#binah x reader

[baconsanwichyay]

A gift for @binah-beloved.

:D

Binah-beloved if your reading this then I just wanted to tell you that your content is amazing and you've single handedly made me love Binah so so so much your writing is literally beautiful to the point I shed actually tears reading it sometimes. How do you write her yearning so well I can feel it through the screen 🙏🙏 your literally one of the main reasons I'm excited to wake up in the morning just to see whatever masterpiece you've created. Oh my days I feel so corny writing this I just thought your account needed some appreciation so here is my gift to you 🥹

The art separate:

[binah-beloved]

Arbiters Do Not Believe in Tears

Binah x Reader Android AU Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Descriptions of small injuries and death

~ * ~

Androids do not feel. It is not an opinion, it is a fact, told constantly to everyone and anyone. Androids do not have capacity for emotions. They are here to use, to be used, to serve those who bought and own them because they can never be anything but owned. You know this. The world knows this. Everybody knows this, and those who believe otherwise are called foolish, tearing an inevitable cackling laugh from people’s throats as they slap the table, how stupid and silly, how naive! They’re words you ponder as you continue your life’s work of creating and welding and repairing, your dingy house filled with bits of metal, bobs you found tossed aside. One person’s junk is another’s treasure, although some would call you an idiot for thinking you could make something out of nothing. But nothing is never nothing. And perhaps you are an idiot, or stupid, or silly, or foolish or naive, or perhaps some combination of everything, when you pull a discarded android out under the scrapheap.

Black, gold, and porcelain, once pristine and now tarnished. The interlocked hexagons immediately mark the android as an Arbiter class, models only available to the wealthiest and most influential people. Yet this one has been thrown away and left to rot, rust decorating her elegant features, and a frown flits across your face. Someone must have been very frivolous, or perhaps very cruel, to toss aside an Arbiter android without a thought. It’s not surprising. Those types are all fat old fools, after all. Nothing to it but resources, you try to tell yourself. But your hands lay flat on the android’s shoulders and refuse to curl, taking not one bit of metal from her. The gears in your head turn, fingers tracing and examining every patch of rust and severed wire and those closed eyes, neutral and silent. “Fixable.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, carefully hefting her onto your back and hurrying away, just as the sun begins to set.

It becomes a personal project of yours, an attempt to repair a disabled Arbiter as you scrounge around for different parts to use. You’re not even sure what metal she’s made of, something high quality and cold and much, much too expensive for you to even have a chance of glimpsing, but slowly your list fills with checkmarks and new cuts join old scars on your hands from your work. Gloves cost too much, and your fingers are essentially dead in feeling anyways. The android sits on your workbench, the corpse of an effigy, and doesn’t move. In truth, you’re not expecting her to be alive. The rational part of your brain keeps repeating the facts, over and over. Clearly, she was shut down. She can’t be repaired. She will never wake up. You’re excellent at not listening to those thoughts, letting your body methodically move while you keep your mind blank apart from the spark of hope twinkling in the center. Maybe, just maybe, your skills will suffice. Maybe. There’s a twitch from her fingers, and you pause, breath dying in your chest. They move again, more this time, slowly curling and uncurling into a fist before the android’s body jolts and clicking whirs fill the room as symphonic noise. Slowly, she sits upright, and slowly, you take a few steps back, unable to keep yourself from staring as her golden earring sways. Her eyes open like a splash of midnight, and she’s staring directly back at you, voice coming out flat and cold.

“I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” You open your mouth, then close it again, not her original owner nor another member of the elite. You could say nothing. You could simply keep your mouth shut, and she would leave as an Arbiter to find a new directive. You could turn your back and pretend like you saw nothing. But you know and she knows that there’s nowhere for her now. “…Stay a while.” And she does. She becomes a constant shadow, watching you silently from a corner in your little, decrepit house. For several days the android simply stands there, doing and saying nothing but observing your every movement. Occasionally you look up from your work, meeting her bored black gaze, and you wave. At first there’s nothing, but gradually her head tilts at your small actions and the kind smile you give her. One day, she waves back, stiff and a little awkward, but it makes you perk up nonetheless. She moves closer, more freely, beginning to explore the house when you’re bent over pieces of metal and solder, before standing directly behind you and watching you work with a flicker of interest, although she rarely answers to her designated title. Something is disconnected, unfitting, and you take to simply calling her “Dear” from the pool of sweet sincerity in your heart. You answer when she asks questions, not berating or sneering but giving her a nod and swift demonstrations and free reign to examine anything she wants. So she sits, the nameless android, and reads every book you have to offer, cold fingers tracing over one word again and again. It’s that word she holds close to her when she approaches you one day, a hint of apprehension in her eyes. 

“…I would like for you to call me Binah, from now on.” She’s amazed at her audacity to request something as an android, a tool, a weapon to be used. What’s more incredible is your response, a nod and a gentle agreement that it suits her. For the first time, Binah smiles a little. Binah is never apart from you after that. Wherever you go, she goes, even if it’s simply to find more supplies or to watch the stars come out. She’s always there, a quiet, constant presence by your side. There are flashes and glints of feeling, slowly, as she begins to separate things she likes and dislikes and learn, always learning more and more with keen interest. She likes the night sky, books, the scent of tea. She despises too much noise, too many people, those who never listen. You, she finds, she likes immensely.

