#also i had NOT missed dealing with AO3 html formatting

[symphorine]

i’ll make you feel alive with me, alive with me

T, 5,909 words, Guo Changcheng/Chu Shuzhi, Complete

Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Minor Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Holding Hands, hands are a focus. don't worry about it, set at some ambiguous time during canon

It’s dark; the only light comes from very slim windows at the very top of the walls, and most of them are obscured by dirt and broken tiles. Guo Changcheng can barely make out Chu Shuzhi, just a few feet away from him.

“Ah, hold on!” Guo Changcheng opens his bag and rummages through it, then brings his phone out, turning on the flashlight. “This should help,” he says, looking up.

The basement is empty.

_______________________________________

Guo Changcheng does detective work, gets hurt, and spends some time with Chu Shuzhi.

I wrote this *checks notes* almost two years ago, then got into a writing slump so bad I couldn't even look at it again for editing. Finally got the courage to ask my friends to read it, which made me able to read it also, and dust it off to send it into the world. I'm not actively into Guardian anymore, but my god I do love Guo Changcheng and Chu Shuzhi still. Thank you Raleigh, Robin and K for encouragements.

Enjoy! Remaining typos are my own. Title is from Love me blind by Thick as thieves, which is my go-to chuguo song.

Title is AO3 link, but I also have the fic under the cut.

Guo Changcheng fiddles with the strap of his bag while reading his notes. Most of the witness statements are confusing and hard to make sense of, as much as he’s tried. Their culprit is described as both tall and short, an old woman and a teenager, fat and stick-thin, and that’s only when the witnesses actually saw a person. If all the incidents hadn’t happened close to each other, the SID would probably not have been involved, and this would have gone under their radar. He blinks furiously and rereads the page from the top, frowning like it’ll help him make out the characters better. He has to find something, he has to, or Chu-ge…

“Changcheng.”

Guo Changcheng jumps around, eyes wide. “Chu-ge! But I thought- Are you okay? Are you recovered?”

Chu Shuzhi huffs. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. The chief sent me to see if you needed help.”

Guo Changcheng relaxes. “I’m glad you feel better. It was… it was scary.” He swallows and turns back to his notebook, flipping back a few pages. “Several of the people we’ve talked to reported things happening around the same building. That’s all I have so far,” he adds, looking down.

“Sounds like enough to me,” Chu Shuzhi says with a half smile. “Let’s go.”

It’s a short enough walk to the building; an old schoolhouse, abandoned for a few years now. Guo Changcheng had looked it up: the roof and walls had been falling apart, sometimes on the students, and the city had organized a hasty transfer and shut it down when the teachers’ room had flooded. It is now a decrepit, empty building, covered with climbing vines and ivy, waiting for the day it will finally be torn down and repurposed. Guo clutches at his bag and steels himself before opening the gate to the courtyard, and hears Chu Shuzhi chuckle behind him.

“Afraid of ghosts?” Chu Shuzhi asks, walking past him.

“No!” Guo Changcheng replies, definitely too fast. He has reasons to be, okay? With their job, meeting ghosts is definitely in the realm of possibilities; and he’s been uneasy since Chu-ge got taken down by their criminal of the week. Sure, he seems okay now, but…

Guo Changcheng frowns, something nagging at the back of his mind, but Chu Shuzhi is already at the door of the building, looking back at him impatiently, and so he rushes forward instead.

The interior looks mostly like Guo Changcheng had expected: dusty, with lots of debris and bits of plaster littering the floor, and some hardy plants growing from the cracks in between the tiles of the hallway.

“Stay behind me,” says Chu Shuzhi, glancing at him before going down the corridor. He opens the door to the old classrooms as silently as possible (not very), and Guo Changcheng stands at the ready behind him, peering over his shoulder with his electric baton ready. He tenses at every door, but they reach the last one without anything happening.

“Maybe this place has nothing to do with the attacks,” Guo Changcheng says, lowering his weapon and stepping back.

Chu Shuzhi turns back towards him. “We should check the whole thing anyway.”

“The whole thing?”

“There’s a basement.” Chu Shuzhi nods towards a sign right next to Guo Changcheng’s head. When he turns around, he sees the faded and scratched characters white characters on the sickly green sign, and the double doors next to it.

“Oh.” Guo Changcheng sighs a little. “Okay.”

Without waiting for his mind to tell him it’s a terrible idea, he pushes the doors open and walks in, almost falling down the steep stairs.

“Be careful!” Chu Shuzhi snaps, glancing at him to make sure he’s unharmed before going down the stairs himself.

And this - makes Guo Changcheng pause. Chu-ge… Chu Shuzhi - this Chu Shuzhi - hasn’t touched him once since meeting him earlier. And Guo Changcheng feels a little guilty for noticing, his ears growing warm, but he’s used to (enjoys probably a bit more than he should) Chu-ge’s many casual touches; rough, often, yanking him back from danger or pushing him out of the way. Gentle, other times, a warm hand over Guo Changcheng’s neck, a comforting one on his shoulder.

He hadn’t even tried to hold him back from falling down. And the witness accounts...

“You coming or not?” Chu Shuzhi calls, scowling at him.

“Yes!” Guo Changcheng steps inside, the doors closing behind him with a soft whoosh. “Sorry, Chu-ge.”

It’s dark; the only light comes from very slim windows at the very top of the walls, and most of them are obscured by dirt and broken tiles. Guo Changcheng can barely make out Chu Shuzhi, just a few feet away from him.

“Ah, hold on!” Guo Changcheng opens his bag and rummages through it, then brings his phone out, turning on the flashlight. “This should help,” he says, looking up.

The basement is empty.

Someone grabs him from behind violently, sending his phone and his baton both tumbling to the ground way too far for Guo Changcheng to reach them, and pulls his arms tightly behind him.

“Now,” says Chu Shuzhi’s voice, cold and angry and unlike anything he’s sounded like in a long while, “you’re going to be a good little hostage and tell me about the SID.”

Guo Changcheng swallows. “Chu-ge?” he asks, more for show than anything else. He tries to wriggle out of his attacker’s grasp, but they only tighten their hands - Chu Shuzhi’s hands and yet not - to the point of hurting enough to make him gasp.

“I’m not your Chu-ge. Fuck that man,” they say, wearing his face, and it makes anger spark in Changcheng’s chest. “Now tell me. Who else knows about me?”

“All of us,” Guo Changcheng says, before whimpering. “You won’t get away.”

“Dammit,” they murmur. “I guess we’re in for the long haul, then.”

They let go of one of Guo Changcheng’s arm, their hand coming up to his throat, but he’s ready. With a pained cry, he throws himself backwards and elbows them, flailing his limbs with as much energy as he can. The fake Chu Shuzhi’s grip loosens for a split second in surprise, and Guo Changcheng lunges forward, slipping out of their reach and throwing himself at his baton but falling just a bit short

“You little rat!” they hiss, and they’re on him before he has even managed to scramble up. “I’ll teach you!”

