#probably could've been a few separate snippets but OH WELL

[mt07131]

Sweet Blasphemy- Maeve Divine

The song inspiring and featured in this fic

We are young and we are strong

The front door of the house creaked open, a small hand pulling out the house key as Maeve stepped back inside. For a few moments, she waited, listening. When nothing unusual reached her ears, she sighed to herself and stepped further into the house. She didn’t know why she even bothered. Her parents were always out, their jobs kept them busy most days. When she was younger, her parents used to have their neighbor’s older daughter come over and watch her after school. During the particularly long stretches where they had business trips, her grandparents would stay over and watch her. But now, she was ten, she was old enough to be home on her own.

The pride of being old enough for staying home alone didn’t quite surpass how lonely she felt coming home to an empty house nearly every day. She knew her parents loved her (of course they did, they were her parents) but she wished they were around more. When she left school, she would always see parents picking up their children, engaging in conversations with interested smiles. Her parents never did that. The few times they were home, they seemed only mildly interested in what Maeve would say to them.

She shook her head, leaving her sneakers by the front door. There wasn’t any point to wondering what she could have, because she doubted she would ever get it. Instead, she parked herself at the kitchen table, pulling out her math workbook. They were always happy when she got her homework done before they got home, right? Right.

She got into a groove, flying through those problems (fractions, she hated fractions), when she realized she needed a worksheet from earlier in the week. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out her folder and began searching for it. What she triumphantly thought was the worksheet was anything but. Instead, it was a permission slip, for the school’s annual Daddy Daughter Dance.

Maeve sighed, slumping back in her chair as she read the form over. It was due tomorrow, and it was still sitting in her folder, blank. She hadn’t bothered asking her dad about it, already knowing what the answer was going to be. He was too busy, he had important work things to get done, and other things she didn’t quite understand. She just wished… sometimes, it felt like they didn’t care about her. That she wasn’t important to them.

Shoving the form back in her folder, she found the worksheet and went back to her math homework. However, she couldn’t focus now. Her mind kept going back to that permission slip, and how she wouldn’t get to go. She hated missing out, but more than that, she felt sad that she couldn’t go.

A groan escaped her lips as she shoved the half-finished workbook back into her backpack. She was sad now, and she hated being sad and being sad made it hard to focus. Whatever, she’d finish the homework later, she would have time. Her parents wouldn’t be back until much later, and she didn’t have any dance lessons today.

So instead of sitting at the kitchen table in misery, she zipped up her backpack and bounded up the stairs to her bedroom. Her bedroom was her sanctuary, and her favorite part of it was her poster wall. It was small for now, only a few posters, but she spent hours meticulously cutting them out of magazines so they wouldn’t rip. On each poster was a musician, posed in some interesting way or another.

She dropped her backpack at the foot of her bed, climbing onto it as she turned on the CD player on her bedside table. She got it from her grandparents for her birthday this past summer, and she begged her parents to take her out to buy CDs for it.

Opening the drawer now, Maeve ran a finger over her small but treasured collection. Her finger landed on a white case covered in black and orange writing. The first CD she bought, her most treasured, and her most played. She still remembered when they went to the store.

“What do you have that’s cool?” She asked the girl at the counter, barely reaching the countertop’s surface with her chin.

The girl, who had brightly colored hair and a lot of metal sticking out of her face, gave Maeve an amused look. “‘Cool’?” She repeated.

Maeve shrugged. She thought the older girl looked cool, so she must know what music was cool, right? “Yeah, cool.” She doubled down, crossing her arms.

With a little laugh, the cashier thought for a moment, then reached over to a display on the other side of the counter. She handed Maeve a white case covered in black and orange writing. “Ever heard of Paramore, kid?” She asked. Maeve shook her head, taking the CD. “They’re pretty cool, the lead singer is one of my favorites. This is their new album, just came out last month.”

Smiling, Maeve wove her way back through the store to her mom, who was currently in the classical music section. “I want this one.” She said without further introduction.

Her mom raised a brow, taking the CD from her daughter’s hands. She gave it a look over, and it seemed… interesting. “This one? Are you sure you don’t want something a little calmer?” She asked.

Maeve crossed her arms. “You said I could get anything I wanted from here, this is what I want.” She insisted.