She never tells you this verbally, but you know when her fingers curl around yours and your hand presses against her cool cheek, eliciting a shudder as she practically melts against your touch. Some people ask if she’s yours when they see her behind you, carefully watching for any threats. You always deny it, every time. The thought of being Binah’s owner makes your stomach turn, seeing and accompanying her during her growing sentience and awareness as an individual. But she interrupts you one day when that familiar question rises again, answering with a monotonous yes and an icy glare until the person who asked runs off in a panic. You blink, turning to look at her only for cool, heavy arms to wrap around your waist, her hand over your beating, human heart. “I am yours, and you are mine. If you will have me.” Her words are firm and laced with certainty, the gentle touch of her fingers betraying her hidden, developing emotions. You stare at Binah and merely nod, and she softens briefly to bump her forehead against yours.

You were told that androids couldn’t do a lot of things. They don’t feel, don’t form attachments, don’t understand bonds or gentleness. Everything is proven wrong, to your delight. It has never felt so good to be wrong, wrong about each “fact” that tried to force its way into your head. Wrong, except for one. Androids cannot die. Not in the way that humans do. Everyone knows this. Binah knows this. You knew this. They could be shut down, or lose their directive, but Arbiters were made to survive. You had told her about death, your fingers laced with hers during your evening walk. “Humans rot underground, but I like to think that eventually we grow into flowers again. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Yes. It would be nice. Her words go unspoken.

Binah stands in the rain, wrapped in the coat you made for her after she discarded the golden hexagons to remain with you. Of course, there’s no cold to her, but you loved and she loved the fabric, the way you would tuck yourself into the front while she was still wearing it. She idly twists her rings; one, two, three; resting on her favorite on the left hand. “I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” Her voice is as apathetic and even as the day you first met, drizzle clouding her vision and wetting her synthetic hair. You always told her it was soft and smooth, and she couldn’t help but lean against your hands whenever you pet it. “…I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” Her fingers lace together and grip hard, the same crushing force that has killed countless people, yet treated you so gently. She always was fond of caressing your face, feeling the way your skin dipped under her careful touch. Fascinating. Wonderful. Human.

“…I am Binah, your android. Please…” Instinctively, she reaches out for your presence, trembling minutely and unable to keep the repressed waver out of her tone. “…What are your orders…?” Androids also cannot cry. Almost none of them are made with it in mind, even less so Arbiters who are made to kill and maim. But Binah feels, and wishes that she could so. “…I miss you.” The rain weeps in exchange, and a lone android sinks to her knees in the flower field where you’re buried. 

[ruinaimagines]

Since the other Arbiter got some love why not some for the Local one? Can you do some Romantic Headcanons for Binah please?

AT LONG LAST, THE BINAH LOVERS WILL BE FED (I am also one of them). I decided to combine these all because they all cover a very similar topic! And I don't want to accidentally throw myself in writers block by doing them individually. I am quickly noting that this familiar Arbiter is a fan favorite, but I am not surprised.

Binah Romantic Headcanons:

I don’t know how else to describe this woman other than otherworldly. There’s such an air of mystery that drives people in. She reminds me of an old Greek statue of the gods, and her tendency to lounge and just watch over the things that conspire helps with that.

The way she speaks is mesmerizing as well, it’s rich with detail and she’s sure to flatter you with her words. Her verbose ways of speaking and observant eyes make for incredibly unique and memorable compliments. 

Binah is very good at reading people, you are no exception. She’s very relieving to speak to as well for things you need to get off your chest. Sometimes it might feel like you have something to say, but you have no opportunity to do that. She will listen for as long as you need.

She has a very calming and relaxing feel to her. Whatever your problem may be, you’ll feel safe in her presence. The air on her floor is crisp on the tip of your tongue like it’s autumn, and it smells of tea. The lights in the sky look like stars, but hover like fireflies.

She is very welcome to the idea of you taking a nap or falling asleep around her, especially if you’re a librarian who just got out of a battle. Short moments of vulnerability like that mean a lot to her and warm her heart even if you may not even realize.

Binah certainly has a reputation as intimidating and dangerous. It can be beneficial in certain situations, but it honestly grows tiring. She’s growing and changing just as anyone in the library is. It can be difficult to manage a floor of psychology when people are too hesitant and afraid to speak up around her. Let alone with people she’s about to spend an eternity with.

This must be one of the reasons she finds herself falling for you. Perhaps you were placed on her floor as a librarian, interested in getting to know her better. Either way, you seemed to be unbothered by any rumors or speculation and instead would be rather open.

She doesn’t get surprised by much, but there was a bit of a humble shock in her chest when you would invite her to do things. It may seem simple to an outside eye, but few ask for her to come along unless it’s formal. But you don't seem obligated to, rather, you seem to enjoy being around her.

Binah has no issue with being the one to plan out events, nor does she really expect someone else to fulfill that role. Everyone always has something to do in this library, you are no different. But it’s nice to have a change of pace.

