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greenbriar-j · 3 years

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Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

#musclememory.wip #it turned out differently than planned #but I hope you enjoy it!

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skyechaser · 5 years

Text

Silence in Atlas 19/?

Once more, this is a dark take on Volume 7 from a Bumbleby standpoint. It has scenes of graphic violence. If there are any specific trigger warnings I will specify it.

HI THERE! This chapter is the longest one yet. I don’t know if I’ll be able to upload on the weekend so I put an extra effort in this one. There’s a note at the end that I would appreciate you reading AFTER YOU FINISH THE CHAPTER :) THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT :D I really want to know your opinion on this one. ONWARDS!

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Yang and Ruby sat on the hospital’s cafeteria. They both had a soft drink in front of them as they tried to talk about anything but tragedy. Ironwood had sent an officer to get Blake’s statement on her kidnaping and protocol stated no one could be in the room with her. Yang made it clear she had no intention of leaving her girlfriend alone with a stranger. Blake, however, told her it was fine and that she would be okay. The officer seemed like a kind woman but the blonde was still feeling uneasy about the whole thing. In the end she obliged and called her sister. Maybe Ruby could help her relax.

“So Weiss told Ironwood that if he didn’t do something about her dad he would regret it” the younger one said with a grin. “We have very good hints about the relic and it seems Ozpin is coming back slowly. He’s been giving Oscar some advice. We still don’t know if we can fully trust him but we need him”

“That is good to hear” Yang replied. “Not about Ozpin though” she laughed a bit. She was going to have a hard time making peace with the fact her former principal had lied to them but she knew Ruby was right. They needed him. It was hard to think about their mission when her priorities had changed so much. First Blake. Then the rest of the world.

“By the way, sis… What happened to your hand?” Ruby asked. She had noticed the day before but preferred not to ask. Things were already complicated enough.

“You want the truth or what I told Blake?” Yang snickered.

“The truth” she replied with a serious face.

“I punched a wall until I broke two fingers”

“WHAT?” Ruby exclaimed “Why?”

“I was angry because…” she stopped. Was she really going to tell Ruby that her friend was probably sexual assaulted? “I spoke to Doctor Yu about Blake’s analysis and what they did to her”

“I understand but hurting yourself is not going to do any good”

“I know” she replied “I just needed to fight something”. What she really needed was to kill a couple of Traders. Maybe that would give her peace of mind.

“Have you called Blake’s parents yet?” Ruby asked. She recalled her sister telling her about the conversation she had with them and how they asked to be notified if anything happened. Now their daughter was awake and they deserved to know.

“Not yet” Yang replied. “I want to ask Blake first if she wants to talk to them…” she spoke without thinking and then reality hit her. She lowered her gaze. “If she wants to call them I mean… She can’t really talk to them right?”

Silence.

“You are learning sign language” the team leader stated to break the tension. The blonde looked up.

“Yeah, how do you know?” she asked, perplexed at the fact her little sister knew her plan.

“I saw your book the other day” Ruby revealed with a small grin. Yang blushed.

“I know she’ll get her voice back eventually. I mean, if they could make this” she said, moving her mechanical arm. “I don’t think repairing her vocal chords is impossible but… It will take time. I just want to make things more comfortable for her. So if we both learn some sign language it will be… easier for her, you know?”

“You really love her, don’t you?” Ruby inquired with a smile. She had always known. Back when they met Blake she didn’t miss the way her sister looked at the faunus. Why had she picked her in particular to try and socialize? There were lots of other students but she had chosen the quiet girl reading a book. Then, as time passed, she had seen the bond between them grow and get stronger. When Blake left she knew Yang’s heart was broken and it made her so happy when team RWBY was finally reunited. After everything with Adam she thought both women would finally be able to investigate their feelings and live their love. They couldn’t of course. Blake was taken and life wasn’t fair.

Yang looked at her sister with wide open eyes. She didn’t expect her to make such a direct question, even if they both knew the answer. Yes, of course she loved her. Blake meant the world to her. She had dated before, nothing serious, and now she understood why she could never feel complete with anyone else. Blake was her destiny. She had never believed in soulmates but she had no doubt there was no one else on Remnant she could love like she loved Blake.

“I do” she replied finally and her sister smiled as she held her hands over the table.

“You make such a cute couple” Ruby said with a grin, her face turning serious as she continued speaking. “I hate that you’ve had to go through this. It’s horrible and I wished there was more we could do to help”.

“You’ve done more than enough, sis” Yang replied as she placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. She was so glad to have Ruby.

-------

“Blake! My baby, how are you feeling?” Kali asked. They had video called them using the scroll tablet so the faunus could communicate with her parents. Yang was at the window, her back against the wall. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Kali and Ghira. She felt so guilty about what had happened.

“Are they treating you well in the hospital?” Blake nodded at her father’s question.

“I’m so sorry all of this happened to you. You know you can come back home to get better, right?” Kali suggested. Blake moved her head sideways and wrote using the tablet.

“I still have things to do. I’m a huntress”

“I know, sweetie but you are hurt. You need to take time and heal”. Yang tried to imagine a scenario where Blake left for Menagerie. She’d go with her. Fuck the mission. Fuck Salem. But Blake moved her head sideways once more.

“I can heal here. You take care of the White Fang” she wrote.

“Okay, Blake, whatever you think is best” Ghira replied. “But we will go to Atlas as soon as their borders are open. We spoke to Ironwood and he said he’d try to make an exception for us but it won’t be easy. Damn politics”

The conversation went on for a while, Blake’s parents telling her about the advances they had with the White Fang, cleaning up their image after everything Adam had done. Yang was silent, looking at her girlfriend’s reactions. She looked happy to be talking with her parents and it made her feel so much joy. When she had rescued Blake she had wondered if she would ever be the same. Now she had faith there was a way out.

“So, before we end the call, sweetie, could I speak to Yang?” Kali asked. The mention of her name got her by surprise. Blake looked at her and called her with a hand gesture. She walked slowly towards the bed until she was within the camera’s range.

“Hello” she said timidly. Her heart was beating fast.

“Hello, Yang” Kali said with a smile. Was she not angry at her? “I wanted to apologize. When you called us we were really frightened about what had happened and…”

“We feel we were too severe with you” Ghira continued. Was this really happening? “We’re sorry and please, take care of our girl”

“I will. Always” she replied. Blake’s parents looked at each other with a knowing look.

“That is good to hear. Take care both of you” Kali said.

“You too” Blake wrote on the scroll tablet.

Once the call was over Yang sat down on her chair. She hadn’t expected them to be so nice to her. Had they really said they were sorry? A part of her wanted them to be angry. Everything had been her fault and it didn’t matter how many times or how many people told her otherwise, she knew. She felt it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel glad this had happened. Maybe there was a way to have a good relationship with them. She knew it would make Blake happy if they did. She turned to look at her girlfriend and saw her holding the book on sign language.

“Want to practice?” Yang asked and the faunus nodded.

After a couple of hours of study they were both pretty tired. Blake was a quick learner. Yang not so much but she put a lot of effort to be in the same level as the faunus. They were advancing a very good pace and it made the blonde very happy. They would be able to communicate without the scroll tablet eventually.

“I think it’s enough for today” Yang said, leaving the book on the table. “My brain can’t handle any more signs”

Blake stared at her and placed a hand near her face with her fingers bent inwards. Then she moved it forwards as she brought the tips of her fingers together. It took Yang a while to understand.

“Outside” she said. “You want to go outside?” Blake nodded.

“I’ll have to ask Doctor Yu first” the blonde replied and the faunus lowered her ears. “I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes”

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

Yang pushed her girlfriend out of the room on a wheelchair. Doctor Yu had said there was no problem with going out for a bit but he made it clear the faunus should do the least amount of exercise. Her body was still very weak. However, even if she couldn’t walk it was nice to leave the room. Blake was growing tired of being in bed. They were going to the hospital’s garden. It was really close but at least it was outside. It was a beautiful sunny day even thought it was cold.

As they made their way through the hallways, Blake realized there were many other faunus in the hospital. More than likely rescued from the mines just like her. She recognized some of them and it made her happy their nightmare was over too. She was looking around when time itself stopped for a second. She saw her. Her eyes went wide. Was this possible? Brown hair. Light blue eyes. Small bear ears on the top of her head. She turned around and asked Yang to stop in sign language.

