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pastafossa · 1 year

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i’m curious and idk if you’ve answered something like this before but what type of music do you think matt and jane like, both individually or maybe what they’re introduced each other too etc etc

ok so I've been thinking about this since it came in but haven't had time until now BUT

Matt first! Matt mentions in S2 at the gala that he likes to listen to 90s Top 40. This includes a shit ton of good stuff - you've got everyone from Whitney Houston and Elton John to Nirvana and Green Day (no way teenage Matt didn't have a Green Day period). On top of that, in the comics iirc he mentions enjoying Jazz, and I know Charlie's been asked the same question and said he imagined Matt would like listening to classical (if I was building on that last one along with Matt's stated fondness for 90s top 40, I'd say he'd especially enjoy, say, an artist like David Garrett who frequently does rock covers with his violin). I could pick just one of those to lean into as to what Matt likes, but I don't think I need to. I think it's far more likely that Matt's a blend of musical tastes, because with his heightened senses, there'd be different things to appreciate with each. And while I do think there are songs and sounds he finds unpleasant, I think he can swing around pretty easily between genres. I see him listening to a fair amount of 90s/2000s rock (tends to drown the world out, and the rebellious streak in him probably takes some pleasure in enjoying what he might have been told was 'worldly listening' by nuns). But I also see him as enjoying a fair amount of softer classical songs or pop and folk (easier on his ears, or nice for dates as we know), as well as jazz (relaxing). This is great for Jane, because it means Matt would have an excellent talent for pulling out old hits she only vaguely remembers listening to but really enjoyed, and also for following her on whatever musical journey she takes - he'd also be a little more up to date on music than her, so he'd probably introduce her to some new(ish) alt artists, softer sounds usually - Jaymes Young, some of Hozier's newer stuff, songs he thinks she'll connect to.

Sweet moment: somewhere lost in the mountain of asks in my box I vaguely remember someone saying they could see Matt liking to play Jane love songs to see if he could get her to sing them later, like she was singing to him. And I love this and agree with it. Especially on bad and broken, self-loathing days, cause he needs love on those days, wants to hear Jane hum or quietly sing the words, because then it's like she's singing all that love to him. And once she figures out that's what he's doing, she makes a point of doing it more often, even putting on the songs herself and mumbling them quietly as he lays with his head on her chest, her fingers in his hair.

Jane next. I had to think about this for a while (and as always, as musical preferences are VERY personal, ya'll are free to disregard this). I can tell you that while she's ok with classical now and can even enjoy it sometimes (first date), she had to work at that one with Ciro since there was a lot of classical played 'for brain development' while she was at White Coat's facility. Outside that though, she wasn't sure what she liked when she first came out. She tried a lot of things with Ciro and Eli and Sophia, much like she did with food, hunting for what she enjoyed. I think, at least initially, a lot of the music she heard - classical, pop, jazz, country, ballads, Disney even - was too... gentle. Cause this poor kid? She was angry. She felt awkward, out of place. She still felt trapped by nightmares and PTSD, and wanted to feel free, to shout, to revel in something that wasn't slow and measured and soft, something that seemed to acknowledge the pain of what she'd went through. But you know what channeled those feelings really well? Fucking punk rock. And if we assume she's close to Matt's age, then at 16 she was freed at the right time to roll right into Green Day, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, and My Chemical Romance. I think she vibed hard with that genre during those few years with Ciro before going on the run again, and it's something she'll always have a fondness for even if she's now expanded her tastes - because ultimately I think, with where she's at now, she's become a bit of a racoon. She'd delight in listening to artists across multiple genres based solely on some random quirk or line or chorus that stuck in her head, just because she can. Which means Matt's just as likely to come home to Jane howling along to a nostalgic punk rock song as he is to her blasting some random Broadway tune she heard in a cab (no one is immune to Lin Manuel) or a Taylor Swift song on loop because this sounds like us, Matt, what the fuck, have you heard this?

Funny moment: needless to say she is not prepared for Dance Dance to be her song of the evening as Matt walks through the door one night - she freezes, wondering if this is going to be an Ow My Ears song.

At least until he throws out, 'I'm two quarters and a heart down' and tosses his cane as her eyes light up and he grins-

-then the chorus hits and they both fucking rock.

They both wind up collapsed on the floor giggling. And that's when she is reminded that, yet again, Matt is the perfect man to go with her wherever her music journey takes her.

#the red thread #jane was a punk rocker when she was with ciro cause she related #and frequently dragged Eli to concerts much to Ciro's amusement #cause Eli listened to a lot of country and classic rock and this Was Not His Thing but he Did It For Love #now she's a racoon and listens to a shit ton of stuff #with special preferences given to nostalgic punk rock and literally any song with lyrics she relates to #and like a racoon she takes the song and dips the music in the brain water and if its clean little core has a lyric she likes #it goes in the pile #matt favors 90s top 40s whether that's rock or ballads or pop #along with a smattering of classical (especially classical covers of pop/rock) and jazz and pop #but he's also a romantic so soaring ballads are nice to his ears and so are some of the softer indie singers #and foggy got him into train #and he has a streak of punk rock in him that lingers cause seriously look at this vigilante man #look at the scrappy baby matt child he is a child ready to fight the world look at his tiny fists this boy will fight you #MATT HAD A GREEN DAY PHASE I STAND BY THIS #I DIE ON THIS HILL #matt murdock #jane hind #also they listen to hozier regularly fight meeeee

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troublesometrollhunters · 4 years

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~ Douxie is a lowly street urchin. He's the lowest class you can get and he's barely considered a person none the less a commoner. He has no place being near the castle or being offered by the Merlin to learn magic at the side of Morgana. He doesn't fit into the world of Nobility surrounding Camelot or the Royal Court. And yet as Merlin puts his hand on the young boys shoulder leading him to the castle as he holds a sleeping Archie close, Douxies never felt more at home.

