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gay-spaghetti · 5 years ago

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A Much Needed Reunion - FriendlyPack Gifted Heart AU Fanfic

Summary: The traumatic death of Staniel Wheeler has left Jimmy heartbroken—literally and figuratively—and every day is a constant struggle without his best friend. Stan, now a ghostly spirit, follows the lonely drug dealer wherever he goes, desperately wishing to be seen and heard by him.

Rating: Mature (17+) Triggers/Warnings: Strong language, suicide mention, suicidal thoughts, death, attempted rape (The attempted rape is incredibly sfw. It's still a heavy subject though, so I knew I needed to mention it regardless) Chapters: 1/1 (One-shot) Word Count: 4,616 Inspirations: @haepherion , @missfeisty199 , Tags: @stanthewaterman , @friendlypack

Note: This isn’t the entirety of the AU, just a snippet of it. The AU will never be a full fic, although there will be doodles and comics created for it to expand the story. ALSO::: I know the triggers are heavy, but I promise you the ending is happy.

Jimmy Bending collapsed to his hands and knees, a cry of anguish unsteadily spilling from his lips. He wasn’t pushed, nor had he tripped. Rather, the death of his best friend Staniel Wheeler tore at him so severely, that he couldn’t keep the pain in any longer. Stan had only been buried just two days ago, and Jimmy was visiting his grave during a heavy rainfall—one that had made the grassy ground a soppy mess. Stan’s marble tombstone was adorned with all kinds of flowers and surrounded by rock-filled water bottles. The bottles were there in memoriam, the weight of the stones keeping them in place. They would’ve all been filled with water, but everyone knew that Stan wouldn’t have wanted any of it to go to waste.

Jimmy cried his heart out, feeling too vulnerable to weep at the funeral, so he did it here. He crawled to the grave and hugged the drenched tombstone, muttering incoherent apologies and babbling out Stan’s name as if saying it enough times would bring him back. A sudden strike of distant lightning startled him from his sobs, and he wiped his face with his jacket sleeve. “Why, Stan? Why?” Jimmy choked out, desperately asking his deceased friend why this had happened. His cause of death was an overdose on Oxycodone; police and friends alike debated on whether it was suicide, a terrible addiction, or just a fatal mishap. Jimmy didn’t want to believe it was suicide, but the last texts that were found on Stan’s phone were of his ex wife telling him to “fuck off”. That infuriated Jimmy to the bone.

Would Stan really have taken his own life?

The question had reminded Jimmy of his own suicidal thoughts. He couldn’t take this horrendous aching in his heart; he needed Stan. That man was the only person in the whole world that he cared about, and now he was gone forever.

Shakily, Jimmy got to his feet and turned away, walking to his car to drive back to the apartments. His plan was to end his life; he had plenty of drugs he could easily overdose on. When he stepped inside his room though, he looked down at the blue, heart-shaped locket he wore around his neck. He had bought it the day of Stan’s funeral. It was something he could wear every single day to remind him that, within his body, he was, quite literally, carrying Stan’s beating heart. The doctors told him that upon hearing the news of Stan’s death, Jimmy suffered what’s called “Broken Heart Syndrome”. Stan was an organ donor, and his heart just so happened to be compatible with Jimmy’s body.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill himself. That would be such a terrible waste of Stan’s heart. How could he dishonor his friend—the man who generously donated his own organs. Jimmy should feel lucky to go on living while Stan was six feet under. He didn’t feel lucky though. He felt like the unluckiest person in the world, and he felt selfish for feeling that way. Why did he have to live on while Stan–

Jimmy shook his head and pressed his palms into his forehead, as if he were trying to shove his depressing thoughts out of his mind. He threw off his jacket and fell into bed, not even caring that he was still soaking wet with rain water. It took an hour and a half, but the lonely man eventually passed out from exhaustion.

—–

Black. All he could see was black—the complete and total lack of any sort of light. He waved his hand in front of his face, seeing absolutely nothing. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was being in his apartment, …had he passed out? If so, why was everything still so dark? Fear quickly gripped him, but it slowly faded away when he could see a blue light doused in faint sparkles slowly getting bigger. The man shut his eyes, and when he opened them, he was standing in his apartment!

Stan took a deep breath of relief and ran a hand through his blonde locks. He then placed his hands at his hips, turning his head and observing his… wait, this isn’t his apartment. The delivery man’s eyes widened when he realized… this is Jimmy’s apartment! What was he doing here? He made his way over to his friend’s bedroom, assuming he was in there. When he opened the door, his assumptions were confirmed at the sight of a very tired-looking drug dealer sleeping in his unkempt bed. Still confused, Stan took a few more steps in the room, tempted to wake Jimmy and ask him how he got there. Unexpectedly, Jimmy stirred and lazily slumped out of bed, standing to his feet.

“Hey Friendly! Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to ask how the diddly darn I got here!” Stan stated with a warm smile “All I can remember is being in my own kitchen, and then–”. Jimmy trudged towards the door, not answering or even looking at Stan ��Um… Jimmy?”.

Jimmy got closer, so close in fact that the two men’s bodies would have pressed together if it weren’t for the fact that Jimmy had just walked straight through Stan to close the door. The younger man shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, getting back under the covers and drifting off to sleep pretty quickly.

Stan stood there in utter shock. He slowly looked down at his hands, seeing that they were the color of the sky during the day–a nice baby blue color. He also noticed little sparkles that would twinkle all over his blue body and clothes. The self-proclaimed water man whipped around and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. He nearly tripped as he rushed to the bathroom to get to a mirror. When he was there, he didn’t like what he saw: nothing. He had no reflection. He desperately waved his hands in front of the reflective piece of glass on the wall, but nothing changed: he still had no reflection. Stan stumbled back up against the wall and rested his palm on his forehead, trying to remember what had happened to him. He tightly shut his eyes and was finally able to recall the biting text he received from his ex-wife. He then remembered the urge to take all of those oxy pills, thinking that enough of them would fix his broken heart. Cold tears rushed down Stan’s transparent face as he remembered falling to the ground and everything going black.

The realization was terrifying: Stan had died.

—–

For the next two weeks, Stan followed Jimmy wherever he went, which was really just around the apartment. The poor man rarely ever went outside anymore, that being insanely abnormal for him. For the first few days, Stan desperately tried speaking to his friend, even reaching out to him and trying to grab his arm. Nothing worked. Whenever they made contact, Jimmy would shiver as if a gust of frigid snow had pressed against his skin. He even got really angry at the sudden drops in temperature, one day shouting out “GOD DAMMIT, why is it so fucking cold?”. That outburst deeply upset Stan, and for the rest of that day, he just sat alone in the corner of the living room.

Every day was an unbearable struggle for both men. Jimmy had to leave his apartment eventually, and when he did so, Stan stayed close beside him. Walking down the city streets was agonizing for Jimmy; all he could remember was spending time with Stan in the most craziest of situations. Memories of their wild adventures flooded his mind, and he had to wipe his eyes under his sunglasses. Stan, the ghostly figure walking just beside him, felt a painful sting in his chest at the sight of his friend rubbing the tears out of his eyes. He reached out and took Jimmy’s hand, but it was quickly pulled away at the icy feeling. Stan sighed sadly, muttering out a soft “please don’t cry, Jimothy. I’m here… I promise I’m here”. Of course, Jimmy couldn’t hear these words of reassurance, and just continued walking as if he were the only person on the sidewalk.

Later that night, Jimmy entered his bathroom and left the door open, which made Stan assume that he wasn’t going to use it. Even though he lived alone, Jimmy always closed the bathroom door if he was going to shower or use the toilet.

Instead, the friendly drug dealer pulled out a bottle of hair bleach and began applying it to the teal-colored portion of his locks. Stan watched in surprise as he did this “Oh, Jimmy what are you doing?” he said quickly “Your hair’s not stupid, I swear! I was just teasing you before, you don’t have to change it!”. His efforts proved to be futile though, since Jimmy quickly finished bleaching the dyed part of his hair. After letting it dry for a while, he stumbled into bed. Stan would always just sleep on the couch. He knew he didn’t physically need the rest, but what else was he going to do?

