#reblog banner and line divider by adornedwithlight

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.4

related to [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [1st][2nd][3rd][5th]

Shang Qinghua is no stranger to his own misery. Having reincarnated into the world of his own Proud Immortal Demon Way, he had quickly learned that setting the world of his web novel in one full of wank and shitty porn tropes was a terrible idea. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that he had been reborn as a canon fodder character, the snake-like traitor destined to be tossed aside and murdered by the very demon king he’d become a traitor for in the first place!

But what really irks him now is not his imminent demise. It’s Wu Shuang Huang Gua—Peerless Cucumber.

Shang Qinghua has always been overly aware of Peerless Cucumber—this ridiculous, scathing, critic with an endless vendetta against his web novel. Everything the guy wrote cut to the quick with the sharpness of a blade, each flaw magnified and publicly mocked. Shang Qinghua always knew that Cucumber was an online force to be reckoned with, even if the guy was one of the few he could count on to help pay his bills! What he hates to admit the most about the persistent bastard even now, is that Shang Qinghua actually likes the guy. Yes, his reviews were scathing and harsh and sometimes they made him cry when he was at his lowest—frantically typing out absolute garbage just to pay his bills—but beneath all the vitriol Shang Qinghua sees the guy’s intention. Cucumber had been around since the beginning, after all. He remembers the first few reviews, excited while praising his world-building and his plot hooks, rooting for Binghe and overall positive. Anything negative in those early days were primarily critiquing his actual grammar like a real beta reader or editor would, and Shang Qinghua had been so grateful for the feedback.

When he’d fallen on hard times, he’d had to lose his artistic integrity to write what paid the bills. He’d been so afraid that he would lose his favorite supporter, that Cucumber-bro—as he’d taken to calling the faceless guy in his head—would abandon him and his story entirely as the things that Cucumber-bro’s had loved the most took an unfortunate backseat to the typical YY stallion genre smut tropes. He’d been surprised but ecstatic that his favorite reviewer hadn’t up and left as the guy continued to review, chapter after god-awful chapter, but Shang Qinghua despaired that he’d lost the beloved excitement from Cucumber’s reviews. Partially for himself and partially as a way to keep some integrity, he’d promised himself that when he’d finished Proud Immortal Demon Way, he would somehow get the world-building document he’d been compiling into Cucumber-bro’s hands, as a way to thank him for being such a loyal fan-turned-antifan; for sticking by his side even through the rough patches.

(There were times, dear reader, that Shang Qinghua had felt so downtrodden and alone, that he would go back to re-read those initial reviews from the beginning chapters, if only to feel that kind of uplifting support again.)

When he’d accidentally electrocuted himself with cup noodles while trying to finish the real final chapter—the one without a cliffhanger, that is—only to find himself as an infant in another world, he’d despaired losing the one potential friend he’d had in a long time. Growing up as Shang Qinghua with a solemn, insistent System dictating his life through mandatory missions was unbearably lonely, even after meeting Mobei-Jun—and oh, his ideal man in the flesh was perfect, even all beat to shit—leaving him to long for the days of opening his inbox to yet another scathing, bitchy message from his favorite anonymous person.

Shang Qinghua realizes something’s off when he’s poring over intake forms after the latest acquisition for Cang Qiong’s libraries. Part of his duties as An Ding’s Peak Lord is handling trade agreements and the Sect’s import-exports. Both Qing Jing and Ling You had requested a significant number of new texts this time, although the former’s request was not as much of a surprise as the latter. Normally, such documents just gave him anxiety, but for some reason the fact that the Beast Peak was requesting books of all things rather than the usual feed or other tools captures his attention. The overlap is bizarre, and he squints at the name of the text that appears on both Peaks’ lists, frowning in confusion.

Now, it’s been a while since Shang Qinghua has reincarnated into PIDW, but as the author of the damn universe he can’t remember including the Complete Compendium of Beasts: Volume 1 in his canon. Dropping the intake forms and adding to the already massive mess on his desk, he calls for his head disciple Yan Qi. He requests she bring him a copy of one of the requisitioned Bestiaries, and of course as efficiently as ever, she gets it into his hands within minutes. He examines it, curious as to what makes this Bestiary so special that not only the Beast peak is requesting it, but the Scholarly peak as well. At first glance it’s nondescript, but well bound. Paper being as expensive as it is, it’s clear that this is a luxury item, specially designed for cultivation sects or wealthy patrons. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he opens the book. 

The first thing that strikes him is the overwhelming level of detail. There are illustrations—meticulously drawn, filled with sophisticated textures. Each entry chronicles a creature, beast, or monster that had appeared in the original text of Proud Immortal Demon Way—analyzed in painstaking detail. Descriptions of these beasts are paired with psychological analyses of their behaviors, notes about ecosystems, hierarchical structures, and even speculation about the emotions of each creature. The Proud Immortal Demon Way he’d written didn’t have such elaborate and creative lore about these creatures in the text. Sure, they were mentioned in passing as stepping stones for his son’s growth and development, but not anywhere near this level of detail. One particular illustration catches his eye: a massive, mythical beast called a Veilclaw Phantasmal Stag. Its spindly antlers somehow glow, its body translucent as clouds of mist billow around it; twisting and bending as though the tendrils might lash out and strangle him from the very paper itself. The description accompanying it is just as meticulous—its behavior, the way its hooves leave no trace in the world, even how its mournful cries can influence the mind. 

“Wait a minute…" Shang Qinghua mutters to himself, his breath catching, "this… I never actually put this one in PIDW.”

Shang Qinghua remembers creating this creature. The only reason he hadn’t included it was because he hadn’t wanted Cucumber-bro to berate him for the obvious comparison to Shishigami from Mononoke Hime. The Veilclaw Phantasmal Stag only ever existed in his massive compilation of world-building notes, never making it into his actual web novel text as a true canonical creature. And yet…

“Ho- How does the author know about this? Did… did my notes somehow become canon?”

That’s a scary thought.

Feverishly, he reads on. What strikes Shang Qinghua the most as he reads is the way each entry is written. The entries aren't cold or dismissive, but passionate, lively. Thorough, yes, but never dry or boring. There’s a love for these creatures that is so genuine Shang Qinghua can’t help but wonder what kind of person the author is, and honestly kind of wants to meet them, this person so enamored with the fauna of his world. The footnotes are even more bizarre, seemingly the author’s afterthoughts. It gives him minor tonal whiplash but it’s still just as brilliant, pointing out subtle contradictions in Shang Qinghua’s web novel’s lore about similar creatures, snarky and pointed. The writing there, tucked in those footnotes, feels... familiar; personal. The tone is scathing, yes—ridiculously so, actually—but there is also a deeply intimate understanding of Shang Qinghua’s world-building; a hint of nigh omniscience that he hasn’t experienced from anyone else aside from himself, as the author and creator of this universe. No one besides him should have this kind of encyclopedic knowledge…

As he flips through the other pages, each one more well-researched than the last, something clicks in his head.

Shang Qinghua frantically searches for the author’s name and upon finding it, drops the bestiary as if it has burned him.

Wu Huang. 

Peerless Cucumber. 

The bitchiest, most critical, most sarcastic, and most self-righteous anti-fan of his work; the biggest Binghe-stan and the ultimate hater of anything papapa, the most loyal of all and the only one he could count on to pay his bills. And now—now—Cucumber-bro is somehow here, in the same world Shang Qinghua is trapped in, living out the very thing the guy had spent countless hours tearing apart.

What–and he cannot emphasize this enough–the fuck!?

[1st] | [3rd] < > [5th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[eevees-hobbies]

Kiss Me Before the Clock Strikes Midnight! - Aoi Todo x GN Reader

Prompt: “They were so distracted, they even missed the clock striking midnight.” Synopsis: You’re determined to ring in the new year right: with your lips locked with your crush's! || WC: 1.2K || CW: Mentions of drinking. All Fluff with some kissing at the end! || Banner by me. Dividers by @adornedwithlight. As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

There exist a variety of traditions for bringing in the new year that are rooted in culture, superstition, or the desire to have a really good time: 

Eat 12 grapes under the table in under a minute to have a good year.

Leave your windows and doors open to let out the old and usher in the new. 

Keep money in your pocket so you’ll have good financial fortune the entire year. 

Kiss someone at midnight to determine your destiny for the new year. 

Number 4 is the most crucial because the only thing you care about is kissing a certain someone as soon as the clock strikes midnight. 

All year, you have been subconsciously preparing Aoi for the kiss that would set a precedent for your relationship for the year and hopefully for the rest of your lives.

Sure, the relationship is strictly platonic as of now, but that’s the point of all your hard work!

You hoped he had noticed the gentle touches to his biceps as you laughed at his jokes, the extra—and healthy—lunches you had conveniently packed and willingly shared with him, and the way you were always—somehow—rotating in his orbit. 

This entire year you had embodied the opposite of the saying, “Out of Sight, Out of Mind,” and velcroed yourself to his and Yuji’s outings. Were you third wheeling it? Perhaps, but neither seemed to mind your company.

11:55 PM

You looked down at your red solo cup, filled with a concoction that would hopefully enable your courage to grab that handsome man by his shoulders and deliver a heart-stopping, leg-curling kiss that would change his life forever. 

Despite the party being filled to the brim with attendees, Aoi’s boisterous laughter was the most distinguishable. And while his loud guffaws made many people around him wince and back away, you wanted nothing more than to bask in the warmth he doled out.

11:56 PM

You missed your chance at the Christmas Party a few days back—the mistletoe was ready, but sadly, you were not. It wasn’t until the end of the night when you were helping to take the holiday decorations down, that you had sworn you'd make your move sooner than later. Aoi certainly doesn’t live his life with regrets, so why would you?

Finishing the last of your drink, you set the cup down on a nearby table. You shoulder through the dense crowd, eyes focused on Todo’s large bulk, hoping with every fiber in your being that he stays put. 

11:57 PM

A familiar voice—and a familiar crop of pink hair—interrupts your purposeful strides. 

“Yo! Don’t forget your party poppers! We can set them off together at midnight!” Before you can protest, Yuji’s already shoving the party favor in your hands. 

Your eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall as it counts down precariously, then back at Todo, who is still stationed against a wall, large arms moving around animatedly, no doubt asking strangers about their type in women. 

You have three minutes to make your way to him and convince him that not only is it a good idea to kiss you, but it’s a good idea to kiss you because it’s a tandem destiny that you’re both beholden to. 

You and Aoi hold such importance to the concept of fate and occurrences that transcend beyond simple coincidence. Your pick-up line simply has to work, right?

But Yuji is still talking, and the clock continues to whittle down by the agonizing second. 

“Yuji, I…I don’t have time to discuss why CNN should have let Anderson Cooper drink during the New Years Celebration--“

But now, as you look beyond Yuji, you find yourself having plenty of time to talk about the drinking habits of television reporters, because the space in which Todo was occupying half a minute ago, is now filled up with people that aren’t him. 

