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cartograffiti · 1 year

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Kinds of fan creation events and how they work!

Challenges, including calendars and bingo

This is the broadest event type. Many challenge types have distinct own names and format designs, but all involve a time limit and a theme. The best way to organize one is to pick a subject or format with a medium degree of specificity, like supporting characters or drabbles, but big fandoms can get more granular and still have a great turnout. I recently ran a 6-week challenge encouraging a fandom with a lot of new growth to “weird the tag,” and that was a blast!

One popular subtype is calendar challenges, mostly aimed at artists. These are classically daily prompts for a month, like Inktober and its many riffs, but some more narrow prompts like mermaids for Mermay have widely been reinterpreted to make a single, substantial piece during the right time. Bingo cards are also fun for all mediums, though they can be tricky to balance—whether you’re issuing everyone the same card or letting them be generated from a pool (like in Bad Things Happen Bingo), a funky distribution of difficulty can make a line hard to complete.

There are very few stumbling blocks in a challenge. If you don’t finish, you just try again another time! They’re also easy to run, as most of the work is preparation. They tend to be less social than many events, but that can be a blessing, and they’re very new creator-friendly.

Prompts, including timed events and kinkmemes

Timed events with prompts work a lot like challenges, but with works being submitted under a given prompt instead of simply responding to the general theme. Usually multiple people can fulfill the same prompt, and nobody is assigned to any particular one.

Sites with nested commenting, especially LiveJournal and Dreamwidth, work best for hosting prompt lists with no deadline or end date. People list prompts they’d like to see in the fandom, and when someone has posted a work fulfilling it, they reply directly to let OP know. These can be called promptmemes, but they’re more often called kinkmemes, even when not specifically sexual.

Bangs, including big bangs, mini bangs, and reverse bangs.

In a big bang, a group of writers submit summaries of a wip to the event mods, and the mods anonymize them for a group of artists to name their favorites. The mods match them into pairs so the writer-artist team can collaborate to complete an illustrated fic. Everything gets posted on a set day or period of days, so it’s like an explosion of new work (“bang!”)

Big bangs usually have word count minimums in 5 digits and sometimes ask artists to complete multiple pieces, while mini bangs do the same process with a lower minimum, usually a 4 digit number, and consistently ask artists for a single piece. Reverse bangs have artists create an artwork first, and then writers are paired with them to write an accompanying fic inspired by the piece.

All types of bang really shine for pulling together different corners of a fandom. In addition to introducing people who work in different mediums, because submissions for matching are anonymized and wips are kept secret until posting, there’s a leveling effect: big name fans and newcomers share the shine, and it’s hard to game the system to get paired with your friends. Most bangs make a chat group for co-working (Discord or elsewhere), so it’s easy to bond with other participants!

They’re a bit complex to run (matching is real work!), and deadlines matter a lot, since there’s at least one other person relying on you to finish. I’ve seen the bang format criticized for reminding participants of business transactions by emphasizing these timetables as a commitment. Good mods always frame it as fun, but if you don’t have a handle on how fast you work, or how to gauge the size of a new project idea, it’s easy to bite off more than you can chew.

Exchanges

These are often fic-for-fic or art-for-art, but many are mixed. In all exchanges, participants choose some tags (subjects they’re willing to offer), and some they’d like to receive. They then create a work for their assigned recipient, respecting wants and do not wants (DNW), and receive a work from the person assigned to them. These are almost always different people, but it’s common for people with shared interests to get assigned into “loops” (A wrote for B, B wrote for C, C drew for A) even when matching is done by Ao3 code.

Exchanges are really exciting since there are waves of anticipation—what have I been assigned? What did I get? Who wrote my fic, if authors were kept anonymous for a week? They work great for any size of group, and for multi-fandom or single-fandom events. The tags to choose from can be assembled by event mods, or submitted by interested folks and then approved, so it’s easy to see what directions people are interested in before you sign up, and solicit people to join you. Exchanges also have a strong culture of “treating,” writing additional fics for requests that caught your eye, or your friends, even if you didn’t formally sign up.

Like bangs, there’s a greater degree of commitment to finish on time because someone else is counting on you. Well-run bangs have rules about when you can default without penalty and let a “pinch-hitter” take over the assignment, how to get off the blacklist if you didn’t follow through, and what they’ll do if anyone doesn’t have a gift when the collection is meant to open. Sometimes exchanges that are having trouble finding a pinch-hitter for someone whose assigned gifter had to drop will delay reveals (“hold the collection hostage”). If you struggle with things not happening on time, stick to larger exchanges, since they’re less vulnerable to this.

Fandom parties

In a party, everyone is grouped into teams to make the greatest number of fanworks during the event. They usually run for a week, with broad daily prompts (like a character name, season number, or motif), and every work submitted is a point. These works must be put together, from beginning to submission, within the 24-hour period of the prompt.

The first time I did a party, it rewired my brain chemistry for the better, because it pushed me to let go of some perfectionist and self-critiquing habits. I’ve put out more fics I’m proud of ever since. Better still, the party culture emphasizes inclusion of fan creations beyond the big two: Gifs! Edits! AMVs/fanvids! Cosplay! Crochet! Filk songs!

The competition and short turn-around can be hard on those with a tendency to overwork or blame yourself if your team falls behind, so they require some self-awareness to stay fun. Parties often allow submissions to count for points without being publicly posted, which can help! (For example, you might submit an unpolished fic and post the revision later, or submit a cosplay despite not wanting your face on that blog.) My experience with team rivalries has only been low-stakes and appropriate, but it’s another unusual element to not be caught off guard by.

Jams

These are most popular with any kind of project or fan labor that involves the word “edit.” Video, gif, and screenshot editing; podfic recording; fandom wiki and resource brush-ups; sharing your wips around and leaving each other feedback.

They usually run between a few hours to a week, and often don’t carry any expectation of being done at the end. They’re more about making progress, camaraderie, and sharing techniques.

Zines and e-zines

This is the trendiest event format right now! They spun off the broader culture of zines: self-published arty magazines and short books, popular for sharing ideas in the diy, punk, and queer scenes as well as fandom spaces. Outside of fandom, they’re usually printed by the creator physically operating the machinery in limited runs. In fandom, they’re usually digital (e-zines), and when they’re physical, the organizers have usually paid a printer to do the run for them.

Unlike any other format on this list, fandom zines usually work on an application and approval process. Instead of signing up and being for sure in, the mods choose a selection of interested people to proceed with their pieces and be included in the zine. Unfortunately, this means the barrier to participate is higher, with big name fans and personal favorites or friends prioritized. I do like that they’re more art-forward than many formats, even often art-only, and it’s fun to be in a group exploring an interest or making a point together.

E-zines are often free, and physical zines almost never are. Either way, profits might be given to charity, donated to the creators of the canon (such as in the case of indie podcasts), or split among the contributors. Whether you’re applying or buying, read carefully about paid zines to make sure you’re comfortable with where it’s going, and know that there’s always risk involved. Scams and mismanagement do happen.

Auctions

Fandom auctions are charity events, raising money for organizations or sometimes the fandom’s own community members in need. Like parties, auctions put more than usual emphasis on fan edits, and also labor such as bookbinding, sensitivity reading, and proofreading.

