we're here, looking at the less than wonderful cafeteria pizza. lu bixing, having since taken popcorn back upstairs, is just frowning at it, though when he spots date, he gives him a little bit of a smile and a short wave. ]
[ a little later in the evening on friday, lu bixing is in the library, rubbing a hand over his face and leaning back in his chair. when he spots date, though, he smiles, warm even if it is clearly tired and a little stressed. considering. ]
hello clown town! here's lu bixing!! he's sort of eyeing one of the games in the midway, hand on his chin, thoughtful. he is also just avoiding the absolute hell out of the bar area... his terrible anti christian cake may have worn off
[ me sweating in work. anyway. here is lu bixing!!! he is... in the common room, sitting on a couch, leaning back with his eyes closed and. probably just disassociating, honestly. he's only really alerted because sweet popcorn is in his lap, and the sight of another person makes him jump and start trying to climb up lu bixing's shirt.
he opens his eyes as he does, spots date - and then gives him a little smile. ]
[ man this week has sucked. lu bixing is in the planetarium, at the moment - just sitting, legs folded, staring up at the projected sky and sort of drifting. :(
important to mention that he still has eto's book, and is thumbing the cover of it, occasionally. sad... ]
[ i'm using this icon to start every pc because it only has one eye and i think its funny
anyway at some nebulous point after he's been fussed over to all hell lu bixing is laying down in the common room on the couch. maybe ljh stepped out for a bit?? who knows. anyway. he's got a bandage over his eye and one wrapped around his shoulder, now that he's changed into not bloody clothes.
he's just got his arm over his eye (singular), a book on his chest, and quiet, but he's here. ]
[ they were separated for a moment and date appeared, truly a curse.
date will lean on the back of the couch. there's enough space there that lu bixing isn't being crowded, but if he does remove his arm he'll get to See Date. it's comfortable for him at least, and it makes more sense than disturbing him directly on the couch. ]
You got put through the wringer this week, didn't you?
[ happy tuesday! today on the music store, date might hear the sound of
whatever this is and more specifically, this exact thing happening. that is to say, a grown ass man sliding across the floor in his socks.
ba-nananananana.....
he's dressed, at least? and when he turns around and spots date, he jumps like half a foot and drops whatever he was using to be a microphone, then squeaks - ] Date! [ and then clears his throat. ] Um, hi.
[ what an unhappy friday. lu bixing's... outside of the aquarium, looking at it like it might spit out a single answer, his hands laced behind his back, holding still and silent.
though... when he hears date coming, he looks over his shoulder, and gives him a soft, not quite there smile. ]
[ love smad dads coming to the potential scene of the crime. date looks more on the mad side but it's veering off into a level of Tired, more than anything. that kind of bone deep tired that sinks in and doesn't let go. ]
[ mood, dude. lu bixing is out here, for a walk. his coat is hanging off his shoulders, and he's holding something in his fingertips that appears to be smoking slightly, but when he sees date, he taps it out absently. ]
[ don't you love just falling into a hole with a friend? isn't this a fun and funky fresh time!
who knows what lbx and date were doing but now, they're in a hole, and a screen projects up in front of them, and before lu bixing even gets to really react, it turns out that it's a moment from his life on display. ]
2/2 | cws for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self harm, self experimentation, drug use
[ after lin jingheng and monoeye hawk die, you spend one hundred days locked in your house.
you're working. the eighth is a mess in an aftermath of the battle with the seventh galaxy, and zhanlu has been destroyed. you have to fix him. you spend one hundred days in your house, alone, sending out missives. speaking to prime minister edward, too sickly to do much, taking over his duties where you can. you try and fix zhanlu.
five hundred days into your restart of life, prime minister edward passes away, of sickness, of old age, and you officially take his spot. you, as the new prime minister, host the state affair of his funeral. there was a eulogy. you think you remember people looking at you. staring. watching. you remember the caskets of nothing and the tombstones and now... you're home.
home. for five hundred days, this is where you've spent all your time. five hundred days ago, monoeye hawk and lin jingheng perished, in the battle for the seventh galaxy. five hundred days ago, your entire world ended.
there were no funerals, then.
