#forever grateful for reference images

[hinata-boke]

Drawing a randomly generated Haikyuu character (almost) every day until I give up

61. Akagi Michinari

[outofconcheol]

resonance (scb x f!reader)

pairing: android!changbin x heiress!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, arranged marriage, e2l (a little bit), sort of cyberpunk au, 18+

summary: Perfection - an idea that’s been drilled into you from birth. As the sole heir to the empire known as Miroh Labs, you’ve watched technology and tradition collide. However, your family’s latest venture is one that puts your own fate in limbo – ambitiously arranging a marriage to an android of their creation, known as C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N. Grappling with the idea of marrying a machine, you come to realize Changbin is more than a set of intricate codes – the profound depths of his abilities are capable of changing the fabric of society, and you, forever.

warnings: strained parent child relationships (OC's parents are jerks), mentions of past abuse (very mild and not described in detail), class differences, failed past relationship references numerous times, cameos from Chan, Jisung, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Yuna (ITZY), fair warning OC is a lot, Changbin is precious, self-doubt and negative feelings, arguments, alcohol, blood and injury, swearing, genetic engineering, talks of self-determination and agency, Streetlight my beloved makes an appearance

word count: 12k

a/n: happy (belated) bday to my beloved Changbin (almost a month later, nice)! i hope this is enjoyable and worthy of someone as wonderful as Changbin seems (i might have slightly fallen in love with him while writing this, don't look at me). the lovely banner is by Sarah (@caelesjjk). I hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension (lots of it), making out, kind of hatefucking?, sex outside (against a railing), clothed sex, dirty talk, brief nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex (just because Changbin can doesn't mean you should), honestly more mild than the warnings imply

It’d been years since you’d seen candles - forgotten memories of birthdays past that faded into oblivion. Their warm, nascent glow had flickered much like your own life had, the comfort of past years giving way to the bright, grating pixels of the lights that illuminated New Domino - bright pinks, vivid greens, cool blues and silvers. Lights that greeted you from your window when you went to bed every night, reminding you that no matter how much your life stalled, the city never would, much of it your own family’s doing.

The years before Miroh Labs, your family’s company, took hold of the city,  became difficult to recall — before the towering skyscrapers blocked out the sun, neon lights replacing its rays, technology weaving itself seamlessly into the fabric of your lives, like the patterns on your dress.

Picking at the threads – you wonder if someone had put love and care into intertwining each one, meeting perfectly to create the image of a flower. But the thought quickly dispels — knowing that a specialized machine was behind it, or an android doing the work that was once meant for humans. 

Resonance, your family prided themselves on saying. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – only it’d progressed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Systems had advanced from being motherboards connected to screens to full blown humanized machines, who not only had to ability to perform human functions, but excel at them when it came to speed, efficiency, and cost. 

The thought of it made you sick to your stomach. As the presumptive heir to Miroh Labs’ empire, you’d seen firsthand how ambition had slowly given way to greed, your family creating and creating and creating, giving no mind to how their projects always seemed to end up in the hands of the city’s elite.

You’d been to the outskirts, the fringes of society failing to catch up with the advancement of the inner city, a ruined wasteland where people struggled to find work to bring home food for their families.

But they had candles, you muse, smiling lightly to yourself, remembering how you’d passed by a home once, devoid of any electricity, a single candle flickering in the window, the family huddled around their only source of light. It had brought them closer in ways that you could only dream of.

Which is why the intimate setting of the dining room shocked you today – lights dim, candleglow every prominent. Except instead of comforting you, it felt strangely eerie, casting shadows on the faces of your parents, seated at the head of the long table, your own chair pulled out at the very opposite end. 

Of course - your parents spared no opportunity to turn even the simplest of dinners into a boardroom meeting. Wincing, you feel the chair screech as you slide it across the cool tile, the sound grating your ears, which have begun to ring, pain throbbing at your temples.

The food is untouched, grave expressions on your parents’ face, and it’s your father who breaks the deafening silence.

“There’s a new project we want you to be a part of—”

“Forget it,” you pick at your plate. “I’m not interested. It’s not like I can contribute anything useful anyway.”

“This one’s different,” your mother’s voice cuts you off, and it’s softer, more gentle than you’ve ever heard it. For a moment, you could believe she actually cared.

Your father’s footsteps reverberate against the tile, walking over to your side of the table. A picture is set in front of you – a man. Dark curly hair, full lips, a strong jaw, the faint hint of muscle underneath his shirt. But it’s his eyes that pierce through the page – stark hazel. Your throat feels tight, closing in on itself.

“New employee?” you ponder, even though you know it’s not the answer.

Hazel eyes were for androids — no human would have eyes so piercing, ones that could glint in the darkest room, or pale in the brightest sun.

“___, meet C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Advanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. Our pride and joy.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the words, knowing they’d never applied to you – you with your rebellious streak, your lack of achievements, your failed engagement to a man that was far too good for you. 

Hyunjin’s face flashes in the back of your mind, and you fight to keep your expression from shifting.

“C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N was created for a very specific purpose you see — he’s been built and programmed to be the perfect companion. To provide all the qualities that one would normally seek in a spouse. Although humans are falliable, C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N is not. But we need a beta tester.”

The reality of what your parents are proposing dawns on you, horror creeping up your spine.

“No–,” you begin to protest, but you’re cut off by a wave of your father’s hand. 

“The announcements have already been uploaded to the city-wide servers. Starting tomorrow, news of C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N’s launch will go live, along with your engagement announcement. The wedding will be held in a week’s’ time.”

You look despondently to your mother, hoping the pain in your eyes is enough to dissuade her. Were you really that worthless to your parents that they’d hand you to a hunk of scrap metal, dooming you to loneliness for the rest of your life?

Your mother shakes her head. “___, dear, this is the least you can do for us, and for Miroh Labs. Especially given everything that’s happened.”

They always wielded it against you — the fact that you were hard to love. You hadn’t been enough to persuade Hyunjin to stay, and they’d experienced the fallout from whispers all around New Domino. Now, you were barely human in their eyes, not even equal to, and probably lesser than this machine they’d fabricated, one whose fate had become irrevocably intertwined with yours. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

When Changbin wakes, everything is a blur. While his lungs don’t burn for air, his circuits are driven haywire anyway by the new environment - the harsh gleam of fluorescent lights, the gentle whirring of motors, the coolness of the metal table. It hits him all at once, and he’s tempted to close his eyes again, to return to the darkness of being powered down.

A figure looms over him, a taller man in a lab coat, his eyes gentle and full of concern, almost as if he’s holding his breath looking at Changbin.

“Hello C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, my name is Chan. I am one of the lead research developers at Miroh Labs. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Changbin feels his system boot up, gentle heat spreading through the center of his body, all the way to his fingertips.

“Good morning, Chan. I am C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Andvanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. How may I be of assistance?”

His voice reverberates through his speakers, a monotonous tinge resounding against the empty walls of the lab, and he watches Chan’s face twist,

“Do you know why you’re here right now?” Chan asks, curiosity in his gaze.

“I am an advanced computer-human android, programmed to fulfill the role of a partner. My duties and capabilities include companionship, emotional support, and assistance with domestic tasks, designed to blend into one’s life seamlessly.”

As he speaks, Changbin notices his sensors blinking, watching different parts of his arm, chest, and the rest of his body light up as various programs are activated. 

Chan slides something in his direction – a sheet of paper with a picture on it. He takes a look at it, his cameras analyzing the woman in the photo. Everything from the colour of her hair to the tiny mole on the back of her hand, to the way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, perhaps evidence that something is different with her psychology from normal humans.

“This is ___, the next in line to be CEO of Miroh Labs. You will be her future companion,” Chan sighs heavily. “The family has already gone live with the announcement for the wedding, we only have a week to prepare.”

Changbin’s sensors beep, red lights blinking while he processes what Chan is saying, and Chan looks on, a deep furrow in between his brows.

“A w-week?” Changbin, stutters, and Chan already wonders if there’s something wrong with his circuitry. That couldn’t be possible though, the ___ family had tasked him with working on this for the better part of nine months, dedicating each and every hour of his spare time to this endeavour. He brushes off the thought, knowing that there was no way your parents would proceed unless everything was guaranteed to be perfect. After all, the motto of Miroh Labs was to create a more perfect world.

Changbin straightens, legs swinging over the edge of the table as he rises, standing slightly shorter than Chan.

“I understand my responsibilities, Chan. I assure you I will carry them out to the best of my abilities, until ___ is nothing less than satisfied.”

Chan looks at the android in front of him, his face softening. For a moment, Changbin looked as real as him – from the way his hair curled to the strong lines of his body. He almost reminded him of a younger sibling, and a protective instinct washed over Chan.

“I know you will Changbin. But there’s also something you should know.”

Changbin looks up with anticipation at Chan, wondering if there was a new program Chan wanted to add, and whether that meant he had to wait before he could meet ___.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but should you ever decide that this is what you want, or that you desire to do something different, to be somewhere else, there’s always a way out. You’re more than just an android Changbin.”

Changbin’s processors began to hum. More than just an android? It didn’t make sense to him. His programs were designed to be the best, to cover every single duty one could expect from a partner. What more could there be? Still, Chan’s words sparked intrigue, and he saved a recording of them to his memory, just in case they would be useful later.

“Alright then Changbin, shall we get started? There’s a lot we need to go over about ___ before the wedding happens. Her favourite colour, favourite foods, the layout of her apartment … these will help inform your programs to adapt even more perfectly to your duties,” Chan’s voice is calm and even, with no hints of the darkness of the previous conversation in his tone at all.

They tour around the laboratories, Chan introducing him to the new world he was now expected to be a part of — from the windows, Changbin looks out onto New Domino, watching the hovercrafts zip down the neon-lit streets, and the skyscrapers graze the clouds, a dense fog covering up the skyline. 

Changbin listens intently as Chan goes on, his motors continuing to whir and sensors lighting up as each new piece of information is revealed — the new dimensions of his existence seemed vast and overwhelming, and he worried whether he’d be up to the task, knowing what happened to androids who were faulty – they were deprogrammed, becoming no more than scrap metal to fuel the fires of those on the fringes of society. Shuddering at the thought, Changbin knew he had no choice but to succeed. All he could hope was that you would accept him too. 

Goosebumps rise all along your arms — you feel the thorns of the roses prick your fingers as you clutch the bouquet in your hands tighter, listening from behind the door as the muted whispers of the guests fill the ceremony space. You can hear cameras going off, preparing yourself to be met with a grand scene - shimmering lights, velvet drapes, everything bathed in opulent hues of gold and silver. 

There’s an uncomfortable buzz – everything had happened so quickly. From the invitations going out to the details being finalized, you’d had little to no say in any of it, the uncomfortable lace of the dress you could barely voice your resistance to scratching against your skin, setting it on fire. For once, you wished you could down a glass of champagne or two to keep the nerves at bay. 

A pit settles in your stomach once the door opens, and you’re blinded by the twinkling lights of crystal chandeliers. Heart pounding in your ears, you move automatically without thinking, heels clacking against the polished marble floor. Everything around you is a blur – senses in overdrive, it all melds together. The bright flashes of the photographers, the uncomfortably cold temperature of the room, even the soft tones of the piano becoming grating to your ears.

The only thing that remains clear is the figure waiting for you at the end. You suck in a breath – seeing Changbin for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how stunning of a specimen he was. Of course, he’d been designed to be crafted to perfection, but he was beyond flawless. 

Clad in a black tux, the fabric hugs his broad, muscular, frame and tapers at the waist, highlighting his athletic build. His dark hair is swept away from his forehead, exposing the prominent angles of his face. The put-togetherness of his appearance must only serve to highlight the chaos of your own, the makeup doing little to cover up the lack of sleep you’d dealt with ever since that fateful meeting with your parents. 

Coming up to the altar, Changbin extends his hand in your direction, and you’re shocked when you feel the warmth of his hand. Sparks jolt where your skin makes contact, and for a moment you forget that he’s not human like you, a jumble of circuits and running electricity. But it floats away when his posture goes rigid once again, with no hint of emotion on his face. 

Mechanical – that’s how every bit of this felt. From the brittleness in the officiant’s tone as he droned on about the sanctity of marriage, to the pointed stares and light din that surrounded what should have been a sacred moment – two souls joining together as one. But Changbin didn’t have a soul. And you weren’t sure you did either. The two of you were just glass figurines, put on display for everyone to ogle, cogs in the machine of this elaborate public spectacle that your parents had crafted. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if Hyunjin’s somewhere in the crowd, eyes widening as you search frantically for him, the one person who could have been your out, your chance at a normal life. But not a single face stands out to you – a crowd of strangers looking back at you. A bead of sweat pools at the base of your neck, and you suck in a breath.

You feel fingers wrap around your own, Changbin’s hand coming to clasp around yours, and it takes a moment for you to reorient yourself to the scene going on around you. The officiant is asking you to join hands, ready to repeat the vows that will join you and Changbin together. 

Changbin’s eyes bore into yours, the hazel containing more depth than you’d imagined for an android. 

“Are you ok?” the words are whispered so quietly you may have almost missed them. In fact, you believe you might have missed them, unable to believe what’s coming out of Changbin’s mouth. His voice is deeper than you’d expected, gravelly yet with a pleasant tone, far from the flat and monotone affect you’d expected. 

Either two things could have been true in this moment: 1) Changbin knew you better than you knew yourself, or 2) he was malfunctioning, a slip in his meticulous programming. But androids weren’t people, they weren’t capable of feeling for people. They were only capable of completing the tasks set out for them. 

You drop his hand, lips parting, unable to croak out a reponse for fear of arousing suspicion. But the moment is over before you’d even had a chance to respond, buried underneath his calculated rigidness once more. 

The knife twists deeper in your gut when your lips curl around the “I do”, the words sounding as artificial as Changbin’s own, sealing the vows that doomed the two of you to a loveless existence by each others’ side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you pull the heavy diamond earrings out of your ear, setting them on the cool crisp marble of your bathroom counter, rubbing at your burning earlobes. Alone in the comfort of your bathroom, you feel like you’re finally able to breathe again. And that’s when it all hits you, the gravity of what had just transpired weighing on you with the force of a heavy boulder. 

Throat closing in on itself, you struggle to breathe, doubling over as tears fill your eyes. Fingers, shaking, you fumble with the laces of your dress, until the tightness is removed from your rib cage and you can finally breathe again, the dress falling to the floor.

If Hyunjin was here, he’d help you take it off, his fingers dancing delicately across the skin of your back. He’d remove the pins from your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your head in the spot where each one of them had been, until you finally grew tired of his teasing, pulling him in to meet your lips. If Hyunjin had been here, your wedding would have been full of love and joy and laughter, the most vivid of paintings come to life. But you’d lost him, and now yourself. You were alone.

