#yeah of course she was going to love evanescence

[singull]

i love still giving my mom shit for “stealing” my evanescence cd (“fallen” album, of course) back when i was in middle school lmao.

like she really enjoyed the music i kept blasting in my room, so asked to borrow the disk to add to her computer, and then…just never bothered to give it directly back to me and assumed i’d take it back myself bahaha.

but then the damn thing was in and out of her car for Years and i was just like “well…i guess it’s mom’s now” lmao.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

EVANESCENCE'S AMY LEE HAILS SLEEP TOKEN: "I'M BLOWN AWAY"

Sleep Token are Revolver's Artist of the Year, and their towering instant-classic Take Me Back to Eden is our No. 1 album of 2023.

So yeah, you can say that we here at Revolver HQ are big fans of Sleep Token — and we're hardly alone in that.

Beyond their devoted cult of worshipers, the anonymous, masked band have earned glowing praise from many of their fellow musicians in the heavy-music world. In fact, one of their most famous fans is Evanescence frontwoman Amy Lee.

In the 2000s, Evanescence spearheaded a captivating mix of heavy-rock bombast and moody, ethereal atmosphere. On their debut album, Fallen, Lee and Co. demonstrated how explosive metal surges ("Bring Me to Life") and melancholy piano balladry ("My Immortal") could coexist harmoniously.

So, in a way, Evanescence were tapping into Sleep Token's sonic wavelength while Vessel was possibly still inhabiting a past life. Unsurprisingly, Lee is over the moon about Sleep Token's shrewd songcraft and jaw-dropping ambition.

"I love Sleep Token. I'm blown away," Lee enthuses to Revolver. "How do they do it? How do they go so many different directions and call it one song?

"It took me three listens of ["The Summoning"] to realize that when they do that whole psychedelic section at the end, that it's actually the same chorus as it was before, only in a completely different way. And I love it even more for that.

"I thought they just went a whole new direction and wrote a new part, and then I was like, "Wait that's the same… but not at all."

She continues: "I love it. I think as a musician, music like that gets your brain tingling. It's exciting. It's like, wow, anything's possible. It's inspiring. I like them a lot."

While Lee has been the very public face of her band for the past two decades, Sleep Token are, of course, fastidiously anonymous. Yet despite the very different approach, the Evanescence frontwoman is quick to affirm Vessel's choice to remove the cult of personality from his project and put all the focus on the music.

"I think it's amazing," she says of Sleep Token's secrecy. "I think too much these days the focus is on everything but the music with a lot of the mainstream. And for me, if there's not the music then what are we doing? That's what this is supposed to be about. I love it. I think it's awesome. It's creative. It's really cool."

[daidonzo]

Chapter 14 - You don't know how you've betrayed me [Chishiya x Reader]

Something was wrong.

Chishiya seemed to think so, at least. And if he did… Well, he was probably right.

He had been called to an executive meeting that morning, again, so soon after the last one. Which was not a common occurrence, but you assumed it had something to do with the Hatter returning from the game. Maybe he had been hurt?

The blonde man hadn't shared his thoughts with you, so you were basically stuck guessing.

"Maybe he found the ten of hearts and left?" Kuina asked, walking by your side.

"Maybe, yeah. I still think it has to be something worse."

"Isn't it bad enough that the Hatter won't be here any longer? The militants would go crazy…" She pointed her index finger to her temple and moved it in circles.

"Maybe it didn't work. Can you imagine? We got all the cards, but nothing happened."

"I thought you and I were the optimistic ones from the group."

"I try to be. I just can't really shake this feeling off…"

"Okay, enough! Tell me more about your kiss!"

You blushed, intensely. Of course, you had mentioned it to Kuina first thing in the morning, excited as you were. You even had said "NOW, I definitely am high on love." which had brought laughing tears to the eyes of the dreadlocked woman.

"It was just that. I sang him a love song, and he kissed me. He did say that if I did it, he would give me something in return. I guess that something was the kiss."

"Did something else happen?" She raised her eyebrows one, two, three times, a cheeky smile on her face.

"No. We kissed, and we went to sleep."

You remembered the moment, and felt tingly all over when you did. Whatever you had, it was becoming something more, something special. Slowly, sure, but good things came to those who waited.

"I was looking for you. Care to join us?" Chishiya's voice woke you up from your daydreaming. Your tuned, with the brightest smile still on your face, only to be met by the most serious expression. Arisu and Usagi were there as well. You felt your own smile wither, and disappear.

Something was, definitely, wrong.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Hatter had died. Chishiya and Arisu had seen his corpse, and could attest this was not like The Lord of the Rings where he would later on return like Gandalf, with a different outfit and newfound powers. Aguni was the new leader of The Beach.

You were having a lot of difficulty wrapping your head around it.

"The black envelope." Chishiya started, sitting on a chair. The five of you were in Arisu's room, surrounding him and listening intently. "The poker cards gathered by all the members of The Beach are kept in the safe in Hatter's royal suite room. The passcode to the safe is kept and sealed in the black envelope. The envelope is opaque, and kept in utmost secrecy, and can only be opened when there is a new Number One. The new Number One will check the passcode alone, in front of all executive members. Then, he will place the paper with the passcode written on it into a new envelope, and seal it again. It will then be signed by all executive members, and stashed away again."

You had never heard him say so many words at once.

"First, Arisu will infiltrate the royal suite. Then, he will search for the safe, and steal all the cards inside." He finished.

"What about the passcode?"

"I have an idea of that. I'll tell you when you are in front of the safe."

Chishiya placed five walkie-talkies (handheld transceivers, Kuina had said, laughing after you had called them that) on the table, one for each of you.

"The three of you…" Chishiya pointed to Usagi, Kuina, and you, his gaze lingering on you a few seconds more than on the rest. "Will be on the lookout."

"This is too dangerous. If we're discovered, we'll be killed." Usagi whispered.

"She has a point." You added in support. You trusted Chishiya with your life, felt safe whenever he was around, knew (or at least so you thought) he wouldn't put you in any danger, but the plan…

"This is the only way to change the current situation." Arisu said. "Now that Hatter is dead and there is no unity at The Beach, the time is right for this plan."

You exhaled, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Okay, then. When do we start?"

The plan was set into motion a lot faster than you thought, leaving no time to prepare, or to think it through and back out. Aguni would give a little speech, to let know all residents of this little utopia he would be the new king, which meant all executive members and militants would be at the annex. You wouldn't get another chance like this.

You were surveying the area Chishiya had placed you in. You were supposed to use your walkie talkie to inform the others if you saw anyone, were it executive, militant or just random passerby. You were fidgeting, wishing this would all be over soon. Hoping everyone would be okay.

You had not spoken with Usagi before today, but you had with Arisu, and had found yourself caring, if only a little bit, for the guy. Not so much because you were friends, you weren't, but because even though he had lost people and had every right to be crying on a corner seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, he was still there. Holding on, trying to find answers to his questions. You admired his tenacity, his intact empathy and still remembered what he had told you, about wanting Usagi to return to the real world, at the very least. You could relate.

Nothing was going on around you.

You knew you shouldn't have, but still, you were tired of waiting, it seemed like everything was going according to plan and maybe you could support each other, since it seemed Usagi had also been on the fence about Chishiya's idea. So you went to the area she was supposed to be checking on, near the Hatter's suite.

Only to see her being grabbed by militants, and being taken into the room forcefully. You hid yourself, as best as you could behind a table and two armchairs that were close to the entrance of the room. If someone decided to look your way, you were dead. You couldn't see very well what was going on, but could heard her scream Arisu's name, as well as someone taking a beating. And then, Aguni's voice.

"You saved me, Chishiya."

"I did what I had to do."

Your heart broke.

So, he had betrayed them.

You gasped, and instantly covered your mouth with your hand, hoping the noise of most likely Arisu being beaten to a pulp had been loud enough to mask it.

You were trying to process what had happened, tears streaming down your face. It seemed you still had sympathy for others. For those who were alive, and had shown you a kind smile, or given you a hand when you needed it.

Like Arisu had.

So, Chishiya wanted to get on Aguni's good graces. To steal the cards, and get out of here. And instead of using you for it, he had used Arisu, who had fully trusted him. And Usagi, who got hit by the recoil. And, to keep you out of it, had you patrol an area he knew would be deserted. This was not what you wanted. None of them deserved what was going to happen.

How could he?

[euphorial-docx]

revamped counterculture snippet before i finally go to sleep <3

“You know,” he began as inconspicuous as he could, which wasn’t very inconspicuous at all, “the concert is coming up soon. I could still get us tickets.”

“And I still don’t want to go,” Regulus predictably replied from his corner of the garage. Barty and Evan were practicing, although ‘practicing’ was too organized of a word for what they were doing.

“What concert?” Evan questioned, looking up from the guitar lazily sat on his lap, fingers halting their mindless strumming.

“The one at the 934 Club,” said Barty.

“The Punk Festival thing?” Evan proceeded to ask, and Barty proceeded to nod. Evan furrowed his brows and threw his confusion at Regulus. “Why don’t you want to go?“

“I don’t like concerts,” he told them, and it was not the first time he told them that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

“But The Weird Sisters are on the setlist,” Evan reminded him of a fact that had not been a part of Regulus’s knowledge.

Regulus had not regretted his choice of music to enjoy, but in that moment he regrettably loved The Weird Sisters. He tried not to let that love sway him.

“Not interested,” Regulus persisted, casting his focus back onto his journal.

“Bullshit!” Barty accused. “You love The Weird Sisters, and there’s some band coming all the way from France just for this festival; second billing, right under fucking Evanesce. They’ve gotta be good to be next to Evanesce!”

“What French band?” Regulus asked before he could stop himself, before he could restrain himself and his quiet obsessions.

Barty grinned knowingly. Of course he knew, and always knew, and never failed to know. “I don’t know, but I heard they’re a bit weird, and I know you love all that underground weird alternative shit.”

“My mother would kill me before she let me go.”

“Then sneak out. I used to do it all the time before my father gave up on me.” Regulus merely looked at Barty, and Barty sensed his hesitancy. He stepped forward and rested a hand on the back of Regulus’s seat, leaning down closer, “I’m telling you, Reg, this concert is the place to be.”

Regulus met Barty’s gaze and the electric hope glaring in his eyes, and then he looked to Evan for some guidance, but Evan only raised his brows and nodded his head. Regulus threw his sight on the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine. When is this festival?”

“Fuck yeah!” Barty clapped, leaving Regulus’s personal space in the process. “Okay, the when: it’s the 26th and the 27th. Doors at— Evan, when did I say the doors opened?”

“7:30.”

He faced Regulus again. “7:30! Music is at— what? Like, 8? Probably 8. Does that work for you?”

“That works as well as it could work for me,” Regulus muttered, distracting himself by finishing off the word he had lost track of writing.

Barty let out a smug laugh, and in Evan’s direction claimed, “I knew I could convince him with those little French bastards.”

[kornymaggotboi]

Hey, um, can we stop bullying Nu-Metal?

I love Nu-Metal, it is my favorite subgenre of metal, and I'm sick of being bullied because I like Nu-Metal.

I once had a metal-elitist go off on me because I said I like Nu-Metal.

And when I say go off, I mean like, getting so unreasonably angry, I'm talking, heavy breathing, clenched fists, talking through his teeth and even calling me a few slurs... All because I like an unpopular subgenre of metal...

And before someone says "oh yeah, that totally happened" this was at a special-ed school, and the kid had serious behavioral issues.

I still don't get the hate for Nu-Metal.

It's not all Staind, Saliva, Papa Roach and Kid Rock.

Some of the best metal bands are Nu-Metal, like Evanescence, System Of A Down, Slipknot, Rage Against The Machine, Rammstein and Korn... Of course saying that, I'm sure some dumbass will say something along the lines of "Um AcTuAlLy So AnD sO aRe (insert whatever other subgenre that band is categorized as)" which like... You can be alternative and Nu-Metal, no artist is strictly confined to one subgenre.

Just Google "what subgenre is (insert any band or artist)" and there will be more than one subgenre they're labeled as.

I mean sure, Limp Bizkit has some dumb songs (even though I actually like some Limp Bizkit songs, don't judge me, I don't judge you) and sometimes the whole "edgy angry white boy rapping" trope can be grating, but there's so much more than that... Like, a lot more.

Nu-Metal is such a creative subgenre, pretty much all Nu-Metal bands sound different, despite using the same elements.

Like, you couldn't listen to a Korn song and think "is this Slipknot?" or a Rammstein song and think "is this System Of A Down?" or a Limp Bizkit song and think "is this Rage Against The Machine?" and so on and so forth.

With some genres like Thrash metal, as beloved as they are, sound the same, like if you asked me to tell the difference between a Megadeth riff and a Metallica riff or you'd skin me... Give me the potato peeler, because I won't be able to.

But I guess since there's more than one "cringe" artist in Nu-Metal, that must mean the whole subgenre is "cringe" and we need to verbally abuse people who like it.

And I'm serious when I say I get verbal abuse for liking Nu-Metal, I've been called an inbred retard, a cum-guzzling queer, I've been told to kill myself in gruesome ways, and all sorts of shit... Sure, this was on Reddit, where greasy neckbeards go to talk shit about women who wouldn't date them because she's just a whore who doesn't like "nice guys" and it couldn't possibly be the fact that he smells like smegma and doritos and gleeks when he talks and thirsts over 14 year old anime girls while they wait for mommy to cook their pizza rolls, but I mean still...

It's fine to not like it if it's just not for you, I can understand why some people just aren't into it, but if you hate it because it's popular to hate it, and you think people who like Nu-Metal are brainless morons, you seriously need to get it together.

Like, just imagine you saying you like something, and then a stranger bullies you for liking it.

There are a lot of things I don't like, but I don't hate people for liking it.

I mean, my mom likes Amy Schumer, but I don't constantly bully my mom for liking her.

[chickenparm]

Sold to silco sold to silco sold to silco (wattpad, yes, but also serious if you dare)

don't you dare say i don't love you guys. the things i do for you are astounding. harry styles is going to be so broken up about not answering that craigslist ad about some chick selling her daughter.

Sold-to-Silco Wattpad Fic 1,147 Words ---

It’s not the sound of your alarm that wakes you up - you can’t remember the last time it’d had the chance to do that instead of your mother’s ungodly screeching of your name. Ugh, what a bitch. 

With a long-suffering groan, you roll out of bed until your feet hit the hardwood floor, and you look at your bedroom for a second. It is very cool. Your walls are painted black, but you can hardly see them because of all your cool posters and art. Some of them are your favorite bands like Good Charlotte and a heavy metal band that you enjoy that’s called All American Rejects. That one was signed and you kiss it before you go to sleep every night.

Your bedroom is very sparse otherwise - there’s a California king sized bed that you found in a dumpster and brought home, a desk that you’re supposed to do your homework on but doing well in school is for preps, and your closet which is filled with all your band t-shirts and skinny jeans and converse and Tripp pants (from Hot Topic, of course) and your studded belts. 

Your mom is coming down the stairs, stomping on every step and you know she’s going to be upset that you’re in your Invader Zim pajamas still instead of getting dressed in your school uniform that you put studs and belts on so you can stand out because you’re a non-conformist and every day you have to sit in detention for it but that’s fine because school doesn’t matter anyway. 