when you first arrive at the home of engineer 001 and commander lin, as the sign cheerfully reminds you, hanging over the door, you make it all the way inside. you go to the kitchen. the ai of zhanlu, in butler mode, greets you, you think, but it sounds like it comes from underwater. you go to the refrigerator. you think - a drink. i need a drink. and you open the fridge. there's hardly anything in it - supplies in the eighth galaxy are heavily rationed, right now, and alcohol is no exception - but at the back, an unopened bottle of beer, and as your hand curls around the neck, you remember -
you see the mental image, of lin jingheng in his pajamas, bedhead, staring at the beer bottle like it personally wounded him for being so disgusting, and putting it back, and sulking to the kitchen table to a cup of cold tea, instead, and for some reason, the grief and the memory snaps the last remaining piece of your stability in two.
you scream. you just scream, at the top of your lungs, as the image vanishes, the bellow of a miserable animal, and the whole world goes dark as you stagger to the area of the house where the medical capsule is, you bang your fist on the edge of it in your frustration and start asking it, i need a hallucinogen, i need an opiate, i need drugs, give them to me, i need it, i don't want to be awake, i need it, i need it - and the capsule doesn't respond. you're shaking too hard to do anything or type anything and your fingers claw in desperation at the metal. you scream, again, despairing, drowning, miserable, slam your fist against the capsule again.
zhanlu's voice comes over your head. soft, quiet, concerned - you scream at him, too, the AI unable to do anything but warn you. "Headmaster Lu, I can't accept those requests right now, you're too unstable. Headmaster Lu, this is your first warning."
he's an AI. he has to listen to you. you ignore him, shaking, almost hyperventilating, and after the second warning, you snarl - ] Zhanlu, give me a gun.
[ because you've lost everything. in one fell swoop, in one moment, you've lost everything and you can only run from it for so long. you've worked so hard. you've done so much, to not look it in the eye, but the grief is a monster that lives under your bed and in your brain and today it rips you in two. it's all-consuming, like it was when you were a child, and zhanlu can't ignore you, and as the gun is placed into your hands, you start to bring it up, to your head, start to --
then
zhanlu projects footage on the wall in front of your head.
A 14-year-old Lin Jingheng was attending the opening ceremony of the Black Orchid Academy. The ceremonial hall was decorated with heroic histories of the Union since its founding, motivational and inspiring. The young boy sat in the corner with his attention being pulled away occasionally. But even then, he still wanted to act cool, and pretended to look around in boredom whenever he remembered he was still in the middle of a ceremony. He then accidentally noticed the small camera beside him that was recording his every move; his face reddened in embarrassment and anger as he slapped his hand down and turned off the recording.
you forget everything.
you sink down to the floor, and you watch the clip again. you watch it again. you watch it again. you watch that clip hundreds of times and you don't sleep, and the next morning, you drag yourself to your desk, grab a pocket knife, and carve a single hatch mark on your desk. you push yourself to standing. you turn off zhanlu's automation function, so he can make conscious decisions, because you - you can't be trusted with yourself, all the time. you know that, now you've fallen and burnt to ashes, and now you have to rebuild yourself. one scratch mark says i fell, and i nearly quit, but i dragged myself to standing.
--
three years pass in the new independent era in the eighth galaxy. you are their leader, the face of their revolution and their prime minister, and no one outside of your home knows the turmoil that you go through. they can't see you that way. in those three years, a group of pirates and black market illegal merchants reemerged, emboldened by the chance to disrupt the economy you've worked so hard to build. it launches the galaxy into a war that lasts three long years, and you command your military forces and your political forces like an expert. you are an expert, you're the prime minister lu bixing. you can do anything.
five more scratch marks are carved into your desk.
you promised prime minister edward before he died this - if you fell seven times, you'd get up eight. these are your falls. these are your dips into despair that are so deep that you want to die. you want to die. locked into the misery of your ruthless job, alone, you want to die. you want to die, you want to die, you want to die.
you can't die. the eighth needs you.
after the first one hundred days on your own, your house is invaded by other engineers who come to help you work on zhanlu so he's no longer just in emergency mode. it takes you all a total of four hundred days to get him online, but the other engineers are so crowded and messy that you force them out, and you need to move things to the attic. the attic is untouched and filled with lin jingheng's things. you could almost see him next to you. you could almost have him there.
you light up a cigarette. you inhale, just for the sake of the familiarity. to feel like he's there, that you could see him, that he's not gone and you were just delusional the whole time, stupid -
- the smoke burns your lungs, and you start to cough, violently, violently, and you take the cigarette and you smash the burning end into your arm until the pain is so bright and smart that it forces you to come back to your senses. he's dead. lin jingheng is dead. nothing will bring him back and he is dead.
two hatch marks.
another day, you find yourself trembling as you inject a biochip in your arm. it's an opium biochip - the kind being used to create 'perfect humans', though the data is incomplete. it won't be, for you. it becomes your pet project. you work. you experiment on yourself. you inject yourself, over and over again. you work. you work. you don't sleep. you rule the eighth galaxy, you unite its forces through carrot and through stick, monitoring public executions and supply rations and economic growth and population happiness all at once, and you pull an entire galaxy to its feet while you tremble on your knees in the dark.
three hatch marks. four. five.