A distant clanging jolts you from your misery, and you slip into your pyjamas, softly padding out from your bathroom to see what the commotion was about. Immediately, you’re hit with the aroma of savoury garlic and herbs, stomach rumbling in response. You’d barely eaten anything the whole night, scared that whatever you tried to would just come back up due to the gnawing feeling in your gut.

It hits you that you were no longer alone in this apartment — there was another being here now, one who’d managed to crawl inside the walls that you’d kept up. Changbin had no choice but to be here with you, to see you at your most vulnerable and exposed. 

The hallway is dark as you make your way to the kitchen, pausing when you see Changbin bent over the stove, a crisp white apron around his waist. He’d changed too, clad in a comfy pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt that showcases his wide shoulders.

The grumbling of your stomach gives you away – Changbin turning to see you at the threshold, his face lighting up in a smile. You notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes, restrained and polite – like the ones that littered the billboards of New Domino, promoting the latest breakthroughs.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he assures you. “I made aglio e olio.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the Italian dish he’d mentioned — one of your favourites, but it sours when you think about how he’d probably been trained by the researchers to know your preferences. If it had been another person, maybe he would have made kimchi jigae or maqluba. It meant nothing.

“Smells great,” you manage to croak out, grateful for the hot meal. In a few moments, the table is full of two steaming plates of pasta, Changbin taking his place at the other end. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to sit next to you, allowing you to eat in piece. Silence passes, filled only with the clanging of forks, and you watch Changbin bristle in his chair. He pauses every few moments, like he wants to say something, but holds back, until you can no longer take it.

“What is it?” you spit out, uncaring at how harsh the words come across. Changbin doesn’t flinch, but you watch lights run across his arm, whirring emanating from him, like he’s trying to process your actions. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” he asks, and you’re taken aback. You hadn’t expected such a simple, yet earnest question. You’d half-expected him to ask you to rate his skills from one to ten, like the surveys that popped up whenever you dined out at a fancy restaurant.

“It was delicious,” you refuse to lie. The pasta had quelled the burning hunger you’d felt, making you considerably less irritable, and Changbin whirs to life again, processing what you’d just told him.

You help him clean up, the two of you working in tandem to clear the table, carefully skirting around each other. Shadows dance across the wall from the city lights reflecting through the window.

Warmth emanates from Changbin, as you feel his heavy breath fan the back of your neck, startled by how life-like it actually felt. You realize you’re caged behind his arms as he puts the dried plates into the cabinet above you, the air growing thick with something you couldn’t name.

Turning around, you’re pressed against the hard planes of Changbin’s chest, and you lurch at the way your body comes to life against his, nipples peaking in the cold air. 

A light flickers at Changbin’s temple, and he studies you curiously, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your breathing quickens.

His gaze lingers on your lips, leaning in closer. But before he can meet yours, you’re pulling away, shame and guilt in your chest. This wasn’t real. None of it was. And the sooner you learned to accept it, the less miserable both of you would be.

“I’m tired,” you whisper into thin air, turning your face away from his. “I want to go to bed.”

You swear Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment before he straightens, responding with the mechanical tone you’d expected all along.

“Of course, you must be exhausted from today.”

You falter, not knowing whether he’d follow you into your room. Now that you were married, it was expected you’d share a bed. Stepping away, you’re relieved when he doesn’t follow.

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, your mind replays everything that had happened – the fake fanfare of the wedding to Changbin asking if you were okay, to whatever had just happened now. Changbin couldn’t have wanted to kiss you, right? He lacked his own desires. Someone had probably told him that was what couples did. 

The softness of your sheets and the light streaming in from your window did nothing to quell the turmoil arising within you – your room no longer felt like the safe refuge it had once been, where you could shut out the rest of the world. 

In the silence of the night, the weight of what your life had become settled heavily on your chest. Once full of warmth and love, it was now cold and unfeeling, as clinical as the hallways of Miroh Labs. 

For a brief moment, you hear steps come towards your bedroom, before they retreat. The hallway light flickers, before it’s turned off, and you’re able to retreat into the darkness once more.

No, you’d told your parents when they’d brought up the idea. Absolutely not.

As usual, your pleading fell on deaf ears. The invites had already been accepted, your dress had been arranged, and a night filled with mindless drivel and booze chatting with the city’s elite waited for you and Changbin. 

You hated it – this pretending. At home, it was easy to accept, the way you and Changbin moved around each other, the uneasiness of that first night permeating every interaction you’d had after. But out here, in New Domino, the pretending had to happen. You had to play the part of a couple in love.

Changbin took to it easier than you’d expected. You’d nearly stumbled the moment you’d stepped out of your room, watching him turn to you with hands tucked into the pockets of yet another black tux. You briefly wondered if it was the exact same one he’d worn to the wedding – it wasn’t like there was a need for him to have different outfits, since his clothes never got dirty. 

You hoped Changbin didn’t notice your gaze lingering on just how good he managed to look – outshining even your emerald silk gown. You wait for the same from him – a falter, a nod, some sort of acknowledgment that he was just as taken by you. But it never comes, his arm slipping stiffly into yours. 

The car ride to the gala is silent, a sea of nerves and anxiety filling the space between you two. The lights from the city pass you by, illuminating Changbin’s face in a strange, yet beautiful glow. 

However, you barely acknowledge it, lost in thought while watching the cars speed by on the freeway. Before long, the glittering lights of the manor greet you, and it feels as though you’re transported back in time. As much as the upper echelon of New Domino loved their androids and their hovercrafts, nothing could replace the value of a night full of egregiously expensive liquor and brainless chatter about how far society had come, knowing they’d done little to contribute to it besides emptying their pockets.

Changbin lingers by your side, and you’re painfully aware of his scent – the one he’d chosen for tonight. Black leather and sandalwood saturate the air in between you, and you notice the stares from other guests as the two of you weave through the crowd, you in search of water to clear the pounding headache that had begun to form at your temples.

For how out of place he is, Changbin dances the dance of your peers well – meeting their fake smiles with a polished one of his own, waving and happily introducing himself to anyone that passes by.

It shouldn’t bother you that none of it directed at you – you told yourself you didn’t want his affection, that he could never give you what he desired. So why did it bother you when he stops one of the hostesses for a glass of champagne, watching her face turn sour when he swerves to hand it to you?

You down the drink before he can even blink, moving away from him and further into the throng. Your head is buzzing, and you feel the alcohol come straight back up, rushing to the bathroom when you hear it – a soft whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.

“It’s almost amusing,” a woman says, “to see such a flawless machine with someone so... human.”

“You know what happened with her last engagement, right? Hyunjin left her for another woman…”

It’s too much to bear, bile rising in your throat, before you feel a hand on the small of your back. If Changbin was human, you’d almost expect his knuckles to turn white with the force he uses to grip your waist. 

“I suggest you keep your unwanted comments to yourself,” Changbin seethes, watching the guests turn pale. You sway under his touch, head spinning from the combination of alcohol and Changbin coming to your defense, before he’s leading you away, the crisp night air from the balcony nipping at your backs.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you gently, while you watch the same light at his temple flicker. 

None of this was okay. None of it at all. But you didn’t want to make him understand how much was wrong with you being here with him, when it should have been someone else, someone you actually had loved. 

“It’s fine,” you clear your throat, peeling his hand from your waist. His touch continues even after you’ve removed his fingers, and you shiver. 

You were used to it – the stares, the whispers. They’d followed you your whole life, the cuts left in their wake eventually turning into hardened scars. You didn’t need defending, least of all from him.

“I’m going to leave,” you tell him, stepping away. “You’re free to stay. Please don’t let me ruin your evening.” 

“I can go with you,” his voice echoes from beside you, “I was getting tired anyway.”

A sick, twisted laugh bubbles from your throat at his insistence. Changbin didn’t get tired, he couldn’t get tired. He wasn’t like you.

“Stay,” your voice is resolute. “That’s an order, Changbin.”

Changbin turns to face you, recoiling at the red rimming your eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent when the lights of the manor illuminate you from behind. 

You don’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Your paralysis slowly melts away and you’re pushing him away without realizing it, walking away without another word. You don’t dare to turn around, knowing your heart would twist when you found Changbin looking at you again with that same blank expression – the one you’d come to know all too well.

Dawn is is barely trickling when you slip out of your apartment. Passing by the living room, you notice Changbin in the corner, standing against the wall. For a moment, he looks so peaceful you would almost think he’d fallen asleep. However, you take one look at the outlet and realize he’s powered down for the night, free from his duties of following you around. A pang of annoyance rattles through you. It should have been romantic, knowing Changbin had no point to his existence if it didn’t revolve around you. All it did was made you sick to your stomach instead. 

Curling your jacket tighter around you, you duck your head down, few vehicles on the streets due to the early hour. The city seemed eerie yet peaceful at dawn, the dim rays of sun barely breaking through the clouds, casting everything in a soft orange glow. Such a stark contrast from the bright neon and gray that tinged its walls at every other time of day.

With only the sound your heels slamming against the pavement to keep you company, your walk slips into a run as your coat flies behind you, the wind whipping through your air. The city is soon left behind, tall skyscrapers giving way to modest brick houses, plumes of smoke wafting through the air.

Fire. You smile at the thought of it. Fire meant happy homes, with happy families. Families who relied on each other, who loved one another.

The haze that had clouded your head last night seems to have subsided, head clearer from the fresh air. But thoughts of Changbin cease to depart as easily, and it leaves you to wonder exactly where you stood with him.

He cared, more than an android should. For a moment it almost seemed like maybe he–

You shake the thought away, rounding the corner, shoulders immediately slumping in relief when you see the worn-out sign of the clinic.

“___?” a voice calls out to you. “Is that you?”

“Hello Jeongin,” you smile at the younger boy who bounds down the steps when he sees your figure standing outside, hair windswept and cheeks flushed as he comes to a halt next to you.

“Noona, what are you doing here?” he asks, and you feel yourself shrink underneath his sincere gaze.

“What do you mean? I always come by this time every week,” you raise an eyebrow, watching Jeongin bounce on the balls of his feet.

“But noona, you’re married now.”

You freeze at his statement, not realizing that the news had reached here too. Jeongin’s eyes are alight with excitement, and you know he’s going to ask questions that you don’t have the heart to answer.

As if he can sense your trepidation, Jeongin ushers you inside, the warm smiles of the elderly patients you’d come to know and love greeting you.

Before long, the two of you are at work, you helping them fill out their paperwork while Jeongin works to check their vitals and bring them back for the doctor to see them. All the while, you’re regaled with stories about their lives, including lost loves, mischievous grandchildren, and fond memories of a time that has since passed. 

This is why you loved coming here. It reminded you that away from the hustle of New Domino, actual life existed. Life imbued with meaningful moments, connections, and people. Something that society seemed to have forgotten. 

“You have such a beautiful smile,” one of the regulars, Miss Choi, pinches your cheek affectionately. “It’s such a shame we didn’t see it in any of your photos.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, shoulders tensing. “I guess Jeongin must have shown everyone.”

“Of course dear, you looked lovely. And such a handsome groom too!”

She titters, and you ponder about whether or not she knows the actual details of your wedding, of who Changbin really was. Even if she did, would she understand it? Even though he’d long since passed away, Miss Choi had a husband who’d loved her, who was capable of loving her. She wasn’t a victim of someone else’s greed, of their ambition. She’d never understand the kind of abyss that New Domino had become, and if she did, she’d probably be horrified. 

You pat her shoulder, hoping she can’t see the way your breath hitches, before you’re rushing to the back, curling in on yourself as sobs wrack your entire body.

Jeongin is by your side in seconds, a steady arm on your shoulder, and you lean into the younger boy, someone who despite not having spent that much time with, had become your one of your closest friends. 

“How much of it did you hear?” you mutter, looking at the floor.

“I heard enough,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, noona.”

You don’t know how long you stay glued to Jeongin’s side, unable to stand upright, the two of you failing to notice the figure watching from outside the window. 

. . .

Changbin hadn’t meant to follow you. He’d heard you slip out in the morning, not having powered down completely last night. After what had happened at the gala, his processors had gone into overdrive, replying everything – the whispers of those awful guests, the way you leaned into his touch, to your harsh words telling him you didn’t want him around.

Changbin wonders if he’d already failed at his task – it seemed like you didn’t care for his companionship, no matter how hard he tried. The walls you had built were too high for even his sophisticated technology to penetrate, and he hums, wondering if this meant he’d be deprogrammed. 

Chan’s words from before echo in the back of his mind – what did he mean an alternative? Was there another task he could be useful for, even if you didn’t want him?

Not wanting to dwell too long, he trails a safe distance behind you, watching you break into a run, limbs heavy with fatigue, your breathing labored, until an unfamiliar neighbourhood materializes, the grandeur of luxury boutiques and high-end restaurants fading into older buildings.

Finally catching up to you, he watches you embrace a younger man, the two of you walking into a battered, broken down building together. Heat floods Changbin, his gears kicked into overdrive, struggling to make sense of what he was witnessing. Did you already have someone else? Was this Hyunjin, the one who’d left you?

The air turns crisp the longer he lingers outside the door, waiting for any sign. He gets it when he sees a leaf fall, your figure appearing in the window, hunched over like you’re in pain. The same man from before is by your side, offering you his shoulder to lean on.

Changbin doesn’t know what comes over him — he’s at the door before he can think, even rationalize what’s going on. 

He waits until your figure materializes from the back, wanting to see who the new entry was. Your lips part in a silent gasp when you see Changbin standing there.

It’s like he’s malfunctioning, gears whining and lights glinting, his jaw tense when Jeongin comes up behind you.

“Noona,” he hears the other man whisper. “I think you should go.”

You nod wordlessly, motioning for Changbin to walk with you, the two of you ignoring the many eyes that follow you, making your way down the dimly lit street.

The wind whips around him as Changbin jogs behind you, watching as you push through the crowds of passerby. You walk and walk, and he follows, watching the houses disappear behind him as you go higher and higher, eventually stopping when the road ends.

The view isn’t even comparable to the one from your penthouse – it’s even better. From the hill, he can see everything – the houses you’d passed on your way, to the bright lights of the city center, to beyond the horizon, where a mass of dense clouds covers the horizon. Which is exactly where you’re looking, and Changbin can’t help but look too, wondering what lies past their cover. 

“I used to come here with Hyunjin,” you break the silence. “Before everything fell apart.”

“We’d just sit here and look at the sky,” you continue, words crashing into each other as you rush to get them out. Changbin doesn’t know whether he should reach out for you, but decides against it, not wanting to startle your trembling figure.

“We’d look at the sky and wonder about what the future would look like — a million different scenarios. Sometimes we’d be rich, other times poor, living in the city, living out of it. But we always had each other. Until he decided to leave.”

“We should get you home–”

“Am I really that hard to love?” you blurt out, and Changbin freezes, the naked truth of why you’d been so cold finally exposed to him. 

