#and that has to be Exclaimed in that moment lmao & mike can be over here like Augh [loop of [crying abt the extravaganza]]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also upon having rewatched the pre 3.0 bmc bwaycon panel i sort of also fully processed like mike rosengarten having said that when their bway run was announced to those involved he was really taken out when will was like "we all get to do christmas" re: the timing allowing for the extravaganza; now putting two and two together about Just how spontaneous that [baby please come home Christmas!!] realization & remark was given that in will's own words upon this occasion he wept like a child at first amongst everyone & then continued from within the setpiece bathtub while calling his mom, and i cannot imagine there was some interlude there of pulling back at all to check & reflect on calendars. real [shatters + the christmas extravaganza.... + this devastates nearby guitarists] moments

[vennilavee]

blood, bone, heart

Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)

Summary: you’re a former squad leader, now on levi’s special operations squad. this is the aftermath of your fallen teammates after encountering the Female Titan. 

Warnings: death, cursing

Word Count: 3182

A/N: listen i cant get levi out of my head ever since watching AoT. big shout out to @phen0l for inspiring this- honestly the line “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. But if you ever need to be weak, you can be weak in front of me.” inspired this entire story lmao

***

If you had been faster, maybe you could have saved them. Maybe you could have saved someone. If you had been able to rise above your own weak heart, maybe you could have saved them. Maybe their still fresh blood wouldn’t be carelessly splattered across the trees within Titan Forest. 

Your own blood begins to drip into your eyes from an open gash on your head. All of your movements feel incredibly slow in the air, the mocking hiss of the gas from your gear whistling into silence.

It’s just you, your dead teammates and the Female Titan in the middle of the forest. You can vaguely hear Eren screaming for you. Screaming for your dead teammates. Screaming for Levi. You hear yourself shouting at Eren to get out of here as you unsheath your blades with a sharp click. 

Her eyes are narrowed at you, as if daring you to come forward. You lunge forward, ignoring the black spots in your vision and wondering how this was the moment. How this was the moment that you were surely going to die.

What a way to die, though. Alongside your friends. Your team. Your family.

But Levi. Your Captain. Your Captain who has lost so much. Your Captain who just lost his team, his team that you could do nothing to save.

Rage washes over you, and you hear Eren screaming again. Except it feels much closer this time, the pain reverberating in your ears. Your ODM cables latch on to the shoulders of the Female Titan, your blades are swift, and you’re so close, you can nearly taste the shredding of her muscles-

And then you’re in the air again, an arm around your waist. You’re hurtling through the air, away from the Female Titan. Eren is still screaming- god, won’t that kid just shut up? 

Your arms are still outstretched towards the Female Titan and you look up, only to be met with Levi’s unreadable but piercing gaze. Something flickers across his face but it’s gone as soon as it comes.

You realize that it’s not Eren who’s been screaming this whole time. It’s you. Your throat is certainly bleeding by now, at the very least, it feels sore but it means nothing as you glance over Levi’s shoulder and see Petra’s body slumped against the tree. She’s facing the sky with empty eyes and it makes your blood go cold. Petra had always loved being outdoors- every time the two of you were outside, whether it was for training or finding wood, she told you to quit complaining about whatever chore it was, because at least you were able to be outside.

Her eyes had always been full of wonder and been brighter than the sky itself whenever she was in the presence of a bright, blue sky. You think she’s brighter than the sun itself.

And now her body is going cold, rotting at the floor of this forest of Hell.

You can’t see Oluo or Eld’s mangled bodies in the trees. You can’t see Gunther hanging from his broken cables. You only see the Female Titan, and you only see a distant, cold rage that buries itself deep in your throat. It rips through you with the force of a thousand blades and Levi tightens his hold when you start fighting against his grip with murder in your eyes.

Their bodies are fading away from your sight, meshing with the trees and shadows but you need to go back.

“I need to kill her,” You say hoarsely, the first sentence you’ve said since Levi found you.

“No,” Levi says easily, and you push against him again.

“I can do it. I need to do it!” You exclaim and wince when your side rubs against Levi’s cape.

“No. You’re out of gas, you’re bleeding from your head and you have a concussion. Our team is dead and I won’t-” Levi cuts himself off with a soft ‘tch’, “No. Be quiet. Listen.”

He says it so easily, as if his team being dead doesn’t shatter him. No matter how used to it he is, it always hurts like the first time. He doesn’t allow his mind to wander, ignoring past faces to focus on yours.

A bright flash of electricity, of green and yellow, and then a roar of pain that could only belong to a Titan. 

“Eren,” You whisper. Levi says nothing, only looking ahead through the trees. His slate grey eyes are as distant as ever and you take a page out of your Captain’s book and swallow the immense loss. You store the memories of Petra’s hauntingly empty eyes, of Oluo’s half broken face, of Eld’s mangled legs, of Gunther with a hole in his chest. You store them in a place that you’ll open later, when you have no other choice to.

For now, you hold onto Levi as he whisks you away to safety.

***

You’ve seen death. You’ve seen the death of comrades, of enemies, of teammates, of acquaintances over the years. Every time you think you can stomach it for the next time, it feels like the first time. This feels different, though. Maybe it’s because Levi squad has been one of the longest standing teams in the Survey Corps thus far. Maybe you had gotten comfortable, maybe cocky, maybe invincible with the Wings of Freedom on your back. 

You had been in the Survey Corps longer than any of them- you and Erwin had been in the same training group. You’re a veteran of the Corps by all means and had been a Squad Leader under Commander Shadis. But when Erwin had become Commander, he asked you to join the Special Operations Team, to be headed by Levi.

It made sense. Despite the years you’d put into the Survey Corps, you know Levi was meant to be Captain. Mike and Hange had teased you, telling you that it must have stung to know that a newcomer in comparison to you was promoted before you. And now you’d be his subordinate.

You had taken it in stride, telling them that Levi would have to earn your respect before you’d ever call him Captain. But in reality, he had your respect. All of it. You’ve seen him in action, you’ve seen him make difficult calls. You’ve seen him from the beginning, from when Erwin had brought him up from the Underground District. He’s always had your respect.

As a veteran, you should know better than to fight Levi on trying to go back for your team. You should know better than to recklessly face off with the Female Titan when you had no gas and were clearly injured.

But this time. This time, it was different. You’ve known helplessness, but this pales in comparison. 

Your breaths are steady against Levi’s neck, eyes focused behind him and around the periphery. The sun is heavy against your back as she breathes down your neck. You look up, eyes tearing from the intensity of it. The adrenaline begins to wear off, black dots coating your vision and Levi feels you slumping against him. He looks down at you, seeing your eyes starting to close.

He calls your name, shaking you awake, “Stay awake. That’s an order.”

You groan and rub the side of your face, “Yes, Captain.”

“We’re close,” Levi says, looking ahead and you nod as you try to fight off the urge to close your eyes.

***

Levi has never known you to be reckless. You’re many things- quick on your feet, intuitive and seasoned, but not reckless. So he doesn’t know what to think when he finds you flying towards the Female Titan with your blades in front of you. With blood dripping down your face and pain being ripped from your throat.

If he was listening from far away, he would almost think that your screams are the screams of a Titan.

He doesn’t know what to think of the bloodlust in your eyes and the already settling grief underneath. You’ve been around long enough to know how to grieve.

He supposes he doesn’t know what to think of you right now because he feels it, too. Tendrils of a familiar pain and anguish squeeze around his heart, curling into him in a way that shouldn’t feel as much like home as it does.

But Levi hates seeing it painted in the lines of your face. He has to get you out of there before you get yourself killed.

He could handle it if you did get yourself killed, he thinks grimly, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to carry your broken body back to the base. He doesn’t want to put you on the pyre, with your other fallen teammates. Levi has to see you blink at him in annoyance at least once more. Levi has to feel you playfully shove him during training at least once more. Levi has to see you rag on the younger recruits at least once more. Levi has to have another cup of tea with you once more.

Today is not the day that he’ll lose you. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

Just as the Female Titan is about to squash you with her hand, you lower your blades and a flash of acceptance settles on your face. Just as you begin to accept that you’re not making it out of this alive, Levi swoops in and it takes a minute for it to register in your mind.

If this was any other time, you would make a joke. Maybe call him your mysterious hero and make eyes at him. Or you’d chew him out for thinking he had to save you so dramatically- this isn’t a fairy tale, Levi, you don’t need to be my prince.

But this isn’t any other time, is it? Levi catches a glimpse of Petra. Oruo. Gunther. Eld.

Levi has never known you to be reckless, but he mostly understands. This is your family. This is his family. 

But still, even as he holds you close to him, he can’t help but think. You should know better.

***

You can’t seem to face Levi in the coming days. What were you thinking that day? Did you have a death wish?

You can hear your Captain’s words ringing in your ears. The day the Survey Corps had returned to base, he had scolded you. You think it’s the most he’s ever said at one time-

“Do you have a death wish?” He asks you calmly, eyes striking and icy. You remember the first time these eyes had seen you. You felt exposed and vulnerable. It feels that way once more.

“Levi-” You protest but he cuts you off.

“Do you have a death wish?” Levi repeats, “You think I want to find my second in command with her blades down like that? What were you thinking?”

A pause. Levi thinks you might walk away from him but your eyes turn to steel.

“You should have left me there. I should have died with them,” You say evenly, eyes never leaving his, “I couldn’t save them. It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” Levi scoffs, “Don’t be so… naive. Nothing is fair about any of this, and you know it. You’re lucky I was there-”

“Lucky? You didn’t see them die, Levi. You didn’t hear Eren. You didn’t see Gunther strangled with his own cables. Eld and Uruo get their faces ripped off. Petra’s neck breaking.”

You swear his eyes soften for a moment.

“All I could do was watch,” You whisper, voice cracking, “All I did was watch. I don’t have a death wish, but fuck Levi. Being alive is hard right now. I can’t find a…”

I can’t find a reason. He can hear it in your voice.

“Get some sleep,” Levi says, not unkindly. You nod and salute your Captain, heading back to your room. 

You lay awake all night, Petra’s lifeless eyes haunting you.

You’re eating alone in the mess hall, acutely aware that the new recruits are whispering and looking in your direction. You don’t have the energy to tell them to fuck off, or bark at them and ask why they’re wasting time. You hear Eren telling them to shut up and you manage to look up and offer him a smile.

You push your food around on the plate disinterestedly. Why is that day haunting you like this? You’ve lost close teammates before. You’re grieved and moved on relatively quickly each time. Because that was what you were taught in the Survey Corps. To keep moving on. To not regret, because regret makes you question your decisions. It makes you weak.

But how can you not regret? How can you not regret when every time you blink, you see dead faces behind your eyelids?

Maybe it’s a lifetime of suppressing the death of everyone around you. Maybe it’s survivor’s guilt. Either way, you feel like you’re drowning and you can’t seem to find your way to the surface the way you’ve managed to before.

You were out of line with Levi. Telling him he wasn’t there to see his team die. That was a low blow, considering what he’s shared with you about his own past. You need to apologize to him. If anyone would understand, it’s Levi.

Your cold, harsh, unwelcoming Captain. Your Captain that you would die for, though you’re not sure what that means anymore.

***

Hange has already told Levi twice that you’re a shell of yourself. That over the days, you’ve become withdrawn in a way she’s never seen before. Dark circles under your dark eyes are pronounced, your eyes are red with fatigue, and you look like you’re about to fall over.

Despite the brown of your skin, you look ashen and frail. It’s a look Levi hasn’t seen on you and a look that he doesn’t want to get used to.

Levi tells her to go away and to stop worrying about his team. Hange rolls her eyes but lets him be. She focuses her efforts on finding you and keeping you company, rather than scolding Levi.

Levi thinks you’ll snap out of it soon enough. But he is acutely aware when you don’t snap out of it. You and Levi were somewhat close, he would like to think. On days when you knew he was going through a tough time reconciling the present with the past, you always picked up on it and were there with tea or something stronger. Depending on the day. You weren’t afraid to approach him and while being considered Humanity’s Greatest had intimidated you for a while, it didn’t stop you from poking fun at him or from being a friend.

