#go read my fic 'painstakingly (closer and closer) ' on ao3 please <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 4 (Mafia AU)

Summary: The continuation of Rus’s terrible, awful, no good, really bad day

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The long ride through the city streets gave Rus a chance to gather up his scattered wits and once he got them back into the right order, he still only knew one thing for sure. He was seriously pissed off.

It was pretty obvious that this was all Edge’s fault, didn’t have to be a rocket surgeon to figure that out. Before Edge, Rus had stood at a lifetime score of zero when it came to kidnapping and after Edge started coming in, Rus was two for two with the extra bonus of their shop getting wrecked, and repaired, along the way.

Who the hell was this guy?

Flat out asking probably wasn’t gonna get him any answers and Rus settled for staring moodily out the car windows, absently noting the street signs even if they were all but meaningless to him. Rus didn’t know the city very well, that’s why he had google maps on his phone…he groaned inwardly as he realized his phone was missing. Fuck, it’d been hard enough to scrounge up the extra cash for that one.

His bag was gone, too, and a discreet check found his wallet was also absent. Not that he thought these guys were the kind to be cleaning out his meager bank account, but it counted for aggravation if nothing else. He’d need to get a new ID, new cards, the limited cash he’d had on him was gone. It was like every time he thought he hit bottom, the universe found another way to yank the rug out from under him.

Rus slumped down, letting his skull drop against the cool window glass as he stared at the blurring scenery.

Wait…they were passing a little corner store that Rus recognized. These streets were ones he knew. They were heading into the Dust Bowl, towards home, and Rus would have felt a lot better about it if Edge hadn’t hinted pretty clearly that Blue and home weren’t the same place right now.

He went on to prove it by driving past the residential areas and Rus gave the route that would have set him on his own porch a longing look. What he wouldn’t give to be curled up on his own bed right now, heading into Sleepsville and if any dreams came his way, Rus was gonna stuff them back up the pipe they came from.

Edge drove on and the silence in the car was close to unbearable. Rus wondered what Edge would do if he turned on the radio. Probably not kill him, he’d only just saved his life, but the guy was a criminal per his own lack of denial. Maiming might still be on the table and Rus really needed both of his hands for work.

The place they finally pulled up to was worse than he could have imagined. Rus stared up in horror at the glowing neon lights, so bright they were visible in the daylight, surrounding the huge LCD screen advertising their ‘services’. Places like this were exactly why Blue wanted their store in the Human shopping district.

“are you serious? we’re going to a strip club?” Rus blurted.

He’d never gone into any of the clubs down here in the thirties block; they were nicknamed the dirty thirties for a reason. Even if he’d been curious, which he really, really wasn’t, Blue would have murdered him if he’d put so much as a toe bone across the threshold of one of these places.

He’d been trying not to look at Edge, better to focus out the window than on the façade of a handsome face overtop whatever criminal awfulness lay beneath it. Now Rus turned to see Edge was rolling down the window, speaking in a hushed voice to another Dog Monster in a nice suit. Yeah, just like the guys from his first venture into kidnapping and Rus wasn’t any kind of Sherlock Holmes, but even he could add 1 +1 = bullshit.

Edge only glanced at him with a flick of crimson eye lights, “This is my place of business, yes.”

The Dog stepped back, and the car eased down the narrow alleyway between the buildings. Rus barely choked back a cry of surprise as Edge abruptly veered the wheel into a hairpin turn right towards the building. The brick wall loomed and then vanished into a sort of tunnel, cutting off the afternoon sunshine. An underground parking area, Rus realized, and there was no old clunker of a van with a rose on the side painstakingly painted in his brother’s hand in sight. All the cars here resembled the one he was already in, sleek and shiny, every single one of them worth more than their shop with all its blooms and their house combined.

Edge pulled into an empty spot and shut off the engine. It only made the silence that much worse, bleak and complete. He started to turn towards Rus, hesitating when Rus flinched back helplessly, strangling on a yelp before it could be the first thing to fill the quiet.

“Easy,” Edge said, and there was a new inflection for that deep voice, one that Rus hadn’t heard before. Manners he’d gotten at the shop and this morning, anger. Today it was coaxing, almost a croon, trying to soothe him like Rus was a lost pet and something about that comparison stirred his already agitated temper. Edge reached over and Rus might’ve damn well bitten him, but he didn’t touch. His expression only darkened as his gloved fingertips hovered over the side of Rus’s face where it ached the most. He was probably bruised up, whoever nabbed him at the shop this morning had popped him a good one.

“Easy,” Edge said again, in that same cozening voice, “you’re safe here. Let’s go inside.”

"no." Rus crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back into the leather seat, scowling down in the direction of the glove box. The front of his apron was dotted with marrow, dried to a tacky maroon against the heavy dark green fabric. Rus scratched at one of the spots, watched as it flaked away into dust, but the stain remained. Probably even Blue’s terrifyingly efficient laundry skills wouldn’t be able to get it out.

There was a beat of silence, then, "What?"

"no!” Rus said again, infusing that single word with all the irritation and fear of the day, letting it pour out as he added. “i'm not getting out of this car until you explain to me what's going on."

He glanced at Edge out of the corner of his eye, half-expecting another round of that anger from this morning. Instead, he looked nonplussed, his brow bone drawn down into a frown. Suddenly, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. "So. You want to sit here in my car with me, alone, is that what you're saying?"

Startled, Rus’s head jerked up and Edge’s amused gaze was suddenly closer, the much-larger skeleton leaning over the gearshift right into his space and bracing his arm against the passenger side door. His bulk seemed to fill in any room that Rus wasn’t already taking up and Rus’s back was already pressed tight against the plush cushion of the seat. There was nowhere else to go as he sputtered out, "w-what?"