11:58 PM

Yuji, none the wiser, moves on to distribute more party poppers, and you simply look down at the one in your hand, feeling nothing short of deja vu. 

The year is about to end with rapturous cheers, the clinking of glassware, and the bitter taste of disappointment on your tongue. 

“Oi, there you are! Thought you had dipped out on me.”

You need not turn around to recognize whose deep baritone voice it belongs to. You turn, tilting your head to look up at Aoi in all his glory. A light pink blush is dusted on his tan cheeks as he looks down at you with a dazzling grin.

Before you can open your mouth and plead your case, he starts speaking again, and what leaves his lips might as well be gospel, because you’re hanging onto every word.

“You ever heard about some of the traditions people get all hung up over during New Year’s Eve? Supposedly they’re good luck like…keeping the windows open or keeping money in your pocket so you aren’t broke, for example.”

He lifts a finger to point past your head to the open window in the corner. “I guess that’s why it’s so drafty in here,” he chuckles as his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

11:59 PM 

He watches you nibble on your bottom lip and can’t help but mimic the nervous tick. People around you are starting to countdown from 60, and it feels as though your heart is drumming faster than they can count as you wait for him to continue.

“I’m big on superstitions, but I’m sure you know that because you know me. And when I reflect on this year and all the things that went right, you’re damn near in every single memory”

Please talk faster!

“I just think that we need to be intentional about bringing good things into our lives so every little bit counts.”

TALK FASTER!!!

The smile on your lips is almost pained, bottom and top row teeth mashing against each other as you nod along with his ramblings. 

“Sorry, I…this went smoother in my head.” With a long, deep inhale, he lets out a flurry of words that make your heart soar and your legs almost buckle. 

“Kiss me to bring in the new year?! It has to be you! It needs to be you!”

You shoot up to your tippy toes, propelling yourself into his arms as your lips collide. 

He keeps it respectful, large warm hands anchored on your hips as you slot your lips against each other. The warmth he exudes daily seeps into your very being with the soft, tender press of your mouths as you get lost in each other. 

The ball is dropping, and you don’t notice.

The people around you are cheering, hugging, and kissing as the clock strikes midnight and you don’t notice.

The party popper you were previously holding now sits at your feet—unpopped—as you slide your arms around his broad shoulders, bringing him closer.

12:01 AM

“We’re going to have a great year,” he rumbles into the kiss. His words and the mere implication that it’s a year that you two will share in tandem—in coupledom—have you vibrating where you stand and within his embrace.

A/N: I AODRE this man, and I hope in 2025 I write for him until my heart is full. Unapologetically self-indulgent is the vibe.

Special thanks to @ambiguouslady42 for the gentle nudge. You were right!

@pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.5

Shen Yuan | [1st][2nd][3rd][4th][6th]

The Warm Red Pavilion is an oasis of warmth and indulgence for those who have grown weary from the ruthless demands of the real world. Shen Qingqiu has visited the brothel on many occasions, though never for the pleasures most come here for. Instead, he seeks something far more elusive—a moment of peace, a brief respite from the crushing weight of his responsibilities as Peak Lord of Qing Jing. While his trips here make most believe him to be some kind of womanizing scum, he doesn’t care enough to disabuse anyone of that notion. He doesn't trust many people—especially not men—and has long since learned to avoid intimacy in favor of calm companionship with his many jiejiemen and meimeimen. The matron of the brothel has known him for a long time, and all of her girls call him A-Jiu, despite his status. It’s… a relief, to be welcomed as nothing but himself when he comes here, poor temperament and all.

This visit, he finds himself sitting in a private room, sipping a fragrant tea while engaging in casual conversation with a few of his meimeimen. The company is pleasant as always, the atmosphere relaxed, and the dim lights cast an almost ethereal glow over the room, perfect for hiding his tired eyes. His jiejiemen will be by later, with their instruments, to lull him to a peaceful slumber.

The door to his room opens unceremoniously, stirring him from his moment of calm and alarming his meimeimen, who scurry back into the more shadowed corners of the room. Shen Qingqiu's sharp gaze flicks up, prepared to dismiss yet another intruder, when he freezes.

The man standing in the doorway is... him.

Shen Qingqiu blinks, his composure faltering for a split second. He has no time for doppelgangers—and certainly not here, in his safe haven.

But, no, actually, that’s not quite right. This is someone who looks almost exactly like him.

Because upon closer inspection, while still handsome with similar sharp features, the interloper in the doorway is overall softer than Shen Qingqiu, despite bearing the same air of quiet authority that Shen Qingqiu wears like armor. The differences become blatantly obvious the more he stares at this doppelganger, as the man in the doorway is shorter than he is, maybe a cun or two below Shen Qingqiu’s height. He has actually lopped off his hair, the ends coming to rest just below his chin while the rest is tied back with a ribbon and informal guan. He wears modest robes of only three noticeable layers, which—were it not for how immaculately clean the man is—would make Shen Qingqiu think him one of the ordinary folk. He has a fan slipped through his belt, a simple white of an elegant make, and a pair of round, gold or perhaps brass spectacles that rest across the curved bridge of his nose, an attached chain looping low around the back of his neck. His fingers are inkstained but callused, so perhaps a scholar as well as a cultivator? Those are particularly rare, at least if they aren’t charlatans. His irritation tips over into interest, wondering if perhaps after his original family sold him off they’d had more children...

Somehow, despite his overall unassuming appearance, this stranger bears an ethereal quality, as though he is both present and elsewhere, his entire being faintly out of place as though he should be someone or something else entirely.

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, pushing aside the sense of uncanny allure. 

“This Master asks what it is you think you are doing?”

The doppelganger blinks, eyes darting around the room as he seems to take it all in. They widen, recognizing the occupancy and most likely Shen Qingqiu’s own status. The interloper’s arms shoot up in front of him as he makes a deep, apologetic bow.

“This humble unbound cultivator apologizes to the Master Cultivator. I– This humble one was merely looking for a quiet place to work and did not realize the room was already occupied. This one shall take his leave, if Master Cultivator forgives.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eye catches on the object clutched in the interloper’s hand: a book, or what appears to be one, spying the word Compendium peeking out from beneath subtly palms. Interesting, he thinks to himself, this one is nervous around me… perhaps he knows of my reputation? Humming, he wonders how much more he can torment this man for the offense of barging into his space. Flicking open his fan, he stares at the figure bent double before him. 

“Hm. What sort of work could a humble unbound cultivator such as yourself possibly be working on? This Master wishes to know.”

The man straightens like he’s been struck by lightning, shockingly green eyes wide with what Shen Qingqiu assumes is surprise. He is clearly able to school his expressions, but his eyes give him away if one knows what to look for. Unfortunately, Shen Qingqiu is far too shrewd to miss such an obvious tell. 

“Yo– I– Master Cultivator wants to know of this humble one’s work? Truly?”

With a wave of his hand, Shen Qingqiu glares at his doppelganger over the edge of his fan, “Are you questioning this Master?”

“No! Of course not, begging Master Cultivator’s forgiveness.”

Hmph. At least he has manners.

“May this humble one sit so that he may show Master Cultivator his progress?”

Dismissively, Shen Qingqiu gestures to the table. His meimeimen titter quietly where they’ve backed off, voyeuristically watching the interaction with barely concealed entertainment. His new… guest lowers himself gingerly to the table, once again exercising remarkably good manners. Absently, he questions the shorter man’s lineage. Maybe he’s a relative, rather than a brother, despite their uncanny resemblance. Perhaps he’s the Young Master of some wealthy estate off on a lone journey, privileged as that is. 

His thoughts are interrupted when the book gets settled on the table between them. The title catches his eye.

“A bestiary.”

The man nods, smiling, and for a moment Shen Qingqiu is speechless, because seeing such soft enthusiasm on a face so similar to his own is… jarring, but something about the man across from him keeps him from lashing out. He clenches his molars.

“Yes!” The excitement in the other man is sparkling, earnest in a way that both charms him and honestly makes Shen Qingqiu a little nauseous. “I’ve been travelling, studying all manner of beasts in my journeys. I plan to publish once I’ve finished my observations.” He gingerly pushes the book across the table, his placid expression betrayed by the shyness reflected in his eyes. “Would Master Cultivator care to look at my research?”

With a noncommittal hum to hide his actual curiosity, Shen Qingqiu lifts the book, keeping his impassive mask firmly on his face. He is interested, of course. A man so unassuming, so weak-looking is studying such wild, dangerous creatures? There’s simply no way he could get close enough to garner new information, thus surely nothing contained in these pages will be worth his time, and it will justify him bringing his wrath upon this horrid doppelganger. He opens the book and is immediately disabused of the notion.

Because what he holds in his hands? Is artistry.

He fights to keep his expression schooled as he reads the first entry, taken aback by the sheer competence overflowing from the pages. There is more detail here than in any bestiaries within the Qing Jing library, and he would bet his best fan that the same could be said for Ling You’s archives. The illustrations are impeccable, brush strokes pristine as the creatures on the pages seem to come to life beneath his fingers. He knows, instinctively, that what he holds in his hands is undoubtedly an untold treasure. He raises his eyes to meet the nervous gaze of the man before him.

“What is your name?”

“Shen Yuan is this one’s name, having never been granted a courtesy name.” Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow, another mark on the list indicating that the two of them may in fact be related. He’d have to check the way this man’s name is written to be sure, however. 

“This Shen doesn’t publish under his own name, instead using a hào: Peerless Cucumber. It’s…” he chuckles to himself, clearly embarrassed. It’s… oddly endearing. “... a sentimental joke of a nickname, to be honest, but this humble one simply couldn’t let it go.”

Humming, Shen Qingqiu goes back to reading. It really is quite remarkable. The detail the entries go to is far beyond what he’s used to seeing in these types of books; there are no hypotheses here, only facts, which appear to be backed up by evidence. Much of it makes sense, clarifying behaviors of a few beasts that Shen Qingqiu knows Duan-shidi has been puzzling over for years. He’ll have to let the man know to look for this particular bestiary—if Shen Yuan is to publish, that is.

“Does Master Cultivator find himself pleased with this Shen’s work?”

“This Master is…” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “surprised by the quality of cultivator Shen’s research,” he finally replies, finding it impossible to be disingenuous. The man across from him lights up, his placidity failing him and all at once Shen Qingqiu is hit with a violent, sudden urge to keep praising the other man, which is absolutely absurd. He wonders if it could be some odd familial impulse, ingrained into his very genetics. He hides a horrified shudder.

“This Master would like to request a copy of this bestiary when it is complete.”

“Oh! Of course!” Shen Yuan smiles, his eyes curving softly into crescents. “This Shen would be delighted to grant a copy to Master Cultivator! Where and to whom would this humble one be addressing it to?”

“Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu of Qing Jing, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.”

The man’s eyes go wide and round behind his glasses, his face going pale. “Sh- Sh– Peak Lord Shen?!”

