#No they all just got killed at an unspecified point off screen I guess and the last shot of the movie is

[dankovskaya]

Ok I watched. The one horror movie on his filmography and that was um. That was um.

[stevetown]

I posted 238 times in 2022

That's 237 more posts than 2021!

46 posts created (19%)

192 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@voxvalentine

@knaveofaces113

@plummetingplum

@vgadvisor

@nintendumpster

I tagged 128 of my posts in 2022

Only 46% of my posts had no tags

#steve bait - 30 posts

#video games - 21 posts

#2022 game journal - 10 posts

#tumblr - 8 posts

#twitter - 5 posts

#silent hill - 5 posts

#dracula daily - 4 posts

#neon white - 4 posts

#pokemon - 4 posts

#persona 5 - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#no but really ezio killed hundreds but decides hes done with the pope?

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

89 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

#4

Her: She would be the kind of domme that's like "Pin yourself to the wall."

Me: Lmao. Wait what's that a reference to again?

Her: "...Sonic the Hedgehog"

106 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

#3

Hi! I just saw your quick start guide for the new twitter refugees and as someone who has been on tumblr since 2013/14 I was actually pretty impressed - you seem to have adapted very well. It got me wondering: how do you feel about all the "twitter-refugee-phobia" you have seen in the last few weeks? Personally, I'm kinda worried with the idea of new people ruining the tumblr echosystem, but I would like to see your point of vew (Sorry to bother you btw <3)

I totally understand that worry! Thinking on it, I believe it comes from two separate sources.

The first, and in my view more legitimate fear, is that Tumblr will become more like Twitter in that we'll see more corporations/celebrities/influencers/advertisers come here and somehow upset the ecosystem, as you say. In honesty, Tumblr has some built in defense mechanisms that make this less of a worry for me. Namely, they have access to the same tools as everyone else. There's no personal information here for them to buy, no real algorithm to game, no verification system. When anyone joins, they're just like you and me.

I'm heartened to see folks like @flanaganfilm come and check out Tumblr and take advantage of things like the ask feature. I think it's a really great way to interact with folks that feels more personal than Twitter pedestals.

The second fear I see is that somehow regular Twitter users are going to come in and ruin the place in an unspecified way. I guess the fear is they're going to bring a specific brand of toxicity or some such, but that seems unfounded to me. I think about how so many people are hooked to Twitter and don't know how awful it is and how much more comfortable they can be with a social media platform and themselves. We should encourage and welcome them!

Sure, this place isn't going to be for everyone, and I suspect many will check it out and bounce. And yeah, some not-so-great folks will find their way in. But at the end of the day, the block button, filtering, and content moderation tools still work the same!

When I came to Tumblr, I felt fairly instantly like I could be more myself. I could talk about weirder hobbies, I could engage with queer art, I could make silly Dracula Daily memes, and it all felt not just okay but encouraged. I want that same experience for everyone.

If Twitter really is the "modern public square," you're still putting on a mask and a front when interacting with people. Tumblr let me take that mask off, and I want everyone to have that opportunity.

114 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#2

414 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A Tumblr Quick Start Guide

A year ago, I realized that every time I logged onto Twitter, I felt my blood pressure rise. It's a platform that runs on anger and outrage, and I wanted someplace better to spend my screen time. In my almost-year on Tumblr, I now realize I log on here and get one or two good laughs every time I check my dashboard.

Tumblr has given me a lot lately, but it is a bit different than other platforms. I'd like to give back a little and provide a quick-start guide on how being new to Tumblr worked for me.

Finding Things to Follow

The biggest thing I had to get used to was realizing that on Tumblr, you don't necessarily follow people or celebrities or politicians. You follow your interests. In fact, it's pretty common to follow only strangers that post things you like. That can make your empty dash daunting to fill! Let's fill it with things you love and make you happy.

Make a list, mental or otherwise, of things you're interested in. Be both broad and specific! Board Games. Magic The Gathering. Supernatural. Marvel. Video Games. 8-Bit. Urban planning. Any and all things that you like!

Pick one of your interests and search for that tag. Flip between "Latest" and "Top" and browse around to see what kind of content is in that tag. You'll notice images, art, gif sets, TikToks, videos, essays - all sorts of things!

If you see a lot of things you like, cool! Click the button to Follow that tag if you want to keep up to date on it and find things later (we'll come back to this).

If you see a post you love, check out who posted or reblogged it. Scroll around on their blog. Do they post similar stuff? Are there other things you like here? Are they posting often? If you like what they post, follow the blog! Congrats, you've followed your first blog!

Take some time and check out some other tags and follow the same process - follow tags you like and blogs you might be interested in. It's not possible to over-follow! You can always curate your list later. This isn't Twitter - no one cares if you unfollow someone. Find what makes you happy.

Go back to your main dashboard - how are things looking? Filled with things you're interested in? Excellent. If things don't work for you, don't be afraid to unfollow blogs.

Want to follow more blogs? New episode of Andor drop? Go to the "Your Tags" header and scroll around to find some more juicy content. Check out blogs you like, follow 'em if you like em, rinse and repeat! That's curating your dash!

Your Blog is Your House

Okay, so you have a dashboard of content that you like - but what do you do with it all? Someone once described a Tumblr blog to me like your little house that you can fill with all the things you like. There is no rhyme or reason, and you don't need an excuse to reblog something other than the fact that you liked it!

If you see something you like, reblog it! To me, I reblog things when I say "I like this and I want it to live in my house so other people can see it when they come visit"

Reblogging is like passing a message along to other people. You can just reblog it on its own to amplify it, or you can add your own tags, or if you have a funny reaction gif/thought/video/thousand-word-essay, add to it when you reblog!

Use tags. People actually find posts through tags here. Use them to help people discover that really cool reblog you found! You can also search for tags on specific blogs. This makes them great for categorizing posts on your own blog. For example, I use #2022 Game Journal when I blog about whatever game I'm playing so I can do a year-end review later and find all the posts later.

Like things too. Likes don't amplify posts, but they're nice to let a poster know you appreciated it! I also use likes a bookmark. Sometimes I don't have time to watch that TikTok, so I'll like it as a reminder to come back to it later.

Be Weird. You can have sideblogs to hold more specific content, but don't be afraid to just scoop up anything you like and put it in your house! Reblogging is how content gets passed around.

Random Blog Tips

Wow nice job, your blog's looking great! Before you know it, someone will find it, check out your posts, and maybe give you a follow if they like what you've made or what your reblog! The last thing I'll touch on here are some nitty-gritty tips that can help you think about all the meta stuff about Tumblr:

Tumblr is the most anonymous social media platform. No one has to know who you are. Take advantage of all the privacy options.

You can also hide likes and who you follow from public view - that's no one else's business! Turn off asks too if you want.

Play around with your settings in general - there are lots of customization options and other dash tabs that you can use to find new content. You can also turn on timestamps so you know if a post you see is a "heritage post," as they say. Content is evergreen here and I personally like to see that in action.

You can filter and hide tags that you don't want to see.

Just block people liberally, it's cool.

You can pay to remove ads (nice), but you can also leave the option to see Blazed posts on. Blazed posts are ones that people pay for impressions for - and any post can be Blazed. The kicker is, there's no ad targeting. It can be quite funny or quite annoying depending on what you want.

When viewing the notes on a post, you'll see comments, reblogs, and likes. For the reblogs section, I like to filter by "Comments only" to find what people have added to the post.

Like all social media sites, there are dark corners here. I think Tumblr more than most puts you in control to curate your Dashboard to only see what you want. Block a user, hide a post, and move on.

That should be quite enough to get started! Tumblr can take a little more time to "get" compared to other social media platforms (and get in on the long-running jokes!), but trust me, after a week, you'll notice the difference between checking your Tumblr dashboard and checking your Twitter timeline.

See the full post

1,925 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[beesmygod]

this is what riverdale is about (part 6)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

and now...we come to the end of our journey...the final 4 episodes of the season. who killed jason blossom? you forgot that’s what we were doing, huh. you  were way too distracted by sex archie and the jughead/betty relationship (called ‘bughead’ in universe). 

i have a friend who has been watching riverdale because i have basically tricked him into doing so and frankly, what i am typing here was and is only the surface of this show’s nonsense. as he watched episodes, he reminds me of all the completely bananas shit that this show throws at you literally every second it is on screen and honestly its a relief to know that, as much as i can try to just give you some basic facts, watching the show itself is still a totally different transcendent experience. its really the only show of its kind; shamelessly stupid but unaware of it while openly delighting in all the silliest cliches presented as straight faced as possible. if these write up do anything for you at all, please, please. watch the show. you will be shocked at how much more there is to discover.

images are from the riverdale wiki

---

SEASON 1 (PART 4): 

the lost weekend: this is the one with a very special guest star in it: molly ringwald as archie’s mom! she and fred (luke perry) have been separated for some amount of time for an unknown reason. yay she’s so cute! i love her. oh uh, also they’re getting a divorce. the papers are going through. archie gets the bad news in the middle of a gaming sesh with jughead.

meanwhile, veronica meets with her dad’s lawyer (whose name is paul sowerberry?? he never shows up again despite his unbelievably silly name) and tells him she’s not giving him a good statement as to her father’s character to help him get a lesser sentence. “fuck you dad!” is the general sentiment before she stomps out to go to school.

oh man there’s a weird aspect of this show that i have neglected to mention. this isn’t something i’ve ever experienced in school so it was totally foreign and weird to me but the students have their own lounge that they mingle and talk in...at...some point during the school day?? jughead’s opening monologue of this episode makes great pains to talk about how every moment of their lives are scheduled from 8am to 3pm but there’s apparently plenty of sittin’ time where they can just laze about this random room talking about crimes they have or are going to commit. a great deal of talking happens in this room when usually you’d have to like, sneak a convo while getting shit out of your locker between classes. i dunno, it’s weird. this is where archie tells veronica about clifford blossom sending her dad to jail so he can jack the land everyone is fighting over.

archie and betty make plans to celebrate jugheads birthday by taking him to the movies, which i feel like is in poor taste given his movie house was just destroyed but whatever. with betty coming along it’ll be just like the three muskateers! betty replies “AcTuAlLy ThErE wErE fOuR mUsKeTeErS” and somehow he doesn’t beat her to death with his bookbag right there and then. betty then doubles down on the bad words flowing out of her mouth and proposes they hold a surprise party for jughead since, according to his dad, he’s never had one. i have no idea what would compel her to think he would want this. even i know he doesn’t want this and i only know him through a tv screen. on top of this she goes out of her way to invite his deadbeat alcoholic dad multiple times. i thought she was supposed to be the smart, observant nancy drew type but like...what the fuck betty. jughead does, in fact, get pretty pissed at archie just for telling his girlfriend that he even has a birthday. presumably instead of telling him he emerged fully formed from the leader of the black parade’s forehead.

after finding out from some files that her dad was receiving money monthly from clifford blossom for some unspecified reason before the arrest, veronica challenges cheryl to a dance off and wins. unfortunately, veronica cant come forward with what she knows because it would make it look like her dad put a hit out on jason in retaliation. dance off to relieve the pain.

jughead fucking hates his party and makes sure everyone knows it. this is something NORMAL people do and he is NOT normal!!! he leaves the party in a huff when cheryl shows up to get her dance off revenge by ruining the party by inviting the whole school. this is the episode where he does his famous “im a weirdo, i have a hat” speech, which is deliciously dumb. they get in a fight, while jughead’s dad talks to kevin’s boyfriend (who you will remember is a member of his gang he assigned to keep tabs on the progress of the teens looking into the whole land plot mess) while betty’s mom secretly listens in?!

cheryl activates chaos mode and locks everyone in the house so they can play a game called “secrets and sins” which is really just an excuse for her to ask everyone horrible questions to make them feel bad. veronica accuses cheryl of fucking her brother, dilton doiley tells everyone about grundy’s statutory rape of archie andrews and chuck tells everyone about dark mode betty drugging him for an impromptu bdsm session which causes jughead to go apeshit and try to throw a weak little baby punch. jughead’s dad, as the only adult who for some reason let all this happen, finally throws everyone out and tells them to go home.

archie and veronica sleep together, by which i mean, next to each other in the same room. veronica testifies on her father’s behalf and discloses to betty the link between jugheads dad and the serpents and her dad’s land plot dreams. molly ringwald appears for 20 seconds.

