#also I'm gonna start working on the fic you suggested after the first round of the sports event is over

[froizetta]

20 Questions for fic writers!

Tagged by @ginbenci! Thank you! :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

12! All since last August

What’s your total A03 word count? 134,798

What fandoms do you write for?

So far just DCU, but I like a lot of things! I will branch out one day, when the brainrot loosens its grip.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Padam Padam - superbat, E (7.5k)

Batman's heartbeat keeps speeding up whenever Clark is around. For instance: when Clark greets him, half-naked, on a Gotham rooftop. Or when he uses his superstrength to save a busload of schoolchildren. Or sometimes even just when he smiles. Clearly the poor man is terrified of him.

By far my most popular fic! Probably because it found it's way to tiktok (this still feels wild to me). Despite the fact that borderline crack and I wrote it in about 3 days, it has twice the number of kudos as the fic below in this list. Or perhaps it's because I took the idea from a tumblr post rather than coming up with it myself? Hmmmmm.

2. An Honest Conversation - superbat, E (60k)

“So Bruce’s longtime best friend had suddenly decided to start eye-fucking him at random. So what? Bruce was used to being the object of this kind of attention. It didn’t bother him. It was—should have been fine. The issue was that it was Clark, and Bruce had enough trouble remaining rational about him at the best of times.” or Bruce and Clark go from friends to lovers the long, long, long way round. Featuring a number of revelations, a well-meaning but nosy son (Dick) and, most prominently, two adult men being completely and utterly useless.

My first fic, and the closest one I have right now to a magnum opus! It started off as a silly oneshot and then got surprisingly angsty towards the end (although no less silly tbh, that's apparently just my whole vibe as a writer).

3. Hiding In Plain Sight - superbat, T (3.5k)

Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, is clearly just Superman wearing glasses. For some reason, no-one but Bruce can see that. There is a distinct possibility that Bruce has lost his mind.

Written for Bruce Wayne Week 2023, as are the rest on this list! Written because...well. He totally is just wearing glasses. I'll happily suspend my disbelief, but I'm still not letting it go, damn it.

4. Holding Onto A Hero - superbat, T (2.5k)

Clark squinted sleep-tired eyes and frowned. “B? Everything okay?” And then Bruce shivered. In a fraction of a second he was beside the bed, and in another he was settling a knee onto the mattress and wrapping his arms around Clark’s waist, cowled face pressed into Clark’s chest. “So,” Clark said conversationally. “I’m gonna go ahead and take that as a no.”

The prompt was cuddle pollen, and it really is just a short-n-sweet, soft, cuddly, getting together fic. Also, I got to insert a little vague allusion to neuroscience, which is always nice (although oxytocin doesn't actually work like that, the effect is sex-specific and increasing it can actually promote aggression in some- okay, okay, I'll shut up).

5. More Fun Than Counting Sheep - superbat, E (5.5k)

When Bruce can't sleep, Clark proposes an unconventional solution. (The solution is sex.)

The prompt I took was sleep-deprived Bruce. Nothing about that suggested it should be smut, and yet here we are. I wrote this because I thought it would be funny to have Clark try to seduce Bruce into sleeping (and for it to work), and honestly? I stand by that.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm none of them really. Maybe A Stitch In Spacetime (Gen, 4.5k - in which Batman meets a version of himself whose parents never died so he became a surgeon like his dad). But only because the ending is more hopeful than actively happy. Batman has still lost Jason, but he's finally trying to heal; Doctor Bruce still wants kids he doesn't have, but maybe after this that will change. (Also, unrelated but I'm really proud of the title for this one lol. I love a pun, what can I say.)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, they're most all happy, but probably An Honest Conversation? Just because the finale was INCREDIBLY sappy, and there was a lot bullshit preceding it that they had to get through, which certainly made the ending cathartic to write!

Do you get hate on your fic?

Not yet! Apart from a couple of slightly iffy comments, everyone has been lovely. But then, I'm not writing anything particularly controversial lol. Hopefully the trend continues outside of genfic and superbat.

Do you write smut?

Yes, a lot lol, nearly half of my fics are E-rated. Look, if I write a romance in which the pairing solves some kind of relationship issue and grow closer as a result, some part of my brain is always gonna be thinking, "Hm. What if they banged about it?" Also, I love a sex comedy, so there's that too.

Do you write crossovers?

No. I don't think I'm into any fandoms right now that I would WANT to cross over tbh. I've read my fair share, though!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I'd theoretically be open to it! I think it would be tricky in practise though, unless you an your co-writer are really on the same wavelength. Even writers I really like don't necessarily write in the same style as me, so that could create difficulties.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I mean. Superbat right now for sure. I'm usually a multishipper, but for whatever reason they have a death grip on me. I'm still basically an omnivore though!

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmm, this feels like a very defeatist question since I do plan to finish everything I start. Probably the fic I started writing for a friend's birthday based on a premise we discussed nearly a decade ago. It's a wholesome romance between two of the sidest side characters in Haikyuu!! (Tanaka Saeko and Tsukiyama Akiteru, for the curious; they do interact, but barely), because my friend was there with her Charlie Kelly conspiracy board saying, "They're both in uni! They're in the same prefecture! They knew each other in high school! They're both older siblings of main characters on the same team, so they can go watch the matches together! There's so much to work with!!!" This has apparently been her lowkey white whale ever since, but she's never managed to write it, so I offered to have a go. Tragically, them being SUCH side characters means I have to all but invent a personality for one of them, which makes figuring out their dynamic a lot harder lol. But I still want to finish it one day, for her sake!

What’s your writing strengths?

Comedy I think, specifically deriving humour from awkward situations (that I have made up) - and often it's the quiet chuckle kind rather than the knee-slapping kind. But YMMV on whether anything I write is actually funny! I can only hope :')

What’s your writing weakness?

Well, I have lots of things I don't feel good enough to write (e.g. long, dramatic epics that I can't fill with jokes), but I mostly haven't wanted to try so I wouldn't say that's a weakness per se. And I have plenty of little things I feel like I need to work on, but none are an easy-to-identify kryptonite-style Weakness. Probably flow and pacing, as it's something I'm very particular about (especially for comedy, where imo it needs to be correct for it to work) but it doesn't always come naturally to me. I do a lot of rounds of editing trying to tweak things so they flow right. Hopefully that will come easier with experience! I'd be fascinated to know what other people thought my weakness was, though; it's often hard to judge yourself, since you're the audience you're writing for.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In what sense? As in, for example, writing a French-speaking character in French in an otherwise English-language fic? I think that's appropriate when the POV character doesn't speak French, but perhaps can be avoided if they do, as then the average reader is understanding as much as the POV character is.

As to whether I personally would do it, I only really speak one non-English language at a decent level, and even then it's hard to convey nuance in any language you're not fully fluent in. So only sparsely, only if necessary, probably only if I could get a native speaker to check it.

