#still annoyed she did it. and all of these are just sidebar like i aside from the storms i would have just sucked it up if i didn’t you know

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Max 2.0

post-Max. Because the car is the best place to deal with crises of being and pseudo-bad grammar ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Out of her bed and halfway down the hall before she opened her eyes, she stopped by the couch, realizing she had no idea why she was out of bed. Vague notions of her gun crossed her mind but then she heard a knock. Wavering for another moment or two in full-on sleep mode, she shook her head lightly, tried to pry her eyes open, then regretted it, eyelids stuck together, burning, dry; another knock.

She wondering in passing how long he’d been out there but finally summoning the brain power to move her legs again, she made it to the door. Peering out at him through the peephole, she yawned, then unlocked the door, pulling it open, squinting at the glaring hall light, “you okay?”

Now, he’d known she would probably be asleep, had to be asleep given it was nearly 1am, but that didn’t stop him from being surprised by her pillow-creased face and unfocused eyes, “yeah, um, I’m now realizing this was stupid. You’re asleep. I should be asleep. I’m sorry.” Not turning away, however, hoping if he stood there long enough, she’d invite him in, “I’m sorry.”

Scully knew him like no other and stepping aside, “come on in.”

He did, leaving shoes and coat on, standing, filling, overwhelming the area he stood in, doorframe small behind him, “thanks.” Folding arms, not in that annoyed way of hers but in the ‘I’m trying to hold in a yawn so I will stupidly think that crossing them will keep it from rising to the surface’. It did not work and Mulder sighed, apologizing again, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just … I can’t stop thinking about Max and the plane and just … he was me, Scully, and that’s bothering me more than I thought it would.”

“Would you like some tea?”

Reaching out, he touched her hand, the one not tucked under her elbow, proceeding to play with her knuckles, the hem of her sleeve, twisting the thermal fabric between his fingers, “I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to go for a drive with me?”

It had been over a month since their Tennessee drive but the memories were clear and nodding, she gave him a small smile before extracting herself from his fingers, “just let me go grab a coat.” Disappearing, then reappearing quickly, she had one of his zipped sweatshirts over her shoulders, thick socks firmly in place and feet shoved in soled slippers, “ready.”

“Do you steal all my clothes?”

“Only the good ones.”

Soon in the car, they were off, quiet between them broken a minute later, “your car’s clean.”

“It happens.”

“Not often.”

Shrugging, he turned right, then left, the left again, the city night passing by them in an unnoticed blur. He seemed to have a destination in mind and asking if he did, Mulder told her, “no. I just want to get out of the city and I know this is the fastest way.”

“Understood.”

Because it was late and dark and she was tired and loose-limbed, she folded her legs under, folded hands in her lap.

She baited the hook to see if he’d bite.

He did, his hand sliding across the center irritation of a console, fingers wedging once again in the fold between bended knee and adjacent thigh. He knew she’d done it on purpose.

Neither cared.

The connection made them both feel better and Mulder, squeezing her leg lightly, “sorry I don’t have a moonroof for you.”

“It’s cloudy anyways and there’s no moon, so I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Thanks.”

She gave it awhile, the pair of them well out of the city lights, darkness prevailing before, “you’re not like Max. I mean, you are, but not in the ways you’re dwelling on.”

“But I am like him.”

“We’re all Max in our own ways. I mean, we have passions and hopes and problems and dreams but some of us fixate on them to the point where it’s their only hope, their only passion and it becomes their biggest problem.”

He moved to pull his hand away but she grabbed it, holding tight, as he spoke, “I am the poster boy now that he’s gone, Scully. I am Max 2.0.”

Twisting, she refolded her legs so they both vee’d in his direction, able to look at him better that way, turn to see him easier. Putting his hand back between her knees, she moved to hold his lower arm, firmly, trying to get her point across with words as well as tactile pressure, “if you were anything like Max, obsession-wise, I’d be long gone. You have passion, Mulder, he had fixation. There’s a vast difference.”

“Not that vast.”

“There is in my mind. Max wouldn’t be here right now, taking a midnight drive with his … partner,” that was an odd hesitation she wasn’t expecting, “he’d be in his trailer, trying to decode the conspiracies of the universe.”

“The Gunmen are probably doing that as we speak.”

“But Langley also cooks a mean prime rib, Byers plays Majhong on Friday nights with a group of semi-normal people, Frohike crochets blankets for the Veterans Hospital and has a 22-year old penpal in Denmark. These people have other interests. From what we saw and heard about Max, while he was a very nice man, he didn’t do any of that.”

“You know about the crocheting?”

“Have you seen the granny-square afghan on my couch? The one you like to snuggle with when you’re tired and don’t want to drive home? That’s Frohike’s handiwork from last Christmas.”

Suddenly, the world didn’t seem quite so down on him after all but he still felt something he couldn’t shake. Ignoring that, however, for the moment, he scoffed, “he’s never made me a blanket, that yarn-wielding bastard.”

“I’ll drop a hint next time I see him.” Feeling the tension leaving him slowly, Scully began moving her left hand up his arm, around the back, to lightly rub the underside of his bicep, other hand splayed around his wrist. It was an unconscious thing at first, then, noticing it, she decided she liked it and stayed. “Do you think there’s any hot chocolate out here in the sticks?”

Looking at the houses still visible from the road they were on, more spaced apart than a few minutes ago but still numerous, “you’ve been living in the city too long if you think this is the sticks.”

“You call it the city; I call it a severe lack of 24-hour dining possibilities with hot chocolate necessities.”

“You’re wordy today. Did you snack on a dictionary before going to bed?”

“Is that your polite way of telling me to quit mouthing off?”

And now her mouth was foremost on his mind.

Dammit.

“I have M&Ms in the glove compartment. Is that a good enough compromise?”

Retrieving the candy post-haste, she popped one in her mouth, then offered him one, “sugar?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Both chewing, Scully returned to her previous position, “peanut. I approve.”

Continuing on, they covered all kinds of light subjects, music, family, things they visited often but both always enjoyed, especially hearing about the antics of Scully’s extended family, brothers, cousin, bevy of nieces and nephews. After one exuberant story about Sam, second oldest of the bunch, Mulder wiped his eyes, tears of laughter blurring his vision, “how did you land all these people? I mean, you have the cast of some off-beat comedy show and I’ve got my mother.”

He hadn’t meant to bring the atmosphere down and Scully didn’t want to keep it there but she had to tell him, in words he apparently didn’t hear the first seven times she told him, “you realize my mother has adopted you right? I mean, there may not be paperwork but there’s pie. Also, just to let you know, do you remember when you were asking me about my mom’s dentist appointment, about her infected tooth last week?”

“Yeah?”

“I had no idea she was having any issues but I pretended to know because, good Lord, Mulder, you knew about it and I didn’t.” Giving him that look that made his smile return, “does that tell you anything about the level of your acceptance into my family?”

“I mean,” looking almost sheepish, “she called to talk to you and I answered and we just …”

Patting his shoulder, “it’s okay, Mulder. My mother can love you more than me occasionally. I don’t mind.”

His eyebrow went up, about to bring down the grammar hammer on her, hard, “you love me? I had no idea. When did this happen? Was it after I introduced you to the Conundrum or, ooh, I bet is was around the time you were trapped with me in Alaska. That tiny room? Checking for murderous prehistoric alien worms?”

Total confusion all over her face, “What?”

“You said occasionally, your mother loved me more than you. So, I deduce that you love me most of the time and now I’m trying to figure out when that all started.”

Fuck.

Oh, hell, why not just play along?

“I’m pretty sure it was when you were about to head into the hospital with Modell: looking up at me with that camera on your head, Kevlar all tight, panicked look in your eye.”

Wait … was she humoring him? He was treading into the unknown now, not sure if he should keep going, “um … what?”

Her laughter bounced around the interior of the car, a happy sound, a light sound he hadn’t heard in awhile, “nervous, Mr. Mulder?”

Smiling himself finally, “just … left-field line drive came in a little faster than I expected.”

“Are we back to baseball again?”

He was going to crash the car in the next two minutes if this kept up, “I think we should just drive in silence for a minute. My brain did something and just … give me a minute.”

Fuck again.

She was pretty sure with one joke, two follow-ups and a mention of baseball, she’d quite possibly changed the course of their relationship in ways she had no understanding of. Silence nerve-wracking, she fumbled for words, “I’m just glad the two of you get along so well. It’ll make things easier.”

She’d never felt atmosphere shift like it did in that moment, the air hardening between them. Mulder looked at her, any trace of humor gone from his face, “make what easier?”

“If … if something happens to me. I’ll feel better knowing … you’d … have each other, I guess.”

Mulder steered roughly to the left, blew through a stop sign, then pulled them into a large, dark parking lot, a high school if Scully read the sign correctly as Mulder raced past. Hitting the breaks, he threw the car into park, got out and slammed the door, leaving Scully stunned. She hadn’t meant to make it sound as harsh as it did and sighing, she opened her own door, zipping up her sweatshirt as she did so. He’d turned the headlights off so the only light was from a parking lot fluorescents fifteen feet away. Coming around the front of the car, she tugged on his arm, “hey, look at me, please?”

“Have you given up already?”

With a genuine scoff in his direction, “I don’t give up on anything. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“You said when something happens to you.”

“No, I said if.” Taking him by the arms, she turned him around until his back was to the car, “will you sit down?”

“Why?”

“So I can look at you, and not up your nose, when I talk.”

He conceded, sitting down on the bumper, “nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Yes, I know.” Coming in closer, she forced her way between his knees, “but I learned from you to plan for all eventualities. I have a prepacked suitcase for when you ring my doorbell at 5am telling me we leave in 20 minutes. I have $500 cash in my purse and another $500 in my carry-on for emergencies …”

“Bail money for me?”

“Some of it, yes.” Continuing, “I now prepare for all things, even if there isn’t a chance in hell they’re going to happen. You forced me to learn that and I have and that’s all my comment was. I will be fine,” moving her palms to his face, thinning fingers, delicate steel hands against his cheeks, covering his ears as she tilted his head up to look at her, “but I feel better knowing mom has you and you have mom. You became friends with her while I was missing. I haven’t been forcing you together to create some superficial bond to make my never going to happen, non-impending doom easier to accept. She invites you for pie. You arrive and eat pie. You go home with leftover pie. I have nothing to do with that but I’m glad it happens.”

By now, his hands were on her wrists, eyes glued to her, closing as she leaned in, mirroring that accursed hospital hallway not that long ago. Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Then she wrapped her arms around him and felt his go around her waist. Hugging him tightly, she let the world disappear, sinking against him, warm, solid, against her.

“Who knew this much angst could come from a misplaced modifier?”

“We know now. Never let it happen again.”

With a chuckle, he shifted his head, talking into her shoulder, “Modell? Really?”

She just hugged him tighter, staying quiet against him as he held her close.

&&&&&&&&&&

They may have stayed like that for two minutes. It may have been ten. Regardless, eventually, Scully had to whisper into Mulder’s neck, where her mouth had landed earlier when she turned her head, “Mulder?”

Just as quietly, “yeah?”

“Can you take me home to bed, please?”

“Should I comment on the structure of that sentence as well or just be quiet?”

Giving another kiss to his neck, she pushed back off of him, sly grin, “just take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

&&&&&&&&

After a quiet goodnight/good morning at her bedroom door, he wandered to the living room, taking up residence on her couch, 3am sleepy as his head hit the spare pillow and his mind was finally calm.

#My writing #post-max #MulderNScully #Frohike's Granny squares #Byers Mahjong #Mulder's pie #Maggie Scully #xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #txf fanfic #cancer arc

[cal-puddies]

remember when we couldn’t take the heat || ashton irwin

a lovely anon requested another trope fic for @kindahoping4forever​ and i to tag team, so we did.

As always Crystal is amazing and please share love with her as well (i do share any comments you all leave with her as well!) With her help I really think we were able to take this to next level, so it would not be this good without her! I hope you all love it!

You check your bag one last time before zipping it shut. You check your phone, seeing you still had about an hour before Michael and Crystal picked you up on their way to the airport. 

A week long getaway at an all inclusive resort with five of your best friends (and one last minute addition of a new significant other) was exactly what you needed. 

You thanked your lucky stars every night that Kay Kay was too busy, meaning Ashton had decided not to go. The two of you had never gotten along and you don't think you'd ever be able to relax if he was there.

So you're more than disappointed to see him strolling up to the gate. The second you spot him, you groan to Sierra, “You guys promised me he wouldn’t be here.”

She frowns and rushes over to have a quick sidebar with Luke. She returns, super apologetic and quickly explains that Ashton's relationship had recently blown up again and that he had texted Luke last night some vague questions about the trip but they had no idea that meant he intended to tag along.

“Well. He better not be next to me," you pout, crossing your arms.

But of course he is, because why not start off your relaxing vacation this way? And instead of seeming heartbroken about his break up, he’s flirting with all the flight attendants and every girl in line around him, until he sees he’s sitting next to you. He plops in the seat and immediately scrunches his face up. 

“There’s gotta be another seat,” he grumbles, flagging down a flight attendant who assures him it's a full flight and there is in fact not a single other seat available. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me," Ash murmurs after the flight attendant walks away. 

“Not like this is my dream flight either, buddy,” you groan.

Sensing the already mounting tension, Luke looks across the aisle with an apologetic smile to you and mouths ‘Sorry.'

Ashton immediately pulls out headphones and makes a big show out of ignoring you. He pulls his leather jacket off, accidentally elbowing your shoulder and smacking the sleeve in your face. 

“What the fuck, Irwin?" You seethe. 

He glares at you and shrugs, going back to his music. 

Who the fuck wears a leather jacket to a fucking beach getaway? Could he look any less practical? You wonder briefly if he even brought anything suitable for the weather before you realize you shouldn’t give a single fuck about what’s in his bag.

You successfully ignore each other through the rest of boarding and take-off. At the earliest possible opportunity you order a drink and he comments, "A little early, don't you think?" You search your mind for a better retort than "Not when I'm sitting next to you, asshole" but then you realize it doesn't matter what you say because he didn't even bother to take off his headphones to make his remark.

To compound the dirty look you receive from him, Luke and Sierra order a drink for you as well. You gratefully chug both before ordering another, grumbling under your breath that this flight could not be over soon enough. 

Ashton makes nice with the flight attendant and even takes his headphones off to flirt with her a bit. You roll your eyes at whatever bullshit lines he's feeding her and think now would be the perfect time to doze off for a cat nap if his voice wasn't so fucking loud.

You huff as she walks away, “Can you keep it down loudmouth?” You adjust your cardigan against the side of the plane and close the window shade, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning your head against the balled up fabric. 

“I’d like to be able to see the sun," Ashton says, putting his sunglasses on and flipping the shade up. 

You grit your teeth, “What’s the fuckin point if you put the sunglasses on?” 

“Does it inconvenience you?” He asks, looking at your face and finding you must agree. “Then that’s the fuckin point, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow as you stare at him in disbelief, but you manage to keep yourself from selecting one of the literal hundreds of insulting comebacks you have running through your mind. 

Guys like Ashton live off of getting reactions from people and the best way you could stick it to him is to simply not give him one.

You lean back in your seat and shake out your sweater, draping the sleeve over your face to create a makeshift eye shade for your nap. He scoffs at your actions, clearly hoping you'll take the bait and when you don't, you feel his glare on you for several beats before he pulls out his phone to find another way to entertain himself.

You’re able to ignore him for the rest of the flight, and you feel accomplished knowing it's driving him nuts that you’re no longer reacting to him. 

You wait patiently to get off the plane, getting more than mildly annoyed at Ashton’s impatience. But you try not to say anything. He gets out of the row and you let Sierra and then Luke out across the aisle. “You two can no longer be trusted,” you jab at Luke. 

“I’m sorry, bub,” Luke gives you an apologetic smile. “I didn’t know he would really come and I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss this.” He tries to explain with a pout but you just roll your eyes at the giant man in front of you.

You manage to claim your baggage without incident and you narrowly avoid the misfortune of having to sit next to Ash on the shuttle to the resort. Luke, obviously trying to win back your favor, offers to let you sit with Sierra and he sits in the open seat next to Ashton.

“Just don’t let him get to you,” Sierra says. “We’re still gonna have fun and there’s enough of us that you shouldn’t have to interact.”

Her reassurance helps soothe your nerves for the time being. 

When you arrive at the resort, everyone mingles and chatters excitedly in the lobby while Luke and Sierra check your party in. Calum and his girlfriend keep Ash occupied and away from you and you couldn't be more grateful, taking the opportunity to make small talk with Michael and Crystal. 

Check-in is taking a lot longer than it should and you crane your neck to try and see the front desk from where you're at. You happen to catch Sierra's gaze from across the room and she offers you a forced smile before she quickly looks away. Whatever's happening, it can't be good and you have a sneaking suspicion it has to do with the last minute addition to your trip.

When Sierra and Luke come back, they both refuse to make eye contact with you, making you even more suspicious. They hand out key cards to the other two couples and then both take a deep breath and look between you and Ash. 

“What?” You ask point blank. 

Luke purses his lips together, “They’re booked, they don’t have a room for Ash... but... your suite has a couch...” 

“You’ve actually gotta be kidding me,” you quip. 

“We won’t even be in the rooms except to sleep, it’ll be fine babe!” Sierra tries to convince you. 

You groan, not even bothering to look at Ashton. “Fine.” You grit your teeth.

Ashton is obviously not thrilled with this arrangement either and you see him pull Luke aside, animatedly waving his hands as he complains. 

You take the opportunity to head up to the room first in hopes of marking your territory: claiming the good drawers, the prime counter space in the bathroom. He needs to know you're doing him a favor by letting him stay in your room.

Ash comes in while you’re setting up in the bathroom and he immediately tries to stake claim on the bed. He’s flung himself across it when you come out of the bathroom. 

“Keep dreaming, Irwin.”

“I got here first,” he states, tucking his arms behind his head with a smug look on his face.

You push his boot-clad feet off the bed with a huff. "Yes, you got here to MY bed first," you say with exaggerated enunciation. "MY bed in MY room. Since it was booked for ME. Since I was INVITED on this trip."

“I was invited too,” he reminds you, standing up, ready to argue. 

“But you declined! And reinvited yourself literally last minute. If you had agreed when you were originally asked, we wouldn’t be sharing a fucking room," you say with exasperation.

"It worked out though," he shrugs dismissively. 

You feel like your eyes are about to pop out of your head as you glare at him. "Does this seem like things working out to you?!"

“Honestly yes. We’ve both got a place to stay, I get to be here with my brothers... besides... Rock Star here, need I remind you, I don’t sleep on couches,” he starts. 