“___, it’s not, you shouldn’t think like this–,” Changbin struggles to analyze this, something far beyond the limits of what his data sets had compiled. This was different, this grief was beyond the depths of his understanding. This yearning for something else, someone else. 

“Can you make it go away Changbin? This emptiness that lives inside me. This feeling that my life has never been mine, will never be mine?” you taunt him, knocking against his chest, scoffing when you hear the hollowness of metal.

“You can’t, can’t you? You’re just an android–”

“I’M NOT!” Changbin screams, his circuits devolving into chaos at the sharb jab of your words, Chan’s words coming back to him. “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not.”

He feels sparks inside him, his words stilting as he struggles to get them out. His fingers grasp at the back of his neck, searching for the one button he knows can end this, can put him out of his misery. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

He doesn’t even notice how close you’ve become until he feels your breath fan against his lips, like that first night.

“Prove it,” you whisper, eyes off to the side like you didn’t expect him to listen.

But he listens.

Changbin surges forward, seeking your lips, and you stumble for a brief second, thinking you’ll hurtle off the hilltop, before his arm comes up to wrap around you, your hands tangling in his hair in an instant. The wind howls around you both, yet a shiver ran down your spine, blood pounding in your ears.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, and you capture him with your teeth, drawing him in, a moan bubbling up in your chest. 

He feels so real. This felt so real. 

Changbin can hardly think either, kicked into overdrive, the feel of your hungry mouth against his, the fervent swipe of his tongue against your lips. You knew this was a bad idea, that it would complicate everything, but you didn’t have it in you to care, hands roaming everywhere, slipping  underneath the hem of Changbin’s shirt to trace circles against his hard stomach.

A strangled sound escapes Changbin’s throat, and the two of you part, flustered and trembling, Changbin resting his forehead to yours. Your fingers card through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he moves again, roving down your jawline, lapping at your skin. Despite it being freezing out, a thin trail of sweat trickles down your neck, and Changbin doesn’t miss the opportunity to taste you, teeth grazing as he goes.

“Let me show you,” he rumbles into your chest, voice raspy from the lack of air. 

The cold metal of the railing juts against your back as Changbin lunges, his arm locking you into place. Your cry of protest turns into a gasp when he nudges a knee in between your thighs, spreading them apart. 

“God, just fucking touch me already,” you seethe, gasping when he thumbs at your nipples through the fabric of your shirt, the swollen peaks stiffening when he tugs them with his fingers.

An ache begins to build between your thighs when you look into Changbin’s eyes, their laser-like focus on you and you only, and that’s when his fingers slip underneath your skirt and straight to where you need him. 

“Say please,” he whispers, and for a moment, you imagine the same desperation in his tone that colours yours.

Even when you don’t say anything, he knows from the tremble of your lips and the slight nod of your head that you want this. 

The moment he swipes his fingers against your core, Changbin curses, palm meeting the furious grinding of your hips.

Your hands ball into fists, feeling the slick leak out of you, and you whine, a warm flush settling over your body, evidence of its betrayal.  

“Pretend all you want,” Changbin hisses. “Pretend you hate me. Pretend you don’t see me. But we both know you want this.”

You try to hold your resolve, your wet cunt leaking even more, walls fluttering around his fingers. One wrong move and you’d go hurtling over the railing. But Changbin’s grip on you is like a vice, which only makes you squeeze harder around his knee. 

He changes his pace, circling faster, harder, and your head goes hazy from the stimulation, your hands grabbing fistfuls of Changbin’s shirt. When you feel yourself teetering on the brink, body flushing with anticipation, it all stops. 

Panting, you look at Changbin, his dark eyes surveying you hungrily, and you hear the clink of his belt, quivering as you try and spare yourself from being utterly wrecked by the sight of his cock.

“Look. at. me,” he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, your eyes fluttering from the delirium of it all.

Gripping your thighs, he sinks you down onto him. You cry out as the initial pain subsides and you feel his hips snap up into you, pubic bone rolling against your clit.

“Changbin, I, shit-, it’s too much!” you plead, shamelessly rocking aginst him as he sets a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathy moans echoing bouncing from the walls.

Changbin says nothing, planting a messy kiss on your lips, prodding his tongue into the seam of your mouth to taste, and you anchor your palms against the railing, allowing him to roll his hips upward, the two of you moving in tandem.

The fire in your abdomen reaches a peak, a new wave of arousal suddenly washing over you as you feel your hips jerk, coming undone as you collapse against Changbin, stifling a groan against his throat.

Lifting you off of the railing, Changbin’s arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel something wet against the side of your face. Tears.

“Changbin–”

You wobble to your feet, head swirling with emotion, but he’s already pulling away, the faint outline of his figure the only thing you see as he heads off into the night.

Sighing, you pull your glasses down onto your face, hoping they can diguise the fact that despite your best efforts, your night was absolutely restless, swimming with thoughts of Changbin.

After leaving you on the hilltop, he’d vanished, leaving you to make your own way home. And now, not even a day later, your parents had decided to add to your headache by summoning you for a board meeting. 

You expected them to ask for updates on your relationship with Changbin, to pry into your life, pretending like they cared. It was what they’d always done.

But you never expected this.

“I–, I don’t understand,” you gnaw at your lip, biting down so hard the skin may break. In front of you, the powerpoint gleams brightly. You can read the words off the slide, but you struggle to actually process them. And what they mean.

The beta testing was successful. Although people responded rather tepidly at first to the idea of a human-android relationship, we’ve gotten more positive feedback and requests to expand than ever. We’re on the verge of a new breakthrough here at Miroh Labs. And we want you to take charge of it. 

Your father’s words have been echoing ceaslessly in the back of your mind, ever since he uttered them the moment you walked in.

The news has you deeply unsettled. You’d thought that this was some kind of social experiment, that you and Changbin were some freaks of nature, two outcasts in society brought together as a spectacle for others. You’d never anticipated it would come to this. 

Miroh Labs wasn’t just looking to change the future of human-android relationships. No your parents twisted plan took it a step further – they sought to create models beyond Changbin’s capabilities as a companion, ones who would be equipped with the ability to reproduce. 

We’d never have to worry about birth rates or a weak genetic pool again.

Looking out the window, you look out onto New Domino, the blueprints reflecting onto the screen, clashing with the holographic displays outside, a stark contrast to the storm that was brewing inside the boardroom. 

Face illuminated by the blue glow of the screens, your breath comes out in short, uneven bursts. Your mother reaches out, watching your handles tremble, but you yank them away before she can clasp them in hers,

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss. “Was this all a fucking joke to you? Playing with my life, my emotions, so you could turn me into some kind of laughingstock for whatever sick idea you had?”

Standing up, you clutch the the documents to your chest.

“I’m done,” you declare. If you’d asked seven years ago, maybe you would’ve have done it, so desparate to please everyone around you that you’d say yes to whatever came your way. But now you knew better than to trust anyone. It’d only end up in heartbreak, and you refused to be a part of this sick and twisted legacy. 

You needed to talk to Changbin. 

. . . 

The soft thud of shoes at the entryway feels louder than ever, knowing that you’ve been lying on your bed for the past eight hours, willing the tears to stop. But they never did.

Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you prod your aching limbs to get up, soreness flooding your entire body when you stand. Padding softly out into the hallway, you gasp when you see Changbin there, standing solemnly against the window.

He knows you from even the quietest sound, head turning when you come up behind him. There was so much you had to talk about, so much to address. But you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

You reach behind you to grab the papers you’d stolen,and Changbin’s eyes widen with surprise when you push them in his direction, confusion marring his handsome face. 

The two of you stand there while he reads, a multitude of moments passing in silence.

“I don’t get it,” he protests. “This seems like a logical progression. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“You don’t get it, do you Changbin?,” you declare firmly, doing your best to overcome the wobble in your voice. “This changes everything.”

You hear Changbin whir, temple lighting up with red, and for a moment, all there is to fill the silence is the sound of clicking and beeping. Was this it? Had Changbin finally reached his limits.

You’d been thinking about this for hours, about how to tell Changbin, how to break the news to him. You had no idea where you stood without, about how he felt after what’d you’d both shared at the lookout. And despite the thousands of theorized and calculated ways you’d thought of in your head, telling you that this didn’t matter, that it wouldn’t hurt him, you still choke back a sob.

“Don’t you understand? They want to change everything, to alter what it even means to be human? If an android can reproduce with a human, then what’s the point of marriage? What’s the point of falling in love? It all just becomes a stupid commodity, a race to see who can pop out babies the fastest, who can engineer the most perfect spawn. All the meaning from life as we know will be gone.”

Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment, hurt and confusion settling on his face.

“What are you saying ___? Look at me. Please.” 

The words come out in a desperate whine, Changbin lifting your face up to his, searching your eyes for a spark of emotion, but all he finds are hollow pools of emptiness.

You take a moment to respond, knowing that what you have to say will be the end of this, will probably drive a stake through the farce that had been your marriage.  

“You’ll never understand Changbin. You can simulate every single emotion and fulfill every task. Hell, even if they upgrade you and you’re somehow able to reproduce, you just won’t get it. Because you don’t know what real love is like; all you know is the substitute. And it will never be enough.”

“This isn’t fair,” Changbin chokes out, recoiling. “All I have ever done is my best. All I can ever do is my best. Why is that not enough?”

“I’m sorry,” you look at him, tears blurring your vision. “I wish it was.”

“A-are you going to deprogram me?” Changbin hums, and all of a sudden, his sensors go haywire, every single one lighting up and blinking until they devolve into chaos. Your heart lurches seeing him like this, reaching out for him, but he slaps your arm away.

“Do you know what the worst part of this is ___? It’s not you, or whatever you think you feel. Because you’ve never fucking known what you wanted. No, it’s that, for one fucking night, you had me convinced. Convinced that I was something more than just a hunk of scrap metal to you. Convinced that there was some sick, twisted part of me that actually thought you could love me.  But I don’t want you to lie to yourself anymore. I want to leave.”

You don’t say a word to him as he pads out of the kitchen, slipping his coat over his shoulders and tying his shoes. 

As he slips out the door, you hears his voice, so quiet that you’re almost not convinced it’s real.

“Forgive me.”

The moon shines on the dark streets, it’s gentle light almost swallowed by their neon glow. Changbin runs, heart pounding in sync with his frantic steps. 

Taking in a deep breath, he watches the city melt away again, the night air becoming colder, heavier with the fog of polluted smoke, until he’s there again. The hilltop. Looking out onto the city, he marvels at how it had once been a place full of so much intensity, maybe even love. He thinks back to the feeling of your lips on his, to the way you’d gasped his name. But now he feels nothing but emptiness. 

Maybe he deserved that emptiness. Maybe you were right, maybe he could never be more than what he was – an automated program. Maybe it was better that he’d never see you smile again, never get to watch you hum contentedly when you took a bite of food that you loved, that he’d never ever have the chance to even say that he loved you. Because he wanted to, not because he had to. 

“Changbin?” a voice calls out to him. “Is that you?”

Turning, he watches as the lithe figure of Chan comes into view, face furrowed in confusion at the sight of an android wandering alone on the streets. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Changbin feels himself shrink, embarrassment cutting deep into him like a knife.

“I had to leave,” he feels himself heat, drive replaying the memories of his last conversation with you. “I had to go, I didn’t know what else to do–”

Changbin clenches his jaw, body tense as he fears Chan’s response, wondering if the other man will laugh at his stupidity. 

Androids don’t get choices. 

Surprisingly, the look on his face is one of understanding. Chan motions for Changbin to follow him, the two of them heading out into the lonely night.

. . . 

The flickering lights of a warehouse come into view, casting long shadows on the ground. Changbin turns to Chan, body going rigid, and the lights cast an eerie glow on Chan’s face, the other half bathed in the darkness.

Stepping through the door, he’s surprised to find it more cosy than industrial, a clean, fresh scent overtaking his senses, one that reminded him of your apartment. It smelled like home. Something that Changbin was unsure he’d ever find. 

“Come sit here, Changbin,” Chan motions to a sofa. “Now do you want to tell me what you were doing roaming around at night like that?”

“You told me once that if I decided this life wasn’t what I wanted, that if I wanted to be more than an android, there was a way out. Is that still true?” Changbin’s words sound hollow to his own ears, and he watches Chan flinch in surprise.

“You’ve heard about the project.”

Chan bristles, reaching over to wrap an arm around Changbin, pulling him into a hug, and Changbin collapses against his shoulder. He was so tired.

“It’s not about the project,” Changbin mumbles into Chan’s shoulder, and Chan pushes him away gently. If he wasn’t mistaken, Chan could almost imagine Changbin’s eyes glimmering with tears. “It’s ___.”

Changbin can’t stop the words from spilling out, and he tells Chan everything. Everything from how cold you’ve been, to those little moments of warmth he’d come to live for, ones where your exterior of ice melted into something kinder, more gentle. He tells him about that night the two of you had shared, the one where your walls had come crashing down. And how he desperately wanted them to keep coming down for him every single day. He didn’t know whether or not he was capable of love, but he wanted it with you. And yet, you didn’t feel the same. You told him you couldn’t. 

Chan listens to it all, and without saying anything, stands up. Changbin looks at him despondently, wondering if he’d just made a fool of himself, but Chan motions to one of the doors, telling Changbin softly that he’ll be right back.

A few tense moments pass, and Changbin wonders if he’s been abandoned. But then Chan comes back, and he’s not alone. With him is another person, slightly shorter. His long, brown hair curls around the base of his neck, chubby cheeks wide in a huge heart-shaped smile. If Changbin didn’t see his hazel eyes, he would have also assumed that he was human, just like Chan.

Another android.

“Hello, I’m Jisung.”

Changbin’s eyes widen at Jisung in front of him, wondering what someone like him was doing here on the outskirts, where most people were too poor to own an android.

“Jisung used to be a domestic android,” Chan explains. “He worked for a family in New Domino that wasn’t very kind to him.”

“They took advantage of me,” Jisung has a far-off look in his eyes. “In many different ways. But that’s why I ran. Chan-hyung found me in a coffee-shop one day and brought me back to live with him.”

“How did you, I mean, how could you just leave like that? People need you,” Changbin is perplexed at the sight in front of him. 

“Do they really?” Jisung counters. “Think about it, Changbin, what do they need us for? To make their lives easier? So they can sit back and reject every sense of responsibility they have towards others? The system we have is so flawed, and there’s so many others out there like me and you who suffer because of it.”

Chan nods his head in agreement. 

“Why should you and Jisung have to pay the price for the mistakes of others? Why are you left questioning your identity, your own existence? You could be so much more in society than an end for other people’s satisfaction.”

“I make music now,” Jisung has a soft smile on his face. “Chan-hyung showed me how to use a production software, and now, I can go out to shops, walk around the neighbourhood, and use that inspiration for something beautiful. It’s not much, but it’s better than what I had to live for before.”