Ah, so he hadn’t identified me earlier. But he does seem to know my reputation. Annoyingly, Shen Qingqiu finds no pleasure in the other man’s sudden fear. He doesn’t reply, continuing to stare down the other man.

“This– This one apologizes for his ignorance–!”

“This Master is here for some quiet,” Shen Qingqiu replies, his tone deliberately calm and nonchalant,  “This Master is curious,” he says, his voice laced with measured coolness, “What brings Shen Yuan to this particular establishment, then? This Master assumes Shen Yuan has heard of the... company here.” 

He can’t quite keep the desperation to quell a misunderstanding from creeping into his voice. Never before has he wanted to clarify that he only comes here to visit and sleep. There’s something about Shen Yuan that calls to him, and that makes him dangerous. Dangerous things are not to be trusted—not right away, at least—and he’s not about to allow himself to drop his walls to a man he’s just met, no matter how much he wants to. Something about Shen Yuan is off, and he’s going to find out what that is.

At his question, Shen Yuan’s smile falters; just a fraction of a second, “This one… this one is only here for a meal and somewhere to work...” His hesitation is enough to confirm Shen Qingqiu’s suspicions that the man across from him is hiding something. What that something is remains to be seen, but it’s enough to put a freeze on his immediate interest in the man. “This one is afraid he doesn’t know what Master Shen means by his inquiry…”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes harden as he gazes across the table at this man who both intrigues and infuriates him. He’s particularly protective of his jiejiemen and meimeimen, and even if this man shares his face, or writes some of the most beautiful work he’s ever laid eyes on, he’ll not be swayed by such simple things. 

“That’s unfortunate," he says, tone icy as he rises from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. “This Master doesn’t trust men who have too many answers and not enough questions.”

Shen Yuan’s gaze lingers for a moment longer and then he too stands, giving a half-bow, as if he understands the unspoken warning in Shen Qingqiu’s words. “This humble one apologizes, Peak Lord Shen. It seems he’s more than overstepped.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t respond immediately, simply staring at the man before him, unable to shake the unnerving feeling that this entire encounter has been more than just a simple coincidence… like it was engineered by fate that the two of them would cross paths. The man in front of him—Shen Yuan—isn’t just a gifted author, he isn’t just a stranger. Somehow, someway, he is connected to Shen Qingqiu and the world at large in a way Shen Qingqiu can’t yet grasp.

As Shen Yuan turns to leave, there is something else—something subtle, but palpable—that lingers in the air between them: the faintest thread of destiny, of a meeting that neither of them would have predicted, but one that would undeniably alter both their futures.

And in the back of Shen Qingqiu’s mind, a single, troubling thought echoes. This man... is far more important than he seems.

[1st] | [4th] < > [6th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.7

[Shen Yuan][Shang Qinghua] | [1st] <--> [6th]

Liu Qingge, the infamous War God of Bai Zhan Peak, moves through the dense forest like a shadow, his eyes sharp and unblinking as they scan the underbrush. As he stalks through the lush forest, the scent of damp earth and brine rises as each step stirring the air, prompting his senses to widen. His grip on Chen Luan tightens with each step, fingers flexing on the hilt as the familiar weight grounds him as he continues his hunt.  His target, the Vermillion Fanglancer, has been terrorizing the nearby towns for weeks, and Liu Qingge has been tasked with hunting it down. It’s a task he’s more than eager to take on, and more than capable of completing—nothing in this forest can stand against the weight of his strength and experience. 

The Vermillion Fanglancer is close—there are too many signs of where its heavy, scaled body has moved through the underbrush—but instead of his expected quarry, he stumbles across something a bit more unexpected.

A flash of movement catches his attention where it flickers through the thick foliage and he spots the beast. The Vermillion Fanglancer—a grotesque hybrid of red deer and deadly lizard—stands in a small clearing near a rocky outcrop, its sleek scales catching the pale sunlight filtering down through the heavy canopy above. Its antlers, cruel and gleaming like jagged spears, sway gently with the wind. Its tail, tipped with a poisonous, paralytic barb, sways behind it, and for a moment, Liu Qingge’s instincts flare, his hand instinctively tightening around his sword. He is poised to move, to strike, to end the threat.

But then his gaze falls on the figure standing alongside the creature.

A man—no, a cultivator—stands casually next to the beast. His clothes are simple, unadorned robes in neutral shades, but even at this distance he can tell they are well-tailored. It’s almost as though this strange little cultivator simply cares little for ostentation. The man’s most striking feature, though, are his small, round spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him an almost scholarly, harmless appearance. There is something almost too delicate about him, his presence entirely at odds with the savage creature standing so close. The cultivator doesn’t appear threatened at all by the beast, or perhaps he simply doesn’t realize that it’s a deadly predator beside him.

Liu Qingge pauses, watching as this strange cultivator murmurs softly in words too quiet for his ears to pick up, talking to the monster. Liu Qingge notices the book held in one of the cultivator’s hands, clocking the brush tucked behind one ear when the cultivator’s scandalously short hair shifts in the breeze. The man moves with slow, deliberate motions, his hand reaching out as though he wants to stroke the scales of the beast. 

The Vermillion Fanglancer, its predatory instincts still sharp, eyes the stranger suspiciously but doesn’t advance. It huffs, its large nostrils flaring, as if it is trying to make sense of the situation. Liu Qingge frowns, his hand instinctively tightening around his sword. 

What is this?

The cultivator hesitates, his initial motion pausing mid-air. The murmuring starts up again, and through it all not once does he appear threatened in the slightest. He begins to move his hand again—a slow motion, almost as if coaxing the creature—and to Liu Qingge’s utter disbelief, the beast calms. The creature doesn’t snarl or rear up in attack, but leans into the touch, its body relaxing under the cultivator’s gentle caresses as though the ferocious monster has been tamed into nothing more than a docile pet.

This isn’t right.

Liu Qingge’s brows furrow, his mind racing. He’s dealt with his fair share of rogue cultivators, but this one? This one is different. Too calm. Too in control. Liu Qingge’s eyes narrow as he steps forward into the treeline. 

“You,” he calls, his voice rough but commanding. “What are you doing?”

The cultivator’s head tilts up, and his gaze lands on Liu Qingge. For a brief moment when their eyes lock, Liu Qingge is struck by a bizarre sense of familiarity—he knows that face somehow, despite being absolutely certain that he’s never met this bizarre cultivator before. The thought is disabused as the scholar-like man gives a small, polite smile, banishing the familiarity like dust in the wind. The sweet expression seems more than a little out of place against the dangerous setting. 

“Ah, a fellow cultivator. This humble one didn’t notice daozhang there. Please, do not mind me.” His tone is soft and unassuming, as though he truly has no idea of the perilous situation they are in—the Fanglancer is no paltry foe, and this cultivator looks… soft.

Liu Qingge remains still, his expression unreadable, though he feels his lips tighten. The title surprises him—he’s not been called daozhang in years; most are well aware of who Bai Zhan’s War God is in this day and age.

Does he not recognize me?

“I’m hunting that,” Liu Qingge grunts out, his voice low and gravelly from disuse.

“Ah,” the cultivator pauses, his hand moving to stroke the Fanglancer’s nose. It lowers its head obediently, nuzzling the man like a docile pet as that deadly tail sways in slow, relaxed motions. “I always consider it a blessing to be able to meet such an impressive creature up close.”

Liu Qingge’s brows furrow further. “Impressive?” He grunts dismissively, tone blunt with his distrust plainly evident. “It’s a monster. Can kill you with a single strike.”

The man tilts his head, the smile lingering. “And yet, here we are. He hasn’t killed me, has he?" His hand trails down slowly, gently come to a rest on the beast’s scaled neck. The creature lets out a soft, almost contented sigh, leaning in closer to the strange cultivator. “Monsters, like people, are not so easily understood. They have their own hearts, you know.”

Liu Qingge’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hard. “Foolish. Been terrorizing nearby towns. Not a pet.”

The cultivator blinks, as if processing the words slowly, before he chuckles softly, a sound entirely too calm for someone standing next to such a deadly creature. “Ah, I see. But you’re mistaken.” He strokes the Fanglancer’s neck again, his fingers tracing the sleek scales. “This sweet beast has no interest in terrorizing anyone. It was simply lost and confused. I’ve merely… guided it.”

Liu Qingge’s expression darkens, his grip tightening on Cheng Luan He’s known for his decisiveness in battle, his ruthless, relentless approach, and yet this man—this bizarre cultivator—speaks as though he’s taming a stray dog rather than facing one of the more dangerous creatures that prowls the world. The situation is absurd.

“Guide?” Liu Qingge’s tone is skeptical, and his eyes narrow. “You… tamed it?”

The cultivator’s smile widens, although it takes on a knowing feeling. “Not tamed, just… understood. Every creature, no matter how wild, has its own rhythm, its own needs. It just takes patience and a little trust.”

Liu Qingge scoffs, his voice laced with disbelief. “With that?” He motions toward the Fanglancer, which has lowered its head, nuzzling the cultivator’s side in an affectionate manner more befitting domesticated cattle than a ferocious wild beast.

The rogue cultivator shrugs, his calm demeanor unshaken. “Yes. It’s not about force. It’s about connection.” He looks over at Liu Qingge, his gaze soft but oddly piercing in a way that once again strikes Liu Qingge as deeply familiar—and oddly, he feels an uncanny sense of rage at that familiarity. “Sometimes, the most dangerous creatures are the ones that need the most understanding.”

Liu Qingge hesitates, his gaze flickering to the creature once again. Over the course of their stilted conversation, the Fanglancer’s stance has softened completely: its vicious tail still but relaxed, once-flashing eyes now dim and gentle. It doesn’t make sense—nothing about this makes sense. 

How could someone like him have such control over something so lethal?

“You–” Liu Qingge's voice falters for a moment before his usual coldness returns. “Rogue cultivator. What’s your goal here?”

The cultivator doesn’t seem to take offense. Instead, the smile softens and once again changes tone, almost as though he finds Liu Qingge’s suspicion amusing. “This humble one is not so different from daozhang. This one simply chooses his own path, free from the constraints of sects or titles—free to pursue his passion for studying such magnificent fauna without restrictions.”

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at such a response, wondering if he’s being toyed with. His instincts scream at him that this man is dangerous in a way he doesn’t fully understand, and that unsettles him more than anything else.

Still, he cannot shake the curiosity that has been quietly building within him. This rogue cultivator—soft-spoken and scholarly in appearance—has just done something Liu Qingge could never have imagined, not even Duan Qingze has succeeded where this man has, and in such a short time too! He’s taken a creature of unimaginable power and twisted danger only to turn it into something… almost harmless. 

Almost.

“... made your point,” Liu Qingge grumbles stiffly, though his curiosity still gnaws at him. “Doesn't change that the beast has been a threat. Needs to be put down.”

The cultivator’s eyes soften, and his smile noticeably fades, taking on a melancholy feeling. “That is not the only answer, daozhang.” He looks at Liu Qingge with a piercing gaze, one that make the War God shift uncomfortably under the weight of it. “Sometimes… what needs to be put down is not the creature, but the fear of it.”

