#See you with a plot twist in like. 75000 words

[wild-houseplant]

Have Warden, Will Travel- Chapter 26

I realise I just posted the last chapter a few hours ago, but idk. A bitch got busy and got the next one out. Stranger things have happened, especially when... drumroll... Zevran FINALLY gets off his numberplate and has The Talk with Rhodri. Link to AO3 here, and the rest is under the cut! My recommendation for fluid intake remains :D :D

Zevran would have paid good money to be one of the Dalish as the party drew up, red in the face and drenched in sweat and, in Rhodri’s case, running with the fellow strapped to her like an infant in a sling. It was delightful enough to spectate from the other side, but the dramatic levels of bafflement on the part of the clan was palpable, and Zevran ate it up with a spoon.

When the initial shock had subsided, the act was, quite predictably, well-received by the clan, not least because the man had somehow survived the hour-and-a-half’s run back. Whatever magic Rhodri had been intermittently poking the poor soul with must have worked. Zathrian thanked them, and the onlookers’ gazes had softened since the last encounter. 

Except for the curiosity with which they regarded Zevran and his tattoos. Curiosity and some kind of pity. Did they look at all city elves like this? The discomfort settled under his skin, and when Rhodri excused herself to shamble back to camp, he left with her.

In their own camp, things were easier, somehow. Oh, there were plenty of looks from Alistair and the others, too, but at least they weren’t so weighted. Dislike of an assassin was a reasonable thing. Mistrust of him because he flirted with anything that had a pulse was also merited, no doubt. Scrutiny from humans and any other non-elves didn’t smart quite the way scrutiny from the Dalish did. As though Zevran weren’t aware he wasn’t one of them. 

Rhodri never looked at him like that. She smiled at him and meant it, and it wasn’t laced with pity or exclusion. What, precisely, it was laced with remained to be seen in its entirety. Hopefully enormous reserves of untapped lust.

And if he would get on with it and make a move on her, he would find out. He would have to do it soon; the deadline Zevran had set for himself was one day away, and he wasn’t keen on failing to meet expectations.

It would have to wait for at least a little while, though. Upon returning to the camp, an exhausted Rhodri curled up near where Zevran sat in front of the fire. Leliana and Alistair had a stew bubbling, and the campfire was crackling gently.

“Need a little rest before I can eat,” Rhodri mumbled, seemingly to no-one in particular, and for all intents and purposes looked to be asleep before anyone could say anything about it. Her robe had been put back on once the man, Deygan, had been handed over to Zathrian, but it lay askew on her now, and one of her legs was uncovered. Without thinking, Zevran carefully took the corner of her robe and draped it over the exposed limb, and made a point of not acknowledging Leliana’s smug smile as he took a stick and fruitlessly poked at the fire.

 §

 Tonight was the night. It had to be, and despite the hours he had spent alone during his watch shift, Zevran had still failed to decide on how he would carry out his maximal flirtation. Gifts were unacceptable. Compliments were futile. She didn’t care for offences to modesty. At this rate, it was looking like he would have to simply hire Leliana to serenade her on his behalf. Oh, agony.

He was pulled from his bout of woebegone musings (how spoiled he was that this was his most pressing issue) by unmistakable Rhodri-esque footfalls coming from behind, and arranged his body into the most acceptably sensual position he could manage. He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach gave an unwanted jitter as he saw her walking toward him. 

She was carrying a steaming cup, smiling warmly at him and looking every bit the newly-awoken person. He chewed the inside of his cheek; she would have been a tactile delight at that moment, his cool fingers warming themselves on her toasty, blushed cheeks or running through the hair that hung loose and gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight.

“Hmm!” He waggled his brows as Rhodri sat down beside him. “A welcome sight indeed! Is it my birthday today?”

Rhodri grinned. “Hello, hello. I made tea for you,” she passed him the cup. “And if it is your birthday, it’s perfect timing, because I have something for you.”

“For me?” he bit his lip. “Oh, my, I am spoiled. Let me guess… is it a Grey Warden with a fine set of eyes?”

“Hah. People make for poor gifts,” she chuckled and shook her head. “Especially Grey Wardens. Haven’t you seen how often we need to be fed?”

He conceded her point with a snicker and nodded. “Just so. Tell me, what is the occasion? You know if you want something of me, you need only ask.” He bit his lip, pleased with the way things were effortlessly going in the right direction, and spoke in a low voice, “You’ll find I am more than willing, without any need for payment.”