Once you graduate your band is going to get signed by a big record label and you’re going to be famous and who cares? Oh yeah, you’re in a band and you play lead guitar and also you sing. Everyone says you sound like a mix between Amy Lee from Evanescence and also that one chick from Flyleaf. 

Before your mom can open the door, you hurry to get ready by tying your long, straight, black, curly hair into a messy bun that’s also purposefully messy to make it look like you don’t care because you don’t but it has to look that way also so people know you don’t. You also put on some swipes of mascara and line your eyes with perfectly winged eyeliner and also the shade Gash by Urban Decay because that’s what Gerard Way uses and he’s literally so hot. 

Just as you perfectly arrange your belts - not through the loops though, that’s for preps - your mom kicks the entire door in and she has a bunch of crumpled papers in her hands, “Get up! You’re going to your new home, you ungrateful stinky little brat!”

“I’m NOT stinky, I’m wearing the Nightmare Before Christmas Bone Daddy perfume.”

“Well you have a new dad now. I had some debts from purchasing too many Robux and now I sold you to this guy and you’re his problem now!”

Your mom pulls out an entire cigarette, lights it, and then smokes it all in one entire huff until it’s all gone before she throws it on the floor, “Pack your shit, you butt-sniffing fart huffer, he will be here to come and get you in two minutes.”

“UGH, this is so not cool,” You pout for a moment, stomping your converse-wearing foot on the floor just as she leaves the room. Now you have to pack your stuff and miss school and you were supposed to hang out under the bleachers today and brood with the other emos. That sucks. 

You turn on your stereo very loud and make sure Green Day’s Jesus of Suburbia is playing. It’s your favorite song, Saint Jimmy is like… your idol. You pack your favorite clothes and make sure that your makeup is also there and that you also look very good in the mirror. Outside there is a honk that lasts a long time, like they’re holding the horn down. 

Also your room is in the basement because it’s dark and scary and makes you feel like you’re a vampire, so you take the stairs two at a time and almost miss a few because you’re so clumsy and quirky. Your mom is waiting by the door and she is very impatiently tapping her foot with her hands on her hips. She doesn’t say bye, but she laughs in your face and says, “Good luck!”

The door hits you on the way out and it hurts but you don’t make a face because you don’t want her to know that it hurts even though she probably does know. Parked right in the middle of the street without even using its hazard-lights is a shiny black limousine with all of its windows tinted. The driver jumps out and runs to open one of the doors for you when you walk closer, and when you sit down inside there is a man. 

He is very weird. His face is kind of fucked-up but like in a good way that makes him look dashing and mysterious but also vulnerable and the good kind of ugly like a pug (adopt don’t shop). Except his nose is super big which is not like a pug and you tell him that, “Your nose is very big.”

“Thank you, I grew it myself. I am your new dad now. You can call me dad.”

“You’re not even my real dad,” You say and cross your arms. The man frowns very deep and it makes his whole face look weird. 

“I have the paperwork and I am your dad.”

“But not my REAL dad. I don’t even know him so he can’t be you.”

The man laughs at you for a few minutes and then he says, “Actually I did a DNA test when I signed the paperwork and I am your real dad. Let’s go home now to my mansion.”

And then the limo starts to drive and the man says his name is Silco. He gives you a glass of champagne to celebrate even though you’re not even old enough to drink but he says, “Who cares?”

Those are your favorite two words so you drink the champagne and Silco tells you that he lives in a mansion with maids and butlers and also there’s game rooms. When you tell him that you are in a band, Silco says he will sign you to his record label because he is a music producer and will make you famous and your band is going on tour next week. 

On the drive there you have seven more glasses of champagne and you’re so drunk that you lay across the seat and fall asleep. Silco gives you a jacket and pats you on the head and says good night. You dream about kissing Pete Wentz with tongue and also going to a Black Veil Brides concert.

[13eyond13]

I’m so curious, what kinds of music do you think the main 3 cast would listen to? I feel like Misa would of course love pop and maybe a little hip hop but also definitely like, Evanescence-type stuff and general goth rock (as evidenced by her ringtone being Alumina) and maybe even some like screamo shit?? (only partially influenced by the second anime opening bit where she’s lying in the foreground all cutesy as some dude absolutely shreds his vocals lol).…. and maybe this is unimaginative but Light I genuinely have a hard time seeing liking a lot of stuff outside of like, jazz and classical lol he just does not strike me as much of a music guy personally. Maybe SOME rock idk. L though?? Literally *anything* goes lmao I could see him being into Weezer, Beastie Boys, Britney and Bach in equal measure honestly like they all just ~make sense~ for him somehow….. he’d probably listen to hyperpop if it had existed in 2005. He’d listen to Charli XCX and 100 gecs I just know it in my blood

haha, i love all your headcanons and agree with them anon!

Misa would probably like both cute/romantic poppy stuff and more hardcore and gothy and metal stuff sometimes, too. She probably doesn't dress like that without also liking the music that goes along with the aesthetic.

Light's just very hard to picture bopping along to music in general for some reason, hahaha. I always lol when people headcanon him as just not having any favourite music whatsoever. It seems fitting for him somehow. Sometimes I imagine him mindlessly singing along to Hideki Ryuga tunes under his breath while doing his homework because he overheard Sayu listening to them earlier, and then getting very annoyed at himself once he realizes what he's doing.

And yeah, somehow L strikes me as somebody who would just like whatever sounds good to him. I feel he might lean towards stuff from the 80s and 90s more since he was born in 1979, but he would like stuff from a very wide range of genres and eras and so on, and show very little concern about whether or not his taste in music is considered good or hip or cultured or whatever else. I doubt he's super passionate about any music, but I could see him bingeing on certain songs or albums he really likes once in a while and then go long periods of time without listening to anything at all as well. Probably just wants something that can keep him focused and vibing while he works more than anything else.

[werkwerkelizaaa]

Xoxo Droplets’ Jerk Squad Band AU

So this came to me while I was listening to Yeah Right off of Evanescence’s latest album, The Bitter Truth.

Yeah I know, but hear me out:

•They were all in an after-school program for ~cultivating musical talent in troubled youth~

•Even though most of them cannot stand each other, as a whole they’re almost magical onstage

• Nate is the frazzled manager of course, constantly stretched within an inch of his life but he claims a perfect (by his standards) show is worth all the stress

• Bae writes the lyrics, handles a majority of the PR– if somebody tries to spin his words he can spin it right back on them– and I also feel he could play the electric violin for the songs that call for it (it’s a thing and it’s epic)

•Jeremy seems to be the type to have piano aggressively encouraged to him by his parents, so he’s on keyboard and composes most of the music

Imagine Bae leaning over Jeremy “No no cupcake, I know it’s difficult for anyone to keep up with my genius, but you modulate the key on the next line” and pointing

“If you don’t get that finger out of my face I will stuff this sheet music up your nasal cavity”

“...and don’t call me cupcake”

•JB takes lead guitar and does a lot of showboating, works the crowd and is usually in some sort of scandalous headline every week but she loves it

•Shiloh plays bass and provides backup vocals, he’s annoying but they keep him towards the front of the stage because his energy is infectious so we might as well put him to use

• I can see Everett having the ability to use both hands equally well, so he’s on drums and enjoys having his finger on the very heartbeat of the metaphorical system, probably dabbles in the synth too

•Pran is the one-man tech wizard and has as tiny of a presence as possible, only the most hardcore fans know what he even looks like

•[If we bring the reader into this, they were hand-selected by JB for their seemingly sweet, friendly, conflict-averse demeanor as well as their powerful voice– she didn’t want too much competition for the boys’ attention]

•[Whether her judgement is sound remains to be seen, but my money’s on not]

•[On the other hand, there’s still enough onstage chemistry between them to play it up for the fans and the press]

•They definitely squabbled over the name

• “Hear me out: Baend.” “NO” “JB and the JBs” “oh, please” “get real” “could we squish all of our names together?” “Ah yes, because none of the members of the band could ever switch out, it’s not like that happens only all the time”

• “What about ‘That Band’?” “Seriously?” “It’s no worse than anything else that’s been suggested” “Ugh fine” “wait I was being sarcastic” “well too bad we’re sticking with it now” “this is all your fault Jeremy”

each member has a good amount of groupies/fangirls. JB, Everett, and Shiloh revel in the spotlight and have a lot of overnight visitors to their respective rooms, Bae pretends he’s above all that but he’ll have the occasional “dalliance” as well which is,,, not what you’d think

Legit he sells a limited amount of ‘day dates’ to his fans at every tour stop which consists of him hanging out with them for a certain price, it’s only word-of-mouth through the hardcore base which just adds to the mystique

• Nate and Jeremy are like “gross”, but at least they have fans and at the very least that’s good for both business and their image

• Pran HATES it lol he’s just like “Why. Why.”

• “Must be a bunch of burnt out losers who weren’t hugged enough as children.”

• They all constantly diss everyone else’s outfits and haircuts, naturally

•Not the musical instruments though– except for in extreme cases– because that’s serious business

Jeremy: trips onstage

Everett: *ba-dum-tsss*

•Pran with light spotting/mic check shenanigans

•Shiloh: leans over to plug his bass in

•Pran: Points all the spotlights directly at him

•Shiloh: temporarily blinded

•Pran: evil chuckle

---------------

• Nate: Sound check, let’s go!

•Pran: turns it down low

•JB: Hello, world! ...it’s not working. Testing, one two three.

•Everett, offstage: Is it even turned on?

•Jeremy: uh yeah, the light’s green.

•Pran: snickering to himself in the back

•JB: COME ON YOU STUPID WORTHLESS PIECE OF S—

Ear-splitting, electronic screech

• Everyone minus JB and Pran: JB!!

Jeremy’s keyboard is absolutely pristine, and you cannot convince me otherwise

There’s not a fingerprint to be seen, he might even wear gloves while handling it just to keep it impeccable

Def makes the stagehands and assistants wash their hands and glove up before moving it, that’s not even a question

You could probably eat right off the thing, not that he’d let you

•JB has some cool pins on the strap of her guitar and has a few different guitars she rotates though depending on her mood

•Everett and Shiloh have similar stickers on their respective instruments, they still mock each others’ taste in decoration though because them

“Give us a headbang, Jeremy!”

“No.”

• Jeremy [and reader] do their best in making Nate’s job as easy as possible, which is very much needed since directing the rest of the members is worse than herding cats

Three minutes to showtime

•Everett: hey has anyone seen my drumsticks?

•Nate: WHAT 

•Nate: YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

• Everett: Lol jk here they are in my back pocket 

•Bae: Wonnndderrrfulll, crisis averted.

• Shiloh: Everett, that’s not really funny...

• Everett: F***ing can it, freckles.

• Shiloh: :( you can it.

• JB: everybody shut up before I make you shut up

• Everett: ;) is that so?

• Jeremy: kill me now.

• Nate, offstage: I need a raise...

•[Reader once walked in on Nate aggressively rubbing at his eyes and sniffling after a particularly rough week, but he brushed it off as seasonal allergies and they didn’t press the matter at the time]

•Roommate musical chairs kept happening at every single stop until finally everyone was fed up with everybody, even the ones who usually get along, so Bae and Nate decided on getting everyone their own room while touring– they even added a clause to the contract to make sure it would happen for the divas (yes that includes the two of them)

• Credit to the amazing @gb-patch for creating the best worst guys you’ll ever love

•hey, psst. Before you go, check this out: https://werkwerkelizaaa.tumblr.com/post/648073310973952000/xoxo-droplets-jerk-squad-band-au

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

[mercurydancer]

It Happened Quiet Pt 31

Protest

_

A Protest is Started, and some Progress is Made

_

Hello my beautiful lovelies I have an absolute banger of a chapter for you today~ so much do that I have literally compiled the playlist that Maul utilizes in this chapter for your listening pleasure.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOo602EizE6GO3UFX63Aj

It features bad language, blasphemy, references to suicide and a few other things. It’s delightful lolol!!! It’s heavy metal all the way through by a fuckton of different artists. If you are interested the songs that are referenced by lyric here in order are!

Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

Killing in the Name by Rage against the Machine

Na Na Na Na Na by My Chemical Romance

This is the New Shit by Marilyn Manson

Lacrymosa by Evanescence

Song of the Blackest Bird by Insomnium

And Teenagers also MCR

Also you all know that if Obi-Wan was able to listen to it he would be a massive MCR fan in his youth. Search your feelings, you know it to be true~

Thank you all for reading, I love you all~

_

Maul watched as D’una set up a player on the table next to his little plant. She was humming to herself quietly, looking at the plant with monetary concern before nodding her head decisively. “It won’t hurt the seeds,” she promised, “you might lose the rest of the petals though, but it looks like most of them have gone to seed already.”

Maul took that in for a moment, approaching carefully and looking at the plant with worry in his gaze. “You are certain that it will not hurt it?”

D’una hesitated for a moment and then frowned. “I’m going to bring back a baggy for the seeds, okay? That way we’ll make sure they’ll be okay. I have to get you earplugs anyway.”

“Earplugs?” Maul asked.

“For your protest,” she said. Given as Maul still had no idea what his protest was meant to be…

“Which is?”

“You’ll see,” D’una promised. “I have to get something for my own ears as well, and of course I’ll warn the other Bith… Our heads don’t actually explode with loud noise, of course, but it…you know, isn’t very nice.”

Maul blinked at her, even as Wan was giggling. Maul had an idea that the two of them were very much on the same page, and he was not sure how to handle it.

“Do you trust me?” D’una asked him and Maul…paused. Contrary to hurting her feelings though, D’una winced, “I’m sorry to ask that question, that wasn’t right of me, you barely know me.” She smiled, “you’re not going to hurt anyone involved, I promise,” she said, “and I think you’ll like it. I might be wrong about your taste, but I think you’re going to find this a lot of fun.”

Maul blinked, frowned, and Wan laughed harder.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” D’una said.

She finished setting up the player, and then left, leaving Maul with the older girl. Wan smiled at him. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I think I know exactly where D’una’s going with this and it’s going to be great.” She hesitated for a moment, looking around, and then indicated the plant, “did you grow that?”

“Not…from seed,” Maul answered. “But I have been taking care of it.”

“Can I see?” she asked, and Maul hesitated before finally nodding. She walked over and closed her eyes, leaning forward and breathing in before smiling. “That smells really nice.”

“It’s good for migraines,” Maul said.

“You have migraines?” she asked.

“Not as much anymore,” Maul answered.

“…We might have to double-check with D’una when she gets back. But you say it helps?”

“Yes,” Maul answered, “I used to get terrible migraines, but they are no longer anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m glad!” Wan said, “I have a friend that gets some awful ones,” she shook her head. “She’s a wonderfully powerful empath but, well…it leads to physical ailments sometimes.”

“Has she talked to Healer Tiq?” Maul asked after a long moment. “From what I understand he is also a very strong empath.”

Wan hummed, “you know, I might recommend he do so. I talked to him for a while.”

“Oh?” Maul asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “It wasn’t…well. It wasn’t anywhere like what you’ve reportedly gone through of course,” she gestured towards him, “but it…I hurt. For a long time. He helped.”

“I am glad,” Maul said. “He is good at that.”

Wan smiled, wide and open, “He is. I’m glad he’s able to help you.”

“…Thank you.”

“Have you been liking the archive job?” Wan asked.