Usually, participants donate their time by offering a small number of tasks and fandoms, and their resulting work is a gift in acknowledgement of bidders’ donations, with their preferences in mind. It’s a lot like exchanges, but instead of getting a gift back, the creator gets satisfaction from raising money for a good cause.

Like with paid zines, when there’s money involved, you need to read the details with care. It’s also easy to fall into the trap of thinking of bids as what your work is “worth” to people, and you really need to have a backlog of completed projects for bidders to see your style, so this is better attempted after you’ve been around the block a few times and feel confident in yourself.

Other games (masquerade, round robin, art rotations, exquisite corpses...)

A lot of other fun games are worth knowing about if you’re thinking about an event for a small or existing group! One I love the sound of is masquerades like this one, in which people disguise their styles and even imitate each other, and then have a round of guessing. Round robins involve sending a fic wip to a succession of people, who each write a suggested amount of words (usually in the hundreds) to further the story that’s there. Have people volunteer to be the beginning and end before you start! Art rotations aren’t actually a coined name, I’m inventing it on the spot. This is when a pair or trio of artists each do a different layer of a drawing (like one does lines, the other does colors, or a trio does pencils, inks, colors) so that they have the same number of finished collaborations as people in the team. Exquisite corpses are drawings, stories, or image sets where you only see what the previous person did (or a sliver of it) when adding your part.

~~~

I’m sure there are others I’ve overlooked, but hopefully this helps inspire you to look out for or organize some new events in your fandoms!

#lol almost tagged this fandom like that would help #fanfiction events #fanart events #fanwork events #fandom guides

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sideboot · 1 year

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👀👀 @ the potential analysis of jamie choosing to drink vanilla vodka

SO APPARENTLY THIS BEING A DEEP AND LAYERED CHARACTER DECISION REQUIRING AN EXPERT ON ALCOHOL (or at least someone who actually drinks, unlike me) IS NOT TRUE what happened is I told my partner that jamie was drinking vanilla vodka at the club with some of the guys and internally my partner went he’s drinking that at the football club, at the place he works? Fucked up! And then we actually watched the scene and they were like :// why did you lie to me, lmao

The short version is this is definitely my fault. The long version is apparently it super matters that keeley is there? To decode this from a masculine dominated setting? I did not realize that o’brien or goodman or whoever the fuck’s sitting in the corner also had a girl with him, I thought it was the boys + keeley.

So the canonical character implications is that roy is from a generation where masculinity means you drink the types of hard liquor with nothing to cover up the burn nor any fruity flavors because you’re a fucking man hurr durr, and he’s making a little dig at jamie’s masculinity but also at jamie’s immaturity for. You know. Doing nothing more than being twenty-three and picking a beverage at a club that is an expedient way to get drunk.

roy is masc and old and judgy, even though his reasons in this particular moment are understandable: he is specifically replying to yet another comment about how he's old.

Anyways, more under the cut for the probable canonical reasons jamie is drinking vanilla vodka in this specific scene and for the original draft of the meta when I thought vanilla vodka was just Jamie's favorite and go-to drink

jamie is drinking this because either 1) keeley actually likes it, or is at least nostalgic for the drink that she got drunk on from her early twenties, and so originally ordered it (you can see her drinking from a bottle with the same branding in the background) and jamie’s just shrugging and getting the same cause he wants to get drunk, or perhaps 2) as is my fun new headcanon, he was introduced to this drink by a previous girlfriend and liked it and despite what people expect from appearances and gender stereotypes, keeley is actually the one who wouldn’t usually drink this if it wasn’t for her partner, or 3) he’s just a fiend for vanilla flavoring on the level of naruto’s sasuke uchiha has a post fandom flanderization boner for tomatoes.

But yeah jamie drinking this is apparently a generic young party boy in a club with his girlfriend thing.

The original version of the meta went something like this:

First, a disclaimer. I don’t drink. Neither does my partner, but they used to. As much as we wish otherwise, neither of us can help but be American. America has a very specific drinking culture, mainly shaped by our weird alcohol laws. Our legal drinking age is very high and once you hit twenty-one, you gain legal access to every type of alcohol at once. We also don’t have the same pub culture, which I would also guess is partly due to the fact that our shit public infrastructure means most drinkers can’t get home as easily without drinking.

Meanwhile, Jamie would be growing up in England meaning at the very least, his first legal access to alcohol would come when he is in his mid or early teens and able to order his own beer in a pub. He would be experimenting with drinks with a low percentage of alcohol in a supervised environment.

Let’s try getting into it anyway, and if I’m an idiot I can find out later.

Vanilla vodka that’s commercially available is for the most part cheap and for the purposes of mixing into cocktails. Most flavored vodkas sold just anywhere run towards being cheap and shit with the purpose of the flavoring to hide alcohol that would otherwise probably taste like nail polish remover.

Someone is in a liquor store picking out this to drink straight needs to either really, really like vanilla flavoring or to be trying to get drunk cheaply without tasting alcohol only they have no idea what they’re doing. Otherwise, usually they would be more likely to pick things like a sour fruit or candy flavored vodka which have tastes that generally more people would find interesting enough to enjoy.

This interpretation made me very excited. It makes perfect sense with Jamie’s background he would view drunk as a fun destination with a shit journey best kept short as possible. I pictured a possible Jamie with a lot of baggage around drinking who could be mellow about it when definitely sober or definitely drunk but would get into his own head when in the awkward in between.

It would also make sense if Jamie had no real education in alcohol. Jamie’s most likely drinking experience came with his peers, who would also be young and not know shit, and his father. Tartt Sr. is, I imagine, shit for Jamie to be around when drunk, and does not have the personality where he would be a nice teacher for anything much less drinking. Less someone holding your hand as you explore your tastes and more a guy who pours you a shot and when you cough and tear up he laughs and calls you a pussy.

I could imagine Jamie pretending to being all about getting to hang out getting drunk with his dad and his mates the one time and then never doing it again and forming very bad associations with whatever they happened to drink that night. I headcanon James Tartt Sr. as being a whiskey drinker, and the kind of guy who saw the James/Jameson pun and immediately ran that joke into the dirt. Cheap whiskey drinking also falls under one of the three main flavors of longterm alcoholism but this is getting long so I will expand on that in another post

Jamie is clearly willing to throw his money around for things like fashion, which he knows he likes. So him drinking something cheap and probably not very tasty shows a discarding of the idea that alcohol could be tasty or a hobby improved with consideration.

In summary, Jamie drinking something cheap and awful reeemphasizes a lot of what we know about his background. It could mean that for all his party boy reputation, he views drinking as means to an end that isn’t enjoyable in it of itself. He has a background that meant he didn’t have access to anyone who serve as a teacher for the nuances of alcohol culture. Jamie begins the series at a point in his life where there’s much about his tastes and identity he hasn’t bothered investigating, until the instigation from people like Keeley, Ted, and Roy. All of this would be perfect characterization.

It also works as perfect characterization if Jamie drinks of vanilla vodka because he enjoys it. Jamie has other tastes that people judge, like his fashion choice to go without a shirt, and he does these things because he cares more about enjoying himself than he cares, or is even able to register, the judgment of others.

The other part of this discussion that held up were post maturation arc drinks for Jamie, but this is so goddang long I’m going to make that its own post.