From an outside perspective it may seem that she treats you as she would anyone else. She doesn’t really verbally express affection in the ways that may be common, such as simple ‘I love you’s. She instead opts for acts of service, subtle hints that she’s paying attention to your words, and flattering you with long compliments. Very much enjoys just spending time with you and the deep talks that come with it.

If you’re a librarian you might find that the books you were selected to organize have already been placed in their dedicated spots. She tries to alleviate forms of stress or workload for you from time to time. It helps on rough days (and also means more time for the two of you to be around eachother).

In receptions she pays very close attention to your health. She understands that even if you are killed, you’re able to revive, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to deal with the pain. Ideally if she can keep a closer focus on you scenarios like those could be avoided.

Visiting the whole nap idea earlier, I could absolutely see her lending you her coat to wrap yourself in. The fluffy collar has to be comfortable as a pillow. She just thinks you look cute.

Binah herself doesn’t really initiate that much physical affection, but she loves when you cling, lean onto, or even fall asleep on her. She’ll slowly drag her fingers through your hair, or just hold onto you with a light touch.

She’s like a guide in both work and mentality. You can always come to her for advice. Sure you may not solve every problem, as some may be for you to figure out yourself, but you can figure out new ways to approach it.

The floor philosophy is heavy on the mind. Whether the topics are sad, or just described in so many confusing metaphors it becomes nonsensical, it takes a lot of energy to parse. It’s not super easy to come back from a fight to the death and then sit down and flip open a barely understandable book.

Binah, however, is almost always in a constant state of pondering. She’s willing to sit down and help out if the book is just a bit too much right now. It might come as a bit of a surprise, but she’s actually pretty good at putting things into simple, processable terms. That’s just not often how she speaks.

If you’re frustrated or your head is too fuzzy don’t even worry. The two of you can have a tea break.

Whether it's to help soothe you, or as a date, there really is no doubt she likes spending time with you, brewing the both of you tea. She really enjoys being able to physically make something that will positively impact you, and that the both of you can enjoy.

Be it she’s helping pull you out of a stressed mentality or the two of you are having fun discussing a smaller topic you will always leave the conversation feeling fulfilled.

Now we know she loves her tea dates, but there are actually some lesser known activities she enjoys too! Spending time outside, likely on one of the balconies of the library, and lounging in the shade has always been a good way to spend time for her.

Given the circumstances, leaving the library is unrealistic, and should you be a librarian it’s the same for you. That said, being outside gives the breath of fresh air and can make it feel like you’re a little less cooped up.

I imagine her as the type of person to collect different types of antique-looking dainty silverware, plates, and cups. If the two of you manage to get a little blanket set up, or a table and some chairs, she’ll be happy to host a picnic.

There’s little she hasn’t had the opportunity to do in her previous life as an arbiter, but this just means she values the moments where people make it special more. Don’t stress out too much about making the settings of dates constantly unique, because what she comes for is you. 

Makes me wonder though, perhaps she’d be interested in trying pottery? Yes it would be rather messy which might make her a little hesitant, but almost all artforms are. It’s part of the creation. If you are willing to participate too though then she’s all for it.

She somehow makes something beautiful on the first try. Comments something about ‘Well that wasn’t too hard’ to herself. You probably don’t have as much luck, especially if inexperienced, and end up with something vaguely shaped like a vase?? Whatever you had fun it doesn’t matter.

That said she doesn’t know everything and will love to hear about the niche little hobbies or interests of you. A lot of the time she’s actually learning something new.

[binah-beloved]

Intertwining Threads

Binah x Reader Lobotomy Corporation Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Descriptions of blood and torture

~ * ~

The life of an Arbiter revolves around torture, as is fit of the prime assassins of the Head. Whatever is ordered shall be done, they all had vowed at the start of their service; threats, collection, removals, extermination. It’s all part of the cycle. There’s nothing to be done or changed, so why not relish in the destruction? Garion was no different, her hands stained with blood and the countless lives she had torn apart. Even when she was gutted and splintered, laid out in a chair to have her brain picked and prodded; when she was forced to cling to her dying breath, listening to every crack of bone with iron red dripping from her mouth; when her name was taken away and replaced by something dull and false so he could control her better, she remained the same, as an Arbiter mimics the City. Binah. What a fitting name. Meaning to contemplate, to understand. She could do nothing but think, after all, being locked away beside a well of madness, alone. Yes, she had much time to contemplate, her task of drawing water slowly driving her insane, as there was no one who could do this but her, no one else who could withstand it. This was her punishment, for everything. Hah, punishment. An Arbiter being tormented instead of doing the tormenting. How laughable. The people around her come and go, living and dying and returning with each new cycle. She’s the head of some department or another, except she can’t leave, not ever. The doors were barred and shut for her, for all of them, long ago.