“Aren’t you scared, though? Of being deprogrammed, of being replaced?” Changbin can’t help the question from spilling out, his mind flashing back to how you had Hyunjin before him, and how easily you leaned into Jeongin, the employee at the clinic. Who was he compared to them?

“Life is so much more than living in fear, Changbin,” Jisung tells him. “If you just take a chance, maybe you can see that.”

And Changbin wants to believe him, to believe that he can leave this all behind, to start over again. But that would also mean leaving you behind, and that’s something he’s not sure he live with.

As if he can sense Changbin’s trepidation, Chan lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.

“You’re smarter than you think, Changbin. You’ll figure things out.”

You stare up at the ugly popcorn ceiling of the gallery. For being a space dedicated to showcasing the beauty of art, it paled in comparison to its inhabitants, cold concrete floors along with walls filled with cracks and peeling paint.

It has to be that way. Otherwise, would you even focus on the art?

The words bring a soft smile to your lips when you think of the last time you’d heard them. They ring true when you look at the painting in front of you – bold, dark colours interspersed with flecks of white. You get what the artist was trying to go for - the brightness of snow gleaming against a hillside, the snowflakes tiny pearls of brightness against the inky black backdrop of the night sky.

Lost in your study of the piece, you fail to notice the footsteps behind you, only turning when you feel a shadow loom over you.

“That one’s new,” Hyunjin says, coming to stand next to you. “Me and Yuna went to Interlaken last winter, you know I had to paint it.”

You bristle at his voice, an uncomfortable feeling bubbling in your chest. You’d always imagined this, meeting him again. What you’d say, what you’d do. Somehow, your dreams always ended with him taking you back. But now, that no longer felt right. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” you breathe out, realizing how stupid it sounds. Hyunjin literally worked there.

“I heard about the wedding. Congratulations.”

“Nothing to congratulate me for.”

“___,” Hyunjin croaks, and you stiffen at your name tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was a lot Hyunjin had to apologize for – leaving you suddenly, ending years of a relationship in one single moment, only for him to turn around and marry your best friend months later. A friend you no longer spoke to.

But it all seemed trivial now – it seemed like the past had consumed you, your demons chasing and chasing until they’d cornered you, leaving you with nowhere to run, no one to to turn to.

You’d had Changbin, and now he was gone. And you were alone, like you were always mean to be.

Your lips purse into a straight line, giving no indication that you accept Hyunjin’s apology.

“___ please, I know I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. I know it’s unforgivable. But please, you have to move on. You deserve to be loved. To have love.”

You’re unsure how much Hyunjin knows about you, or even Changbin, but the bitter regret in the his voice tells you that you weren’t the only one with wounds who’d been festering for longer than they should’ve.

“It feels like I’m trapped,” you finally admit out loud. “I’m trapped and there’s this lead weight that’s crushing me, and I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t even breathe— god, I just want to breathe, Hyun. And I lost the one person that was my chance to live again.” The words come out as sobs, Hyunjin raising a concerned eyebrow, and you shake your head, dismissing his suspicions.

“You care about him. The android.”

“Don’t call him that. He has a name.” 

You bite your tongue at the grating response, mouth filling with the taste of blood. Changbin’s words from that night echo in your brain – I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

He wasn’t. 

Hyunjin sees the heat rush to your face when you mention him, the way your entire being changes – your once despondent body coming alive with emotion. And he knows that what you felt for him will never compare to now. Fate had steered you on opposite courses, your destiny intertwined with Changbin’s, his with Yuna’s. 

“You know what you have to do then,” are his last words to you before you hear his boots tap against the cold concrete, walking away.

. . . .

The abandoned railway station lay forgotten at the edge of the city, a silent witness to years of decay. The iron tracks were tangled in weeds, and the once-bustling platform was now a graveyard of rusted metal and cracked concrete. The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows, painting the scene in shades of orange and gray.

Changbin feels the cold metal of the bench against his back, and cards his fingers through his hair. He wonders if the disheveled strands, or the stains and threabare seams of his clothes, make him look more real. More human. 

Holding the flyer in his hands, he stares at the face on it, in disbelief that it was once his face. So composed, so put together. So much had changed since then.

Finding Jisung and Chan had been a blessing, but it wasn’t enough. The emptiness remained, filled with thoughts of you, and he wonders if he’ll ever see you again. Whether you even thought of him. 

The hum of an approaching vehicle broke the oppressive silence. Changbin’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw headlights cutting through the dusk. 

They’d found him. He had to run.

Miroh Labs had always been a prison – your prison. A cold, glowing fortress against the backdrop of New Domino, a place once full of so much promise. The place where you thought you’d prove yourself. But now it was time to let it go. 

Chan is waiting for you at the entrance, lips parted in surprise when he sees you approaching. You don’t blame him for thinking that you’d bail. The plan had come together in mere hours, chaos unfolding the moment you’d returned to your apartment, going through every paper, every file as to how you could set your plan in motion.

Somehow, Chan seemed like a person you could trust. You briefly remember Changbin mentioning how Chan had been the first one to see him, shocked at how many of the little details about his presence you’d actually committed to memory.

It scared you, putting your heart and life on the line like this. But it had to be worth it – for the chance to live again, to love again.

“You ready for this?” Chan asked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your mess of emotions. His eyes glinted curiously in against the backdrop of darkness. voice steady and reassuring.

You nodded, full of determination. It was now or never.

“I am. I’ll take care of the security systems. You get to the servers.”

Chan gives a quick nod, before disappearing into the building.

You freeze, realizing you should have asked Chan if he knew anything about Changbin, where he was, what he was doing. You just had to hope this worked, and that you would be able to later. That was the only way.

The maze of the building is one you slip through easily, the long, dark hallways familiar to you from years of roaming around. You knew every door, where every secret was hidden. And how to shut it all down.

Fingers dancing across the keypad, you find the one you’re looking for. Booting up the system, the lights from the screens bathe the room in an eerie glow, and you begin to type.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered to yourself, eyes darting between the screen and the shadows outside. “Almost there…”

Your phone pings to life with a text — shoulders sagging with relief when you see it’s from Chan.

At the servers. Starting data extraction now.

You shoot a reply back quickly – two mins and i’ll initiate the shutdown sequence.

The two minutes pass by in agony, heart pounding out of your chest at the feeling that you could be caught at any time, that this could end.

The lab’s lights began to flicker and dim, casting an eerie glow over the deserted corridors. It worked.

You tiptoe silently out of the room, breaking into a run when you hear the sirens. You run and you run until you’re far enough away, Chan waiting for you a few blocks away.

“We did it,” he smiles, teeth glinting in the moonlight. “We got what we needed.”

He pauses when he sees you tremble, sobs wracking your entire body. You don’t know why the tears started, but they refused to stop when you think about everything – about how you’d just destroyed your family’s entire future, about how you were free, about Changbin.

His name slips from your lips without even thinking, and Chan freezes. 

You hold your breath momentarily, waiting for the bad news to come. But all Chan does is let out a deep sigh of relief, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Come with me.”

When Changbin wakes, it’s like the first time all over again. Senses assaulted by a bright light, fear strikes him in the worst way possible. How long had it been since he powered down? Weeks? Months? Had he been captured? Was this the end?

His systems go haywire with the possibilities, until he feels something. A breeze, ruffling his hair. He was outside. 

The abandoned train station materializes amidst the fog of his muddled senses, his fingertips coming away with rust when he brushes them against the old, dilapidated bench. Relief washes over him. He was okay. He’d live another day.

The crunching of gravel startles him from his reverie, and he feels someone plop down next to him on the bench.

Turning to meet his company, he nearly short-circuits when he sees you, face illuminated by the sun’s rays. You’re smiling. At him. 

Changbin tries to form a coherent thought, but everything is jumbled and clunky. The sun. The air. You. You. You.

You offer him something, and he pales when he sees it, an earbud extended to him.

“I need you to listen to something,” you say softly, and his hands shake as he accepts it, watching you hit play.

The first few melodious notes ring in his ears, and a shiver goes down his spine when he realizes what you’d chosen to show him.

Like a streetlight, like a streetlight

At the end of a lonely day, standing vacantly

In the middle of the lonely night, I try my best to smile brightly

It was the song he’d been working on with Jisung and Chan, the first thing he’d had of his own. The first step he’d taken to becoming himself, to becoming just Changbin. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the music, a tear slipping out at the last few notes, when he feels the weight of your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Changbin,” you sigh, voice wavering, whisper so low he can barely hear it among the reverberations of the final note.

“I want to fix this,” you say again, more resolutely this time, turning so his forehead meets yours. And you feel the dam break, tears flooding both of you as you collapse against each other.

“Wherever you’re going, I want to come with you. I want to show you that you’re more than enough. Because you showed me the same. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

Changbin nods, his tears mingling with a smile of hope. 

“The song. It’s for you. It’s for us. For what we had and what we can still have. I can prove it to you.”

“You don’t need to prove anything, Changbin. You’ve done enough.”

And he had. Somehow, despite having no heart of his own, he’d managed to re-start yours, to show you that you didn’t have to live in the city’s shadows, under the iron grip of your past. That you could be more.

Hope fills your chest – it’s bright and vivid, the force of your love for Changbin knocking you back like a supernova.

Changbin’s fingers brush away the tears on your cheek, shining in the sunlight, and his gaze drops to your lips. You don’t know who leans in first, the next thing you feel being the soft press of his lips to yours. The skin is slightly chapped, but you melt into his touch anyway.

Soon the kiss becomes heated, the roughness of Changbin’s jeans dragging against your thighs as you push yourself onto his lap, prodding the seam of his lips with your tongue. 

Here with Changbin, you realize you’d never really been weak at all. Neither of you had. Not like the world saw both of you. 

Resonance. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – the ability that you and Changbin now possessed to know whatever the world threw at you, wherever it took you next, you’d come out of it choosing each other every time.  

a/n pt. 2: they are totally fucking after this btw (i don't make the rules)! all jokes aside, I'm so sorry if this sucks. I genuinely haven't written anything plot driven in over 8 months so I know there was a lot more I could have done and improved on. If you read this, thank you for giving it (and me) a chance. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @jellyleggz

[schizosupport]

Psychosis and Schizo Spec Flag Time!

My dear friends of the community! For a community in which so many of us have been called a freak at some point in life, we've had a distinct lack of a coherent freak flag to fly!

Well, no more. There's a new flag in town, and she's a beauty!

The flag is preceded by a number of other flags. @psychotic-pisces collected a number of them, and proposed yet more, here, and there have been other versions and attempts through the years. There can be many flags, and no flag is more right than another, but we did feel that our community might be in need of a simple yet recognisable flag, that would still be rich with symbolism. This is our proposal!

I shall refrain from waxing poetic about the elements of the flag, but the references are as follows:

The symbol used in this flag was proposed by @actuallyschizophrenic here, and has seen fair use in the psychotic and schizo spec communities around these parts.

The colour stripes in the background match the current flag most commonly used for disability pride.

The background is purple, because 70% of all previous proposed flags were purple, suggesting a cultural connection to the colour in our community.

The symbol sits upon a waxing silver-lavender moon, referencing not only tales of lunacy, but also the dichotomous nature of our illnesses, negative/positive symptoms and more.

Finally, the moon acts as a prism on the stripes, creating a disjointed feeling, that we associate with psychosis and disorganization, among other things.

The flag doesn't have a name, I think anyone in the community can call it what feels right. Schizotypy flag, psychosis flag, lunacy flag - you name it! I call it the lunacy flag, but I have provenly bad taste, so call it what feels right!

This flag was a collaborative effort in a community discord for schizo spec folk and psychotic people. There's no way I could have arrived at this design on my lonesome, and I'm forever grateful to our loving, creative, smart and awesome communities!!

Special thanks to a very cool, kind and talented person who goes by 'Orange' in the server, who created the vector file of the finalized flag, which can be found (on Google drive via tumblr) here!

And a userbox template bc why not..

Let's go fly our freak flag! 🧠🔥🎉

(License CCO 1.0 Universal - this flag can be used anywhere, credit is nice but it's not a requirement!)

Other formats, color annotated version and image description under the cut

Long format:

Square:

Version of the flag with names of each colour for accessibility:

Image ID of flag: A rectangular flag. The background is purple, and in the middle there's a circle. The circle looks like the moon, with one side in darkness. The moon is dark grey and light silver-grey lavender. On the moon is a symbol commonly associated with psychosis and the schizo spectrum in white. A beam of stripes cross behind the moon from each corner. The stripes are light green, light blue, light grey, yellow and light red. They are similar to the stripes on the disability flag. The beam shifts position behind the moon, so it is parallel above and below the moon, but not directly connected. End ID.

[witchlingcirce]

AHHHHH we got Promo for the new season today so I wanted so share my thoughts and opinions 🫶🏼❤️‍🔥

First off… THE OUTFITS, OMG ACTUALLY GORGEOUS. They’ve obviously upped the quality this season and I am FOREVER grateful. Emma D’arcy and Olivia Cooke look absolutely STUNNING.

I really enjoy how they went with a very Daenerys season eight looking outfit for Rhaenyra. It’s probably a reference to her gradual decline into cruelty (ugh hate how this happened to Dany in season eight but irrelevant). Love how there giving Rhaenyra good old Targ colours!!! GORGEOUS.

Don’t even get me started on Alicent, Olivia Cooke is one of the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. The outfit is so flattering, the fabric is gorgeous SHE IS GORGEOUS. The detailing on this dress is actually so stunning. Green and auburn/red hair is actually like perfect Olivia.

I’m really liking the expression on these two ladies as well. In the bigger poster that this promo is apart of, you can see that it’s Alicent kind of looking at Rhaenyra. I feel like this is meant to represent Alicents inner turmoil with her decision. I think ultimately she kind of regrets, I’ve read some 🚨leaks that say that Aegon stops listening to her, and I think that ultimately makes her realise maybe all of this wasn’t worth it🚨 while I do think it’s a look of regret, I mostly think it’s a look a grief. B&C causes Alicents daughter to go into horrible grief and also leads to the death of her grandson. Very interesting! Cant wait to see what Olivia Cooke has in store this season.

For Rhaenyra I think it’s a look of determination. She completely looks past Alicent and it looks as if she’s looking at the iron throne. I’m so happy that this season there giving Rhaenyra the same cunningness and agency she had in the book. I kind of hated how in the show you didn’t really feel the desire she had for the throne. But THIS SEASON! I have so much faith.

There both so gorgeous as well!! I think these are my favourite promo images.

Hmmmm I wonder if this promo could foreshadowing to any possible events in the future….hmmm…..hmmm…..

Anyways, both of these promos are really cool. I really like how they both have there swords out (ofc Aemond sword isn’t as cool as Darksister…), there both in front of there banners ready to fight for there team!

I’ll be honest I don’t really have much to say about these promo’s itself other than it’s obviously setting the kind of rivalry these two have (sort of.)