They pull their fist back, and Guo Changcheng can only hold his arms in front of him, thinking back to Chu-ge injuries, the way his jaw had looked like it had been split apart, his legs swollen and bleeding with open fractures, and he thinks, I’m going to die.

When the fist connects with his arm, Guo Changcheng screams. It feels like his bones are splintering, the pain reaching his shoulder, his heart, his neck, unbearable in its intensity. The fake Chu Shuzhi grins and prepares for another punch while Guo Changcheng reaches back, hoping for anything, anything he can use- 

His fingers close on his electric baton and he brandishes it, terrified, sending all the strength of his fear in violent electric currents point blank in his attacker’s face with so much force that Guo Changcheng drops it.

The light from the electricity blinds him, and for a moment after it subsides, he thinks he missed - he wasted his shot, and he going to in horrible pain and-

But there are no other noises than his laboured breath, and he slowly, slowly sits up, trying very carefully not to let his left arm brush against anything (he fails, and it hurts a lot). He blinks a few times, listening for any sign that the fake Chu Shuzhi is still up and moving, about to hit him again, but it’s only when his own breathing calms down that he can hear the other, faint and shallow.

“Oh,” Guo Changcheng says, and then repeats when he feels his whole chest hurt as he speaks. His arm is throbbing and the pain makes him nauseous, but he makes himself sit up and look around, and finds his phone. The screen is cracked, but still functional, and he turns the flashlight on again, shining it before him.

The body of Chu Shuzhi is lying prone, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. There’s a huge burn on his face going down and under his shirt, and Guo Changcheng almost panics again before he remembers it isn’t Chu-ge. He still feels a little bad - he never means to hurt people permanently, or at all if he can help it - but the pain and the adrenaline overwhelm him, and he lies down on the mercifully cold floor, dialling the office’s number before passing out.

  Professor Shen sits back and puts Guo Changcheng’s arm down, the pain finally reduced to a mere ache.

“Thank you,” Guo Changcheng says.

“It’s not entirely healed. You will need a splint, and painkillers.” Professor Shen looks down, apologetic. “That’s all I can do for now.”

“It’s more than enough,” Guo Changcheng reassures him. “Thank you so much.”

Chief Zhao interrupts before professor Shen can reply. “If I let you two go on, we’ll be at it until tomorrow,” he sighs. “Someone should be here in a couple minutes to patch you up the normal way. You did good work,” he adds, his voice serious. “How did you realize it wasn’t Lao Chu? Far as I could tell, the replica was perfect. Did he say something wrong?”

“No,” Guo Changcheng says before he can think of lying. “He, uhm. I, uh, just thought it was strange that he had recovered already,” he mumbles - he tries not to think of the intense relief he had felt, or the lack of suspicion.

“Hm. Yeah, I guess even if Shen Wei had helped out, it was fast,” Chief Zhao said pensively. “Well, either way, that probably saved your life.”

Guo Changcheng shudders. “Yes,” he says. “I’ll write it all in my report.”

“You do that.” Chief Zhao goes to pat his shoulder, but remembers Changcheng’s injuries at the last moment, and settles for an awkward thumbs up before taking his hand back.

“Guo Changcheng?” A nurse calls, standing in the door.

Professor Shen rises and Chief Zhao grins. “Ah, that’s our cue. Now, be good and don’t go fighting perps on your own again,” he says, wagging his finger at Guo Changcheng.

“I won’t,” Guo Changcheng promises.

They leave and the nurse comes over, inspecting his arm with a puzzled frown, but she only makes idle chat while applying the splint and giving him painkillers.

“This is a peculiar injury,” she says when she’s done, “so I don’t know how long exactly it will take to heal. I’d advise you to keep the splint on for at least a week, and then come back here for another look. Take painkillers whenever needed, we’ll give you a prescription.” She stands up and gathers her tools, but stops before turning around. “Oh, I almost forgot! Your friends told me to tell you your other friend is in room M202.” She looks at him with raised eyebrows, and smiles when he nods. “You should find him awake.”

“Thank you,” Guo Changcheng says again.

He hops off the examination table and goes through the door that she’s kindly holding up for him. He pauses outside, not sure where the room is, and she points left with an amused smile.

Guo Changcheng thanks her once more and watches her go in the opposite direction, waving awkwardly with his right arm - he’d gotten mostly nasty bruises on it, and it hurts still, but not nearly as much as the left one had.

Room M202 is a little further, in a less busy part of the hospital. Guo Changcheng hesitates when he finds himself in front of it. Should he knock? What if Chu-ge is resting? He probably needs it a lot. What if he’s too tired and Changcheng is just making things worse?

Before he can take a step back, though, he thinks again of the fake Chu Shuzhi - restraining him, hitting him, lying on the ground with a burn scar across his face. Guo Changcheng doesn’t know if it stayed when the Dixingren had switched back to his own appearance. He isn’t sure he wants to know. But he wants- he wants to see the real Chu Shuzhi, without the scar and with the kinder hands.

Guo Changcheng pushes the door to find Chu Shuzhi sitting up, already looking at him, with a half smile Guo Changcheng had seen just earlier today.

“Thought you’d never come in.”

“Sorry.” Guo Changcheng closes the door behind him and walks closer. There’s a chair next to the bedside, and he sits gingerly in it. He’s still quite sore from the fight.

“Dumbass,” Chu Shuzhi says. “Stop apologizing for nothing.”

He reaches out, his hand warm and familiar on Guo Changcheng’s neck, and he melts into the touch, just a little.

“Yes, Chu-ge,” he replies with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“I should ask you that.” Chu Shuzhi’s smile falls away, but his hand stays where it is, tightening in a way that would be imperceptible if Guo Changcheng wasn’t so aware of Chu Shuzhi’s touches - today especially.

“I’m fine, Chu-ge,” Guo Changcheng lies, because he isn’t above it. “Barely a scratch left.” He holds up his left arm with a wince. “Well, a bit more, but it’s a lot better now that professor Shen helped.”

This does not satisfy Chu Shuzhi. He takes his hand back and his face tightens. He stares at Guo Changcheng for a moment that seems to stretch forever, then looks down. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here to protect you.”

Guo Changcheng smiles softly. “Now who is apologizing for nothing?”

“I’m not-” Chu Shuzhi grinds his teeth and glares at his hand, resting upon the light hospital blanket, tightened in a fist.

“I was able to take him down thanks to what you taught me, Chu-ge,” Guo Changcheng says. His voice is low, like his throat is too tight to let all of it come through. “And you- you were injured so badly, I couldn’t-”

“But he had my face,” Chu Shuzhi spoke to his hand still. “If I hadn’t been so useless, it wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t even have had to go there and…”

He trails off, and Guo Changcheng looks at Chu Shuzhi’s hand too. “You weren’t useless. He’s powerful. It’s a miracle you’re still alive,” he adds in a whisper.