The agents and clerks beneath her always await her instructions. She used to purposefully lie, watching with sharp eyes as they fell screaming to the monsters or the sounds or the images flashing across their eyes. But he disliked that, sending her back to the room with the well and making her draw more and more water as a form of discipline, and soon she found no joy in watching people crumble, only boredom. They all call her Binah. But she’s not Binah, she’s Garion, and will be Garion forevermore. It’s difficult to tell the time down here amongst the machines and shadows. The only signs are any new employees, fools who join the ranks of the facility because they are very stupid or very desperate, or perhaps a bit of both. She’s long since given up the need to remember any of them; all her energy is spent maintaining the last threads still attached to her sanity, the ones that never seem to snap even when she wants them to. Perhaps that’s another layer of this punishment, to be forced to bear it with lucid eyes. The Arbiter feels nothing when an Abnormality breaches containment, sitting and listening to the shouts and cries for a few moments before getting to her feet. A fight would be a welcome break from the well, anyway- even at her weakest she’s still a formidable opponent for even the worst creatures from the depths. But perhaps staring into the waters has made her sloppy, her skill degrading along with her mind, because the Abnormality is only caged after a long gash is opened on her arm, the blood dripping thickly onto the floor. She exhales. There is no pain. She is an Arbiter, after all, unafraid and strong.

Yet it still stings and burns. “Binah!” A voice rings out and her eyes open with a slight jolt. The sound is vaguely familiar, something heard in passing and no more, but somehow it feels different- concerned, frantic, warm. Her head tilts in its direction, gaze landing upon one of the more recent hires assigned to her department, looking worried and a little fearful at the sight of her blood. You fuss over her wounded arm and she can do nothing but let you, staring blankly as she’s pushed in the direction of the medical bay, the other agents scattering and the memory of your voice filling her head. Binah. It was so gentle, the way you said it- But she’s not Binah. She’s Garion. But who is Garion now, after being chained to an endless web of madness and despair? Nothing but an empty husk. The Head of Extraction has begun to linger near you once working hours are over. You’re often the only ones left in the main room at that hour, your pen constantly scratching against whatever file you’re currently working on, and she remains a short distance away, watching carefully. Occasionally you can smell the tea she drinks, your lips twitching into a smile at the lighthearted thought of your Sephirah truly enjoying something before there’s the sound of footsteps and a light clink as she sets her teacup on the table beside you and asks that you do not mind her sitting so close.

You blink, looking up from your papers and into those dull black eyes, and you smile. Her heart thumps once, merely humming and taking a sip of her tea to disguise her surprise. It’s easier around you, being locked in the depths. The few strands of her sanity become stronger, untangling themselves and weaving into an organized display in your presence- how? You must have some secret ability, some tool used to manipulate the senses, for not even bloodshed and slaughter could make her feel so warm. And your voice, when you speak that name she’s been given- ah, she almost feels like she could smile. Almost. Not quite, but almost. The sight of the Extraction Sephirah and a certain employee becomes commonplace; some even call you her favorite, but when you ask she merely tilts her head, a faint glint in her usually cold eyes, and presses a finger to her lips. It was only natural for him to notice, for the change in her behavior to catch his gaze and hold his attention in an iron grip tight enough to make him panic. You’re the cause of this- some random, low-level employee who gave a fragmented Arbiter a spark- and with rage in his voice he threatens her and you in one sentence, scrambling for some semblance of control. Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, the air seemingly dropping a few degrees from her flat, icy stare. She is strong, can handle any torture or agony or suffering- but you are fragile, a bird she wants to cup in her palms and whisper her sorrows to and keep safe, safe for as long as you live and as long as you breathe. Her own blood she is willing to see spilled, but not yours. Never yours.

She is Garion- … No. She is Binah. That’s right, you called her Binah. She is Binah, a broken, useless shell of an Arbiter- and yet you say her name as if she’s a star in the night sky, bright and beautiful, giving her hope and warmth. So she is Binah, and it’s her own name, not for anyone to control. And Binah, the ex-Arbiter, speaks to him in a smooth, cold voice. “You will not hurt them, for I shall go mad if you do. The insanity that creeps into my skull and eats away at my senses is only restrained by an Arbiter’s will. It can and will crumble at any moment, within the blink of an eye, and the world will turn to blood and dust. So you will not hurt them. You cannot, unless your wish is to lose everything.” Binah. To contemplate, to understand. Yes, now, finally, she understands.

[binah-beloved]

Binah Pining Headcanons

Lobotomy Corporation Warnings for mentions of exhaustion and passing out

yes i will eventually do Ruina ones too

~ * ~ -You are the one single thing she is uncertain about -Everything else is trivial and dull to someone as apathetic as she. But you, oh you- whenever she sees you her mind short circuits, going blank for a brief moment -It doesn’t sound like much, but it is for Binah, she’s not used to being lost for words from just a simple glance -She doesn’t know whether to confront you or keep quiet, either- her heart starts acting weirdly whenever she approaches you, even if it’s with work-related business -It results in a lot of her staring at you from across the room as you feel a pair of eyes bore into the back of your skull -Binah expresses these odd feelings in small ways- leaving a cup of hot tea for you, carefully organizing the files you need to work on so she can make your job a little easier, or just keeping an eye on you from afar -She’s entirely aware of how intimidating she is, so at first she tries to refrain from actually speaking to you most of the time. Yet you don’t seem to mind, engaging her in conversation on your own volition like she’s one of your coworker friends -The casual talks you have together become a bright spot in the otherwise midnight depths of the Extraction Department -It’s a little surreal for your fellow employees, seeing you chatting with their Sephirah so calmly as she listens intently to your every word -You can talk about anything, even the most boring, silly matters, and the normally cold Binah will still become keenly interested in the subject -Sidenote: she really wants to wrap you in her cloak, as it can get rather cold in the facility (and she also just wants to hug you but don’t tell anyone that)-Once you passed out from exhaustion and woke up with her heavy furred coat draped over your body- she never did explain why…