First fandom you wrote for?

I think it was Free!, the anime about the swimmer boys. Back when I was a teenager in school, probably ~16, I anonymously posted a gen crackfic on the LJ kink meme based on an experience I had with some schoolfriends, where a few of us tried to give a less birds-and-the-bees version of The Talk to a sadly uneducated member of the group during a camping trip. (Our school did actually give proper sex education, with the putting expired condoms on dildos and everything, but didn't go into the specifics of, say, doggy style). ANYWAY, that was the only thing I'd ever posted until this year, but apparently my proclivity for writing sex-related comedy has remained unchanged lol.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Man I don't know. I just did a similar tag thingy that asked this, and I wasn't sure then, and it feels boring to put the same answer twice? So I'll pick another that's my favourite for a different reason: Master of All Trades (Bruce & Hal, T, 4.5k). I think of all my fics, it has the highest ratio of good to not-that-deep, if that makes sense? Writing Hal's POV was incredibly fun, and I think it turned out really well! And it's definitely one of the few I can reread without cringing lol (reading your own writing after posting it is just embarrassing somehow).

Tagging: I nominate @burins and @unbreakabledawn, but literally 0 pressure at all!

[kuwdora]

Hi hello! For the fic writer asks:

✿ did anything major change when you started writing Coin Operated Boy to when you finished?

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

✄ what’s your editing process?

Oh, hi you! These are excellent asks. Somehow I knew you would ask about this story. :)

Okay. So! With Coin Operated Boy I didn’t really have anything major change. I did end up cutting or not writing a lot more detail about Jaskier’s friendship with Cory and more Oxenfurt culture. Mostly because Jaskier was too busy being a puppet and didn’t have time for anything else. I had a lot more detail about Cory and Jaskier and their college friends, and passing around the same $20 for over two decades. Oxenfurt insider jokes, some more throwaway details about The Horrors happening outside the walled garden of Oxenfurt since the story takes place about 4-6 months after Cintra falls.

Also originally after puppetskier had been attacked by a kitty, he was gonna run into a random artist who would help and drop him off at Shani’s. Then I realized it would be way cuter if he actually encountered Karsten again because!! Small child and puppetskier! Relationship already established.

Not a major change either but I originally had a coda I was gonna do but then didn’t. I got so tired by the time I reached the end of the story that I just needed to be done. It was gonna be from Cory’s POV where she’s at a pottery stall or kiln and Karsten returns with some of the hidden treasure he had found and that he wanted to pass on to Jaskier because Jaskier was his new friend. I was also trying to find a way to have Shani stop by while Cory and Karsten were together for that moment. This idea was actually a brilliant suggestion by Castillon02. Alas, being tired and feeling all kinds of squishy about playing with my OCs a little more…the coda did not come to fruition.

I also have a second coda/probably a second story idea. Where Jaskier is hanging out with Yen and makes a passing reference to that time he was turned into a puppet for several days. And something something, Jaskier wants to be fucked as a puppet, something something horny comedy size difference and Yen indulging him.

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

I usually end up in somebody's DMs, usually @sassaffrassa trying to talk through my current problem. And cry a lot. I've been trying to do some short bursts of flashfic writing when I'm stuck editing just to reset my brain. Right now I wish I had better focus to be working on my vidding projects or my painting projects to step away from the writing medium. Slowly trying to get myself back into those things again just because I think it will help o have something else to work on.

But if I leave things too long without touching or thinking about it, then it's so much harder to get back into it. Even though I really, really want to finish it.

✄ what’s your editing process?

AS FOR EDITING, my god. It’s a... process. Going under a cut cause I ramble like the wordy gremlin I am.

I write and do my first round of editing in Scrivener. I usually write a scene and when I think I’m done, I go back and reread and start writing notes about things or highlighting passages I think about or want to revisit again. I outline after drafting a lot of the time. To see what actually happens and compare it to what I actually wanted to happen. Or thought was gonna happen. Cause I forget shit all the time while writing and sometimes can't see what I actually wrote unless I make bullet points. It's annoying.

I like Scrivener because I move a lot of scenes or whole sections around and I end up writing so many notes about different things that I end up with folders of stuff that doesn’t even make it into the story. Probably why it takes me for fucking ever to finish anything because I keep getting distracted with more ideas and details. But editing usually involves going back to my judicious use of brackets and filling in shit or figuring out what I was thinking. I jump around a lot in the editing stages because if I’m not feeling a certain section at the moment then I’m just not gonna get enough done.

Once I feel reasonably okay and like it’s readable, I pop the fic into gdocs for eventual betaing or cheer readers. I hate gdocs so much for anything longer than 4k because I can’t really see the scenes anymore. But it is helpful to be looking at the text on a different screen and I do appreciate that. I’ll continue to edit and make more specific line and paragraph highlights of things that are bothering me so I know what I’m gonna focus on when I come back later. Eventually I’ll reach a point of exhaustion and fling it at someone who’s willing to read it and pray that it makes sense. Usually in the case of my Leshkel stuff it doesn’t but that’s what another round of editing is usually for. When I’m mostly on the ball with my story I happily chew on beta comments and wrestle my paragraphs some more until I’m exhausted and never want to write again.

I recently started using the header feature in Gdocs so I can jump to my scene/chapter breaks a little easier now instead of scrolling through +15 pages and I think that will help my editing brain for this stage.

Anyway that was very long but!! Sort of how I roll.

fic ask meme

[crowhyun]

hi! i hope you're doing well <33

ive never sent an ask but ive been reading your works for a year now and i just wanted to write you a lil love letter (if this sounds selfless, i assure you it's not, i just need more level infinity chapters /j)

Dear Crow,

You're an exceptional writer. You're a bit younger than me but have a way with words and flow that suggests you're older than you are and it's always a joy to read your works. Your mind???? You create the funniest stuff. No one else could write your fics like you do. If level infinity was in anyone else's hands it wouldn't hit the same. I've read a good number of your personal rant posts and I just wanna tell you that you are strong and worthy of love and time 💞. You're in those late teen years where you're trying hard to build yourself up for your future and are doing so well despite what life throws at you. Get out there and show them what a black girl with fam issues can do (friendly quip, i was once that girl 😙).

Now onto your fics.....whooo weeee buckle in. First, since I've mentioned it many times, Level Infinity. Those round, dynamic characters?? You go girl. After reading a new chapter I'm probably thinking about LI!soobin for days (i have such a crush on him and how you've written him lmfaooo). You're doing so well so far and I can't wait to see what happens next!!

