in this house we love Binah

Don't send me NSFW things

Everything here is gender neutral

Be nice

I only write for Binah x Reader

I also answer asks about Queequeg as well because I like her

Outis is here as well now

As are occasional Chehsa (OC) posts

Small discussions about other characters are fine though

This list is subject to change and update if needed

Do not go home until you finish reading the value of e

If an ask makes me uncomfortable for any reason I reserve the right to delete it.

she stares out into an field clouded with smoke. razed to the ground, gentle, swaying reeds nothing but ash. the air chokes her. the scent of burning blood and charred skin mingling, hot as fire. no. no. she left. it was over, she escaped. yet her fingers curl around her kopis. carved with every bullet, every life she took.

she did this. pulled the trigger. willingly watching the light fade from the opposing side.

"...Outis!"

her hands dig into the soot beneath her feet, searing against the scars littering her skin. searching desperately for something, anything, soil beneath the blackened earth. nothing. nothing, nothing. nothing but bones, cracked and stark white, crumbling in her hands. a bullet to the head. the ribs. the spine. a familiar pendant, tarnished and decaying.

it's your fault.

it's all your fault.

"Outis!"

Outis' eyes fly open as she lurches, chest heaving. her eyes dart around in the gloom- her quarters. neat, quiet. dusty at the edges. a hand gently squeezes her wrist, and her gaze lands on you, petrified.

"Bad dream?"

your voice is so soft. nothing like the screams, the sobs of pain from rotting bodies. Outis' head tilts. nodding. a drop of blood beading on her tongue between her teeth. the necklace she gave you glimmers at your throat, pristine and free of rust.

"...Very."

something she'd never admit, not to anyone but you. your arms wrap gently around her torso, and Outis shudders, melting into the embrace. the rigid posture of a soldier bleeds away, leaving her a pathetic, shaking mess.

perhaps she can afford to be broken. just for tonight.

her lips graze your cheek, light as a feather and twice as soft. she buries her face into the crook of your neck and exhales. allowing the tension to dissolve from her frame and pressing a secret into your skin.

"...I love you."

Extra: I think it's funny to think about the poor workers trying to pry a stubborn Binah off of you when they need to work on you separately. Terrified employee trying to work on you while an angry Aleph is glaring at them.

they are here again. the workers. the people. holding their clipboards, murmuring in those hushed, wary voices. they're staring today. more than usual. pointing and whispering to each other, surrounding you on all sides. a nudge- once, twice- you follow their footsteps, down the spiraling, empty halls. it all looks the same. yet you've never been here before, deep within the rusted metal. they don't usually take you anywhere. you're a source of fuel to them, an obedient monster. there was no reason for you to leave your cell. you never breach, anyway. they lead you to a cell, the farthest end, the quietest corridor. the door swishes open, and the agents quickly scatter into the shadows.

countless eyes stare from within, unfurling from a mass of black feathers. her. it's her. the one called "Binah", in a prison much like yours. a croon warbles from her throat- clicking, grinding, decayed gears- and she reaches. sweeping you into her wings. claws hooked gently over your arms. the midnight plumes ruffle, hiding you from view as she flicks the door shut. heart beating between her ribcage, black ichor staining the floor. she doesn't seem to care. only watching you, enraptured. an abomination of metal and skeletal limbs, cradling you in her nest. it's so warm. so soft. so soothing, compared to the hard grates you always stood on. instinctively you curl, tucking into the feathers. Binah merely purrs. draping her wings over you, nuzzling against your head. broken chains rattling on every claw. finally. finally, those tiny insects understood what she wanted. you are right where you're meant to be.

ah, how she adores that gleam of confusion in your eyes. so sharp yet somehow never realizing her intentions. to have you worrying over her, treating her so gently. as if she was made of glass, not flesh and coiled muscle. Binah leans into your touch. staring. lingering on your expression, the narrowed gaze and crossed arms. she chuckles quietly, pain settling into a dull ache. that's alright. she can wait. an Arbiter's greatest weapon is their patience, and she's only too eager to soak up your attention. at least, until you finally realize.

her teacup pauses, halfway to her lips. tilting her head towards the window. countless stars twinkle beyond the glass, dotting the night sky in splashes of light. constellations she's memorized. guided by your hand, your voice. your head against her shoulder, a melodic laugh slipping from your tongue. quiet. mundane. one of her favorite evenings. how she wished to remain there, in that little pocket of warm silence. to wrap you in her coat and keep you tucked into her side. loathing each hour you were apart. so much work and so little time. always tempted to visit you, distract you from all those books.

