#turning my memories into writing

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[ashleigghh]

When I was 10, a boy told me he loved me in an anonymous Christmas card. I don't know if your schools did this but we had a huge post box in the front office that you'd post cards into and every Friday morning they would be sorted and distributed. It was signed from a secret admirer and I tried to ignore it all day, even though my friends wanted to try and work out who it was from. I was embarrassed, I didn't like the idea that someone there felt that way about me, it seemed wrong but I couldn't work out what it was that I didn't like. By the afternoon most of my class was talking to me about it, asking if I knew who it was, guessing who they thought it was, it made me feel awful, but I smiled my way through it, what else was I supposed to do?

I'm not sure exactly how I found out who sent it, if someone figured it out or they confessed, but it was worked out. It was the end of the day, I was buttoning up my winter cost that looked a bit like a dress when I was told it was the boy I sat next to in maths (for some reason we had several seating plans even though we all sat in the same room all day with the same teacher).

He was very sweet, we got along well, he was kind and caring, he genuinely cared about what I had to say and was always willing to help if I was struggling. I thought we were friends, but then he admitted this and I rethought everything.

I remember standing there, my cheeks going bright red, my mouth hanging open as I blinked away tears. Everyone was watching, waiting, he was looking at me, mirroring my reaction and I felt frozen. People laughed, not unkindly, they thought I liked him back, they thought my face went red because I reciprocated his feelings. That was what was expected of me, right? I should've liked the boy back, that's how it's supposed to go, that's what you read in every fairytale, what you see in every film and TV show.

All I felt in that moment was fear, I was scared, I wanted to leave, I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. I knew that I couldn't like him like he liked me, I couldn't feel it in my bones, coursing through my blood, pounding in my ears, even though I didn't even understand what it meant, what this was, I couldn't like him. I didn't want to hurt him or embarrass him but all I wanted to do was yell at him, ask him why he was doing this, what it meant. It was obviously a much bigger deal to little me than it should've been, but back then it felt like my world was collapsing and everyone was just watching as it shattered around me, laughing and expecting me to hold this boy's hand and walk out of school. This was what love is? all that it meant was I hurt him and he made me miserable.

Truthfully, I don't remember how I reacted after that, all I know is that I didn't tell him why I couldn't like him and we all pretended it never happened, apart from the occasional joke from a friend, after that Christmas break. I never told him I had secretly hoped the letter had been from the girl who shared my table, the girl I wanted to like me, the girl who had made me wish I was a boy so I could like her, the girl who had confused me so and opened my eyes to a whole new world.

I worked out who I was, and looking back on it now, I could've liked him, I really could've, I didn't even realise i was allowed to back then but I like both genders. I still see him around sometimes, we don't talk anymore and I don't think about it that often but I sometimes wonder what would've happened if I'd been able to work out who I was without having to become so confused and try to work it out with no support. Sometimes I wonder if I did hurt him, or if it was just one of those childish things he can look back at and laugh, or maybe he even forgot it ever happened, but to me, I think it changed my life.

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[shrimpchipsss]

read Living With a Tiger by x_los !

[chidoroki]

"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth

[lupiinist]

i like the idea that lily is one of the smartest people in hogwarts but she's also just like

very clumsy. she drops things, she trips on air, and she's very unlucky too, gum sticks randomly on her hair (mary or marlene always cuts the tips of her hair every month or so because of that), and everytime something like that happens, she makes an odd sound as she snorts and laughs.

because yes, she's clumsy and unlucky, but she's surprisingly positive about it, she finds everything to be very funny, and mary and marlene are so used to it by now that they're always ready to hold her before she falls, take her out of the way of something that's being thrown, or just hold something she dropped before it breaks.

i like lily being a bit of a mess, let her be a bit of a failgirl as a treat, she's adorable, and she's a genius!!!!

(also, mary can't help but look so, so fond and in love with her whenever lily laughs when she trips on the hem of her robes, like she makes the entire day brighter just by smiling)

[clarionglass]

yeah, we all knew this one was coming. 5395 words, if you're wondering exactly how bad the brain rot has set in ^^;

----- deja vu (sam reich!master cinematic universe, part 2)

Right from the beginning of Game Changer, Sam had had a small monitor in his dressing room where he could watch the show being recorded. He'd always appreciated it being there, but never quite understood the point of having it, if he was going to be on stage hosting the shows himself. 

When his doppelganger was hosting, though, being able to watch the show while hidden away was absolutely ideal. 

Since Escape the Greenroom, the pair had been less cautious about being seen in the building together. It was always more enjoyable to debrief immediately after a show, and besides, they had their secret weapon. The magic technology that kept anyone from thinking too hard about two Sams in the one place had turned out to be nothing more than a small lump of circuitry attached to a key on a loop of string, and whichever Sam wasn't on set at the time held onto it and watched the session from the dressing room. It was an extra precaution—hell, if everyone knew Sam was in the middle of a recording, why would they be going into his dressing room—but it was handy to have nonetheless. 

It didn't work if you knew what you were looking for, though, so when the door creaked open and his doppelganger walked in, pure glee painted across his face from ear to ear, he turned his megawatt smile on Sam straight away. 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Good record, was it?”

“Oh, was it ever.”

“Well, great!” Sam replied. “You were pretty keen for this one, glad it lived up to expectations.”

As his double nodded with satisfaction, Sam's eyes flicked back to the monitor, now showing a view of backstage, and Trapp, Ify and Siobhan talking quietly to each other. 

Something felt off. They didn't seem distressed or anything bad, bad, but the energy between the three contestants was weirdly muted. As it was for everyone, actually. Josh, Zac, Brian—the general vibe backstage was sitting noticeably lower than usual, particularly with such big personalities in the room. 

“How'd the cast take it, though?” he asked. “They all look exhausted, was everything alright?”

His doppelganger flapped a hand dismissively. “Oh, they're fine. It was just a long record.”

“No longer than usual,” Sam said, with a brief glance down at his watch and a frown. “We had seven loops planned, right? And you definitely didn't get through all of them, you only did, what—”

“Five, yeah,” his double agreed, speaking with him. “For the episode, we ended up recording five.”

There was an odd tone in his voice as he said it, an emphasis on the specifics that was just a little too weighted. Sam grimaced. 

“I'm sensing there's a but coming.”

“Yeah,” his doppelganger admitted slowly, then grinned, a bright, twinkling expression of pure mischief. “We actually ran a lot more loops than that.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “wait. No, you didn't, I was watching the entire thing.”

“Come on,” his doppelganger shot back, a bite of impatience bleeding into his excitement. “You really think I'd fight to do the fake time loop episode and not throw in a real time loop or five?”

“Oh my god.” It was all Sam could say, and he really couldn't tell if he was impressed, or dumbfounded, or just really fucking worried. “Oh, my god. What did you do?”

The giddy delight shining in his double's eyes as his smile broadened even further, brilliant and infectious and only slightly predatory, did nothing to calm Sam's nerves. 

---

The first loop went well enough, and confusingly enough. Weird trivia, questions that clearly had an answer, but no way of working out what that answer was, cameos that didn’t seem to relate to anything—it was strange, but you knew that was what you were getting into when you signed up for Game Changer. Trapp, Ify and Siobhan knew that there was a solution to it, but they’d just have to work until they found it.

And then Sam pulled out that bizarre dance that he expected them all to join in on, and accidentally kicked Kevin’s camera out of his hands, and the three of them shuffled offstage for a two minute reset.

-

The second loop, the pieces were starting to fit into place. The trivia was a memory tester; the weird questions had answers that could only be worked out with knowledge gained in previous rounds; Zac’s—sorry, Grant’s—spaghetti was going to cause problems by way of Brian’s podium inspector; the list went on. 

This time, it was pretty clear that the kick wasn’t accidental. 

-

The third loop, everyone knew they were dealing with loops right from the start. 

-

“I think my watch battery is dead,” grumbled Ify on the t̷͖͗̅h̶̥̔͗i̴͉̞̊r̴̭͘d̵̢͔͌̈́ loop.