INHALES. OKAY.

to riverdale and back again: its homecoming babey! archie’s very supportive mother has a nice talk with him. :) veronica founds out that her dad only has to serve “a few more months” in prison for his various white collar crimes, further proof that riverdale takes place in america. jughead and his dad have a nice normal breakfast while fp sweats and asks him “hey uh, how come uh you’re writing about the uhhhh murder and investigating it and stuff” like a normal dad would. archie and veronica tentatively agree to start going out. 

penelopy blossom brings polly (betty’s pregnant sister, remember her? i didn’t) a strawberry milkshake in the most ominous way possible. veronica plans to sneakily find out if jughead’s dad is helping her own and for what purpose, ultimately. jughead accepts and invite to betty’s house for dinner, not knowing her mom is going to grill the shit out of him and his dad over the whole kid murder thing.

polly finds the ring jason proposed to her with back in penelope’s room while snooping, and has no idea how it wound up back in the hands of his mother. according to penelope, jason threw it in their face when he renounced his lineage, then gives her another milkshake.

the cooper family event is disrupted when betty, wise to her mother’s horseshit, invites her estranged dad to dinner too. all hell breaks loose when the subject of homecoming comes up and fp reveals that while alice and hal were crowned homecoming king and queen, they got in a knockout, drag-out fight backstage. alice flips out before he can reveal what it was about and betty and jughead flee for the dance. meanwhile archie and veronica try, and fail, to find something incriminating in fp’s trailer.

cheryl discovers the milkshakes are DRUGGED and polly is going to sleep through homecoming. she informs her parents that she has disposed of the ring (evidence) and they dont have to worry about it anymore. you can see where this is going.

jughead’s dad drops a bomb on him right before homecoming that they’re going to move to toledo to meet up with jughead’s mom and baby sister. jughead hates this bc he just got used to betty and he wants to write his murder book.

archie and veronica sing a truly terrible cover of “kids in america” that has to be seen to be believed.

meanwhile, sherrif keller tears up fp’s house with a search warrant and finds the gun that was used to kill jason blossom. WHAAAA??? BUT ARCHIE AND VERONICA JUST SEARCHED IT??? how could this happen.....jughead finds out about the web of deception weaved by the friends and tells them all to fuck off so he can go to toledo with his family. jughead literally turns around and is informed that his dad was just arrested for murder. his life is so hilariously bad.

the sheriff sucks so bad at his job because he tells his gay son everything who then spills the beans to archie and co (sans jughead) who learn that fp is being framed, because they already tossed the place before.

cheryl has the ring. at this point none of these things mean anything.

i cant believe i still have two more of these. i’m going to have to split this post after this one.

anatomy of a murder: as it turns out, archie discovers, information you discover during a breaking and entering won’t hold up in court. oops. meanwhile fp inexplicably confesses to kidnapping jason after his fake drowning at sweetwater river so he could use him as ransom after discovering he heir to all that sweet maple syrup money. according to fp, jason nearly escaped so they cut their losses and blasted a hole in him. he also confesses to torching the car and stealing the sheriff's files (which we, the audience, know hal cooper did, not fp). well. that’s that, i guess.

betty’s dad comes back to the family home to destroy the murderboard evidence all like “whoo hoo! fp took a bullet for me!” hal’s concern and his reason for stealing the files in the first place, as it turns out, was because the feud between the coopers and the blossoms is more complicated than we thought. the coopers WERE blossoms, until grand-pappy was murdered, so they packed their shit and left with a new name. so that makes polly and jason related. cool!

fp apparently used his his last phone call to call kevin’s boyfriend who, after some pressing by the gang, admits that while he didnt see fp pull the trigger, he did help him put jason’s body in a freezer. this tip leads them to the corpse of a serpent who had a sack of money in a monogrammed dufflebag with the initials “h.l.” (hiram lodge). this is a comically dumb move for a crime boss to make. it is shockingly stupid.

joaquin tells kevin about a secret stash he and fp set up before he bounces from town forever because riverdale sucks. in the stash is jason’s jacket. everyone puzzles over what it means until betty, noted brain genius checks the pockets. in it they find a usb drive.

they sit down and watch the usb and react like they’re watching a sad documentary and not a snuff film. betty calls CHERYL OF ALL PEOPLE and tells her what they just saw on the usb. cheryl, queen of chaos, confronts her dad and tells him that everyone knows what he did.

it turns out the video depicts jason tied up in the basement of the whyte wyrm, there the dead serpent watches over him. clifford blossom walks in and blows a hole in his kid. fp confessed to protect jughead, who was threatened by cliff as the heat poured on.

clifford dies surrounded by his greatest love, maple syrup, by hanging himself in the syrup barn. lol

the sweet hereafter: how the fuck is there another episode of this? they solved the murder, what else could there possibly be to do. wtf. anyway.

the cops find hella drugs in the maple barn after clifford’s death. the assumed story is that jason learned about his dad’s heroin smuggling business and threatened to tell the cops on his dad which lead to his abduction, and eventual death. i guess the polly thing is in here too somehow. not important i guess. the lodges prepare for hiram’s arrival. betty and archie are going to be honored by the mayor for cracking the case at the 75th annual jubilee (wtf). hermoine attempts to buy fred out of the project now that the cops are cracking down on the serpents and making them the face of the construction company is now a very bad look.

betty tries to write an article for the town paper about fp being innocent but her parents wont publish it, citing it as a conflict of interest given she’s smooching the subject’s son. jughead FINALLY JUT NOW gets a social worker who realizes that fred has a dui and is not fit to care for a kid. he has to transfer to a new school district...SOUTHSIDE HIGH SCHOOL!!!

cheryl apologizes for throwing hands at jughead in a previous ep and gives him her iconic spider brooch. i am only bringing this up because she says, specifically, that selling it will net him a good amount of hamburgers and “s t-shirts” for years. why is she the only one who notices he only wears one kind of shirt. betty’s article getting published in the school paper leads to the above retaliation.

veronica’s mom honest to god asks her to sexually manipulate archie into convincing his dad to sell the project to her.

betty’s mom, after a confrontation, tells betty abt the fight she and her dad had on homecoming night when they were high schoolers. turns out...alice was pregnant. she gave the baby up for adoption after she went to the sisters of quiet mercy, like she did with polly, even though hal wanted an abortion. betty immediately tells all her friends this shit.

jughead transfers to the new high and flourishes. turns out they’re all baby gangsters there so they look at him and his dad as kings to be admired. when the archie group heads off to go rescue him, it turns out they dont need to do anything. but now that theyre all conveniently together, veronica gets a txt from cheryl saying she’s going to go be with jason....

they rush to the river where cheryl is having her ophelia meltdown in his stupid little river boat dress where she punches through the ice until she falls through. theres no way to describe how silly this scene is unless you see it so i won’t try but its so melodramatic and cheesy that youre going to be amazed that it got through the writing team at all. archie saves her by punching through the ice the other way. from under the ice. you will soon find, that all of archie’s solutions are to punch things.

betty does a speech at the jubilee that convinces fred not to sell. a nice ending for him.

meanwhile cheryl burns her fucking house down for a lark. just for the drama of it all. 

the same night, jughead and betty start to fuck, as do veronica and archie. not int he same room, like totally separately. but jughead is interrupted by the serpents and a dog named hotdog, who give him a jacket of his own so he can join the team. betty is scandalized.

archie goes to meet his father for a breakfast at pop’s chocklit shoppe for a serious talk. but while he’s int he bathroom, a man with a gun is holding up the chocklit shoppe. he demands fred’s wallet, then pops a hole in him and runs off.

and that.........is where this season......ends.

---

thank you for joining me for season 1 of this shitshow. i love this shitty show. if you loved reading about it, or were mortified by whatever the fuck happened here, then you should watch it as well.

i never pass up an opportunity to shill myself, so if you like what i write, drop me a buck or two at my patreon. i do more writing like this, but also i mostly make comics, so make sure to read the page when you’re signing up so you know what you’re getting!

i WILL return...with season...2!

https://www.patreon.com/aghoststory

[thorvaenn]

i don’t even remember how old this is, but it’s very old. if you’re so inclined, have 4k of unfinished thorki crime AU. tags/warnings: kidnapping, electrical torture

The man came to just as Thor finished setting everything up. The cabin was secure, his equipment was unpacked and the man was tied to a sturdy wooden chair. When Thor noticed him stirring, he took off the blindfold and eased the spit soaked cloth that served as a gag from his mouth. He could scream all he wanted.

Thor let him get his bearings and watched him straighten up, green eyes widening in alarm as his consciousness returned fully.

“Hi,” Thor said, giving him a brief smile. He looked younger in the daylight that streamed in through the cabin windows. Thor had hardly any chance to properly look him over when he snatched him in the parking lot last night. Speaking of which... “How's your head? Do you want some water?”

“I think what I want is for you to let me go,” the man choked out with apparently forced calm. Thor shrugged and went to fill a glass anyway. He had to be thirsty.

“Not happening,” he said and pressed the brim of the glass to the man's bottom lip. He drank; not stupid then, that was good. “But you already knew that, so let's get down to business.”

Once the glass was empty, Thor placed it on a table at a safe distance and pulled a couple of papers from his bag. Well, he could have checked the name before – and his objective for that matter – earlier, but he supposed there was no harm done.

“So, Loki,” Thor spoke up again once he familiarized himself with his goals here. “I'm going to need you to share some information with me.”