“What is it?” the blonde replied. Blake took out her scroll tablet and wrote a single word.

“Agape?” Yang called, not fully understanding what was going on. Blake nodded and pointed towards a girl on wheelchair. “Agape!” the blonde called. The bear faunus raised her head and looked at them. A man and a woman, probably her parents, turned around as well.

“Blake!” Agape said, moving closer to them on her chair, her parents right behind her. Yang looked at her girlfriend only to realize she was crying. Who was this girl? When both faunus were close enough they hugged tightly, even if they were both in wheelchairs and it was uncomfortable it didn’t matter. They couldn’t believe the other one was alive.

“We made it” Agape said as they broke the hug. They looked at each other with disbelief. “I was barely alive when they found me but the doctors in the airship brought me back” she smiled shyly. Then, as if she had just noticed her presence, the bear faunus looked at Yang.

“And you must be girlfriend, Yang, huntress.” the girl added smiling, recalling the words her friend wrote in the ground when they were both in hell.

“Yeah” she replied blushing. Apparently Blake had told this girl about her and had actually called her girlfriend.

“We are so thankful to you” Agape’s mother said looking at Blake. “She told us how you both took care of each other in that horrible place. Thank you, Blake”. The alluded one nodded and then turned around to say something to her girlfriend in sign language.

“She says you are welcome and… I’m sorry, baby what was that last one?” Blake held her scroll tablet and wrote something and turned it towards Yang. “Oh! She says you should be proud of her” Blake nodded.

“I’m just glad this nightmare is over” Agape’s dad said, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It was nice to meet you both. We have an appointment with the neurologist so we gotta hurry”.

“I’m tired of doctors” Agape added. “But I want to go back to normal. They don’t know if I will walk again but… I’m alive right?” she smiled, her light blue eyes bright with tears she wouldn’t allow to fall. They said their farewells and went their separate ways. As they got closer to the garden Yang couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing Agape said. Back to normal. She looked at the scar in Blake’s throat, still pretty evident. Was that even a possibility? The faunus turned around to face her. She placed her hands over her chest, both palms facing her body, and moved them in a circular motion.

“You’re happy?” Blake nodded, smiling. She thought her friend was dead. She even said it to the officer that took her statement that morning. She hadn’t asked about her before because she was afraid of what they would say. At least until she knew the truth she could pretend Agape was alive. Now she knew. She was here. They had both made it somehow.

“I’m so glad to hear that, baby” the blonde replied. Things would never go back to what they were but maybe they could find their new normal and learn to be okay with it. Maybe one day even be happy.

---------

DONT READ THIS IF YOU AREN’T DONE WITH THE CHAPTER

Note: I know this might come as a surprise since I placed a trigger warning when Agape “died”. This was always my plan, to have her come back. HOWEVER, I take trigger warnings very seriously (I have friends that have gone through traumatic things and I’ve seem the react to some things due to that) so I had to put it. I knew the scene would read as a death either way so I wanted to be sure. I’m sorry if the warning made it seem like this wouldn’t happen. Maybe I could have presented it in another way that didn’t seem like I’m contradicting myself but didn’t find it back then. So yeah, she’s here :)

#silence in atlas #rwby #bumbleby #blake #yang #blake and yang #yang and blake #fanfiction #sia #skyechaser

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renywrites · 6 years

Text

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Hello! I am back! I wrote a completely new Alternate Universe that... I don’t think it’s ever been done before. This is only part one of many.

So this is my baby. I love it dearly. Please enjoy with me.

If you don’t want to read the full thing here, you can find it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105458

***

Why are there so many songs about rainbows And what’s on the other side — Rainbow Connection

As far as Lance was concerned, there was only one side to a rainbow.

At least, that was what he had been taught. You see, he’d grown up on the one side of the rainbow - the one with the light and the color and the beautiful arches stretching over the city, as far as the eye could see. He lived in a city with buildings made of crystal, made for light to refract off them and fill the world with color.

The people themselves were bathed in color - dressed in beautifully colored clothes that complimented their rich and luxurious skin tones, hair that caught the beautiful colors of their world and took it as their own. Their eyes were luminous and their smiles bright. It was as though whatever had created them had harnessed the sun and the colors of the rainbow it had made their home to write them into being.

They learned in school about how to take these colors and put them to use; how to harness the power they’d been gifted and use it to better the world around them. Lance had chosen blue. It was the sweetest of the colors, cool and refreshing. They used it on the bodies of water around them, purifying and healing with it. Many citizens who wielded blue became nurses or midwives or caretakers. They were sweet and gentle and curious beings.

This curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. It often got Lance into trouble as a child. When he got older, he sated his curiosities with the vast collection of books in the city library and archives. He also went on excursions past the city lines when it got to be too much, but nobody knew about those. Not even his best friends.

But after he’d read all of the books he could get his hands on, after he’d learned about the same things in a hundred different ways in a hundred different author’s words - Lance got bored again.

It wasn’t until one specific librarian had noticed him sulking in the stacks that he had been given one particular book.

This was the day Lance McClain’s life changed.

***

“You really shouldn’t do this, Lance.” Hunk hisses for the third time that afternoon.

“Yeah, you said that.” Lance rolls his eyes, looking over at the yellow wielder. Hunk was nervously folding Lance’s basket of unattended clean clothes. He tended to fuss when he was anxious.

“I think it’s cool.” Pidge pipes up from where she was lounging on his bed. The green wielder was scrolling through her datapad.

“We don’t even know if what that book said was true - it’s a hundred years old!” Hunk insists. “I’m almost certain that it’s just some elaborate plan to kidnap unsuspecting victims!”

Lance rolls his eyes, packing a water bottle into his backpack and zipping it closed. “And what if it is true?” He challenges. “If it’s true, then there’s a whole other world beyond the borders of our city! I want to see it.”

“Of all things, why did you have to be blue?” Hunk bemoans, folding a shirt a little too aggressively. Pidge snorts.

“I’ll be back before school tomorrow.” Lance huffs. “And remember - I’m sleeping over at your house, Hunk.” He winks. “Bye!”

“Please be careful!” Hunks calls after him as he slides out the window.

“Bring me pictures!” Pidge hollers after him.

Lance grins, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading toward the setting sun.

***

There are rumors of a place far beyond our borders — a place devoid of light and color and beauty. I have only heard of it twice, in hushed conversations and fearful whispers behind closed doors. Those who know of it call it the Monochrome, or the other side of the Rainbow.

It is said to be a place where the evil are cast out, but there is no evidence of this. I have looked extensively into our justice system, and there is no sign of anyone ever coming close to sending people there. It would be considered inhumane in our leader’s eyes.

Although many people seem to be afraid of it, I have not heard of any threats or worrying behaviour from the Monochrome and its people. As the devout scientist and explorer I claim to be, it is my duty to not only find this place, but learn everything I can about it and its people.

Wish me luck.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

As the light faded from the sky, drained from vivid golds and pinks and oranges and replaced with silver and gold and navy of the richest kind, Lance found himself venturing farther from the city than he had ever been before. It was thrilling, but he couldn’t decide if that was a good feeling or not. He knew his mother was going to kill him if she caught wind of what he was doing, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the things around him. Or he didn’t until he realized that the colors of the sky were duller than they had been minutes ago. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that the color around him was fading. Muting itself. He looked down at his own skin, at his own clothes, and felt oddly out of place. He seemed a little too bright, a little too intense for this place.

Lance stops in a clearing in the trees, looking around. The ground drained from a muted green to a dull, drab grey. It bled into the trees, into the sky, into the land that stretched for miles before him. It doesn’t even occur to Lance to take the pictures Pidge wanted.

The color was gone, replaced with shades of grey and blacks and whites. Lance pulls out the journal he’d been given by the library, grinning and leafing through to the bookmark he’d left.

“The Monochrome.” He breathes, his fingers brushing over the yellowing pages.

“What are you doing here?”

The journal snaps shut between Lance’s hands and he jumps, whirling around to look at… a boy.

Well, not exactly a boy, he looked to be about Lance’s age. But that was where the resemblance stopped.

He was shorter than Lance, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed. His stance was defensive, his lips turned downward in a scowl. He looked angry, but that’s not why Lance found that he couldn’t breathe.