Rhodri blinked. Of course she did. He kept the wicked smile in place anyway; perhaps she was simply slow to catch on.

“There… ah…” she frowned softly. “There is no occasion. And I wouldn’t really be allowed to say I was giving you something if I expected something in return. It’d be more like swapping then. No, this is just a gift. A regular gift.” Rhodri peered at him worriedly. “It’s normal, I promise.”

Shame washed through him, making his innards– and very nearly his exterior– cringe. He laughed hollowly.

“Forgive me, I am unused to this kind of thing.” He paused and added, “No-one has ever simply given me a gift before, you see. It is not the done thing in the Crows.”

Her eyebrows rose, and the mortification soaked in a little deeper. “Didn’t you have birthday presents in the brothel? Even something small, like an orange, or a special story?”

He laughed again, from a rather more bitter place this time. “I do not know my birthday. Whores and their children are not counted in the nation’s registry, and there is no point in guessing it when it is not worth noticing.”

Rhodri’s face fell. “But it is worth noticing,” she insisted softly. “You deserve to have a special day. Once we’re in Minrathous, you’ll get birthday and Satinalia presents, and just-because presents throughout the year. Go ahead, Zev, pick a birthdate.”

Zevran, too astonished not to, let out a long ‘ha.’ “There are many to choose from...”

“You can share mine if you like,” she brightened. “We could have a joint birthday party and everything. I’m born on the first of Molioris.”

“Molioris–? Ah, Bloomingtide. So you are born on Summerday, are you, my dear Warden? An excellent choice, very easy to remember.”

“Thank you, I picked it myself, so my mother says.” She winked and laughed. “The parties are always enormous, because everyone loves celebrating Summerday when someone else is paying. Lots of music, lots of dancing–” she waggled her brows (waggled them!) and added, “and plenty of presents for you, guaranteed. One of the best days for a party.”

It was tempting to say yes. And it occurred to Zevran, mercifully before any true concern could begin to eat him alive, that it was likely tempting because it was the sensible thing to do. After all, had the Crows not taught him to seize on opportunities that would benefit him? If it was a sin to be pleased that things had gone well, he could no doubt summon up some dreadful memory to taint it a little and keep the enjoyment at acceptable levels.

But really. Only a fool would have said no to the offer, and Zevran was no fool. He smiled, perhaps a little more broadly than planned, and nodded. “In which case, I am now a Summerday baby.”

Rhodri beamed. Bounced a little where she sat. “Oh… great! Fantastic! Right, well, let me give you your present, then, before I forget myself altogether.” She turned away and rummaged– whether it was in the Robe Void or her satchel was unclear– and reappeared with–

“Gloves!” Zevran blinked away his bafflement. It was a curious gift, considering she had only recently supplied him with brand-new gloves. “My word, I am spoiled for choice, between these and my other gloves.”

“Turn them over,” she said gently. “Look closely.”

"Oh, believe me, I intend to--" he stopped as he glanced down and saw the intricate embroidery on the gloves, and the air caught in his throat a moment. “Oh, my.”

He held them up and examined them in the moonlight. A basic pattern of leaves and furling roots trailed up the deerskin exterior, and he recognised it immediately. "These are Dalish, are they not? Much like my mother’s.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You remembered my story.”

“Yes,” Rhodri nodded. “I always pay close attention when you talk to me. I bought them from Master Varathorn earlier this afternoon.”

“The leather was less thick, and it had more embroidery,” he pondered aloud before quickly adding, “but these are very close! And quite handsome!" 

"Oh, I didn't imagine they'd be identical to your mother's," Rhodri said quickly, holding up her hands. "I didn’t intend to replace them or anything like that. More so that you… I don’t know…" she shrugged in a jerky fashion, "so you at least had something to think of her with." 

Zevran’s cheeks ached from smiling. He threw his gloves off, pulling the Dalish ones on and flexing his fingers. They sat comfortably, so supple and flexible, and the soft fur interior began warming his hands straight away. 

"A perfect fit, my Warden," he purred. 

The Warden beamed like she’d been the one given the gift. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pushing off with her foot to rock herself. Zevran bit his lip in a half-smile and shifted his newly-gloved hands to admire his gift and the giver all at once.

She had barely fallen into her new rhythm before she froze mid-sway. Her fingers tightened around her knees, foot replacing on the ground.