Chu Shuzhi snorts. “Just good old Dixingren tricks. We’re lucky to have the Black Cloak Envoy.”

“We are,” Guo Changcheng murmurs.

Quiet falls between them again, punctuated by both of their breaths; regular, strong, Guo Changcheng thinks as he watches Chu Shuzhi’s chest rise and fall. They’re both alive, and a little worse for wear, and the silence becomes awkward in a way Guo Changcheng is surprisingly not used to.

Because there seems to be nothing else to do, and because he’s been wanting to since he came in, Guo Changcheng reaches out and grasps Chu Shuzhi’s hand with his, his long fingers folding around Chu-ge’s calloused ones.

Chu Shuzhi looks up sharply, but the corners of his eyes are soft and his mouth is half open, and Guo Changcheng's heart does strange things upon seeing Chu-ge look so unguarded.

"He had my face," Chu Shuzhi says again. "Changcheng, are you…"

He doesn't finish, but Guo Changcheng thinks he knows. Are you afraid? Do you trust me still? 

He shakes his head and holds Chu-ge's hand more firmly. "I'm fine," Guo Changcheng says, and this time it is the truth. "I'm okay. We're fine."

Chu Shuzhi does not reply, but he turns his hand over and slots his fingers between Changcheng's, his grip warm and comfortingly strong, and they stay like that for a while.

  "Um. What?" Guo Changcheng blinks, not sure that he heard right.

"You heard me right!" Chief Zhao says, shattering his hopes. "You've got functioning legs, Lao Chu has working arms, between the both of you, I'm sure you'll figure things out."

"But um. Uh." Guo Changcheng looks down at his arms - free of the splint, but still sore and fragile. "That doesn't seem very… Wouldn't it be better if someone else helped Chu-ge? Someone who, um, isn't injured at all?"

Chief Zhao waves his objection off with a nonchalant gesture. "And who do you think Lao Chu would tolerate in his home? You're literally the only person who's been there other than Shen Wei."

"Oh," Guo Changcheng says faintly. "That's… that's a good point, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Chief Zhao tuts disapprovingly and starts unwrapping a lollipop. "Youth these days, no respect for authority. Well, go now! You've got your assignment!"

Which is how Guo Changcheng finds himself helping Chu Shuzhi up the stairs to his apartment. He only lives on the first floor, thankfully, but he is very clearly unhappy about the crutches. He leans back when they get to his door and Changcheng slides the key in, then Chu Shuzhi hobbles in with a low but steady stream of curses.

Chu-ge is usually so dextrous, Changcheng reflects as he closes the door behind them. It’s strange to see him struggle so much with the crutches - although it is also quite funny to see how much he loathes the things. As soon as he's taken off his shoes and made his way to the couch, Chu Shuzhi tosses away the offending objects. His puppet flies out of sight, probably to check everything is where it should be.

"Would you like some tea, Chu-ge?"

"Sure." Chu Shuzhi looks at him and nods towards the kitchen. “You know where it is.”

Guo Changcheng busies himself with putting the kettle on and gently pouring the loose leaves in a strainer. He’d bought the tea for Chu-ge, as a very unofficial and entirely deniable birthday present, and it makes him smile to see more than half of it is gone.

He brings empty cups into the living room, and then the pot of tea, cradled between both his hands, careful not to drop it. He pours the tea and hands the first cup to Chu-ge, who takes it with a mumbled thanks. Guo Changcheng watches him bring the steaming cup to his mouth, inhale the floral scent of the tea with obvious pleasure, and busies himself with pouring his own cup to hide his smile.

They sit like this for a while, in companionable silence. Guo Changcheng is grateful for it; his aunt has been fussing over him ever since the - incident, and his uncle hovers around him whenever he lifts a single finger. It’s touching, but tiring.

He lets his eyes wander over the room. He’s been here before, but little has changed: the walls are still bare (except for a row of coat hangers that predates Chu Shuzhi’s tenancy), as is the scuffed wooden floor, but the mismatched furniture is clean and neat. The couch is getting older, but is covered by a nice comforter, and he hears the soft clicks of the clock that he knows hangs in the kitchen (also there independently of Chu Shuzhi; Changcheng had found it at the back of a cupboard and insisted on getting batteries for it).

“Changcheng,” Chu Shuzhi starts, breaking the peaceful quiet.

“Chu-ge?” Guo Changcheng looks at him, and is surprised to see a complicated expression on Chu Shuzhi’s face. 

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and eventually says, “Nevermind.”

“What’s wrong?”

Chu Shuzhi huffs. “I said nevermind.” He turns around and uses his strings to grab the crutches, and hauls himself up on them.

“What are you doing?” Guo Changcheng asks, puzzled.

“Getting stuff out for dinner,” Chu Shuzhi grumbles as he hobbles into the kitchen.

Guo Changcheng puts his cup down so fast the last of the tea almost sloshes out. “I’ll help!”

“Sit down! Aren’t you supposed to rest your arms, dumbass?”

“You shouldn’t be standing around so much either!” Guo Changcheng replies, definitely not whining, as he follows Chu Shuzhi in the kitchen anyway. “I’m supposed to take care of you! Chief’s orders!”

“Yeah?” Chu Shuzhi grunts, dropping one of his crutches to reach for the fridge. “Well, I’m supposed to take care of you. Go sit.”

Guo Changcheng shakes his head. “I can help as long as it’s not too heavy.”

Chu Shuzhi inhales sharply and spins around. “Listen-” he starts, clearly worked up, holding a box of leftovers in one hand and pointing the other at Guo Changcheng.

He starts taking a step forward, and Guo Changcheng meets Chu Shuzhi’s eyes at the exact moment they both realize he’s going to fall.

Guo Changcheng lunges forward, arms outstretched and ready to catch Chu-ge, but they crumble under the weight and force of Chu Shuzhi’s fall, and they both fall to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and pained exclamations, very soon aching too much to even try to sit up, and stay there in dead silence as the container of leftovers spins on itself for a very, very long moment before landing (thankfully) upright.

They stay silent some more, until Guo Changcheng looks up and catches Chu Shuzhi’s dismayed expression, and can’t help but start laughing. It hurts his body - he’s definitely gained some new bruises - but he can’t stop, and eventually, Chu Shuzhi relaxes and lets his hand fall back down with a soft thud and a smile.

“Are you hurt?” he asks when Guo Changcheng eventually manages to calm down.

Guo Changcheng shakes his head. “I think I’m okay.” He starts carefully (and a little regretfully, but nobody else has to know) detangling himself from Chu-ge. “Are you?”

“I’m fine.” Chu Shuzhi leans up on his elbows, and doesn’t push Guo Changcheng away when he helps him sit up and hands him his crutches.