Although for these characters I’m really curious on where there characters are headed. I think at the end of season one we saw that Aemond kind of regretted his decision in killing Luke (whether that’s cuz he didn’t wanna actually kill him or didn’t wanna deal with the consequence) I’m really interested in how he will handle it. I don’t think he’s in Kingslanding when Jaehaerys dies but I wonder how he will handle the news. ‘Son for a son, an eye for an eye’.

Daemon I’ll be honest I can kind of assume will probably stay the same, I feel like the type of character he is was set up nicely ect ect. I’m curious with how him and Rhaenyra’s relationship will be. Obviously it’s a bit rocky, with him choking her, and also him organising B&C against her wishes, I’m very curious! Matt Smith will be phenomenal.

Aegon I hate you but you ate this ONEEEEE little thing. His promo ate so bad guys I’m sorry like… who let him serve that much?? Also RHAENYS IS FREE FROM THE CONE HEAD! THANK GOD! I PRAYED FOR TIMES LIKE THIS.

Overall Aegons promo is probably the most ‘symbolic’, in the corner you can see one of the swords going through a green banner, probably to symbolise his usurpation and how the throne isn’t ‘his’. I also find it really interesting how he’s holding his crown and not wearing it, whereas Rhaenyra is wearing hers. I think it’s to show how the iron throne is something that Rhaenyra WANTS it’s something that was promised to her for most of her life Vs Aegon who was kind of forced upon the role.

Also interesting that Cristons hair is long and in BTS pics we see that he has short hair, I wonder if he cuts it during the season. I also like how he’s next to Aegon, “kingmaker” also a sign to how he becomes Aegons hand of the king.

I dont think theres anything to say about Rhaeny’s and Corlys other than that RHAENYS SLAYS!! Thats my queen FR.

Also, I want to point out at Aegons window we can see Vhager (you can tell by the sag, lol.) and at Rhaenys we can assume thats Meleys… Rooks rest anyone?💔

ALL the promos where so amazing, good job to everyone who worked on them and I will BE DISCUSSING THE TRAILER TMRW.

BONUS:

Olivia Cooke posted Trailer(s) I saw someone on twitter mention how maybe there will be a team green trailer and a team black trailer??? I HOPE SO.

Im really hoping that we see Jace and Baela in tbe trailer tomorrow… guys i miss jace 😭

[anjelicawrites]

Do you have any subby aemond headcanons?

Subby Aemond lives free in my brain. Since you haven't specified if it's the Aemond of the poly relationship or not, I'll write for both. Under the cut. Warning to reference to Aemond's experience in the brothel. There's some NSFW as well.

He is the softest sub anyone can hope to have. The moment he is home, his mask comes down and his lover is lucky enough to see his soft underbelly and how in need of love he is.

His submission to his lover his the most precious gift he could give them. It takes a long time to Aemond to trust someone with it but, the moment it is given, it belongs to that person and that person only, forever.

The same way, it takes him a long time to let his lover see him without his eye patch, and even longer to not wear his sapphire around his partner (I think this applies to all Aemonds living rent free in my head).

He is not needy with his words, but with his actions. Like a cat he sits next to his partner and just puts his head on their shoulder, nuzzling there, until his lover gives him attention.

Play with his hair or his hands, caress his neck or whisper how proud you are of him, and he is putty in your hands!!!

He just loves to have his head on his lover's lap while they read out loud for him (he doesn't care about the topic, it could be the history of the use of the wheel in Middle Age Europe and he'd listen to your voice, completely enraptured).

During sex, and this applies to poly!Aemond as well, he is happy to give his partner(s) pleasure. He doesn't care if he gets an orgasm out of it, as long as his lover(s) is/are satisfied he is as well; for this reason he is grateful for every ounce of pleasure his lover(s) bestows him. His partner(s) know this and give him orgasms upon orgasms, because he deserves all the love and pleasure in the world.

He has a praise kink as big as Vhagar is (poly!Aemond as well) and he is no brat, he just lives for when his partner(s) tell him how good he is and how proud they are of him.

This applies to all the Aemonds living in my head. Due to his experience in the brothel, he loathes being restrained in any way (poly!Aemond has had a panic attack just seeing images of people in shibari), even having his lover's hands around his wrists causes him terrible flashbacks. He can manage with some of his lover(s)'s weight over his body (if they are riding him, or they have their arms bracketing his head), but there's this scarred and scared part of himself that needs to know that he can physically stop and run away, if needed. This breaks his heart because he trusts his partner(s) fully with his life, but he can't help it, it's a knee jerk reaction. His lover(s) accept this and tell him times and times again that it's all right, that their love for him is set in stone. That they belong to him under any circumstances. That he is no less of a great boyfriend, just because he has this hard limit.

Since he can't be restrained, he makes a point to keep his hands where his lover(s) tell him they should be, so he can be good and be praised.

Sub!Aemond (poly!Aemond as well) wears a symbol of his submission, but it needs to be understated when out in the world: a necklace or a bracelet inconspicuous enough that he can hide it under his clothes, but that he knows is there, to mean that his lover(s) have his back always. At home it can be different , poly!Aemond wears a collar, for example.

Poly!Aemond puts the collar on the moment he arrives home. It's a way to tell his brain that it's time to decompress and that home is a safe place.

Poly!Aemond cried when his lovers collared him. He was so happy and grateful that he lost control completely and his lovers had to hug him tight until he managed to come back to himself. Not in his wildest dreams he could have ever hoped to find someone to love him, scar and all, now there are these two people who love him and praise him for being who he is; pray tell, how is he supposed to keep himself in check? For weeks he just stared at his collared neck, caressing the leather sitting there. He walks around the house with an even prouder stance ever since he was gifted it.

Poly!Aemond is halfway to subspace the moment one of his lovers tugs on the ring of the collar and tell him how pretty he is.

Again, this can be applied to all the Aemonds. He hates impact play or being hurt during sex. Another big no is being debased. He loves temperature play though, his core temperature is always higher than normal, so if you put some ice on his skin, he is ready to come, all messy and moaning without shame. Once he was fucked using one of those ice dildos and he came immediately, no control on his cock whatsoever. He is so touch starved still, that his skin is super reactive to his lover's touch; playing with him using feathers, for example, drives him completely wild. His nipples are crazy sensitive and he can probably come just by have them played with. He loves when food enters the bedroom as well: lick some chocolate or cream from his skin and he is yours, pour something cold on his navel to lick and suck and he is ready to come for you, if you'll allow it. Blow him with some ice cream in your mouth? His brain shuts completely down, just for you.

This works with all Aemonds. His refractory period should be pretty short (blood of the dragon and all that jazz) but, since his brain has been deprived of all the good chemicals that come with sex for so long, once he comes, he just lies where he is, incapable of doing anything until his brain is done being high on the good hormones. He gets loads of cuddles and kisses, until he is good to go for round two. He is so beautiful, fucked stupid and breathless, a fallen angel spread out on whatever furniture his lover has had him.

Deny him his orgasms or overstimulate him for as long as is physically possible, let him show you how good he can be under your ministration, how good he can follow your orders. In his mind, if you edge him, you can use him to come as many times as you want, without him being out of it and incapable of serving you the way you deserve.

Aemond reverts to High Valyrian during sex. Then again, his brain wants to focus on the pleasure so much, that it doesn't want to waste time with anything that is not orgasm and the experience of feeling it.

Aemond (poly! Aemond as well) is soft for his lover(s), but God forbid anyone hurts or threatens his partner(s). He is yours, conversely, you are his, and he takes care with what belongs to him. He'll be ruthless, fire and blood wouldn't even start to describe what he would do to keep his lover(s) safe. He'll be the next Maegor, if needed.

This one applies to sub!Aemond and poly!Aemond as well, and is bought to you by this fanart. Aemond is stunning, but had never realised his own beauty, his eye drawn to his scar and incapable to focus on anything else. At the start of the relationship he doesn't realise the effect he has on his lover(s). To lounge he wears bottoms that ride extremely low on his hips and t-shirts that are old and don't really fit him anymore but he is attached to them, when he doesn't wear crop tops after a long run or some stretching exercises. To add on all of this, he has the habit to stretch his back luxuriously, loving the feeling of his muscle relaxing and extending. When he starts doing this around his partner(s), completely obvious of the effect on them, he really doesn't get why they stare at him like they want to eat him. The moment he lives his sexuality better and sees himself the way his lover(s) do, he becomes a goddamned tease, letting his t-shirt run up, the tight muscles of his tummy show, moaning prettily; he really doesn't get why his lover(s) groan and stare at him like that.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

𖤓 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𖤓

Image Source

Summary: How did Helen become the kind of person who can accept a killer? How did her love become so unconditional? It wasn't as simple as you might expect. The path towards light was paved with darkness.

TW: Being orphaned. Brief mention of Helen's first kiss in middle school (do not make this sexy, she's a minor). Severe physical and emotional child abuse and neglect. Scapegoat abuse (abuse of one family member who is blamed for all problems in the family). Murder of a minor by a parent. Survivor's guilt. Self hatred. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

Author's Note: This is the backstory that I envisioned for Helen while writing The Broken Veil. It's based on the fact that John never interacts with her family and they don't appear to be at her funeral, which leads me to believe that she is estranged from them. But, this is mostly invented from thin air - with some projecting and venting. I haven't been through anything as horrific as this, but I'll just say that I do relate to Helen's experience of family abuse in a certain way. My hope is that I've handled this very delicate topic with some grace, but please know that I am writing it from an emotional place and I am not a therapist or social worker.

──●𖤓●──

At the dawn of her life, there was love.

It was simple then. Pure. Unquestioned and easy to understand. Not only because the two figures always at her side were so unquestionably affectionate, but because loving came naturally to Helen herself. She was the baby who always laughed when her parents laughed, and smiled when they smiled. And they nearly always smiled, because they had Helen, and she had them.

Then they were gone.

──●𖤓●──

Love haunted the suburban McMansion at the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri, with the white clapboard walls and yellow trim. It found its way between the thin curtains in Helen’s bedroom, where she caught it in her arms every morning and carried it downstairs to her sister, Bonnie, whose bedroom was windowless.

Bonnie was adopted a year after Helen, and she was two years younger. The Kennedys had a perfect family in mind: two daughters, and a son, all “rescued,” as evidence of their unimpeachable benevolence. But they were denied for a third child. One of Mr. Kennedy’s references advised against approval, and his response was so disorderly with outrage that the situation could not be salvaged. Although they tried again several times, they were never approved. Mr. Kennedy never found out who had thwarted him in obtaining a son, but Helen and Bonnie would be forever grateful to them.

It wasn’t that they wouldn’t have wanted a brother. On the contrary, another person in the house who was not either of their parents would have been a massive relief, and Helen begged for it at the time. But in retrospect, they could not wish that on anyone.

Helen, despite being older, didn’t understand at first. The Kennedys were sweet to her. Mrs. Kennedy told her that she was the most important thing in the world to them. Mr. Kennedy held her on his lap and told her about the nature of love. That love is a dance between merciful grace, and benevolent punishment. Love is about doing what is best for someone, always. And they would always do what was best for their children.

Bonnie was not typically punished in front of her, and she was such a boisterously happy child that she was able to hide her distress, both at school and from her sister. Her disposition matched Helen’s perfectly – playful, creative, giving, always eager to smooth over a social interaction. They did everything together. They played pretend on the “mountain” (the staircase leading up to the deck), went racing on their skateboards, searched for birds’ nests in every neighborhood tree and stared at them to try to catch one hatching. They laid on the lawn making flower crowns and talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. Bonnie wanted to be a racecar driver and go far, far away. Helen wanted to be a veterinarian taking care of baby birds. But they would definitely go to the same college. They’d be together forever, because even though they weren’t born together, their hearts were made of the same substance.

The difference between them was that Bonnie was more secretive. She had to be.

But over time, the household became comfortable in its abuse. Bonnie was a trouble child, Mrs. Kennedy would explain. That was why they had to treat her this way. When the parents fought, it was somehow Bonnie’s fault. When things went wrong for them, it was because Bonnie was bringing them bad luck. Everything went wrong after she arrived. They should have adopted a little boy first instead, and now they’d never have one.

Bonnie and Helen would do the exact same thing, often together, and Bonnie would be punished, and Helen…wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand it. Soap in her mouth for talking back. No dinner for a week. One day, when Helen was nine, Mr. Kennedy sat down at Bonnie’s door with a screwdriver and started taking off the hinges. “She’s been keeping secrets from me,” he said. He’d found her diary. That evening, Mrs. Kennedy read it aloud in front of both children while Bonnie wept.

“Why do they love Helen and not me? Sometimes I hate her for it, but it’s not her fault. I know why. I try to be good but I’m a bad child.” That line would live in Helen’s memory forever. She rushed at Mr. Kennedy, not knowing what she intended to do. But the situation had become untenable. Why wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy upset about this? Why wasn’t Bonnie fighting back? Something had to be done, and nothing was being done.

But it backfired utterly. “Look what you have made your sister do,” he said to Bonnie, when Helen had spent her strength beating her little fists against his legs. And Helen watched, and learned where the bruises on her sister’s body came from, that she didn’t fall out of trees as often as she claimed. From that day, she ceased to call him her father. Mr. Kennedy was his name.

When it was over, Bonnie wasn’t allowed outside. So Helen made flower crowns alone and brought her one. “You can hate me if you want, Bonnie. I’ll love you anyway.”

“Throw it out,” she whispered. “They’ll think I snuck into the backyard if they see it.” But she held it for a moment first. “I don’t really hate you, Helen. I won’t, ever. I promise.”

──●𖤓●──

Helen soaked up love for one brilliant hour every day at Azalea Middle School’s lunchtime, her face turned upward and her heart temporarily at peace. She talked about love with her best friends. She kissed Susie Morgan, as practice for kissing boys. She kissed Robbie Clearwater, as the real deal, but it didn’t feel any more or less real if she had to be honest. It was all play acting. Real love was about doing something big for somebody, like rescuing them from a dragon or stabbing yourself like Juliet. Or staying with them after they stabbed somebody else.

Susie and Robbie were both “good kids.” Not trouble kids. Not like Bonnie and her friends. Bonnie had already given up on herself – if her parents thought she was trouble, then fine, she’d be trouble. She started hanging out with the bottom of the class, the ones who got in fights and skipped lessons. Helen decided that she would never be like Bonnie.

But it was the trouble kids that Helen really wanted to be around. Like Brandon “Blaze” Raoul, who smoked weed with the 9th graders from across the street. She heard he actually aced the math test in spite of everything, and decided he had a heart of gold. But she’d never admit it.

Bonnie dumped her lunch tray over Helen’s blouse while she was looking at him one day, and Helen chased her all the way across the playground. She didn’t stop until Helen yelled, “I’m telling Mr. Kennedy!” The hurt and fury etched into her face would remain etched in Helen’s mind from the rest of her life.