“Blow me with that bullshit,” you quip. “This trip was supposed to be relaxing and now I can’t get laid because I can’t bring anyone back here... AND I have to see you literally first thing in the morning... AND you’re trying to take my bed... it’s the couch for you, Irwin. I don’t give a fuck who you think you are. And I think your BROTHERS would back me up on this," you say mockingly.

“I don’t know why you have to be such a bitch about this. And of course Luke will back you up, he’d hate for Sierra to be mad at him,” he rolls his eyes. 

“I think he’d hate to know what a fucking diva you’re trying to be,” you sneer. “Why can’t you just go crash on one of their couches?”

"Like I said, I'm not trying to sleep on anyone's couch, sweetheart," he explains, the condescension dripping off of his words. "Plus, there's no way I'm about to be anyone's third wheel, something you clearly have no problem with."

You take a beat, pinching the bridge of your nose and taking two deep breaths. “Hate to break it to you Rock Star, but you ARE a third wheel on this trip. I just wanted a vacation with friends... but, as per usual your thotty ass comes along and turns it into my own personal hell. I paid for this room, so you can find yourself on the couch, freeloader.”

He gives a single snort in response which honestly infuriates you more than if he had come back at you with some long-winded monologue. He drags his suitcase to the couch and busies himself with unpacking, slamming drawers and grumbling every step of the way. You can't even be happy about winning the bed argument because you're so worked up now you can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You grab your phone and angrily text Luke and Sierra, “Does 5sos really need a drummer? Can he be replaced? Because the current one is about to be dead.”

Luke responds with the crying laughing emoji which has you about to launch your phone across the room. Sierra is typing for quite a bit but eventually just ends up sending a simple "Hang in there sweetie, it'll be worth it tomorrow!"

You call room service to order a bottle of vodka, it’s the only way you’ll be able to deal with him. You hear Calum in the room and make an appearance, plastering on a fake smile. He gestures to his girl, “We were just gonna go check out the resort, wanted to see if you guys wanted to come?” 

“I’ll pass thanks, I just ordered some room service. But Ash, you should absolutely go,” you encourage, gritting your teeth. 

“Gladly... who goes on vacation to sit in their room anyway?” He quips.

Rather than fight in front of Cal, you give the group a sickly sweet "Have fun!" and breathe a sigh of relief when they shuffle out the door.

You take the chance to relax, changing out of your plane outfit and into something more appropriate for the more tropical setting, you open the balcony doors and wander out onto it. It really couldn’t be prettier. You’re drawn out by a knock on the door and you think it must be room service, but it’s Luke, Sierra, Michael and Crystal. Luke is holding your bottle of vodka. 

“Had it charged to our room,” he says, thrusting it toward you. “We wanna go exploring. But let’s all get a drink first.” He smiles, “Save this for later.” 

“Ash still here?” Crystal asks, peering into the room. 

“He went with Cal... thank god,” you grumble. You set the vodka on the bedside table and grab your bag and sunglasses to head out with them.

One drink with the group becomes two which becomes decidedly more than two and they convince you to explore with them. By the time you get back to the room, Ashton has returned and is lounging on the couch as if he hasn't a care in the world. "Hey roomie," he dryly greets you without looking up from his phone.

“Hey asshole,” you slur, followed by a hiccup. You walk toward the bed and kick your shoes off, and very quickly follow it up with peeling your top off. “Why’s it s’hot?” You hiccup again and land haphazardly on the bed.

"AC wasn't acting right so I called the front desk and they said someone could look at it tomorrow," he explains noncommittally. "I, however, had the decency to leave my clothes on because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." 

You scoff at his implication. Or you mean to, at least. Despite the climate of the room, the events of the day combined with your intoxicated state has you drifting off before you know it. As you fade into unconsciousness, you think you hear Ash snipe in the distance, "If you barf on the bed during the night, I'm not helping you clean that shit up."

You make a mocking tone at him, you think. And you’re out. 

After an evening of drinking, you wake up at 3 AM, needing the bathroom. You immediately notice you’re somehow tucked in bed, even though you’re 90% sure you passed out halfway on it. Your shorts are unbuttoned but not off and all the lights in the bedroom are off. When you make your way to the bathroom, you peek over at Ashton on the couch and he’s sprawled on his stomach, only in his boxer briefs. It’s then you realize it’s still ungodly hot in the suite. You shut the bathroom door, turn on the light and take a quick look at yourself in the mirror before deciding you need to wash your face before going back to bed.

You're in no rush as you use the toilet, wash your face and brush your teeth. It's been an exhausting day and you could use the alone time. You're careful to shut off the light before you open the door and start to tiptoe your way back to bed. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when a gruff voice barks at you, "Think you could make any more noise in there, princess?" You're livid but you say nothing and lay back down.

When you wake up in the morning, you’ve managed to almost completely forget about sharing your room with Ash. So it’s a rude awakening when you find him emerging from the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips, water dripping from his hair, muscles rippling as he starts digging through his drawers.

“Oh... the princess has decided to grace us,” he rolls his eyes, seeing you’re awake. “You’ve got like 45 minutes till we all do breakfast and judging by the way your phone has been buzzing, someone thinks I killed you last night.” 

You groan and wipe your hand over your face, “More like making sure I didn’t kill you.”

As you reach for your phone on the nightstand, you realize the sheets are sticking to your skin which is covered in sweat. "Did the front desk say what time they were coming to fix the air? And Jesus, as if this place wasn't humid enough, why exactly did you need to take the world's steamiest shower?"

“Gotta relax these muscles after sleeping on the world's most uncomfortable couch, sweetheart,” he retorts. “And no, I was not given an ETA but I’m sure when we go down for breakfast you can complain again. Maybe if you do it, it’ll get fixed faster,” he snarks. 

You roll your eyes and grab something to wear from your drawers, slamming the bathroom door behind you.

You take a cold shower, partly to wake you up and partly to cool you down (and mostly because Ash definitely used all the hot water on purpose). Even without creating steam, the bathroom is sweltering so as soon as you get dressed, you crack the door open in hopes of maintaining some airflow. You throw your hair in a ponytail and are applying a basic face of makeup when you feel Ash's eyes boring into you. 

You look behind you through the mirror and see him propped up against the door frame, observing. "We're just going to breakfast, not the royal ball, Princess. You don't need all that shit."

“Why’s it any of your business?” You ask, staring at him in the mirror. You wait a beat and then work on finishing your makeup, topping off with mascara and lip gloss.

"Just an observation," he begins but is cut off by a knock at the front door. He leaves to answer and you take a few deep breaths to relax yourself. All you have to do is get down to breakfast and then you can enjoy the  company of the people you actually came on this trip to spend time with. You hear Ash loudly joking with someone and you exit the bathroom hoping to see a handyman on the receiving end of his banter, but it's just Luke and Sierra.

Sierra smiles at you, “Hey beautiful, how’d you sleep?” She asks. 

“I think the only reason I slept so well is because I drank so much. It’s fuckin hot in here.” 

“It’s bad in our room too,” Luke shares. “We tried to call maintenance but no ETA on when they’ll be up, sounded like we weren’t the only ones suffering.” He shrugs.

Sierra notes your look of concern and interjects, "But we've got a ton of fun shit planned for the day so we won't be in our rooms too much anyways and hopefully it'll all be sorted when we get back!"

Luckily you were able to get some much needed space from Ashton during breakfast. You sat at opposite ends of the table and Sierra and Crystal did their best to keep your mind off of things. 

"Sorry I'm being such a bitch, you guys," you confess during a trip to the ladies' room. "I don't want you to feel like you have to baby-sit me the whole time, you're supposed to be enjoying the time off you have with your guys."

"Babe, we get it," Crystal reassures you. "It's not like this thing with you and Ash is anything new, we're all used to having to navigate it."

"And it's fine, sometimes people just don't get along," Sierra chimes in. "You're not obligated to like all of your friends' friends. We’re all adults, we can handle it."

After breakfast you do a few touristy things and a little bit of shopping before going back to the resort to prep for some much needed beach time. 

Ash scoffs as you sort through bikinis, “How many of those fuckin things did you need to bring? Are you going to be ready anytime soon?” 

“It’s not like you’re actually waiting for me anyway,” you murmur, otherwise ignoring him. 

But he’s not ignoring you, he’s watching your body move through the space, clad only in the bikini you selected. And it almost makes him more annoyed the way you definitely seem to be so confident in it. “Was that your best one?” He snarks.

"Sorry that some of us are actually into making an effort," you shrug. "And why is it your new favorite hobby to just stand there and watch me get ready, don't you have anything better to do?" 

You shove past him in the doorway to fetch your beach bag out of the closet. The room's swampy temperature has not improved and you hate that you can feel the transfer of sweat from his skin to yours when you brush up against him.

“I was just trying to be polite and wait for you to head down but I didn’t realize it'd be such an ordeal,” he grumbles, slipping his sandals on. “Fucking ridiculous,” he mumbles to himself. 

“No one asked you to wait, just fuckin go, Irwin. I don’t need an escort,” you exclaim, pulling on a pair of shorts. 

“An escort is probably the only way you’d get laid with that attitude,” he gruffs, slamming the hotel room door behind him.

You ball your fists up in rage and whip a sandal towards the door. It hits with a satisfying smack and you can't help but wish you had tossed it 15 seconds earlier so that noise would've come from the back of Ashton's head.  You walk over to retrieve your shoe and are startled by the knock at the door. 

You open it to find Cal with a half-amused, half-concerned expression on his face and his girlfriend looking bewildered. Their relationship was new and this was really the first she had experienced your dynamic with Ash in all of its dysfunctional glory. 

"You doing alright?" He inquires, trying to peek inside the room behind you. 

"I'm just ready to lay in the sun and not think about anything,” you say, grabbing your bag off the counter behind you and closing the door. 

Turns out the sunshine and drinks was exactly what you needed to calm down and within an hour you were laughing and playing in the water with everyone, though you had to watch Ashton flirt with everything that moved, even encouraging them to call him “Daddy, because all his friends do.”

As much fun as you're having, you can't help but notice the heat of the day doesn't seem to be passing. Tired from being in the sun, everyone agrees to head back to their respective rooms for a short rest before meeting back up for a late dinner. You know even Ashton must be spent when the hot wind starts blowing your beach hat off your head and he retrieves it and returns it to you without comment.

“D’you wanna shower first?” He asks, when the two of you return to the room. “Think you got some extra sun,” he mentions. “I can put aloe on if you need.” 

“First shower would be great, thanks,” you yawn. “You'll probably need some aloe on your neck and shoulders. I have some if you didn’t bring any,” you offer and then head for the bathroom.

You take your brief shower and come out in just a towel. You grab the aloe, gently toss it to Ash and he makes quick work, lightly coating your red skin in the gel. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

“Don’t mention it,” he says, capping it and heading for his own shower.

It doesn't hit you how weird it was to have a pleasant interaction with Ash until after you're dressed. You're rooting around in the suite's fridge for cold water and without thinking, you place two on the counter. You stare at the bottles for a beat, almost as if they appeared there on their own.

"One of those for me?" Ash's voice asks from behind you, startling you out of your confusion.

"I... guess so?" You answer with a shrug, turning to hand him the beverage. He's shirtless and the pair of athletic shorts he's chosen for his post-shower attire hang low on his hips and you wonder why you've made note of that.

“Thanks?” He replies, equally confused. “Wanna watch some tv?” He asks. 

“Sure,” you shrug. He clears his stuff off the couch and you sit at opposite ends. You doze off before you even decide on what to watch.

You awaken to the sound of both your and Ash's phones vibrating on the coffee table. You're disoriented but cognizant enough to realize you must have slept through the time you agreed to meet for dinner.

“Oh shit,” you murmur, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You grab your phone and look at the texts and quickly shoot off a reply.

-fell asleep, be down soon-

You gently shake Ash, “Hey they’re waiting on us, we fell asleep.” You wait to see him open his eyes and then you flit off to change into a sundress. “Why is it so hot? It must be cooler outside by now.” 

“Open the balcony door,” Ash sleepily replies, peeling himself off the couch. He quickly changes into black jeans and a short sleeve button down. 

You throw on sandals and mascara and are ready, quickly, which he appreciates.

Some of your friends trade surprised looks when they see you two peacefully arriving together but none of them comment on it. 

You join the group and you all walk together to the restaurant you agreed on for dinner, at the far end of the resort. 

Since you and Ash delayed things slightly, the place is crowded and you have to wait by the bar while the staff finds seating to accommodate your large party. Ash volunteers to order drinks for everyone while you wait and you can't decide if it's endearing or annoying that he brings you a vodka soda without you having to tell him what you want.

Once you’re seated, Luke and Sierra voluntarily put space between you and Ashton but he still ends up across from you. You don't mind his presence as much as you thought you would. 

The air conditioning appears to be working on this side of the resort, the cold drinks are flowing and you feel yourself truly relax for the first time since you arrived. You even catch yourself laughing at a couple of playfully snarky comments Ash tosses at Luke's expense.

You reach across the table to grab the pitcher of water as you’re all winding down and your arm knocks Cal’s drink, spilling it all over him and Ash. Ash blows his top, going out of his way to make a scene. Everyone tries to move past it but you know all the headway you two had made going into tonight was probably ruined as he refused to let it go, continuing to groan about his wet shirt and jeans.

"If the air hasn't been fixed, our room is probably so hot it'll dry the second we walk in," you joke, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Is this fucking funny to you?" He sneers, forcefully tossing his napkin on to the table. 

“It is kind of funny, Ash,” Cal says, trying to calm the situation down. 

“I said I was sorry,” you shrug. “It’s not like I meant to.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he snarls, storming off to the bathroom.

Defeat settles into your features, upset from the interaction, being tired and the ungodly heat you knew you were about to face. “I’m gonna head up to bed,” you announce, kissing Sierra and Crystal on the cheek. You wave at the rest of the group while Luke stands to give you a hug. 

You hear Cal’s girlfriend, “That was a little harsh of him.” 

“It’s just the way they’ve always been,” he explains quietly.

When you pass by him, Michael stops you and offers to walk you back since it's dark out and a bit of a journey to where your rooms are but you wave him off, you're looking forward to being alone. 

Heading out of the restaurant, you cross paths with Ash and his eyes shoot daggers at you but he says nothing. As you push through the door, you hear him loudly complain to nobody in particular, "She gets to run off and act like this is MY fault again?"

You ignore it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

Once you get back, you change and pour yourself a vodka soda. The room is still unbearably hot so you lay across the bed checking your phone, and take advantage of the breeze coming through the balcony door.

About 20 minutes later, you're in the bathroom washing your face when you hear the front door slam and Ash barges into the suite like a tornado; he cranks the TV for no apparent reason, bangs around in the fridge and slams some drawers with little regard for who or what he disturbs. You give a silent thanks for the fact that the surrounding rooms all belong to your friends so you don't have to feel embarrassment on top of everything else. 

You brace yourself for whatever you're going to encounter on the other side of the door and turn the knob. You immediately stumble on Ash's still damp clothes, which he evidently stripped off as soon as he walked in the room. You roll your eyes but as an act of good faith, pick them up and hang them over the side of the bathtub to dry. You exit the bathroom once more and find him standing in front of the balcony, clad only in his boxer briefs. "How is it still so goddamn hot in here?" He says, exasperated.

“I don’t think they even came to look at the AC,” you observe. “I really am sorry about the drink, Ash,” you murmur at his back. You’re having a hard time tearing your eyes away from his back and thick arms. Your eyes take in the tattoo on the back of his neck. You let out an audible sigh, accidentally. 

“Don’t mention it,” he says looking back at you, face red, indicating he was still kind of heated.

"It's just... we had a pretty nice time this afternoon and I was kind of starting to enjoy the peace," you start. 

"You know, that's one of the things I've never liked about you?" He says with a calmness that betrays the harshness of his remark. "You're one of those people who can't STAND not being liked by everyone. I feel bad for you." His brow furrows as if in deep thought.

“I don’t need everyone to like me, I just need to know what the fuck I’ve ever done to you, you fuckin fake deep thot. You know everyone sees right through your bullshit? Your fans and your friends, just humor you.”

"You seem to put a lot of stock in what other people think, is all I meant," he says, seemingly unaffected by your words. "And you especially seem to pay a lot of fuckin attention to what people think about me."

“I actually couldn’t give a fuck less what people think about you, but when you parade around like some sort of imbecile, having random people call you ‘daddy’ because wow what a fuckin turn on - girls with daddy issues- it’s fuckin ridiculous, Ashton. You walk around here acting like I have the holier than thou attitude but it’s you thinking you’re some big shot because you have a few gold records. That doesn’t mean shit in Hollywood, every third fucking barista has a gold record and then flopped. Congrats you’re well on your way to being a 4th rate barista, I’m sure your father is so proud.” 

Even as it left your mouth, you knew the dad line was too far.

You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, your words hanging in the air. His jaw twitches but doesn't clench. You briefly think to apologize but part of you is still stunned by what you just said and part of you doesn't want to prove his point about caring what he thinks. He considers your statement for a beat more and then finally, he chuckles darkly. He stalks past you without a word and slams the bathroom door.

You stalk toward the bed and grab a pillow to scream into. It’s barely been a full 24 hours and you’re convinced you’ll have the drummer of 5sos dead within another 24. You’re pissed at him for being cocky and hot... wait, what the fuck? You’re pissed at your friends for putting you in this situation. 

You forgo the glass and grab the bottle of vodka, setting up on the balcony because at least it’s cooler than the room, and you seethe.

You instinctively start to text Sierra to vent about the incident but ultimately decide you and Ash have done enough damage to everyone's morale for the night. You settle for absentmindedly playing a game on your phone to take your mind off things. You eventually hear Ashton back in the room but you promise yourself you're not going to be the one to apologize first. He has to come to you. And it’s just easier if the two of you let it cool for a minute. 

He comes out to the balcony, watching you shotgun straight from the bottle. He drags a chair to the other side of the balcony. “I know you know that was a cunty thing to say,” he says quietly. “You’ve definitely got a way with insults though.” 

You don’t respond because you don’t know how, but you exchange a glance in acknowledgment.

You both sit in silence and while the tension between you is thick, you're still able to find comfort in the relatively cool night air and the unspoken truce. You zone out, questioning if this trip is even remotely salvageable and how to proceed with Ashton from here. After a while, you look down at your phone and notice the time, you've been out here longer than you thought. You glance over at Ash, who's scrawling away in some sort of journal, with those goddamn headphones on again.

You stumble over to him and tap what your brain notes is an unreasonable large shoulder, "Hey,  's late."

“Careful, Princess,” he says, pulling his headphones off and resting them on his neck, he checks his phone for the time. “Yeah, it is. Let’s get you to bed.” He breathes, standing quicker than you thought any person should. 