This boy was breathtaking in a way that Lance had never seen before. His skin was pale and unblemished, almost glowing in the dim moonlight. His hair was the color of ink, looping around his face in soft waves that brushed against sharp cheekbones.

Lance couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes. He guessed they were some form of grey, because they were softer than the rest of his features, however wary and angry they were.

“Uh…” He chokes, after he remembers to breathe. What did he say to someone who looked so different yet also made Lance’s heart thump hard in his chest?

“What,” the boy repeats, stepping closer toward Lance. “Are you doing here?”

“I’m exploring.” Lance declares after he’d gathered his wits about him. “I read about this place in a book - I thought it wasn’t real! But, wow, look- it is! You’re real! Wait till Pidge hears about this, she’s gonna be so psyched! Can I take your picture?”

The Monochrome boy gives him an incredulous look, some of the defensiveness draining from his posture. “Excuse me?”

Lance grins, then extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Lance. I’m a big fan.”

His eyes flick from Lance’s hand to his face, uncertainty flickering across his face. He takes a step forward after a while, reaching forward and taking his hand.

The Monochrome boys touch is… well, normal. Lance wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting. Cold? Calluses, maybe? Anything but the soft, warm grip that slid into his own, shaking his hand firmly. It’s gone as soon as it had come.

“Uh… Keith. I’m Keith.” He - Keith - says, the wariness giving way to confused curiosity. “What… are you doing here?”

“Exploring.” He says, holding the journal aloft. “So you guys aren’t a myth. There’s more than one of you, right?”

The apprehension is back. Keith edges away, picking at the hem of his shirt. “Why do you wanna know?” He asks, his expression pinched. “You aren’t a spy, are you?”

“What?” He blinks, looking down at his vibrantly colored self. “No! Besides, if I was, I would be the worst spy in the world. I don’t fit in here at all.”

Keith relaxes again, smiling faintly. How Lance — or anyone, for that matter — could have thought these people were cold and threatening was beyond him. Keith had the nicest smile he’d ever seen.

“No,” the Monochrome boy concedes. “I guess you don’t.”

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a moment before Keith clears his throat. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Lance, but I should…”

“Can I come back?” Lance interrupts, blushing faintly. “I mean… I know it’s probably weird I’m here. But nobody knows you exist! Or… I don’t think that anyone does.”

Keith smiles faintly, tilting his head to the side. “Why are you so interested in my people?”

Lance thinks about this a moment, brushing his fingers over the old, leather bound book that had taken him this far and brought him to Keith. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d come, let alone why he was so interested. There was just something about Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe’s genuine curiosity that had resonated with Lance.

He wanted to prove that these people were worth knowing about. Nobody deserved to be a long-forgotten myth. Especially not when they still existed.

So he answers honestly. “I’m not sure yet. But I’d like to find out.”

This makes Keith give him a wide, crooked smile. Lance finds he’d like to document that smile. “Okay.” The Monochrome boy agrees. “You can come back.”

“Thank you.” Lance breathes. “I can’t- thank you. Tomorrow? Here?”

“Tomorrow,” Keith agrees, tucking his ebony hair behind his ear, a hint of that smile tugging at his lips. “Here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Lance grins. “Bye, Keith.”

“Goodbye, Lance.”

***

I have reached the part where our two worlds collide. The color has faded, like something has sucked the vibrancy away from this stretch of land. At first I thought it may be sick, but upon closer inspection, the foliage seems to be in peak condition.

This is a phenomenon that I have never seen before, and I can only hope to meet someone from this land who may explain it to me. That said, I have decided to stay on the edge of this land, in case these people are as hostile as they have been proclaimed to be.

I am optimistic and hopeful toward the future of my research and adventures.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Pidge scoffs the next day at school, leaning back in her seat and munching on her sandwich. It was one of the rare times she wasn’t typing away at her screen.

“I told you,” Lance groans. “I forgot! Plus he didn’t seem like the type who would’ve wanted his picture taken. I was being respectful!”

“It was safe though, right?” Hunk worries, not even blinking when Pidge reaches over and takes a handful of his chips. “He didn’t seem… I dunno, aggressive?”

“What? No! No, he was… Well, I mean, he was worried at first. But he was nice!”

“Did he seriously not have any color?” Pidge leans forward, her hazel eyes intense. “Like - just black and white? Like one of those weird pictures they keep in the museums?”

“Weird… pictures? Museum?” Lance blinks.

Pidge nods, pulling back and giving him a bored look. “Yeah, like the ones nobody goes to anymore? They have this weird section with black and white pictures.”

Weird pictures. Weird black and white pictures. As far as he knew, the cameras here had never been black and white. Maybe… maybe-

“Pidge, I need you to take me to the museum. Right now.”

“Now?” She asks incredulously. “Right now? In the middle of lunch?”

“In the middle of school?” Hunk yelps.

“Yes!” Lance springs out of his chair, packing up his bag haphazardly. “Right now, I have to go!”

“This journal is making you crazy.” Hunk says warily. Pidge only heaves a frustrated sigh, grudgingly packing her own bags. “Fine. But if I fail chemistry, it’s all your fault.”

“I can live with that. Now come on!”

***

The museum desk clerk looked bored out of her mind when she gave them their passes. “The exhibit is that way.” She points, popping her gum and tossing her bright pink hair over her shoulder. “Have a wonderful day.”

“Come on!” Lance walks as fast as he could, his long legs eating up the ground under him and basically leaving his friends behind. Which seemed to be fine with them; they were going to explore other places of the near-empty museum.

Sure enough, the black and white exhibit was tiny, but it was there. And right before the hall, there was a massive portrait and a plaque that read; This Exhibit was Founded by the Research of Doctor Coran Wimbleton-Smythe.

The man was a regal, expressive creature, with wild orange hair and an impressive mustache. He had a wide smile, mirth and wisdom twinkling in his blue eyes. He looked like he had seen the world and found beauty in all of it. Even in the Monochrome.

A thrill runs through Lance. He wanted to be just like Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe.

With a reverent, hopeful breath, Lance walks into the room that had long since been forgotten and looked over.

The walls held big black and white pictures, full of life despite the colorlessness. Coran seemed to be in every single one of them, vibrant still despite the lack of pigment. He had his arm thrown around a beautiful woman in one, his head thrown back in laughter, a drink in one hand. The woman was grinning, staring off just past where the camera was aimed. The plaque on the bottom read Midsummer Festival, circa 20XX.

The next picture was of a family, drawn close together, arms around one another. The mother was cradling a baby. At first glance, they seemed somber, but Lance had seen that expression on Keith, and somehow he knew that these people simply took everything seriously.

The room was filled with similar pictures. There were weddings, celebrations, funerals, or simply people going about their day to day lives. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe had taken these people and painted them in the same light as the ones from Rainbow City. They weren’t different at all.

***

The people here are more lovely than anyone I have ever seen in even that of my own home. I find their lack of color to be more appealing than that of my own people. Their beauty is not found surface deep, but instead found in the kind way they treat each other and the loyalty that holds their society together.

I have found that the people in my own home, while they may be derived from heavenly color themselves, are vain and condescending toward that which they do not understand. And, as such, I have found that they do not understand the people of Monochrome.

There is such a deeply rooted fear of the unknown in my people. It closes their minds and hearts, poisoning their reasoning and clouding their judgement. I wish they would only get to know the lovely people in these towns to love them just as dearly as I do.

Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“There’s a museum exhibit with pictures of your people.”

Keith looks up, surprise writ on his face.

They were sitting under a tree, the only one standing on the in-between. Keith had suggested they do it, after Lance had revealed he’d brought snacks and the Monochrome boy had admitted to never having tried the things Lance had brought.

“There is?”

Lance nods, giving him a small smile. “It isn’t very big, but… It’s there. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe instated it a really long time ago. I guess nobody has bothered to take it down.”

Keith blinks, then tilts his head to the side. “How do you know about him?”

“Oh!” Lance turns, pulling the journal out of his backpack. “The librarian gave this to me after I read all of the books in the library.”

Keith snorts. “You read all of the books in the library?”

Lance smiles sheepishly, turning to hand him the book. “Yeah. I was a pretty hyperactive kid. It was that or get into more trouble than it was worth.”