#jamie tartt #character analysis #character meta #ted lasso #ted lasso show #ted lasso tv #ask and answer #i answer #and thank you for asking!#ted lasso fandom miniguide to alcohol culture #my post

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oceanera12 · 1 year

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do you mind giving the "Directors cut" of the Jevin chapter, I just love the chapter and find it really interesting? (also love. how unique it felt)

I hope you like long posts, lol.

Jevin's chapter! To anyone who has no idea what this human bean is talking about here's the link:

To anyone who wants to read my thoughts on this chapter, see below.

Jevin's chapter was probably one of the easiest and hardest chapters for me to write. This sounds weird but let me explain:

It was easy in the sense that he had a pretty basic premise to type up. He's a science experience that gained sentience and becomes a player. There are a few other plot points I knew I wanted to put in, but nothing too crazy.

It was hard in the sense that I had to start setting up the Hybrid Hunter Arc. And, at the time, I wasn't exactly sure how Jevin got caught up in the Hunters.

I had a few ideas that ranged in various details. One idea was that Jevin's lab was actually attacked by Hunters and he was captured, only for his science-mom to free him at the cost of her own life (like perma-die). Another idea I had was that it was just a singular scientist that made Jevin, then had him help with experiments until there was a lab accident that killed the scientist. Jevin would then set the other mob experiments free and he would leave to make his own path, eventually running into Hunters. There were a few others that varied in levels of angst and comfort, but these were the main two I kept flipping back and forth between.

I eventually settled on something similar to that last one, except I decided I didn't want to kill the scientist. Actually, I took some inspiration from the Test Tupe Zedaph AU (that is no longer in production) that's here on Tumblr for Jevin.

I actually had someone comment on the chapter and they seemed to be under the impression that this was a Protech lab. I actually don't think it was, seeing as Jevin is like... over 150 years old and Protech was around for about 50 or so years.

Oh, yeah. I've been figuring out some Hermit's ages for Built Family which has been fun seeing as some of them are basically immortal (Joe and TFC) while others just age REALLY slowly (Xisuma and now Hypno and Jevin).

[Complete side note but for TFC's age I literally just have as ??? because he's the oldest and it really doesn't matter how old he is, lol]

I really enjoyed writing up the science report as Jevin's introduction. It was different from the other chapters and I've been trying to find some clever ways to open up for different people, usually related to their backgrounds. I kind of wish for Mumbo I had done something similar or for False to have some kind of briefing as her opening, but I'm happy with what it is for both of them (very excited for Etho's start).

In my author's note for Jevin's chapter, I have a comment about blaming God of War: Ragnarok on the fact that I killed the dog. I was being serious about that. I literally went and watched someone play the first part of GoW:R and saw the scene with Fenrir and just... decided Jevin needed a dog. And that I was going to kill the dog and have a similar scene of holding him until he died.

One of the things I really wanted to emphasize with Jevin was the fact that he was a sentient slime. Not a slime-hybrid (which does exist). The best way I found to do this was having him measure time via phases of the moon and just have the moon affect him in general. I am very proud of that little fact, even if it so subtle that it only matters to me, lol. It was also the reason I made a big deal out of Jevin learning to talk.

Another random side note: I debated about having Jevin sometimes struggle with speaking or be mute at points. Similar to how some people write Link, where he has periods of signing things and periods of talking. I ended up deciding against it because 1. I already write stuff for LoZ and I didn't want to get too repetitive in my personal projects and 2. I couldn't figure out a way to have a standard signing method among players because... you know. Many worlds and many kinds of people. So even if Jevin signed, the only person who would know it would have been science-mom.

Jevin's chapter was also when I ended up introducing Scott, which was quite fun to sort out. I absolutely love Scott and fitting him into this universe was not as difficult as I thought it was going to be. I love his bi-colored eyes in Empires season 2 and decided to use the Origins SMP as the basis for his origin.

Setting up the Hunter issues was not an original plot idea when I first started this little story. As such, Hypno as a part of the anti-hunter movement was something I had to add in through Jevin's POV, which I found quite fun. Hypno, I think, has the most secrets when it comes to all of the Hermits (the exception being probably Doc). And honestly, my favorite thing is realizing that some Hermits have things that didn't come up in their chapter.

I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted to do Jevin and Cleo's relationship. Frenemies is the best way to describe it, but I wasn't exactly sure how to write it. I ended up deciding on a similar method of writing a sibling relationship, only making them a bit more... contempt of each other, if you will.

I can't think of anything else to really elaborate on, but if you have any specific questions I didn't cover, feel free to leave a comment in the note section and I'll answer it there.

#built family #break down #ijevin #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #era talks #hey look #someone actually asked me something #era answers

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movedtodykedvonte · 2 years

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Maybe Allison Pendle for the headcanon thing? I’m really curious by the way you view her (I view her the same way)

Honestly I really just wish she wasn't so boring. Other than her being the thing that triggers Susie becoming Malice she has no real reason for me to care about her character as that's the reason she's important in the first place. Like she's just given the role of instigator in Susie's downfall and it feels so empty. I think this is the first time I was actually serious and critical of a character in a headcanon post.

Born in 1903 (didn't die but was warped/inked in 1960 at 57)

From a fairly bohemian family who were upper class, not fuck you rich like Nathan became but the Pendles were known in high society

Kinda that generational wealth that she never really bothered to look into how they kept it (it was oil)

Not a bratty kid but always thought she knew what was best for the world and was just a bit sheltered on social issues

Was a private school kid and stayed in these circles up until she worked for the studio

Formal training in the arts and is a triple threat

Definitely, the type to say "I feel bad because I hurt you" rather than acknowledging your feelings first, she still means well

I'm just trying to get across that she is very innocently insensitive

Her parents did instill to never look down on people who lived a different lifestyle than her and Allison positively took it as "I will befriend every living, breathing soul on this fucking planet"

Doesn't want to be worshipped but can feel insecure when someone doesn't come around to liking/trusting her Susie pls be my friend why could you ever be mad at me

Got into broadway/acting because she liked all the characters she could be, like she was walking in a different life for a bit

Met Joey at a party and liked how odd he was and thought his philosophy was strange and new but concerning

They are like weird besties due to both kinda being way to optimistic but at opposite ends of the spectrum

Knew Susie but thought Susie understood the cutthroat nature of acting and thought all her comments were the like "break a leg" type encouragement in regards to the role

Also didn't know Susie felt it was her last chance as something big as Allison worked on so many things she thought Susie (4 years younger) had a lot of time and options left

Developed a small crush on Thomas after he complimented her singing, saying "You make that cartoony crude sound bearable" it was not a flirt but seeing as Thomas rivaled Sammy in surliness it might as well have been

Cue never getting rid of me from the waitress soundtrack

Dated for years before they finally decide to get hitched

Married discreetly, with just immediate Family and close friends

Allison hoped the invite to Joey would cool any bad blood.

Starting working at Arch Gate because she kinda missed VA work as it allowed her to really be a different character

Joey invited them to his apartment under the guise of wanting to apologize to Thomas and ignored Thomas' warnings that it was odd Joey waited this long and sprung it so suddenly

listen to ur husband you pick me