-

Loop aft̵̐͜e̷̘̓r̵̩͊ ḽ̵̞́o̷͉̬̼͈͘ö̸̖̠̭́̈̀p̶̡̣̖͂ ạ̸͌͘f̸̱̲͐͗t̶͈͐̇ẻ̶͇̮̄ř̷̤̗͝ ̷̹̌l̸͎͎̔̀̅̀̀̕ò̸̢̨̜͓̳̮̀̕o̶̮̕p̵̪̫̠̝̘̒͒͗̚ͅ, ad infinitum ad nauseam. 

-

A few loops in, Siobhan watched Brian get paler and paler as he examined the trio of podiums. And this time, he was actually taking the time to look at them properly, not just making an act of peering through that stupid little magnifying glass in order to justify a foregone conclusion. He was acting weird, even for him.

Still, he put a good face on it, declaring each one dirty in increasingly elaborate ways, just as he had every time before. Something had clearly rattled him, though, and it made her uneasy in turn.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir?” she said, just as she had the last few rounds, and smiled sweetly with a dollar bill folded in her palm. As Brian came over, she locked eyes with him, hoping the look was enough to convey her question.

“Camcorder, Jan ‘97,” he muttered as he took the money, and had given her the (bribed) point and hurried backstage before she could ask what he meant.

She knew the video he was referring to, it was one of his. Creepy, definitely, but very well-done, all about rewinding tape and rewriting time. And—yeah, man, duh. This was the time loop episode, apparently, so why state the obvious? And why so cryptically?

Unless… unless it was something to do with time loops that wasn’t to do with the format of the episode. 

How long had they been recording, anyway? All their phones were in the box backstage, Ify’s watch was dead, she wasn’t wearing one at all, and with her and Trapp on the outside podiums, there was no way she could ask him without making it look stunningly obvious. But it had been a while, for sure, and Sam wasn’t showing any of his usual signs of wanting to usher the recording session towards a natural conclusion.

If anything, he was looking wolfishly pleased with the way things were turning out. He'd even favoured Brian with a wider grin than usual, where Brian's own smile had been kind of watery. 

Another part of that video, Siobhan couldn't help but recall, was that sinister, looming silhouette.

-

Through more and more loops, and the brief interludes they were granted backstage, they’d worked out the rules, sort of. People weren’t affected by the loops resetting, they carried through pretty much as normal. Objects didn’t, though. Things on the set, like the ducks, the money in their envelopes, and the spaghetti stuck to their podiums, reset to the state they were at at the beginning of what they’d begun to call “Loop 3.0”. Things brought across the threshold of the set, like Zac/Grant’s plate of spaghetti, or Josh’s balloons, reset as soon as they crossed over that boundary.

Josh hadn’t had a good time when he realised that one. While the contestant cast and the cameo cast were kept separate backstage, the contestants had to assume that Brian would have told them everything he’d worked out. The next loop after Brian had given his hint to Siobhan, the contestants had to watch a very good character actor try to keep control of the creepy clown role while going through a moderate existential crisis. It was uncomfortable to watch, stuck at their podiums and unable to help. At least they could mutter a few words of encouragement each time they went up to pop a balloon, and the same with Zac and Brian each time they came by to mess up or inspect their podiums. 

It was good to have that connection, brief as it might have been. They might have been stuck, but at least they were in this fuckery together.

The crew, though, seemed to be immune from feeling the weirdness they were caught up in. Or—no. Not immune. Exempt. They weren’t trapped in the loop, they were part of it, moving along their set tracks like automata. It took the cast a while to work that one out, because Sam kept time perfectly, interacting with Ash when she brought out the contraption and the jar of beans as if they were having a normal, fluid conversation. But then Ify spotted that the camera operators were moving completely out of sync with the cast, and Trapp noticed that only Sam’s half of the interaction with Ash ever changed, and the illusion fell apart from there. The crew wouldn’t be a lifeline.

And speaking of Sam… Fuck, it was a hard one to swallow. He was their boss, their friend, and they’d all known him for years—hell, he’d come through for each of them multiple times. Until now, he had been pretty unequivocally a Good Guy. But it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the signs that Sam Reich was the puppeteer of this entire shitshow.

He was still pretending to not know what anyone meant when they expressed frustration with the loops, but the words were accompanied by a twinkle in his eye that said he knew exactly what was going on, and was staunchly refusing to help. He was delighting in their discomfort, even more so now the cast knew just how fucked they really were.

He looked like Sam, he sounded like Sam, every single mannerism was something that the cast knew intimately. But the personality driving his actions was wrong. Maybe this guy wasn’t Sam at all. Fuck, if they’d suddenly been catapulted into a reality where time loops were real, maybe so were evil clones, or brain-snatching parasites, or—no, the magician great-grandfather lore from Escape the Greenroom was still a stretch too far. But given the choice between believing that a weird sci-fi plotline was true, when another one was literally happening around them; or believing that their friend had secretly been some kind of torturer with access to sci-fi tech the entire time they’d known him—the decision wasn’t particularly hard. 

“We have to stop him from kicking the camera,” Trapp said quietly, as soon as they had all huddled backstage. “That’s what he’s going with as the trigger.”

“It could be another bluff,” Siobhan interjected glumly. “More fucking misdirection.”

Trapp shot her a look. “You got anything better you want to try?”

“I can get between him and Kevin if I’m quick,” Ify volunteered, the tallest among them by a good half a head, with a build to match.

“See what happens,” Trapp said. “But be careful, yeah? Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“So what’s the way to get out?” Siobhan asked, as Ify nodded his agreement. “There has to be something, I might start killing people if I let myself think this is actually completely random.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Popping the right balloon? Or winning the video game?”

“Or unlocking that,” Ify suggested, nodding to the green chest that had been sitting on the table the entire time. 

“Yeah,” Siobhan and Trapp agreed together.

“Cool, so we try and—”

“Sorry, y’all, but I’m supposed to take your phones?” Kaylin interrupted, holding out the box as she always did. 

By virtue of podium order, Trapp, then Ify, then Siobhan noticed it as they walked on and gave their introductions. Something had changed.

The point totals on the podiums read 14, 9, 14. The points they’d ended with in Loop 3, not started with. They’d survived it. Time was moving.

-

“Sam, look over there!” Siobhan exclaimed as she entered, and dragged a couple of boxes onstage with her in no more subtle a way than she did the last time. 

Trapp got it, he really did. These loops had been… wearing, was probably the best word for it. “Sadistic” was a bit too harsh, particularly when nothing actually bad had been happening (and to be honest, he didn’t even want to risk thinking too badly of the person who seemed to be pulling all the strings in this scenario, in case he somehow noticed, and decided to turn the heat up), but… yeah. Wearing. So he understood why Siobhan might be trying to keep things the same. Making the group less fun for their host to play with.

The trivia rounds were chaos, as always, and passed in a jumble of noise that Trapp was only half focused on. A quiz show was still a quiz show, even if it had descended into some kind of weird time loop purgatory, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be first on the buzzer regardless. Maybe the points were the way to get out of this whole shitshow, who could say. But when Ify and Siobhan started to have their exact same argument over the equation question, complete with Ify’s triumphant twerking, Trapp felt his stomach rise into his throat, as if once again, the ground had been cut out from under him.

“Yeah, Solzhenitsyn,” Siobhan nodded in response to a question he hadn’t asked, and his blood went cold. 

Sam, or possibly ‘Sam’, looked him dead in the eye and winked. 

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Mike Trapp,” he said with a smirk.

Tinny music started up, and the bright colours of that infuriating video game popped up on the screen, but Trapp didn't care. There wasn't any point in pretending now. 

“You fucker,” he said, walking close to eyeball the host. “You mother fucker.”

‘Sam’ just wheezed with laughter, exactly as the real Sam Reich would when a contestant insulted him out of annoyance at the game, and for the briefest of moments, Trapp had his doubts. Everything about this man said Sam Reich, every tiny detail. Had he really been hiding this all along?

“You were doing great playing as a team,” ‘Sam’ said once he'd regained his composure, looking at Trapp with wide-eyed sincerity. “But that's not really the point of the game, now, is it?”