He holds your arm, walking you to the bed. You know you’re drunk but you can’t help the words that spill from your lips, “Should stay in tha bed.” You don’t let him go as he gently pulls from your grasp. 

“You're drunk and we’re both likely to be pissed in the morning. I’ll get you a water,” he mentions, walking away. 

You do everything in your power to stay awake for the 90 seconds he’s away and you latch back onto his larger than normal forearm when he comes back. “Don’t leave me alone,” you whimper.

His gaze focuses on your hand on his arm and then shifts to your face, which he searches carefully. "You're not serious," he declares.

"Bed's closer t’window, can leave it open." You sit up and take a sip from the water he sat on the nightstand. "You'll be more comfortable. No big deal." You shrug and lay back down as if this offer was the most casual conversation you've ever had. To be honest, it probably was one of the more casual conversations the two of you had ever shared. 

“I’m not staying because you asked,” he clarifies. “I’m staying because that breeze can’t be beat.” 

Ash climbs in the bed in just his underwear and he scoffs a little when you strip off your shorts and tank top, leaving you in a sports bra and panties for bed. “Why are you constantly taking your clothes off in front of me? Sobriety might do you some favors,” he grumbles, getting comfortable on the other side of the bed.

"Doing you a favor by letting you see my bangin' bod," you drunkenly giggle. "And please, I've seen your naked torso more times on this trip than I've seen my own." You blow a raspberry that goes on for a little longer than you intended, given your inebriated state.

“Well you definitely take care of yourself.” He agrees, ignoring your childish behavior. 

You plant a pillow between the two of you and turn off the lamp, “Night ‘Shton.” You murmur, cuddling into the bed. 

“Night.” He stares at your back in the dark for a while. Not understanding this new feeling creeping up, or caring why the hell you look so good. It’s not the first time he’s seen you like this, but it is the first time he’s wanted your attention.

You wake up a few hours later, dying of thirst. You spot the water on your nightstand and lunge for it a little too quickly and your head starts to spin. As you gulp it down, you remember you invited Ashton to stay with you and your eyes dart to the other side of the bed. The moonlight pouring in from the open balcony shines on his near naked form and it's a sight to behold. You look him up and down, though you're not sure why. You think to yourself how much easier it is to find him attractive when he's not speaking.

You admire him for as long as your drunk brain can handle, before drunkenly texting what you think is just Sierra -he’s pretty when he’s quiet- and you barely put your phone face down on the table before passing back out. 

Your drunk brain processes your slight attraction and the fact that you begged for him to stay better than you’d ever let your sober brain and it creates quite the dirty dream about the man sleeping next to you. Your brain reminds you just how much of a man he is and how easily he’d toss you around. 

You’re awoken by your own moan and open your eyes to see Ashton staring at you from the next pillow, eyebrow cocked.

"Sleep well, princess?" He smirks.

You shove your pillow over your face, half out of embarrassment, half out of necessity because the sun shining into the room is BRIGHT and your head is pounding. "It's too early and I'm too hungover for you to use that tone of voice with me, Irwin."

“Not very often I have girls moaning in bed before I’ve even touched them,” he says, sounding bemused. 

You groan and reach for your phone, closing one eye and turning down the brightness before unlocking it. You realize the text you thought you sent to Sierra also had Luke, Michael and Crystal on it. Luke commented about you getting soft for Ashton, which vaguely enrages you around your headache. 

“Not like I’m moaning for you,” you quip, slowly moving toward the bathroom. 

Ash is still laying on the bed when you return. “Still fuckin hot,” he grumbles. 

Your phone buzzes and you look at it, Luke had forwarded a text from the hotel, - heat warning in place, advising everyone stays inside, hydrated and cooled.-

You throw yourself back on the bed in disbelief. "This can't be happening."

Ash turns on his side to face you, a little closer than you'd like both because of the heat and because of the dream you had. "What's the matter, princess?" He says with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Stop calling me princess," you grumble and shove your phone in his face.

“Yeah, I already saw. Don’t worry I plan to escape this room as soon as humanly possible,” he admits. “Just waiting for Cal to get his lazy ass up.” 

“Are you ever just like... nice to anyone?” You shove your face back in the pillow. The sun really is too bright and you can’t take it.

"Are you ever just like... not super judgmental?" He mocks, getting out of bed and pulling the curtains shut for you. "I've been pretty nice the past couple nights putting your drunk ass to bed. You thought I was nice enough when you begged me to sleep in your bed."

“I didn’t beg for anything from you. And I’m more than capable of putting my own drunk ass to bed... you just think you’re better than everyone because you got sober when you realized you couldn’t handle your alcohol. Seriously, if the worst fuckin thing I’ve done is offer you a spot In my bed where it’s more comfortable then that’s worlds better than the damage and destruction you’ve undoubtedly caused in your drunk state,” you spew.

"You're unfuckingbelievable, you know that?" He shakes his head. "There's no WAY anything I've ever said to you has warranted some of the shit you've said to me recently. You always gotta take it too far, always gotta get personal. And I’M supposed to be the asshole?"

“Just shut the fuck up, Ash... I can’t. I’m done. I don’t have the energy. This trip was supposed to be relaxing.” You groan, plopping the pillow over your head.

"Cool. Good talk," he says dismissively and heads for the shower.

You stick your middle finger up in the direction he headed off. You sigh loudly when you hear the water turn on. “What the fuck happened,” you ask yourself, exasperated, thinking over the last couple days and how the day before you and Ash had been chill for at least a few hours. “I just need to shut my fucking mouth,” you decide. “The only way to salvage this trip now.”

You must have dozed off again because the next thing you know Ashton is standing over you -shirtless in those athletic shorts again, goddammit- and poking at you with his room keycard. "The fuck?" You say with only moderate interest.

"Oh good, you're up," he jokes. God, he's insufferable. "Cal and I went downstairs and they've closed the restaurant dining rooms but they're still offering room service. I need to know if you want breakfast."

“Yeah... pancakes.” You wave him off. “..Bacon and hash browns...” You murmur out, going back to sleep. 

A short while later you wake to the smell of maple syrup. You drag yourself out of bed and follow the scent to where Ash is sat on the couch, already eating, full breakfast spread out on the coffee table. "Gee thanks for letting me know the food was here," you snipe without thinking. Dammit. You've already forgotten your plan to keep your mouth shut.

Luckily, as you've learned is the norm, he's preoccupied with something on his phone. "Uh-huh," is the only response you get.

You grab your plate and get a water out of the fridge and then sit at the end of the coffee table furthest from Ashton. 

“I hope it cools down some tomorrow,” You mumble, mouth full of food. 

“What was that? Speak up princess,” he says pointedly to you. 

“I just said I hope it cools off. So we can go back to the beach tomorrow,” you shrug, digging into your food.

"You mean we all didn't fly all the way over here to sit in our hotel rooms with broken AC?" He mocks for no apparent reason.

You roll your eyes but keep your mouth shut, not looking to give him the benefit of another snarky comeback.  You eat as much of your plate as you can manage before heading off to shower. To your slight dismay, he’s still sitting on the couch on his phone when you get done. 

“Ash.” You mention quietly, his head tilts up but his eyes don’t leave his phone. “Do you think you could do the aloe again?” 

His eyes snap to you and he stares for a minute before nodding. “Uh... yeah,” he agrees. 

You grab the bottle and sit next to him as he does your back and your shoulders. “Sorry I always take it too far,” you apologize.

He breathes out forcefully and you can feel it on your neck. It gives you goosebumps. He seems to be choosing his words carefully before landing on "Just seems like you don't think about some of the stuff you spit out in anger." His hands stop working over your skin. "I talk shit and yeah I get you think I'm an asshole, but I have never nor would I ever say anything to you as disrespectful as some of the things you've said to me," he says with a quiet firmness.

You nod, because you know he’s right and you chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment, thinking carefully on your own words. 

“I know. I don’t have an excuse. You get under my skin and it’s always guards up with you. Sometimes we’ll be just fine and then you’ll turn on a dime, like last night at dinner. Easier to push you away and keep you at arms length than to let my guard down because I don’t know when you’re gonna snap.”

"Right because this continues to be exclusively my fault," he says condescendingly and sits back on the couch.

You take a few deep breaths and then get up, leaving him to sit while you go change. 

You come back out, sports bra and lounge shorts and look at him. 

“I’m just trying to be nice. It’s my fault too, I know that. I was explaining why I get that way. I know I’m like that, and I’m working on it. I was just trying to clue you in on a trigger.” You sigh and then head back to the bed, collapsing on it.

He bounds over to you, not ready to let this go. "Sorry to break this deluded narrative you've constructed, princess, but 'I'm only a bitch because you make me one' isn't a trigger, it's an excuse and a weak one at that." 

His face is flushing and his chest is bright red. You know he's getting heated and you know it's not just the tropical climate of the room. 

"You've been like this with me from the second you met me, it's like you never had any intention of liking me and fuck getting to know me." He raises his voice, "If I'm such a shitty person then why are literally all of your friends friends with me? You ever think about that, sweetheart?"

“Well that's a two way street, Irwin,” you huff out. “You’ve never tried to get to know me either. So before you come over here acting like you’re any better than me, remember when you point a fucking finger there’s three pointing back at you.”

You stand to square off with him, like the fight is going to get physical. You know better than to think Ash would lay a hand on you but you’re prepared for anything in this moment. The blood is rushing in your ears again.

"I never said you were a shitty person," he says lowly, stepping closer to you. "I just said you were a judgemental, inconsiderate hypocrite and I don't like you."

“I’ve never said you were a shitty person either, I just think you’re an asshole with entitlement issues that definitely needs to take a look in a mirror when slinging his insults,” you say quietly, also stepping closer to him.

"Sounds like we have a lot more in common than we realize then," he challenges, staring you down with fire in his eyes.

“Seems like if either of us had taken even five minutes to consider the other, then maybe this all could have been avoided.” You don’t waiver, standing your ground. “And maybe, we could have spared our friends.”

It seems like he's about to move somehow even closer to you but the sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table cuts through the tense air. "Finally something we agree on," he mutters under his breath as he stomps away to check it.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You realize it was in anticipation but you don’t know what you were waiting for.  

You collapse back on the bed, grabbing for your phone. You make a mental note of how his phone is more important than any person in front of him and you slink back into your normal feelings about him.

A couple hours pass of you dutifully ignoring each other with your phones. But the heat is unrelenting and eventually the scorching sunlight starts pouring in directly onto the bed. Even with the curtains shut, the warmth is sickening and you have no choice but to find another place to relax. 

Obviously the balcony is out of the question until the sun sets. You huff to yourself and head for the couch where Ashton is sprawled out.

“Can I sit?” You ask. 

“Your space is over there,” he says pointing to the bed. “This is my space and it’s probably best we keep the two separate.” 

“It’s too hot over there, even with the curtains closed,” you whine. 

“It’s what you wanted,” Ash cocks an eyebrow and doesn’t move a muscle.

"Are you fucking serious, Irwin? You're being a child, just move over."

He looks directly at you and stretches his large frame even further down the length of the couch. 

"Sorry, Princess. No room at the inn. Think I saw a cot in the closet."

“Selfish prick.” You mumble, turning to walk away. 

But that gets him up. “What’d you just say?” He asks, tone sharp. 

“I called you a selfish prick,” you whip around, saying it louder.

"Aww, did Princess get her feelings hurt because someone finally won't cater to her every fuckin whim?"

“Literally nothing about this trip has gone my way. You show up last minute and I have to share my fucking room with you because there’s nowhere else for you to stay? Excuse me for thinking for a minute that you might be fucking polite enough to accommodate me a little. Thankless asshole.”

"Didn't realize you were so affected by the mere presence of me," he says with a dark cockiness. He gets in your face. "And I'm gettin real tired of hearing you call me an asshole, Princess."

“And I’m getting real fucking tired of your condescending ‘Princess’ nickname, so I guess we’re both just fucked here.”

"Ohhh I think the name suits you just fine, Princess." He's impossibly close to you now, practically nose to nose. "Unrealistic expectations for everyone and everything. Particular. Judgy. Demanding. Keep waiting for you to tell me to bow down, Princess.”

“I doubt you're good at anything that’d require you to be on your knees, including bowing down.” Your eyes narrow. 

“Shouldn’t I say that to you?” He snorts.

"Well then we'd have to add 'liar' to the list of your many offenses." 

“Can’t make claims like that without backing them up.”

You roll your eyes. "Is that the only way to get you to shut the fuck up for once? Figures," you sneer. You involuntarily lick your lips and you regret it the second you do, he definitely notices.

“Blow. Me. Princess.” He enunciates.

You're not sure where this audacity comes from but you grab at his crotch. OH. He's more than half-hard in your hand. Your heart is pounding from what you assumed was anger but you're now realizing may be something else. You lean into his ear, hardening cock still in hand and challenge breathily, "Make me."

He inhales sharply, “Gladly.” He pushes you to your knees, pushing your hand away so he can drop his shorts, he does a couple quick tugs to get himself fully hard before pressing his tip against your lips. “Open.” He quietly demands in a way that says not to fuck with him, so you do what he asks.

He taps his cock up and down, over and over your open lips. You make a point of maintaining direct eye contact with him when you jut out your tongue defiantly, catching on a vein, making him groan.

You grab it from him and he easily lets go, curious of what you’ll do. You lick the underside from base to tip and slowly rub your hand over his length, placing sloppy wet kisses along the shaft to slick him up more.

You start suckling at the head, hoping to coax out some precum and you'd never admit to it but you accidentally let out a small moan when you feel the substance on your tongue. By the way Ash is tangling his hands in your hair, you can tell he's getting impatient. "Figures you'd be a fuckin tease," he critiques.

You slowly lick the tip a few times before taking him in your mouth, hoping it will shut him up. You slowly work your mouth up and down his cock, not really trying to take all of him, but enough to keep him quiet. Your eyes are still locked on his as you palm his balls.

He bites his lip and you wonder if it's because he's trying to hold back a snarky comment or a moan. You wonder why you care. Rather than unpack that thought, you decide to press your luck and take him down further. He's larger than you realized and he hits the back of your throat before you're ready and you gag. He grunts approvingly. 

Of course he does, you think to yourself, annoyed.

His hand tightens more in your hair and he pushes you further, silently encouraging you to take his cock in your throat, so you do. He lets out a loud guttural moan. 

“If I’d have known the way to shut you up was to put my cock down your throat, we would have done this years ago.” He gently caresses the side of your face.

You wish you didn't lean into his touch but you do. You wish you didn't like the weight of his cock on your tongue as much as you do but that's another thought entirely. You quickly determine you like this experience much more when your mind is quiet so you focus on making him moan loud enough to drown out your thoughts. 

You confidently bob your head on his cock with the occasional detour to tongue at his balls. You make sure your methods are as loud and as messy as possible. He's easy to read, you know what he likes without you being told.

Your jaw aches a bit from having your mouth open that wide for him but it’s a minor inconvenience for hearing his moans, tasting him. Shutting him up. 

“I was wrong about you,” he murmurs. “You can suck a cock.” He smirks and you flick his thigh.

You give him a good suck just to hear his breath catch before you pull off. "And I was wrong about you," you pant, wiping your mouth sinfully. "Turns out there is one thing about you I don't mind." You flick your tongue over his slit to punctuate your point. 

He snorts and looks down at you, yanking your hair so that you meet his gaze. "Tired of you running that goddamn mouth of yours, Princess. Mind if I fuck it?"

“Wish you’d fuck something around here,” you saltily reply.

“I promise I’ll find another wet hole to ruin as well.” He grips your hair in both hands and guides your mouth back on his cock. He gets a couple slow test thrusts in to get you used to it before he starts full force face fucking you. It doesn’t take long for him to grunt and fill your mouth with cum and he holds you on his cock, without being in your throat. “Swallow it,” he demands.

You moan around him and do as he says, though you intentionally let some dribble out of your mouth, mostly to be defiant but also because you think that's something he'd like to see.

“Cheeky little fuck," he murmurs, wiping the cum with his thumb and pushing it into your mouth. “Better than I thought you’d be for a pillow princess.” 

“Not at all a pillow princess and you'd better be returning that favor.”

He clicks his tongue and pulls you up off your knees. "There you go with your demands again, Princess," he says, stripping you naked in record time. "But I'll definitely do you a favor, sweetheart. I'll bet you've been dripping for me since you first got those pretty lips around my cock."

“Try when I first got my hand on your cock.” 

Ash looks at you, gropes both of your tits and pinches your nipples, pulling them a bit. You let out a little whine and he smirks and drops to his knees, quickly hooking one leg over his shoulder. He flicks his tongue along your clit before licking around your opening. “Very wet... Princess likes to suck cock.”

"I like doing things I'm good at." You hope it comes out as confident as you intended but an accidental whine swallows the last word of your sentence.

Ash pulls his face away and chuckles. He slides his hand up your thigh and lightly rubs your slit with his fingers before applying pressure on your clit. “I’ll give you credit, you were good at it.” He smirks, quickly pushing the two fingers in and then pulling them out with a bit of a twist, at an agonizingly slow pace. He watches your face and feels you get a little wobbly on one leg so he grabs you, pushes you back onto the couch. He wraps his arm around one thigh and pushes your other to spread you. He continues the slow pace with his fingers and rolls his tongue over your clit. 

You run your fingers through his hair and breathe deep. You'd be lying if you said he didn't know what he was doing. He catches your clit between his lips and sucks hard. You shudder and tug at his hair harder than you mean to. For a split second you think to apologize but he lets out a groan indicating he didn't mind the pain one bit. He sucks over your clit again and you pull even harder just to hear that noise.

The back and forth continues until he draws out a very loud moan from you. You don’t even think twice about the fact that your friends' rooms are around yours. “Fuck, Ashton, yes!” You whine.

He pulls back to nip and suck marks onto your inner thighs. "That's the most positive thing you've said to me this entire trip, sweetheart, I like it." He lifts your leg and pushes his fingers in as deep as he can. "Princess gonna do me the honor of cumming for me?"

“Please make me cum for you!” It sounds desperate even in your own ears but you can’t seem to care about it. 

His smirk is definitely making you more wet at this point and he notices. “So slippery in here. Can't believe I finally found a way to make you agreeable," he taunts, slowly thumbing your clit.

You hate that his cockiness is threatening to send you over the edge at this point. "Ash... God, Ash, please," you plead.

“Alright alright... don’t need you begging me just yet.” He brings his mouth back to your clit and sucks hard so you’ll yank his hair. His fingers are pumping at an ungodly pace. 

“Yes fuck right there, like that.” 

Your chest is heaving and Ash thinks he likes the view. “Can you be any louder?” He teases.

