yuelily - Tumblr blog

yuelily · 3 years ago

Text

redamancy

pairing - zhongli x gender neutral reader (historical au!)

word count - 8053

genre - fluff to angst

format - fic

warnings - blood, unspecified illnesses, major character death, non-canonverse

summary - you're a simple farmer who is greeted by a handsome man seeking shelter one winter's night

a/n - i've pretty much always been a big fan of vocaloid and while going through the playlist i made ages ago, i found this song! and after watching the video i just HAD to write something related for zhongli. it fits his vibe really well and i do wanna write more for my favorite archon :) (had to repost this since it wasn't showing up in the tags :<)

disclaimer - i'm basing this fic off of the PV for rin and len's song "feathers across the seasons" (make sure to turn on english captions!). the video and song itself are based off of the japanese folklore story called "tsuru nyōbō" (the crane wife). you can read more about it here under the subheading "the crane wife". i do not own the PV for "feathers across the seasons" nor am i the original writer or holder of "the crane wife", i'm merely creating something inspired by these two works. all rights are reserved to their original creators.

content under the cut!

𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

(𝘯.) 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢��𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶

all your life, you’ve settled for simple.

a simple life, in a simple home, with the simple job of tending to your crops. simplicity was like your covering, without it you were bare; nothing.

but the man who came knocking gently thrice at your door didn’t seem simple—far from it actually. dressed in an elegant, brown, silk kimono lined with what looked like sparkling gold, his beauty rivalled that of the finest men and women you’d ever seen in your life: silky, copper hair tied back with an intricate hairpiece, a single earring that dangled from his left ear, a jawline that mimicked the sharpest of your scythes, not to mention those honeyed eyes that seemed to stare past your soul straight into you.

despite his heavenly and regal appearance, the plum colored skin that hung from underneath his eyes told a different story. his shallow breaths and flushed face painted the stage for trickles of sweat to slowly dribble down the side of his head. his limber body slumped itself pitifully against your chipped wooden door frame—no exquisite garments nor stunning hairpieces could shield one against the harsh frost of winter.

“please...excuse my appearance,” with a voice of rust and disuse, he found your eyes and silently prayed you could hear the pitifully weak hum of his heart, “i humbly seek your aid, for if i bear the cold any longer i may not live to see the morning.”

the word “no” wanted to slip past your lips—he was a stranger for god’s sake. and yet the image of his frail body amidst pure snow and misty frost tugged at the strings that surrounded your heart. call it pity, or goodwill, you knew you couldn’t turn him away. some part of you felt like you’d gazed into those same ichor-swirly eyes before. where this sudden familiarity had come from, you weren’t entirely sure. perhaps the fuzzy, soft snow that fell from the sky or the frosty chills that swept by from time to time were playing games with your mind. your simple life was but a glass pane and he’d come tumbling, crashing through the surface.

on that wintery night, you chose to cede your simple life when you took him by the arm and laid him to rest on your tattered futon.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

zhongli was his name. he told you over a bowl of steaming hot rice and vegetable stew.

you hadn’t slept a wink all night since you let him step forth into your humble abode, holding the shiny blade of a small sickle close to your hammering chest in case you had let in a monster by mistake. unless monsters prepared breakfast for their prey, you had the idea to put the sickle away once you smelled the delicious aroma from the kitchen.

“mister zhongli-”

“just zhongli is fine, please save your formalities when it is i who imposes on you.” over your dilapidated wooden table, he slid a chipped ceramic bowl of rice towards you, billowing smoke still rising from the fresh food.

“alright then...zhongli, do you have somewhere to return to? i may not have much to offer in terms of goods but at the very least i’d like to escort you back to your home lest you fall ill on the way back.” you pried between bites of fluffy rice and tasty vegetables.

he shook his head no, setting his chopsticks down on the drab, fern colored rim of his empty bowl. “i’ve no place to return to, nor anywhere to call home. i am a simple wanderer.”

suspicious, you cocked up an eyebrow and sized up his garb again. “for someone dressed so finely, you certainly don’t look like a wanderer.”

layered in honey and doused with sugar, the mellifluous laugh that slipped past his lips briskly strolled through the channels of your ears and drank in the sound like sweet nectar. “it appears so, but do take my word for it. i am not trying to deceive you.” he sprinkled an amused smile on top of his reassurance.

“i-” you both opened your mouths to speak at the same time, and clamped your lips shut once the notes of your voices overlapped each other.

zhongli smiled to himself. he shuffled to the side of the table, placed his large palms on either side of his silk covered thighs, and dipped his head down towards you. “thank you, for taking me into your lovely house. i am forever in your debt,” you tried to silence his gratitude but he simply carried onwards playing deaf to your denying words, “i humbly request to be kept within your company as i have nowhere else to go. if you would be so kind as to employ me, i promise i shall make myself useful.”

you were...hesitant, on accepting such a proposal. being nothing but a mere peasant farmer, it baffled you entirely why someone who looked as refined and elegant as zhongli did would want to take up residence in your simple home where the rainwater sometimes got in and spiders found solace in the cracks and crevices you left unchecked. though suspicious, you felt a slight tinge of pain lacerate your heart upon further inspection of the man before you. a gentle smile painted itself on his features but within the deep pools of his golden eyes swirled bouts of loneliness and incomprehensible emotions that were not yours to decipher. it was almost as if he saw something within you that was blind to your eyes alone.

“i have not much to offer but a roof over your head, food on the table, sometimes, a futon to sleep in at night and...my simple company,” with a wry smile, you gently slid your fingers under his chin and lifted his head from his bowing position, “but if you so desire, it is yours if you wish to have it.”

a sugar laced smile found its way onto his face and he simply nodded in response. “that is all i ask for.”

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

spring had come shortly after his arrival, and with spring came time for the new planting season. you’d made an informal contract with zhongli: in exchange for residence in your house, zhongli would assist you in your agricultural endeavors.

zhongli clearly was no farmer. you’d known it since the day you first ran your fingers over the soft, fleshy skin of his pale palms that have not known a hard day’s work in their life, while yours were calloused and carved of hours of diligence and perseverance.

“i prefer more...scholarly means of work.” he explained with a handful of weeds clutched in one fist, the other holding the leafy protrusions of bright orange carrots.

you found that he was a quick learner, grasping the basics even after a single demonstration. despite the soft, pillowy texture of his palms, zhongli was able to wield any tool given to him with accurate precision and delicacy.

unfortunately for him, his attire was far from practical, despite being one of the most beautiful pieces of cloth you’d ever laid eyes upon. “it’d be a shame if something so lovely were to be ruined by dirt,” you mused while running the tips of your fingers against the brown, watery silk of his kimono, “you’re welcome to use my spare clothes.”

zhongli simply shook his head and rose from the wooden porch overlooking your quaint garden, “i shall return within the hour with a solution.” was all he said with a kind smile before languidly walking off down the dirt path. true to his word, he returned an hour later with a neatly folded kimono in one hand, and a simple, snow white lily in the other. the kimono he displayed to you was much more simpler than the one he currently donned despite boasting a similar brown color palette, but would be much more practical for kneeling in dirt than his current clothes were.

“where did you get this?” a cunning thing he was, he merely smiled and dodged the question by tucking the lily behind your ear.

“do not let that concern you,” was his reply before stepping inside, though you noticed his leather sandals were missing from his now bare and scratched feet, one of which boasted a nasty, healed over wound in the shape of a jagged star.

your hands came up to touch the soft petals of the lily and you smiled to yourself in response. the lily found a home for itself sitting in a small vase by your windowsill, only for it to wither away a week later.

despite his aptitude for basic farm work, zhongli still found himself stumbling about, not unlike a small child taking their first steps. you found it quite adorable: the way he’d often come hurrying to you with a boat full of questions swaying adrift at sea waiting for you to anchor him with grounded answers.