“Fuck you,” Loki whispered.

Thor gave him a look. He was wearing black dress pants and smart, tight green shirt. Nice and expensive. That didn't surprise him, considering what was in his debrief papers. He was handsome, a bit pale, but then, who wouldn't be after being clocked on the head and drugged for good measure. His dark hair was all messy and fell into his eyes. Thor tucked his papers to the back pocket of his jeans and reached to smooth the locks away.

“Our time here is going to be very straight-forward,” Thor went on. “You tell me what I want to know and you will be fine. You don't tell me, you get hurt.”

“You took my blindfold off,” Loki snapped. “You're not letting me go, whether I spill or not.”

That actually wasn't at all true. It was not how Thor worked – how he needed to work. Even the most detailed description of his person wouldn't do the police any good.

However, he would not be sharing that information right now. There was already plenty of good will shown on his part.

“Well, if you want to think about it like that, you should consider that there are two ways to die,” he said conversationally and picked up a pair of scissors from the tools he had laid out on the table. “Painful and pain-free.”

Loki took a harsh breath as he Thor approached him slowly, eyes glued to the tool Thor was brandishing. He didn't know what it was about your garden variety kitchen scissors that always freaked people out so much, but ever since he found out, he has been using them to put a bit of pressure on his... charges.

Even though he actually never did what they all thought he would do.

He knelt by Loki's feet. He'd already taken his shoes off; it was pretty crucial to do that to make sure a person couldn't slip them off and loosen their restraints. The ropes wound around Loki's ankles were suitably tight and Thor fingered the hem of the trousers hitched above them.

Then he started snipping away.

To his surprise, he could hear Loki's breathing getting quicker and quicker, very much to the point of hyperventilating. He paused when one of the pant legs was cut open all the way to Loki's knee and looked up. Most people calmed down at least partly when they realized he was going for their clothes and not their skin.

Loki's eyes were squeezed shut and he was holding himself rigidly still.

Huh. Maybe this guy's phobia was somewhat stronger. Thor shrugged to himself and got on with it, careful but quick. Once both of the pants were gaping open, he snipped the waist and tugged the fabric out of the way. He spared only a brief glance to the black boxers that remained, and the lean, shapely legs now bared.

He stood up, putting the scissors away. It didn't seem to calm the man much, but Thor pressed on. He pulled out one of the papers that held the first of the number he needed to get information on and he held it out for Loki to see.

“This account number. Who does it belong to? Who really owns the money that run through it?”

Loki shook his head, mouth pressed into a firm line.

Okay then. That was enough chit-chat.

He got to work, pulling out all the necessary cables and wires, sticking several pairs of electrodes in even spaces to the man's legs, starting at the ankles and going all the way up to his upper thighs. When he was done and started connecting his wires to the controller he glanced up.

Was he imagining things or was Loki calmer now? That would be a first.

Time to press on.

“So,” Thor launched into his explanation. “I hope you are getting the picture now. The beauty of these little things is that we can keep this up for a very, very long time. I can promise you that I can keep you hurting really badly for days. Your body will stand it. There will be no bleeding out, no internal fractures to send you into shock and kill you, nothing merciful like that. Just you, me, some high voltage and low current and nothing around for miles and miles.”

He paused, looking Loki in the eyes. “How does that sound?”

“I...” Loki started and then his eyes narrowed. “I could die of an heart-attack. Expire on you. Then you will get nothing.”

Thor chuckled. Smart.

“Yeah, you could, in theory. But as you can see, you have everything going under the belt. That sends the danger under about... 1%. And besides, how old are you? Twenty-five, thirty? You won't be keeling over on me, I'm pretty sure.”

He saw Loki opening his mouth to retort, but Thor was done discussing for the moment. He flipped the switch on and turned the first dial. Just a bit.

Whatever Loki was going to say turned into a startled cry. Thor zapped his ankles just briefly; nothing more than a little taste.

He waited as Loki breathed through the shock, panting and licking his lips. “Twenty-one.”

“What?” Thor asked sharply, for a second assuming it was a beginning of the reply he was after. A code or- then it hit him.

“I'm twenty-one.” Loki laughed breathlessly. “You asked, so...”

Thor felt a tug of discomfort at that. He didn't realize he was handling someone that young. But at the same time, he knew that this was exactly the sort of reaction that Loki was aiming for and Thor certainly wasn't falling for it.

“Even better,” he shrugged simply and picked up the paper with the account number again, dangling it in front of Loki between two fingers. “The account. Talk.”

Loki shook his head, which mildly disappointed Thor, but didn't surprise him.

He turned three of the dials deliberately.

Some twenty minutes later he sighed, flipping the main switch off. He's been zapping Loki almost non-stop during all that time and he could already tell this would be hard work.

Loki wasn't trying to muffle his screams, but at the same time, he had a very particular choice of words he used when he actually formulated something: mostly curses, some 'no!'s and one or two 'Jesus'.

No please and no stop.

One tough cookie. But Thor was the best at what he did. He would crack him.

He grabbed a clean cloth and wiped Loki's face dry of sweat and tears, once again combing his hair away with his fingers, tucking it behind his ears. Then he went back for some water, letting him gulp it down between pants and shaky sobs.

“Do you know how long this little session took?” Thor asked, bringing a chair and sitting opposite of Loki.

Loki breathed a couple more harsh breaths, eyes shut tight. Then he opened them and looked squarely at Thor.

“Let me guess. I will say an hour and you will tell me it was five minutes.”

Thor just hummed.

The brief said that Loki was on a middle-level in the organization they needed to get into. His role was unspecified, but it seemed like everything he did was connected to computers. Accounting, hacking, that sort of thing. Thor began to wonder if there was more to it. If this boy ever got his hands dirty.

“The account, Loki.”

“No.”

Thor went all in next time; each of the dials was turned to about half of their capacity and Thor watched Loki's legs twitching and spasming as the current went through him all the way from his crotch to his feet. It hurt like motherfucker at this point, Thor knew well. Loki was crying out, head thrown back. Better zap him properly and then take a break... Thor could use a coffee...

He was snapped out of thought when his phone began to ring. He switched the controller in his hands off and, sparing a panting and crying Loki a quick glance, he walked to the adjoined kitchen to pick it up.

Sif's name was on the screen and Thor frowned. He should be the one calling that a job was finished; Sif never called in the middle. He hoped that she wasn't about to tell him they were on the clock and he needed to try other measures. He didn't like to get messy anymore.

“Hey.”

“Hi. There was a bit of a development.”

Thor sighed. When she wasn't speaking, he could hear Loki's hard breaths and whimpers even from the other room.

“I'm doing my best, these-”

“No, listen, I'm not trying to rush you. I actually need you to... put it on hold.”

Thor's eyebrows shot up and he looked out of the window unseeingly.

“On hold?”

“Yeah. I know this is weird, but there is a good reason. We absolutely may need to get the intel he has, but there is a bit of an issue. I can't explain. I need you to just keep him there, stop the interrogation for a while and then I will call you with instructions to either go on or abort the whole thing.”

“Sif, that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Don't you trust me?” Her tone was sharp and the phone cracked a bit with static as she raised her voice at him.

“You know I do. But... keeping him here? I am not a baby-sitter, you know that. Either I work or-”

“Just tie him up, keep him alive. Everything you normally do. Can you do that?”

From the briskness of her voice, Thor could tell the conversation was over. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, okay. When can I expect to hear from you?”

“Soon.”

She hung up.

-

Fuck. Thor went back to the main room where Loki was seated in the middle on the chair. Immediately he knew he could not keep him that way. Sif said “soon” but she never would have bothered to stop him if she could resolve whatever situation arose in a manner of hours. No, this could take days.

It was pretty hard keeping a person restrained and secured to something for days without hurting them permanently or giving them too many chances to escape. Thor was much bigger than Loki and he was holding all the trumps, but Loki was still a grown man and besides, Thor didn't know the full scope of his skill set.

After a while, Loki noticed him standing there and looked at him briefly before glancing away, mouth set stubbornly.

“Change of plans,” Thor told him, mind going over the options. He didn't wait for response and instead went to check the rest of the cabin. There was another floor there and he bounded up the stairs, finding two bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the bedrooms had a metal frame bed. Perfect.

Next, Thor went to check his pick-up. He knew he certainly had some handcuffs, but he hoped that he had chains too, not just rope. He didn't use any metal restrains in interrogation for obvious reasons, but now they would serve well.

He was lucky; he found a good coil of chains and several pairs of cuffs. One of the pairs were even wide enough  for ankles, which he might use on Loki when he needed to sleep.

He went back to the cabin and started undoing the ropes; first one arm, then he snapped one cuff over the free wrist, second, repeat, keep a hold on Loki's arms all the time. He dealt with the leg restrains fairly quickly and then he was hauling Loki up.

“Where are we going?”

“Let's start with the bathroom.”

Thor half dragged, half carried Loki up the stairs. Then he crowded him into the small bathroom and  pulled the toilet cover up.

“I know for a fact that it's possible to pull your underwear up and down even with your hands cuffed behind your back,” Thor said matter-of-factly. He never did like watching other men piss – or other – and so he had a hang on this. “Get to it.”

“But how-”

Thor was already half way out and he turned with a smirk. “Sit.”

Then he shut the door.

Some minutes – and a quiet flush, they guy was clearly a bit of an overachiever – later, there was a loud cough and Loki called out he was done. Thor opened the door with one hand, standing way to the side to avoid any surprise blow that might come. Instead, he found Loki standing in the middle of the bathroom, boxers askew, though pulled up, looking decidedly harassed.

“Can I wash my hands?” he asked irritably.

“You won't be touching anything,” Thor smirked. “And I don't think you did touch anything anyway.”

“I still feel gross,” Loki complained and Thor laughed, stepping in to turn the faucet on and grabbing Loki's cuffed hands to stick them underneath the stream.

Loki's shoulders dropped in apparent relief and Thor considered him for a moment, shutting off the water slowly and giving him a quick look over. The shirt was button-down and clearly damp with sweat in places. If they were going to be here for days... Thor might as well get ahead of things. He pushed Loki against the wall and started undoing the shirt. It wouldn't come off this way fully with Loki's hands cuffed, but Thor could take it off later when he cuffed Loki to the bed. Loki tensed and watched him closely, barely breathing. Thor spotted a wash-cloth draped over the ancient tub and picked it up, wetting it underneath the faucet and he began rubbing Loki down.

“What- why are you doing that?”

“You said you felt gross,” Thor shrugged. He hasn't figured out what to say to Loki about this weird limbo they found themselves in. Psychology was a minor part of his process, but he did know how to keep his charges on their toes.

“Not that much,” Loki spat as Thor brought a newly wetted cloth to his armpit.

“But you will. I don't know about you, but I am not a fan of old sweat.”

“What the hell does it matter to you?”