“Ah. Forgive me,” she mumbled, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I’m not meant to. I just– it just happens sometimes, before I even realise I’m doing it.”

Zevran shuffled closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Mm? Why would you apologise for something like that, my lovely Grey Warden?”

“What? I– well, It’s offensive.”

“Hmm? Offensive to who?”

“… Everybody.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Everybody?”

Rhodri gave a bleak, bitter scoff that damn near stole the throat out of him. “Come on, Zev,” she said with a razorblade laugh. “Do you think I don’t see the way people look at me? The way they stare?”

Zevran swallowed, suddenly feeling terribly exposed. He pulled on a sultry smile, praying his wits would guide them into happier topics of conversation. 

“Well, I do stare at you, it’s true,” he purred. “Guilty as charged.”

His belly dropped as her face fell. She looked away and nodded, her voice down to a mumble now. “I know you do.”

“Ah, but–” he began quickly, anxiously even. He paused and cleared his throat, forcing languor, “My dear Grey Warden, you and I both know you are very beautiful. Who could blame me for drinking you in from time to time? Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable I will stop.”

Rhodri raised an eyebrow at him. “You stare at me differently, though. Alistair is beautiful, too. So are Morrigan and Leliana. You don’t look at them the same way as you do me.”

“Ah, my dear!” he trilled, only partly because his belly was jittering roughly enough to shake a vibrato into him. “Can I not have my preferences? Is it so unthinkable that I find you much, much more attractive than I do them?”

He decided the discomfort had been worth it as the doubt evaporated from Rhodri’s expression. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well now, that’s a fair point. I am very beautiful, it’s true, and we like what we like.” She looked at him and nodded firmly. “No, that’s very reasonable.”

Point: missed. Still, at least that stomach-turning hurt face was gone. He smiled. 

“Good. In any case, you might wish to reconsider your stance on moving your body.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We are not like these uptight Fereldans, my dear Warden. We are Northerners! Passionate! Expressing ourselves is in our blood!”

Rhodri shrugged, that sad look creeping back in. “Not like this,” she said hollowly.

Zevran shrugged back with a flourish. “Perhaps, but it would be boring if we all went about it the same way. I happen to find your way to be very enjoyable. It isn’t often people are so open with me, and it’s most refreshing.” He caught her eye and winked as obviously as he could manage, adding in a purr, “Charming, too.”

Her breath snagged. Loudly. 

Loud enough, he thanked the Maker, to cover the swell in his own chest from watching her face soften. A blush was staining her cheeks the colour of wine, and in the process evaporating all memory of her months-long oblivion to his advances. At last, at long last, the copper had dropped.

Zevran shuffled a little closer, steadying his enthusiasm with a careful breath. “I’ve a question for you, my Warden, if I may.”

Rhodri shook her head like she was trying to physically force her expression off her face. “Ah! Yes.” She nodded. “Of course, yes. You can ask me anything. Please, go ahead.”

He bit his lip and smiled. “Tell me, Rhodri, are you aware that you’re blushing?”

Her eyes widened. Looked around. She touched her cheek briefly and glanced at her fingers as if to check for evidence.

“I…” she swallowed and spoke slowly. “I… couldn’t say with any certainty since I can’t see my face, but I feel my cheeks burning. If– ah… if you told me they were red, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

His smile broadened. “They are quite red, yes.”

Rhodri gulped again and looked out at something behind him. “I believe you.”

Zevran shuffled forward a little. “Did I make you blush, lovely Rhodri?”

Her cheeks darkened to scarlet before she could clear her throat and answer, “Yes.”

He waited to catch her eye before he spoke again, keeping his voice to a low, warm purr. “Do you like it when I make you blush, mi sol?”

“I– ah…” Rhodri’s eyes darted around again. She cleared her throat, “Why are you asking these questions, Zev?”

Zevran chuckled before the nerves could make him do something much more foolish and opted for the bluntness he really should have employed months ago.

“Well, my Grey Warden,” he said evenly, “the truth is that I happen to fancy you. A great deal, in fact.” He gestured at the flare of colour spilling into the rest of her face now, “And I get the impression that the interest might be mutual. Would I be correct?”

No verbalised answer came, but it was unnecessary. Zevran knew what a person caught out looked like, and Rhodri, with her wide eyes and sudden lack of breathing, was unmistakably one of those. 

He smiled and pressed on. “If I am, perhaps it would be well to say that I am more than open to us getting closer. Getting… entangled with each other, if you will.” Zevran flickered his eyebrows once. “What say you, my dear Warden? Does it take your fancy?”