~ When Douxie meets you it's love at first sight. You just looked so healthy and clean and kind. Almost angelic. With rosy cheeks and a bright smile he couldn't help but stare at you as your mom talked to Merlin about something. You were in the most beautiful clothes he'd ever seen and your hair was recently brushed and done. He swallows trying to find his words but you don't seem to mind as you fill the silence with your sweet voice. Archie stirs in his arms and as you leave with your mom waving a goodbye Archie gives him a knowing look as Merlin smacks his head.

~ "Absolutely not Hisirdoux." Merlin is firm on that point. Douxie is allowed many freedoms now that he lives in the castle but there are also many new rules. One of them is that he apprentally is not to talk with the Nobel he met his first day as Merlins apprentice. Or any Nobles he meets unless he is with Merlin and they address him first. His rank may be higher now that he is Merlins apprentice but it will never be high enough to truly intrest someone of your stature or decorum. At least that's what Merlin tells him.

~ So of course he may not be able to "talk" to you but Archie can. So the ten year old Douxie comes up with a plan! While he's working besides Merlin he sends Archie off too learn more about you. The familiar seeing Douxies interest in you is quit keen on gaining knowledge for his young master. So the cat sneaks off to ask you some questions.

~ Your alone in your room studying when he finds you. You're reading and when he appears your eager to pet him. I mean he is a small fluffy cat. However when he speaks you seem hesitant to talk back at first, afraid that a fae is tricking you or you might get cursed. But a talking cat is so exciting and he seems very well mannered so you end up answering all his questions in exhange for some of your own. When Archie comes back that night Douxie learns everything about you Archie had learned. Apprentally you're the child of a Dutchess or perhaps a distant cousin of King Arthur but whoever you are Archie confirms you're way out of Douxies league. That in no way stops them however.

~ Merlin said Douxie is not to court you. But he isn't intrested in marriage (yet) he only wants your hand in friendship. After all your his age and you live in the castle and you seem super nice. He may be a middle class mage but he does live in the castle which means little Douxie often has free riegn of it. He's worried about guards spotting him near your room so he sends Archie too you with questions he has. Sometimes he's brave and he'll catch glimpses of you throughout the castle. He always gets a dopey smile on his face after he's seen you.

~ One day as he sits at his desk looking at the window waiting for Archie to come and tell him more about you he gets a surprise. His face lights up seeing his familiar and he notices something in the cats mouth. Archie smiles as he hands over a letter.

'Hisirdoux I've heard a lot about you from your familiar. Archie says you should give him more treats for his troubles and I agree he's a good cat who often visits me when I am lonely.

My name is (Y/N) and although we haven't formally met and talked alone I remember you. Merlins apprentice learning magic! That must be so exciting! Much better than my dull tasks in the court! I am always with escort or guard or parent otherwise I assure you we would've met and talked again. I often catch you in the corner of my eye and it always bring a smile to my face. You seem very kind and many of my friends sadly are not. So I have come up with a plan. For now I can not meet you in person but someday soon I will find a way.

Until then lets write letters. It'll be an adventure.

- Love (Y/N)

~ Archie doesn't mind being a messanger. He finds your friendship with Doxuie endearing and soon comes to care for you as much as the boy. Douxie immediately gets excited at the idea of writing you a letter and responds as soon as he finsihes reading yours.

~ Dear (Y/N),

Merlin said I'm not supposed to talk to you but he never said I couldn't write too you! You're brilliant for thinking of this and I don't listen to everything he says anyways. Merlin is a great teacher and I am grateful to him but he is also a hard enforcer. Learning magic under him is difficult and I do a lot more cleaning than actual magic.

But that's okay! I enjoy working under him. What must your life be like I wonder? A Royal in the Court? What do you do? What are you Royal duties? I mostly mop, sweep, and write endless hours of boring homework nothing exciting like this!

P.S I gave Archie lots of pets and treats just like you asked!

- Your friend Hisirdoux Casperan

~ Soon starts a game of back and forth. Every night or every other night you write letters to him and he writes back. You exchange smiles in the hall and nod at each other in passing. It's the biggest secret either of you have ever had and sometimes it takes everything not to giggle at the sight of each other. You may not be able to hang out properly but as you begin to get to know each other more intimately Hisirdoux takes more risks too see you and you in turn do the same.

~ A year goes by and Douxie starts adding in small things to your letters. He loves giving you little gifts and trying to catch a reaction in the hallway, as dangerous as it might be, he loves seeing your smile whenever you receive something. Pressed flowers, poetry he read in old books, and knick nacks he found in town being some of his favorites to give you. In turn you give him sweets, books you like to read, small sketches, interesting facts from your studies, pretty crystals, and anything else you think he'll enjoy.

~ As teenager's Archie had been your letterman for years. Acting as a middle ground since it was almost impossible to meet alone. You and Hisirdoux had become closer despite not being able to meet in person much and as you both were given more freedom as you got older you found ways to meet and talk, Archie acting as a look out as you snuck moments alone.

~ You both find out the castle has secret passages throughout the walls when your about 13. Douxie and you are now able to meet in secret and have free reign of the castle at night when everyone is asleep. Some nights you both sneak into the kitchens stealing tarts and other sweets, other nights you spend in the library reading together into the early hours of the morning, and other nights are spent wandering the castle learning all it's secrets. Sometimes you even sneak to the roof or observatory and stare out at the stars talking about your dreams and what you wish to be and do.

~ As he becomes better at music he finds himself sitting beneath your rooms balcony or practicing outside your room so you can hear his music. You only encourage his craft and your encouragement makes his heart soar. He loves singing silly ballads to you and has even snuck in some romantic lyrics.

~ He loves showing off his magic. He's so proud of his craft and he's proud of how your eyes light up when you watch him do a spell. He enjoys watching your reactions as he casts his latest mark and often does spells he probably shouldn't to try and impress you. His favorite trick is summoning a flower and tucking it behind your ear. Your blush is always so pretty as he places it for you.