This close, the heady aroma Edge’s cologne was overwhelming, enormous, and worse, there was a hint of spice paired with it, a whiff of roused magic that paired with the sudden heat of his body so close to Rus’s. The only light was whatever overhead fluorescents could make it through the tinted windows and Edge’s scarlet eye lights tracing along Rus’s bruised face again. That voice Rus found so enticing before sent a strange tingle down his spine as Edge murmured, "My enemies already think you're mine. Perhaps you should be."

What. The. Fuck.

"i don't belong to anyone!" It sounded so weak, less a denial and more a sad kind of plea, which was stupid, because Rus wasn’t one of the flowers in their shop, he wasn’t something that could be owned, thank you very much!

"No?" Edge picked up his hand, prying it gently away from where it frantically gripped the side of his seat. Where his sleeve rode up, Rus could see the shadow of bruises left earlier by the ropes and he could only stared dumbly as Edge nuzzled at those mottled blotches, a light kiss on the inside of his wrist made Rus shudder, not in revulsion, no, he couldn’t name that feeling. Edge’s grip was so gentle, more cradling than holding and Rus could have pulled away if he wanted to, broken that hold so easily. So why wasn’t he?

"no…” Rus tried to protest, strengthless and lost, “you don't even know my name."

"I don't, you're correct in that," Edge agreed. He pressed another light kiss to Rus’s wrist, nudging his sleeve further up to investigate where the bone was unmarked and pure. "But I know you. You work all day in your little shop until noon when your brother comes in to relieve you for your lunch, which you go to eat at the corner park."

That woke him out of the daze that rich voice wove around him, innocuous as a spider’s web and twice as insidious. At least with a spider, you knew what they wanted from you. “you…you've been spying on me!"

"No,” Edge denied. His breath was hot against Rus’s bare wrist, his teeth scraping lightly against the slender, delicate bones as he spoke, “We have another place of business down the road from your shop and I can see the park from my office. I see you sitting alone on the bench, eating your sandwich and feeding crumbs to the birds and squirrels. I don’t know your name, but I saw your smile when I came into your shop. I know more of you than you might think."

He moved then, with a blurring speed, his face inches from Rus’s as he said, softly, "I am a very bad person, flower shop boy. If you saw my soul, you'd know that. And you…"

“please,” Rus whispered. He didn’t know what he was asking for.

His voice grew softer yet, almost a subsonic rumble. Hardly more than a breath as Rus stared up at Edge with sockets so wide, they ached. "You were a step into the sunshine out of the darkness. A fantasy that I never wanted made reality and yet, now you’re here and it is becoming very difficult to not embrace the dream. Now. Do you want to go inside, or would you rather stay here with me to discuss this further?”

The last was said with a sardonic lilt and it took a moment for Rus to realize he’d stopped talking, the former silence was overshadowed by the throb of his soul, so loud in his head Rus wondered wildly if Edge could hear it, too.

But the spell was well and truly broken and if this were only a ploy to get him out of the car, it worked. Rus opened the passenger door so quickly he nearly slammed it into a concrete support beam, almost falling onto the pavement in his effort to scramble away.

Edge exited with better grace, his smooth gait carrying him to where Rus still wobbled on his feet. “Inside, it is,” Edge drawled, his mouth tilted into a smirk, “Do you need help?”

“i can walk on my own!” Rus wasn’t so sure he could, but he wasn’t about to let this asshole carry him again. He let Edge get a few steps between them before he followed, staying out of arm’s reach. Pointless effort, the first place Edge led him was a service elevator, where Rus was forced to stand right next to him surrounded by stark wooden paneling and glaring overhead lights.

But when the door opened again, it was into far more lush surroundings. Ornate carpets ran down a hallway subtly lit with ornate sconces. On the left was a neutrally painted wall lined with artwork that was miles above the league of the cheap prints in their house from the thrift shop. On the right there was a row of angular glass, almost like skylights, looking down.

The glass was tinted and if television could be believed, Rus figured it was probably one-way. He lingered back as Edge walked on, peering down. They looked down into the club below them, the stage lights dimmed through the tint.

From this angle, Rus thought he could see the entire ground floor. The bar was furthest away, with its collection of tiny-looking bottles ready to be used by ant-sized bartenders. He could see the patrons sitting at their tables, the occasional glint of a glass as it was raised, and the stage itself with a scattering of poles.

There were only two dancers, probably it was too early to put on any kind of real show, and they were making the most of their minuscule audience. A searing blush heated Rus’s cheekbones as he watched a scantily clad Bun slide languidly down a slim pole to her high heels, strutting over to kneel in front of one of the Humans in the audience, cupping her bared breasts as if in offering.

“If you wanted to see the show, we could have gone in through the front door.”

Rus jerked, looking up wildly to find Edge waiting at the end of the hallway, his face unreadable.

“how can you run a place like this?” Rus burst out. He jabbed an accusing finger at the display below them. “how can you abuse your own people for money?”

“All of our staff is fairly compensated for their work,” Edge countered, “which a more than they could say if they worked for the Humans. Now come along.”

That sounded more like an order than anything else had and Rus grudgingly obeyed. It was a shameful relief; he didn’t really want to see some guy shoving bills into a mostly-nude woman’s g-string, anyway. He hunched down, his skull low between his shoulders and followed.

The second door led to another hallway, this one completely enclosed. More expensive carpets and artwork, more intricate wall sconces that made Rus feel like he was in weird, modern version of Dracula. Except this was only like, office space above a rinky-dink strip club so why did it feel like they were walking forever?

“why did you even bring me here?” Rus grumbled, trudging along as he watched his untied shoelaces bump along the carpet. “you told me you were taking me to my brother. i want to go home.”