"Give me a reason and we'll see," you manage to pant out.

He sharply slaps your inner thigh, over one of the marks he'd already left, fingers grazing your pussy as he does. You do indeed, cry out louder. 

"Don't get smart with me when I'm about to make you cum, sweetie, you won't like the outcome. I promise you," he warns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please make me cum,” you whine. “Ashton, please!” The whine is loud and the moan when he goes back in with three fingers is obscene. He pushes you until you fall over the edge, chanting "Ash" and tugging his hair while he slowly licks over your clit.

You whimper and writhe as he expertly works you through your orgasm, easing the curling of his fingers as he feels you finish pulsing around them. He dutifully cleans you with his tongue until you're pushing his head away, too sensitive to take any more stimulation. 

He lifts his fingers to your mouth and traces one across your lips, coating them in your juices. You look directly at him as you lick them carefully, groaning at your own taste. You keep the eye contact going as you reach for his hand and draw the rest of his fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean.

“Naughty little slut, aren’t you?” He comments, watching in awe. “Be surprised if our friends didn’t just hear that little show.” 

“Like I give a flying fuck," you murmur, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

He smiles as he runs his hands over your tits, giving them an appreciative squeeze. "Gotta tell ya, Princess, I'm finding that you're full of surprises."

You sit up and reach for his cock, which you're pleased to find already hard for you again. "Gotta tell ya," you mimic his smarmy cadence. "I'd rather be full of this." You give him a squeeze for emphasis.

He grins and gets in your face. "Greedy too?" He places his hand over yours and you begin slowly stroking him. "My kind of girl." You feel his breath on your face and you wonder if he's finally going to kiss you. You wonder why you want him to.

Instead of waiting on him, you push slightly forward and press your lips to his and the kiss quickly gets deepened. 

When you come up for air, he cocks an eyebrow at you, “Couldn’t take anymore of your talking.” You shrug. 

He pushes forward and kisses you again. “I want you over the fuckin couch,” he growls. You know he means business, so you quickly turn.

His first priority is to land a hard smack on your ass. You probably should've expected it but you yelp loudly nonetheless. Satisfied with both your reaction and the red mark decorating your ass cheek, he delivers a blow to the other side to match.

“Fuckkk me," you moan, wiggling your ass in front of him.

"Oh is that what you want from me, Princess?" He teases, running his cock over your thighs and ass, everywhere except your throbbing core. You hear a whine you don't recognize escaping your throat when you feel drops of precum drizzling onto your skin.

"Even with my ass in the air for you, you've still gotta talk shit," you groan in frustration.

He slicks the tip through your folds and you press your face against the back of the couch in anticipation. “If you fuck half as good as you lick, I think we can be friends," you smirk. 

“All you need to worry about is if you can take my cock.” He lands another smack to your ass. 

“My throat took it just fine.” You look over your shoulder and wink at him.

"Alright, alright, that's enough out of you," he starts to push in and you gasp at the feeling. He snorts. "My throat took it just fine," he mocks, sinking in more.

He does a couple shallow thrusts before pushing in further. You push your hips back to meet him, taking his cock all the way. 

You moan loudly, “Never been so full in my life.” 

Ashton spanks you again, ensuring he's gonna be leaving your ass red and sore. He gives a couple slow thrusts and then stops. “You want this cock, Princess? Get it.” He lands a smack to the other side of your ass.

You take his challenge, finding a rhythm as you throw yourself back on his cock. He watches, fascinated at the sight of his length disappearing inside you again and again. He holds your hips tight enough that you'll undoubtedly have bruises. "You look real good fucking yourself on my cock, Princess," he groans.

“Feels phenomenal," you breathe. You brace your arms on the back of the couch and look back at him while you take his cock. “Fuck yes, Ashton,” you pant. 

He takes mercy on you and grips your hips tighter, deciding to take over for you. He pulls one leg up, rests his foot next to your thigh for more leverage and starts to pound into you.

The noises filling the room are obscene: heavy breathing, skin slapping against skin, the slick sounds of your arousal, the endless moans, groans and curses pouring from both your and Ash's mouths.

He pulls you by your hair up against his chest and roughly turns your face so he can sloppily kiss you. He pushes your face away when he's done. "All our friends definitely already heard you cum for me, think this time I can make you scream loud enough the whole floor will hear?"

“I don’t care who hears us at this point, I just need to cum on your cock,” you breathe. “Please," you ask nicely, tossing a smile over your shoulder for him. 

The grin that graces his face says it all. He goes harder still. Your quiet whimpers quickly escalate into loud moans of begging.

He smacks your ass a few more times as well as your upper thighs for good measure. He presses into the already forming bruises on your hips. "Pleeease... Ashhh... Fuckkk," you whine, each word at least two syllables longer than usual. 

He yanks on your hair and leans in to calmly command, "Cum for me, Princess. Wanna feel you all over my cock."

It sends you over the edge and you lean heavily against the back of the couch while he continues fucking you through your orgasm. His pace increases and then you hear his breath catch and you feel him cum inside you. He stays tucked against you for a minute. He shallow thrusts all the way in once more so you’ll remember how it felt. 

“Holy fuck,” you groan. 

Ash pets your hair and pulls out. You instantly feel the cum dripping down your thighs. “Don’t move,” he warns. He comes back moments later with a washcloth and cleans you up. You stay in position, panting over the back of the couch because you're unsure if you can even move at this point.

He runs a hand down your back with surprising tenderness. It's then that you realize how goddamn sweaty you are because of course you had to decide to have the most intense fuck of your life in a room that feels like it's on the 4th floor of hell. 

"You ok, Princess?" Ash asks, sounding a bit unsure of himself. It's so unlike him. You're kind of into it.

“Yeah… it's just fuckin hot and now I’m fucked out. And I fuckin love it," you mumble against the couch. 

“Wanna grab a cool shower... together?” He asks, ready for you to bite sarcasm at him. 

“You might have to carry me, legs aren’t working,” you chuckle. 

He stands and gestures for you to climb into his arms, "Well then, Princess, your chariot awaits."

You roll your eyes but you notice you don't feel your blood boiling as much as it usually does when he calls you that. You shift on the couch, he scoops you up and carries you into the bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he gathers towels and turns on the shower.

Once you’re under the cool water you relax and regain some composure. Ash gently grabs your chin and softly kisses you. “Gonna be honest, that’s not at all what I expected from you," he states and then fits your lips back together.

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? You spend a lot of time wondering what kind of lay I'd be, Irwin?" You tease, softly biting his lip.

“Well no... not really. Maybe a couple masturbatory fantasies about hate fucking you, but you were tied up and gagged for those…" he explains, gently rubbing his soapy hands over your red ass and bruised hips. "Just with who you’ve been to me, I didn’t assume you’d beg to cum on my cock."

You smirk, "Tied up and gagged, huh? Well let's put a pin in that conversation..." 

He shakes his head and grins at you.

"To be honest I didn't expect to hear those things come out of my mouth either," you admit, pausing to hiss when his fingers brush over a particularly sore mark. "But to be fair, based on your past behavior I didn't see you as the type to gingerly clean me up after you came inside me."

“I’ve got a thing for after care, not really a 'fuck em and leave em' type of guy,” he shrugs. 

“What are our friends gonna say?” You wonder.

“I have no idea but I’m betting both of our phones are buzzing off the hook right now," he laughs. 

“No doubt about that... so are we going for round two later or was this a one time thing?” You smile playfully.

He purses his lips as if deeply considering it and you briefly wonder if you'd gotten too comfortable and embarrassed yourself but then he presses you up against the shower wall.

"Like I said before, such a greedy Princess," he teases before crashing his lips into yours with a groan.

After a short makeout, you end your shower and the first thing you both do is go to your phones. Ash snorts. “Cal just sent a bunch of the side eye emojis,"  he announces. 

“Crystal and Mike want to know where I am because something is definitely going on in my room,” you giggle. 

You change into your shorts and a fresh bralette and Ash pulls the black athletic shorts back on. He gives you a quick kiss but is interrupted by a knock at your door. He answers it as you settle on the couch. 

It’s Luke and Sierra. Luke seems chill but Sierra pushes her way into the room and looks astonished she sees you on the couch.

"Hey sweetie," she greets you with what sounds like surprise in her voice. 

"Hey guys," you start but you can tell their attention is focused elsewhere, eyes darting around the room and exchanging wide-eyed glances with each other.

Ash shoots you an amused look but you subtly shake your head at him, waiting to see where this goes.

“Hey… just wanted to check on you guys. There was a lot of noise coming from what we thought was your room.” Sierra looks confused. 

“What kind of noise?” You ask. 

“Sex noises, moaning, ‘fuck Ashton that’s so good’,” Luke mocks, eyeing the two of you. 

Sierra playfully jabs him in his side and he yelps. "Or you know, something like that," he offers half-heartedly.

Ashton, barely keeping in a giggle, says with concern, "Oh I definitely didn't hear anything like that, did you Princess?"

“No... don’t think so, Ash. We’ve just been watching TV,” you explain to the suspicious couple. 

“In here? In this room? Together?” Sierra clarifies, so much doubt in her voice and on her face. 

“I swear we heard someone moaning Ashton’s name. Asking him to make her cum. Begging, really,” Luke muses with a smirk. 

There's another knock on the door and Luke opens it. It's Cal, having walked over from across the hall. “Ok so did you guys hear that too?” He asks.

Luke stands in the doorway discussing the mystery with Cal while Sierra bewilderedly studies your faces.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when you hear Cal thinking out loud, "But how would he get a girl in here without her knowing?" 

"No, man, she's been here the whole time."

"The WHOLE time?"

"Apparently."

"Well... I mean… Maybe… No..."

Sierra’s eyes narrow at you, “It was the two of you.” She determines, looking between you and Ashton. “You two hooked up...” 

“You said I was crazy for suggesting that!” Luke laughs. 

“I didn’t think she’d do it.” Sierra laughs in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

You realize Michael and Crystal must have visited Cal's room to discuss the incident because he shakes his head and announces behind him, "Mike, you were right." 

You hear a shout of "Yay! No, wait, ew that's weird. Not yay" mixed with a quieter "Whyyy?" that must've come from Crystal.

You didn't think you were the blushing type but you feel your cheeks getting warmer and you hope everyone will assume it's the heat. But Ash notices and starts waving your friends out of the room, "Ok folks, show's over."

"So we're right then?" Luke teases.

"Get the fuck outta here," Ash playfully shoos him away.

Luke and Cal shuffle out while Sierra turns back and mouths "Oh my God?" at you and mimes for you to text her.

As Ash shuts the door behind them, you flop onto the bed, exhaling loudly. He laughs and climbs on next to you. He kisses your shoulder reassuringly. "You good?"

You turn to face him, "Yeah, they're just. A lot sometimes." He snorts in agreement. "Fuck, they're gonna be so obnoxious about this, what should we do?" You ask, curious for his opinion.

"Well," he starts but then kisses you long enough that you begin to wonder if he forgot he was in the middle of a sentence. He pulls away and looks at you mischievously. "I say we give them about 15 minutes to settle back into their rooms and then we really give them something to talk about."

Tag list: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood  @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @therealmrshale @fallfrxmgrace @lukashemmos @justarandomgirlthatyoudontknow​ @5sos-microwave @madbomb​ @sweetheartmendes1000​ @literally-anythin​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @clemmingstylins0n​ @ccnicole02​ @lustingfor5sos​ @buteverythingiscopacetic​ @rosesfromcth​ @bodaciousbonzi1996​ @ashtontotheirwin​ @captainam-erika-trash​ @xxgendurvikixx​ @jazzyangel242​ @bluebabycal​ @rhiannonmichellee​ @iovehemmings​ @glitterycalum1205​ @katcontreras​ @cashtonasfuck​ @ificanthaveu​ @kindahoping4forever @here-for-the-uproars​ @canterburyfiction​ @opheliaaurora​  @queer-5sos​ @banditocth​ @gigglyirwin​  @glitterycalum1205​ @rebelwith0utacause​

gc tags: @sublimehood​ @sugarcoated-pain​ @5sosnsfw​ @angelbabylu​ @aspiringwildfire​ @irwinkitten​ @lashtoncurls​ @myloverboyash​ @singt0mecalum​

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

#it's ashton smut #ashton irwin #tropes on tropes on tropes #cass #crystal #friendship 🦦🦦 #galaxy brain #idk where this came from #it's a 30 page doc #stay wet #enjoy #this is what we spent all night writing #crystal really is that bitch

[welllpthisishappening]

Of Babies and Hockey Mascots

It had been a very long time since the mascot of the Philadelphia Flyers had made Matthew Jones want to scream in fear. He was, after all, a grown man. But being a grown man also meant seeing other adults in his life have kids. And Roland had always been very popular in Philadelphia.

------

This was/is and continues to be exceptionally self-indulgent next gen Blue Line hockey fic. Because life is life and good things happen in this universe. Also because I write them that way. So, here’s like almost 4K of Matt Jones, his girlfriend, his parents and both Roland and Henry ragging on Matt Jones for being terrified of Gritty. And the Rangers play hockey tomorrow. So.

This one goes out directly to @shireness-says for being an absolute, goddamn delight at all times. Also, also @optomisticgirl for constantly letting me bounce ideas off her, @stealing-vengence because I didn’t have these words to send last night and @distant-rose just for, like, existing. 

This is the video mentioned in the story.

------

“Babe.”

Matt didn’t answer. 

“Babe.”

Nothing. If he didn’t answer, then Claire would definitely go back to sleep and it was stupid and petulant and—“Babe,” she said, that one sounding less like an endearment and more like the audible and understandable sound of middle-of-the-night frustration. She jabbed him in the ribs. 

Matt groaned. 

“Answer your phone, Matthew.”

He hissed in a breath, burying his face into the pillow like that would make the phone stop, but that was a pipe dream and Claire’s nails absolutely left marks on his skin when she scratched down his side. 

“I got it, I got it, I—“ 

The phone fell on the floor. 

“Oh my God,” Claire grumbled. 

None of Matt’s muscles appreciated when he leaned over the side of the bed, fingers scrambling for a phone that was somehow still ringing and sounded as if it were getting louder with each passing second and—

“Someone better be dead,” he growled, barely moving his thumb away from the screen after he swiped before lifting it to his ear. 

He hadn’t checked who was calling. 

That was definitely his first mistake.

Well, second. Maybe third, actually. 

He’d gotten hit pretty hard after that turnover in the zone and he should have just started shutting his phone off at night. Like several dozen years earlier. So those probably took precedence. 

And the tongue click on the other end made it blatantly obvious who it was anyway. 

“No one is dead,” Dad said. “That’s kind of the whole point of this call, actually.”

Matt blinked. Once, twice, three times, probably to match up with the number of mistakes and—he would absolutely blame whatever time it actually was for how long it took him to realize what was going on. 

“Oh, shit.”

Dad sighed. And it sounded like Mom laughed. 

It must have been nearly three in the morning. 

“Got there, huh?” Dad asked. “That was a good pass in the third, by the way. Almost made up for the turnover and—“

“—You do not get to critique my turnovers right now. It is the middle of the night and that was just like…your greatest weakness and—“

“—And not really the point,” Mom called, what sounded like the couch creaking in the background and they must have been in the living room. Waiting. Or something that sounded a little more familial and far less menacing. 

“It’s not really the point,” Dad admitted, voice turning a little repentant. “But it was a really good pass, the legend of the wrists continues—“

Mom sounded like she was growling. 

There was a quiet scuffle on the other end of the phone, Claire’s laugh working its way under Matt’s skin when she pressed her head into the curve of his shoulder, reaching a hand up to brush away far-too-long curls because they were in the middle of a playoff run and he desperately needed to go back to sleep, but—

“It’s a boy,” Mom announced, and of all the very sore muscles that made up Matt’s current bodily structure, he hadn’t ever really expected his cheeks to ache quite that much. 

Or so suddenly. 

Smiling like an idiot would do that though. 

“Oh, shit.”

“Mattie, you can’t keep saying that over and over. It’s just—it’s not the world’s best reaction.”

“I know, I know, I just—a boy, for real?”

“You knew that,” Claire mumbled, nosing at his collarbone and he could feel her smile too. His stomach felt like it had thrown into his throat. 

“Yeah, I know I did, I just—“

“—Used up all those well-thought out responses in post, huh?” Mom asked, and maybe they were all just smiling like idiots. That made him feel a little better. 

It had been a really good pass. 

“Something like that,” Matt muttered. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as if that would wake him up, but the prospect of Roland and Lizzie’s kid had already done a pretty good job of that and Claire only gasped softly when he pulled her up with him. “Is everything—I mean, everything went ok, right? No one’s—“

“Everyone’s fine, kid,” Dad said, clearly on speaker now and that was probably for the best. “Except maybe Liam who—“

“—According to El, snapped at several different orderlies, demanded hourly updates from the nurse and—“

“—Wait, wait,” Matt interrupted. “Hourly? This was a multiple hours thing? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Nothing.

Huh. That was annoying. 

“Well,” he prompted, “the resounding echo of your own silence is pretty deafening. Who else was there? Why didn’t Rol call?”

“Presumably because he’s staring at his kid like they’re the greatest thing in the entire world,” Dad said reasonably. 

Matt slumped against the pillows. “I’m going to blame the turnover. For, you know—being a dick.”

“Matthew!’

“Mom, you don’t get to ground me anymore, I just—“

“—Henry was there,” Dad finished. “He’d been planning on coming back here, but something about fate or whatever and he got delayed in Atlanta, so he rerouted to Philly and from what Gina said, he was the only rational one and Rol kept walking in and out of the room. Rumor has it there was quite a lot of pinching the bridge of his nose.”

“He does that when he gets nervous.”

“I can’t imagine why he’d feel that way in this scenario.”

“But everything’s ok, right? I mean—with Lizzie and Rol, the nose thing aside and—“

“That’s very normal,” Mom mumbled, another telltale tongue click from Dad and Claire kissed Matt’s shoulder that time. “Some would say even calm compared to other reactions.”

“This is not an answer to my question, just sly jabs at Dad for being a freak and—“

“—I will absolutely ground you, Matthew,” Dad cut in, a distinct lack of any actual frustration. “Also, today is not the season-opener. So, I can’t see how the two situations are even remotely comparable.”

Matt hummed. 

Claire might have mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like this family is crazy, which—well, fair. 

“And,” Mom continued, “I wasn’t really being sly about it. I thought that was a pretty obvious commentary on Dad’s nerves.”

“A name, Mom. Does the kid have a name?”

She hissed in a breath. 

And Matt waited. Or, tried. Doing his best to temper his impatience because he was only a little annoyed Henry had been there when he hadn’t and that was absolutely insane. 