“I have,” Maul said. “There are some things that I do not like as much,” he hedged.

“Oh, please, tell me it’s the customer service because I swear…”

Maul rolled his eyes. “They come with the strangest questions.”

Wan laughed aloud. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? The Jedi are okay but sometimes the things they ask?”

“Who needs to know that many tea recipes?” Maul asked and Wan wheezed.

“Qui-Gon!” she laughed, “it’s Master Qui-Gon Jinn, he’s the one that keeps asking.”

“Is that so?” Maul asked delicately, and Wan laughed harder.

“You need to stop that!” she called out, “I’m going to choke and then what’s going to happen?”

“I do not even know what I am doing…” Maul sighed.

“You don’t?” Wan asked, blinking.

“No,” Maul frowned. “Everyone tends to find me funny, but I don’t know…”

“Your delivery,” Wan said, smiling. “You have such a distinct deadpan it’s hard not to find it funny.”

“Oh,” Maul blinked. “This is a good thing?”

“I think so,” Wan nodded. And then finally, D’una arrived. She had wrapped something around her head, and was also holding out the promised bag and two pairs of earplugs, one that looked like they would be tailored to a Gran and a Zabrak respectfully. Maul took his and held them for a moment, Wan taking her own.

“Now,” D’una said, handing over the baggy. “For the seeds!”

Maul took it and walked over to the plant, for a moment just staring and then looked to her. “Do I just…pluck them..?”

“Yeah!” D’una smiled, walking over and showing him how they came off. “Have you never gardened or planted before?”

“No,” Maul said softly. “This is the first thing grown that I have…” he hesitated. “I kept it alive.”

D’una and Wan smiled at him, and for a moment…for a moment Maul could tell that they were both happy for him, and then Maul could no longer take it and he ducked his head, taking the seeds off of the plant carefully and placing them within the baggy.

“Take them into the refresher, okay?” D’una said, “it’ll protect them!”

Maul did as he was told, walking into the refresher and after a moment of hesitation, put them in his shower before walking out again, finding D’una looking through… “You said that you had a disc,” Maul frowned, “that is more than one.”

“I’m sorry,” D’una said, “initially I was going to put them all on the one, but I decided this was easier. I had them all sorted so it was only a matter of transferring the files as labeled, which didn’t take me that long at all. But this is good because that means that I have immediate access to…” she picked up a datachip. “This.” She smiled, her fingers that weren’t holding the chip trilling madly.

“What is on it?”

“Your protest,” she said, and her gaze was sharp and bright. “You see, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to change your earplugs to adjust all sounds to 70 decibels, which should allow for you to listen to this as loud and as long as you want for as long as you want… Which is good. Because that’s what you’re going to do.”

Maul blinked. “Excuse me?”

“They want to hear and see everything that you’re doing so bad?” D’una asked, frowning, “then let them hear. And in particular I say take this particular lovely playlist…and clock it up as loud as you can.”

Maul blinked. “Why?”

“Because it proves a point, a point they obviously haven’t realized in that you have been forced to have every single part of you exposed, and…I understand that for a while, it made sense. You…” D’una hesitated, waving at him. “You know what you did. And you know why you did it, and neither of us are mad, or hate you for it, okay? Or…whatever weird Sith emotion you want to attach to it. We let it go awhile ago, so don’t worry.”

Maul…nodded, unsure what to say or what to do…

“I figure you could also talk to them about it, but if they honestly haven’t fucking realized that they’ve been violating your privacy as much as they have, then I think they deserve for a taste of their own medicine,” D’una frowned even as Wan nodded. “They don’t want to ask questions, then we’ll make them.”

“Why should I play that disc?” Maul asked.

“Because it’s the heaviest, loudest, and in some cases the foulest music that they gave me,” D’una said. “Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Master Yoda are three whose names you might recognize, and their choices are on this chip. There’s plenty of others, but…”

“Teacher Yoda?” Maul asked, blinking.

“Oh, you call him Teacher, too!” Wan exclaimed and Maul momentarily ducked. “That’s not a bad thing, I’m sorry,” Wan said, holding her hands up. “I…get why that might be preferable.” And then she paused. “Master Yoda?”

“Yup,” D’una said, and if Maul had to guess…if she was a carnivore she would be baring all of her teeth in a grin like that. “Master Yoda likes his music loud and very heavy. And oddly melodic, really,” she frowned. “But I have an idea for what we’re going to start this off with. Are you ready?”

Maul hummed softly, watching as she held the chip out to him and after a moment took it. He put the chip in the player and watched as a holo display popped up.

Heavy Mix it read, and Maul tilted his head in curiosity, and then he heard D’una make a little sound before walking over, “do you mind?” she asked, and Maul shook his head, watching as she adjusted the title to simply ‘Protest’. “That way you know what chip you need to be playing,” she said with a smile.

“But…how long should I do this for?” Maul asked.

“Until they ask why,” Wan answered. “And you know what you tell them when they ask why you’re playing your music so loud?”

“What?” Maul asked.

“‘You mean that you don’t want to hear everything that I’m doing? I’m surprised…given the fact that you literally have me in a cell without a door, or wall, or any privacy at all.’ And then you watch the chaos.”

“And if there is no chaos,” D’una said, frowning, “you play it louder.”

Maul blinked, staring at them both for a moment, and then finally put the earplugs in his ears and D’una beamed at him.

“We’re going to stick around long enough to teach you how to enjoy this kind of music properly,” D’una said, the earplugs easily adjusting her voice to the require decibel and letting him hear her just fine, “and we’ll see you at work tomorrow~”

Maul inclined his head, and D’una began shifting through the songs before finally…

D’una hesitated on a song, looked to Maul for a moment, and then with the biggest grin he had ever seen, turned the song all the way up to max.

And pressed Play.

The sound was so loud he could feelit.

While his ears were protected, he rather thought his hearts had skipped a beat at the sudden sound, the press of it against him. Maul thought he saw the walls shake.

D’una and Wan just beamed.

And then what he was hearing registered.

Maul found his brows knitting together at the initial opening, unsure how that could possibly count as music, and then… The beat began, that odd thud in his chest, rhythmic and pounding, almost, and then layered overtop of it a woman’s voice –

I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MY REPUTATION!

Maul blinked.

Maul looked to the girls who looked like if they weren’t careful they were going to start absolutely losing their minds, and then as he watched they…swayed? Lots of hips, their heads rocking from side to side and… Maul frowned slightly, watching as their hands lifted up in the air in fists and…

Punched. There was…there was a rhythm to it, bouncing and jumping, their fists over their heads punching the sky as they…moved.

Maul frowned slightly, and the girls seemed to catch onto his confusion, laughter in their gazes and on their lips, each of them reaching a hand out to him, and Maul hesitated before finally grabbing hold. They pulled him into a circle, brought his hands up with theirs and after a bit of encouragement Maul…allowed himself to jump.

They beamed at him, wide as could be, pushing and pulling at each other and him, lifting his hands up into the air and encouraging him to follow the beat and the more he followed them the more he…thought he might get it.

It was movement.

Movement for the sake of it, for the joy of it.

Maul thought he might love it.

They jumped and moved and pushed and pulled and they were smiling so wide and so bright, and Maul found his own mouth twisting. And the more that he allowed himself to smile the wider the girls’ own smiles got, until finally Wan was smiling so wide her eyes were closed with it, D’una’s fingers trilling in joy. Maul realized they were yelling the lyrics with the singer, could see their mouths moving as she screamed about not caring about her bad reputation, and Maul…

Well. He appreciated the sentiment, but admittedly he did care a bit.

He was technically still a prisoner after all…

But…but… For just this moment it was fun.

And then the song ended, and Maul was able to hear the two girls laughing for just a moment before suddenly something else started, and he watched as D’una’s eyes almost seemed to sparkle, delight visible there.

The song was slower, almost…grungy, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There was less jumping this time, more moving their heads, swaying side to side, even if they kept him in their circle…and then suddenly,

KILLING IN THE NAME OF!

Maul listened to the man who…almost talkedover the music, repeating the lyrics, gaining in intensity as the music did.

And then the repetition…the lyrics were clearer, and Maul suddenly realized what he was saying, yelling about doing what ‘they’ were told, and Maul slowed. D’una took his hands again, shaking her head, something delighted in her face, ‘trust me’ she signed, and Maul slowly allowed himself to relax and just listen, following the groove of the music, letting himself shift as they did.

The talk of those in authority…being chosen, and…oh. Oh.

Maul thought he got it. Maul thought he understood why they had chosen this song. There was a parallel he could gain with not just the Jedi but with his own Sith Master. And then after a loud and very interesting series of sounds that stood out from the rest, D’una and Wan both pretending to…do…something where they moved their fingers in a very specific way, hunched over as though playing a… Oh. Oh, he understood, Maul had seen one of those instruments. He understood what they were doing.

And then quietly, but building up once again as that instrumentation came to a close, “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!” and the louder that voice got the more energy pounded through the song, the more D’una and Wan jumped, and Maul jumped with them. As D’una and Wan both began screaming the words aloud, Maul found himself joining with them, screaming a defiance and a rage and something so clean…

And after one last repetition, one last trill… The song ended, and Maul found himself energized in a way he had not in a very long time, taking in D’una and Wan, both out of breath but so utterly defiant, pleased and grinning as wide as they could, as big as they could…

THE FUTURE IS BULLETPROOF, THE AFTERMATH IS SECONDARY, IT’S TIME TO DO IT NOW AND DO IT LOUD, KILLJOYS…MAKE SOME NOISE

The burst of lyrics and sound, the utter defiance and delight, brighter than either of the others, and D’una and Wan grabbed both of his hands and pulled, lifting them up once again as they began scream-singing with the voice, the repetitive nature of the opening making it easy to follow along with it, and this time the movements were more decisive, not just jumping but actively moving their bodies with it, and Maul had a feeling that this was one they knew and knew very well.

Maul thought he liked it.

They threw themselves into movement, into wide gestures and more pretend instrument playing, and Maul found where his own comfort lied, allowing himself to spin them when they indicated it, holding their hands, and jumping with them.

It was…good.

Maul wished he knew more about what was making the music, knew what the instruments were outside of a vague understanding. But he did know that he…Maul thought he loved it. The energy was infectious, the beat pounding in his hearts and as D’una and Wan threw themselves into the motions, slid across the ground on knees, spun in the air, threw their bodies into movement in a way that Maul thought he understood and could appreciate, all of it meeting the rhythm of that song…

When it finally ended, D’una and Wan both fell to the ground dramatically, laughing aloud with it, coinciding with a call of ‘let this world explode’ and Maul found himself grinning at the both of them, unable to help it. They laughed aloud and reached their hands up and Maul allowed himself to pull them up.

They laughed still, leaning towards him and he welcomed it, welcomed their presence in his space, their smiles. And then finally a sound he had not heard yet began.

D’una’s expression brightened and the look on her face was pure and utter delight.

The voice that began over an almost…industrial sound was low and almost…gurgled, and Maul listened to it grind over the sound, until the voice solidified into,

BABBLE BABBLE BITCH BITCH, REBEL REBEL PARTY PARTY, SEX SEX SEX AND DON’T FORGET THE “VIOLENCE”

Maul’s brows shot way up, D’una and Wan laughing hysterically as they threw their hands over their heads and swayed side to side, and then the music swelled into a crescendo as that voice screamed “are you motherfuckers ready for the new shit?”

Maul wasn’t sure if he was, but as he watched the two of them thrusting their arms in the air and screaming along to all the cursing, Maul thought he could understand why they were enjoying it. As he realized how repetitive the lyrics were, as he allowed himself to sway along to it, he found himself shouting with it. As the song encouraged them to sing along, he thought he could get it. There were some parts of the chorus he wasn’t entirely certain of, and he kept his distance from the other two, who smiled at him in a way that seemed to be both thankful and reassuring at the same time. But…it was fun. It was fun…

It slowly faded out, and then yet another sound came in…and Maul found his head tilting up. And for the first time since they had started making him listen to this music a woman’s voice came, laced over the sound of something so soft, so gentle, but there was an edge underneath it…

Out on your own, cold and alone again can this be what you really wanted, baby?

And Wan beamed at him, pointing a finger to her own chest, and he figured that this…this must have been her pick, and as an entire group sang behind the woman, Maul found himself riveted. He almost didn’t want to dance, finding himself listening in shock to the sweeping sound of it all, the scope of it all… But as Wan and D’una once again took his hands and moved him through something that was so much softer and yet simultaneously held such an edge to it… Maul liked it, he liked it a lot.

Wan could tell, her eyes squinting with her grin, before they finally closed and she swayed with it, spinning, and twirling, and swaying to the music, her arms rising up in the air, and slowly drifting back down. D’una following along with her, and finally Maul allowed himself to drift. As the song finally ended Wan bowed low and Maul found himself grinning at it, D’una immediately applauding…

And then another sound.

This one was…interesting. It was softer than the others, and yet not as soft as the one they had just listened to, that edge front and center, the notes ringing clearly until a voice cried overtop of it, and finally…barely audible over the music,

Far above the darkling world soars the blackest bird far above the darkling world it sings the saddest song

And for a moment Maul stood there, sucked into it without truly knowing how, his head tilting slightly, and then D’una waved, gaining his attention, and stuck her fingers up around her head in a pretend crown, her hands on either side and mouthed very obviously ‘Zabrak,’ and then Maul realized what had caught his attention.

There were subvocalizations in use, Maul could…he could feel them, and they rumbled in his chest, the music loud and the voices growling overtop of them, rumbling low or loud as needed… And the cry of “They will turn!” thudded in his chest, and Maul could do nothing but listen, his eyes closed, listening to the voices, that soft subvocal, and as it rose in volume, to suddenly fall into something sweeping and gentle, and he swayed with it. His eyes closed Maul let himself move, following the gentle movements, following the rhythm he was given, feeling where his body wanted to move, letting it guide him.

Rising in triumph and brightness as the beat pounded in his hearts, and this…this one Maul thought he might love.

It trailed off, tinkling plucking notes, and when Maul opened his eyes again D’una and Wan were staring at him, both of them smiling so wide. Maul felt a bit self-conscious for a moment, but they shook their heads, smiling, and then with the biggest grin, D’una held both of her hands up on either side of her head, this time not…not in horns but in ….

Ears.

Yoda?

D’una must have caught his incredulity because she laughed as loud as she could, nodding, before they both looked at the time, looked at him, and smiled, before gesturing that they had to leave. After a moment of hesitation, D’una spread her arms to him, and Maul paused for a moment, before inclining his head in decision, spreading his arms in turn and she hugged him.

It was different than hugging the little ones, and different to hugging any of the Masters, she was closer to his height, and it made it easy, though it also did mean he had to be much more careful of his horns. Wan was next and Maul hugged her, too, before they both waved, leaving him to so much, to so many new songs, new sounds.

Maul found himself surprised at the sight of the Guards, but they didn’t do much more than sign a grin, reassuring. Maul wondered if he should tell them what he was doing, but as his attention was attracted by another sound, Maul found himself instead listening.

He still had homework, so he should probably work on that.

Maul was delighted to find that he’d worked up a bit of a sweat with them, and then he wondered what… Huh.

Maul stripped his tunic off now that the girls were gone and began working through a kata to the music.

Oh, now this…

This Maul liked.