“you’re quite a fast learner.” you smiled over your worn down table, basking in the last rays of sunlight before the moon was to make its appearance.

“i believe i am, but you have been very patient with me and for that i must thank you.” he dabbed the edges of his lips with a tattered cloth and reached over to your side of the table for your empty dishes, but your nimble hands latched onto his before he could retract them. a frown fell upon your face as your fingers traced the fresh cuts and bruises that littered his fleshy palms and the tips of his rosied fingers from a hard day’s work in your field.

“you’re hurt.” you mumbled, looking up at him with eyes full of worry.

“it’s quite alright, they are a mark of my work here.”

“it’s not fine at all, come here.” you tutted and took the dishes away from his marred hands. with feathery touches and gentle tugs, you brought his hands onto your cloth covered lap and softly pressed a damp rag into the cracks and crevices of his skin. he hissed as the sudden sharp sting of cool water against his searing wounds, but bit the end of his tongue to silence his grimaces.

“you truly are kind.” you rose your head in the middle of wrapping the middle of his palm to be greeted by the warmest expression zhongli had ever given you, a look that flipped your insides one hundred and eighty degrees.

“it’s nothing, really.” you hurriedly said in one breath, averting your eyes from his searing gaze and finding a place staring at the contusions that danced on his fair skin.

the fabric pads of his bandaged fingers came under your chin and tilted your head upwards to meet his eyes. “you mustn’t bow your head, how would one be able to see your lovely eyes?”

it was almost as if his words were a thick reservoir of honey and all you had to do was stick your tongue out and you’d be able to taste sweet sugar on your tongue. he kept his fingers on your chin which gave you the opportunity to stare into his pools of gold. that same nagging feeling of familiarity tugged at your sides and slithered their way up to your mind. what lay within those precious eyes was something you’d seen before, though in the end you chalked it up to the tiredness of your mind and resumed cleaning and bandaging his wounds, only this time you were ever so slightly more gentle and your touch lingered on his hands for just a moment longer than necessary.

near the end of spring when the flowers of your fruit had begun to wilt and give way for the buds of sweet peaches and apples, you invited him to sit on your porch and drink tea with you—an invitation he instantaneously accepted. you’d come to know of his love for tea and sweet smelling herbs, though you insisted that this time, you’d be the one to serve him and left him sitting alone on the porch, gazing into the honeyed sun that slowly dipped below the inky horizon.

when you returned, balancing a tray holding two steaming cups of green tea, you were greeted with the low hum of the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard in your entire life. with a nectarous smile embedded on his handsome face, zhongli hummed a gentle, saccharine tune to the chubby, brown bird that sat firmly on his index finger. completely enamoured, you couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face as you listened to him sing a few lyrics of his ballad. several other small birds of varying colors, shapes, and sizes had gathered at his feet and looked up with bright, round eyes as he continued his sweet, mellifluous song.

“what a beautiful voice,” you murmured, stooping down next to him with sparkling eyes. his auric pupils augmented but dissolved into a kind smile.

“i am glad you like it.”

you found it easier to be around him in a friendlier setting after a while. he’d taken kindly to you from the very beginning, but of course you had your apprehensions in letting a stranger into your home. regardless, he’d proven himself worthy of your companionship and trust through his not only never ending dedication to your practice but the euphony of his baritone voice as you listened to him speak of flowers and honeybees. a kind friend, someone who brought surprising comfort in the wake of your loneliness in the fitting arrival of spring—of new beginnings.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

when exactly you tripped over your heels and stumbled into love, you weren’t exactly sure, perhaps it was when the branches of your fruit trees began to sag with the lumbering weight of its budding fruits. but you knew for certain what exactly it was that let your eyes linger a tad longer than what would be considered platonic, or what let the tips of your fingers brush against his more and more while taking his bowl after dinner. like the coming summer, your love had blossomed from a delicate flower into a bulbous, sweet fruit that held within it a universe of possibilities. a single look from him had you flustered and babbling incomprehensibly much like a child.

recently, he’d been teaching you to write starting off with your name. sitting against his back, his large palms would gently wrap around your fingers and help you guide the brush over the parchment paper. “your name in ink rivals that of the most beautiful of paintings,” he murmured into your ear, far too close for the comfort of just friends. perhaps it was then that your heart began to stutter and the butterflies in your stomach rose in an uproar.

with the voice you’d fallen in love with, zhongli would read passage after passage of tales of star crossed lovers or adventures in desolate lands. he’d return with novels of all kinds, brushes, ink, and parchment from the nearby town. when you asked where he procured the money to buy such goods, he simply smiled, placed a fuchsia azalea behind your ear, and told you not to look in his closet. you had gotten curious and checked, only to find that the beautiful kimono and lovely hairpiece he’d first shown up in were now gone, replaced by stacks of paper, quills, bottles of ink, and novels.

“wait-!” you exclaimed, sitting in front of him as he showed you the various types of books he’d procured on his trip to the town today.

“yes?” patient as ever, he watched you eagerly skim the painted covers of the novels on your dilapidated table.

your nimble fingers picked up a muted gold book depicting an ochre dragon, “could we read this one tonight?”

the low rumble of his laugh sent ripples of yearning through your heart. “of course, my lily.” he had first started calling you that when you brought him a freshly picked bouquet of lilies from a nearby orchard some ways away and tucked one behind his ear much like he once did to you. and you couldn’t deny that such an affectionate name made your heart thump ferociously against your chest.

you eagerly extended the novel to him with pleading, wide, round eyes, begging for him to let the tale unfold using his beautiful voice. “come,” he patted the floor in front of him, where you excitedly scooted with your back to his chest as his hands came around your body and held the book in front of you, “you’ve chosen well, this is one of my favorites.” he hummed beside your ear, his breath tickling the edge of your face.

“oh?” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper as you craned your head to look up at his eyes. zhongli breathily laughed and smoothed your head down.

“you seem to be quite fond of dragons.” he mused, flipping the book open to the first page.

“i am...they’re quite,” you paused to run your fingers over the charcoal drawing of the detailed dragon nestled within the first page of the novel,

“beautiful.”

if he hadn’t been listening intently, zhongli would have missed the wistful tint of your voice.

you loved how regal he looked among your humble fruit plants and quaint garden, almost as if he were a prince that jumped straight out of one of the many romance novels he’d read to you. the love within your heart began to burst and eventually found its way onto one of the many parchment papers he’d given to you. you’d try to write confession after confession of love in your jagged handwriting only to be short with yourself and burn the parchment that held your misspelled “love”s and “you”s, until one day: you finally managed to get it right.

illuminated by only the full moon and a haze of fireflies, zhongli’s heart nearly leapt into his throat when he returned from the village one day, a stack of books in his hand like usual, he found your hunched figure illuminated by a small lantern, sitting on your porch. in your hands, you desperately clutched one of the parchment papers he’d taught you to write on.

“have you written something for me?” he asked while placing an azalea behind your ear like he usually did whenever he returned—you weren’t sure when he had gone from placing lilies to azaleas in your hair, but regardless of the flower, whether it be a rose or a weed, the gesture never failed to fluster you to no end.

you nodded feebly, trying to hide your embarrassed reaction behind the drooping sleeve of your dusty, pale red kimono.

“may i see what you’ve written?” he bent down, peering into your flustered face with a curious smile.

with shaking hands, you trepidatiously handed him the rolled up parchment paper and watched him unfurl the ragged script while your heart threatened to escape its fleshy cavern and leap out of your chest.

zhongli’s fingers traced the wobbly scrawl you’d so carefully taken the time to write. a simple sentence, three words, eight letters, and yet he felt as though the world as a novel had been gifted to him. it was obvious that you weren’t well versed in the art of calligraphy of any kind: the y was backwards and “love” was missing an e. but zhongli didn’t care, such pleasantries weren’t ones he cared for when the sheer volume of emotion and meaning held in your writing and your dedication to write this for him far exceeded any kind of grammatical issues he could have with your message. the warmth within his chest bloomed itself into existence as a warm smile that stretched across his face.

