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#[ post-it. ] she dances with danger; secrets and a strong sense of achievement. these are the vivid proof of her existence.
orchideae · 6 months
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Fontaine verse things! Okay, so Yelan's presence there? Easy: Tartaglia. Remember, the guy we're all freaking out about because he's so deep in the Meropide, he's chilling out in the primordial sea with a whale I'm going to call his pet (okay listen, I believe he'll be okay, he has no other choice than to be okay), the one who decided to unseal an ancient god called Osial, who then retroactively unleashed his confused fury on Liyue Harbor? Yeah, that one. Listen, Childe, I may love you, but this girl does not.
In my main verse, Yelan travels to the nation of hydro at the request of Ningguang (and to a degree, uncle Tian). As canon seems to show and/or insinuate, Childe leaves in the aftermath of Osial's attack of the harbor, and it truly would seem immensely out of character for there to be no follow-up whatsoever. Even if we need to forego imprisonment, at the very least they would want to know how he was able to achieve what he did, and considering Osial is not dead nor sealed (anymore), information is key. All leads run dry eventually, and then you go to the only source that you know, the Harbinger in question.
Any ask or thread plotted will generally be fit to go into my default verse, her initial point of contact would have been Neuvillette, to see if he has any ability to aid her in accessing the Fortress. When learning of its autonomy, I imagine letters of requests to have been sent to Wriothesley directly, requests for a transfer, an official interrogation— and from what a little birdie (hi Min) has told me, these would likely meet deaf ears or be refused. Following this, Yelan heads over, because if there's anyone who might stand a chance, it's likely someone who knows how to play her cards.
Beyond that: there is also a personal reason as to why Yelan would want to seek out Childe (or any of the Harbingers or people tied to them, really), which is to find Regrator, better known as Pantalone. In canon, it is stated that during a mission tied to him, Yelan lost possession of a bracelet, it is part of a pair and is incredibly dear to her, not only because it's a magical artifact, but moreover because it is a family artifact, the only (from what we know) thing she has left of her clan and/or family (I'm still mulling on the insinuation[s] of the latter). As she always says, follow every lead to its end— and anyone, and everyone tied to the Fatui is a tie to Regrator and her bracelet.
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lumoshyperion · 3 years
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I just want to experience the affectionate tension of always being called by my surname by that one person until the moment one of our lives is in danger and they tenderly call me by my first name
I saw this post on @bluewanderings blog with the tag "#dark au drastoria....... much to think about" and decided to write a quick scene based on that for the dark au sequel. Astoria has been hurt while smuggling a Muggleborn family out of the country, and apparates away without thinking where she's going.
This takes place a while after Draco found out about her rebellious activities. She thought he would hand her over, but he never did, and has been helping her access restricted ingredients such as aconite for Wolfsbane potions.
This is just a short, out of context scene that slots nicely into the fic!! it's a gift, for wife, with love 😘💙
Astoria leaned against the wall, holding her arm to her chest and clutching her wand with a trembling hand. She knew she had lost a lot of blood and wouldn't be able to apparate again until the wound was looked at by a healer. But she had no idea where she was, or who she could turn to.
And there was someone approaching from the laneway on her left. So she held her breath and waited for them to pass. It was a tall wizard in emerald robes, with neat platinum blonde hair. Astoria bit her lip and shrunk into the shadows of her little alcove. It can't be him, she thought. I wish it were him.
The wizard stopped, their shoulders suddenly tense. Astoria raised her wand, ready to strike them down if needs be. But then they turned and scowled at the alcove and she almost laughed for joy and relief.
"Whoever is there, I'm really not in the mood," said Malfoy, an irritated edge to his voice as he brushed his robe aside and clutched the wand in his pocket. "Show yourself."
"Well, that's a shame," Astoria replied, shakily, as she stepped out of the alcove and into the dim light of the laneway. "I was rather hoping for that dance you promised me."
The moment he saw her, his eyes widened and his expression turned to one of alarm and horror. "Astoria," he gasped, stepping forward and catching her by her uninjured arm as she tried to move further into the laneway. "Are you alright? What happened to you?"
She looked down at his hand, before glancing back up at his face. He'd never called her by her first name before. Not even when they were children. "You know I can't tell you that," she said, with a small smile. Malfoy rolled his eyes, then wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her out of the alcove and down the laneway. She glanced around at the buildings, trying to ignore how the warmth of him made her cheeks flush. "I tried to apparate home, but I missed. Where are we?"
"Diagon Alley. My shop is just around the corner."
Astoria frowned. It was a populated area, miles away from any of the safe houses or secluded forests that she usually retreated to when things were dire. Her last thought before she apparated was of safety. A fire to keep her warm and the company of someone she trusted, someone she cared about.
She glanced over at Malfoy, as he carefully guided her away from the crowds and down a side entrance to his shop with a look of determination on his face. Perhaps it wasn't a mistake after all and she was exactly where she needed to be.
Once they arrived at the shopfront, he led her up the stairs to his flat and sat her down by the window. She slowly peeled her coat off and folded it over the back of her chair, watching Malfoy blanch as he looked at the wound on her arm. “You’re not squeamish, are you?” She asked, genuinely. “Because I can look after it myself, I just need -”
"No," he said, before abruptly kneeling down and holding his wand over her arm. "Tergeo."