No. Sam, actual Sam, wouldn't do this to his friends.

“What have you done to them?”

“To them? Nothing,” whoever the fuck this was said brightly. “To the studio, though… Well, it would take too long to explain, and you wouldn’t understand most of it anyway. Let’s just say I can run this whole place like a VCR, and the only two people who wouldn’t be caught up in it right now are you and me, bud.”

“That’s fucked up,” Trapp said, as Ash, deaf and blind to their conversation, came out with the giant jar of beans. “That’s just fucked. Let them go.”

“Aw, but they’re probably having a better time than you are right now,” ‘Sam’ said, mock-serious. “They think time’s finally moving ahead for them, remember? And anyway, do you really want to be arguing with little old me when you’re wasting your one chance to earn points without any competition? It is an individual game, after all.”

Trapp’s eyebrows shot high. “Are you saying only one of us gets out of this? You sick fuck.”

‘Sam’ just shrugged and smiled, looking meaningfully at the empty podium. “Do you want to risk it? The choice is yours, Trapp, but time's a-ticking.” His smile flashed. “Or maybe it isn't.”

-

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Ify Nwadiwe,” ‘Sam’ announced.

Yeah, no shit. Ify wasn’t an idiot, even if his point total was sitting below his fellow contestants’. He’d been checking his not-actually-dead watch at the start of every loop, so he knew right from the off that even though their host had been gracious and let them pass through one gauntlet, it sure didn’t mean that the time fuckery had finished. 

This run, though, was looking extra screwed up. Siobhan arguing loudly with him about things he didn’t even say this time was the final confirmation. He was alone in this loop, just him and the guy who was running the show.

He knew that ‘Sam’ knew that he knew that he was the only person who wasn’t stuck. So he waited, staring flatly at the person who had taken over the host’s podium, watching to see what move he would make.

‘Sam’ just smiled. “Left or right?”

Alright, so that’s how he was going to play it. Yeah, no, absolutely not. 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Ify said instead of engaging, because it didn’t really matter. In his peripheral vision, the game kept scrolling through. “Fuck that. What’s the win condition? What do we need to do to get out of here?”

“Play the game,” ‘Sam’ replied.

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Ify shook his head, and ‘Sam’ chuckled like he’d told a good joke. “We’ve already done that, and it’s got us exactly fuckin nowhere. You put us in this thing for a reason, so there’s gotta be something you want to see happen.”

‘Sam’ blinked at him innocently. “Who says this isn’t exactly it?”

Ify took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying we’re in here, doing the same shit over and over again, until you feel like you’ve had enough?”

“In a nutshell,” ‘Sam’ beamed, “yes.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ify said, shifting his weight to lean more heavily on the podium. “Fuck you.”

“Noted,” ‘Sam’ said brightly. “But I wouldn’t spend too long being mad at me, because—” he broke off, giving the front of Ify’s podium a significant look, “—you’ve got quite a lot of ground to make up, in… well. Who can say how much time?”

“Fuck you,” Ify repeated, and ‘Sam’ just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

-

Ify was taking too long to name a goddamn Keanu Reeves film, again, and Siobhan had had just about enough. So when he stalled, and stalled, and still came up with the same title he’d answered in the last round, grinning like he’d just got one over on her, she could have screamed.

And then she remembered where she was, and who was asking the questions, and her heart sank. They weren’t done yet, apparently, and this time she was completely on her own.

She playacted the rest of the argument, that and the equation question, and hated the fact that even to her own ears, she was sounding more and more shrill as she shouted, because yeah, it’s panic-inducing to continue a screaming match with someone who doesn’t even register that you’re there. Every word was another reminder that she was trapped.

And then the melodrama stopped, and ‘Sam’ smiled at her. “Next up, there’s a little game I have just—”

“—for Siobhan Thompson?” she finished with him, voice dripping with sarcastic surprise, just like she had in Loop 3.0. 

“That’s right!” ‘Sam’ said happily. “Now. Left, or right?”

“No,” Siobhan said.

The man in front of her raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“You’re not Sam, which means I’m not fucking playing. So, who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he answered quickly, easily, naturally.

Siobhan frowned. “No. Bullshit. Who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he repeated, sounding somehow even more sincere, and genuinely confused that Siobhan would be asking. Fuck that. She wouldn’t take it. Couldn’t take it.

“No. Bullshit. Try again! Who the fuck are you?”

This time, instead of doubling down, he paused. “Do you want to know a secret?”

After a moment, she nodded warily. He beckoned her close, and slowly, cautiously, she left her podium, walking up to this devil in the shape of a game-show host. Close enough to see his eyes properly, and how truly, deeply old they were.

“Even if I told you,” he stage-whispered, those ancient eyes sparkling with terrible glee, “it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference.”

-

“Did you just—”

“Yeah. And—”

“Yeah.”

The three of them were once again huddled backstage, debriefing. 

“So, are we allowed to do this?” Trapp asked quietly. “Because he seemed pretty against the idea of us working together.”

“Didn't say anything to me,” Ify shrugged. “And I don't see another way of getting out of this if we don't share stuff. And even then—sorry, but I think we're here til he wants to let us go.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ify said. “Because we got the game, we got the key, we opened the chest, and here we all are again, so I dunno what we have to do. I asked him point blank about the win condition, and—”

“He made it sound like the points, to me,” Trapp interrupted.

Ify nodded. “Me too. But he also pretty much said we're here because he's having fun. I don't think the points are it.”

“So we can lose, but we can't win.” Siobhan's voice was dull.

“C'mon, Siobhan,” Trapp said encouragingly. “We'll get out of it. We've gotta have hope.”

Siobhan just looked flatly at him.

“Look, there are silver linings, okay?” Trapp insisted. “Not many, sure, but enough to look for. Like, because it means our actual friend isn't fucking with us—this guy isn't Sam, that's for sure.”

“I'm not…” Siobhan started, and winced. “This is going to sound bad. But I'm not even sure he's human.”

Ify exhaled deeply.

“Don't give me that,” Siobhan snapped reflexively, and Ify raised his hands placatingly.

“I'm not saying I don't agree,” he said. “It checks out. But it's heavy going, that's all.”

Siobhan nodded, looking calmer. “He still wouldn't say who he is, but… I saw him. The real him, up close. And yeah, he's the spitting image of Sam, but… fuck. People don't look like that behind the eyes.”

“Jesus,” Trapp breathed.

She just nodded wordlessly in reply, and despite knowing that it was costing them valuable discussing time, all three lapsed into silence. What could you say to that sort of revelation?

“The microphone,” Ify said abruptly, and Trapp and Siobhan’s eyes both swung to him. “I mean, I’ve still been thinking about win conditions. Or at least how he’s controlling the loop, and how we can use that.”

“He said he can run it like a VCR,” Trapp added. “But I’m not sure how, I assumed it was something in his podium—”

“But he keeps drawing attention to the microphone,” Ify continued. “Every single goddamn loop.”

“So we break it,” Siobhan said decisively. 

Trapp made a face. “Or steal it?”

“Whatever. Either way, we get it out of his control.”

“Sorry, y’all,” came a familiar voice, and they all had to stifle a groan. Planning time was over.  

The game started back up again, and—the point totals were as high as they remembered. The set was just as dirty. All promising signs. 

And then their host’s eyes turned to Siobhan after Ify’s successful run at the video game, and her stomach clenched. Even though the time loop continuing was the worst possible scenario, departures from his routine were never a positive thing.

He gave her an indulgent look. “But, Siobhan.” 

She was focused, she was prepared, she could handle whatever he threw at her. “Yes.”

“Because it is the last round of our game…”

Oh.

The buzzy little chiptune started up again, but to Siobhan, Trapp and Ify, it didn't mean a thing. The words “last round” rang in their ears sweeter than any music.

All of them knew it was probably false hope. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing. Something to cling to as they trod the motions of the remaining questions.