“I did say that and I am,” Edge agreed. Stupid how even now that voice sent a trill up his spine, why was he such an idiot, anyway? “But I’m afraid you can’t go home, not yet. Nor can you go to your shop.”

Home wasn’t entirely unexpected, all things considered, and the shop shouldn’t have been, if he’d bothered to think about it. Rus halted, dismayed, “but our store—we were supposed to get the new coolers this morning!”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“more help? great. i think we’ve had more than enough help from you!”

"You really don't have a choice. This is my fault, so I’m going to keep you safe." Said matter-of-factly, with no room left for debate or argument.

That didn’t mean Rus wasn’t going to try. "i don't want you to keep me safe! i don’t want anything to do with you or any of this...” He gestured wildly at the walls, the carpets, club that couldn’t even be seen. “this horrible place!"

Edge halted so abruptly that Rus nearly ran into his back, half-tripping over his own laces. He looked up into Edge’s stoic face defiantly, silently daring him to contradict him.

“No one talks to me like that.” But Edge wasn’t angry. It was more like he was marveling over it, almost pleased, and Rus didn’t know what that meant, he didn’t know what any of this meant. All he knew was his head ached and frustrated tears were starting to gather at the corners of his sockets, held back only be sheer determination.

He fought to keep from squirming under that penetrating gaze and it, well, it softened, somehow, it was the only way to explain it. “Come on,” Edge said, again, and instead of leading, he silently shepherded Rus to walk next to him, a hand hovering without touching at the small of Rus’s back as a guide.

They finally stopped outside of one of the doors that was as nondescript as any of them rest of them. Edge knocked briefly, in a weird rat-tat-tat pattern, then opened the door.

After everything, Rus still wasn’t sure what to expect and this luxurious office definitely wasn’t on his mental list. A large, ornate wooden desk dominated the room though there wasn’t a scrap of paper in sight, surrounded by leather chairs and sofas. There was a side bar with various sized bottles and a tray of clean glasses, and the walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with leather-bound volumes that had Rus mentally salivating; he could only imagine what information was in them, much better than the meager offerings of the local library.

Better yet, Blue was sitting in an oversized leather chair, still in his work uniform and almost disappearing into the thick cushions. He struggled to his feet with a cry, running over with both arms outstretched to Rus. Who dropped to his knees, clinging to his big brother as he hadn’t since the day they came to the surface and with almost the same mix of emotions, fear and joy.

“Brother, I was so worried!” Tears brimmed in Blue’s sockets and overflowed down his rounded cheekbones. His starry eye lights dimmed as he reached up to lightly touch the bruises on the side of Rus’s face, too gently to cause even a hint of pain.

“i’m okay, blue, seriously,” Rus told him. But he didn’t let go, leaning into those comforting arms.

“ain’t that sweet, a family reunion.”

That made Rus jerk, turning to see a burly skeleton almost as broad was he was tall coming from around the desk. He wasn’t much taller than Blue and in his sharky grin was a glinting gold tooth. One that might shine even in the dim light in the backseat of a car.

“Brother, this is Red,” Blue gestured towards the squat skeleton, who was lighting a cigar, “Edge’s brother. He told me what happened.”

“did he?” Rus said, as neutrally as he could manage when he was staring face-first at the skeleton who’d offered him a chance to ‘make it a double’ that morning, whatever the hell that meant.

“yep,” Red said agreeably. His crimson eye lights glittered with dark amusement as he grinned around his cigar. “glad you’re okay, flower shop, musta been a hell of an ordeal, eh, bro?”

Edge was standing by the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. His face twisted as if he was tasting something sour and he said nothing.

Blue only nodded, mopping away his tears with a clean hankie, “When I got to the shop and it wasn’t open, I was so afraid, brother! I had no idea that there was any,” he lowered his voice as if he might be overheard by someone nefarious, never suspecting that the bad guys were already in the room, “gang activity in our area and I’ve no idea why they would target us, but Red assured me they can help us handle it.”

“and fer a very reasonable fee,” Red added with mocking cheer.

“A fee!” Rus spluttered, “but all this is—” Their fault, Rus couldn’t say, not when Blue began scolding.

“Now, brother, I understand how you feel, but honestly, it’s not fair to expect them to help us for free. They’re businessmen and they can’t simply offer charity,” Blue lowered his voice, whispering, “and if we have their help, then I won’t have to worry about you.” He turned to Edge then and said with trembling gratitude, “Thank you, for bringing him back to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Edge said gravely, and Rus seethed inwardly even as there came another knock at the door, that same rat-ta-tat as before. Edge cracked it open to reveal another Dog, this time in what looked like a butler’s uniform, like he’d stepped right out of the movie ‘Clue’ after taking tips from Tim Curry. “Please, show our guests to their room. They’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

The Dog nodded, waiting as Blue offered more profuse thank you’s for them ‘saving’ him and if Blue thought anything of Red’s wide grin and Edge’s calm silence, it didn’t show. He followed the Dog and Rus started to trail behind him.

“Wait.” A hand on his arm made Rus pause and he looked up at Edge, biting back what he wanted to say even as he looked uncomprehendingly at the thin black rectangle that suddenly appeared between Edge’s fingers. “Here.”

It was his missing phone. Rus snatched it away, powering it on and he couldn’t help but notice the wifi was already connected. Like someone had bypassed his password and took a peek, sonuvabitch.

Blue was looking at him expectantly and Rus muttered, “thank you,’ before hastily escaping out the door.

The room they were led to was almost as big as their entire house. There was a wide bed topped with down-filled pillows and a heavy duvet, surrounded by curtains that were pointless in a room with no windows. On the other side of the room was a sitting area with a wide sofa and on the coffee table there were a couple of trays with domed covers that could only be dinner. A shame Rus didn’t think he’d feel like eating for about a decade or so. A disinterested poke at the remote on the side table opened a panel to show a large television screen that Rus didn’t bother to turn on.

What a weird place, the inside seemed bigger than the out, like an evil Tardis or something.

Rus flopped down on the bed without even stripping off his apron, toeing off his sneakers to let them plop down to the floor. That Blue didn’t scold him for making mess was a pretty good tell of his mood. Instead, Blue boosted himself up onto the mattress, crawling across the wide expanse to sit next to Rus and his hand was gentle as he smoothed it over Rus’s skull. Rus let him, didn’t draw away as he considered what he wanted to say.

“blue,” Rus hesitated, and said carefully, “i don’t know if getting involved with these guys is such a good idea.”

His brother surprised him, admitting, “I’m not sure, either. But they said they can help us,” Blue offered him a tremulous smile. “Business has been a little on the slow side and we lost that money to that horrible thief we hired. Red told me they can help support us until we get the insurance money. Things will be better, then, I’m sure of it.”

Rus closed his sockets tightly, swallowing down any other objections, because he knew that tone. Things had been tough lately, he knew that, but his brother’s false cheer told a clear story that Blue hadn’t been updating him like he should’ve. If they didn’t go along with this, they’d lose everything.

They didn’t have a choice.

“sure, bro,” Rus tried to force some enthusiasm into it, wasn’t sure if he succeeded. He gave it about a fifty-fifty shot.

“You must be exhausted,” Blue said, still petting his skull, “You don’t need to talk about what happened right now, let me heal that for you and then you can get some rest.” Fiercely, he added, “It will be all right, brother, you’ll see!”

That soothing, familiar touch drifted down his bruised cheekbone, fingertips going warm as Blue pushed healing into the injured bone. Getting healed always made Rus sleepy and he drifted off before his brother could finish, basking in his Blue’s gentle affection and care.

When he woke, the room was dark and Blue was asleep beside him, the bed so large they didn’t touch even with their arms outstretched. He fumbled for his phone, squinting at the too-bright screen that told him it was after midnight. As late as it was and as exhausted, he still couldn’t fall back asleep, his weary thoughts tumbling over and over themselves, an endless thumping dryer inside his mind.

They’d be staying for a few days, Edge said. Days of the shop being closed, days of the flowers not being properly tended, stock lost along with missing out on deliveries, walk-in purchases, any sales at all. Blue said Red offered to help but, what if that was all for show? They could lose the shop and if they did, the house would be next. Everything they’d worked so hard for.

This was all Edge’s fault, yeah, sure, and Rus still didn’t know exactly why, but it was the truth. A truth that didn’t even matter because lying here fuming about it wasn’t helping. What he needed to do was make sure Edge forced his brother to keep his promises to help them and Rus wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t like he had anything to barter, even the shop was technically in Blue’s name.

Except. There was one thing Rus knew that Edge wanted. Oh, he’d tried to deny it this morning and then went the complete opposite way this afternoon, but Rus was pretty sure he understood what was up with that. A failed attempt to protect him from…whoever, at this point Rus should probably start a list…and beneath that was the truth.

Edge wanted him, that much Rus knew and maybe if he…if Rus gave it to him. Maybe if he offered to give Edge whatever he wanted, they could be sure their shop was safe.

Lying in the wide, unfamiliar bed, Rus swallowed hard. In his daydreams, he’d been eager for something like this, tumbling into bed with his tall, mysterious stranger and even now that Rus knew the truth, a faint warmth throbbed once between his legs at the thought.

His soul was less certain, shrinking back in his rib cage. Rus ignored it, slipping out from between the sheets. All he had to do was offer and endure, who knew, he might even like it. Didn’t matter if he did. If it kept their shop open, Rus would do whatever it took.

It was worth a shot.

tbc

Read Next Chapter

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #mafia au #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus

34 notes · View notes

ahiddenpath · 5 years

Text

Seven Years of Writing Fanfics

I’m being a little premature- I’ll celebrate seven years of writing as ahiddenpath in September- but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’ve learned. Please read on if you want to hear about the writing habits I wish I had when I started in 2012, and about the habits I wish I didn’t have back then!

I’ll also be talking about my writing plans in general. Check it out below the cut!

1.) Make a story bible.

A story bible is a reference document for your story. Before you post a new fic, I strongly suggest creating one. For digimon specifically, this means making some choices before you begin:

Which version of the character names will you use? Do you intend to remain consistent with this choice? For example, I’ve seen a lot of writers use Japanese character names and English digimon names. Will you use official honorifics? Custom honorifics? Will you use terminology from one translation of the show, or a mashup?

Make these choices upfront, create reference charts, and remain consistent.

After that, you can also keep references for topics such as characterization details (if you say that Bob’s favorite drink is coffee in one chapter and tea twenty chapters later, be prepared for a flood of comments pointing out the inconsistency), setting details, and anything that you don’t want to forget. Spending half an hour hunting down a silly detail instead of writing is a huge bummer.

Growing Up with You is my worst offender of ‘problems a story bible would have fixed.’ It’s got... every issue you can imagine, lol! For example, pairing Hikari with Gatomon (instead of Tailmon), using ‘digitama’ and ‘digimental’ interchangeably in the 02 arc, using the English terms for evolution stages while using Japanese names for other things, confusing Bakemon and Bakumon, it’s a mess. It’s so bad that a complete, painstaking edit is the only thing that can fix it... Which is enough to make me weep, given that the story is over 400K words long.

Organize yourself before you start. Here’s a link to some printable Digimon Adventure and Digimon Adventure 02 references.