Thor paused mid-stroke, looking up at Loki. He was pressing his entire body to the wall, trying to get away from Thor even if it must have surely been hurting his shoulders and wrists. His eyes were wide and Thor couldn't quite say if it was with fear or something else.

“Whatever,” he frowned, tossing the wash-cloth into the sink. “Come on.”

He dragged Loki to the bedroom he chose and pushed him face first onto the bed so that he could retrieve the chains and the other pairs of cuffs. He worked quickly; he didn't like that he couldn't read Loki properly and he had an itch at the back of his neck – like a warning – because of it.

One chain to each corner of the bed, leading to a pair of cuffs on every side. He was leaving Loki quite a bit of space to move his arms, especially so he could sleep and change positions for comfort, but it was risky. He would still need to spend most of his time in the room with him. Once he had the chains and cuffs set up, he turned to a chest that was placed at the foot of the bed and sure enough, there were old linens. The material was so aged that he had no issue tearing one of the sheets into strips. As he was doing it, the loud ripping sounds filling the room, he glanced at Loki to see him lying unmoving on his front on the bed, head turned. He was watching Thor, but when he saw Thor looking back, he burrowed his face into the coverlet.

Thor shook his head and approached him again, uncuffing one wrist to wrap a piece of the linen loosely around it before cuffing the other pair on and repeating the process. Now Loki had his skin protected from the worst of the bruising, half of a cuff on each wrist so that Thor could secure the other one to each of the two chains that he had clipped to the bed.

He could pinpoint the second when Loki realized what he was doing. Thor was lucky he already had one of Loki's hands secured before he started struggling.

“Stop- don't do this!” Loki spat at him, almost hitting Thor in the forehead with the cuff hanging from his free wrist. “Please, no-”

Thor wrestled his other arm to the other side of the bed and snapped the second cuff around the chain, breathing out in relief. He didn't get to take Loki's shirt off because of the sudden struggle, but he figured he could always just cut it off and cover him with something else if it got cold.

But Loki was tugging at the restrains frantically and the linen that Thor put underneath the cuffs could only do so much. He grabbed Loki by the shoulders and pressed him to the bed.

“Hey! Calm down. Your circulation will be fine. I'm staying here, I will give you food and water.”

“My- what?!”

“What is up with you?” Thor mused out loud, staring down at Loki as he still leaned on his shoulders, keeping him still. “You are all cool when I'm actually extracting intel from you but now that we are taking a break you will be trouble?”

“Extracting intel,” Loki repeated after a while of silence during which he stopped struggling and Thor let him go, straightening. “Is that what you call torture?”

“Yes, it is,” Thor told him evenly. He had no illusions about what his job was.

“Why are we taking a break?” Loki asked, turning his face away from Thor.

“I don't know,” Thor said honestly, psychological leverage be damned. Then he couldn't help but be a bit sarcastic. “I hope you noticed at this point that this is nothing personal. I have bosses. They said to take a break, so that's what we are doing.”

Loki said nothing and kept his face turned away. Thor got to work.

Despite the rather small-ish size of the bedroom, that would be his base now. He had to keep an eye on Loki and not leave him alone for prolonged periods of time. So he shuffled the furniture around, humming and whistling to fill the silence, getting himself an ancient and kind of dusty comfy chair and placing it in the corner. Then he discovered a tiny old TV in the other bedroom and brought it over to place on the dresser so that both he and Loki had a good view of it.

“Okay,” he nodded, mostly to himself when he was done, stretching and yawning. “Food time. Do you want pasta or beans?”

There was a beat of silence and then Loki slowly opened his eyes.

“Is that a real question?”

“If I could read your mind, we wouldn't be here, so, yes, it's a real question,” Thor huffed. Loki kept watching him for so long that he almost decided to just go and pick whatever he wanted (pasta), when Loki finally spoke.

“Okay. I want pasta.”

“Fine,” Thor shrugged and picked up the wider set of cuffs.

“What?!” Loki jerked when Thor grasped his ankle. “Was that the wrong answer?”

“Will you chill?” Thor groaned, exasperated. “I'm leaving the room, hence you get tied up more securely. It's very simple and it has nothing to do with what you want to eat.”

Finally he cuffed Loki's ankles together and left walked out quickly, weirdly annoyed. As he came down to the main part of the cabin, he shook his head. All his stuff was spread around, the electrodes, the controller, all the wires and cables... This job was so routine to him he sometimes forgot what it was actually doing to the people he was interrogating. He could hardly expect Loki to be calm and trusting, could he?

He turned the butane stove on, setting a pot of water to boil and took out to packages of instant pasta to dump in it when the water was hot. He browsed the drawers in the kitchen as it boiled and the sauce thickened, finding several plastic spoons. Perfect.

When it was done, he poured his portion of the pasta into a bowl and dumped the rest into a plastic lunch box which was for Loki. No hard objects. No object that can be broken and have sharp edges.

It was natural to him. He brought it all up, along with a large bottle of water tucked underneath his arm. Loki was as he left him, a crease between his eyebrows.

Thor set the bowl and lunch box at the windowsill, dropping the bottle on the floor and grabbing his keys.

“Simple deal. Legs stay secure, so does one hand. You eat with the other. If you mess around, I will lock you back up and start feeding you and you don't want that.”

“Why not? It's less work for me,” Loki hissed back at him. Thor cocked his head, secretly amused by the pout he was sporting and by the ridiculous point that he just had to decide to argue about.

“Because I don't like playing nursemaid,” Thor said calmly. “It pisses me off. You don't want me pissed off.”

“Yeah, I shudder to think,” Loki murmured, looking away briefly. Before Thor could figure out what to say, he spoke again. “I'm hungry. I won't try anything.”

“Better keep that word,” Thor told him cheerily. “Left or right?”

“Left.”

Thor uncuffed the indicated hand and then grabbed Loki underneath his arms to haul him into a mostly seated position. Then he put the lunch box piled with steaming, creamy pasta and a plastic spoon stuck into it into his lap and turned on the television.

[kakiokuru]

NOBORIZAKA: NOVEMBER RAIN

Chapter Seven | Information and Formation

“Alright everyone, settle down.” Reika wore an air of confidence as she spoke; making sure her laptop was securely hooked up to the borrowed projector. Reika wasn't a fighter, but there was a reason she was a part of the team and this was it. If you needed a game plan and thorough information, she was the best. With her moment to shine, Reika adjusted her glasses while waiting for her comrades to get comfortable. “Majijo is currently leaderless, but that isn't to say they are weak. Let me fill you in on what we’re up against.” Time to get right to business.

Lifting a small remote, she moved to the next slide of her PowerPoint. Yes, she made a PowerPoint. The first photo up was of a young woman with bobbed hair and wearing a red velvet sukajan. “Otabe, real name Yokoyama Yui, is the closest thing to the leader now. She's repeated many years for unspecified reasons but doing the math from when she first transferred in, I suspect she's around twenty-two. She’s what you can consider a seasoned Rappappa member, previously the president of the second generation of Rappappa but now acts as the advisor and a Heavenly Queen. She fought against Sakura once and they were evenly matched, however Otabe does possess strength powerful enough to break through blocks. Maiyan, I suggest she be your target.”

Mai gave a firm nod at the screen, burning the face into her mind. “I saw her at the gate. She shouldn't be a problem.”

“Now, under her are what you can call lieutenants. Or in their terms Heavenly Queens." Reika clicked her remote to bring up the next slide. “Magic, AKA Kizaki Yuria. Yoga, AKA Iriyama Anna. Katsuzetsu, AKA Kodama Haruka. Both Magic and Yoga have been Queens for some time, since before Sakura transferred in. They have some… unconventional fighting styles. Magic is the ‘third’ Queen and incorporates, as you would have guessed, magic into her attacks as distractions and sabotage, though her combative capabilities lay with the use her legs and her speed. Yoga, to be put bluntly, is the weakest among the Queens. Because of her proficiency in yoga, she’s rather quick, flexible, and prefers to dodge attacks and counter. Katsuzetsu… is more unofficial than anything. She transferred in recently to follow Sakura but some digging revealed that she was somewhat of a lackey and possibly harbours romantic feelings for Sakura. She was as bold was as bold as to infiltrate Rappappa’s clubroom and declare herself as the president. ” Reika continued on to explain her analysis on the battles between Sakura and the Queens.

“I want the magic girl.” Nanase rested her chin in hand, staring at the screen with little interest in the others. “Sakura almost lost when she was caught. I'm too fast, even with tricks. I'm sure to win against someone like that.” She smirked with anticipation. “Besides, someone who relies on magic and tricks to win a fight has no place in a real fight.”

Reika shook her head. “While you did clear up to the gate in under five minutes and probability of success looks to be in the green…” She pushed up her glasses and brought up the next slide, showing an image of her recommended formation of attack, flowcharts, graphs and all. At a glance, it was a sound and solid plan. “We will need the gate to be re-cleared of all the miscellaneous others before we charge the stairs.”

Nanase made a displeased face, rolling her eyes. “Make Kazumin do it! She's the tank! She could clear the small fry altogether in under three minutes.”

“Eh, I don't want to fight!” Kazumi pouted, still enjoying a bag of chips in her lap. “Maiyan said I didn’t have too!” She protested, in between crunches.

A loud sigh interrupted the chewing. “An attack like this is unreasonable. These are yankees.” Even Erika understood that. “There are systems and rules. Going in so boldly would be looked down upon even if we were victorious.”

“She's right.” Yumi sat up on the couch, lazily slouching against the leatherback. As a yankee herself, she understood unspoken yankee ‘traditions’ the best. “If we want to take down Majijo without a leader then we need to work up the totem pole. Reika had the right idea, declare war by clearing their gate but then attack their lower teams and work up.” She sighed, as if reading off a script. Anyone who attacked Majijo seemed to stick with this structure and eventually it became a system that all yankees abided by. “When we solidify ourselves as a threat, then we can take on their top fighters.”

“That seems tedious.” Erika furrowed her brow at Yumi, crossing her arms.

Yumi sighed, waving her hand listlessly. “It is, but anyone who has done anything different failed. We already have a strike against us for not having a student transfer there.”

“It’s all superstition.” Mai stood and stole the remote from the bespectacled girls hand, turning the slides back and forth until she could see every member. “We aren't everyone else.” Mai glanced over every image, the gears turning in her head. “We’re Noborizaka students, not yankees. Mai would want us to uphold Noborizaka’s name, and go about this with class. We will do this by their rules. Confer with Wakatsuki on these rules, Reika.” Turning on her heels, Mai crossed her arms. “Nanase already completed step one, clearing the gates.”

“Well, if I have to again to prove a point, then I don’t mind~” Nanase grinned, twirling her fingers in her hair. “But like I said, I already picked the girl I want.”

Mai rolled her eyes, trying to keep focus. “We don’t get to pick… But we’ll see how everything will turn out. Our next task is taking out Team Hinabe. Who should clear the second tier?” She turned slightly to view her team, lips curling in thought. Kazumi would be preferable but she had already told the tank of a girl she was allowed to stand on the sidelines. Going back on her word and forcing her would be wrong.