-Speaking of which, Binah begins picking up on your habits and mannerisms during work. She’s incredibly observant, but this is the first time she’s actually cared about observing anything apart from death and destruction -She worries, silently, when she knows you’re not feeling well and sees you come to work anyways. On the days she can see you struggling to even function, she’ll come over and suggest that you retire for the evening. It comes out sounding more like a command, but the sentiment is there -As I mentioned, there have been times where you’ve fallen asleep at your desk due to overwork or sickness, and somehow, every time, you find yourself back in your bed when you wake up again. No one knows how it happened, because Binah’s very careful to make sure no one sees her carrying you back to your room -She’s internally hesitant about touching you. Her touches never linger, merely a brief hand on your shoulder most of the time, but it’s more than she offers anyone else. She knows her strength, so any touches are kept light, as to not hurt you -Keeps you away from the Well, no questions asked -When before Abnormality breaches only sparked vague interest, now her first thoughts go to you and if you’re alright- for some odd reason, she doesn’t relish your pain as she does for the rest of humanity -So she keeps you nearby as often as she can, close to someone she knows can protect you. She’s not an ex-Arbiter for nothing -If you have the habit of crafting little gifts for your coworkers, she’ll keep any you might give her forever, even if they’re just made of paper or something -Binah likes it when you laugh. It makes her feel something warm, something other than apathy -Practices smiling less sadistically- only for you, though. Luckily, you don’t seem to mind her smile either way -If you happen to hum while you’re working, she’ll find herself idly humming along, soft enough for no one but her to hear. She has a nice singing voice, even if no one knows about it -Her heart doesn’t entirely melt, per se, but it does defrost in your presence, just a little bit -Binah doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to confess to you. In your current situation, it feels impossible- yet she finds herself hoping for the first time, wishing to say those simple words to you someday in the future. But not today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that -(She knows how she would confess, though- she’d give you her other earring)

[binah-beloved]

Hello, thanks you for anwer my question from last time. Could you consider to write headcanons about the 5 love language. If only you want to of course :)

May many happy things come to those who love Binah. Merry Christmas and happy New year. Your posts always make my day better so thanks you.

don't worry, i want to

~ * ~ The Love Languages of an Arbiter Acts of Service:

Giving: -One of the main ways Binah expresses affection. Whether it’s during her time at Lobotomy Corporation or when the Library opens its doors, she strives for ways to make your life easier.-Listen, she was forced to become the Extraction Sephirah, she knows how difficult and tedious your job could be and it didn’t get much easier in the Library. -Plus, acts of service mean that she can show she cares while being subtle about it- and that’s really what Binah’s love is all about, subtlety. She’s not one for grand romantic gestures, preferring smaller, quieter things that accumulate over time. It makes for a more constant show of appreciation, she thinks. -Sometimes you’ll wake up and find that your paperwork has been sorted in alphabetical order. Or maybe the books Angela wanted you to put away have already been shelved. Or, most commonly, you’ll find a cup of steaming hot tea waiting for you after a long day, Binah sitting across from you and holding whatever novel you’ve been flipping through lately, so she can join you in reading.

Receiving: -Binah’s very appreciative of anything you do for her- she’s ranked higher than you, both as a Sephirah and a Patron Librarian, so the thought of you trying to make her life a little easier or just doing things out of goodwill makes her heart warm a little bit. -Unfortunately you can’t help her with much of her work unless it’s just sorting some things, since you’re not qualified for it, so you settle for tasks that don’t involve papers and books. -One of your favorite acts of service is restocking her tea when she runs out. She’s not sure how you procure it so quickly and so quietly, but often enough she’ll be out of a blend one day only for a full box to magically appear the next day. -You’ll know she found out when she comes up behind you and pats your head, murmuring a small “Thank you” in your ears.

Quality Time:

Giving:-Speaking of reading together, Binah spends time with you as often as possible, which unfortunately isn’t very often in Lobotomy Corporation. It gets much better in the Library, since she can easily steal you away for a tea party if you’re not actively in a Reception. -She’s gotten into this habit of simply picking you up and carrying you away when she wants to see you, and if you protest she just shushes you with a kiss. -All the invites she extends to the other Librarians for tea? Yeah, you’re the one she wants to accept the most, and her demeanor is just a little bit brighter if you do find the time to attend- it might not seem like much, but it’s a big change for someone as calm and mysterious as Binah. -But unlike the others, she also puts aside time for just the two of you, time where you’re the only two people in the world and that’s all that matters. If there are areas of the Library that are outdoors, she’ll gladly bring some treats so you can have a little picnic together. Or if you just want to indulge in one of your hobbies, Binah will be by your side to keep you company, watching calmly and asking questions here and there, because she loves watching you do anything.