Astoria winced as the blood drained from her wound. Malfoy withdrew his wand and looked up at her with concern, but she shook her head and smiled. "Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired."
"I don't usually entertain rebels," he replied, before standing up and waving a hand towards the oak cabinet on the other side of the room. "I have some Dittany. Wait here."
She watched as he retrieved a small vial of brown liquid. When he knelt down again and opened it, the smell of copper and spices reminded her of their classes in the dungeons back at Hogwarts. But before she could say anything about it, she was distracted as he held her arm in his hand and applied the potion to her wound with a tenderness she'd never associated with him before. The skin immediately started to knit itself back together, and it felt like a thousand tiny bee stings, dancing across her arm.
"Why do you do it?" Malfoy asked, suddenly and without looking up. "Surely you must know that you can't change anything."
Astoria's shoulders tensed, but he still didn't let go of her arm or look up at her. They'd had this conversation before, but it was always concealed in carefully worded questions and loaded glances. Even after their conversation on the bridge, there was still so much that she kept from him. Because, in spite of all that he had done for her, he was still a Malfoy.
He had a reputation to uphold. One that had been nearly ruined by his decision to put off his career at the Ministry for a while in order to pursue his passion in Potioneering. And if he handed her over to the Ministry, the rumour that he had gone "soft" would finally go away, and he would be elevated and lauded for his achievement.
And yet, he kept her secret. He brewed Wolfsbane for her, he kept a stock of restricted ingredients for her, and now he healed her wounds without pushing for answers on how she got them. And, beyond all of that, Astoria wanted to be honest with him. Because however much she tried to be strong and brave, she was tired of fighting on her own. She wanted the company that he offered. Whatever form it took and regardless of how much of a risk it was.
The tenderness with which he held her arm, and whispered her name in the laneway, was something she couldn't help but be drawn to - like a moth to a flame.
"Because I realised I couldn't just stand by and watch anymore," Astoria finally replied. "I know it isn't safe, and I know I can't change anything, and I'm better off just following along with everyone else, but... I couldn't do that anymore. I had to do something. Even if it only makes a difference to a few people."
She paused, looking down at her arm. The wound had healed over nicely, but Malfoy was still smoothing his thumb across her skin in slow, soothing circles. "I was smuggling a family out of the country," she confessed. "They didn't fight in the war. They lived a quiet life before all of this - in fact, their son never even got the chance to go to Hogwarts. Their only crime was being born to Muggle parents."
He suddenly let go of her arm and looked up at her for a long moment. Then he stood up and walked over to the oak cabinet, before returning to her side and holding out his hand. "There's something I want to show you," he said. There, in his palm, was a bronze key that shone in the firelight.
She looked up at him for a long time. Considering her options, wondering if she could trust him. Wishing that she could. And then she made a decision, stood up, and took his hand.
Before she could say anything, they were transported to a small clearing in the middle of a forest. The sudden journey threw her off balance, and she swayed a little, but looked around as he lay a steady hand on her waist.
"Sorry. I didn't want to risk being seen or heard leaving the flat," he said, watching her take in their surroundings. The forest was dense, stretching as far as the eye could see. And there was a sense of calm in the air that Astoria hadn't felt for a long time.
"You made a key into a portkey?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
He scoffed. "My father did, actually. He was never one for subtlety." Astoria withdrew at that, her guard suddenly up as she pulled away from his grasp and glanced around the clearing. But Malfoy raised his hand in reassurance and continued, "He built this place in secret. Only he knew about it, and it was passed onto me when he died. The key is a portkey, but only for those that we trust with the secret."
Astoria turned around and looked at him. "I don't understand."
Malfoy inclined his head towards the forest and she followed his gaze. When they had arrived, the clearing was empty. But it was like the house had always been there, somewhere in the corner of her eye, hidden by magic, until that moment. It was a large stone house with vines crawling up the walls and the chimney, as if the forest was trying to reclaim it. She glanced back at Malfoy, who said, "It's yours."
"What?"
He shrugged. "My father had it built just before the war. It was assurance that we would always have a place to go, should we ever need it," he explained. "He was a coward, but he always put us first."
Astoria looked back at the house and frowned. Most families had a plan in place, should the war be lost. Even her father had money put aside and a promise to take them far away, if things became too dire. All thoughts of a dowry were thrown aside when the war began. Family came first, after all.
"I thought you could use it for your - friends," Malfoy elaborated, as she looked away from the house and back at him. "They'd be safe here. You would be the new secret keeper." She opened her mouth to respond, but found that she didn't know what to say. He misinterpreted her and raised a hand in reassurance. "You can wipe my memory when we get back to the shop, if you like."
Astoria shook her head. "Whether you remember this place or not, you would still be held accountable if I were found out. I can't protect you."
Malfoy scoffed. "I don't need your protection, Greengrass." She sighed and crossed her arms, and he glanced down at the key, turning it over and over in his hands. "You're just as stubborn as you were in school, you know that?"
Astoria gave a short laugh, in spite of herself, and he looked back up at her. "I don't believe for a second that you remember that." He raised an eyebrow and she added, "You never took any notice of me, or anyone else."
"I did - I noticed you," he said, genuinely. "How could I not?"
Astoria looked back at the house, for a long moment. He followed her gaze, and they stared at the old stone in silence, until she glanced back at him and said, "Draco... Are you sure?"