(you download all of the video data of lin jingheng in zhanlu's system. you watch every single part of it. you work. you work, you work, you work, you throw yourself into your duties and at night you take drugs and force yourself to sleep only when you need to, or when zhanlu forces you to, like a tiny hand tugging at your pinky finger when you're about to let loose on the world.)
--
in the seventh year of the new era, one of your students, brilliant, brilliant mint, pilots the first program to travel through the heart of the rose, the wormhole at the edge of your galaxy, your natural barrier. you are told not to go, but you go, anyway. what's the worst that could happen? you'll die? you don't care. you go on your own.
the people in the eighth praise your courage when you return with fresh research for mint's project. you didn't die. instead, you gathered data, and from the inside of the wormhole, the data gathered gets you the visuals on what happened when the seventh and the eighth galaxy fleets, respectively, were destroyed. your father's ship. lin's. gone. destroyed, in the blink of an eye.
you come home from your trip. you order captain turan to station patrols around the wormhole, now that it's active. you lock yourself in your lab. you take a strand of lin's hair you extracted from the couch and you open a breeding tank in a fit of madness nad you think, i could just reconstruct him, because you could, you're a genius, it would be easy, it would be so easy, and zhanlu blows up the breeding tank.
you stay in the dark lab for three days afterwards, but when you emerge, the knife comes out, and you scratch the sixth mark into the wood of your desk.
--
the final hatch mark is the product of your research, nine years into the new era of the Eighth Galaxy.
you stand there on the precipice. you stand there, with your completed opiate biochip research. with this completed project, with all the tests you ran on yourself, you've given yourself those abilities. you are fast. you are strong, you are, in essence, the perfect human, and you've found a way you could transplant it into anyone. tested on mice, tested on yourself. you have learned that the rainbow virus can be used to break humanity down to ashes, and rebuild them as something greater. you know, now, why you lived through that first outbreak.
you could have an army of superhumans, you could take over the IUS. you could take over the entire universe. it has taken you nine years to prove this scientific theory, and you found out that it's true.
(you could wreak destruction, on the people who took your father and lin jingheng from you.)
you stare at the papers in your hands. they tremble.
this time, you don't call captain turan. this time, you don't call the engineering department. this time you don't deliver the research. you go to your office. you work, all day long. you come home, and you stare at the papers.
you walk to your lab, where you've secretly kept those strains of the rainbow virus, papers in hand.
and you set the sample and every single paper ablaze, and destroy it for good.
when you return to your desk, you mark the final hatch mark.
if you fall seven times, you have to rise eight.
with a storm in your heart, you turn away from destruction.
pushing something into his hands. it's a little container of tea from the coffee shop, but more than that, underneath it and wrapped carefully in a repurposed container from one of our many fast food restaurants is something nice and warm. ]
...Here, Date. You need to eat something. [ :( fuss ]
lu bixing's in the planetarium, today, after that. thankfully, it's empty besides him? which is good, because there's a very faintly smoky smell coming from near one of the star displays, and the faint light of a burning cigarette in the dark, mixed in with the pinpricks of stars.
well, maybe not a cigarette? that's definitely a weed smell. it's fine. god. what a day. ]
[ lmao. oh boy there he goes. date's nose wrinkles slightly at the strong smell, but it doesn't stop him from heading over and seeking out the smoker by the star displays. ]
Seems fair for a rough day, even if back home I'd be having to arrest you.