of course, her assistants would be curious. they saw how she gazed at you across the room. that glimmer in her obsidian eyes.

she could tell them about your smile. how you make her frozen heart beat with warmth, weaving flowers into her hair. your kindness towards the Three Birds, stroking their feathers and feeding them snacks when no one was watching. the way you treated her softly, as if she were a simple person and not a decaying Arbiter. she could spell out her love, the threads of her adoration, each a story drawn from her own well. warm between her ribs, weaving a fractured metal skeleton back into someone called "Binah".

she could tell them.

yet she does not.

they already know. she can tell by the way they whisper, scribbling notes onto their clipboards. Binah's lips curve into a subtle smirk, amused.

your pen stills, glancing up from the papers strewn about your desk. Binah sits nearby. eyes closed, teacup in hand. her head tilts towards you; subtle, silent. calm, if not for the subtle pinch between her brows.

"It was vivid. A memory more than a dream."

her voice is soft, lost in the past. the countless cycles of death, watching you rot beneath the earth. that precious, beaming smile, slashed open, decaying in her hands. how desperate she had been. counting each tombstone that held your name, folding her wishes into paper stars, just as you had shown her. one for each day. all written with the same words.

a thread she had finally grasped, now. tangling it in her hands and refusing to let go. Binah turns to meet your gaze, her eyes shining like glass. a rare secret. something she permits only you to witness.

"Swear to me, that you will be safe."

you rise from your chair, approaching her without a word. Binah shifts. lifting the edge of her heavy coat, creating a perfect spot for you to settle. her arms wrap around your shoulders, tucking your head into the crook of her neck.

"...I promise," you finally whisper, sinking into her side.

Binah sighs, a hum of relief. her scarred fingers cup the back of your neck, slowly kneading the tension away. she brushes her lips over yours. pressing your foreheads together in a firm nudge. the tea cools on the table, long forgotten.

"Good."

her grip tightens. the flicker of a Arbiter's strength returning, brief and degraded.

it's easy, for her.

she sets down her ropes and marches over, wrapping her hands around your waist and lifting you into her arms.

you yelp, instinctively clinging. she smells of sea salt and smoke, surrounding you in warmth and silence. Queequeg carries you away without a word. idly patting your head, shielding your gaze from the bright sunlight. her cheek presses into your hair. a firm, careful touch, as if handling fine porcelain with callused palms. bringing you to the dim underbelly of the ship, the room that's become equally yours as it is hers.

her gaze flickers down, finally sitting on her cot. running her fingers over your temples and gently pressing down. it dulls the pain, the pulsing ache in your veins. you melt further with each touch, a puddle in her embrace. Queequeg chuckles, brushing a kiss to your cheek. your nose. between your eyes.

"Better."

that drowsy, lethargic peace etched into your face. no longer a forced smile or a grimace. she tucks your head under her chin, letting out a rumbling hum. just barely making out your features in the quiet darkness.

"Got you."

a final kiss, against your forehead.

how long has she been here, again? she stopped counting after a few years.

the wall turns slippery beneath her hand, carapace catching on the clinging rot, mold spreading in flowering petals. her wings twitch- mildly disgusted- yet her claws remain. it's been here as long as she has. creeping up, engulfing a corner of her prison. a vibrant, violent splash of color near her cot. her fingers dig into the slimy mass, begging to feel something other than the cold, damp stone. to be more than a grub, a corpse festering in the corner of a stranger's house.

perhaps her horns and mandibles would bloom, just like the mold. grow patterns and colors beneath her skin and eyes, eaten alive into something grotesquely beautiful.

her other hand tightens, her gaze trailing down. clutching the only part of her pocket watch that she was able to save- an old, grimy photo. yet the smile was visible, beneath all that dust.