Without speaking, he offered the key to her. His expression was resolute, so she closed the distance between them and took it from his hand. It was still warm from his touch, and was a comforting weight in the palm of her hand.
"Well," she said, glancing back up at him with a playful look. "Aren't you going to give me a tour?"
Draco offered his arm and smiled.
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ecto-american · 4 years
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I think Ember’s entire self would have fit really well as being a deceased Kpop idol. Not just in terms of who she is as a character and it giving her more depth and personality that already matches her canon, but also give great social commentary on how toxic the music industry, especially Korea's, can be.
More detail explaining this under the cut.
Firstly a disclaimer: I was an absolute Kpop weeb in my high school years. I knew all the bands and dances and stuff, and thus I was somewhat exposed to the culture of Kpop. Since then, I kind of have gone back and done some researched and watched documentaries and the like (because I am a big sociology nerd), but I'm not that deeply invested in Kpop anymore. But this is a thought I've had for a long time, ever since I first began to hear some of the problems surrounding Kpop idols and such.
I also want to point out that I am not saying that Ember within canon is a deceased Kpop star. She clearly isn't, and I'm not trying to make a case as to why she is given canon evidence. I'm writing this because I really like this interpretation a lot better than what canon gave us. In my own personal headcanons and worldbuilding and rewrite fanfiction, Ember is a deceased Kpop star.
We got that squared away? Coolio. Let's start.
Now that “preface” or whatever is out of the way, I really want to begin this by giving some background on Korean pop, specifically the industry and the culture surrounding it, for those who don't know. This is going to give some much needed and important context behind what I'm about to say about Ember. I will also be providing as many sources as I can to this section, but a lot of this is really easy to find on google as well.
In Korea, to be a pop star: you basically have to be perfect. In your dance, music, appearance, your entire image is now basically the property of your manager. Plastic surgery is a massive deal in South Korea, and it's partly due to this.
When you get your contact, you basically have to go through a bootcamp, which involves: Limited contact with family and friends, dropping any romantic relationships or behaviors that would be deemed unwholesome (many companies even go as far as forbidding relationships so that fans can better “see” themselves as being with the idol, which increases sales), brutal training schedules and everything you do is so heavily monitored by your bosses. This has lead to many Kpop idols (especially women) to be dangerously underweight or to have eating disorders, 15 hour training days day after day, being fired for being in a relationship outside of their company's approval/against contract. It's caused literal deaths and mental breakdowns.
Of course, America has the eating disorder problem too, and long work days. But please take in mind: management in Korea actively pushes for these eating disorders and are almost applauded publicly for keeping their stars thin, while in America, it becomes an absolute scandal. And yes, America has long work days too, but in comparison to Korea, American musicians basically only release a single or two in a year, and an album about every three years or so. On average. Kpop groups are pressured to release one or two albums every year on top of regular singles. If you youtube Korean pop shows, there's so many examples of stars collapsing on stage due to exhaustion and hunger. And most of the time, they're forced to get back up and continue, compared to America where they're normally “hey show over”. There are some Americans who will go through with it, but it's normally stars who are determined to finish in spite. It's not a push by your boss to finish or be fired and blacklisted from the industry.
Kpop idols are often broke as fuck, so there’s not even that as compensations. Many literally don't get most of the proceeds from their music. Their contracts are often compared to being slave contracts by stars. One Kpop star even said that she and her group had to split one meal whenever they were on tour because they were in such poverty. Oh, a rising group, right? NO. It was one of the biggest fucking Kpop girl groups of the time, Stellar! But even if they were a brand spanking new group, what the fuck.
And why don't they leave? Because they wanna be famous and make music. It’s just that unfortunately, it’s a very saturated industry because the agencies literally just crank out so many idol groups every single year, thus leading to absolutely brutal competition. People are regularly rotated out and replaced within groups. Idol groups are regularly formed or disbanded There's lots of weekly programs and music competitions to see who's the best of the best. You're constantly ranked. You're constantly fighting for the top spot. Lots of Kpop idols have to really fight to get their name remembered or known. The best of the best get reknown internationally.
Okay I'm done with the background now, lol. But you get the jist! The Kpop industry is fucking brutal and needs a good social change. Though now that I've laid out a lot of this, you can kind of get the sense as to where I'm going with this.
Based on every appearance Ember has in the show, we can deduce two things: She hates adults and wants to be remembered.
What are two major problems within Kpop industries? Adults controlling these really young adults (normally freshly 18) trying to break into the industry that's hard to make a truly lasting impression on, that's trying to be remembered.
Ember, if we take her canonical song and the background information provided by interviews, is meant to have died in a fire after being stood up. But I think that she would much better fit as a character who died from the intense social, physical and mental pressures of being a Kpop star. Perhaps a Kpop star that was left forgotten in the crowd of idols, whether it's dying in an accident or suicide.
It’s just me, but I really personally don’t like the canon that she died in a fire because of a boy. It’s just really weak imo, and idk. I don’t like backstories based around a romantic interest like that, especially when it’s so bland. Ember is a fucking dead musician and rock star within canon, and that’s the best you can come up with? She died in a damn fire after a boy stood her up? No mentions that she was into music or something?
Of course, she likely wasn’t famous she died. She likely rose to fame post her death, but that’s still just really? Kind of a headscratcher in a sense? Ember deserves more. The given backstory of her death is literally so? Random imo? Given who she is in death? Unless her entire thing is about how she changed so much in death for a guy, which is kinda Hmm for me. But that’s most of canon lmao.