“I think we’d better order food, Chu-ge.”

Chu Shuzhi hums, amused. “Probably.”

They make their way back to the couch together, and Guo Changcheng pours them more tea before curling up on his side of it, while Chu-ge orders for them.

 “Thanks," Chu-ge says when he's done, but he doesn't grab the cup. Instead, he puts his phone down and turns towards Guo Changcheng, face carefully blank.

"Are you really fine?"

"Yeah! It hurts a little," Guo Changcheng admits sheepishly, "but-"

"That's not- It's good that you're healing, but I meant more…" Chu Shuzhi makes a face. "Mentally."

Guo Changcheng's mouth hangs open for several seconds before he remembers to close it. He struggles, unsure what to reply, his thoughts swirling in a confused maelstrom.

"I- I think so? I mean, yes," he says, more firmly than he truly feels.

Chu Shuzhi looks dubious for a moment. "You've been jumpier than usual. And you…" He pauses, frowning. "You look afraid whenever I touch you."

Something very cold bursts in Guo Changcheng’s belly, spreading to his chest and back and making it hard to breathe. He’s been a lot more reactive to Chu-ge’s touches, it’s true. Each one means that the Chu Shuzhi with him is the real one; they also remind him, sometimes, of the impostor, of his strength and the pain he’d inflicted, both on him and Chu-ge, of the moment of sheer terror he’d experienced when Chu Shuzhi had been dragged into the SID office by a wide-eyed Chief Zhao, bloodied and broken and unconscious.

Guo Changcheng does not consider himself vindictive, but when he’d seen the Dixing man who’d attacked him, his own face on, the large scar inflicted by Guo Changcheng still there, he had felt no regret.

He swallows. “I’m not afraid of you, Chu-ge. I promise. I just- it’s hard to not think about, at least some of the time. I was so scared...” He trails off, words stuck just behind his tongue.

Chu Shuzhi’s shoulders are still tense, but he nods after a minute. “It won’t happen again.”

It’s Guo Changcheng’s turn to nod, the cold feeling in his chest slowly seeping out of him. He doesn’t trust himself to talk, but he stretches his legs a little, wiggling his toes under Chu Shuzhi’s thigh, and settles like that.

The rest of the evening passes in between idle chatter and familiar silence, and appreciative slurping noises when their food arrives. It’s warm inside, and the couch is comfortable, and Guo Changcheng eventually finds that his eyes are closing of their own accord while he scrolls through his phone, looking for interesting tidbits to relay to Chu-ge.

Chu-ge snorts when Changcheng is interrupted by his own yawn for the fourth time in a row. “I think you should go to bed.”

Changcheng rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t want to chase you from the couch if you don’t want to sleep.”

“The couch?”

Changcheng hums, a little surprised by the question. “Yes! Where I’ll sleep?”

Chu Shuzhi frowns. “You’re not sleeping on this. It’s shit.”

“But then-” Changcheng meets Chu-ge's eyes, and he tilts his head back towards the bedroom. “Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s fine,” Changcheng rushes to say. “It’s fine? If it’s okay with you.”

“I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t.” Chu-ge nudges him. “Just go lie down, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Changcheng blushes, but he can’t deny he’s exhausted. “Okay. Good night, Chu-ge.”

He stops in the bathroom first; he does his best to clean his teeth without a toothbrush, and splashes some water on his face, wiping it with his sleeve.

He’s stayed overnight before, during some truly difficult cases, but he’s never slept in Chu-ge’s apartment. When Changcheng turns the bedroom light on, he notes that the bed looks very inviting, and not just because he’s desperate to fall asleep. The bedroom looks nicer than the rest of the place; there’s a smaller bed to the side for Chu-ge’s puppet, a pair of black pants hanging out their drawer, and a book resting upside down on the bedside table. It’s not like the walls look less ancient or the floor in better condition - it just looks more like Chu-ge spends time there.

Changcheng hesitates for a second, then takes off his pants and his sweater and folds them neatly before placing them on top of Chu-ge's drawers. It's not quite cold without his clothes on, but he still hurries under the covers. He has to wriggle for a while to find a position that doesn't hurt, but he manages to take up only a third of the bed. It seems fair, Changcheng thinks: Chu-ge is basically twice as large as he is.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, counting out how long he inhales and exhales to calm down. He is exhausted; part of the reason is that he hasn’t been able to sleep very well. He knows, theoretically, that the danger has passed, but it’s harder to believe it when he’s alone in the middle of the night.

He listens to the distant sound of Chu-ge shuffling around the flat, throwing away the empty containers from their meal, then going back to the couch, calling out to his puppet, giving a displeased grunt - maybe at the crutches, Changcheng thinks with a smile. Before he knows it, he slips into unconsciousness.

He blinks awake some time later. He has no idea where he is or what woke him up, at first, until he feels the bed dip next to him and sees Chu-ge's face, lit by the soft glow of the streetlights standing outside, a few floors below.

"Go back to sleep," Chu Shuzhi murmurs, tugging the blanket so it covers them both.

"Mhm." Changcheng looks up blearily, letting his eyes linger on Chu-ge's face. He traces his jawline, up to his ears, his cheekbones, his handsome nose and his eyes. Oh, his eyes, Changcheng thinks, lost halfway between sleep and consciousness. He really likes them. They're so expressive, and beautiful, and they're watching him, intense in the grey light.

"You have really nice eyes, Chu-ge," Changcheng mumbles, reaching out to touch his face before he gives up, betrayed by the gravity of his own limbs.

Chu Shuzhi doesn't say anything. He keeps watching Changcheng for what feels like a long while, and he breathes a little hard, just loud enough for Changcheng to pick up on it. He frowns and tries to reach out again, but Chu Shuzhi catches his hand first. "Go back to sleep," he repeats, weaker than before.

Changcheng stays silent while Chu Shuzhi arranges himself, without letting go of Changcheng's hand. He stays silent after, too, caught up in the softness of this secret moment, an intimacy that came more easily than he'd ever thought. He feels Chu-ge's hand in his, dry and warm, and he squeezes a little. Chu Shuzhi squeezes back - an acknowledgement or a question, Changcheng doesn't know. His chest feels heavy, his belly and his spine warm with a feeling he cannot name.

"I'm really happy you're alive," he says, the words lifted out of him by a sigh.

Chu Shuzhi turns around to look at him, familiar frown softened by the dim light. "Where did that come from?"

"When Chief Zhao brought you in," Changcheng replies, "I was so scared. I was so scared you were going to die." His voice trembles and he clutches Chu-ge's hand harder. "I'm really glad you didn't."

Chu Shuzhi's eyes widen and his mouth opens a little, and it makes him look almost defenseless, here in his bed, holding Guo Changcheng's hand. He swallows once, twice, Changcheng following the line of his throat before coming back to his face.

