Symphony
Been thinking about this one a bit over the last few days, so I thought I'd give it a bit of a re-run.
It's just a bit of fluffy, music-related Earth and Sky.
Scott tore his eyes away from the unread emails, stretched his arms above his head, let out a long breath and turned the chair away from the desk to face Virgil at the piano.
“I like this one. What’s it called?”
“It doesn’t really have a name.”
“I’ve heard you play it before, though. Did you write it?”
There was the slightest hint of hesitation in Virgil’s response, although the music never wavered.
“I guess you could say that. I haven’t ever really thought about notating it.”
“Aren’t you concerned you might forget it?”
A wry smile crept across the musician’s features, but he said nothing.
“You should write it down. And come up with a name for it.”
Virgil tilted his head a little by way of considering the notion, then asked “Why do you like it? What does it make you think of?”
Scott stood, stretching more muscles, letting the music carry his thoughts away from TI paperwork as his gaze drifted upwards.
“Well, I like the way the melody climbs and swirls. It kind of reminds me of flying. And there’s a feeling of constant motion, fast, easy – sort of free.” He closed his eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to his brother. “In some ways it kinda reminds me of Dad.”
Virgil’s response began with the quirk of an eyebrow and the hint of a smile.
“Funny you should say that . . .”
“Why? Is it about Dad?”
Virgil finished the last phrase, letting the final chord hang in the air before taking a slow breath and looking up at his big brother.
“No. It’s you.”
“Me?” Sapphire eyes widened with surprise bordering on shock, and his forehead creased in puzzlement. “You wrote a song about me?”
Virgil looked back at the piano.
“Not exactly. It’s more like . . .” His gaze drifted upward. “It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of how I hear your presence, or your essence or something . . . I don’t know.” His voice trailed off into mumbles and a shrug.
Scott was left speechless, staring at his brother’s awkward uncertainty, as the significance of his own interpretation of the music and what it represented really hit home. It took him a moment, and he had to work to bring moisture back into his mouth before he finally found his voice again.
“Do . . . do you have something like this for all of us?”
Virgil felt the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks, and he didn’t look up from the piano.
“Uh, yeah. I sort of do.” His hands drifted back to the keys and a new piece of music began, one with a complimentary theme to Scott’s. It was in the same key, had the same tempo, and still embodied that sense of soaring movement, but this one felt somehow bigger, more far-reaching – almost heroic.
Scott let out a gasp. “Is that . . .? This one is . . . It’s Dad, isn’t it?”
Virgil gave a single nod.
“It fits with yours. Like the second theme in a sonata-allegro.” Virgil glanced over at his brother, taking in the blank look at the musical term. “That’s the usual form for the opening movement of a symphony.” His eyes drifted closed as he played, and he sighed. “I can hear them both in counterpoint, but I can’t play both at the same time and do them justice. I’d need an orchestra for that.”
Dumbfounded at this revelation, Scott could only marvel at his brother’s musicality. Here he was listening to these amazing musical creations that rendered larger than life, full-colour images in his mind, and Virgil was complaining that what he could do with the piano alone was not enough. He didn’t think he could even imagine what this music must sound like inside Virgil’s head.
The music came to a stop and Virgil turned again to look up at Scott.
“The variations on these two themes would encompass something like what I hear for Grandma and Kayo, a little of Brains, some of Grandpa . . .” he turned away again, “then everything would come back to you and Dad.”
For a moment silence hung between them. Virgil’s fingers flexed, as though the music within him was searching for a way out as they reached once again for the piano keys. A new piece of music began. This one slower, gentler, quieter in terms of movement if not exactly in terms of volume. Scott felt this one was more thoughtful and emotional. It brought to mind light and colour and had a sense of space, but it also somehow felt warm.
“Mom?” The smallest possible upward inflection made it a question, which was answered with another nod and the soft smile that made his little brother look so much like her.
The melody moved and changed, built, swelled, adding a complexity in the musical patterns reminiscent of a conversation, an exchanging of information. The lightness now sparked imagery of stars. The feeling of space changed from that of a breeze in an open field to the vastness beyond Earth’s atmosphere. The gentleness was now reinforced with a sense of almost hidden strength – Scott thought that might’ve come from a stronger bass line, but he wasn’t sure.
“Is this . . . John?”
Virgil’s smile brightened. “You’re good at this.”
“No, the music speaks for itself. You’re the one painting these images of our family with notes and chords.”
The smile faltered as Virgil held the last chord, then he let his shoulders sink a little. Scott silently cursed himself for bringing back that awkward self-consciousness in his brilliant brother, but before he could say anything Virgil spoke again.
“I guess they would be the second movement if this were a symphony.” There was a brief pause, then he straightened back into his playing posture. “No prizes for guessing who the third movement is.”
This piece of music was a jaunty, up-beat number that seemed designed to make people move – to dance, to tap their feet or clap along. It definitely felt like a dance of some sort, and it contained hints of sea shanties, or maybe a sailor’s hornpipe. It was the musical equivalent of laughter, sunshine, pure happiness, and it had a lilt that moved like the sea.
“Gordon!” Scott exclaimed with a laugh.