But it was Bonnie who told Mr. Kennedy that Helen liked a bad boy. Or rather, it was Bonnie who took all that practice stealing Marlboros from the gas station to steal a blunt out of Brandon’s bag and stick it in Helen’s, only to encourage her father to search their backpacks that night. She looked all too smug, watching Helen take the brunt of the punishment for once. And the Kennedys made the decision that both girls would be transferring schools.

“You know, you really are what they say,” she shouted at Bonnie through tears that night. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! You’re spiteful and ungrateful and you always mess things up for me! I wish you weren’t here!”

“I’ve hated you for years, Helen! My personal hell! I hope your perfect face gets smashed in! I hope Mr. Kennedy really does the shit he says he’ll do sometimes!”

──●𖤓●──

Helen couldn’t find love for a couple years at a stretch. Where had it gone? Was it hidden behind the clouds? It always seemed to be raining in Missouri. Was it buried inside her body? Her body seemed to physically ache. Sometimes she felt like she was dying.

The only way she expressed herself anymore was by taking pictures. She asked for a camera for her sixteenth birthday, and of course, she got it. And she took pictures of people, almost exclusively. She didn’t speak to Bonnie kindly, but she photographed her kindly. She chose those moments in which Bonnie looked almost the way she did years ago, before things got really bad.

Whose fault was it? She thought about that a lot, even before it happened. So much had already happened. More than enough. And there was a sense of something coming. Why did Bonnie have to ruin everything? Bonnie’s torment was always at the edges of her mind, spoiling every happy moment. And while that shouldn’t be about herself, Helen was tired. Tired of trying to be the high achiever to maintain her own tenuous hold on her parents’ mercy. Tired of protecting Bonnie, tired of fighting with her, tired of pitying her. Tired of wracking her brain about who she could tell and how she could get help for them without just making things worse. Tired of watching her be hurt and feeling that pain in her own heart. So she hardened her heart until it ached physically instead of emotionally. Let Bonnie deal with it on her own. She didn’t want Helen around anyway. Maybe she’d finally run away for good.

In the last few years of high school, Helen started having chest pain. Panic attacks, she would later learn. She felt like she was going to die. What was happening with Bonnie was going to kill her. And wrong as it may be, she hated Bonnie for that.

She had left for college when it happened. She got out the moment she could, as anyone might. Bonnie would be out soon enough too, she thought. There was nothing she could have done, no way she could have known. That’s what she told herself afterwards, and she never believed it.

The facts: Bonnie Kennedy tried to run away with a group of friends she met outside of school. With a gang. Mrs. Kennedy intercepted her and brought her home against her will, by binding her hands and feet with duct tape and forcing her into the back of the vehicle.

The facts: Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy had just had a fight the same week. Mrs. Kennedy was sleeping on the couch. They needed someone to take out their anger on.

The facts: On September 20th, while Helen Kennedy was in a chemistry lecture, Bonnie Kennedy was murdered by her father under her mother’s watch. The neighbors filed a noise complaint. Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy were apprehended and taken into police custody three days later.

──●𖤓●──

The ache of Helen’s love did not kill her. She lay on her dorm bed that night in the darkness, waiting for her heart to stop. It never did.

The only thing Mrs. Kennedy had to say was, “Don’t testify. Don’t do this to him. Are you really going to side against your own father?”

Helen scoffed. “Against him? What about you? Do you think you’re blameless?”

A long pause while they stared at each other through bulletproof glass. “No one is blameless here. But –“

“No. No one is blameless.”

She did not speak to Mr. Kennedy at all.

She spoke to the judge. She spoke for hours and hours in a cold sweat, in a trance, revealing everything. She spoke until she went hoarse. She spoke again when the trial dragged on into a second day. She spoke at the appeal. She spoke until she expected to be arrested herself because the fact that she had stood by through all of it, and hadn’t been there to save Bonnie, was a crime beyond all crimes. Why was no one dragging her away? Regardless, she kept speaking. She was saying, I love you, Bonnie. I love you, my sister.

──●𖤓●──

The ache of love didn’t kill Helen, but it chased her out of Missouri, all the way to the East Coast. When she put the pieces of herself back together and returned to college, it was at Georgetown, on a scholarship. Apparently, a sob story that had been on the news was good for admissions essays. Especially when it tied right into your major.

She studied to be a social worker. She screamed her love for Bonnie at the whole world. Bonnie, who was gone, and could not receive it. Helen opened herself and poured love. She cried with abuse survivors. She testified on their behalf. She watched them be saved. She watched the system fail them. She watched them become hateful. She watched them die. Over and over and over and over until her mind broke.

And she screamed her love for her parents. Yes, her love for her father. For her mother. For the woman who had treated love as the most important thing in the world – which is to say that she let her lover commit any crime. For the man who had sat her on his knee and told her lies about what love was, because he believed those lies and knew no better. She was finally old enough to understand what broken people they were, and yet her love for them had become forbidden. Unthinkable. Forgiveness would never be hers to extend. They had taken her right to love them when they committed such an act. Well, so be it. She would take the grief aching in her chest and throw it at the entire rest of the world instead. She would love EVERYONE.

She tried to be a “good” person, to love all survivors and hate all abusers. Except that the abusers were also survivors, and the survivors were also abusers. And she didn’t know which she was, but it seemed that she could only be both. Everyone hurt everyone else, it seemed. Everyone failed to protect each other. Did that not matter to anyone? Where was the sense of injustice? She came to hate EVERYONE.

For ten years, Helen served as a social worker with child protective services. Ten years screaming, until she finally burnt out.

She’d been to therapy before. But this was different. This was quitting her job to burn through her savings going to daily sessions because something had to give, and it was either going to be her way of life or her life itself.

They talked mostly about grief, which was to say that they talked mostly about love. Were her parents capable of love? Was she capable of love? Why had she and Bonnie turned on each other, and did it mean they didn’t really love each other? What did real love look like? They talked about that phrase, “love is a dance between merciful grace, and benevolent punishment.” How did one decide who to punish, and who deserved mercy? Who could be trusted with such a decision?

Maybe no one. Maybe the punishment part just had to go.

So she let herself be like Bonnie. She traveled up and down the coast, through Baltimore, through Philadelphia, always seeking out the underbelly, never into drugs but heavily into people. Hanging out with hippies and “free love” types. Cutting her hair short. Talking with runaways. Singing with strangers at midnight in a half dead karaoke bar. She wore leather jackets over soft white T-shirts. Never trying to look tough, never trying to look "cool", but demonstrating with her very body that she embraced them. That she wouldn’t jump down anyone’s throat for making a mistake or being themselves. What a “bad girl.” What a “troublemaker.” I’m sorry, Bonnie.

She fell in with genuine criminals too. It was odd, but she felt safe with them, in a way she had never felt safe with suburbanites who wanted perfection and punished anything less. There were some with their boot on the world’s throat, sure, but there were plenty more who had no choice. Who were running from something, or stuck in something, or just trying to survive. And all the judgement in Helen was used up on her parents. There was none left for the rest of the world. She just wanted to see people, know people. The camera came out again. Taking pictures of survivors, people who had suffered so much and caused so much suffering. People who believed they held no capacity for love. She showed them their own bodies, the vessels of that love where it still lay dormant.

──●𖤓●──

Love poured down from an infinite, flaming source, to wash over every human being and flow, finally, into the lens. Seeking an object, any object, whoever needed it the most. Over and over and over again, unquestioningly, unconditionally, until Helen began to heal. She felt poised for something, waiting for someone to receive her outpouring. It was then that the second phase of Helen’s life began. It was then that the sun broke through.

[bigweldindustries]

can i just say bro. huge fan of your personal tag (axel grinds on). just really good. instantly makes me think of bigweld just like rolling along emitting sparks. the sound of metal grating. very evocative. awesome tag

I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT BUT THAT MENTAL IMAGE IS GONNA LIVE IN MY BRAIN FOREVER THANK U ANON 😭 (it's literally just a lame reference to axle grinder by pendulum LMAO)

[tainbocuailnge]

Not only literary references but sometimes I feel like they miss references to things within the Nasuverse itself. Sometimes it just feels like they don't properly convey, or even fully understand, the personality and nuances of the characters they're translating. Maybe I'm just being nitpicky but I've noticed multiple instances where the translation technically isn't incorrect but it fails to convey the proper message in very subtle but pretty significant ways.

With this I'm not saying the NA translation is bad, and I'm very grateful it exists. As you said it's pretty great when it comes to dialogues, puns, and preserving the comedic effects, and in general I think it reads pretty well. I just wish they paid more attention to details and understood some references.

oh absolutely, the overall product is pretty good quality but there's a lot of points where i feel their translation just lacks elegance and fails to properly convey the nuance of what's actually being said even if it's not technically an incorrect translation. and it's precisely because they're so good at preserving the feel of casual speech that it's even more frustrating that they can't do the same for more subtle things, because it's not like they wouldn't be able to properly convey what's there if they just noticed that it's there.

to bring up another lb3 moment that i'll forever be mad about, when qin shi huang kills jing ke and says they'll be sure to remember her this time, in japanese they specifically use a turn of phrase that ive seen two separate fantranslations translate as "we shall carve your name into our heart" to invoke the image of like, taking a knife and carving it in there, which the english translation is missing. cu alter's interludes also had me mad as fuck with how none of the translations were technically wrong but they still ended up significantly changing the mood of what he's saying (he's being way more considerate than the english version makes it seem. btw.)

my gut says there's a manpower aspect to the problem here because it feels unfair to assume plain lack of interest from the translators when they do put significant care in stuff like osakabehime's speech patterns + fate is notoriously difficult to translate + they're on a tight schedule here. so my take is that worldwide top earning mobile game fate/grand order distributed internationally by aniplex of america should take some of that gacha money and use it to hire some extra people who can do the necessary literature research and get the necessary phd in buddhism.

[pathwinding]

Jewitch Self-Analysis: Theism & Personal Conceptualization

I've already monologued about my relationship with belief. I'm going to try to set it aside in order to focus on my current perspective on HaShem. I see this as perhaps one of the most--if not the most--critical sticking points about the awkwardness of combining Judaism and witchcraft. "Aren't you using non-Jewish spiritual practices that HaShem forbids? Do you think you can control HaShem with magic? Do you not trust HaShem to let things happen as they are supposed to?"

I'm... ready to wade into the controversial pool here. I feel like people can get HaShem wrong. And in an way that could be argued to be idolatrous. I'm not going to say that with absolute certainty nor authority-- I'm just one drop of opinion in an ocean of people with actual acclaim after all--but I'm still going to talk about it.

Jews generally recognize that references in the Torah to HaShem's arm or face or whatnot are intended to be metaphorical. We humans anthropomorphize things in order to better understand them. If people try to apply physical form to HaShem or act as if a physical thing is divine in a serious way, however, this is a form of idolatry. And so I argue that anthropomorphizing, trying to fit HaShem into a human box in any kind of serious way, is a form of idolatry (albeit perhaps a far less severe form). It comes easy to people, both because of the psychological phenomenon I mentioned (of making HaShem easier to understand) but also because it's an effect of living in a very Christian-dominated society which frequently depicts images of Gd in a human-adjacent form or mortal Jesus as Gd.

But HaShem is Ein Sof, Without End. HaShem is not human. For as easy as it is for me to apply human traits, it's equally difficult for me to not feel as though this application is disrespectful or inappropriate. It even feels wrong to say "melech" during brachot, and I have a little mental asterisk in my head that says "but not in a human way though."

It would be easy for me to say that HaShem would forgive us for this act of idolatrous anthropomorphizing because it is not intentional idoltary. And then that right there would be an example of the anthropomorphizing I'm talking about. Saying that "HaShem would forgive" implies HaShem has emotions the way humans do, makes choices the way humans do, interacts with the linear progression of cause and effect the way humans do. It's a set of assumptions we make because we are human and only truly understand how humans act. On an intuitive level, we have the barest understanding of how other animals act, try very hard to understand plants and fungi, and don't even see anything else as having a deeper understanding to it at all. And yet, we think we have a decent understanding of HaShem?

I feel like I'm just reiterating Maimonides' theistic conceptualization, in a way. I'm almost not even sure why I'm bothering to write this post, now that I'm re-reading the article I just linked and finding it a lot better worded without throwing around accusations of soft idolatry.

I think the place I diverge is when I start stepping away from Maimonides' very rational "negative theology" the article describes, and start adding something in again. (With the asterisk of "I don't fully believe this nor disbelieve this, please refer to the 'secret third thing' in my previous post on belief," of course.)

I agree with Maimonides that, logically, something came before the universe. I can't be satisfied with the Big Bang Theory alone, because something must have surrounded it, initiated it. Our world has a logical progression to it, and the only thing that could have predated it is something that is incomprehensible, something to be forever grateful to for helping/allowing/initiating the universe. And it seems to me that there is no reason to think that this Supreme Being vanished, or was eliminated by the universe coming into play. In fact, it seems very reasonable to think that this Supreme Being used Its own self (inasmuch as It has one) to create the universe, and as such is part of every little thing that lies within. We are still surrounded by Oneness.

So. I guess I currently conceptualize HaShem as the neural network of the universe. Not material, but the thing inhabiting and driving the material. Not thinking, but nevertheless acting. Everything connected on an immaterial level, and affecting one another like dominoes. Perhaps if we were able to somehow rip ourselves from our material forms we may perceive a pattern suggesting human-like intent or at the very least perceive the general direction of the universe, but that's not possible. At best, we have the chance at finding this understanding if/when we are reintegrated with HaShem at the end of the universe.

As a visualization, I see HaShem as the light behind the starfield of the universe. The waves of energy that seep from the stars emanating in all directions, and clinging to/supporting everything perceivable. Creeping tendrils of that energy reaching into the material, including my body and the chair and the air, with branches that are more numerous for more complex material things like life. All tendrils connecting to one another in a complex network, pulsing between each other. While my mind is limited to my branching tendrils, I am nevertheless part of this neural network and affect/am affected by each nearby component. I glow with the light. HaShem is Everything and I am part of Everything.

And here's the witchery part of this: If we are part of an immaterial neural network, we should be able to trigger effects in this neural network. Certainly I can cause the most perceivable effects with my material self (directly talk to someone to get their help), but I should also be able to cause effects if I can invoke those immaterial connections (invoking our connection so that a person feels suddenly inclined to ask me if I need help).

The closest I can perceive of immateriality, as a human, include my emotions and belief and intent and overall abstract thought. Perhaps I can better control my surroundings by engaging these most immaterial aspects of my self. Stronger connections can help me with that, and repetition (habits but also utilizing aspects of shared languages & culture) strengthens those connections. Following things that I associate with the immaterial because other people also do, the witchy-like things, may give me a better chance at successful invocation.

There's part of me that feels the universe is inevitable. The very concept of gravity dragging things in a specific direction suggests that all actions will happen along a predetermined linear path. Even if invoking the immaterial is possible and works, there remains a possibility it was also inevitable that things would happen upon my invocation. But this doesn't nudge me to quit. Because no matter the truth of the nature of the universe, I am tapping into something sacred and mysterious and worth acknowledging. I am reaching within and finding HaShem's light.