~ He sneaks into your library or places you go throughout the day to leave you things to find. Pressed flowers became a common occurrence in your books, or bits of a song he'd wrote slip into your school notes. Sometimes drawings and other small assorted things will appear through out the day as you do your duties as well. Unknown to Casperan you keep everything he gives you in a box under your bed in your room. All the letters he's written to you are safely tucked away in a large hollow book you made.

~ It becomes easier for him to sneak into your room or you to sneak into his as you get older. There are secret tunnels in the castle walls you use to meet up.

~ As you grow older you know your hand will soon be given to some other Nobel family but you dream of a life with Douxie. One where you could be yourself and you could live a life of love, magic, and adventure. He made you happy and although it wasn't practical you often daydreamed of running away together or becoming a mage yourself just so you could marry him.

~ One night when Archie goes to check up on you and say goodnight he runs back to Hisirdoux worried. Apprentally the ball of furr had heard you crying and ran back to tell young Casperan. He of course ran to your room doing his best not to be seen. You were waiting for Archie to come say goodnight but you'd fallen asleep and then woken from a terrible nightmare. Your door opens and looking up you sniffle and stare at Casperan with scared eyes. He lays next to you and you lean against him closing your eyes and taking in his comfort. Holding you close he uses his magic to play you a song staying with you until you drift asleep.

~ You're both more than friends. You both know it but neither of you have admitted it. The Royal Court would never allow you to love each other. You could never be married officially and eventually you'd be forced into a loveless life with someone else. However tension is rising in Camelot and things are changing. Magic may soon be banned and with it Douxies passion. You're idea to run away becomes more and more appealing as the world around you slowly dissolves into choas.

~ One night while everyone was asleep you sneak into his room. Shaking him awake you put a finger to your mouth and drag the sleepy boy to the stables. Under the moonlight you both ride out of Camelot to spend one night together. One night where you can just be who you both are. You explain your plan. What you should do and although Douxie does not want to leave he agrees it's unsafe.

~ You pack. You know you can't take much but you've arranged for a carriage with two horses so you and Douxie can at least start with something. All your jewellery and valuables along with pouches full of gold, silver, and copper from the Royal Treasury are put into a large satchel you hide under your bed. You pack a few of your least fancy dresses and steal pants from the stable boy. All of your favorite books, drawing supplies, and poems are shoved into a different satchel. You hide the hollow book of letters and all the gifts Hisirdoux wrote you in the stable and you prepare to leave.

~ Packing the carriage late at night under the stars Douxie and Archie meet you. Douxie has a satchel full of potions, a purse full of magic scrolls and books no one will miss, the letters you wrote him, and his lute. He also grabbed dried meat from the kitchen, biscuits, and canteens of water.

"Love are you sure?" He's so tender so soft and so full of love. You know this is meant to be.

"Without you Douxie life is not worth living. You love me not for my riches. Not for looks. Not for my status but for me. No matter what happens I love you."

~ That's all Douxie needs to hear before he takes the reigns and you both leave. Fleeing your life from Camelot and going on a new adventure. One of adventure, magic, and love. You know things will never be the same but that's alright. You have him, he has you, and you both had Archie. As you flee under the stars avoiding trolls and traveling several towns over you know this is meant to be.

(Comments and feedback appreciated :D)

#hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #douxie x reader #wizards x reader #noble reader #morgana #merlin #archie #hello!#i read way too much douxie fanfiction #so heres the boy #i love him #fair warning still havent seen wizards 😬😬😬#hope this is good!#cannon divergent #in which douxie finds someone he loves and leaves Camelot before everything goes to hell #douxie #long post

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yolo1650 · 3 years

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Surprise Date Pt. 3 (wip)

A/N: Inspired by a whole bunch of sacred romantic prompts by @screnwriter I had a lot of fun writing this! But I can imagine my execution is mediocre at best (especially with trying to write in Redd's pov) XD

Also, if this helps, you can imagine the anthropomorphism akin to something like from Bojack Horseman. If you’re looking for some context, click here. I really wrote this to practice writing, nothing plot relevant here is permanent.

Word Count: 1805

Warnings/Tags: Anthropomorphic characters, cross species relationship, drinking off screen, mentions of alcohol, jazzy times, make up after a fight, but i’m not exactly sure what they fought about, slow dancing, fluff, heart to heart, kissing, implied sex at the end, amateur writing, so it might get repetitive at times, i’m just so glad this is done, my oc still doesn’t have a name yet, she’s just referred to as she the whole time :’)

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As the level of wine in their glasses winded down, so did their surprisingly pleasant date night. In between their shared laughter and smiles, Redd could barely remember whatever fuss they had two nights before. Key word: barely. He still remembered how the sound of her yelling grated against his, and his tail bristled slightly at the thought of it.

Just then the CD player finished. With a tight smile, she excused herself to go and add a new one. The smooth voice of a woman's jazz ballad flowed out of the speakers, nothing at all like the soft chimes of the synth that was on before. Redd looked over to her outstretched hand.

"Dance with me?"

The dumb look of shock on his face probably wasn’t subtle at all, otherwise she wouldn't have shown off those shining pearly whites of her's. Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled. "No, no, I'm sorry darlin'. But I'm no dancer."

But her hand remained outstretched in front of him. "I'll be the judge of that." Her tone was blunt, but her eyes however held a small plea. She then cocked her head over to the open space in front of the speakers. "Come on, we won't go too fast, I promise."

Tentatively, he placed his own leathered palm in her soft one, allowing her to guide him to the center of the living room. As she guided his right hand to her waist, he could feel his hackles rise at the nerves. He swallowed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you now. Who knows, we might both end up on the ground 'cause of me." He hoped his voice didn't come out as hoarse because of how dry it was. She only smiled back, eyes warm with reassurance.