You annoyed him at first, when he was forced to fight with you by Erwin. You were fast, smart in the air, and were good at reading situations on the fly. But you also smiled a lot, you fed into Hange’s insanity. You had that quiet type of caring, the type where you gave everyone’s plates an extra glance to make sure they were well fed.

It was annoying. Did everyone here need to be babied?

But then he came to realize- the small things were all there was left to cherish. The small things- like the laughter of the mess hall during dinner, the cleanliness of his office, the health of his fellow soldiers, and the fact that you make tea just how he likes it.

He wondered for a while how you knew what he liked. Then he realized that you’re more observant than he gave you credit for.

***

Rather than lay in bed and stare at the ceiling with only dead faces to keep you company, you decide to brew some tea. Two cups worth of tea to be exact.

You owe Levi an apology. Now, when you think of that day, you think of Levi’s timeliness. You think of his arms around you, holding you close. You think of him telling you to stay awake. You think of the sound of his cables piercing through the air, with the Titans as background noise. You think of how you were focused on him, and him only.

You think of how despite the layers of dirt, grime, and blood on him, he still somehow smelled so clean. And so him. You think Petra might laugh at you for your thoughts, and that makes you smile.

It’s the middle of the night, the moon hidden by the clouds but the stars illuminating the sky. Moonlight filters in through the window, leaving a silvery hue on your skin.

Two soft knocks at his bedroom door. You wonder if he knows it’s you. You can’t tell if he does when he opens the door, his face as impassive as ever. Levi is only in his white shirt and black pants, but you focus on him.

“What’s this?” He asks, lips pulled back into something resembling a smirk.

“An apology in the form of tea,” You murmur. He pulls the door open further, indicating that you can come in.

“Can’t sleep?” Levi prompts. 

You sit on his bed as if you’ve been there a hundred times before. 

“Know the feeling?” You snort, offering him his cup of tea. Levi sits next to you, and you ignore his leg brushing with yours. He waits for you to say something, but your eyes are cast into your cup of tea.

“I’m sorry,” You begin, “For saying what I said that day. It’s not fair to throw their deaths in your face like that.”

“You were angry. It has to go somewhere. I can take it, I’m your Captain. That’s my job.”

“Yes, but…” You pause, unsure of your words, “Who takes it for you?”

The question makes Levi pause and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. He says nothing, but he doesn’t tell you to get out. So that’s a good sign. He just drinks his tea.

“You call me your second in command,” You whisper, reaching for him, “I can take it, too.”

Levi turns his head to face you, slate grey eyes seemingly blue in the moonlight. You’re stricken with the urge to push his hair back and you do. Or at least, you attempt to. He catches your wrist just as you’re about to touch him. He’s only a few breaths away- you can see the sharpness of his cheekbones and the reflection of the moonlight in his eyes. His grip is gentle, reminding you a little bit of that day when he had saved you from sure death.

“Don’t do that again,” Levi whispers, something soft cracking and swirling in his eyes, “I can’t find you like that again. I can’t-”

“I know,” You reply with a small smile, “I know. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better. I’m glad you found me.”

“Look forward with me,” Levi murmurs, thumb rubbing your hand, “Look forward with me.”

His touch sends an unfamiliar electric calmness through you and you nod. Levi takes another sip of his tea, hand warm over yours as you both sit in silence. He won’t lose you today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

[moonyy-writes]

ship in a bottle (1)

levi ackerman

word count: 2k 

summary: “We’re gonna make this short and sweet, who are you and what are your intentions?” Levi sharply asked, cooly leaning against the wall and watching her every reaction. Her gaze went down to her hands as she played with the blanket covering her. “I-I can’t remember much.” Levi narrowed his eyes and stalked closer to her. Alice steeled her nerves and managed to stand her ground. “I don’t care if Mike says you don’t smell like a traitor, as of right now I consider you one and that’s how you will be treated. Understand?”

A strange girl washes up on a ship and that particular ship has a steely eyed man suspicious of her every move. 

a/n: just your standard pirate au for aot, you know how it is lmao 

also check out the song ship in a bottle by fin! that’s my inspiration for this story(and also the pirates of the caribbean movies lol)

“Sir! There’s a girl, she’s laying on the driftwood.” Someone shouted. Most of the crew began crowding the side of the deck, pointing and whispering. A young girl was lying amidst the remains of a brutal battle. Bodies and splintered wood were among the many things floating in the wreckage. But somehow, she remained unscathed. 

Levi observed the scene for a moment, “Lower a boat and bring her aboard.”  

As she was pulled onto the ship everyone remained silent, waiting for Levi to make a decision. They simply watched in silence as he began inspecting the stranger. He walked around her a few times before kneeling by her head; he reached a hand out, gently pushing her wet hair away from her face. His thumb lightly stroked the scar that ran from right under her jaw to below her cheekbone. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what he was doing, everyone’s eyes on him. He stood up quickly and steeled his expression as he turned to the crew. 

“Someone take her below deck,” He barked out, “We’ll see what the Captain wants to do with her.”

Mikasa and Sasha managed to drag her below and lay her on a cot, while everyone else scrambled back to work. Although they were still whispering amongst each other. Levi stood to the side, deep in thought, as Mike and Hange came over, having previously observed the situation from afar. 

“That was a weird little, uh, thing you did there Levi,” Hange teased, raising a brow. “Wanna tell us what that was about?”

“I don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about.” He deadpanned, not bothering to give Hange the satisfaction of her joke. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m-”

“Hange, leave Levi alone.” Mike mumbled, suddenly sniffing the air. “Wait, do you guys smell that? Smells like a lovesick pirate.” He stated with a smug smile. 

Levi glared at the duo and elbowed them as he passed, “We have no idea who she is, she could be from the enemy. A spy perhaps.” 

“Now now Levi, I don’t think a girl like her would be working for-”

“Doubt like that is what will get you killed, appearance means nothing.” Levi spat out, “I’d go make yourselves useful before Erwin shows up. He’s going to be interested in this new guest.” 

~~~~

Erwin spent a few minutes observing the girl as she laid there, taking note of every little thing about her appearance and committing it to memory in the case that she truly was a spy. He searched for anything familiar, but came up blank. 

“We can’t just blindly trust her. She could be working with the enemy.” Levi frowned. 

“Not everyone is working for people against us, Levi. She seems like she genuinely needs help.” Erwin said, not bothered by Levi’s attitude. “Don’t forget it was your idea to bring her onboard, this was your call.”

“You say that now until we’re being attacked because she ratted us out.” Levi grouched, his frown deepening as he ignored Erwin’s comment. 

Before Erwin could respond, their conversation was interrupted by frantic coughing. The pair watched as the girl bolted upright and choked out the water that had filled her lungs. She breathed heavily as she placed her hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. Her eyes scanned the room in a panic. 

Levi cleared his throat causing the girl to wildly look at him, her hands slightly shaking as she gripped the edge of the cot. 

“We’re gonna make this short and sweet, who are you and what are your intentions?” Levi sharply asked, coolly leaning against the wall and watching her every reaction. 

Her gaze went down to her hands as she played with the blanket covering her. “I-I can’t remember much.”

Levi opened his mouth, only to be cut off by an even sharper glare from Erwin, “Then tell us what you do remember.” 

She glanced up and took a deep breath. “I remember screaming and gunshots, then...then all of a sudden silence. It was...warm, comforting even. I’m not sure why I was on that boat, I-” She stopped, her eyes becoming glossy.

Erwin looked at Levi, who only shrugged. “Do you remember your name?” 

“Alice.” 

“Okay Alice, welcome to the Maria.” Erwin introduced, with a proud smile. 

Alice’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, her demeanor suddenly becoming guarded. “So you’re pirates?”

Levi pushed himself off the wall and strutted over with a raised brow, “And so what if we are, got a problem with that?” His hand lightly gripping the hilt of his sword. 

Alice only groaned and shoved her face into her hands as she mumbled. “Of course I’m on a pirate ship, this is just my luck. From one ship to the next. I just can’t escape.”

“Hey missy, if you want to keep mumbling then we can arrange for you to be at the bottom of the sea instead.” Levi interjected, a more than bored look on his face.

Erwin gave Levi the standard “calm down” look before turning back to Alice, “It will be an adjustment, but we have to ask you a few more questions.” 

~~~~

After extensive questioning, Alice was given new clothes, loose brown breeches and a poofy sleeved white shirt with a violet corset. She wasn’t accessorized with weapons, like everyone else was, as Levi claimed she was still too “dangerous.” 

Alice sat on the ground while Sasha and Mikasa sat on the cot behind her. Sasha braiding her hair as Mikasa watched. They seemed to have some kind of unspoken kinship, considering they were some of the only females around. 

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” Sasha said, “Most places aren’t safe for women, but here. Here...it’s safe.”

Mikasa nodded, “We’re family.” 

Alice turned her head slightly and looked at the pair, noticing their sympathetic expressions. Maybe they were in her situation before.

“I don’t know if it ever will,” Alice began, “I don’t even know if I can trust anyone here.” 

Sasha patted her shoulder as she stood, “It’ll get better, it really will.” 