And then the cameo cast and all the crew came onstage when the wenis music played, and that certainly had a grand finale type feel to it; and Kevin didn’t get kicked in the face, no matter how much he was darting around in what had suddenly become a minefield of flailing limbs; and whatever it was that was wearing Sam Reich’s face led them all through more repetitions of the routine than usual, radiating manic joy the entire time.

“And stop!” he yelled as the music cut out, throwing his arms wide and looking around frantically as if the camera remaining intact had any fucking bearing on the time loop whatsoever. “Kevin, did we get that?”

The cameraman pulled open the now heavily duct-taped camera body, then looked up, scripted embarrassment mingling with scripted regret. “There’s no tape in the camera.”

And with that, their host turned away from him to look straight down the barrel of the main camera, favouring it with an open smile of pure, uncomplicated enjoyment; the sort of smile that invited you to share in it with him, no matter how strong the hatred that burned in your veins. “That brings us to the end of our show!” he announced happily. “Our winner tonight: Mike Trapp!”

“No-one’s a winner,” Trapp cut in, shaking his head. “No-one’s a winner here today.”

But even so, he was presented with a cool watch, and the confetti cannons went off, and they left the set for longer than two minutes and weren't called back at all, and finally, finally, they could let themselves believe it. 

The loop was broken. They were free. 

---

“What did I do?” Sam’s doppelganger repeated, pausing for a moment to think. “Oh, nothing awful.”

Normally, Sam would be content to let that slide. But just lately, he’d been getting a weird feeling from his doppelganger, and there was too much grey area between ‘something good’ and ‘nothing awful’ to be comfortable. “No, seriously.”

“We just ran the recording a few more times,” his double huffed, his smile fading—not quite impatient, but visibly put out, somehow, like he didn’t feel sufficiently appreciated. “Look at them, they’re fine.”

“I am looking at them,” Sam said. “And that’s why I’m asking. They’re my friends, I can tell when something isn’t right.”

His doppelganger hummed briefly, moving next to him to come and look at the monitor, and—just for a flash, less than a second—Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise when his double passed behind him. 

“Maybe you're right,” he said slowly, after watching the feed for a few seconds. “Okay, I'll fix it. I'll have a chat to them.”

Sam exhaled, relief washing over him. Of course there wasn't anything to be worried about.

“Thanks,” he said.

His double just smiled faintly and nodded, then left the room.

Sam turned back to the monitor, waiting for the moment a minute or so later when his double would appear in the frame. And sure enough, he did. The sound setup was only piped in from the stage, and even then it wasn’t the best quality, so Sam didn’t have a chance of hearing what was actually being said. But he watched as, without exception, every single cast member flinched when his doppelganger touched them lightly on the shoulder to get their attention. 

The conversations were quiet, with a gentle sort of intensity. His double seemed to be focused on making sure each person felt acknowledged—Sam couldn’t recall him breaking eye contact with anyone he was speaking to—and whatever he said, it seemed to work. One after another, he spoke to all the cast, contestants and cameos, leaving calm in his wake. And when he had talked to the last one, and everyone looked settled and genuinely at ease, he shot a look of pure satisfaction towards the backstage camera, and headed out of view.

“Thank you,” Sam said again when his doppelganger returned to their dressing room, and received a gracious nod in reply. “Just out of curiosity, though—what did you tell them? Because fuck, it worked like a charm!”

His double tilted his head, half-smiling. “Oh, you know. All the right things. That I was very sorry for anything that might have gone weird during the recording, that I wasn’t feeling like myself, that it’ll never happen again… Oh, yeah—and then I wiped their memories.”

Sam coughed. “You what?”

“Wiped their memories,” his double repeated matter-of-factly. “It was the simplest solution, really. Everyone stays in continuity, they’re blissfully free of any… more troubling memories, our cover isn’t blown—it’s perfect.”

“No, hang on, you can’t—”

“I can, and I did,” his doppelganger replied. “I fixed the problem—which you asked me to, I might add—and now everyone’s back to their regular happy selves. It’s a totally closed system. The only person who knows it happened at all is me. Oh, and you, of course.”

Sam frowned.

“Besides, this way, you don’t have to worry about having to work out the overtime for a time loop, because they’ve got no idea what the extra pay would even be for,” his double added breezily before he had a chance to say anything, then snapped serious. “And don’t look at me like that, Samuel Dalton Reich, because you were thinking about it. I know you.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny it. The tiny part of his mind that was always in Dropout CEO mode had been grappling with the ethical and financial implications of a time loop and getting nowhere, and the relief of not having to deal with it was like a fist unclenching.

“See?” his doppelganger said, meeting his eyes with a pointed sort of kindness. “I know what I’m doing, Sam, I’ve been doing it for a very long time. And it’s better for everyone like this.”

“I don’t—” Sam started, faltering. On the one hand, there was something intuitively and viscerally horrifying about his friends having their memories wiped. But on the other… 

“If you don’t want to know,” his double said softly, and god, it gave Sam the shivers to hear his own voice used that way, “there is a way around it. I thought you’d rather be a part of everything that’s going on, but…”

His eyes caught and held on Sam’s like magnets, and—something had shifted behind them, something small, but with a seismic effect. He was pinned by that gaze, trapped, electrified; wholly unable to look away.

“I can do the same for you as I did for them.”

On the other hand… his double was right. It was kinder, probably, if they didn’t remember whatever they went through, and in that moment, he realised he couldn’t even begin to guess what that was. And… it was definitely easier.

“No,” he said, and when the word came out as a whisper, he cleared his throat and tried again. “No. It’s okay.”

His doppelganger blinked, and the spell was broken.

“Great!” he said brightly, back to his usual cheerful self, with all traces of that scary side—that dangerous side—folded neatly away. “You know, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you—you’ve been so much fun to work with, it would have been a shame to have it all come to nothing.”

And Sam, feeling like a marionette with its strings cut, hated the fact that he agreed. Even with everything that had happened lately, he couldn’t deny that the electricity that came from working with his doppelganger, the sizzle of pushing ideas just that bit past the boundaries and laughing uproariously at the result, was liberating. Exhilarating. Addictive, almost, a heart-racing excitement that sang in his blood.

Maybe the danger was part of the game. And as long as nobody came to any harm, he could keep playing.

“Just… promise me one thing, okay?” he started, and his double turned wide, patient eyes on him. “Promise me I won’t have to see anything like that again. There’s nothing we can do to change this now, but I can’t let it happen again, yeah? They’re my friends, and there’s a line.”

“Sure,” his doppelganger agreed. “You’re right. And I do like them, so—hm. I’ll treat them like I would my own friend.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied, finally letting the tension drain out of him. “That means a lot.”

His doppelganger just nodded in acknowledgement, then clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “C’mon. We’ve got more work to do.”

----- missed an installment of the sam reich!master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): you are here!

[minamill]

Family album

details under the cut

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[nonsense-is-everywhere]

Being silly.

SIKE! THIS WAS AN AD FOR MY NEW FIC THE WHOLE TIME. Boy I had you fooled. Anywho, here’s the summary along with the tags.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: SMG3 & SMG4 (SuperMarioGlitchy4)

Characters: SMG4 (SuperMarioGlitchy4), SMG3 (SuperMarioGlitchy4), Mr. Puzzles (SuperMarioGlitchy4), Bob Bobowski (SMG4), Fishy Boopkins (SMG4), Meggy Spletzer (SuperMarioGlitchy4), Tari (SuperMarioGlitchy4), Luigi (Nintendo)

Additional Tags: Little Mr. Puzzles is very important to me, Cannon typical shenanigans, SMG34 if you squint, Relationships aren't the focus tho, Takes place in the middle of the Puzzlevision movie, Little Puzzles is like 11 to me and will be written as such, May have projected my adhd onto him a tad, No beta we die like Axol did, Angst, Relatively new to the fandom, Anon is on because I'm a nervous person, The SMGs and Mini Puzzles are the main focus

Summary:

SMG4 and 3 escape one channel, just to be hit completely off track and fall into a seemingly endless void.

After meeting the floor, they find themselves in a room with a shadow like memory of a child, who is ecstatic to have finally made some friends.