Receiving: -If you go out of your way to spend time with her, Binah might actually cry. -Not much, mind you, just a tear or two, but it means the world to her. Although she tries to deny it, Binah is incredibly lonely, being locked away in the Extraction Department during each cycle, then being confined to the Floor of Philosophy and surrounded by people who fear her. Yes, she wears solitude wonderfully well, but she despises it, too. -She’s used to being the one inviting others, setting up gatherings and chats with the other Librarians, so when you extend a hand to her instead she’s both surprised and touched, even if she doesn’t show it outwardly. And you do it so casually, like you’re asking her how the weather is instead of inviting an ex-Arbiter to spend time with you. -Yes, she knows you do it because you love her and want to be by her side, but it’s such a foreign concept that she can’t help but pause, blinking a few times as your words set in. -Then a small smile blooms across Binah’s face, her hand slipping into yours as she asks you to lead the way. She doesn’t care what you’re doing- it can be anything- as long as she gets to spend time with you; it’s like the hollow emptiness that was so present in her life is mended whenever you’re nearby. -To her, it doesn’t matter what you want to do. As long as you’re there with her, she’ll enjoy herself. -Sidenote, Binah has a softer smile that she only uses around you, and her features subtly light up when she does, it’s beautiful.

Physical Touch:

Giving: -Binah doesn’t initiate physical touch very often, not because she doesn’t want to! It’s partially because she doesn’t want to hurt you by mistake and also because she simply forgets that physical touch is an option. Most of her years were spent killing and torturing people, she’s not used to touching someone out of love. -When she does remember, it’s the gentlest, most delicate touch you’ve ever felt. She’s very hesitant at the beginning, since she’s very aware of her strength, so most of the time it’s a simple hand on your shoulder before she slowly upgrades to patting your head. -The first time Binah holds your hand, she’s surprised at how much warmer you are than her- she tends to run a bit cold- and immediately moves to lace her fingers with yours. -She’s very fond of curling her little finger around yours when you stand next to each other. It’s a subtle way of saying that she’s there for you and that you’re safe. -Likes kissing you on the forehead, because when she pulls back she can get lost in the loving way you look at her.

Receiving: -There’s no beating around the bush, Binah is touch-starved. -Not in the sense that she’s clingy, but in the way that occurs because she’s never been hugged or held gently in her life. -So the first time you hug her she stiffens, immediately wanting to defend herself. But then she registers what you’re doing and the warmth of your arms and how securely you’re holding her, and she just absolutely melts. -To anyone else she looks the exact same, but you can feel her slump a little before she returns the gesture, a small sigh escaping her as she leans against you. She’s going to want a hug every day after that, and she will stare at you from across the room if you forget. Whenever you finish a Reception she always whisks you away for a quick hug if you’re not too injured. -Binah loves snuggling with you, no questions asked. The most common way is for you to be on her lap as she sits in her favorite armchair, gazing down at you as you lean your head against her shoulder. Occasionally you reach up to cup her cheeks in your hands, feeling her soft skin under your fingertips and watching her eyes shut briefly, her normally stoic expression softening just a tad. She’ll also let you braid her hair, if you know how. -She’s the big spoon when you’re sleeping, it makes her feel like she’s protecting you even when you’re both unconscious. Plus, the sight of your sleeping face when she wakes up is enough to energize her for the entire day, without drinking even a single cup of tea.

Gifts:

Giving: -Binah’s not a big gift-giver, it makes her feel like she’s trying to buy your affection, which she most certainly isn’t. That being said, she’s not completely opposed to it, she simply doesn’t shower you with gifts (and frankly neither do you). -The things she does give you are usually small and fall into at least one of two categories: having a practical use, or having a deeper meaning. -For example, she gifted you a notebook when she noticed you liked jotting things down on scraps of paper you came across, as well as a good, sturdy pen. Just for fun, she made sure it was black and gold to remind you of her, and you carry the notebook everywhere you go. -Perhaps the sweetest gift she’s given you was the matching earring to the one she wore as a Sephirah- she gave it to you as a way of confessing her affections. You don’t wear it that often anymore, since she swapped her own out for the small gold pair, but occasionally you’ll both wear the matching pair for fun. It makes her smile when she sees you wearing it in the hallway. -One day she swears she’ll give you one of her rings. One day.

Receiving: -She’s rather neutral on being gifted things, except if, again, they’re practical or have some sweetness put into them. If you like hand making small crafts, she’ll absolutely accept one as a gift. For example if you make her a bookmark or a coaster for her teacup, she’ll internally melt. -Another thing she’ll always accept is matching jewelry. Just like her own rings and earrings, if you gift her one half of a pair, she’ll make sure to wear hers whenever you wear yours. -But Binah really doesn’t need you to give her gifts to know that you love her, and if you worry about it, she’ll just tell you that you are the best gift the world has ever given her, and nothing could ever be lovelier.