2.) Avoid Longfics.

I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. NEVER PUBLISH A NEW STORY WITHOUT HAVING AN ENDING IN SIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING.

I’m not saying you can’t write huge, epic tales. God knows I’m unlikely to stop doing that. But, if I could go back in time, I would separate Growing Up with You into four fics. It would be something like this:

Growing Up with You I: Childhood

Growing Up with You II: Digimon Adventure

Growing Up with You III: Liminal Space

Growing Up with You IV: Digimon Adventure 02

I’m sure some arcs would be longer than others, but this way, I’d have four stories that are roughly 100K words long.

A lot of folks just... don’t want to read a 400K story. It’s intimidating, man! Although it varies by genre, the average word count for a fiction novel aimed at adults is 80K words. That 400K fic is like FIVE NOVELS, DUDE!!!! That’s a commitment for readers!

Shorter stories are more reader friendly, but there’s also a huge benefit to you, the writer. Separating your longfic into multiple stories allows you more opportunities to write towards an ending. Breaking your story into digestible chunks decreases the writing paralysis that comes with being nowhere near the ending. It also cuts back on meandering chapters that don’t carry the narrative closer to that ending. Furthermore, thinking of the story in arcs before you start writing forces you to plan more... Something I never did in 2012!!!!

Best of all, once you reach the end of an arc, you can take a break before launching the next one. It’s hard on a writer to continue endlessly producing without a break. It’s hard on a reader to hit the final available chapter in a fic and wonder if it will ever update again. But if you complete an arc and take a break to plan and write a few buffer chapters, the tension and impatience is gone for your audience, and you get to breathe. It’s a win-win!

3.) Avoid long chapters.

Back in 2012, I often posted chapters that were 10K words and longer! Here are some benefits to posting shorter updates more frequently:

-Shorter wait times between updates.

Let’s say your planned chapter is 15K words long. I could update my story once in the span of a month, or I could break the chapter into three parts and update three times in a month! This keeps readers happy and interested in your work.

Over time, you’ll develop the ability to create sub arcs/movements, finding spots to break them up into separate updates. This also creates natural moments for cliffhangers, tension, and mini resolutions. It’s a great way to insert more moods and movement into your narrative.

-More exposure for your story.

Every time you update your fanfic, it gets pushed to the top of the update list on fanfiction.net or AO3. The more you update it, the more hits your story will receive, thanks to all the extra time it will spend on the first page of newly-updated fics.

-Easier editing.

I do my best editing when I’m working with 5K words or fewer at a time. Personally, I can only focus on close editing for about 90 minutes before I start missing mistakes and forgetting details. I could edit a 10K word update in two sittings, but then it’s possible to forget about details and moods from the previous editing session! So, unless your story bible is really hardcore, your editing process could benefit from shorter updates.

-More feedback/support

I have a few amazing readers who leave some form of feedback/appreciation for me whenever I post a new chapter. A supported writer is a happy, productive writer! More updates means more chances for feedback and support from your readers, which in turn can fuel and direct your writing! Again, everyone wins! (Thanks, guys, I love you!).

4.) Publish your story on both fanfiction.net and AO3.

Why reach one audience when you could potentially reach two? There are plenty of readers who only use one platform or the other.

At this point, it would be ridiculously difficult to post my 70+ chapter fanfics to AO3... Do yourself a favor and post to both from the start!

5.) Remember: writing and editing are two separate processes.

Guys guys guys guys guys. Lemme be real here.

I used to painstakingly write a first draft, check for spelling/grammar errors on my word processor, and then post it.

Here’s what my process looks like now: word vomit a first draft, do an edit in my word processor, print the edited draft, make edits on paper, transfer edits to word processor, print new draft, make edits on paper, transfer edits to word processor, final read through, post

If my new method looks more time intensive... In a way, it is, but in a way, it isn’t? I bang out that first rough draft without a care in the world, where I used to agonize over every word. Agonizing is not fun. Word vomiting can produce some, ah, discouraging results, but it feels like creative play. It’s fun, it’s flexible, it’s fast... And you can fix it later through the magic of editing. And if you’re having fun, you’ll keep writing. If you’re agonizing, you’ll find yourself making excuses to avoid writing.

Plus, my current method produces tighter, more deliberate prose, while maintaining the freedom and energy of word vomiting... And avoiding the angst and doubt. This is my best defense against writing paralysis and my greatest weapon in the battle of producing words.

My method can’t be right for everyone, but I do encourage you to try it out, especially if your writing hasn’t been joyful lately.

6.) Don’t run too many fics at one time.

I encourage writers to have one longer fic open and one shorter fic, preferably of different tones/settings/main characters. This gives you a way to keep writing when you’re sick of one project without bogging you down.

You will likely have some readers who love everything you do (god bless), but many people have particular genre, character, and setting preferences. If you have three fics open, then readers of any one story have to wait much longer for the next update while you alternate updating each fic.

And more importantly, having a ton of open stories just... It feels heavy, guys. It’s a weight, a pressure. Trust me. Forgive me, fanfic gods, for I have sinned.

7.) Maintain a buffer

Okay, so my Nanowrimo project for 2018 was to write 50,000 words for After August, my current open fic. By the end of the month, I had a roughly 80% complete first draft of the entire fic.

Guys! Guys! It’s so cool to know exactly where the story is going, from start to finish. My editing is so deliberate on this piece! I can spot repetition and inconsistencies, since the draft is printed and sitting in front of me in a binder. I can tweak emphasis and maintain more balance between character appearances. It’s a whole new ballpark for me, someone who always wrote one update at a time and posted it upon completion (or worse, wrote ahead and lost the material when I changed my mind about the plot before reaching that future point).

Plus, even if my life gets extra busy or hard, I can still maintain my updating schedule. I can print out a chapter, take it to work, and do hard edits during my lunch break (I realize that makes me antisocial, but have you ever endured coworkers telling you all of their problems while you try to eat a sandwich in peace? The editing is much more fun. I am antisocial, is what I’m saying. Born into it, baby).

Regular updates are a big part of maintaining steady readership, so having a buffer both increases the quality of your work (since you know where the story is going for sure) and ensures that more people read it. Awww yisssss.

Okay, well, my concentration is gone now, so that’s the end of my advice! If I think of anything else, maybe I’ll add it?

I do want to touch base with my writing plans, though. Currently, of course, my goal is to complete After August. If I can post one chapter per week, it will be compete in early March, but I’m going to aim for completing the story in May, to allow for any issues that might come up (for example, Kingdom Hearts III is coming out soon!).

After that, I want to complete Seeking Resonance... Although I have no idea how long that will take? I just know that the heavy atmosphere was really starting to weigh on me.

After that... Well, do you remember that survey I made a while back? It looks like my next project should probably be completing Four Years.

I might simultaneously work on one of these two stories and Tales of REM, or maybe I’ll alternate between SR and FY for a while? To be honest, though, I would really like to wrap up SR as soon as I can.

Either way, completion is the name of the game this year. Please look forward to it! Let me know if you have any ideas for future fics, or if you have a favorite from my list of potential future projects!

#writing advice #seven years of fanfiction #fanfic advice #fanfiction advice #faves

24 notes · View notes

deathbytitanium · 7 years

Text

The Wildcat and the Bear (Part 4)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (AO3)

I haven’t had much to say before this fic since everything is fairly self-explanatory, but this time I will. This chapter has a lot of talking and a bit of lead up because honestly these two need to do a lot of talking to get anywhere so that’s what I did! Enjoy guys!

“How much clothes do you have in this?” He asked that night nodding at her wooden chest in the corner of the tent. They’d spent the day like this, sitting down on the furs, discussing random things, talking as peacefully as they ever had.

She rolled her eyes at him, “First of all, a woman never has too many clothes. Second, not that many, really. A few dresses, some jewelry, a few random nick-knacks, from before .”

“Anything interesting?”

She sighed, “Not really, just some… sentimental things, I guess.”

He smirked, lifting a brow, “And what makes the mighty Nesta sentimental?”

Rolling her eyes once again she said, “Elain and Feyre’s fancy baby dresses, the baby blanky we all used, my mother’s favorite dress, my father’s favorite tie, my parents wedding rings.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Oh,” she mimicked.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I didn’t realize…”

She waved him off, shutting him up in the process, “No one ever does.”

“That’s just because no one ever cared enough to try to understand you, and I want to be different, Nesta, I want to be the person that knows you enough to know these little things. I’m sorry I was a smart ass about the question. I really wanted to know… I just don’t think much before I speak and most of the things come out on… well… Cassian default mode.”

“Stupid mode, you mean.”

He raked his hands through his hair, “Pretty much. I’m trying to change that, I really am, but, sometimes, my big mouth opens before my brain can catch up.”

“Tiny brain,” she murmured.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips, “Only tiny thing about me."

She snorted, “That’s not really a glowing endorsement.”

He inched closer to her and poked her, “Stop it. Share with me, why is it important to you. I swear I’ll be quiet and only listen to you.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ll make a crude joke five seconds into my story,”

“How does a crude joke fit into a story about baby dresses? I promise, I’ll be quiet. Please tell me?”

She shrugged, “It’s not even very interesting.”

“I’m interested, it’ll be interesting to me.”

“I, just… I remember when my sisters wore those dresses. I insisted on helping the maids dress them, I was two with Elain and four with Feyre. Elain was very compliant, she cooed quietly and smiled the whole time we dressed her.” she smiled fondly, fiddling with the edge of the furs she was seated on, “Feyre was the opposite. She kept squirming and she’d scream and laugh and she absolutely hated the dress and halfway through her party she spit up all over it and my mother just handed her off, so I followed the maid and helped her clean Feyre up. She was such a feisty little baby. Another thing I remember from that night was when my mother punished me for doing the servant’s work for her.”

“Well, that’s…”

“What my mother was like,” she finished for him. She shrugged, “She was my mother.”

“Well,” Cassian said, “I never knew my mother. I think she died giving birth to me or not long after. But, if I had known her, I know I would have loved her, no matter what.”

Nesta nodded, “I… I think that, because of everything with my father, I neglected to remember the bad things with my mother.”

“You were just a child, you didn't know better.” He meant everything when he said that. From her exaggerated memories of her mother to the bitterness she carried with her ever since to the way she dealt with it. She was just a child who had lost a parent and her entire life in such a small amount of time, of course she didn't know how to react to it.

“But then I wasn't a child anymore and I was still the same.” She said with a shrug and he knew she understood what he had meant, how he had meant it all and not just the small detail she had given him.

“Don't dwell on past mistakes, move forward and try to change, be the person you want to be.” He would be there for her this time, he would help, even if she didn't know it yet.

“What if I want to stay the same?” She said with a sigh. She looked so defeated, as if she had no hope of change, as if she thought how she had grown was the only way she would ever have grown and would ever grow.

“No one stays the same forever, we grow as time passes, even when we don't want to. It's all about direction, in what direction will you grow and it's better to choose than to just let it go where it will.” And I'll be there dammit, he thought because he would. This opportunity, this mating was his chance to leave the past behind and have something with her, with the only person he wanted to have a future with. All he had to do was convince her it was worth the risk.

She shot him a side glare, then she sighed, “You’re… wise… For a big brute with a tiny brain…” Maybe she was softening to him, letting him in a little, and that was all he wanted. A chance to show her who he really was.