I'm actually gonna dedicate a new paragraph to one of my top 5 soobin fics of all time... *drumroll* "My Pet Bloodsucker". Ask me to describe how much I love this fic and you'll get: "hbsdhjbjhdsbjhsHE'SCUTEsjhbjhsdbjANDPOUTYsbjhsbdj, Witches and vampires hello??? lez goooo, so good" Like gen. One of my fav soobin characterizations (also sub soobin >>>>>>>>>) And their relationship turns so cute. How he starts to care (a lot) about what y/n thinks and when he forgets to drink the blood bags even after his time is up. He's so cute in that fic I love it and the plot is fun and engaging.

-

So anyways, I'm trying to be what I wish someone said to me when I wrote kpop fics (opposed to just silent reading/liking) and getting to motivation back to write! Because Crow? Pick up Level Infinity I BEG.

anywho stay hydrated girlie mwah <3

HIIIIIIII! Seeing this message in my inbox made me so happy I swear to you I literally cried. It really surprises me that there are many people who really like level infinity! Like, I guess it's different bcs with my other fics, I get likes, reblogs, and maybe a few comments, but with lvl infinity, yall are REALLY supportive and yall actually talk about it, it just makes me so happy bcs I really like writing it!

I've also noticed that My Pet Bloodsucker is my first fic to reach 1000 notes and AHHHHH i've never felt this accomplished ehehhehe

I'm working on lvl infinity right now, and you can expect the next chapter to be out soon! i can't wait to see yalls reactions to the rest of the chapters lmao its gonna be so happy and fun :D

anyways, thank you so much for sending this! you're allowed to demand for me to post lvl infinity btw i really dont mind its what i need tbh lol

your wish will come true very soonnnnn <3

[nicosbrainrot]

“Yeah I could probably lift a decent amount of people in the two classes up no problem. Look.” *proceeds to lift Ikuto up onto her shoulder, holding him via a flex like position*(hope I explained that well lol)

HE WOULD BE SO FLUSTERED HAHAHAH TSUMI YOU CAN'T JUST PICK PEOPLE UP

I mean he's very IMPRESSED but also oh my god someone just picked him up like a small dog, is he that light? (nope, tsumi's just that strong) prepare for a very red-faced boy who is now slightly more scared of you

[tomanpeach]

champagne for my real friends – (ran x reader ft. bonten)

a/n: this took forever to finish but i'm happy with how it turned out!!! also this is so humiliating but i literally forgot to write in mochi please don't hate me oh my GOD

content: LIL BIT NSFW!!! JUST SOME MENTIONS OF PAST STUFF!!! drunk!ran, pregnant!reader, bonten members, alcohol/drinking, last but not least there is so much swearing idk how else to write these folks i'm sorry lmaooo just a little meet the bontens fic :')

word count: 4.7k

(( this is a part of my boyfriendification/daddyfication of ran haitani universe please check out the original fics if you're interested! :) ))

"haitani," sanzu calls across the table. everyone's attention shifts over to him. "sorry," he says to rindou. "big haitani."

rindou rolls his eyes at the descriptor. ran chuckles and jerks his chin in sanzu's direction, silently indicating to him to proceed.

"what ever happened with your girl's pregnancy scare?"

there are a few exclamations or remarks in agreement: "shit, yeah!" "oh right, what did happen with that?"

"not a scare," ran tries to conceal a grin. "she's pregnant."

there are a few shocked sounds. he continues, "and we're gonna have the kid."

"shut the fuck up," kakucho's jaw hangs open in shock. takeomi, sitting to ran's left, claps him on the back in congratulations. "is he serious??" koko asks, looking not to ran, but to the more trustworthy rindou beside him, who nods. "that's not fair!" sanzu whines, throwing a childish pout toward ran. "why do you tell rindou everything first?"

"that's a dumb fucking question," koko scoffs, earning a shove from sanzu. ran snorts and takes a long drink.

suddenly, mikey raises his glass. the table goes silent, all eyes looking to him. "congratulations, haitani," he says with a small smile on his lips. "that's big news." everyone else raises their cups, celebrating ran's announcement.

ran hadn't realized how much mikey's approval would mean to him. he knew at some point he'd have to tell everyone. that they'd have to meet to discuss the logistics and the security risks of ran having a family, make sure his pregnant girlfriend and future baby would remain undiscoverable by rival organizations. but he had expected it to just be that: a topic for an executives meeting. never would he have expected mikey to congratulate him on the news, too.

"shots," ran slams a hand on the table. "on me. for everyone. mikey?" mikey hesitates but nods his agreement. "fuck yeah, great." ran waves to the bartender and in moments, they're all being handed shots of whiskey.

ran haitani was not a lightweight; the man could drink. as much as everyone else, and then some. typically, on these nights out for a drink with bonten, he would barely even get buzzed. when things at work got overwhelming, the guys had gotten in the habit of walking to the bar near their office together to vent about everything and have a beer. there were always brushes with law enforcement, court dates, dodged attacks on cargo, and this past week, a near miss involving an unmarked black van trying to run mikey's car off the road. none of this was unusual in bonten's world, but it took its toll when the events started to pile up. mikey had even been the one to suggest getting drinks tonight, signaling that even their leader was on edge: something that rarely happened.

when mikey went out to drink with his subordinates, they tried to keep it more on the professional side. nobody drank until he did, all cues were taken directly from his actions. but mikey had announced that congratulations were in order and something had switched in ran's brain. he was celebrating tonight.

after the first round of shots, he insisted on another. mikey was in a surprisingly good mood, always having been a sucker for happy announcements, and seemed perfectly content as ran ordered more shots and bottles and rounds of drinks.

as the hours passed, what began as a beer after work had become a rowdy, drunken night out. the table soon became the loudest in the bar, though the bartenders and owner recognized the mysterious tattoo they all donned and didn't dare say a word. the drunkest of them all, though, was ran.

"i'm really gonna be a fuckin' dad," he slurs, leaning into rindou's side, eyes on kakucho. "a cool dad, though. like, so fuckin' cool. imagine how cool i'll be as a dad. rin? yo, imagine it, man."

"jesus, slow down, dumbass," rindou shoves ran off of him as his older brother lifts his 5th? maybe 6th?? shot to lips. "how many is that now?"

"6," kakucho answers rindou from across the table, seeming sober enough to be trusted. ran snorts out a laugh and downs the dark liquor anyway.

he folds his long arms onto the table and rests his chin on them like a little kid. "you ever want kids?" he asks to no one in particular.

"you're so fucked up, man," takeomi chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

ran gives him look like he has no idea what he's talking about. mikey is watching with amusement, always intrigued by the behavior of his men outside of work and especially when they let loose in their personal lives.

"get him home, rin," koko nudges rindou.

"fuck no," rindou scowls. "i'm not his babysitter. he's an adult."

"he's trashed," kakucho indicates to where ran has almost fallen asleep at the table.