Her mom gave her a look, but she wasn’t going to back down. Even at just ten years old, her daughter was already headstrong. Some fights weren’t worth fighting, especially with Maeve. “Alright, fine.” She agreed.

Later, the girl with the bright hair rang them up. “If you like that one, kid,” She started, handing the bag to Maeve. “Come by again, I’ll give you more suggestions.” She offered with a wink.

Maeve closed the lid to the CD player, the opening notes of ‘For A Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic’ echoing through the room.

And she closed her eyes, letting all of her worries drift away. She loved music, she loved it so much. It was everything to her.

Through strength in self we become

“We need to talk.” Maeve’s mom started, placing her fork down.

Maeve raised a brow as she reached over to serve herself more dinner. It was a rare night in the Treadwell household, for there were three people sitting at the dinner table. “About?” Maeve responded. She didn’t like that tone of voice that her mom was using.

Her mom sighed. “Well, come the fall, you’re going to be a junior. Have you started thinking about college, doing research?” She asked.

Maeve sat back in her chair, thoughts of a second helping of food abandoned. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” She started. Her mom smiled slightly, a rare pleased look on her face. What was it about tonight that was making everything feel so strange? “And I’m not going.”

Her parents looked to each other at that bombshell, Maeve seemingly unbothered by their reaction. “You’re… what?” Her mom asked in disbelief. “Maeve, you can’t be serious. You’ve been on the honor roll every marking period since sixth grade, you could get into great schools-”

“And spend thousands of dollars on an education that I don’t want for a piece of paper that isn’t going to help me, only to eventually fall into despair because I’m stuck in a career and life I don’t care about?” Maeve tilted her head back and forth, thinking. “Yeah, hard pass on that one, actually.” She decided.

Her mom opened her mouth, but stopped when her husband set a placating hand on her arm. “So if you’re not going to college, what are you going to do?” He asked his daughter cautiously.

She shrugged. “The band.” She answered simply.

This answer elicited a groan from her mom. “The band, really? I get that you’re having fun with your friends, but you’re going to be an adult soon, and you have to start thinking about your future.” She cautioned.

Maeve gave her a cold look. “I am thinking about my future. My future is with Reject Saints. Mom, this band is everything to me-”

“Is it really though, Maeve?” She asked, wincing. The concern in her voice was obvious, but it did nothing other than send a chill throughout Maeve like she just got a bucket of ice water dumped on her. “We’ve supported you with the band, but I think it’s time you start being realistic.”

Her daughter scoffed, loudly. “You know it’s so interesting that you want to be involved in my life now.” She pointed an accusing finger at her mom. “Would’ve been really nice to see this happen more when I was a kid, but I guess we can’t all be perfect.” She spat.

Her dad gave Maeve a look now. “Don’t speak to your mom that way, Maeve.”

Maeve laughed. “Then maybe don’t act like I don’t know what I’m talking about!” She retorted. “I’ve thought it out, okay? I’ve got the band, and I’ll stay at the record shop just to have something consistent. Once I do the band full-time, I’ll really be able to focus and actually make something out of it, why- why don’t you trust me?” She asked, and her anger now shifted to desperation.

Maeve’s mom crossed her arms. “Because you just turned sixteen, and you are making a decision that is going to affect your entire life!”

“That’s rich, considering in like a year, you want me to make a different decision that is going to impact the trajectory of my entire life. What’s the difference between choosing to do this and choosing what college to go to? Or is it just because you don’t want me to do it?” Maeve challenged. Her mom didn’t respond, so she pushed back her chair and stood up. “That’s what I thought. I’m not hungry anymore.”

Her mom scoffed, turning in her seat to her exiting daughter. “Maeve Frances, don’t you dare storm away like a child.” She admonished. The only response from said exiting daughter was the sound of her feet stomping up the stairs and the door to her bedroom slamming closed.

Maeve leaned against her bedroom door, breathing heavily. She would not cry, she wouldn’t. She knew she needed to have that conversation with them eventually, and she really shouldn’t be surprised about how it went. She could deal with the fallout later, but for now, she just needed to get out of here.

She finally pulled away from the door, going to find her phone (a new one, she bought it herself with her money from the record store and everything) that she left on the bedside table. She found the conversation she needed (right at the top, to no one’s surprise) and sent a simple text: “U around?”

Barely a minute had gone by before the screen lit up with a response. “At diner w/ mom why?”