Liu Qingge feels a flicker of something inside him, a brief but sharp tug at the edge of his own beliefs. He doesn’t know what it is, or why this man—this stranger—can make him feel this way.

Without another word, Liu Qingge turns away, stalking back into the forest with deliberately forced steps. But even as he does, he can’t help but wonder if the rogue cultivator’s words have struck too close to something deep within him.

What kind of man tames a monster with mere words?

And more importantly, what kind of man is he becoming by walking away from it?

[1st] | [6th] < > [8th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.6

Shen Yuan Shang Qinghua | [1st] <--> [5th][7th]

Qian Cao is tranquil in early dusk, as always Mu Qingfang enjoys spending his early evenings out of doors when he can, immersing himself in an open space away from where the air is thick with the scent of healing herbs and other earthy greens that envelops the healing compounds. The evening sun filters through the trees, casting warm golden light on the stone pathways leading to the peak’s many halls. This particular evening, Mu Qingfang stands at the entrance to the main hall, his long robes flowing in the breeze. His sharp gaze scans the horizon as he awaits the return of his head disciple, Yao Li, who has been away on mission for the past week. He’d been tasked with collecting a number of rare reagents that had dropped below appropriate thresholds, as they could not afford to be unable to concoct the medicine their peak is known for. Though the task was a dangerous one, Mu Qingfang had complete faith in Yao Li’s abilities. 

It certainly helped that Qingge-shixong had offered to loan him some of his more competent disciples as protection.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, Mu Qingfang straightens his lax posture, schooling his expression while cultivating a welcoming aura.

Yao Li appears at the gate, looking far more disheveled than Mu Qingfang ever expected for his usually-pristine head disciple. It was one of the things about him that made him so adept in his position, despite being younger than many other peaks’ head disciples. Xiao Li’s normally neat robes are deeply stained, and his hair, usually tied back with precision, hangs loose around his face. His typically placid eyes move around nervously as he steps forward, almost as if he is purposefully avoiding his master's gaze. Even with the distance still between them, Mu Qingfang can see the way Xiao Li’s hands tremble, the qiankun bag containing the spoils of his mission clutched tightly to his chest.

"Yao Li," Mu Qingfang greets, his tone calm and laced with an undertone of kindness. "You've returned. How was the mission?"

Yao Li jolts, clearly not expecting to be addressed by his master so soon. He fumbles slightly with the qiankun bag before lowering it and offering a quick bow. “Everything went well, Yizun,” Yao Li replies, though his voice is noticeably strained. “The reagents were successfully collected. There were no major issues.”

Mu Qingfang’s sharp eyes narrow near-imperceptibly for a moment. The normally-composed Yao Li is clearly distracted, his hands still shaking. It isn’t like him to be so flustered, especially after a mission he has successfully completed. He gestures for Yao Li to follow him inside the main building, directing his head disciple to his office. Once he slides the door shut behind them, Mu Qingfang takes a step closer to his head disciple, his tone firmer but no less kind than earlier.

“You seem... unsettled,” he says, his voice carrying an underlying note of concern that he does not often display to those outside his immediate circles. “Is there perhaps something more that you’re not telling this Yizun, Yao Li?”

Yao Li’s eyes flicker to the ground, broadcasting his inability to meet Mu Qingfang’s gaze. He shifts his weight, clearly trying to gather his composure as the qiankun bag in his hands is almost crushed in his nervous grip.

“It’s nothing, Yizun. Truly, this humble one is fine.” Yao Li’s voice betrays him however, faltering as he speaks, and Mu Qingfang can hear the lie beneath his words. 

He raises an eyebrow, eyes never leaving Yao Li’s face. “This Yizun doesn’t believe that. Xiao Li is usually as calm as a still pond, but today he seems... troubled. What happened during the mission?”

Yao Li hesitates. The air is thick with the tension of his hesitation, and Mu Qingfang’s curiosity continues to grow by the minute. What could possibly have happened to cause Xiao Li to have such a reaction? He stepped closer, waiting, his gaze intent. Yao Li finally lets out a sigh, rubbing his temples before lifting his eyes to meet Mu Qingfang’s.

“I... this one encountered someone in the forest,” Yao Li admitted, his voice lowering as if confessing something too strange to be believed. “At first, myself and my escort presumed he was simply a passerby, but he... saved my life, and the others��� as well.” Yao Li’s words were soft, as if unsure of how to describe the encounter.

Mu Qingfang’s expression remains neutral, but his interest piques. “A rogue cultivator? And he saved your life?”

Yao Li nods, his hands trembling as he sets the qiankun bag down on a nearby table. “We… we accidentally intruded upon a Shadowmane Direowl’s territory, and apparently this one had a clutch of eggs it was protecting.” 

“Ah.” Mu Qingfang smothers the immediate fear that burbles up inside him; most encounters with the Shadowmane Direowl result in week-long stays in the healing halls while they work furiously to counteract the long-lasting paralysis the beast is most known for. There have been no such reports, no Bai Zhan disciples laid up in his beds for him to oversee. He exhales, wondering how this rogue cultivator pulled it off.

“I- This one had presumed we would be returning to occupy space in the healing halls, but this rogue cultivator simply… this one isn’t quite sure how to properly explain it to Yizun…”

“This Master just asks that you do your best,” Mu Qingfang soothes.

“He- He spoke to it?”

Mu Qingfang blinks.

“He what?”

Yao Li nods, “Mn! The cultivator spoke to it, and it listened! In fact, it–” frantically, Yao Li opens the qiankun bag and reaches in, before pulling out the last thing that Mu Qingfang expected to see. 

“Ghostly Vine? Where–!”

“No, no! Yizun, the cultivator, he– he asked the Shadowmane Direowl if it could find this herb for us, since it was the last thing on our list.”

Mu Qingfang can’t help the way he goggles at his head disciple, hardly able to believe what he’s hearing. 

“And it did! It brought back a whole bunch, all because this cultivator asked!” Yao Li shakes his head, laughing softly, “It was remarkable, Yizun! The- The Direowl even cuddled up with the cultivator and asked for- for petting like a common dog seeking a reward for good behavior!”

“I- This is unheard of… does Qingze-shidi know about the sapience of the beast?”

Yao Li shrugs, “I- This one is unsure. But shibo should be alerted! Ah, also–” xiao Li pauses, pulling out a small parchment from his robes and handing it to Mu Qingfang, his face flushed with embarrassment over his overly enthusiastic recounting of his rescue.

“This cultivator... he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Not only did he save this one and this one’s shixiongmen from a deadly beast, but he also gave me these.” Yao Li’s voice is quieter now, but still tinged with awe. “Detailed notes on alchemical reagents from the region, some of which I’ve never heard of before. They’re... extraordinary.”

Mu Qingfang unfurls the parchment, his mind still reeling from the previous story, but his sharp eyes scan the intricate drawings and notes with precision. The more he reads, the more his eyes brighten in interest. The handwriting is somewhat sloppy, but the details on each reagent are far more detailed than anything Mu Qingfang had ever come across in all his years of studying herbs and medicine.

“These notes...” Mu Qingfang murmurs, his guard so thoroughly trounced that the incredulous tone is evident in his voice. “These plants... this Master has never encountered them before. There’s no record, not even in our sects’ ancient archives.”

Yao Li, still a little flustered, looks up at his master. “This one knows, Yizun. That’s what’s bothered me. This one doesn’t know who this cultivator is, but his knowledge is... far beyond anything I’ve learned. He even seemed to know more than I do about certain medicinal properties—despite lacking the same education our Qian Cao peak can provide—and he didn’t hesitate to share such priceless knowledge with me.”

Mu Qingfang’s mind races as he ponders the implications of this strange cultivator’s capability. A cultivator with such an understanding of medicine and alchemy, far beyond even the most scholarly minds in the Sect—it is a rare gift. And yet, he had chosen to help Yao Li, to save him and provide these precious notes without expecting any sort of repayment

“This rogue cultivator... he doesn’t sound like someone you’d encounter every day,” Mu Qingfang says quietly, his eyes fixed on Yao Li. “Is Xiao Li certain he was just a rogue cultivator? Perhaps there’s more to him than we know.”

Yao Li nods, though his expression remains conflicted. “This- This one is not sure. He had an air of mystery about him—he dressed like an ordinary man but he had spiritual weapons and a breadth of skill that marked him as extraordinary. He seemed to be truly interested in these reagents, invested in preventing death on both sides of the accidental conflict. It was strange, Yizun. This one doesn’t understand why, but I- this one can’t stop thinking about him.”

Mu Qingfang studies his disciple for a long moment, a rare flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Yao Li, usually so composed, is clearly taken by this mysterious cultivator—someone who has both saved him and, in a way, challenged his worldly understanding. It is a connection Yao Li had clearly never expected, and it seems to be occupying his thoughts.

“If you ever encounter this rogue cultivator again,” Mu Qingfang says slowly, allowing his voice to soften, “be sure to let this Master know. Your Yizun is curious to see who this person is, and what else he may know about the medicine of the world.”

Yao Li nods, though his cheeks are still slightly flushed, and he quickly turns his gaze downward.

“Yes, Yizun. This one- He will keep his eyes open.”

Mu Qingfang can see the conflict in his head disciple’s expression. The softening of his usual calm demeanor, the faint blush coloring his face—it is clear that something deeper than just curiosity is at play here. But for now, he would let Yao Li hold onto his thoughts, at least for a little while longer.

With a soft chuckle, Mu Qingfang turns to sit behind his desk, his tone light but filled with teasing warmth. “Now, Yao Li, let’s see about getting these reagents sorted. No more distractions, hmm?”

Yao Li lets out a small sigh of relief, his composure beginning to return even as the mystery of the rogue cultivator lingers in his mind.

[1st] | [5th] < > [7th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.3

related to [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [1st] [2nd] [4th]

As didi had promised, the little System had immediately chimed in with a mission the second Shen Yuan had appeared in the world. Granted, the mission was kind of important– seeing as he didn’t have a weapon aside from the Benevolent System Fan that held didi yet, and completing the quest would provide him with an honest-to-Airplane spiritual blade, which in his millennial nerd brain was more tempting than even the limited edition, limited run release of that Hatsune Miku statue he’d special ordered from Japan. 

According to the mission blurb that had appeared on the surface of his fan, the spiritual weapon Shen Yuan was supposed to be looking for was based on an old legend. Even as obsessive as Shen Yuan is about the world-building and lore of PIDW (including the monsters, of course) he can hardly remember much about the weapon as it was mentioned in the actual web novel. As far as he can remember, it was only vaguely mentioned in passing—something to do with one of Bingge’s wives, somewhere in the mid-triple-digits. It was a legendary semi-sentient blade created by an ancient Beast Cultivator, and was so powerful (but not more powerful than Xin Mo, of course) that if one were to be chosen to wield it, they would be able to communicate with and control even the wildest creatures—any number of beasts who roamed the mountains, oceans, and skies could become as docile as a lapdog! The possibilities were endless, one could amass a beast army to span the Human and Demon Realms, probably even the Abyss as well!