Silence held for a few beats as Rhodri shifted her gaze onto Zevran, studying his face for Maker-knew-what. He kept his head tilted at an open, sultry angle that invited her to study further down, too, if she wished it. 

It wasn’t until the pause was growing pregnant that she met his eyes. Bright and inquiring, almost white with the stark moonlight bouncing off them. Fixed on him. Her brows drew ever so slightly. 

“I… don’t think that would be fair on you, Zev,” Rhodri finally said. 

An astonished ‘Eh?’ fell out of Zevran before he could stop it. He excused himself and chuckled a little. “I am not sure what you mean, my dear.”

“You would be at a disadvantage if we did this,” she said simply. “It’s difficult enough as it is.”

He laughed again, throwing a quick prayer heavenward that it wouldn’t become so hysterically funny that this all went to the Void in a handbasket. “Lovely Rhodri, I live a charmed life at your side! Whatever do you mean?” He held up a hand and counted off his fingers. “You treat me like everyone else, share your food, make me tea in the mornings, even! I have a salary!” He paused to permit the chuckle he couldn’t quite restrain. Him, with a salary!  

“And on top of all that, you have invited me to live in your estate in Minrathous and do as I please for the rest of my days! And protect me from the Crows–”

“Yes, exactly,” Rhodri cut him off there, nodding solemnly. 

“‘... Exactly?’ I do not quite know where the difficulty starts, truthfully. And certainly, if we were to grow closer, I would think there is even less difficulty. Such arrangements tend to meet needs, no?” He winked. “And let me assure you, my dear, that your needs would be more than adequately met if you put yourself in my clever hands.”

His flirtation fell flat before the solicitous look she was giving him. “You said it yourself, Zev. I protect you from the Crows. I’m the only thing keeping them from you. There is a much greater power imbalance between us than, say, me and Alistair, or me and Morrigan.” She peered at him curiously. “Did you never notice how I won’t touch you unless I ask first, or unless it’s an emergency?”

Why Zevran looked down at his hands was beyond him. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed that Rhodri was careful around him, but had it not been Tevinter manners, sharpened for a fellow Northerner? Fear, perhaps? There was something so jarring about it all that there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to look. All the warmth, all the rapport, and she had made a point of keeping him at arm’s length the entire time, for his own sake.

“You see,” Rhodri continued, “you rely on me for safety, and don’t even have the option of leaving if I were to behave objectionably.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, relieved that he had not been asked to speak sooner. “You have a point. Though usually, the people who plan to behave objectionably would not be so concerned about such things. Am I wrong? Do you have plans to shatter my kneecaps if I do not do as you ask of me?”

She gasped. “Of course not! I’d– I’d never–”

“Then surely there is no issue,” he chuckled. “We are adults who can consent, and if we both do, what is there to stop us from having a little fun?”

“What stops us is the fact that you've spent your life forced to suppress your own wants and needs to meet the whims of others,” Rhodri pressed. “I was listening when we took watches together and you told me about life in the Crows. You had no say over your own body. If we went this way and I…” she hummed a moment. “Ah! Let’s say I asked if you wanted sex. Given the life you’ve lived, and knowing that I have the power to make your life miserable, even if I wouldn’t dream of it… how would I know that if you said ‘yes’, it was because you wanted it? How would I know that you felt you could say ‘no’ to me without consequence?”

Zevran raised his eyebrows. “I have never lied to you, Rhodri, and I have no burning urge to start, either.”

"Ah?" Rhodri let out a disbelieving laugh. “Lying to me is the least egregious part of all that. Forget about that! You’d be lying to yourself, and putting yourself through the same thing the Crows forced you to, because you thought you needed to please me.” She shuddered. “Horrifere. The thought makes my skin crawl.” 

Momentarily at a loss for words, Zevran made an ‘ah’ to buy himself some more time. And then, when nothing came, he made another.

“You see, don’t you, why this topic cannot be entertained?” Rhodri asked, apparently under the impression they were both in agreement now.

“... I will admit that I did not consider the issue at length,” Zevran conceded, “if at all, really, but had I believed you would make a sex slave of me at the first opportunity, I would not have offered. My offer still remains.” He sighed. “Truly, Rhodri, I think that if we can only have this conversation when we hold equal power, the chance to discuss it may never come.”