The Monochrome boy chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at the book. A bit of hair falls into his face, and Lance has the urge to push it away from his face. He’d always been an impulsive boy.

Keith looks up when Lance’s fingers brush over his cheek and ear, his eyes wide and his gaze slightly awed. For a moment, they stare at each other, unable or unwilling to break eye contact.

But then Lance pulls his hand back, a brilliant red blooming over his cheeks. “Sorry.” He says quietly, glancing away from Keith.

He only looks up when a thumb brushes over his cheek. Lance jolts, surprised, and turns to see Keith with that same awed expression. It occurs to him then that Keith had probably never seen color — or at least not color as vivid as this before. So he leans into the boy’s touch, letting him trace over the slowly fading blush.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Keith whispers, looking up at Lance, his gaze troubled. Upon closer inspection, Lance realizes that his eyes are a muted purple, like some sort of smoky amethyst.

“Should I be scared?” Lance asks, just as quietly.

He gets a smile and a little shake of the head before Keith is pulling his hand away. Lance wants to pull him back, hold his hand there. But he doesn’t, instead watching as porcelain fingers brush over yellowed pages.

“I can’t read this.” He admits after a moment, looking up at Lance. “I don’t read this language.”

Lance laughs, taking it back. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

His heart flutters when he gets that crooked, happy grin for the second time. “Yes, please.”

***

I have fallen in love.

It isn’t with a woman, or a man, or anyone in between. No, I have fallen in love with this culture and harmony. These people feel like home. It hurts me to think that I have to go back to Rainbow City, but I also feel at peace with my decision.

The people who raised me need to know who these lovely, monochromatic people are. They need to hear from one of their own that these are not people who need to be feared, let alone casted out for the way they were created. I — we — owe it to this beautiful group of people to understand.

I have fallen in love. Irreversibly, irrevocably in love.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The sixth time Lance visits, Keith falls asleep against his chest.

Lance was reading to him, the sun still in the sky. Keith had settled under his arm to see the diagrams and sketches that filled the empty spots in the pages. Somewhere along the way, his eyes had grown heavy and he had fallen asleep against the boy from Rainbow City.

He hadn’t noticed, not at first. But when Keith stopped asking questions or making Lance pause a moment so he could study the sketches, he trailed off and looked down.

The Monochrome boy had his cheek pressed against Lance’s collarbone. His thick eyelashes brushed over his cheekbones, his lips parted as he breathes, soft and even. His hand was curled, his knuckles pressed against his cheek and holding on loosely to the sweatshirt Lance had thrown on.

He was lovely.

Lance could see where the Doctor had been coming from. Then again, he had seen it since the first time he’d bumped into Keith. And to think, before this journal, Lance hadn’t even known that someone as beautiful as the boy on his chest had existed.

He brushes a hand through inky locks, not daring to move an inch in case he disturbed Keith.

And after his foot fell asleep and the chill from the setting sun started to creep from the floor into his bones, Lance realized he might just be a little bit in love.

***

“My mom wants to meet you.”

Lance looks up from divvying out the fruit he’d brought, his eyes wide. “I… Excuse me?”

Keith looks away, rubbing his cheek in a gesture Lance had come to realize meant that Keith was being shy. “She… I’ve been talking about you, and… she wants to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” Lance squeaks, not quite able to compute. Keith talked about him! He could sing praises to the heavens, run a thousand laps around the city fountains, die happy in this exact moment.

And then he realized just what Keith had said, and his elation turns to slight fear.

“Your… mom wants to meet me.” He repeats, after Keith nudges him with a worried call of his name. He must’ve been unresponsive.

“Yes,” the Monochrome boy nods, biting his lip.

“When?” He asks, his voice faint.

“Um…” Keith smiles, shy. “Today? She said I could invite you to dinner. So.. want to come to dinner?”

Lance stares at him, his eyes wide. The silence drags for a long, terrible minute, before Keith pulls away, his face falling. “Unless you don’t want to, that’s okay- I get it. I’m- I’m me, and… that’s okay.”

“No!” Lance reaches over, taking his hands, shaking his head quickly. Oh, heavens, stars almighty, he was an idiot. “No. I’m sorry, I just- you caught me off guard. Of course I want to come to dinner. Thank you for inviting me.”

The Monochrome boy looks down at their hands, then back up at him, his smile hesitant. “Yeah?” He whispers, squeezing Lance’s fingers hopefully.

“Yeah.” Lance whispers back, taking a chance and leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to this beautiful boy’s flawless forehead.

***

Krolia Kogane was the single most terrifying woman on this side of the border, Lance had come to realize.

He and Keith had made the trek into town, past a few dozen curious faces and polite smiles (he was certain he’d be met with hostile stares and terrified mothers pulling their children away. That’s what Keith would have been greeted with). They’d walked through the town, right to what seemed to be the biggest house in the whole place.

Standing in the doorway was Krolia Kogane, cutting an imposing figure as her son lead a Rainbow City boy up to her and into her house. And now she was sitting across from him at their kitchen table, her gaze inscrutable.

“So,” she starts, and he snaps to attention. “Keith tells me you’ve been visiting him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lance replies hastily, then clears his throat and adds, “He’s very nice.”

Krolia gives him the slightest of smiles. One of Keith’s smiles. “He is, isn’t he?” She looks toward the stairs, where Keith had disappeared to get one thing or another. She turns her gaze back to him, then sighs. “I don’t know what you know of our history, Lance, but the Rainbow folk haven’t exactly been the most friendly.”

“Yes, ma’am. I… I know a little of it.” Lance nods solemnly. He hesitates a minute, then lifts his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I don’t want to hurt Keith in any way. I… I really like him.”

Keith’s mother studies him a moment, then smiles and sits back. “You look at him the way my husband used to look at me.”

And again that bright red blooms over his cheeks, warmth settling in his chest. He looks toward the stairs. “I really like him.” He says again.

The three of them spend the evening making traditional dishes and swapping stories. Tonight was the first night Lance heard Keith laugh without restraint and the first night he wanted to pull him close and kiss him.

At the end of the night, he gets that chance. They’re lingering on the border, standing in their perfect little in-between. Keith is stalling, dragging out their goodbyes with soft thank yous and his fingers twined around Lance’s.

When there’s a breath of silence, a moment with their eyes locked and the silence heavy around them, Lance leans forward.

Keith’s lips are soft and gentle, his breath stalling between them as his brain catches up with his body. His arms reach up, wrap around Lance’s neck. Lance puts a hand on the small of his back, pulling him against his chest and kissing him like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. Because, in all reality, it was.

They part with the promise to see eachother again the following night. And the one after that. And the one after that.

When Lance leaves, all the colors around him seems dull without Keith by his side.

***

“I think I’m in love with him.” Lance says one afternoon, when all of his friends are hanging out in his room.

Hunk looks up, surprise flickering over his face. Pidge’s typing stops.

“What?” His best friends echo, almost in sync with one another.

“You haven’t even known him that long,” Hunk protests.

“We haven’t even met the guy!” Pidge huffs.

Lance rolls over on his bed, blinking at them. “Do you want to meet him?” He asks.

That night, Lance asks Keith if he wants to meet them.

“Will they like me?” Keith asks, worried as he looks up at Lance. They’re curled up in Keith’s bed, back to their usual reading sessions (or, rather, Keith’s daily naptime before dinner).

“Of course they will.” Lance smiles, smoothing his hair down and kissing his forehead. “I like you. They’re bound to like you — we have similar interests.”

“Okay,” Keith concedes after a moment of long and hard thought, snuggling back in. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

***

It wasn’t going well. Keith was flighty and nervous the moment he saw that there was three of them. He flinched when Lance took his hand, apologizing softly when he sees the concern on the Rainbow Citizens face.

Hunk was anxious as all get out; he had done some research himself, but of course he hadn’t borrowed the journal from Lance. All of the feedback he got painted Keith — sweet, soft, beautiful Keith — out to be a cold hearted monster.

Pidge had her own suspicions. This was displayed after tense introductions when she leaned over to Hunk and murmured, “He looks like a ghost.”

They hadn’t seen it, but Lance had seen his Monochrome boy crumble. He had felt fingers tighten on his own, heard the soft exhale.

“Pidge,” Lance says, aghast. “He can hear you.”