“Hinabe, this generation’s food-themed team. They’re actually significantly stronger than their previous incarnations. They are currently comprised of four members…” Reika tapped the photos against the wall with her stylus. “So if we go by yankee rules, wouldn’t it take a matching amount of girls to fight them?”

“Nah, these girls are chicken shit. Uonome, Dodobusu, Jisedai, and Kusogaki. All of them get downed with little to no trouble. They only got into Rappappa by riding on Sakura’s coat tails.” Yumi smirked to herself, stating the fact. She glanced to the student body president, her imagination picturing an amusing thought. “Even you could do it, Reika.”

The group snickered at the thought, although Reika didn’t seem as amused. Reika wouldn’t last very long at all, even against the weakest member. Hell, her tablet case had more endurance than her. If she didn’t shield herself when Erika darted her stylus towards her, the metal would have went right through her like a bullet.

Such a thought broke her out of her confident and serious demeanour prior to the presentation. “No-no-no-no way! I can’t even slap my hands to kill a fly without hurting myself.” She waved her hand a bit in front of her face. To return to the topic at hand, she turned to look the projected images. An idea struck her. “Nishino-san cleared the gates before, by herself, didn’t she? That wasn't a declaration of war, just scouting. So, why don't we all go together…? Aren't teams still in the rules? Going together might stir up enough buzz to properly declare war and they’ll see us as a threat.”

Erika scoffed. “Fight a team of flies together to declare war?”

“Hm… Considering we don’t meet their ‘transfer’ rule, it's not out of the question…” Yumi nodded a bit while she spoke.

“Then, I don’t… hate the idea.”

“Together? I want to come! I don’t want to fight but I want to come!” Kazumi jumped in, hand raised in the air.

Mai’s eyes glanced around the room, tossing the remote into Reika’s possession. “Seems we’re all in agreement here.”

Reika fumbled with the device as she tried to catch it, pulling in the next slide. “Ah, there's still the third tier. Kamisori, AKA Kojima Mako, and Katabutsu, AKA Okada Nana. They aren't stair guards and they also don’t really fit into Rappappa either but they’re still a level above Team Hinabe. At least according to the order Sakura fought them in… Not quite Heavenly Queens, but still in the highest positions. We could also take them on at the same time as Hinabe since they’re never far behind in terms of proximity.”

Nanase’s eyes dropped to her nails. “So in the end, it’s six against six.”

“That means the black hole and Reika has to fight.”

“Eh!!” Kazumi let out a loud groan in protest, a large open mouth frown decorating her face. “Do I have too?”

“I… would really rather not.”

“If what Wakatsuki said was true and one of us can do it alone, I'm sure four can pick up Kazumin’s and Reika’s slack.” Mai smiled softly, patting the sitting, tall girl on the head. “You don’t have to fight, remember? Ikuchan, Naachan, Wakatsuki, and I are more than enough.”

“Isn’t that unfair?” Erika snapped her attention over. “Kazumin is a member of this team so I say she do her part. I don’t want to fight either but I’m here, aren’t I?” Erika looked over, her eyes growing cold. “Even Reika is doing something for the team so why isn’t Kazumin.” Crossing her arms, she looked out the window while her fingers tapped against her skin in a rhythmic fashion. “I think even Reika should fight, but we all know that’ll never happen… pussy…”

“I–…” The student body president opened her mouth but she couldn’t deny that it was for a fact that she never plans on raising a fist against another person. She eyes slowly dropped to her floor, ultimately feeling disappointed in herself still. “I’m sorry…”

Mai lifted her arm protectively in front of Reika and faced Erika with the same authority. “We aren't yankees. We aren't a fighting team with a hierarchy. We're friends. While I would want everyone to make the effort, if someone doesn't want to join the fight then they don’t need to fight. But if they want to be here for MaiMai’s sake–”

“MaiMai’s, or yours?” The pianist injected, giving her leader a hard glare.

There was a heavy tension in the room. All of the girls glanced at each other as if mom and dad were fighting at the dinner table. All stayed still, except for the loud uncomfortable crunch as Kazumi slid a potato chip into her mouth. Nanase sharply kicked the noisy girl in the back to quiet her, grunting at her softly with as stern a look she could muster. Kazumin nearly choked on the chip, finally taking in the atmosphere. She glanced in between Mai and Erika, seeing the sparks flashing between them even when no words were exchanged. Like a tiger clashing with a dragon. She hated it. There hadn’t been an air like this since–

“…I’m calling Nanamin!!”

Kazumi shouted, visibly upset after Nanase’s kick. She almost resembled an angry toddler as she dropped the bag of chips to get her phone from her skirt pocket. Wakatsuki fell off the couch, quickly scrambling to try towards her in an attempt to stop her from dialling her phone. Even Mai and Erika broke their non-verbal argument and lunged forward to halt her from bringing the embodiment of their worst nightmare into this mayhem of a team.

“No, no, no, no–!! Wait!! Stop!! Kazumin, don’t–!!”

But it was too late. It took no longer than twenty minutes for the air of dread to grow unbearable. Knowing death was soon upon them, the girls stayed as far as they could from each other in the small clubroom. No one particularly wanted to meet eyes with each other, or acknowledge the doom coming for them. Reika hid behind her tablet, Nanase hiding her nose in a manga, Erika staring at the window but her fingers fidgeted with nervousness. Even Wakatsuki was keeping focus on her phone while Mai studied the photos on the laptop. Then the door opened so quickly it almost fell off its rollers and everyone froze mid activity.

“I was in the middle of my shift.”

A tall woman with lightened hair peered into the darkened room. Every girl stiffened, fighting to even look at her. The woman had a large pair of sunglasses on, and was dressed to match her age and profession of fashion consultant standing poised and proud. Well, angry and proud.

“Nanamin!” Kazumi bounced up, still sporting that upset, immature face. “Everyone's fighting again! Make them get along!! They tried to make me fight too!! And Naachan kicked me!!” Kazumi hugged the woman’s arm, with an accusing point aimed at the group who were all still hiding behind books and electronic devices. Some even sunk into their seats to avoid ‘dad’s wrath’. Nanamin tugged the sunglasses from her face, shirking Kazumi off. With her long slender legs, it only took a few intimidating steps to make it to the back of the room where she ripped the blankets away from the windows to let proper light in. Without even turning to face the inside of the room, she tapped her foot expectantly.

“Everyone, line up.”

Even if she spoke with an eerily calm tone, her voice thundered through the room. The girls all raised their hands to their eyes, hissing from the sudden influx of light. With the curtain down you could properly see how destroyed the room had become. Dust everywhere, things nonchalantly thrown in the formerly dark corners of the room. Even the furniture hadn’t had a good cleaning in quite some time, Wakatsuki’s shape taking a permanent indent in the couch. Nanami’s head shifted slightly, her eyes scanned the room in growing anger. The girls hadn’t even moved from their spots out of fear.

“I said… Line. Up.”

Nanami stomped her heel into the floor, threatening to crack the tile. It was all that was needed. All of them leapt from their spots, forming a line three paces from her. There was no denying the woman’s power; she could shake the very will of even the most hardened souls. When Nanami finally turned around, she stared directly into each girl’s frightened eyes. Her eyes were like ice, freezing each of them to their very core, her aura like a queen that would destroy any and all walls in the name of conquest. The only person not to be intimidated by Nanami was MaiMai. But with MaiMai gone…

“I cannot believe this. You are all a mess.” Nanami crossed her arms, tilting her chin upwards with a brow raised in disbelief. “What would Mai think? Blindly calling out war, fighting amongst each other. On top of that, you trashed the club room.” She really did sound like a disapproving father, beginning to pace in front of them. She gave an exasperated sigh, dropping her hands to her waist. “I called in a fake emergency for this?”

“But, Kazumin–”

“Had a genuine concern for her teammates, Sakurai.” Each girl snapped her attention over the second Reika opened her mouth. No one spoke back at Nanami, no one but MaiMai. “Kazumin did what MaiMai told her to do if the situation called for it, something that should have been done a month ago. Are you insane Mai?” Nanami looked more than pissed. She barely cared for what would happen to this council but she was seething at what has become of MaiMai’s beloved team. “This situation at a glance is beyond ridiculous. Starting a war with Majisuka Jogakuen? You are not yankees. You are Noborizaka Elite Private Academy students.”

“Actually, Nishino and I are–” Yumi shakily raised her hand with an uncomfortable pout and matching soft tone.

The graduate immediately lifted her forefinger out towards the yankee girl, promptly silencing her. “You are both children stuck in your middle school rebellious stage. You will be silent, Wakatsuki.”

Yumi lowered her head just as fast as she had raised it. Nanase didn’t even bother, knowing Nanami’s wrath better than any of them. Erika smirked to herself, keeping her head down as she attempted not to laugh. Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“And you, Erika. You had your temper under control, what the hell happened? Has MaiMai moving on really made you uncontrollable again? Destroying property, challenging anyone with a different opinion? Huh?” Nanami raised her brow at her, stepping forward. “Didn’t we tell you to channel your anger into the piano? Oh, and I know what you did to Reika’s tablet. I expect you to pay her back for it.”

The short-tempered girl gulped. “Y-Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

Nanami gazed over each of her former teammates once more before taking a deep breath to calm her annoyed nerves. “Kazumin filled me in on what's going on, has been for quite some time. I’m more surprised it took until now for you all to need me.” Turning around, Nanami strode to the projector, debilitating Reika’s formation. “This composition will only work if everyone pulls their own weight. It’s how teams work.” She sighed softly, grabbing the remote to slide through photos of their opponents. “That means Kazumin and Sakurai, too.”

“Eh… But…” Kazumi wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Kazumin.” Nanami glanced at her before extending her hand to the girl. Without a shred of hesitation, Kazumi took Nanami’s hand, staying close even if she was pouting the entire time. “I know you dislike fighting, but try to think of it like this. You’re protecting your family instead of fighting for the sake of fighting. Doesn’t that sound better?” Nanami tilted her head as she offered a small smile, trying to relate to her to appeal to her peace-loving nature. Nanami was pretty good at it, often consoling her in the past when Fukugawa Mai couldn’t. She had to learn the skill slowly, knowing that depending on Nanase to be a voice of reason was impossible. It was a side of her that few people experienced.

“I guess it does…” Kazumi looked down in thought, even if her mind was very gullible and easily swayed. Yet, after a few moments she raised her head with a smile, giving the most energetic nod. “I’ll do it! For my family and my school!”

“Atta girl.” Nanami grinned, patting her head before sending her back to join the others.

“But Nanamin… what about me…?” Reika hugged her tablet, unsure of her position in the team. If everyone was going to fight, where does she stand? “I can’t even properly punch someone…”

“That’s fine.” Nanami shifted from Kazumi, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s why you won’t be alone. You have everyone with you.” She held her head high, trying to boost the girl’s confidence. “They’ll help you become stronger and stand your ground. I know you’re not a violent person but you can’t be afraid. Let them teach you.”