“my lily,” voice as downy as the soft feathers of a crane, he extended his hand in front of you, “please, let me see your lovely face.”

you could hardly look him in the eye as you hesitantly placed your clammy palm in his own, rising to your feet. regret brewed in the pits of your stomach—how foolish you were to think someone so lovely could ever see you in such a romantic manner. as if reading your thoughts, zhongli placed the paper on your porch and moved his hands up towards your supple cheeks. you melted into his touch, which held your face as if you were crafted of fine porcelain or thin, watery glass.

“do you truly mean it?” lighter than air, his wispy voice danced around the closing distance between your faces. you nodded, finally meeting his eyes which held emotions you’d only ever seen when he thought you weren’t looking: bright gilded circles of molten honey, so glossed that you could see your own reflection in them.

“such beautiful handwriting, and the writer has equally beautiful hands.” zhongli raised your calloused fingers to his lips, speaking into the hands that had so lovingly taken him in, tended to his wounds, and wrote him a sentence that would satiate him for decades to come.

“s-stop teasing me…” you mumbled into his clothed shoulder, the hand you’d placed on his chest for stability desperately gripped onto the front of his attire as if he’d disappear if you were to let your grip slack for even a moment. you felt the deep bass of his laugh from within your backflipping stomach with your ear pressed so tightly against his chest.

“what is your reply…?” you ask into the cotton of his kimono, too afraid to look him in the eye.

zhongli gave you an answer with his warm hand on your cheek, nimble arm around your waist, and his soft, fluttering lips upon yours.

“should there ever come a day where you can no longer lift a quill to write words of your love, i will still love you.”

and he kissed you again while the rose pink peaches that hung from your trees sagged to the ground and tapped the earth.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧

zhongli was a kind man, and an even kinder lover. to him, no greater honor could be that of being yours in his eyes. he made you feel like the smooth tips of a rose at its prime, just before it would bloom. he made sure to spare no words in reciting poetic lines that lauded your beauty and wits; no man had ever made your heart soar like he did.

against a backdrop of cardinal leaves, and amber sunsets, zhongli spent each day treasuring you who had so kindly allowed him residence within both your home and your heart. what he loved most was to hold you close in his lap against his pounding heart and listen to your silky voice speak of the upcoming harvest or the pretty birds you’d seen on your way to the market that day, while perched cross legged on your wooden porch overlooking the vast sky and verdant forests.

“such a beautiful voice you have.” he whispered against your temple. shyly, you turned inwards into the large of his sleeve to hide your flustered expression.

“if one day, my voice is no longer beautiful, and i can no longer speak, would you still love me?” your voice was quiet; it belied the vigorous hammer of your heart beneath its thin cage of skin.

“of course,” his reply came swiftly, allaying any sort of doubt you may have, “my love for you is as eternal as the sun.”

and he truly meant it.

“my love,” came his voice one night while you began the preparations to harvest your goods, “i wish to take you someplace tomorrow morning, if that’s alright.”

you agreed, and the next morning you found yourself surrounded by the most marvelous sight you’d ever seen. in a small clearing, maple trees that bore leaves the color of dawn loomed high above and blessed your body with the gentle shake of autumn wind. the tawny sun peeped out from just below the horizon, and illuminated the maple leaves that descended from high above and found purchase on the top of your head.

“what do you think? i happened across this clearing on my way home the other day.” zhongli’s fingers grasped the twiny end of the crimson maple leaf that sat on top of your head and spun it between his forefinger and thumb.

“it’s magnificent…” you trailed off, the hand that held onto his squeezed to silently thank him. “can we come back next year too?” beaming up at him, he could never say no to your lovely voice.

he would be sure to bring you back the following year.

when the nights began to elongate, seeking darkness in favor of dampened sunlight, he’d pull you flush against his heated chest in a single futon to stay warm over the cooling nights. darkness spread as far as the eye could see and yet your face was clear as day to him.

“your heart has not ceased its thunderous beatings since i first kissed you on that summer’s day.” zhongli murmured against your lips ironically, placing fluttering kisses on your droopy eyelids.

“how could it ever be still again?” you smiled into his palm that lay on your searing cheek. his eyes seemed to glow within the decrepit darkness of your less than modest, wooden home. you moved your hands up from his chest to his tender face, and stroked the ends of his eyes with your hardened thumbs..

zhongli’s seemingly never ending pool of golden irises drew you in closer and closer to that hidden suspicion locked away behind the walls of your foggy memory. so familiar, and yet you were sure you would have remembered a man like zhongli if you had met him before.

so you brushed the feeling off and let the nipping autumn air carry it off into oblivion.

you both fell asleep to the steady beat of each other’s throbbing hearts that leaked with love that night

one thundering night, a storm swept through and rattled the old wooden shelves in your battered home. the lightning struck fear through your veins and you found yourself seeking out his warmth like a holy beacon.

“come, my lily,” he cooed, gently ushering your trembling figure closer to his body on the frayed futon, “do not be frightened, the storm cannot hurt you if i am here.”

“could you sing for me?” you gently pleaded over the thundering crack of lightning that had you buried into the chest of his nightwear.

zhongli replied with a gentle laugh, “of course, my love.”

you laid your head down on his lap, while he sat upright and stroked the top of your head with his large, fiery baked palm, humming the same soothing tune you once heard when the budding flowers had yet to bloom and he was but a mere stranger who sang to birds and placed lilies behind your ear instead of azaleas. zhongli’s gentle hums warbled over the hammering rain and coarse winds that raged on outside the comfort of the aura he’d so sweetly wrapped you in.

“should the day ever come,” his lovely voice halted, as did the comforting motions of his hand, “that my voice ceases to sing your songs, would you still love me?” the question that left his lips was one that brewed deep within his chest and had never aired its grievances.

“such a silly thing to ask,” you peered up at him through the bristles of your lashes and raised your hand to hold his cheek, “of course i would.”

so zhongli hummed. he hummed while he dressed, bathed, cooked, cleaned, and held you close like you contained the world in your hands. he hummed while he picked the peaches you couldn’t reach on your own feet, and tilled the lands that put too many strains on your back.

and he was humming on the chilly autumn day your wicker basket of fruits fell from your hands onto the frost covered ground of the impending winter.

the harvest had been scarce, but you remained optimistic even as you took longer to get out of bed, more sluggish to tug your dilapidated kimono over your shoulders, and found it harder to stomach the lovely breakfast zhongli had given you in accompaniment of his hums.

you thought you were fine, you were fine. then why was your wicker basket full of pale pink peaches, ripe and juicy for consumption, now covered in your crimson blood? one moment you had been carefully plucking away at the peaches that hung overhead, the next you were crumpled on the floor as blood spewed from deep within your body and out through your mouth.

“(y/n)!” he cried, with no thought left for pet names. the thick blood seeping past your hand that covered your mouth did not have the patience for him to address you as his lily, or his love. his feet carried him quicker than the hanging drop of red on your hand could plummet to the frosted grass below.

“i-i’m alrigh-” you tried to dismiss his worries only to be interrupted by another fit of sickly coughs, each heave tethered to fat droplets of pudgy blood.

his legs moved faster than ever before, with your sickly body hastily wrapped in the outer layer of his kimono. your blood coated the front of his clothes but all he could see was the red that stained your hands and face, all he could feel were your quivering and strangled gasps for air, all he could see was the world in his arms on the verge of death.

the village doctor took a single, fleeting glance and concluded that you could be saved, with medicine from abroad that would cost a small fortune. you had little to your name but a loving partner and your small business as a farmer.