She has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

After an hour of agonizing small talk and mediating from Lance, he’d given up and told the group he was getting tired and that they should probably head home. But once they’d started off, he hung back.

Keith holds it together for a few minutes after they’re out of sight. But then his lip starts to tremble and his fingers twitch.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance breathes, pulling him against his chest, just in time to catch a weak sob against his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps wetly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It isn’t your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. I forgot… just how much my society has been taught to pretend yours doesn’t exist.”

He feels Keith try to form words, and he feels his heart break when all he comes up with is another sob. So he holds him, until the tears are dried and he can kiss those trembling lips.

“I want to take you to my parents.” He whispers, stroking his cheek, brushing away the tears. Keith looks up at him, smoky eyes wide and dewy. “I want to show the world — my world — just how much I love you.”

“You do?” Keith asks, and smiles.

“I do.” He tilts his head up, pressing his lips against his forehead and lingering there.

“Tomorrow?” Keith whispers.

Lance smiles against his skin and nods. Tomorrow.

***

A life well spent is, in my eyes, one spent devoted to easing the suffering of others. I believe I have had a good life. A wonderful life, even. Though I was unable to change the minds of many people, those who listened made a great difference, and I hope that one day, it may change this world for the better.

My life as I have known is nearly over. My bones are fragile, my health even more so. The rest of my life may be spent in a bed, but I am surrounded by loved ones and filled with happiness.

I hope that you, my dear reader, have gained something from listening to the ramblings of an old man. I hope that your life is filled with as much wonder and beauty as I was able to find. I wish you well, in your studies and your happiness.

Dr. Coran Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The walk through town stops many people, gathers much attention, earns stares and murmurs from people who happened upon them. But Lance walked proudly, Keith at his side. And Keith was glowing, hardly paying attention to the people around him as he took in all of the color with childish wonderment.

“It’s so beautiful,” He had said in hushed tones the moment they entered the city.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Lance had answered.

Now they were stepping into his house, into Lance’s life. With his many brothers and sisters, with his mother cooking dinner at the stove, with the house full of the memories he’d carried with him for his entire life.

“Lance! Where have you been? I need you to come help with dinner, Veronica is-” His mother rounds the corner, then stops, her eyes falling on Keith.

Lance steps forward, Keith’s hand in his. “Mom,” He says, with a voice that promised them both an eternity of tomorrows and an abundance of love. “This is Keith.”

#klance #keith #lance #Voltron legendary defender #monochrome keith #rainbow lance #not so slow burn #light angst #happy ending #part one #refraction - the series #renywrites

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hanndleit · 7 years

Text

Paws And Effect

A/N: This took waaayy too long to finish, and I’ve had this idea in my head for the LONGEST time, but I couldn’t seem to get it into words. The ending is pretty much a mess, but overall, I love the idea of G having his own dog to smother in affection.

“George might as well be a dog himself, he’s so obsessed. He doesn’t have one, and I keep coming home to find Allen not there, and then I see on Instagram he’s having a barbecue at George’s house.”

Coming home to an empty house is any dog owner’s worst nightmare, especially when one lived in a city as busy as London. For Matty, this was a regular scene. Returning to his flat after an outing, he expected to be greeted by Allen as soon as he opened the door. Bracing for impact, Matty stepped in to find it eerily silent. “Allen?” He called, his echo being the only response. Dropping his bags on top of the kitchen counter, Matty shuffled over to the sofa and collapsed into the plush cushion with a groan. “Alright you mutt.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocking it with his fingerprint. “Let’s find out where you’re at.”

It was fairly easy for Matty to track down his missing pet, considering George had tagged him in a selfie with the dog on Instagram, the timestamp being 20 minutes ago. He and George had been friends since High School, and their bond was strong enough to change earth’s rotation. With the amount of teasing and jokes they pulled on each other, there wasn’t much either of them couldn’t get away with. But Matty had had enough of having to track down his dog every time he came home. He wanted to be able to relax and wind down before he threw himself back into his work, and that was nearly impossible if he was worrying about Allen every day. At this point, he was practically George’s dog.

Matty had been on his feet for most of the day, and was far from being in the mood to storm down the street and steal his dog back for the second time that week. Scrolling through his contacts list, he found G’s number and tapped it, laying horizontally on the sofa with his phone pressed to his ear. After three rings, the opposite line came alive with background noise. Matty could hear someone laughing, before George answered with a hello.

“Quit taking my dog, Daniel.” Matty grumbled, jumping over the exchange of greetings

George laughed, and held the phone away from his face to whistle for Allen. “He loves it here, can you really blame him?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Matty sighed audibly. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t keep breaking into my flat and stealing him whenever you want. It's too much for me to be worrying about him constantly.”

“Is it breaking in if you gave me the key?” Matty rolled his eyes, he could picture the amused smirk on his mate’s face. It made him want to slap it off. “Besides, what do you have to be worried about? You know he’s in good hands.” George continued.

“Why don’t you get a dog of your own? That way you have a reason for my dog to be over at yous place.” Matty suggested. The line went quiet, and he pulled the phone away from his face to see if George had hung up. Opening his mouth to ask, he clamped it shut as G finally responded.

“Dogs are like kids, mate. They’re great, but having your own is a different story..”

Matty narrowed his eyes, giving a confused look to his ceiling. “Okay, first of all mate, dogs and children are two completely sets of responsibility. You’ll outlive your dog, but fuck up with a kid and you’re screwed for life.”

“See that’s another thing. Responsibility. I don’t have that shit to take care of a dog.” George pointed out, putting his phone against his chest and calling whoever he was with a twat.

Matty knew immediately that George was all talk. Not about the twat thing. That he was probably right about, but G had taken care of Allen more times than Matty could count while he was off. He was plenty responsible, he just liked stealing his dog far too much. With that, Matty formed an idea.

“Tell you what mate, I’ll let you keep Allen tonight, but I expect him back by tomorrow evening. I’ve got a bit of running around to do, so he could use some company.”

“Really? That’s top. I’ll take good care of him, alright?” George’s excitement put a small smile on Matty’s face.

“I trust you. Take care.” He finished, pressing the ‘End Call’ button.

Taking his phone away from his ear, Matty pulled up his internet and searched for the nearest animal rescue (Adopt, don’t shop), doing a bit of research on the few nearby. Finding one that had a lot of good reviews and no charges of animal cruelty, Matty wrote down the hours, phone number and address before getting up from the sofa and setting off to fix himself an early dinner.

-----------

The next morning at precisely 10:04 AM, Matty rolled over in his bed and slapped this phone screen until the alarm turned off. He rolled back over and pulled his blanket over his shoulders, preparing to fall back asleep, when he remembered his plans for today. He placed his pillow over his face with a groan, and sat up. Stretching his tattooed arms, Matty scratched his head, making his curly locks bounce enthusiastically. He threw back the covers and shoved his feet into his Gucci Slippers, standing and shuffling out his bedroom door to the kitchen.

Matty fixed himself a bit of tea and toast, leaning against the countertop as he went over the day’s plans in his head, deciding if he was really going to go through with it. If he went ahead and adopted George a dog, and G decided he didn’t want it, Matty might get stuck with another dog. Which in turn, would just give his mate another dog to steal. Which doesn’t exactly make sense, because wouldn’t George just be stealing his own dog? At least Matty now had a way to trap G with the dog either way.

A little past noon, Matty was dressed and making his way down from his flat with Allen’s puppy leash wrapped around one hand. It was a short 15 minute drive to the shelter, and thankfully, traffic was reasonable. Matty parked and gathered up the papers he brought along just in case he would need them, as well as the leash. His car clicked locked as he made his way toward the shelter doors, dressed in his favorite jeans and cream sweater, he pulled on the handle and was met with the muffled sound of barking from a different room. Approaching the counter, he offered a small smile to the most likely college-aged blonde girl sat at the computer.

“What can I help you with?” She asked with a bright smile and a strong American accent. Studying abroad, perhaps? The receptionist’s life story wasn’t Matty’s main focus.

“I’m ah, looking to adopt a dog.” He replied, drumming his fingers against the counter.

