#i admittedly really liked stickers because of the way it rolled in the mouth

[abimee]

tock was almost named Stickers... i entirely forgot about this

[dickwheelie]

heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

_______________

All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

[johnbbutmakeitace]

for the song prompt, here's two: stay by gracie abrams and finally // beautiful stranger by halsey

two for the price of one! i like it!

stay

The day they broke apart, it was raining. 

Thunder began to rumble when they started to argue. They argued over what they always argued over-- the gold. JJ still wanted it, despite the fact that it had cost John B and Sarah their lives. It was the only way JJ could think of to honor them, as stupid as that sounds now. He couldn’t let Ward get away with it. If he let it go, then the kooks would get everything, and the pogues would get nothing. JJ couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let his best friend’s sacrifice be for fucking nothing. 

It was a simple affair, really. JJ wanted to go after the gold. Pope didn’t. He had a rescheduled scholarship interview to think about, after all. 

Rain stung against his skin when Pope said that. Of course he knew Pope had another interview coming. Of course he was happy for Pope to have a second chance at freedom, a second chance at a happy, successful life. Of course he knew. He just thought-- well. 

He thought that-- after everything, everything they’d fought, laughed, and cried over-- after everything they’d been through together-- he thought that Pope would want to stay. 

Pope insisted that they needed to give up the treasure hunting nonsense and let the gold go. Bury it in the past, JJ thought bitterly, like the two empty coffins they’d put in the dirt not but a week ago. 

A small part of JJ knew that Pope was right. A big part of JJ was lost and grieving and fucking furious. 

Lightning danced over a raging ocean when JJ lost it. It was selfish of him, he knows. But JJ had always been a little bit stupid when it comes to the big picture. That scholarship meant everything to Pope, and he’d almost lost his chance once. Now that he had it again, he wasn’t going to let it slip past him. JJ knew that. 

Pope had a chance to get away, and he was taking it. And in that moment, JJ hated him for it. 

Cold water slid down JJ’s spine as Pope walked away for the last time. He hoped the rainwater would have extinguished the misplaced rage and grief in his heart. Hoped it would have cooled the fury burning in his chest, the stubbornness forcing his fingers into fists. Impossibly, JJ hoped the storm would have let him see reason.  

It didn’t. 

The day Pope left for DC, the sun was shining. He packed up all of his things into three suitcases, loaded them into the car, and left. Kiara rode with him to the airport to say goodbye. JJ spent the day surfing. 

He spent the night drinking alone. 

The day the bank takes the chateau, it drizzles. The day he burns the rest of John B’s things, it pours. The day Heyward offers him a job and a place to stay, it’s a cloudy, mute morning. The day Kiara tells him he should give Pope a call, it hails. 

She does that a lot. Insist that he should reach out. He never listens. Pride is an evil, spiteful thing, and it’s got its claws dug into his heart so deep JJ thinks it might be the only thing holding his heart together in the first place. 

He doesn’t tell Kie that, but JJ thinks she might know anyway. 

This goes on for months. Kie insists he should give Pope a call. JJ never does.

He wants to, though. 

It comes slow and small, this wanting. It starts in his chest, slips right between the bloody claws of pride and makes a home in the scar tissues on his heart. It begins to grow, and grow, and grow until there’s a little flower blooming there-- right in the remnants of the only friendship he didn’t want to shatter. And oh, this little flower hurts in it’s own right. It makes him ache in a new kind of way. A way that makes him want to reach out. A way that makes him want to mend, makes him want to heal. 

He thinks of reasons why he should. In the end, he comes up with only four. 

Because he’s selfish. Because he’s tired. Because he’s sorry. Because it’s raining. 

The day he calls Pope, the sun finally shines, and that flower blooms.

finally // beautiful stranger

The drive back to the outer banks is as eye opening as it is nostalgic. 

The sun is as yellow as Pope remembers, maybe a little less vibrant than it was in his youth, but still bright nonetheless. The drive makes his eyes tired, and the sunlight bouncing off the ocean in the distance catches in his rearview mirror on occasion, making him squint. He doesn’t mind, though. The waves are still just as beautiful as they were when he was a kid. 

The poverty of his hometown is clearer to him, now. Pope thinks it’s a little funny, how idyllic childhood makes the world seem. Money doesn’t matter so much when you're a kid, even when it should. But childhood is meant to be spent not worrying about the adult world. When you’re a kid, you’re supposed to worry about spaceships and dragons, not when your next meal would be. 

At least, for normal kids, anyway. 

The pogues weren’t like that. It seemed like worry and fear followed after them wherever they went. It was just a part of the life. They were so caught up running from beatings and kooks and security guards, they didn’t have much time for imagination. Sure, they still had dreams, but not about dragons. They dreamed of second chances. Second chances to start over and dump the shitty cards they’d been dealt. 

The pogues already knew that dragons didn’t exist because they had real monsters to worry about. 

Maybe that’s why they all latched onto the idea of the gold so hard, Pope thinks as he pulls into the parking lot of the wreck. Just for a chance to use their imaginations and act like normal kids, for once. 

Kiara is waiting for him in the lot. Leaned up against the side of her Honda Civic -- which has more bumper stickers plastered on it than it does actual bumper-- sucking on the straw of a pink looking drink she must’ve got on the ride down, because there’s no way in hell Pope’s mom wouldn’t have heard about a new Starbucks on the cut and told him immediately. 

“Heya, stranger,” Kie smiles wide when he steps out of the car, and Pope’s heart trips over itself a little at the sight. Fuck, he’s missed her. 

“Hey yourself,” he says before striding over and pulling her into a spinning hug that makes both of them laugh. The familiarity of the motion makes something warm settle in Pope’s chest, and he sets her back down with a smile. “How have you been?” 

“Good!” Kie says cheerfully, before posing against her bumper like she might for the cover of vogue. “Cali’s been good to me, can’t you tell?”

He can tell. The California sun has made her tan skin glow, and the many flowering tattoos she’s got on her forearms spill out of her shirt sleeves like they’ve always belonged there. Her curls are still as wild as they’ve always been, pulled up into a bun and held back by a multicolored bandana. She looks as beautiful as ever. 

“I can definitely see that.” Pope agrees, and Kiara beams. 

Despite his delight at seeing her again, Pope finds himself glancing about the parking lot, looking for a familiar hint of blond hair, the seemingly endless amount of light in blue eyes, the bright hint of a smile. 

The sad thing is, deep down, Pope knows he’s not going to see him, standing there between the cars. He still looks anyway. 

“Is he coming?” Pope asks, and something in Kie’s smile falters, a bit. 

“C’mon,” she says, and slips her arm into his. She leads him towards the restaurant. “I had my mom reserve us our usual table. You can tell me all about DC and your fancy forensic program while we get a drink, okay?” 

Pope takes her avoidance for what it is. He keeps his smile up, even if he doesn’t want to so much anymore. “Okay.” 

They spend the next few hours drinking and catching up. Kiara tells him all about California and working with GreenPeace and the sun, and Pope tells her about GWU and the forensic program and the snow. 

Pope will gladly admit that it feels nice to come back again. The wreck is a place of comfort for both of them, filled with memories of laughter that haven’t been tainted and ruined by the world. It’s a little bubble of safety they find themselves in, and Pope takes more solace in it than he probably should. 

Despite this, he still feels like there’s a piece of that safety and comfort missing. The empty chair beside him serves as a reminder, and Pope tries his best to fight off the disappointment that his best friend is not there to fill it. 

Well. Former best friend. Maybe. 

They haven’t talked since Pope left. At least, not really. The occasional phone call didn’t exactly clear the air like talking in person would. 

That fight had been so stupid in hindsight, but they had been pretty stupid as kids. It was part of their charm, Pope supposes, but. That still didn’t make him feel much better. 

The night was winding down when it happened. Both he and Kie were well and thoroughly on their way to being a little too drunk to drive, and were, admittedly, starting to turn a bit giggly. Kie saw him first. Pope saw the way her eyes widened, mouth stretching into a grin before Pope was whipping around to look, and there he was.

He stood, hands shoved into a pair of well worn jeans. His T-shirt showed a big logo for the mechanic’s place in town, meaning he’d probably just got off of work. A familiar shark tooth necklace still dangled around his neck. 

He looked tired, but healthy. A bit of stubble stood out against his cheeks, and his hair was longer than Pope remembered. There was a well worn looking hair tie wrapped around his wrist, probably for keeping his hair out of his face while he was at work. His eyes were just as blue as Pope remembered. 

“Hi,” JJ said. 

Kiara was up and out of her seat before Pope even had time to think. JJ’s face broke out into a smile as he embraced her tight. Pope stood quietly while Kie berated JJ for never calling her enough. JJ flushed, mumbling something about working full time and running errands for Heyward. Kie rolled her eyes at the excuse, but her smile was fond. 

Then Pope was standing in front of them, and he and JJ were face to face. 

“Hey,” Pope said with an honest smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” JJ huffed out a slight smile, but wouldn’t meet Pope’s eyes. Pope had never seen JJ look so nervous. “It’s been a while.” 

“I missed you.” Pope said. Because he didn’t know what else to say, and because it was the truth. 

There was an unbearable silence for a moment as they just stared at each other. Then-- 

“Look, Pope,” JJ started. “I’m sorry--,” and before he could say anything else Pope was pulling JJ into a hug that was maybe just a little too tight. JJ went still for a moment, then melted into Pope’s arms like he’d never wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Wanna have a drink?” Pope asked as they broke apart, gesturing back to their table.  

JJ’s smile was small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Sure.”

The night went on, and JJ began to loosen. He smiled more, began to add his own witty commentary to the conversation, laughed at Pope’s bad jokes between sips of beer. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. 

And when JJ fully leaned into Pope’s side as they all burst into laughter, his smile so bright and his eyes so happy and blue, the only thing Pope could think was-- finally. 

[otomeramblings]

And then the Sun Shone so Bright

Pairing: None; Tenma-centric A/N: hhhh I’m sorry this took me so long! I was having a hard time finding motivation to write during these past 2 weeks. But! inspiration finally struck. I originally was gonna make this romantic but then parts of the song gave me natsugumi feels and well, here we are lol But also! I’m sorry I didn’t include Kumon but I haven’t read episode 6 yet;;; Thank you so much, @chewie-santatoast​​!! You’re very kind and I’m glad you like what I put out there!! I hope you like this one too and thank you for requesting~~ 

🎵 Song: Best of Me by BTS 🎵

As Igawa finished sending a message, he pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to see Tenma still eyeing the rack of keychains in the back corner of the store. The bags with sweet treats they had picked up still hung from Tenma’s wrist as he stood there, one hand on his hip and one on his chin, clearly trying to find something.

After shooting wrapped up, they went to one of the local bakeries to buy some souvenirs for Tenma’s theatre troupe. It was something he had taken the habit of doing and while he was surprised by it at first, Igawa was fast to encourage this new development; after the first time, he always made sure that whenever the boy had a shoot out of town or overseas, they would always be able to find a moment in their schedule so that he could buy something he could bring back.

They had been doing some window shopping after successfully purchasing the treats when Tenma stopped in front of one of the stores and insisted on going inside.

If he had to venture a guess, Igawa would say that the object that had originally caught Tenma’s attention was the small bonsai keychain that now dangled from in between his fingers. He couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed in his face at that; Tenma’s love for bonsai, while strange in the eyes of his peers for a boy his age, was actually something Igawa himself had grown incredibly fond of since it was one of the topics (besides acting) that actually made Tenma ramble with excitement. Since he had already had his hands on it, though, Igawa had an inkling as to what he was now searching for.

After a few minutes, and having four more keychains in his hands, Tenma strode towards the register. As he placed the items on the counter, Igawa could see that his hunch had been spot-on. Tenma threw a quick glance his way and he must have seen the way in which his manager was fighting back a smile because he quickly spoke up:

“They would just bug me later if I only got one for myself.”

“Of course, Tenma,” he replied with a small nod. It was an excuse but Igawa knew better than to try to get Tenma to admit it, so he didn’t press for more.

As his eyes inspected each of the designs as the cashier rang them up, he understood what had taken the boy so long when he was picking them. He could tell exactly which one would go to each person just by looking at them. Igawa admittedly didn’t know the members of the Summer Troupe very well, but he had gathered quite a bit of information from his conversations with Tenma.