Words of Affirmation:

Giving: -Probably the weakest of the love languages for Binah, in terms of giving it. She’s just not a very openly lovey-dovey person, and while she’s good at going off on cryptic tangents, she’s not very good at verbally expressing herself. -It’s mostly because she finds little need for words when in your presence- you seem to bring out this blanket of calm and peace whenever you’re nearby, and she wants nothing more than to quietly relish the feeling with you by her side. -Occasionally you’ll hear her whisper “I love you” when you’re in her arms, or a soft pet name, but for the most part you’re both content just existing with each other. -She does try to tell you that you did well after a particularly difficult Reception, and even back in L Corp she would always give you a small pat on the head after suppressing an Abnormality- she’s trying her best. -But once in a while, you’ll catch her watching you from across the table, and when you pipe up and ask about it she’ll flatter you with a long and eloquent compliment, a faint smile on her face as she watches you stumble over your words in response. It’s almost like a surprise, and she does like surprising you.

Receiving: -All her life, Binah has been complimented mainly about how good she was at her job, at maiming, slaughtering. And every time, the praise brought nothing to the emptiness she felt, they were just meaningless words to fill the air. -But when you compliment her, it’s so… genuine. You compare her to stars and flowers and the moon, because you truly think that she’s beautiful, that she’s intelligent, that she’s strong and elegant and incredible. And when you say it, she does feel like all the things you praise her to be. -It surprises her when you tell her she’s gentle and kind. She was Garion, and now she’s Binah, and both are known for their cold, sadistic tendencies- and yet here you are, with the brightest smile on your face, complimenting her to the Head and back. -Her favorite phrase, though, is simple and a little cliche. It’s when you lean your head back to look at her and say “I love you” for all the world to hear. There’s no hesitation in your voice, no doubts in your mind. If there’s anything that flusters her even slightly, it’s that.

[binah-beloved]

Book of You

Binah x Reader Library of Ruina Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: None

~ * ~

The Floor of Philosophy smells like black tea and raindrops, fresh with the dew of evening mist, the kind that only appears at midnight under the light of the moon. Quiet and serene, with shelves filled to the brim with books, the eighth floor of the Library exists as a place of calm silence, stars twinkling against the ceiling. But you’re not here to see any of it. The assistant librarians often speculate how their patron spends her hours outside of observing battles- the few who deliver books to Binah report that they often see her drinking tea, sitting at her usual table with a peaceful, contemplative look on her face- although occasionally, the librarians whisper in hushed tones, they’ll catch her walking along the aisles, staring intently at the title of each book for a moment before moving on to the next. It seems as though she’s looking for something, they all muse, huddled in a circle. But what? Not something, but someone. You. Binah can hear her assistants’ whispers, no matter how quiet they try to be- it’s amusing to her, catching snippets of conversation and theories as she passes by, each more outlandish than the last. But they’re never quite right, always missing the fact that she’s searching for a living, breathing person instead of merely an object, the one assistant librarian who hasn’t awoken from slumber yet. She remembered you even when her mind was hazy from sleeping for so long- your smile, your laugh, the way you made her cold, deadened heart skip a beat. You had toiled away at the Corporation together for cycle after cycle and slowly, surely, she had grown attached, although she had tried to resist. Arbiters cannot form attachments, it’s a danger to their work and occupation.

But mostly, it was a danger to your well-being, and that had worried her the most. Binah recalled looking up at the light as Angela reformed everything and everyone, the Arbiter’s hand curled against your warmer one. She had glanced at you, gauging your reaction, and your exhausted appearance drew a droplet of concern from the well of emptiness within her, the shadows in your eyes more prominent than usual before Angela had snapped her fingers and everything vanished. With how tired you seemed, it’s reasonable that you’d want to stay asleep for as long as you could. Truly, it’s understandable. She tries to be understanding- really, she does- but Binah wants nothing more than to be selfish, to find your book and wake you up again because she misses you, more than she’s ever missed anything in the world. It’s lonely up here, in her floor, the skittish assistants not being much good for conversation- and she tries to be more welcoming! She invites everyone over for tea, for books, for a chat, but rarely does anyone take her up on the offer. They’re all still afraid of the Arbiter she once was. So Binah ends up alone, quietly sipping her tea and thinking, as she always does. And she decides that being lonely is dreadful, that she doesn’t like it much, and her search for you resumes even though the Library is endless, even though she’s looked for days without any luck, even though Angela once flatly told her that she might never find you, not ever. Even if it takes eternity, she’ll find you, and you’ll find her- Binah believes in nothing except for this. It’s late one afternoon, near the end of another day filled with fruitless searching, that her keen eyes spot something familiar. A book just like the others comes into view as she steps closer, except this time it’s scripted with a name she knows well on its spine, the elegant handwriting shining with silver ink as she carefully removes the novel from its shelf.