She nodded heavily. “Yes, exactly. Short of a miracle, this subject isn’t one we can broach.”

Zevran’s stomach started to fall. “But you know,” he pressed, “life is not so simple as that. No two people share equal power across the board. Even if I were a Magister, we would not be the same.” He shifted forward. “And so far, this conversation has only been about my interests. What of you, hmm? What do you want?”

Rhodri shook her head firmly. “Whether I want this or not is of no importance, pretiotus, and I will not answer that. Your safety and freedom take priority, and I will not let anyone, or anything, get in the way of those. Especially not myself.” 

A thud registered in the lower half of Zevran’s gut– no doubt his stomach finally landing. A heaviness crept into his shoulders and neck, dragging his head and body down. He caught sight of the gloves on his hands, delicate and beautiful and given so sweetly, and looked somewhere, anywhere else.

“Well then,” he said after a moment. “I suppose I shall have to be optimistic and keep an eye out for that miracle, no?” An acute pang registered as clever words began to run dry; he rose to his feet. “In any case, I should leave you to your shift before I talk your ear off.” With a nod, he turned and made his way towards his tent.

“Zev?”

Zevran turned around, far too quickly for his liking. His chest ached a little. “Hmm?”

Rhodri fixed him with another one of those pleading looks, and it wasn’t helping matters. “Do something for me, pretiotus,” she said gently.

“Of course.” He pulled his mouth into a smile. “Name your wish.”

“Tell me if you think of anything I can do to even things out between us.” The flicker of hope must have shown up on his face, because she held up her hands quickly, adding, “I don’t say this to get into bed with you, but as someone who cares about you. I want for you to have the freedom to live life on your own terms. It’s your right.”

“... Ah,” he said. It seemed to be all he was capable of saying at this point. 

“I’ll think on it, too,” she nodded fervently. “I will. If there’s anything I can do to put power back in your hands, then mark my words, it will happen.” Rhodri bent down until they were eye-level and nodded again. “I will always try for you, Zev. Believe it.”

Zevran swallowed the huge unease her words brought, but this time it wouldn’t go away. His body had apparently decided on its own that this was all the discomfort he could stand for one night.

He chuckled. “You are a good friend to me, Rhodri. See you in the morning, no?”

Rhodri’s eyes widened. She looked like Satinalia had come early. “You’ve…” her fingers wrung themselves roughly. “You’ve never called me a friend before.” She bit her lip and smiled at her feet, nodding her head. “I’m so proud to be your friend.”

It was a strange thing to have a chest that was swelling in one part and shrivelling in the other. Unpleasant, really. Zevran preferred to have his emotions one at a time, and his preferences were notably not being observed by any part of his mind at that moment.

He smiled anyway, and let the weaker part of him drink in the tender grin he was getting back. “Likewise, my dear.” 

His words finally spent, he made another wave and made a beeline for his tent, hoping against hope that sleep wouldn’t be as elusive as it was looking to be.

[fictionalurl]

ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

(as usual, I just did all of them instead of soliciting asks)

1. How many words have you written this year?

You know, I don't know! My published works come out to like 57k, I think, on a quick tally, but I have at least half that again in unfinished works sitting around. A lot of them date back to a long time ago and have work done this year that falls more under "tweaks" than "adding word count," so it's tough to tell.

2. How many works did you publish this year?

Eight, not counting some I later unpublished because they were bad. Mostly they came in bunches when I was on specific antidepressants. If I were in that state of mind all the time, I can't even imagine how much more it might be.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

As far as published works go, probably queen of secrets, which is both evocative in the way I like and actually ties itself up with a bow at the end, which I haven't managed in any other work, really.

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

My one explicit fic (on a different ao3 account) has 3500 in a shockingly short period of time. Well, only shocking when you don't normally write explicit fic. Just how it goes, I guess.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

None of them really, to be honest, but perhaps my Lena/Jess rarepair fic, which I would love to expand upon. (I actually have many words of a followup fic already written; the trouble is, they aren't going anywhere since I don't have a plot concept.)

6. Favorite title you used

but she likes the way you sing, a song lyric that means something entirely different in context than it does as a title from a song that doesn't directly apply, but has the right vibes.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I don't, really. And when I do it tends not to be from songs or artists I'm super obsessed with or whatever, at least so far.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Supercorp... but, being the kind of person who doesn't usually experience the original media for the fics I read, that's more a product of what the community creates and what I'm therefore inspired to riff on.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? 