"When." Chu Shuzhi swallows again. "When Zhu Hong told me you'd faced that guy alone, I was… angry." He grits his teeth. "And I thought she was going to tell me he'd killed you." He rolls on his side, a little closer to Changcheng. "I'm proud of you. And I'm really glad you're alive, too." His voice breaks on the last word.

Changcheng rolls on his side too, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and brings his other hand over Chu-ge's, holding it firmly as he feels his chest constrict around his heart, like it's about to be squeezed out of him by the strength of his emotions. "I was so scared," he repeats, staring at Chu Shuzhi, letting his words be ripped from his core. "I don't want to lose you. I can't-"

He stops himself right before crying. His eyes are stinging and his vision is a little blurry, but he can still feel Chu-ge, smell him on his pillow, feel his warmth under the blanket, and it's enough to push the tears back a little.

Chu Shuzhi scoots forward, a little awkwardly, and stops only when he's close enough that Changcheng can feel his breath. Their tangled hands are trapped between them, warm and safe. Changcheng sniffs and blinks away the tears, and Chu Shuzhi… Chu Shuzhi looks undone. His eyes are roaming around Changcheng's face, looking for something, and when he raises his free hand, it's shaking. He brushes Changcheng's hair back, his thumb brushing the corner of Changcheng's eye, before his hand finds its place at the nape of Changcheng's neck.

It feels heavy, like good pressure, the kind you get from a weighted blanket or a dog cuddling you, from hot water in the shower after a long day. Chu Shuzhi's eyes finally settle.

"You won't," he says in a rough voice. "I swear."

Changcheng feels him promise and knows it's true. He nods, and lets his head yield under Chu-ge's hand, bringing their foreheads together, their noses almost touching. Chu Shuzhi starts sweeping his thumb back and forth across the side of Changcheng's neck, gentle, almost like petting, and this is how Changcheng falls asleep a second time.

  Changcheng wakes up slowly. The morning light is still weak, but he feels rested in a way he hasn't in a long time. He's alone in the bed, the memories of the night fuzzy but solid.

He gets up and puts on his clothes from yesterday, then makes the bed, appreciating the soft sound of fabric sliding against fabric.

When he emerges from the bedroom, Chu Shuzhi is sitting on the couch again, and his puppet is standing on the coffee table, facing him. Chu Shuzhi's head is bent down, towards the puppet, like they're having a conversation, but he looks up when he hears Changcheng's footsteps. He looks tired, Changcheng thinks to himself with a tinge of worry.

"Good morning," Chu Shuzhi says, sitting back up.

“Good morning! How did you sleep?” Changcheng steps forward, putting his hands on the back of the couch. “Did I keep you up?” he asks, biting his lips.

Chu Shuzhi narrows his eyes at him a little. “Not… you, exactly. Sit down,” he adds, patting the space next to him once.

Changcheng does, and notices as he goes around the couch that Chu-ge’s puppet flies out the window and away, leaving them alone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything is fine,” Chu Shuzhi says. “But we need to talk.”

"Oh." Changcheng's mouth feels very dry suddenly, and his heart falls down to his stomach. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Chu Shuzhi lifts his hand, as if to reach out, but ends up twisting it into the comforter. "You didn't."

When, after a minute, nothing else is forthcoming, Changcheng scoots a little closer. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, voice soft.

Chu Shuzhi grits his teeth. "What you said last night." Changcheng feels his ears get warm, remembering how open he'd been. "Did you mean it?"

I don't want to lose you. "I did." Changcheng's heart is beating strong in his belly now, giving him courage. "I still do. And I… I've been feeling that way for a while, now," he confesses. He can hear nothing, now, other than Chu-ge's breath, can see nothing but him, the rest of the apartment seemingly falling away in a blur.

Despite this, Changcheng jumps when Chu-ge brings his hand to his neck, stroking the same way he had last night. The way he looks at him, though - tender and afraid and determined, is nothing like the previous night.

"Me, too," Chu Shuzhi admits in a whisper. "But I want to be clear about this."

He leans forward, slowly, so slowly, until their noses are touching, and Changcheng almost has to go crosseyed to hold Chu-ge's gaze. He doesn't lean back; he lifts his hand to cover Chu-ge's wrist, keeping his palm on him, without breaking eye contact.

And finally, finally, finally, Chu Shuzhi kisses him. It makes Changcheng combust and anchors him to the points where they are touching, and it's short and imperfect because he cannot help but grin into it, overflowing.

When Chu Shuzhi leans back, a hint of uncertainty still lingering on his face amidst the wonder, Changcheng mirrors him, placing his own hand on Chu-ge's neck and rubbing gently at the junction between his throat and his jaw.

"You want this?" Chu Shuzhi speaks with his whole chest despite his words not being very loud, and Changcheng feels the question make its way up his throat.

"I do. I really, really do, Chu-ge."

When Chu Shuzhi kisses him again, Changcheng laughs. He has never been this happy.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Four on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Note: a lot of this chapter is texting which I struggled to format on Tumblr's goddawful limited HTML. I've opted to display them as chats, but because Reader chapters are second person, I didn't want John's texts to appear as if they are coming from 'you.' So apparently he has himself saved on his phone as 'Price.' Bear with me. Do definitely recommend reading on AO3, it just looks a little better. okay anyway, hope you enjoy!

Unknown Number

Unknown number: Good morning. Thanks for last night, I had a lot of fun!

Unknown number: Also, wanted to ask, as a seasonal local and therefore, I assume, an expert in local fauna, would you say this bear is insanely big or is that normal?

John smirks at the attached photo of himself, docile and friendly as he stares blankly back at the camera; big stupid animal eyes deceptively sweet. It had been hard to behave in that form, but it had been a cold night and he'd wanted to be sure she wasn't frozen stiff in her pathetic little den. He was coming to hate that thing, simultaneously teasing him with its threateningly mobile nature and infuriatingly abysmal quality. He wanted to bring her back to his own den, bury her in thick, warm blankets. Maybe tie her to the posts so he could sleep easy knowing she wasn't going to slip away the moment he closed his eyes. But he couldn't (yet), so he stalks her in his animal form and tells himself it's for her own good and he's satisfied with that.

But now.

Now.

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Bunny: Also is it normal that it just chilled in the parking lot all morning, or should I maybe be worried it's rabid?

Price: Never seen a grizzly that close before so I'm not sure, but I think that's a big one! That's awesome.

Probably not rabid. Some of them have gotten a little too comfortable with humans. Good thing you were in your car, though!

And then, because he's greedy:

Price: Hiking this morning?

Bunny: Well, not anymore 😂

John is antsy, whole body restless. He wants to shift into his other form, or maybe pull a tooth out of his head. He's not hard, but the urge to stroke his cock is there regardless, an ingrained stress relief that won't help him here, he knows. Not without her, at least.

Bunny: What are you up to today?