Maul would finish his exercises, take a shower, and then finish his homework, though why they called it that was beyond him. Maybe someone would ask him about why he was playing it so loud shortly. Maul didn’t truly mind the fact that he didn’t have as much privacy as the girls obviously thought he should have, but…something about having other people listen in while he learned about something that sometimes resonated deep in his chest without any real understanding about why it did…

That, Maul would have liked to discover on his own.

Maybe having his own space would be a good thing…Maul had never thought of it. There were so many things that Maul had never thought of… He would learn.

Maul would learn.

_

Plo had jumped so badly he had spilled his tea at the first sudden burst of noise.

He blinked for a moment, reaching out with his senses to figure out what it was, before pulling on his rebreather and his protective goggles, taking a step out into the corridor, and seeing several other Masters sticking their heads out.

For a moment they all stood there, listening, waiting…

“Oh,” came a surprised voice, and they turned to look at Eeth, who was blinking owlishly. “That’s my pick. Joan Jett and the Clawbirds,” he said, “Bad Reputation…” Eeth took that in for a moment and then finally started laughing. “I think that’s a good pick. Good opening.”

“Is that the Sith?” Ima-Gun Di’s voice came, the Kajain'sa'Nikto Master approaching with bemused amusement in his expression.

“Lord Maul, or Darth Maul, Master Di,” Yaddle corrected gently, a partial smile on her face to bely any sting.

“Of course,” Di answered, “my apologies, he helped me locate a datapad the other day. Seemed…a quiettype.”

The Masters laughed, unable to help themselves, somewhere close to gently baffled. “Where’s Healer Tiq,” Elio asked, the female human’s voice amused, “maybe he can explain this.”

“Teenage rebellion,” Tiq’s voice came and there was a loud whoop of laughter. “All kidding aside…I could always talk to him, though I did see Padawan’s D’una and Wan talking to each other at dinner. They met one of the Guards…”

“They were taken to Lord Maul,” Plo said, the use of his tile in public seemed like a polite compromise. “They were bringing him music.”

“I would say they brought it,” Soara Antana laughed.

“I’m sorry Masters,” Master Fri’s voice came then, D’una’s Master approaching them, the Twi’lek’s brows pinched. “I did not expect for this to be the result when I gave them permission.”

“It’s…” Plo was stopped from giving a reaction at the approach of a Guard. They were not running, though they were moving quickly, and there was a brief curl of apprehension, before they held out a small palm sized projector. For a moment they hesitated, making sure that their attention was on them, and then they activated it.

Plo felt something in his chest twist and then clunk into place, something so warm burning through him as three figures jumped and screamed and laughed, dancing to music that was much too loud. Maul was with them, he was dancing with them, and there was something so amazing about seeing it, about seeing the young man who never allowed himself to slip into foolishness and was so careful with the way that he behaved was dancing with two girls his own age. There was a respectful gap between them, all of them careful about where they placed themselves, even as they pulled and pushed and laughed, spinning around, all with the beat.

The song ended and…

Plo felt amusement burn in his chest.

Killing in the Name of? The lyrics were louder, more aggressive, and they boomed through the temple without a care. Plo felt a grin widening as he watched them, took in the obvious mischievous delight on D’una’s and Wan’s face, Maul going along with them with something amused on his own. He could see the moment when Maul seemed to hesitate, listening to the lyrics, which…

Hmm. Plo wasn’t sure how he felt about this one. That was some…interesting lyrics.

“Oh,” Qui-Gon’s voice noted, “that would be my pick.”

Plo turned to look at him, the rest of the Council Members all turning to look at the Jedi who had his hands folded before him, his expression all quiet innocence.

And then the outro started and Plo found himself having to fight a laugh. Qui-Gon just raised his brows.

Though, Plo did see the way he was watching the projector, and he found himself turning, watching as Maul truly began getting into it, and then finally began screaming the lyrics with D’una and Wan, all of them leaping, and… Well. Well.

Maybe that had been a better choice than anticipated. Though he was uncertain about the lyrics.

“I don’t know that I would recommend stopping them,” Tiq noted softly, “not tonight at least. They’ll wear themselves out, I believe, and the Crèche is thoroughly insulated, they won’t be able to hear anything.”

“This is true,” Plo said with a nod. He looked to the others. “We do have sound dampeners, do we not?”

There was an agreement, and there was something…newly tolerant and almost soft in the way that they agreed, slight smiles on faces.

Though…Plo honestly couldn’t blame any of them.

It was the first real reminder that Maul was at his heart a teenager, an abused and terribly hurt one, but a teenager all the same, and he could be afforded a little rebellion.

For now, at least, they’d let it go. If it continued, then they might discuss it, but…at his heart, Plo wasn’t all that sure he wanted to.

Maul walked to work with Tiq by his side, his chin held up and his expression as even as possible.

He’d played the music all the way through the night, even after he went to sleep, his earplugs turned all the way up so the sound was completely dampened. He had slept oddly well, the music an almost physical weight, but one that he got oddly used to. He’d gone to remove the earplugs while he showered after his morning exercises and gotten a warning in the Force so strong that he had known instantly he would go deaf if he did so.

A part of him was horrified to know precisely how loud the music itself was, but he figured he would ask D’una today.

He’d showered with the earplugs in, checked the seeds to make sure that they were alright, and then changed, before coming out to do stretches.

Maul liked exercising to the music. It was an excellent pump-up, even the songs that were softer.

As it was, he was returning to work today where he would hopefully be able to talk to D’una and Wan both about what it was that went into the music that he was hearing.

Maul truly wanted to learn the names of the instruments, to learn what everything was called. He had enjoyed all of them, but he wanted to listen in a way that was less idle. Maul didn’t think that he would ever wish to play his own instruments, but he still was curious about them.

As it was he was doing his best to completely ignore the small looks that Tiq kept giving him. They weren’t…smug, Maul didn’t think, and they were filled with slight amusement, but also something…warm? Maul was not going to talk about it if Tiq didn’t talk about it. He still remembered Wan’s instructions, and he found himself agreeing. If they didn’t ask him why he was playing the music loud then he wasn’t going to make it easy on them.

He’d turned it off when he left for work, but that just seemed to make the most sense, placing the earplugs on the table next to it. The remainder of the petals had fallen off and he needed to ask Tiq about that… Oh…

“I have collected all of the seeds from the jahaal’got klesir,” Maul said, “D’una and Wan helped me. They are in a bag that I’ve placed in the refresher for…safety.”

“Truly?” Tiq asked, and there was warm delight in his voice. “Fantastic! Oh, that’s wonderful! Would you like to be the one to plant them?”

Maul blinked, looking to him. “I…can plant them?”

“I don’t see why not,” Tiq answered, “would you like to?”

“…Please,” Maul said. “But…I have never done it before.”

“That’s alright,” Tiq smiled, “we’ve been waiting for the moment they start seeding. They’re a very hardy long-lasting plant. It’s also a very easy process. The AgriCorps is already ready with the soil that is necessary. We were going to place them in the Meditation Garden, which frankly would be a good thing for you, I think. A nice change of scenery and something green to be around.”

Maul found himself delighted at the prospect, letting his head dip in acknowledgement.

“So,” Tiq smiled as the Archives loomed ever closer. “Have you been enjoying your playlist?”

Maul’s interest was immediately piqued, wondering if this was the moment he’d be asked… But when there was nothing else forthcoming Maul allowed himself to dip his head. “I have,” he said. “But I don’t know…a lot. There’s so many different sounds to everything, and I know so little about the instruments that are used. I would like…I want to know more.”

“Well, I’m certain D’una can tell you some things about them,” Tiq smiled at him. “She spent a very long time putting it together for you.”

“She did,” Maul agreed. “Should…how do I say thank you for that?”

Tiq smiled at him, and the expression was warm. “I think the fact that you’re playing it as loud as you are and are truly appreciative and showing interest will be a great way to do so. She wished to share something with you and, well…”

“I don’t have much to give back,” Maul frowned.

“Don’t think like that,” Tiq said softly, “she knows, and believe me, the fact that you are paying her back in time and interest when it is all you have at the moment is absolutely a very big deal. And of course, telling her that you appreciate it goes the rest of the way.”

Maul took that in and finally nodded. “Thank you.”

Tiq smiled at him, and then neatly changed the topic, “Would you like to plant the seeds today after your shift?”

“Yes, please,” Maul answered with a dip of his head. “Do I need anything?”

“We’ll have everything for you,” Tiq smiled, “just come expecting to get a bit dirty.”

Maul inclined his head as the Archives came into sight before he frowned, thinking… “Did I listen to any of your choices?”

“Not yet,” Tiq smiled, “I’ll let you know when you do.”

Maul once again gave a brief nod and entered the Archives, looking for Jocasta to get his list of jobs for the day.

_

Tiq watched Maul leave and had to take a moment to hide in a nearby hallway and quietly laugh to himself at the reminder that Maul truly was one of the quietest individuals he knew. The music levels were probably the most incongruous thing about him, but Tiq would work to respect that.

If nothing else it was a sign that Maul was becoming more comfortable in his own skin, that he was truly growing. Tiq had no doubt that there might be setbacks, or things that he tripped on, but to be able to express an interest and the desire to thank someone for their kindness… It was a far cry from the young man that Tiq had first gotten to know.

In those moments, Tiq closed his eyes and allowed himself to relish in the triumphs, to feel as deeply as he could the happiness that he felt, the warmth that he held in his heart for the teen in his charge and carefully, slowly, breathed it out.

_

D’una’s Master had talked to her when she had gotten back, amusement on her face, but there had been something very…warm in it. “You gave him something very important,” she had said. “I have heard about how alone that boy has been. I am proud of you, but be careful, D’una, I do not think that he would ever hurt you on purpose, but…he has known little else.”

“I’ll be careful, Master,” D’una had promised. “They already warned us about twenty times each that we need to be careful about not surprising him. And especially not touching him when he’s not expecting it.”

“They’d be right,” Master Fri had said, raising a brow imperiously and D’una had smiled, before once again dipping her head in agreement and gone off to work.

She’d met up with Wan, who was laughing quietly, the two of them trading notes on how their Masters had taken everything. Wan’s own Master had been similarly pleased, but had also warned Wan as well and… D’una sighed. She recognized that Maul was dangerous. She knew that he’d been trained in how to be a Sith, and that required a lot of hate and a lot of fear. Admittedly…she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Not exactly, but she didn’t think that asking him precisely what they meant when they said that Maul had been brought up in pain would be…wise…

She didn’t want to hurt him more and she was unsure how to talk to him really, or to ask questions.

But that’s alright. D’una didn’t have to understand in order to empathize or be careful, and she would do both.

“When’s your next mission?” D’una asked and Wan sighed.

“It shouldn’t be too long,” Wan said, “we’re getting clearance soon. Healer Tiq cleared me recently.”

“I’m glad,” D’una said, “no more nightmares?”

“I still have them, but it’s easier to give it to the Force, he gave me a lot of good coping mechanisms that I use.”

“That’s wizard,” D’una said. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Thank you.”

“Did…something happen?”

The voice was low and soft, as well as immediately familiar, both girls jumping slightly and turning to find Maul standing there.

“Maul! Warn a person,” D’una said, her hand over her chest and Maul had the grace to duck his head in apology.

“Sorry,” he said, “I did not mean to surprise you…”

“It’s alright, I just…I didn’t even sense you,” Wan frowned, “how…when you have…” Wan trailed off, her expression that particular sort of embarrassed, but Maul waved a hand like it was little consequence.

D’una knew it wasn’t.

“I am a Nightbrother,” he said as though it was an explanation, before hesitating. “I do not…in some ways I do not know what all that means. I have never met another and I do not know if this is merely something I can do, or something known to my species, but I have always been able to…blend, to go undetected. I had assumed it was due to what I was, but I have no true answers.”

…

“Fuck, Maul,” Wan whispered. “You’ve never met another Nightbrother?”

“We do not advertise ourselves,” Maul said briefly. “And I was taken as an infant. But I do not…” Maul frowned, before looking to Wan again. “Did something happen?”

The shut down was obvious, but D’una thought she understood. And she thought she understood more than she wanted.

“I…was on a mission,” Wan said. “With my Master. We…” she hesitated, and Maul seemed to catch it, and he shook his head, golden eyes…understanding. And wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he of all people understand what it was to not want to talk about something.

“It is alright,” he said, “you don’t have to talk if you do not want to. I recall you mentioning it before and your hesitance, it is of no consequence.”

Wan smiled at him. “It’s alright,” she said, “I…want to talk about it, I think. I’ve gotten better talking to Tiq…and he did encourage it when I felt ready.”

“That does sound like him,” Maul agreed shortly and Wan laughed.

“I had a mission with my Master. It went…poorly. It was just supposed to be a supply mission, but…we got boarded. The first…the first few shots disabled the ship and my Master lost…consciousness and I was so scared. I had a mild concussion because I busted my face against the dash when we stopped, but I was able to grab my lightsaber and…” she took a breath, “I fought them off, but then we were drifting, and we didn’t have comms… I had to go into the other ship and find a way to get to their comms, and…and then we just drifted. I went back to the ship, and I found my Master and he was so…still…” Wan was quiet for a moment. “I had nightmares of floating in space, of what would have happened if the ship split away, if we…if we hadn’t been lucky enough to be disabled instead of blow up…of my Master dy~ing.”

D’una held her arms open immediately, catching the way Wan’s voice broke and Wan immediately hugged her, breathing deep for a moment, gathering the emotions together and slowly releasing them to the Force with her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Wan said finally, backing away, “thank you.”

“Of course,” D’una said. “And it’s never a trouble.”

Maul was quiet for a moment, taking them in, before looking to Wan and his brow was furrowed. “I am glad that you were able to save your Master and yourself,” he said finally. “You handled that situation well.”

It was clumsy, and it was hesitant, but the soft reassurance made Wan smile widely. She wiped her eyes, “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad, too. Sometimes it’s hard, but Tiq says it will get easier overtime. I’ll be able to give it to the Force fully, soon. Trauma’s like that, you know? It sticks.”

Maul dipped his head in acknowledgement, his expression almost rueful and Wan gave him a rough grin.

“Are you alright, Wan?” D’una asked.

“I’ll be fine,” she smiled, and then she blinked, before looking to Maul, her eyes shining with amusement. “Has anyone asked yet?” and it was a neat way of closing the conversation and bringing them back to the question at hand. Wan and her Master were both fine…

Maul was still in a cell.

“No,” Maul answered. “No one came even after I left it on all night.”

“You’re kidding!” Wan said.

“She’s right, I would have thought given how quiet you were that they would have registered it as something abnormal,” D’una said, frowning. “No one’s asked a thing?”

“No,” Maul shook his head. “I wish they had.”

“Well of course, we have to get you out of that cell,” D’una frowned.

“It is more…” he hesitated, “I…have enjoyed discovering these sounds, but I think…I think I would enjoy it more without everyone hearing it with me.”

D’una blinked. “Oh,” she said, “oh I didn’t even think of that. You’ve never listened to this at all.”

“No,” Maul answered, “and…and I wanted to ask you. I don’t know what a lot of the instruments are, or how…how they make these sounds, and I know so little. I have enjoyed so much of it,” Maul said, “but I would like to know more about it, if that is possible. Would you be able to help me?”