Seriously, it was all that turnover’s fault. 

He hoped Roland hadn’t seen that. 

He’d never hear the end of it. 

“Mom. Do I have to guess? I’m not going to be able to guess, I—“

“Noah Miller Locksley,” she finished, and Matt nearly dropped the phone again. 

He swallowed. More than once, tongue darting between suddenly dry lips because he’d started breathing through his mouth at some point, the way his eyes falling shut having nothing to do with how utterly and completely exhausted he was. 

“Oh shit,” Claire whispered. “That’s good.”

Matt made another noise — something he was only vaguely hopeful sounded like an agreement. “Did Aunt Gina cry?”

“She absolutely wept according to several reliable sources,” Dad answered. 

“Were those all just Henry?”

“And El. Who told me this while crying rather hard.”

“God, that’s so stupid.”

“In the realm of exceptionally stupid, yeah.”

“Idiot,” Claire mumbled, and it might have just been a trick of the minimal light in their room, but Matt would have sworn her eyes had gone a bit glossy too. He blinked several times. 

So as not to also be accused of idiocy.

And Matt’s phone buzzed in his hand. 

“There it is,” Mom muttered fondly, Matt’s hand shaking when he glanced down at the screen and a group text that was very active for the middle of the night. 

Roland Locksley, 2:47 a.m. :: image attached ::

Noah Miller Locksley. Ten fingers, ten toes. Seven pounds, eight ounces. Far more hair than expected, which we assume means he’s some kind of super baby. 

Do not send us hockey sticks, I will punch you all in the face. 

Matt scoffed, a quick sniffle and tears on his cheeks that he hadn’t really planned on, but seemed pretty inevitable for the parents of a kid who had absolutely fought over who got to use him on their side of the aisle at their wedding. 

Claire kissed his cheek. 

He didn’t read the rest of the messages — Peggy sending at least ten in a row and Chris’ didn’t look like much more than the same gif of Roland celebrating a playoff goal four seasons before, Leo’s all just several lines of exclamation points — tugging the phone back up to his ear and his own parents were definitely smiling. 

Beaming, probably. 

“I’m going to buy that kid so much team-branded merch,” Matt said. “All blue. Only blue.”

Dad chuckled. “I’m sure Roland will genuinely appreciate that.”

“How many hats do you think one hospital goes through with its baby population every day?”

“This is why you answer the questions and don’t ask them, kid.”

“That’s a serious question.”

“Make sure you ask Lizzie that later.”

“Don’t ask Lizzie that later,” Mom countered, and the couch made another noise. “And it really was a good pass in the third.”

“Ah ha! I thought you said that wasn’t the point of the conversation!”

“I mean—not a huge point, but definitely a sidebar and,” her voice dropped low like there wasn’t another person sitting directly next to her, “Dad nearly destroyed the chair when he jumped out of it. So.”

“So?”

“So,” Mom echoed. “Something paternal.”

“Yuh huh.”

“Go back to sleep, Mattie.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

She one-hundred percent narrowed her eyes at the air in front of her, several dozen blocks away, but Matt still wasn’t all that worried about getting grounded and the small flutter of feeling in the pit of his stomach didn’t disappear when he woke up the next morning. 

He only checked one of his text messages. 

Dad, 8:15 a.m. The chair would have deserved to get wrecked in celebration of that pass. I’m proud of you, kid.

Matt, 8:17 a.m. Something, something, you’ve got a pretty solid head start on best dad. 

Don’t tell Henry I said that. 

Dad, 8:18 a.m. The something really made the message. I will not tell Henry. 

And it all probably would have been fine — more photos of Noah while he was sleeping and being held and the group text had several thoughts on Roland’s technique when Lizzie sent a video of him rocking their kid back and forth in the middle of the hospital room. But then that same video got several gazillion retweets and likes and Matt had to go to film and skate and he didn’t really forget, but—

“Christ, Jones, is your phone going to explode?”

Matt shook his hair away from his eyes, tossing his practice jersey into the hamper a few feet away and it was a legitimate question. The stupid thing was buzzing and ringing at the same time, wobbling precariously on the top shelf of his locker, like it was getting ready to take flight.

He really needed to start checking who was calling before he answered the phone. Because Henry was already talking. 

On video. 

“Matt, Matt, Matt, listen, I need you to not check the group text and—“

“—Wait, what? Why do you sound like you’re out of breath?”

“Are you in the locker room?”

“I am in the middle of a series. I have skate and I need to go to PT and—“

“—Go in the hallway.”

“What?”

“The hallway,” Henry repeated, sounding as if he were issuing declarations or possibly grounding his own kids and Matt was twenty-nine. He needed to stop thinking about getting grounded so much. “Now.”

Matt widened his eyes, but Henry’s expression didn’t change, clearly tucked in the corner of a hospital with particularly aggressive overhead lighting. 

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. It only took a few moments, not bothering to grab his sandals when he hadn’t even had time to take his socks off yet, slumping down the wall almost as soon as the sounds from the locker room dimmed behind him. “You look like you’re about to tell me that they’re taking away my assist from last night.”

“That was a ridiculous pass.”

“Ridiculous here, meaning—“

“Good, obviously,” Henry sighed, an obviously exhausted hand running over his face. 

“You sleep at all, old man? Where are your kids?”

“At my apartment? With my wife? What kind of question is that?”

“You’re really stressing me out.”

“Did you look at the group text yet?”

Matt shook his head slowly, some of that pleasant fluttering and general good that had made it easier to skate on such sore muscles disappearing. “I get the feeling I should have, though.”

“No, that’s—Matt, that’s the point. I—ok—“

The footsteps that moved down the hallway in a hospital with particularly aggressive overhead lighting in Philadelphia, weren’t all that loud — presumably because he hadn’t gotten much sleep what with having a baby to take care of, but then Matt also felt kind of bad about referring to Noah solely as a baby less than twenty-four hours after he’d been born and Roland looked torn between hysterics and…mostly hysterics. 

“Are you kidding me, Matthew?” he balked, sliding down next to Henry slowly enough that it took several moments for him to find his way into the phone frame. 

Matt arched an eyebrow. 

Henry sighed. 

“Seriously, why wasn’t this something I knew about?”

“Should you be out here? Shouldn’t you be like—I don’t know, documenting Noah’s every move or making sure Lizzie is—”

“—Lizzie told him to come out here for reasons we’ll get to that are not my fault,” Henry finished. 

Matt’s eyebrows could not get higher. 

And Roland rolled his eyes. “Ok, well, thanks for that vote of father-like confidence—“

“I’m not your father, Locksley, that sentence didn’t even make sense.”

“You want to acknowledge how cute my kid is…or?”

“Obviously,” Matt snapped, a weird counterbalance to the way the ends of his mouth tugged up. “He’s a super cute kid. I’m going to buy you twenty hockey sticks that are all legit, pro size.”

“I’m already kind of annoyed with you, so that’s not helping.”

“What could you possibly have to be annoyed with? Aren’t you just, I don’t know, buoyed by emotion and those father-like feelings?”

“Good use of the word buoyed,” Henry mumbled, Matt’s eyes flickering his direction. He still looked a little nervous. 

“What’s going on? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Nah uh,” Roland objected, “you’re the one holding out on us, Matthew. It’s—how do you even play here?”

Matt tilted his head. The fluttering was gone completely, replaced by something that felt like entirely unwelcome dread and he nearly yanked several pieces of hair out of his head when he ran his fingers through it. 

Henry grimaced. 

“This is not my fault.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I never told.”

“Yuh huh.”

“But, uh—ok, are you by yourself? Because…just maybe look at the group text and see what this stupid team did.”

Roland had to put his hand over his mouth. Presumably so he wouldn’t disturb the other babies. With his laughter. 

Matt wondered how long they were required to wear hats.

And it only took a few scrolls back for Roland to find it, brandishing his screen towards Henry’s — the whole phone call almost understandable because Chris had posted the video and he didn’t know, no one really knew, it was a stupid, childlike fear that he’d absolute, positively, shaken as a grown man with a very serious girlfriend he was really considering proposing to at some point and—

“Oh, fuck,” Matt gasped, pushing his arm out like that would stop the video from playing or the goddamn Flyers mascot from moving around so much in said video. 

Roland snickered. 

Matt squeezed his eyes shut, whatever filler music the Flyers had used in the video sounding impossibly loud. As if it were heightened by his fear 

Of goddamn Gritty. 

He was decorating a locker — streamers and balloons, every move making his stupid eyes rattle around because the eyes hadn’t changed in years and Matt still hated him with every fiber of his being. As if there were totally normal. 

The video didn’t end. 

It seemed to last forever, Gritty glancing back at the camera every few seconds — presumably just to remind Matt that his eyes defied the laws of gravity — but then the locker was decorated and the sign said Welcome Baby, Locksley and Matt could not remember the last time he took a deep breath. 

Roland had given up on trying to hide his laugh. 

“Why did that happen?” Matt hissed, rolling his shoulders like that would make him look more adult or less terrified of another grown adult in a costume. “You’re not even on this team anymore. You are—“

“—A beloved alum, it seems,” Roland alum. “Oh Captain, my captain and all that.”

“Isn’t he dead in that poem?”

“Honestly?”

Matt glanced at Henry, the color in his cheeks nothing do with embarrassment and more with Gritty. “This has taken a pretty morbid turn, don’t you think?”

“Why is the mascot decorating a locker that isn’t yours, Rol?” Matt demanded. 

“I’m very popular on this team. Still, or whatever. Plus, you know—the kid is exceptionally cute.”

“God, that’s not fair.”

“Say the kid is cute, Matthew.”

“Obviously I think the kid is cute. God, you are so annoying.”

“Tired,” Henry amended. “He’s tired.”

Roland nodded. “That too. And maybe a little delirious on like—I don’t know, joy? Is that lame?”

“Yes,” Matt nodded “But nice too. Dad said Gina cried.”

“Wept. Seriously. Shoulders shaking, sniffles. It was not dignified at all. Made the whole thing.”

“You’re a giant freak, you know that?”

“Lizzie’s going to call you later, she’s got—“

More footsteps. Those ones with a distinct squeak that came from those very specific shoes nurses wore and the woman smiled when she noticed both Henry and Roland. 

On the floor. 

“Mrs. Locksley is awake again,” the nurse said, “and, uh—well, she’d like to know why you didn’t wake her up if you were going to—“ Roland’s eyes widened. And Matt laughed that time. 

“She wants to know why they’re ragging me about the video without her, isn’t she?” he asked. 

The nurse nodded. 

“Maybe I should just ask her to marry me again,” Roland mused. “That’s romantic, right?”

“I mean the kid was a pretty good sign that you were into your own wife, honestly.”

“True, true, c’mon. I bet she’s got scathing opinions.”

She did. For several straight minutes, a gurgling Noah resting across her chest and that didn’t do much to stop Lizzie’s right hand from flying through the air while she talked. 

Matt chewed on his lower lip. 

“What I can’t understand,” Roland mused, slumped in one of the few chairs the hospital room seemed to offer, “is why we didn’t know you were so terrified of the mascot? You play here all the time.”

“Never came up.”

“Matt.”

“What? When would I have told you that? And would that not have ended with you trying to get me to run into the stupid thing every time was at Wells Fargo?”

“Eh, yeah, that’s probably true.”

“It’s one-hundred percent true,” Henry said. 

“And how did you know, exactly?”

“Oh, I’ve known forever. Matt was—I don’t know, little, little. Like a baby and Killian was on the road in Philly and he lost his mind when Gritty came on TV. Just one of those fundamental fears, I guess.”

“Is that a thing?”

“See,” Matt challenged, “we shouldn’t be talking about that stupid monster because then you’re going to mess your kid up after less than a day.”

Lizzie glared at him. “You’re a jerk.”

“I’m only going to buy you Rangers gear.”

“Please, you’re going to take it from the team store.”

“Eh, column A, column B.”

“Still stealing,” Roland muttered, head lolling back. 

“Whatever. Go to sleep. I’ve got to go back to the locker room and acknowledge PT and—“

“—A will yell at you if you blow that off,” Lizzie interrupted, her own eyelashes fluttering and Henry was already moving towards the door. “Just, you know, on principle.”

“I know, that’s why I’m trying to end this conversation with you.”

“Charmer.”

“Mmhm, hey you want to know a secret?”

Lizzie cracked open one eye. Noah was definitely already asleep. And still as cute as ever. “Did you cry?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I know everything about you.”

“You did not know about Gritty.”

“I knew there was a reason you hated being on the ice for too long during warmups here. And it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together. Who do you think told Henry the message was in the group chat?”

“You were reading the group chat?”

“It was a genuinely insane pass last night. You guys going to win tomorrow?”

“An attempt will certainly be made.”

Lizzie laughed, soft and obviously exhausted, a heaviness to her that hadn’t been there before, but wasn’t altogether bad. Almost like she was more…something. Good. Protective. Maybe even understanding. 

“I will probably fall asleep during the game,” she warned. 

“Ah, well, you did just have a kid, so…”

“Exactly.”

A voice called for him from the other end of the hall, one side of Lizzie’s mouth ticking up when she slumped further into the hospital bed. “Score the kid a goal, huh?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He did. In the third period. A quick stick and impossibly fast wrists, no mascot in New York to terrorize infants and Matt grinned when Claire found him outside the locker room later that night, a bag with a Rangers onesie clutched in her hand.  

#cs ff #blue line one shots #that cs ff tag is generous honestly #but emma and killian both are in this #still #most of these are like...original characters and adult henry #if you read this i think you're very nice

[scyllua]

While chap.203 hasn't stirred that much of a reaction in the Japanese fandom as the previous chapter did, it prompted many fans to emulate Sugimoto's art style. Nothing of this comes as a particular surprise, as the chapter serves as sort of a recap of the events from vol.14 (the Abashiri Prison assault)... and because Sugimoto's drawing talent would be on par with his sniping skills.

The highlights of this chapter have to do with the confirmation of the Russian sniper's identity and goals and the hint at Noda pursuing the plotline regarding the Partisans. It was rather obvious who that Russian sniper was from the very moment he (re)appeared in the manga, but given this is Golden Kamuy and the weird things that have already transpired in the plot made me think it's a very crazy Meiji era the one they are living in, I'd rather wait for the author's clear confirmation on ANY matter before taking anything for granted. Let us not forget that, for starters, I think most of us had already assumed our Russian sniper pretty dead. We can always speculate, however, and this chapter leaves enough room to reflect on a certain other sniper (this one, Japanese and now one-eyed) and how soon (or not) he could make it back to the plot.

I should work on my summaries so they aren't that long. In the meantime and to everyone who had the patience to read my previous chapter post: thank you very much and fear not, for I have no random movie comments to make here! There should be some fan comments, of course, and the usual warnings about mistakes and mistranslations apply as well. Onto the fun of two amateur artists sharing their Ogata fanarts then!

In short, as no further shots are made, Tsukishima believes Sugimoto got to the sniper and Asirpa runs off to meet him. Meanwhile, Sugimoto and the sniper -now confirmed to be Vasily- overcome the language barrier by using the latter's hand-drawn pictures to explain to each other the circumstances in which they crossed paths/met Ogata. Upon the arrival of the rest of the group and after Asirpa recognizes Vasily as probably one of the men who ambushed them in the frontier, Tsukishima explains to him Kiroranke is already dead and they don't know about the current whereabouts of Ogata, their only purpose in Karafuto being finding Asirpa and going back with her. As a rather annoyed Shiraishi complains to Vasily for shooting him, it's revealed he can't speak because of the shot wounds he sustained. As Sugimoto's group resumes their journey, Vasily keeps following them on horseback from a distance. They deduce he's now keen on meeting Ogata again and engaging in another snipers' duel, and that he's sticking around convinced the wildcat will eventually come after them. Questioned by Asirpa, Sugimoto says as long as they're still looking for the Ainu gold, there's always the possibility of Ogata coming back; as per his motivations, Sugimoto adds it might be that Ogata is simply messing with them as opposed to being after an actual goal. In their way back, the group visits Svetlana's parents to hand them a letter she wrote; even though Sugimoto would rather search for Sofia and find out the truth, he understands their primary purpose in Karafuto has been fulfilled already. The chapter ends with Sofia meeting Gansoku and Svetlana in a port city in Russian territory. After exchanging a few hits, Sofia invites Gansoku to come with her, but he turns down the offering, stating he'll travel west with Svetlana. Sofia then states she'll go to Hokkaidou in pursue of their hope... and revenge.

Ever wondered why streets are always so conveniently empty whenever there's a chasing or a shooting going on? I have, even if my question is probably answered in the same question already (because... they're so conveniently empty: easier to describe, draw or animate, and with a minimum of casualties, as well!) In any case, and even though our group seemed to be the only bystanders at the time the shooting began, there's now the usual traffic and activity you'd expect in a town street. In fact, a man in a sled is just walking down the street when, alerted by Koito and Tsukishima not to come that way or otherwise risk being shot, he good-naturally asked what the soldiers are doing. Tsukishima comments it seems as though Sugimoto has already done his magic, ie. he did what he's best at (hint: it isn't sniping or drawing, as we'll see in this chapter), and Asirpa runs off to meet him.

Here follows some good 4 pages of Sugimoto and Vasily proving the language barrier isn't an hindrance when it comes to relatively difficult tasks, such as explaining the events from vol.14 up to that point or how both of them have survived being shot in the head by the same sniper. It turns out Vasily has made enough drawings of Ogata to start his own Pixiv account -putting aside the fact that he's one century ago from that website being created-; actually, Vasily could begin posting full illustration logs, as he even took the care and time to draw the wildcat sporting different expressions, including one smiling. I'm suspecting he might have more study sketches of Ogata in the fiction than author Noda in the real world. This would pose a question for me: just how well could he see Ogata during their snipers' duel? In the extended passage as it was compiled in vol.17, they do spend many hours watching and studying each other... but let us not forget that Ogata's face was obscured in such a way, Vasily couldn't tell for sure where it was him or not. Well, following last chapter's caption at the end, I'm just going to assume here Vasily has nothing short of a photographic memory, sharpened to perfection through his sniping skills, and that he could commit to memory the features of a man he only seemed to have caught fleeting glimpses of partly because the wildcat is unforgettable. Being shot can arise that kind of reaction in people, after all. Going back to the chapter, and given the amount of Ogata portraits he has, Sugimoto asks him whether he's been requested to find him -bounty hunter-style, we may speculate-, but then Vasily uses some of his many (MANY) drawings to explain he went into a showdown with Ogata... and lost. This chapter's title could be translated as "portrait" (似顔絵, nigaoe), though its exact meaning would be more in the lines of a "drawn sketch/picture of a face". Why, yes, a portrait indeed, only that the term in Japanese suggests it isn't as precise as a taken photograph, but a close enough depiction.