He wants to spend all day deciding if he likes her better as a fleshlight or a chew toy. Unfortunately…

Price: Interviews all morning and then meeting with a potential vendor later. Boring shite.

Price: You?

Bunny: Probably just reading or something. Boring shit.

He imagines her cozied up in her cute little den: soft, worn quilts and a soft, warm girl. He wants to crawl in with her, change the chemical makeup of the very air until she has to breath him in, too; let her deal with the torture of his scent same as he's done for her. His fingers are heavy on his screen again. He hopes she's kept his coaster. He hopes he's tainting her phone. He hopes the aggression with which he's digging his big greedy claws into her life is enough to make her stay.

Price: Sounds lovely.

Price: Trade you?

Bunny: Haha! Sure, I can definitely handle vendor meetings. No problem.

Price: Cute thing like you, I'm sure you'd be a natural.

Bunny: Well if that's all it takes, I'm sure you'll do great 😉

John can't help the happy chuff that escapes him. It's not an entirely human sound but he doesn't particularly care if Simon is lurking right this moment.

Price: Thanks, honey.

Price: What are you doing tomorrow?

Bunny: Hmm. Don't know. You tell me?

Price: Let's square up, yeah? Get you that coffee.

Price: There's a place over on Nucleus that's pretty good.

Bunny: Sounds great! What time?

Price: Early okay? I'll have to be back to work by 1400

Bunny: Sure. 10?

Price: See you then, bunny.

He finds Simon in the brewery. John held off investing in the equipment for years, refusing to tank the 141 just because Americans thought IPAs were good beers. Blessedly, the last year or so had shown people coming to their senses, ordering porters, lagers, and shandies more often than not. Simon had been elated (or rather, quite stoic but the mask had raised about a half inch on his face which meant the cheeks underneath were slightly dimpled) and had been obsessively perfecting a house ale ever since.

"Need you to take the lunch shift tomorrow." John would feel bad for the last minute schedule change if it were anyone else, but Simon doesn't really have a life outside of work or the gym, so he can deal.

As predicted, Simon just nods in acceptance. "Coffee?"

"Affirm. Also want you to sit in on the barkeep interview."

That gets a rise. "Why?"

"Distracted," John shrugs.

Simon's sigh is a full body thing. "This better not become a normal thing."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thirteen hundred, corner booth reservation." John may take some small pleasure in the other man's grunt of acknowledgement.

***

John hires the first three interviewees on the spot. One's a wait staff vet who he's confident can handle her own on the floor. The other two are young but seem competent and need to start their careers somewhere. Between them and his returning staff, he feels confident in the floor team but with Gaz back in uni, he needs a new barkeep which could make or break their season. They'll get tourists either way, but John prides himself on being one of the few seasonal shops that attracts a fair amount of locals which he knows he owes to Gaz's amiable and experienced presence. Without him, John's anxious to pick a suitable replacement, especially if he'll be busy wooing a mate all season.

He's prescreened a fair few, but only scheduled two interviews. He's hoping he'll be able to call the other lady tonight to tell her no need. It's a dick move but he's busy. Besides, she's very professional and he's confident she'll get another position soon - she's just a little too serious for his place.

Simon comes in through the kitchen and slides into the booth ahead of schedule. John is still waiting by the entry to let the man in when he shows up. The two men nod in greeting.

"Wot's the bloke's name, then?" Simon asks after a few moments.

"John MacTavish. Said to call him Soap."

"That's stupid." A pause while Simon's fingers thud against his phone screen. "'e a Scott?"

John isn't sure how Simon can always find people's social media, given he doesn't have any of his own. "Problem?"

"Not so long as he speaks the King's. How'd you manage to find another Brit anyway?"

"At this point I think they're finding me."

As if on queue, John spots the man in question ambling down the sidewalk. He's larger than John had expected, not quite as tall as John himself but decently muscled. Sharp blue eyes and a confident, charming grin. And a fucking mohawk of all things. His first instinct, oddly, is to keep this man away from his bunny, but close on its heels is the urge to make Simon deal with this smarmy bastard every day and he can't quite fight the grin creeping onto his face as he unlocks the door for the man.

Thankfully, Soap seems to take it for a welcoming smile, which he returns brightly as he extends a hand in greeting. "Price, I assume? Good to meet ye."

"Likewise, always nice to put a face to a name." John locks the door behind them again and ushers Soap to the big booth with a practiced, 'Please, step into my office.'

Simon, predictably, does not rise to greet the interviewee, instead choosing to stare Soap down balefully without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.

"Soap, my head brewer, Simon. Simon, this is John MacTavish."

To John's surprise - and, apparently, more so to Simon's surprise (which is a whole new surprise in itself because Simon is never caught off guard) - Soap slides into the opposite booth and extends his hand to Simon in one smooth move, face the very image of 'I see what you're doing here but I'm not entertaining it so play nice.'

Simon continues to stare for a beat longer, two, before accepting Soap's hand in a singular, gruff, suitably manly shake. When they separate, Soap is grinning like an idiot as he informs Simon about his preferred nickname.

"Not calling you that."

Soap shrugs, completely unaffected. "Well, 'bout to get real confusin' in here, then," he smiles at John.

"No worries, he calls me captain."

"Only when you've earned it." Despite the words, the insult is clear enough that even Soap smirks conspiratorially, eager to be let in on the joke.

John allows some more banter. It's useful in that it draws both the other men out of their respective shells. Simon becomes ever so slightly more professional, while Soap becomes quite a bit less. It's good, though, to see him relaxed in this space. This is the side that John had wanted to see, considering this is the side the customers would be dealing with. It's a good fit, and he's already feeling confident in his choice when they move onto drink choices. He knows he's got his man when Simon nods exactly once at an answer regarding crawfish of all things.

There's more handshakes, promises to be in touch. John locks up behind Soap and turns to find Simon staring after the man. "Well?"

Simon shrugs. "'e'll do."

John nods, eyes his right hand man critically. He knows Simon well enough to spot the difference between natural and affected stoicism. "We planning on selling crawfish this year?"

Simon shrugs again. An obvious tell; the man doesn't make inefficient movements more than twice an hour. "Wanted to stump him." John waits for him to elaborate, a venture he would lose any other day but… "'e's solid."

Well. He'd hoped the Scott would rile Simon's temper, but this might be better.

"Settled, then. I'll have him start next week."

Whether or not this pleases Simon, he doesn't say, simply turns and walks back out through the kitchen. Sighing, John checks the time and is glad to find he's running right on schedule, but upset there are no text notifications. It's probably unreasonable considering she only just gave him her number this morning, but good mates check in on each other and the lack of questions about his interviews leaves him a bit bereft. Still, he follows her lead and pockets his phone without sending any prompts of his own. It's difficult to keep his human suit on whenever she's involved, but he doesn't want to scare her away so he'll behave, even if it makes him want to eat a whole beehive, stingers and all.

