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fandomweekly2025-04-06 10:17 pm
quicksilverfox3) wrote in fandomweekly2025-04-06 10:17 pm
Entry tags:
[#255] dare you to try (SVSSS)
Theme Prompt: 255 - Defiance
Title: dare you to try
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: cursing, previous canon child abuse
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Shen Yuan has been in this world, this body, for a few days now and the OOC lock is really starting to get on his nerves
Shen Yuan had never thought much about the mechanics of rhythm games before now. Sure, he’s played a few and knows the common broad strokes between them. The release event for ‘Super Extreme Dance Moves with Miku(™)’ wasn’t something he would have allowed himself to miss, the weird twinge between his knuckles and the bruised fingertips aside. The headache lasted a few days, and the backache almost disappeared by the time his commemorative figure arrived.
He hums the opening notes to himself, tapping his fingers against the strings of the qinqin he holds. A finger pressed here, pluck like that, no, like this.
It isn’t quite right, like he’s trying to boil water in a thunderstorm with heavy gloves on. His body knows the correct motions but his thoughts catch on them, searching for any hidden secrets. There’s a scar on this body’s, no, on his hip, twisted and knotted like he’d ripped himself away from whatever caused the injury and Shen Yuan doesn’t know how it got there.
“You won’t tell me, will you?” he snaps towards the glowing blue box hovering off to one side. “No unlockable backstory when I reach a certain level, no collectables so I can get some lore?”
The System bounces once, twice, before it circles into a buffering circle. Shen Yuan hums another note, his lip beginning to curl and oh, he hadn’t fully appreciated his older brothers’ complaints about their board meetings and the endless waste of time as older systems and colleagues alike fumbled through their thoughts. This is agony of an entirely fresh kind that he cannot escape from.
✧˖°No✧˖° User knowledge is sufficient. Reminder, OOC lock is still in place until story mission completion.
“I remember.” Shen Yuan sighs, rounding his shoulders away from his perfect posture that his body holds with a death grip. “You’ve only reminded me morning, noon, and night since I woke up here.”
Reminder, OOC lock—
“—will remain in place until this promised story mission. I know.” Shen Yuan abandons the rest of his tightly held caution and throws himself backwards onto the bed. The qinqin comes with him, cradled to his chest like an infant, a few notes humming out as he strums his fingers across them. There’s something hollow about it, butter scraped over too much bread, a spoonful of broth to flavour too many noodles, a missing richness to it.
Someone knocks on his door. Light, delicate, undeniably terrified but doing it anyway. “Shizun?”
Shen Yuan sits up, his heartbeat too loud for his chest. His shoulders snap back into place, his back straight, and he settles his hands over the strings once more. “What?” Shen Qingqiu snaps, his gaze locked onto the System box, daring it to even try to deduct his points.
He’s going to change his fate in this story. He has to. And if he has to dance around this OOC lock, then so be it.
Luo Binghe nudges the door to the Bamboo House open, his hands full with a tray, balancing a selection of small dishes. Shen Yuan’s stomach twists. Yet more hollowness to carve through his bones from the inside out. It should be packed with flavour, the meat tender, the desserts sweet and velvet with indulgence, but it’s just fine.
Bland.
“Begging Shizun’s pardon.” Luo Binghe speaks to the floor between them, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping the tray aloft. His previous bruises were healing well enough, pale yellow at the corner of his mouth, peeking out the edge of his collar. “This student was instructed by his shixiong to bring this tray to Shizun.”
Ming Fan’s doing, sending his shidi to his more-recovered Shizun’s doorstep so the world will right itself in his eyes.
“Set it down there.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t look at Luo Binghe, and continues running his fingers over the strings. A bead of sweat runs down his scalp, his focus locked on the boy’s movements.
The dishes rattle as Luo Binghe does as instructed, his gaze downcast as he attends to his work. In the past, a staggering few days ago, everything about this situation would play out differently, a slap, a harsh insult meant to tear out any self-esteem by the roots, and Shen Yuan is constrained by that framework still.
Fuck it. He’s not that hungry.
“Wait.”
Luo Binghe freezes, a bowl clutched between his fingers. It’s meat with sauce, the thin ribbons of cream just catching the low light spilling through the windows, and Shen Qingqiu holds out his hand for it. Luo Binghe’s face falls, cold dread condensing over fragile hope, but he moves forward, bowing as he places the bowl in Shen Qingqiu’s outstretched hand.
Laying the qinqin across his lap, Shen Qingqiu brings the bowl to his lips. The sauce barely touches his tongue before he recoils, only mostly for show. It is crafted to be a perfect mouthful for his convalescence, what should be velvety sauce and tender meat is bland to the point of boredom.
“Disgusting.” Shen Yuan doesn’t look away from the System as he shoves the bowl back into Luo Binghe’s hands. It isn’t as hard as Shen Qingqiu would—pointless to inflict injuries that have no purpose, he argues at the box preempting a warning beep—but the child still staggers, shit.
Shen Yuan can’t reach for him, so he forces his fingers down to the strings, plucks a few more notes. “Take it away. This master doesn’t wish for it to remain in his presence.”
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe looks down at the bowl, his fingers pressing against the slight smudge where Shen Qingqiu’s mouth had been.
Shen Qinqiu plucks a note sharply and Luo Binghe flinches as effectively as if he’d slapped him.
“This student will take the food away, Shizun.”
It would be amusing to a scum villain to imagine Luo Binghe picking through his leftovers, Shen Yuan argues.