If you’ve been wanting to see more Mini Puzzles centered fics like me, then consider reading.

And as much as I like thinking of interactions between Mini Puzzles and Mr. Puzzles, they won’t be seeing each other in the fic for a while 😔

[sunflawyer]

a little sunflawyer lore drop because its been too long since i did one!!

just as a way for me to show abby's personality better ☀️ it's about Abby and her patients.

its quite long though !!! (⁠⊙⁠_⁠◎⁠) but its sweet :3

abby is a psychologist who works at a clinic !!! her patients range from kids to adults :D so far the one that i would love to mention is Clara, a 9 year old girl who suffers from abvuse trauma. for clara's case, abby helps her to heal while jimmy helps bring justice for her by capturing the perpetrator.

recently i thought of a new patient!! this one is an elderly man named Sam who recently lost his wife. he goes to abby to help him cope with his grief. he tells abby everything about his marriage — the memories, the dreams, the moments... and sam's stories make abby think of jimmy. the same romance that sparkles between the two of them...

now, sam's wife's passing got her thinking about herself too. abby has a low blood pressure, which causes her to pass out quite often, and it always worries jimmy. she's afraid if something happens to her one day, jimmy will struggle to cope with it. and it terrifies her and haunts her mind for days until one day she can't take it anymore.

so one day, after she comes home from another session with sam, abby sits beside jimmy and asks him to make her cry. jimmy was taken aback of course — he never wanted to see abby cry, let alone being the one who caused it. but abby trusts him and says crying is a good way to cope with sadness to relief all of your bottled-up emotions. at work, she has to be tough for her patients, but today, she needs to ve vulnerable.

so, jimmy did. — he tells her about the day they met, about how he was instantly captivated by her the moment his eyes met hers. he tells her about their wedding day, how he was so nervous that he was the loudest to cry during their vows. he tells her the day tommy was born, the day tommy said 'mama', and the day when he first entered daycare. he tells her their memories together.

and she cried. of course not from sadness, but from happiness. they've been through a lot together. there were times when she doubted herself, and there were times when she was the happiest woman in the world. and she went through them with jimmy by her side.

he then pulls her into his arms and whispers, "its okay to cry, abby. i know you want to be tough for others, but with me, youre not just Dr. Abigail McGill, you're Abby. You're my wife, my best friend, the reason why I wake up with a smile everyday."

and he kisses her forehead, lingering there.

"you're a human, abby. a human with feelings. I'm here for you, to share your burdens with. i love you, no matter how you are feeling today, tomorrow, and the next day.

you're my heart."

[bonefall]

Does leopard still have 3 lives in her final battle? Or was that changed?

Yep. I think she drowned her once, then Leopardstar lunges up refreshed, and she gets the upper paw on Mistyfoot with 2 lives to go.

(MAYBE tw gore, but I really did try to be tasteful about a head being smashed on a rock.)

On her back, splashing and thrashing furiously against Leopardstar's claws dunking her head under, Mistyfoot glimpses a wave breaking just over the tip of a stone-blue rock. Her only chance.

With a surge of power, her claws sink into her leader's golden shoulder and they tumble and roll to the right. Before the tyrant even realizes what's happening, she's yanked up, and then whipped backwards with a wet CRUNCH

And then again

And again

And again, until Mistyfoot can't even make out what's left of her leader anymore. All she can see is that it's a red, brown, and yellow blur, because her eyes burning with salty tears and her whole body is trembling.

She drops the corpse onto the stone and it slides into the water, lifelessly. After a moment it spasms aimlessly one last time, like an insect does after its head is bitten off, unlike the deliberate, agonized throes of Tigerstar suffering through his doomed lives. And then it's still.

There's only the tranquil sound of bubbling water, and Mistyfoot's frenzied panting. Her pounding heart makes it hard to hear either.

The blood is carried off by the shallow water in scarlet swirls, but the lake runs pale red as if it's washing it away. Some were aware of this prophecy, but Mistyfoot was not.

It isn't closure to her, or a fulfillment of divine decree. It's just blood that should be on her paws, slicked away by the complicit river. She wished it could feel like it's over, but she's smart enough to know the truth. Has been through enough terrible events like this to understand what comes next.

Her body will move foward. Her mind will need to consider her deputy. Her paw will come down on code-defying cats like Blackclaw and Greenflower. But her heart will stay here, next to the remains of Leopardstar, the same way another piece of it remains at Stonefur's side across space and time.

[lodessa]

Started something . . .

“But really . . .” she says after a long silence, not lifting her cheek from its resting place against his chest, “Did you?”

A dozen teasing answers spring to mind, but here: alone and stripped of all armor, the last thing he wants to do is to put a wall up. So he runs his fingertips back down her bare spine, soaking in the reality of Kathryn: here in his arms at long last and replies simply: “No.”

Why do you say that like you’re embarrassed?” she questions, turning her face to look up into his, while staying wrapped close against him for the most part.  “Do you have something more shameful to tell me than what you apparently didn’t do while stuck alone on that planet with my hologram?”

Kathryn’s voice is curious, no hint of accusation or resentment to be found.  She can be a jealous mistress, this woman he loves with his entire being, but that apparently doesn’t extend to whatever she was imagining might have passed between him and her hologram.

It is a fair question.  It isn’t like the thought never occurred to him. It’s not even like holoJaneway (yes, he still insists on thinking of her that way, never holoKathryn) hadn’t broached the topic.  (That’s irony for you, isn’t it? All the years the two of them spent talking around it, but he’s had dozens of conversations about himself and Kathryn with her holographic facsimile.)  He spent a decade with only holoJaneway for comfort and he wouldn’t even let himself truly have that.

“It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” he has to admit.  “But as much as having that little imitation sliver of you kept me going, kept me alive . . . I think it would have hurt more than it would have helped to pretend like that.”

I didn’t deserve the comfort, a voice inside of him adds.  Not after what happened to my crew, to Adreek . . . Not knowing I could never come back to you and you might never know why.

“Noble,” she bites her lip with a smile. “Principled. Honorable. Long suffering.”

And with that, Kathryn shifts her weight to roll more evenly on top of him, beginning to crawl her way up.

“I felt more like I was being a petulant child sometimes,” he admits.  “Refusing comfort, taking my own frustrations out on an imperfect copy for not actually being you.”

Which isn’t exactly the romance hero answer, but that’s kind of the point.  He’s here now, running his fingers through the bits of gray in Kathryn’s hair.  She’s real and can be too, finally.   This isn’t some hallucination, some fantasy temptation to pristine to be true.  He looks up into her smile lined face and his regret is that he wasn’t there to see every millimeter of them forming.

[rinbylin]

li xiangyi, yin, and femininity

we all know that li xiangyi is a character of fractured identities. and li lianhua is an unreliable narrator to his own story. these make him not the most straightforward character to study. but I've believed in treating li lianhua as a part of li xiangyi, rather than separates. and there must be a common thread that ties all of him together. thus, I offer what I have found to be the most useful lens to use to view him as a cohesive whole, regardless as li xiangyi, li lianhua, or any other identity he may reinvent into: his 阴 yin qualities. (yin of yinyang)

this framework suggested by the drama's text itself has helped clarify to me his strengths, weaknesses, motivations, and struggles. by identifying this constant, too, makes it so much easier talking about what has changed in him.

[to the, hopefully growing, boli lhl hivemind @markiafc @ananeiah]

-

there are some notes on the concept of yinyang and chinese conceptualisation of gender I have to preface with.

[disclaimer: of course, I'm not even trying to cover a tip of what experts have extensively studied and debated in a depth it deserves. all I'm doing is try to parse the broad, fundamental ideas that are needed to explain my blorbos through my own spotty brain filter. so there bound to be nuances I've overlooked or some degree of my own interpretation. pretentious but needs to be done.]