Cue walking into the ink machine room with an encantation ring like the end of chapter 1 and them being inked and thrown in

Allison Angel

She can't remember much besides Tom's name as the ink is even stronger with all the souls, considering it almost made her a perfect Alice

Her dress is messed up like that cause Allison P. always new to never get too attached to a role

Also because Alice was never really her character and she knew she wasn't her in return

Doesn't like Malice due to all the pain she causes but really wants to help her change feels guilt for being what she wants to achieve

The lost ones and her don't get along due to her looking too much like Malice they fuck with Tom though

Her sword was a part of one of the bendyland rides and she took it as it seemed easier and lighter to use

Sings only when she's alone as it sounds too much like Malice and unnerves Tom and the few lost ones that won't outright attack her

Doesn't hang around Sammy but does deliver him and the lost one spare soup when she and Tom have enough

I support the take she only hyped up Henry in hopes he'd get them out, she believed he could but the quickness to trust him was based on something selfish

I really kinda view her as someone who always tried to play a neutral party but when one party is objectively in the wrong or bad she still stayed neutral. In my eyes that makes you a part of the bad party as you don't stop that behavior. Don't think she's evil or even an anti-hero, she just seems sheltered and way too optimistic for anyone good.

#girl be mean for once #like I just dont trust her #allison pendle #allison angel #batim #batim headcanons #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #loath characters that fuck everyone over cause they want to see the rainbow after the storm #im slowly putting her into that category and I want to stop #ask #anon

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jewishtwig · 1 year

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Thank you Twig your answer means a lot to me ❤️ looking back I realise that was a real wordwall so sorry about that haha.

I hear what you're saying and I agree with you, after giving them chance after chance and going out of my way to explain that I'm not a different person now, they still haven't changed their attitudes and therefore likely never will.

It just came out of nowhere and was really unexpected because they are SO good about everything else -- they're the type of people who have founded their own activist organisations and have led protests for queer and trans rights, and who preach constantly about religious freedom. If I weren't becoming Jewish then I likely probably wouldn't have noticed the antisemitism at all, because to an outsider, they're vocally 100% good and supportive.

So yeah it was a real shock when I actually started converting and the first thing my friends said when I told them was "religion is bad, humans are too stupid for the responsibility, it always ends in war and extremism so we should get rid of religion altogether to make the world kinder and more peaceful." Like idk even what to comment on that. My brain short circuited. I don't know how anyone can be so ignorant without meaning to be. It's not even just antisemitic, the sentiment is almost genocidal.

It makes me scared because someone can seem so trustworthy and then turn out not to be. Making new friends is going to be a challenge because of how many people are probably the same. I can't even lie and say I haven't felt discouraged from converting because of how people treat me. (My faith is more important to me than anything else, so I'm carrying on, but losing friends is so painful that I have had fleeting thoughts about quitting halfway through.)

Hearing your answer did mean a lot to me. The consensus among my friend group seemed to be that I'm the weird one, and I started to believe it, so it's a huge relief to hear that other Jews/converts feel the same way as me. I won't be dissuaded from my journey no matter how much it hurts to lose friends.

But if you have any tips for weeding out antisemites who might otherwise slip under the radar, please share bc :')))) I don't know how many times I can go through this haha.

Honestly? It's hard.

I've learned to never trust that people are actually safe until they've proven themselves as safe. This is probably horribly cynical of me and not something I should be encouraging, but I don't have other advice.

To be clear, I'm not suggesting shutting everyone out until they prove themselves. What I'm saying is that it's possible and likely that people will surprise you like this in the future.

For example, I had a coworker who I thought was extremely nice and sweet and was generally very progressive, and then one day, all of a sudden, she told me she thought all Jews who have ever been to Israel or support the idea of Israel should die. (She no longer works in my office -- unrelated to this incident)

On the other hand, there was a girl on my study abroad trip to Europe who was generally very shy and quiet, but when someone started yelling slurs at me on the train, she absolutely lost it on this woman in French and helped get me through the crowd and to a different car and made sure I was okay. She is now my best friend.

You will likely go through difficult situations. Find the people who help you through them and distance yourself from the people who either ignore it or put you in those situations to begin with.

There are good supportive people out there. It just can take some time to find them.

#antisemitism #asks #<3

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edoro · 2 years

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🥺, 🤡, 🎯, 🤗

🥺 - Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? - ohhhh yes. so many but i think special shoutout to

abuse disclosure, i have written, what, four of those by now? i absolutely love getting someone to tell someone else what's happened to them, especially when they have trouble sharing, or when it's difficult and messy and weird. most of the ones i've written have been more soft, willing (if nervous) disclosures, but i honestly really love the one i wrote in A Deeper Understanding where Hunter just hurls it at Darius in the middle of an argument to try and hurt him, i love it when people use their own trauma as a weapon, i could read that all day.

very similar vein, but, the genre of fic where it's "people observing someone else and realizing slowly exactly how fucked up they are", which i've so far spent 80k words doing in PTB and am not tired of yet.

actually have not written nearly as much of this as i would LIKE but sex scenes where one or both people have Trauma(TM) and they end up finding a way to be intimate with each other that doesn't work like Normal Average Regular Sex. i get so emotional over the concept of Therapeutic Kink.

🤡 - What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh? - okay pretty much every interaction that Hunter and Luz have in every human touch before Philip shows up to make everything so much worse is very funny to me.

What is his name, again? It’s on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t think around her thwarted panic at being dragged away when she’s so close. It was sort of funny, she remembers that, kind of redneck vibes… Tanner? Skeeter? No, she would remember if she met a Skeeter.

🎯 - Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? - someone in the comments on Paint The Blood got me dead to fucking rights about what's going on in the fic and figuring out how to respond to them (bc i respond to most comments, so ignoring that one would have looked suspicious) while neither confirming nor denying was probably the hardest thing i've ever done.

(under a cut bc the answer to the last question is long)

🤗 - What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started? - oooh. hmm. hmmm...

i think one of the biggest things for me is having people who i can workshop ideas with. everyone has their own process but i find that i generally figure out how a story is going to go by talking through it, and rubber duck debugging (basically just problem-solving by explaining the problem out loud to someone or something else) is incredibly effective.

ALSO, having people who are invested in your stories and get hype about them and who you can talk to about the sick plot twists coming up and stuff is really effective in motivating me to write; i have a person who has read SO many handwritten pages of the first draft of PTB and those pages absolutely would not exist without them.

it is important imo to not link up like, your sense of self/accomplishment/worthiness with how much or what kind of feedback your fic gets, though. like, yes, getting feedback and engagement and interaction feels GREAT, not getting it sucks, and getting it vs not getting it can often be the difference between feeling motivated to finish a project and not, and that's fine, but you CANNOT let yourself fall into the trap of letting the popularity of your works dictate your self-esteem, because that will destroy your urge to create.