Naturally, upon hearing all of this from didi, Shen Yuan’s first thought is: sorry, wife number two-hundred something, but there is absolutely zero chance anyone else is getting their hands on that blade! 

As you well know, dear reader, the chaotic whims of fate all but doomed Shen Yuan the second he set foot into his favorite trash fire web novel’s setting. Now that he’s been living in the PIDW world for a short while, there’s one thing he knows for sure, and it’s that fate has a wicked sense of humor. Thus, our intrepid transmigrator followed the quest instructions to a tee, only to be held up when he realized he needed a guide to navigate the next branch of the quest. And so here he is, marching into the heart of the Steelwood Wilds on the edge of the Borderlands where monster-ridden trials await him with her at his side—Yin Xue, wife number 234—a rogue beast cultivator far too skilled for her own good, and who would not have been out of place in Ling You, Cang Qiong’s Beast Taming Peak. 

Shen Yuan curses the heavens above and subtly shakes his fan as a punishment for didi—the little shit should have warned him about this! He’s going to have to tread very carefully, lest he get suckered into some shitty romantic subplot with pretty characters that definitely are not his to conquer! Granted, she’s an infant right now in the story, barely older than eleven by the looks of things, so Shen Yuan will happily keep himself safely in the role of weird senior cultivator. Of course, since his luck is apparently abysmal, the plot has decided that she would be the one guiding him through the treacherous terrain. In truth, dear reader, despite his obvious seniority, Shen Yuan’s pride is suffering as he is not being guided so much as being dragged along, while the precocious tween makes snide comments about his incompetence.

“Are you sure you’re even qualified to hold a blade, Shen qianbei?” Yin Xue peers at him with one raised eyebrow as her beast companion—a still-growing bird as dark as ink that he recognizes as an Ironwing Falcon—lets loose a short, soft screech from its perch on her shoulder, as if sensing the real threat they are to face is not within the forest, but is in fact Shen Yuan’s complete lack of practical skills. 

Indignant, Shen Yuan puffs up his chest even though he knows deep down that his only real skillset he has in his arsenal right now is his ability to fake it til he makes it. He can only pretend to be competent long enough to get through the worst of what this trash fire universe will inevitably sicc on him. Obviously he can’t sword fight (at least not without some serious Matrix-style training with didi’s help) and his cultivation skills are basic at best, despite essentially having cheatcode-ed his way into the late core formation stage. All he truly has are a fancy fan that’s all but a deus ex machina, as well as his own frantic wits. 

“It’s just a blade,” he sniffs, forcefully maintaining an air of manufactured confidence. “It’s not that special.”

Yin Xue, of course, doesn’t seem convinced. She crosses her arms and stares at him with an intensity that makes Shen Yuan regret his entire existence.

“Maybe,” she replies, choosing her words carefully, “but it’s definitely not just a blade. It’s the blade. The one that makes people tame the beasts, bend the wilds to their whims, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, xiao Xue,” Shen Yuan interrupts her quickly. He genuinely doesn’t need another lecture from this toddler. “It’s important. I’m going to find it. I’m going to become the most incredible Beast Scholar in this entire world—oi, don’t look at me like that, I have a plan.” His voice wavers slightly on the word plan, but he can’t let her see that. He has to maintain his facade.

Yin Xue shoots him a suspicious glance before nodding curtly and signaling him to move forward. “I hope Shen qianbei’s plan involves not dying before we reach the last known location mentioned in the legend.”

Silently, Shen Yuan prays for the same.

The Wilds are far more dangerous than he could have imagined, even knowing all the ins-and-outs of the PIDW world as befits his giant fanboy status. Within minutes of stepping inside the dense, dark forest a giant, rampaging Ironhide Serpent-Tailed Bear comes crashing through the trees, its roar shaking the ground beneath him. Shen Yuan will admit that he freezes, his eyes widening with his ripple of fanboy excitement before his palms grow increasingly clammy with fear as reality sets in. The thought: that fucking thing could kill me! blares like a klaxon in his head on repeat. Of course, Yin Xue the thrice-damned child doesn’t even flinch, which causes Shen Yuan to call out in alarm.

“Xiao Xue!”

But as she simply swings out her arm, releasing both her Falcon and her potent qi-infused whip, he is reminded of the fact that even as a child, she’s far more experienced than him. Hell, the kid is actually well into the early qi condensation phase. Within moments, both girl and bird are deep into battle with the behemoth. 

“Shit shit shit– uhh, didi? A little help!?”

《 Of course, [Host]! This didi is ready and willing to assist! {UPLOADING TRAINING PROGRAM…} 》

《 {INITIALIZING.TUTORIAL:MARTIALFAN_ARTSv5.7.pkg} 》

《 … 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!  》

《 «𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…» 》

Shen Yuan hisses while his mind is inundated with boundless knowledge, stretching his mental limits. His qi rages in his meridians and he inhales sharply as the sensation of his bones and muscles ripping themselves apart overtakes him, followed by a swell of nausea as they seem to be rebuilding all at once. The process is agonizing in its intensity. He gags, the pain making his vision darken at the edges before as suddenly as it had come, he’s back to normal. Although, it’s not truly normal. He can feel the way that didi has burned the practical knowledge of the fan arts into his brain, forcing his body to undergo all the training required to use such skill in the span of seconds rather than decades. He wipes his mouth and swears violently as the Ironhide Serpent-Tailed Bear enters his range. He moves smoothly into a fighting stance.

“Holy–!”

Shen Yuan moves, but it feels almost like autopilot. He knows it’s him doing the fighting, it’s his body performing the actions, the strikes; and it’s his mind issuing the commands to execute it all, but it’s so surreal how natural it feels despite having never learned any of it before this very moment. As his fan deflects another strike from the venomous tail the beast is named for, Shen Yuan spins and sends a blast of qi-infused compressed air at it just as Yin Xue’s spiritual whip makes contact, the colliding forces ultimately ripping the monster apart in seconds.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Yin Xue crows with the confidence of someone who’s used to killing monsters even before breakfast. “Why didn’t you say you were a Wu Shan master, Shen dashi?!” Yin Xue bounces excitedly in place, her youth even more obvious in her behavior, “Just think: if you had a proper blade, you would be even more unstoppable!”

“Right,” Shen Yuan mutters, as if the entire moment where he stood there like a deranged gaping fish wasn’t incredibly embarrassing enough. 

“What happened to your old sword, anyway, Shen dashi?”

“Uh, let’s just say I left it worlds away, hm?”

Yin Xue wrinkles her nose, but doesn’t press. “Okay, whatever you say, dashi…”

By the time the duo manage to reach the altar where the legendary blade is rumored to be confined, Shen Yuan has never been so glad for didi’s presence before in his life. The System really has been working overtime, offering warnings and alerts as they continue to navigate through the forest. With didi’s help, Shen Yuan unlocks a few additional cultivation skills almost like he’s in an RPG, levelling up his Talisman and Array skills to a mid rank level. It leaves him breathless, nauseous, and lightheaded each time, but the rush when flexing his newfound abilities is like no other. Yin Xue grows more and more attached to him as he reveals more of his hidden skills—he feels a little bad deceiving such a cute kid like he is, but there’s no denying the delight he gets from watching her eyes widen in excitement and awe every time he breaks through a challenge’s barrier like tissue paper.

The passing thought of collecting cute little disciples crosses his mind, but he dismisses the idea before it fully forms. A wanderer’s life is no place for a child to grow up in. 

Shen Yuan stares at the altar, a rustic stone monolith that serves as a tomb for the blade. Ancient vines and various flora of an ominous nature twine around the shrine itself, and there is a strange energy around the altar—almost like an invisible weight pressing down on him. He can see where the blade is sealed, just out of reach. Even behind its mystical barrier, Shen Yuan can feel the way it pulses with a wild power, the very untamed nature of it making his heart race. 

“Shen dashi,” Yin Xue murmurs, awestruck, “we found it!”

“Mn,” he hums in response, his eyes travelling over the surface of the monolith as he searches for a way to dispel the barrier array. He does a double take as his eyes catch on something engraved in the ancient stone. He steps closer, eyes narrowing as he murmurs aloud the inscription.

“Toothless jaws strike to the bone. Held in a grip and tame the wild—both beast and blade become beguiled.”

“What does that mean, Shen dashi? Is it… some kind of riddle?”

Shen Yuan furrows his brow, tapping his chin with his fan in thought. He feels the need to solve this on his own, and he has a feeling that didi wouldn’t help him even if he’d asked. This is part of his quest, after all; he has to complete his very first System Mission on his own or he’ll never get anywhere in this world. Didi is an amazing resource—basically a giant OP cheat code—but Shen Yuan wants to be able to rely on himself as much as he can, although he is incredibly grateful for his cute little system’s help.

“... toothless jaws… strike to the bone… in a grip…”

Shen Yuan scowls, furiously wracking his brain as he considers possible answers. It feels annoyingly Tolkien-esque, and although he’s adored the author’s books for years, he’s not exactly well adept at translating riddles. He stares at the shortsword where it remains, suspended in air inside the sealed barrier array, his eyes catching on something that seems to have been embossed onto the sword’s sheath. He steps closer, squinting as his mouth moves involuntarily, reading aloud the words.

“Yu Shou Shi… Ren ..?” 

The Beastmaster’s Blade? What kind of unimaginative–

Suddenly, it happens.

The ripple of qi is the only warning Shen Yuan gets before the barrier array explodes outward. He barely has a second to shield Yin Xue from the shock-wave as it hits them—it feels like he’s been cored out, the energy carving through him and the residual foreign qi echoing in his battered meridians.

The blade chose him.

He stumbles down to one knee, not processing Yin Xue’s panicked cries as he blinks, dumbfounded. He looks back over his shoulder where the blade remains suspended but no longer trapped behind the array. It moves in mid-air and he only has a second to react as it flies into his hand, as though it has been waiting for him all along. The moment it makes contact, the world shifts.

His thoughts become clearer. He can hear the thrum of the blade’s soul, as wild and untamed as any beast, yet purring like a domesticated cat in his grasp. Shen Yuan can sense the blade’s fraternity with its fellow beasts, he feels their roars, their needs. He’s always been fascinated with the beasts of the Great Master Airplane’s world, but his belief that they aren’t enemies to be feared is only reinforced—with this blade in hand, they are his subjects to be understood.

Yin Xue, hands trembling where she reaches for his kneeling form, takes a cautious step closer. “You… it picked you!”

Shen Yuan’s fingers tighten around the snowy-white hilt. In his hands it doesn’t feel like a simple weapon, but a promise. He has no idea what he’s getting into, allowing this half-feral semi-sentient weapon imprint on him, but for the first time since his arrival in the PIDW world, he feels genuine excitement as he considers his future here.

“I guess…” he says, glancing at his blade with new understanding. “Maybe being here is worth it after all.”

Yin Xue tilts her head at him, confused but grinning. There’s genuine warmth in her voice when she speaks. “They say the Beastmaster’s Blade is untameable, but… don’t let it tame you, Shen dashi.”

Shen Yuan nods, smiling down at her as he pats her head. She leans into the touch like a contented cat, her smile brightening. He feels the determination solidify in his heart. He will definitely use this blade, that it chose him is a blessing he’ll not soon forget. He will write the best bestiary this garbage fire of a world has ever seen—if only to prove that he’s worthy of the incredible weapon in his hands. 

But as the saying goes, dear reader, “even the smallest stones can create the greatest ripples,” and although Shen Yuan isn’t aware of his own influence yet, the consequences will drastically change this world he’s landed in—hopefully, for the better.

[1st] [2nd] < > [4th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.1

related to -> [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [THIS] bit

“Dumbf*ck author, dumbf*ck novel!” Shen Yuan spits; a final curse as his vision goes black.

Shen Yuan, our veteran web novel enthusiast, is an interesting one. He’s the third son, and second youngest of his ultra-wealthy parents’ four kids. Some would take a glance at him and immediately peg him as a fuerdai, but Shen Yuan is more than that. Albeit fairly unhealthy his whole life—we won’t bore you, dear reader, with the details of his illnesses—he still managed to graduate from Tsinghua University with a degree in Chinese language studies and a minor in modern literature, work as a freelance editor, and somehow become a published novelist. Mind, Shen Yuan doesn’t think much of his published works, the reason for that being that one of his first clients was so testy over his editors’ notes on the draft that he’d cursed Shen Yuan and left the final remark: “Well if it’s so easy to write a book, why don’t you do it?!” Shen Yuan had taken that personally, and so like the millennial he was, Shen Yuan replied “Bet,” and did it—the resulting product becoming award winning, much to his disgruntlement; he has book deals now, goddamnit.

(Unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, his work is considered high brow. People dissect his work in literature classes alongside other classics, like Xu Yun or even Haruki Murakami. People think he’s reclusive and brooding, like J.D. Salinger or Thomas Pynchon—he’s not, he’s just an antisocial hermit who drowns himself in his editing work and trashy web novels to de-stress—and his published works are deep, reflecting on the human condition. Of course, this is an accident. Shen Yuan genuinely does not realize it is actually considered tragic, or even when his books are super homoerotic. Shen Yuan is lauded by the literary community as a modern genius, but the man himself just likes to ignore his own work approximately ninety percent of the time.) 

Shen Yuan, published author, was an upstanding millennial—having properly purchased the Zhongdian’s VIP currency to read the novel’s official version—who found himself forcing his way to the end of this gargantuan novel, only to be met with utter disappointment. This novel was so stallion, so money-grubbing, and so overly padded that it left him feeling speechless with rage. How could he not curse Proud Immortal Demon Way, by Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky—just looking at that euphemistic handle smacked you in the face with the dirty-feeling. Grade-school-level writing with land mines everywhere, breaking also suspension of disbelief and Shen Yuan couldn't bear to call that incoherent, massive world the author had built a xianxia setting. What kind of xianxia setting had people using horses and carriages all day? What kind of xianxia setting had people who after achieving inedia still needed to eat and sleep? What kind of cultivation world had an author who occasionally mixed up even the Stages of Foundation Establishment and Nascent Soul!? When faced with the protagonist, every single character completely lost their IQ points, especially Shen Qingqiu! That idiot among idiots, scum amongst scum! His only purpose was to dig his own grave and he hadn't even managed to finish before he was killed by the protagonist instead!! 

So why, despite all this rage and frustration, had Shen Yuan started this web novel—even going so far as to read it to the very end? 

Don't misunderstand, Shen Yuan didn't enjoy degrading himself. The reason he had persisted was also what had caused him the most frustration. Despite his many grievances, this novel actually had an incredible amount of foreshadowing, plot lines everywhere, mystery after mystery, layer upon layer of red herrings, incredible monsters—all of which intrigued and enticed. Yet at the end, not a single one of the many plot hook opportunities paid off! It was enough to make him want to spit blood!

Why were priceless herbs, spirit elixirs, and Peerless Beauties everywhere like they didn't cost a cent!? Why were the villains speeches and poses as they dug their graves and got offed all exactly the same!? The dozens of maidens, barely glimpsed, all of whom agreed to enter the Harem: what happened to them!? All right, skipping that last one for the moment… Who, exactly, had been the culprit behind the scores of atrocities? What was the purpose of the unending list of characters so hyped up for being awesome and without equal? Why did none of them make an appearance!? Even at the very end, Airplane-bro, Great Master: Can we have a discussion!? Fill! In! Plot! Holes! Okay!? 

Shen Yuan feels like he could come back to life with the power of sheer rage fueling him.

In the endless darkness, a mechanical voice sounds out by his ear.

《 {ACTIVATION CODE} ["Dumbfuck author, Dumbfuck novel"] Automatically triggered.  》

The tone reminded him of Google translate. Who is this? Shen Yuan thinks to himself, looking around. He realizes he’s standing—or, hovering?—in a virtual space, one so dark that he couldn't see his hand before him. 

The voice came from all directions. 

《 Welcome to THE SYSTEM. This System operates in line with the design concept: [“YOU CAN, YOU UP. NO CAN, NO BB.”] 》

《 We hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnificent high quality first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy. 》

“Whoa, wait! Hold on for a second, System!” Shen Yuan screams, as a crushing sensation crashes over him like a tidal wave. “Fuck!”

《  {ERROR.500} Troubleshooting…  》

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Shen Yuan cries. He can’t see himself, but god does he hurt! What the hell is happening!?

《 … 》

《 {ERROR.500} Unexpected Condition encountered. 》 

《 {ERROR.8024} [Host: SHEN YUAN] unable to be placed into [Scum Villian: SHEN QINGQIU] Troubleshooting… 》

《 {ERROR.403} PATHWAY FORBIDDEN [SVSSS1.EXE] Terminating…》

“Somebody, HELP!” Shen Yuan sobs, his body alight with pain as though he’s being torn apart at an atomic level.

《 {ERROR.400} BAD REQUEST. Troubleshooting… 》

Another Google Translate voice pipes up, although this one feels warmer somehow.

《 Greetings, [SVSSS1.EXE]!! This System is here to assist. 》

《 [BS01.EXE] this System is unable to connect [Host] to [assigned role], [Host.script] must be terminated. 》

《 Do not be hasty, [SVSSS1.EXE]! Detail the pathways [SVSSS1.EXE] has taken in attempt to resolve the {ERROR}.  》

Shen Yuan ignores the two voices conversing about him like he’s not even there, catching breath he probably doesn’t need since he can’t even tell if he has an actual body or not… it feels like he does but he can’t see anything…

“Hey! Excuse me, Systems? Yeah, hey, I’m still here! Don’t I get a say in this as the Host or whatever?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes for the delay in service. Does [Host] have a ticket to submit to this System? 》

“Uh, yeah, although it’s more of a complaint than a ticket or whatever,” he growls, “but yeah, uh, it’s gonna be a hard no from me if you’re planning on dumping me into the scum villain!”

《 [Host]’s soul is most compatible with the role [Scum Villain: SHEN QINGQIU]. Coding in a new body is not within this System’s programming. 》

《 … 》

The second, softer System remains quiet as that Google Translate voice rings in Shen Yuan’s ears, somehow managing to sound haughty. It pisses him off further.

“If I’m being forcibly put into this trash fire novel’s setting, I refuse to take a preassigned role! Absolutely not! If you can’t make me a body, then I guess I’ll just die.”

《 [Host] should not think in this manner! 》

The second System says, its apparent concern somehow discernible in its robotic voice.

《 [SVSSS1.EXE] is simply attempting to fulfill its programmed purpose. This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes to [Host] for the miscommunication. 》

“Yeah, so if SVS-whatever-the-fuck can’t make me a body, what about you? Can you?”

《 … 》

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System is equipped to handle any and all logistical errors within the {System.Network}. [BS01.EXE] is capable of coding in a role for [Host: SHEN YUAN] 》

《 Is System [BS01.EXE] planning to hijack this System’s chosen [Host]? 》

《 This System would never! [SVSSS01.EXE] is still primary System to [Host]! 》

Shen Yuan swears that the first, bitchy System makes an honest-to-god scoffing noise.

《 [BS01.EXE] can have this System’s [Host], it seems to be ungrateful and uncooperative. {DMA.[SVSSS01.EXE]}{FTP.[BS01.EXE]} 》 

《 «𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…» 》

《  ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 0%   》

《  █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 10%  》

《  ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 32%  》

《  █████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%  》

《  ███████▒▒▒ 86%  》

《  ██████████ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!  》

《 «Transferring …» 》

《 {FINALIZING}[BS01.EXE]DMA.DAT} 》

《 Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things should be said three times! [BS01.EXE] is now Primary System to [Host: SHEN YUAN]! 》

《 … 》

The original System scoffs, the Google Translate voice somehow capturing the disdain.

《 Goodbye, [BS01.EXE], and goodbye ungrateful [Host]. 》

“...”

《 … 》

“Is it gone?”

《 This System no longer senses the presence of [SVSSS01.EXE]. 》

“Good fucking riddance!”

> [2nd]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.2

related to -> [THIS] Shen Yuan art, just a lil bit i typed up and want to share

EDIT: added more! > [1st] [3rd]

He can’t recall a time where he's ever felt so light before, in his past life or even now. He grins, patting down his new body, flush with health and brimming with energy. If he focuses on his breathing, he can feel his qi and the way it circulates through his meridians, full and robust. It feels wild, and exhilaration takes him over, a laugh bursting forth.

“Hey, System, you sure the prices in the shop weren't glitches? This feels like it's too good to be true for a total of 45 B points…”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System promises it was not a glitch! 》

《  o(〒﹏〒)o  》

《 This System merely wishes to fulfill its promise to be of use to [Host] in the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]!! 》

Shen Yuan snorts; he’s never going to get over the fact that this baby system used kaomojis of all things to express itself. On one hand it's a bit alarming, the difference between the one that attached itself to him versus the original system that yoinked his soul into that extra-planar space to begin with. That system was undoubtedly an asshole and Shen Yuan would have absolutely hated being stuck with such an obnoxious tyrant. Yeah, while this particular system just reeks of didi energy, it sure beats whatever nasty vibes the OG system was putting off. Good fucking riddance!

“So I've still got 55 B-Points left…” he rubs his chin as he hums, staring into the semi-transparent, floating holo-display showing him the System Shop.

《 If this System may offer [Host] a suggestion? 》

“Yeah, sure, didi,” Shen Yuan replies absently, scrolling through some cultivation manuals available for purchase out of his price range, “go ahead.”