阴 yin and 阳 yang are concepts characterised by passiveness, darkness, gentleness, femininity etc, and proactivity, light, toughness, masculinity etc respectively. a very key and handy concept to have in mind is their relationship to each other - which I'll not attempt at explaining better than literal scholars have:

Yin and yang exist only in relation to one another internally as the way warmth-coldness only exist relative to one another. Furthermore, when using yin-yang as an organizational schema, achieving balancing harmony is always the goal, not domination nor subordination of one to the other. [x]

while yin and yang can be symbols of femininity and masculinity, it doesn't mean all female are yin and all male are yang. it's certainly not a strict 1-to-1 equation. the concept of gender in chinese context is more social than biological. this suggests room for fluidity, and shaping of identities, often through social rituals as one journeys through life. it also means that there can be femininity in the masculine, and vice versa - in fact, that's only healthy because you need a good balance of the two worlds. no one part is better than the other. if you think of the two components as relative to each other, they are always interacting and affecting each other, rather than being strict and inert binaries. simply put, it needs to be kept in mind that there are greater nuances in applying yin and yang to the definitions of gender, and to avoid at all cost a simplification of this framework into a binary.

sure, the show has implied that lxy's powers and energy are yin-coded. but femininity is only one of the multiple attributes of yin. so how are we extending lxy's yin to femininity specifically? it's in the text that substantiates and qualifies lxy as feminine. dead women being used as proxies to his character. being literally dressed as a woman in order to put himself into their shoes and feel what they've felt. adopting a name that happens to be very, very feminine - 莲花 lianhua (lit. lotus flower) (it must be caveated that chinese names are NOT gendered. but there are just some names that are more feminine than others.) him coming to lead a life revolving around traditionally feminine, domestic things as li lianhua. him having interactions with the women around him like he's in his own element - no pressure and tension at all, unlike with all the other men.

as such, I'm more willing to use yin and femininity interchangeably in discussing lxy (while it's not necessarily applicable to every point that will be mentioned albeit there being some degree of implied association). and it's for the sake of elucidating what I feel is an intention or very plausible reading of the canon text in parsing feminine experiences in lxy's character. and thus, his queerness.

one last note is that taoism is going be mentioned quite a bit as well because of how much it as a philosophy honours the yin quality. its key tenets include valuing passiveness and inaction as a form of action, and submitting to the nature of things. and we will see how those come up in lxy's life too. (though I'm not gonna attempt to deep dive into it here beyond broad strokes of it.)

-

a huge part of li xiangyi's yin actually manifests in him being a passive person. this applies not just to li lianhua, but also li xiangyi. I know. ok wait hear me out. the idea of yinyang is after all components that can change and are relational to each other: thus, there were points in li xiangyi's life when he was less passive than other points, but they ultimately don't match up to the degree of aggression displayed by other men around him. so relative to their display of proactivity and aggression, he can be considered as passive. the best example is that of shan gudao proposing to launch an offensive on jinyuan alliance, while lxy - as much as he was arrogant about it - was standing his ground on not taking action in favour of peace.

it has already showed up in his childhood as well. he wasn't a particularly competitive child: 从来都没有谁要和你争 nobody has ever thought of competing with you over anything, he told sgd as he recalled of their times growing up. it was in fact sgd who was desperate to control and override lxy's presence. baby lxy did not hesitate at all over giving up on winning in favour of protecting his only rare few close relationships left in the world (given how hard-earned relationships are when they're non-familial !!!!). as much as I resent the one-dimensional writing of sgd, he has served as a very strong marker to highlight on lxy's yin.

-

I've harped on it several times before but this is the time I finally get to explain it proper: my own theory is that li xiangyi became an unparalleled swordsmaster because of his yin/feminine quality, not in spite of it. an interesting point that had been out in the open unclaimed until it was brought up in our friend group is that, li xiangyi does not actually fit anybody's conventional image of a 武林盟主 wulin mengzhu (ie. ruler of wulin). it would most likely have been some burly, muscular, ultra-masculine dude. even if they don't look like the demonic monk, it should be someone more like di feisheng. but. it's li xiangyi, the boyish, delicate-looking kid, who came to the top. (no wonder people - mostly men - love or love to bully hate him like weak men hate powerful women??)

"why didn't they cast someone who looks more like a wulin mengzhu (read: traditionally manly)?" no, no that's precisely the point. nobody said wulin mengzhu have to look manly. and also who is to define the manliness required to be in a place of authority? (or in my other meta, we would ask, who is to define anybody gets to have the authority over anyone else at all?)

by taoist ideal, gentleness is the most refined form of strength. li xiangyi has been haunting and distracting me in my chinese calligraphy practices lately because I'm thinking about how this must be the closest to what it felt like lxy becoming the best swordsman in jianghu. (so pretentiously brainrotten of me, I know, BUT IT'S REAL and I'm suffering.) mastering a chinese art is essentially about mastering a delicate balance between force and gentleness; being able to draw force from softness 柔中带刚 and an ability to maintain this balance. a beginner will instinctively hold a brush for the first time with brute, unrefined force. some fairly reputable contemporary calligraphers, according to my teacher, can be seen as being either too soft or too forceful - but are still able to pass off as good enough. it's then, the master of masters who will have the sophistication of a firm yet flexible control of the brush with the appropriate use of gentleness/laxness that produces a harmony of strokes. this idea extends to any other sort of chinese craft or practice including traditional chinese medicine, and I believe, swordsmanship too. I'm taking a fucking leap of faith here to say this because I practise NO sort of (chinese) martial arts, I must caveat. (someone who does may want to say something...) but theoretically that should be how it works.

it is not for no rhyme or reason, or *handwaves* that lxy emerged to the top AND is almost undefeatable. among a competitive, forceful (ie. yang) wulin, li xiangyi stood out with a power and energy defined by yin (ie. gentleness and stability) that led him to create his signature 扬州慢 yangzhouman. it is characterised by 慢 slowness (my calligraphy teacher says to us all the time to take it slow), and also described by dfs as 中正绵长 - which I would best describe by painting a picture of a steady and stable stream. these precisely speak of the essence of a mastery of gentleness as strength to me.

conversely, dfs's way in mastering power is very largely premised on taking action because he literally had no other choice in the environment he grew up in. both of them develop in opposite ways. it was the case of gentleness for lxy clearly because he grew up in a safe, nurturing environment that had allowed him to be slow and steady at his own pace, drawing on his natural gifts.

-

now top of the wulin world at 17, li xiangyi founds sigu sect. li xiangyi, the boy before becoming menzhu and li xiangyi the leader of sigu sect are not the same.

how then did a (relatively) passive boy like lxy end up founding sigu sect. this lxy is the one who was fostered into competition - though not in an abusive, twisted way. in fact he was raised in a rather taoist way by his shifu: to be honest with yourself and respect your opponent. so he honoured whatever powers he had been bestowed with by nature. he gives into it. even so, at another level, I just have a sense that shifu and shiniang's competitive marital spat had an insidious effect on the boys...though the detrimental effect was more on sgd than lxy. baby lxy feels like a sweet-natured kid who was just in his own zone, you know - some (aka sgd) would say, too much of him even, to have not realised what was wrong at all with his shixiong for years.

that's not all of course. I've always gotten the vibes that his attitude behind forming sigu sect felt more like, this is what all the good men of jianghu do and I will have to do it now especially that I'm the best. it didn't feel particularly personal to me, but rather what would have been expected of him by the social climate of wulin jianghu (eg. lxy saying to 光耀师门 bring honour to his teacher). it's definitely not an expectation from his shifu, who explicitly told him that he was never expected to become a noble figure of any sort, but just to be alive and contented. as concluded by the man himself as li lianhua: "有些人入了江湖是为了立心，而有的人入江湖为的是立命。我却不知道自己真正想要的是什么。some people enter jianghu for the cultivation of the mind, others for a cultivation of a meaningful life. but I never knew what I truly wanted." he was ultimately, unwittingly a passive player in his own story of becoming the great sigu sect leader.