If you looked close enough, you could see Reika smile at Nanami’s words, giving her a nod. Everyone always benefited from Nanami visiting. Whether it is with her lectures or pep talks, Nanami always said what was needed rather than what was wanted. Even if she was clearly biased towards Kazumi as the favorite of her children, she was the father figure to MaiMai’s mother figure of the group. Nothing went by without her knowing about it.

Nanami exhaled and stepped back, striding towards the laptop. “Okay, everyone, sit down. I’ll figure this plan out in a way that everyone will have a winning chance with little to no trouble.” She grabbed the remote the PowerPoint, watching everyone file into their seats. As well as a fashion consultant, she was also a proficient strategist. Reika had to have learned from someone to be where she is now. “With any luck we can knock the declaration and first battle out of the way in one fell swoop to save time. Just trust in me, Dad will help.”

Dad will always be there to help.

To be continued…

[mustapleko]

So yall remember how I promised I was done with Sherlock like five years ago oh you do good because I made a word vomit about s4 click here or don’t because Idk how this happened I don’t have anything new to add it’s literally all the same crap that we have all seen already from mofftiss. Or at least was until the third episode because boy was that really fucked up or whaaaat??????????????  

 under the cut also spoilers or whatever. ↓ sorry mobile users :^)

I procrastinated 4 weeks watching the new eps. Yesterday I saw new cute fanart and was warmed and energized by my love for Sherlock Holmes *stops to wipe a tear* and found the willpower to sit through them. Initially I hoped that I’d be able to just enjoy the shittiness of it all. That I’d finally managed to break my emotional ties with this series (burning love for season 1 to deep disappointment in the rest)  Still wrote a rant nobody asked for. And to the person who convinced me to finish this: fuck you this took me all night now im tired and feel stupid abt this but it’s too late to backpedal so fuck it.

EP 1:

And there went my fun bc the first episode ended up being so... bland. Plot was rushed and pointless. I laughed at one joke. The rest of them were so embarrassing, oh my god. The “lol sherlock is awkward” gag is so old and tired. And his characterization is all over the place. Like.... I don’t even know what to say. I’m not a film critic, I’m not here to say what I just said, I came here to laugh at stupid shit and be offended as a Holmes fan.

But I started a rant and so I shall do because the second half of the episode actually gave me two reasons: There is one thing that I judge harshly in every Holmes adaptation, and that is how they treat their Watson. And there’s one thing that really bothers me about this series, and that is Mary. All of her. This had both problems.

Summary: So Sherly is off the hook for shooting a guy in the face in the last episode bc he’s needed to solve shit for the government. He then proceeds to be a huge dick to everyone. The Watsons successfully have a baby and it’s small and cute and all. The three (four) of them go off to solve crimes but everyone keeps shitting on John and we get this really weird Mary x Sherlock episode. Then one of Mary’s ex-co-assassins turns up wanting to kill her because of some misunderstanding. That crap is solved (with guns) and we are again assured that her history as a secret killer agent is in no way a problem and everyone loves her unconditionally. Then at the conclusion of the case some more guns are involved and Mary jumps in front of a bullet to save Sherlock and kicks the bucket. rip. 

I admit I’ve never had much interest in Mary in any adaptation. (Dumb personal preference. please I don’t wanna fight anyone over this, I do understand her importance.) Not because I think her a ship breaker or anything. I’m fine with her being involved. But she usually just kinda exists in the background. And ends up being disposed at some point This show tried to involve her properly but they made it so complicated. There’s no way to make her backstory fit comfortably into the setting. Not with John and Sherlock being more or less regular people. I don’t want to sympathize with her assassin ass. Again, my personal problem probably. But watching an episode centered around her was not fun.

I don’t mind them being a trio, but with this Mary the group is unbalanced. She’s too sassy and smart. Like having two Sherlocks. And considering what a charmer he is in this show...... brings us back to the problem I mentioned first. Which tbh existed before. Everyone’s really terrible towards John all the time! Still, after 4 seasons. I get that he’s supposed to be the normal dude who reacts to all the crazy shit happening around but....  He’s constantly being lied to, kidnapped, dismissed, manipulated and provoked into violence. My enjoyment of all things Holmes comes pretty much from the beautiful broship. But nooo, that’s too lame for this series, no homo.

I don’t wanna go too deep into that, it was talked about enough last season (“Is everyone I know a psychopath??”, “Why is everything always my fault??” & other Moffatty Stories). They do kinda try to convey how shitty this all is for John but it falls really flat. And that is so weird and frustrating because this show doesn’t actually suffer from a bad Watson like many others. They just don’t let him be a competent character. Meanwhile the person Sherlock is being besties with is Mary. Idk if they were trying to pander to the female audience or make her inevitable death sadder, but that was really weird.

I was happy to be rid of her in the end. Again, not in “hated the bitch” kinda way. That’s just the best course for the story to take. In that moment I had hope in the writers of this godforsaken mess. (Then her ghosting and becoming the fucking narrator later on ruined it.) It was dramatic and sad and all but they made that too all about Sherlock. And his angst. John’s been completely pushed aside??  And as rare as it is, I actually really like the single-dad-watson -trope. But you gotta let the man have some screen time

I just spent several paragraphs politely rambling when all I wanted to say was that Mary is terrible and I don’t like her and Sherlock is being a dick and I don’t like that either and the episode was boring

Time to list the good thing eyyyyy:

1. They gave John a new hairstyle for the season and it looks really good!

2. Yet another shitty dingy plastic skeleton in a serious crime drama. I 100% unironically love these to death no pun inteded

3. I was gonna write that I still actually really like Cucumberboy and he’s still very pretty but it took the episode 15 seconds for Sherlock’s personality to be too annoying for that to help lol

4. Yeah that’s all, it wasn’t great.

EP 2:

Now, looking at my summary you probably would not believe it, but God help me I had so much fun watching this one. Looking back, the plot is garbage. But how this was shot and acted out was exactly the kind of “so weird it’s funny” content I had been waiting for. I was in tears by the end if it. Most of it might have been late night hysteria I admit, but now afterwards it doesn’t matter. The episode is ridiculous, loud and energetic and idk how I’m gonna express that in a positive light the middle of a long ass complaint post. I’m not gonna say that this was the best episode off the three, I’ll just say I had the most fun watching it. Biggest minus points are for having to look at sherlock’s ginger teenstache through the entirety of it.

Summary: John is sad bc his wife is dead. And he keeps seeing and hearing Mary everywhere he goes. And we need her ghost to narrate the plot for us. But that’s not important. Because Sherlock is even sadder cos he feels responsible for her death. John wants nothing to do with him so Sherlock angsts alone, does a lot of unspecified drugs and spends the rest of the episode shouting at things coked off his tits. Then he makes a big show from trying prove that some rich famous old dude is a cereal serial killer, because the old bastard’s daughter visited Sherlock to tell him about her suspicions. But she was also sad and suicidal so they spent a lovely night walking out and talking about feelings. Or did they??????? *dun dun dunnn* Don’t do drugs, kids.  Nobody believes him because he’s weird and high. Sherly is then convinced that he’s actually going mad, then tries to murder someone again, then gets beaten up by John again, then almost gets mudered again and somehow the bad guy still gets caught they get a happy ending from all of that.

And in the end it was ~all part of a plan~ bc mary told sherlo that if she were to die, he had to make himself as miserable as possible to guiltrip john into saving him to make him feel better about himself or some shit because we can’t have john having any control over his life now can we what the fuck.

Now, I understand that a drama about a super smart people like has to have some elaborate plotting going on that is all revealed in the end, but this show has a really fucked up obsession with it. Everything is according to plan, everything that is going to happen Sherlock already knew weeks ago. That really sucks the fun out of the story and makes the actions of all the other characters meaningless. Previous episode even had a whole thing about how predeterminism is bad, you are not listening to your own advice!

Yeah the original story of the Dying Detective was kinda fucked up. Culverton Smith (the shitty old dude) was some asshat who went around poisoning people. Holmes pretended that he became one of his victims and that was dying in order to get a confession from Smith. Then he lied to Watson about this all because reasons and used him as a just pawn in the plot. Not his finest moment, but in right hands has lots of potential as fuel for some angst. I don’t know why I’m bringing this up. It’s not like team mofftiss knew how to use any of that. Gotta say I’m not really feeling the canon references anyway. Either they are relevant to the plot, meaning they make the stupid twists even easier to guess, or they they are just awkwardly forced in “we just wanted someone to say this name, look at us we read the books”  kinda of things ://

I took a lot of notes while watching this but now that I look at them I can’t really separate single things comment on. The show is trying too hard at everything it does and ends up being an all around fuck up. Middle of the night is also not the time for writing these, I’ve got nothing.

MMMMmmgood things listing!:

1. I really appreciate them hiring that one weird looking fucker to play Culverton! He keeps popping up in films and such and I’ve kinda wanted to see him play a holmes villain! He was fun!

2. Had some fun cinematography, especially for sherls’ deduction making pantomime

3. Sherlock’s a fun character to beat up and make cry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

and no no no no no no please don’t bring irene back

.....oh good you just needed to mention her because no homo.

(actually I can’t leave my jab at that. because that wasn’t a suble no homo, that was sherly straight up gettin told straight dude to another -talk how he needs to get together with her specifically in order to be happy. and that was the most forced and desperate scene I’ve ever seen and I’m not gonna let that slide)

4. irene didnt do a comeback

EP:3

Summary:

*takes a deep breath*

Sherlock finds out he secretly has a younger sister who is a total psychopath (hi moffat). She looks like the creepy woman from The Ring and she’s locked in a super secret mental hospital slash prison in the middle of the sea because she did terrible things when she was a child and is supernaturally intelligent and super dangerous because she’s able to take control of anyone who talks with or gets too close to her. So she’s secretly in control of the whole facility of course. We had already seen her in several disguises in previous 2 episodes (I’m so bad at remembering faces, I fall for all twists where they have one actor play several roles) and Sherlock doesn’t remember her because he was so traumatized when she killed his beloved dog when they were little kids. We get some flashbacks about the Holmes siblings’ childhood and then the sister locks Sherlock, John and Mycroft in a Jigsaw kinda game / psychological experiment, which they have to pass by solving puzzles and killing several people. And it was all because she was so much smarter than everyone else in the goddamn universe so she was lonely and saaaaad.

........

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

I... know this show was not supposed to be a crime drama anymore but.....

whaaaaaaaaaa...?

that was straight up a shitty horror flick. how.... did this happen....? who was it that was so salty that they didn’t get to work on Saw? I hope all the east wind references to the last Holmes story and the name of the episode actually mean that this show dies here because where do you fucking go from there? Like.... not to add to their charming mental institution plotline but that was absolute insanity.