Binah hums softly, running a hand over your hair. her knuckles gently graze your temple, tracing the lines of your face. cradling your head in her lap as rain patters against the windowsill. dreary, gray. she remembers it well. it mimicked her thoughts from before, the monochrome life of an Arbiter, slashed with red and violet wounds. seeing only the blood and bruises of the world without a care for anything. even the stars you both held so dear.

her lips twitch, curving into a subtle smile. obsidian gaze drifting away from the rain and focusing on you. you. you. always you. catching her attention whenever you walk by, an urge to sweep you off your feet and never let go.

a dream come true.

her arms carefully lace around your shoulders, leaning down and pressing her forehead to yours. staring into your drowsy eyes, that confused, bleary expression. Binah chuckles, quietly. hugging you a bit tighter, kissing your cheek. her hand raises, blocking the light of the Floor of Philosophy from your view.

"Just rest."

the stars hanging overhead dim at her command, slipping into blissful darkness. Binah gazes down at you fondly, softly. her own eyes slowly drifting shut.

One day when binah and Reader have tea, she asked what is behind the reason of their death defying will?

The reason? Reader knew that their death would make Binah sad and they don't want that.

Binah pauses, teacup halfway to her lips. her gaze flickers to you. away from the pastries and sugar cubes, towards that smile she loves so dearly. you're right. she knows you are. the countless nights she's spent awake, in agony from the mere thought. the simple concept of your death, even within the cycles of the facility, the pages of the Library. your body, mangled. bones crushed and blood splattered on the walls. she's seen it before, with others. those she let fall to complete her duties, watching without a word. an Arbiter, a Sephirah, a Patron Librarian. everything she's seen- yet you still stared right into her soul, that heart hidden behind layers of ice.

happiness.

how long had it been, since someone had given thought to her happiness?

the cup lowers, chiming against its saucer as her hand raises. cupping your cheek, trembling. tracing the remnants of scar tissue and gash marks. wounds you never should have survived. she never told you to live, to push through the pain- you did it yourself. simply because your death would weigh on Binah's weary shoulders.

her eyes gleam with a hint of moisture, pulling you closer, into her arms. a reminder that you're still here. through stubbornness and your unshakeable, iron will, an undying flower blooming beneath a waterfall. she presses a kiss to your hair. another. another. until she's weeping silently, cradling your head in her hands.

"...Foolish."

affection clings to every word. the Arbiter's chains finally crumble to dust, revealing a golden core restitched with soft threads and gentle fingers.

Library of Ruina itabag.

she blinks. rubbing her eyes and squinting at the dark underbelly of the Pequod. the ship creaks overhead. a step or two- whoever's on the night watch. Queequeg huffs. scowls up at the ceiling, fingers curling in the covers. such a lovely reality, ripped away upon waking. what a cruel joke.

yet her gaze flickers to her side, and she softens. reaching over and running a hand over your hair with a fond quirk to her lips. you're still here. even if the flowers are gone, the sunshine replaced by an everlasting sea. you're still here, curled up against her. clinging in your sleep and snoring softly with each breath. Queequeg gently wraps her arms around you, bringing you closer, snuggling her cheek against the top of your head. dotting your temple with those same little pecks from before.

it's not all bad. not with you beside her.

you glance up, the door creaking. a familiar sound, the push of one too tired to speak. Outis stumbles, collapsing beside you with a groan. pinching her brow, eyes narrowed with displeasure. you turn, setting your book down. extending a hand and carefully removing her glasses. the tension dissolves. her head tilts back to press against your shoulder. gently, you thumb over her cheek, pressing the shadows beneath her lashes.

"Long day?"

"Mm."

she merely shifts closer, tossing aside her suit jacket. it was unsalvageable, either way. 7 Association did not prioritize resistance to bloodstains in its uniforms. Outis sighs. leaning up and brushing a kiss over your cheek. warm and soft, a mimicry of gentle, familiar touches, her fingertips against yours when you exchange drinks in the morning.

"...Too good to me."

ah. she always did amuse you, saying things like that.

you dip down, pecking her forehead. tucking a strand of hair back, tracing over the twin earrings gleaming gold in the dim light.

her gaze trails down each finger, lingering on countless blotches of red. without a word, Binah swoops down. kissing your knuckles, tiny pecks over the expanse of your hands; the wounds, the scars. an apology for every time she failed to protect you. for every death, every cycle. every book and page, tears of paper buried deep within the dead trees. her lips trail the length of your palm. tilting her head, pressing her cheek into your hand. she watches you quietly, eyes slipping shut as she leans against each returned caress. there will be more scars. shared between your skin, linking your pinky fingers together.

she kisses the pad of your thumb. gradually melting into the hands that cradle her, as if she's something precious.