zhongli thoughts im bored
i am obsessed with the imagery of him holding a golden fan just below his eyes and gazing over the city
highly proficient in all makeup, cosmetics and accessories, you need to dress up nicely for a fancy occasion he can have you looking like a goddess just give him some time
he sits in the sun a lot, when he had the exuvia he would sit on the tallest mountains and sleep in the sun
Unlike the other archons zhongli is closely attached to the sun, he is like the sun in many ways, he guides people, brightens their lives, plants and life thrive under his care
However the sun is still deadly, those who get too close to him burn up in his presence and those who keep their distance are trapped in the shadow he casts and lose themselves, like the sun in the sky he is meant to shine brightly all by himself
i am obsessed with the imagery of zhongli sitting in a bathtub and all of his draconic features just come out one by one, first his arms turn gold and then come his claws. Next comes the horns on the top of his head as his hair grows longer and longer. Last is the tail which flops over the edge of the tub
He can't sing but he has some talent with instruments, a habit he picked up from being around quizhong, ping and venti for so long, he can work with string instruments best
He will pat your head, he can't help it, if hu tao has her hat off and she makes him smile that hand will be on her head
crazy thought of the liyue gang playing hide and seek, like xiangling, xingqiu, yunjin, xinyan, hutao and chongyun playing this huge game and they run all over the city it becomes a huge affair at one point xiangling is "it" and she can't find anyone but she comes across zhongli sitting in his favorite spot at third round knockout and she's like "sorry to disturb you but have you seen hu tao" and he smiles and is like "well i don't know about the director but i saw a blue haired exorcist up at the terrace he might be around the glaze lilies" and xiangling thanks him and goes to chase chongyun down, zhongli whispers behind him "she's gone" and then 4 of them, xingqiu, yunjin, xinyan and hutao just poke out from behind him (they want to keep hiding behind him but with a smile he shoos them away to play the game properly)
zhongli is painfully popular you can take the man out of the archon but you can't take the archon out of the man
zhongli likes to keep the moon by his side specifically the people who are like the moon; guizhong, venti, xiao, azhdaha, rukkha, ganyu the list goes on and on -perhaps they are naturally drawn together its unclear who gravitates to who but even liyue itself is a beautiful moon he can cling to
zhongli can petrify things with his hands, just lightly brushing his fingertips over anything will encase it in stone and with a short breath it will crumble to dust
mr. workaholic the reason why we never see him at work and always on vacation is because he goes crazy and completes all the paperwork and it scares hutao so she kicks him out (but then he spends all his money so he has to come back the cycle never ends)
as a consultant zhongli takes on many jobs if they hire him from wangsheng he’s quite expensive though ganyu tries her best to direct the qixing away from him but some things are unavoidable and they require his assistance
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I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.
The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.
Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.
In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.
And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.
I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.
But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.
His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.
It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.
I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)
It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.
And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".
He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.
So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.
He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.
I love him. I miss him already.
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