(at this point, as a side note, I do wonder if there were any other similar sects or alliances that function the same as sigu sect that came before it. because I'm damn well sure there must be something, as likely as there must have been generations of wulin legends who came before lxy. but of course, this is not what the story is concerned with at all and I'm ok with that.)

it's crucial to point out that, even despite this being the phase of his yang in the display of taking action and enacting firmness, lxy had still done sigu sect with the sole purpose and manner of upkeeping peace and order (in the way of the pro-universal love, anti-aggression mohist 侠 xia leader of the people). he's still very characterised by yin in my books, especially when vis-à-vis to sgd.

a li xiangyi full of himself and made himself too useful to the people was only bound for a great asteroidal fall, in the concept of 物极必反 - or in taoist lexicon 反者道之动 (ie. anything that has reached its limit will only start developing in the opposite direction). if you think you're above all, you can only go down.

this manifests during the next time he took action - and it was one so forceful that it overpowered even his opponent, dfs who ended up being the passive, receiving party in this case - was in initiating the battle at donghai 10 years ago... and gee oh boy. it didn't end well - for both of them, but even more so for lxy. (dfs was like 'tis but a scratch (shrugs)' as compared to him being ripped off his tendons by jiao liqiao like nezha did to the dragon prince. truth is he had to go into a 10-year healing retreat served by his entourage. :p) ok, I digress.

xiao zijin was quick to attribute sigu sect's fall to lxy's arrogance - in turn setting the stage for lxy's 10 years of self-hatred and the framing of lxy as a villain? irresponsible figure? by jianghu. (god forbid girls do anything! ok for legal reasons, this a joke.) lxy lost his mind in ways I believe he never had in his life there and then upon seeing his shixiong dead. so, you could say he led the jianghu world to ruins out of love (using this term loosely). but it feels inaccurate to say it's due to arrogance. he did not do that out of self-importance or ego, especially when the revenge for sgd was a collective decision made by sigu sect as we know from the flashback. so when llh pinned all fault on himself for being arrogant in the past, it is with caution to take his words because that's the unreliable narrator in him speaking.

-

anyway, it's precisely li xiangyi that is capable of bouncing back from such a fatal crisis, equipped with his yin and a mastery that gave him the power of flexibility.

it's extremely vital to re-establish that literally the only thing that was keeping li xiangyi alive, physically, as li lianhua is yangzhouman. (monk wuliao literally said that to lxy even though he did facilitate in saving him.) it's the yangzhouman that was drawn from lxy's mastery of yin. without yangzhouman, li xiangyi would not even have the chance to become li lianhua and undergo any needed process of transformation. without li xiangyi, there would have been no yangzhouman. no li xiangyi, no li lianhua, get it?

the point is not to deny the change li xiangyi wants to make and has made. but to acknowledge that change isn't about complete erasure and destruction. something from you survives. something in you had kept you alive to have you come so far, regardless of all the bad bits that you want to denounce of. you've always been worth it.

bringing back the thing about his new name: the distinction must be made that he did not pick it because it was feminine but it just so happened a feminine name had resonated with him. (read: he didn't necessarily identify as a woman but identified with femininity. at least within the parameters of canon text.)

he also made an interesting choice to retain his surname for someone who was desperate to sever ties from his past. hmm. or maybe he wasn't that desperate? when li lianhua says li xiangyi is dead, I believe it meant that li xiangyi the sigumen menzhu is dead rather than li xiangyi as an entirety. li lianhua is a returning to the path lxy could have gone if he did not establish sigu sect, the path that shifu wanted him to take. when he walked to the doors of sigu sect in the aftermath, nothing was actually stopping him from going back (people were still around and alive, instead of all dead people, you know)... except for himself. taking that action would have been too much for him. so he went with the flow of life giving him a chance at rebirth and walked away. there, inaction as a form of action.

zhan yunfei and qiao wanmian have said to li lianhua, oh that doesn't sound like li xiangyi at all. but has it been considered that, maybe it was sigu sect's lxy who wasn't the real lxy? sigu sect lxy was one big performance of the values of masculinity and heteronormativity that llh had came to an awareness of, and eventually struggle with again and resist against in the final year of his life. there had only been some glimpses of his true nature allowed (validated by fang duobing talking about lxy at his altar).

imho, most flashbacks of lxy during that period felt impersonal and more like a template of a hero expected to marry his girl at 18. going through all the motions and steps of a normative life even before he was old enough to grasp and explore his own identity and what it meant in the world. no wonder he denounced so much of what he had done as lxy including liking girls. walking away then also meant a walk away from those duties and expectations. li lianhua is li xiangyi liberated from masculine duties and heteronormative performance.

in doing that, he had the opportunity for the first time in his life to explore what he truly wanted, at least within the parameters of what he could afford to do at that point. he could go on to build a domestic, feminine life within the space of jianghu (as I've established here). it's a kind of feminine lifestyle that doesn't quite exist in mainstream society - being a woman there meant to stay put in a domestic space without much room to move socially. nor did it exist in wulin jianghu because even the women there like shi-guniang and jlq were expected to be masculine, aggressive, competitive. so building a mobile home in the space of jianghu is his way of defining the life he wants and can have. li lianhua is the extension of femininity in li xiangyi - and one that can be free.

it's also worth talking about in my opinion what is one of the most important and a favourite dihua moment: when dfs said to lxy that his greatest weakness was to like being a hero. and a swordsman should be without weaknesses. I'm forever wrapped up in how many layers this can be read in. was he mad at lxy for liking to be a hero or having weaknesses, or both? if the former, it was dfs criticising, based on lxy's public reputation, lxy's oversized illusions about being a hero - a figure of masculinity with an unrealistic sense to uphold noble goals eg. saving the world etc. that is actually perfectly logical coming from dfs, the straightforward, no-nonsense, morally neutral guy with no illusions about heroism (in this case, he feels more like a yin). but at the same time, we should understand that lxy's motivations behind the donghai battle are more personal than noble. if any, it was actually the opposite of noble - it was like he was acting out of the role of a caretaker of his family, and at a cost of the peace and order of jianghu he was set on guarding(!!) dfs also knew that lxy was there just for his shixiong. and so, dfs, who happens to be the epitome of yang, can be read as a symbol of masculinity disapproving of lxy for being sentimental and emotional; for having the "feminine" desires to simply want to defend his family (not saying those are exclusively feminine traits but they have been conventionally associated as feminine). I think both layers of reading are correct and should work together to contribute to the complexity of their characters. (we can see how it contributes to lxy and dfs being the perfect yinyang halves to each other, which I will come back to briefly touch on later.)

-

for 10 years he lived a life of seclusion and staying-in-his-own-lane a taoist would be proud of. he knew he was dying and has always been ok with dying, as he claimed. but did he want to die? to think of it, it was the opposite. because in those 10 years when he could have 100% just taken action to take his own life, he didn't. in fact, he lived on and took care of himself in the way shifu wanted him to. he had simply preferred letting nature run its course. if bicha didn't take him, he wasn't gonna do anything. but if he died one day very soon, he would be ok with it too. sure, he was maybe banking on a lead to sgd's whereabouts to appear during his last years alive but that clearly wasn't the only thing on his mind for NINE years because he didn't actively go out seeking for that either. this is basically him telling dfs that he would just lie in the sun and wait for the sweet release of death, if dfs were to force him to fight. not even the mortal threat from dfs was enough to move him into action of fighting back or killing himself.

time and again, lxy as llh was dragged into fdb's cases but not only that, he also maintained an impersonal distance with them. it's starkly different from the usual (wuxia) hero archetypes (for eg. fdb) who would be more impassioned and personally invested in the plight of the victims- or unlike most seemingly aloof protagonists who would somehow grow emotionally invested over time. one of the many things I love about llh is that he never tries a second time to persuade people out of their decisions he finds unwise (eg. him just wanting to move on in response to the girls in 女宅 insisting on staying behind with their slave master at first.) he will not interfere in other people's choices made in their own lives. it's not his business. he didn't even want to be there, to be honest.