Next to the small bonsai tree, there was a little white kitten wearing a pink bonnet;

“Dammit,” Tenma clicked his tongue seeing the traffic-jam they were stuck in. “I know it’s frustrating but can’t you let them know that you’ll be late for rehearsals?” Igawa spared a glance his way and saw that Tenma was already typing something on his phone. “Yeah, but that’s not the problem,” he grumbled. “We are trying on the new costumes today and Yuki’s already difficult enough normally. I don’t need to give him another excuse to call me- a hack, oh for the love of-.” Judging from the exasperated tone in his voice and the quick typing that followed, Igawa could guess what response Tenma had received and he tried his best to squash down his amusement before commenting again. “Yuki? That’s….Rurikawa, right? You mentioned he’s in charge of making all of the company’s costumes? He did a really good job for your debut performance.” After seeing the state in which the theatre was, a part of him had honestly been worried about the production quality, but he had been blown away by it and the costumes were one of the things that had impressed him the most. “Yeah,” Tenma sighed before putting his phone down. “I hate to admit it, but the kid’s got some real talent in that department and he has potential in acting as well. Now if only he could do something about that snarky attitude of his,” Tenma complained but Igawa could hear the tint of fondness that hid in his tone behind his initial annoyance.

next to it, there was a pink crown with white and gold accents;

“Is that a new script?” Igawa asked when he saw the manilla envelope resting on Tenma’s lap once he entered the car. He knew Tenma wasn’t scheduled to shoot anything soon but it wouldn’t be long until the Summer Troupe started their rehearsals for their new play. “No, this is one of dad’s old scripts.” Seeing the surprise on his face, Tenma added: “I asked him if I could lend it to one of my troupe mates and he agreed.” “Oh?” “Yeah, remember when dad had to play that prince character in a drama?” He did remember; that performance had earned Mr Sumeragi a couple of awards when he was just starting his career. At Igawa’s hum of affirmation, Tenma continued: “Well, one of my troupe members wants to act in a similar role in the future, so I thought giving this a look would help him have a more concrete idea of what it’s like.” Igawa nodded with a smile. “His acting and his presence on stage still need some work, but I think reading this can not only motivate him but also give him some inspiration since it has all the annotations dad made on it when he used it.” Tenma was using that determined and straightforward tone that often laced his voice whenever he spoke about anything related to acting; it reminded him that despite his young age, he was a professional through and through. One thing that had always been true about Tenma was that he was a perfectionist and someone incredibly proud of his work; because of that, he expected that everyone met the same standards he had for himself. That hadn’t changed after he started performing with Mankai, but the way he went about it when talking to his colleagues was definitely different and he was now seeing exactly where it rooted from.

next to that one, there was probably the most unique keychain of the bunch: a small almost translucent triangle protractor,

“Is that homework?” Igawa asked as he closed the door of the trailer. Tenma paused his furious scribbling when he heard his manager’s question and the guilty darting of his eyes told the answer before he even opened his mouth. “......no…...I’ll do it after I finish this!” he scrambled to answer. Igawa sighed a bit in response; Tenma hated doing his school work and usually he would push him to work on it but since he knew that there was a professional tutor in the dorms that could help him, he decided to let him off the hook this time.

“So, what were you writing then?”

“Oh!” Tenma’s eyes lit up at the question. “I just thought up a few ideas I want to try out the next time we have to do street acts. Some of them are a bit advanced but I think Misumi and I could pull them off.” “Really?” he inquired, sitting across from the boy and taking a sip from his coffee. “Yeah.” he shook his head as he closed the notebook. “Misumi’s talent is kinda terrifying; if we could do something to help him focus more, he could probably be as good as me.” Igawa’s eyebrows shot up at that since Tenma was not one to give out praise freely to anyone. If he recalled correctly, Ikuraga’s performance had probably been the second best on their show next to Tenma’s, so while he was shocked by the admission, he could definitely see where the actor was coming from. “I didn’t know you started putting stickers on your things.” Igawa pointed out when his gaze fell on the notebook. “What? No, I don’t-” Tenma exclaimed but stopped himself when his eyes landed on the stickers that adorned the back of his notebook. An ice-cream cone, a slice of watermelon and onigiri surrounded a bigger yellow triangle that had a few words scribbled on with a marker. Twisting his neck, he was able to make out the words: “Good luck, Tenma~~!! (*^▽^*)”

and, finally, there was a paint pallet with a small brush dipped in green paint.

“Yes, yes, I’ll ask him about it. Yes, mom, I won’t forget. Okay, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Igawa asked once Tenma hung up, his eyes focused on the road. “Huh?” the boy asked absentmindedly as he opened another app on his phone. “Yeah, it’s nothing serious. She told me she wants a copy of the poster of Water Me! since it was our first performance. I told her that they already had the flyer with the picture but she says it’s too small, so I told her that I could probably ask Kazunari to make another copy since he’s the one that designed the final version.” He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Igawa could hear the pride in his voice, happy that his parents were openly acknowledging and accepting his theatre career.

“It is an important milestone,” the manager nodded and then added. ”And it was a beautiful poster.” Tenma hummed in agreement. “Yeah, Kazunari can be obnoxious as hell but he’s got a real eye for design. All of the company’s posters and our website are a testament to that,” he admitted as he scrolled on his phone. “He’s probably gonna be over the moon once I ask him for a copy.” They had arrived at the dorms so Igawa could see Tenma rolling his eyes in what could be mistaken for exasperation were it not for the slight smile on his face. He had seen Kazunari Miyoshi once after their first (eventful) meeting and in that occasion the older boy had Tenma in a side hug while they took a selfie together and what had caught Igawa’s attention was that despite the fact that Tenma didn’t really like taking selfies with people (besides the occasional fan), the protests that came from his mouth were half-hearted at best and it didn’t take long for him to settle and smile for the picture. After it was taken, he could hear Miyoshi saying he would caption it with “Nothing better than some Ice-cream after rehearsals with TenTen!!”

Each of the keychains had gold chains and gold borders and detailing, making it obvious that they were part of the same set despite the wide variety of designs.

As the employee put them all in separate bags after Tenma told her they were gifts, Igawa couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth nor the fondness that seeped through his voice when he said: “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The actor just shrugged in response. “Of course they will,” he replied with confidence but his manager could see the redness in the tips of his ears.

Tenma had always been a good kid. Arrogant and too blunt at times, yes, but never with the intention of hurting others. However, being in the spotlight from such a young age had isolated him from his peers and his parents' constant travelling only served to make him build even more walls around himself; be confident and keep your head up, your work is what matters, that was the motto by which Tenma lived his life and that was a big detriment in any interpersonal relationships he could have formed. But now, seeing him fuss over which souvenirs to bring to his friends, the deep mark the Mankai Company left on him was glaringly obvious. 

He remembered the genuine concern he showed when his parents wanted him to quit. It was one of the few times he saw Tenma’s eyes tainted with fear; and at first, Igawa had thought he had been afraid of the possibility that this project he had worked so hard towards would be crushed, but later on he learned that it was more than that, it was the fear of having to let go of the people who had managed to bring down his walls and had put their all in supporting him so he could turn his past regrets into victories.

Tenma had never looked happier than he did now and that translated to his acting as well; he still carried himself with confidence but now there was also a lightness to his steps that wasn’t there before. Igawa knew that Mankai and the Summer Troupe probably didn’t really understand how much they had truly helped Tenma become a better version of himself in every sense but he would forever be thankful for it.

🎵 Part of the song-based requests [closed] 🎵

[loveburnsbrighter]

Like a Blushing Rose

Written for a lovely anon who requested little embarrassing moments :) read it on ao3

"What was that?"

David freezes.  Maybe if he stays really still, Patrick won't be able to see him.

"David," Patrick says with a huff of laughter.  "I can still see you, even when you stand really still."

Okay, fuck that plan, then.  David relaxes.  "What was what?"  He says as breezily as he can manage.  (Nevermind that he's not breezy at his best.)

"David," Patrick says again, in his patented teasing voice.  "Did you belch?"

"Okay, firstly, that's a gross word and I hate it," David clarifies, because Patrick's vocabulary, as it turns out, is atrocious.  "And secondly, no, I did not.  That's a disgusting thing to do in public."

"Is it technically public if it's just us two in here?"  Patrick cocks his head, a show of innocence that's so full of shit, and gestures at the admittedly empty shopping floor.  

David bristles to hide the little shiver that just us two gives him.  "Please don't remind me that we're quiet," he snaps instead.

Patrick just laughs at him.  "Told you the cafe's Super Burrito was a bad idea."  

"You know what, this isn't a discussion we're having," David announces.  He hates how out of control he feels.  He hates that Patrick is having fun humiliating him.  He hates that he actually doesn't hate either of those things, that Patrick's savant-level ability to press all of his buttons with  complete accuracy gives him a little thrill that he's chosen not to poke at thus far.

The thing about the beginning of a relationship is that there's no way of knowing how the other person will react as you slowly become a little more accessible to them, a little more human.  In the scant few weeks they've been dating, David has tried to stay at his filet mignon for Patrick, and now he's unwittingly exposed himself at his Super Burrito.

"David, it's okay," Patrick says gently.  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Oh my God."  David tosses his hands up.  "How are we still fucking talking about this?"  

He cringes, expecting Patrick to be cowed by this, but he should know better at this point.  Patrick is smiling at him, endeared by David's harshness rather than repelled by it.  "Would it make you feel better if I burped, too?"

David's jaw actually drops in horror.  "No, it would not.  Literally at all."

"Okay," Patrick says, holding his hands up in surrender.  "But I just want you to know that there is really nothing to be embarrassed about.  You can't always control your body, right?"

David really doesn't know how to handle Patrick's blend of teasing and gentle sincerity right now.  Humiliation wars in him with his desire to let it go, because for some reason Patrick hasn't turned away at him, even after doing something as disgusting as — he has to swallow a gag at the thought — belching in public.  Finally, he sighs and looks at Patrick.  "Can we just drop it?  And never bring it up again?"

Patrick's eyes soften, though the teasing smile doesn't slip completely off his face.  "Consider it forgotten," he says.  And when he scrubs a firm hand over David's back, David lets himself think, maybe.  Maybe this, the first guy to still want to touch him after seeing his body betray him, maybe this one will work out.

There's a wet spot on David's shirt.  

It takes him a moment or two to orient himself — they're at Ray's, and Ray is out with a client.  It's their day off from work, and they're on the couch, and they must have fallen asleep watching TV.  Patrick's head is resting on David's chest, and his mouth is slightly open, and… 

Drool.  Patrick has drooled on his shirt.

David is first horrified by the drool on his shirt, because ew, and then he's horrified because in equal measure to his horror, he finds that he's finding this whole thing endearing.  And a bit relieving — finally, a tangible physical flaw, a little imperfection to prove that Patrick is a real person, who apparently drools in his sleep.

It's endearing enough that instead of leaping up and spot cleaning his shirt immediately, David finds himself petting a hand over Patrick's hair.  Patrick snuffles, and David does it again, encouraged.  When he runs his fingers between the shorn strands — not tugging, just seeing how it feels — Patrick sniffs and shifts and blinks awake, and David tugs his hand back guiltily.

"Mm," Patrick says, voice thick, not lifting his head from David's chest, "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour and a half," David says, petting his hair again.

Patrick groans, wipes his mouth and lifts his head, and then he pauses.  "You got something…"  He points to the wet spot on David's shirt, and then stiffens.  "Oh my God," he says, and covers his face.  "David —"

"It's okay," David assures him, because for some reason it really is.  Because it's Patrick, and David has learned over the past several months that he'll make a lot more allowances for Patrick than he ever could have thought.

"It only happens when I sleep during the day," Patrick says from between his fingers. "I'm so sorry, I'll pay to have your shirt cleaned —"

"Hey," David says, pulling at Patrick's fingers.  "Don't touch your face, it's bad for your skin."  He succeeds in prying Patrick's hands away from his face, which is bright red.  David can't help but touch it; the warmth radiating off Patrick's skin is intoxicating, which is a thought he's interested in chasing down the line — but not right now.  "It's fine, Patrick."

Patrick chances a look up at him with the biggest set of puppy-dog eyes David has ever seen on an adult.  "But your shirt!  You're not mad?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," David tells him with absolute sincerity.  "But I guess…it's kind of…," he takes a long pause, looking for a word.  "Endearing."  He cringes, waiting for Patrick to react.

Patrick reacts by blushing harder, which David thinks is very fun and adorable of him, the bloodrush painting his ears, his neck.  "Okay," he says.  "I'm…really embarrassed," he admits.

"Mm, shocking," David can't help but tease.  "It's okay, Patrick.  I promise."

"Oh, you promise?"  Patrick shuffles up, eyes dropping to David's mouth.

"Mhmm," David says, smiling into the kiss Patrick offers him.  He pulls back and leans his forehead against Patrick's, and he can't help but think that maybe, at this exact second, everything really is okay.

They're driving home from a conference when he sees it.

David generally doesn't attend these sorts of functions, but this one was a one-day affair in Elmdale, there and back without having to stay in a dusty motel (Patrick had hit David with the driest expression in his repertoire when David had expressed this point), and there was a workshop called "The Power of a Cohesive Aesthetic," so David had agreed with what he considers to have been a very modest level of bitching.

The radio is on low and Patrick is relaxed, one hand on the bottom of the wheel and the other on David's thigh, chattering about the Greater Elms Business Association panel he attended, and David can't really be blamed for letting his attention drift a bit; watching Patrick's face move through his excitement is simply much more fun than actually listening to what the CFO of Elm Glenn's premiere laundry facility had to say about bargain buying.  They will not be applying that to the Apothecary, thanks so much.

David lets his gaze drift down Patrick's profile — the slight curl of the hair at his neck that says he's overdue for a cut, the stiff collar of his teal shirt, the strain of the fabric where he's rolled his cuffs up, the long, transparent sticker that reads XL XL XL XL down his chest — 

Wait a second.

"Um, Patrick, honey?"  David says delicately, completely disrupting whatever Patrick was saying about cheaper office supplies — although, actually, if Patrick wants to cut costs, carbon paper and premium colored ink are surely the places to do it.  "Is that a new shirt?"

"Yeah."  Patrick glances at him for a second, one eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly.  "You were with me when I bought this.  Do you not like it?"  He frowns.

David does remember — after being coerced into Kohls on the promise that he wouldn't have to try anything on himself, he'd actually quite enjoyed the little fashion show Patrick had given him, and it had gotten him into slim-fit jeans (he didn't buy them, but, baby steps).  And he remembers thoroughly endorsing this color on Patrick — it brings out his natural coloring a bit, so that even under the harshest fluorescents he doesn't look cadaverous.  That assessment is what probably led Patrick to wear it to a conference at a university, with its stupid economical lighting and paint jobs.

"I love the shirt," David says emphatically, because he doesn't want Patrick stuffing it in the back of his closet, never to be seen again.  "Um, it's just.  You've got a price tag..?"  He reaches over and delicately plucks at a corner of it; it separates from Patrick's chest with a soft ripping sound.  

"Oh my God," Patrick says; his eyes are on the road, but his ears redden considerably.  "Do you think that was there all day?"

"Um.  I don't think it magically appeared there halfway through the day.  So."  David cringes, trying to be sympathetic but unable to imagine leaving the house without checking over his clothes first. 

Patrick's face only flames further.  "I talked to so many people today!  David, I had a whole conversation with the president of the Greater —"

"Greater Elms Business Association, I know," David says, pained that he's in love with a man who cares about the opinion of the Greater Elm's Business Association's president.

"They must have thought I was an idiot," Patrick says miserably, shaking his head at the road.  "Damn it, and I really killed them with that joke about British accountants…"

David grits his teeth over that one.  "I'm sure they didn't notice.  I mean, I didn't notice, and I think I pay just a little more attention to your clothes slash body than the average person?"

Patrick's mouth twists.  "I guess that's true."

"Um, you guess?"  David paws at Patrick's shoulder playfully.  "When we get home I'll get you out of this shirt and prove it to you."  He tries for a sexy growl, knowing the effect will be more goofy (he's not really the growling type) and that it will make Patrick laugh.

He does laugh, just a little bit.  "I know what you're doing, David," he says, smiling sideways at the freeway, "and if you try to distract me now I will send us straight into a guardrail."

David pulls back.  "Wouldn't want that."  But Patrick's blush is almost gone.  "So…what else did you learn at your panel today?"  He knows he'll regret asking, but as Patrick lights back up and launches into a detailed description of whatever it is (so he's already zoning out, can he be blamed?) he's glad that he did.  He laces his fingers with Patrick's and watches his expressions shift and change, and humoring Patrick, pleasing him, lifting him back up is so easy and feels so good that David thinks he could do it for the rest of his life. 

[wacem]

Alone in the Dark

An Until Dawn fic by Wacem Chapters: 1  2

Read it here or check it out on AO3 where everything is definitely formatted properly, because I suck at Tumblr.

Chapter 2

Chris --- 5:51 AM Tunnel to the Sanatorium

Wood slammed against wood, jolting Chris back to his senses. That was the trap door. Had to be. But surely Sam hadn't doubled back already, so who-- 

A far-too-familiar screech filled the chamber like a physical thing. Chris cried out in abject terror, but his voice was utterly lost in the deafening wall of sound. Every muscle in his body froze solid. His hands balled into fists beneath him, clutching Ashley's hoodie like his life depended on it. His expended lungs gasped a fresh load of air through the fabric of Ash’s clothing and stuck that way, his body too rigid to even breathe. The screech faded away in a chorus of echoes and was replaced by the click click click of claws against stone right above him. The wendigo was back. Returned to the scene of the crime. Why? 

Obviously, to collect the rest of its meal.

Ashley? No. No, no, no. He couldn't let that thing have her. It was bad enough that it had her head. The wendigo could take the rest of her over his cold, dead body. Which, admittedly, looked like an extremely likely outcome. But, for all his heroic intent, he still couldn't get so much as a fingernail to quiver. His body was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. People always talked about Fight and Flight, but nobody ever mentioned their derpy little brother Freeze. Maybe it was because it didn't rhyme, but more likely it was because freezing in the face of danger-- utilized to stunning effect by such apex predators as goats, deer, possums, and now… Chris Hartley-- was usually a great way to get dead. The stranger's voice whispered through his mind. They can’t see you if you’re standing still. 

So maybe he'd accidentally stumbled into the one situation in human history where freezing as a fear response wasn't a death sentence. Yeah, well… I wouldn't recommend testing that out, the stranger sneered.

Fuck you, dude, I'm trying.

There was a soft thud by his head. Something sharp jabbed into his spine and immediately recoiled with a screech that almost sounded surprised. The pressure returned, poking, prodding up his back. Chris’ eyes screwed shut. He badly needed air, but he still couldn’t get himself to breathe. There was a soft ffffwwip sound as claws scraped along the nylon of his coat, followed by a bizarre, wet clicking from the thing’s throat a couple feet over his head. After what felt like ages, the thing’s long fingers tangled through the fuzz of Chris' hood and hoisted him into the air by it, like it was holding a kitten by the scruff. Ashley's hoodie tore out of his grasp, and he'd have rather lost one of his hands. But he had little opportunity to even think about it. His stomach lurched into his throat, replacing the cry of dismay that threatened to rip through the embargo of paralysis; he collided with the floor yet again as he was hurled to one side like an unwanted Raggedy Andy. He shook, rattled, and rolled, end over end, and the stone floor absolutely battered him until he smacked into the wall, and his momentum came to an abrupt halt. He felt something snap, but he wasn't sure what, because his whole body was a distracting injury. He thanked his lucky stars that his vocal cords were still too petrified to give sound to his pained moan. It came out as a sharp hiss instead. 

His glasses were resting skee-jawed on his face, and it took a moment to regain his bearings, but when he did, he hazarded a glance up. From where it lay, the flashlight was facing the wrong direction for him to see anything more than vague shadows, but the creature was definitely distracted by something. A horrible, wet, rending noise filled the small chamber. Slowly, carefully, Chris straightened his glasses, pushed them back up his nose, and propped himself stiffly on one elbow to see better. It was Ashley. The thing was eating her. Or what was left of her. It buried its teeth into her leg and jerked its head back, tearing off her calf muscle and slurping it into its mouth like spaghetti. Chris’ gorge rose into the back of his throat, and it was everything he could do to swallow it down again. But beneath the overwhelming nausea and disgust was an undercurrent of righteous indignation, frothed into a boil by a raw fury that was almost wholly alien to him. His hands clenched into fists. That was Ashley. She might be-- Chris swallowed hard, forcing himself to think it-- dead, but she was still a human being, and she deserved better. She deserved respect. As if it wasn’t enough that this thing had killed her, now it was positively relishing desecrating her body. Something inside Chris snapped. It was too much. 

Well, what exactly do you intend to do about it, tough guy? If you so much as stand up, it'll see you, and you're a goner.

The hand not holding him up drifted carefully through his pockets, looking for anything that might help. The first couple pockets turned out useless-- glasses cleaning cloth (huh… how long had that been there?), pill bottle, pocket knife. He considered the pocket knife for a moment, but his Voice of Better Judgment just scoffed. Then his fingers brushed an unfamiliar object and instinctively wrapped around it. It took him a second to figure out what it was, but when he did, his heart soared with hope. Josh's lighter! He'd forgotten to give it back after defrosting the lodge's lock about a century ago. The wendigo didn't like fire, right?

I seriously doubt a tiny lighter flame is the sort of fire the old guy was talking about. 

No, but those old storage drums over by the ladder were leaking something, weren't they? They had flammable hazmat stickers on them…

Yeah, okay, genius. Incinerate the way back to the lodge. Great idea! And if the crap in there is explosive? The concussive force has exactly nowhere in this tiny chamber to go except through your soft, little body. You really feel like blasting yourself to smithereens? To defend the honor of a corpse?

Honestly? Despite the persistent effort of his obnoxious Voice of Better Judgment to try to talk him out of this, he found that the answer was simply… yeah. He did. Because it wasn't just a corpse. It was all he had left of Ash. And if there was one damn thing he could do right tonight, it was to give the Browns something to bury. As hard as his brother's closed-casket funeral had been when he was a kid, seeing Josh absolutely disintegrate at the twins' funeral, there was zero doubt in his mind… an empty casket was worse. There was no resolution with an empty casket. Visiting an empty grave just left a hollow ache in your heart because you knew they weren't really there. You were only mourning a headstone. A rock. It couldn't hear you. Tears just rolled off of its cold, uncaring surface and sank into the empty soil beneath. He wouldn't let that be all that remained of Ashley. He couldn't. 

Slowly, he drew the lighter from his pocket. His thumb found the sparkwheel, and he silently prayed the damn thing would light on the first try. That was the only chance he was likely to get. Chris licked his lips anxiously. Before his nerve could falter, he flicked the lighter and suppressed an exclamation of relief when it caught.

Snik! 

The creature dropped whatever unrecognizable appendage it had been devouring and, faster than Chris could possibly perceive, whirled towards him and shrieked, blasting the putrid stench of death and blood directly into his face. He couldn't stop the scream of horror that ripped out of his chest. Every muscle in his body threatened to lock up again, but he knew if that happened, he was dead. Before panic could get in the way, he threw the lighter toward the drums. 

The wendigo was on his arm like a pitbull, teeth tunneling through the fabric of his coat, sweater, and shirt like they weren't there and ripping into the meat of his forearm. The weight of the monster flattened him onto his back and jarred his ribs excruciatingly. This time his scream was one of agony. The thing's jagged teeth plunged down to the bone, the power of its jaws threatening to snap his arm in two. He punched frantically at its head with his other hand, yelling and wailing mindlessly, but he might as well have been hitting a bowling ball, for all the good it did. The wendigo just bore down harder, and Chris definitely felt the bones in his arm crunch.

"Aaughaah!!" He started kicking madly, like a trapped animal, utterly mindless of his injured ankle. He was dimly aware that the lighter should have ignited something by now and hadn't. And that snuffed his last, pathetic hope of getting out of this alive; he was fighting the inevitable, now. And with him died the knowledge of where they were. Even Sam, if she survived, couldn't know they'd gone down into this trap door. They'd just… disappear. Exactly like the twins. So the Browns would not only be burying an empty casket, but they'd be doing so not knowing if she was really dead. 

And your parents will be doing the same to you. 

He screamed louder and fought harder, aiming a punch right at the thing's big, gray eyeball. The wendigo released his arm with a huff of displeasure and wrapped its gangly fingers around his throat, lifting him into the air like he weighed nothing. Chris' screams were abruptly cut off in a choked gasp. Both arms came up, but only one hand was actually able to pry at the monster's claw, but he might as well have been prying at granite. His feet ran through the air wildly, looking for purchase on anything. The contact of the thing's claw against the burns on his neck and jaw made him want to scream, but he couldn't. The wendigo drew him close to its face, looking him dead in the eyes. There was a flicker of something in those eyes, and Chris could feel it reflected in his own. Was it… recognition? There was something vaguely familiar about those stretched features. Something behind the cataracts of its eyes that he knew. Then the creature snorted, its face contorting in rage as its mouth stretched open and unleashed a scream that pierced his soul. 

And the moment was over. Whatever recognition he thought he felt was gone, and the monster slammed him hard against the wall behind him. The back of his head collided with stone, and white spots exploded across his dimming vision. His limbs went limp as he struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was difficult. Both the impact and the fact that his chest muscles were madly spasming to try and draw in oxygen made his ribs hurt so much he wanted to cry. Darkness engulfed his vision fully. His face felt tingly, full, and hot. For the first time since Josh's fucked up game, he could barely feel the burns on his jaw. His empty lungs cried out for new air, but his gaping mouth could not oblige. He tried kicking again, more weakly and attempted to wedge the fingers of his good hand between the claw and his throat, but it was no good. He felt the wendigo wrap its other hand over his head like a cowl; its long fingernails dug agonizingly into the soft flesh of his neck. He closed his useless eyes, waiting for the end to come. 

A massive thunderclap filled the chamber. Searing heat licked his face and hands. His back slammed into the wall again. A fidgeting weight smashed against his chest and face and then disappeared. A disorienting feeling of weightlessness swept over him, then a sharp pain lanced up from his ankle, and his legs buckled bonelessly beneath him. Blind agony made him scream when he landed on his ravaged arm. He could feel the air surging through his ragged throat, but he could hear neither the scream nor the ensuing coughing fit. All he could hear was that damned ringing he'd grown to detest. 

Chris rolled miserably onto his back and stayed like that until he felt a little less like puking. Then he opened his eyes and realized his glasses were gone. The cavern was filled with orange light; he guessed Josh's lighter must have found its mark after all. It just took its sweet time getting down to business. 

Not that he could see, but there didn't seem to be any sign of the wendigo. Slowly, agonizingly, he managed to get his feet under him, hugging his mangled arm to his throbbing side. Before endeavoring to straighten upright, he felt around the cavern floor with his good hand until his fingers stumbled across familiar plastic. He slid his glasses back onto his face with the practiced ease of a man who's done it since kindergarten. Miraculously, they weren't broken. Absolutely filthy? Yes. But not broken. He could deal with that. He straightened up as much as his broken body would allow and quickly looked around. His earlier impression held up. The wendigo was gone. Not killed, he noticed with a pang of regret. There was no corpse. But at least the explosion had driven it away. The cavern was rapidly becoming unbearably hot. Embers had caught on Ashley's clothing, igniting little fires. 

"Oh, shit! No, no, no," he felt his mouth saying.  

Chris dropped to his knees by her side and batted at the flames to put them out. It burnt his hand to blisters, but the whole reason he'd done this was to salvage something recognizable of Ashley. He bit his lip to keep in a pained sob he couldn't hear, but the flames spread too quickly across the fabric for one meager hand to keep up. With how fast the fire spread across her, she must have been dragged through whatever was coming out of the barrels. Soon, she was engulfed, and Chris had to back away or get swallowed up with her. 

He sat there for a while, just watching her burn. Her clothes peeled away to nothing, revealing charred and boiling skin beneath. Her delicate fingers curled and blackened with the heat, her nails cracking and falling apart. Everything that made her her was stripped from her, bit by bit, and Chris could only watch, powerless to stop it. He'd failed to protect her, even in death. He'd failed to secure for her the basest modicum of identity and decency. He'd failed, because he was a failure. In everything. Every damn thing he touched turned to ash in his hands. 

"Ash to ashes," he muttered. "Ashley to ashes." The words repeated in his mouth nonsensically for some time before he could hear them. Then, when he could actually hear what he was saying, giggles bubbled up inside of him, completely humorless, frantic. Hysterical. It wasn't long before they decomposed into sobs. She’d looked out for him all night, even when he was too exhausted to look out for himself.  She’d saved his life. More than that, she’d had his back for as long as he’d known her. He told her he had hers. He should have had hers.

But he didn’t.

And now he never would.

[toogoodmusic]

TOO GOOD TUESDAY INTERVIEW: New Chums

New Chums may be a Phoenix based band but their roots extend from all over the country. The foursome includes Seth from California, Ben from Boston, Matt from Nashville and Cassandra from Michigan. Their diverse backgrounds have come together to form this indie rock band that is still riding the wave of the release of their debut EP, See It For Myself. The EP brings together big energy, heavy guitars and shining vocals that come together to form a sound that is both unique and familiar at the same time. Lucky for Too Good Music, the foursome recently took some time to answer some questions about the EP as well as their song, “Come On Come On.” They also discuss how they promoted their EP in a vending machine, what they would like to see before they die and much more below!

TOO GOOD MUSIC: So diving right into it, how did you guys come up with the name New Chums?

SETH (vocals/guitar): I got the name New Chums when I was on holiday in Sydney, Australia. I was in a history museum when I read a placard that described how when new prisoners were arriving in the Sydney harbor the current prisoners would say, ‘The New Chums are here.’  Something about the idea of random people coming together as New Chums resonated with me.  When I was putting the band together, and seeing how none of the band members knew each other when we started the band, the name New Chums only seemed fitting.

TGM: Interesting! So yeah going off that idea, you guys are from all over the country…how did you guys all meet and end up becoming a band?

MATT (guitar): Yea, like Seth said, no one knew each other before the band. All of us moved to Arizona over the past few years for various reasons, so we are all transplants to this area. Since I was new to town, I had just put up an online ad if anyone needed a guitar player for some paid gigs to reach out. Seth ended up emailing me and sending me a few of their early recordings. I liked what I heard and thought my guitar playing could really fill up their sound as there weren’t really extra guitar parts on the demos. We met up and jammed and got along really well, so that’s how it began for me. Same thing with Ben before me and then the 3 of us auditioned Cassandra a few months after I joined and it all clicked. So the current line-up formed pretty quickly and then 2 months later we went into the studio to record our first EP together.

TGM: Speaking of the EP what was the inspiration behind “Come On, Come On” and what does that song mean to you guys?

SETH: To me, “Come On, Come On” is about the overall feeling it leaves you with.  That feeling is going to be different for everyone who hears the song but my hope is that it fills people with energy and excitement, especially at a live show, and keeps them coming back as our shows get bigger and better.  What does “Come On, Come On” mean to us?  Hopefully it means we’ll be cashing huge paychecks in the not-so-distant future.  We can be a little sarcastic and dry if you can’t tell…

TGM: Ha! I can see that. Continuing on the EP, its titled See It For Myself – what is something that you’d like to see for yourself, in person before you die?

CASSANDRA (bass): On a large scale, I'd like to see the end of "us vs. them" mentality that seems to be pervasive right now. We are more alike than different, so I'd enjoy seeing people realize that and take a breath from all the narrow-minded BS. Smaller scale (and admittedly more selfish), I'd like to see a large venue filled with people who are singing along with all our songs.

SETH: A world tour with The Killers. Is that too much to ask for?

BEN (drums): I, personally, love seeing new countries. I’d love for the band to be able to travel overseas and play a bunch of shows. Touring elsewhere is a ton of fun, and it’d be a blast with this group.

MATT: I just had my first daughter 5 months ago, so I’ll be mushy and say I’d love to live to walk her down the isle at her wedding someday. Also, of course, along with the guys, I’d just love to get to the point where we were headlining tours and had a strong, sustainable fanbase across the US and abroad.

TGM: When you released your EP, you did it in a clever way involving vending machines. Can you tell more about the story behind that and how that happened?

CASSANDRA: First, you pour all your energy and focus into writing and arranging songs that you really like. Then you pour all your energy and focus into recording those songs, making them sound as good as they can. When you finally have that recording in your hands, you need to pour all your energy and focus into getting it into other peoples' hands. You do that any and every way you can; selling CDs at shows isn't enough, you need to reach wider. We had access to a vending machine at a large sports complex, so we threw a few copies in there, put a sticker on the outside of the machine that said "Support Local Music! You won't regret it" and we sold all the copies of our EP that we put in there. It helped break up the monotony of asking friends/fans to buy it via social media and in person at our shows. It's fun to think that people who didn't know our band, haven't seen us live, bought our EP in a vending machine and may be driving around listening to us right now.

TGM: Ha! That is really cool and what an interesting way to promote an EP and I bet the people that didn’t know you before and bought the EP enjoyed what they heard. With that being said how would you describe your sound?

SETH: I’d say our sound is guitar driven with an emphasis on great tones, big hooks and melodies you can’t get out of your head. We spend a lot of time fine-tuning our songs so there’s a unique element to each individual song. The blank canvas of the melody over a single guitar lends itself for interpretation to the rest of the band members and we all collaborate on it from there to ultimately develop what it blossoms into.

TGM: Let’s dive deeper into that - what is your writing process like? Is it more collaborative or individual?

MATT: Seth will typically bring a chord progression and lyrics already in tact for a song. Sometimes, we will just begin jamming on a brand new song in full rehearsals and just all start hashing parts in real time. Mostly though, Seth and I will sit down and I’ll begin writing guitar parts off of his original structure so we at least have a general map of what the guitars will do going into full band rehearsals. From there, we begin jamming on it full band and songs can go all sorts of different directions with everyone just throwing out ideas as they come. With the end product being very collaborative, each new song usually take several weeks in rehearsals to finalize. It’s crazy sometimes to hear how much dynamically or arrangement wise some of our songs end up from where they started at that first rehearsal. That’s the cool thing about writing and creating together, also being patient and working on a song until it feels right to everyone.”

TGM: I saw that you guys performed on the main stage at the Mesa Music Festival in Arizona  - what was that like? Any interesting stories from that festival?

BEN: It was hot and sweaty like rock n roll should be! The only real surprise for that show was actually finding and getting to the stage. It was our own little Spinal Tap moment. Overall, that was a fun one to play, though. Big stages are cool, and in some ways, are easier to play than smaller ones.

TGM: If you could headline one festival which one would it be?

MATT: I’d say Bonnaroo or Lollapalooza would be incredible

TGM: Those would be great - Bonnaroo is a favorite of mine so I’ll definitely have to make it out there if you guys headline! Individually, if you could only listen to (5) artists/bands for the rest of your life who would they be?

CASSANDRA: Wow, that's a tough question and I will be second-guessing my answer for weeks:  1) Elvis Costello and the Attractions 2) Cheap Trick 3) Frank Turner 4) Jimmy Eat World 5) Butch Walker

MATT: Weezer, Jimmy Eat World, The Beach Boys, MXPX and Copeland

SETH: In no particular order: Gerardo, Milli Vanilli, Chumbawamba, Smash Mouth, The Beatles (winks)

BEN: This is always a tough one to answer. There’s the Beatles that will always be timeless rock music and should be included. Further than that, though, I’d guess I’d want to find 4 other artists/bands that change things up a lot from record to record because I get bored easily. I think I’d just probably go crazy listening to only 5 bands.

TGM: And last but not least what does the rest of 2018 look like for you?

MATT: We will be staying busy playing mostly regional shows and a few Festivals through the Fall. There is always new music we are working on and have been playing a new song out about every 2 or 3 shows. So just keep writing and gearing up for our next run in the studio, no time table set on that yet.

A HUGE shout-out to Ben, Cassandra, Matt & Seth of New Chums for taking the time to answer some questions from Too Good Music! Be sure to keep up with them and everything new with New Chums below:

                         Facebook | Instagram | Spotify | Twitter | Website

[kbaldwin0609]

'The Bachelor' season premiere recap: Arie begins his race to the altar

Arie Luyendyk Jr. is racin’ to find a wife. (Photo: ABC)

Warning: This recap of the season premiere of The Bachelor contains spoilers.

Do elderly former reality stars deserve love, too? It’s a question that I fear will never be answered to our true satisfaction, rose lovers, but darn it if this season of The Bachelor isn’t going to try. Having resurrected former The Bachelorette runner up Arie Luyendyk Jr. from his death of real estate and mid-level racing obscurity, producers hope to break new ground with the first-ever grey-haired Bachelor… just not the one you were expecting.

Now that he’s had five years to heal his wounded heart, Arie is ready for “the most important race of his life”: finding a wife in nine short, heavily-produced weeks.

Man, is this previously-on recap still going on?

Photo: ABC

We get it, guys — Emily crushed Arie’s heart. But we’ve got 29 new “ladies” who want to get in his drivers’ seat, so how about we get this show on the road?

Photo: ABC

Sigh. Fine, let Sean and Catherine Lowe, the First Couple of Bachelor Nation, impart some “wisdom” to their single friend — and give their little boy Samuel something to talk about when he meets up with friends Ty (season 13), Ricki (Bachelorette, season 8), and Camila (season 18) in their weekly Bachelor Spawn-Anon meetings.

Photo: ABC

Hang in there, little buddy.

With the build-up over, Chris Harrison greets us at Casa Bachelor to introduce “some truly extraordinary women” who are ready to get wifed up. Robot roll call:

Chelsea, 29: Props to this single mom from Maine for not trotting out her little one, Sammy, for her intro package. The “real estate exec. assistant” also finds it “comforting” that her Bachelor is Arie, because he proved during Emily’s season that he’s not afraid to fake settle down with a woman and her child.

Caroline, 26: Another real estate professional! Though she’s “really good” at her job, Caroline says being a wife and mother is “at the top of my priority list.” Well, as that Rasta dude says at the end of Pretty Woman, “Some dreams come true, some don’t — but keep on dreamin’.”

Maquel, 23: This professional photographer from Utah is admittedly “jealous” of the happy couples she photographs… but not in a scary, Lifetime movie way, okay?

Nysha, 30: “The more blood, the better for me!” No, that’s not Nysha’s plan for eliminating her competition in the house — she’s a nurse, silly! One who likes patching up seriously-injured patients — and one who already took a Bachelor-approved Leap Of Faith™ by sky-diving for her 30th birthday.

Tia, 26: Living in the tiny town of Weiner, Arkansas means Tia and her friends have to “make our own fun” — like exercising their 2nd Amendment rights.

Tia’s got her gun.

Oh, look who it is!

Photo: ABC

If you thought Tia seemed a little familiar, what with her long-layered dark locks and her Southern twang, that might be because she’s modeled after/a “good friend” of Bachelor Nation favorite (and fellow small-town Arkansas girl) Raven Gates. (And if you’re playing Bachelor bingo, be sure to stamp “Bachelor in Paradise shoe-in” on your scorecard.)

Kendall, 26: What does “weird” look like on The Bachelor? It’s tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and surrounded by stuffed animals.

Photo: ABC

Yep, Kendall collects taxidermy, and her longest relationships tend to be with preserved animal carcasses, not human beings. Team Bachelor pushed things a little too far with the ukulele bit, though — now Kendall’s not only quirky, she’s annoying.

Bekah M.:  Much has been made of Bekah, both for her short haircut — how did she even get in the door??? — and for the fact that she’s so young. Though producers are playing coy with her age, you don’t need a birth certificate to see that this girl is just that — a girl. Honestly, she looks like she could be a stand-in for one of the kids on Stranger Things.

Photo: ABC

Marikh, 27: This stunningly beautiful woman co-owns an Indian restaurant with her mother and, even more impressively, she did not punch the producer who asked her to say this on camera:

Photo: ABC

Krystal, 29: Oh man, why do bad shows happen to good people? Krystal is a fitness coach who volunteers distributing food to the homeless men and women of San Diego, because her younger brother is currently living on the streets. “I try to treat people how I would want someone to treat him,” she says through tears.

Enough humanity! Send in the chattle — bathed, perfumed and bronzed for Arie’s enjoyment!

Photo: ABC

And the first “lady” out is… Caroline the realtor! She makes a cutesy joke about taking Arie “off the market,” and then beats a hasty retreat inside. Up next is Chelsea the single mom, followed by Kendall the token weirdo. Our first new face is Seinne, who works in real estate (Arie clearly has a type) and who’s also the first woman to bring Arie a gift: Elephant cufflinks. “An elephant never forgets, so don’t forget to find me inside,” Seinne says with a smile. Survey says? Just the right amount of cute.

Tia (who shall heretofore be known as Raven 2) hands Arie a small, plastic hot dog. “Please tell me you don’t already have a little wiener,” she drawls, as all the 7th grade boys who apparently produce this show crack up in the control room. Poor Arie, though, doesn’t quite seem to get the joke. “I do not have this,” he replies, holding up the trinket. “You did good.”

Next up is Bibiana, a fertility-minded executive assistant from Florida (“Oh my god, our babies would have blue eyes!”), followed by Bri, a sports reporter who greets Arie by tossing him a literal softball. Jenny the 25-year-old blonde gets the intro brush-off in favor of Brittane J., who decides to mark her territory by slapping a bumper sticker on Arie’s behind.

Photo: ABC

Jacqueline the research coordinator assures Arie all he has to do is “stand there and look pretty,” but Krystal disagrees: She commands Arie to close his eyes, take some deep breaths, and “reflect on feeling so grateful for everything leading to this moment.” (I suspect that somewhere, Peter Kraus is taking some much-needed deep breaths too.)

Nysha bucks convention by opting for a cocktail length dress rather than a gown, while Valerie the brunette waitress opts for a canary-yellow number that contrasts sharply with the purple undertones of her hair. Team Bachelor intercuts all the less showy arrivals with shots of the “ladies” in the house shifting nervously in their seats every time a new woman enters the mansion. Except for Chelsea, that is: “I’m not worried,” she sniffs. “There’s [sic] no threats.”

Bekah makes the first thematically-mandated auto entrance of the evening, driving up in a cherry red Mustang convertible. “I may be young,” she tells Arie, “but I can still appreciate something classic.” Translation:

Photo: ABC

And he LOVES it. “She is so beautiful,” he whispers as Bekah bounces inside.

Jenna, the 28-year-old social media manager, can’t stop waving her arms around during her introduction to Arie; Jessica the TV host emerges from the limo clutching something called a “gratitude rock,” which sounds like a hotel gift shop trinket — but points for effort, I guess?  Marikh the restaurant owner goes back to the spice well, joking about Arie’s “salt and pepper” hair, and then we get a brief glimpse of Olivia, a 23-year-old marketing associate from Chicago.

Becca K. (not to be confused with Bekah with a k) instructs Arie to get down on one knee and ask her if she’s “ready to do the damn thing.”

Photo: ABC

Is it me, or does long-suffering Arie seem a little annoyed? “That was a first for me,” he mutters drily to the camera, fishing Becca’s ring from his coat pocket like he can’t get it away from him fast enough. And still the limos keep coming.

Photo: ABC

A second social media manager? Perhaps that’s the new “VIP Cocktail Waitress.” Next up is Lauren J. from Louisiana, who one-ups Raven 2 and her plastic wiener by giving Arie some giant balls (in the form of Mardi Gras beads). But the Laurens aren’t done with us yet, folks.

Photo: ABC

And remarkably, they’re not all blonde.

Photo: ABC

The “Lauren Limo” tops out at four, and so it’s on to Ashley and her checkered flag; Brittany T., who attempts to say “You’re handsome” in Dutch (a language Arie speaks fluently); and Amber, who makes a memorable first impression by telling the Bachelor about one drawback of owning a spray-tan company:

Photo: ABC

But honestly, rose lovers, Amber’s ice-breaker is Emily Post-level conduct compared to Ali the personal stylist dreams up:

Photo: ABC

It’s a “pit stop”! Get it? Because he’s a racecar driver? Yeah, let’s just move on.

Photo: ABC

Okay, Annaliese, your joke about Arie’s “kissing bandit” nickname is cute, but talk to me when you’ve kept that mask on for days, like Jeff from Ashley’s season of The Bachelorette.

The deafening roar of an engine precedes our next arrival. “No she didn’t!” gasps one of the women watching from inside the mansion, as Maquel climbs out of an IndyCar. Honestly, did they really think Bekah was going to be the only contestant who showed up on wheels?  The other bachelorettes are so annoyed by Maquel’s flashy entrance, they park themselves right in the shot as she introduces herself to Arie.

Photo: ABC

Simmer down, “ladies” — your probably-not future husband is making his way inside right this very minute. Chelsea tries to offer him a drink, but Arie’s too focused on making his welcome speech sound as earnest as possible.

Awkward.

An off-camera producer mouths something like “take the damn drink, you moron” at Arie, and he pauses to accept the glass from Chelsea. “See, I’m already messing up!” moans our Bachelor with a chuckle.

Seeing that Chelsea already had the pimp spot, is it any wonder that she’s the first one to “steal” Arie for a chat? “I’m not a rude person,” she says. “But I want to get to know him quickly so I can proceed with the rest of my life, possibly with him.” As we saw from her introduction, Chelsea’s whole shtick is being “mysterious” — which mainly means talking about herself in the past perfect tense, like “there have been some sacrifices that were made.” And he LOVES it. “Chelsea’s very good at leaving me wanting a little bit more,” he says. “It’s working.”

Unfortunately for Chelsea, she barely has time to drape Arie in her shimmering veil of mystery before Maquel shows up and politely asks to cut in. Though Maquel could not have been nicer about it, Chelsea immediately begins swanning around the house complaining about “the girl that makes all the noise,” who interrupted her time with Arie. This, coupled with all the other snotty things we’ve seen Chelsea say so far tonight, makes it pretty clear that she’s getting the Villain Edit. And by “Villain Edit,” I mean that cameras have captured Chelsea being bitchy several times, and producers have opted to use that footage.

Perhaps producers were focusing so much on Chelsea’s rude behavior because so many of the other women are actually being… nice to each other? Here they are sharing their feelings on interracial relationships:

Photo: ABC

And here they are bonding over the fact that, OMG, they’re on the freakin’ Bachelor!

Photo: ABC

Meanwhile, the get-to-know-you chats are proceeding apace. Brittany T. challenges Arie to a battery-operated car race…

Photo: ABC

…and even though her victory is totally fraudulent, she still claims her prize: The night’s first kiss. Cue the “nervous ladies start steppin’ up their game” montage! Kendall serenades Arie with an original ukulele composition about roses and fish; Caroline brings Arie some pizza (which looks like it was sitting out on the craft services table for a while, but again, points for effort); and Lauren G. shoves some fruit in Arie’s mouth and informs him that “pineapple” is her safe word.

Photo: ABC

Jenna the social media manager gives Arie a socks-off foot massage while blathering on about her “super-in-tune” senses and all the free food and “spa stuff” she gets on a regular basis. For some reason, Arie finds this whole flibbertigibbet act “intriguing” — it might have something to do with Jenna being a tall skinny blonde, but that’s just a guess.

Oh snap, look who’s here.

Photo: ABC

The first impression rose means that the clock (biological and otherwise) is ticking. Form an orderly line, “ladies” — and then watch as Chelsea cuts to the front. “I understand that I’m in a sea of beautiful women and they could possibly get mad at me,” she explains, “but I don’t care.” Arie doesn’t seem to mind, either.

Photo: ABC

“You snuck up on me there, but I liked it,” he murmurs after their face-mash time. Will Chelsea’s surprise smooch top Jenny’s graphite portrait of Arie in a sports car? Or Jessica’s reveal that her late father met Arie and rooted for him on the race track? Or Bekah’s flirtatious, short-haired joie de vivre?

Yes. Yes, it will.

Photo: ABC

Clink clink clink! Here comes Chris Harrison and his Butter Knife of Bad News. “Ladies,” please proceed to the rose ceremony… as soon as you’re done with your coffee.

Photo: ABC

Indeed, the sun is beginning its arc across the sky over Casa Bachelor when Arie finally begins handing out roses. Becca K., Marikh, Kendall, Lauren G., Krystal, Bekah M., Lauren S., Seinne, Caroline, Brittany T., Bibiana, Annaliese, Jenna, Valerie, Jacqueline, Jenny, Lauren B., Ashley, Tia, Maquel, and Chelsea are still in the running to become America’s Next Top Fiancée. Which means this is goodbye for Ali, Amber, Bri, Brittnae J., Jessica, Lauren J., Nysha and Olivia.

Emotionally drained and exhausted from the all-nighter, poor Jessica takes the rejection the hardest — but her tears are more for her father than the Bachelor. “Now my dad will never meet my husband,” she says sadly. (Remember kids: It’s never a bad time to call your parents to say “I love you.”) Amber the spray-tan proprietor is pretty crushed, too. “I’m so disappointed in myself,” she says in a wobbly voice. “I had, like, my family rooting so hard for me. I feel like they’re going to be disappointed, you know?” Focus on the positive, honey: They didn’t disown you for going on The Bachelor, so they’ll probably forgive you, someday, for getting kicked off.

Wow, have we made it to the “this season on The Bachelor” preview already? Man, those two hours just flew by. As usual, the super-tease has a stellar crying montage.

Suitable for framing. (Photos: ABC)

Oh, and how about that disembodied voice barking “I don’t want to be on the show! I want my girl!” at a producer toward the end of the preview? Any guesses on which “lady” that riled-up beau belongs to? (I’m going with Raven 2 or Krystal.)

Congrats on getting through week 1, rose lovers! Now tell me, did Arie meet your (lowered) expectations? Post your thoughts now! And be sure to check out Chris Harrison’s behind-the-scenes blog here.

The Bachelor airs Mondays at 8 p.m. on ABC.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

Winter TV Preview: The scoop on 10 returning favorites

Inside the Bellas’ final riff-off in ‘Pitch Perfect 3’: An aca-oral history

New Year’s resolutions celebrities should be making for 2018

[theclaravoyant]

I may be late to the party but "You forgot to pay the electricity bill and now our lights just went off. What now?" for fitzskimmons if you've still got left over free time to fill lol

AN ~ anything for you! :D this one goes out to anyone doing finals r/n i know that feel. shoutout to that time I had a breakdown bc there was no meat in my sandwich whoot. I hope everything goes well and I wish you all the mental equivalent of a soothing bath when you need it most.

in the meantime, there’s fitzskimmons (with extra skimmons)! this is a little hurt/comfort, arguably mild angst w/ happy ending, rated G/T, I hope you like it!

Read on AO3 (~1300wd)

-

“OHHHH! HEY!”

“NO, YOU CAN’T-“  

“SSHH! Shh, shh-“  

“You’re right, shh,”

Jemma rolled her eyes at Fitz and Daisy’s shushing from the other room. They’d recently acquired a new videogame and had agreed to play it quietly, since Jemma was still studying, but it wasn’t really working out. Jemma could hardly blame them, she supposed, even as she bit her lip and turned her music up a little to drown them out. Even she was getting to that point in semester where she’d rather hang upside down off the back of the couch and join in with their shoot-em-up antics. And she loved homework – so they said – “more than life itself.”

All of a sudden though, the universe had apparently decided this was one too many slips in their promise. The lights went out and the music went silent, and suddenly Jemma’s highlighter was the brightest thing in the room. Even the clock was out. The only other light came from her phone – alerting her that it had been taken off charge – and the little corner of glow-in-the-dark space stickers above their bed that Daisy had put there once, for fun. They spoke to a whimsy and self-assurance that Jemma usually loved about her…

Just not when it came with this level of forgetfulness.

Jemma ground her teeth together, and tried not to throw open the bedroom door too hard as she stalked back into the lounge.

“What was that?” she demanded icily, glad the others could not see her expression properly. She was way too stressed out and exhausted to think about this rationally.

“Power’s down,” Fitz said. “Did you have the kettle and the microwave on at the same time again?”

“In the bedroom?” Jemma challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Then Daisy raised a hand.

“Uh, guys, I think this is my bad,” she confessed. “I may have forgotten to pay the electricity bill. Well, I mean, I didn’t forget. I was sort of in a standoff with the building manager about the laundry situation and I said I wouldn’t pay our electricity or our water til it was fixed because it’s in our tenancy rights but –“

“Is it?!” Jemma challenged. “Is it in our tenancy rights? Well that’s fantastic. Is there a bloody great candle in there too? Hmm? Perhaps some glow sticks?”

“Jem, come on.” Daisy held up her hands in surrender, trying to step lightly. “You were mad about it too.”

“I still am!” Jemma jabbed a finger back at where her study notes were waiting – “but I have exams to do. Did you have to take this stand now of all times? It’s finals, Daisy! I need power! I need my computer! I need light! How could you be so inconsiderate? Or were you just so thick-headed that you didn’t see this coming?!”

“HEY!” Fitz stepped forward, putting himself between them. “That’s uncalled for, Jemma. Come on.”

“You’re taking her side?” Jemma glared, tears in her eyes. “You know how important this is to me!”

“I just think you need to calm down, that’s all. Daisy made a mistake, but –“

“But I’m being ridiculous. Okay. It’s only my whole future resting on these results. But okay. I’m going downstairs.”

Wiping her eyes, Jemma stormed back into her room, swept her belongings into a bag, and stormed back out again, right past Fitz and Daisy and out the door.

-

Once Jemma was gone, Daisy sunk back onto the couch and checked her own eyes for tears.

“She’s right, I’m being stupid,” she sniffled, digging for her phone in the pile of clothes and food packets that had built up around them. “I’ll call the landlord and sort this out right now. Just pay the damn thing.”

“I don’t think you should do that,” Fitz advised, taking her hands gently in his to stop her fretting. “Otherwise when are we going to fight this? Christmas? New Year? Then we’ll all be back to school and it’ll start again. Stick to your guns, Daisy! Or are you going to give up your principles for a girl, hm?”

He nudged her playfully, and the tiniest of smiles cracked through the fear and onto her face.

“There she is,” Fitz encouraged. “Come on, you know Jemma would be right alongside you on this crusade any other day. She’s just stressed out of her brain right now. And you know she has these exams in the bag. She’ll be fine. And a new washing machine won’t shrink her sweaters, so she’ll thank you in the end, right?”

Daisy sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed, and with renewed vigour, tossed the phone back onto the pile of mess on the couch. “Screw that guy, it’s Jemma we’ve got to worry about. And I’ve got an idea.”

-

“Jemma. Jemma.”

“Mm?”

Jemma jolted awake to the feeling of someone tapping her elbow. She dragged her face up off the table and blinked, bleary-eyed, surprised to find herself in the internet café around the corner, with Daisy in her face and Fitz standing at the end of the table, looking on with concern. She was not sure how much time had passed since she’d left. Was it morning already? Or was her tea still warm?

“What ‘re you doing here?” she mumbled.

“We’re here to bring you home,” Daisy promised. “I’m sorry about the blackout, but I think we’ve reached a compromise you’ll appreciate.”

Jemma nodded, feeling too tired for words like compromise and appreciate, and preferring to all but flop into Fitz’s arms where he waited, as Daisy wilfully entangled herself in all of Jemma’s belongings (“how did you get all this down here?!”). Her brain was full of white noise as they made their way back to the apartment, but by the time they stepped over the threshold, Jemma was starting to remember why she was mad. It didn’t feel as visceral anymore – she felt burnt out, and she was still drop-dead tired – but she clenched her teeth together. Whatever Daisy had, she thought warningly, had better be good.

Fortunately, it was.

“Now, admittedly, I didn’t do this all myself,” Daisy confessed. “But Fitz has rigged up this place with a generator, so the fridge, kettle, and the odd charger should be working. Your laptop battery is supercharged, and… I found a couple candles.”

Daisy led the way and Fitz walked Jemma into the kitchen, where candles were clustered near the chargers and keys; the sink; the kettle; the fridge. The lounge and coffee table had been cleared of clothes, and rubbish, and other junk, and dotted here and there with candles too. As Daisy led her and Fitz down the hall, Jemma even spotted candles in their bedroom, but Daisy kept going all the way to the bathroom, where a warm and rosy scent floated out to meet her. Daisy smiled apologetically, and pushed the door open, gesturing for Jemma to continue inside.

“Daisy,” Jemma whispered, her eyes trailing the display of candles that danced around the room. There were a couple of new glow-in-the-dark stars in the corner of the mirror. She smiled. “What is this?”

“I’m sorry I was inconsiderate with my timing, and that our landlord’s a dick. And I’m sorry that you’re so stressed out. Fitz and I will shut our faces - for real this time – so you can take the night off, okay? We love you. I love you.”

Jemma nodded, tearing up. “Love you too, Daisy. Sorry I called you thick-headed. You should know, your stubbornness is one of your best qualities.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy scoffed. “Enjoy that warm bath while it lasts, ‘cause our water bill’s on final notice too. Loveyoubye.”

Blowing her a kiss, Daisy ducked out the door and shut it behind her. Jemma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came to mind. At this point, she was not even sure she followed what was going on. What she did know was that her body seemed to be climbing into a warm, lovingly prepared bath of its own accord, and she was hardly one to argue with that.

[ephemeralem0tions]

Hi! I've read your summary of Levihan fanfic recommendations and I've noticed that you are fond of the concept "pretend lovers". I'd love to read your version of pretend lovers, if you don't mind. (or post your Levihan art if a story is too much.) Thanks :D

*Casually inserts self in a cameo in my own fics* Can you spot me? XD

Anyways, college will start tomorrow and I’m so anxious! But for the mean time, your wish is my command ;)

P.S. I stan Coldplay 

Impress (LeviHan - Pretend Lovers)

Theme: Pretend Relationship

Rating: PG

Warning: Curse Words

send your requests/anons here x.

For the thirty-sixth time around, he turned around to face her and gave her a big fat “NO”. His face was already evidently annoyed, and a frown was already forming on her lips after so much persuasion, only to face rejection.

“Oh come on Levi! I know you also want to go to that concert! You can have the other ticket! I’m not even interested in that band!” she pleaded, but it only made him groan. He’s been hearing the same statement for the past four hours and she was still at it. Admittedly, yes, the offer is tempting, but its her purpose he questions.

“I’m not helping you get tickets for your boyfriend four eyes” he hissed. Yes, she wanted those tickets for someone else, not herself.

“He’s not even my boyfriend!” she countered “Well, yet. He promised me he’ll give me a chance if I manage to get him tickets. You know I’ve already spent my allowance money on my experiments, so this is the last resort I have”

His eyebrows furrowed. She’s worth more than a concert pass. Whoever the douche was, he sure didn’t know how brilliant and amazing the woman was, despite her frequent freaky behavior.

“No” he repeated again, firmly.

“Please! All you have to do is appear in the event. I’ll already study everything and you don’t even need to lift a single finger” she was already using her big doe eyes, but he wasn’t falling for that trick. At least not yet. He had managed to set his personal best at resisting them today. Two hours more than the past record.

She started pulling out the big guns. Making her eyes wider, glassier and more persistent than usual. Those pretty hazel irises she knew he cannot resist.

“Remind me why I have to be there again?” he sighed, and she perked up hearing those words. He definitely fell into her trap. Like always.

“Because its a couples event. You have to pretend to be my boyfriend for that time” his frown became deeper. “But you just at least appear so they see I’m with someone”

“Alright shitty glasses. I get it” he replied.

“Yes! Meet me tomorrow at the entrance of the Central Stadium!” she yelled at him from across the hallway. He didn’t even notice she was already away till her voice echoed from the distance. She gave him one final wave, and a heart melting smile before she disappeared.

Great. He was going to be her boyfriend for a day, to impress a guy who wouldn’t even let her be his girlfriend for a day without compensation.

“So what is this game about again?” he asked, as he trotted beside her who skipped excitedly. As promised, they met up in front of the stadium and now walking towards the event hall. He sighed upon seeing that she even wore the band’s shirt even though she had no fucking idea who ‘Coldplay’ was. She sure was really trying hard to impress the guy

“Its a guessing game. It will most likely be their songs and I have listened to every single album they have released last night” yeah, she reeked of coffee again.

“Welcome! May I get your names please, and your team name!” a perky brunette greeted when they reached the registration desk.

“Hanji Zoe and Levi Ackerman” she replied for the both of them.

“Your team name please?” she asked again.

“Team Titans?” it came off more like a question than an answer. He gave her a glare with her weird nerdish innuendos. This is why people avoided her, because they don’t get her.

“No silly” the receptionist chuckled. “Our team name requirement needs to be a combination of both your names. Like a ship!”

They looked at each other. He as always, had a stoic and cold expression, but she was rather embarrassed in his opinion. Her cheeks were flushed red and she was speechless, mouth hanging agape as if her brain suddenly hanged. And those moments are really rare for an intellectual girl like her. Damn she was cute.

“Well since you two can’t think of one. I’ll name it! You are officially dubbed LeviHan” she brunette declared, handing them both one sticker each with their team name to attach to their shirts. Her ponytail bounced from behind her, a sinister smile plastered on her face which give him creeps. What the fuck was wrong with this girl?