Your name. You. Her heart warms as she traces her fingers over the letters, holding your book with the lightest touch before setting it down on the ground. With deft movements Binah flips open the first few pages then steps back as light emanates from the book, your form appearing with the crackling snap of a thousand sparks. You yawn and blink tiredly, then turn your eyes towards the woman standing before you, and a small, genuine smile forms on Binah’s lips as you gasp in surprise. She looks a little different, with longer hair and different clothes- but so do you, your uniform crisper and less worn than it’s been in years, courtesy of a certain Library Director- and you look positively in awe over Binah’s new appearance. She lets out a soft chuckle and reaches a hand for you to take, her grip firm as she helps you to your feet, making sure you don’t stumble. Your eyes widen as you admire the Library, such a stark contrast from the cold metal of Lobotomy Corporation, but Binah’s hand gently tilts your chin so you’re facing her instead, needing to see your liveliness after so long with only books. For a moment you swear she hesitates, debating with herself before slowly pulling you into an embrace, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you hug her back eagerly, mumbling that you missed her. Binah hums in quiet agreement, the stiffness of her shoulders easing away almost imperceptibly, and the Patron Librarian of the Floor of Philosophy is finally at peace.

[binah-beloved]

True Light

Binah x Reader Lobotomy Corp. Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Small mentions of blood/injuries and death

~ * ~

Light cannot shine through the dark, for the whims of the City will swallow it whole. Not that Binah particularly cared, of course. The struggles of others had never caught her interest, both before and after being confined to the blackened depths of the world. She took a smug sense of pride in being stagnant, the only unchanging one amongst her coworkers; this wretched facility doing nothing to dampen her cold and sadistic tendencies- small delights was what she called them, watching all the misery with a twisted smirk. Her time was spent as usual- in the company of solitude and black tea, only now it was punctuated by the perpetual mechanical hum of the Extraction Department, and just as before she embraced the days in the suffocating darkness, alone and silent. Yet somehow, a spark manages to worm its way into her ashen world, floating in on the wind and making a new home amongst the monochromatic tones. Each department receives a new batch of employees every few months or so. The Manager calls it “refreshing the roster”- Binah calls it “replacing the corpses”. Rarely does she pay much attention to these rotations, what’s the point? They’re all shrouded in gray, living only to suffer and cry and go mad like the rest, then slowly crumble and fall into the endless well below, an infinite supply of gravestones. So when the next group of agents and clerks arrive, she merely gives them a customary glance of boredom out of the corner of her eye. Something flashes suddenly, brilliantly, and her head snaps back up to catch sight of it, that brightly sparkling thing. But she sees only the uniforms of her employees, all outfitted in simple black fabric as they walk towards the department lobby, chattering nervously at each other. For the first time in a long while, Binah feels vaguely disappointed. She catches glimpses of the shining presence occasionally, always in the peripheral of her vision and always fleeting, never long enough. It’s almost frustrating; infuriating, even- perhaps her long months of isolation have finally driven her mad, it would be a welcome change from the perpetual, apathetic torment. With an exhale and a sip of her tea she answers some employee-or-another’s question, expression as stoic and cold as ever despite the nagging irritation. “You’re a star, Miss Binah!” The Sephirah looks over briefly, and her eyes widen as you practically glow before her. Physically, you’re no different from the other workers- you don’t radiate any light or glimmer with luminescence- and yet you still brighten up any room you enter, somehow. Exuding an air of determination, you’re firmly set in your ways of helping others and working diligently despite the less than ideal circumstances, a smile on your lips and a spring in your step wherever you go. You don’t look like light- you feel like light. And not that cold, heavy stuff generating in the facility- warm, friendly, comforting. It’s no wonder your fellow agents have taken a liking to you, but perhaps the most surprising revelation of all is when you extend this warmth to Binah herself. You’re a star… The words have lingered in her mind ever since. Your superior was rumored to be emotionless, a sadist who only took joy in the suffering of others, so when you can’t help but wonder if something’s wrong when you see her appear in the main rooms of the department more often, silently watching everyone work and always with that calm, neutral expression. In truth, she’s only really watching you, quietly picking up on your habits with a growing sense of intrigue. Interest… Binah hadn’t felt such a thing for so long. It felt… nice. She sees how you treat everybody with that same kindness, offering a shoulder for them to lean against. She sees how you study medical procedures in your spare time, as there is no end to bloodied wounds at Lobotomy Corporation. She sees how you idly tap your pen when you’re thinking, looking up at the ceiling, your brow furrowed in thought.

She sees how you pay respects to every lost agent and clerk, quietly mourning for them as if they were actually worth something. Perhaps, she muses, they are worth something, and she just never saw it. Well- you, at least, are certainly worth something. Slowly, the spark that landed bleeds into the rest of her world, and Binah sees color, gold and silver and crimson red. The sky becomes speckled with a multitude of stars, the darkness of Extraction standing out in splashes of deep hues as the night brightens, just slightly, with a hint of light. Light. Yes, that’s what you are. Light. Her light. One morning, early enough for frost to linger in the air, you find a steaming hot cup on your desk- tea, black, flavored just how you’d like it. A hand, firm yet strangely tentative, settles on your shoulder as you curiously approach, your Sephirah finally responding to your statement from months ago. “If I am a star, then you are a fragile flower, struggling to bloom in the wastes. And yet… I don’t wish to see you wither.”