The comparatively brief third movement came to its conclusion, but Virgil barely paused before beginning what Scott guessed to be the fourth.
“And that leaves . . .” Virgil spoke softly as he began the final theme.
This one was in march tempo, strong, bright, driving forward with a sense of heroic purpose, and bringing back some of that swirling, soaring movement from earlier. Scott could pick out hints of his own theme, and a faster version of parts of John’s, but the piece definitely had its own identity. There was a sense of urgency to it, as though the melody was trying to push the tempo into moving faster.
“Wow. Alan would love this,” Scott found himself thinking aloud.
Virgil stopped playing after the end of the next phrase.
“There would be more. If this was a symphony, I mean. The fourth movement would bring in some more of the other main themes, tie everything together, finish with a bit of fanfare.” Virgil was once again looking up at Scott, a mixture of curiosity and self-consciousness etched into his features. “You really think Alan would like it?”
“Virgil,” Scott answered with a sigh and a shake of his head as he took the few strides over towards the piano stool, “it’s amazing. All of it. The whole symphony.”
Virgil gave a shrug and his brow creased a little.
“There’s a lot more to it in my mind. Only so much can be translated through the piano.”
“Then orchestrate it.”
A sigh, a shake of the head and a hint of a smile was the only response. Scott firmly planted a hand on his brother’s shoulder and piercing blue eyes locked gaze with warm brown ones.
“I mean it, Virgil. Write your symphony. Give it the life it deserves.”
Scott could see the struggle to find the right words as Virgil’s eyes struggled to hold with his.
“I . . . It’s not mine, Scott, it’s . . .” Virgil lost the battle to keep looking at the determined pride in his big brother’s blue eyes. His gaze lowered and he focused on his hands. “I mean . . . it’s all of you. It’s not music I’ve created, it’s the music that you are.” Then, almost too quiet to hear, “At least to me.”
“So, you don’t want to share it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said this symphony isn’t yours. I think you’re wrong. It’s very much yours. Something that you maybe want to hang onto, keeping it all for yourself. And that’s okay.” Scott shifted his grip, pulling his brother close. “After all, this is family – The Tracy Family Symphony. And if I’m the only one who ever gets to hear even this glimpse of what you carry in your heart, then I consider myself privileged.”
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Absolutely love your writing for all the AU/5 headcanons asks. Can I ask: AU where Rei cheats on Endeavor with All Might? It happens after AM's injury, so she doesn't recognize him, and he ofc doesn't know that she's married in the first place, much less to whom
you make this very difficult for me by giving me a window of 6 and half years for them to have an affair and for every single moment of that window, Rei is institutionalized. how am i supposed to get them to meet, much less take their clothes off. ok. think. there are other fic writers who specialize in this kind of thing, surely. what would they do....
1- ok so. The fire alarm at the hospital goes off. Rei doesn't know if it's a drill or not, but she's been there for seven years and generally does not need a lot of support during something like this like other patients do, so the nurses wave her out and she stands around outside a bit waiting for the fire alarm to stop and them to go back in. (It isn't a drill, they wouldn't have evacuated everyone if it was, but Rei is on the other side of the building and facing away from seeing any smoke) (This smoke is from a villain attack that All Might is taking care of, though he's only got seconds left of his power to use that day. he quickly rushes off, deflating and stumbling out on the other side of the hospital. Where Rei is.)
2- Rei is like "huh that guy doesnt seem to be in good shape" and kinda waves attention at him, and a nurse who's passing out water to patients and keeping an eye on the road gives Toshinori some too, getting more concerned when he dazedly answers that he's All Might and coughs up blood, but the nurse figures he's concussed since he smells of smoke and must have been closer to the fight, and is just reeling from being able to see the number one hero in person. Then they get distracted and wave Toshi to wait nearby, where Rei offers to chill his water and asks if he's alright, if he breathed in any smoke.
3- They chat and then go back into the hospital as it's un-evacuated together, Rei hanging out in the lobby where he sits as the hospital staff focus on getting everyone else back to their rooms. It pays to be low priority sometimes. Eventually she tells him her name is Rei and that she's in room K18, if he ever wants to visit or call. She doesn't get to talk to anyone except doctors, family visitors, or other paitients, and most of them don't stay nearly as long as she does. It's been seven years, and she's very lonely. Toshinori is lonely too, and when he's out of time for a day and feeling useless with nothing to do, he likes to talk to a friend.
4- Rei has been in the hospital for eight years when it gets physical. At that point, Toshinori knows a bit about her family. She has kids, mentions visits from a son and daughter, and then quietly mentioned when her son turned seventeen- her daughter's already twenty. She's been there for so much of their lives. He asks if she's married, and she admits she isn't sure how to file for divorce in a hospital like she is, if she even can, if she wants to because she'd lose custody, if it matters when she's not raising them anyway. He doesn't ask much more, knows there is a dead child and a baby she says isn't safe with her there. Toshinori never called Nana 'mom' to her face while she was alive, and had a reason for it, and has a similar reason for not asking more, not asking for the other names when he gets Fuyumi and Natsuo's. Yes, the doctors and nurses all know Rei has a boyfriend who visits. they don't say anything. who would they even tell, anyway. I debated the humor of reusing the bit from candlelight shoto that Toshi and Rei could have a kid with a fire quirk, but yeah here? Rei ain't getting pregnant, absolutely not.