"Then we'll both have something to laugh about when we look back at this moment." She placed a hand on his shoulder and slowly started moving. "Just follow my lead. I'm sure a smart fox like you can figure out a simple slow dance."

So, they danced, or rather, she slowly danced but had to pause at every step so that Redd's feet could step in time with her. He kept his head down, partly to keep watch of her feet and partly out of embarrassment. It wasn't often when he was forced in a position to admit an honest fault of his, but he'll take this case to be a delightful exception.

"Are you familiar with Ella Fitzgerald?" Her question was let out in a single warm breath that pushed against the whiskers on the side of his muzzle. His nose involuntarily twitched at the newfound intimacy. He looked up only to see her gaze was elsewhere, supposedly lost in the swooping lows of the melody.

"Ah, no, not really." He gently squeezed her hand as she picked up the pace. She squeezed back. "But I, uh, I don't mind. She sounds very talented."

"That she was, that she was," she drawled, her voice low. Nothing at all like how she sounded two days ago: sharp and resonant, and she had each syllable spoken with just the right amount of annunciation, perfect for scolding an employee for his unprofessionalism.

It didn't take long before their bodies started moving together at the gentle pace of the song. His own tail couldn't help but absent-mindedly swing along to the smooth piano accompaniment. She even let him lead the dance for a few moments. Not bad you sly fox, Redd thought to himself, not bad at all. When she took over once more he looked to smile at her before saying, "This, this is kinda nice." But she only briefly returned that same half smile he'd seen all day.

Redd didn't need to be a detective to figure out what was bothering her. But, if their argument has taught him anything, it's that she wasn't really the talking type. In fact, if today has taught him anything, it was that she preferred to show how she felt, rather than say it. He squeezed her hand once more to assure her as she did for him, and her worried-filled eyes met with his attentive ones.

She let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," she started, "about the things I said last time."

"I know." Out of the corner of his eye he could see her small frown. "The museum, fancy dinner, and now this? You'd have to admit it's all one hell of an apology."

"I still thought I should say it.”

“Apology accepted." He smiled. But it quickly dropped when she didn’t return it. He then opened his mouth. “I-

“I still have more to say, so if you could please just..." Her voice trailed off, not that she needed to finish it in the first place. The sight of her knit eyebrows alone was enough to shut his mouth up. He's never seen her so uncomfortable.

She took another breath before continuing. "I was being a stupid, privileged ass, and you didn't deserve that. You're too good for-" She stopped herself, trying to find the right words. "You, you're just." She sighed and briefly glanced at him only to look away once again. “You’re extraordinary."

"I'm extraordinary?" The comment stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't even notice until she stumbled into him, the sweet, floral smell of her hair wash stronger than ever. Her arms grabbed onto his shoulders and he steadied her with his hands on her waist. He let out an embarrassed chuckle against her ear. "Sorry about that. Now remind me, who's the one making more figures here?"

"This isn't about that," she replied, their faces were so close she only needed to whisper. "I'm only able to do what I do because of my mom and she always knows best. But you-" Her piercing eyes met his own. "You didn't have any of that and you still made your way here because you wanted to be. You have this drive, this determination-and I see it in your eyes-you just go for it and take what you want, no matter what.”

He leaned into her when she placed her forehead against his. “I've never seen that before so yeah, that's extraordinary."

He smirked. "Well, you are right about that."

She rolled her eyes. "You know I can easily take back all the nice things I said about you." The corners of her eyes crinkled as her mouth lifted to a beautiful smile. Redd's been waiting all night to see that one.

"Alight, alright," he conceded, "bad timing I know, I'm sorry."

She leaned in, pressing her whole body against him in a total embrace. Redd could tell that she'd said and done her piece, and was now melting into his touch. He could hear her quietly sing along to the music against his neck, another thing he'd never seen her do before. Their swaying has slowed tremendously since they started, but he decided that he actually liked it better this way.

He cleared his throat and she pulled away to hear what he had to say. "I'm sorry 'bout gettin’ under your skin the other day. I should've known better than to pry like that." Seeing the earnest look in her eyes made him pause, and he found his jaw slacked trying to find his thoughts again.

"I, uh, you're an amazing woman, you know that right?" She only responded with a small smile, a gentle request to continue. "You're a smart, beautiful, and busy woman who's got a lot on her plate. I'm sorry if I just ended up makin' your life harder and more stressful."

"Apology accepted," she said with a wide smile.

"And did I mention you've got a spine of steel? She shook her head and chuckled into his chest, now he was overdoing it. "I'm serious! Have you seen yourself at the office? There's nothing stopping you, whatever you want, you've got it. You're the whole package babe, life's just that easy for you."

Their slow dance has come to a crawling stop by now. As they held onto each other, the long, soaring melody from the trumpet flowed in between them, carrying away their troubles and leaving them together, hearts beating in time with each other. Redd didn't think he'd ever want to let go of her at all.

"Nothing about this is easy right now," she mumbled into his neck.

"I know." There was still so much he didn't tell her yet, and the longer he waited, the harder it became to even bring it up.

His sensitive ears picked up the huffiness of a short laugh coming from her. "You certainly don't make it very easy. Here I am, twenty-one, thinking I already have everything together. I knew who I was, and I knew what my future held, but then -" She paused. What she said next came out slow, as if she was processing each word as it left her. "But then I met you, and for the first time, I just don't know anymore. I don't even-" Her hands balled up into fists against his back. "What if I-" He started rubbing slow circles against hers. "Maybe." Her shoulders relaxed. "Maybe I don’t want my future anymore because whenever I look at you-"

Their eyes met, and as they gazed deeply into each other, Redd couldn't help but feel an urge, a pull towards her. Did her eyes always look like a fox's? Bright with excitement and simmering with a deep burn of desire and certainty?