Mikasa gave her a small smile as they passed and made their way above deck. Alice stayed on the ground for a few moments more, reveling in her last few moments of peace. 

~~~~

The salty breeze brushed Alice’s face as she walked across the deck, breath taken by the beauty of the open sea. The waters were deep blue and the waves calmly shook the boat. She had only stood to the side and observed everyone work, unsure of where to even begin. 

“You must be the new girl!” Alice turned and spotted an energetic woman with big glasses walking her way. She had a green patterned bandana wrapped around her messy brown hair and then black pants, with a white button down loosely tucked in. 

She nodded slightly, before the woman wrapped her arm tightly around her. “I’m Hange, the quartermaster. I’m basically second in command should anything happen to Captain Erwin. And you are?” 

“Uh, I’m Alice.” 

“Nice to meet you uh Alice!” Hange teased and dragged her further across the ship. “I figured I’d introduce you to some people, especially since it seems you’re gonna be here for quite a while.” 

They made their way to a pair of guys shouting at each other, one tall with a sandy mullet and the other shortish with a close buzzcut and a monmouth cap. They seemed to be arguing over a knot in the rope. 

“Now these two here are Jean and Connie, quite the duo if you ask me.” Hange mumbled under her breath. “Boys, say hi to Alice!” 

They both stopped and their faces flushed in embarrassment. Alice meekly waved from under Hange’s tight grip, but they only continued to stare. Particularly at her scar.

“Alrighty, moving on.” Hange concluded, “I swear, all this testosterone is making these boys awkward. Well, more awkward than normal.”

Next, they walked to a pair of adults, an abnormally tall man with hair in his eyes and a shorter woman with a blonde pixie cut. 

“Here we have Mike and Nanaba, if you ever need anything they’re the people to go to.” Hange said, “This is Alice.” 

Nanaba came right up to her and shot her hand out and grabbed onto one of her blonde curls. “My, your hair is beautiful.” She exclaimed, “It makes me regret cutting mine.” 

“Thank you,” Alice mumbled back as she ducked her head down, not used to compliments or the attention. 

“It’s quite the pleasure to meet you dear,” Nanaba continued, giving her a gentle smile before backing up. Giving Mike the perfect opportunity to come over and give Alice a big sniff, causing her to tense up and push Hange in front of her quickly. 

Mike turned to Hange with a questioning stare, “She doesn’t smell like a traitor. In fact, she just smells like a regular girl.” 

Hange’s expression became thoughtful, but it turned back to excitement just as quickly. “I’ll take note of that for Erwin and Levi. See you guys later!” She grabbed Alice by the arm and rushed away from them. “That’s how Mike greets people, he has the strongest nose I’ve ever seen. Can whiff out a two-timer in seconds. But you have his stamp of approval, so that’s one step in the right direction!” 

They continued the tour, with Alice meeting Eren, then Moblit and Armin, who helped navigate the ship and was driven by his strong passion for the ocean. By the time Hange had shown her every nook and cranny of the ship, it was meal time. The cook, a blonde haired man named Niccolo, had made biscuits and sausage gravy. Most of the Crew, except Levi and Erwin, gathered around on barrels to eat and play card games. Alice sat between Mikasa and Sasha, not missing the longing glances Sasha sent Niccolo every few minutes. 

The moon had long since risen before they had slowly trailed off to bed. Each person going down one by one, drowsily stumbling down the stairs. 

“Alice, me and Mikasa are going to bed now if you’d like to come with us.” Sasha offered, watching Alice at the side of the boat peering up at the night sky. 

“I’ll be down in a bit, I want to look at the sky for a bit longer.” 

“Goodnight then,” Sasha whispered as the floor creaked as she made her way below deck.  

Alice’s moments of peace were interrupted by a grumpy and mildly suspicious Levi. “What are you doing up here...alone?” 

“Gazing at the night sky,” Alice answered without turning. Levi frowned at her inattention, but soon joined her. They were both silent as they stared at the stars.

“Do you see that constellation?” Alice said, pointing at a bright collection of stars. “That’s Ladon, he was a hundred headed dragon that guarded Hera’s golden apple tree. But one day, the mighty hero Hercules lulled him to sleep by playing music and killed him. In her sadness, Hera sent him into the stars and that’s where he’s been ever since.” 

Alice was only met with silence, she frowned and turned to Levi, who was incredulously staring at her. “You believe that stuff?” 

“Well not necessarily,” she mumbled, deflated. “I do love the stories though. Helps you make some kind of sense of the world.”

“You’re still playing the memory loss card?” Levi groaned. 

Alice calmly looked to him, “I’m not playing, I genuinely can’t remember. I have bits and pieces, but it’s foggy. When I remember, I’ll make sure to tell you.” 

Levi narrowed his eyes and stalked closer to her. Alice steeled her nerves and managed to stand her ground. “I don’t care if Mike says you don’t smell like a traitor, as of right now I consider you one and that’s how you will be treated. Understand?”

“Loud and clear, sir. Now I must be getting to bed. Goodnight.” She spun on her heel and kept her chin up as she made her way to the stairs, not looking back to Levi. As she laid down, she tried to remember more of her past. But the soft lulling of the ship drifted her to sleep. 

[urdearestmom]

brain damage

i’m back again y’all and just wrote this piece... a bit of a scene study from that scene in 3x06. basically what i wish mike had said 

also the middle part is mostly conjecture but some of it is bits that you can hear in the actual scene if you strain your ears and ignore nancy and jonathan talking over it

also DISCLAIMER i do not hate max!! i really like her actually but she was really pissing me off with this whole bit because she just does not have any basis for understanding mileven's relationship and so her advice doesn't always directly apply. she had good intentions but BRUH. anyways i could go on a whole rant about max vs mike in season 3 but i'm not gonna do that right now lmao

It’s pretty silent in here, El thinks. It always is, but tonight it’s… strange. Almost as though it’s empty. Why can’t she find them? She’s been sitting in her room for the last half hour trying to locate any of the flayed and although she can’t see it, she knows there’s a growing mountain of bloody tissues next to her on the floor. She’s starting to think that she might need to give herself a break for a little bit.

Her friends are in the living room waiting for her, and she knows they’re all anxious to find out what she might see. So far, absolutely nothing. The only thing that happens is that every so often she hears a bit of a voice. It’s just there, tickling the edges of her consciousness, and she could tune into it if she wanted to… but she’s already identified it by the cadence of the noise as Mike’s voice, and she’d said she wouldn’t spy on him. She’d done it once and he was clearly upset by it. Although they aren’t really back to how they were before, El misses him more than she lets on, and she doesn’t want to make things worse by spying again.

Outside, Mike is getting close to yelling. He sincerely hopes El can’t hear him because he is once again fighting with her new best friend.

“It can’t be good for her to be in there for this long,” he exclaims, pacing in front of her door.

“Mike, you need to relax,” says Max, looking disdainfully at him.

“What if she gets brain damage or something?!”

“Oh shit,” interrupts Lucas, looking between them. “Is that like, a real thing?”

Max scoffs. “No, it’s not. He made it up. Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” she adds, raising her eyebrows defiantly as if daring him to refute her.

“Oh, and you do?! ” He retorts. Her facial expression alone is pissing him off. It’s so self-righteous, as if she knows anything at all about him or how he thinks and feels.

“No,” she says quickly. “But I think El does. See, that’s the difference between you and me. You think you know everything!”

“I don’t know everything,” he fires back. His hands are balled into fists and he’s starting to shake. “But I know her.”

Max snorts. “You’re just mad she wants to be her own person. You can’t deal with other people not doing what you tell them to.”

“What do you think this is, Russia? I’m not some dictator, okay? I’m just trying to protect El!” He says angrily. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Max doesn’t know the first thing about what he can or can’t deal with and acting like she does is striking his last nerve. Mike can feel the familiar boil of rage deep within him coming to a rise.

“The only person who knows anything about El’s powers is El,” says Max, with an air of finality.

Mike crosses his arms in an attempt to get himself in control of his emotions. “So if that’s true, what makes you think you have any more of a say than I do?”

She splutters for a moment and it’s so satisfying that Mike almost smirks, but it drops quickly when Max rises from her seat and stalks over to him.

“I don’t,” she seethes, poking him forcefully in the chest. “But she does, and you need to back off .”

“I’m not even on! ” He yells, throwing his arms up and pushing her away. He realizes his statement doesn’t actually make any sense but… whatever. At this point, it’s not like it matters. “She won’t listen to me! Because you put ideas in her head! You know she absorbs every new thing people tell her and you pressured her into dumping me!”

There it is. It’s out. It’s what he’s been thinking since it happened. He knew he’d messed up big-time by lying to El, but he never would have expected her to dump him over it. And the look on Max’s face as she stood by and watched had said everything he needed to know.

Max’s face is turning an alarming shade of pink and Mike thinks that he probably matches her. “I didn’t pressure her into anything, she decided! What is your problem with letting El decide things for herself?!”

“I don’t have a problem! At least I didn’t before you inserted yourself where you didn’t need to be!”

“All I did was give her choices!”

Mike takes a deep breath to retaliate, but then lets it go and turns away. “You don’t understand. Just- fucking leave me alone.”

Lucas is still staring at them; Mike can feel his friend’s eyes on his back. Why isn’t he agreeing? He was there when El- he knows what she can push herself to.

Max makes an angry noise. “Fine! It’s not my fault you can’t be wrong!” She walks toward Nancy and Jonathan and Mike follows, preparing to convince everyone else that this is a stupid idea. “Okay, can you guys settle an argument for us?”

Nancy looks hard at them, her eyes searching Mike quickly before flicking back to the girl next to him.

“Who do you think should decide El’s limits… Mike, or Eleven?”

He sees red. “The way that you framed that is such bullshit. ” Why is he the villain here?!

Her braids whip around her face as she turns to him. “It’s not bullshit, Mike, this is your whole problem! And it’s also precisely the reason why she dumped your ass!”

“El dumped you?” Nancy asks incredulously.

Mike throws his arms up again. “Yeah, because she’s conspiring against me! She’s corrupting her!”

“N- enlightening her!” Max throws back. “The fact is, she’s not yours. She’s her own person, fully capable of making her own decisions.”

“She’s risking her life for no reason!” He shouts.

“No reason?” Says Nancy. “Mike, the flayed are out there doing god knows what-”

“Killing, flaying,” interjects Lucas.

“Transforming into monsters,” adds Will.

Mike glares at them. Not helping.

“And El’s not stupid,” Nancy continues, shaking her head. “She knows her abilities better than any of us.”

“Exactly, thank you,” Max says victoriously. Mike closes his eyes. He cannot believe this is how this is going.

“And she is her own person-”

“Exactly!”

“With her own free will-”

“Exactly! El has saved the world twice and Mike still doesn’t trust her-”

At that he has to interrupt. There’s no way he’s letting Max flip this around. “You wanna talk about trust, really? After you made Eleven spy on us?!”

Max looks down, giving herself away.

Lucas stands up behind him. “Wait, what?”

Mike whirls to face him. “Oh, she didn’t tell you this?” He says sarcastically.

“No!”

“Your girlfriend used El’s powers to spy on us ,” he spits.

“No, no, no,” Max interjects. “I did not make her, it was her idea. And why are we even talking about this, seriously?”

“Yeah,” says Will. “Who cares?”

And now Mike’s annoyed at Will too. Will has no idea what is going on in Mike’s head and he’s not ever going to understand why he feels the way he does. Just the same as the rest of the Party will never really relate to Will’s struggles because they weren’t there, Will wasn’t there for theirs either. He didn’t see what she did-

“I care!” Says Lucas, and finally Mike is glad someone seems to be on his side. Thank God for small blessings.

“Yeah, I guess girlfriends don’t lie, they spy,” he says, turning back to Max at the last moment so she can truly see his ire.

“We were just joking around,” she defends.

“Would it have been so funny if I was taking a massive shit or something?” He asks.

She wrinkles her nose. “You weren’t!”

“But what if I was?!”

“Then gross!”

“Seriously, Mike?” Interrupts Nancy, and all of a sudden this has become like one of those moments where he just wants to strangle her for talking before he’s done. She does it all the fucking time and like, he guesses it’s probably part of being siblings but it leaves him fuming more often than not.

“I’m just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with Eleven’s powers,” he says carefully. This is where he needs to get his point across. He desperately needs someone to understand that he’s not trying to be controlling or police what El does or doesn’t do, he’s just trying to save her from herself. He couldn’t do it the first time, but by God if he isn’t going to try now.

“Have any of you noticed Lucas is the only one not disagreeing with me?” He asks.

Max huffs. “Lucas doesn’t have anything to do with this. This is your prob-”

“Lucas has everything to do with this!” He roars. Mike has absolutely had it up to here with her and turns on her a final time, shaking again. “You weren’t there, Max! None of you were. Except Lucas. You don’t know what she’ll do..” His voice trembles.

Lucas seems to understand what he’s getting at and lays a hand on his shoulder. Mike flashes him a grateful look. He still has a hard time thinking about that night, much less talking about it. “She vaporized herself in front of us. I tried to stop her and she did it anyway.”

The room is silent now, the only sound being the TV static from El’s bedroom where she’s still holed up. Mike takes a breath.

“It’s not that I think El doesn’t know her limits,” he says. “I just know that she doesn’t care about them. She’ll die overexerting herself before she lets something hurt one of us.”

He looks up at everyone, Jonathan and Will looking oddly similarly out of place and Nancy with her eyes trained on his face as she listens. Max isn’t looking at him. Good , he thinks. Maybe that made her feel guilty.

“How would you feel if you knew firsthand El didn’t care about dying to save her friends, huh? Wouldn’t you be worried about her?” He directs this at Max specifically, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “You guys are treating her like some kind of machine, and she’s not a machine. I still have nightmares about that day all the time.”

The room stays silent, almost as though everyone is holding a breath and waiting for him to start yelling again, but he’s not going to. He doesn’t have any energy left to expound on this topic. If Max wants to keep making him the bad guy, then whatever. He has more important things to worry about.

“I just-” He starts and stops, wondering if this is the right thing to say. “I don’t want her to die looking for the flayed when they’ve obviously vanished off the face of the Earth, so we can we please just come up with another plan because I love her and I can’t lose her again.”

Now it’s almost as though all the air has actually been sucked out of the room. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to reveal the depth of his feelings, but Mike really didn’t know what else he could say that could possibly make them understand his position. Lucas’ hand on his shoulder squeezes for a quick second and then lightly taps him as Lucas moves his arm back.

Nancy shakes her head. “I get that you don’t want her to hurt herself, Mike, but she’s already in there. There’s not much else we can do.”

“What’s going on?”

Everyone whips around to face El coming out of her bedroom doorway. Holy shit, did she hear what he said? Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit-

“Nothing. Nothing!” He says quickly.

“Just… family discussion,” adds Lucas from behind him. Mike can feel the smirk in his voice without even having to look at him.

“Oh,” says El, and suddenly Mike really wants to hug her. But this isn’t the time. He looks away.

“I found him,” she continues.

“Found… who?” Nancy asks.

“Billy.”

[cogneartive]

The Beach Boys go to the Museum

A crackfic. Read if you want to immediately lose all your brain cells.

---

    Once upon a time, Brian Wilson was daydreaming about girls going to the museum which was very educational. More educational than daydreaming about girls which is good for you which is why he was daydreaming about going to the museum instead of girls. 

    “Yoo hoo brothers!” he said. 

    “What is it, big brother?” shouted Dennis and Carl Wilson from another part of the Beach Boys ResidenceTM

    “I have decided to go to the museum which is a very educational activity for us to do which will be beneficial for us,” said Brian. “I will call our cousin, Michael Edward Love, and our friend, Alan Charles Jardine.”

    “Oh ok, big brother,” the two younger Wilsons said. “As soon as we get out of the shower and clothe ourselves (which will probably align with the arrival of our cousin, Michael Edward Love, and our friend, Alan Charles Jardine), we shall take off in the Beach Boy MobileTM to go to the museum as you wish.”

T I M E S K I P

    “Incredible,” said Carl Wilson. “We have finished showering and being clothed just as our cousin, Michael Edward Love, and our friend, Alan Charles Jardine, have arrived.”

    “Now we can go to the  Beach Boy MobileTM to go to the museum Brian Wilson, my big brother, wishes.”     “I hate this story,” said Michael Edward Love, a man with no taste.

“Do not attempt to break the fourth wall,” said Brian Douglas Wilson, extremely annoyed at Mike Love’s lack of taste.

“Harrumph >:( !” harrumped Michael Edward Love.

Suddenly, Bruce Arthur Johnston appeared out of Norway. “May I come too?”

“Permission accepted,” said Al Jardine

T I M E S K I P

    The beach boys arrived at the Museum of Interesting Plot which interested them very much. They headed into the museum, where they bumped into GASP! The Beatles - an English rock band formed in Liverpool in 1960 with a line-up comprising John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, who are regarded as the most influential band of all time. 

    “THE BEACH BOYS!” the bug boys ejected.

    “THE BEATLES!” the sand children exclaimed.

    “What a coincidence that we have bumped into you guys in the exact same museum,” said John Lennon. “I bet you were trying to sneak behind us and steal our songwriting ideas >:O”

    “Absolutely not >:O” said Brian Wilson, putting his hands on his hip in a gesture of frustration. “I bet YOU were trying to sneak behind us and steal OUR songwriting ideas”

    “We were not >:O” said Sir James Paul McCartney.

    They started fighting and in the moment of anger, they broke!! The statue of David (not Crosby unfortunately for the statue of David Crosby has cursed the museum for over a century now)!!!!!!!

    “HEY” said The Manager of The Museum (which was an unfortunate name given to him by his parents sad emoji)

    “Oh no” said Brian Wilson.

“Oh no” said Carl Wilson.

“Oh no” said Dennis Wilson.

“Oh no” said Mike Love.

“Oh no” said Al Jardine.

“Oh no” said Bruce Johnston.

“Oh no” said George Harrison.

“Oh no” said Paul McCartney.

“Oh no” said Ringo Starr

“Yoko Ono?” said John Lennon. “My wife in the future, depending on the era.”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” THERE WAS A CAR CRASHING INTO THE MUSEUM WHICH BROKE THE STATUE OF DAVID TENNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

IT WAS THE POOR MONKEES!!! IN THE MONKEE MOBILE!!!

“Ouchies!” said Micky Dolenz.

“OMG” said The Manager of The Museum (who happened to also be a clone of  Ringo Starr) He was angry. Very angry. So angry, that he was angry. “You guys better pay for this.”

“But we can’t,” said the Beatles (for Brian Epstein did not give them their allowance that day)

“We can’t either,” said the Beach Boys (for they had already spent enough on getting a nintendo switch to play animal crossing: new horizons.

This is left the poor, poor Monkees. “Bruh we poor af.”

“Then you have to work to pay for it smh,” said The Manager of The Museum.

“OH NO!” said all of them at once.

“You must go around the museum to find three fragments of the broken statue that you have broken, which somehow have been transported into the museum which you must complete challenges to get!”

“Like Dora the Explorer?” asked George Harrison, the youngest member of the Beatles. 

    “Yea,” saidThe Manager of The Museum. “Ok bye im gonna play animal crossing: new horizons now :))))))”

    “Ok. We must split up into three groups.”

BEACH BOYS SECTION - THE HALL OF THINGS THAT HAVE TO DO WITH WATER

    “Wow, how convenient is that we have coincidentally walked into the hall of things that have to do with water,” said Denny Wilson. “It is as this was planned.”

    And then…………………….”oh my god a wave,” said M*ke Love.

    “QUICKLY INTO THE BEACH GEAR” shouted Brian Wilson as they proceeded to use the sims animation to change into their beach gear. “NOW WE MUST.,,,,,,,,,,,,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,..,.,.,”

“We thro Dennise into da water bc he is da only 1 who can surf XD” said Mke Luv as he tossed Deniise into da water liKE A BOSS AND HI-FIVES ALL ROUND WAPOOSH WAPOOSH TAHK YOU GUYS FOR WATCHING AND I’LL SEE U IN THE NEXT VIDEO!!! *outro plays*

“Ahem,” said Ctrl. “We did not bring a surfboard,,,,,,,,so how is he supposed to surf??? Thonk emoji. Lmfao roasted XD”

“We use (drumroll pls) AL SARDINE as Da Surfboard Lmao!!!” said Miiiiiike lov e as they all jumped on Al Jardine.

“I did not feel a thing, lol” said ALAN JARDINE because he was a super strong boy (stock image of a blond guy flexing his muscles).

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

Surfing montage.

“Bruh we reusing animation bro,” said Denal Wilson.

“Oh look an island,” said Brain. Dey all hopped off and landed on the island. On the island was Kurt Cobain.

“Wow Mr Kurt Cobain,” said Broose Honda. “I did not know you lived on dis island.”

“I don’t rofl,” said Coq Au Vin as he handed them a statue fragment.

“Oh wow thx Coco Van,” as they flew away.

MONKEE SECTION - THE HALL OF….I DONT KNOW

    “Lmao is that Stephen Arthur Stills, an American singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist best known for his work with Buffalo Springfield and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young,” joked Micky Dolenz, pointing to a mirror in front of Peter Tork.

    “Lol yeah,” said Stephen.

    Micky screamed.

    “Here you go broski,” said Stephen Stills, handing them a fragment.

    “But what did we do?” asked Mike Nesmith.

    “Allowing the author to make the awful, often repeated annoying joke about me and Peter Halsten Thorkelson looking like identical twins.”

    “Ok thanks brewski,” said the Monkees as they headed off. “Come on Peter, don’t just stand there.”

    “But I’m Stephen.”

    “Wait,” said Davy. “But Peter was standing there just now.”

    “No, I was standing there.”

    The Monkees looked at each other and had a collective sigh. It was not gonna be as easy as they thought.

    And to make this complication more complicated, the author decided to make David Crosby, Graham Nash and Neil Young walk into the scene.

    “Bro Stephen wtf,” said Neil. “I knew you were small but I didn’t think you could crawl into the vents like that.”

    “But I’m Peter??????????”

    “Oh no not again,” said Graham Nash, already getting another headache.

    “Wait, wait wait, just a moment,” said Davy Jones. “Go back a bit. What do you mean by crawling through the vents.”

    “Please do not question the plot,” threatened David Crosby. 

    “YUH DAVY” said Micky. “Come on now, Peter,” - he grabbed Peter’s hand -” we gotta advance the plot.”

    “But I’m Stephen.”     Micky looked at him with such an expression that expressed a deep amount of hatred for the author. “It doesn’t matter. You guys are the same person anyway.”

The other lads shrugged and took poor Peter Halsten Dorkelson who was too confuzzled and befuddled and bamboozled to be crying.

BEATLES SECTION - THE HALL OF PAPERWORK

    “This is so boring,, (-_-)” said Jawn Jennon. “I think George Harrison fell asleep.”     “L M A O i did rofl lol,” said Heorge Garrison.

    “I am surprised because there is so much paperwork lying about that all look so boring!!” said Paul McEyelash.

    “Someone should clean this up smh,” said Ringone Starone.

    “YAAWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!” they all sed at 1nce. That yawn pushed a stack of paper off a table, which caused a chain reaction, leading to a bucket falling down, a train being activated, a cow mooing and the members of Queen being awoken from their frozen-in-som-kind-a-tube state.

    “BRO WTF WHOMST WOKE US UP (((p(>o<)q)))” said Roger Taylor, stretching. “I was still having my beauty sleep.”

    “(O.O) omg (O.O)(O.O) oh mah gawd (O.O)(O.O)(O.O)” said Freddie Mercury. “Are those (O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O) the legendary (O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O) bug boys????????”

    “Ja” said gH.

    “ヽ(★ω★)ノ” said Brian May

    “(¬_¬") smh you woke up my cheese toast,” said John Deacon.

    “I guess, we should thank u for waking us up,” said Freddeh.

    “We wuz nevah gonna wake up,” said Briaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan Mei.

    “Take dis,” Rogah Taylah gave them a statue fragment that had landed in his hair.

    “Wow thanks that was EZ lmao,” said the bug boys as they went away.

T I M E S K I P

    “（●＾o＾●）” said The Manager of the Museum as he stuck the broken statue fragments of the broken statue of the Museum of Interesting Plot Idea (well I think that what it was called Lmao I didn’t check don’t correct me doe lel)

    “It was’t very challenging at all doe…” said Sand Children. “And for a story with out name in the title, we did not seem to get much attention at all.”

    “Shut up you’ll get your moment later,” said the others pointing down to the rest of the story. “See look at that.”     “None of this is very good,” said Mike Hate, a man with no taste.

    They all went into their respective vehicles and drove away.

    “WAIT!!!!!!” said Dave Jone of the Monkees, pausing the time. “We did not resolve the plot point of us actually kidnapping Steven Stills?????”

    “Help me,” said Stepe.

    “STFU IT’S OUR STORY (◣_◢)” said the beach of the boys, so infuriated with them that smoke came out of their ears like a boiling kettle and their eyes started glowing red which indicated anger.

    “Oh ok sorry lel, he’s British Lol,” said Mike Nesmith.

    “STFU Myke Gessmith.”

    “;~;” said Mike Nukesmith.

    “Y do u guys always have to take the spotlight?!” asked the Beaky Bubs.

    “Bc we’re the author’s favourites, unfortunately,” said Micky, shivering at the memories of what had happened to them before in previous crack fics.

    “Sux for u lmao.”

    Uh how to end dis. Boom. Story done lel.

    THE END FADE TO BLACK

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.Al Barmine

[trickkombowerskru]

Prom?-Criss!Reader Henry Bowers Imagine

Request: Anonymous: can you do a henry x reader! one shot? basically henry likes the reader and wants to take them to prom, but Victor criss is the readers older brother and disproves of Henry's love for them. Henry doesnt listen to Vic and takes her to prom anyway, the two being prom king and queen, kissing on stage infront of everyone to spite victor.

A/N: Like I said I’m altering it a bit because Henry would never be prom king lmao

Warnings: None

You couldn't explain how it happened really, you Henry's relationship was kind of an enigma. One minute he was one of your idiot “older” brother’s friend’s who you found kind of cute, the next you two were making out on couch as your brother went out to grab some stuff from the gas station.

And from that point your relationship slowly blossomed behind Vic's back. Well.....that is until Patrick opened his damn loud mouth and got you two caught. Vic was anything but approving at first to say the least, but overtime he learned to tolerate it because at the end of the day the last thing he wanted was to be in the way of your happiness. 

The current biggest mystery to him was how in the world you got Henry to agree to take you to Prom. Hell, it was a mystery to you as well. Your best guess was maybe enough begging had finally warn him down, that or he got the idea that if he took you he'd get something in return. 

Whether or not he actually would, you decided to enjoy your small victory. As time for the prom came closer and closer you grew more and more excited Despite your brother and boyfriend you were fairly popular around school, popular enough to score a prom queen nomination, which made you all the more anxious about how things would go. 

After weeks and weeks of waiting, picking out the perfect dress, and some plight campaigning, it was finally time. You take in a deep breath putting on the final touches to your look, anticipating getting to see Henry in the tux Vic took him out to get earlier that week. 

Belch was going to be taking all of you in Amy, he even managed to get a date himself, this sweet girl in your English class named Hannah. Once you were ready you headed down stairs, seeing everyone down their, with Henry in awe. He and Vic in classic black tuxes with different colored ties, Patrick with a similar style yet just an open blazer, and Reggie in a fitting powder blue tux. 

“Hey,” you say smiling at Henry.

“Hey”

You give him a kiss, the sound of Vic gagging in the background.You roll your eyes and then head out. When you arrive Patrick makes his way over to creep on some poor girl, Vic gets you a table, Belch goes off with Hannah, and you and Henry sneak over to try and achieve the gang’s goal of the night to spike the punch.  

Several failed attempts later, Patrick and Vic finally get the job done, and it was time to announce prom royalty. You grip Henry’s hand and brace yourself. 

“This year’s prom king is....Mike Dalton!”

“And this year’s prom queen is.....Y/N Criss!”

You breakout into a huge smile and head up onto stage.

“And now it’s time for the King and Queen dance.”

“Touch my girlfriend you’re dead Dalton,” Henry exclaims.

You roll your eyes at Henry’s protectiveness.

“Come here,” you say to him.

He comes up on stage and you kiss him right there, not having a care in the world. 

“Now let’s dance,”you say taking his hand and leading him to the center of the dance floor as “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper starts to play. 

“This night has been perfect,” you smile. 

“I can think of a few ways to make it even better,” Henry replies. 

“Who said you were getting lucky Bowers?,” you joke laughing before kissing him again.

You touch your forehead to his, letting everything else melt away as you take in this perfect moment. 

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 1/25

* * *

[Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Next Chapter]

Summary: When the production stage manager for George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker, starring one Brittany S. Pierce, is fired seven shows into its run, Santana is hired and thrown into the production with barely any preparation.

Notes: So remember that little something for Christmas I mentioned back in November? Yeah, this is that. And by “little” I actually mean a 25 chapter fic I’ve been working on since October. This is why I haven’t posted anything for so long, because I’ve been working on this since then. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure that I’d be able to finish it, but here it is! I’ll be posting one chapter a day until Christmas, hopefully around the same time everyday but I can’t guarantee that for sure lol.

If you have any questions about the technical terms in the theatre just ask and I’ll try my best to answer! Obviously not everything will be perfect since most of my theatre experience is from the pit band and what I’ve learned from Broadway videos, but artistic liberties and all that. I’ll also be adding links to each chapter for the ones before and after once I post them too! So hopefully it will be easy to navigate on tumblr, and if not just go to ao3 or fanfiction lmao.

All chapter titles are from “Smile at Snow” by dodie.

Chapter 1: how were we to know

///

“Simpatico, it’s Italian for ‘sympathetic.’ Hearts beating to the same pulse. That’s what music does for one, you know—I mean, for two. For more. It trains hearts to lean in the same direction. Sympathetically.” ― Gregory Maguire, Hiddensee: A Tale of the Once and Future Nutcracker

///

When Santana accepted the job offer as production stage manager for The Nutcracker, a prestigious and professional production, she didn’t really think that she was going to be thrown right in the deep end; she assumed that the old production stage manager was taking a leave of absence and she would be able to shadow him for a couple days, not that he had been unexpectedly fired on Friday morning and that she would be shadowing the assistant stage manager for two shows on Saturday and running her first one by the Sunday matinee.

And yet, here she is, dodging half dressed dancers and props bigger than she is, only two hours before the matinee, trailing after two blonde women who are frantically talking on their phones, occasionally exchanging them before resuming their frantic conversations. Usually Santana thrives on the organized chaos of a production, but she can do little more than duck under stretching limbs and just try to keep track of the flashes of blonde ahead of her.

It’s not that she’s overwhelmed, per se, she’s done other ballets and she’s done Broadway, she’s done community theatre and she’s done a short stint for an opera, she’s done touring companies and she’s done Off-Broadway, she’s even done a couple other productions of The Nutcracker itself; she’s been working as a stage manager for years, and she’s damn good at her job. It’s just, usually she has weeks or months of rehearsals before a show begins; at the very least, she usually gets to meet the rest of the stage management team before she’s thrown in the deep-end for the first show.

Holly and Quinn, the director and the assistant stage manager, eventually make it to the call desk, a tiny little alcove just off stage right, with monitors on the front of the stage and the pit. There’s a man in a wheelchair already squished in the tiny space, his glasses slipping down his nose, staring intently at the screen and muttering into his headset.

“Artie,” Quinn greets, and the man offers her a half-hearted salute. “Artie,” Quinn repeats, waiting until the man finally glances up before she gestures to Santana, “This is Santana Lopez, the new production stage manager.”

Artie blinks and offers her a grin, reaching over to shake Santana’s hand, almost running over Holly’s foot in the tiny space. “Nice to meet you,” he says, “Your resume is a mile long.”

Santana shrugs as she shakes his hand; it’s a little clammy and she wipes her hand on her black jeans as subtly as she can as leans back. “It kinda has to be to land this job.”

Artie laughs and nods as Holly finally hangs up the phone. “I forgot how frantic this place is outside of rehearsals,” she groans. She rummages around on the tiny desk, much to Artie’s poorly-concealed annoyance as she displaces knickknacks and rearranges papers, until she produces Santana’s new prompt book. She passes it to Santana, who’s fingers are already itching to crack the spine of the binder and start writing her own notes in; Artie hands her a spare pen with a knowing grin. “Today’s show is going to be a little insane,” Holly explains, “But you’ll do fine, sweet cheeks. You have a steep learning curve.” Santana’s not really sure how Holly could possibly know that, seeing as the last time they worked together Santana was still in college and barely an assistant to the assistant stage manager, but she nods anyways. “I’m going to get Quinn to give you the tour while I get ready for the matinee, and then we’ll hole up in the stage manager’s office and go through the show from the screens in there. For the evening show—” Holly’s phone phone rings and cuts her off, and she groans as she answers it, waving Quinn and Santana off towards the vague direction of the rest of the theatre, and they take their cue to leave just as Holly starts getting heated with whatever poor soul is on the other end of the line.

Santana flips through the book as she trails after Quinn, half-listening to her explanations and introductions; it’s second nature to dodge props and racks of costumes and stretching dancers by this point, even in the dimmed lights of backstage, so she keeps most of her attention focused on reading through the calls even though she’s never actually seen the blocking. She inwardly groans, the next couple shows really are going to be absolutely insane.

When Quinn takes a breath in her explanation of the Christmas tree prop and the mechanical issues they’ve been having lately, Santana finally glances up from the prompt book. “So why didn’t they just promote you?” she asks, “Seems like it would have been easier that way.”

Quinn’s head whips around to glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. Santana glances up at Quinn and frowns at the look on her face. “Wow, cool the fires there, Beelzebub. I meant why would they hire someone new when you obviously know the show already.”

“Oh,” Quinn says, and she has the grace to look a little sheepish, “This is only the second production I’ve worked on, and it’s my first big one too. They offered, since I’ve been working with the show since the very beginning, but I’m nowhere near ready to run a production myself, especially something as big as this.”

Santana nods and returns to flipping through the prompt book while Quinn returns to narrate what seems to be the entire history of the theatre. It’s not like Santana’s uninterested in learning about how old this production is, or how they use the original props, or what famous person happened to sneeze right where they’re standing, it’s just priorities; Santana’s supposed to be running this production by tomorrow and she hasn’t even skimmed through the second act in the prompt book. Holly warned her that it would be crazy during her interview, because Holly had to be across the country for a mandated meeting tomorrow morning and would be leaving Santana, who only knew the names of about five people in the entire building, to fend for herself.

It’s not that she doesn’t love a good challenge, it’s just frustrating when her pay-check and reputation hinges on said challenge.

She ducks under a large candy cane swinging towards her head and groans at the thought.

//

Quinn leads her to the principal hallway, squeezing between stray dancers wandering the tiny hallway. The walls are lined with racks of costumes and wigs, and Santana takes a moment to admire the care put into the costumes; Quinn said that this production has been reusing their costumes from the very first performance, all the way back in 1954, and despite the slightly musty smell clinging to the fabric, they’ve obviously been well cared for. Quinn knocks on a door halfway down the hallway, and Santana quickly snaps out of her admiration to catch up to her. The name on the door reads The Nutcracker/The Prince, and a man Santana already knows well opens the door.

“Santana!” he exclaims, “I didn’t realize you were actually starting already!” Quinn blinks and glances between them, her face a picture of confusion, as Mike pulls Santana into a tight hug.

“You two know each other?” she asks slowly.

Santana rolls her eyes and halfheartedly struggles to escape from Mike’s embrace. “Unfortunately he’s been dating my best friend since college,” she complains as Mike finally releases her, but not before giving her an obnoxious kiss on the crown of her head. Santana swats at him a little but he just continues to grin at her; dating my best friend is an understatement of their relationship, because Santana counts him as one of two people she truly trusts with everything and anything, but it’s not like she’s going to acknowledge that when he’s being irritatingly affectionate just to annoy her.

Quinn’s hazel eyes glow with amusement. “Oh, so you’re the infamous Santana that Tina’s always talking about.”

“All bad things, I promise,” Tina calls from the couch.

“Oh, shut up,” Santana snipes as she turns a withering glare on her. Tina just rolls her eyes, as unfazed by Santana’s snark as she was their first day of college, and continues reading her magazine, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Alright,” Quinn says slowly, “Uh, I guess we should go meet Brittany then.”

“She’s not in yet,” Mike says. “She had that appointment, remember?”

“She said she’d be here in time for half hour,” Tina adds.

“Right,” Quinn shrugs and glances at Santana, “I guess you’ll meet her between shows then.”

“I mean, I still don’t know half the stage management team,” Santana says dryly, “One more person won’t make a difference.”

Tina chuckles. “Brittany’s just lucky that she doesn’t have to see your annoying face for a couple hours yet.”

“Get me out of here before we have to send the understudy on,” Santana comments mildly, Quinn grins and leads them out the door.

“Love you, Santana,” Tina and Mike chorus.

“Yeah, whatever,” she grumbles as she pulls the door shut firmly so they don’t see her begrudgingly fond smile; of course, being her best friends, they don’t need to see it to know it’s there.

//

Quinn weaves through the theatre and points out people that Santana’s sure she’s going to forget about in roughly three seconds. Usually by this point Santana has all the company and crew members memorized, but she’s starting to realize that this entire experience is going to be one stumbling improvisation after another for the first little bit. She meets the conductor, Will Schuester, who Quinn introduces as Schue; Kurt Hummel is the head of costumes and he talks rapid fire as he explains some important quick changes while Santana scribbles down notes in her prompt book; Finn Hudson and Noah “Puck” Puckerman, who leers at her and Quinn while Santana resists the urge to make fun of his nickname, work in props and are running the department while the head, Emma Pillsbury, is out sick; Quinn rolls her eyes when she introduces her to the sound crew and its head, Blaine Anderson, and the sound his voice already sets Santana’s teeth on edge; Unique Adams explains some of the more complicated lighting calls from her booth and Santana adds some more notes into her prompt book; Quinn points out the head of the automaton department, Dave Karofsky, who is busy wrestling with some of the ropes on a fly; Lauren Zizes is the fourth and final member of the stage management team, and she gives Santana a wide smirk and a good luck before turning back to talking to Artie over her headset.

Quinn also introduces her to some of the corps dancers and kids, but she doesn’t pay much attention because she has more important people to memorize before the show starts, like the name of every department head that she’s pretty sure she’s already forgotten.

Quinn hands her a headset with an apologetic glance. “I know it’s pretty overwhelming—”

“I’m not overwhelmed,” Santana protests automatically. Quinn just keeps staring at her blankly. “I’m a little bit whelmed at the most,” Santana finally concedes, and Quinn snorts in amusement.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says as the announcement booms throughout the theatre for half hour.

Santana settles the headset over her ears, and it eases her instantly; there’s a crackle of static as Quinn stands too close, but she quickly takes a couple steps away and then she grins at Santana, her teeth flashing eerie blue in the dim backstage lights. “I usually run stage right while Zizes does stage left, and Artie runs the call desk,” she explains. “I’m not sure where Holly is but—”

��In the stage manager’s office, sweet cheeks,” drawls through their headsets.

Quinn glances at Santana to point her in the right direction, but Santana is already heading that way.

//

Holly barely pauses in her near constant stream of phone calls to talk to her. It’s been years since Santana last worked with Holly as a director, back when Santana was just an overtired and overworked college student, but if she knows one thing about the older woman it’s that Holly’s practically a professional at improvising on the fly.

Which means she’s barely surprised when Holly explains that her flight got moved up and that Santana will have to learn the entire show from backstage with Quinn instead of from the comfort of the office where Holly could teach her the blocking over the screen pointed at centre stage. Santana’s done The Nutcracker three different times in three different cities, so she knows the show, which only marginally helps her out because every single production has its quirks, and she has absolutely no clue what to expect with this one.

But she tries not to think of that, and instead nods at Holly and adjusts her headset, clutching her prompt book like it’s a life preserver that’s going to keep her from drowning, which, she realizes, is actually fairly apt. She heads out of the hallway of theatre offices to find Quinn backstage, absently listening to her have an argument with that Blaine guy from sound over the headsets until Zizes interrupts with a particularly harsh quip regarding Blaine’s mother and where, exactly, he can stick it, and the argument dies pretty quickly after that. Quinn is pinching her nose when Santana arrives, only a couple minutes before the five minute call. She seems grateful that Santana’s there and pushes her headset off her ear for a brief moment, tugging the mic away from her mouth and waiting until Santana does the same. “The dance captain for the flower corps just called and she’s stuck on the subway in Brooklyn.”

Santana glances around. “Okay?” she says slowly.

“What do we do?”

Santana blinks at Quinn. “I barely know who the fuck any of these people are, what exactly do you expect me to do?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “This is a you problem, you’re the production stage manager.”

“For like a three minutes,” Santana mutters but flips through the prompt book anyways. “The flower corps don’t come in until the end of the second act,” Santana says slowly, “If she’s not here by intermission we’ll deal with it then.”

Quinn nods and pushes her headset back into place so she can relay the order to Zizes and Artie. Dancers have already started to gather in the wings, doing last minute stretches, and the team of stagehands Santana still hasn’t met yet dart between them for last minute checks. She spots the two lumbering guys from props heading towards the Christmas tree before they’re hidden behind the fly being lowered to the floor, and then the lights are dimming and the announcement to put cellphones away is booming, and the curtain rises as the first strains of the orchestra fill the theatre.

Santana’s thankful that she already has some experience with the show, because otherwise she would be making even less sense of the chaos backstage than she currently is. Santana mostly ignores Quinn, instead focusing on the blocking and comparing it to her prompt book in the dim, but somehow still harsh blue light backstage. Santana finds herself slipping easily into her position, and soon enough she’s adding her own voice to Quinn’s on the headset. Santana’s always had an instinct for stage management from her very first experience in a theatre, for the mechanical, repetitive, and yet still unpredictable nature of the job, and the instinct has served her well over the years, and before she knows it, intermission is starting and Quinn is clapping her on the shoulder with a grin.

Despite the chaos around them and the too warm weight of Quinn’s hand, Santana has a feeling she’s going to really like the challenge of this production; it will keep her busy and distracted, at the very least, which is something she always needs during the month of December.

//

Santana’s always found the second act of The Nutcracker to be a little boring without the frantic energy of the party and then the battle in the first act, and she feels almost lazy as Quinn helps herd children into place in the wings; they may be tiny professionals, but it’s only the eighth show so far, and the chaos of backstage can be a little overwhelming, especially for the younger dancers. It’s not until Quinn nudges her and points out the Sugar Plum Fairy, giggling and whispering with some kids, that Santana finally notices the presence of third principal. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is always the most interesting to Santana in the second act because the energy of the audience always changes and perks up as soon as that first pluck of the string section drifts through the theatre. Santana creeps closer to the front of the stage as the Sugar Plum Fairy, Brittany, leaves the safe darkness of backstage and emerges into the harsh onstage lights.

The strings pluck the first chord as Brittany enters the stage en pointe, her limbs long and poised with an easy grace, her stiff classic tutu moving easily with her waist as she makes her way to centre stage. On the first note of the celesta, Santana can see the exhilarated smile on Brittany’s face for a split second before she blinks and falls into character even before the second note is ringing out. She moves with the music as if the conductor is pulling on her puppet strings and Santana forgets to concentrate on the blocking and the musical cues in favour of just watching Brittany.

She looks like something off of a ballerina music box, beautiful and delicate, but as she spins across the stage Santana can see the strength and power in her legs, the certain grace and ease in her movements, the concentration and glow in her eyes. Santana’s seen a lot of dancers through her years of stage managing, enough to recognize that spark that differentiates people who dance for a living and for those who live to dance, and Santana can’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as Brittany draws to a stop and the crowd bursts into applause; having that spark in one of the principals is rare, and more than Santana could ever hope for in any production.

//

She manages to survive both shows with only a little bit of nausea at the thought that she’s supposed to be in charge of the entire production tomorrow; Holly left during intermission of the first show, but Quinn, Zizes, and Artie already work well together, and Santana just needs to find a way to fit herself among them without causing too much friction.

She wanders down the principal hallway, on her way to meet up with Tina before leaving the theatre, when she hears a persistent, loud banging against the wall right beside her. Santana jumps but manages to bite down on her shriek and glances wildly at the wall. The banging pauses for a second before resuming and Santana makes her way to the closest door, poking her head in without knocking; it’s not like anyone would hear her knock over the banging anyways.

She finds the Sugar Plum Fairy, her blonde hair still pinned up but dressed in loose sweats and a baggy sweater, smacking her ballet shoes against the wall with a focus Santana’s rarely seen in anyone, least of all in someone banging their shoe against a wall. Santana clears her throat and Brittany starts a little and quickly glances up.

“Hi,” she grins, giving the shoe one more firm smack against the wall, “You must be Santana.”

Santana swallows the retort on the tip of her tongue when the bluest eyes she’s ever seen land on hers, somehow sparkling even in the poor lighting of the dressing room. She manages a nod as Brittany bends her shoe a little before tossing it onto the coffee table where another shoe, a tiny sewing kit, a hot glue gun, an x-acto knife, and a small pile of resin are scattered. Santana glances at the wall, littered with tiny smudges of pink from Brittany’s banging, and laughs a little, finally realizing why Brittany’s beating the wall with her shoes so violently. “Who knew the Sugar Plum Fairy bangs her own shoes,” she says.

Brittany’s face creases in a smile, thin lips curling up a little lopsided on one side, her cheeks scrunching her blue eyes until they’re catlike and sparkling, and Santana’s chest does this weird spasming, fluttering thing that she tries to ignore. “Well, the Land of Sweets is pretty low on funds,” she says easily.

Santana laughs a little before she steps forward, holding out her hand. “Santana Lopez,” she formally introduces, “Mostly confused, new production stage manager.”

Brittany takes her hand, her fingers sure and strong as they wrap around Santana’s. “Brittany S. Pierce,” she says, “Sugar Plum Fairy and professional shoe banger.” Brittany’s nose wrinkles adorably as she realizes what she just said. “Ew, not like that.”

Santana giggles and only briefly wonders at how easily Brittany coaxed that sound out of her; usually it’s only Tina and Mike that make her comfortable enough to giggle instead of smirk, and that’s mostly because she’s known them for far too long, but there’s something easy about Brittany’s smile that already makes her drop her guard a little bit. “That wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing I’ve seen someone in the company bang,” Santana whispers.

Brittany’s eyes widen comically and she leans forwards eagerly. “Seen?” she exclaims.

Santana shudders, suddenly regretting that she brought it up when the image burned into her memory starts replaying for her. “Unfortunately.”

Brittany giggles and clasps her hands together, rocking backwards on her heels. “Like a train wreck, right?” she asks knowingly.

Santana blinks out of the memory, focusing on the much more pleasing image of Brittany’s sparkling eyes. “Definitely.”

Brittany laughs a little, relaxing again, and there’s a small lull that would normally make Santana fidget with her hands, but Brittany just smiles softly at her and Santana finds herself smiling in return. “So, are you ready for the shows tomorrow?” Brittany finally asks, her voice quiet and warm.

Santana shrugs. “They’re going to be,” she pauses and glances up at the ceiling as she thinks of the right word, “interesting, to say the least.”

The fingers of Brittany’s right hand twitch towards her arm, but freeze a moment later and drop back to her side. Santana wonders what it would feel like to have those clever fingers grazing over her skin, but manages to snap out of her daydreaming with only a little bit of heat in her checks when Brittany speaks again. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” she says easily, “I was talking to Quinn after the show and she was saying that you were a quick study.”

Santana blinks. “Really?” she wonders. It’s not that she thought Quinn would hate her or anything, but, in Santana’s experience, shoving a new person into the production this late always ends up having issues; when sometimes she covers for other stage managers there’s almost always a little bit of tension as everyone tries to adjust to each other.

Brittany nods easily, a small smile curling her lips. “She said that you fit in really well.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was so worried that everyone would hate me or something,” Santana says, before blinking in surprise. She hadn’t meant to admit that, she’s barely talked about her reservations regarding this job with Tina or Mike, yet somehow Brittany is on the receiving end of Santana’s sudden lack of a filter. “Um, you were amazing tonight, by the way,” she redirects quickly.

Pink blooms in splotches across the peak of Brittany’s cheeks despite the fact that Santana knows that this can’t be the first compliment that Brittany’s ever got. “Thanks,” she mumbles bashfully, and something in Santana’s chest twists when she realizes she really wants to see that blush again, and she’s about to go about doing just that when a voice interrupts them from the door.

“Santana?”

Brittany and Santana both turn to the door, finding Tina smirking from the doorway. Santana feels her face heat up for absolutely no reason as Tina’s eyes dart between her and Brittany. “I thought I heard you in here,” she explains, “I see you’ve finally met Brittany.”

Brittany brightens a little. “Your battle scene was great today,” she greets, “Sam said you actually nailed him in the eye.”

Tina laughs, her face opening and brightening at the compliment. “I threw it weird and didn’t even think I would hit him, but he slipped on his turn and instead of missing him I got him right in the face.”

Brittany grins. “Mike said it was glorious.”

Tina chuckles before glancing at Santana. “You coming? Mike’s already impatiently opened a bottle of wine at home to celebrate your first day.”

