulting effect. I broke many fingers. Some cases the waves would slice through skin. After my eighth break, I said 'Fuck it!' I began to use my abilities freely and openly. Of course, I was smart enough to know when to be discrete and when to wreak untold havoc upon some asshole who groped my ass in high school. And I haven't looked back ever since."

You had shocked Cable with your candour. You never minded explaining the scars, they were just younger versions of your many battle wounds. They made you what you are -which may not be perfect, but you couldn't give a flying fuck if you didn't conform to societies controlled demographic of normalcy. You were a rebel all your own. You gave Cable a wink, not at all shy or embarrassed that you just spilt private secrets so nonchalantly.

"Jesus," he said, only with less sarcasm then you ever thought him able to muster. "Did you kill him? The Asshole in high school?"

You laughed, amused at his question. He must think you some sociopath. Then again with an apathetic partner like Truth Dog and a habit of shooting up Wade all the time, he might not be wrong. It was still fun though!

"No, I didn't kill him. I used my sonic frequency to shatter all his trophies the school displayed in the trophy case. I may not have seen it, but I know he cried afterwards. Murder isn't the only solution you know. Some days you just have to find what stupid, materialist things people associate with their self-worth and-" You focused a low-frequency sound wave on the car and the window glass shattered in your demonstration, "Apply enough pressure!"

"My CAR!" Dopinder whined from behind you as he raced over to the taxi with his tray of coffees.

"Whoops!" You whispered before pointing nonchalantly to Cable, "He forgot to set his gun to stun. He sneezed and it just went off. Be glad he hadn't had the dial turned up to 11!" You blatantly threw Cable under the bus. He didn't say anything, but you could feel his cool eyes staring at you in less than amused mood. You giggled playfully.

"Yeah, well I hope you can pay for this Mr Cable, because I already have that dent to get out from Mr Pool's joyride when he was drunk that one time and decided to go all GTA on everyone," Dopinder said in his accented tone.

"Put it on my tab," Cable growled, causing Dopinder to gulp, a bead of sweat gathering above his temple.

"On second thought, I'll just put it on Mr Pool's tab. Since he'll… you know, need to use my cab again."

"Did you say something, Mr Roboto?" You heard Deadpool coo over the earpiece at Cable.

"Your coffee is here," Cable said. Through the earpiece, you heard Wade make an excited squealing noise and what sounded like Domino sighing heavily.

Some seconds later, Deadpool and Domino came repelling down a pipe from the roof and rushed over to get their coffees from Dopinder. Domino chose to wear her hair in stylish Bantu Knots, she had said it was a bad hair day, but she looked as flawless as ever. You were afraid you might be in love with her, or maybe it was her hair or the fact she had heterochromia, or at the very least you were maybe little too obsessed with her outfit! Who cared, Domino was plain freaking awesome!

"Give me that sugary goodness," Deadpool said as he kissed Dopinder through his mask and reached for his coffee. He took his mask off halfway, exposing his mouth, and sucked down dramatically on the frothiest, most hideous excuse for a coffee you had ever seen.

Domino grabbed her macchiato and Cable his latte, you were surprised someone all dark and brooding and serious like him would drink anything with milk in it. You grabbed your cappuccino and thanked Dopinder who was drinking a milkshake.

"What the FUCK is this?" Deadpool asked after he finally finished taking his first sip, more like chug. "This isn't the Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free coffee I ordered!" He bellowed loudly.

"Are you sure that thing is even classified as coffee anymore?" Domino quipped after taking a sip of her macchiato.

"Are you sure that thing is even classified as coffee anymore?" Wade mimicked like a four-year-old brat.

"Whatever," Domino said raising her hands in the air and rolling her eyes.

"The real question is: Where is this easy target and big payday you promised me?" You inched closer to Wade with a look that could kill. You blew air in his ear and amplified the inaudible frequency so that it damn near scrambled his brain. He squalled like a crying child with colic and dropped his Starbucks cup, foam and syrup and what little actual coffee there was in it splattered on the hood of the car coating everyone in the sickly sweet liquid except for Domino, by some unfair miracle.

"That's just fucking great!" Cable said in annoyance as he used his free hand to wipe away the frothy foam that covered his chest. You did the same and licked some of the foam off your finger, all the guys ogled you like you were some damn peacock.

"Men!" Domino said in disgust. You giggled as the gleeful feeling of dominating power coursed through you.

"To answer your question, Carrie White," Wade was referring to you.

"Carrie had telekinetic powers, Mr Pool, wouldn't it make more sense to call her Abra Stone, I'm pretty sure if she tried DJ could generate an earthquake too?" Dopinder asked innocently.

"No, Dopinder, what would make more sense would be to call her Black Canary, but given as how that is a completely different comic book universe and the fact that whoever thought up DJ's powers was an unimaginative lout who couldn't think up something cooler than sound manipulation and also thought DJ was an intuitive play on words and abilities, no, I do not think it would be better to call her Abra Stone. Shockwave maybe... but that’s trdemarked by Hasbro, so," everyone looked at Deadpool in confusion. "Anyway! I'm pretty sure she'll show up any minu-" Deadpool was interrupted by the sound of his phone receiving a message.

"Whoops, Ha-ha, forgot to put that on vibrate," Wade wiggled his eyebrows which strained against the tight fabric of his mask, "Ah, it's Weasel, apparently Madam Mayflower… Pffft- Mayflower! Anyway, apparently, she's not coming. She's going somewhere else today. Oooh! It's a Burlesque Club!"

"Well, what's the fucking plan?" Cable asked showing signs of impatience for the first time.

Wade looked over at you, Cable and Domino, his eyebrows clearly raised in mischief behind his mask.

“Now Madonna, Cher and… The Jackson Five,” he pointed to each of you, assigning you with the corresponding singer’s name.

Domino rolled her eyes at being designated as the entire music group of the Jackson Five (it was no doubt a play on the fact she usually wore her hair in an afro).

Wade made sure he used his most diva emulating performance to sell his pitch, “Put on your favourite dancing shoes and wear your skimpiest outfit. Because ladies, we’re going to put on the best burlesque show of our lives!”

“Jesus,” Cable grumbled. You noticed he did that a lot. You wondered if it would ever stop being comical and turn annoying.

Domino raised her hand.

“Yes, Jackson Five?”

“Which 80′s singer are you in this scenario?”

“Why, the legendary Dolly Parton, of course!” Deadpool said gleefully

"What about me Mr Pool?" Dopinder asked feeling a little left out.

"You are Driving Miss Daisy, now common let's go," Wade walked in imaginary heels and sauntered like a runway model to the front seat in the cab.

"That's not even a singer," Dopinder said with a frown.

"Hey, at least you aren't given the title of an entire music group just because of your hair!" Domino said in deadpan.

"Nah, he just got stereotyped as a slow cab driver!" You chimed in before taking your seat in the middle of the cab.

Part Four is HERE!

MASTERPOST | For Tumblr App

As Always: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I got carried away with this one a little bit. Anyway, if you like this fun little series don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the tag list!!! Also, check out my READER WEEK challenge that will be held on the 27th, Open to all followers!!

Tags: @demonhunter1616  @msstarsword

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet