#you are all spared... for now

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

The Sage of Truth's heart is driven by the beat of curiosity, so he is used to questions and mysteries catching his fancy with all the ease of a match to a forest. They light a passion that burn him through investigation and calculation straight down to the slow embers of an answer or lack thereof, and even then the warmth of his newfound knowledge sparks a need to share what he has discovered with as many Cookies as possible. The affect that this zest for knowledge has on him is, in itself, an unshakeable Truth.

Despite all this, the Sage can still readily admit that nothing, no question or riddle or impossible formula, has ever captivated him as much as the Truthless Recluse.

The Truthless Recluse has always been a minor fascination of his, from the moment he had first heard of him, but that hadn't bloomed into anything signficant until he had the pleasure of meeting him at the square. The Recluse was both a delightfully complex and undeniably simple Cookie, easy for him to understand yet layered in contradictions.

The Truthless Recluse, whose life purpose is dedicated to his own Truth of protecting Cookies from the cruelty of Truth. A living, breathing riddle.

The Sage had intially nurtured a newborn hope that they would cross paths again in the square, and he had fallen into the habit of searching the crowds that flocked to his lectures for a glimpse of those dark robes, that gloomy aura, but alas! Of course, the Recluse would not grant him that honour more than once.

Eventually, the Sage accepted that if he hoped for another meeting, he would have to approach the Recluse himself. The thought did little to dissuade him, as he was rather experienced in chasing after his own flights of philosophical fancy.

So here he is, making the trek up to the Peak of Truth with only the pale moon to accompany him.

The Sage is confident in his path, and finds the journey itself pleasant overall. It may have been quite a while since he was last here, but he did once hail from this peak himself, long before the Recluse slunk and settled in. As such, he remembers the best routes to take, and has little difficult navigating in the encroaching dark.

He is just past halfway up when a silhouette emerges from the shadows, solemn and blurring together with the rest of their dim surroundings. The Sage's heart, driven by curiosity, doubles its beat, pounding excitedly in his chest.

"Who dares to–" The Recluse asks, voice low and gravelly in an attempt to intimidate, but he stops abruptly, narrowing his eyes at the Sage. "You."

"Yes, yes, it's just me." The Sage smiles, undeterred by the less than warm welcome, doing a little flourished bow before hopping back up into an upright position. "I know it is awfully late for a visit, my friend, but you see–"

"Don't call me that." The Recluse interrupts, somewhat rudely, but the Sage's interest in him allows him to let it go with little fuss. "We are not friends."

"Whyever not?" The Sage asks easily, tilting his head. "Are we not both Cookies, living in accordance to our own personal Truths, just like every other? You know, even a Cookie who does nothing but lie and cheat still has the Truth of their affinity for deception as a central pillar in their life."

"You said something similar already, at the square." The Recluse mutters, his gaze cold and heavy. The Sage welcomes it without a shiver. "About me living by a personal Truth."

"And am I wrong?" The Sage questions back, raising an eyebrow. He is genuinely interested to see if the Recluse can make any sort of substanial refutation.

But the Recluse simply presses his lips together in frustration and glances away. The Sage feels both a curl of satisfaction at his silently begrudging acceptance of his point and a chill of disappointment at the lack of an attempted counter.

His disappointment does not have to last long, as the Recluse returns his piercing gaze to him to make a point of his own. "If every Cookie's life relies on a personal Truth, then Life is just as cruel as Truth." The many eyes on the Recluse's mutated staff blink sluggishly, accusingly, their irises catching the thin moonlight in muddy ripples. "That does not show me any proof that we are friends. Which we are not."

"I only meant that there is nothing to stop us from being friends." The Sage clarifies, though he feels like he was quite clear the first time. "And I have never denied the complexities and, indeed, cruelties of Truth and Life alike. As I have told you before, Truth is imperfect, and I embrace that. You, however, seem to be unable to see past these complexities to accept the positives that Truth brings to the world too."

The Recluse seems unhappy with that, his hand tightening its grip around his staff and his frown deepening. "Did you come here only to give me a lecture?" He snaps, voice soft and brittle. "If I wanted to hear this, I would go to the square you insist on occupying."

"Did you not try to do the same to me, on your single visit to the square?" The Sage asks playfully with a growing grin, paying close attention to the way the Recluse stiffens. He laughs lightly. "Ah, don't think of this as a lecture, please. It's only meant to be a conversation. To be frank, I quite enjoyed our brief exchange back at the square, so I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you again. You seem like you would make a particularly interesting debate partner."

The Recluse huffs, shaking his head. "I have no interest in talking to you any further. This much was already bad enough."

With that, he turns away and tries to slink back into the shadows.

"Surely you aren't completely opposed?" The Sage argues, summoning a brilliant ball of light in his palm and rushing over to the Recluse's side, refusing to let him leave now. "If you were, you wouldn't have been willing to initiate our acquaintanceship first. You were the one responsible for that, when you visited the square."

The Recluse stops walking as the conjured light falls on his shoulders, reeling away and twisting around to glare at the Sage. The reflected light makes his dull eyes seem brighter, almost beautifully so. "I did that solely to stop you from sending dozens to their inevitable ruin by exposing them to the path of Truth." He hisses stubbornly. "If I had known it would be useless, and if I had known you would come chasing after me, I would have stayed far away."

"It is very easy to say that in retrospect, but you can't prove that to be true." The Sage points out with a shrug. "Unfortunately, my heart is rather set on this possible friendship of ours, so I'm afraid the matter is out of your hands now. You're stuck with me!"

The Recluse's expression closes in on itself, returning to a blank slate as he abruptly turns and begins to march off again. The Sage realises immediately that the Recluse hopes to discourage him by ignoring him and carrying on, but the Sage eagerly rises to the challenge.

He falls into step beside him, and the two of them walk together in silence, the Sage's light spilling like a pool of honey around them. The Sage watches the Recluse out of the corner of his eye, as the Recluse resolutely faces forward, acting as if he doesn't exist.

Eventually, the Sage's persistence pays off.

As they are approaching the summit, the Recluse comes to another stop, so sudden that the Sage almost walks into him. The Recluse does not turn back to look at him as he says quietly into the air, "Friendship is ultimately meaningless."

His voice is bitter, heavy with a sense of mourning. The Sage hums in consideration, rounding the Recluse to meet his face, raising his summoned light to envelope the surrounding area in a glow.

"What an intruigingly nihilistic statement!" He declares brightly, clapping his hands together. "It would make a riveting debate topic, if you'd entertain me for just an hour or two. Unless, of course, you worry your Truth will not be able to withstand mine?" The Sage rocks forwards on the balls of his feet, his smile a polite taunt. "After all, not all Truths are made equal. Some are stronger than others."

The Recluse glares at him again, though this time, it is weakened slightly by the growing resignation beginning to creep across his features. "You won't give this up, will you?"

"Of course not!" The Sage grins, hopeful that he seems to be slowly getting through to him. "Giving up is never the best option, you know."

The Recluse scoffs, raising his staff as dark wisps begin to swirl menacingly around it. "Not even if I decide to make you leave me alone by force?"

"Not even then!" The Sage chuckles, folding his arms behind his back as he squints his eyes at the Recluse. "Haven't you heard of me before? I can find an answer to anything and you," he takes a modest step closer, his eyes glittering with delight, "are my latest enigma."

The Recluse stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, which only makes the Sage wish to study it further. Finally, the Recluse sighs heavily, the dark energy accumulating around his staff dissipating in an instant.

"Fine." He murmurs, barely a whisper as he continues walking. The Sage lights up, his summoned light flaring along with him, and, taking it as an invitation, he follows after the Recluse to the rhythm of his achingly curious heart.

[licollisa]

Casper (1995)

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

���Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

[kibutsulove]

Official reckoning of roku cover art save me……… save me official reckoning of roku cover art……… save me……

[starry-bi-sky]

Okay so this is almost a direct copy-paste of my earlier reblog but only the Xin Yuan parts, because its long enough to be its own post and i want to share it! It deserves it's own post <3 typical starry stuff to write a 2k word long reblog, unfortunately.

I say almost because I went through to proof read and ended up adding more stuff.

I've been cooking on this idea for the last two days since I saw the Xin Mo!Shen Yuan post but??? I can't find anything on Xin Mo's backstory or how it came to be -- which means that's free fucking plot right there baby. That's a sandbox and im making LIFE SIZED CASTLES. I'm so excited.

The idea of Shen Yuan transmigrating centuries before the events of PIDW as Xin Mo -- but when he wakes up, he's not the sword. He wakes up in the body of a young boy named Xin Yuan. Now it makes sense for this boy to be a demon, but the drama, the intrigue, the spice of Xin Yuan being a human child.

SY wakes up as a boy below the age of ten, and the System tells him where he is, and SY is excited to meet his favorite protagonist -- only to gradually realize that he's like, a thousand years or so before the events of the novel. The rant he gives the system is legendary.

Bc what's the point of getting dropped into PIDW if he's never going to meet his favorite character??? This is a scam! BUT he settles into his new life, he's like, some orphan street rat or some other tragic airplane-esq backstory.

The system gives Shen Yuan his first mandatory quest: become a righteous cultivator. Which was like, kinda his plan/hopes anyways, except! There's like?? No official cultivator sects anywhere? The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hasn't even been established yet, and there are pockets of cultivators running around, maybe some groups or schools popping up and then sinking back down, but nothing's really taken root!

If he asks someone how to become a cultivator, there's no straight answer. No "oh you can go to X to do that". He's pissed! How can he become a cultivator if there aren't any schools around to teach him? Deus ex machina, that's how.

Out of sheer luck, SY manages to help save a rogue cultivator, and promptly gets adopted by said rogue cultivator, who gives SY the name 'Xin Yuan'. He is ecstatic. And you know what? It's actually pretty fun!

He's getting to travel the world of PIDW in its early stages, and gets to see the building blocks for the eventual main story. He's discovering all this local flora and fauna that are foreign to his old world and unmentioned in the book, and he's learning cultivation! Granted, its unsafe, newly(ish) discovered cultivation, but it counts!

Wistfully, he thinks about perhaps he'll do something grand and get his name carved into legend. Something that would eventually help the protagonist later down the line in his quest for revenge.

The system remains silent to his thoughts.

But Xin Yuan doesn't take much stock in that daydream anyways. It's nothing more than fantasy to him; wish-fulfillment. He does discover however, that he is positively brimming with spiritual energy. Overwhelmingly so.

It's both a blessing and a curse, as it puts a strain on his meridians if he's not careful, and leaves him prone to qi deviations for the exact same reasons. He already has a heart demon or two from a few traumatic experiences in the past.

(bc hey! angst a day keeps the writer sadism at bay, and all that)

I'll say he's about... eight when he gets picked up by the rogue cultivator, who I'm calling Lin Kai bc he deserves a name. They travel around PIDW up until Xin Yuan is twelve, where he goes through a traumatic experience that results in a heart demon.

It's after that that Lin Kai decides to put a stop to his wandering, and find a place to settle down to raise Xin Yuan in. Coincidentally! They settle down in a nice mountain region that's thriving with spiritual energy. The mountains at the time were called something different, but they will be eventually known as the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect

Coincidentally, the mountain Lin Kai and Xin Yuan end up on is Qing Jing Peak. XY does not realize that the mountain he's on is Qing Jing. The System does not tell him. But he likes it there, more than he was expecting. And as much as he's traveled around, he really does enjoy being in one place.

He has a tendency to go down the mountain and help the village setting up down there, and when he's a teenager he starts venturing out more and more.

Xin Yuan forgets sometimes that he's in a novel, especially after settling down on Qing Jing peak. The system becomes remarkably quiet since there's no quests for him to do and not a ton of opportunities to get B-Points. He cultivates with Lin Kai, helps tend to the garden they're growing, goes down to the village to play with the other kids.

There's one boy he's best friends with, a boy whose not all that good with words, named Liu Zhihao. He's got potential for cultivation though, so Xin Yuan drags him up the mountain when he can so that Liu Zhihao can sit in on lessons with Lin Kai. He drags him all over the forest at the foot of the mountain to go look at bugs and animals.