Santana hesitates. “There’s two shows tomorrow,” she protests weakly, “And I’ve gotta go through the prompt book a couple more times.”

“The matinee’s not until one,” Tina says easily, more than used to having to drag Santana away from her work.

Brittany glances back and forth between the two friends before settling her eyes on Santana, and the warmth in Brittany’s gaze makes that thing spasm in her chest again. “You only have one first day,” she says wisely.

Santana sighs and glances between the two. “Fine,” she mutters. Tina cheers from the doorway, but Brittany just gives her a quiet smile.

“Have fun,” Brittany says.

Santana sucks in a sharp breath through her nose before offering Brittany a small smile in return. “Thanks,” she murmurs, “See you tomorrow.”

Brittany waves her goodbyes to them as Tina drags her out of the dressing room, marching Santana to the stage manager’s office so they can collect Santana’s jacket and prompt book before she can change her mind and insist on going back to her apartment without celebratory drinks. Tina’s lucky enough to have a good parking space in the building’s parkade, being a principal and all, and they head to the elevators that will take them to the parking level in comfortable silence.

“So what do you think?” Tina says as she starts her car and backs out of her parking space. “How do you think it will go?”

“It’s going to be challenging,” Santana admits, “But, interesting, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santana bites her lip but once she realizes Tina is sufficiently distracted by watching traffic for her chance to pull out of the parkade her reluctance fades, “I have a good feeling about this show.”

Tina apparently wasn’t distracted as Santana thought she was and glances at Santana out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes curious and intrigued in the brightness of the streetlights and taillights around them. “Really? I haven’t heard you say that about a show in years,” she says carefully.

Blue eyes and a soft smile come unbidden to her mind, and Santana’s thankful for the darkness because it hides the blush she can feel creeping along her cheeks and the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I have a really good feeling about it.”

[etherealrj]

bad at love - part two

pairings - reddie

words - 1.3K

 warnings - none

part one

part three

part four

It was quite easy to say that the car ride to the arcade was the most awkward situation either boy had been in since walking in on Richie’s parents getting it on, on Richie’s 16th birthday.

Eddie completely shut down once inside the beat-up piece of shit that Richie calls a car. Although none of the losers would give it up for the world, they’ve all been through too much in this car but it was still a piece of shit.

Eddie cringes at idea of the copious amount times Richie has been balls deep inside his girlfriend in this very seat. He tries not think about that too much not wanting to mentally scar himself even more than he already is.

“Eds,” Richie mumbles from the drives seat. “You-You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but I’m here to listen.” He pauses to turn down the busy main street of Derry. “Like, if you want. Y'know?” Eddie doesn’t verbalise a response but sends a subtle nod in Richie’s direction hoping that was enough to get his message across.

He appreciates it. He really does, Richie’s never this quiet, especially when they are driving, he always feels the need to turn whatever loud repulsive song is playing on the radio, blasting it from the speakers while screaming at the top of his lungs. Eddie lets out an affectionate huff at the memory of Richie belting out the lyrics to Shaggy and looking utterly ridiculous while doing so.

“Earth to Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says obnoxiously waving a hand in front of his face. Breaking Eddie from his thoughts, he realised he’d been staring off into space for the past few minutes. Eddie pushes Richie’s hand away from his face.

“Ugh, get your hand away from me.”

Richie lets out a loud laugh before leaning into Eddie, “That’s not what you’ll be saying later tonight, baby boy.” Eddie rolls his eyes, before shoving the car door open and heading toward the arcade, he walks off on Richie half heartedly listening to him proclaim sex noise from the top of his lungs across the carpark. Heavy footsteps echo on the bitumen behind him, Eddie can hear the boys aspirated voice faded as he entered the building. The amount of kids running around always seems to overwhelm him.

Eddie feels Richie put his hand on his shoulder, immediately calming his senses. The taller boy guides him toward the booth in the back. The loud laughs from their pals brings a small smile to Eddie’s face.

“Eddie! Richie! We we’re starting to worry.” Mike says with a big smile as he shuffles over to make room for the pair.

“Yeah. You guys are late.” Stan added, brushing the single curl from in front of his eye behind his ear.

“Sorry guys, Eddie was trying to get into my pants. I needed to remind him that I have prior engagements.” Eddie slapped Richie across the chest before leaning his head back against the booth, repressing the urge to wipe everything down with antibacterial wipes. Ben snorted loudly at the pair.

“Speaking of girlfriend!” Bev exclaimed. “How are you guys?” Eddie listened intently to Richie’s answer, noticing a slight hesitation. He cracked opened one of his eyes to see the taller boy staring at his face.

“We, um” He paused. “It’s good, great even.” Eddie groaned internally, supressing a sigh. “For her. I think. I’m trying really hard to just love her but I can’t.”

“W-W-w-hat?” Bill stutters. His stutter extremely worsened due to the heavy surprise of Richie’s statement. It had gotten better since they were thirteen, all the Losers were incredibly proud of Bill’s effort to improve his speech patterns.

“You didn’t mention this in the car Rich?” Eddie questions, slightly more intrigued than necessary. He’s still his best friend regardless of what he feels for the other. Richie glances around the table and lands his focus on Eddie.

“She told me, she’s in love with me.”

“What’s the matter with that? You guys say that all the time?” Ben said. Richie paused looking down at his hands placed upon the table. Eddie was feeling more excited than deemed acceptable but the look on Richie’s face was telling him it wasn’t all that important.

“I love her like I love Eddie’s Mom.”

 “It’s enough, but not enough. No offense Ed.” Eddie snorted and waved his hand.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Eddie asked nibbling on his lower lip.

“Yeah, you can’t just leave her hanging.” Mike added after taking a sip from what Eddie could only imagine too be Mike’s all-time favourite strawberry milkshake.  

“If you were in the same position you wouldn’t appreciate it.” Stan said in-between bites of his fruit salad.  The poor boy could only ever eat the food his Mother prepared for him, he always had to bring food with him whenever they all go out.

“If you don’t love her at all, you need to break up with her. The sooner the better.” Bev said with a raise of her eyebrows.

Richie sighed before saying, “That’s not even the worst part.”

“W-w-what could b-be w-worse than that?” Bill asked. Richie leaned back into the red booth, back relaxing against the worn vinyl.

He lifted his arm and settled it on the back of the chair behind Eddie’s back. “I’m in love with someone else.” Eddie’s whole entire world seemed to simultaneous brighten and dull all at once.

Moments past by when suddenly Eddie is pulled from his thoughts by a slap on his back followed by Richie’s departure. Eddie shook his head and faced the group. All five other members seemed to have targeted their attention toward him. “What just happened? Where’d Rich go?”

“You weren’t listening?”  Ben said. “He’s going to break up with Jane.” The table went silent all the remaining members of the Loser’s attention focus’ on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie said with a shake of his head glancing around at the Loser’s.

“Whose gonna tell him?” Eddie looks over to Mike, an unreadable expression etched onto his face.

“Y-you know he loves y-you right?” Bill says, eyes widened as he glances across the round table at Eddie. Eddie shakes his head.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Roxanne lately.” Eddie trailed off, glancing around the room at anything but his friends. The old worn out red seats that loitered the walls, the dark carpet covered in a multitude of questionable stains, the walls lined with pinball machines and the area slowly filling with children all rushing around, hoping to get a spot in line in front of their favourite game. The arcade was always busy on Friday nights, the absence of Riche was unnerving. Eddie knowing the only reason he still comes here is for boy. He mentally wished the boy luck in whatever course he was taking with Jane.

“Eddie,” Bev said. “It’s you. It always has been.”  

“Well-Well, I- Maybe I don’t like him back, did you ever think of that huh? What makes you think that I Eddie Kaspbrak would ever feel anything for Trashmouth Richie Tozier? Have you seen that boy? Have You? There are no redeeming qualities about him whatsoever.  Not even his soft curls or-or his dark eyes that make you feel warm all over or the number of freckles that always seem to multiply across his nose every other week. Or-or even that small smile that plays on his lips when he sleeps and that fact his literally as blind as a bat without those ugly ass glasses. Don’t even get me started on those stupid Mom jokes he’s always making or-or his annoying habit to give everyone and everything a fucking nickname. I don’t have any feelings for Richie Tozier. Ugly! Everything is just ugly.” Eddie sucked in a hard breath from previously exhausting all his oxygen from prior events. He was met by five faces which he was all too familiar with, all sporting the same amused expression.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and before he had any time to reaction, the pale faced curly headed boy he knew all to well was leaning over him. If Eddie were to turn his face slightly to the left there would be no avoiding the beautiful face of Richie Tozier. Eddie swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Wow Ed’s, you’ve wounded me. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

A/N sike guys theres gonna a part three because i’m wayyyy to invested in this story. I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think! I had a lot of problems posting this so I hope it posted the right one lmao

if you wanna be in the taglist lemme know!

masterlist

request here

TAGLIST :  @rupkin  @tastes-like-cherry-coke  @simply-another-stranger  @croke-park-princess @scienceyyy @irwinxbmth @dauntless-demigod23  @funkymonkey021 @80srichie @kalikalooed @buckynatlarry @whoisjjacob

[urdearestmom]

Airport Ballrooms | A Delayed Flight

so I don’t think I ever posted this there, and it reminded me that I need to post the rest of the chapters of LSS. but for those of you who haven’t come here from my ao3, here’s a little something I wrote back in January.

Summary: What happens when you hear a piano at 3 am?

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332432

She hears it before she sees anything. Right as she exits the washroom, a song’s beginning is heard from a piano. As it proceeds, she finds that it’s vaguely familiar.

Coming into the open area where she’s been sitting and trying to nap for the past three hours, she sees that the formerly vacant piano is now occupied by a man whose fingers are gliding across the keys, his dark hair slipping over his brow. He looks like he might be about her age, although she’s not sure.

He’s very concentrated on his playing, so he doesn’t notice when she stands off to his left, watching. He ends the piece softly and when he looks up, he sees her and jumps, putting a hand to his chest.

“Jesus Christ! …almost gave me a heart attack there,” he laughs.

She smiles. “Sorry. That was really nice,” she says, gesturing to the keys. “What was it?”

He shrugs. “Just some good old Chopin.”

She nods. “Sounds familiar.”

“Did you recognize it?” He asks. “It’s one of his most famous pieces.”

“Yeah, kinda sounded like a lullaby or something.” She scrunches her nose. “Never mind.”

He hums. “No, I get what you mean, it has that quality to it,” he says, getting up and pushing the bench in. “What’s your name?”

For some reason, it’s at that moment that she notices he has freckles, although not many. “Jane Hopper, but I go by El. I like your freckles,” she unashamedly comments, then cringes. Fuck.

They start moving toward the seats where she left her luggage, and she sees that there are a few more bags nearby that must be his.

“Really?” He answers. “I used to have a lot more when I was younger, it’s kind of a side effect of aging that you lose freckles.”

“They’re cute.” She looks at her feet. Again? Seriously?

“Alright,” he chuckles. “If you say so, El.”

It’s then she remembers she hasn’t asked his name.

“Michael Wheeler, but no one except my parents call me Michael. Mike’s easier,” he says, tilting his head. “Were you on that flight to Indianapolis? I think it’s the only one that got delayed this late.”

She sits back where she’s been this entire time, and he sits next to her. They’ve just met, but it’s nice not to have to sit in an empty airport terminal at three in the morning by herself, chasing sleep she knows she’s not going to find. “Yeah, I’m going home. I was in Vegas at a speech pathology conference."

Mike grins. “Vegas, huh? What’s it like, hit up any casinos?”

El lays her head back. “I was there for work, so no. I guess I could have, some of my coworkers did, but casinos aren’t really my scene. Too loud,” she responds. “My friend Dustin definitely did, he’s still there,” she adds with a smile.

“He sounds like fun.”

“Definitely is, though sometimes he can be a bit of a handful,” she laughs. “How about you? Going home too?”

Mike nods. “Yup. I was in LA visiting my cousin, but also working. I’m a piano teacher,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “And there’s been a new initiative here in the States, to get some sort of standardized way of teaching, like the Royal Conservatory in Canada. So there’s been collaboration happening, stuff might be in the works.”

She turns to look at him, taking in the excited way he says this. “You seem really happy about that,” she remarks.