I feel like this Kpop idol angle would have been a much stronger backstory potential for her. It could paint her as this really hardworking idol, this incredibly talented musician and vocalist who just couldn't make the cut. Maybe she got fired for loving another idol. Perhaps she just wasn't up to the brutal industry standards of being a Kpop idol. It’s a backstory that clearly incorporates her musical talents within her life, and kind of gives her death more of an impact, that gives her more character depth. Whether she’s a perfectionist because of this or has such strong self esteem issues due to the pressures she experienced in life. All of this motivating her to work solely towards her goal, or making her realize that she just really wants to have a more relaxed life and do things like date freely and enjoy the peace and privacy she now likely can have.
Ember's powers would fit really well with this Kpop backstory too She can hypnotize people. Besides Kpop kind of literally hypnotizing a lot of people, it could be shown as a legitimate skill of hers, or something she gained in death as she hoped that she could truly charm an audience into remembering her. She wants to be remembered within canon. No matter the cost or sacrifice. The same kind of sacrifice and price many Kpop idols are forced to make and pay.
It gives her stronger motivations other than just being famous for the sake of being famous or to possibly get that one boy’s attention (? It really depends on your personal take). She wants to be famous to prove herself to a company that worked her to literal death or that basically rejected her, or as a personal dream finally achieved. She now has the power to destroy the adults that likely exploited her as slave labor that maybe made her die in poverty or after being another abuse victim.
To me, it’d help pack a better emotional punch and reasoning as to why she does what she does. Fame has much more meaning to her, it’s personal, losing it again would devastate her. At the end of Fanning the Flames, can you imagine how hysterical she might be if the entire sequence was an unintentional repeat of the events that lead her to her death? Why she’s so specifically disgruntled against adults other than the typical “teenage rebellion” to the point of turning them into slaves in Pirate Radio (which is? fucking wack considering how much better it’d be to use something else). Turning them into slaves just like they would have done to her for years, especially since it’s on exercise equipment. It’d bring personal satisfaction to possibly watch them run or bike or work out until they literally collapse like she might have done before. Then forced back on and continue. Hell, you can even explain as to why she kept her relationship with Skulker an apparent secret: she’s used to have to hiding a boyfriend or risk losing everything.
I would have loved to see her being used as a good social commentary on that industry specifically, but also as a hot take for the abuse that just happens in general too much within the music (and many other fame based industries).
If we're going by canon show airing date, Ember would have popped up right around the time Kpop was really making it's mark on American culture. America got really into Kpop in the mid-2000s and, as you can tell by BTS's popularity, is still going really strong. There's even an entire Wikipedia page about it, the Korean Wave. Whether you want to “modernize” DP or keep it in it's canon air date roots, this would still be a relevant possibility no matter where you personally like DP to fall on the IRL timeline.
While many Kpop stars are in groups, given her possible circumstances, she likely broke off to be a solo artist. If you've ever seen Kpop idol fashion, they're also very colorful! Very fashionable and interesting, and it'd be really cool to see more of that kind of fashion for her. The dances are very good too, well choreographed, and it'd just lead to really interesting possibilities as to how she looks and behaves on her stage.
I dunno man, I just feel like this is a really cool take. My personal take tbh, and I just think more people should think about deceased Kpop idol Ember.
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katsukiboom · 5 years
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What The Heart Desires - A Tokoyami Zine piece
A/N: My longest piece yet (which I wrote thinking that the word count had to be a lot longer than it actually was, so much of this right here is brand new content) and it was for the amazing Revelry in The Dark @tokoyamizine! I’m super happy to have been able to work with the amazing people behind it and thoroughly hope you all can enjoy the content if you bought it - their blog will also post every completed piece, so make sure to check that out! ♥
Word Count: 5.125
With a cigarette almost completely out hanging loosely between the edges of his beak, Fumikage Tokoyami looked around the empty street before tossing the cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out. He gently blew the smoke out of his lungs, tracing small images into the night air. He studied them absently, letting his expression soften with a smile.
It had been a calm night overall among the citizens that passed by the area he was in. Although he was surprised with how things had gone so smoothly, he also wished there would’ve been more bustle in the city – he hadn’t made more than ¥6.550, and even if he knew better than to complain about what he could earn, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed with how the night turned out. Still, it was well past 1am and he wanted to go back home as soon as he could, so he lit another cigarette and took a big puff. For the long road ahead, he told himself as the bitter taste of cinder reclaimed its place on his tongue.
His thoughts seemed to be all over the place on the way back as he walked slowly, the soft breeze sending a shiver down his spine as he gripped the handles of his guitar case a bit tighter - Fumikage was never a nostalgic person per se, but anyone with a mind-reading Quirk nearby might think otherwise. It was one of those nights where he’d end up doubting himself and his goals throughout the hours, the various memories coming back to him not helping at all with his sentimentality. He only hoped he could get some sleep along the way, and he looked up at the night sky for a moment only to see a few dots scattered all across the dark canvas above. The brightest stars seemed to twinkle as if saying hello, and he realized how much he missed being able to see more of them, of their beauty.