"should we call his girlfriend?"

everyone's heads whip toward sanzu, who's got the most devious grin on his face.

kakucho is the first to object to the idea, "he'd kill us for that."

"who am i killing?" ran lifts his head an inch. rindou rolls his eyes. the table falls silent as everyone continues to think it over.

"listen," sanzu raises his hands casually. "he's so gone right now, he'll probably just be happy as fuck when he sees his girl show up, right? and none of you have ever even met her! aren't you curious??"

"that's a good point," koko smirks. "fuck it, gimme his phone."

rindou lifts ran's phone from where it sits on the table between him and his brother and holds it up to ran's face. "ran, look up," he instructs. his brother turns slightly, blinks at the screen, and the phone unlocks. rindou places it into kokonoi's outstretched hand.

"hey, hang on," ran pushes himself back so that he's sitting up properly, almost sending the whole chair tumbling backwards. takeomi steadies it with an irritated huff.

koko easily finds your texts– they're pinned to the top of ran's messages. all of the bonten members have become familiar with your name, and there it is under a picture of you, saved with a single fiery heart emoji beside it. "let me call her," sanzu taps koko on the shoulder. "she's met me. it'll scare the shit out of her if you call."

koko looks up as if ready to protest, but mikey gives him a stern look that says listen to sanzu. so he does, handing the phone over obediently.

you answer on the second ring, voice slightly sleepy, "hi, baby."

"hey, sweetheart!" comes a voice that is definitely not ran's. "sorry to startle you. it's haruchiyo, 'member me?"

you feel your stomach drop. why on earth would one of ran's colleagues be calling you from ran's phone? "is ran okay?" you ask quickly.

"he sure is!" sanzu laughs like you've told him a joke. "but he's also piss fuckin' drunk."

"who the fuck is that?" ran's focus settles on sanzu's phone call. he balls the back of rindou's shirt in his fist, "who's he talking to?"

rindou roughly shakes off his brother's grip, "don't grab me. calm the fuck down."

"jesus christ..." you groan, hearing the exchange in the background of the call. "should i... would it be okay if i come to get him?"

"i think that would be a great idea. i hope it's not too much trouble!"

"no, he's always trouble," you scoff, though it comes across fondly. "i'll be there soon. haruchiyo, would you mind texting me the address?"

"sure thing, babe. we'll see you soon." he hangs up before you can clarify who exactly we entails.

once you've gotten the call from sanzu, you don't want to waste any time. luckily, you haven't gotten into pajamas yet; you're still in comfortable clothes from earlier that day. you grab a bottle of water from the fridge and toss a bottle of painkillers in your bag before heading out to your car.

you follow the map to the location sanzu has sent: a divey little bar only a block from ran's office. when you don't see his car in the parking lot, you assume he must've walked. at least the batmobile was safely in the parking structure at the bonten building.

it wasn't often that ran got drunk. try as you might, you couldn't actually remember a time when he'd been less sober than you. usually it was him who took your drunk ass home and played nurse. you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and head out into the cold night air.

the bar is warm, thankfully. it's dimly lit and bustling, almost every table and seat is full. the clack of a billiards game can barely be heard over the loud voices and the sound of the radio. eyeing the crowd, you notice that there's a clear division between one table in the back and the rest of the patrons. and at that table is a bright pink head of hair belonging to a man who you notice is waving you over.

you step carefully through the crowded bar, making your way toward sanzu and the bonten members. as you approach, you recognize the back of ran's long, lean body, sitting with his head propped up on his elbow.

"she's here! our savior!" sanzu exclaims, beaming at you. the five other men at the table turn to look at you. ran doesn't move. "just the ran haitani rescue team," you joke awkardly, earning a grin from the man at the other end of the table who you assume has to be mikey based on... well, everything about him.

sanzu motions around the table, quickly introducing the men: takeomi, kakucho, mikey, kokonoi, rindou. "nice to meet you," you nod respectfully and introduce yourself.

"and, of course, you know this ugly motherfu–" "can you be fuckin' polite, shithead??" koko elbows sanzu sharply. you try and fail to hold in a chuckle. "i know him well," you reply, unfazed. stepping forward, you kneel beside ran to get a look at his face. his eyes are closed, his cheek smushed into the hand that he's resting on.

"ran? wake up, hon."

his eyes crack open. when he recognizes you he smiles, "wow, hey, baby. where'd you come from?? look at you, you look so good. you're so pretty."

"and you're so drunk," you counter, cupping his cheek. ran's smile deepens at the touch, turning his head to kiss your hand. the movement causes his head to slip from his hand and hit the table with a thunk. the rest of the table howls with laughter.

"shit," ran raises his head, nearly chuckling himself. "come kiss it, baby." you lean in to kiss his forehead and he becomes jello, all his weight tumbling toward you.

you stand up to intercept his falling body with your own. he stays there, leaning against your side, eyes falling shut again. you run a hand along his shoulders lovingly. "i should get him home," you tell everyone. "thanks for calling me, haruchiyo. i appreciate it." sanzu winks, waving his hand: it was nothing.

"sorry, would someone mind giving me a hand with him?" you ask sheepishly, nearly laughing out loud when every single member of bonten rises from his seat.

takeomi throws one of ran's arm over his shoulder and pulls him up. ran is practically dead weight as takeomi shuffles him away from the table. kakucho comes around to ran's other side and does the same thing. together, the two men have no trouble carrying drunk ran to the door. "i'll supervise," sanzu follows them through the bar, scarred mouth tugging up into a delighted smile.

"nice meeting you all," you wave slightly to mikey, koko, and rindou, all of whom are still standing, watching their colleague being carried out of the bar. they nod their heads politely to you and you hurry to catch up with takeomi, kakucho, and sanzu.

"where do you–"

"which car, sweetheart?" sanzu asks, cutting off takeomi.

"sanzu... fuckin' kill you..." ran grumbles upon hearing sanzu call you sweetheart. he lurches forward but takeomi and kakucho are holding on tight.

you jog ahead to your car and open the door.

they help you fold ran's long limbs into the passenger seat until he's curled up and cozy against the upholstery. the four of you stare at him sleeping soundly for a moment.

"hey, i've got a great idea!" sanzu exclaims. "you should come back in and have a drink with us."

"thank you, that's very sweet, but–"

"she can't drink, she's pregnant, dipshit," kakucho rolls his eyes at sanzu.

"oh? you... oh..." you sputter. "...you know?"

"he told us tonight," takeomi gives you a genuine smile. "congratulations, by the way."

"thank you," you return the expression, hand coming up to rest on ran's shoulder, smoothing the fabric of his shirt nervously.

"well, at least come have a soda," sanzu bargains. "you can have soda, right? bubbles won't ruin the whole–" he gestures vaguely to your abdomen. "–project?" you can't help but laugh, "yeah, soda's fine."