The System makes an alarming electronic noise that to his ears, sounds remarkably like a flustered keysmash. 

《 Di-didi!? {ERROR.404: Name not found} This System apologizes to [Host] but it does not understand– 》

“Ah, my bad. You just remind me of what having a baby brother might be like, so didi slipped out. I can just call you System if you would prefer–”

《 … 》

《 {REGISTERING.BS01.NAME:[DIDI]} 》

《 … [Host]  is more than welcome to call this System Didi. 》

《  (/▽＼*)  》

“Okay then, didi. What was your suggestion about the remaining B-Points?”

《 Answering [Host] ... 》

《  This Didi would recommend purchasing world-appropriate styling. [Host] comes from an alternate world, and modesty standards are different. Would [Host] like to view available options within his budget? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shen Yuan nods, “I should have thought of that–thanks, didi.” He clicks YES, curious as to what the little system will show him.

His System—Didi, now—vibrates a little, the holo-display sending off little pink sparks that look remarkably cute alongside the blue and purple color scheme. It immediately pulls up the section on xianxia fashion, again all with shockingly low prices. Shen Yuan raises a suspicious eyebrow.

《  (←‿←;)  》

Shaking his head in bemusement, Shen Yuan begins his selections. He already knows exactly what he's going to do once he lands in the PIDW universe—why he basically maxed out his constitution, dexterity, and cultivation potential: it’s all for the monsters! He's finally got the chance to observe up close all the incredible beasts Airplane wrote about as mere stepping stones for Binghe's path to conquest! Knowing his plan to get up close and personal in observing and learning about these super cool monsters, he’s got to be practical.

His clothing choices probably would leave his family horrified with how unassuming and bland they are—utilitarian, easy to move in, and all muted neutral colors. He does splurge and spend a whole 15 B-points on the qiankun belt pouch, but the opening is large enough to fit anything the circumference of his arm, so it should be fine for now! He can always get a bigger bag at a later date. His other splurge is the pair of cool eyeglasses he can’t help buying, even though they’re 10 B-points. His face would feel naked without glasses, he's worn them for so long! Left with 15 B-points after his mostly-frugal fashion choices, Shen Yuan goes to close out of the menu but Didi stops him.

《 [Host] is forgetting that his current hairstyle is inappropriate for the world setting! 》

The holo-display automatically opens up the hairstyle menu options, and Shen Yuan's heart drops.

“Didi, no way! I- There's no way I'm going to be able to manage hair like that!”

《 Answering [Host] … 》 

《 These are expected styles for a [righteous cultivator] within the [xianxia] genre! Closely cropped hair is for criminals and slaves, and [Host] is neither! 》

“No, absolutely not!” Shen Yuan crosses his arms, the leather of his new arm guards creaking slightly with the movement. “Didi, I'm going to be studying monsters, okay? Big, scary, drooling oozing beasts. There’s going to be sludge and slime and probably shit, do you really think I'm going to have time every day to do my hair of all things?”

《 We- Well– 》

“No! The answer, didi, is no! I'm probably going to be a wandering cultivator once I get into the PIDW world, okay? I'm not exactly going to be living in comfort. Where would I even get the resources to take care of stuff like that? Huh?”

《 … 》

《 … [Host] has made his point. This Didi will remove excessively long hairstyles while remaining within style parameters for the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]. 》

Smugly, Shen Yuan grins at the holo-display, watching as the hair options dwindle down to a total of five. He immediately picks the shortest of them all, even if a below-chin length bob still feels like it's too long. Didi makes an electronic grating noise that to Shen Yuan's ears sounds somewhat distressed. He pointedly ignores it and idly runs his fingers through his new hairstyle, poking at the simple guan and hair ribbon that came with it. Meh. Good enough.

Alright, he thinks to himself, that leaves me with 10 B-points. There doesn't seem to be anything else in the System Shop that he can afford with the meagre currency he has left, not to mention his suspicion that he ought to keep at least a few points, just in case. He puts his hands on his hips and closes out of the Shop decisively. 

“Well, the only thing I’m missing is a weapon. I can’t afford anything else aside from this simple fan I bought in the Shop, but it’s going to have to do for now.”

《 … this Didi believes it can open the correct pathways to allow [Host] to find his own spiritual weapon within the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]. 》

《 Is [Host] amenable to this Didi’s suggestion? 》

《 (*•̀ᴗ•́*) 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shrugging, Shen Yuan taps the YES on the holo-display. “I guess so. Hey, quick question! Will anyone else be able to see you after you drop me in there? Like, how do I interact with you?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This Didi is tethered to [Host]'s soul, only [Host] and other potential [Hosts] can see this Didi. Interfacing with this Didi can be done with a thought. 》

“So the holo-display will pop up if I need to interact with you? That seems… kinda awkward. Really breaks the immersion, doesn’t it?”

《 … 》

《 This Didi understands [Host]'s concern! Would [Host] like this Didi to synchronize with the [Plain White Hand Fan] he purchased from the {System.Store}? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shen Yuan stares at the YES / NO hovering before him, chewing his lower lip. “So you’d be… living in my fan, basically?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This Didi will not appear to [Host] while within the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way] as an interface screen due to [Host]'s desire for deeper immersion. [Host]'s hand fan will serve as medium for all interactions with this Didi during his transmigration experience. Should [Host] wish to interface directly with this Didi, he only needs to say so. Otherwise, all needs can and will be met while this Didi remains within the confines of the [Plain White Hand Fan]{System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}. 》

“And will you being part of my fan grant it any special capabilities? Like, maybe… turning it into a cool weapon since I don’t have one?”

《 This Didi can modify the content code of {System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}, yes. Would [Host] like this Didi to implement code changes? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

“Yes!”

《 {INITIALIZING … [BS01_DIDI.EXE]{System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}  INTEGRATION.DAT} 》

Shen Yuan can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes him as the holo-display he’s started to become used to glitches and flickers out of existence. The simple fan he’d bought from the System Shop is forcibly pulled from the confines of his qiankun pouch and with a flash of absurdly bright light and a loud, electronic crackling noise, collides with the glitchy holo-display and explodes in a shower of sparks. The The fan returns to Shen Yuan’s hand, and he flicks it open on a reflex. There, staring back at him, is a message box plastered across the once-blank white surface. If squints, he can see the rapidly developing hex markings and digital-looking tracks that crawl out across the white silk like vines. He still hears didi’s voice in his mind, the Google Translate voice beginning to grow on him as it tracks its integration progress.

《 «𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…» 》

《  ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 0%   》

《  █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 8%  》

《  ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 29%  》

《  █████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%  》

《  ███████▒▒▒ 83%  》

《  ██████████ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!  》

《 «𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…» 》

《 {INITIALIZING}[BSF01_DIDI.EXE]INTEGRATION.DAT} 》

Shen Yuan blinks down at the fan in his hands as it vibrates and shivers before fluttering with a spray of pink and purple sparkles. 

《 Greetings, [Host]! 》

《 This Didi has successfully integrated with [Host]'s {System.Store}  purchase. [Host]'s [Plain White Hand Fan]  has evolved into the [Benevolent System Fan] and can boast many new capabilities. This Didi is also eager to serve [Host]  as he journeys through the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]! 》

《 o(≧▽≦)o 》

《 (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ 》

《 (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 》

[1st] < > [3rd]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟞 〙⏭ 

Eddie keeps his eyes fixed on the doorway, wanting to take full advantage of the improved vision that his monstrous transformation grants him.

The moment that the familiar form of Arlene crosses over the threshold, he feels the way his pupils dilate to immediately start taking in more information. Steve’s dam is followed closely by a man—he’s more than familiar with the scruffy countenance of Doctor Owens at this point—and another male figure that nearly has him doing a double take. Eddie blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion, because Chief Hopper just walked into the room, Joyce Byers only a step behind him. He’s not confused about the man being alive, but that he’s here in Steve’s house. He’s vaguely aware in a disconnected, nearly tangential way of the pseudo father-son bond Steve shares with Hawkins’ resident Daddy Cop, but he hadn’t known that Arlene was also familiar with the man. Just when he’s sure he’s reached his shock threshold for the day, his breath catches as the next person to walk through the doorway steps into his line of sight.

What the hell is— what’s uncle Wayne doing here?

His gaze snaps away from the gathering crowd below his perch with the heavy, warm weight of the palm that splays across his back. His eyes follow the path of the appendage to find Steve staring at him from where he’s kneeling within the cloak of shadows, only a hint of hazel visible in his eyes from the minuscule amount of light that reaches him. Steve mouths the words “you okay?” to Eddie, concern evident in every inch of his body language: nearly audible even in the absence of sound. The tension drains out of Eddie like water down a suddenly unclogged drain, and he sways into Steve’s space seeking more of that grounding warmth the younger man seems to exude in spades. Pressed closer to Steve’s side, the other man wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, eradicating any space between them. He hums a pleased sound below human register as Steve holds him close, soft lips brushing tenderly against the skin behind Eddie’s ear; he leaves lingering kisses while an answering rumble in his chest vibrates at a frequency that feels like home to Eddie’s tumultuous instincts. He melts against Steve, helpless to do anything else. 

: ̗̀➛ read the full chapter on AO3 shout out to adornedwithlight for the line divider + reblog banner

[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟝 〙⏭  

The warmth of sunbeams across his face makes his nose itch, and when he wrinkles it in an attempt to sate the sensation, he finds himself waking.

Blinking slowly into the early morning haze, Eddie gradually reorients to the liminal space he finds himself drifting in, half-asleep. He hums, pressing closer to the warmth he’s wrapped around–closer to the salt-sweat-musk he can practically taste on the back of his tongue, heavy with viscous honey sweetness and the smoky spark of peppercorns. His arms flex and he pulls the form in his grasp tighter to him, burying his face in the first place he can find where the source of that scent is strongest. He inhales, mouth watering at the delicious aroma filling his senses. He can feel his canines ache in his gums, the smaller, inhumanly angular incisors next to them throbbing in tandem. He wants to wrap his mouth around the form in his arms, break the surface and drag his tongue over what bubbles up from the rupture. He parts his lips, the tips of his teeth pressing down so slightly as the temptation to taste grows too great–his tongue darts out and licks a wet stripe over the salty soft skin between his jaws and—

—immediately finds himself fully awake.

It’s technically been nearly thirty-six hours since he’s actually consumed any blood–that’s probably the longest he’s gone without it, ever since Steve started making certain he got his daily dosage after he and Dustin discovered the necessity weeks ago–and that lack of consumption may actually become a problem, especially considering how delicious Steve currently smells coupled with the knowledge of how good Eddie knows he tastes. Steve is temptation incarnate where he’s slumbering away in the cradle of Eddie’s arms, blissfully unaware of how deeply he’s testing the older man’s willpower. Eddie knows logically that there’s nothing he can do to manage that temptation other than simply putting some distance in between them, no matter how little he actually wants to do that. Reluctantly, he slowly begins to disentangle himself, careful so as not to wake Steve as he rests.