2/10, have read better fuck or die fics before. with much less no homo. (I swear I didn’t even watch this shit in search of homo, this show has started overcompensating. hard.) spent half of this giggling madly like the 2nd episode and half barely looking at the screen out of secondhand embarrassment for the shitty “shoot me” “no shoot me” dialogue

(though: not gonna lie, really liked the reveal at the end when it turns out it wasn’t actually Sherlock’s dog the sister had fucked up, but lil six year old Victor Trevor )

(oh my god! Remember how people used to joke about the “old friend of mine” skull above the fireplace being Trevor??)

fucking hell

Oh yeah and of course no one important dies and then the whole thing ends with “All the sister needed was love and then everyone is friends again and it’s just like the good old times *coughseasononecough*. John and Sherlock are back to living together and now they are dads no homo tho and they gonna go and solve fun crimes and do detective shit again. A pretty violin cover of the theme song plays and we all ignore ghost mary’s terrible cheesy narration over it” all of which should have happened three episodes ago!!! this whole season was pointless.

[mom-maeum-seoul]

A day on Miyajima

Our time in Japan is over - I’m now writing from the ferry between Fukuoka and Busan, trying to catch up on our last few days as we head for South Korea. We’re on a strange boat that kind of hovers above the water - I’ve never seen anything like it before. It looks like this:

Back to Miyajima... It’s a small island in Hiroshima Bay, also called Itsukushima,   which I actually wasn’t too excited about in advance, but we’d read that it was one of the best places to visit in Japan, so I thought it must be worth a shot. There was a torrential downpour again as we left the hotel, but thankfully the forecast was for sun later in the day. We got a taxi to Hiroshima station, left our big bags in luggage storage and got the train down to the port in Miyajimaguchi. From there, it was only a 10-minute boat ride over the sea, and the trip was also covered by our rail passes since Japan Rail runs one of the ferry routes there.

The skies began to clear as we made our way across, and I immediately realised what a good decision we’d made in going there! The island was beautiful and mountainous (like so much of Japan), with traces of wispy cloud trailed over and around the peaks like cobwebs, now bathed in sunlight as the clouds parted. We could also see the famous “great Torii of Miyajima” floating shrine from the boat.

The first thing we wanted to do upon arrival was head up into one of the nature parks, called Momijidani Park. We walked through the small town, stopping on the way for me to buy a grilled squid on a stick, dripping with a sweet BBQ-flavoured sauce. It was really delicious, and a novel snack for me too! We had seen similar things in Osaka, but had not tried anything yet. Unfortunately for me, as I was just about finishing the squid, a deer approached me, obviously smelling the food, and wouldn’t stop following me until I gave it the last piece… This also didn’t seem to satisfy the deer, and it kept chasing me until I gave up the paper bag of BBQ juice I was holding. Thinking it would lick the bag clean then leave me alone, I handed it over. The deer didn’t seem to mind the taste of BBQ paper though, and proceeded to eat the entire thing.

Squid pops

We hiked up past a tall Shinto shrine and into the park, passing lots of quaint little bridges, torii gates, red, green and yellow maple leaves and waterfalls on the way. It was a 2.5 km trek to the top of the mountain - me and Ville decided this wasn’t for us, but Dave wanted to do it, so he headed off alone and Ville and I spent a little bit more time exploring a nearby stream and waterfall, before heading back into the town to get some food. 

A maple leaf caught in a spiderweb

We tried a local specialty - grilled oysters - which were really nice - like big mussels - as well as a leaf-shaped conger-eel fishcake.

Since we still had a bit of time to kill after that, we decided to try out the island’s cat café, which was a bit strange but interesting. It was a bit pricey at 780 yen per person for 30 minutes (including a drink), but since a coffee in a different café was already 500 yen, we thought we might as well try it!

Beautiful bengal cats

My socks got wet in there (hopefully not from cat piss), so I obviously had to buy some more weird socks! There were lots of socks featuring a character that seemed to be a chagrined egg yolk. I thought this were certainly... unique, so decided to get a pair of those to add to my weird, food-themed Japanese sock collection.

We then sat by the beach in the late-afternoon light for a while as we waited for Dave to reappear.

A heron in front of the “floating” torii gate at low tide

When Dave turned up, it turned out he’d been to the top of the mountain, then got slightly off-piste on the way back, somehow getting quite lost in the middle of the forest and having to fight his way through thick undergrowth and climb up and down valleys, hills and fallen trees. Luckily, he’d made it out alive, although absolutely filthy, and even managed to meet us earlier than originally planned! We decided to get the ferry back as we had a fairly long journey ahead, back via Hiroshima, then down to Fukuoka on a bullet train.

Trying to get the bus when we arrived to Hakata station (in Fukuoka) was an interesting experience. Many of the signs and destinations were only written in Japanese, so after a while we had to ask for help and turned out we were actually in completely the wrong place. Once we found our bus stop, we couldn’t work out how to buy tickets or pay for the bus, so we had to look it up online, though the explanations we found didn’t make the process that much clearer. It seemed that when you got on, you had to pick up a ticket from a machine near the door, and somehow work out how much you owed during the journey and pay when you got off. Whilst on the bus, we managed to deduce (half guess) that you use the numbers that appear on the paper ticket (a kind of zone) and the screen at the front of the bus (how much the journey costs at that point, according to the zone you got on) to work out how much you owe, which goes up the further you travel. Once you have it figured out, it’s relatively easy, and a pretty decent system – getting to that stage is much more difficult though!

We arrived at the hostel somewhat anxious about the accommodation (a place called Rodem House) because I’d received a message from them regarding “pre-authorisation”, which is apparently a procedure where they take the full amount for the booking from your card to check whether you have enough, with this amount later being refunded at some unspecified point. I had written to them three times asking whether this meant we were effectively going to be charged twice upon arrival, having to pay the full amount again, then wait to get the first lot back, but they had ignored my messages completely. The place had a rating of 8/10 on booking.com though, basically my travel accommodation bible, so it couldn’t be that dodgy I thought. Upon arrival, we saw a sign stating that cash payments were preferred and there was a 10% charge to pay on card! We didn’t have enough cash and probably could not have even withdrawn enough due to our daily withdrawal limits. The receptionist also told me that it would take 1-2 months to refund the pre-authorisation amount! He was trying to explain something else to me, but due to the language barrier, it took about 5 minutes to realise he was asking me to cancel the booking with booking.com so the hostel could just keep the authorisation money and we wouldn’t have to pay again. This seemed very sketchy to us, but what other choice did we have? I cancelled it via the app and we went up to our room. I now suspect they do the pre-authorisation and ask people to do this to avoid paying twice, with the aim of preventing bad reviews on booking.com. The hostel was OK but the check-in process was ridiculous and there were many weird and irritating rules to follow, such as the men’s shower only being open between 3pm and 11pm, and the women’s between 7am and 11am, then 3pm and 11pm. I was also dismayed to discover the women’s showers were communal (no private cubicles). Lights also had to be off in all shared areas by 11pm, and there were hardly any toilets per floor. Finally, I asked if they could print our ferry tickets - an absolutely normal and standard request at hotels and hostels, which has never been refused before - and they told me to go to 7-11. All in all, one of the worst hostels I’ve stayed in considering the price (we paid €422 between us for four nights). After a bit more research, I suspect a lot of the reviews on booking.com are fake - there are many very bad reviews, giving between 3 and 6 stars, and then lots of 10/10 reviews, which I highly doubt are genuine - we translated one and it said “memories of a lifetime” - we highly doubt that! I intend to write to booking.com about this to complain. If anyone is looking for a place to stay in Fukuoka, I would not recommend staying at Rodem House unless it’s your absolute last resort, as was the case for us.

A post about our time in Fukuoka still to come... :)

-Maddy

[readbookywooks]