"then come on in," he reaches to pat your shoulder tenderly. "we're all dying to know anything about you. ran doesn't tell us shit."

you give ran a questioning look out of habit, but he's out cold.

a soft mmm leaves his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, combing it out of his face. "tired, baby?" you ask. he nods wordlessly, eyes still closed. "okay, rest up a little. i'll be back soon."

you follow takeomi, sanzu, and kakucho back into the bar and straight to the table you'd found them at earlier.

"look who's back!" koko exclaims, the surprise evident in his voice.

sanzu presents you to the rest of the men with wide arms, like you're an answer in a game show puzzle.

smiling in a way that you hope doesn't come off as nervous or awkward, you give them another wave. the bonten members who had helped you get ran out to the car reclaim their seats around the table. ran's open chair sits before you, sandwiched between takeomi and one of the only other people you had recognized apart from sanzu: ran's brother, rindou.

you and rindou had met a handful of times, mostly briefly, but all pleasant. despite how much they bickered, you knew ran and rindou were incredibly close and deeply important to each other. ran would never admit it, but rindou's approval of you had been quite important to him. not quite a dealbreaker, but really fucking close.

luckily, from the first time you met the much more subdued and serious younger haitani, you'd immediately gotten along. you had respected rindou's quiet stoicism, the way he closely surveyed situations and people. rindou, on the other hand, appreciated your bubbly nature. he liked how kindly you spoke to him despite his cold facade, and knew that someone like that would be perfect for his brother who also tended to hide his true feelings from others. though ran chose to hide them behind a pearly white smirk. it didn't hurt that you also laughed when rindou made snarky remarks to his brother, and that you even teased ran a bit yourself.

rindou motions to the seat beside him, hoping to ease your obvious nervousness with a familiar face and a welcoming gesture. you sit beside him gratefully. though you and rin weren't particularly close, knowing he was ran's family who he trusted with his life, made him comforting company.

on your other side is takeomi, whom you'd only just met. he seems slightly older than the rest of bonten, and less amused by their shenanigans. from what ran had told you about him, he was much more of a veteran in their world, starting young as a founding member of a gang until now, where he's practically got a hand in every major crime organization in tokyo because of his knack for gathering intel and vast knowledge of the business.

what put you the most at ease, though, was the fact that ran always assured you that takeomi was not a bad guy. ran openly admitted to the fucked up shit he had carried out in his past, as well as that of the other bonten members (which, of course, was all top secret information you'd never share) but he always said that takeomi didn't roll like that. his official title was advisor because at his core– what he did best– was give advice. and apparently he knew what he preached perfectly well, he just didn't practice it himself.

he lights up a cigarette and sits back quietly, observing. surprisingly, mikey is the first to speak. "i wish i could say we've heard so much about you," he speaks in a soft voice, a slight grin on his lips.

"ran is ran," you shrug apologetically. "but i'm here now! i'd love to know more about you all, too."

"first," koko pushes his chair back from the table. "what are you drinking?"

"coke, please," you smile and he heads for the bar. looking back to the table, you add, "it is kind of shit that i can't do shots with my man anymore."

"or your man's friends," sanzu grins, pouring the rest of koko's beer into his own glass. "so, tell us everything."

"everything?"

"yeah, life story." you look over at takeomi and he smirks to indicate that he's kidding.

"jesus, don't stress her out," rindou mumbles, sipping on his beer. "fuckin' weirdos..." you pat his arm in a quiet thanks and possibly catch him grinning as he nods back.

"what kind of stuff do you want to know?" you lean back in your chair slightly, looking around at the faces of the men surrounding you. at ran's closest colleagues and friends. your mind goes to ran, wishing he was here with you while you meet bonten for the first time, holding your hand reassuringly, fielding questions like your own personal bodyguard/PR rep.

"where did you guys meet?" kakucho asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

your mind flashes to the bathroom of club octagon where ran, who you'd known for 10 total minutes, had bent you over the countertop and rutted into your sopping core as he groaned filthy words in your ear.

"we were out with friends," you say, not a lie. "and we started talking."

"out where?" sanzu's eyes sparkle with mischief.

koko gives him an amused look and tells you, "sanzu's the fuckin' coked up prince of tokyo nightlife. you name it, he's been there."

"it was octagon."

"fuckin' love that place," he leans back in his chair, satisfied with the answer. to mikey he adds, "i fucked a girl in the bathroom there once."

mikey nods, unimpressed, while you try to maintain a poker face.

"why haven't we met you yet?" koko gives you a little pout. "haitani's keeping his princess locked in a tower or some shit?"

"weird that he wouldn't even introduce you to his brother," kakucho nods.

"we've met," you and rindou say at the same time.

"NOT FUCKIN' FAIR!" koko wails. takeomi visibly winces at the dramatics, making you smile. the dynamic between the bonten members seemed a lot like a little family, despite the dark undercurrent that seemed to connect them all.

"can i ask something a bit personal?" mikey speaks suddenly, dark eyes boring into yours from across the table. the way everyone goes silent when mikey has something to say nearly makes you shudder. you nod enthusiastically, wondering what it might be.

"have you given any thought to baby names yet?"

there's no indication that he's kidding at all. his genuine curiosity is endearing, even despite the whole silencing every other person at the table with just a look thing.

you nod, "probably ran jr."

nobody says a word.

"i'm kidding."

with the admission, the tipsy bonten members break; every single one of them howls with laughter. even mikey is chuckling at the joke.

"fuck haitani," kakucho grumbles. "i want a cool girlfriend, too, man..."

"why the fuck would any cool women ever date you with that face?" sanzu blurts through a laugh.

"who the fuck are you even talking to, dude?!" kakucho is laughing despite the subtle hostility in their back and forth.

someone orders another round of shots and soon the men are acting even looser, talking loudly and laughing with you like they've known you for years. you all sit talking, answering their questions, for a long while. their conversation moves so quickly, it doesn't feel like any time has passed at all, though.

"biggest thing in bonten is loyalty," takeomi is suddenly lecturing beside you. you can't help but find his older brother aura quite endearing. "so, you know, i'm sure ran has said it, but you're his one and fuckin' only."

you smile to yourself, nodding along to the man's words, "right. i definitely know that. and–"

"what the fuck is going on here?"

your head whips around to the familiar voice behind you. ran is standing a few feet back, swaying slightly. his violet eyes are so dark they're almost black, filled with confusion and rage. his eyebrows are drawn together, the only indication on his perfect poker face that indicates how he's feeling.

"baby," you stand up immediately. "you–"

"haitani!" sanzu cries fondly. "you're back from the dead!" he balls up a napkin from the table and tosses it at ran who swats it away.