He nods again excitedly, his mop of hair flopping over his eyes. “Absolutely! It would make things easier if every teacher across the country had a certain level of things to teach students. Be easier for students too, especially if they ever have to switch teachers.” Suddenly he blows air upwards. “I need to cut this shit,” Mike says, gesturing to the dark locks surrounding his face.

El contemplates him for a second, taking in how he looks. “Nah, it looks good with your face.” GOD, EL! Stop being so forward, you just met him! “I think so, at least, if my opinion counts for anything,” she says, suddenly shy.

It’s weird, she thinks, that she just met this guy less than ten minutes ago and they’re already talking so easily.

He smiles. “It does,” he says, taking out his phone. He shows her what’s clearly a selfie, but it looks like there’s two of him. “That’s my cousin.” Mike points at the one who’s wearing a Guns N’ Roses shirt. “And this is me.” He’s wearing a simple striped t-shirt.

She looks more closely at the picture, trying to find some difference between them. “You guys look like twins!” She exclaims.

“We could be, if he wasn’t five years younger. We get that a lot though,” he answers. “I think you’re going to agree with me on this.” He continues. “He says he’s more attractive, but I say we look the same and therefore have the same appeal. What do you think? As an outside party.”

El looks at it again, and finds that she disagrees with Mike. “I think you’re cuter. Something about you,” she replies.

She looks up to find that a lovely pink blush is spreading across his cheeks. “Something I said?” She winks. Oh my god you fucking idiot. She suddenly feels crushed by the weight of her mortification.

He makes a strangled noise, and the hour and her tired brain must be getting to her, because somehow she finds it the funniest sound she’s ever heard. It’s also a little comforting that he doesn’t seem completely put off.

“Damn, that was smooth!” He says, starting to laugh too. “I gotta tell him you said that.”

“Isn’t he sleeping by now?”

He shakes his head. “No, he says sleep is for the weak. And it’s only two in Cali, and it’s the weekend.”

She reads over his shoulder as he types.

Cute girl said I’m cuter than you LOL

Suck on THAT tozier

“You think I’m cute?”

Mike blushes again. “Yeah, pretty. Really pretty,” he says softly. He gets a text almost instantly.

I dont believe u wheelie

U probably paid her or smth

Also, suck on what ;)

Actually nvm thats incest its just my reflex response

Mike looks at her. “Is it okay if we make a video and send it to him so he believes me?”

She shrugs. “We’ve still got at least four hours to kill, so why not?”

He pulls up the camera and starts recording. “Fine, you don’t believe me, here she is herself,” he says, turning the camera on her.

She waves awkwardly. “Hey… um, what’s his name?” Cringe.

“Richie.”

“Hey, Richie, just a little video to say that in my opinion your cousin’s cuter than you. And no, he didn’t pay me to say that,” she states, glancing off camera with a small smile.

Mike turns the camera back to him. “There you go, asshole. Video proof.”

He sends it, and they wait a minute in anticipatory silence before Mike’s phone vibrates with another text.

Lmao that doesnt convince me

She is cute tho ill give u that

Mike heaves an over-exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. You’re a dick, he types, go to sleep I’ll text when I get home.

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK, MICHAEL.

GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, RICHARD. YOU HAVE WORK TOMORROW.

FUCK WORK

Mike stares at his phone for a second before turning it off. “If I keep talking to him then he’ll never actually go to sleep.”

El smiles at him. “He seems like a fun person.”

“Oh, he’s an absolute dick. But I love him,” Mike says, shaking his head again. “We weren’t really close as kids but then he moved nearby and we talked more, except then I went to college. He’s closer with my little sister.”

She nods. “Do you have any siblings?” He asks.

“Nope. Just me and my dad.”

“That’s nice. Sometimes I wish there had been less people in my house, would’ve meant less embarrassment in certain situations,” he says. “I have two sisters, one older, one younger.”

“I wish I’d had a sister growing up, would’ve made things easier sometimes,” she answers. “Can you even imagine how awkward my dad was the first time I got my period?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said that. OH MY FUCK.

“Sorry, that was awkward,” she laughs. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK.

“No, it’s fine, just unexpected is all,” he says. “I mean, we’ve only known each other for like fifteen minutes.”

They look at each other, the same thought going through their minds. “This is weird,” they say together, and then they start giggling.

“I just-” He takes a breath. “Do you feel like you know me from somewhere? Because I feel like I know you but I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.”

It’s what she’s been thinking. She feels a sort of familiarity with him, something she’s never felt so quickly with anyone else. It’s like she’s known him for a long time, or maybe in another life or universe.

She grins. “Isn’t there a multiverse theory?”

After spending an hour discussing parallel universes and the physics involved in understanding any of it (which they both have enough of a basic grasp on because of watching too much History Channel), Mike is sitting at the piano again, El having asked him to play something else. She doesn’t recognize the beginning, but as it progresses she realizes she does know it. It gets her moving, and she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she’s circling the piano and the man playing it in a way that somehow fits with the music. She even sings along with the main melody and the trills.

She feels like he’s transforming the place into a gigantic ballroom with his music, and she’s the princess dancing with her prince (except there’s no prince to dance with, because he’s too busy making the music). It’s a stupid thing to think, but she never had dolls or was allowed to watch princess movies or read fairytales when she was a kid, and she feels like she missed out. Hopper let her watch movies and read, but it wasn’t the same as a teen as it would’ve been as a kid. And maybe it’s just a dumb fantasy, a creation of her mind because she’s tired and suddenly thinking about her horrifying childhood, but she thinks the imaginary ballroom that only has her and Mike in it is a wonderful place to be.

He ends the piece with a theatrical flourish, throwing his hands up off the keys as soon as the last notes are played. “How was that? You were dancing!”

A laugh escapes her lips as she claps. “It was amazing! I knew that one, it’s from the Nutcracker, right?”

Mike nods vigorously. “Gotta love me some Tchaikovsky.”

“Is that why it’s so dancey? Because it’s for a ballet?” She asks, curious.

“No, it’s because it’s a waltz,” he answers, stretching his arms up above his head. His sweater rides up to reveal a sliver of pale skin, and she finds herself staring without being able to tear her eyes away. “Waltzes are inherently dancey, I think. At least that’s what I always tell my students who play them, it helps them really hear the tempo and accents if they try to see the dancers.”

She averts her gaze, and he’s still talking. “You know, ‘cause waltzes have the accent on count one, so it goes one-two-three, and sometimes when you’re caught up in playing you forget about it so it’s good to try and envision the dancing. The music was written for dancing after all,” he finishes. “El? Sorry, was I rambling, because I have a tendency to-”

“No,” she breathes. “You’re just really attractive. The piano suits you.” She almost face palms. WHY am I like this????

That shuts him up, a redness spreading across his face once again (but this time along with a wide grin). He might just combust if he looks at her, so he looks at his hands instead.

“Sorry,” she says, worried she’s crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to yet.

Mike’s head whips up. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I’m too forward. It almost always ruins things with guys.” She deflates almost imperceptibly, and she wonders if he noticed.

Apparently he did, because El feels herself pulled into a sideways hug, tugged down to sit on the bench next to him. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re just saying what you think is true, which is a great quality to have. You saved me from my own rambling, so thanks.” He gives her a squeeze and adds, “It hasn’t ruined things with me.”

Suddenly the air is charged and she thinks that if they weren’t in an airport she might have kissed him then. Sadly, they are in an airport. Instead, she requests that he play something more contemporary than Chopin or Tchaikovsky, and he starts up with a rendition of Halo by Beyoncé.

They spend another hour around the piano, him playing more and she observing. El thinks he plays with a lot of grace, his fingers moving deftly across the keys almost as though he’s stroking the instrument. He looks like he belongs in front of a piano, making beautiful music for all the world to hear. In this case the world is a strange woman in an airport at the asscrack of dawn.

It’s five in the morning when the pair crashes back onto the seats next to their bags, and they lean their heads on each other and fall asleep. However, it seems things are only in increments of one hour on this night, because it’s six when El awakes with a start, knocking Mike’s head off of hers.

“Attention passengers: flight 337 to Indianapolis International is now scheduled for take-off at eight thirty. Boarding will begin at gate twenty-three one hour in advance.”

“Hey,” she says, seeing Mike next to her looking disoriented. “Flight’s at eight thirty but we gotta be there at seven thirty, do you wanna get some breakfast?”

Looking around, she sees that the open area that was so empty during the night now has other people milling through it, and it shatters the warm space she’d felt she and Mike were in. It’s time to go back to the real world, away from the fantasies of ballrooms and princes and dancing. The magic of the night has been erased by the movement of the morning and she hopes what she thinks she felt between them hasn’t been erased too.

He yawns. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, getting up to stretch and grabbing her bags.

They walk around the slowly filling terminal, looking for a place to eat, and light upon a cute coffee place in the food court. They order and eat in silence, avoiding looking at each other, until he speaks.

“Does last night… feel like it was a dream, to you?” Mike asks.

I thought that was just me. She takes a sip of her black coffee. “It kind of does, yeah. This entire encounter has been weird.”

He looks down at his croissant, crinkling his nose, then peeks back at her through his lashes. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He says nothing else, and neither does she, so they head off to gate twenty three, and she thinks something’s wrong because he wasn’t this quiet or awkward last night. The tension is palpable, but she’s never been very good at social interactions and she doesn’t know what to say. He probably realized how dumb I am. She thinks she may have come across as very brazen (which she is, but she hates it for how it ruins everything all the time). Mike hadn’t seemed bothered by her earlier, and she had hoped that something good might have come out of their chance meeting.

It seems it was not to be, however, because the only thing he does as they board the plane is wave and give a little half smile when he finds his seat. El sighs and settles in for the hour and a half flight. She’s decided she’s going to try to catch up on the sleep she missed instead of sitting in abject misery, and it works because she’s blinking confusedly when a flight attendant wakes her to say that they will be landing in approximately forty minutes.

She’s excited to be back home, to work, her patients, her dad and Max. But she’s also the teeniest bit sad because she wants to explore that special connection she feels with Mike, to see what it means and what it’s about and she believes she’s ruined her chances (okay, so maybe she’s more than a teeny bit sad). She’s convinced herself that nothing was ever going to happen, she had imagined the unexplainable thing she felt between them.

She makes it through baggage claim and isn’t sent to customs, so El’s on her way out of the terminal to catch a taxi because both Max and Hopper are working today when something does happen. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a person running out of the passenger exit, and she thinks that they must have seen a loved one they missed.

That is, until she hears the shout. “El!”

It’s Mike of course, and he comes to a skidding halt in front of her, breathless. “I just- ran- all the way here- because- I’m a dumbass-”

“Whoa, hey, breathe,” she says, “I don’t need you dying on me in the middle of the airport.”

He nods and waits until his breathing levels out before straightening up. “I wanted to apologize for being so stupid and awkward this morning, I don’t know what got into me.” He swallows before looking at her directly. “I really want to see you again, so… do you wanna go out sometime?”

WHAT! She doesn’t respond for a few moments, shocked. But then she grins and says, “Are you asking me on a date?”

He sucks in a breath, about to shake his head, she can tell, but then he stops. “You know what, fuck it. Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’d certainly like that.”

El leaves the airport with Mike’s number in her phone, and she’s only been in the taxi for a few minutes when it pings with a text.

Can you do tonight at 7?

He’s eager, and she likes that she’s not the only one. It assures her she’s not being some creepy, obsessive, stalker.

Someone’s eager lol

But yes

Where?

I was supposed to go to a “friend’s” party tonight but I never actually said yes and I really don’t want to haha

Kinda cheesy but I was thinking a roller rink if you want to go

There’s one near my place and it has an arcade too!!

Growing up in the 90s, El remembers being fond of arcades. She and Max used to hang out in them all the time. Another thing in common!

Aaaaaa the arcade I miss those

Sounds good, pick me up or meet you there?

I can pick you up lol I don’t mind

She sends him her address, and he sends back a GIF of a penguin dancing.

See you later :D

(part 2)