I'm always making jokes and complaining about the cast in this manga being so prone to trust in others no matter what terms they might have been on in the past, but I have to admit that being able not to hold grudges, apart from preventing bitterness and anxiety in addition to other negative feelings, also helps greatly when it comes to pace the story forward. Remember how Sugimoto was about to kill Vasily in the best of Friday the 13th traditions (only that less bloody I might presume, given this is still a seinen manga and not a R-rated story), all of this happening in the previous chapter, 7 days ago in real time, 2 pages prior in the manga, like 10 seconds previously in the story's timeline? Well, let's put aside all that negativity for the sake of a couple of souls bonded by the same sniper (different bullet obviously, same rifle and all) sharing an artistic moment.

In addition to their fanboying over Ogata -for the wrong reasons, though, as they'd be both after the wildcat to settle some scores-, Sugimoto and Vasily manage to summarize the manga from vol.14 up to that point, using their respective drawings to explain to each other the events. "Explaining to each other" wouldn't be a wrong statement in this case because they do appear to be understanding the other quite well through the drawings, some gesturing, and the usefulness of somatic language, even though Vasily doesn't seem to know Japanese (as he's puzzled at Sugimoto's questions). When he produces drawings of Kiroranke, Shiraishi and Asirpa, Sugimoto explains to him the latter two aren't related to the Partisans: the bad guy here, no doubt about it, is Ogata, as he emphatically conveys by hitting his portrait with his fist. Now in quite the roll because Vasily is assimilating the ideas very fast (as he also hits Ogata's portrait), Sugimoto then explains he was also shot by the wildcat... and reveals his artistic sense might be on par with his sniping skills. ...and while I'll keep joking about his awful aiming until the day he finally manages to shoot anything down -as opposed to pummel or pierce it with his rifle or affixed bayonet-, I won't make much fun of his artistic capabilities because, I'm afraid, he might draw better than I. As I state in my blog's sidebar, I color manga panels partly because I can't draw a straight... or crooked... line for the love of it.

Sugimoto explains Ogata was in cahoots with Kiroranke -and as well as the readers, he doesn't how for how long-, shot him in the head in Abashiri Prison and then ran away taking Asirpa with him. Unlike their previous exchange, I can deduce Vasily didn't get a single word of any of it, as he mistakes Sugimoto's drawing of himself for a spider. And I must confess it took me some time to realize Sugimoto drew himself being shot: those tendril-like things sticking out of his head -that Vasily takes for a spider's legs, it seems- are meant to show the bullet's trajectory when impacting him. A parenthesis here: Let's just check Sugimoto's drawing of Ogata running away on horseback. I don't pretend to make fun of it, but I still find quite the noteworthy detail that he draws Ogata with an arrow sticking out of his right eye, and not sparing even the lock of hair that frames his face. Or at least, I'm assuming that's a lock of hair on Ogata's head. The caption Sugimoto writes in katakana reads, "Ogata escaped". That scene, may I add, has been a fan favorite -mine included- and a source of inspiration for many works in the Japanese fandom. Some speculative fanworks have to do with the circumstances Ogata runs away, and thus some fans have posed quite the questions, ranging from where he got that horse, to whether it didn't hurt too much to ride it in such conditions as, you might remember, he was wearing a hospital gown only and had no underwear to speak of. If you take a closer look at the panel, however, you'll notice Ogata is carrying a sack when he's riding away, implying he managed to gather his belongings and probably a couple more things for the road, and thus wouldn't be dying on us due to exposure or some painful horse riding to wherever it was he ran away .

Back to our amateur artists (because I'm assuming Vasily's main occupation revolves about being a sniper... with an eidetic memory for faces and some outstanding artistic talent as bonus) and resuming his recapping of the latter half of the manga and unabated by the debatable poor reception his drawing skills might be getting, Sugimoto explains Asirpa involuntarily shot an arrow that hit Ogata in the eye. Here comes a short passage -it's a single panel, in fact- that killed my Japanese pretty dead, so I wouldn't risk a translation of it... though I think, it seems to me, I could grasp that blah blah etc. etc., Sugimoto further and quite lively states Ogata's death would have "stained" Asirpa -meaning, would have dirtied her hands-, and thus he saved the wildcat because he'd do anything in his power to keep everything surrounding her pure for her sake. The actual word in Japanese he uses is 綺麗 (kirei), which you might know as meaning "cute" and "pretty", but it can also be understood in the sense of "clean", "pure" or "neat." Given Sugimoto literally uses 汚い (kitanai), "dirty", "unclean" or "foul" (used as a verb in this case) to describe how Ogata's death would have impacted Asirpa, I'm going with "pure" in my previous sentence. ...I'm aware my explanation of Sugimoto's statement makes it sound as though he's belittling saving Ogata, but I can reassure you that his lines are way more poetic and moving: it's just that my Japanese -and my English, come to that- is just that lacking, sorry about this! The scene is more moving because Asirpa arrives at the precise moment to hear Sugimoto's words, but he doesn't notice her.

The rest of the group arrives and cuts off Sugimoto and Vasily's artistically driven moment of plot exposition, though. And now, please allow me to state that God bless Tsukishima for being himself, acting as the sane man every story needs, accompanying the group in this journey, and knowing Russian, not in that particular order: I'm 100% convinced this manga wouldn't progress half as smoothly as it does weren't he around. And Tsurumi and Koito wouldn't be probably around either if he didn't have that presence of mind and swiftness of action, specifically when projectiles and explosions are involved. After Asirpa says she thinks Vasily was part of the group of men that ambushed them in the frontier, Tsukishima explains to him Kiroranke is already dead and Ogata ran away, his whereabouts unknown to them. Their only purpose in Karafuto was to find Asirpa and go back with her, he adds, and they have nothing to do with the Czar's assassination by the Partisans. Vasily says nothing in the metaphorical sense, as he keeps quiet and seems to accept the explanation. Now, and I've already written above, I've always complained about the GK cast for being this trusty and, let's say, think nothing of the repeated risk of a headshot by accepting in their ranks a traitorous character who left their previous party after shooting a couple people in the head, but I have to admit yet again the characters being this quick to understand, accept and come to terms with practically anything and everything does help move forward the plot. Very much so.

I wrote Vasily said nothing in the metaphorical sense because it's revealed -just as we were speculating- he can't speak due to the shot wounds he sustained during his duel with Ogata. Once outside, Shiraishi complains to him about shooting him; when our Escape King snaps whether he doesn't have anything to say or it's just that Russians don't know how to apologize (he literally asks whether there are no words for apologizing in Russian), Vasily shows him his face, prompting a reaction in Shiraishi that might make readers grateful we aren't shown the state of his lower face. Sugimoto comments at that moment he might not be able to speak due to those wounds. I was also wondering whether Vasily knew or at the very least could grasp a little Japanese. It seems to me he might not after all, as there are some panels throughout the chapter that show him with an interrogation mark -indicating he isn't understanding- when Sugimoto was talking to him. In the above panels as well, Tsukishima seems to be translating Shiraishi's complaints for him.

Just before the group resumes their journey, Shiraishi tells Vasily -in not so kind words- to go back to Russia, but he's shown to keep following them from a distance. Shiraishi ponders whether he doesn't believe Kiroranke is already dead, but Asirpa points out he used the back of Kiro's wanted poster to make some of his drawings, leading her to conclude he isn't interested in the latter anymore. As discussed by the our main protagonist trio, it seems Vasily is sticking to them under the belief they'll eventually cross paths with Ogata; as Sugimoto puts it, given he's still alive, he considers their snipers' duel to be not finished (I suppose a more poetic way to put it would be, "as long as he draws breath, he can keep fighting"). The immortal also thinks there's always the possibility of Ogata coming after them because of the Ainu gold, prompting Asirpa to wonder if that's actually his goal: let us not forget he showed quite the intent to kill her (chap.187) and thus, eliminate the one person who holds the key to solving the tattoo puzzle. A somewhat serious and pensive Sugimoto comments it might be that Ogata... is simply messing or toying around with them. Cue a full-page panel depicting a lynx (in Japanese, an ooyamaneko) crossing the path in the snowy forest. (I should point out I'm assuming it's a lynx because of its ears, making it very similar to the one shown in chap.169, vol.17.)

A not-so-random fan comment here: I always refer to Sugimoto as not being the sharpest knife in the drawer. Actually, I'd say he's the kind to smash the drawer against a wall and use the sharpest fragments of it to cut open whatever it is he might need cut, even if I'm compelled yet again to admit his approach, while not the most strategically planned, tends to work. But he also seems to be quite understanding of others in addition to his natural kindness, and it comes as not much of a surprise then that he could be the person with the better grasp at Ogata's personality. Or the only person who might have any grasp on it at all, in any case. I must say my opinion of Ogata's character pretty much coincides with that of Sugimoto as he stated it in chap.196 and now in this chapter: specifically, that Ogata doesn't have a particular motivation to act as he does (apart from being driven by the most negative and dangerous of his traits, of course). I think his character isn't meant to have any specific motivations or goals other than being chaotic for the sake of it; however, as Noda has given a background to every single recurrent and relevant character in the manga and spares no revelations for some of them no matter how far into the plot we might be (the most recent flashback regarding Koito's past should be an example), I can't discard the possibility of the author having in store some plot twist or equal revelation about Ogata.

Given Sofia is the only one who knows the truth now (I'm assuming here Sugimoto thinks Ogata might have sided with Kiroranke for a reason that lies with the Partisans' intentions), our immortal comments he'd liked to look for her. He's aware, though, that Tsukishima and Koito's mission was to find Asirpa and get back with her to Hokkaido, whereas Tanigaki joined in the entourage for the sake of the girl as well and thus, they should have no reason to pursue other ends at the time. They still stop by the lighthouse to hand Svetlana's letter to her parents, and just as the manga implies they won't be going after more subplots, Asirpa points out Sofia was planning to reunite with her comrades in the continent and then go back to Japan: she wouldn't just run away to Europe after everything that just happened.

Right in cue, Sofia meets Gansoku and Svetlana in a port town in Russia. Just as Gansoku seemed to be involved in yet another cathartic moment pummeling around men who can't put a dent on him, he's challenged by Sofia but refuses, stating he only fights other men. He's quick to change his mind and declare the world does have many surprises in store ("The world is so wide!") after Sofia not only punches him, but manages to get in quite the equal grounds with him. This yet again poses another question for me: given Gansoku is one of the toughest men in this story -in the strictest physical sense at the very least: we can't forget everything Nikaidou has gone through the manga, after all-, how come Sofia can beat him so badly? The obvious answer would be that Sofia happens to be just that tough -or the toughest woman of the Meiji era-, but since this is a Shueisha and a Jump-published manga, I also want to believe she might be using Haki to hit that hard. Just as Nami in One Piece, her blows manage to harm a man's heart and soul.

Before their fight can further escalate (but after Sofia has pulled off the almost obligatory Rip Open my Shirt scene, only that she isn't exactly wearing a shirt and the scene isn't that common when female characters are involved because of censorship), Svetlana intervenes and stops them, saying it'll be quite the problem for her if Sofia kills her bodyguard. Implying here she was at least sure of what the outcome of the fight would have been. The three of them have a talk then and Sofia invites Gansoku to join her, but he turns down the offer and explains both he and Svetlana intend to make their way to the west, to the cities where a larger population means a larger possibility to find stronger people (to beat the **** out of them in more cathartic instances, I'm presuming). As Svetlana asks Sofia where she's planning to go now, she replies that she's going to Hokkaido... for their hope and revenge.

I should note I'm not including any more panels of Sofia in this chapter because I'm assuming Tumblr would flag this entry otherwise. I was never told why they put my blog "under review" when I barely had any posts on it, so my best guess has to with an entry I wrote explaining about the terrorist groups that operated in my country. I made that post partly because to poke some fun at Sugimoto's wielding a hammer and a sickle in chap.145 (vol.15), and how that would have been merited a ban for this manga were some conservative Congressmen in my country to see the panels (the largest terrorist group operating in my country originally followed the Communist ideology). Well, as Sofia begins exchanging blows with Gansoku, she uncovers her torso and her breasts remain visible for the rest of the chapter, even when she's speaking with him and Svetlana in the freezing Russian landscape. Her breasts are so big, they cover part of the chapter's title in the last page... making me suspect Tumblr could flag this entry just because her nipples are equally big.

Some (more) fan comments on this chapter: The story is unfolding as I'd anticipated in a very broad way, as it seems Vasily will stick around with the group for at least some more chapters. While none has proposed an alliance, I don't think any will have any inconvenience cooperating with each other as long as their goals align: even if it's true Sugimoto's group isn't that elated at the possibility of meeting Ogata again, they're obviously expecting to cross paths with him in the future, and extra help is always welcomed. Specially if things come to a sniper against another sniper, I'd say: the manga is hinting at another confrontation between Vasily and Ogata. After all, Noda is a noteworthy narrator and all of his plot elements turn out to be relevant (even those related to food and cultural traditions which could have been seen at first as more trivia-informative to the reader than important to the plot), so I don't think he brought Vasily back to the story for no reason. Or just to show off Vasily's artistic talent, in any case, * ahem *. The plot would still have to take shape, but it seems to me all elements are aligning so that Noda can solve several pending subplots: Vasily's reappearance can tie up with the plot regarding the remaining member of the Partisans trio, Sofia, and also provides the proper scenario for Ogata to make it back to the story. It'd be a viable, solid and swift way to focus in the current open subplots before focusing on the main premise of the Ainu gold in Hokkaido.

I'd just speculate then about how soon the subplots would meet a resolution. I'm wondering whether we'll see the rest of this arc taking place in Karafuto, as Sugimoto's group has already made their way back to its southern region, whereas Sofia is in Russian soil, but making her way to Hokkaido. If Vasily doesn't have any trouble with following them to Hokkaido -given he's already in Japanese soil-, then I see no reason as to why the action might not unfold in the island that is the main stage of this manga, but I'm thinking this arc could wrap up while the group is still in Karafuto. We'd need to see at least one more chapter to see how things progress from this point on; unless Noda suddenly feels like jumping back to Hokkaido and showing us what Hijikata has been up to since vol.18 and whether Tsurumi reunited with his men already, with the arc “introduction“ over and the situation laid out to both the cast and the readers, chap.204 should serve as the starting point for the resolution of the current subplots.

My last fan comment of the entry has to do with Vasily. While I'm happy to see him back in the plot and sticking to the protagonist cast for the time being (and hoping he stays in the plot and with the cast for at least the remainder of this volume), his personality as shown in the current events has caught my attention. I wouldn't say he's that different or plain out-of-character in comparison to his first appearance in vol.17, but it's also true he now acts carefree enough as to join Sugimoto in a fanart-sharing moment, and is more emotional as opposed to his cool-headed demeanor during the ambush in the frontier. And adding to his minor hairstyle change, he also looks more youthful now, even if the only we get to see of his face are his eyes. We'd need to see more of him in upcoming chapters to have a better grasp at his character... but if you'd ask me, I'd say Noda has made some changes to his personality, or rather, is shaping his character in a different, though not drastic, way. Why? Well, it seems to me Vasily would fit our protagonist cast and all the weird things bound to happen in this convulsed Meiji era just fine and even better now; in comparison, the group he first appeared as part of acted colder, more focused and serious. Until we see more of him, I'm just going to assume Noda decided to give his character another direction because Tsukishima was plenty of a sane, serious man for the group. Any more sane men in the same group at the same time and I might begin doubting what happened to this manga.

#golden kamuy #fan talk

[meant-to-be-a-hero]

Ranger Rankings - Power Rangers Megaforce

I couldn't decide whether Megaforce and Super Megaforce should be one, like Samurai and Super Samurai were, or not, but they're so different that I think they deserve it.

Premise - 2.5

It's Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers with a re-skin, and it doesn't really pretend to be otherwise. Like it's literally the same premise, right down to the giant talking head and the aliens from outer space. I like the nostalgia factor, but it's far too basic for what Power Rangers should be at this point. It's not bad, and it's reliable, but we can do better.

Character Dynamics - 2

This frustrated me a lot. There's so much that they could have done with these characters, but they don't. Like, they're thrown together, and they're obviously all from different worlds, so there should have been some growing pains, right? But no, they're all together, they have to fight as a team, so they just...do.

While it's nice to see them all get along, it would have been a little more realistic if theyd' butted heads a bit more. Or if we'd seen more of why like Jake and Noah were friends before this, given that they're so different, or how Troy felt being the total outsider being thrust into the team leader position.

And they're all pretty static in terms of character arcs. Aside from Jake getting up the courage to ask Gia out, they don't evolve much beyond their original characters when we're first introduced to them.

I know Troy's kind of looked down on for being wooden, but I think he did a decent job with it. The other actors are all fairly solid, but Jayden still gets the prize for blandest Red Ranger if you ask me, unfortunately.

I would really have liked them to spend more time with the characters in this season, since there's almost no time to do so in Super Megaforce, but we'll get to that next time.

Oh, and Gosei's a waste, honestly. He's a big talking head, but he doesn't do anything in the way of mentoring the Rangers as opposed to just telling them to do things. Tensou's neurotic, but he's less annoying than Alpha was at least. And Ernie and Mr. Burley are just there for punchlines - I don't think either of them actually add to the plot at all.

Sixth Ranger Arc - 4

Robo Knight's arc is easily the best part of Megaforce. Learning to be a team player, to care about people as much as he does the planet, is a good arc to go through, and the fact that it takes five or six episodes for him to get there rather than just learning it all in one go and then becoming a generic Sixth Ranger was a nice change.

It all kind of comes home to roost in the Christmas episode, of all things, where he gives us all the clips from past episodes with his own understanding of how the Rangers/humans work. It's a nice end cap.

It's a shame he disappears for so long after the end of Megaforce, although I get why. It does make the first few episodes of Super Megaforce have a bit more of an impact though, especially Troy's determination to find him again, and when he returns right at the end of Super Megaforce, it's nice to see an old friend.

He also only gets brainwashed once, and that's only in Super Megaforce, so he beats out other robot characters like Blue Centurion automatically.

Plot Development - 3

Megaforce has a lot going on in terms of plots, even if they're all mostly the same thing - it's just different factions of villains taking it in turns to try and destroy the Earth.

The Insectoids are okay, although it's clear the writers didn't think the whole 'bugs vs. humans' thing through because they run out of recognisable bugs fairly early on.

The Toxic Mutants sideplot works only because it goes hand in hand with Robo Knight's arc about protecting the planet, otherwise they're just a sidebar with no real point.

And then we get the real cream of the season, Vrak's robots, for the final third.