Not a romantic pairing, but the concept of Alice and Emma from DBH meeting each other immediately wrote itself into a 13k fic without me having to do much of anything. (I want to write an Alice/Emma romance fic with them grown up now, like in college or something, not because I have an actual idea for that, but because they're so distinct in my brain now).

In general, that's my favorite way to write: a single "hey, what if X" premise that leads to a lot of other connections one can draw.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Hah—none of them. I take ages to write anything. Well, sort of: I have a bunch of WIPs that were basically straight off the dome, but none of them have endings, because I have trouble getting back into the mental place that they came out of in order to continue them.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

My currently-75000 word original work, naturally. On a per-word basis, probably see the thorn twist in your side, which has a really distinctive and terse writing style that I initially was writing on my phone (slow) and then was agonizing over trying to keep producing (also slow).

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Like 20. In the past month I've started to feel like none of them are finishable, but that may be a product of my mental state, so we'll see.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

Published: my Alice/Emma fic, which is a bit weird to me because it feels shorter than queen of secrets. My guess is that as you get better your word count naturally inflates a bit unless you're specifically doing something where that wouldn't be the case?

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

This question reminded me that I have a triple drabble that I could post, so I did (and then updated question #2). Other than that:

it just so happens to be the cyberlife model that is the very best in the world at making believe.

...a random unposted-but-complete mediocre DBH piece that's like 1.1k.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

As mentioned, I have a lot of them but none of them feel completable in my current mental state. I absolutely have to finish see the thorn twist in your side, though, because the parts I have are just so, so good that it would be a shame not to share them. Too bad I hate works with endings worse than their middles and it's super difficult to write.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Apparently "fluff," but it's a count of four, so I don't think that actually counts. I don't have enough fics or tags to actually have any patterns.

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

Probably the slightly sassy ones: my versions of Emma Phillips and Jess Huang (who both have approximately two canonical lines, because that's how I roll). My OC Cassandra, who you can read in my posted GW2 WIPs, would count if I'd written her this year.

Well... maybe my favorite characters to write are actually the characters from my longest original work WIP, because they're most like me (thoughtful and gentle and getting absolutely nothing done).

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Jess Huang, who in a sense doesn't exist, arguably takes the cake as having torpedoed the fic sequel the most people want. But I just have nothing on that one. As far as effort put in goes, Shae from see the thorn twist in your side probably takes the cake. I promise I'll finish that eventually so you can see what I'm talking about.

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I have a Quinn/Rachel (yeah, from Glee) WIP. No, I haven't seen that show either. Furthermore, I've read the wiki extensively and the version of their relationship I'm trying to go for (kinda toxic post-show) isn't canon, so all I'm going to be able to go off of for inspiration is fanfics written mid-run. Kinda painful.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I've reread caramel/sugarplums and queen of secrets so many times it would be extremely embarrassing to actually admit out loud. Double digit times on both, most likely. Hey, I know what I like, and when I manage to create it, well, I've created exactly what I like. I try to feel proud of that.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

718, says the stats page. 99% on supergirl fics, of course, because fandom size is a thing.

22. Which work has the most comments?

queen of secrets, because it's my best supergirl work, so I mean I hope it does.

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

No! I don't really know anyone who... is into any of the things I'm into and does writing stuff much yet? And also that sounds extremely difficult? But it sounds like a really cool thing in theory.

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

Kind of; I only put a bunch of time in to finish a certain fic because a friend was like "lesbians? 👀" a ton of times, and that's the one time I've really experienced external enthusiasm for my work firsthand. So that one was a gift, though not in every sense since the specifics of the work weren't tailored to them (I met them after writing most of it, after all).

25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Nope!

26. What’s your most common category?

F/F or gen.

27. What do you listen to while writing?

Absolute silence. I cannot get into a fictional world while having anything else to pay attention to. In the dark under a blanket or bust.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

Same as #3 since I wrote it this year. Although... honestly, my Alice & Emma fic might be as good or better?

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh boy, uh. Hm. People liked the "little shimmers of ice dissipate off of it and descend slowly around both of them like the winter's first snowfall" line, and that scene is decent, but... man now I have to go think about this. It's definitely a STTTIYS line. That whole thing is basically 500 contenders for this back to back.

"I wouldn't have been able to tell… what?" carter knows, already, but she needs to hear it.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

That I did it at all! I haven't followed through on a single thing in my entire life up to this point, so, like, hitting that publish button is. Wild.