They slowly backed away from her and made their entrance to the event hall, where people were already looming and trying to find seats in the busy room.

He scanned the area. Pairs of seats are placed at least a meter away from each other, so no team could cheat and copy answers. A tablet and touch pen laid on the table, where they could write their answers after the host up front on the stage shoots the question.

The music started to die down, and everyone was requested to find their respective places. They opted for a more low key position, down at the back corner, where no one would mind them that much.

“The mechanics are simple! You just need to write your answer on the tab in front of you in the span of thirty seconds. If your answer is correct, your tab will glow green and automatically move on to the next question. If you are wrong, it will glow red and your screen will be stuck to your last answer” the host started up. “Now ladies and gentlemen, please write your team name on the tab”

Hanji immediately picked up the pen and wrote in the messiest way possible. He was almost anxious that it couldn’t be read by the android, but silently whispered his thanks when the sides of the gadget glowed green and automatically emptied the screen.

“Great! I see everyone is ready and registered. To win this game, you must be the last couple standing after answering all our questions. Only the top Coldplay fanatic can pass this test” the host spoke again. “Now for the first question. What is the full name of the lead vocalist?” he heard his partner cuss from the side.

“I memorized songs not facts and background” she murmured, panic evident in her features. He sighed and stared at her, she will definitely fail if he would not help out.

“Christopher Anthony Martin” he whispered, sight directed up front so it looked like he didn’t care at all.

“What?” she looked at him with wide eyes.

“I said Christopher Anthony Martin. Now write it on the board before we loose time” he repeated, and she did what she was told to do so. Soon enough, green light emitted from their own tab, making her smile wide at him. They were going to win this game.

“What song featured Beyonće?”

“Hymn for the Weekend”

“Who in the band is left handed?”

“The bassist. Guy Berryman”

“In 1997, the band’s name was?”

“Starfish”

She gave him a weird look.

“What?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Who names their band Starfish?” she questioned him.

“Says the girl who named her team Team Titan” he rolled his eyes. “Quit talking and start writing”

“Whose death wake did they perform for?”

“Steve Jobs” she continued with her disbelieving look but he did not mind her anymore.

“For which three companies did they turn down contracts?”

“Coke, Gatorade and GAP”

“Who married first in the band?”

“The drummer. Will Champion”

They continued doing so, for the rest of the day. Hanji did come up with her own answers once in a while, when the questions were about ‘what’s the title of the song’ or ‘complete the lyrics’. She most definitely did her research.

“Yes!” she giggled, staring at the two tickets in her hand for the fifth time around as the walk away from the stadium. The setting sun definitely made her prettier from his view. Her unique nose, glasses, eyes, smile illuminated by the warm glowing light. He considered it a mission success in helping her and making her happy.

“So you can go to your shitty boyfriend now shitty glasses” he stopped and folded his arms over his chest. He honestly felt annoyed by the fact that his hard work will go to someone else when he did it for her. But whatever makes her happy, supposedly could make him happy too. Right?

“Oh Levi!” he took a step back, as she took him in one of her bone crushing hugs. On any other day, he would have shoved her away or avoided it. But perhaps the afternoon nostalgia made him a bit softer? Or was it that he was mentally tired after remembering all the facts about his favorite band.

A piece of hard paper was suddenly placed in his hand. The other ticket, as she promised was right in his grasp. She gave him a wide smile but he returned to it with a frown.

“Take it shitty glasses” he put back the ticket inside her palms. “Just go and have a date with your boyfriend or whatever” he ‘tsked’.

“No silly” she gave it back to him, and this time, encased it with his fingers. Now she was holding his closed fist with her warm hands which sent shivers down his spine. Her touch is so comforting. “I got this ticket for you, not for anyone else. Because I know you wouldn’t shell out money even if your favorite band went to town. I couldn’t buy you tickets so I decided to get you one with your help”

His mouth hung agape. She did all of it for him? It didn’t quite process in his mind yet.

“You tricked me? This is for me? But what about the other ticket? I thought this was supposed to be for your boy friend?” his forehead scrunched up with his confusion. She chuckled after all his questions.

“Yes I tricked you. This is all for you. I’ll meet you at the concert hall tomorrow night, the other one is for me to accompany you. And yes, it is for my boy friend” she left him dazed and frozen on the side walk, while she ran away from him.

“O-Oi! Four eyes!” he tried to call for her, but she was already waving at him goodbye from the other side of the street. Damn that stubborn ass unpredictable woman.

[boxession]

Firstly I would like to say a huge thank you to Aqib Javed from CC Beauty for sending BoXession this box to review.

I absolutely love CC Beauty box! This is one I regularly subscribe to So imagine my excitement when I found out I would be reviewing it for a second time! CC Beauty Box (in case you haven’t already heard me rave about it) sends you 4-5 normally full size high-end items a month! Brands like Too Faced, Lancôme, Gucci, YSL and Dior just to name a few regularly get sent to your door for under £30 a month!

It gets better, they also have a generous points system as well, 10 points to the pound! So it’s easy to build up an extra treat for yourself from the large selection of high-end items on the Website.

You can see my excitement and sheer delight in my live unboxing here and give me a cheeky like:

So into the Box…

This month it came packed in a sleek black magnetic close box With a CC sticker on. the items inside are wrapped in a faux silk cloth everything about this box screams luxury! And let’s face it that’s what we all crave in a box.

And what was in the truly amazing February edition?

Gucci Guilty Black Body Wash 50ml RRP £9.99

I have had this before with my points and I must say This smells amazing and foams up well leaving you feeling and smelling like a million bucks. It really adds a little luxury to your shower and I’m so glad it was in this months box.

Lancôme Advanced GENIFIQUE Youth Activating Concentrate 5ml RRP £7.25

This is far more powerful than the original  from Lancôme to the time of 40%! It targets 48 skin proteins instead of 2 impressive I know. A little goes a long way with this so the 5ml sample gives you a decent chance at seeing the results!

Dior DiorShow Bold Brow Instant Brow Volumizing Brow Mascara shade 021 Medium RRP £22.00

I love this! Well who doesn’t like Dior?! I found this product becoming a part of my daily routine, it’s said to achieve lush, full, groomed brows and it does exactly that! It’s a game changer for sure. It’s easy to apply and gives instant results and the packaging is to die for.

Velvet 59 Lipstick in Pink Pipeline from The Malibu Sunset Collection RRP £18.00

This creamy opaque lipstick it’s amazing. How gorgeous is that packaging and the pink shade is just, words cannot describe. I’m not a huge pink fan but I love this the shade will suit almost anyone and the formula is amazing! It’s long lasting, stays well and smells truly good enough to eat.

I’ve not really come across this brand before but now I have I want more! This is a must have for any lipstick obsessed  or no obsessed for that matter! You have to get it just to try it. It looks, wears, and smells amazing what more do you need?!

Talika Lipocils Expert Eyelash 10ml Gel RRP £39

This is a very welcome repeat! I swapped my bit off on BoXession to get my hands on a few backups of these. I’m currently on my 3rd one and wasn’t looking forward to shelling out all the money on another! This serum is amazing I get so many compliments on my natural lashes now and it’s thanks to this! I don’t need to get professional treatments on my lashes anymore (much to my beauticians disgust) thanks to this. It helps strengthen lengthen and curl you lashes! It really is all that and more. This alone is worth the box price wise and a little more!

Giorgio Armani Eyeshadow Brush no14 RRP £29

I must say I have a fair few brushes and this easily beats the likes of nars it’s so soft but also firm giving you amazing application and precision. Its dome shaped so lets you add a precise sweep of colour over the eyes. The eye shadow not only applies amazingly on the eyes it’s also firm enough to contour and highlight to create dramatic and glamourous eye looks.

What’s not to love about this Box?

I loved everything about this box! There is so many new and old favourite products this month! I’m always super excited for this box to arrive because this is a box that never fails to impress and amaze me and i’m admittedly very hard to please when it comes to makeup!

I believe cosmetics are a luxury and should feel like one, I want to feel like a million bucks when I put my make up on and this box helps me achieve that on a budget!

Anyone that knows me will tell you CC Beauty is the first box I recommend to anyone that asks, it’s just always astounding value for money  and amazingly luxurious!

I have brought previous boxes and I will buy many future boxes, so I really have put my money where my mouth is with this box. So ditch the boxes that fail to impress and get something truly amazing delivered every month!

Stuck for a gift idea? Not anymore hint hint men of the world! (Perfect valentines gift).

I can’t see how any make up lover would dislike this box, it has timeless classics like Dior and more funky top of the line new brands such as Too Faced this box is great for the young and the old. Even if you’re not a brand junkie like me it give you a great way to try out the higher end products for a snip of the price. Iv honestly made so many must have beauty discoveries since getting this box and this months is worth every penny!

Don’t believe? me lets crunch numbers!!

Gucci Guilty Black Body Wash 50ml RRP £9.99

Lancôme Advanced GENIFIQUE Youth Activating Concentrate 5ml RRP £7.25  (20 ml is £29 so this is the price per ml)

Dior Show Bold Brow Instant Brow Volumizing Brow Mascara shade 021 Medium RRP £22.00

Velvet 59 Lipstick in Pink Pipeline from The Malibu Sunset Collection RRP £18.00

Talika Lipocils Expert Eyelash 10ml Gel RRP £39

Giorgio Armani Eyeshadow Brush no14 RRP £29

Drum roll please! Total RRP £125.24 that’s more than triple you money as the most expensive price for the box is just £29.99! Stunning!

How do I get it?

A few options here: 

Monthly rolling Subscription £29.99

3 Month Subscription £74.99 (£24.99 a box)

6 Month Subscription £147.54  (£24.59 a box ). There is also a special valentines offer on at the moment if you sign up to the 6 month plan you get a free too faced love pallet! Amazing I know!

12 Month Subscription £280.86 (£23.39 a box)

Shipping is free to the UK! Boxes usually ship out via Royal Mail and payments are taken on the 5th. You can cancel by emailing them or skip a months box if your going to be away. They also regularly add promotional codes giving you even better value for money!

You can get your hands on this amazing box, or browse the range of high-end treats available on the website here:https://ccbeauty.co.uk/

And get the latest updates on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ccbeautyltd/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ccbeauty.co.uk

Once again I would like to say a huge thank you to CC BEAUTY for the continued collaboration, and the chance to review my favourite Subscription Box. And an even bigger one to you for reading xoxo

CC Beauty Review by Sam – February 2018 Firstly I would like to say a huge thank you to Aqib Javed from CC Beauty for sending BoXession this box to review.

[kbaldwin0609]

'The Bachelor' season premiere recap: Arie begins his race to the altar

Arie Luyendyk Jr. is racin’ to find a wife. (Photo: ABC)

Warning: This recap of the season premiere of The Bachelor contains spoilers.

Do elderly former reality stars deserve love, too? It’s a question that I fear will never be answered to our true satisfaction, rose lovers, but darn it if this season of The Bachelor isn’t going to try. Having resurrected former The Bachelorette runner up Arie Luyendyk Jr. from his death of real estate and mid-level racing obscurity, producers hope to break new ground with the first-ever grey-haired Bachelor… just not the one you were expecting.

Now that he’s had five years to heal his wounded heart, Arie is ready for “the most important race of his life”: finding a wife in nine short, heavily-produced weeks.

Man, is this previously-on recap still going on?

Photo: ABC

We get it, guys — Emily crushed Arie’s heart. But we’ve got 29 new “ladies” who want to get in his drivers’ seat, so how about we get this show on the road?

Photo: ABC

Sigh. Fine, let Sean and Catherine Lowe, the First Couple of Bachelor Nation, impart some “wisdom” to their single friend — and give their little boy Samuel something to talk about when he meets up with friends Ty (season 13), Ricki (Bachelorette, season 8), and Camila (season 18) in their weekly Bachelor Spawn-Anon meetings.

Photo: ABC

Hang in there, little buddy.

With the build-up over, Chris Harrison greets us at Casa Bachelor to introduce “some truly extraordinary women” who are ready to get wifed up. Robot roll call:

Chelsea, 29: Props to this single mom from Maine for not trotting out her little one, Sammy, for her intro package. The “real estate exec. assistant” also finds it “comforting” that her Bachelor is Arie, because he proved during Emily’s season that he’s not afraid to fake settle down with a woman and her child.