D’una beamed, feeling the warmth rise up in her chest, pride and delight both, and easily breathed it out. “Of course! I’ll get you some datapads on the music, and on the bands. Do you like any in particular?”

“I…was enjoying Insomnium.”

“Melodic Deathmetal!”

“…Melodic what?”

“The subgenre,” D’una laughed.

“Melodic?” Wan asked, her voice teasing and D’una poked at her.

“Hush, hush, they really are very melodic, believe me. I’ve heard others that are just… Have you had Mudvayne play yet?”

“Which was this?”

“Master Vos picked it,” D’una said, grinning. “It’s something else.”

“I…don’t know if I heard it.”

“Well, you will recognize it,” D’una grinned, “it’s called Dig, and it has a lot of…well, allusions to the title.”

“Master Vos is back?” Wan asked.

“Yes,” D’una grinned, “so is Aayla, she picked something that’s not on the disc you’re listening to.”

“Is Healer Tiq’s?” Maul asked.

“No,” D’una said, “there were a few songs that I thought could potentially be on it and not stick out too much, but I decided that they had too much of a grand feel. You’ll understand when you hear them.”

“Very well,” Maul tilted his head. “Now, I was meant to report to you and see if you had finished organizing the datapads, but…”

D’una and Wan laughed aloud, looking back at the pile of datapads that they had yet to shelve and then back to Maul. “Yeah, alright, let’s get to work.”

_

Maul had spread the datapads that D’una had given him out on the floor before him, his earplugs very firmly in place. Maul had asked D’una how loud it had actually been, and she had grinned at him, her head tilted to the side in order to make it look mildly menacing and then told him he didn’t want to know.

Maul had taken her at her word and not asked again.

As it was, Maul was in the middle of stretching, having done a workout after work and now working on loosening himself up before a shower. The feeling of people approaching drew his attention up, and for a moment he thought of unfolding himself from the twist he had dragged his body into, and then decided he didn’t care. Maybe they’d say something new.

Maul recognized one of the approaching signatures, but the other was…different, new. Maul frowned slightly, shifted himself into a violent scorpion tail, with his toes sliding down to carefully thread his horns and watched as they rounded the corner, raising his brow when they looked to him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had earplugs in, and he assumed that the other man had it as well, but he could not tell because of his hair. Maul took in the yellow marked across his face, the way his hair was dreaded, and rather thought he was looking at a Kiffer. Both men looked immediately surprised at his positioning, and then Kenobi just grinned, before gesturing towards his music.

Maul rolled his eyes visibly, before raising himself up on one hand and gesturing to the player with the other, pausing it with the Force, and then tilted his head towards the Guards, who let the ray shield down in offer, letting himself finally unfold and sit with his legs crossed, looking up at the both of them imperiously.

“So, first impression, I’m not sure you have a spine,” the unknown man said, grinning and Maul sighed.

“As I have been informed very many times, and at this point I’m going to place it on my condition as Sith.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Aren’t we meant to be spineless?” Maul purred.

Kenobi snorted, his expression utterly surprised while the man threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, after that I’m going to say no. Goodness, I’m Quinlan Vos.”

“Lord Maul,” he said in reply. “I’ve heard you have interesting taste though I don’t think I’ve gotten to it yet.”

“Oh, you definitely haven’t,” Kenobi grinned, “I think we’d know.”

“Quite,” Maul responded, and idly wondered if these would be the ones that would ask. It wasn’t quite who he had expected, but he would work with it if need be. The news would probably eventually get to the Council, through the Guards if nothing else.

“Do you mind if we sit as well?”

Maul hummed, before drifting the datapads off to the side, and gesturing for them to sit. “I have not had a shower yet, but if that is not off-putting then you’re welcome to it.”

“Oh, is that what the smell is?” Kenobi asked with a grin, sitting down.

“My name is not an idle threat~” Maul said.

Quinlan threw his head back and laughed, even as Kenobi ducked his head, a wide grin on his mouth regardless. “Apologies, you’re right. I rather recall fighting you and it wasn’t all that fun.”

“I enjoyed it,” Maul denied. “Kicking you off several stories was very entertaining.”

“From what I recall that happened to you rather quickly afterwards,” Kenobi returned with a grin.

“That was fun, too,” Maul shrugged. “The landing wasn’t as much but freefall always is.”

Quinlan laughed; Kenobi’s grin widened. “You’re absolutely correct,” he nodded.

“Is there a reason you came to talk to me?” Maul asked, deciding that he might as well see if he could prick them into talking about what he was hoping for.

“Well, actually Vos wished to meet you, and as I was familiar I thought I would take the time to introduce you,” Kenobi said. “We haven’t truly gotten much chance to talk even with…everything, and I rather thought that was something I should rectify regardless.”

Maul took that in for a moment.

“Also, you were listening to my favorite band, and I was rather curious as to what you thought,” Kenobi smiled.

…

“They are your favorite?” Maul checked that both of them were wearing earplugs and then gestured towards the player, letting the loud sound of a chorus screaming,

TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME…

And then paused it again, raising a brow. “Truly?”

“Well, at this point I suppose they would be classified as a bit of a guilty pleasure,” Kenobi smiled, rueful, “but I must say that…” he hummed, “well, I thought you might enjoy it.”

Maul hesitated for a moment, “I have,” he said finally. “Thank you.” He tilted his head, “you truly afraid of teenagers?”

“Why, do you know some?”

“I am one,” Maul answered with a brief shrug. “As far as anyone knows.”

“Oh, how old?” Quinlan asked.

“Eighteen was the age I chose, but I do not know my exact date of birth or age,” Maul answered.

“I ought to introduce you to Aayla then,” Quinlan smiled, “she’s my apprentice.”

“I am aware,” Maul said, “I work with D’una and Wan, they mentioned her in passing.”

“Oh, good,” Quinlan laughed, “they’re good people. So, you are working in the Archives, then?”

“Yes,” Maul answered, “it has been enjoyable. What do you do?” he thought that was the proper response.

“I work as a Shadow, primarily,” Quinlan answered.

Maul tilted his head thoughtfully, his interest piqued, “What is that?”

“Well, we do a lot of different jobs,” Quinlan said, rolling his shoulders, “we are known for doing whatever the Council needs us, but primarily we work undercover, though we also have a lot to do with the Sith, actually. We are finders of Artifacts.”

“My, you must be very good at your job,” Maul noted.

“What makes you say that?” Quinlan asked, his brows lowering slightly.

Maul gestured to himself, “you seem to have found a live one.”

Quinlan snorted before he threw his head back and laughed, Kenobi joining him.

“Are all Sith this funny?”

“I don’t know, the only other live one I knew tortured me my entire life and then ripped themselves out of my mind, so I genuinely have no idea if they had a sense of humor,” Maul answered. The laughter died. Hmm. So, it seemed that delivery could only take a person so far. He would remember that. Though… “What do you do with the Sith Artifacts that you find?” Maul asked.

“Well, I suppose it depends,” Quinlan answered, looking hesitant. “Are…are you okay?”

Maul blinked. “I’m fine,” he said, “obviously I am not being tortured and while I do still suffer from migraines they have been getting better.”

“That is good,” Quinlan said briefly. “As for the Artifacts…I suppose it depends. Some of them we study…”

Maul tilted his head in acknowledgement, he had thought that was the case, he knew that there were some there, but… “The rest?”

“If they’re deemed too dangerous, they are of course destroyed.”

Maul froze.

For some reason…for some reason he had not thought of that possibility.

He had known that they would study them, he had figured that if…but what would they have done? They were Jedi, they didn’t need the Sith artifacts that they found, they had…they had people, and Masters, and Teachers and an Archive filled with knowledge that was freely given…

Unless it was Sith.

Unless it was Sith and then it was dangerous and hidden and while there was truth to that, and he knew there was truth to that, but Maul was Sith. Maul was Sith and he was entitled to those Artifacts and that knowledge, and they had…they had…

They just destroyed them as though they had the right, as though they had the…

Was it not enough to genocide his people, but attempt to remove them from existence as well? Was that not what the Sith would have done? But at the same time…at the same time, the Sith had never had a chance.

Maul had never had a chance. Maul did not want to kill the Jedi before him, but he did not…he did not…

“Maul…”

“It is Lord Maul,” Maul said softly, his lips barely moving. “As my Title is the only thing I currently own, I would like for you to keep using it.”

“I…” Vos…blinked at him, before finally tilting his head in acquiescence, “of course, my apologies.” He agreed. “Lord Maul, you…you do know that the Sith Artifacts we destroy are ones that have actively attempted to…hurt.”

“Of course, they attempt to hurt,” Maul hissed. “That is the point of them. It is knowledge through pain or through power, if you cannot open them or properly utilize them then they will hurt. You must be strong enough to pass their test and aside from that you are a Jedi. You feel like a Jedi. They will know that and react in kind.”

Vos was quiet for a moment and then finally dipped his head. “I can see how their destruction might be upsetting, but truly, you have to look at the bigger picture. Sith were destroying their own artifacts all the time, weren’t they?”

“Sith were, yes,” Maul answered softly, “our own people destroying our own artifacts, and of course, it is just as lamentable. But. They. Are. Ours. To. Destroy. Just as they are also ours to use. It is my culture, my people. And you have destroyed my culture and my people as though you have a right to it.” Maul was quiet for a moment. “This has been senseless. All of this is senseless. My hatred for you was artificial and maliciously induced. The ones I took from you…and I have taken. We have taken, and I regret. But I am angry. If it is true that my Master is dead then I am the only one that is left. I am alone, my culture will die with me unless I teach another. And the only things that can teach me more about what I am as a Sith are either within your hold, or destroyed as though you have a right to it.”

Maul was quiet for a long moment, watching the both of them, his gaze so… “I cannot teach as I have been taught,” he finally said. “But there is no one else that can teach me otherwise. I do not know how to…I do not…” Maul trailed off.

“I do not want to be alone.”

They were quiet for a very long time, Maul feeling the sweat cool on his skin, suddenly uninterested in both of the men before him, or…or the music.

Suddenly leaving the cell didn’t seem as appealing as it had before.

“You’re right.”

Maul blinked, turning his gaze up to Vos, who was looking at him seriously. “You’re right. We…destroying the artifacts in the way we have… It’s been wrong. They are a part of your culture. And you do have a right to them in ways that we do not. I am sorry for the part I have played in destroying them, and I will be taking your points to the Council. They are all valid, and I will attempt to keep this from happening.”

Maul took that in, his eyes darting, meeting Quinlan’s gaze that remained fixed, the certainty in those eyes, and felt himself slowly, hesitantly relax.

“Thank you.”

“No,” Quinlan shook his head, “you shouldn’t have to thank us. It’s the right thing to do. I’ll…see about making it so you can get with the artifacts, if you would like. If…if you think that you’re ready.”

“Collared I am not,” Maul said simply, and Quinlan’s gaze darted to the collar on the table and back with a very visible wince.

“Well,” Quinlan sighed, “if nothing else I can petition for the artifacts to be brought into the Temple so you can look them over when you are ready instead of destroyed. When…when that collar isn’t on.”

“Why do you still wear the collar?” Kenobi asked, “is it required in Jedi spaces?”

“At the moment…I do not know how safe it would be without it,” Maul said finally. “I was trained…to react wholly with violence and death when threatened, and while I have no… I do not want to hurt,” Maul said, “but it is in some ways the only thing that I have known. Which is…abnormal, even for Sith, from what I have seen.” Maul was quiet. “I want to be a better Sith, but I do not know what that means. Darth Vectivus loved his Apprentice, and sought to teach him and bring him to full power in such a way that he died of old age, and I learned of him through a Holocron that you hold. I do not know how rare this is…”

“And…there’s a possibility that now, neither will we,” Quinlan said and sighed. “I understand, Lord Maul. I’ll do what I can, and there really is no need to thank me. I do still want to introduce you to Aayla at some opportunity, I’ll tell her to keep the title,” he winked and then went to stand. “It was good to meet you, Lord Maul. I’ll leave you to shower and listen to music at blinding decibels again.”

“Thank you, and…well. It will be likewise, I’m sure,” Maul said with a dip of his head and Quinlan laughed, before nodding once more and leaving, Kenobi staying for just a moment longer.

“Lord Maul,” Kenobi said softly, “Quinlan is right, listening to the music at loud decibels truly does do something for you, particularly if… Well, if you were a Jedi I would say if you were having an issue breathing something into the Force, but as it is, if you were having trouble…” he gave a soft hum, “containing it, perhaps?”

“Containing it works,” Maul allowed. “Did you do this often?”

Kenobi grinned at him ruefully, “not all that often in the later days of my Apprenticeship, but…during some of the early parts, yes. That band was one of my favorites to listen to extraordinarily loudly and it did help me a lot.”

Maul pursed his lips slightly, fighting back potentially biting comments. It was not kind or polite and fell under that potential of ‘hurt,’ and Maul did not want to do that. It was not fair.

“Surprised a Jedi can talk about hurt and help?” Kenobi asked with a slight grin and Maul frowned. “No, I understand. But…well. As you have probably heard there are…things that we deal with that are difficult. And perhaps would not have been as difficult if we had simply consulted a Mind Healer.” Kenobi rolled his eyes as though laughing at their own idiocy and Maul gave a brief hum of agreement. Kenobi laughed. “Listen,” he said, leaning forward. “There is a lot that you have helped us with, in more ways than I think you realize. This is not the first time that you have helped put something in perspective for us.”

Maul took that in for a moment and finally dipped his head. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he paused for a moment, looking a bit like he wanted to say something more, but unsure how to say it. “You know, when I…well, when I first saw you across the hall in Naboo, this was the last possible scenario that came to my brain.”

“Truly?” Maul said with a raised brow, “what was your first assumption?”

“Well, naturally that you would either kill one or both of us, or we would have to kill you,” Kenobi grinned, rueful.

“I suppose those would have been the options, yes,” Maul said, and Kenobi’s grin gentled.

“Well, gladly they weren’t. You could also be sent into a ray shield at high velocity.”

“I’ve felt worse,” Maul said, flicking a hand and Kenobi’s entire face crumpled.

“That is like. The opposite of a good thing, you understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Kenobi, I was trying to be funny.”

Kenobi blinked, frowned, and then his entire expression seemed to brighten in slow motion before he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Force help me! Save me from Sith with senses of humor,” he wiped his eyes.

Maul was momentarily pleased.

“I have…I have been meaning to ask you about that, though, if you don’t mind,” Kenobi finally managed, wiping his eyes of their tears, and trying to compose himself. “Goodness, but you caught me off guard… And I suppose…I suppose that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. Your guard is always up, even here, even now, you’re…you’re tense. What happened? What caused you to slip like that to the point that Qui-Gon was able to catch you off guard? Do you even remember?”

Maul…had not thought of that moment in so long. He’d been so wrapped up with his new reality as a prisoner, and then of…of learning how not to hurt, of how to be a better Sith in so many ways, of finding his Wodza… Remembering that moment of… What even was it?

It had been going so smoothly up until that point. Maul knew he was good, and he knew that the older man was tiring. The Padawan was…well just that, a Padawan and Maul had killed them before.

Maul had killed Masters before.

There was nothing new or particularly threatening about either of them.

And yet…and yet.