I will say though, the final few episodes are very good, and the last shots with the Armada attacking and the cliffhanger ending to the series are great. It's a shame Super Megaforce rolls it all back in like two episodes though.

While most of Megaforce doesn't feel as much like a plot progression as it does the set-up changing and the plot staying still, it does mean we get some different questions to consider with each new villain group, and it does build to a satisfying conclusion at least.

Villains - 3

For a season with so many enemies, there's not many that actually stand out.

Creepox is decent, but Malkor's just generic shout-y villain.

Bigs and Blufur have some kind of personalities at least, but neither of them are particularly interesting.

Vrak's easily the standout, because he's meant to be - he follows through into next season, and he's the main link between the villains in Megaforce and the ones in Super Megaforce since he's Vekar's brother. But he's also the most actually villainous, and he has the most personality of them all too.

I did enjoy Metal Alice though; for a robot, she had some really good development. I especially enjoyed the fact that she took away some of Vrak's 'humanity' by making him half-robot, and then he leaves her to die because he doesn't care about her any longer. Poetic justice. And she admired him without falling all over him like she was in love, when that was the easy route to take.

Also, loogies. Loogies. Loogies. Why?

Overall - 2.90

Hottest Ranger - Probably Troy, because jawline. Jake had a really nice smile though. I'll talk more about Noah next season.

Notable Episodes:

Harmony And Dizchord - Emma has a lovely singing voice and defeats the monster of the week with it. Yeah, that's it.

Last Laugh - Robo Knight and Noah, the two characters without a discernible sense of humour, must make a villain laugh to beat him.

The Messenger/End Game - Because the finales are almost always the best part of the season.

#Ranger Rankings #Power Rangers Megaforce

[klinejack]

clarz

replied to your post

“hi divvy! i know you are MAD right now, so don't answer this until you...”

thanks so much for answering this! tbh i love the fact that you're religious and that you clearly love it so much. i went to a very catholic college, so that kind of thoughtful and deep connection with religion and tradition is important to me, and i love seeing it in other people. it's an important part of who you are! and part of the reason i asked is because you mentioned disliking the performance thing in your initial post, and i really connect with that. when i was growing up, the church i went to was pretty plain and traditional (despite very liberal politics and interpretations of scripture.) most of the other people i knew who went to church were evangelical and/or southern baptist, and i always disliked that their churches had like, full rock bands at services, and poppy contemporary melodies to "hymns." i understand that they're trying to make church fun, but it always made me suspicious and felt disingenuous.                  i don't think religious services should be a chore, certainly, but i also don't think that they should be "fun" in that way. that's not the purpose of religion. i don't think religion should become more like entertainment or performance, because it's supposed to be a space that's completely different from the rest of the world. it makes it feel less holy to me. so i definitely relate to how you feel there. also, how did you end up feeling about the service in the moment? (and i'd love to hear about the ma'apilim sometime)                                            

SORRY I DIDN’T ANSWER THESE BEFORE CUZ I REALLY WANTED TO BUT PROCRASTINATION IS MY MIDDLE NAME (jk it’s tzviya but try saying that ten times fast. or just one time. slow.)

HERE WE GO:

1- i love finding other people who feel close to their religion, no matter what it is. i remember in teacher’s college i just naturally gravitated to the only catholic girls in my classes i guess simply because i enjoyed talking to them? we weren’t there learning to teach religion, but i’m always fascinated by what other people feel about it. i’ve found myself thinking on more than one occasion that i feel more comfortable with people who have that side to themselves, like me, rather than people who don’t interact/think about/believe in any of that kinda stuff. (im being purposefully vague because it’s a huge generalization, but nonetheless true-ish for me, i often find myself sharing much more common ground with palestinian muslims, for example, than a french canadian montrealer). i guess especially because religion is not something i consider a defining trait of mine, and im just in constant evolution with respect to that. judaism is so much more than just a belief in god or a practice of the rituals and commandments.

2- how fascinating to find someone in my age bracket who feels the same way about music in prayer. my problem has always been that i LOVE music, and its so personal and emotional that i DO see it fitting seamlessly with prayer but... it’s the setting that has always bothered me. it just never felt right for me in a synagogue. like you said, it’s just a different space. i don’t know about church and ‘making it fun’ but i definitely can imagine plenty of religions use music to draw in otherwise disinterested people who find prayer “boring” or pointless. music is awesome! i just wish people could feel the music in their soul as a separate entity from external music, like from an instrument. idk i guess i just really love singing XD and i wish it wasn’t always a performance or a competition of voices, because i think prayer should be personal. even if it’s between a community, its still voices connecting to each other. i’m reminded of Hannah’s prayer, in the book of Samuel (the prophet- his mother), she’s at the temple on one of the annual pilgrimages with her family and she’s depressed because she doesn’t have any children and her husband’s other wife just keeps popping out babies left and right. so she goes to be alone somewhere in the temple, and she’s weeping and praying to god for a child. Eli, the high priest, comes in and sees her shaking and moving her lips real fast so he goes, “hey, you shouldn’t be drinking in here” and she’s like “im not drunk, i’m praying”. so that’s the first place we read about a person actually praying, and not out loud. this was like a huge revelation to the priest cuz clearly he’d never seen that before, and now the tradition has become to pray like hannah. (as an aside, if u ever see the propaganda videos made by the nazis, they use footage of synagogues to show how loony tunes those jews are with their muttering and their rocking back and forth). cuz like, prayer is supposed to be out loud? ahaha anyway i forgot where i was going with this but... oh ya, okay, so prayer didn’t really exist (as we know it, in judaism- and therefore christianity/islam/western monotheism) until that point- it was all about the sacrifices. and the temple ritual was replete with music and instruments like the shofar, timbrels, lutes, blabla other ancient instruments. but since then, we’ve been meant to use our voices alone. so says tradition, i guess.

3- so i did go to services on yom kippur (kol nidre) but not at my shul. i went with my sister to the chabad house near my parents, and it was....not great. but it was compounded by a lot of factors- i got a wicked cold the day or two before, so my nose was running a marathon and i was coughing like a 90yr old with emphysema. i got my period that morning so i was on an extra steep emotional rollercoaster that i just somehow could barely control. so we sat on the other side of the mechitzah (the separation barrier between men and women), the rabbi/cantor stood at the head in the middle so we could all see, and we all prayed out loud, no hush on the women’s side or anything (pretty typical from what i remember of camp/school prayer services). but of course the tunes were not quite what i’m used to, and there was a bit of annoying stuff that just irks me as a perfectionist (like they use a lot of yiddish pronunciation of the hebrew words, injecting a bunch of oy oy oys and ahoyhoyhoys in random places, in fact i leaned over to my sister at one point and was like ‘did ned flanders write this nigun (tune)?’), but altogether i guess it was better than watching an orchestra perform the prayer? idk it was pretty bad, on an emotional level, but not in hindsight. im very good at ruining things for myself through sheer stubbornness. i must have embarrassed my sister just by existing next to her, poor girl, she really wanted me to like it. i’m glad it’s over, and hopefully by next year ill be back in nyc or some other city so i wont have to worry about it.

4- MA’APILIM!!!!! okay so this was my absolute favoritest thing as a kid and i can’t wait to describe it to you. one night in camp, every summer, the counselors and cits would wake us up at like 3am by barging into our cabins chanting (screaming, really) “MA’APILIM, MA’APILIM BEH-MASSAD, BEH-MASSAD. MATCHIL HALAYLA MATCHIL HALAYLA BEH-MASSAD, BEH-MASSAD.” which translates to : “ma’apilim at massad (the name of my camp) starts tonight.” i’m singing it in my head as i type XD. so they’d be screaming and we’d be tumbling bleary eyed out of bed to grab our socks and sweatshirts and run over to the flagpole (keep in mind i was 8 when i first experienced this, and we’ve had kids as young as 6 at camp). once we had all gathered in line with our bunkmates, the counselors and cits put on a little “skit”.

basically they acted like they were nazis and jews, and did a little skit of some basic bad holocaust stuff (don’t ask me to remember the exact details we’re talkin at least 20 years since i last did this) to scare the pants off of us. kids would always cry already at this point from the shouting. we’d all kinda follow into this “play” (sorry idk what else to call it), and marched over to the gym where we watched a fake hanging on the stage. they literally. hanged someone. in front of us. a fake noose, of course, duh, i remember my counselor showing it to me, but traumatizing to say the least (i still remember the name of the counselor they “hanged”- not sure this ever happened more than once but ill never forget it).

then we’d all hustle down to the waterfront, again “playing” the role of holocaust victims/survivors after these little “skits” had sort of put us in the headspace, and we play along, imagining we’d just experienced these things and were now running from it. it was terrifying and exhilarating as a small child, and an even more unbelievably emotional thrill ride as i got older and became pseudo-obsessed with holocaust lit and facts in general in my life (it never did go away but everything changes with age). ANYWAYS so down at the waterfront we got a speech from another counselor playing a member of the haganah (the main jewish defense force in palestine leading up to independence, which ben gurion later turned into the IDF). sidebar for a little history: in the 40s the yishuv (jewish agency) and the haganah began a mission called aliyah bet, “the second immigration,” an illegal smuggling operation to bring refugees from the holocaust into palestine under the noses of the british, since almost all countries in the world had barred their doors to jewish immigration from europe (a high level member of the canadian government is famously recorded as having answered, when asked how many jews they should let in, that “none is too many”). volunteer seamen from the US and canada and other countries crossed the ocean on cargo ships hastily refurbished to fit hundreds of people, picking up thousands of refugees in europe to smuggle them onto the beaches of haifa and tel aviv. paul newman has a lovely half nekid scene of this in the movie Exodus when he jumps off the ship in the middle of the night and swims up onto the beach- one of my fave movies ever and pretty much the story of aliyah bet (albeit with tremendous hollywood embellishment and only mild accuracy). these refugees who became illegal immigrants (caught or not) were known as “ma’apilim”- the root of the word is to “climb” or to “rise up”, and is found in the bible referring to the israelites who were still eager to enter the land even after the negative report of the spies.

okay so basically this was the idea. we were “playing” these illegal immigrants who had just escaped the holocaust, and were now facing another threat in the form of the british who were doing their best to keep them out of palestine. k so we’re down at the waterfront. all the kids get divided into small groups of about 10 or so, with one or two counselors at the helm to be our “haganah operatives” and guides to the end. what end, you say? so the camp is spread out into 2 areas, the main camp where the younger kids cabins were, and the dining hall and the gym and the waterfront, etc. then there’s a road in the middle of the camp, and beyond it a hill leading up to the senior cabins and some sports fields at the top. the goal was for each group to make it through camp to the top of the hill without getting caught by the “british,” played by the cits who were roaming around camp.

idk if i have to describe camp further for people who don’t know the concept, but basically we’re all in the middle of the damn woods with nothing around us for miles except the lake and the camps on the other side of it or down the road. ill never forget my first ma’apilim (tbh most of my description is from then, which is why its so fuzzy cuz these memories are 20+ years old), i was so lucky to get the tripper as our group leader (the tripper is the “nature dude” in camp, the survivalist ;). he immediately led us underneath the gym (which of course was just insane to my small mind... UNDER the gym??) to plan our route and give us instructions. we organized a roll call and signals, we practiced walking in a single file line silently and dropping to the ground on his signal. we smeared dirt on our faces for camo in the woods. it was *mason voice* intense. k so then as you can guess, we snuck our way up the hill through the woods. sometimes we’d encounter other groups, once in awhile i remember getting caught by a cit, and they’d take all or some of us to the “jail” on the basketball court” where we’d have to wait for a jailbreak (idk how that worked but it did, i remember it happening but not in any detail). a famous prison break that DID happen was at acre prison in 1947 when the irgun (another paramilitary jewish group) blew up the prison and broke out 28 of their members and 214 arab prisoners. if im not mistaken they briefly refer to it in exodus by recreating a prison break. exciting times. ANYWAYS fuck im such a tangential bitch sorry XD, by the end of the night we’d all make it to the top- “jerusalem”- and we’d have hot chocolate and say morning prayers as the sun rose over the hill. 

i feel like my description is a little lacking, but hopefully u get the basic picture. ma’apilim wasn;t even the heaviest part of camp- that was tisha b’av- the fast day when we commemorate the destruction of the temple and every other traumatic destructive event the jewish people have gone thru. that night they’d prepare the camp with candles in sand filled paper bags lining all the paths. after dinner we’d walk with our bunks on the path and watch little skits in different parts of camp- scenes from these moments in jewish history, like the holocaust, pogroms in europe, the spanish inquisition, terror attacks in israel, etc. after walking the path we’d all convene back at the waterfront, where they’d set out a small reconstructed “temple” on a makeshift raft in the lake, and a banner on the beach that said “yizkor”- remember. then they’d light both on fire and we’d sit and watch them burn while singing appropriately somber songs like eli eli, by hannah senesz. after that we’d go back to the gym and lie on the floor in small groups huddled around candles. we’d listen as some people chanted the book of eicha (lamentations), and would slowly fall asleep (depending on our age, of course). anyone that was still up after that was over got to stay in the gym if they wanted to watch exodus- a 4 hour movie. the next day we’d fast all day (only those who wanted- 13 y/o +) and treated it basically like shabbat- no regular activities.

MAN did i get some wild shit imprinted on me from camp!! but i don’t regret one second. i only wish other people could have the experience i did, but i dont even know if they still do that there. they probably do, but this old lady has no excuses to step foot in a summer camp anymore :(

as a completely coincidental aside and not at all as a self promo, idk if u knew this but i’ve been working on a documentary for over a year now and this whole thing is a major part of the plot. i interviewed a lady who was a passenger on the exodus, and about 4 or 5 people who were volunteers from montreal/new york/new jersey/toronto that picked up and smuggled the refugees. the stories are incredible. i just hope the rest of the world will get to hear it from their mouths one day. all we need is 100k to finish the film XD

#clarz #OMG I FORGOT TO POST THIS #i thought i would add to it but this is a fucking essay so ima leave it at that #PLEASE ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS IF U WANT #ANYBODY #i love talking about this shit and i have nobody to do it with :)))) #personal #jewish stuff #judaism #holocaust mention #death mention cw #hanging mention cw #nazi mention cw

[daleisgreat]

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Now it is time for the film I have been dreading to cover the most of the quadrilogy of Indiana Jones adventures and yes I am talking about Indy’s return to the big screen after a 19 year absence with 2008’s Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (trailer). For new readers you can catch up on my posts for the original trilogy by clicking right here. When it originally released it was the only film in the franchise I vividly recall seeing in its entirety on release week. I recall walking out of that film irate because of a few gut-wrenching cornball scenes I will touch on later, and also because it featured Shia LaBeouf in one of the lead roles of the film fresh off his ultra-annoying performance in the first Transformers film. Needless to say I recall being furious anytime Shia’s mug appeared onscreen. This was 11 years ago however, so it was interesting revisiting this with a fresh set of eyes. Before I continue bear with me for a quick sidebar. I specifically recall Crystal Skull being the last film playing in what was once the featured theater in my town throughout my childhood. The good ‘ol Columbia 4 was the place where I waited in long lines for tickets to see family blockbusters like Home Alone, D2: The Mighty Ducks, Beethoven and Major League II. Later in the 90s a 10-plex opened, and in 2007 a 15-plex debuted which was the catalyst for the Columbia 4 turning into second run $1 theater a couple months later. For the next several months I caught at least two movies a month there and would chance anything for a $1 but felt something was amiss when the only movie they had playing on all four screens for its last three weeks was Crystal Skull until they finally locked their doors. I miss $1 movies and I hope we get another second-run theater again someday.

Back on track, Crystal Skull opens with Indy (Harrison Ford) and his colleague Mac (Ray Winstone) being thrown out of a trunk by the Soviet KGB. Yes, Indy is no longer squaring off against Nazis in the 1930s, but now communists in 1957. The standard thrilling opening chase sequence transpires with Indy evading peril once again, but with the Russians constantly on his tail. Not all is well for Indy back home as his latest capers leads to his dismissal from his longtime professor job at the university, but he has a hot tip for this film’s self-titled Magoffin, a legendary Crystal Skull. This leads Indy to meeting up with one Mutt Williams (Shia LeBeouf) for more info on the Skull’s whereabouts, and that leads the pair to tracking down the kidnapped duo of Indy’s former pal, Dr. Oxley (John Hurt) and Mutt’s mom Marion (Karen Allen). The Russians are led by one Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett), who has some hinted psychological gifts early on, but that part of her persona is quickly brushed aside and she is essentially one of the weaker Indy antagonists. Mac is pretty amusing though with his constant double-crossing. Sadly, Sean Connery does not return to reprise his role as Indy Sr. as Connery stated in interviews at the time he was already a few years into his acting retirement and enjoying it too much to return to the screen, but there is a nice quick little tribute to him here. After re-watching the original trilogy and now having 100% reverence for Marion’s role in Raiders, I was thrilled to see her return this time around. Her chemistry with Ford does not miss a beat and the two shine together whenever they share a scene after Marion’s introduction halfway into the film. Some of my original qualms was Ford obviously being too old to make a return to all the swashbuckling action the series is famous for as he was 65 when Crystal Skull was filmed. Ford must have had some bizarre combination of good makeup and training, because he comes off as barely spry enough to pull off most of the vintage Indy acrobatics and I was further stunned to see the interviews claim how he did most of his own stunts to boot. Being many years removed from the dreck of the original Transformers trilogy also helped re-watching this as I was able to give Shia’s performance a now un-biased perspective and I was legit surprised LeBeouf actually pulled off a pretty good outing as the greaser, Mutt Williams.

Most of the requisite chases and swashbuckling action scenes of Crystal Skull hold up surprisingly well. As a matter of fact nearly halfway through the film I jotted down in my notes in all caps ‘THIS IS ACTUALLY PRETTY GOOD SO FAR.’ There are still a few instances that are big asterisks where Crystal Skull does not tiptoe over the wrong side of the line of groan-inducing, hokey moments, it straight up jumps the shark on them. The first instance is a jeep chase that was going well until monkeys and vine swinging gets involved and it instantly took me right out of the moment. The second moment was when Indy and crew all survive a mammoth waterfall drop and instantly all of them walk right out of it without even a scratch. I would be a fool at this point not to point out the elephant in the room in what is the most ridiculous jump the shark moment in cinema history….really….when Indiana…..I am not kidding….survives a nuclear blast on a testing ground by hiding in a lead-lined fridge and to rub salt in the wounds walking out of it WITHOUT EVEN A SCRATCH OR DROP OF BLOOD (SERIOUSLY, CLICK HERE TO RELIVE THIS ABSURDITY)!!! For that last instance it knocks the bonkers ball right out of the park and I can almost give Spielberg and Lucas a pass for being brazen enough to include it in here��almost.