Soon enough, Jimmy’s casual attire was completely dedicated to Stan’s memory. He bleached part of his hair blonde, and he constantly wore a little heart locket, a sunflower-shaped pin, and a few star-shaped pins for his hair. Stan felt so honored that his friend did everything to keep his memory alive. Jimmy went as far as delivering water on the days where he felt less shitty than usual. That filled Stan with so much appreciation and love. He wished he could thank Jimmy.

One night, a full two weeks after Stan’s funeral, Jimmy was treading down the street with Stan’s spirit when he suddenly got a text message from someone he didn’t want to see ever again: Alabaster Slim.

“So, Aurora, you thought you could avoid me without consequence, hm?”.

Jimmy’s heart dropped fearfully.

“You’re gonna pay for this, he-bitch”.

Recognizing that he was in danger, Jimmy stumbled back, turned around, and sped away to get to the safety of his apartment. Stan followed, still completely unseen by everyone. Jimmy’s efforts to escape were halted though when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and yanked into an alleyway. He pushed and shoved at the stranger, noticing there were three of them and angrily telling whoever it was to let go. It didn’t take long for him to realize that these three massive thugs were past sex clients. “Shit, p-please don’t hurt me” Jimmy stammered out as he anxiously reached into his pocket to retrieve his knife, ready to kill all three of these sons of bitches.

Unfortunately, the man that was holding onto his wrist took note of the tricky movement and easily stole the weapon away from him, tossing it aside “Stupid whore, we wont be needing that~” Jimmy shook in terror as the vile man ran his hand up Jimmy’s clothed chest and pressed his palm to the younger one’s throat “now be a good little he-bitch and open that mouth of yours”.

Tears brimmed Jimmy’s eyes, but he stayed strong “I’ll bite your fucking dick off” he warned.

The ugly criminal grumbled in irritation and squeezed Jimmy’s neck “Fine. Have it your way, pretty boy. We’re going to make this harder than it has to be.”

Stan watched in horror as the three men worked to get Jimmy undressed. They pulled his jacket away and ripped off his jeans with a mighty force. They felt up his body and violated him in any way they could, one of them licking and biting the young man’s neck roughly. Jimmy tried fighting back, but the three thugs were way too strong. So, just accepted his fate, and allowed his arms to go limp. Being unable to hold it back anymore, he started weeping quietly.

“Stop bitchin’, you little slut�� Barked one of the bastards.

Stan couldn’t take this anymore. The sight of his best friend being tormented like this angered him to his core. So, just before the douchebags could get Jimmy fully naked, Stan rushed over, grabbed one of them, and harshly shoved him to the ground. The thugs stopped in total confusion, looking around for anyone who could’ve done that. The one on the ground got up and clenched his fists “SHOW YOURSELF!” he growled.

This gave Jimmy the chance to run away, so he scrambled out of their hold and tried making a run for it. Sadly, he failed, and the annoyed criminal shoved him to the brick wall and kicked him in the stomach when he fell to the ground. Jimmy cried out, shaking pathetically on the ground like an injured dog. An enraged fire ignited inside of Stan, and he, without hesitation, threw his fist directly into the crook’s face. The vicious man shouted and painfully held his now broken nose “FUCK! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! AHHHG! FUCK!” he screamed. Stan then attacked the other two, throwing one against the ground and shoving the other against the wall. In a confused panic, the three attackers ran away as fast as they could, terrified of the mysterious force that was defending Jimmy.

Stan was breathing heavily, fury still pulsing through him. He was so mad that he didn’t even realize that he was finally able to physically touch people.

With shaky arms, Jimmy pushed himself up to his feet, completely baffled yet relieved that he was saved. The beaten man wasted no time in throwing his jeans and jacket back on, and hurrying back to his apartment. Stan followed like always, really wishing he could ask his friend if he were okay.

When they got home, Jimmy plopped onto his bed and stressfully pulled at his bright yellow hair. A sudden wave of emotions overwhelmed him, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Stan just stood in front of him, his own tears falling knowing that he couldn’t hug Jimmy or tell him that everything was going to be okay.

“Stan… oh Sunflower” Jimmy cried, gripping the heart locket and holding it close to his chest “my sweet sunflower…”. He stayed in his bed like this for a good 15 minutes, only calming down when he felt his empty stomach growl hungrily. That’s right… he hadn’t eaten anything at all the day before, and only had a small sandwich for lunch. He should really eat something before hitting the hay.