however as the story progresses, more and more people - especially men, his past, and the leads to the truth came back to demand and taunt him into doing something. they vary from well-meaning people without any harm intended such as fdb intruding upon his private space completely uninvited and qwm wanting him back; to dfs merely seeking him as a mean to an end initially (eg. I only need him to live long enough to have one last fight); and finally, on the other end of the spectrum, outright aggressive and hostile people like sgd and xzj who wanted him to die. under all this pressure, he tried his best to deflect, but he does waver especially when it comes to matters concerning the people he cares about aka his obsession wish of 10 years of looking for sgd's remains that had lied low until fdb entered his life, and then later on taking revenge for his shifu.

looking for sgd became his final bid at taking action. he was operating on a slim chance of getting some emotional closure from finding out his shixiong is dead for real, yes. what a good plan. but objectively unnecessary. or surprise! uhhh...finding out his beloved shixiong is actually alive and would strangle him for one corn chip? AND OH NO IT GOT WORSE- uncovering a devastating truth about his shifu's death that he could have totally gone on with life fine without knowing if he had continued not caring.

but it is sometimes just impossible not to care - it is only human to care. and he is human, not an icon in the image of a hero. so he took a chance, once more, and it killed him in unprecedented ways. it's donghai all over again. things in life don't go as planned. you fuck around and it fucks you back. finding out the truth behind his shifu's death and his family background from the past did nothing for him as li lianhua living in the present.

it's no wonder that this lxy decisively relinquishes the desire to take action in the end. he goes back to letting nature run its course. and this time, stands firmly to it despite everyone begging him otherwise. wangchuan flower could only give him a recovery (or survival?) rate of 30%. there's a 70% chance of failure and even in the 30% he was not sure what he was to become. in comparison, dfs took a 10% chance game of survival in a heartbeat, and it pushed him to new heights. that's how they differ: he thrives by taking risks and action while lxy the other way round. so, something like that has happened before and he wants none of it again.

-

he leaves lotus tower, only taking his horse and a sack - relinquishing almost every other material belonging he had - and sets off on a journey. before xzj interrupted...where to was he going?? I wonder. we don't know for sure, I think? and are we allowed to know? that makes the scene he had with xzj an understated inflection point in the very last part of his journey. yes, he was already on his way to...maybe die? but not necessarily. you don't have to travel distances with your belongings for that, right? or speak to dfs personally about not wanting to fight? (borrowing one of @ananeiah's takes.) regardless, he was definitely leaving behind jianghu - not only wulin jianghu (he already did that 10 years ago), but also the jianghu space he had carved out in the last 10 years.

what sparked the decision to jump off the cliff in him was dfs's words from the night of their wedding 10th donghai anniversary: 横扫天下容易，断相夷太剑不易 conquering the world is easy, breaking xiangyi sword is not. in the original context, dfs was talking about defeating lxy being harder than conquering the world. but when it came to this scene, it was to lxy about forsaking the very last worldly possessions he had after already giving up on lotus tower and hulijing (including releasing his horse), especially his only connection left to swordsman lxy.

perhaps it had dawned on him that, wanting things at all was bad for him. in the last 10 years, he lived a life of seclusion, wanting very little. but he had still wanted things. there were still things he couldn't let go of that had led him to this state. despite having lived on an identity inspired by a buddhist teaching for 10 years, maybe it was only at this point that he was finally the closest to reaching an understanding of it. (I wish I was knowledgeable enough right now to dive into the possible buddhist reading here but alas. I'll leave it to our resident expert @markiafc)

it doesn't quite matter in the end where he was going after all. what mattered was that he literally went where the water took him and we're not supposed to know where it ends. I'm not seeing this in a bad and pessimistic way though. I think the relief in all this is that he had tried his best to within his abilities. also it's a form of enlightenment in relinquishing a desire, an obsession, a need to take any more action in order to live well. thus his ending felt to me relatively tender, empowering, and kind - albeit bittersweet and heartaching - than other possible kinds of ending, in a story where it was very possible for him to have died under the knives of his opponents or bicha at any moment, outside of his control.

-

if you've come so far in this post, congratulations! but also a reveal is that... you're not immune to the dihua propaganda threaded throughout this post. :P

as mentioned, other men like sgd and xzj in lxy's life were incredibly hostile to him. their yang nature overwhelmingly powers his yin. but dfs is different. dfs is the yang counterpart that fits perfectly to his yin.

dfs's yang is one that contains yin, that mirrors lxy's balance of yang in yin. it was suggested in text they are yinyang-coded meant to complement each other, given that whenever wangchuan flower's yin vs yang properties were discussed, the two men were always spoken about in the same breath. more importantly, as with the above few analyses of dfs's words playing a big role in shaping of lxy's choices with multiple meanings - as well as their day-to-day interactions - we can see that they constantly play off each other.

dfs's yang energy has been used to help lxy prolong his life (though not saving him entirely), while lxy has used his yin energy to save dfs and subsequently helped him attain his breakthrough. dfs has also helped lxy in his breakthrough of yin but not in the same way as dfs's cultivation of his combative powers, and rather, it's for lxy an understanding of his own path to take in life - a cultivation of the mind (both times 10 years before and after). given how significant dfs is in the shaping of lxy's realisation of the yin path - alike his shifu has, it's no wonder that they were the only two people lxy had imagined in his last sword dance of a farewell to jianghu.

with each of them coming together to form the perfect yin-yang model, they're a harmony of yin and yang representing the cosmos. what I also love is that they didn't start out as a perfect fit, but only towards the end of the story was the harmonisation completed, which makes sense for two components that are always in a flux influencing each other. the fact that they were number 1 and 2 of wulin, and being the only ones capable of understanding each other in a level nobody else could... it all reinforces the cosmic sense of their relationship. they're the halves to a whole, fitting in a specific way nobody else can.

(I mean. technically this is going into the space of extrapolation based on a tangential interpretation of canon text, so do take it with a pinch of salt. but of course this pinch of salt can do wonders for a shipper's feast... :P and this certainly could have been a meta of its own expanding on dfs's side of the analysis, but this is it for now in this context.)

-

to think of it, li xiangyi has actually died more than that one time that turned him into li lianhua. first was a death of him as a nanyin royalty - I resent having to bring up nanyin like it should hold any weight to the narrative as far as I'm concerned, but the point being that he had a completely different (familial-based) life before that still stands. then he had a rebirth as li xiangyi, disciple and swordsman to his shifu and shiniang, and later died again when li xiangyi the sigu sect leader took over. lxy the sigu sect leader died at sea in the battle 10 years ago and came back as li lianhua. (just like nezha, died after battling at east sea and rebirthed from the lotus) li lianhua then dies by the end of the drama.

there can be a myriad of interpretations as to what exactly happened to him, including the possibility that he's still alive. regardless, we can agree that li lianhua as an identity has ran its course, and he had to evolve again. but into what form?

in the line of thought of yin and femininity, and how his transformation has been in an increasing degree of presentation of femininity - even way back when I was watching the show, I had the idea of him living socially as a woman post-li lianhua. I don't know what he would be realistically doing or what could be practical for him in such an identity. but conceptually it was sensible and compelling to me before diving deeper into the details. (I have more elaboration to do on this that I won't be talking about here publicly but it is in the same strain of idea as this other comparative meta I wrote.)

I think the next possible identity lxy can assume - alive in the material realm or not - is one that will be beyond a material being. a nameless entity. once you've gone through the phases of life - from not knowing to knowing, and perfecting knowledge, then to the surpassing of knowledge - you surpass all worldly existence, and become one with the cosmos.

I end this off with an excerpt from Tao Te Ching's Chapter 41 (I'm not pretending to have read the whole book ok but I couldn't resist including this):

明道若昧，进道若退，夷道若纇 [...] 道隐无名 The bright path seems dim; Going forward seems like retreat; The easy way seems hard [...] The Tao is hidden and without name. (x)

the character translated into "easy" is the same 夷 yi of li xiangyi's name. somehow this seems to encapsulate the journey of his life: one that seems blessed and smooth-sailing but ending up to be rocky and turbulent. but at the end of the day, after all that he had been through, he will become hidden and without name.

[wewerebornsextuplets]

it's looking like a restless night for me once again and i can't lie at least half of that is the fault of me thinking too hard about how memory worlds work

[beforeitrains]

"Go play with someone else, Sou."