"-I see a whole different future, and I want it." Her eyes were already halfway closed at their close proximity, eagerly inviting him to close the gap. Right before he did, he heard her utter one four more words that made this wait all the more worth it. "I want you, Redd."

This kiss was the best one they had yet. It was slow and tender, and he indulged himself fully to the taste of her perfect lips. They were soft, and still had the lingering taste of the wine they shared moments before.

When she reached up to hold his face against his own, his ears perked at the sound of a new vocalist, male this time, and although his gravelly voice sounded far away, the truth of the words he sang rang loud and true. Heaven, he was in heaven. He felt a slice of it with every gasp of breath they shared in between kisses, with every fleeting touch of her slender fingers on his body, with every soft moan of pleasure she let out underneath him. Heaven was tender kisses that were given like a promise. Heaven was when neither of them wanted to leave the gentle and firm embrace of the other, deep into the night.

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Here’s the song that featured at the end

Let me know what you guys think, constructive criticism is especially welcome here :D

-(･ω･)v

#wip #fanfiction wip #writing practice #fluff #slow dancing #furry writing #anthro character #let me know if all the animal details are weird #i can't help but cringe a lil when i think about it too hard #but it could just be because im an insecure furry #achievement unlocked #:ya like jazz?-write a romantic scene that features jazz music #that last tag was just a thought that came to me when i finished xD #i could have made Redd's voice stronger here #but i'll just work on that more in the future #and yes this is THAT redd fic #my post

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my-happy-little-bean · 4 years

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Picnics in the Imagination

pairings: no romantic ones! just a nice LAMP fic :) words: 3294 warnings: mild swearing, insecurity, slight hurt/comfort vibes

summary:

Everyone stared at those two bees in front of them; what were they doing?

Or: the sides share a moment in the Imagination.

a/n- hello! pls excuse this like, weird character study of a one shot heh. i have been having trouble with characterization, so i guess my way to solve that was to,,,write solely based on characterization lol. it was good practice, and even if it’s a bit rough, i still hope you enjoy it :)

read on ao3~

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There were two bees fighting in front of him.

They were about seven feet away, and he decided that he should be able to outrun them if they decided to team up against him; or worse, if they were going to attract some equally-terrifying friends. But for the time being, they seemed like they were too wrapped up in trying to murder each other to even notice him.

It made Virgil wonder why Roman did stuff like that; why he would create a world so beautiful, only to have it destroy itself. He wondered if the self-inflicted drama was some stupid way of him validating his own strength or whatever.

Or maybe it was only this destructive when Virgil was here.

It wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea. That was why it took two and a half weeks to convince Virgil to even take a step into the Imagination again, let alone sit down in it and eat sandwiches.

Though, who could really blame him? He wasn’t meant to exist here, where everything was all special and breathtaking and make-believe. It was literally everything he wasn’t. The last time he was here, it had seemed like the Imagination was actively trying to push him out via a million tiny goblins.

(Virgil couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of stuffing them all in a box, frantically searching for the key to trap them there forever before they set off again and ruin someone else’s hat.)

And even if it was okay for him to be here, there wasn’t much for him to do. No one wanted to imagine the storms Virgil found himself under, anyway. After all, the things Roman triumphantly held on the ends of his sword were from monsters Virgil embodied. The grass he stepped on literally burned at the tips if he stood on it for too long.

So why did he feel so...so safe?

Logan had told him once that the Imagination responded to everyone who stepped into its territory. It was supposed to be reassurance, but it was something that scared Virgil the most; that something could reflect the heavy static he could barely walk across everyday. And the first few times he was here, it did.

But now, the Imagination felt like a weighted blanket; almost suffocating at first, but gave way to the unfamiliar feeling of a hug. If he closed his eyes for a second, he could hear a distant thunderstorm coming from who-knows-where; a gentle memory of the only natural disaster he found comfort in. And the grass he stepped would burn, yes, but not all the time now; and it would always resolve itself anyway by bringing to light a small, black rose from the ashes.

His place in the Imagination today only reminded him of the effort everyone was willing to put forth for him; that everything was slowly getting used to the fact that he wasn’t some leech latching onto the sun. Roman eased the worries of his creation, one that had once despised him and all he was; and then eased the worries of Virgil, who didn’t believe he could finally be anything other than the bad guy. Logan made the plans—he always made the plans—and Patton…

Well, Patton tried everything.

He took a sip from his tea and set it aside, pulling his hood over his head and curling up on Patton’s lap. He heard the side giggle and felt him push his hood back ever-so slightly; just to scratch idly behind his ear and braid his fingers through his hair.

And Virgil let him.

Besides, he was too wrapped up in another thought to really care much; the thought that he wasn’t in the moment enough that the moment would pass him by before he could properly appreciate it. He couldn’t help but think about how everyone would eventually pack their things when his storm finally came around. He picked at the sharp grass beside him, scared that it would all go away somehow when he finally– finally– woke up from this dream.

He couldn’t help but look up at the bright blue skies above him.

Virgil sighed, chewing his bottom lip nervously. The Imagination, even as a concept, was so daunting. It stretched so far beyond him that it pretty much scared him shitless. The clouds looked like they could fall on him at any given second, and the bees—as pretty as they are— were still fighting; who’s to say they couldn’t hurt him too?

But it was beautiful.

And he was here.

Virgil closed his eyes and heard the soft sound of rain, far far away.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw Roman,

who was shaking his head at him with a knowing smile.

---

Roman couldn’t help but beam as he watched the two bees in front of him dance, a harmonious waltz above the lush, green grass they grew. Logan could say anything he wanted about the Imagination; the real world could never compare to all of this.

Or at least, that’s what Roman used to think.