My final gripe with Crystal Skull is how the final act plays out. I remembered enough bits and pieces of the original trilogy going into my first viewing of the fourth film to expect some supernatural material, and the inclusion of it is not what bothered me, but how it is pulled off is. When Spalko gets her just-deserts upon her inappropriate handling of the Crystal Skull, the way the CG-affair plays out is way too over the top to be taken seriously and get on the edge of my seat for like in previous films. This is also the first Indy film in the HD-era and Lucas already had the polarizing Star Wars prequels under his belt which featured the latest and greatest CG so it is baffling how silly the CG alien spectacle is executed. On the bonus features disc of the BluRay set there is only one extra specific to Crystal Skull and that is Making of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It runs just under a half hour and it does a good job interviewing Lucas, Spielberg and Ford on how the fourth film came to be and how it is an ode to the 1950s alien invasion B-movies like how the original trilogy was an homage to 1930s serials. I checked out the last several bonus features on the extras disc that run 10-12 minutes each to round off all the bonus content I had not seen yet. These shorter extras cover the filming locations, the leading women of the films, and post production. They are all well done, but of them the only one I would recommend would be the extra containing excerpts from a panel interviewing the three lead women of the movies that looked like it was shot shortly after The Last Crusade. The actresses are interviewed in the other bonuses, but it is nice to see them shine on their own here and give more insight and anecdotes than the other interviews.

For those interested in one more extra not contained on the set, the Cinemassacre crew did another recent video debating on whether Temple of Doom or Crystal Skull is the worst Indiana Jones film you can check out by clicking here. If it was not for these guys making these videos in the last few weeks it would have taken me several months to get around to covering the last two Indy films so kudos to them for driving me to get to them sooner than later. As far as which of those two films do I rank as the inferior Jones caper, I would have to rank Temple of Doom at the bottom. As I detailed in my entry for Temple of Doom, I had a lot of beef with it and the only parts I cared for were the opening sequence and the final mine-cart and rope-bridge scenes which only tallied up to about a quarter of the film. For Crystal Skull however my opinion of it turned a complete 180. Yes, I detailed four major gripes above with the film, but those are my only noteworthy problems and other aspects of the fourth film aged better than I could have imagined and I was on board for around two-thirds of the film! I still would rank it as only my third favorite of the series behind Raiders and Last Crusade being my standout favorite, but Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull will likely be the only movie in the history of this blog that I had a positive 180 change of opinion on. Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Man of Steel Man on the Moon Marine 3-6 Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Days of Future Past

#Indiana Jones #indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull #random movie #Harrison Ford #steven spielberg #George Lucas #shia labeouf #ray winstone #john hurt #cate blanchett #Karen Allen

[willpollock]

We haven’t had Tangerine Satan president even a week before the wheels have come off the American wagon.

Trump has so many conflicts of interest, so many defiantly ignorant and wrong ideas of procedure and tradition, that gaining focus to resist is not an easy task. Today we’ll take two: his cabinet net worth and treatment of the press.

Remember when Trump said he was “for the little guy?” Yeah about that… The combined net worth of Trump’s cabinet choices and other “important presidential appointments” so far exceed $20 billion. If you isolate just his closest circle (from the WaPo):

The net worth of the Cabinet Trump had selected as of Monday was at least $13.1 billion, based on available estimates, or more than the annual gross domestic product of about 70 small countries.

So when all the focus was on Hillary Clinton being beholden to Wall Street and too cozy with monied donors, he was projecting.

By comparison, by the end of his presidency George W. Bush’s team was worth “about $390 million collectively,” says the Washington Post.

Trump is in fact so corrupt, so full of daily lies, that the resistance to him could splinter since there are so many strands on the sweater to pull.

The one that is currently frying my rice? The reaction of D.C. poh poh to the constitutionally protected action of protesting—and covering those protests. Granted, some of the protestors became violent and caused damage. But that doesn’t justify rounding up whole swaths of people and throwing them in jail—some of them without charges.

I also learned a new word that you need to know: “Kettling.” Think of it as the opposite of law-enforcement restraint. In a nutshell, when police set up a perimeter around a group of protestors, all of the people within that circle are subject to arrest and detention. Here’s the problem: innocent protestors, marchers and, yes, journalists can get ensnared in a situation that could involve confiscation of cell phones and lack of access to communication, food and water, and bathroom services.

D.C. police ignored decades of precedent and “kettled” a large group, including approximately six journalists. All of them are subject to a felony sentence of 10 years in priz or a hefty fine. Sound outlandish? That’s because it is (ThinkProgress):

It’s a tactic known as overcharging, where prosecutors use the threat of long jail terms to induce guilty pleas. Even if Phillips ultimately drops some of these 200-plus felony cases after reviewing evidence more carefully, Hopkins-Maxwell said, he’s already sent a clear and ugly signal.

I don’t see our union can survive this. Setting aside egregious civil liberties violations of the peaceful protestors, our media and legal observers cannot and should not be intimidated into silence. We won’t be silent, either.

  We can thank producer Sheila Nevins for Bright Lights (HBO)—the greatest unintentional farewell gift imaginable. After Nevins had seen Fisher’s show Wishful Drinking (based on the book of the same name, which is great—highly recommended), she thought it would be perfect to adapt it for television.

What was uncovered in that process was the bond these two women shared, and Fisher’s desire to film her mother’s continuing performing verve. “In my heart of hearts, I think Carrie wanted to memorialize Debbie,” Nevins told The Hollywood Reporter.

Bright Lights would have been poignant and sad in its own right without the deaths of Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds a day apart. The doc’s producers moved up the release date from March after they sadly passed away.

Many scenes in this brilliant documentary (which, by the by, will win an Emmy) spoke to me, but most of all, the moment in the antique shop where Carrie was filled with enthusiasm as a collector. “I’m having a crisis of joy” she quipped wistfully. To me this encapsulated her as a person, surviving manic depression and addiction, only to come out on the other side shopping with gusto.

I had the privilege to be at Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009, and I attended one of the black-tie parties with some pals. Carrie Fisher was there, sitting quietly by the side of the stage, watching Cyndi Lauper sing with Rufus Rainwright. I didn’t know it at the time, but I captured a rare moment of Carrie enjoying the show, seated to the side of the stage—much like I imagine she did when her mother was performing.

I was so happy to dig this series out of the vault so I can share it with you.

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One final postscript: director Fisher Stevens played a bit part in Friends as Phoebe’s annoying psychologist boyfriend who analyzed the bunch, much to their chagrin. Stevens’ interview with Access Hollywood is actually quite good and gives some background on how the two women reacted to the film.

  Last week (CrankyYank Vol. 47) we had esteemed guest blogger and great pal Rob “Reenage” O’Connor review the first episode of Homeland (Showtime) Season 6. He wrote that this new season episodes have “some exciting possibilities in them already, and offer the taste of some real meat as they begin to intertwine.”

I offer a quick counterpoint to Rob’s review, which was largely positive. For me, the first episode landed like the thud of yellowpage books on your front porch. The writing and directing were spotty and vague—certainly not in keeping with past episodes that were built around suspenseful plot arcs and gripping sequences in foreign lands.

As I mention in my sidebar bio, I’m obsessed with the mechanics of filmmaking. In this case, there were many stumbles in the plot and directing that gave me pause. Why did Quinn have to visit the drug den? Why did that intruder come in and decide, “nah, I’ll wait” and pause on his robbery and get serviced by a hooker first. Huh?

I especially loathe when filmmakers do too many takes and try to overlap them to make sense in post-production editing. With a show so heavily reliant on storytelling, tell the fucking story in a single shot, rather that stunt the emotional impact by cutting to different angles. Single long shots ask more of the actors but, in the end, produce a way more convincing product.

Todd VanDerWerff over at Vox has the best take on the series in my view:

Most seasons of Homeland start slowly. Showrunner Alex Gansa and his writers want nothing more than to emulate great spy novels, which take time to build up steam.

  But even by those standards, the early episodes of season six are a patience-testing slow burn. The Quinn stuff is unnecessary, and every other storyline feels like it’s taking place on a different show. It’s not clear why Carrie, Saul, and the president-elect are all in the same series, except for the fact that they have been before. And even when Homeland tries to knit them together, the result feels slightly forced.

The show—even with a surprising course-correction from frantic thriller to build-as-you-go drama—is still one of the best on TV. I’m putting my trust in writers, directors and producers to take us on a ride that both mirrors and exposes political life as we know it.

  My friend Eddie Duke here in Atlanta gave me a heads-up about meditation audio on YouTube that can help you center yourself and encourage you to breathe. Do a search and find one that suits you, but this 3-Hour Reiki Music video above has a great selection of healing, meditative “soundtrack-y” instrumental music that will cure your crankies in no time flat.

  That’s a wrap guys. We’ll see you right back here next Thursday afternoon at 2 p.m.

Will Pollock is an Atlanta-based freelance multimedia journalist focusing on pop-culture, politics, journalism & media, retail, real estate, travel, politics, and human interest. 

He is the author of two books (Pizza for Good & Leaving Triscuit), with more on the way. Sign up for the mailing list, follow on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram—and check out the book links below.

Make sure to comment often—cranky loves company.

Support independent authors, writers, artists, journalists and professionals. Buy a book, leave a review, start a discussion. Our success as a nation depends on your engagement and involvement.

  CrankyYank Vol. 48: Felony Journalism | ‘Homeland’: The Quieting | Carrie Fisher’s ‘Crisis of Joy’ & More We haven't had Tangerine Satan president even a week before the wheels have come off the American wagon.

[thedramafilesblog-blog]

Appearing before the Dramacourt: Hwarang: Poet Warrior Youth Ep 05

***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***

Issues:

Whether you need to rapidly alter your strategy when you realize that your ‘nemesis’ actually turns out to be the ‘brother’ of the girl you like?

Whether Ji Dwi (Hyungsik’s character) and Sun Woo’s bromance is far, far, far more interesting than the romantic story lines?

Whether introduction to school/training should involve consuming copious amounts of strong alcohol to pick roommates?

Whether the pretty guy randomly showing up as a Hwarang is believable?

Whether there is always some prissy biatch being a total tattletale at the start of a new project?

The Rule(s):

Yes obviously. *notice how Ji Dwi’s face changes when he realizes how Sun Woo is related to Aro*

Hell yes. It’s the beginning of a beautiful bromance.

Probably? But because all we see is chaos and more chaos which is probably why the administration organizes the roommate situation.

Uhh No. Like where did he come from? He had like 2 seconds of screen time in a random episode. Wtf?

OH MY GOD YES. There is always that person. Always.

Application:

RedRosette J Sidebar: HAPPY NEW YEAR DEAR READERS!! May your 2017 be much more awesome than 2016! Thank you for reading and following us! We promise to keep bringing the sass in 2017!

Jubiemon J Note: Happy New Year! May everyone have their wishes granted in 2017 and be in good health! We are looking forward to the new dramas in 2017 and hope to bring more laughter. Thank you for tuning in with us and join us in 2017 as well!

RedRosette J: This episode was an interesting one for me because time-wise, there was more bromance and Hwarang’s first day than this whole pointless romance. There were a lot of LOLs with the dangling from the ceiling like meat stuff (Honestly, these two should really just do comedy) and some more time spent with the awkward “you’re-my-‘brother’-but-you-look-super-hot-with-your-shirt-off” stuff. I’m slightly disappointed because I thought we’d be getting more of Taehyung and we really haven’t been seeing much of him. He wasn’t even in the inauguration scene! Does that mean he’s such a minor character that he’s not even important enough to be in it? Also, for me it still feels a bit slow and draggy. It’s 5 episodes and there’s still barely any Hwarang antics. Let’s get a move on already!

Jubiemon J: I was conflicted with this episode because the dangling meat and fighting scenes were kind of dragged out. However, I did enjoy some parts of it because Hyungsik waking up surprised that he was dangling there was hilarious. I’m also kind of disappointed about Taehyung’s lack of appearance and the feminine character’s sudden appearance at the very end. I feel like those two characters, especially the feminine one, did not get a proper introduction. I know that it’s hard to pave the background stories of all characters, but when the trailer and interviews kept suggesting that each would have their own story, I was quite disappointed that that wasn’t the case. I felt like they really put Taehyung out there to grab the BTS fans’ attention, when really he’s only in like 6 mins from ep 1 – now. I also agree with RedRosette that not much as happened, so I do hope that the plot carries forward faster.

Literally a piece of meat

This is basically a ‘How do you like me now’ face

Seriously. Where was Taehyung?!?

Hubba Hubba

Too close for comfort

Can these two just like….NOT?

Issue 1: Whether you need to rapidly alter your strategy when you realize that your ‘nemesis’ actually turns out to be the ‘brother’ of the girl you like?

RedRosette J: This development was a long time coming. I mean if you decide to go on the faux-brother path, other characters have to be brought up to speed so the awkwardness can continue. You can literally see Ji Dwi’s face change when Sun Woo says that Aro is his sister. I think at that point he was doing some serious mental calculations as to how much of an ass he’s been to this guy who potentially could make or break a future with the girl. It’s funny how even though it’s been said out aloud, Ji Dwi doesn’t really seem to believe that they are just brother-and-sister. (The whole rescue scene where he’s just over the affection? LOL! yea he’s not buying it). I think this bit of information is also important for Ji Dwi to know so that he realizes that Sun Woo is not really a threat to him per se and start being friends. Yea I think recalculations are in order when a situation like this arises. I mean, you need this guy to be on your side, if anything else is to progress. Am I right?

Jubiemon J: Yes, I think this strategy change makes sense. We all want to suck up to our crush’s sibling to hopefully get a good word in from the sibling. I think the change from Ji Dwi’s face was really a great job done by Hyungsik. At first I thought Ji Dwi really didn’t like Aro because he mentioned how she was half-blood and that Sunwoo should stay away from her because of that. That seemed to be out of character in my opinion. Then that statement from Ji Dwi made a whole lot of sense as soon as he became friendlier to Sunwoo upon hearing that Aro is Sunwoo’s sister. Ji Dwi is really just sneaky. Hahaha. (I’m not convinced that his love for Aro is actually love; it’s more like lust or a crush.)

Uhhhh okayyy?

* tries to help and gets hit in the jaw*

Not buying this brother/sister crap for a second

Issue 2: Whether Ji Dwi (Hyungsik’s character) and Sun Woo’s bromance is far, far, far more interesting than the romantic story lines?

RedRosette J: I think so. Especially because I think that both characters are very similar and have a lot to share if they only stop this pointless pissing contest and fighting over a girl. Both characters were essentially abandoned and grew up outside the home, both characters have issues with self worth, both characters are dealing with existential crises at the same time. I think that if they lean on each other that they could be great friends. The start of which we saw when Ji Dwi piggybacked a drunk Sun Woo back to their room (OMG they’re roomies too!!!!). I think that having a friendship form between these two characters will be a far more interesting journey to watch than the romantic love lines.

Jubiemon J: I like their bromance a lot! I think they have more chemistry than Aro x Ji Dwi or Aro x  Sunwoo. I find their bickering to be funny and cute. I found it hilarious when Ji Dwi kept whistling. I was hoping for a horse but who knew he had some assassin around? I agree with what RedRosette said about their similarities and how they could relate to each other. I’m waiting for the moment when they really become bffs.

*fights in mid-air* LOLOLOL!

By far the most interesting part of the show so far

Besties 4eva!

Issue 3: Whether introduction to school/training should involve consuming copious amounts of strong alcohol to pick roommates?

RedRosette J: Although in theory this sounds like so much fun and could lead to some super hilarious living situations, I feel like the reality of this is probably not going to be so great. There’s a reason that the administration at universities pick your roommates for you (most of the time). Just imagine if this scenario actually happened? OMG. Please No. But then again, if there were no rules and you could literally fight people for the best rooms, it would seriously end up being a Hunger Games-esque scenario like in this episode and in reality, no one wants that. I think the alcohol for introduction sounds fun (this exists already pretty much. It’s called Frosh Week or Freshers Week) but let’s just leave it at fun and not involve the roommate sorting.

Jubiemon J: I feel like this scene reminded me of some initiation when you’re joining a frat/sorority. I didn’t quite enjoy this scene that much. Plus, they made all the guys turn into fighting drunkards. There are so many different drunks. I’ve met people who just sleep, who start talking a lot and repeating things, who strip, and more. I wished that they had shown different types of drunk people. Where was Taehyung in this scene as well?

Intro to Hwarang

Yup it’s nasty…

The roommate situation from Hell

Issue 4: Whether the pretty guy randomly showing up as a Hwarang is believable?

RedRosette J: Where did this guy come from? He was in an earlier episode for like a second and now all of a sudden he’s sharing a room with the main characters? Huh? What? Why isn’t Taehyung’s character sharing a room with the main characters? At least he had more screen time than Pretty Boy!! I’m not okay with this. It is so not believable that this guy just randomly shows up. Ugh.

Jubiemon J: I was really surprised when I saw this character pop out. Even Ji Dwi freaked out. I would too. I really don’t think this introduction was believable and it just seemed to come out of nowhere. Magic?

Where did you come from?!?

Even Ji Dwi is like ‘WTF’?

Issue 5: Whether there is always some prissy biatch being a total tattletale at the start of a new project?

RedRosette J: Why is there always this person? In the drama-verse and in real life too! It’s impossible to start doing anything without there being some prissy biatch hell bent on making everyone’s lives miserable by taking everything way too seriously and being a total tattletale about everything. The Assistant Person is the definition of a prissy biatch. I can’t even. I guess drama really does reflect life. Also, I guess they need a prissy biatch to make Sung Dong Il’s character stand out more as a rebellious ‘I-give-zero-shits’ teacher.

Jubiemon J: Ah, there’s always that one person doing all the annoying stuff and bitching to someone else. That’s life.

RedRosette J Aside: Also, for future reference, all conference tables should look like this. Kthanksbye.

Dat tiger tho

Conclusion: Appeal Allowed.

Rating: 3 = MM. Okay. Fine. (Only because of Hyungsik and Seo Joon’s awesome bromance scenes)

File No: Hwarang: Poet-Warrior-Youth- Ep-05 Appearing before the Dramacourt: Hwarang: Poet Warrior Youth Ep 05 ***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***

#action #bromance #comedy #critique #cute #do ji han #dojihan #drama #drama recap #drama review #dramarecap #dramareview #fight #go ar a #go ara #goara #Historical drama #history #hwa rang #Hwarang #hwarang poet warrior youth #hwarang the beginning #k drama #kdrama #kdramareview #kim ji soo #kim tae hyung #Korean Drama #love #minho