A memory popped up in his head then, a simple image of him gazing at a beautiful starry sky while sitting on the roof of his house a few years back. The sheer contrast of the white and red dots against the deep blue sky always used to leave him in awe of the world around him, and sometimes he brought his guitar along to sing a ballad to the moon in hopes of making the feeling of solitude go away, something not even the entity inside of him could achieve. He remembered when he was younger and his father used to come along, too, the everlasting support for his son making the young man’s heart swell with joy.
It had also been in that same rooftop that he had had the pleasure of listening to what would quickly become his favourite album of all time, Journey’s Escape – it ignited the spark needed to fuel his passion for music, something that had existed ever since he was a toddler but that had never been truly cemented into him. It was no surprise for anyone when he had claimed he wanted to apply to Yuuei, Japan’s most prestigious performing arts conservatory known to train the best musicians in the country.
Tokoyami hopped on the last bus of the night and threw away his half smoked cigarette while remembering that on that same rooftop, too, had been when he first doubted himself years later; if he was doing the right thing, if it was all just for a whim, or if playing music for a living was truly the end of the road for him and his ambitions. He wanted to know more about the world and there was so much more to learn, and he didn’t want to feel like he was just another wasted talent. Those doubts led him to drop the future Yuuei had offered him once he graduated, instead turning to the streets as a source of living while playing whatever music he wanted on his beloved instrument.
He felt a small rustling beside him along with the sensation of something leaving his own being, a sign that he was no longer the only one in that bus besides the driver - sometimes he did hate having a sentient Quirk. “You sound like you’re having a hard time,” said Dark Shadow from beside him, but it didn’t faze Fumikage in the slightest. The bright light of the vehicle kept it controlled, and for that he was immensely thankful. “You can talk to me, you know? I can sense when you’re not okay, and your thoughts are yelling.”
“Get back in,” was the only reply that left him as he put his forehead to the window glass, the cold material doing little to help his tiredness. “You’re not needed now. I am only…” but the words escaped him before he could explain anything, maybe because he himself wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on through his mind; the images fumbled together and a small headache was starting to appear. “I am only thinking.” And with that, he was left alone again as Dark Shadow retreated, a dejected look on its face.
Whenever his insecurities appeared there was always Dark Shadow to help, and the two had been good friends ever since his Quirk first manifested. Despite being hard to manage when in dark places, Tokoyami made sure to always have at least a source of light on him, be it a small flashlight that he kept well hidden in his backpack or playing in a particularly well-lit spot. He knew it would only be a matter of time until something bad happened so he always tried to stay out of danger’s way, preventing as much of it as possible. The entity acted as his main source of support ever since he had left his family’s house and while there were a lot of things he’d change about it, he felt greatly thankful to have it in his life – it being a part of him meant having little to no secrets, and sometimes it made it easier to let go of the emotional load he tended to keep to himself.
Sighing and fogging the glass a bit, Fumikage replayed the events of that night silently, picking the different moments he found to be the most fulfilling. If there was something interesting about being a street musician he would’ve named the tons of people he got to see every day, imagining their stories and talking to them to find out if he had been right about something. It had become a little game only for himself, but ever since he started his new profession there had been two specific people that stood out to him the most. He liked thinking about them, as they had showed him different sides to something he had always considered to be very black and white.
The first one he met almost by chance, the memory replaying as an overused tape - it had been one of his busiest days and the only time to rest for no more than fifteen minutes came around at dusk time, when he noticed that people were already scattering towards their destinations without really paying attention to their surroundings. With his body feeling as tired as it could be, he walked to his preferred resting spot, an old alley that kept him hidden from the judgemental looks he got sometimes. A sturdy box had been placed against a wall God knows how long ago, and he had taken a liking to sitting there with his guitar, tuning it or just playing whatever came to his mind as he let the stress go. It had been no different that day, just a regular afternoon, until he heard voices coming from the entrance of the alley.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” one of the voices, a high-pitched, unmistakably girly voice said with a hint of amazement in her tone. Without even tearing his gaze away from the instrument on his hands he felt as Dark Shadow came out, but Fumikage felt too focused to even ask him to return. The people outside didn’t seem to notice at all, and he had to thank the dim lighting of the narrow space for that. “He seems like he has such a good Quirk too; he’s probably talented with it too.”
Dark Shadow’s low laugh resonated all the way to his body, and with a low growl the young man wordlessly signalled that he wouldn’t be in the mood to get interrupted any time soon. It had been a long day and social interaction wasn’t exactly on his to-do list at the moment - it was his moment to be alone, his mind needing the space to be able to function properly until the late night. “You should give them a chance,” the entity said before retreating into him, “they look nice enough to have a chat with.”
“Ochaco-chan, why don’t you just go talk to him?” The girl that replied had a slightly lower, more concerned tone as she whispered some more stuff he couldn’t have been bothered enough to eavesdrop in. But soon he heard approaching footsteps, and he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to camouflage himself with the wall behind. “Excuse me, I know that you must be resting, but my friend and I wanted to congratulate you for the amazing performance.” Looking up and opening his eyes he was met with the sight of two big eyes framed by two strands of green hair, staring at him as if trying to pierce right through his soul. She was alone, and he wondered if she had been the braver one out of the two or if she had left her friend behind for another reason.