Truth be told, the Imagination was only this beautiful when Thomas was satisfied. For the most part, Roman would be running around, dousing fires– literal fires– in every direction. He’d end his days without really ending them, fighting monsters to make his world flawless when the sun rose. This picnic was actually the first time he really stood still in the Imagination since…well, since the Great Goblin Incident of 2019; though that was less of a wake-up call and more of an unwelcome surprise.

(Roman wasn’t able to get the goo out of his hair for weeks.)

And he took great pride in how special his creation was. After all, he made it — and he was pretty awesome. He was able to plant seeds in Thomas’s mind and thus grow a beautiful, magnificent garden. He grew so many gardens actually. He’d grow them left and right, without much of a thought. Anything to spruce up the place.

But there were other days when the Imagination would claw at him for more– for something else. It would grab his ankles as he walked and drag him through the ground when he least expected it, begging him for a new garden; a new village; a new adventure; a new anything.

And at some point, the Imagination became his office. Sure, it was a place Roman would escape to so he could build a tower to hide in when the real world got too much. But it was also a place that Roman would eventually give into; one that would force him to stay the night so he could finish that thing– there was always that one thing.

It was where he would fight Anxiety and win. It was where Morality would cheer for him and carry him on his shoulders with glee. It was where Logic didn’t exist.

It was a place where Roman was everyone’s hero; where everyone needed Creativity.

Not today, though.

Today, the sun glowed bright in the crystal-clear skies without him. He didn’t need the birds to sing him ballads, and he didn’t need the squirrels to care about him all that much. And he would come here to work, yes; but he’d come here to appreciate his work as well.

Nowadays, Patton, Virgil, even Logan appreciated his work alongside him. They saw beauty in every crack Roman would dwell over; saw love and care in each one of his masterpieces. They even took the time to appreciate the gruelling effort that bled through his creation and made sure he was resting– actually resting– when he was done for the day.

And he vowed to repay their love — even if they insisted that he didn’t need to. A glorious battle, perhaps! He could put himself in danger for them, just to show them he would. He could even wage a war with the feelings the others held too close to their chests, those feelings embodied as gruesome monsters and foe, and he would win. Every time.

Because Roman could never lose. Not with them by his side.

He looked around him with a bright smile and a dawning realization, one that he came across a thousand times, nowadays:

The realization that he was surrounded by everything he could ever need.

Roman finished another song on his ukulele and Patton burst into applause. Logan simply nodded at his performance, flipping through another page of the book Roman recommended to him. Virgil just pulled his hoodie over his head and curled up in Patton’s lap.

Poor storm-cloud. He almost felt sad watching him. A part of him would always be jaded by the fact that he ever hurt Virgil.

Roman stood up and walked a few feet away from everyone else, looking off into the distance before closing his eyes. He thought for a little while, and then sent the wind away to bring back the sound of rain and sprinkle it over their heads.

That would hopefully help.

He turned around and looked at the rest of his family. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. He could feel the grass tickle his feet, as if it were planning to lift him off the ground any second now. A cool breeze weaved itself through his hair and when they dropped off the sound of rain, they picked up the song Roman played to spread it across the land.

He looked up at the sky and watched the birds soar above them,

and thought about how his creation no longer hated him.

He then met Virgil’s eyes, and wondered if he felt the same thing.

Nothing can hurt you here, Roman thought. Not anymore.

---

Swarming was a natural process in the life of a honey bee colony. It was a method of propagation; one that occurred in response to crowding within the colony. If a bee was huddled close to another, it was most likely that they were in the beginning phases of attracting a swarm.

Perhaps that is what those two bees were doing in front of them.

How fascinating.

Logan took a break from reading to take in his surroundings. Roman must have dedicated a respectable amount of time to making the Imagination so faithful to real life. The way each tree was carved in patterns unlike each other, the way the waters seemed to move endlessly and not on a loop.

He knew they were not real. None of them were. So it was interesting to think that not one part of Roman’s world was fabricated in a way that was mechanical and half-hearted; but was instead crafted with such caution and care. Every grass in its own, respective place; every flower grown for a reason.

Logan had made numerous visits to the Imagination in the past; for research purposes, more often than not. Well, other than the dreadful incident with the exploding goblins; though his presence in the whole ordeal was the by-product of an untimely coincidence.

He had interviewed Roman countless times to learn more about this place, but he was yet to leave with an unbiased point of view. Roman would not contribute many useful points to their discussions, choosing to speak only in fanciful, unhelpful metaphors. All he would say about the Imagination was that it merely existed; and it existed so beautifully that it did not need much explanation.

Everything was there for a reason he could not explain.

He had compiled a few notes based on his own extrapolations and observations; consuming knowledge he would then pass onto Thomas so that he could better understand himself (or onto Virgil, to ease his trepidation towards Roman’s creation).

However, he had never really taken the time to just...sit in it.

There were so many creatures and biomes, even cities; all nestled safely underneath the boundless shelter of the Imagination. And the sky was always stunning, no matter the weather. He wondered if Roman would allow him into this strange place more often for recreational purposes. He wondered if Roman would even enjoy his company.

The picnic, of course, was Patton’s idea. It was his way of “bonding” with everyone. Patton had many ideas of what ‘bonding’ looked like — weekly onesie-and-movie nights, having dinner together (even if they did not need to consume food), bi-weekly board game nights, et cetera. With so many options, Logan was not quite sure why Patton found the need to spend even more time with him.

He was not blind to the fact that his presence was not arbitrary. Really, his only function was to present knowledge when needed, then allow the others to use that knowledge in order to make Thomas...well, content. If anyone were to benefit from Patton’s many “family excursions”, it was Virgil. His attempts of reassuring the anxious side paled in comparison to Patton’s efforts.

Logan, unlike the rest of them, did not need love or affection; nor was it necessary that he ‘bonded’ with anyone. He just needed to exist for everyone and live to exist for as long as he could.

He was not real, anyway.

(Though, the thought haunted him far more than he would like to admit.)