“w-we can’t afford the medicine…” you weakly mumbled as zhongli carried you back to the house, his grip never slackening, not one bit.

the sharp edge of his jaw clenched when the true implications of your words sharply impaled his painfully throbbing heart. much to your surprise, he gently smiled down at you like always. he stooped down to pluck a withering, pale pink azalea from the ground and placed it behind your ear like he always did.

he would not let your life fall like the crimson leaves that surrounded your spilled blood.

even if it cost him everything.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

the twinkles of shimmering snow from beyond the wooden door could never outshine your beauty, zhongli thought.

your frail, sickly body had taken to bed with no strength left to even raise your hand or kiss him good morning. and yet in sickness you were so beautiful to him, so ethereal that it ached his heart to even leave your side for just a few minutes. to his dismay, he was to cede his place by your bedside in order to acquire the medicine that could save your life.

the loom was now his mistress, and he lay reluctantly beside her working from the moment the sun peeped out from under a blanket of darkness, til the wee hours of the night when the moon towered above high in the sky. from dawn till dusk and dusk till dawn his once fleshy palms and rosied fingers now burned and ached from their ministrations against the thick, polished wood of the loom.

though from his injuries, he produced the finest robes you’d ever laid eyes upon. each were the same shimmering, golden color. the necklines and cuffs were lined with what looked like iridescent crystals in the shape of scales the size of your thumb. when you asked him with your sore voice where he procured the fabric and materials to make such beautiful clothes, he merely kissed your forehead and returned to the loom.

you never failed to notice how haggard he looked every time he returned with another completed golden robe decorated in shimmering ochre crystals.

the days where he’d leave your bedside to sell his goods were the days his heart ached the most.

“zhongli,” you croaked one morning, stretching your sickly hand out from under the futon to your beloved.

he looked up from the wicker basket of clothes and melted under your beckoning glance.

“yes, my lily?” he smiled and grasped your outstretched hand within his own. your palm felt so, so cold against his. colder than the snow that dripped down from outside, colder than the frozen ice from the nearby pond. it was far too cold.

“when you return, could you read that book to me again? the one about the dragon?” you quietly requested into the blazing skin of his palm.

“consider it done,” lighter than air, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the shiny sheen of sweat that covered your sickly forehead. “i shall read to you anything you desire.”

he returned that day with an empty wicker basket and a heavy heart. the money procured was hardly enough to acquire the medicine, and he could feel time’s creeping gaze menacingly inching up on him with every step he took towards the house.

zhongli searched among the frosted ground for any sign of a pink azalea, but to no avail—you wouldn’t receive your gift like normal.

despite this, you were content. beaming as bright as you could even with the ice that clogged your lungs and the blood red mucus that coated your insides, you smiled.

“i met a dragon once,” you mumbled into the soft fabric of his sleeve while he read your favorite passage to you, “it was so beautiful, it had lovely golden hair, and pretty brown scales.” delicate as a snowflake, your smile creased the sickly color of your face.

“you must take me to see it one day.” he hummed into your temple.

zhongli read the book you loved about dragons to your tired ears that night, and you dreamt of ichor eyes and burgundy scales that felt like jagged rocks under your soft palms.

zhongli however, did not dream. nor did he sleep. for his mistress, the loom, beckoned him closer.

because time was running out.

so with his bloodied hands, he sewed and sewed and sewed. through the night he strung beads of crystal scales onto hems and spun silk into golden robes. in the early hours of the morning, he scurried off to the lavish houses of lords and ladies and begged them, just for a moment to give his wares even a sparing glance.

“i beg of you, my beloved’s life is in danger.” on his hands and knees, he bowed with all the dignity he had left, but to no avail.

his clothes were sold, but the money wasn’t enough.

and he was running out of time.

your smile never faded even as your skin paled and the tips of your once healthy, lush fingers turned ice blue and shrivelled up.

“what’s this?” mangled by coagulated blood, your voice came out hoarse and ragged. through your bleary eyes, you tried to inspect the cup of amber liquid that zhongli held in front of you, but your eyes could only make out the fuzzy lines of his ichor eyes.

“it’s herbal tea darling, it’ll ease your throat.” in his honeyed voice, zhongli used his broad arms to prop you upwards and held the cup to your dry, chapped lips. you swallowed gratefully and instinctively placed your hand over his own, only to be met with damp bandages instead of his smooth hand.

“such beautiful hands,” you mused once the cup had been drawn from your lips. within both your hands you held his bloodied fingers, a result of days upon days upon days of work at the loom. zhongli’s heart battered against his ribcage, his insides felt like they were being split open by a hacksaw as you gently traced over his wounds with your ice cold fingers.

“if one day, my beautiful hands are no more, would you still love me?” his words were chokingly strung together by the gentle trickle of bitter tears that rolled down his cheeks.

a horrid cough caught the words you wanted to reply with, but you persisted, “without question, i would love you eternally.” you breathed shakily and held one of his wounded hands within both of yours over your faintly beating heart.

“don’t cry,” the cold of your palm reached up to swipe away the rivers that cascaded down his face, “i’ll be alright.”

and he held out hope. day after day after day the loom called, beckoned, screamed at him. never stop, can’t stop, won’t stop, it’s impossible for him to stop weaving and sewing and making more robes to sell for more money when you’re over in the next room coughing up sickly black blood and pleading with him to hold you close during frigid, wintery nights because your body was so, so cold.

zhongli could only take watching the life slowly seep out of your body for so long.

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

by now, the hinges of his finger joints were strung together only by dried, crusted blood, and the glistening sweat of dedication and hard work.

haggard and dilapidated like the house you loved, zhongli hurried about day after day, working at the loom, holding you up and cleaning the dried blood from around the perch of your frayed lips.

he could feel it now—he was beginning to fade away as he gave more and more and more of himself to a world that tried so desperately to take you away from his peony lined embrace. as the days grew longer, your breaths grew shorter. the garments he gave parts of himself to make could never afford the medicine to save your life.

“my darling,” came your scratchy voice as he left your side like he did every morning to return to the loom, “please don’t go, stop hurting yourself. just stay by my side until it’s time.”

he wanted to say no. he wanted to say he could do this. but he could never say no to you, so he sat by your side, fingers no longer fleshy and soft with rosied tips, but now calloused, bloodied, and bruised from days upon days upon days of toiling away at the loom.

through the hissing pain of his injuries, zhongli felt the almost silent hum of your heart when he scooted under the covers and placed his ear against your clothed chest. quieter than the gentle shake of azaleas in spring, softer than the gentle pitter of rain from above, your heart padded along. the sun had risen high up in the sky and plummeted downwards before either of you spoke a word.

“you will be alright.” though he spoke with conviction, the water that pooled at his eyes could never lie. spring blooms smelled sweet in the air but all he could inhale was the thick, iron scent of your blood and the taste of death upon his tongue.

and time began to slither up the small of his back and wrap itself around his neck. his arms squeezed around your waist, holding you tighter against his chest as if to shelter you from the rain that pittered on outside.

“may i tell you a story, my love?” you suddenly asked. zhongli raised a questioning eyebrow, which then melted into a honeyed smile.

“of course, darling.” he murmured against your forehead.

“a year ago when snow was still in abundance, i had gone up the mountain to find a special herb.” your hands came down to his spine and rubbed up and down in steady motions. “on my way back down, i came across a most marvelous sight.”

the winds had been less than kind to your frigid body. if you weren’t careful, one trip over a measly pebble could send you flying down the steep hill of the mountain. just as you were about to go seek shelter, a shrill wail stopped you dead in your tracks. it sounded of a cornered animal, one who was desperately trying to crawl past the doorframe of death’s door. it wailed again, this time louder and more hoarse. had it been a mere bird, or the sound of a cow, you would have passed it off as nothing.

but this wail seemed to come from the bellowing stomach of a mighty beast. loud and thunderous, it wailed ironically like a timid, gentle bird, and had you running towards the sound with the swirls of curiosity swimming around your head.

the wails grew louder as you approached a musty, damp cave dripping with melted snow and rounded icicles.