Once his eyes got used to what little light there was and he got a better look of her he recognized her as one of two girls who had been enjoying his show for a long while and dancing along to some of his repertoire before he took a break, and when he looked to the side he saw the friend that was with her talking on the phone before sending them a curious glance. The two of them formed a weird pair he thought, but by the way they acted with one another was a sign of how strong their friendship was. Her features and gestures reminded him to those of a frog, and he wondered if it had anything to do with her Quirk. “I’m truly glad you enjoyed the show,” he replied shortly while putting his guitar back on its case on the floor, unsure of whether they’d hang around more or if that’d be the last time he’d see them.
With a warm smile, the girl kneeled beside him and pulled her white cardigan a bit more over her chest, the breeze running along the streets already getting colder with each passing second. He noticed she looked smaller beneath the item of clothing. “You’re one of the few people I’ve met in my life that I can tell has true passion for playing an instrument,” she added without a hint of hesitation. “I wish I could play like you.”
“Do you play guitar?”
“Transverse flute and violin, actually - been playing since I was 8.” Silence fell over them and Fumikage felt almost scared of breaking it, and instead leaned against the wall behind - in moments like this he really wanted to be the kind of person that could keep alive a conversation without much effort, cursing his bad luck when it came to interacting with other people. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be a bother, but he did wonder the reason why she had decided to casually spend some time with a simple street artist like him. “I hope I’m not being a nuisance right now; you’re awfully quiet.”
Slightly taken aback by her words, he sighed and turned his attention back to her as he said, “It’s okay, I… enjoy having someone to talk to about this sort of thing. Although I must admit I do feel undeserving of such nice comments.”
“Undeserving? No way!” she retorted, and it was only then that he realized that he was opening up with someone he didn’t even know the name of. “I truly wish I could play like you. I was partly forced to learn so I never really knew what playing for a passion was.” His expression turned into one of understanding as he heard those words, and he smiled down at her with newfound empathy. Her own smile had faded, leaving behind a sad appearance. “It was all my parents’ doing as a means to encourage me I guess - I don’t blame them fully, but I sometimes wonder if it would’ve been different had I learnt because I wanted to. I could’ve never dedicated my life to music like you do, however, but I like meeting people like you.”
The way she spoke about her own experience brought back his doubts and he was ready to tell her about that, but then another voice was heard from the alley entrance, making them both turn around. Her friend was calling out to her - Tsuyu with two cups of what seemed to be boba tea on her hands. With what sounded like a way too hopeful voice for him, he quickly said, “Will you two stick around for a bit longer? I’m about to go back out; if you’d like to, you’re more than welcome to stay.”
“We have to go, but I’ll make sure to come back to watch you play again someday.”
It was only then he realized he had never given her his name.
And as they said their goodbyes she got up and walked away, and the memory came to an abrupt halt as the bus Fumikage was riding stopped so hard in front of a red light it almost made him hit his head on the window and fall off his seat. Mumbling incoherent curses as he sent a death glare toward the driver and wishing Dark Shadow would not come out to tease him about it he sunk back down on the comfortable leather, letting his mind fly back to his trail of thoughts after checking he still had some time to kill before reaching his stop looking through the window glass.
The second most interesting person he met wasn’t someone who had come by to one of his performances - instead, he had been the one to meet him, almost on purpose.
It had been a late night of the last autumn, one that had had just the most delightful weather and that seemed to be made specifically for everyone to enjoy. Armed with his beloved black jacket and a cigarette in his beak, he walked downtown to his favourite bar, hoping to have a nice time while getting away from everything else in the world and its tendency to always make him feel under pressure. He didn’t expect the loud music coming from the inside as soon as he crossed the main doors of the place, or the way people were looking at the band playing like they were the most amazing thing they had ever heard. Just noise to the ears, he thought as he occupied his usual place at a table close to the bar, they all sound monotonous.
However, as he listened more and more and downed a bottle of beer, even a harsh sceptic like himself could find himself bobbing his head to the hard rock being played on the little stage. Fumikage analysed the four people (three boys and a girl) that were playing as if trying to discover a hidden secret, but all he saw was four people just having fun… or three, to be honest. One of them had an angry expression on his scarred face, a sour testament that whatever was going through his mind wasn’t the prettiest of thoughts; the bass he played seemed to be in pretty bad shape, and he wondered how the guy could even play an instrument like that. His red and white hair stuck to his face thanks to the sweat running down his cheeks, and he looked rather threatening.
It took them another two songs before they finally said their goodbyes and walked off the stage to the sound of vigorous clapping, and by that point he felt way too curious about them to just let them walk away. He carefully watched as they high-fived each other, all smiling and seeming happy with their performance, even the two-colour haired guy. He was the one that went to the bar, ordering drinks for him and all his friends, and that’s when Fumikage decided to take the chance to speak up. “Nice work,” he said loud enough to be heard, and the stranger only sent him a side glance. “It is always a pleasure to see someone channel their feelings through music like you’ve done.”
“You a critic or something?” the male replied and Fumikage only shook his head, the bartender being told by the man to take the order to his bandmates after receiving the money for everything. When he was free again, he approached Tokoyami’s table and plopped down on the chair in front of his and let out a long sigh. “I wish we received more comments like yours - it always seems like we play for no one in particular.”