Maul had managed to separate the Master and the Padawan and he would have had enough time to wear the other man down and kill him before the ray shield dropped. Everything was going as he had planned it, and yet…

What had it…

And then Maul remembered with a sudden and burning realization exactly what it had been.

“You,” Maul said quietly, and Kenobi blinked. “Neither of you were the first Jedi I have killed, or in this instance fought. I had not dealt with many before you, but I have dealt with a few, and you…were the first that I have felt that actively grasped at Rage in a way that I recognized. You slipped into the Dark, and I feltit, and I was so…”

Maul felt the echo of what he had said burn like a confession in his chest, pulsing in his veins. Maul had been alone. And that momentary burst of something Dark, something familiar had been enough to surprise him into lowering his guard, in reaching for Like in a way that he would have never…should never have done…

Qui-Gon had taken advantage of that slip and the next thing he knew he was slamming into something that shocked him in a way he had only felt once, his Master punishing him for… Maul had forgotten.

“What moved me from the shield?”

“I did,” Kenobi said after a moment, “I pushed at your horns to try and get you out and then my Master was able to pull you the rest of the way, I…for a moment I thought it killed you. I am…I am pleased that it did not, genuinely so.”

“That would have shocked you,” Maul noted with a frown.

“Certainly, but with the ray shield there we could not truly use the Force as well as we wished,” Kenobi shrugged.

“Of course,” Maul frowned slightly, thinking. “You…wouldn’t want to know more about the Sith, would you?”

“I just became a Jedi Knight, Lord Maul,” Kenobi smiled, “I do not want to be your Apprentice.”

“Unfortunate,” Maul sighed. “But perhaps for the best…I did not have a very good Master. I do not…I do not want to spread those teachings, not until I know more.”

“For what it is worth…I do think you would be a very good Master,” Kenobi said, and that smile was warm. “You have a lot more patience around children than I have ever expected, and you have a wonderful capacity to be kind in a way that… It’s impressive, Lord Maul. You probably do not need to wear that collar as much as you think you do. Don’t sell yourself and your efforts short, alright?”

Maul took that in for a moment and finally dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I will…try.”

“Good, thank you,” Kenobi sighed, “and I am…pleased that I was able to cause you to falter for that instant, even if it did lead to a great deal of pain.”

Maul was quiet for a long moment and then finally dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“So am I.”

Tiq rounded the corner then, apologizing for being late. Kenobi making his excuses and Maul went to shower and change, remembering to take his seeds on the way out. Maybe…maybe he could still be interested in getting out of this cell after all.

[rodeoxqueen]

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT 

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.” 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic. 

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies. 

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most. 

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat. 

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point? 

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.” 

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed. 

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.” 

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.” 

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually. 

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards. 

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.” 

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table. 

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore. 

He opted for a cup of water instead. 

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail. 

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread. 

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth. 

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.” 

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears. 

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl. 

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island. 

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar. 

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.” 

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell. 

“It’s yeast alright.” 

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.” 

Nero shrugged. 

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.” 

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.” 

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing. 

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven. 

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.  

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it. 

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee. 

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth. 

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.” 

“Support local businesses, Nero.” 

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume. 

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies. 

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee. 

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee. 

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip. 

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie. 

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work. 

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned. 

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma. 

(II)- Curl Up And Dye. 

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more. 

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter. 

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless. 

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.” 

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement. 

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath. 

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course.” 

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims. 

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled. 

So here they were now. 

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head. 

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered. 

“Um, what did you try to do-” 

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands. 

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair. 

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out. 

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut. 

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.” 

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly. 

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed. 

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless. 

No one liked being helpless. 

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more. 

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity. 

“What color, Nero?” 

“Neon green-” 

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I don’t mind it.” 

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It. 

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Dante.” 

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call. 

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.  

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off. 

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard. 

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell. 

“Nice broccoli head.” 

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat. 

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero. 

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.” 

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk. 

“Kyrie, wait-” 

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.” 

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response. 

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them. 

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed. 

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured. 

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing. 

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.” 

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke. 

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick. 

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history. 

“Where do we even start?”  Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress. 

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally. 

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some. 

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[officergrimes-muses]

😁 - Three Happy Head Canons 😡 - Three Anger/Rage Head Canons 😍 - Three Romantic Head Canons 😈 - Three Naughty Head Canons (for Stella)

@wexarethewalkingxdead 😁 - Three Happy Head Canons

Estella loves swings. It is a bit childish to her, but there is something about rocking back and forth, really high, while the wind catches your hair and clothing. Swings just make her feel a bit of joy that she may have lost as she grew into adulthood. Reminds her that she can still stop and enjoy little things every now and again.

She used to find joy in funny bird videos before the outbreak. Anytime Daniel was out with his friends she would sit back on the couch with some wine and watch funny bird videos on her phone. Laughter was good medicine for her. Still can be if someone can actually get her to laugh.

She can play piano rather well and enjoyed playing piano anytime she had down time or a day off from the laundry mat she ran. Her favorite song to play was ‘My Immortal’ by Evanescence. (not so happy song but she enjoyed playing it.)

😡 - Three Anger/Rage Head Canons

She gets angry pretty quickly and she acts on her emotions. Estella is like a whole other person if you piss her off too much. She’s been screwed over many times, even by her own ex-husband, so she really doesn’t take any crap and she doesn’t show a lot of mercy. 

Stella’s anger can be very aggressive. She is not abusive of course, but it is definitely something she struggles with and she carries that on her shoulders a lot. She sees herself as crazy and really has a hard time letting herself connect with people due to it. Even being a extrovert.

You better hope you never harm anyone she cares deeply about because there will be almost zero mercy. This woman will come for you without a second thought and when she gets to you-. There will be consequences-. Her protective instincts and hot head tend to coincide with one another. She’s got a bit of a mouth too. So don’t expect her to shut down. She’ll tell you what she’s thinking.

😍 - Three Romantic Head Canons

She loves to give random kisses. Mainly on the shoulder. She’ll randomly walk past her partner and give them a small peck on the shoulder before continuing to where she’s going. It’s a thing for her. Something special she does for only the one she loves.

Little notes can be found every now and again. Simple “I love you.” or “Don’t overwork yourself.” Notes will be laid by the bed or on the kitchen table. She wants her partner to know she loves them dearly in more ways than words or physical touch.

After a long day, if they ask, she’ll give her partner a massage and she is pretty good at them too. Her hands are like magic and gently release tension from any back or shoulder stress knots her partner may have.

😈 - Three Naughty Head Canons

BIG tease this one. She likes to push buttons and see how far it gets her. Should she? no. Does she anyway? yeah. But if her partner seems not into it or annoyed she won’t over do it. She is a slow teaser too. She’ll drag it on if her partner lets her.

This woman has some confidence. If she wants something she’ll just tell her partner right off the bat. It don’t bother her to walk straight up and say she’s horny. She likes to see the first time what reaction her partner will have when she does it too.

She bites. Not hard enough to hurt her partner but enough to leave a mark. Marking is an important thing to her. What’s hers is hers.  Partners better expect marks all up their shoulders, collarbone, chest, and neck.

[knowledgequeenabc]

you belong to me, my snow white queen, there’s nowhere to run

I’ve been so dead inside I never posted my NNQ fics but, happy belated tenth, Ninjago! the fandom has been wonderful and I’ve made so many friends, seen so much beautiful work, made it through so much because of this silly little plastic ninja show. <3 This fic’s title comes from “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence (yeah I know don’t @ me), if you wanna. set the mood for this one. We’re gonna be following Nya after Skybound for a bit and it won’t be pretty.

Nya remembers it all.

It never happened, of course. That was the condition of Jay’s last wish: that none of it had ever happened in the first place. 

Yet she remembers.

It’s good that she does, honestly. She’ll recognize the threat if it ever presents itself again. Plus, the others don’t remember, so they can’t worry themselves about it.

Jay wanted to tell them. “No more secrets,” he said. She’s proud of him, she really is, at least he’s learned from dragging them through hell and back …

But she can’t do it.

She remembers Jay’s eyes, glinting bright and worried in a dim room, as he asks if she’s sure about this; Nya remembers her voice hardening to keep vulnerability from bleeding through as she nods. She’s well aware it’s unwise to keep a secret this heavy, thank you, but they’re both heart-wrenchingly familiar with secrets. What’s one more?

Getting angry at Jay for keeping secrets and then turning around and asking to keep this one … it’s hypocritical. She sees the recognition of the fact in his eyes, but there’s understanding mixed with it; it’s his secret, too. It’s their burden to shoulder behind closed doors, afraid to face their family. After losing Zane and getting him back, after Chen and Garmadon, after Morro, peace feels fraught, like walking a tightrope over another storm. How would the others react to knowing they’d broken again? She doesn’t want to deal with the answer to that question.

So Nya does what she does best. She squares her shoulders and marches through each day, reminding herself with each skip of her heart, each flash of her life before her eyes, each time the world blurs that it’s over now. It spits in the face of every lesson life’s beaten into her bones, reverting to stubbornness and pride and the kind of independence that would rather see her amputate an injured limb than get help for it, but it’s a twisted kind of easier to wrestle her pain in silence. The sky pirates made it clear that she needs to stop being afraid to rely on her team, and with a distant sense of guilt it occurs to her that applies to her emotions about this situation, too, but ...

But that fight’s over. And Nya honestly wants nothing more than to take the lesson to heart and put the rest behind her. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all.

Slight problem with that plan: she’s beginning to get the feeling they don’t want to stay asleep. Nya’s good at compartmentalizing, and has been ever since she was an orphan child balancing school and keeping the forge afloat, but the neat dividers are starting to give.

All she can do is watch as the cracks spider out like the Tiger Widow’s web.

~~~~

Lloyd sits on the edge of the ship’s deck at night, sometimes.

Who knows what he’s thinking. Nya knows her little brother would rather sort through his feelings behind curtains, and they’re all working on helping him open up, but sometimes there’s nothing to do but be there with someone while they watch the world turn.

Tonight, thoughts zipping through her head with manic intensity and no distraction to stop them, she joins him, letting her legs hang over the edge of the Bounty. He acknowledges her with a smile and inches closer, then turns back to face the clouds, eyes searching the scene like there’s a cosmic answer somewhere in the moonlight poking through the blanket of grey. The sky roils in dark, angry sheets, air thick enough to slice with a knife. Nya remembers another storm out at churning sea, splinters from a shipwreck, a missing friend and her bubbling fury in the aftermath, and shudders.

Lloyd doesn’t speak, but he’s gripping a photo of his father with white knuckles and a pinched face. And she understands.

Never once has Lloyd gotten to choose his path. His only crime was wanting Garmadon in his life, and the gift he received in return for it was becoming fated to finish his father off, once, then twice. It’s a painful game, to be destiny’s plaything.

Self-centered as it is, Nya wants to think she gets it. Rarely does she get to choose, either. Being folded into the fate of Ninjago via kidnapping from blacksmith shop had been exciting until she was relegated to damsel in distress and left on the wayside. Then when she’d forged her own path as Samurai X, she had to give it up and be the water ninja instead. Water ninja. Kai’s sister. Jay’s love interest. The girl. Nadakhan’s prize.

Never a thought for what Nya wants to be. Just roles and labels to live up to whether she likes it or not, forced upon her like a wedding dress sewn for someone else.

And the one choice she could make ended up …

Her chest tightens until she’s dizzy.

Once the world sharpens back into focus, Nya casts Lloyd a sympathetic glance and quietly traces the feathery outlines of the clouds with her eyes. It’s a good night for commiserating, and she’s not feeling talkative, either.

She wonders what she is now, and her throat tightens.

~~~~

Nya catches, out of the corner of her eye, the breathless headline on the tabloid lining the rack at the grocery store—“DEVASTATING FACTS ABOUT THE GIRL NINJA!!” —and bites back the urge to scream herself hoarse.

The public eye is an unforgiving one, she knows that, she’s long since resigned herself to it. But sometimes it grates, the way everyone seems to presume they can weigh in on Nya.

The people out there don’t know anything about her.  All they care about is that she’s the girl, and there’s drama behind her they can gobble up like starved mutts.

She doesn’t let on about it much, because being imperfect is kind of one of her worst nightmares, but she knows she’s made mistakes in the past. She was prideful, even haughty. She strung Jay and Cole along for way too long because the attention got to her head, and the paparazzi will never let her forget it. Nya should have been the bigger person and cut it short, instead of letting Cole keep going with it because he was mad Jay didn’t trust him, or letting Jay’s jealousy fester as long as it did. Bit late for that, though.

It’s hardly like her faults stop there. Being hunted by Nadakhan and upset by Jay’s refusal to understand her “no” meant no, on top of the fact that her independence would only ever be conditional sinking in from becoming the water ninja … it was a perfect storm of stress, and it made her nasty. Jay keeping secrets and endangering them all was the last straw. She blew up, lashed out, furious that she couldn’t trust anything to go right.

She still regrets it. The bruises on his skin after his rescue are still imprinted on her eyelids when she wakes up, sometimes.

So she’s not perfect, by a long shot. But …

(Greedy eyes following her every movement, wanting her as she runs. Blinking to find another family member gone. Fighting for her life as the pirates capture her. Being wrestled into someone else’s gown. Pushing desperately against Dilara’s spirit snatching away her autonomy. Venom seeping into her gown, frigid then BURNING, the ability to think slipping—)

Nya loosens the death grip she has on her basket. Takes a deep breath in, then out.

They don’t know anything about her. Tabloids and TV hosts and publicists can gossip all they want about Nya’s mistakes; they’ll never convince her she deserved to die for them.

~~~~

Kai is many things, and stupid is definitely one of them, sometimes. But he isn’t stupid when it comes to how Nya’s doing, and she knows this. If anything, she’s the idiot for thinking she could keep herself under wraps from him for long. Kai must have noticed the tough veneer she’s painted over herself, and how secretive she’s being with them, because Kai knows she doesn’t like to be open about feeling unwell, and Nya knows that it worries him.

Ironically enough, that worry is why she knows she can’t ever tell Kai what happened. Ever since she revealed herself as Samurai X, he’d learned not to hover, and Nya’s endlessly grateful that he’s understanding enough to trust in her strength. Nowadays, Kai’s concern manifests in significant glances, questioning hands on her shoulder, hugs a little tighter and lingering longer than normal, discreetly asking if there’s anything she wants to tell him.

He’s taken to all that behavior in hyperdrive, of course, because there is no way Nya’s snippiness and constant tension and nights in the kitchen making tea after nightmares slipped his notice.

But that’s fine. Nya would rather deal with the quiet apprehension radiating off him now than the full-blown panic she’s bound to have on her hands if Kai ever found out that she’d lost her life and he’d been helpless to do anything but watch.

She has an idea what it’ll look like, too. He’d taken Lloyd’s possession hard enough—Nya had caught him pummeling punching bags in the training room until his knuckles bled, noticed the heaviness in his eyes when he looked at their little brother, or at Cole, and no matter how much she insisted that he hadn’t failed, Kai refused to let himself believe it. Uttering a word about the Sky Pirates to her older brother, Kai who had practically raised them both, Kai who had only ever become a ninja to save her, Kai who had blamed himself so ruthlessly for Zane and Lloyd and Cole?

It would break him.

She just can’t do that to him. She’ll stitch her lips shut if that’s what it takes to make sure he never finds out.

So when Kai fixes them both mugs of chamomile tea at 2 in the morning, and casually remarks on the strange amount of repairs she’s been doing on the perfectly intact Bounty, Nya just smiles tiredly at him and fires off some sarcastic retort that’s sure to rile him up.

She loves her older brother, which is why she made the decision to take this secret to her grave.