11 What will break me? This is the question that consumes me over the next three days as we wait to be released from our prison of safety. What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness? I mention it to no one, but it devours my waking hours and weaves itself throughout my nightmares. Four more bunker missiles fall over this period, all massive, all very damaging, but there's no urgency to the attack. The bombs are spread out over the long hours so that just when you think the raid is over, another blast sends shock waves through your guts. It feels more designed to keep us in lockdown than to decimate 13. Cripple the district, yes. Give the people plenty to do to get the place running again. But destroy it? No. Coin was right on that point. You don't destroy what you want to acquire in the future. I assume what they really want, in the short term, is to stop the Airtime Assaults and keep me off the televisions of Panem. We receive next to no information about what is happening. Our screens never come on, and we get only brief audio updates from Coin about the nature of the bombs. Certainly, the war is still being waged, but as to its status, we're in the dark. Inside the bunker, cooperation is the order of the day. We adhere to a strict schedule for meals and bathing, exercise and sleep. Small periods of socialization are granted to alleviate the tedium. Our space becomes very popular because both children and adults have a fascination with Buttercup. He attains celebrity status with his evening game of Crazy Cat. I created this by accident a few years ago, during a winter blackout. You simply wiggle a flashlight beam around on the floor, and Buttercup tries to catch it. I'm petty enough to enjoy it because I think it makes him look stupid. Inexplicably, everyone here thinks he's clever and delightful. I'm even issued a special set of batteries - an enormous waste - to be used for this purpose. The citizens of 13 are truly starved for entertainment. It's on the third night, during our game, that I answer the question eating away at me. Crazy Cat becomes a metaphor for my situation. I am Buttercup. Peeta, the thing I want so badly to secure, is the light. As long as Buttercup feels he has the chance of catching the elusive light under his paws, he's bristling with aggression. (That's how I've been since I left the arena, with Peeta alive.) When the light goes out completely, Buttercup's temporarily distraught and confused, but he recovers and moves on to other things. (That's what would happen if Peeta died.) But the one thing that sends Buttercup into a tailspin is when I leave the light on but put it hopelessly out of his reach, high on the wall, beyond even his jumping skills. He paces below the wall, wails, and can't be comforted or distracted. He's useless until I shut the light off. (That's what Snow is trying to do to me now, only I don't know what form his game takes.) Maybe this realization on my part is all Snow needs. Thinking that Peeta was in his possession and being tortured for rebel information was bad. But thinking that he's being tortured specifically to incapacitate me is unendurable. And it's under the weight of this revelation that I truly begin to break. After Crazy Cat, we're directed to bed. The power's been coming and going; sometimes the lamps burn at full brightness, other times we squint at one another in the brownouts. At bedtime they turn the lamps to near darkness and activate safety lights in each space. Prim, who's decided the walls will hold up, snuggles with Buttercup on the lower bunk. My mother's on the upper. I offer to take a bunk, but they make me keep to the floor mattress since I flail around so much when I'm sleeping. I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together. The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt of a bunker missile and I could shatter into strange, razor-sharp shards. When the restless, wiggling majority has settled into sleep, I carefully extricate myself from my blanket and tiptoe through the cavern until I find Finnick, feeling for some unspecified reason that he will understand. He sits under the safety light in his space, knotting his rope, not even pretending to rest. As I whisper my discovery of Snow's plan to break me, it dawns on me. This strategy is very old news to Finnick. It's what broke him. "This is what they're doing to you with Annie, isn't it?" I ask. "Well, they didn't arrest her because they thought she'd be a wealth of rebel information," he says. "They know I'd never have risked telling her anything like that. For her own protection." "Oh, Finnick. I'm so sorry," I say. "No, I'm sorry. That I didn't warn you somehow," he tells me. Suddenly, a memory surfaces. I'm strapped to my bed, mad with rage and grief after the rescue. Finnick is trying to console me about Peeta. "They'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you." "You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they'd use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow," I say. "I shouldn't have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn't warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should've shut up about how Snow operates." Finnick yanks on the end of his rope, and an intricate knot becomes a straight line again. "It's just that I didn't understand when I met you. After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act on your part. We all expected you'd continue that strategy. But it wasn't until Peeta hit the force field and nearly died that I - " Finnick hesitates. I think back to the arena. How I sobbed when Finnick revived Peeta. The quizzical look on Finnick's face. The way he excused my behavior, blaming it on my pretend pregnancy. "That you what?" "That I knew I'd misjudged you. That you do love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him," he says gently. Anyone? On Snow's visit before the Victory Tour, he challenged me to erase any doubts of my love for Peeta. "Convince me," Snow said. It seems, under that hot pink sky with Peeta's life in limbo, I finally did. And in doing so, I gave him the weapon he needed to break me. Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, "How do you bear it?" Finnick looks at me in disbelief. "I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking." Something in my expression stops him. "Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart." Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece. "The more you can distract yourself, the better," he says. "First thing tomorrow, we'll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine." I spend the rest of the night on my mattress obsessively making knots, holding them up for Buttercup's inspection. If one looks suspicious, he swipes it out of the air and bites it a few times to make sure it's dead. By morning, my fingers are sore, but I'm still holding on. With twenty-four hours of quiet behind us, Coin finally announces we can leave the bunker. Our old quarters have been destroyed by the bombings. Everyone must follow exact directions to their new compartments. We clean our spaces, as directed, and file obediently toward the door. Before I'm halfway there, Boggs appears and pulls me from the line. He signals for Gale and Finnick to join us. People move aside to let us by. Some even smile at me since the Crazy Cat game seems to have made me more lovable. Out the door, up the stairs, down the hall to one of those multidirectional elevators, and finally we arrive at Special Defense. Nothing along our route has been damaged, but we are still very deep. Boggs ushers us into a room virtually identical to Command. Coin, Plutarch, Haymitch, Cressida, and everybody else around the table looks exhausted. Someone has finally broken out the coffee - although I'm sure it's viewed only as an emergency stimulant - and Plutarch has both hands wrapped tightly around his cup as if at any moment it might be taken away. There's no small talk. "We need all four of you suited up and aboveground," says the president. "You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen's military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?" "Can we have a coffee?" asks Finnick. Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet. Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. "Want a sugar cube?" he asks in his old seductive voice. That's how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. "Here, it improves the taste," he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup. As I turn to go suit up as the Mockingjay, I catch Gale watching me and Finnick unhappily. What now? Does he actually think something's going on between us? Maybe he saw me go to Finnick's last night. I would've passed the Hawthornes' space to get there. I guess that probably rubbed him the wrong way. Me seeking out Finnick's company instead of his. Well, fine. I've got rope burn on my fingers, I can barely hold my eyes open, and a camera crew's waiting for me to do something brilliant. And Snow's got Peeta. Gale can think whatever he wants. In my new Remake Room in Special Defense, my prep team slaps me into my Mockingjay suit, arranges my hair, and applies minimal makeup before my coffee's even cooled. In ten minutes, the cast and crew of the next propos are making the circuitous trek to the outside. I slurp my coffee as we travel, finding that the cream and sugar greatly enhance its flavor. As I knock back the dregs that have settled to the bottom of the cup, I feel a slight buzz start to run through my veins. After climbing a final ladder, Boggs hits a lever that opens a trapdoor. Fresh air rushes in. I take big gulps and for the first time allow myself to feel how much I hated the bunker. We emerge into the woods, and my hands run through the leaves overhead. Some are just starting to turn. "What day is it?" I ask no one in particular. Boggs tells me September begins next week. September. That means Snow has had Peeta in his clutches for five, maybe six weeks. I examine a leaf on my palm and see I'm shaking. I can't will myself to stop. I blame the coffee and try to focus on slowing my breathing, which is far too rapid for my pace. Debris begins to litter the forest floor. We come to our first crater, thirty yards wide and I can't tell how deep. Very. Boggs says anyone on the first ten levels would likely have been killed. We skirt the pit and continue on. "Can you rebuild it?" Gale asks. "Not anytime soon. That one didn't get much. A few backup generators and a poultry farm," says Boggs. "We'll just seal it off." The trees disappear as we enter the area inside the fence. The craters are ringed with a mixture of old and new rubble. Before the bombing, very little of the current 13 was aboveground. A few guard stations. The training area. About a foot of the top floor of our building - where Buttercup's window jutted out - with several feet of steel on top of it. Even that was never meant to withstand more than a superficial attack. "How much of an edge did the boy's warning give you?" asks Haymitch. "About ten minutes before our own systems would've detected the missiles," says Boggs. "But it did help, right?" I ask. I can't bear it if he says no. "Absolutely," Boggs replies. "Civilian evacuation was completed. Seconds count when you're under attack. Ten minutes meant lives saved." Prim, I think. And Gale. They were in the bunker only a couple of minutes before the first missile hit. Peeta might have saved them. Add their names to the list of things I can never stop owing him for. Cressida has the idea to film me in front of the ruins of the old Justice Building, which is something of a joke since the Capitol's been using it as a backdrop for fake news broadcasts for years, to show that the district no longer existed. Now, with the recent attack, the Justice Building sits about ten yards away from the edge of a new crater. As we approach what used to be the grand entrance, Gale points out something and the whole party slows down. I don't know what the problem is at first and then I see the ground strewn with fresh pink and red roses. "Don't touch them!" I yell. "They're for me!" The sickeningly sweet smell hits my nose, and my heart begins to hammer against my chest. So I didn't imagine it. The rose on my dresser. Before me lies Snow's second delivery. Long-stemmed pink and red beauties, the very flowers that decorated the set where Peeta and I performed our post-victory interview. Flowers not meant for one, but for a pair of lovers. I explain to the others as best I can. Upon inspection, they appear to be harmless, if genetically enhanced, flowers. Two dozen roses. Slightly wilted. Most likely dropped after the last bombing. A crew in special suits collects them and carts them away. I feel certain they will find nothing extraordinary in them, though. Snow knows exactly what he's doing to me. It's like having Cinna beaten to a pulp while I watch from my tribute tube. Designed to unhinge me. Like then, I try to rally and fight back. But as Cressida gets Castor and Pollux in place, I feel my anxiety building. I'm so tired, so wired, and so unable to keep my mind on anything but Peeta since I've seen the roses. The coffee was a huge mistake. What I didn't need was a stimulant. My body visibly shakes and I can't seem to catch my breath. After days in the bunker, I'm squinting no matter what direction I turn, and the light hurts. Even in the cool breeze, sweat trickles down my face. "So, what exactly do you need from me again?" I ask. "Just a few quick lines that show you're alive and still fighting," says Cressida. "Okay." I take my position and then I'm staring into the red light. Staring. Staring. "I'm sorry, I've got nothing." Cressida walks up to me. "You feeling okay?" I nod. She pulls a small cloth from her pocket and blots my face. "How about we do the old Q-and-A thing?" "Yeah. That would help, I think." I cross my arms to hide the shaking. Glance at Finnick, who gives me a thumbs-up. But he's looking pretty shaky himself. Cressida's back in position now. "So, Katniss. You've survived the Capitol bombing of Thirteen. How did it compare with what you experienced on the ground in Eight?" "We were so far underground this time, there was no real danger. Thirteen's alive and well and so am - " My voice cuts off in a dry, squeaking sound. "Try the line again," says Cressida. "'Thirteen's alive and well and so am I.'" I take a breath, trying to force air down into my diaphragm. "Thirteen's alive and so - " No, that's wrong. I swear I can still smell those roses. "Katniss, just this one line and you're done today. I promise," says Cressida. "'Thirteen's alive and well and so am I.'" I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. Then drop them to my sides. Saliva's filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and I feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and - that's when I start crying. It's impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no, nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death. "Cut," I hear Cressida say quietly. "What's wrong with her?" Plutarch says under his breath. "She's figured out how Snow's using Peeta," says Finnick. There's something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a Mockingjay entails, I am broken. Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he's there, holding me and patting my back. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart." He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob. "I can't do this anymore," I say. "I know," he says. "All I can think of is - what he's going to do to Peeta - because I'm the Mockingjay!" I get out. "I know." Haymitch's arm tightens around me. "Did you see? How weird he acted? What are they - doing to him?" I'm gasping for air between sobs, but I manage one last phrase. "It's my fault!" And then I cross some line into hysteria and there's a needle in my arm and the world slips away. It must be strong, whatever they shot into me, because it's a full day before I come to. My sleep wasn't peaceful, though. I have the sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where I traveled alone. Haymitch sits in the chair by my bed, his skin waxen, his eyes bloodshot. I remember about Peeta and start to tremble again. Haymitch reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "It's all right. We're going to try to get Peeta out." "What?" That makes no sense. "Plutarch's sending in a rescue team. He has people on the inside. He thinks we can get Peeta back alive," he says. "Why didn't we before?" I say. "Because it's costly. But everyone agrees this is the thing to do. It's the same choice we made in the arena. To do whatever it takes to keep you going. We can't lose the Mockingjay now. And you can't perform unless you know Snow can't take it out on Peeta." Haymitch offers me a cup. "Here, drink something." I slowly sit up and take a sip of water. "What do you mean, costly?" He shrugs. "Covers will be blown. People may die. But keep in mind that they're dying every day. And it's not just Peeta; we're getting Annie out for Finnick, too." "Where is he?" I ask. "Behind that screen, sleeping his sedative off. He lost it right after we knocked you out," says Haymitch. I smile a little, feel a bit less weak. "Yeah, it was a really excellent shoot. You two cracked up and Boggs left to arrange the mission to get Peeta. We're officially in reruns." "Well, if Boggs is leading it, that's a plus," I say. "Oh, he's on top of it. It was volunteer only, but he pretended not to notice me waving my hand in the air," says Haymitch. "See? He's already demonstrated good judgment." Something's wrong. Haymitch's trying a little too hard to cheer me up. It's not really his style. "So who else volunteered?" "I think there were seven altogether," he says evasively. I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Who else, Haymitch?" I insist. Haymitch finally drops the good-natured act. "You know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first." Of course I do. Gale.