Say I do believe in this wholeheartedly, and wasn't stuck on my "secret third thing" belief. This is not at all traditional Judaism. And it may even seem an arbitrary thing for me to assign Jewish interpretation as the "correct" interpretation of That Which Existed Before The Universe As We Know It. I don't know if it's "correct." Everything is passed through humans in order to communicate such abstract concepts like this Ultimate Abstract Concept, and there are most certainly errors as we attempt to comprehend the Incomprehensible. I can't even bring myself to truly see the Torah, our most sacred document, as directly from HaShem because of all the humanness involved that is necessary for it to exist. So why continue with Judaism? Why not just start anew with these fringe thoughts?

I think it's because, at the end of the day, I'm still a human who needs home and community. And Judaism is this for me, more than fringe witchcraft alone could ever be. It is the truest monotheistic religion, it is the religion that I grew up with, and it is a set of beliefs that I can adhere to in such a way that makes me feel as though I still am doing something good and true. It feels right. I am ever-grateful to HaShem for my life, and perhaps by performing halachot, my sacred obligations, I can effectively express that feeling.

The short of it is this: Judaism gives me the strongest spiritual connection to the immaterial neural network of the universe, and invoking this immaterial through witchcraft makes me feel closest to HaShem. It gives me balance, and meaning. And through this I am fulfilled.

[maigo-san]

I wrote this short stuff on a whim because I've been listening to Sufjan Stevens' album, Carrie & Lowell.

The album talks about Sufjan's own journey to understanding his grief towards his late mother, Carrie, who died from cancer. The first song, Death with Dignity, is actually about Sufjan finally accepting her loss and I like to wonder how Ruka's death affected Kyoujurou in a similar way.

Spirit of my silence, I can hear you

But I’m afraid to be near you

And I don’t know where to begin

This very strong and diligent boy can't even cry and doesn't have time to settle for a bit. Silence is a time of reflection and I feel Kyoujurou must have a lot of struggle with it. He is constantly trying to be better and is continually perfecting his Flame Breathing techniques, he has no time to mull or ruminate despite being so wise for his age. He was so wise even Tanjirou carried his words and actions when he started to doubt himself.

"...you may feel like digging your heels in, but the flow of time waits for no one. It won't patiently stand by as you grieve."

At the same time, demon activity doesn't stop waiting for him to grieve either. He has also been reminded of the times he lost a comrade while demon slaying.

"Death comes after the friends you shared a laugh with."

Somewhere in the desert, there’s a forest

And an acre before us

This verse reminded me of Kyoujurou's spiritual realm. A barren wasteland filled with nothing but heat and smoke. But during his last time, the smile he gave when seeing his mother reflected the hidden acre or forest filled with peacefulness. Despite everything he experienced in his life including his mother's death, there's still a silver lining to it and he's forever a grateful and accepting guy.

Well, I suppose a friend is a friend

And we all know how this will end

Unlike Sufjan, we don't know how Ruka died, just that she had been very weak. But cancer was known to be an Old man's friend and it reminded me of how Ruka had accepted her death long before she passed. It hurts her just as much to leave but neither of them could do anything about it and they both knew how it would end.

What is that song you sing for the dead?

I see the signal searchlight strike me in the window of my room

Well, I got nothing to prove

Kyoujurou's lack of "change" towards Ruka's death was him knowing that whatever song he would sing to the dead, wouldn't bring his mother back.

In my fic, I wrote about how Kyoujurou was slowly becoming very ambitious toward his goal, esp since despite everything it is still difficult to reach the top and it made him slightly agitated.

After all, that was also his mother's legacy. But as he calmed and came back to his senses he realized that it was fine to become a Hashira at his own pace. It was because his mom already believed in and he truly didn't have anything to "prove".

I forgive you, mother, I can hear you (I can hear you)

And I long to be near you (And I long to be near you)

But every road leads to an end

Yes, every road leads to an end

Sufjan had only seen his mother three summers in Oregon. After that, he barely interacted with her until she passed due to cancer. There are other songs in the album that referenced this, like in Should Have Known Better, he said

I should have wrote a letter

And grieve what I happen to grieve

That he regretted not telling his mom who was always away from him, how he truly feel. I can see how it relates to Kyoujurou who also barely had time to interact with Ruka as she died when he and Senjurou were at a very young age.

Your apparition passes through me in the willows

My fic told about how he still longed to be with her. The flower corner that I referred to, the sweet-smelling altar, was his mother's last trace and I actually used the word "apparition" in the fic because of that song and personify the flower corner to give that ghostlike image.

ap·pa·ri·tion (noun) a ghost or ghostlike image of a person

.

There are also other songs in the album that can apply to the Rengokus' in general. This family is just riddled with grief.

We're all gonna die

was the verse that kept being repeated in the song Fourth of July and really emphasize the despair and anguish.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead

It was night when you died, my firefly

What could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?

The song Fourth of July feels like a back-and-forth conversation between Shinjurou to Ruka, Ruka to Kyoujurou, and Shinjurou or Senjurou to Kyoujurou. Both Ruka and Kyoujurou fought their own battles and died in the end. But at the same time from this next part, we could see how these deaths matter to the family.

Did you get enough love, my little dove

Why do you cry?

And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best

Though it never felt right

My little Versailles

This part also feels like what Ruka would say to her boys but at the same time, it could be said by Kyoujurou to Senjurou and Shinjurou who finally sober up after Kyoujurou died, and the fact that it became a catalyst to Tanjirou's personal development.

The hospital asked should the body be cast

Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky

Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?

This is Shinjurou to Ruka or Kyoujurou. I feel so bad for Shinjurou because even before Ruka's death he had been feeling inadequate about his own ability as a Flame Hashira. His comrades die during battle and this battle that went on for centuries seemed to be never-ending. I feel even if he did get Ruka's warning that she was about to die, he would never be ready. He could never say goodbye until it was too late.

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Why do you cry?

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

While it is light

This reminded me of Kyoujurou's last message to Shinjurou and Senjurou,

"Please take care of your body."

It is such a simple message but knowing their story, it holds so much weight. Shinjurou has been struggling with alcoholism and despite what he said, "He's only going to blame me for it!" Kyoujurou still only wished for his father's health.

You could also see the resemblance between the characters' traits. All the animals mentioned were of flight. They symbolize freedom and soaring dreams. The Rengokus had passed down the legacy of being the only Flame Hashira and it is such a huge responsibility. At the same time, there's the privilege of being in a wealthy and prodigy family, thus the flying references.

It is very fitting for Ruka to call Kyoujurou her little Versailles as he has an abundance of potential and knowledge and he's in a way a living embodiment of the Rengoku Family history.

A littl bonus:

The verse, "Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?" is so intriguing to me as aside from keeping the rhyme and bird/flight animal motif, a loon can also mean a crazy person.

Which reminded me of the story of Icarus. I don't think Sufjan was making an ironic nudge to that story. Despite the whole sun vs moon thing (Icarus flew too close to the sun and died) and the flying reference.

(Imagine telling Icarus to look at the moon as it will not melt his wings like the sun did looool)

The story of Icarus is known to be about hubris or "excessive pride" but at the same time, I feel it's kinda bleak. You can't really blame Icarus for wanting to escape such a hellish place, and it cost him his death as he heeds no warning from his father.

In a way, Shinjurou's discouragement serves as a warning for Kyoujurou to stop demon slaying. But at the same time, he gave no good reason for Kyoujurou to do so. Though I don't think Kyoujurou fears being his father if he ever stops demon slaying. He also never once pushes Senjurou to do better and lets him decide his future for himself instead of demanding that Senjurou become his tsuguko. But I do think that Kyoujurou knew deep down he was their last resort.

In fact, Kyoujurou was adamant that the only way to bring his father back to life was for him to become a Hashira. Yet it cost him his life.

But is it foolish to be confident that you can fly high enough you can still survive without melting your wings? Is it lunatic to think that you're your family's last hope?

Kyoujurou's death is a butterfly effect.

Sooo yeah, I recommend listening to these songs or the album, and happy Purgatory Countdown.

[houseofthe-rrverse]

The Solangelo Book Cover is Out and You Get to See Me Try to Guess the Entire Dam Plot

Less than an hour ago from the time I'm writing this, the cover was released. So first, let's take a good look at it:

Nico and Will in the depths Tartarus, in front of what seems to be the Mansion of Night. Now, according to my memory, Annabeth and Percy passed through the Mansion of Night (MoT) before reaching the Doors of Death, where they left Bob/Iapetus.

The premise is that Nico hears a voice calling from Tartarus, who he thinks is Bob. Rachel's latest prophecy tells that Nico will have to "leave something of equal value behind". Nico and Will head to Tartarus to save Bob, who could be in trouble.

Ohhhh shit.

That image is them looking for Bob, by heading to the last place he was: near the Doors of Death. Problem is, you get there by passing through Nyx's domain, where the MoT is.

Nico is holding Will's hand, desperate, pointing to the MoT. It's implied here that Nico is convincing Will to go to the MoT, although it doesn't look like Will is sold out on the idea.

"Leave something of equal value"? Nico is saving Bob, taking him away from Tartarus. He must leave something EQUAL to Bob behind, for an equal exchange. Let's not forget, Nico was the one who helped Bob and cared for him. Bob is important to Nico.

It's obvious he wouldn't leave Will behind. He wouldn't even think of it. He has to leave something IMPORTANT. So:

Nico chooses to sacrifice himself. Will probably has a mental breakdown. Fits Nico's character. Or...

Will sacrifices himself, and Nico is gonna go absolutely CRAZY. Plus a mental breakdown. Fits Will's character.

(Extra Pain) Nico tries to sacrifice himself, but Will becomes the sacrifice instead somehow, through choosing to sacrifice himself. Extra points if they have a whole fight about it and Nico is left absolutely broken after Will's sacrifice.

Also, what the hell is this "sacrifice"?

Since Bob probably died, and his voice is the regenerated version of himself, I think the sacrifice is DEATH. A soul for a soul.

Where am I going with this? Well, people have been speculating that this story will be a parallel to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

TLDR: they were married, Eurydice died, Orpheus bargained with Hades so her spirit would follow behind him to the surface to the living world, but he could never glance at her before they reached the surface or she'd stay dead forever. In his love, he failed to do so, causing her to stay dead permanently. A very sad tragedy.

See where I'm going? Will dies. Nico goes to the Underworld, bargains with Hades, Hades ends up giving the same conditions as Orpheus had. However, this could be the other way round. Orpheus was wonderful at music, close to Apollo too. It could be Will saving Nico.

One thing to note is that Eurydice was bitten by a venomous snake, causing her death. Maybe Nico sacrifices himself and Will feels quilty not being able to save him. As we know, Will takes pride in healing and saving others.

BUT- I think Will dying is more likely.

This winds back to the title. "The Sun and The Star"...a perfect metaphor for not only the 2 boys, but also for that theory! Solace, a name close to words related to the sun. Nico is a star.

"Nico di Angelo has been through so much. But there is a ray of sunshine in his life–literally: his boyfriend, Will Solace, the son of Apollo." A clue from the blog post.

Let's see what Riordan had to say about the title:

"I have to credit Mark with the title! They have a lot more poetry in their soul than I do. It is not a title I would ever have come up with by myself, but I’m very grateful because it is absolutely perfect."

This final clue that really sold me on my final theory of Nico-saves-Will is the fact that Oshiro is more poetic. The title is meant to be symbolic of the 2...you know the metaphor of the North Star? That star was used by explorers as a navigation symbol. It was a fixed point of reference, a way you could use to find your way home.

Will is the Sun, Nico is the North Star.

The Sun shines on, the beam of light that shines on in the darkness. But it cannot shine forever. In the depths of hell, the North Star guides him back home.

[hinata-boke]

Drawing a randomly generated Haikyuu character (almost) every day until I give up

73. Oomimi Ren

[exitwound]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DARLINGGGGG💞💗💓💘❤️‍🔥❣️❕❕❕Sweetheart you are the sun to my moon the gravity to my world and the key to my heart i cannot express how grateful i am that you exist &&& that i have the good luck 2 know u personally . The last 1.5ish yrs have been an absolute fuckin rollercoaster & i am so glad i got 2 share it w u!!!! U mean so much 2 me n i will forever treasure what we have. We may be at opposite ends of the world but regardless i am alwaysss carrying you around w me in my heart [See image attached beloww 4 reference (joint brainchild of ZOEE & MEE)] Anyway I love u so so much have an amazing fuckin one you deserve it!!!! 1000000000000000 kisses enuf 2 stretch to the next galaxy and back<3

I LOVE YOUUUUU MWUAHMWUAH XXXXXX . HAHAHAHAHA YESS OUR IMAGE. Literally more has happened to me in the last 1.5 years too than like ever in my whole life probably & If you’re a dream amidst it all then Im not waking up ❣️ its MY good luck to know you i want to like never lose touch btw. Your lovely birthday wish is so special in my heart where I already carry your heart next to it in a little tiny mug like if there was a mug and two cherries at the bottom of it like ice cubes and the sunlight was pouring in like tea :) have a wonderful day . I am eating birthday breakfast fruit the sweetest strawberries everrrrr there’s a second fork dig in ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 🍓 . Put your soul on my soul and let’s. Swim

[templevirgin]

Daily Reading: Friday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time

Matthew 5:27-32

Jesus said to his disciples: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body thrown into Gehenna. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body go into Gehenna. It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife must give her a bill of divorce.’ But I say to you, whoever divorces his wife (unless the marriage is unlawful) causes her to commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.”

Introductory Prayer: Lord Jesus, today I will contemplate your love in action. You continually go out of your way to make your presence felt in my life, and I am very grateful. Thank you, Lord, for another day; it is another opportunity to deepen my love and friendship with you.

Petition: A clean heart create for me, God; renew within me a steadfast spirit. (Ps 51:12)

Reflections

1. Guard Your Eyes: Concerning purity of heart, Jesus takes this demand for purity a step further than the Old Testament. He teaches that to even look at a woman with lust in your heart, seeing her as merely an object to satisfy your lustful desires, is seriously sinful. Jesus does not say that it is sinful to simply recognize a woman as beautiful, or by extension, a woman recognizing a man as handsome. It is when we see the other as an object and have impure thoughts about them that we give in to sin. In other words, the temptation itself is not a sin; it is when we accept that temptation into our heart and give it a home by willfully playing with it in our mind that we step over the line. Lord Jesus, it’s so easy to grant myself concessions in this area, but with your aid I will be firm in my resolve to guard my senses, remembering an adage from the computer age: “Garbage in, garbage out!”