“Can I come by?”

“Don’t even have to ask”

“Be there in 15”

With a resolute breath, Maeve grabbed a hoodie from her closet.  She didn’t know how long she was going to be out, and despite it being August, sometimes the chilly summer nights snuck up on you. Hopefully, she’d be out a while, she couldn’t stand to be in this house a minute longer.

Back down the stairs and towards the back door. “Maeve, where are you going?” Her mom called out icily as she passed by.

“Out.” She responded just as coldly, not making eye contact.

It was a short bike ride into downtown, and she already felt better when she saw the familiar warm lights leaking out of the diner windows, and the equally as familiar figure nearly pacing outside the building.

Maeve rang the bell on her bike, and Seven looked up at the sound. “Hey, everything alright?” He asked, a furrow making itself known between his brows. Four years of being friends and he could proudly say he knew her inside and out by now. Hence why the tone of her text instantly made him worried.

She hesitated, then sighed, getting off the bike. “Oh, you know, just enjoying a lovely dinner with my lovely parents.” Leaning the bike against the building, she huffed again. “Told them I don’t want to go to college and want to do the band full time, and mom went ballistic on me. Basically told me that I was too young to be making a decision like that and I just… I needed to get out of there, Sev.” She finished.

There was silence between the pair, but only briefly. “Maeve… ugh, fuck them.” He scoffed. If anyone knew about her strained relationship with her parents, it would be him. “Look at me.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “We’re gonna figure it out, okay? You and me. Well, and Rowan, and Devyn, and Iris, and Jazzy too, of course. But you and me definitely.” 

Maeve smiled at that. “Yeah, I know. I just… I don’t know, what if they’re right? What if I’m making a mistake?” She wondered. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Seven asked wryly. “Since when do you care about what anyone thinks, especially them and especially about the band? You’re meant to be doing this, I know it.” He reassured. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, nodding to the diner entrance. “C’mon, I was just telling mom about how Mrs. Matthews failed her entire chem class for the bunsen burner incident, but I think she likes it better when you tell stories.” He smiled.

And Maeve followed him in, with a free (translation: in exchange for helping Lucy wipe down the tables at closing) milkshake in hand to make her feel just the tiniest bit better.

Something more than they can be

Maeve entered the band’s rented out recording space, pushing herself against the other side of the door. There was silence for a minute as the band looked at their lead singer, dramatically smushing herself against the door. “Well?” Was all she said, finally turning to them.

“You’re ridiculous!” Rowan laughed at her dramatics as she sat on the couch next to him. “I think you’re worried about nothing.”

Maeve elbowed him in the side. “Can you blame me? This is our first original release since…” She trailed off, looking at her feet. The first original release since Seven left. “...our first big original release in a few years.” She corrected herself, looking up again. “I didn’t look at my phone all day yesterday, I couldn’t, I was too nervous.”

Iris chuckled from where she sat. “Yeah, we could tell by the way you weren’t answering your texts yesterday. Rowan almost filed a missing persons report.” She deadpanned.

Rowan threw a pillow at their keyboardist. “Did not!” 

“Alright before we get into a pillow fight, is one of you assholes gonna tell me if people like the album or not?” Maeve interrupted, snatching a second pillow from Rowan’s hands. She usually wasn’t this nervous about a release, but this was different. The Resurrection was, she thought, their best work so far. She poured her heart and soul into those songs, and she was genuinely truly proud of them. Part of her knew that even if people hated it, she would still love it, but she still wanted it to be liked. This was a new era for Reject Saints, she could feel it in her bones.

The rest of the band looked to each other, and then to Orion, who had been silent in the corner of the room answering emails or doing whatever managers did. He raised a brow at the band, who was waiting in anticipation. “So, wanna tell her, boss man?” Rowan asked.

Orion gave Rowan a dry look. “Do not call me that.” He said simply, in that curt tone that the band had gotten used to. Then, he looked to Maeve. “Rowan is right, however, you have nothing to worry about. The reception to the album has been positive.” He confirmed.

Maeve smiled hesitantly. “Really? Like actually? If any of you are pulling my leg, I swear-”

“Just take a look yourself.” Devyn piped up.

The lead singer finally gave in, opening up Twitter for the first time since they officially dropped the album. She manuevered to the band’s profile, and started reading through the various posts they were tagged in.