don't be afraid to just be shitty! if you're stuck on something, play a game i like to call Lower! Those! Standards! and just write it in a basic, boring, crappy way. you can come back to fix it later, or you might find out that actually what you think of as the 'shitty' way is fine, but either way, an imperfect thing that exists is better than the perfect version that exists only in your head. also, nobody else knows what it was supposed to look like in your head, so they only have the existing version to go by.

also, experimenting with different like, organization/outline/drafting methods is fun. you don't have to have one or have any kind of System, it definitely doesn't need to be elaborate, but if you find yourself often getting stuck, it's worth it to sit down and try to figure out where, exactly, you're getting stuck AT in the writing process, what's tripping you up, and see if there's something you can tweak about how you're coming up with, writing, or organizing your stories to try to fix that problem.

(i myself have several different processes - i tend to do a thorough outline broken down scene by scene that will inevitably change a lot as i go so i don't end up going "okay now what?", bc outlining at that level of detail helps me find where i have plotholes.

i ALSO have done a lot of handwriting, bc this frees me up from blank page anxiety and allows me to just jot stuff down without worrying too much about the quality, and it's also very satisfying in a tactile way that typing isn't, so it feels more like having DONE something, and then i already did the hard work of coming up with the ideas so my typed second draft goes way faster.

i also ALSO have written pretty much all my recent fics in scrivener - you don't NEED fancy software to write, but sometimes playing around with different available word processors can help! the ability to break a work down into scenes and add individual notes per scene that i can refer to as i'm writing is immensely helpful for me.)

and, hmm... i also think... try to have fun with it! remember that you're doing this because it's fun, it's a hobby, and you should focus on the things that make YOU happy. if you want to write the same type of scene or interaction over and over again, go for it! if you want to write stuff that doesn't have a 'point' other than that it makes you happy to do so, go for it!

and honestly, don't be afraid to post WIPs. i'm bad about this, tbh, but MOST multi-chapter fics end up unfinished. getting to see a glimpse of the idea someone had and get interested in the world and imagine what it would be like and play with the idea in your own head is a lot of fun, and if you post your wip and don't end up finishing it, then someone still gets to do that with what you posted! i don't think there's really such a thing as 'wasted' writing - it sucks to have to scrap a huge chunk that took a lot of time and effort and start over, it's frustrating, but writing something you don't finish or end up changing/editing/whatever still 'counts' as having written, and imo it's still good practice. if nothing else, you figured out how you DON'T want the scene to go.

if you want to materially improve your writing significantly (which is not a requirement at all, because you can just write your stories for fun and not worry about that, but if you ARE wanting to improve):

1) write a whole fucking bunch

2) read a whole bunch

3) read critically - which doesn't mean with an eye towards criticizing, but rather, when you read, look at how the author uses things like metaphor, imagery, the rhythm of language itself, foreshadowing, exposition, etc. figure out what you like about how they describe scenes, or do dialogue, or communicate stuff about characters, or develop their world, look at how they link the parts of the plot together and how and why various emotional or plot developments work (or don't work!), look at how the characters relate to each other, look at the tricks the author pulls in the narrative in order to get you to think or feel certain ways about certain characters/events - you can do this with fanfiction, published novels, movies, games, tv shows, etc - and honestly, starting to read reviews and analysis will help you get into the mindset of thinking about things this way too.

uh... gosh... there's probably more i could say but i think that's all i can think of for now!

#asks #ask game

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middleagerunblog · 5 months

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XXXVI.

From my own experience, when someone is trying very hard to get something, they don't. And when they're running away from something as hard as they can, it usually catches up with them. I'm generalizing, of course.

- Oshima to Kafka on the drive back from the mountain cabin, speaking of contractions, right after Oshima tells Kafka he noticed the contradiction in him, that he's seems to be seeking something yet running away from something at the same time in Kafka on the Shore

Recently my wife and I agreed our pillows were going bad and it was time to order new ones. By going bad, I mean, sleep was a little worse, you sometimes wake up with the slightest of headaches.

We are at the point in our lives where we prefer the $200 Tempurpedic pillows. We have been at this point for the past decade or so. You need to replace these type of pillows from time to time. Probably every year, every other years tops. It's probably been 3 or 4 for us at the moment though.

She ordered them, shipping was 2 days. OK, we can make it, just a couple of sleeps until the sweet relief of new pillows. I was really looking forward to it.

A couple days later, I get home from work. There's a big box by the door, it's the new pillows!

Later that evening I noticed she has opened the box and the pillows are wrapped in plastic, sitting on our bed. But we each go about our business, getting the things we each need done on this Thursday night. She and my youngest son are packing for a soccer tournament in Jacksonville they are leaving for directly after school. I'm sort of doing my own thing.

Around ten she says she's ready for bed and I agree. She says she needs help getting the plastic off the new pillows. I remove the plastic from both while asking her what pillow cases are we going to use. Just going to take the pillow case of the old pillow, she says.

I leave to throw away the plastic wrap and use the bathroom one last time. I turn off the light in the master bathroom, and she is already in bed with the lights off in our bed. I walk from the bathroom to the bed in the dark like I often do. Sure, I could leave the light on in the bathroom, walk to our bed, turn on the lamp on my nightstand, walk back the the bathroom, turn the light off, walk back to our bed, turn off my lamp and get into bed. But I've seemed to manage just making the walk from the bathroom to the bed in the dark, so that's what I do.

As I approach the bed in the dark, I think I remember her making a comment about how nice the pillow is. I remember thinking they seemed big so I asked her if she's still using an under pillow underneath, and she says yes.

I get into bed, and something feels weird, what this by our legs, I ask. That's your pillow, she says. Oh, I say and kick it off on the ground. That's your new pillow, she says, and it doesn't have a pillow case on it. Oh, I say again, I guess I'll deal with it tomorrow. She says, did you need me to put the pillow case on it? No, say, I'll do it tomorrow.

I was sort of surprised because I assumed she was setting up both new pillows. I really wanted to use my new pillow, but I was already lying down with the lights off. I'd have to get up, turn on the lights and swap pillow cases. I'd need the lights because for whatever reason I find it tricky to the pillow case lined up just right and didn't think I could do that in the dark. I don't know, I was probably being dumb, but in that moment, I didn't want to get out of bed and do that.

She says, you can't leave that on the floor without a pillow case, that' a brand new $200 pillow. What do you want me to do with, I ask. I mean, put in on the dresser at least, she says. It'll be fine, I say. She lays there for a beat, then gets out of bed and walks around to my side. An unusual move for her; once she's in bed, she's in bed.

I think she's getting up to grab my new pillow to put the pillow case on. I get up at the same and say I will get it. She beats me to it and says she's got it. She takes the new pillow from the floor and puts it on the dresser and goes back to bed. I lay back down.

Again, I feel dumb. I really want my new pillow. But I also don't want to get out of bed, turn on my lamp and swap pillow cases. So I just lie there on my old pillow.

I wake up the next day, 48 minutes before my alarm to the slight headache feeling my old pillow has given me one last time. After my wife wakes up, I ask her how the new pillow was. Great, she says.

I go out for my run, a 3 mile race pace run, which includes a 1 mile warmup and half mile cool down. That is, not an easy pace. That is, not a run that is ideal for working off a headache for someone who doesn't eat breakfast.