The girl beamed once more. “That’s wonderful! I’m Lyndsay and I’ll be helping you find your new best friend.” She spoke as if she had rehearsed her lines in the bathroom mirror. It kind of annoyed Matty. “Adopting a pet is such an amazing experience.” She continued without missing a beat. “I’m just going to need to see some ID and I can take you back to meet everyone.”

Matty pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed her his card. Lyndsay took her time entering whatever information she needed to enter into her computer, all whilst keeping a smile frozen on her face.

“Thank you, Matthew.” She handed him his card back, which he placed back into his wallet. “If you’ll follow me, please, I’ll take you into the kennels. If there’s anyone you’d like to meet, you can just let me know and I’ll show you where to go.” She rose from her chair and motioned him over to the door to the right of the receptionist’s, which Matty followed her behind. The barking grew intensely as they entered into the kennel. He forgot how heartbreaking it was to see all of the animals in their cages, most of them with terrified or miserable expressions.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” Lyndsay asked, stopping in front of one cage to allow a Golden Retriever named Rocky to lick her hand. All of the dog’s names were posted on the cages, as well as their breed and date they were brought in among other information.

“I’m looking for a dog for my best mate. Nothing small, and maybe a year or two old?” Matty told the girl, crouching down to greet a scraggly looking terrier. Lyndsay nodded, seeming to be thinking.

“I have a dog you might be interested in. If your friend is anything like you, it might be the perfect match.” She smiled, starting down towards the opposite wall of the kennel. Matty pushed himself to his feet and followed her, observing every dog he passed. When he got to where she was standing, he was greeted excitedly by a skinny black and white dog who put both paws on the cage door, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. Matty smiled, and put his fingers through the chainlinks to pet the dog. “This is Adonis.” Lyndsay took the board from his cage and scanned the information. “He’s about a year and a half old. Not sure of his breed, but they say it’s mostly Border Collie. Neutered, shots are up to date, potty trained.” She read off as Matty crouched down to continue petting the pup.

“Is he good with other dogs?” He asked, hoping that Adonis would be able to get along with Allen.

“Yep. He was born on a farm with other dogs and animals. The previous owners said he was too energetic for them to keep track of, so they brought him here. I think they said they called him Spud?” She laughed softly, earning a grin from Matty as well. “But he’s a real lady killer, so we felt that Adonis fit him better.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” Matty mumbled, scratching the dog behind the ear. “George is going to adore you.”

Two hours, a stack of paperwork, some excited peeing (from Adonis, not Matty) and £70 later, Adonis was sticking his head out the window of the backseat of Matty’s car as they departed from the shelter. He figured he would give the dog a little time to adjust to his new surroundings before he would invite George over to surprise him.

Adonis took to Matty’s flat quickly, spending at least 20 minutes racing back and forth across the floor before crashing on the couch for a nap. Much to Matty’s relief, the dog calmed down enough for the both of them to relax.

Sitting on the sofa and idly stroking Adonis’ soft fur, Matty decided he could be patient no longer. Sending George a text telling him to come over, Matty tossed his phone on the endtable and continued to run his fingers through the dog’s soft fur. “G will love you. I promise.” Matty told Adonis, mostly reassuring himself rather than the dog.

George responded shortly after, alerting Matty that he would be on his way, and Matty quickly attempted to find a place to hide the dog in order to surprise his mate. Ushering the dog into his bedroom, Matty closed the door and hoped Adonis wouldn’t bark upon hearing George come in. Lyndsay mentioned that the dog was “averagely trained” - whatever that meant. She didn’t even bother to explain what the dog was trained in. Sit? Stay? Could the dog pull Matty out of a burning building? Play chess? Maybe Adonis was a Harvard dropout. Who the hell knows. There would be time to figure all that out later on.

George didn’t bother with knocking or ringing the bell, letting himself in with a grin and “Honey I’m home!”

Matty greeted his mate with a hug before turning to say hello to Allen as well. The brown dog seemed to be interested in other things, pacing back and forth with his nose glued to the floor. Matty had to call his name a few times to get him to come. Dropping to his knees, Matty scratched Allen behind the ears with a smile. “I know, I know.” He spoke softly seeming to know exactly what the dog was thinking. There’s another dog here.

After a bit of small talk between Matty and George, his mate was starting to catch on that there was something Matty wasn’t telling him. He could hardly sit still.

“Alright.” George placed his hands on the counter and eyed Matty down. “Who’s pregnant?” He asked, arching an eyebrow in question.

Matty nearly spat out the wine he had just taken a sip of. “What? Nobody’s pregnant? Why would you ask that?”

“Because you look like the cat that just ate the canary. What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Matty chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, before whistling Allen over. He grabbed ahold of the dog’s collar and asked George to hold him for a second while he ran upstairs.

George looked suspicious, but complied, bending over to hold onto Allen’s collar tightly.

Matty reached the top of the stairs and took a deep breath, turning the handle to his bedroom door and beckoning the other dog to come out.

Adonis dashed between Matty’s legs and down to the first floor, his nails skidding on the wood as he ran excitedly up to the other dog.

Following quickly behind, Matty took one glance at George’s expression and immediately turned as white as a ghost. “Uh, surprise?”

“You got another dog?” George asked, releasing Allen’s collar and crouching down to greet the mutt.

“Well…” Matty rubbed the back of his neck, returning to where he stood previously. “Technically I got you a dog.” Matty confessed, holding his breath as he waited for George’s response.

“Seriously? It’s mine? You got me a dog?” G broke out into a wide grin, scratching the black and white dog behind the ears. “Is it a he or a she? Does it have a name?”

Matty couldn’t help but smile as well. “You really like him? It’s a boy, by the way, and his name is Adonis.” He informed his mate, crouching down to pet him as well. Allen didn’t seem too jealous, curiously sniffing at the new dog with interest.

“Of course I like him. I can’t believe you got me a dog.”

“I was tired of you stealing Allen constantly, and I figured if you got a dog of your own you wouldn’t have a reason to.” Matty stroked the dog with a smile. “I was scared you’d freak out and get mad at me or-”

“He’s perfect.” George cut him off, a grateful smile on his face.

Matty’s heart filled with joy at the sight. Even though G got on Matty’s nerves more often than he’d like, there wasn’t a damn thing Matty wouldn’t do to see his best mate happy.

After a glass or two more of wine, George clipped a leash onto his new four-legged friend and showered Matty in another round of thank you’s before heading back to his own flat and starting his life with Adonis by his side.

Liking the dog turned to loving, and soon George and his pooch were inseparable. There were even times that Matty found himself jealous of their relationship.

But either way, G took Adonis almost everywhere he went. It was rare to find him without the black and white pup by his side.

Matty hadn’t seen his mate this happy in ages, and every time he watched the two of them together, he couldn’t understand why George had never wanted a dog of his own.

#matty healy imagine #george daniel imagine #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fanfiction #This is kind of bad #I don't care at this point #I can do better #I swear #lmao

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outpostsofbabel · 5 years

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Demigods and Semi-devils, Chapter II (VII)

He had kowtowed five or six hundred times when he began to ache all over and his neck started to feel stiff. But he told himself that he must persist and finish kowtowing one thousand times. After all, if he could not even obey the fairy lady’s first command, how could he say he would die a hundred deaths for her? After he had kowtowed eight hundred times, the thin rush covering on the hassock broke, revealing something underneath. But Duan Yu ignored it and continued to kowtow with reverence until he had finished a thousand obeisances. He then made to stand up, but felt weak, and fell.

Lying there, Duan Yu felt a great joy in his heart, even though he was aching all over after following the statue’s instructions. After some time, he slowly got to his feet, reaching out to explore the broken place in the small hassock with his hand. He felt something soft and smooth, and saw that it was a silk bundle. So the fairy lady had it all planned out, he thought. If I had not kowtowed a thousand times, the hassock would not have broken, and I would not have discovered her gift to me.

He cared nothing for gems and precious stones, but the contents of this bundle - a gift from the fairy lady - were already precious to him, even if they turned out to be just dry leaves and bits of rubbish. Reaching out with both hands, he held the bundle up before him.

It was about a foot long, and on it were several lines written in a fine script.

You have obeyed my orders and kowtowed one thousand times without regret, it said. In this bundle are the secrets to the martial arts of my Carefree Sect. Every day in the morning, nooon and evening, you must put your mind to practising this art. If you stop working hard, you will grieve me most deeply. Once you have learnt this skill, all the books in the great celestial library of heaven will be open to you, and all the martial arts of every sect under heaven will be yours to use. Press on, press on. After you have learnt this, kill every member of the Carefree Sect for me. If you let even one live, I will curse you from up in heaven and under the earth.