Stan sauntered into the kitchen with Jimmy, always being just two steps behind him. Wanting to go to bed as soon as possible, Jimmy just threw together a little bowl of cereal and walked over to the counter to eat. As if his bad luck had a sick sense of humor, Jimmy slipped and accidentally let go of the cereal and milk-filled bowl “SHIT!” he sputtered out, steadying himself and preparing for cereal, milk, and glass to shower the kitchen.

Reacting on instinct, Stan grabbed the bowl before it could hit the ground “I got it!” He said, letting out a sigh of relief when he successfully prevented a big mess. It took a few seconds, but Stan soon realized that Jimmy was staring at the floating bowl with wide eyes and a terrified pale face. “Oh, sh-shoot!” The flustered ghost placed the bowl safely onto the counter and hid his hands behind his back, as if he were ashamed of a crime he just committed.

Jimmy took a few steps back, his eyes frantically scanning his surrounding area “Shit. I’m going crazy. SHIT!” he thought to himself worriedly.

“Nice going, Stan. ..You really did it this time” Stan muttered sheepishly, feeling like a pathetic loser. Shockingly though, Jimmy flinched as if…. he could hear him. Stan perked up “Jimmy! ..C-Can you hear me?”.

Jimmy could definitely hear the disembodied voice. He shouted and jolted backwards, his back pressing up against the kitchen wall. Just when he thought he couldn’t lose his marbles any further, a blue shine of light materialized in front of him, and the shape of a six foot human formed. Before he even knew it, Stan appeared in front of him, finally being fully visible. Jimmy nearly forgot to blink. The sight was unbelievable.

“J-Jimothy, can…can you see me?”.

The younger man screamed “N-NO NO NO NO, Th-This isn’t real. You’re not real. You’re dead. You’ve been fucking dead for weeks. ..Sh-Shit shit shit” he began hyperventilating, and Stan was worried he would faint.

“N-No no! Jimmy, I-It’s really me! Stan the water man!”.

Jimmy was still scared and in total disbelief, looking like a cornered animal. Tears raced down his face. Was this his punishment? Seeing his dead friend right after getting sexually assaulted? Was the whole world out to get him?

“Oh, no no no, Jimothy… p-please don’t cry. I promise it’s me. I-I’ve been with you for the past two weeks. I’ve been trying t-to get your attention all this time” Stan stepped closer, and the other man just tried to get away, but there was no where to go. Instead, he sank to the ground and hid his face, basically cowering in the kitchen corner. “Jimmy, …” Stan kneeled in front of him and gently placed his cold, transparent hand onto his friend’s leg as a sign of comfort.

Jimmy uncovered his wet face and looked into Stan’s deep blue eyes “Starshine? I-Is that really you? I-It can’t be…”. The thought of Stan as a ghost crossed his mind, but he still couldn’t believe it. Stan inched closer and held his hand out to his fearful friend. Jimmy gulped silently and slowly rested his hand onto the sparkly sky blue appendage. When they made contact, they could finally feel each other. Jimmy’s bottom lip quivered and his vision became blocked with brimming tears “STAN!” he cried as he threw his arms around the ghost and hugged him tightly, holding onto him for dear life. Jimmy cried and cried and cried, running his hand through the back of Stan’s hair and gripping onto him as if his life depended on it.

Admittedly, Stan was a little startled at this reaction. He expected it, but he had never been held like this, so he was a little overwhelmed. He quickly returned the loving hug and tenderly combed Jimmy’s hair with his frigid fingers “Shhhh, Jimtohy. I’m here… I’m here. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jimmy didn’t even care how little sense this made; he was just so relieved to hold Stan in his arms again. His friend looked very different, his whole entire body was colored with different shades and tints of blues, and so were his clothes. Tiny little sparkles glimmered around his body, and he was very cold. But this cold was a nice kind of cold. It was cool, and extremely comforting. Jimmy just melted into Stan’s arms, never wanting to be apart again. They stayed like this for a good amount of time, until Jimmy’s gentle crying drifted him off to sleep. Stan pulled away from the hug, still holding the sleeping man close “Oh Jimmy…” he muttered softly “let’s get you to bed”. With that, Stan stood up and carried him to bed, tucking him in and turning off the lights. That night, Jimmy had the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

The next morning, Jimmy woke up feeling actually kind of refreshed for once. As soon as he got out of bed, he remembered seeing Stan’s ghost last night. “Damn, what a wild dream” he thought with a humorless chuckle “At least it was much nicer than my usual ones…” . Having the rare motivation to shower, Jimmy left his room and pulled his shirt off on the way out. He stopped in his tracks though when he saw a sparkling, blue-hued Stan floating just a few feet away from him.