***

The trip out to Whitefish is easy enough. John drives the company van to look more professional, but the smell bothers him and he's slightly agitated the whole meeting. The woman doesn't seem to mind. He's fairly certain she's flirting. It would probably be in his best interest to return fire a bit, but the thought makes his stomach roll and his teeth clench. In the end it doesn't really matter. They set up a small supply and she asks if he'd be interested in them featuring one of the blends in a house special. Bourbon ginger with orange. Very basic but the blend she chooses for it isn't right and it's a struggle not to bite her head off over it. He gives his input and she accepts which appeases him, but as he's leaving she winks and asks if he'd like to stay and give the drink a taste test. The rumbling noise he makes at that is a growl, technically, but he plays it off like a groan. Which isn't much better, probably, but at least it's human.

"No thanks. Gotta make it back for the dinner rush."

"Your place, then?" She's smirking, proud of herself. She smells like cleaning supplies.

It's out before he can think about it, "Sure, if you'd like to meet the missus."

The vendor splutters, surreptitiously inspects his hand. "I - I'm so sorry, I didn't realize -."

"Unofficial," Price quickly recovers. "Still committed." Christ, they haven't even been on a date yet, he needs to get his bloody act together.

"Well. She's a very lucky woman," the vendor simpers and John tries not to snort as he collects his things. Yeah, lucky rabbit, caught in his jowls while he assesses exactly how hard he can squeeze without losing her.

Attempting a warm smile, John thanks her for her time and hurries out the door. In the van, he checks his phone and scowls when his rabbit still hasn't initiated a conversation. He can't help it this time, shoots her something about the meeting with the vendor going well but he'd still rather have traded places. He doesn't take it personally when she doesn't respond right away, and then very much does take it personally when she still hasn't responded by the time he returns to the bar. He's surprised to find it open, Simon scowling at him from behind the counter. "You're late," the man accuses and John just smirks at him.

"And you still opened on time?" Simon doesn't react. Unfortunately, the alone time seems to have done him good. Still, John tries a little harder because he's antsy and wants a rise out of someone. "Angling for a good review?"

Not even so much as a 'well someone has to care about this place.' Damn.

"You staying on in the kitchen or heading out?"

"Seen enough of this place," Simon grumbles and slips out the back.

John spends a long boring shift talking with a pair of locals about fishing. He doesn't really go fishing in this form, but he knows his fair share about where to find what fish. It's the quiet sort of night he would have savored even just a few weeks ago, but every hour that goes by without a response from his rabbit has him growing more and more restless. He's not worried about her deciding to hike even with that bear around, of course, but there are plenty of other fates that could have befallen her. Poor rabbit, alone in the woods. Even her den was a dangerous thing, prone to crashes and gas poisoning depending on how she kept it heated. Or worse, if she kept it heated. He swears to all that's holy if he ends up losing her to hypothermia even though he's big and furry and feverish and right bloody here, he's going to lose it.

It's late when she finally deigns to respond. Like, 2300 late. He can't decide if he's more relieved or annoyed so he chooses to be excited instead.

Bunny

Price: For the record, I did win over the vendor.

Price: Still wish I could've been doing boring shite like reading all day.

Bunny: I never doubted you

Bunny: Howd the interview go?

Price: Good. Got some new waitstaff. Happy with the bartender.

Price: How'd not-hiking go?

Bunny: Boring as predicted. Put a good dent in this blanket though!

She sends a photo of a beautiful crocheted blanket, the rows zigzagging in a strange psychedelic pattern which is toned down by the easy earthy tones she's chosen.

Good mate, staying warm. Now all she needs is someone to snuggle up with.

Price: You made that?

Price: That's brilliant.

Bunny: Thank you! 😁

Bunny: I'm about to go cuddle up under it though so goodnight! Glad everything went well today

Bunny: I'll see you tomorrow

Price: Sleep well honey.

Next>>

[anxiety-thyme]

I’ve been relearning InDesign for book layouts. It’s been super fun and frustrating because a) it’s been a decade since I used it last b) I originally learned on a Mac and I’m all Windows now and c) I know there are features that exist that will make things faster and easier - I’ve just been stumbling around until I figure it out. I forgot how much I love the process though.

I’ve also been figuring out the best workflow for me. At this point we are at:

Download fic from AO3 as an HTML

Convert to Word - I do this using google drive actually. If you upload the html doc there, you can then redownload it as a word doc. Probably an unnecessary step?

Format the word doc - remove all of the tagging & content you don't want included in the main text. I like to use the layout tools for putting in section breaks in word instead of InDesign. It makes finding the chapter breaks easier.

Do all of the find/replace editing like replacing double spaces with single space, removing spaces before periods or commas, etc.

I do not mess with the actual text outside of those updates unless I catch a spelling error.

Grab whichever template for InDesign I've built and import the text.

Apply the body paragraph style to the full text.

I've started exporting the document as a pdf and opening it in GoodNotes. I like doing this so I can read through the text and see if I've missed anything, and figure out what I want the layout to look like, or think through any fun additions before I start working on the actual layout. As an example, I'm working on a fic right now where after reading through a bit of it, I changed how I wanted to address some of the content, like how I show things that are handwritten, and what the chat messages look like, etc. I wish I had done this with my first couple because I feel like I would have done some things differently if I had.

Once I've hammered that all out I'll go back to InDesign and start working through those formatting: any of the neat stuff I want to focus on like a section of chat messages, any items I want to handle differently from the body paragraph style, etc.

I save applying any parent page styles until almost last since everything up to this point can affect what pages the chapter starts end up on. I unfortunately realized after my first layout that applying chapter start parent styles too soon means redoing them a million times.

If I'm feeling good at this point, I'll go back through and find all of the widows and orphans that I want to deal with.

Throughout this entire process I'm printing out test pages to make sure that things are showing up in print the way that I want them to.

All that's left then is one last scroll through to see if I've missed anything and then once I feel good about it I print.

I know (from past experience) that there are much quicker ways to do this that don’t require all of these steps, but I like this process. I feel like pulling the text into GoodNotes and reading the fic in that way helps me remember what I love about it, and figure out how I want to highlight everything that is wonderful about it.

[ashkazora]

2020 Fic Roundup

Stats:

Fics Posted (Total): 13

In chronological order: Cold Floors and Warm Hearts - a fluffy shance fic about the three times Shiro accidentally wakes up in Lance’s room. Exchange fic. 3,441 words.

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You - a small klance fillet based on the US tv show, The Blacklist. 639 words.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) - a Lance-centric gen fic exploring his relationship with the Blue Lion, and her control over him. 15,618 words.

Coffee Grinds and Morse Code - a post-s8, Shance fic written for the valentines shance exchange! 3,593 words.