Reading these words, Duan Yu’s hands began to tremble uncontrollably as they held the bundle. What does this mean? he thought. I don’t want to learn martial arts, and as for killing the members of the Carefree Sect, I definitely won’t do that. But how can I disobey the fairy lady’s orders? I have kowtowed to her a thousand times and promised to carry out her instructions. Yet, she is teaching me martial arts to kill. How can that be a good thing?

Duan Yu’s thoughts were in disarray. She has asked me to learn the skills of her Carefree Sect, and yet has ordered me to kill every member of that sect. Now that is strange. It must be that the members of her sect hurt her in some way, and she wants revenge. But she never managed to seek revenge before her death, and now she wants a disciple who can fulfil her last wish.

Those who hurt the fairy lady must be terrible people indeed, and therefore deserve death. As Confucius said: “One must revenge with righteousness”. Father also said that if you meet an evil person and do not kill him, he will kill you instead, and that if you know nothing of martial arts you will be oppressed. This is indeed true.

When his father was trying to force him to learn martial arts, Duan Yu had spouted lines from Confucian and Buddhist thought, insistent in his refusal. His father was not as well-versed in these things as he, and had found it hard to dispute what he said. But now, Duan Yu was obsessed with the jade statue, and felt that his father had made some sense after all.

He thought again, The fairy lady has been dead for decades, and who knows if the Carefree Sect still exists. They say you reap what you sow. Perhaps the sect has already faced the consequences of their evil deeds, and I no longer need to kill them. And since there are no longer Carefree Sect members left on this earth, the fairy lady’s wish has been fulfilled. Whether she is up in heaven or under the earth, she will have no need to curse anyone.

Thinking this, Duan Yu felt somewhat calmer. He prayed silently, Fairy lady, I will certainly carry out what you have ordered me to do. I pray your powers are boundless, and that the Carefree Sect has long since passed from this earth. Trembling, he opened the bundle. Inside was a single silk scroll. Opening it up, he saw that the very first line said: Divine Art of the Northern Darkness. The calligraphy was graceful and yet forceful. It was in the same hand as the message that was on the silk bundle.

Further down was written:

Zhuangzi’s Carefree Travels says: “In the bare and barren north there is the dark and vast ocean - the Pool of Heaven. In it there is a fish, several thousand li in breadth, while no one knows its length.” It is also written: “Moreover, to speak of the accumulation of water; if it be not great, it will not have strength to support a large boat. Upset a cup of water in a cavity, and a straw will float on it as if it were a boat. Place a cup in it, and it will stick fast; the water is shallow and the boat is large.”1

In our sect’s art, it is inner strength that is the most important. Once one has sufficient inner strength, every skill on earth is open for one’s use. It is like the northern darkness, on which every boat floats, and in which there is every kind of fish. Inner strength comes first, and is key; moves come last. Using the diagrams below, put your mind to practising these arts.

The fairy lady could not have made it any clearer, Duan Yu thought to himself happily. This Divine Art of the Northern Darkness are skills to cultivate one’s inner strength, and learning them will harm no one. He slowly unrolled the rest of the scroll with his left hand. Then he cried out suddenly, his heart beating fast and his face flushed and hot.

Below the text on the silk scroll was the image of a reclining lady with not a shred of clothing on. Her face looked like the jade statue’s, and Duan Yu felt that his own gaze was profane. He hurriedly closed the scroll. But after a while, he thought, The fairy lady wrote: “Using the diagrams below, put your mind to practising these arts.” If I look at the scroll, I am merely following instructions. There is no disrespect in that.

So, with trembling hands, Duan Yu opened the scroll again. The naked woman on it was smiling sweetly. The ends of her eyebrows, the corners of her eyes and lips, and tops of her cheeks gave her a coquettish charm. Although her face looked very much like the grave countenance of the jade statue, her expression was very different. Duan Yu thought he could hear the pounding of his heart as he looked at the picture. He saw on it a fine green line that started at her left shoulder, stretched straight across under her chin, and then descended towards her right breast.

Looking at the slight mound of her breast, his heart jolted and he hurriedly shut his eyes. It was a long time before he opened them again to trace the green line as it passed beneath her armpit, down her right arm and past her wrist to stop at her right thumb. The more he looked at this, the more calm he became. After all, looking at the fairy lady’s arm and fingers could not matter much. But staring at her shapely arm and slender fingers, he felt his heart start to pound again.

Another green line descended straight downwards from the base of her neck, past her chest and stomach before ending centimetres above her navel. Duan Yu did not dare to pay this line too much attention. Instead, he looked at the other green line on the woman’s arm. Beside the line were several annotations like: Cloud Gate, Middle Palace, Heavenly Palace, Grasping White, Cubit Marsh, Maximum Opening, Broken Sequence, Channel Gutter, Great Abyss, and Fish Border, all the way down to Lesser Merchant at her thumb.

He had often heard his parents discussing martial arts, and although he had not paid much attention, he was familiar with some of these terms. He knew that they were the names of acupoints on the human body.

Unfurling the scroll a little more, he read:

The Divine Art of the Northern Darkness is about using the inner strength of others as one’s own. The great waters of the Northern Darkness did not create themselves. It is written that a hundred rivers flow towards the ocean, and the ocean is because it holds the waters of a hundred rivers. The great ocean exists because of the accumulation of water. This guide to the Lunar Hand and Lung technique is the first lesson of the Divine Art of the Northern Darkness.

Below this was written a detailed description of the technique and how to practise it. Right at the bottom, the scroll said:

When others practise martial arts, they do so by taking the path from Cloud Gate to the Lesser Merchant. We of the Carefree Sect do the opposite, taking the path from the Lesser Merchant to Cloud Gate. If I touch my thumb to theirs, their inner strength will enter my body, to be stored at Cloud Gate and the other acupoints. But if their inner strength surpasses mine, it will be as though the ocean’s waters flow backwards into the rivers. There is great danger in this, so take care. The other branches of our sect have not developed their art to this level. They may neutralise an enemy’s internal strength, but cannot take it for their own use. This is a waste, as though one obtains precious gold only to lose it along the way.

Duan Yu let out a long sigh. He felt that something about this skill was not quite correct. After all, was not taking someone’s inner strength for your own use the same as stealing treasure from a passerby? But then, the analogy that the fairy lady gave was very apt, he thought. After all, they say that a hundred rives flow towards the great sea, and not that the sea steals the water from a hundred rivers. It is nonsense to say that the fairy lady steals inner strength from others. I ought to be punished for thinking that way!

Raising his hand, he hit himself once on each cheek. The blow he struck to his left cheek was rather heavy and it hurt, so he went rather lighter on his right cheek. The fairy lady would only have taken the strength of bad people who came to hurt her, he thought. And doing so would have just removed their ability to do evil. It is like taking a butcher’s knife away from a butcher - rather than killing the butcher. After all, how could someone like the fairy lady ever do anything awful?

1 This translation courtesy of the Chinese Text Project

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jammixes-blog · 7 years

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Secrets

The best secrets are never shared with anyone. There are very few real secrets, in this world.

Transparency is essential for progress.

While it is hard to bury emotions, thoughts can be hidden easily.

Often, it takes time for the mind to process all the emotions that manifest themselves, from the soul.

A secret can only be safe when forgotten. A lot of friends called me a “vault”, for that, I put effort to forget secrets a minute after I hear them.

No legitimate knowledge should be a secret. And, those who make a secret of a set of knowledge are most certainly charlatans. That’s especially true for “esoteric” knowledge, learning the Taro(t), to read auras, or even meditation, for example, should always be free of charge.

By the end of The Day, there are no True religions. There is only every human being, facing every other atom in the Universe, what I call “God”. Every religion tries to get each one of us further, but none contains the whole Universe, they all complement each other. So, all religions in the world, put together, are a meagre attempt to reach, understand, and feel everything else. In that respect, Hinduism is probably the most complete one, since it consciously encompasses and tolerate all the others. A deity, in Hinduism, is a form of potent energy, and there are no limitations to the number or the kind of deities, it’s a huge space for the soul to move around.