“@NJMusicMonthly: Rock band @rejectsaints just dropped their latest album The Resurrection, and we give it a 9.5/10!”

“@Divine_Reject07: oh my goddddd!!!! @rejectsaints you did the damn thing!!!! will be listening on repeat thank u very much”

“@BASSmag: @rejectsaints may be small, but The Resurrection is a mighty showing of what they can do”

“@MHolland9: if I see people NOT streaming the new @rejectsaints album im gonna start biting ankles”

She let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the couch and holding the phone to her chest. People liked it, they actually liked it. She wasn’t just kidding herself.

“Uh, guys? I think we might have lost Maeve.” Rowan joked.

Maeve didn’t open her eyes. “Rowan, just let me have this moment.” She retorted. She heard Rowan snigger, but he didn’t respond.

When she finally opened her eyes again, Orion was giving her a look. It was his ‘stop fooling around’ look (he had many looks, they were starting to learn how to decipher them). “The work doesn’t stop just because people like what you’re putting out.” He reminded them.

Maeve waved one hand, manuerving to open up another tab on her phone. “Ye of little faith, Ori, I know how this works. In fact, I have our next goal.” She placed the phone on the middle table, and everyone leaned over to look at what she had pulled up.

Jazzy was the first to look up. “Battle of the Bands? You want to try again?”

Maeve scoffed. “It’s Misfit Alley this year, Jazz, of course I want to try again. We would be stupid not to. And with how people like The Resurrection, I think we have a good shot of actually making it past the video auditions this year. Think about it,” She wrapped an arm around Rowan’s shoulder, holding up her other hand. “Just picture it. Us, touring the country with Misfit Alley, may I remind you. The stages we’d get to play, the people we’d get to meet, it would be exposure on an unprecedented scale!” She pitched.

Iris shrugged. “Well when you put it like that, how can we say no?” She asked.

Looking up at Orion, Maeve raised a brow. He thought about it for a minute, and it was like she could see the calculations running through his head. Then, he nodded, one succinct movement that made Maeve explode in cheers.

And Reject Saints huddled together, thoughts of their new album almost forgotten for planning their path to this year’s Battle of the Bands.

This is our sweet blasphemy

The lights pointed towards the small stage were bright, too bright even. Yet, nothing was brighter than Maeve’s smile as she locked eyes briefly with Rowan. This was where she belonged, here on the stage. Here, nothing else mattered but the music. She was sweating, having ditched her jacket halfway through the set, but she couldn’t be happier. Battle of the Bands started in just a week, but Reject Saints couldn’t stop. Soon, she wouldn’t be singing on makeshift bar stages, but in real venues all across the country. The thought of it was exhilarating, but she needed to get through this set first.

She grabbed the microphone, giving a hand signal to the band to hold off on starting the next song. “Before we kick off this next song, I want to tell you a story about it. So, put up with me talking and not singing for just a moment here.” She joked, a responding chuckle echoing through the audience packed into the tight bar. “I wrote this next song for me, but not for the me standing in front of you right now.” She removed the microphone from the stand, coming to rest at the edge of the stage. “I wrote this song for the little girl who came home to an empty house most days. For the kid who had music as one of her only lifelines. For the teen girl who decided to forge her own path. For… well, you get my point.”

Maeve sat back in her hip, looking out at the crowd. It was small, but that didn’t matter to her right now. Right now, in this crowd, she could see people singing along to their songs, songs that she wrote, that she poured her heart and soul into. She didn’t need a massive stadium filled to the brim with adoring fans (not that she’d complain about it, but that was a goal for another day). These people were seeing her, and appreciating her. That was all she needed. 

With a smile, she continued. “Music saved me, and in becoming a musician, I wanted our music to be that for someone else. I wanted our lyrics to resonate with someone in the same way that I felt. And all of you here tonight have proven to me that it’s happened. Even if our songs touched just one person, that’s all I could ask for.” She moved back towards the mic stand, signaling again to the band to get ready. “So I wrote this song for me, yes, but I also wrote it for all of you. And I know you know the lyrics, so raise your voices and sing with me, this is ‘Sweet Blasphemy’!”

And she lost herself in the familiar strum of the guitar, and into the prayer she turned into a song.