"how do you feel?" you ask, now at his side. checking the time on your phone, you add, "you slept for a while."

he says nothing, just glares at the bonten executives seated around the table. the sleep had done him some good; he no longer felt like the room was spinning now, and could actually create a coherent thought. but now that his mind wasn't so cloudy, it was running wild with every possible thing the guys might have said to you. the jokes they might have made, the dark secrets they could have disclosed. were you okay? he worried. embarrassed? upset? scared?

"your girl's a delight, haitani."

ran focuses his gaze on his mikey as he continues, "you're forgiven for keeping her a secret for so long."

looking down at you, ran studies your face to make sure the calm expression is genuine. ran leans down to kiss your forehead. you're smiling when he looks at you again.

"should we get you home, honey?" your hand wraps around his, your sweet voice like music to his ears.

"it was really nice getting to talk with you guys," you turn back to the table of bonten's upper echelon. there's still a smile on your face, but ran remains skeptical. then the men are all waving enthusiastically, absolutely gushing out their goodbyes to you. ran snorts out a smug "have some self respect, boys."

"yeah, sure. fuckin' gloat," kakucho leans back in his seat, crossing his arms.

"you're such a child," rin sneers, shaking his head at his friend.

ran's arm wraps around your waist, the movement both territorial and because he was still wobbly and needed the support. "goodnight," he gives bonten a small wave of his fingers. "don't stay mad forever, kaku, you'll get ugly." takeomi holds the half drunk kakucho back with one arm while you and ran turn and head for the door.

the night outside the bar feels even colder than when you'd entered the bar earlier, and you cling to ran instinctively. he hesitates just outside the doorway for a moment. "shit, hang on," he nudges you away from him with his arm abruptly. turning on his heel, he promptly vomits into the bushes that line the building's perimeter.

"fuck!" he cries, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and standing up to his full height. breathing heavy, he turns to give you a wild-eyed look and a toothy grin.

"you feel so much better, don't you?" you smile at him.

"like i got a fuckin' exorcism," he says seriously, making you laugh. "i really needed that."

you dig for a tissue and a stick of gum from your purse and you pass them over to ran. the color seems to have returned to his face and he doesn't look quite so out of it.

however, he chooses to focus his newfound attention on you and asks, "so, do you mind telling me what the fuck you're doing here?"

"sanzu called me from your phone and asked me to pick you up because you were really drunk," you take his hand and lead him to your car. he pulls away, "and you listened to him?"

"yes?" you look at him incredulously. "ran, you were shitfaced. i could hear you on the phone."

"i would've sobered up. they just wanted–"

"to meet me?" you cut him off. "is that such a bad thing?"

ran inhales sharply through his nose, watching you cross your arms over your chest. in a kind of demented way, ran liked arguing with you. the way you defiantly talked back to him, raised your voice when you got frustrated, and pouted your lips just the smallest bit: it drove him crazy. ran knew better than to ever try a you're so pretty when you're angry line on you, but it didn't stop him from thinking it.

the dreamy look in his eyes gave him away though. you suddenly sigh, "you're still not 100%. i can tell because you're obviously thinking about something else right now."

he shakes his head, smirking unconvincingly, "i wouldn't do that."

you roll your eyes, though it's lighthearted, "sure, baby. now let me take you home."

when you take his hand again, he allows you to pull him along to your car. "i just don't want you puttin' yourself in bad situations..." ran continues. his voice sounds slightly strained and you can tell it's difficult for him to express these feelings. "scares the shit out of me, like, what if they had said something fucked up, or done something while i wasn't there to look out for you?"

"but it was okay," you hesitate behind your car, holding ran's waist. "it was fine. and i was gonna meet them eventually, right?"

"i guess," he sighs stubbornly.

"everything was good," you take his hands. "they were all perfect gentlemen. i wasn't uncomfortable at all. don't be mad, okay?"

ran bends to kiss you, soft lips melding with yours. he's still a little tipsy and his kisses are messier than you're used to, but you can feel his stress melting away.

you pull apart and get into your car. "you just can't," ran gestures, still not done with the conversation. "can't be so quick to listen to– i mean, any of those guys– but sanzu, of all people, okay??"

you smile and nod, clicking on your seatbelt. ran watches your amused face with frustration "i'm serious! sanzu is legitimately insane."

"ran, stop," you frown at him. "he was very sweet."

"none of those guys are fuckin' sweet!" ran scoffs. "they're in tokyo's largest criminal organization! they've all done terrible things!"

"hey," you give him a chastising look. "i happen to be in a serious relationship with an executive of tokyo's largest criminal organization."

"yeah, and he's an asshole," ran smirks.

"sometimes," you deadpan. ran laughs, reaching over to hold your hand in your lap. "but he loves me."

"you're damn right he does," his hand squeezes yours, thumb running across the back of it lovingly. you can tell he's still frustrated at the events of the evening, but it's fading.

"aren't you kind of glad i came to get you?" you cock your head to one side. "you didn't have to wait at the bar to sober up, i got to be with you at the end of the night..."

ran looks back at you with a look you can't figure out. he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "it was really nice to see you show up."

you smile as he cups your cheek and pulls you close. his lips brush yours softly as he whispers, "i just fuckin' love you. and i worry, alright?"

"i fuckin' love you, too," you kiss his forehead. "let me take you home and put you to bed, okay, baby?"

"deal."

♡ taglist ♡ (to be added, click here)

@deardazais @perfectlysweetfury @pshwaa @dazaisleftballsack @himboos @jeonscream @ohiribasilisk @mitsuyahaitaniackermannanamibae @kashxyou

(i appreciate y'all so much!!!)

[alloftheimagines]

⤏ ray's lyrical writing prompts ⤌

hello! i decided to put together a list of writing prompts based on some of my favourite song lyrics. feel free to share and use for your own fics. my requests are always open if you want to send me some too! you're also welcome to let me know of any suggestions to add here—i'm going to keep updating this as i find new ones. have fun!

"even though my dizzy head is numb, I swear my heart is never giving up."

"I’d kill just to watch as you’re sleeping. I hope that you let me in time."

"don’t you leave me in this silence when you’ve seen all my mistakes."

"you kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath." 

"you call me up again just to break me like a promise."

"every drunk step I take leads me to her door. if she sees how much I’m hurting, she’ll take me back for sure." 

"grabbed your suitcase, called a taxi. it’s three a.m. now, where you gonna go?"

"you talk of the pain like it’s all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you’s dead inside." 

"maybe won’t you take it back? say you were trying to make me laugh and nothing has to change today. you didn’t mean to say I love you."

"today’s my birthday and you’re still not there." 

"I come to you in pieces so you can make me whole." 

"it’s that time of year again and you know I’d like to buy you something, but you know that I’ve got nothing."

"cleaning up today, found that old zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away."

"you’re not mine anymore but I’m still a little bit yours."

"she will always hate me, no matter what I say, there is no mistaking the love is gone."