Knight Templars were not devil worshippers. They were made pariahs because they had contact with the Muslim faith and came to respect and learn from the Muslim world, after meeting their local equivalent. It created the mistrust of the Pope and the French King. This is what they could not defend in court. The rest, the so-called “Baphomet” worship, was an alchemical symbol accepted by Western Crafts, at the time, and was not the problem. They were suspected to have joined the “Devil”, converting to the Muslim faith, in secret, and sabotaging Christians from keeping the Holy Land. The Knight Templars, unconsciously, brought Enlightenment to the West, through Geometry, the number 0, Symbology, and Medicine. They were although more advanced in “alchemy”, and most sciences. Like creating the modern banking system, they had no plan for any of those. At the base, they were just the burnt-heads of every impoverished aristocratic family, wanting to be granted a place in heaven. Those burnt-heads were turned mystics and put through a very rigid and codified lifestyle. Even going down the steps, in the fortress was done 5 by 5, one level at a time. As for missions, Templars were paired, in a way where your Brother was more important than yourself, his life more precious than yours, and a sense of duty, whereby, failing, in a mission, was a shame you could not take. As for being taken prisoner, and tortured, never. You fought till death. This why, Templars who made it back home, made no sense, to the rest of the population, and ended up just drinking, and being incoherent, to the rest of the population. This is why, a lot of Templars just retired in the Middle-East, taking a local wife and becoming part of the social fabric. They still have descendants, all over the region, and probably tried to remain active, although undercover, like their Scottish counterparts. Is it important? No. The lesson is just about secrecy. At the time, with the atmosphere of persecution, they didn’t feel safe making their knowledge public. Eventually, they did. As for the Holy Grail, personally, I doubt they discovered much. They did, however, got more evidence, than anyone else of Essene traces, and “Essene sects” very close to early Christianity. They probably found or bought authentic scrolls or engravings that proved that, around Jesus’ time, there was a new form of Judas-ism, closer to Pythagorean beliefs and sciences. My 1 rupee, from 1974, maybe that’s why Jesus felt betrayed by “Judas”, and Christianity was born, out of Judaism, as a separate set of beliefs. The Muslim religion recognizes both Judaism and Christianity, mixing the Kahb’Allah with Pythagorean Ratios and Symbology. Of all three religions, the Koran is the most beautifully written, as well as being the most understandable. I don’t like the Bible, it’s been re-written too many times, to be correct and truly understood, without priests subjectively interpreting it. There should be no intermediary between a human being and God. as for Judaism, the Zohar is a mathematical beauty, I don’t have the pretension of being acquainted with it, I just have some notions of the Kahb’Allah. It’s probable that Jews new the name of Allah, as well as Yahve. After all, they come from the Middle-East. This is why it’s sad that Jews and Muslims don’t get along, in the Middle-East, they are both Arabs and Middle-Eastern. The modern compromise would be for Israel to be Generous towards Palestine, establish priveledged relationships, makes peace with Iran, and stop its compulsary military service. As for Saudi Arabia, it should stop being the lap dog of the USA, in its region. I lived there, there are entire cities of GIs, the whole country is a US army base, I don’t blame Iran for being cautious or paranoid. The Muslim religion and the whole world deserve and should have a New Golden Age, driven by Compassion, Tolerance, and Peace...for ALL. That’s why China and India look like a Papa and a Mamma. Chinese wisdom says: “whatever is, we’ll do with it...”, and Hinduism says: “we’ll create more space for their Gods, saints, and Messiahs...”. I still maintain, that if those two countries alone wanted, they could take over the world, together, anytime. But they don’t. Instead, they are making their people evolve, economically, intellectually, and spiritually. China is the most developed Nation in the world, technologically, and India is not far behind. Silicon Valley lives on its reputation, but they both have much bigger and better. as for India, it has rocked its own social system, after thousands of years, systematically erradicating the cast system and reforming rape laws as well as traditional marriages with minors. Both Nations deserve Kudos for that. Not only for the accomplishments, but, also, for doing it so humbly, with dignity, and hard work. USA: learn your lesson, one decade of hard work is not enough...

My vote for Nation Of The Year 2017: Both China and India

My vote for Worst Nation Of The Year 2017: USA, twice

My vote for Potential Nation Of The Year 2018: the EU, if it takes the UK back, Northern Europe (Denmark-Sweden-Iceland-Finland-Norway), Holland, and Russia

My vote for Leaders Of The Year 2017: Mr Xi, Mr Putin, Mr Macron, ANGELa, and Sir JUSTin.

My vote for Most Courageous Nation Of The Year 2017: the UK

My vote for Nation With The Most Potential Of The Year 2017: Canada.

My vote for Most Suffering Nation Of The Year 2017: Syria, Lebanon, Bangladesh, Somalia, Sudanese born in Saudi Arabia, and others.

My vote for Nation Who Had To Take Bullshit Unfairly Of The Year 2017: Mexico from the USA, with the stupidest idea in Modern Times, a “Wall”, paid by Mexicans, against their will, fucking with their border resources, and stealing tons of land. What a shame, the initiators should be punished, for that, to start with.

My vote for Most Potent Political Event Of The Year 2017: 4 US ex-Presidents coming together, to denounce what is happening in the House they all lived in, at one point, in Washington DC. George W was awesome! I had my differences with him, when he got re-elected, but this gives him 1,6 extra points, right away. He was honest, his delivery was heart-felt, for once, he knew his speech by heart. That’s how you judge politicians, by their legacy. Those 4 insisted to appear together, publicly, to share their convictions. For them to do it, the shit must be really bad, don’t you think so? I wish Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Willie Nelson, Stevie Wonder, KRS One, Saul Williams, Al Green, Eminem, Missie Eliot, Jermaine Dupri, Chris Rock (since he’s brilliant and was a Good friend of ODB), Raekwon (and surviving members of Wu-Tan), Nas, LL Cool J, Ice-T, Jay-Z, Puff Daddy, Busta Rhymes, Simon and Garfrunkel, Johnnie Depp, Colbert, Dave Stewart, Eddie Murphy, Leonardo DiCaprio, Chapelle from the Chapelle Show, Mr Elf with his Cowbell, surrounded by other Luminaries, from the US, Canada, like Neil Young, and Mexico, did the same, and gave the proceedings to people who really need it, in the three Nations. Between Bob, Bruce, Willie, and Stevie, at least 49% of the USA is going to react. Those guys are music Royalty, their words are Golden, for everyone who tunes in. I sincerely doubt any of them is eager to go to Washington DC, any time soon. Maybe they can all do a cover of “Imagine”, as 1 of the tunes, the 1 they all sing together. Maybe a title like “Two Roses (1 Red 1 White) For Nations With A Heart”, this is long, I can jam on it, if needed. I trust Stevie for the healing Ratios, this Genius is truly Amazing.

ODB is my favourite rapper and producer of all times. No one took his place, for almost two decades now. The guy was a Genius, every tune he wrote or produced is flawlessly crafted. I don’t believe that he was a junkie, he was just a rebel. I used to laugh my head off, reading the gossip columns of his antics, in the project, when I was in the Bronx, at the end of the 90s, when he was still alive. He was very respected in New York, but everyone was eager to see how eccentric and erratic he would behave. He had a Great sense of humour and wit, in his own flamboyant and public way. But, musically, in his Craft, a True Master, laying every brick in a Perfect and Conscious way. That’s what you call legacy, no one remembers the gossip.

There are two comedians I miss seeing on “TV”: Chris Rock and Chapelle. They are both brilliant, in their own style. Chapelle’s Show is probably the only incomplete series that became an instant Legend, the guy is beyond talented. As for Chris Rock, impeccable. I’m not always in the mood for his tone of voice, but the guy is real, his stories hit a chord, with his delivery. Plus, he collaborated with ODB, that’s plus loads of points, in my book.

Blasphemous Column: I respect Brad Pitt, but, is Angela Jolie free?

Leonardo DiCaprio became the favourite actor, or ex-aequo with Depp, from my Generation, after I saw him act in Edgar, the movie about J. E. Hoover. I was impressed, on my ass, what an amazing actor. He portrayed flawlessly a man from 9 to 99 years-old. Wow. Respect. He is a Master at his Craft.

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