“hello?” you called out, carefully stepping inwards past sullied, pure, white snow and discarded piles of...books?

you stooped down to the neat stack of books and moved to pick one up when deep within the darkness of the cave, another howling wail echoed around the rocky walls. something large skittered around the back corner of the cave, sinking further into the dead end as you came closer with feather light steps.

“it’s okay,” you cooed with a voice of silk, “i won’t hurt you.”

whatever had been moving around the misty ground had frozen in place. you reached into the small bag you carried and pulled out a lantern and match. when the lantern had been lit, you could hardly believe your eyes.

in front of you was a majestic creature: a dragon the color of rich chocolate with crevices that glowed a muted gold and pulsed every second as if to match its heartbeat. in complete awe, you held the lantern up to get a better look at its face. the first thing you noticed were its sharp, wide, ichor eyes that seemed to glow with fever. if you examined further, drops and speckles of silver and black were embedded within its irises, but you were given no such chance as the creature shied away from your curious gaze.

“don’t be afraid.” you murmured, stretching your hand out towards it. to your surprise, it gently bumped the palm of your hand with its head, allowing you to run your fingers through the bumpy ridges and mountains of its chocolatey, sparkling scales that seemed to be bathed in stars, and its silky mane that seemed to be composed of strings of pure gold.

“so beautiful…” you mumbled as you ran your hand along its rigid scales. the lantern in your hand cast its glow onto one of the dragon’s feet, and there you saw it: a gruesome wooden spear that had most likely belonged to a hunter’s trap for game now protruded upwards through the soft, yellowy skin of the lumbering creature. your heart twisted in sympathy for the gentle beast; it was nothing more than a frightened, injured animal.

“was this why you were screaming?” your hand gently hovered above the wooden pike.

the dragon gave no reply, but from the fear that brewed behind its golden irises, you needed no response.

“this will take just a moment.” you hushed the muffled wails hidden behind its sharp teeth as your hands wrapped around the pike.

in one swift movement, the wooden pike broke free from its fleshy foot and sent you tumbling backwards with its weight. the dragon let out a horrible shriek marred in anguish and blinding hot pain; it collapsed to the floor in haggard breaths. scrambling to your feet, you produced a roll of bandages and alcohol from your bag and as gently as you could, patched the dragon’s wound.

the dragon’s cries had ceased, only left with the numbing after-pain of its injury.

“there you are, all better now.” you ran your fingers over your handiwork and sat back, pleased to see that the dragon had stopped trembling and now looked at you with wide, watery eyes. it seemed to like when you ran your palms over its head and through its luscious, golden locks.

“do you get lonely up here by yourself?” you weren’t expecting an answer, nor did you really receive one. but its eyes seemed to entertain your question in great detail. you held its large protruding snout up with both of your hands to peer directly into its golden pools of honey. “if you get lonely, you’re welcome to come with me,” your giggles had you pause midway through your offer, “though there wouldn’t be lots of room.”

“all i can offer you is my simple company.” you hummed.

you bid farewell to the dragon, whose claw had been neatly bandaged and bloody pike cast aside. it remained quiet, and watched with cautious eyes as you turned around one more time and waved.

“then, a week later,” you paused to look up at zhongli and cup his face between your hands, “you showed up at my door.” zhongli’s heart battered mercilessly against its bony confines. he dug his face into the crook of your neck and sighed.

“that dragon, it was you wasn’t it zhongli?”

he didn’t reply, but you found your answers in the mist that glossed over his ichor eyes, those same ichor eyes that had cried out for help so long ago.

“should-” choked, he felt the strangled pull of death wrap around his throat and his words coagulate in his esophagus, “should the day ever come...where i am no longer human,” as if a timid daisy yearning to be plucked, zhongli’s hesitant eyes met your glossy irises,

“would you still be able to love me?”

for such an absurd question, zhongli could only lie in shock as your palms came up and wiped away the tears that cascaded down his face.

“but of course!” came your reply bathed in sunlight and that sugary laugh he loved so much. “i could never forget the day i met such a beautiful dragon, and even now,” your trembling hands came to tuck tufts of his locks behind his red ears, “i still love him with all my heart.”

the scales he’d lost to line the hems of the robes crafted of his golden locks ached beneath the cover of his human, fleshy skin. his heart stewed in so much grief and fear that he hadn’t registered the feeling of his shaking shoulders or heard the vibrations of his muffled sobs until your frail arms squeezed him closer to your failing body with what little strength you had left. his vice grip felt as though he were clinging onto the last remnants of your life, begging and pleading for you to stay.

“i have always loved you,” dislodged from his throat were the aching cries and thorny flowers he’d so deeply hidden from you, “i would shear myself of all my scales, and all my hair if it meant you’d live.”

like the silent winds that rustled the tiny buds of the wildflowers outside, your voice came quiet and creeping, “we both know that can never be, but even so,” you gently connected your dry, chapped lips with his trembling ones, “beast, or man, i love you all the same.” you whispered against his desperate sobs.

“beast or man, you’d love him all the same”, and with those thoughts he crumpled in your arms and let loose the wiry strands of sadness that clogged his lungs.

“i want to return to that clearing with you and chase maple leaves again.”

“i want to sing more to you.”

“i want to marry you.”

like a prayer, he repeated the words “i love you” into your ear with shaking breaths and held you flush against his heaving body. he sought the blessing of any god or deity that may have been watching, pleaded with the silent air and begged for you not to be taken from his grasp, pleaded with the sky to allow him your company and your love and for him to shower you in honey lined hugs and sugar filled kisses that left him trembling hours later.

the last petals of the azalea you loved so much, fell to the rain-soaked ground that night as your lungs heaved a final breath against his lips. the last rays of his pulsating heart died with your light.

date published: july 8th, 2021

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yuelily · 3 years ago

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vyn richter and why it’s important to understand his motivations (a character analysis) 🍋

-> that’s a fancy title LMAO but i just wanted to collect all my thoughts about this character in one place!! it’s not anyone’s obligation to like him or otherwise, but i do feel bad seeing people base their perceptions of him off of a few scenes/thoughts in particular. it’s okay for his personality to put you off a bit, and honestly, it should — but that’s what i’m here to talk about :D if you’re not in love with vyn by the end of this post then i’ve done my job wrong

-> this might be added to in the future, but it should generally hit all points at the time i’m posting this. if you have any extra thoughts, please don’t hesitate to say so!

!! this post contains major spoilers from vyn’s personal story chapters! (3&4)

1. vyn’s chapter two call to artem

-> our first impression of vyn as players is that he’s scheming, and possibly dangerous to be around based off of artem's reaction to us being with vyn for so long. this isn’t denied in any way at first, and in-game, we barely acknowledge artem's concern after the fact. but, in reality, this introduces a very large part of vyn’s character (albeit in a slightly misleading way). over the phone, he tells artem,

“she is like a rare rose, and if kept in a petri dish in your laboratory, under good conditions, she may bloom brightly and beautifully. but without the baptism of wind and rain, she would never have a fresh and tough soul, and would be closer to an artificial flower made of silk. don’t forget, you are lawyers."

let’s pick this apart real quick 😰 he reveals his tendency for control point blank, and references “keeping” the mc so that she blooms “brightly and beautifully”. but this is less about manipulation and keeping her to himself and rather more about a want to help her succeed. he directs her through her meeting with the PUA member in his personal story, and during chapter two of the main story, lets her do everything she can handle on her own that relates to the case. he will constantly involve the mc in dangerous and/or difficult parts of the investigations as to help her grow, hence the “don’t forget, you are lawyers.” part of his statement. though, it does also go to show that he will have her back closely in these situations as well. this happenstance also seems like it holds a certain significance, as during the scene, it mentions that he tends to the roses on his windowsill as he talks, and coincidentally also tends to call the mc “my rose”.

but this raises the question, if he likes to be in control, will he ever manipulate you?