[ happy monday! lu bixing is set up as usual in the new bar today. he's got a total of... five drinks this time set out in front of him! one, a garish green. one, blue and a little yellow. one, brown and sizzling a little, one a red solo cup, and... the last a drink with a cherry in it! this one's just set slightly to the side.
by now this is probably routine, right? he's here working, his personal device pulled up, typing into the keyboard. he's also got something that looks like a sticker sheet.
when he glances over and spots date, he offers him a smile and a wave, friendly and warm as ever. ]
ill write sleepy becksy a starter. lbx is at the park, actually on gigantica. he's sitting with a giant toothpick in his lap, and it looks like he's wrapping the top of it up in some fabric. it's fine. don't worry about it. anyway
when he spots date he looks up, and gives him a little bit of a smile. ] ...hi, Date.
well. date is coping with depression by draping himself over a chair with a book over his face and pretending the world around him doesn't exist. how's lbx doing? ]
[ lu bixing is... well, he's reading. he's working. these are the things that he does to cope. it could be worse, maybe? probably?
he's also in the library, cooped up somewhere in a corner, but when he sees date like this, he leaves for a bit... and when he comes back, he sets down a to go cup of coffee and nudges it across the table. ]
anyway he's here. his ribs are still yucky so its hard to talk a lot, and he occasionally stops to take in a slow, wheezy breath, but. bixing is not stopped by injury!!! he is, however, sitting. or laying down. ]
...mmm. Well... last week, we moved at a good pace and... still failed. [ considering. ] But...maybe we can combine the faster pace and do better, tomorrow.
[ happy monday!!! date! and aiba!! maybe aiba is more exciting? who knows. date is very exciting.
bixing seems to be in a really good mood - he's moving around a lot more easily than he was the day before, and not only that, but he seems to take to this city like a fish to water. so! he's joked about going to let aiba pick his brain and vice versa but he doesn't want to leave date out, so he's inviting him to come meet him at a little place selling tasty looking street food that's like less questionable.
he grins across the table where they get settled, holding a cup of coffee between his hands. ] This is so exciting! I wish I could have had more time to work with any of the AI we've had here all along...
[ no, aiba is more exciting. she is back in date's eye though, but date's phone is on the table between them so... she can still communicate. ]
We have a pretty big technological gap between some places. And I guess with most of them not working as they usually would it would've been kind of difficult.
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weekend zero, sunday
we're here, looking at the less than wonderful cafeteria pizza. lu bixing, having since taken popcorn back upstairs, is just frowning at it, though when he spots date, he gives him a little bit of a smile and a short wave. ]
Well, it's better than the cell's, right?
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[ he will look at the pizza regardless. ]
Mostly.
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week 0, friday
Hi, Date. Are you holding up alright...?
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I've seen bodies before, I'll cope.
[ he does sigh though. ]
Wrapping my head around all the questions this throws up though, that's another thing.
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week 1, monday!
hello clown town! here's lu bixing!! he's sort of eyeing one of the games in the midway, hand on his chin, thoughtful. he is also just avoiding the absolute hell out of the bar area... his terrible anti christian cake may have worn off
or maybe not? who's to say ]
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i hope he's salty as heck and ready to fight honestly. ]
Hey. Figuring out which of these is the worst?
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w1, thursday
after all that is done, date is seeking out the cyoa-ers. to check in, find out more and see how they're doing after days of trauma. ]
So, did you stop being on fire?
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he opens his eyes as he does, spots date - and then gives him a little smile. ]
Pretty quickly, between Eto and Lin. I'm okay.
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week 1, post dead
important to mention that he still has eto's book, and is thumbing the cover of it, occasionally. sad... ]
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Coping well, or hardly coping?
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week 1, sunday
anyway at some nebulous point after he's been fussed over to all hell lu bixing is laying down in the common room on the couch. maybe ljh stepped out for a bit?? who knows. anyway. he's got a bandage over his eye and one wrapped around his shoulder, now that he's changed into not bloody clothes.
he's just got his arm over his eye (singular), a book on his chest, and quiet, but he's here. ]
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date will lean on the back of the couch. there's enough space there that lu bixing isn't being crowded, but if he does remove his arm he'll get to See Date. it's comfortable for him at least, and it makes more sense than disturbing him directly on the couch. ]
You got put through the wringer this week, didn't you?
[ emotionally, physically... spiritually... ]
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week 2, monday
whatever this is and more specifically, this exact thing happening. that is to say, a grown ass man sliding across the floor in his socks.
ba-nananananana.....
he's dressed, at least? and when he turns around and spots date, he jumps like half a foot and drops whatever he was using to be a microphone, then squeaks - ] Date! [ and then clears his throat. ] Um, hi.
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well. either way.
lbx just gets a slow, actually impressed clap from date. no problems with depth perception here, apparently. ]
Impressive. Kinda like watching a concert for real.