~~~~

Nya notices while brushing her hair, one day, that she’s neglected to pay attention to it; the sleek black strands are almost to her shoulder, rather than brushing against her chin like she’s used to. Once she’s teased out every last snarl, she goes to cut her hair, but hesitates right before the scissors snip.

When she looks in the mirror, sometimes it’s Dilara’s face flashing before her eyes, not her own. She has to look for the minutiae, the details that count, like the flinty sharpness in her own eyes, the scar near her chin, the odd mark forming on her cheek, obsessively contrasting them to wide, sweet eyes on a deceptively cherubic face.

Nya wishes—no, not wishes, look where wishing had gotten them all—that Nadakhan had cared to see the differences. Maybe that way, she wouldn’t have felt the eyes on her back, always following her, waiting for her to fall into his grasp. Maybe she could have avoided the desperate game of cat-and-mouse. And just maybe, she wouldn’t have been grappled into a suffocating gown, or had her agency ripped from her as Dilara took her face, or died—

Right, that had happened. How Cole and Zane go about their days knowing they’ve walked through the doors of death, she can't begin to fathom. Nya wonders when she’ll stop feeling like she has to hide in her own home from eyes that are no longer watching, wonders when she’ll stop feeling the white-hot burn of venom leaching into her blood, and it’s Dilara’s face that brought it upon her.

Nya sets the scissors down, and tries not to flinch at the way they klink against the counter. She doesn’t want Dilara’s face anymore.

Maybe she’ll let it grow out.

~~~~~

It wasn’t even that rough of a touch, Nya despairs later. Cole, even in spars, always knew his strength, and he barely glanced her sternum with a ghostly hand as she knocked him off balance.

Apparently, on a bad day, that chilly touch was enough to send the phantom shock of Tiger Widow venom racing through her system; Nya forgot how to breathe for a second, and the next she broke her stance and pushed. Already off-kilter, Cole stumbled, his back hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In the instant before the others could be alarmed, they locked eyes, concerned meeting terrified. She forced her voice to stay even as she said, “I think that’s enough training for today.” Then she ran.

Now, here she is, her door slammed shut and locked, and her back’s pressed against it as she tries to remember what it feels like not to buzz like an entire hornet’s nest. She’s fine, she repeats to herself. The mantra is soothing simply in its repetitiveness; it gets her mind off of the sensation that won’t leave her alone ever since she lived it. She’s fine, she’s alive, and she’s not losing her grip on consciousness because all her organs are shutting down. Nya is fine, not actually feeling the venom seep into her skin through the coarse fabric of the wedding dress, cold for just a millisecond before erupting into white-hot pain across her skin. If her vision is off, it’s because of the tears welling up despite her stubborn efforts to blink them away, not the spots that danced across her world as Flintlocke’s fatal accident slowly claimed her life-

Her breath catches in a sob. Nya furiously muffles it behind her hand.

It didn’t even happen. She’s been through so much, she’s been in danger so many times, and this is the one that sticks? So it killed her, yeah, admittedly that’s a big step above the other times, but it hadn’t happened to anyone else except her, and Jay, and she can’t, won’t, make those words leave her lips. Every other problem in her life, she’d risen above, she’d fixed and wrestled back into her control, and then she’d gotten to square her shoulders and quip to the boys how easy it had been.

How does she fix something that’s only broken in her memories?

~~~~~

Nya remembers it all.

She almost wishes she didn’t.

[destinys-lies]

Evermore by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer: Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s). ———————————————– Prompt: Bonus Day 2: Shattered—Evanescent ———————————————– Author’s Note: Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do evanescent for the prompt. This story is a continuation of this story. I did something slightly different for the synopsis, so that’s something. Also I may or may not have made references to other Izuocha fanfics I’ve read like “Distraction” by the amazingly wonderful WingSongHalo and “Green Gentlemen” by the fantastically talented SevenRenny! ^w^ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story! It was fun participating in this event! Now I shall pass out. Have a wonderful day/night everyone!

Update: I forgot that the @ is how to tag people and I realized both writers have Tumblr sooo I’m going to do that now! @sevenrenny and @wingsonghalo

———————————————– Synopsis: “I’ll love you evermore.” ———————————————–

Izuku approached the wooden door. He silently gazed at the sign hanging beside it. The sign read, “127.” Three little digits indicated that he was at the right door. He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t turn it.

Part of him wanted to run away but the other part reminded him why he was here. It was no time to chicken out. Taking a small breath, he mustered up the courage to turn the doorknob and walk inside.

The room was painted a pale green as the dull, fluorescent lights lit up the dreary room. On the side of a wall, Izuku spotted curtains that covered the large windows. He walked over to them and pushed them aside, letting the natural sunlight in. A slight smile appeared on his face but it didn’t linger.

He turned to look at the hospital bed.

An unconscious, brown-haired woman laid on it, her body still and hooked up to tubes filled with warm blood. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it alongside the bed before sitting down. He sighed as he placed the bouquet of pink flowers in the vase beside her.

He peered down at her angelic face, giving a soft smile. She was always beautiful, whether she was awake or asleep. His smile fell once again. He desperately wanted her to wake up. So he could tightly embrace her in his arms and twirl her around.

He groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“We need to make a risky decision here,” her words echoed around in his mind.

“Dammit, Ochako. I just got you back.” He lifted his head out of his hands and gently wrapped a hand around her fingers, raising them to lips before giving them a small peck. “And now I have to worry about losing you all over again.”

His eyes wandered to the pile of flowers sitting next to her.

They were rosemaries.

He hoped that when she woke up, they would be the first things she saw. Maybe it’d help her and make things alright. He yearned for her yet she was right next to him. All those months they spent apart and here they were together again but still divided.

Oh God, how could that trip have gone so wrong?

If he had never traveled to the North Pole, she wouldn’t have had to look for him. She wouldn't be here. They could’ve been at home, making more memories. She was here because of him.

It was his fault. He shouldn’t have left her. A whole year of potential memories escaped them and it was all because of his stupid dream to travel to the North Pole. A gentle squeeze broke him out of his thoughts. He felt a hand comfortingly squeeze his hand. His eyes peered down at his wife.

Her chocolatey, warm eyes sluggishly watched him. “You’re doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“You’re blaming yourself.”

“I mean, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s not your fault, Izuku,” she interrupted, her eyebrows furrowing. “It was my decision to come after you alone in the cold, not yours.”

“You wouldn’t have had to try to find me if I hadn’t gotten lost.”

“Maybe, but think about it, the day I found you is a new memory we have.”

“A sad one,” he remorsefully replied.

“But a memory we have together, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just I wish I never got lost.”

“I know, but remember it’s not your fault, okay? The North Pole is not an easy place to navigate. Heck! That’s one of the reasons why it took me so long to find you...” she trailed off, glancing at the pink flowers. A small smile graced her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course, I wanted to try and bring some color to this room. How are you feeling?”

“Tired…but I’m happy you’re here.” Her eyes scanned across the room before falling on a telephone hanging on the wall across from her. “Hey, remember that time you showed me the first voicemail I left on your phone?”

“Yeah” Izuku shyly blushed, suddenly feeling like he was a teenager again. “You can’t blame me for it though, it’s not my fault that you have an attractive voice. Ochako choked on air, bursting into a small coughing fit. “I guess we’re even again.” He smiled.

“For what?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“The time you made me choke on the hot chocolate and spray it everywhere.”

“Oh really?” Amusement sparkled in those cheeky eyes of hers. “I don’t seem to remember that.” She stuck out tongue at him, making him laugh.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, unconvinced by her answer.

“I couldn’t help it!” she chuckled. “I just saw the opportunity and took it.”

He rolled his eyes and put his elbow on the side of her bed, resting his head in his hand. “Remember the time when we went to summer camp together?”

“Oh yeah! That was such a long time ago.”

“Yeah…” he affirmed. He peeked back at her, small bits of anguish flickering in his eyes. “Do you remember the time we went canoeing?”

“Izuku…” She sighed in an effort to steel herself. “You know I wouldn’t ever forget about you.”

“The doctor said-”

“Fuck the doctor!” Ochako brazenly exclaimed, her colorful language catching him off guard. “You’re too hard to forget, Izuku. And even if I did forget...I wouldn’t have stopped till I remembered.”

Tears rapidly poured from his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. The Ochako I know is too stubborn to quit.”

“Exactly!” She broadly smiled at him. “I’m so happy that we’re back together.”

“And soon we’ll both be back at home, making new memories.”

“I’ll love you evermore.”

“Until death do us part.”

Everything would be alright again.

[clarawatson]

Summary: Derek Morgan proposes a simple question after a particularly bad case:  “If you could bring anyone here, at this moment, who would it be?” Words: 1017 Trigger Warnings: Aaron Hotchner laughs.