2. vyn’s SR thought, “fake tears"

-> i’ve actually never read this date personally, but i skimmed through it when i was farming s-chips so i think that counts for something LMAO. i’ve seen this as the main reason people say that vyn is creepy and/or manipulative, but i get this one, honestly. during the date, vyn supposedly admits something traumatic, and leans to the mc for comfort, saying something similar to “all i need right now is you.”. now, the final evolved version of this card also features him in the mc’s arms, slightly smiling as he looks at the “camera” through half-lidded eyes. from a basic understanding, the thought is titled this way because he didn’t actually need comfort, he just wanted to be close to the mc in a way that seemed genuine. but, with outside knowledge, this is less of the case — vyn is completely capable of initiating intimacy, as seen throughout his story and in just the way he teases the mc in general. but, this is largely viewable as a form of trauma response. it’s hinted in his personal story that he was part of a dysfunctional family as a child, and received less attention than he should've, hence his tendency to plan his way into big displays of affection from her. but, no matter how you look at it, this is still manipulation, as he’s taking the mc’s concern and essentially monopolising on it without realising how genuine she actually feels. so, totally valid to feel weird abt this one <3 the one thing i can give him though, is that he will never force the mc to comply to his wishes, whether in this scenario or in the future. if something he’s “planned” doesn’t work out, he may express his displeasure later, but will not subject the mc to it.

3. chapter three of vyn’s personal story (3-12)

-> if i’m remembering correctly, the global server only has two chapters up atm, so i’ll try my best to be as vague as possible to avoid spoilers! so, when the two are confronting the culprit of the PUA case (separate point but i actually feel so bad for the culprit, omg), it’s revealed that this person is a longtime colleague of vyn’s —making their argument a bit more personal:

"heh… then you, vyn. the lawyer may not understand, but to you and i, in our eyes, we are obviously looking at the same landscape. we are the same kind of person… don’t you believe it? don’t you believe that the human heart can be manipulated?"

“i do not deny this statement, but (culprit), this does not mean that what you did is correct. whether the human heart can be manipulated by psychology is a subject that has to be studied intensely, but it is definitely not a subject for people like you."

he directly says that manipulation of the heart isn’t right, and essentially is beneath him. but, if you’d like to look at it in a certain way, vyn even suggests that manipulation of the heart isn't for him either, as he didn't deny that they are similar.

4. chapter three of vyn’s personal story (3-12)

-> in a jab towards vyn, the culprit deliberately reveals something to the mc that ends up explaining vyn’s tendencies perfectly:

v: “you are just a kid who keeps asking, 'why can’t i get the recognition and care from others?’ because of your childhood experiences. you are afraid of being ignored, afraid of being betrayed, afraid.. of being lonely."

(culprit) sneers and suddenly turns towards me.

c: “lawyer, did you know? in fact, vyn also has things to fear."

c: don’t you know? come on, let me tell you, he hates everything that is imperfect--

the culprit was only halfway through his words before vyn instructed the police to rush in and block his mouth.

-> vyn is afraid of his flaws being revealed to her, this is seen in his face, and especially in the way he handles it. so, while what the culprit says makes sense, that’s not the only instance where he is insecure about the way he goes about things. in a later episode (3-15), he and the mc have this conversation:

v: "if one day, the person you love most reveals the most unbearable and ugly side of his life, will you be like (victim)?"

mc: “um, maybe a little similar, but not exactly the same?"

v: “what?"

mc:”i think i will do my best to try to save him, but instead of sacrificing my own life, i am more than wiling to face it with him. i will be with him until the day the storm passes."

v: “..your answer is always so unexpected.”

-> these two instances compiled show just exactly what he thinks of himself and his tendency to want control. it shows that he knows it’s not right, and how he is uncomfortable subjecting the mc to these parts of him that could potentially hurt her.

5. chapter four of vyn’s personal story (3-15 + 4-15) (also, just a warning, pure romantic plot spoilers ahead to prove this point LMAO)

-> vyn my beloved!! a common theme throughout the fourth chapter is how both of our main characters define love. in the last episode of chapter three, vyn is asked by a student what his version of love is, and he says this:

“it is a unique miracle. it makes you want to explore, touch and find out everything uncontrollably. even at one point, i can’t distinguish between rational and irrational for a short while because the boundaries are blurred. there are too many people in this world who have lost their lives, but there will always be such a person. she makes you better, makes you believe that everything is good; and makes you look forward to it.. the future.”

-> this is even more sad when you realise that this entire response is a patchwork statement of previous words they’ve both said. he uses her to define his standard of love, and he complies his own conclusions of what she’s said to him. it’s as if she is the one who’s taught him what the meaning of love really is, and goes to show just how important the mc has become to him.

now, the most important part of this section: vyn, in the beginning of chapter four, made it clear that he would somehow get her to confess to him by the end of a trip they took. because the mc was either in self-denial or otherwise, she didn’t understand what her feelings for him meant. but as a psychologist, vyn could see the signs loud and clear. yet, he’s still shocked to see her care so much about him.

mc: "just now, if we hadn’t got here in time…"

i gradually become incoherent. the sight of him even cast a layer of water on my vision. i couldn’t help but cry.

mc: "vyn, i’m so scared.” (most context is redacted for plot spoilers)

v: “you… are you crying? are you crying for me?”

his voice trembles with a rare tone. a few seconds, he rushes to hug me, not sparing a moment.

v: “don’t be afraid, i’m fine, i’m still here."

-> he sees all of these signs so clearly, but does not force her or manipulate her to reciprocate the love he feels for her even now. as he helps her to realise her feelings, he is gentle.

v: “in truth.. i am very happy."

mc: “why?"

v: “well, because you were crying for me just now. you were worried, weren’t you?"

mc: “…of course, it was dangerous just now."

v: “but don’t you think that your emotions just got out of control? what is it about me being in danger that makes you lose control so easily?"

mc: “!!!”

mc: “…"

why, why is my behaviour so abnormal? am i scared? scared of what? losing vyn? but why should i be afraid of losing vyn? is there something i haven’t noticed yet?

v: “why are you at this point and you still don’t understand… but, i have no patience to wait any longer."

he approached me gently, and brushed my cheek with his right hand.

mc: “v-vyn-"

v: “i asked you before, would you ever fall in love with someone? but, you say you don’t know, because you’ve never considered this issue. later, you asked me again, how do you know you’ve fallen for someone?"

v: “do you remember my answer at the time?"

mc: “you… you said that when you fall in love with someone, your sensibility beats your reason. you will miss him all the time, be happy because of his joy, and sad because of his sorrow."

v: “so, is there such a person in your heart?"

mc: “wha-"

v: “don’t avoid my question. ask your heart if there’s an answer, i don’t want anything but that."

in short, vyn is a very complicated character but he’s so so worth understanding. i do believe that in upcoming chapters, the mc will understand his need to have control and stand with him “until the storm ends”. happy tot playing, everyone ~

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yuelily · 3 years ago

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Like, is the gist "Real life pedophilia/incest/rape is bad, and stories saying these things are good are bad, but including these topics in a story isn't inherently bad, so the people being like 'hey, maybe Ao3 shouldn't have so much kiddie porn there's an entire category called "Underage"' are just overreacting and making things worse?" Because it feels like you're saying, "your negative reaction to this stuff is valid, but also you're annoying and prudish and bad and really you aren't valid."