“Everyone here seemed to be enjoying it greatly,” Fumikage added without much spirit and already feeling a bit dizzy; the beer was starting to work its magic on him, and he internally cursed at himself for not having something with alcohol in his system for the longest time. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he introduced himself before asking for one in return
Heterochromatic eyes posed on him and seemed to look at him up and down before reaching a verdict about whether or not he was trustworthy - he hoped he looked the part. “Todoroki,” the stranger said as he reached out and offered his hand above the table, careful about the bottles. Fumikage took it and gave it a little shake before turning around and asking for another beer. “I’m really glad you enjoyed the show.”
The name rung a distant bell in Tokoyami’s mind but he ignored it, instead choosing to talk about the band and its origins as Todoroki’s drink was brought to him. He was told that the others’ names were Bakugou, Jirou and Kaminari and that the four were high school friends that had the same goal in mind: creating meaningful music that could reach to the world and bring people together. It was beautiful, barely poetic, but there was still a long way to go and they knew it. “And did you always play bass or did you start with guitar?”
What he thought was an innocent question suddenly made Todoroki’s body tense, his left hand gripping his own beer bottle just a bit tighter. “I started with piano actually - my old man… he wanted me to play. Forced me, actually. He’d given me a really strict teacher and would embarrass me if I ever got things wrong. You can say I started playing as some sort of revenge towards him, but honestly I don’t care anymore. I left my home about four years ago when I was 16 for personal reasons and I have no plans of coming back any time soon.” The emotional turn of the conversation made Fumikage think he’d committed a mistake by asking, but seeing how naturally Todoroki had opened up to him, someone he had just met, made him think that he wasn’t entirely to blame for it. “Sorry for that,” Todoroki added with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Shouldn’t have unleashed all of that on you when we’ve barely talked at all.”
“I like knowing more about people,” was the simple response to that, Fumikage’s curious expression turning into a relaxed one with a smile of his own, “And you look like you could use an ear to let out some steam; don’t worry, I’ll be like the deepest tomb and keep everything within me.”
And like that, he felt as if he had gained a new friend as the two talked for a few more minutes about their love for music (Journey had, coincidentally, been the first rock band Todoroki had liked as well, although it was their latest record that had amazed him), the band’s next shows and how much the bassist was looking forward to the recording of their first album. Time passed and they were both just drunk enough to laugh at anything, and in between giggles and snorts they didn’t hear an ash-blond man approaching or shouting at Todoroki until he was close enough to tap his shoulder. When the two looked up, Fumikage recognized him as the drummer of the band.
“You telling me you’re getting drunk without us?” He said with a growl, but Fumikage could tell there was no ill intent behind his words - only tiredness. “No more tomfoolery then, we’re going and if you take longer than five fucking seconds to get out we’re leaving without you.” Despite the harsh tone and the deep frown, his lips were curved up in a smile, and he left without speaking another word. His pose denoted confidence, maybe more than a guy should ever have.
With a sigh, Todoroki left his third beer bottle on the table and offered his new acquaintance a gentle smile. “I’m sorry about that, Bakugou can get quite… heavy sometimes. They actually left without me in two occasions, it wasn’t pretty.” He let out a short laugh, and above the talking and noises around them, Fumikage could hear a note of nervousness in his voice. “Hopefully we’ll see you again the next time.” They both nodded in agreement and without much more left to be said Todoroki got up and left, leaving behind a trail of something akin to happiness.
The rest of the night was all but a blur for Tokoyami, and soon he was back on the bus on the present, the memory now returning to the back of his mind as if trying to hide itself from being seen again. He tried to think if there was something escaping his mind amidst the events he remembered as he pulled his jacket a bit more over his body, the cold of the night now reaching every part of him and making a chill run down his spine. He looked out the window and noticed that it was almost time for him to get off, only a few more stops until he reached his destination.
But before he could do anything more someone tapped his shoulder, prompting him to turn around almost defensively. A green haired boy with big matching eyes returned his surprised gaze with a smile proper of those who had no malice inside. He wondered when he had gotten on the bus and why he hadn’t heard him. “Oh, I’m sorry to have startled you!” Even his voice was kind, and Fumikage could only nod his head before starting to get out of his seat. “I had this feeling in my mind and just wanted to make sure I remembered you correctly - you went to Yuuei as well, right?” The statement almost made Fumikage stop on his tracks but he soon recovered and nodded once more, not really wanting to add more to that. “I knew it; my name is Izuku Midoriya, I was in the same year but in a different class! I don’t expect you to remember but it’s surprising to find you here.”
If the name rung a bell in his mind he greatly ignored it, bent on forgetting most of his experience back at the school. “I live close-by,” he said, getting up while grabbing his guitar and now feeling slightly annoyed that his past had somehow found the way to bite his back once again. “Excuse me but I must make this a short chat, this where I get off,” He added as he clumsily made his way to the rear door and pressed the button to let the driver know he had to stop. Curiosity got the better of him as he saw Midoriya following his actions, and he started to think that he had encountered a possible stalker.
“Don’t worry, this is my stop too,” Izuku replied, “my mom moved to this part of the city last year and I’m visiting her.” Silence fell upon them as they reached their destination, but before they could go their separate ways Izuku spoke up, the breeze lightly playing with his green locks. “So, what model do you play?” The question took Fumikage by surprise, and he replied as he opened his bag to get a cigarette and the lighter - he had wanted to leave but for some reason he didn’t want to go home just yet. It was the same feeling he had whenever he met someone through his performances, and his gut was never wrong when it came to interesting people. They both leaned against a nearby wall and he asked Izuku if he played guitar as well, but the other guy shook his head. “No, but I’d love to start. I just need to find time between practices - I already play three other instruments.”