He’s argued tougher opponents into submission through a comment thread, fucking come at me, bro.
Title: dare you to try
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: cursing, previous canon child abuse
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Shen Yuan has been in this world, this body, for a few days now and the OOC lock is really starting to get on his nerves
Shen Yuan had never thought much about the mechanics of rhythm games before now. Sure, he’s played a few and knows the common broad strokes between them. The release event for ‘Super Extreme Dance Moves with Miku(™)’ wasn’t something he would have allowed himself to miss, the weird twinge between his knuckles and the bruised fingertips aside. The headache lasted a few days, and the backache almost disappeared by the time his commemorative figure arrived.
He hums the opening notes to himself, tapping his fingers against the strings of the qinqin he holds. A finger pressed here, pluck like that, no, like this.
It isn’t quite right, like he’s trying to boil water in a thunderstorm with heavy gloves on. His body knows the correct motions but his thoughts catch on them, searching for any hidden secrets. There’s a scar on this body’s, no, on his hip, twisted and knotted like he’d ripped himself away from whatever caused the injury and Shen Yuan doesn’t know how it got there.
“You won’t tell me, will you?” he snaps towards the glowing blue box hovering off to one side. “No unlockable backstory when I reach a certain level, no collectables so I can get some lore?”
The System bounces once, twice, before it circles into a buffering circle. Shen Yuan hums another note, his lip beginning to curl and oh, he hadn’t fully appreciated his older brothers’ complaints about their board meetings and the endless waste of time as older systems and colleagues alike fumbled through their thoughts. This is agony of an entirely fresh kind that he cannot escape from.
✧˖°No✧˖° User knowledge is sufficient. Reminder, OOC lock is still in place until story mission completion.
“I remember.” Shen Yuan sighs, rounding his shoulders away from his perfect posture that his body holds with a death grip. “You’ve only reminded me morning, noon, and night since I woke up here.”
Reminder, OOC lock—
“—will remain in place until this promised story mission. I know.” Shen Yuan abandons the rest of his tightly held caution and throws himself backwards onto the bed. The qinqin comes with him, cradled to his chest like an infant, a few notes humming out as he strums his fingers across them. There’s something hollow about it, butter scraped over too much bread, a spoonful of broth to flavour too many noodles, a missing richness to it.
Someone knocks on his door. Light, delicate, undeniably terrified but doing it anyway. “Shizun?”
Shen Yuan sits up, his heartbeat too loud for his chest. His shoulders snap back into place, his back straight, and he settles his hands over the strings once more. “What?” Shen Qingqiu snaps, his gaze locked onto the System box, daring it to even try to deduct his points.
He’s going to change his fate in this story. He has to. And if he has to dance around this OOC lock, then so be it.
Luo Binghe nudges the door to the Bamboo House open, his hands full with a tray, balancing a selection of small dishes. Shen Yuan’s stomach twists. Yet more hollowness to carve through his bones from the inside out. It should be packed with flavour, the meat tender, the desserts sweet and velvet with indulgence, but it’s just fine.
Bland.
“Begging Shizun’s pardon.” Luo Binghe speaks to the floor between them, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping the tray aloft. His previous bruises were healing well enough, pale yellow at the corner of his mouth, peeking out the edge of his collar. “This student was instructed by his shixiong to bring this tray to Shizun.”
Ming Fan’s doing, sending his shidi to his more-recovered Shizun’s doorstep so the world will right itself in his eyes.
“Set it down there.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t look at Luo Binghe, and continues running his fingers over the strings. A bead of sweat runs down his scalp, his focus locked on the boy’s movements.
The dishes rattle as Luo Binghe does as instructed, his gaze downcast as he attends to his work. In the past, a staggering few days ago, everything about this situation would play out differently, a slap, a harsh insult meant to tear out any self-esteem by the roots, and Shen Yuan is constrained by that framework still.
Fuck it. He’s not that hungry.
“Wait.”
Luo Binghe freezes, a bowl clutched between his fingers. It’s meat with sauce, the thin ribbons of cream just catching the low light spilling through the windows, and Shen Qingqiu holds out his hand for it. Luo Binghe’s face falls, cold dread condensing over fragile hope, but he moves forward, bowing as he places the bowl in Shen Qingqiu’s outstretched hand.
Laying the qinqin across his lap, Shen Qingqiu brings the bowl to his lips. The sauce barely touches his tongue before he recoils, only mostly for show. It is crafted to be a perfect mouthful for his convalescence, what should be velvety sauce and tender meat is bland to the point of boredom.
“Disgusting.” Shen Yuan doesn’t look away from the System as he shoves the bowl back into Luo Binghe’s hands. It isn’t as hard as Shen Qingqiu would—pointless to inflict injuries that have no purpose, he argues at the box preempting a warning beep—but the child still staggers, shit.
Shen Yuan can’t reach for him, so he forces his fingers down to the strings, plucks a few more notes. “Take it away. This master doesn’t wish for it to remain in his presence.”
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe looks down at the bowl, his fingers pressing against the slight smudge where Shen Qingqiu’s mouth had been.
Shen Qinqiu plucks a note sharply and Luo Binghe flinches as effectively as if he’d slapped him.
“This student will take the food away, Shizun.”
It would be amusing to a scum villain to imagine Luo Binghe picking through his leftovers, Shen Yuan argues.
He’s argued tougher opponents into submission through a comment thread, fucking come at me, bro.
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