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week 2, friday
though... when he hears date coming, he looks over his shoulder, and gives him a soft, not quite there smile. ]
...Hey, Date. Where'd you stay last night?
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... Movie theatre. Mikiri was there too.
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w2, saturday post trial
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...Date?
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week 3 tuesday (1/2)
who knows what lbx and date were doing but now, they're in a hole, and a screen projects up in front of them, and before lu bixing even gets to really react, it turns out that it's a moment from his life on display. ]
2/2 | cws for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self harm, self experimentation, drug use
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w3, friday
he looks great. ]
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pushing something into his hands. it's a little container of tea from the coffee shop, but more than that, underneath it and wrapped carefully in a repurposed container from one of our many fast food restaurants is something nice and warm. ]
...Here, Date. You need to eat something. [ :( fuss ]
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week 3, saturday
lu bixing's in the planetarium, today, after that. thankfully, it's empty besides him? which is good, because there's a very faintly smoky smell coming from near one of the star displays, and the faint light of a burning cigarette in the dark, mixed in with the pinpricks of stars.
well, maybe not a cigarette? that's definitely a weed smell. it's fine. god. what a day. ]
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Seems fair for a rough day, even if back home I'd be having to arrest you.
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w4, monday
by now this is probably routine, right? he's here working, his personal device pulled up, typing into the keyboard. he's also got something that looks like a sticker sheet.
when he glances over and spots date, he offers him a smile and a wave, friendly and warm as ever. ]
Hi, Date. Want to take me up on that drink?
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I'm about to become part of science, aren't I?
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week 4, tuesday
date's phone goes off ]
HONK AAAA
[ and that's it ]
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[ excuse me. ]
HONK AAAA to you too??
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w4, friday
what the fuck? ]
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ill write sleepy becksy a starter. lbx is at the park, actually on gigantica. he's sitting with a giant toothpick in his lap, and it looks like he's wrapping the top of it up in some fabric. it's fine. don't worry about it. anyway
when he spots date he looks up, and gives him a little bit of a smile. ] ...hi, Date.
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week 4, saturday
care to investigate...? it smells pretty good. ]
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but yeah, he's gonna investigate. he's tired and hungry. ]
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w5, monday
Hey.
[ he's holding up a t-shirt to his chest as he says this. ]
Whaddya think?
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Not very scientific, but very cute. Looks like it'd fit nicely! Good pick.
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w5, sunday post execution
well. date is coping with depression by draping himself over a chair with a book over his face and pretending the world around him doesn't exist. how's lbx doing? ]
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he's also in the library, cooped up somewhere in a corner, but when he sees date like this, he leaves for a bit... and when he comes back, he sets down a to go cup of coffee and nudges it across the table. ]
Here.
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w6, thursday
Should you be anywhere other than in bed, resting?
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he's in cozy clothes, at least...? and is sitting somewhere so there's that. ]
Never been ... very good at sitting still. [ he gives date a half smile, trying for encouraging. ]
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w6, friday
We had such a good track record with two bodies last time.
[ sarcasm. ]
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anyway he's here. his ribs are still yucky so its hard to talk a lot, and he occasionally stops to take in a slow, wheezy breath, but. bixing is not stopped by injury!!! he is, however, sitting. or laying down. ]
...mmm. Well... last week, we moved at a good pace and... still failed. [ considering. ] But...maybe we can combine the faster pace and do better, tomorrow.
[ ... ]
Are you okay?
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w6, saturday post trial
Well.
That was terrible.
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Yes - yes, it was.
[ blegh. ]
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w7 monday
bixing seems to be in a really good mood - he's moving around a lot more easily than he was the day before, and not only that, but he seems to take to this city like a fish to water. so! he's joked about going to let aiba pick his brain and vice versa but he doesn't want to leave date out, so he's inviting him to come meet him at a little place selling tasty looking street food that's like less questionable.
he grins across the table where they get settled, holding a cup of coffee between his hands. ] This is so exciting! I wish I could have had more time to work with any of the AI we've had here all along...
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We have a pretty big technological gap between some places. And I guess with most of them not working as they usually would it would've been kind of difficult.
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w7, friday
bixing is walking through the shops when he spots date!! and he gives him a bright smile and a wave, trotting over to see what he's up to. ]
Hey, Date. [ he's in a really good mood. but like why wouldn't you be atm. ] What're you up to?
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kaname date is d-- no. he's not. ]
Being disturbed it took like two months for my routine to involve dead bodies to the point I'm concerned there isn't one this week?
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