He smiled, “See, now I’m ignoring the second half of that,” she rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.

“Hello!” They both jumped. Nodding, Cassian slapped a smile on his face as he turned to the Elder. “You two forgot I was due for a visit, I see.” Cassian opened his mouth to say no, of course not but the Elder just waved him off, “It happens all the time, I am a very forgettable old man,”

Cassian laughed, “That you definitely are not. Thank you for the visit, we appreciate it.”

Nesta stayed quiet, just looking at the Elder with a bemused expression. He gave her a little shove to get her talking, “Yes, appreciate it.”

The Elder simply smiled at her as if he knew what she was thinking. If that was the case then he was jealous because he could really benefit from being able to read Nesta’s mind. “It's nice to speak to you again, Nesta.” The Elder started, directing his gaze on her, “Our last chat was somewhat brief due to the events that preceded it. “I did tell Cassian here to help explain what the naming ritual. Did he mention it?”

Cassian grimaced as the Elder looked at him with those knowing eyes. “No,” Nesta said mildly, “He hasn’t mentioned anything other than that you would be visiting today.”

“Well, our Cassian is a forgetful thing, has always been very focused on one thing at a time and obviously his mind has been elsewhere.” He patted Cassian on the arm, “Truthfully the ritual is a series of, tests, so to speak.”

“Tests?” Nesta asked, brows furrowed in confusion, “I thought I had already been chosen…”

“Yes, the spirits have indeed chosen you, but you have not chosen the spirit. The tests are a way to consolidate the two sides, our side and their side, so that they become one withinyou .”

She lifted her eyebrows so high Cassian thought they might fly away from her pretty face. Somehow, they stayed in their place, and more surprising still, she managed to say, “Alright and what are the tests?”

“Oh, this one will explain them to you.” He said, hitting him on the arm again, “I’ll leave you to… as before.” Then he painstakingly lifted himself up and left their tent.

Nesta snorted, “He thinks we're intimate every five minutes doesn't he?”

“Probably…” he said, pouting, “but alas, you don't really like me, so no getting to know each other like that…”

That earned him a slap on the arm. He rubbed his arm, pretending it hurt, as she said, “You are a complete idiot and no one is sorry for you, seeing as I'm the first woman to ever not fall on her back and open her legs for her.”

“Hey! That's not true at all. Just because my handsome face and incredible smile make most women swoon, doesn't mean all of them fell on their backs with their legs open… Some fell on their front.”

She rubbed her eyes, “You. Are. A. Pig.”

“I. Am. A. Bear. A funny one, at that. Just a little joke, wildcat! It's not like that, never has been and definitely won't ever be.” He stayed where he was but his smile fell a little, his hands lifting in surrender when her expression didn’t budge, “Nesta. Please. You were the one that started it, I just continued the joke.”

She rolled her eyes, “I just…”

“You just what?” He encouraged. She just shook her head, looking down. Cassian sighed, “Talk to me, please. This will never work if we don’t talk to each other,”

She looked up at him with a glare, “I’m uncomfortable discussing that aspect of your life. Your… general… experience makes me feel… I don’t know… Inadequate…” she let out a hard breath, “Naive… since you’ve been with so many women and I haven’t ever been with a man… and you’ve already commented on it before so, I know you agree…”

He sighed, remembering the event she spoke of, “Nesta, you are many things but naive is not one of them. And when you say inadequate, what-”

“Sex,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I’m inadequate compared to you when it comes to sex,”

He remembered the incident, and regretted it even more now that it was brought to his attention, “Nesta, you’re not inadequate because you’ve never had sex. That doesn’t mean anything, at all. It doesn’t change your character or what makes you you . Being or not being intimate with another person is a personal choice of yours that is none of my business, and I apologize if I made it seem otherwise. As for me being with so many women? None of them ever care about me, not really.”

“So you don’t think less of me.” She stated instead of asked.

“Of course not.”

“And you wouldn’t think less of me if I had been with someone.”

“No, not at all. The double standard for women in such matters has always been something I disagree with, people should be free to make their own decisions and not be judged by a bunch of people that know nothing about that decision.” She simply nodded at him, apparently appeased by his answer.

“How many women have you been with?” she asks blatantly.

He chuckled awkwardly, “I haven’t kept count, sorry. But… not as many as people say… not as many as people think.”

“Have you ever lived with one of them?”

“Mmm… No, the only person I’ve shared a tent with so far in my life is you,” he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes again, “I’m flattered,” she said in the flattest tone possible, sarcasm oozing from those two words. “Allow me to revert our conversation to the naming ritual. What exactly will I be facing for the next week?”

He smiled, “The first night is simple, just the start of the ritual. Nothing you need to worry about, just a bonfire, you’ll have to wear some special clothing and paint, but I’ll help you with that tomorrow.”

“And the next nights?”

“Oh, we’ll discuss them as we go, no need to overwhelm you with everything. Not much I can say, anyway,”

“Wha-” she started, but was interrupted by a shout from outside.

“Cassian! Come out here right now.”

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. Mor was back.

Mor was back. Nesta closed her eyes and breathed deeply, she had always been particularly hostile with her and very vocal of her disapproval of her and Cassian getting closer. Morrigan was one of the reasons she’d not talked to him seriously until the day before, when they were forced together. She could just imagine what she’d have to say about them having been paired more permanently.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Cassian said quietly. She sighed once more, of course he was going to her. So she just shrugged, turning toward her wooden chest in displeasure. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the tent and went outside, already trying to quiet her before he went out. She was starting to think that she would always be in this position with him, sitting alone in a tent, looking around, trying to find her place in his already full life and family. Maybe she didn’t have one, not if she was the one staring blankly around while he goes to comfort another.