(One time, when they're fourteen and Liu Zhihao has been learning cultivation for a few years now, Xin Yuan drags him out of bed late one night to go look at the stars. Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao about ascension -- something that still feels like a far off dream to many in this time -- that night, while they're sitting on the wet grass.)

("We should ascend together." Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao, jade eyes gleaming. Never let it be said that Xin Yuan doesn't love deeply, no matter what kind of love it is. He was always so lonely as Shen Yuan, Liu Zhihao is his best friend. "We'll become immortals, and then we won't ascend until the other is able to.")

(Liu Zhihao stares at him silently, his face unreadable. Then, quietly, he asks; "Promise?")

("Promise.")

When he starts adventuring outwards, further away from the mountain and the village, Liu Zhihao sticks to him like rice. Not that Xin Yuan's complaining, that's his best friend after all, and Liu Zhihao has become a formidable cultivator. He deserves to show off his skills.

He starts making something of a name for himself by the time he's, like, 18 -- although that name is in its baby steps, along with Liu Zhihao. They're slowly growing renown.

Perhaps XY uses his knowledge of PIDW and cultivation in general to help make advancements in the cultivation field. Although the system prevents him from sharing too much, it doesn't mean he can't practice it himself. Perhaps he's one of the first cultivators to develop a golden core. One of the first known immortal cultivators. One of the first to have a spirit sword.

(Although I don't know the logistics of any of this since my knowledge on xanxia/cultivation stuff in general is all still pretty new and google wasn't all that helpful lol.)

Either way, its my excuse to eventually make Xin Yuan come across as ethereal to other people. Peerless beauty SY for the win. Hs wifebeam is too strong, Xin Yuan has a line of suitors following after him and he's completely unaware of it. The rest of history is not.

Demon realm stuff has been stirring up since Xin Yuan was a kid, but at the time it was rare and in the beginning stages. Its been steadily ramping up and the system is sending him on more and more treacherous quests -- some of them mandatory, some optional. SY doesn't often take the optional ones unless it comes with a sufficient B-point reward.

for all intents and purposes though, he's a wandering rogue cultivator with Liu Zhihao, going from place to place to either help a town or village, or to discover more creatures or artifacts (although there aren't that many). Just all around living his life. He participates in a few major quest lines that are sure to get him mentioned in legend, even if it's a background character way.

(Unbeknownst to him, rather than being a side character in these legends, he's named directly. You can't become one of the first immortal cultivators and NOT get name dropped for clout.)

He has a spirit sword named Shā Mó, (杀 shā - to kill/weaken/counteract/reduce) (魔 mó - evil spirit, demon, possession). He routinely goes back to QJP to see Lin Kai, or to rest when traveling has worn down on him and he wants nothing more than to sleep somewhere he knows he'll be safe in. It becomes more frequent as Xin Yuan becomes more famous. Liu Zhihao often comes with him.

it all comes to a head though when the rifts between the demonic realm and the human realm become too great, and the balance between both realms becomes unstable. A demonic emperor's influence, wanting to merge the two realms so he could conquer both to satiate his own greed.

Typical evil king stuff. This comes to a climatic head in a great battle between every cultivator available and the demon emperor's army. Xin Yuan was one of the many who helped lead the charge.

In the end, it was Xin Yuan who ends up defeating the demonic emperor, but the rift that the emperor used to cross between worlds is destabilizing as well. Except instead of trying to close, it's getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow the heavens and earth and demonic realm whole.

You know how Yue Qingyuan's soul is bonded to his sword due to a qi deviation? Let's take it a step further >:)

Xin Yuan uses himself and Shā Mó to close the rift. However, it takes all of his spiritual energy to do so, as well as him filtering the demonic qi into his body to redirect it back to the demon realm.

In the end, Xin Yuan and his beloved sword Shā Mó fuse. Xin Yuan's soul becomes trapped in the sword. His physical body is unable to handle the immense amount of power it takes to close the rift, and is destroyed. He is immortalized in legend by his grieving cultivators.

(Liu Zhihao ends up ascending alone. He ascends with the hope that one day he'll see Xin Yuan again, even if it's in the face of someone else. Lin Kai does not ascend, too weighed down by the grief of losing his son.)