"you find yourself at my door just like all those times before. you wear your best apology but I was there to watch you leave." 

"this is the last time I let you in my door."

"spreading you open is the only way of knowing you."

"friends just sleep in another bed and friends don’t treat me like you do."

"we’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light." 

"we got work in the morning but it’s nearly five a.m."

"so we’re gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine, sit talking up all night, saying things we haven’t for a while. we’re smiling but we’re close to tears. even after all these years, we just now got the feeling that we’re meeting for the first time." 

"I won’t sleep till you’re safe inside."

"no grave can hold my body down. i'll crawl home to her."

"the smell of your body is still in my bed."

"run and hide, it's gonna be bad tonight 'cause here comes your devil side. it's gonna ruin me."

"maybe i'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

"tore my shirt to stop you bleeding."

"and if somebody hurts you, i wanna fight, but my hand's been broken one too many times. so i use my voice, i'll be so fucking rude."

"never got the chance to say a last goodbye."

"if you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part."

"do you know your lip shakes when you're mad?"

"i won't let you close enough to hurt me."

"i want him but we're not right."

"i pull you in to feel your heartbeat. can you hear me screaming please don't leave me?"

“how can I give you all of me when I’m only half a man?”

"you found me with a door locked. i only went upstairs to cry."

"strangers to lovers to enemies."

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

[abarbaricyalp]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but you know the vine two dudes chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart cause they're not gay, and a girl quoting it in a park about two girls in the distance and one of them hearing and going "Actually I am gay" Like that scenario, only involving them fixing the boat? Maybe Sarah quoting it to give Sam shit when she thinks Bucky cant hear and Bucky goes "Wait, no I'm gay" or something, or just the general gist of that. Sorry if this us too specific, I've never sent anyone a prompt before :P

Hello Friend! Thank you so much for sending anything in at all! I know the vine you're talking about, but I couldn't find it on Youtube. (I did find a two day rabbit hole of old compilations though) This was also my first foray into writing Sarah as a fully fleshed character! I was excited to get the practice 'cause I had an idea bouncing around in my head about her and Bucky talking after he wakes up in the Wilson house. I kept her a little more like she had been in my other fics pre-show here. I so wish we got a little more of her!

Feel free, anyone, to send me Sambucky prompts!

The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation

Sarah Wilson loved her brother deeply. The kind of soul crushing love that could only be formed through family, loss, and approximately four thousand brawls around the living room throughout their life. She looked up to her brother more than she could ever imagine looking up to anyone. Even when they were fighting or picking on each other, she couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest when he came into her line of sight.

That didn’t mean she understood him. In fact, from the age of eight, watching her brother interact with the world had become her go-to pastime. Why did he have to roll every pea around the plate individually before eating them? Why did he and his friends spend seven years socking each other in the arm to prove friendship? Why did he talk to himself in the mirror, even when he knew Sarah or someone else was standing in the doorway?

Sam Wilson was just deeply weird. She had no idea how he had tricked the Avengers, a plethora of bad guys, and half of the media world into thinking he was remotely cool. She saw a news story once that had King T’Challa standing on a platform with Sam and the newscasters talked about how impressive Sam’s suit was. It was unnatural, the effect he had on people.

And in all her years, she never thought she’d see anyone weirder than Sam. But then James Barnes had showed up. It was like a complete reversal of Sam. Sarah was taken in for approximately three hours by his charm and face before she realized he too was deeply, deeply weird.

She justified sitting on the edge of the Paul and Darlene, watching her brother and James Barnes spar off about some dumb trivia fact, by deciding it was an anthropological expedition. The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation. She watched Sam watch Barnes take a long pull off his beer. She watched Barnes kick his feet up near Sam’s legs and then draw them back quickly when a current jolted the boat. She watched Barnes’ fingers tap-tap-tap against the edge of the boat, inching closer to Sam’s shoulder before he chickened out and brought his hand back to his own lap. She watched Sam suggest Bucky take his jacket off, ‘unless you plan on sun blinding me with the robocop arm.’ She watched Sam look away when Barnes did shrug his jacket off.

When she was seventeen and Sam was fifteen, she had found Sam crying in his room, pillow pressed to his face to muffle the noise. They were at the age where going into each other’s rooms uninvited started international conflicts, but Sarah, who watched her brother intently, felt like she knew what was going on. So she let herself in through their Jack-and-Jill bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Sam didn’t stop crying, not even to yell at her to get out, so she sat on the end of his bed and rolled a baseball under her foot for a while. Finally, she’d said, “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad, y’know.”

Sam had just about wailed and bit the corner of his pillow to stop himself.

“That’s gross, stop it,” Sarah ordered and pushed Sam’s shoulder back enough to yank his pillow free and then reached over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I should make you do the laundry this week so I know I’m not touching your snot germs,” she teased softly.

“How did you know?” Sam hiccuped out. Tears were still brimming at his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

“I’m your older sister. I made you. Like a doll. You think there’s something about you that I don’t know?” she joked. And when the tears did spill over his long lashes, she sighed and pulled him closer to her side. “I just know the way you interact with that boy from the basketball team ain’t just friendly.”

“Jesus, do you think he can tell?” Sam asked and she could hear the mortification in his voice.

“Sam, he’s a freshman in high school. The only thing he knows is that he’s scared of everything too. No one’s paying that much attention to you.”

“Screw you,” Sam muttered.

“What’re all these tears for you if you didn’t make a move and get shot down?”

“God, Sarah, can you not say things like that?”

“Watch your mouth,” Sarah warned with no heat in her voice. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“I just…” Sam sat up and worked his jaw for a while. His chin dimpled and his eyes watered but he managed to control himself. “I’m scared, Sarah. I’m scared of never being in love. Of having to leave if I am. I’m scared to say something and I’m scared not to say something. I’m so scared of...losing any of it.”

“Sam,” Sarah sighed and pulled Sam into another hug. “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to be in love yet. You don’t have to think about any of that. You just have to focus on passing Geometry, alright? Mom’ll whoop your ass more for failing than anything else.”

“I have a B+, that’s not failing!” Sam snapped. He kept his face against her shoulder for a second long before he sat up and wiped his tears away. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I gonna tell? I told you, my friends don’t like you as much as you think they do.”

“Your friends like me more than they like you,” Sam shot back and he almost sounded normal.

Sarah smiled softly and patted Sam’s cheek. “I won’t tell Mom or Dad. Of course not. That’s for you to do. But--”

“I’m always going to tell them when you sneak out the window.”

“No! Sam! You can’t! You owe me now!”

“Going to field parties is not the same thing!” Sam said in a shriek as Sarah leaned over to pinch his sides. They grappled for a second before Sam managed to push Sarah off the bed.

“You owe me,” she reminded him as she walked back to the bathroom.

Sam wiped his eyes again and nodded. “Sure, Sarah. I do.”