“Mor!” she heard Cassain’s voice, louder than before, closer than before. So Mor wanted to come in and scream at her in person. How could she have forgotten about Mor? Stupid, so stupid, being so caught in the day, in the talks…

“She’s in there, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is, she’s my mate,”

“I want to speak to her.”

“Maybe some other time, if she wants to. If she doesn’t just leave her alone.”

Nesta stood up and left the tent, ignoring Cassian and looking straight to Mor. She wanted to talk to her, then she would talk, “What is it that you want to say to me, Morrigan?”

Mor came in close to her, looking down at her, the difference of height meant to be an intimidation, but Nesta really didn’t care, “You.” she said sharply and coldly.

“Me. Is that all you have to say?” Her voice was as bored as it had ever been, her face blank as she just looked up. The blonde was certainly a beauty. No wonder…

“You’re happy now aren’t you? Now that he can’t get rid of you?” Mor said with a growl. How incredibly angry she was for no reason Nesta could determine.

She simply sighed, rolling her eyes, “I don’t think any of this concerns you, I don’t think it ever will. If I’m happy or not, if Cassian is happy or not, neither of us need to share with you unless we want to. So, you can leave, because I owe you nothing and I believe my mate has already answered whatever it was you wanted to ask him.” Then she simply turned around and went back into the tent, settling onto the furs, feeling more tired than she had before. She reckoned that was the best way to end an argument, turn around, ignore whatever else the person says once you turn your back to them.

To her surprise, Cassian entered right after her, sitting on the furs leaving a good distance between the two of them. His face was drawn in lines of worry, apology and a storm of other emotions she couldn’t place. “I’m sorry about that,”

“Do you always apologize for things that aren’t your fault?” She asked, more for his peace of mind than her own. He wasn’t responsible for what Mor did and she wouldn’t hold him responsible for anything but his own actions.

“It feels like my fault,” he said quietly.

“It’s not, unless you told her to come here and make a scene.”

“I didn’t.”

She shrugged, “Then it’s not your fault.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can talk about it, I can talk to Mor, make sure she doesn’t bother you again…”

“I just want to sleep. I’m tired.” She answered, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. She couldn’t stand to hear one more word about the Morrigan, she’d done enough damage for the day, thank you very much. Now Nesta was only feeling foolish, for thinking that maybe he would actually want to be with her, that all his questions were genuine, that maybe there was hope and this hadn’t been some foolish ritual that was ultimately wrong. She had forgotten the most important thing that had made her step away from Cassian, the fact that he loved Mor.

Cassian handed her the night shirt and turned around, as he had the night before. She stepped out of her dress - a strange dress she had managed to sew that combined both the fashions from behind the wall and the Night Tribe - leaving her corset as well. It was uncomfortable but it was better than to be exposed.

“You can turn around,” she said as she settled into the furs.

When he did he gave her a peculiar look, “Are you going to sleep with your hair so tightly bound? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

She shrugged, “I’m too tired to take it down now, I don’t really mind.”

“But it is uncomfortable?”

“A little,” she conceded honestly. But it wasn’t the only uncomfortable thing she was dealing with, her corset was digging into her hip and under her arm.

“I can take it down for you, if… if you want…” He was hesitant all of a sudden and she was quite shocked by it. The thought that Cassian might be hesitant about something was off putting.

“You don’t have to…” she answered him quietly.

“I know, I… want to help you, that’s all.” He walked to her, sitting next to her but still giving her space, hoping that she would let him. She turned to give him access to her braid, tightly woven onto her head. He started softly with as much care as possible, finding one pin, then another, slowly unwinding her hair and letting it fall down her back. He noticed that her hair was roughly the same length as his, maybe slightly longer, to the small of her back.

By the time he finished, her eyes were closed and her back less tense, “Are you sleeping with your corset?” he asked quietly.

“Yes…”

“Don’t keep it on on my account,”

“I feel… exposed,”

“I won’t even look, I know it’s uncomfortable,”

She had to agree it was horribly uncomfortable… And if he wouldnt look it didn’t really matter, “Alright, turn around.” She quickly undid the laces with sure fingers and slid it down the shirt. She sank onto the furs again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Cassian said, adjusting into the furs on his side.

She realized that dispite everything, all the issues they had, this was the place she felt safest. She fell asleep in a few moments.

Cassian woke in the middle of the night to a strange sound, something like a mewl of pain. He woke quickly to find Nesta thrashing around, eyes screwed shut, the noises clearly coming from her. A nightmare, she was having a nightmare. “Nesta, wake up.” he said gently, nudging her in the arm. She made another of those sounds, a no , if he wasn’t mistaken. “Nesta,” he said a little more firmly, “Wake up, sweetheart, you’re okay.”

She woke up in a start, looking around in a panic, “It’s all right Nesta, it was just a dream. You’re safe, it’s over.”

“We were going to die,” she said softly, panicked, “You were going to die.”

He hugged her gently, “We didn’t, we’re still here.”

“I thought…”

“I know. It’s alright, you’re alright, we’re alright.” he tried rubbing her back reassuringly.

“Alright…” she said, sleepily.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” he said, releasing her and trying to settle her back down.

“No, no,” she said, still sleepy, “No, come back. You’re warm,”

He didn’t answer, instead settling next to her, arms coming around her as he closed his eyes. He smiled as he realized his position, he wanted to sleep like this forever, basking in her scent, that thanks to his bear he sensed perfectly, was so exquisitely Nesta. In that moment he promised himself that he’d do everything in his power to have this everyday, he’d do anything for her.

Next Chapter

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #fanfic #nessian fanfiction #the wildcat and the bear #my writing

56 notes · View notes