Xin Yuan, now Xin Mo, falls into a stasis. He's very confused and disorientated when he regains 'consciousness'. The system has been silent for most of his life, only popping up to give him mandatory quests, hints, points, or to answer any questions.

But once he wakes up, it cheerfully pops up again, congratulating him on completing the origin story of Xin Mo. SY freaks the fuck out. he'd shake the system screen if he could, but he doesn't have arms. or legs. or eyes for that matter.

He can sense his surroundings, but its all like imprints to him. He can sense the energies, but he can't see anything. It's all very disorientating and horrifying after years of being human. Like a sensory deprivation chamber.

The closing of the rift and the cycling demonic qi tainted both Sha Mo and Xin Yuan irreparably, and it did some kind of damage that resulted in SY needing to feed in order to use the spiritual powers. Kinda like how Xuan Su uses YQY's life force for it's spiritual energy, but instead of feeding on his own lifeforce, Xin Mo feeds on others.

The rest is history. Xin Mo is originally tied to the story of Xin Yuan -- believed to be all that remained of the man after he sacrificed himself to keep the realms separate. It's believed that the force of the realms closing permanently infused Sha Mo with demonic energy, turning it into Xin Mo.

But, like many stories do when faced against the tide of time, things get lost; chipped off; changed. Xin Mo is steadily separated from Xin Yuan, especially once it becomes clear how parasitic the sword really is, until they are all but separate entities themselves and the origin of Xin Mo's creation all but forgotten.

The years blur together when Xin Mo is not being wielded, and at first Xin Yuan was agonized by the fact that he stole the lives of all his wielders. He knows it's only a novel, but his decades spent in this life have softened him, and he's grown attached to the world around him.

But time erodes the mind like water erodes stone, and he becomes numb to it, then eventually anticipating of it. He forces himself to remember what he knows of PIDW's plot, and kinda fixates back on his old obsession on Luo Binghe. But while PIDW stays in his mind, his memories as Xin Yuan fall to the wayside.

Not forgotten, per se, but... tucked away. The system prevents him from forgetting fully.

Xin Mo isn't fully a demonic sword either i think, but instead harbors an ugly cocktail of both spiritual and demonic qi. Special circumstances and all that. Everyone just assumes he's a fully demonic sword because that's usually at the forefront, his spiritual qi weakened from the initial fusion and from years of not being fed spiritual qi. It's part of the reason his wielders always end up destroyed by him, other than the whole, yk, 'overwhelming qi' thing.

Nobody would recognize Xin Mo's human form as Xin Yuan other than some truly ancient demons. Of which Meng Mo might. But even that's iffy because there's a lack of surviving paintings of Xin Yuan, but also because of XM's demonic appearance and supposed lack of connection to XY.

Xin Mo has never spoken to his wielders before, not in the same way he does Luo Binghe. He tells Luo Binghe this, and he also tells Luo Binghe down the line that he is both spiritual and demonic -- something he also never told his wielders because there was no point to it.

okay okay i've got to end it here because its already gotten ridiculously long -- of which im both apologetic and unapologetic for -- but i DO think the Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meeting (and reveal) would be fucking hilarious. Especially if SY has learned how to pop between sword form and human form by then -- although i guess it doesnt matter either way because SQH's reaction is still the same.

And that reaction is internally screaming and going "hey what the FUCK?? WHY DOES XIN MO HAVE A HUMAN FORM??? WHAT IS THIS??? SYSTEM??? EXPLAIN???"

meanwhile from his place on the sword hilt xin mo is squinting at Shang Qinghua in bewilderment and going "aren't you supposed to be dead" but doesn't pay too much mind to it because its not like its going to change anything.

...up until he catches shang qinghua going "WTF" silently from his little corner while all eyes are off him. One moment SQH is standing beside his king, and the next he's been tackled to the ground by one wild-eyed, human-shaped Xin Mo.

everyone, including SQH, thinks Xin Mo is going to kill him. It is a surprise to everyone when he does not, and instead dissolves into deranged, uncontrollable laughter after spitting out some phrase in some ancient tongue and watching SQH's eyes grow wide in recognition.