“And what would those be?”
“Piano, koto and end-blown flute! The first and last I perfected back at the academy but I’ve played koto ever since I was young.”
“Koto?” Fumikage felt his eyes widen at the sole mention of the traditional Japanese instrument, as he had never met anyone his age that could even distinguish it from other stringed instruments. His gaze fixated on the other’s, he felt the need to know more about him growing significantly. “Why did you choose that one?”
Midoriya smiled and looked at the ground beneath his feet, seemingly deep in thought. He took his time to reply and for a moment Fumikage felt he had hit a sensitive cord within him. “Maybe because…” he started slowly, and Fumikage could tell he was trying to pick his words very carefully. “Maybe it was because it can be a happy instrument too. I can’t explain the joy I get when it’s on my hands, and it’s very easy to convey my own feelings through it. In that sense it’s very similar to a guitar, and as long as I can showcase how I’m feeling with it, I’m okay. I just want to create music that’s able to reach people’s hearts and make them happy as well.”
Fumikage listened carefully and witnessed as Izuku’s expression went from soft and tired to content in a matter of seconds, and he was impressed to see the effect that music had on the stranger he couldn’t even remember. Doubts swarmed his mind once more and even if he tried his best to dissipate them he couldn’t, choosing instead to sigh and take a short puff from his cigarette as it would be easier than let his mind wander - the smoke tasted more bitter now and his lips curved into a disgusted gesture, but he still said nothing for another few seconds. “You are very passionate, I see. I am always glad to meet lovers of music, but you might exceed everyone else I have met so far.” Had he ever played for true happiness? He couldn’t remember.
The words left his lips mindlessly, as if he was talking to himself rather than to someone else, yet it felt almost like talking to a known friend. He felt comfortable, attributing it to the things they had in common (which he guessed were more than he knew), and he was pleased he had actually decided to trust the good vibes the guy offered. He threw one more glance at him before taking the cigarette between his right index and thumb fingers and holding it up in front of his eyes, as if the smoke was naught but an inconvenience. He was sure Midoriya couldn’t understand where he was coming from with this, but he certainly didn’t mind.
“Do you feel the same happiness?”
“I have to go, Midoriya-san.” Fumikage was quick to respond as he threw the cigarette to the opposite side of the street, watching it let out a few sparks as it hit the ground. He thought that he’d been doing that a lot that night, much to his dislike. “But I do hope to see you again - I often play nearby the Akihabara station, maybe you can come see me one day.”
He hoped that the small smile he offered Midoriya was enough indication that he was glad to have had that little talk with him, but he greatly ignored if the other man could even see it; pulling away from the wall, he waved goodbye at him as he grabbed his guitar case and started walking fast until he turned around the corner. He didn’t even notice he was holding in a heavy breath until he let it out, long and almost making him dizzy.
As he made his way back home, his heart beat faster too, his own thoughts playing against him - the whole dilemma he felt about whether or not he had taken the right decisions in his life. He froze in place and looked up to the sky, now able to see more stars thanks to the now more obvious darkness of the streets. They all seemed to hold so many untold secrets and he was partly glad he was only a spectator in the big scheme of things.
He felt himself going back to the very first place he started at, one where his uncertainties got the best of him instead of letting him advance and take down the many obstacles he encountered. He felt himself going back to those who had impacted him the most, and tried his best to attach whatever emotion felt best for each of them - innocence for Tsuyu, rebellion for Todoroki and happiness for Midoriya. Scoffing, he remembered there was still so much he could learn from everyone around him, and as he pondered the different ways he could implement that newfound knowledge on himself he resumed his walk.
He felt himself getting lost again, but this time he’d make sure to bring himself out of it all to find the spark he had lost along the way.
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orchideae · 7 months
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Tag drop (1/2): General.
#[ ooc. ] don't try to make it logical or edit your soul according to the fashion. rather; follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.#[ ic. ] a word to the wise: do not try to lie to her. for falsehoods may last as long as fragile bubbles before meticulous thoughts.#[ answered: ooc. ] finding her is no easy task either. for it is always she who finds you when she wishes to; not the other way around.#[ answered: ic. ] oh? you'd like to know more about me? what will you give in exchange then?#[ psa. ] seeing isn't always believing. and if you can't trust your eyes; you certainly can't trust rumors.#[ saved. ] how can things ever be the same again: knowing your life was saved when others weren't? salvation can also be a burden.#[ prompts / memes. ] i so happen to be interested in some information you have. in other words; you scratch my back; i'll scratch yours.#[ crack. ] you nearly gave paimon a heart attack! / you look pretty alive to me. can't have spooked you that bad.#[ salt. ] that's the worst-case scenario. but all too often; the most pessimistic speculation turns out to be the closest to the truth.#[ post-it. ] she dances with danger; secrets and a strong sense of achievement. these are the vivid proof of her existence.#[ et cetera. ] every round of finger-guessing is a tiny adventure; and every roll of dice sends sporadic thrills down her spine.#[ self promotion. ] i'm heartbroken. i thought it might take you a little longer than this to forget all about me?#[ promotion. ] it does intrigue me: the way we all ended up here together. if this is fate; let's grab it in our hands and turn it around.
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