5- When Natsuo turns eighteen, Rei does actually file for divorce, or at least tries to get the ball rolling on that. Toshinori's trusted her that her marriage is over in all but name, but he's more at ease with it ended fully. Fuyumi is crushed but burying it all deep inside. Natsuo is like 'what are you talking about. divorce is the most normal possible outcome here.' But anyway, Rei also begins to bring up being discharged- something she never bothered with earlier, when it seemed like she'd never be able to go home while Shoto was there, and never would want to go back anyway. (Her parents are absolutely not an option either so where would she go once discharged? the hospital was her only security.) Toshinori then tells her at this point about his diagnosis, that he's supposed to be terminal, in a way. He doesn't have a lot of time he can give her. Rei says that's ok, she'll take what she can get. She moves in. Fuyumi still goes out to eat with her once a week, though Rei doesn't say she's moved in with a boyfriend, just says she's in a safe place and it's not Fuyumi's job to worry about it, please, let her do that, relax, be her daughter instead of a mother. Natsuo adds her to his cellphone plan and gets her one. Rei doesn't tell Toshinori her ex's identity. Toshinori doesn't tell her about OfA, though she does know he's mentoring a student for heroics and is very proud of him. (Toshinori is a secretary at Might Tower, he's a great mentor. Oh huh, he got a job position at UA at the same time as All Might, she wonders if they carpool.)
+1- OK THE REVEAL so the reveal is. Toshinori gets home from the SF. And Rei almost knocks him out by the door, eyes wide and panicked, asking if he's ok, if Shoto's ok. Toshinori is like "... young todoroki? yeah he's alright? i know his fight with young bakugo looked bad but- Rei???" And that's when it all clicks for him, he's having dozens of horrible realizations at once, all while Rei weeps over her youngest. Toshinori's been a hero for a very, very long time. He's felt hopeless, before. But even then, he's known what needs to be done, he just isn't able to do it. But now? he's at a complete loss with no idea what he should do.
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One of my personal nitpicks for historical fantasy is a lack of servants, staff, subordinates, and... idk... subjects? Like, their absence is not... a total dealbreaker for me, depending on the situations the characters are in and whether or not I can just assume that other people are there in the background... but so many of the protagonists in historical fantasy stuff are higher-ranking (very often royalty), and/or have busy jobs, and/or have enormous houses that would necessitate having at least part-time staff.
Like, girl, you should have a maid! WHERE is your chaperone?! WHO is driving this carriage?! Where are your footmen? Are you trying to imply that a WEALTHY DUCHESS is taking a CAB?! You know that you probably have tenants, right? Where is your steward?! Where is your lawyer? Your accountant?! (Like, yeah, you're not going to have your lawyer living in your house, but you HAVE one, right???)
Or, man, you're supposed to be a military commander and you don't even have a single secretary?! Where is your SQUIRE?! (In the spirit of historical fiction, I am jumping wildly across time periods with every sentence here.) Man, I know you aren't looking after your own boots. Where are your GUARDS?! Who set up this tent for you?! Who is looking after your horse?! Who is making and carrying the incredibly valuable maps people are recklessly stabbing daggers into?!
SOMEONE has to be scrubbing these floors and delivering the mail and cooking the meals and doing laundry, and they're probably all DIFFERENT people! My dentist has at least three different receptionists and we can't even get ONE for our court wizard here? A sorcerer's apprentice to take notes? Someone like Sherlock Holmes could get away with just having a housekeeper and taking taxis, sure, but your character is supposed to be a KING?! Why is he answering his own front door? He's going to get assassinated. His SERVANTS should have SERVANTS.
Like, yes, I understand that a lot of servants in certain places at certain times were supposed to make their labor invisible, but there have always been servants who still had to interact directly with the masters of the house?! Yeah, there are potentially really messy ethics here, class divisions are bullshit, but I don't think that completely ignoring the reality that humans have ALWAYS been doing work for other humans is better than just including some well-paid and well-treated servants and employees? Because a complete absence of them, especially where logically for the worldbuilding there MUST be servants (and probably exploited servants, or worse, for some particular worldbuilds to work), often makes me think that your main characters just don't care enough to notice the "lower class" people or know their names.
Also, even Frodo Baggins had a gardener and Samwise Gamgee might be the best damn character in the story?! Sam saved the world?! Servants are PEOPLE. Servants are often the funniest and most interesting characters, tbh, with the most to say about a society and its workings (yes, Discworld is a very good book series, highly recommend), and also the joke of some romantic scene being carefully orchestrated by a stage crew of servants frantically diving into bushes to stay out of sight never gets old to me. Teamwork makes the dream work!
I don't want to gatekeep historical fiction, especially not historical fantasy, because the worlds don't necessarily have to conform to our own and may have magic and characters are often in very unique circumstances, but... sometimes I pick up a story and it's like... "Author, please tell me that you know there is a difference between a butler and a valet?!"
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