He snuck a brief glance at Patton, who was enthralled by Roman’s performance under the sun. It was almost as if the sunshine in the Imagination folded itself around him; like he was the one keeping it warm.

Patton seemed to thrive in the Imagination; and for good reason, too. He was everything the Imagination was; a safe haven, a home, alive. He could extend the observation to Roman, even Virgil. They all belonged here, rested on the grass underneath the brilliant sun.

Logan...did as well.

The thought was hesitant—illogically so—but it was reassuring enough that it was there. Normally, he would think the opposite, but his counterparts only reassured him that that was not the case. He really did belong here, on the same pedestal as them; for reasons unrelated to work.

He was a part of their silly...loving family.

And they were real enough; real enough that he was able to absentmindedly hold Patton’s hand as he coddled Virgil on his lap. He was real enough to look at Roman work his magic in this strange wonder of a world and feel a sense of pride for him.

He was real enough to feel close with them; even though there were times when it felt like he was better off uninvited.

Perhaps this was the meaning behind Patton’s madness. Perhaps it was his way of reassuring him that he, like the rest of the sides, were just simply loved; unconditionally and without a doubt. It is a feeling that, surprisingly enough, Logan held close to him.

No amount of research would ever be able to tell him why.

He sighed, going back to his book and flipping to the next page. The Imagination, at the end of the day, was simply an enigma; constructed by weird science and magic alike.

But his family...well, they turned the Imagination into a reminder of how special existence was; how delicate the universe crafted each and every one of them.

How purposeful it was when creating him.

---

Aww, look at those bees playin’ with each other, Patton thought happily to himself. What good friends they are!

The Imagination was un-bee-lievable. The fact that his kiddo made the whole thing himself? He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been! He was so proud of him.

He was proud of everyone, really; which was precisely why he planned this picnic! Roman created such a beautiful place, Logan worked so hard, and Virgil...well, he had finally said yes.

And besides, it was just nice. For once, there was nothing to do. No difficult thinking, no one to fight. It was just him and his family, sitting under the big, blue sky.

Surprisingly enough, this was the first time Patton ever visited the Imagination when it was sunny. More often than not, Patton would visit the Imagination after-hours; sneak in when he knew everyone was asleep. Most of the time, he’d get caught by Roman; who was just as restless as him, yet more curious as to why he was there. Patton would never tell him the real reason, though — only saying that he wanted to check in on him. It wasn’t really a lie, anyway. It was just the right thing to do.

The Imagination was different in the night. Patton was sure that he was one of the only other sides to have seen it. It felt more like an ode to Thomas’s youth; the years when he would tape glow-in-the-dark stars to his ceiling and try to catch fireflies in mason jars. Each daisy seemed to sway in the warm sense of familiarity the wind carried; and the ocean always looked like it was folding on top of each other in a sea of scribbles coloured Pacific, Navy, and Midnight Blue.

If he squinted, Patton could see constellations in the sky. Dancing in the velvet blanket above him were stars, mapping out the image of a young boy helping someone off the ground after a nasty fall.

It was his perfect Thomas. Always selfless, always perfect.

On the nights when Roman would find him, sitting on top of a hill with his knees brought close to his chest, he would always let Patton lie down in his lap and weave him a fairytale; one that Thomas used to love. The prince would always save the day. The teacher would explain absolutely everything. The mind would never reel, and the heart was always right.

He couldn’t help but miss it. He missed the days when it seemed like royalty could be as honourable as the ones in Thomas’s old picture books; that learning was not as painful as it was now. And while the mind was buried through layers of heavy static and storm clouds, the heart didn’t know the way.

Thomas wasn’t as good as he wanted him to be, and Patton just didn’t know what to do.

But all of that didn’t really matter in the Imagination. The fact that it was bright and sunny only meant that Thomas was the same goofy, loving child he used to be. Sure, a few things slip past Roman every now and then (Patton would never ever ever forget what those goblins did to his new top-hat), but that didn’t mean that Thomas was inherently bad.

Besides, the day was just as beautiful as the night. With Thomas all grown up, he was creating things Patton could only dream of. Yes, storms would still roll around; but they would always give way to a beautiful rainbow.

The Imagination was always the same, no matter what crossed its path.

And perhaps, the same thing could be said about him.

Patton tried his best to get lost in the music Roman was playing for the group. He set aside his sandwich, and snuck glances at Virgil and Logan. They seemed at peace; Virgil was drinking tea he made for him, and Logan was reading a book.

And if Roman was singing, it meant that Patton still had it in him to bring his family together.

Patton sighed wistfully. He would do anything to capture this moment in any way he could. He wanted this single second to last forever. He yearned to keep the sunshine safe and sound in a small jar to put on his shelves.

Really, he just wanted everyone to be happy.

But as beautiful as nights in the Imagination were, Patton could learn to love the present if it felt this good.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #lamp/calm #hurt/comfort #gabbie writes things

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jaibhagwan · 6 years

Text

Faded Fantasy

There was something off about the night,

but Daryl couldn’t tell what it was. He had money in his pocket. It had been an alright day at work, and Merle was off on a date with one of his skanks, leaving Daryl to enjoy his time alone. He should have been content.

It wasn’t too crowded at the bar for a Friday night. The band hadn’t set up yet, but the jukebox was playing some of that honky tonk tripe Daryl couldn’t stand. It reminded him of the racket his daddy used to listen to. That ol’ my-wife-left-me-and-my-dog-too-and-now-all-I-can-do-is-howl-and-bitch-about-it crap. Daryl had plenty enough of that in his life, he didn’t need any songs to remember how miserable life was. Guy’s probably better off anyhow. He just ain’t got no lick of sense left in him from all that caterwaulin’. Shit.