So here’s the thing: it really does not sound like you're asking this question because you want my answer, it sounds like you want to be angry with me and have a fight. And fair enough! I'm not terribly interested in a fight, but apparently this is my day to dive into this topic as thoughtfully and honestly as I can be. Maybe I'll say something you haven't already heard from other people before. Maybe not! Only you, anonymous asker, know that.

To begin with, you got part of the gist right. Real life rape (including child abuse/child sexual abuse as well as incest) is bad. Stories about rape, about underage sex, and about incest, are stories.

They're stories. They're pixels on a screen. They're not real. Whether they claim that rape is good, or bad, or sexy, or melodramatic, or life-destroying, or a normal Tuesday afternoon. They're stories.

And having a negative reaction to them is valid. Stories can stir up powerful emotions in people. It is absolutely, 100%, fair and valid and even normal for there to be certain tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that make you upset and that you never want to see in a story you read, ever. You don't have to want to read about sex. You don't have to want to read any of it. That doesn't make you bad.

There are tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that upset me. There are stories I won't read. The same is true of literally everyone else I know. Even though I know the stories aren't real. Even though I know the things happening in them are happening to fictional characters, who do not exist, who I cannot protect and who also cannot be harmed because they're not real. Even then, I can be made sad and scared and upset and hurt by reading those stories. And that is okay and that is valid and I am not bad or wrong for being upset about the story I've read, and neither are you.

But that doesn't mean the story doesn't have value to somebody else. That doesn't mean the story isn't important to somebody else.

What I see most often coming from antis, possibly even including yourself, is an overwhelming desire to protect. They want to keep themselves and others--possibly people they know, possibly hypothetical people they may never meet--safe from being hurt by these stories. And that desire to protect, also, is normal. It's even admirable! The problem, though, the thing that does more harm than good, is when that desire to protect drives people to lash out against things that matter to other people.

There is a difference between actual rape and stories about rape. There is a difference between a story that could theoretically hurt somebody, someday (which is all stories, always), and a story that hurts you personally. And there is a difference between a story that hurts you personally, and a story that is inherently poisonous to everyone who touches it.

We know--absolutely, scientifically, incontrovertibly--that stories about rape do not make people rapists. Yes, even the stories where the rape is there to be sexy. Even stories where the person being raped is a child. Even then. Fiction is not the same thing as normalization; again, there are far smarter people who have written far more extensively on that topic than I, and next time I come across something that goes more into detail on this point I promise I will reblog it. If this really is the thing you're afraid of, I may not be the right person to convince you that this is an unfounded fear, but I know someone out there can elaborate on it.

(Unfounded, which is not the same thing as invalid. My mother's claustrophobia is unfounded; it flares up in many situations where there's no physical threat whatsoever, where she has plenty of space to move and air to breathe. It's still real. It still chokes her. It's still valid, she is not bad or broken to feel that way, and she still can't drive through certain tunnels. The fear is real. But the thing she's afraid of can't physically hurt her, and that is worth knowing in terms of how she deals with it.)

We know, absolutely, scientifically, and incontrovertibly, that stories about rape and many, many, many other things can hurt and even traumatize their readers. Even though the situation you're reacting to is not real and you receive no physical injury, you can still be hurt by it. The key word there, though, is readers. The fact that the horror genre is out there terrifying people who enjoy being terrified for fun does not damage me unless I do something stupid and try listening to the Magnus Archives again and end up tense and miserable and paranoid for the rest of the week. The fact that guacamole is apparently delicious to everybody else in the world does not hurt me unless I do something stupid and order the wrong thing at a restaurant, and end up itchy and miserable with a little trouble breathing for the rest of the night.

The fact that there are, yes, tens of thousands of fics on AO3 in which characters under the age of 18 have sex? It can't hurt you. Those fics do not hurt you by existing. They can only hurt you if you read them. They can only hurt anyone who reads them. That's why there is an 'Underage' tag--and it's worth noting, 'Underage' is a warning, not a category. Nobody wants you to get hurt reading the wrong fic, any more than the sushi chef wants my throat to swell up because I ordered something with avocado. Literally nobody wants that.

The flip side, of course, is that you hating each and every one of those fics individually and as a group doesn't actually hurt me, or anyone else who writes, reads, or enjoys them. By itself. You can hate anything you like, and fic writers can write anything they like, and it all comes out in the end, more or less. Except.

Except that reading fic is always, entirely, 100% opt-in, and online harassment isn't even opt-out. Some antis have a nasty habit of going after writers whose content they don't like; climbing into inboxes and comments sections, calling those writers nasty names, throwing around cruelties and aggression and insults. I know that's not the same thing as simply disliking a genre, or even passively disagreeing with its existence (although disliking a genre and disagreeing with its right to exist are also very different things). I know not all antis do that. I don't know you, anon, but based on the speed and aggressiveness of this response to my last post, I can't help but wonder if you would do that.

And that does hurt people. Just like it might hurt you if someone threw a bunch of content that makes you uncomfortable into your inbox. Including the harasser, actually--because getting into fights with strangers on the internet about things that make you angry, sad, defensive, and upset isn't good for anybody. Including both you and me.

Anyway, after yet another lengthy ramble, let's get the tl;dr response to your ask here: nobody is ever bad or wrong for disliking certain content in their stories, no matter what that content is. You and your emotions are valid. The "overreacting and making things worse" part isn't about what you feel, but what you do with it. Constantly engaging with places where the thing that upsets you will probably show up, even to argue and try to fight it, will make things worse in the sense that now you're spending way more time thinking about this thing that makes you upset and angry, thereby leaving you more upset and angry. Getting together with a bunch of your upset, angry friends to make your feelings everybody else's problem? Makes fandom a more toxic place for everyone else involved.

Don't read stuff that's going to hurt you. Don't make other people read stuff that's going to hurt them. That's the whole thing, really.

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yuelily · 4 years ago

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Obey Me wants to do Too Much and in an attempt to please the fans, it’s failing them instead.

Based on @1abbie7 ‘s post regarding the common complaints players seem to have with OM and its choices as a game. I just wanted to put my two (very long) cents in while looking at OM as if it is the gacha game it truly wishes it was.

MAJOR DISCLAIMER: this post is based on my experiences and is not a reflection of the community as a whole. These are observations and personal thoughts and should be taken with a grain of salt. Also, please feel free to discuss or correct me if I have any of the information wrong. For reference, I’ve reached 5-3 in OM!, 9-2 in AL, and 6-17 in AK.

Now that we have that out of the way… ON TO WHAT I WANT TO SAY. Buckle in folks, I’m rambly and I have a lot to say. Obey Me! Has a lot of potential, and it’s a shame that a lot of things Solmare does are not helping it grow in a way that it could.

So this post is MOSTLY going to be comparing Obey Me!’s (OM) gacha and gaming experience with Azur Lane (AL) and Arknights (AK) since I feel like both those games have a very good f2p model and don’t really have any PvP/Ranking system that affects the main gameplay. I will have other examples from other games that I’ve played before as well.

Ignoring any issues with storytelling and plot holes, since I feel like there are people who are much more qualified to speak upon that than I am, I’m just going to look at the more game and gacha experience.

Keep reading

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yuelily · 4 years ago

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[ To know him by Lang Leav ]

Belated Happy Birthday to my dearest little demon. He deserves all the best after everything he’s done for MC :3~ I read this poem that I felt really resonated with how Mammon is since he really isn’t good with expressing his feelings verbally in the first place ;v;

(now back to commissions)

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yuelily · 4 years ago

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What if the fur babies had babies????