Later that morning, I take the pillow case from my old pillow cast and put it on my new pillow, put my new pillow on the bed, never to use my old pillow again.

#marriage #books #quotes #haruki murakami #sleep

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Hello Sunshine

A/N: Hello! I’m here with a 7am shower idea that I couldn’t get out of my head. It’s just a little sweet and soft Frankie. Enjoy! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

*Bold - Frankie ; Italics - Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: none

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey! What time did you want to meet up tomorrow for brunch?” you stared at the number you’d typed in and compared it to the one that the man you’d met the evening before had given you. You had been absolutely reluctant to go to the local bar’s speed dating evening before, but your best friend had convinced you to go. She was going to go as well, so you figured if you ended up suffering, she would likely too - solidarity in its finest form. Much to your pleasant surprise however, you ended up having a fun time...the multiple rounds of drinks probably didn’t hurt either.

Marcus had been your last round for the evening, and he had been kind and charming; easy on the eyes and easy to make conversation with. He asked you questions and you were able to ask him ones back. Definitely a sharp turn from what you were expecting; and by the end of the night he’d offered you his number and asked you to for brunch on Sunday. You’d been...elated; it had been some time since anyone had actually managed to capture your eye.

Before talking yourself out of sending the message, you hit send and put your phone onto your nightstand. You weren’t too nervous in general, but there was something about sending that first message that always caused butterflies to erupt into your stomach. It wasn’t but a few minutes before your phone vibrated to signal a new message. Trying not to get too eager and excited, you reached for it and quickly opened the new text.

Who is this?

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the seemingly hasty denial of acknowledgment. It was no matter, you groaned at yourself, you probably should have included your name in the first place. No big deal, you quickly typed out your name and added, “we met at the bar last night? For the speed dating event?”

Your stomach flipped nervously as you wondered what he would say; hoping it was just a misunderstanding and he would realize exactly who you were.

I didn’t go to any bars last night. I don’t know who you are.

Oh. Your throat constricted as you reached for the napkin with the phone and compared it again to the number you had texted. There was no way you’d mistaken any of the numbers. Sighing heavily, you slipped out of bed and edged towards your bathroom and tossed the offending object into the can. Things had seemed like they’d gone so well...you’d genuinely liked Marcus and thought the attraction and chemistry was there on both sides. Apparently you’d been made a fool once again. Heat flooded your face in embarrassment as you contemplated whether or not to text again. To hell with it, you decided, you might as well apologize if nothing else.

So sorry. The guy I met must have given me the wrong number. I hope I didn’t ruin your night. Sorry for wasting your time.

After that bit of failure, you decided you might as well get back into bed and watch a show until you fell asleep. You felt beyond embarrassed and just wanted to forget about the whole thing. Needless to say, it surprised you when your phone went off again.

No worries. Sorry if I was rude too. It’s happened to me before with a couple of girls. It sucks.

At this point, you found yourself smiling at the sentiment, and decided that one more little text wouldn’t hurt anything.

Seriously! Why can’t someone just tell you if they’re not interested? It's so much easier. Either way - thanks for understanding and have a good evening.

You too. Hope things look up soon for you.

His response had been instant almost as if he had been watching you type it all. Whoever this stranger was - and you weren’t even sure if it was a man or woman - they had turned out to be kinder than Marcus. But it didn’t do well to dwell on it; Marcus would get what he deserved and this stranger would get some good things.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie put his phone on the charging pad he kept next to his bed, turning it on silent before crawling under the covers. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, he was surprised to see that he had a smile on his face. Not that was perpetually frowning or mad, but usually he wasn’t just smiling for no reason.

Although he had a feeling he knew the exact reason as to why he was actually happy for once because of...you. The random stranger that texted him and sent a happy shiver up his spine. He wasn’t happy because of your little predicament, knowing the exact feeling of having been duped and given the wrong number several times. But the short conversation had been pleasant enough and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d hear from you again.

Doubtful, he reminded himself, it was just a one off type deal and that was that. And yet...that didn’t stop him from quickly grabbing his phone again and saving your name and number as a contact. You know...just in case.

Francisco Morales had sweet dreams throughout that night. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie practically bounced into work the next morning, a smile on his face and spring in his step. So he seemed so out of normal form that his best friend and coworker, pointed it out to him and everyone. Frankie played it off like it was no big deal; in reality it wasn’t. You were just another stranger out in the world that flung into his orbit for a moment before leaving again.

But that whole week felt different and somehow the world was a little brighter - filled with sunshine. Even if it wasn’t everlasting, he didn’t mind the feeling it gave him for the moment; the positive energy was nice for a change.

Little did he know that across the city, you were existing in your own little world, going about your day to day in a similar manner. What a small world it was indeed. You had been incredibly tempted to look up his phone and see if you could find anything out about your mysterious stranger, a name, some sort of profile - anything - but refrained. What if it was someone you ended up attracted? A beautiful woman or a good looking man that caused you to start all sorts of fantasies? No - you didn’t need all of that. You’d let it go or let whatever happened happen.

Which likely was nothing. Right? Right.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Imagine your surprise when you found yourself at home with leftover pizza and a bottle of wine, resigning yourself to a quiet Saturday night when your phone vibrated. Figuring it was probably just one of your friends, or some sort of useless notification, you picked up your phone and found your jaw dropping. This wasn’t seriously happening, was it?

Hey stranger. Hope this Saturday is better than the last one.

Maybe they had the wrong number...or something. But no - they acknowledged the fact that last weekend had been shit and called you stranger. This had to be intentional. Setting your phone down for a moment, you grabbed your glass of wine and sipped on it, trying not to let the excitement of a single text get you too excited. They had done what you’d dreamed about all week...why not indulge in it? If nothing else, it might be nice to have someone to text with on occasion.

Hi stranger. This Saturday involves me, the couch, pizza, and wine. I guess I really can’t complain. Hope yours is a good one too!

As soon as you hit send, you wanted to ban your head against the wall; was it too much? Not enough? Did it even warrant a response? Now you were just overthrowing everything. Shit, fuck, damn.

But you weren't able to wallow in misery for too long before your phone went off again. Huh.

Sounds pretty good. Can't complain either, just at home with a beer and a movie. Missing the pizza though. Maybe I'll order some.

Definitely recommended! I don't know if this is odd, but you know my name and I don't know yours...do you have a name, stranger?

Not weird at all! Maybe I should have started with that. Francisco - Frankie.

Well Francisco-Frankie, it's nice to meet you. What movie are you watching?

Nice to meet you, no- longer-complete-stranger. Die Hard. A classic.

Oof. I'm afraid it ends here. Hot take - Die Hard is...notthatgood.

It's been a good but short time…how can you not like Die Hard!? What could you be watching that's so much better?

The Office. A modern classic and clearly superior to anything you're picking if you think Die Hard is good.

Fun fact - I've never seen a single episode of the Office. And never plan on it. Tell me, mystery girl, what should I get on my pizza?

I now make it my plan to convince you to watch The Office. Pepperoni, jalapeños, and tomatoes. Regular crust, none of that thin crust bs.