A/N: so I found this file from before I started writing Quiet Birds when I wasn’t sure where it was going to go. I was just writing indulgent fanfiction that only I would see. But I thought this jet scene from one of Mom’s first cases with the BAU would be fun to look at.

~~~~~

“If you could bring anyone here, at this moment, who would it be?” Morgan asks after a particularly tough case. No one’s sleeping, or listening to music, or even pretending to wind down. JJ looks up with a soft smile on her face.

“Emily Dickinson, she’d be so fun to talk to,” she says. Hotch hums in agreement, but it’s Prentiss that frowns.

“Are we bringing them on the jet? Wouldn’t she like, freak out, no one’s been flying in her lifetime, right?” Prentiss says.

“I’d invite Einstein,” Reid piques up, oblivious to the rest of the conversation. Rossi deadpans him, and you can’t help but nod an agreement if just to make him feel better. 

“Ice-T,” Morgan says and you know, at that point, he’s just trying to lighten the mood.

“Ringo Star,” Hotch adds. 

“Of course you’d invite him,” Rossi grumbles, but there’s a smile ghosting his face.

“Amy Lee,” Prentiss says. Immediately you find yourself agreeing with her.

“Heck yeah,” you respond excitedly, finding another Evanescence fan. Emily cocks her head at you, but she knows she’s found someone to listen to dramatically sad and beautiful music to.

“Do they have to be real?” Rossi poses, and you find Morgan thinking about it.

“No.”

“Jack Ryan.” There’s a collective murmur and then Hotch says.

“Which one?”

“Harrison Ford.”

“Hotch wore those videos out,” you comment. “Dad had them in this box out the back and he only ever brought them through when Hotch was sleeping in the guest room. I swear he can quote them back to front.” He opens his mouth to prove you right and you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Who’d you bring?” JJ asks, leaning forward curiously.

You think about giving them a dumb answer, like Captain Kirk or Princess Leia, but you know what your answer is.

“Felix,” you say and a curious hush falls across the plane. Hotch peels your hand off his mouth.

“Felix hated flying,” he says. You shrug, thinking about seeing your husband again after all this time.

“He’d put up with it to meet the team, though.”

Hotch throws his head back on the chair. “Ok, ok, you’re right. He’d charm this team right off their feet and then he’d convince Strauss he can do my job better than me and take over.” You lean back on the chair and pout at him.

“That would be such a shame.”

“Who’s Felix?” JJ asks.

“Dead husband,” you say dryly almost immediately, throwing everyone off guard. Hotch watches you intently, then shrugs.

“First off, he’d hate that Dave’s here because Dave’s a ‘cool kid’,” Hotch forms too many air quotes with his fingers. “He’d love JJ.”

“Oh, for sure, he would have died for someone to talk to the media for him.” The cause of your husband’s death floats in the unsaid implication that he died because he didn’t have one. “Morgan?”

“Adored, would have pushed him to have his own team.”

It’s involuntary that you start to laugh. The idea of Felix pushing Morgan to have his own team… He’d done the same thing to Fornell, and when Fornell hadn’t gotten the hint he’d made tiny voodoo like dolls and stuck them all over his desk. You can tell Hotch is thinking it too, because he walks his fingers across his arm and dissolves into a fit of giggles. 

“He made dolls of teams when he wanted to drop hints,” Rossi explains. You and Hotch are too far gone with fits of giggles to stop and explain. You clutch your chest as you try to calm, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“Prentiss,” Hotch finally says when he gets his breath back.

“Oh, work wife. For sure. Bread and butter.” You think of all the goth things Felix had in storage, when he used to dye his hair black every weekend, how his college room looked like the inside of a witches cauldron. 

“Spencer?”

“Adopted. He would have created a room dedicated to Spencer, he’d go buy a granny flat just so he’d know Spencer was sleeping somewhere safe.” 

Hotch nods, “Remember when someone told him children ask six hundred questions a day and he worried he wouldn’t answer any of them so he just, read facts books for six months straight?”

“That’s not something someone just forgets.” You’re pretty sure you’ve still got all those little facts tucked away in your brain somewhere. “Huh! Garcia!” 

“Garcia would be his spirit animal,” Hotch pinches the bridge of his nose. “If Felix came here, right now, I’d give my job to him in a heartbeat.”

“You know he wouldn’t accept that,” you whisper lowly. “He’d be so mad at you he’d yell at you to see your worth.” You dramatically shake your finger at him, face squished up like Felix used to do at school. Hotch shakes his back, face scrunched up in return, and for a moment you’re teenagers again. Even the team are grinning at your interaction.

“Is this Felix Garza we’re talking about?” Morgan asks. “Never be the source of work coming into your home, Felix?”

You turn to him, nodding.

“Yeah, he had an FBI pep talk day at his house when I was training. It was in DC, I remember because I was supposed to go back to my hotel room but he insisted, said the lasagna—“

“Was the best thing he’s ever seen anyone create,” you finish. Morgan nods.

“You did that?”

“God no,” you laugh. “Haley’s recipe, Felix’s mom’s handiwork, but that was my dining table so it was my lasagna.” 

“He told us that work always has a way of following us home, but we have to ensure that we’re never the ones to bring it through the front door.”

“Or the back,” you add.

“Or your wife will kill you and make it look like an accident,” Hotch finishes, which seems to be quite true considering his situation. You rub his arm comfortingly and the jet falls into silence. But hey, you’ve all had a good laugh.

Well, at least you and Hotch.

[jensengirl83]

Unsung Verses Chapter 2

Rockstar!Dean x plus sized reader

Word Count- 3800

Summary-Y/N and Dean have been best friends since high school, in a band together, and dated for a year but decided they were better off friends. They play gig after gig trying to get discovered, but once they sign a record deal, will fame be all it’s cracked up to be? Or will it be too much for their relationship to handle? Join them on their adventure to fame and find out!

Warnings-Angst, Mutual Pining, A little fluff

A/N- Song in this chapter is “My Immortal” by Evanescence

Thank you to @deanwanddamons​​ for being my beta for this series!

Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Lyrics will be in italics. I really hope everyone enjoys this series! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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Y/N had kept to herself for a few days after their gig at the Replay Lounge in Lawrence. Waking up to find out that Dean had brought a girl back to their house was hard for her to take, as she was still in love with him, but it was apparent  that he didn’t feel the same. She had been thinking things over in her head and decided to move on. Y/N would always love Dean, but she couldn’t put herself through the torture of longing for him when he would never be hers again. She sighed as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips to take a drink, not realizing that someone had come into the kitchen. 

“Morning, Freddie,” Dean greeted her as he walked to the counter to pour his cup of coffee. 

“Morning,” Y/N answered, trying to smile, but he had seen right through it. 

“You’ve been scarce lately. What’s up?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m good. I Just needed some time to myself,” she told him, not looking up from her coffee. 

“You sure? This isn’t about Cassie, is it?” He questioned. He had been wondering if bringing Cassie back to the house was the reason Y/N had distanced  herself. 

“Who’s Cassie?” She asked, confused as to who he was talking about. 

“She was here the other morning. After the gig,” Dean answered as though it was obvious. 

“Oh, her? Why would I care about your  hook ups?” Y/N said, trying to act as if it didn’t bother her, even though it broke her heart just thinking about it. 

“You pulled away after that morning. I was just curious if she was the reason,” Dean said, hoping to see a flash of jealousy on Y/N’s face. If it did, it may prove that she still wanted him like he wanted her. 

“I told you, I needed time to myself. I don’t care who you bring home, but you need to abide by the rule you put in place and make sure whoever it is, is gone before we all get up the next morning. None of us want to see our conquests take the walk of shame,” she said with a fake laugh. Saying those words out loud was more painful than she thought. 

Dean watched as she smiled at him and walked out of the kitchen without another word. He could have sworn that he could hear his heart shattering. She really was over him, and that hurt. He stood in the kitchen in silence, thinking back to what made them call it quits in the first place. Sam had told him that it was because he was always flirting with girls after a gig, and now he was wondering if his younger brother had been right. If that was the case, it was Dean’s fault that they were no longer a couple. He shook his head and sighed, knowing it was time for him to move on. He would always love Y/N, but he couldn’t keep hoping for a relationship that would never happen. 

It had been a long and tiring week. They had just finished their second gig at the Replay Lounge, and were supposed to go on the road for a little while. Y/N was enjoying a drink at the bar as per usual. The show had gone smoothly, and everyone had enjoyed themselves, and that’s all she cared about at the moment. She knew that she couldn’t dwell on her emotions and had to focus if they would ever have a chance to make it big. 

She sipped her whiskey,  watching the other patrons  as they drank, danced, and had the time of their lives, while she sat there, alone and miserable. Y/N sighed at the realization that she had turned into what she had said she never would become. A sad, lonely girl at a bar. Making up her mind, she downed the rest of her drink and made her way to the stage where the next band was playing. She decided to let loose and danced and sang along to the music. She was determined to start living her life again. 

As she was enjoying the show, she couldn’t help but notice the band’s singer. His eyes were on her as she moved her body to the music. She had to admit that he was an attractive man. He had dark hair and dark eyes, the complete opposite of Dean, but maybe that’s what she needed. Y/N smiled and winked at the man, getting an instant reaction, boosting her confidence. The flirting continued throughout the rest of the show. She felt sexier and more confident as it went on. 

When the band's last song  ended, Y/N sent one last wink in the man’s direction before going back to the bar for another drink. She was all smiles as she enjoyed the burn of the whiskey as it went down, not noticing the man who walked up to the bar, taking the seat beside her. Dean watched them both, his eyes hard, shooting daggers at the guy trying to cozy up to her. 

“Hi there,” the dark-haired man said, “I’m Brent,” 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she responded with a shy smile. 

“I know. If you live in Lawrence and have eyes and ears, you know who the famous Y/N Y/LN is,” Brent said, winking at her. 

“I don’t know about that,” she chuckled, not used to getting this kind of attention. 

“I do. You’re amazingly talented, and let’s not forget, gorgeous,” Brent whispered in her ear. 

“You were pretty amazing up there,” Y/N giggled. 

“Maybe, but I sure don’t have the pipes and range that you have, cutie,” Brent told her, laying it on thick. She relished in the attention. 

“What’s your last name, Brent?” She asked with a grin. 

“Smith. So, now that we have been formally introduced, how about a dance?” he asked, reaching for her hand. 

“Well…” Y/N wasn’t sure until she glanced around the room.  Cassie was hanging off  Dean’s arm, “Sure, why not,” 

Dean was at the other end of the bar talking to Sam and Cas, Cassie hanging on his every word. He had to admit, it was nice to have a woman treating him this way. Of course, Cassie wasn’t and would never be Y/N, but that ship had sailed, and he had to carry on. Even if it was going to be hard, at least he had someone to help take his mind off of the woman he couldn’t have. His thoughts were interrupted by a laugh, a familiar one at that. He looked up to see Y/N on the dance floor with the guy he had been throwing daggers at earlier. It was as the singer of the band who had just been playing. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream, cry, or punch the dude in the face. 

“What’re you looking at?” Sam asked him, turning to see what his brother was glaring so intensely at. Following Dean’s line of sight, he understood his hard stare.

“It looks like Y/N found a friend,” Cassie laughed, secretly happy.

“Yeah, looks like. You ready to get out of here?” Dean asked Cassie, not wanting to watch Y/N’s one night stand unfold in front of him. 

“Let’s go, handsome,” she agreed, smiling at him. 

“Don’t forget the rule, Dean,” Sam reminded him. He knew he was only with Cassie because he couldn’t have Y/N, and Sam disagreed with his choice. 

“Yeah, bro. I remember,” he said with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Cassie’s hand and leading her to the door. He knew that he would have to see Y/N with someone eventually, but not right now. 

It had been almost a week since Y/N had met Brent, and he seemed like a nice guy, which made her happy. If she couldn’t have Dean, she was glad she had found someone who she could see herself dating. They had texted back and forth a few times over the week, but nothing too serious yet. She wanted to take her time to get to know him before she decided to continue seeing Brent or not. Hopefully, things would work out for her, and she could move on and be happy. 

Y/N was in the basement practicing before she got lost in her thoughts. She had written a song last week and was at the piano trying to work out the melody, not  noticing that Dean had walked downstairs. He watched her as she mindlessly tapped the piano keys, obviously lost in a daydream, a small smile on her face. He missed his best friend and had a motive for coming to the basement. 

“Hey, Freddie. What are you working on?” He asked, taking a seat beside her on the bench.

“Trying to work out the melody for this song I wrote, nothing major,” Y/N said with a chuckle, nudging him with her shoulder, “What have you been up to?” 

“I was tuning my guitars earlier, but no other plans. Do you want to have a best friend’s night? I thought we could order take out, chill out down here on the couch and watch a movie, maybe,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck, a little nervous and not sure why. She would always be his friend and hanging out together used to be easy.  

“Sure, we haven’t hung out in a while. Might be nice spending some time with your annoying ass,” she laughed as he mocked being hurt by her words. 

 “Ouch, Y/L/N, that hurt,” Dean said, protruding his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. 

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” She asked in a voice you would use when talking to a baby. 

“Screw you, Freddie. Burgers or Chinese?” He asked her to try to change the subject fast. 

“Chinese, please,” she giggled at the rhyme of her words. 

“You’re a child,” Dean huffed, turning to walk back up the stairs. 

“You know you love it!” She yelled at his back as he disappeared from her sight. 

Dean had ordered the food and was waiting for it to arrive before going back to the basement to watch a movie with Y/N. He knew being close to her would be hard, but he always wanted her in his life as a friend, so he had to to get used to it. He was determined to have a good time with her and needed to push all the negative thoughts from his mind. It had never been awkward when they hung out together before, and he wasn’t going to let that happen now. 

Dean had gathered everything they would need once the food had arrived and was on his way to the basement when his phone rang. Grabbing it from his pocket, he saw it was Cassie. He muted the phone and put it back in his pocket, walking down the rest of the stairs to the basement. He wasn’t going to let anything keep him from spending time with Y/N. It had been too long, and he was looking forward to it. 

“What took so long? I’m starving!” Y/N said with a shout, jumping up from the couch and helping Dean with the armload of utensils and condiments  he had brought down. 

“I’ve been gone thirty minutes,” he chuckled at her exaggeration. 

“It felt like longer,” she said, pouting her lips at him. Little did she know that she could get anything she wanted from Dean with that damn pout and those puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay, drama queen, let’s eat and watch something,”  he said, shaking his head at her with a laugh. 

“What are we going to watch?” She asked him as she sat and got comfortable on the couch with her food. 

“Any ideas?”

“Let’s watch Cry Baby!” She said with excitement. 

“What?! Why would you want to watch that?” Dean asked with a look of disgust on his face. 

“Because I like it, and Johnny Depp is hot,”

“No, we can agree on something else,” Dean said as Y/N pouted. 

“Fine! What do you have in mind then?” she asked him, watching while he tried to think of something. 

“Tombstone?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

“Yes! I’ll always agree to that movie,” Y/N said, smiling. 

“Good. Can you finish setting everything up while I get the movies started?” he asked, walking over to start the DVD player. 

“I’ll be your huckleberry,” she said, busting out into laughter at his shocked expression, “Come on, you have to admit, that was a good one! You wouldn’t have come up with it,” 

“Touche, Freddie, touche,” Dean chuckled.

Once the movie was playing, they sat on the couch, eating and laughing. It felt like old times, when they would spend all day together and have fun. They had missed being with each other like this, with nothing going on, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company. Dean was determined to have more days just like this one. 

“You getting tired?” he asked, catching Y/N yawning. 

“No, not really,” she said, trying to stifle another yawn. 

“Sure,” Dean laughed, holding his arm up to invite her to curl into his side. 

She took the invitation and curled up next to him, his arm coming down to rest against her side. It was nice to have him this close to her again, his body heat warming her and making her feel safe like no one else ever could. She sighed at the comfort and felt her eyes growing heavy, her eyelids winning out and she fell asleep. Dean smiled to himself as he felt her breathing even out, her body relaxing into him. He knew that this wouldn’t help his heart move on from her, but he couldn’t deny himself the happiness that having her close to him brought. He placed a kiss to her head, leaning back into the couch to finish the movie, eventually falling asleep with her still pressed against him. 

Y/N woke up the next morning in her bed with no recollection of getting there. The last thing she remembered was being curled up on Dean's side and watching the movie, apparently falling asleep on him. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering what it felt like to be with him, comfortable and happy. She missed it. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing things could go back to the way they were when they were together in high school, before he started flirting with all the girls after their shows. Y/N had told Dean that they would be better off friends instead of telling him the truth. She felt that she would never compare to those girls, and with him being amazingly attractive, he deserved someone more beautiful than her. 

She groaned, sitting up and throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, her head hanging at the memories. Y/N knew she wasn’t bad looking, but she wasn’t the thinnest or prettiest, and she never would be. She would always carry the extra weight, but she was trying to learn to be okay with that. Some days it just didn’t work. Today seemed like it was going to be one of those days. She sighed as she stood from her bed and reached for her robe, throwing it around her body and heading out into the hallway for her morning quest of coffee. 

“Good Morning, sunshine,” Cas greeted her as she entered the kitchen. 

“Morning Cas,” Y/N smiled, walking over and placing a kiss on his cheek on her way to the coffee pot. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“Apparently so, I don’t remember how I got to my room last night,” she laughed. 

“Dean carried you up and put you in your bed,” Sam’s voice made her jump as he turned the corner into the kitchen. 

“That makes sense. Where is he anyway?” She questioned as she sat down at the island to enjoy her coffee. 

“Cassie called this morning. He’s out with her somewhere,” Sam said with a shrug. His back was to Y/N, and he didn’t see the hurt expression on her face. 

“Oh, okay,” she sighed, “I guess I’ll take a shower and finish working on the song I started,” 

“You’re writing a song? You haven’t written anything in quite a while,” Sam asked with genuine interest. 

“Yeah, I’m going to sing it at the next show, I think,” she said, giving Sam a side hug as she walked past him on her way to the basement. 

“If you need any help with the melody, let us know. Cas and I would be happy to help,”  he said, Cas smiling and nodding in agreement. 

“I will. Thanks, guys,” Y/N agreed. She knew she could always count on them if she got stuck with a song. 

She sat down at the piano and stared at the keys, knowing she wanted this song to be more piano than the other instruments, but wasn’t sure how she wanted the melody to flow. She closed her eyes and began to play the keys, singing the song and letting herself go, letting the piece wash over her, allowing her emotions to drive the song’s tone. 

“Sam! Cas!” Y/N’s voice carried up from the basement, causing the boys to rush downstairs. 

“What? What’s going on?” Sam ran in, looking around for what could be wrong, Cas right behind him. 

 “I finished it! Do you want to hear it?” She asked, excited she had finally finished the song. 

“Of course, but how about you don’t scare us to death next time, huh?” Cas said with a laugh.. 

“I’m sorry. I got excited,” She giggled with embarrassment. 

“What’s going on down here?” Dean’s voice boomed as he got to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Y/N finished a song. She wanted us to hear it,” Sam said, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s hear it then,” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. 

“Before I play it, don’t ask why I wrote it, and who it is for, okay? I know we are all close, but not everything in my life is an open book,” Y/N sighed. 

“Well, if it’s a love song, we know it’s about me,” Dean said with a smirk. 

“As if Winchester. Do you really think that you’re the only man I’ve ever loved? That’s cute,” she scoffed. Even though it was the truth, she would never let Dean know that.

“Whatever, just play it,”  he said with a chuckle, hoping it covered up the hurt he felt. 

She closed her eyes and placed her hands on the piano keys, taking a deep breath before playing the beginning notes. She had hoped she could play the song for Sam and Cas before Dean came home, considering she had written the song with him in mind. Y/N sighed as she took another breath, preparing to sing. 

I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

'Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

Dean’s breath hitched in his chest, realizing this was the song she was writing when he overheard her. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but knew he couldn’t leave without one of them asking questions that he couldn’t answer, so he put on the mask he was learning to wear when it came to Y/N. 

You used to captivate me by your resonating light

Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

The basement was silent for what felt like an eternity as Y/N finished the song, no one daring to speak. She was afraid that they didn’t like it and her heart began to break as she hung her head. She was proud of this one and wanted the boys to like it too. Sam finally broke the silence. 

“Y/N...that..that was beautiful,” Sam said with a look of awe, “The melody is perfect!” 

“I agree. That was beautifully written and arranged,” Cas agreed, smiling at her, proud of his friend. 

“Dean?” She asked, walking around the piano and coming to stand in front of him. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but Dean’s opinion was the most important to her. 

“Amazing, sweetheart, as usual,” he said, putting on his best smile, trying to hide the emotions the song had made him feel. 

“Really?!” She asked him. Dean could see the excitement on her face. 

“Really, Freddie. I loved it,” he told her with a grin, not prepared for the sudden hug she gave him. Her arms  tightly wound around his waist, squeezing him tight. He couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I don’t think I’ll play it at our show, though,” she said, pulling back, looking at the boys. 

“Why not? It’s great, Y/N,” Sam told her. 

“I’m happy that you guys heard it and loved it. That’s good enough for me. Who knows, I may record it if we ever get a record deal,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. 

“When we get a deal, Y/N. Not if, when,” Dean said, smiling down at her. 

“You’re right. When we get a record deal,” Y/N sighed, wrapping her arms around him once more, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms, no matter the reason. 

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