[tervaneula]

I made these story posts on IG yesterday but I'm still kinda reeling thinking about this

HEY, HI. UM. Thank y'all - there's a bunch of you!!! - for sticking around for two whole years as I've kept losing my mind over these middle-aged gays 🥺💓💓💓💓 It means so much to me, holy shit

[strapped-and-beheaded]

My beloved first pc Charlotte. She is literally like jesus if he was a really tall girl with pink hair.

[benevolenterrancy]

@mymusehowls I actually drew Nie Mingjue braiding Meng Yao's hair a couple months ago, so I decided to switch it up and let Meng Yao braid Nie Mingjue's this time!

Dealing with all that hair must take forever, so they may as well go over morning reports while fussing around with it u.u

[ad-hawkeye]

every time someone insists alkaid is a yandere an angel loses its wings

edit to this post because i wrote that essay i mentioned in the tags.

it gets me so pressed because alkaid's whole deal is that he ISN'T some generic yandere. he doesn't want control over mc and he doesn't take pleasure from her losing all agency. alkaid's flaws tend to originate from anxiety and a sincere desire to protect. but one of alkaid's most notable traits is an emphasized importance of one's own freedom. his desire to protect and his desire to ensure mc's freedom conflict - but his respect for her own agency and freedom will always outweigh his desire to protect, even if he doesn't realize it.

alkaid (all of them, deep down imo) would rather rob himself of his own freedom if it ensures mc gets to live with no chains. that's the whole POINT. any story beat where an alkaid tries to control her has some sort of context or nuance where it shows this ISN'T what he wants, and that he's miserable. because that's the POINT. this ISN'T who he is.

godheim!alkaid chains himself to his own sins to ensure mc flies free from her cage. eden!alkaid breaks free of prefect luminary's control because of how wrong it feels to control mc. spirit world!alkaid willingly ends his own life and his own spirit to ensure mc lives. puppet!alkaid turns himself into a puppet locked in a house simply to stay immortal with her and despite being terrified of her leaving him, he wants her to leave and be free regardless.

modern!alkaid is literally horrified of the bad future he sees where he is lying to mc. awakening!alkaid willingly weighs himself down with his own sins to ensure that burden is taken off mc. and even then, modern!alkaid is horrified by his dishonesty and inability to take mc's opinions into consideration.

And Yes, This Whole Topic Includes Prefect Luminary.

pl has had empire dogma beaten into him since he was a child. control is key. but deep down, this ISN'T what pl wants. pl's whole deal is literally how his environment (or his "nurture") is completely at odds with his own nature as an alkaid.

"alkaid is a yandere" can we PLEASE have nuance. alkaid's plots tend to discuss where to draw the line between protection and freedom, and how whenever he toes the line too far into protection, and into control, he's fucking miserable and always learns to regret it. that is the POOOINT.

[spookythesillyfella]

told you guys ive been plagued by the analogue horror fixation again

[alt0stratuscloud]

hey parkciv fans. especially mavbo ones who're ill about evbo's godhood, EMF's name being what it is, and about trust.

go listen to the song "not entirely alone". it's sooooo

[beddybites]

Ok try this; Rengoku has to take baby Obanai to the Flame Estate for the night because everyone else that normally takes care of him is busy, and he got the night off. Inconviently enough, Kyojuro has to go get some baby safe foods since they don't really have any. And his dad is the only one awake (Senjuro had an early bed time since he stays awake most nights waiting for Kyojuro to get home, what a sweetie)...so Kyojuro has to leave Obanai with Shinjuro. Cue Shinjuro having a bit of nostalgic baby fever and forgets about drinking for a while as he hugs and coddles Obanai, sobbing ever so softly as to not wake Senjuro.

[super-marvel-dc]

Me to Bucky whenever I see or think about him

*Pictures from Pinterest*

[micamicster]

i know we've all said this already but. auugh

[soracities]

if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

[sunny1927]

Quick doodle of my fav brothers. I missed drawing them.

Of course Mickey loves Oswald but he can get annoyed by his nonsense sometimes-