Imagine MC having the same pet as their vampire boyfriend

Jupiter

He??? Decent dad. Tho at one point he’s like “k kids. Time to learn how to fly” and pushes a baby out the nest and Napoleon luckily catches the baby. Jupiter gets a mouthful. The nest is so much bigger and Bunta is a little upset he isn’t allowed in the nest anymore. They are very noise however. At one point Napoleon considers moving the nest to the barn, but who knows how they would react to the nest moving. Good thing he’s a heavy sleeper

Schelm

To say the least. He was very confused by these fluff balls. Mozart absolutely ADORES the babies and makes sure they have everything they need and more to be comfortable. But when someone asks him about them or Schelm he goes “Who? Tho dumb owls? Yeah they’re doing alright I guess” Then he goes back to his room and cuddles the babies and helps feed them and helps keep the nest cozy. But Schelm doesn’t leave the babies side. Only because he trusts Mozart does he let him near the babies. Sebas isn’t even allowed in Mozart’s room during this time. Eventually Schelm takes them all tot he music room. He had been working on making a nest in there for them since that is where Mozart spends most of his time, and plus the open windows make it a more comfortable atmosphere.

Lumière

First of all??? Where is the mother cat even going to nest??? Leonardo’s room is a mess. Either way. At first Lumiere could have cared less. He was like oh, babies. But since he realized they were there to stay and not visiting he started to become really helpful and would bathe them and make sure they don’t get into anything in Leonardo’s room. But once they start walking it is chaos. They end up getting out of the room and running through the halls. And maybe even end up in Theo’s room because they saw that big fluffy thing and wanted to see what it was. Vinc loves them all and gives them all kisses as Theo is yelling for Leonardo to get them out. Mozart has made sure to keep the music room door closed once he saw them in the hallway. Jean absolutely loved them and thought they could be friends with Cherie. Lumiere chases them through the hall trying to get them back to the bed room, but by the time he gets one back another one has escaped.

Vic

He can’t believe they are smaller than him! Something finally smaller than him! He’s a vvv good dad though. Having kids sorta calmed him down but he is still very yippy. He picks up his children and shows them of to Arthur. He’s like “DAD!! LOOK!! ITS MY BABY!! LOOK HOW CUTE!!” and his tail and going WILD. I imagine Arthur would spoil them. Theo would too because, well, puppies. Vic is a little cautious of King going near them just because of how big he is, plus King forgets that he is that big. But once the puppies start walking around and getting into trouble Vic can’t seem to keep them away from King. They just crawl all over him. But their little yips?? The rest of the mansion is slowly hating the puppies from how loud they are.

Brush

Ohmygod. Baby raccoons. THEY GET IN SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH THEIR LITTLE THUMBS. It is at times like this Vincent wished he had a bed, because they all insist on sleeping with him. He doesn’t mind being buried under baby raccoons. Brush likes to carry as many of them as possible and show them to the residents, especially when they were first born. When they were born he took Vincent’s hand and dragged him over and made him sit down and handed him each baby to look at. Mama raccoon was not too happy, but trusted Vinc and so she let it happen. Then Brush went into the hallway, first person he saw as Isaac so he dragged Isaac in and had him look at the babies too. But once they start walking around on their own they are CHAOS. lil thumbs to get into things. Sebas thought having one raccoon being able to get into the kitchen was bad. Now he has to lock everything. They enjoy getting Vic worked up and chasing them around. If King wasn’t so much bigger they would do it to him. Occasionally you will find them cuddling with Lumiere. But a resident will wake up to having a baby raccoon int heir face. Napoleon has kissed one occasionally.

King

King is already Vincent in dog form, BUT NOW THERE MINI ONES. They are very goofy and trip over their feet when running. Theo wasn’t sure if having puppies was going to be a good idea, but the moment they were born he regret everything he said. The man is a dog lover and he will allow any chance of being covered in puppies happen. He tells them they can’t sleep on the bed, but by the time he wakes up in the morning they are all there with him, including King. He can’t be mean to those cute puppy faces. Vinc isn’t too much of a dog person, at least not big dogs, but he loves the puppies and plays with them. King lets them climb all over him while playing and he watches over them when they are outside so they don’t get hurt. They are very well behaved expect when it’s dinner time, and they running into the dining hall where everyone is eating and is trying to beg for food.

Bunta

Honestly????? Bunta would probably be so confused. Dazai would hold Bunta and be like “Look, Bunta. Those are your babies.” and Bunta just tilts his head. But once they can leave the nest they follow Bunta or Dazai around. Bunta has taught them that Theo is bad and to stay away from the cat. He brings Schelm and Jupiter into the room to see them, and Schelm is like “…..food???” and Bunta screams. Soon they are doing the same as Bunta and sleeping int he other birds nests. It annoys Schelm to have tiny cheeping blobs in his nest, but if they are quite then they aren’t too bad.. Jupiter enjoys them and can’t understand how a bird can be even smaller than Bunta. Bunta is already so smaller, and they come even smALLER??

Harry

Smol bby hedgehogs all scurrying around Isaac’s room because he refuses to let them go out into the hallway because he’s worried about them. Isaac was so deep in his work he forgot to tell anyone about the babies. Sebastian happened to come by to drop off his lunch and heard the squeaking of the babies. The babies were already like two weeks old at this point. Whenever a bug gets into the bedroom they start to run after it trying to eat it and then they start fighting for it. So as much as he hates it, Isaac will intentionally bring bugs into his room because he knows they want to eat bugs. Harry however teaches them how to sneak out of the room to go exploring. This is how they all end up getting stuck in the basement… again. They just can’t seem to be able to go up stairs.

Cherie

No one but Jean knew about the two cubs for the first few months. Then he took them to show Comte to show him how cute they are. Comte just looks at him and isn’t quite sure what to say. There is no way they can keep up with four tigers. But while they are cubs they are adorable and lay in the sun and sleep with Lumiere and they all play fight. They know when Sebas is in the kitchen and run in and squeak for food, especially if it is meat they smell.

Puck

Oh god. How many would there even be. Will and MC thought her rabbit was a boy, but then a month later there were babies. Will just looked at Puck and went “Don’t you dare do it again,” and Puck is just munching on some greens. So many zoomies. The babies were extra hyper and Will had to extra rabbit proof the house. Puck wouldn’t just munch on anything he saw, but who knows with these babies. They started to chew the legs of Will’s writing table and made it wobbly. They will all pile up on Puck and sleep. Have you tried getting nearly a dozen bunnies back inside? Impossible. They are all over Vinc when he comes over to visit. At first they weren’t sure about him, but since Daddy Puck seemed to like him and not be bothered, they decided to investigate. Que Vinc cooing them all. Most of the babies picked up on Puck’s needy and yandere habits and must get fed when they want fed, or else they hangy.

Time/Thyme

THE CHAOS. Mini thymes running around biting your toes and climbing up your legs. Mozart has pulled one or two out of his piano and yeeted them out. They were running back like AGAIN AGAIN but he closed the door shut and never opened it when they were around. Somehow Leonardo always ends up with one in his pocket. Even he isn’t sure how. They will attack anyone but Comte is always the first option. They were all hidden in Vincents coat, he has a lot of layers, and then they heard Comte and suddenly all their little heads pop out. Vincent likes when they sleep on him. At least three times a day you hear Comte yelling “STOP BITING MY TOES” Thyme doesn’t help bc he bites too. He taught them well. Thyme doesn’t even try controlling them. He joins in the chaos. Sometimes you’ll even see them climbing up the curtains. At night Sebastian gets a basket and goes around the mansion to collect them all and puts them in Comtes room so everyone can sleep in peace.

Lotte

They are just so little what the heck. They baa and hop around like there’s nothing wrong in the world. Sometimes Sebas will bottle feed them just because he loves doing so and finds it adorable. They love to follow Sebas around when he’s cleaning. He will shoo them outside to go play but they just baa at him and keep following. If there is a table int he room you damn well be sure that they are going to stand on that table and baa at anyone who walks in. Theo and Arthur get baa’d at alot. Lottie basically lets them do what they want as long as it isn’t dangerous

Masterlist

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