[ageless-aislynn]

I honestly couldn’t watch Caitlin’s subplot. Like why? NOBODY likes Chillblaine. And honestly Iris and Joe should’ve had the B-Plot instead

Hey there, Anon! Oh yeah, I’m feeling you. 😕

I've been thinking about my dissatisfaction with Caitlin and Frost/Mark in this past episode and I think my unhappiness doesn't actually boil down to They're shipping Caitlin and Frost with my Not-Preferred Persons.

(Whomever could that be? WHO? NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW BECAUSE I'M SO STEALTHY ABOUT MY SHIPPING LOVE. 😜)

ReverseSnow/ReverseFrost/Snowthawne/Frostthawne (and SnowHarry and FrostNash) love aside, though, what made this hard to watch for me was being hit over the head with all of the "tell, not show." We don't get to experience Caitlin and Marcus meeting, getting to know each other, going through all of these awkward moments, maybe some disagreements, etc. You know, all of the things that give the viewer an emotional connection and a stake in the relationship. They just... tell us as a throwaway line in the ep before (I think) from Frost that Caitlin is dating Marcus as if we have an earthly clue who that even is.

Then in the ep itself, we get the one scene that I thought actually did WORK, at least for me: Mark talking to Caitlin about her being afraid to make a commitment, to really go all-in on this relationship. It's one of the few times I felt like they let Mark be an actual character and not a caricature. If we had a stake in Caitlin/Marcus, then that would've been an all-around great scene!

But we haven't even seen Marcus before so why am I supposed to even care if we (and Caitlin) see him again? IMO, they could've at least helped some of this by making this clearly a first date instead of acting like they've been dating off screen for a while.

Back to Mark, though. I actually do like Jon Cor and, when we first met him, I was ready to get on board the USS Frostblaine, lol. I mean, I clearly have no problem shipping my girls with villains...

*coughcoughs in Frosthunter/Snowhunter and Savifrost/Savisnow* 😜

...and the "villain who's transitioning to anti-hero" is one of my fav tropes! Plus, I'm used to not getting the ship I really want, 😒 so I don't begrudge my girls some fun in the meantime, lol. 😉

But. They've really misused his character, again because of the tell, not show. The WORST thing, though, IMO, was how they glossed over Frost deciding to forgive the bad things he's done and start a relationship with him. Caitlin TOLD us (well, she told somebody on the show but it was for the audience). I mean, if I'm going to be invested in a ship, that would've been a great scene to experience myself. It sounds, you know, kinda important and all that? But nope, we're just told about it.

Granted, some of this is because he isn't a full-time character so we're just going to get snippets of them together and I get that.

But back to Caitlin and What's-His-Name, though. 😜 Is he going to be someone we see in future eps or will it just be like Caitlin's our co-worker who's dating some dude we never expect to meet outside of a work holiday party or something? In that case, maybe it's better to not see him, then to get these weird little moments of "Oh look, Caitlin's found loooove again!" with some rando. 😜😉

Anyway, Anon, thank you for writing and for giving me the chance to process some of my feels over this whole situation, lol! 😉

PS - The fact that I can be 1001% emotionally invested in ships that have never even met *points up at Frost and Eowells/Mattobard and Flashpoint!Caitlin and Flashpoint!Eobard* is actually not contradictory. I love the characters separately and I love imagining how a relationship between them might work. But if they’d given me actual canon ReverseSnow, for example, but only as a throwaway line about “Oh, well, now that Caitlin’s dating the Reverse Flash...” then I would be equally unhappy with that. In fact, I’d probably throw hands...

...and then get out of there fast because I’m smol and soft and would cry if I was ever actually in a fight. 😉 But you get my point. “Tell, not show” is a lousy way to treat any ship, even (or especially) if it’s a ship I want to see. 💖

PSS - This doesn’t even address the horrifying second-hand embarrassment I got from Caitlin trying to shred Mark to pieces at dinner. I mean, I’m not saying it wasn’t true or even deserved but, c’mon, Caity, read the room! That wasn’t the time for that and, at that moment, he’d done nothing to deserve being verbally filleted like that. It just made Caitlin look like a total jerk and I hated that. Though, I suppose, at least it falls under the category of being a character flaw. It would’ve been worse if we would’ve just later had Frost complaining to Barry or somebody about how Caitlin trashtalked Mark at dinner but we didn’t even see any of it. 🤷‍♀️