Challenge accepted. An odd combination but I'll give it a try. Results tbd.

Already listening - I'm a fan of it. I'll let you get back to your movie and order your pizza. Have a good night Francisco-Frankie.

You too, mystery girl.

There was an undeniably giant grin on your face as you set your phone back down. Had this actually happened? Surely this was some sort of dream; a random stranger actually striking up a conversation? And seemingly enjoying it? Out of this world.

As you downed your glass and got ready to refill it your phone vibrated once again. This time you didn't even bother to let a moment pass before picking it back up and opening the notification.

Can I text you again sometime?

Yeah...I'd like that.

You just about melted into the couch, happier than you had been in a long time. And all from texts from a man you still hadn't met. Who knew if you would ever meet him? Either way, this Francisco aka Frankie had proven to be a welcome disturbance in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks passed in the same blissful fashion. You'd go about your day with work and other responsibilities and obligations but you had your pocket companion with you. That's what you nicknamed Frankie anyways.

What has started as some texting here and there soon turned into conversations throughout the days, slowly becoming more personal and introspective with each passing day. And despite still knowing what he looked like or anything...you thrived in it. You'd wondered if he'd looked you up - he hadn't for the same reasons as you - and that's why you got along so well.

The two of you had a lot in common but still managed to have your differences. One thing that never failed to make you smile was what had turned into his version of a good morning text.

Hello Sunshine.

Hi Fly Boy.

Stay dry today, its supposed to be a pretty bad downpour. Talk later?

Of course. Be safe too.

The small sentiment was enough to send you reeling; it was funny how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. Like in some ways you'd always known each other, but still were finding out things constantly. You weren't sure where it would lead to...if anything but for now you appreciated your new found friend.

»»————-　♡　————-««

I have a work party this weekend and it's formal. Do I go for an lbd or something colorful?

Depends - do you want people to approach or admire from the distance?

From the distance, so I can leave fairly quickly but people still know I was there.

Definitely LBD then.

My hero! Perfect idea!

»»————-　♡　————-««

How do I get out of a camping trip this weekend?

Why would you try and get out of it? You said you loved camping.

I do but...just not feeling it this weekend.

Tell them you're feeling or that your new girlfriend wants to spend the weekend together.

New girlfriend? I wasn't aware I had one…

Its called a white lie Frankie. Use me as an excuse if you have to.

You're the best! A real lifesaver, sunshine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Okay, here's a tough one. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

All three. But if only one - coffee.

How do you take it?

Black with a little bit of sugar.

That's kind of the vibe I got! But you're wrong - the best answer is coffee in the am, afternoon tea, and then sometimes a hot chocolate for dessert.

Let me guess - salted caramel hot chocolate?

How did you know?! Alright, Fly Boy, you know me too well already.

Just a hunch, sunshine. Okay - favorite color?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Do you think if I pretend to be dead I can leave work early?

Dramatic! I love it. How about a migraine? Last minute emergency?

Probably better. Migraine it is.

Just a thought. Beers with the guys tonight?

Yup. Girls night?

Yes! Talk tomorrow?

Of course.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Soooo I might have gotten myself into a predicament…

What happened?

Umm, I might have lied and told my friends that I started seeing someone…

Oh no.

Yeah...all because I couldn't admit that that guy had given me the wrong number. How do I explain?!

Maybe just don't say anything and then later say it died down or something? No need to drag it further.

You're right and I am an idiot.

Nah, it happens to the best of us.

Hmm sure. Anyways, onto important things. Dogs or cats?

»»————-　♡　————-««

If you could only have one type of food for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

Hmm, that’s a hard one. I’m torn between Mexican (the good stuff of course) and Italian and sushi. You?

Pizza!

That’s not a type of food, Francisco!

It totally is. There’s different varieties, it can count!

That’s a cheap way to answer the question, but I’ll accept it because you’re cute.

You think I’m cute? And just how do you know? Do I have a stalker?

Nah, too much effort. Besides, I’m usually busy talking to you. It would be kind of obvious if I was, wouldn’t it? I just have a feeling.

Very funny, sunshine. I’m positive it’s the other way around.

You’re the stalker? What am I wearing right now?

You know what I meant!

Of course I did. I’m the smart one in this duo, don’t forget.

You’re too much. Want to watch a movie tonight? We start at the same time?

Yes! Anything but Die Hard or other shitty movies along those lines.

You’re killing me here. One day I will convince you to watch it with me.

I look forward to that - but not tonight. Name your top 3 ideas.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Over the weeks, Frankie became an everyday part of your life. The two of you texted back and forth throughout the day as time allowed. It was nice - comforting to have him there despite the fact that he could have been anyone in the world. Well, you knew he was local to you from his area code but otherwise...a mystery.

You wondered if you’d ever encountered him out in the real world before. It was a definite possibility, but you would never know. Not unless you somehow actually ended up meeting him in person. The idea of proposing such a notion hadn’t seemed far off, especially since your days were filled with each other and there were undeniably flirty texts and insinuations. The few times you’d actually gotten the nerve up to just ask him, something always seemed to come and keep you from doing it. Namely - nerves.

What if you were reading all wrong into this? What if he really wanted nothing more than a friendship? What if texting was the extent of it all?

Naturally, you’d know your answer if you’d just fucking ask him. But that seemed like a momentous and herculean task and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be up for it. Perhaps things would just...happen one day. Despite getting to know him, he was still just this enigmatic aura. For all you knew you might as well have been fighting a robot.

When then...one random night, a Wednesday evening when you’d just walked in the door with fresh produce from the downtown farmer’s market, your phone name. Shifting the large bags in your arms, you managed to fish your phone out of your pocket and answer it without looking at who it was.

“Hello?” you kicked the door shut behind you and shuffled into the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping the bags onto the counters. At first you didn’t hear anything on the other end of the line besides some shuffling, but then eventually you heard a distant voice say something indiscernible. In confusion, you pulled the phone out from between your ear and shoulder and glanced at the contact. The name was enough to have your breath catch in your throat as you realized that your mysterious Frankie on the other end. He’d never called before...perhaps it had been a mistake? Even if it was, you were going to take full advantage of it, “Frankie? Hello? Come on Fly Boy, it’s me. If you can hear me, let me know.”

It was a few more seconds of shuffling and almost static like noise before you were positive you heard a quiet fuck. But then, in a moment that made your heart almost stop, you heard him, loud and clear, “h-hi….sunshine?”

“Hi Frankie,” you repeated as you felt your heart melt and legs turn to jelly, “I’m going to guess this wasn’t an intended call?”

“Umm, shit no,” he admitted with what you could only describe as a nervous laugh, “accidental pocket dial.”

“It’s 2021 and you’re pocket dialing people?” you snorted with laughter as you grabbed your earbuds to sync up the bluetooth so you could talk to him while putting away all of the fresh fruits and veggies you had acquired, “that’s such an old person thing, Frankie! What are you 50?”

“It’s not that weird,” he insisted with an indignant scoff as you giggled, “it can happen easily if you don’t lock your phone when you put it away and yeah...here we are. And for the record I am nowhere near 50! I am only 36.”

“Oof,” you opened the fridge and popped the veggies into the drawer, “I’m afraid that things end here, Grandpa.”