Caroline, 26: Another real estate professional! Though she’s “really good” at her job, Caroline says being a wife and mother is “at the top of my priority list.” Well, as that Rasta dude says at the end of Pretty Woman, “Some dreams come true, some don’t — but keep on dreamin’.”

Maquel, 23: This professional photographer from Utah is admittedly “jealous” of the happy couples she photographs… but not in a scary, Lifetime movie way, okay?

Nysha, 30: “The more blood, the better for me!” No, that’s not Nysha’s plan for eliminating her competition in the house — she’s a nurse, silly! One who likes patching up seriously-injured patients — and one who already took a Bachelor-approved Leap Of Faith™ by sky-diving for her 30th birthday.

Tia, 26: Living in the tiny town of Weiner, Arkansas means Tia and her friends have to “make our own fun” — like exercising their 2nd Amendment rights.

Tia’s got her gun.

Oh, look who it is!

Photo: ABC

If you thought Tia seemed a little familiar, what with her long-layered dark locks and her Southern twang, that might be because she’s modeled after/a “good friend” of Bachelor Nation favorite (and fellow small-town Arkansas girl) Raven Gates. (And if you’re playing Bachelor bingo, be sure to stamp “Bachelor in Paradise shoe-in” on your scorecard.)

Kendall, 26: What does “weird” look like on The Bachelor? It’s tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and surrounded by stuffed animals.

Photo: ABC

Yep, Kendall collects taxidermy, and her longest relationships tend to be with preserved animal carcasses, not human beings. Team Bachelor pushed things a little too far with the ukulele bit, though — now Kendall’s not only quirky, she’s annoying.

Bekah M.:  Much has been made of Bekah, both for her short haircut — how did she even get in the door??? — and for the fact that she’s so young. Though producers are playing coy with her age, you don’t need a birth certificate to see that this girl is just that — a girl. Honestly, she looks like she could be a stand-in for one of the kids on Stranger Things.

Photo: ABC

Marikh, 27: This stunningly beautiful woman co-owns an Indian restaurant with her mother and, even more impressively, she did not punch the producer who asked her to say this on camera:

Photo: ABC

Krystal, 29: Oh man, why do bad shows happen to good people? Krystal is a fitness coach who volunteers distributing food to the homeless men and women of San Diego, because her younger brother is currently living on the streets. “I try to treat people how I would want someone to treat him,” she says through tears.

Enough humanity! Send in the chattle — bathed, perfumed and bronzed for Arie’s enjoyment!

Photo: ABC

And the first “lady” out is… Caroline the realtor! She makes a cutesy joke about taking Arie “off the market,” and then beats a hasty retreat inside. Up next is Chelsea the single mom, followed by Kendall the token weirdo. Our first new face is Seinne, who works in real estate (Arie clearly has a type) and who’s also the first woman to bring Arie a gift: Elephant cufflinks. “An elephant never forgets, so don’t forget to find me inside,” Seinne says with a smile. Survey says? Just the right amount of cute.

Tia (who shall heretofore be known as Raven 2) hands Arie a small, plastic hot dog. “Please tell me you don’t already have a little wiener,” she drawls, as all the 7th grade boys who apparently produce this show crack up in the control room. Poor Arie, though, doesn’t quite seem to get the joke. “I do not have this,” he replies, holding up the trinket. “You did good.”

Next up is Bibiana, a fertility-minded executive assistant from Florida (“Oh my god, our babies would have blue eyes!”), followed by Bri, a sports reporter who greets Arie by tossing him a literal softball. Jenny the 25-year-old blonde gets the intro brush-off in favor of Brittane J., who decides to mark her territory by slapping a bumper sticker on Arie’s behind.

Photo: ABC

Jacqueline the research coordinator assures Arie all he has to do is “stand there and look pretty,” but Krystal disagrees: She commands Arie to close his eyes, take some deep breaths, and “reflect on feeling so grateful for everything leading to this moment.” (I suspect that somewhere, Peter Kraus is taking some much-needed deep breaths too.)

Nysha bucks convention by opting for a cocktail length dress rather than a gown, while Valerie the brunette waitress opts for a canary-yellow number that contrasts sharply with the purple undertones of her hair. Team Bachelor intercuts all the less showy arrivals with shots of the “ladies” in the house shifting nervously in their seats every time a new woman enters the mansion. Except for Chelsea, that is: “I’m not worried,” she sniffs. “There’s [sic] no threats.”

Bekah makes the first thematically-mandated auto entrance of the evening, driving up in a cherry red Mustang convertible. “I may be young,” she tells Arie, “but I can still appreciate something classic.” Translation:

Photo: ABC

And he LOVES it. “She is so beautiful,” he whispers as Bekah bounces inside.

Jenna, the 28-year-old social media manager, can’t stop waving her arms around during her introduction to Arie; Jessica the TV host emerges from the limo clutching something called a “gratitude rock,” which sounds like a hotel gift shop trinket — but points for effort, I guess?  Marikh the restaurant owner goes back to the spice well, joking about Arie’s “salt and pepper” hair, and then we get a brief glimpse of Olivia, a 23-year-old marketing associate from Chicago.

Becca K. (not to be confused with Bekah with a k) instructs Arie to get down on one knee and ask her if she’s “ready to do the damn thing.”

Photo: ABC

Is it me, or does long-suffering Arie seem a little annoyed? “That was a first for me,” he mutters drily to the camera, fishing Becca’s ring from his coat pocket like he can’t get it away from him fast enough. And still the limos keep coming.

Photo: ABC

A second social media manager? Perhaps that’s the new “VIP Cocktail Waitress.” Next up is Lauren J. from Louisiana, who one-ups Raven 2 and her plastic wiener by giving Arie some giant balls (in the form of Mardi Gras beads). But the Laurens aren’t done with us yet, folks.

Photo: ABC

And remarkably, they’re not all blonde.

Photo: ABC

The “Lauren Limo” tops out at four, and so it’s on to Ashley and her checkered flag; Brittany T., who attempts to say “You’re handsome” in Dutch (a language Arie speaks fluently); and Amber, who makes a memorable first impression by telling the Bachelor about one drawback of owning a spray-tan company:

Photo: ABC

But honestly, rose lovers, Amber’s ice-breaker is Emily Post-level conduct compared to Ali the personal stylist dreams up:

Photo: ABC

It’s a “pit stop”! Get it? Because he’s a racecar driver? Yeah, let’s just move on.

Photo: ABC

Okay, Annaliese, your joke about Arie’s “kissing bandit” nickname is cute, but talk to me when you’ve kept that mask on for days, like Jeff from Ashley’s season of The Bachelorette.

The deafening roar of an engine precedes our next arrival. “No she didn’t!” gasps one of the women watching from inside the mansion, as Maquel climbs out of an IndyCar. Honestly, did they really think Bekah was going to be the only contestant who showed up on wheels?  The other bachelorettes are so annoyed by Maquel’s flashy entrance, they park themselves right in the shot as she introduces herself to Arie.

Photo: ABC

Simmer down, “ladies” — your probably-not future husband is making his way inside right this very minute. Chelsea tries to offer him a drink, but Arie’s too focused on making his welcome speech sound as earnest as possible.

Awkward.

An off-camera producer mouths something like “take the damn drink, you moron” at Arie, and he pauses to accept the glass from Chelsea. “See, I’m already messing up!” moans our Bachelor with a chuckle.

Seeing that Chelsea already had the pimp spot, is it any wonder that she’s the first one to “steal” Arie for a chat? “I’m not a rude person,” she says. “But I want to get to know him quickly so I can proceed with the rest of my life, possibly with him.” As we saw from her introduction, Chelsea’s whole shtick is being “mysterious” — which mainly means talking about herself in the past perfect tense, like “there have been some sacrifices that were made.” And he LOVES it. “Chelsea’s very good at leaving me wanting a little bit more,” he says. “It’s working.”

Unfortunately for Chelsea, she barely has time to drape Arie in her shimmering veil of mystery before Maquel shows up and politely asks to cut in. Though Maquel could not have been nicer about it, Chelsea immediately begins swanning around the house complaining about “the girl that makes all the noise,” who interrupted her time with Arie. This, coupled with all the other snotty things we’ve seen Chelsea say so far tonight, makes it pretty clear that she’s getting the Villain Edit. And by “Villain Edit,” I mean that cameras have captured Chelsea being bitchy several times, and producers have opted to use that footage.

Perhaps producers were focusing so much on Chelsea’s rude behavior because so many of the other women are actually being… nice to each other? Here they are sharing their feelings on interracial relationships:

Photo: ABC

And here they are bonding over the fact that, OMG, they’re on the freakin’ Bachelor!

Photo: ABC

Meanwhile, the get-to-know-you chats are proceeding apace. Brittany T. challenges Arie to a battery-operated car race…

Photo: ABC

…and even though her victory is totally fraudulent, she still claims her prize: The night’s first kiss. Cue the “nervous ladies start steppin’ up their game” montage! Kendall serenades Arie with an original ukulele composition about roses and fish; Caroline brings Arie some pizza (which looks like it was sitting out on the craft services table for a while, but again, points for effort); and Lauren G. shoves some fruit in Arie’s mouth and informs him that “pineapple” is her safe word.

Photo: ABC

Jenna the social media manager gives Arie a socks-off foot massage while blathering on about her “super-in-tune” senses and all the free food and “spa stuff” she gets on a regular basis. For some reason, Arie finds this whole flibbertigibbet act “intriguing” — it might have something to do with Jenna being a tall skinny blonde, but that’s just a guess.

Oh snap, look who’s here.

Photo: ABC

The first impression rose means that the clock (biological and otherwise) is ticking. Form an orderly line, “ladies” — and then watch as Chelsea cuts to the front. “I understand that I’m in a sea of beautiful women and they could possibly get mad at me,” she explains, “but I don’t care.” Arie doesn’t seem to mind, either.

Photo: ABC

“You snuck up on me there, but I liked it,” he murmurs after their face-mash time. Will Chelsea’s surprise smooch top Jenny’s graphite portrait of Arie in a sports car? Or Jessica’s reveal that her late father met Arie and rooted for him on the race track? Or Bekah’s flirtatious, short-haired joie de vivre?

Yes. Yes, it will.

Photo: ABC

Clink clink clink! Here comes Chris Harrison and his Butter Knife of Bad News. “Ladies,” please proceed to the rose ceremony… as soon as you’re done with your coffee.

Photo: ABC

Indeed, the sun is beginning its arc across the sky over Casa Bachelor when Arie finally begins handing out roses. Becca K., Marikh, Kendall, Lauren G., Krystal, Bekah M., Lauren S., Seinne, Caroline, Brittany T., Bibiana, Annaliese, Jenna, Valerie, Jacqueline, Jenny, Lauren B., Ashley, Tia, Maquel, and Chelsea are still in the running to become America’s Next Top Fiancée. Which means this is goodbye for Ali, Amber, Bri, Brittnae J., Jessica, Lauren J., Nysha and Olivia.

Emotionally drained and exhausted from the all-nighter, poor Jessica takes the rejection the hardest — but her tears are more for her father than the Bachelor. “Now my dad will never meet my husband,” she says sadly. (Remember kids: It’s never a bad time to call your parents to say “I love you.”) Amber the spray-tan proprietor is pretty crushed, too. “I’m so disappointed in myself,” she says in a wobbly voice. “I had, like, my family rooting so hard for me. I feel like they’re going to be disappointed, you know?” Focus on the positive, honey: They didn’t disown you for going on The Bachelor, so they’ll probably forgive you, someday, for getting kicked off.

Wow, have we made it to the “this season on The Bachelor” preview already? Man, those two hours just flew by. As usual, the super-tease has a stellar crying montage.

Suitable for framing. (Photos: ABC)

Oh, and how about that disembodied voice barking “I don’t want to be on the show! I want my girl!” at a producer toward the end of the preview? Any guesses on which “lady” that riled-up beau belongs to? (I’m going with Raven 2 or Krystal.)

Congrats on getting through week 1, rose lovers! Now tell me, did Arie meet your (lowered) expectations? Post your thoughts now! And be sure to check out Chris Harrison’s behind-the-scenes blog here.

The Bachelor airs Mondays at 8 p.m. on ABC.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

Winter TV Preview: The scoop on 10 returning favorites

Inside the Bellas’ final riff-off in ‘Pitch Perfect 3’: An aca-oral history

New Year’s resolutions celebrities should be making for 2018