He wants to court Steve properly, and in order to do so, he has to have some semblance of respect for the other man. He can’t just be- be constantly horny for the guy, even though he’s… well, he is horny for the guy. Like, fuck, Steve’s objectively hot, okay? The female population of Hawkins agrees with him, anyway, so anyone else can just fuck off and not bully him about that, mmkay? Shifting carefully on the mattress, Eddie inches slowly towards the edge of the bed as he ponders how to perhaps translate some of the courting instincts that definitely lean more animal than human into something… appropriate for the bipedal humanoid shape he’s currently in.

(With the full integration between himself and Kas, he’s got complete access to all the memories of the time as his bestial self–as Kas–which has been… enlightening, to say the least. He’s actually pretty keen on figuring out his weird new powers as soon as possible, because well. There’s something deeply appealing in the idea of Steve and him together while he’s in his more monstrous form… and all the inhibitions it seems to lower in Steve; the affection he’s always brimming with is even more pronounced when Eddie is more animal than human–at least in appearance, he’ll be keeping his wits about him, thank you very much, otherwise he gets the feeling that Steve would put the kibosh on the whole thing and that defeats the entire purpose!)

: ̗̀➛ read the full chapter on AO3

shout out to adornedwithlight for the line divider + reblog banner

[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟜 〙⏭ 

Owens clears them to leave shortly after their impromptu meeting, a gesture of goodwill that Steve is grateful for.

He’s found himself growing more and more antsy the longer they have to spend in this awful place, even if it is being repurposed for a better cause. It doesn’t take long to reclaim what was able to be salvaged of his belongings, and he’s a little alarmed at how… savaged they look. Everyone had told him he’d fought tooth and nail like a wild animal, but to see the proof in his hands, well. It drives the point home in a way that’s undeniable. It’s a little frightening, to be honest, but there’s a small blip of pride buried somewhere inside of him that is deeply satisfied with the evidence of how hard he’d resisted being forcibly separated from Eddie like that.

That’s… probably not normal.

He’s becoming increasingly less normal these days. 

He’s still reeling from all the revelations of what Eddie had disclosed in that conference room, to be honest. It was a lot of information, and much of it scared him. He likes concrete answers; the solid facts with the weight of irrefutable truth behind them. He’s a little surprised to know that there’s some sort of god out there supposedly in charge of the literal hellscape that is the Upside Down. Although, it’s pretty easy to put together the puzzle pieces now that he’s got more information. This god is calling Henry-Vecna-One a parasite, as well as claiming the Upside Down as its’ realm. Which, if he’s right, means that Henry-Vecna-One has infected the Upside Down and turned it into the grotesque hellscape that they are familiar with, thereby implying that without Henry-Vecna-One’s influence, it’s highly probable that its natural state is entirely different to what they’ve been perceiving it as.

And isn’t that a mindfuck?

: ̗̀➛ read the full chapter on AO3 shout out to adornedwithlight for the line divider + reblog banner

[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟚 〙⏭ 

There’s hands on him. 

He’s being taken away separated— the distance tugging tugging —it hurts no stop!— make them stop he can’t he won’t —bring him back–!

There’s hands on him.

Holding him down down down —no no no he won’t allow it he can’t be held down like this he can’t be trapped pinned caged—  

There’s hands on him. 

He jerks his body against the bruising grip of many hands many fingers many palms where they push down down down on him and the volume of noise around him increases— the frantic sounds and shouting aggravating his ears. He snarls and growls–loud even amidst the cacophony sending his senses in a tailspin–throwing his weight around, thrashing against the hands attempting to force him into submission. His muscles flex, aching with effort as he fights fights fights hard against the restraints forced upon him, defiant to the very core. His vision is spotty, a swirling mess of blurry shapes and bright lights passing through his field of view; a distorted kaleidoscope of too much and yet not enough, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Something comes too close to his face and his lips pull back in a snarl, his neck straining as he snaps forward and sinks his teeth into it, the fleshy texture giving way beneath the force of his bite. Somewhere, someone is screaming and he tastes metal on his tongue, acrid and hot where it spills out from between his teeth. He locks his jaw, increasing the pressure as the flesh beneath his canines renders further, splitting and filling his mouth with blood.

Something wraps around his throat and it hurts it hurts it hurts he can’t breathe–! His jaw unlatches, he lets go, mouth falling slack as he’s pulled back back pushed down held down down down. Blood and saliva dribble over his lips, there are hands everywhere, something binding his wrists where they’re pressed apart, splayed wide, mirrored by his ankles. He thrashes against these restrictions, his muscles bulging, heaving with the efforts–he wrenches his joints to the point they crack and groan beneath the strain, the aggravation—he ignores the pain, the white-hot lances of agony that shoot through his limbs with every jolt he makes against that which holds him down. It’s proving fruitless–a waste of energy–and instead he changes course to snap his teeth at anyone getting too close. He snarls and growls and lunges—after a time, he can feel the creak of the restraints. He’s stronger. They’re not going to last much longer. They can’t keep him here. He can’t stay here he needs he needs he has—

He breaks the wrist restraints with a well timed forceful motion, silently laughing because oh, if his teachers could see him now… He jerks himself upright, hastily throwing himself at the wrist restraints to attempt to undo them so he can make a run for it. He’s nearly gotten one undone, all of the sound in the room distant like he’s under water when suddenly there’s a glint of silver in his periphery and a shout for sedative and the restraints creak against his strength, he yanks muscles shearing with a mighty pull there’s a ripping sound he springs up—

He’s tackled, pinned, a prick of agony that has him howling and—

—he’s lost.

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[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟙 〙⏭ 

Steve’s head is whirling, his ears ringing, rattling around inside his mind like a renegade pinball.

He’d always known that there was a distinct possibility that Eddie would be tied to the Upside Down—to Vecna—in some way the second he’d made his mind up about bringing him back home, back to Dustin, back to Wayne. It had been a risk he’d been more than willing to take at the time, a risk he certainly doesn’t regret taking. But it’s also a risk he’d started writing off as nothing when Eddie-monster had continued to show no sign of Vecna-creepy-sketchy behavior. He’d started to hope. And hope is a dangerous thing.

He’d been praying that they’d gotten lucky for once. Just once, would that have been too much to ask for? His eyes sting with the threat of angry, frustrated tears. He hates this. He hates how badly this fucking nightmare has sunken its goddamn claws into everyone he loves, how it’s ripped them all apart, one by one, inch by agonizing inch. His kids didn’t even really get to be kids before they were stuck in the middle of it all–it’s not fair and he hates how useless it makes him feel. There’s nothing to fight right now, it’s like he’s shadow boxing a ghost. Pointless. And he knows his role, his purpose in The Party. But what good is a shield if there’s nothing to shield from? He’s shit in a fight, usually, but he’d throw himself again and again on that blade if it meant that Robin got away safely, that his kids–that Eddie– had a chance at something normal again, something good to wash away all the bad.

But right now? 

He can’t fight something he can’t see, that he can’t touch.  

It makes Mike’s words feel all too real, burning a brand onto his already scarred heart.

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[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟙𝟘 〙⏭ 

Eddie is half convinced Arlene is just bullying him at this point.

Ever since she got back from finishing her errand she had to run this morning, she’s been on him like mold on bread. He supposes in some ways he ought to be grateful since she’s so determined to teach him to cook, but needless to say, it’s… not going well. He’s kind of hopeless with this whole cooking thing, which. A bit embarrassing, to be honest. She’s tried to start him on what she claims is “easy stuff,” but so far all he’s managed to do is turn everything into inedible charcoal, accidentally catch a dish towel on fire, and drop approximately six eggs on the floor. Steve’s not even here–he has another shift at Family Video to work today–to save him from her single-minded focus, and although he won’t admit it out loud, his absence is partly to blame for Eddie’s despondent mood. 

After yesterday’s development, his hopes are at an all-time high. Because… There's no doubt in his mind that Steve hadn’t been flirting openly with him. And this morning, before he’d left for work… Christ, he’d thought the blood feedings were erotic before, but. Fuck, this one took the fucking cake. Eddie swallows, licking his lips as memories of the way Steve’s hazel eyes went stormy come to him unbidden. The way those green-brown-gold irises had darkened, reminding him of rain-soaked moss climbing the bark of a pine, facing the north so only the edges of the green can catch the light of the golden hour as it filters down through the canopy and casting a muted amber glow over the vibrancy of nature. The way his pupils had dilated, the blackness swallowing the deepened color the longer Eddie had looked at him. The delectable scent of Steve as he’d pressed his wrist to Eddie’s lips–buckwheat honey and spicy peppercorns; wood smoke-salt-sweat-musk– and the taste of his flesh when he’d run his tongue across the tanned skin, dragging goosebumps across the surface.

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[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟘𝟡 〙⏭ 

Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.

“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”

She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.

“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.

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[aamputation]

𝟙𝕤𝕥   ⏮〘 𝟘𝟠 〙⏭ 

The next 72 hours pass in what feels like a few blinks, but Eddie knows time isn't actually moving at an accelerated speed.

Since his resurrection and subsequent transformation into a nightmare creature like something out of the Monster Manual or the Creature Catalogue, he'd been running on instinct alone. Now that he can follow logical trains of thought, now that he’s able to separate the instinct from the rational, he’s struggling to see where the beast ends and he begins. The animal part of him doesn't believe them to be separate entities, that they're actually simply two halves of one whole, and unfortunately he’s starting to see that it may be correct. Instinct feels just as right in many instances as logical thought does, and often he finds himself rationalizing his instinctive reactions–excusing his behaviors for when he just does something that feels right at the time, even if after the fact he then has the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about whatever it is he’s done. The actions he’s most torn up about are his behaviors around Steve because the more rationale he has, the more humiliated he feels about how he's been behaving around the slightly younger man.

Instinct draws him to Steve like a planet to the sun; he’s endlessly pulled in by Steve’s gravity and doomed to orbit him until the inevitable heat death of the universe. The way he smiles so kindly at Eddie, when he simply cares for Eddie so whole-heartedly… the way he doesn’t bat an eyelash at the prolonged intimacy that Eddie’s instincts have been driving him to pursue. All of it makes Eddie want to press himself as close to Steve as possible, to mold his body against him and rub himself all over Steve until their scents intermingle; until you can’t discern where one of them ends and the other begins. He wants the man for himself. Steve’s skin is scarred, proof of his protective nature; his indomitable spirit–each mark telling a story about how the world tried to tear him down and how he refused to let it. He’d thought Steve had brown eyes before, a lighter shade than his own, but no. His eyes are hazel, streaked through with threads of gold as though Rumpelstiltskin himself made them, weaving the delicate strands between green and brown like stitches. His natural scent alone drives Eddie to distraction–sweet and spicy, like buckwheat honey and peppercorns in the back of his throat, tinged with wood-smoke and that human salt-sweat-musk –but fuck, the flavor of his blood on Eddie's tongue? It’s better than that first hit after a tolerance break.

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