Nectar and Ambrosia - my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for the square ‘denied food as punishment.’ Lance whump. 2,641 words.

there ain't no rest for the wicked - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for ‘big brother instincts,’ but this time with Plance and Lance whump. 3,508 words. 

Of Claws and Steel - a science-fiction, super sentai cat armour AU entered around the Lions as futuristic mecha armour. Most underrated fic here. 14,344 words.

Hairline Fractures - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, ‘bleeding through bandages.’ Lance whump (again). 5,059 words.

Leverage - last Bad Things Happen Bingo fill for the year, for the prompt ‘on a leash.’ Featuring Shance, and Lance and Shiro whump. 7,743 words.

Lay It Down To Save It - Leakira Klance AU written for Leakira week. Made in collaboration with @crapoftheworldblr​! 18,102 words.

to the stars and back - The Dragon Prince Plance AU with Prince!Lance and Elf!Pidge. In collaboration with @rosieclark​! 36,574 words.

Sweeter Than Honey - written for the Blue Moon Lance zine! Features BAMF!Lance as the honeypot on a mission. 4,098 words.

In The Closet - Klance fic for the winner of my fic giveaway. Fluffy, and definitely a bit saucy. 2,363 words.

Fics Posted (Gen): 5

the water was dark (and it went down forever) Nectar and Ambrosia Of Claws and Steel  Hairline Fractures  Sweeter Than Honey

Plance: 2

there ain't no rest for the wicked to the stars and back 

Shance: 3

Cold Floors and Warm Hearts Coffee Grinds and Morse Code  Leverage

Klance: 3

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You Lay It Down To Save It  In The Closet

Collaborations: 2

Lay It Down To Save It to the stars and back

Ship/Character breakdown:

Ship breakdown:

This year, the biggest ship I wrote for was Shance (3 fics), with Plance (2) and Klance (2.5) coming in from behind. The k/l ficlet doesn’t count as a full fic.

Character breakdown:

Of the 13 fics, Lance is in the most with 13 (insert surprised pikachu face here), then it goes Shiro (12), Keith (10), Pidge (8), Hunk (7), Allura (6) and Matt Holt (2). Other characters appear only once, such as Coran, Haggar and Kolivan. Technically, the Blue Lion clocks in at 2 mentions. 

Characters that had the main focus:

Lance had the sole POV for 7 of those fics, and shared POVs (in a collaboration) iin 2 additional fics. Shiro had the second most POVs at a total of 3, while Keith had 1 sole POV and 1 shared POV, and Pidge with one shared POV.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: the water was dark (and it went down forever), but honestly so many other fics has titles I liked. This title was based off of the Tim Winton short story by the name name, The Water Was Dark And It Went Down Forever, where the main character swims and debatably drowns. So it’s fairly fitting.

Runners up titles include Sweeter Than Honey, to the stars and back, and Lay It Down To Save It.

Worst title: Hairline Fractures. It’s dumb and it makes no sense. It was the first thing that came to mind.

An honourable mention includes Leverage, which would be first if not for the fact that the title inspired the ending, so it’s not too bad.

Best/worst last line?

Best: From the water was dark (and it went down forever):

Blue’s grasp on him was like an endless expanse; an opulent and brilliant ocean. Her waters were dark, and  it went  down forever.

This was definitely my favourite, even though it’s pretty cringe. The way it was formatted in ao3 and the way it related to the title plus the reoccurring symbolism of water made it pretty neat!

Worst: From there ain't no rest for the wicked:

Pidge laughed, and turned her back from the darkness.

I’m sorry. This ending was so cringey. I hate it. There’s nothing else to say except I have no idea how to fix it. Oof.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

tbh, I wrote a lot more, considering I had my final exams this year. Breaching 100k was crazy. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Honestly? Klance. I’m not the biggest fan of the ship but writing it is very interesting, and I enjoyed it. 

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Of Claws and Steel hands down! It’s the first fic idea I ever had for VLD,  and the one I really love the most. One day I’d love to write a continuation of it, but the reception of the fic wasn’t great so idk.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) even though it was started in 2019, was finished this year and is my most popular fic of all time! It’s got 4k+ hits and 450+ kudos. Crazy, since it was only supposed to be a dumb little warm up fic to get me back into writing in preparation for Of Claws and Steel. Alas, turns out people really liked it!

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Of Claws and Steel. It was the fic I worked the hardest on this year but got the least amount of attention :)

Story that could have been better?

Easily there ain't no rest for the wicked. There was so much plot and so many things I wanted to include but didn't. There’s a lot of things missing and bad plot flow. One day if I got more time, I’d love to write more on it.

Sexiest story?

In The Closet, hands down. It gets a bit steamy with a k/l makeout session. Originally it was going to be a lot saucier but I wasn’t too comfortable in my ability to write it well ahaha. 

Saddest story?

None of my stories were sad, per se. Most of the sad ones were more scary/foreboding rather than actually being sad. I guess to the stars and back right now, because it’s dealing with Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s desperation to find her brother (and a lot of other things, which will be revealed in the future!)

Most fun?

Sweeter Than Honey! It was fun to write and is my most fun fic. BAMF!Lance and his witty commentary is always a great laugh.

Story with single sweetest moment? 

I can’t choose :,). It’s a three-way tie between Cold Floors and Warm Hearts’s last scene where Shiro realises Lance bought him the necklace, Lay It Down To Save It’s scene that I can’t say because it’s technically unpublished ;), and to the stars and back’s scene where Lance and Pidge talk about what they would like to be in life (ch3).

Hardest story to write?

Probably Of Claws and Steel, as I completely stagnated on the story for a long time. It took me 8 months to write it. Without Rue’s help, I probably would have taken so much longer. Runners up is Leverage, as it took me like a solid week to write 90% of it, and 3 more months to write the remaining 10%. For some reason, parts of that fic were such a pain to write. 

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was definitely to the stars and back. I could relate to a lot of Lance’s actions and thoughts in the fic, so writing his POV was super easy and rather cathartic ngl. However the most fun was probably Sweeter Than Honey, as it was super self indulgent ahaha.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Lay It Down To Save It changed my perception of Keith. I don’t particularly like Keith in canon, but I’ve warmed up to his fanon self and general character after writing from his POV.

Most overdue story?

Of Claws and Steel easily! It was the first VLD fic idea I had but took 8 months to write. Oops? 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

For the first time I incorporated HTML coding into my fics, which taught me a lot about coding and different ways to convey certain messages and detail things. These codings altered fonts and colours, which you can see in 

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Write my tua/vld au fic, which will be my first solo multi chapter fic, and hopefully finish it by the end of next year. Also, sticking to a consistent writing schedule and try to write at least 100 words a day, plus finishing TSSAB. I’d also like to finish some more BTHB prompts!

That’s all, folks! Thank you all for sticking with my writing! Hopefully 2021 brings even more writing, fun times, and great fics. Happy New Years (in 24 hours), everyone!