Sam almost had the same look on his face now. Like there was something he wanted to reach for that he thought was too impossible to hold. The Older Sister Instinct to Antagonize into a Solution kicked in.

“Two bros, chilling on a boat, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” she sing-songed. Sam looked mortified again but masked his face into something more irritated with a roll of his eyes when Barnes looked over at him.

“Ignore her. It’s this old video--” Sam started.

But Bucky interrupted to say, “Actually I am gay,” as he looked back over at Sarah. “Sorry if I got your hopes up,” he added with a grin that really did get the hopes up.

“What?” Sam asked and Sarah, ever watchful, could see the beer bottle shaking in his hand.

“What?” Bucky repeated innocently.

“He said he’s gay,” Sarah clarified.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Sam ground out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bucky snorted. “When would I have said anything? ‘Sorry for ripping your wings off and kicking you off of a hellicarrier, by the way I’m gay.’?”

“You did what?” Sarah asked.

“‘Sorry for claiming I didn’t bomb the UN only to be reverted back to the assassin who would have done that and then fighting you again. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Thanks for saving my life. Sorry about the giant undersea prison. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘There’s an imminent battle with weird ass space dogs that want to eat our faces. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Sorry about Tony Stark, whose life I kind of ruined. Lovely funeral. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘I’m in the middle of being pissed at you about the Shield. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Maybe don’t take me rolling through a field of flowers. It does things to me ‘cause I’m gay.’ ‘John Walker’s fucking insane. I’m gay, but definitely not for this bullshit.’ I mean, come on, Sam.”

“Flowers?” Sarah asked.

“Besides, why would you care? I don’t make it a habit of telling straight guys I’m into guys.”

“You don’t seem to make a habit of telling many people that,” Sarah pointed out. “I googled you. Nothing suggesting that came up.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m a guy from the 30s. It was trained out of me.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah said quickly. “Back up away from that because we’re not gonna try to Oppression Olympics our way through our histories. Did you just say Sam was straight?”

“Sarah!” Sam hissed.

“Sure. I mean, I saw him with Romanov. Hill. He has Tinder on his phone.”

“Samuel Thomas, you better not,” Sarah warned lightly. “You’re better than that.”

“He’s a lady-killer.”

Sarah snorted and had to bring her hand up to her face. “He definitely is not. There has been no lady-killing on his end for a long time.”

“Sarah!” Sam tried again.

“You explain it to him then. Mr. 30s is gonna need the long way round explanation.”

Sam sighed and dragged his hand over his face. “Dammit. Fine. I’m not straight either, alright? I’m...bi, or something. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”

“What?” Bucky asked, not unlike Sam had.

“He said he’s bisexual. Interested in both parties. Swings either way. Hit a homerun and then hasn’t really swung since.”

“Sarah, Jesus Christ,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Bucky asked again.

“I was engaged. To a man,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the irony.

“Oh, it was inconvenient for you but I had plenty of opportunities, huh?” Sam asked. “Ms. Tell-It-All over there wasn’t joking. I haven’t swung any direction in a while. Not since before I met Steve. My fiance died. And then it never came up.”

Bucky blinked at Sam. He kept bringing the bottle halfway up his body and then setting it back on his leg without ever taking a drink. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, which was not what Sarah was expecting and it clearly wasn’t what Sam was expecting because Sam finally moved closer to Bucky on the bench.

“What for? You didn’t do anything. This time.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were into me too, I woulda kissed you in Germany.”

“Oh, I am so not into you,” Sam denied. “And I wouldn’t have our first kiss ruined by immediately running into the government’s roving show monkey.”

“That’s the worst,” Bucky agreed and also finally moved over on the bench until they were pressed thigh to thigh. “Tell me how much you don’t like me again,” he challenged.

“I can’t stand you,” Sam answered and brought his hand up to Bucky’s jaw.

Sarah couldn’t fight down the grin that came to her face and turned to prop her feet on the pier, back to Sam and Bucky. Just this once, she didn’t need to watch her brother to understand him.

Read on AO3 here!

[hollandficawards]

i know that you mean well with this but having fic awards for writers isn't that great. like congrats to those who made the list but there are tons of small and young writers who will never make that list even if they deserve it because its the same five to ten blogs that fill up the categories. some blogs even have multiple stories in one category. i know i'm gonna get hated on for this but this isnt meant to be hostile. people put a lot on whether or not they get recognized for their work 1/2

and no matter how fun this list is supposed to be, no matter how innocent its supposed to be, somehow might get hurt. someone might stop writing all together for whats in these lists. its already hard enough to build up a following if you’re a writer on tumblr. stuff like this only makes it worse and can greatly affect peoples mental health 2/2

We’ve talked it over and we agree that your comment makes a very valid point - this was actually something we were also concerned about in the beginning. Because of this reason, we’ve considered discontinuing the fic awards after this round. However, we like the idea of using this as a way to build community and recognize some of the authors that make our fandom so great. For that reason, we’d like to continue this while using it as a tool to help our fandoms grow. Our original intention was to start this to help smaller blogs gain more recognition. We apologize that it’s gotten out of hand - because this is the first round, we’re still getting our feet wet and trying to figure out what’s going to work best.  

We’ve considered multiple options from this point forward, but our most favorable idea is to create categories to specifically recognize smaller authors in the community. Ideally, this would include categories for authors with less than 500 followers, but because there’s no way to fact check that, it makes it significantly more difficult. We’ll also be adding a category for best breakthrough writer, meaning that authors new to the community or with a small following will be recognized. As the mods, we’ll personally check all of the nominees to evaluate whether they fall under this category.  Finally, we’re considering putting a limit on how many times a fic or author can be nominated per round, in order to balance out the mix. Does anyone have suggestions on how to best execute this idea? 

Finally, we’d like everyone to remember that this is all in good fun as an effort to build community and recognize some of the authors that make our fandom so great. That doesn’t mean that all of our authors aren’t appreciated! We’re working on making these fic awards a LOT more even than how they’re being executed now, as well as adding a larger team of mods to make more possible. Because of how large our fandom is, it’s difficult to recognize everyone, but we want to put an emphasis on the fact that all authors are absolutely wonderful and we’re so lucky to have them in the fandom. We appreciate each and every thing they do for us, and as authors ourselves, we’re able to recognize that this is hard. We can also recognize that popularity doesn’t dictate quality, and a lot of the authors on this list are- while amazing- some of the bigger blogs that have a much larger following. Our intention is only to help some of the smaller blogs receive more recognition as well as appreciate everything that authors do to us, and we will make an active effort to improve how these fic awards are run. 

We appreciate that you voiced your concern! This brought a lot of things in perspective for us, and we’re hoping to greatly improve the quality of the fic awards throughout the next few rounds. Thank you so much! 

- The Mods