“Very funny! How old are you then, huh? Oh my God - please don’t tell me I’ve been talking to and flirting with a teenager,” for a moment he sounded genuinely nervous as you almost doubled over in laughter at his panic. The fact that he had admitted to flirting was lost on you in your amusement he was so worried that he didn’t even notice the gaff, “sunshine!”

“I’m almost 30,” you reassured him and he instantly sighed in relief on the other end, “don’t worry. Besides, I told you I met the man I thought I was texting at a bar - at least I would have been 21.”

“That still would have been weird,” he admitted as you made a small sound of agreement, “this is better.”

“Ha! Thanks for the sentiment,” you rinsed and crunched on a carrot before hopping onto the counter to get comfortable. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say your next words or not...but you decided to just do it, “this is...nice. I like hearing your voice. Makes you more real.”

“I like it too,” he agreed softly, a tinge of pink rising up in his cheeks, despite the fact that you couldn’t see it, “you sound like I thought.”

“Oh? Like an annoying twelve-year-old boy?”

“Okay, okay, dramatic much?” he snorted, “just accept the compliment!”

“Fine,” you huffed, being very overdramatic indeed, “what are you up to tonight, Frankie? Want to cook together?”

“I’m yours - free, I mean free,” he corrected himself as you relished in his little mess up, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. I’m a better baker.”

“Ooh, excellent,” you slid off the counter in excitement, “how about this - we’ll make something simple for dinner - I’ll walk you through it step by step, and then you’re in charge of dessert. Deal?”

“Deal,” Frankie felt a rush of excitement surge through him as he stepped into his kitchen and reached for his apron - the same one that Santi always made fun of him for, “what’s on the menu?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

And just like that texts turned into texts and phone calls. There was something so thrilling, like a huge surge of electricity shot down your spine and throughout your body every time you saw his name up pop or heard the sound of his voice. Frankie was...slowly turning into your constant companion and if you were being honest with yourself he was everything you had had ever wanted.

And oh - how scary it was to be falling for a man you still hadn't met in person. Slowly, surely it would happen. Gods, you wanted it to happen so desperately. But you were painfully shy when it came to the idea of asking him out and little did you know, he was feeling exactly the same way. Frankie wanted nothing more than to finally ask you on a proper date, to spend all those times laughing with you in person. But he just...continually talked himself out of it.

He was just so shy, so nervous and he thought it would be impossible that someone like you would actually go for a guy like him. He was just...fly boy and you were his Sunshine. Frankie had given you the name early on, deciding that it was appropriate because you brought a little bit of sunshine into his life every day. It had almost brought you to tears - not that you'd admit that to anyone - not yet anyway. His nickname was simple - he was a former military pilot and now a part time ‘whenever he got the chance pilot’ - Fly Boy. It was perfect and he adored it as much as you.

And yet neither of you, pining silly fools had been able to make that final move. One day, you both reminded yourself constantly, one day.

And one day turned out to be sooner than either of you expected...

"Mmhmm," you murmured into the phone as you scoured the bookshelves of your local little bookstore. You had a rare afternoon off and to treat yourself to a nice coffee and searching for a new read. You'd fallen out of reading regularly and had made it a point to get back into it, aiming for a book month. Naturally, your friend had called you at that exact time, "of course pizza is always a good choice."

Frankie hummed under his breath as he walked through the aisles looking for the book you had recommended to him. He hadn’t thought much about the woman he saw a few rows over with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. He did note, however, that the tone of her voice was sweet - not that he was trying to listen in on her conversation.

“Yes it is!” you laughed into the phone, trying to keep it down when you noticed the man in your peripheral vision and aimed to keep from disturbing him, “pizza is good for whenever you don't know what to make. And you know the best - pepperoni, jalapenos, and tomatoes. No contest.”

Despite not trying to listen in to your conversation, as soon as he heard you describe pizza, his perked up and immediately his heart started pounding. A nervous rush of energy flowed through him as he tried to get a better look at you without making it obvious. Holy shit - was this actually it? Was he about to meet his Sunshine?

“I even told Frankie,” you insisted with a small smile as you took a sip of your coffee, “he liked it too. Yes...of course I’m still talking to him...I-I really like him. I hope that one day I can meet him. I keep wanting to ask and then I get so nervous and talk myself out of it. He’s just...lovely.”

This definitely couldn’t be a coincidence, right? The particular type of pizza, Frankie, wanting to meet - this had to be you. And the more he listened, despite his initial efforts, he couldn’t help but zone in on you. And now, hearing your voice unfiltered and unaltered through the phone, he knew it was you. He just stopped in his tracks as he watched you, a silly little smile on his face as he realized that somehow the universe had decided to throw him a bone.

“Mhmm,” you murmured into the phone, “of course. I’ll talk to you later!”

Ending the call, you shoved your phone into your pocket and reached for one of the books that had piqued your interest. Sliding it out and reading over the back, you quickly got lost in your thoughts until you heard a throat clear behind you. Assuming you were in someone’s way, you shuffled to the side without glancing at who it was. But then you heard it - quiet and shy but clear, “Sunshine?”

At the sound of the nickname you’d been given by only one person throughout your entire life, your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as your body froze. Surely..surely this couldn’t be happening…

Turning around, slowly, painfully slowly, you found yourself staring at a face both brand new and immediately familiar. You’d never seen him before, but instantly it was like you knew him, all of him. In some ways you supposed, you did.

“F-Frankie?” almost getting choked up, your voice was barely above a whisper as the handsome man in front of you slowly nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his whole features lit up with excitement. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in the corners as his grew grin and a one singular dimple appeared. You weren’t really sure what you had pictured when you’d thought about your mysterious friend, but somehow this was right on the mark. You blinked a few times, trying to hold back your tears of sheer excitement, “you’re real after all!”

And then he laughed. A beautiful, glorious sound that caused a surge of warmth to rush through your entire body. He really was just as lovely as you’d dreamed.

“Did you really think you were talking to a robot this whole time?” he asked as you flushed with warmth but stuck your tongue at him, “I can’t believe it’s really you. After all these months...finally. I’ve been wanting to ask you for so long but I didn’t think…”

“Me too,” you agreed, “me too. Small world, huh?”

“I was just looking for the book you recommended last night,” he admitted as you practically glowed with excitement. Holding up a finger, you turned around and quickly found the book in question and displayed it for him, “I didn’t think I’d find the book and the woman I’ve been talking to for months.”

“How did you know it was me?” you asked as you walked over to him and he offered up a sheepish grin.

“The pizza.”

“The pizza!” you snorted with laughter, “I should have known. Too obvious.”

“I like to think that everything happens for a reason,” he tried to take the book from your hands but you just shook your head, “what?”

“This is going to be from me to you,” you insisted as a tinge of pink welled up in his cheeks, “a souvenir from the day we met!”

“I’ll treasure it forever,” he promised and you could tell he meant it, “what are you doing tonight? Now?”

“I dunno,” you feigned innocence, “I was planning on going home to cook and talk to this guy I’ve been falling for for months, but that seems a little weird now.”

“Will you let me take you to dinner - a date? A real date?” he asked as you beamed at him and nodded. How could you ever say no.

“Only if you take me to that Italian place you told me about!”

“Whatever you want, Sunshine,” he promised as he reached for your hand and gently laced your fingers together. It felt so easy, so effortless, and you didn’t even have to think about - natural.

“You,” you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his cheek, “just you, Frankie.”

“Sweet Sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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