Daryl quickly ordered his burger and beer at the bar and then wandered over to the jukebox to see if he could rescue the night with something else. There were a couple of drunks clinging to each other in the middle of the floor, swaying and teetering. It looked as far from dancing as Daryl could imagine. By the time he got to the jukebox, the song had ended and another one began. It had a slow drum beat, and then the guitar came plucking along in its sad, ballad way.

“Ooh, I like this one,” a familiar voice cooed beside him.

Turning, he stumbled upon her cheerful blue eyes, which took him by surprise. His chest seized in the way she always left him breathless. Recovering, he sucked in air as his heart raced. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find Carol here. The dissonance was palpable. She looked as strangely out of place as he felt. She was way too shiny for this dingy hole in the ground. In fact, she brightened the entire room.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, a pleasant smile hinting at his lips.

“I’m trying to get someone to dance with me. But as usual, that someone is clueless.”

Daryl glanced around the bar. Whoever it was that Carol had her eye on was a dumb son of a bitch.

“Well, maybe it’s your choice in music. It’s too sad. And sappy.”

“It’s romantic!”

He shrugged.

“What would you suggest then?” She stepped closer and turned towards the jukebox to eye the selection.

“I dunno,” he replied, skimming through the song list. When he found one he liked, he stopped and pointed at the display. “How about this one?”

The smile fell from her face. “You can dance to it alright, but it’s hardly romantic. Something slower, perhaps?”

“Slower?”

“Yeah.” She leaned into him as she gently swayed to the music. “Like that one.” She pointed to a song he hadn’t heard since his mother was alive. “It’s not sad or sappy. Promise.”

“That’s the one, huh?”

Carol nodded and gave him an irresistible smile.

“Alright,” Daryl conceded with a sigh, putting a dollar in the machine and selecting the song to play. “I trust you.”

Across the room, the waitress called out. “Burger and beer up.”

“That’s me,” he said, not wanting their conversation to end. There was an awkward silence. “Maybe this will be the lucky song.”

“Maybe,” she said with a sad shrug as she watched him walk away.

Daryl picked up his dinner and sat at the bar. From his seat, he could see the entire room as he ate. It was starting to get a little more crowded. Naturally, his gaze returned to Carol who was talking to some blonde guy who approached her. He wondered if that was the guy she was interested in, but the way she was standing with her arms crossed in front of her, she didn’t seem happy. She looked bored.

A new song came on, it wasn’t the one Carol had chosen. And he found himself feeling grateful, he didn't really want to stick around to hear it; he knew that song would bring back memories of his mama. Carol didn’t know that of course; he couldn't blame her. And quite frankly, he also really didn’t want to stick around and watch her in some other guy’s arms. But still, it was Carol. He liked being around her. Daryl just wanted her to be happy.

He was hungry though, so he finished his burger in a few bites, and washed it down with the beer, debating on whether he should order another one or just leave before the place got too packed. Daryl was already getting elbowed by the sudden traffic at the bar.

Fuck this, he thought, and pulled out his wallet, throwing the cash down to pay his bill. As much as he was intrigued by Carol, he couldn’t stand to be in the bar when it got crowded. Just as he spun around in his seat, the sound of a slow guitar strumming played over the speakers. He paused as the bass came in with its familiar rhythm, and the singer began to croon.

We were born before the wind

In a flash, Daryl saw his mama in the kitchen, twirling in that faded blue and yellow apron as sunlight streamed in through the window, making her glow like a star. And then she was gone.

Turning around, he searched for Carol, but she wasn’t standing where she had been. She wasn’t on the dance floor either. He felt panic rising in his chest; he was desperate to see her again. Before she became just another ghost, like his mother.

“You’re leaving?” There was hurt in her voice. Maybe it wasn’t such a lucky song after all.

Swallowing his fear, Daryl turned to see Carol at his side, her brow furrowed in disappointment. She was beautiful even with that deep crease in her forehead. Her pain was his own; he felt sad for her. And then angry. This guy obviously didn’t know how great Carol was.

“Sorry, it didn’t work out,” he told her, wishing he could take the sadness out of her eyes.

“The song’s not over yet. C’mon,” she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

Let your soul and spirit fly

Into the mystic

He felt sorry that the guy Carol wanted to dance with hadn’t showed up. But he didn’t want Carol to feel more rejected. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, blushing.

“Just hold me and follow along.” She put his hands on her waist and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

His stomach fluttered as he looked into her expectant eyes. Carol began to rock from side to side, so he mimicked her movements, stiffly.

“Relax,” she said with a smile that made him do just that.

I don’t have to fear it

Daryl sighed. “I ain’t never danced with anyone before,” he confessed. Well, not since he was a scrawny little kid, in that kitchen, with his mother twirling him around. Not like this. Dancing with Carol was different. He felt something urgent stirring in his core.

I wanna rock your gypsy soul

“Really?” She grinned. “You’re a natural. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, growing uncomfortably warm as her hips moved closer to his. An electric current was buzzing through his body.

“You don’t like it?” The smile fell from her face, and she stopped moving.

“Nah, ain’t that…” He shook his head, trying to find the words to explain, but floundered instead, breaking into a sweat.

Unfazed, Carol started swaying again and pressed herself closer as the music went on. Carol smelled nice, sweet like a flower. Daryl found himself leaning in closer to breathe her in.

You know I will be coming home

Carol put her head on his shoulder. “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his heart soaring. All Daryl could think about was that he was holding Carol in his arms. It was the best day of his life.

“Then why wouldn’t you let me get this close to you?” she whispered in his ear.

And then he woke up.

Daryl’s heart was racing; he was gasping for breath. His sheets were soaked.

Of all the dreams he had, the ones with Carol were the ones he relished. Even the nightmares were worth being able to look into her eyes once again. As much as he’d tried, he could never forget her. She was permanently imprinted into his memory. His heart, if he could be completely honest with himself. But he had let her go a long time ago, and now she was just some faded fantasy.

#there's more #but i need a beta #should i keep going?#caryl fic #caryl

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