2. If It Puts Your Soul in Danger, It’s Got to Go: Christ’s call to holy purity, like every other virtue, is eminently positive. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Mt 22:37). Purity is a consequence of the love that prompts us to commit to Christ our soul and body, our faculties and senses. Jesus uses the images of “right eye” and “right hand” to refer to that which we value most. He is telling us that if that which we value most in life has become a stumbling block in our relationship with the Lord, then, simply put, it’s got to go. It is far better to lose a possession or a position or to break off a relationship than to risk the eternal salvation of our soul. We must be prepared to fight for righteousness with all of our strength, being ready to eliminate whatever could clearly lead us to offend the Lord.

3. And the Two Shall Become One: Jesus re-established the principle of the absolute indissolubility of marriage, a principle that has been unhesitatingly taught by the Church from the very beginning. Pope Pius XI reminded us in Casti Connubii (December 31, 1930) about the immutable and inviolable truth that “matrimony was not instituted or re-established by men, but by God… Consequently, those laws can in no way be subject to human wills or to any contrary pact made even by the contracting parties. This is the teaching of Sacred Scripture; it is the constant and universal Tradition of the Church.” Marriage endures until death though the love may last forever. What God has joined together, let nothing separate. Am I living my marriage as a covenant? Do I treat my spouse with respect and affection? Do I dedicate my heart, time, and energy to cultivating our love, so it will endure and flourish?

Prayer: Lord Jesus, I want to live with purity, and I know that this requires a strong will and a constant effort in this world that encourages instant gratification of the senses. Give me the strength in particular to guard my eyes and control my imagination. Help me to be exquisitely faithful to my spouse.

Resolution: I will promote the virtue of purity in my personal life and set a good example for others by incorporating into my lifestyle the time-tested ascetical methods that the Church has proposed to us down through the ages: frequent confession and Communion; devotion to Our Lady; a spirit of prayer and mortification; guarding of the senses; flight from occasions of sin; and striving to avoid idleness by always being engaged in doing useful things.

[wolint]

HOW BIG IS YOUR GOD?

HOW BIG IS YOUR GOD

Job 38-42

 

The concept of “big” can be subjective, but when it comes to God, His magnitude is beyond comparison. God’s greatness and influence surpass all earthly entities. The Psalms are filled with references to God’s grandeur, glory, and majesty, all indicative of His vastness. Psalm 48:1 encourages us to praise God’s greatness.

God is infinite, with no beginning or end. His vastness is immeasurable, far exceeding the expanse of the ocean or the length of a street. We serve a God who is indescribable and transcends human language. The Bible is a testament to God’s majesty and splendour.

God’s greatness is multifaceted, varying for different people in different situations. Yet, His word is the key to understanding Him. God’s magnitude is such that He is the eternal king of heaven, glory, and kings. He is the sovereign king, enduringly strong, eternally steadfast, and impartially powerful.

God’s life is unparalleled, His goodness limitless, and His mercy everlasting. His love never changes or dies, it abides forever as stated in 1 Corinthians 13:13. The totality of the Godhead is incomprehensible and invincible, reflecting God’s magnitude.

God is Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and Omniscient. He is all-powerful, omnipresent, and all-knowing. He knows us inside and out as per Psalm 139:1-4. No power can stand against Him. Isaiah 40:27 refers to God as the everlasting Creator of all the earth, who never grows weak or weary.

Numerous songs and hymns have been written about God’s greatness, yet they barely scratch the surface of His true nature. Psalm 147:5 invites us to see and praise God’s greatness. It should inspire us to delve deeper into the scriptures to truly comprehend God’s magnitude.

These verses, among many others, underscore the immeasurable greatness of God. His power, wisdom, and love are beyond our comprehension, yet He invites us to know Him and experience His greatness in our lives.

Jeremiah 10:6: "There is none like You, O Lord; You are great, and great is Your name in might."

1 Chronicles 16:25: "For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; He also is to be feared above all gods."

Psalm 96:4: "For great is the Lord and greatly to be praised; He is to be feared above all gods."

1 Chronicles 29:11: "Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty, indeed everything that is in the heavens and the earth; Yours is the dominion, O Lord, and You exalt Yourself as head overall."

Nehemiah 1:5: "I said, “I beseech You, O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God, who preserves the covenant and lovingkindness for those who love Him and keep His commandments."

Isaiah 12:6: "Cry aloud and shout for joy, O inhabitant of Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel."

Ezekiel 36:23: "I will vindicate the holiness of My great name which has been profaned among the nations, which you have profaned in their midst. Then the nations will know that I am the Lord,” declares the Lord God, “when I prove Myself holy among you in their sight."

Psalm 147:5: “Great is our Lord and of great power; His understanding is inexhaustible and boundless."

Matthew 19:26: "But Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

PRAYER: Lord, I am in awe of your greatness, majesty, and splendour. I am grateful that you chose to make me in your image and commune with me. Thank you, Lord, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT. PRAYER MIN.

[artisanoftheredscience]

A Page From Slowcakes

[Editor's Note: Credit to Brightgoat and their maker, "Bright's Piccrew Hell" for the art. Image ID in alt text.]

NOTICE: Please read Editor's notes next to section headings, as they contain information about content that may be triggering for some.

Name: Ellison Arrow

DOB: October 31st, 1870. 

Age: 24-31 years old.  [Editor's Note: 24 is the year Professor Ellison first gains his lab. 31 is his age in the current year.].

KNOWN ALIASES: The Consumed Polymath, The Violant-Goggled Revolutionary. 

Pronouns: He/They

Profession: Professor/Researcher/Correspondent. Red Science consultant for the GHBRB. (Does ‘Revolutionary’ count as a profession?)

BACKSTORY [Editor's Note; Discretion is advised- content ahead contains mentions of Parental Death/Disappearance, Cannibalism, Murder, Injury/Violence, Betrayal, Mental Health Issues.]

Ellison was born in the Neath to two very loving parents. They were both researchers at the university, with particular attentions that made their work unique. His father was obsessed with the world beyond the mirror, the strange and the impossible, and was always working towards some breakthrough or other. His mother was a biologist, who was particularly fascinated by the odd animals of the Neath. Their influence gave Ellison a love of science, and he spent much of his childhood studying in all kinds of fields, though he had a strong gift for mechanics and chemistry.

When they weren’t studying, they spent most of their time running around London with his childhood friends. They were a tight knit group. There was Bell, a cheerful urchin who was never far from Ellison, one who Ellison had always regarded as being his closest companion. There was J. Willows, who lived three blocks away from him with her parents, who were always fussing over her. She couldn’t speak, so they had all learned sign language, a skill Ellison would find useful as he grew older and came upon his own difficulties. She was smart, resilient, and always had something to joke about. There was Evangaline, who lived in a covenant in a quieter part of Spite, and who was far more mature than the rest of them, though that didn’t stop her from participating in their hijinks. And finally, there was Angie. Tough as nails, mischievous as the non-existent foxes, and perhaps the most hard-working woman he’d ever met. . 

Yes, these were the people Ellison would come to rely on most. Their adventures around London were some of Ellison’s most treasured memories, rivaled only by his relationship with another dear friend of his. 

Kendrick Starlee, an aspiring engineer and family friend, one who Ellison came to admire greatly over the years. They’d met whilst he was fixing a clock for her father (one of his experiments had crashed through their window and busted it, as was all too common for him). They’d hit it off in an instant, and Kendrick had agreed to tutor him. Thus, a strong friendship was born. They shared a passion for invention and science that would become essential to Ellison’s own development as a scientist, something he was forever grateful for. Their relationship grew into an almost sibling-like bond, and he began to refer to her frequently as his older sister. 

She had been the one he relied on once his parents had left. They had grown stranger over the years, her mother disappearing into her lab for days on end for her work. His father all but abandoning his. He’d left for six months when Ellison was ten, and upon his return had quit working for the university. He had made Ellison swear to him to never, under any circumstances, attempt to follow up on his research, the bulk of which he’d destroyed the night he came home. Ellison had promised, though some part of him burned with curiosity. 

Then, a few weeks short of his fifteenth birthday, his parents had left for a trip. A research trip, his mother had told him, one that should only have lasted a week. She had asked him to stay with Kendrick, and he had agreed. He hadn’t packed too well- he had thought they would be home soon, and there was no need to be prepared for a long stay 

That day was the last he saw of them. He waited for months on end, and they never returned. Kendrick revealed to him after some time that his mother had left her with all of their financial information, as well as a pair of violant-tinted goggles she had always worn. Ellison had been destroyed by the idea that she had suspected she would never return. The grief and anger ate him alive- but Ellison was sure that they weren’t dead. They were out there somewhere, and Ellison just needed to find them. 

So he dove deeper into his studies. He would lock himself away for hours, trying to retrace his parents steps, to figure out exactly what they had been looking for. In doing so, he pushed away most of his friends, only a handful still making an effort to visit him. Bell never gave up, even as Ellison grew colder, less present. Kendrick remained, the only family he had left, alongside her charming but strange girlfriend, who Ellison disliked but tolerated. Kendrick loved her, after all. 

And then two years later, Ellison ran into yet another set-back. His adoptive sister’s previously well-adjusted , if a little odd, girlfriend killed a man. Several, in fact. And then baked them, as well as a significant amount of herself, into a pie. Which she… well, Ellison didn’t like to think about it. Didn’t like to think about how he’d discovered it. That night was a dark, abysmal blotch in his memory. He did recall the aftermath- Kendrick had made him promise they would never speak of it, and the two of them had buried it. This was his first brush with the more sinister forces of the Neath, a topic of study which would someday consume much of his own research. 

All of this drove Ellison to pursue a university education, joining the ranks of their student population at only seventeen. It was there that he had met Benjamin. 

Benjamin had been kind. Friendly to a fault, even with how sour and cold Ellison had been at first. Even with how sour and cold he was even when they became friends. Benjamin had just been fundamentally kind, in a way Ellison didn’t believe was possible. He paid no attention to the rumors, the whispers of Ellison’s family. The way people looked down their noses at them, doubted their intelligence because of their preconceived notions about their family history. He didn’t pay any mind to the gossip that his father had been mad, his work utter nonsense, and his mother madder still for marrying a man without the same sort of rich background she had grown up with, one who couldn’t even publish a respectable paper. 

He and Benjamin had grown quite close. They graduated with their bachelor’s together, in only two years, a feat which had nearly killed them to accomplish but had been bloody worth it. Ellison still relished the faces of all his detractors seeing him succeed. They’d launched into their grad program together, both pursuing doctorates. It took a long time- they’d decided to focus on evidence of an anomaly in the physics of the Neath, using old archeological data and some practical experiments as the bulk of their research. It had grown into a much deeper look into the mysteries of a section of ruins in the Forgotten Quarter, one that Ellison had been more than excited for. 

His work in that lab had brightened him somewhat. He was even becoming more sociable, spending time with people he had  pushed away, rekindling his old life. He had been comfortable. He should have known better. 

All of his work was almost all for nothing. They were so close to a breakthrough, one that would give them the reputation needed for a lab. One that would let both of them finally have the acclaim they had sought after, would finally net them a lab of their own. 

And then, one day, he’d gone back to the lab late at night, having forgotten a notebook. He’d passed by their supervisor’s office, only to realize it wasn't empty. He had realized that Benjamin and their supervisor were  still inside. Despite his better judgment, he had listened in, and what he overheard had shook him to his very core. 

During their conversation, it became apparent that their supervisor was pressuring Benjamin to take Ellison’s name off their work, trying to convince Benjamin that being professionally associated with Ellison would only cause them trouble. It was so ridiculous that Ellison would have laughed if it wasn't sickening. And the worst part was, after everything they had been through together, Benjamin had agreed. He had tried to say that it was alright, that he would help Ellison find different research. But they knew better than that. 

Ellison could not let anything stand in the way of his work. He could not allow himself to be humiliated like this- used and then tossed aside as soon as it became inconvenient for someone else. Ellison could not let that happen. Even if they did care for Benjamin. 

So he did what he had to do. 

The accident was a tragedy, but not unheard of. The Forgotten Quarter was such a dangerous place, after all. Cave-ins happened all the time, and finding a severed head in the ruble was only natural with such sharp stalactites. 

Ellison would miss him. But he had his  lab now, and he was one step closer to finally getting everything he’d been working towards. And he’d learned a very valuable lesson that day. 

Trusting anyone was a mistake, and not one he would be repeating. 

NOTABLE ASSOCIATES

Kendrick Starlee: These two consider one another adoptive siblings. They’re incredibly close. Ellison cares for her more than basically everything else in the world. Family is extremely important, and he would die for her. They also have an extraordinary synergy as engineers, which makes them rather scary to deal with if they’re not on your side. 

Dr. Stone: These two are good buddies. Ellison claims to dislike them, but he’s just being grouchy. They get on well, especially when it comes to the Liberation and Rev shenanigans. 

Captain Bell: These two are childhood best friends, and also QPPS! Or the Victorian equivalent of it, they don’t use that language. They’re incredibly close. Bell understands Ellison on a level no one else does, and Ellison understands Bell just as well. They’re often seen together when Bell’s not at Zee. 

Detective Peculiar: These two are co-workers. They get along pretty well. Ellison respects her as an intellectual equal, and she respects him as a guy who gets shit done. 

Angie: Childhood best friends. He often helps Angie out when they need someone to source ship parts for cheap, or when she needs someone to help her find some way to screw over a Master. Usually Iron. They also talk shit when they’re together. They’re such catty bffs <3

Evangeline: Childhood best friends. These two get together for coffee whenever she’s back in port. They’re both fairly quiet when they’re together, but they have a strong bond. They usually talk about the news or books they’re both reading. 

J. Willows: Childhood best friends. These two have stayed close over the years. Ellison checks  in on her parents when she’s at sea. When they’re together, they can be scarily good at kicking ass. 

Sam: Imagine if your clone developed their whole own personality and then dedicated their life to fucking with you. That’s this relationship. It’s hostile at first but develops into a cousin-like bond. They tell people they’re twins to avoid Ellison having to explain his highly illegal plans, but otherwise they’re just two dudes. 

EXTRA INFORMATION [Spoilers for late-game content]

While working at a factory part-time to fund his own research, Ellison was badly injured by a neddy man while trying to pass through the area where another factory's strike was occurring. This incident is what motivates them to begin working closely with Unionists, and eventually with the Revs. 

Ellison, despite claiming to despise teaching, is actually very fond of his grad students. He would fight anyone who said so, though. 

He is a staunch Liberationist, but isn’t too big on the whole ‘lightless’ angle. He aims to find a way to create “Light without Law”. Good luck with that one, buddy. 

During his research into Parabola, one of Ellison's experiments goes wrong, and he permanently severs part of his soul, which latches on to his reflection and creates a second version of himself. This is Sam, another one of my ocs. 

Has a weird thing going on with Mr. Fires. Don’t question it or think too hard about how that works, Ellison won't explain it either. 

Was dragged into working on the Great Hellbound Railway Board against his will. He has beef with Virginia because of this.