#i forgot for a hot sec that u changed your user name ages ago hahahaha

[qserasera]

17 + 29 :3c

wow u r getting my response like *checks watch*.......10 days later after u sent this... GOMEN FRIEND orz

this is from the fic ask meme found here

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

zhongli!! o w o mr dragonman. he's so Old and also Cool and super OP and also in Love with mr childe tartaglia ajax (real) askdfas. i just like writing him low-key (obnoxiously and obviously) flirting :''))

i also did have lots of fun with ayato's characterization in my one tomato fic willow pond, locked in smoke. 29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

ahhhh :0 it looks like. i wrote. a lot this year. ummm going to choose 2 different lines hahaha

from willow pond, locked in smoke, i did love how this particular scene turned out with ayato quoting a poem at the moon!!

"Thoma," Ayato says. He lifts a single cup from his side to the sky, dark as silk and moody with stars. The waxing moon above hangs like a valued pearl from Watatsumi, untouched by the dust and worries of the mortal world. "If I remain here, let me remember / only this midnight, and this moonrise. "  "Really now." Thoma tips his head, turns his smile teasing. "Could you not take your time thinking about the moon in your bed instead, my lord?" "The view out here suits better," Ayato murmurs.

from my long zhongchi chili AU these sunlit days our hands engrave, i also really liked how the subtle flirting dialogue in this exchange turned out (your honor....they're honestly trying to bang but they just. end up talking. like this!!!!)

"Forgive this guest's poor understanding of history," Childe says, looking up at Zhongli once, and then darting his glance downwards in mock embarrassment. "On the other hand–" he looks back up, seeing amusement gleam in Zhongli's eyes, "they do say that there is an Emperor reputed to possess impeccable knowledge that surpasses ten scholars all together. If only he was willing to teach what he knows!" "Knowledge has a price, little scholar," Zhongli says. He leans forward. Eyes dark, but with a palpable focus, nearly heavy enough to taste—as if he was holding Childe in an internal balance of the scales in his heart. "What would you be willing to give, to possess it?" Around them, they hear the winding sounds of the guqin. The breeze-soft notes of the xiao flutes. Elegant percussion, implacable as a heartbeat, steps steady on an unswerving path. "Well then—" Childe draws in closer—perhaps playing his role a little too well. Lifts his eyes—Zhongli's expression remains as it was—something keen, almost consuming.