“Jimmy! Good morning!” The spirit said, floating back down to the ground with a welcoming smile. He blushed a deeper blue at the sight of his bare-chested friend, but he just tried to act normal “Did you have a good sleep?”.

Jimmy was so startled that he tripped over himself and fell backwards, landing on his back. He anxiously backed away, still on the ground “Y-You’re—y-you’re- you’re..” he stuttered, in complete shock and disbelief.

“Not again…” Stan thought to himself “Calm down, Jimmy. It’s okay. It really is me, I promise” he stepped forward and lent Jimmy a hand in getting back up .

“This can’t be happening, …Stan, y-you’re… you’re dead.”

Stan nodded “I’m very aware of that, Jimothy” he stated softly “but I’m here” he looked down at himself “I guess… I’m a ghost.” Kind of an awkwardly blunt thing to say, but it’s all he could think of.

“Welp, I’ve officially lost it” Jimmy spoke flatly, placing his palm against his forehead.

“No no, Jimmy! I really am here! What I said last night was true! I’ve been following you around for the past two weeks, unable to talk to you or touch you! But, for some reason, I was finally able to last night.”

Jimmy’s usually tired eyes lit up “W-Were you the one fighting off those fuckin’ rapists last night?” he asked as he put his shirt back on.

Stan slowly nodded.

“Y-You… you really are here” Jimmy stepped closer, and the two carefully embraced in an unsure hug “S-Stan… O-Oh Stan, I missed you so much…” the waterworks started up again, and he squeezed his friend closer.

“I’ve missed you too, Jimmy. I’m so sorry it took this long… I couldn’t stand seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night, b-but I had no choice! I could only touch objects, but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything..”.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m just so glad you’re here. I-…I can’t describe how badly I missed you” They pulled away from the comforting hug and looked into each other’s eyes “… I, … never realized how much I needed you, Stan. You’re my best friend, a-and the only person who’s ever showed genuine kindness to me”. Stan didn’t say anything, he just let his loving smile do the talking. It worked, because Jimmy returned the wide smile. Stan missed that handsome smile of his so much, it was a rare sight, even back when Stan was alive. “Fuck, I-I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Jimmy suddenly laughed excitedly as he hugged Stan yet again.

Stan giggled and squeezed him close “Who are you and what have you done with Jimmy? I’ve never seen you this happy!”.

“Of course I’m happy!” Jimmy responded cheerfully “Staniel Wheeler is still kickin’, even after death!”.

They let go of each other once again and Stan rubbed the back of his neck “Y-Yeah! …” his smile slowly faded “….y-….yeah”.

It took no time for Jimmy to realize “O-Oh, …r-right. Sorry, I know you’re probably really messed up after all of this. ..Um, … if you… don’t mind me asking, … what happened to you?”. Stan looked at him with a sort of, …sad confusion. “Sorry. I-I meant, just… why did this happen to you? You… overdosed on oxy. You didn’t… do that on purpose, ..did you?”.

Stan shook his head solemnly, relieving Jimmy of his worries that his best friend committed suicide “It was an accident. I just, … took too many I guess.”

“Oh”.

The two stayed silent for a moment, until Stan thought of something “Hey, I um… know you haven’t eaten in a while. How about you grab something to eat while we catch up?”.

Jimmy smiled and nodded “That would be great.”

—

“So you can float, huh?”.

Stan, 3 feet off the ground, giggled at the question “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool?” He levitated back down and sat on the couch next to Jimmy. The druggie finished up his bacon and eggs and took a swig of water “Hey um, ..Jimmy?”.

“Yeah, Fanny pack?”.

“Um.. H-…How many… How many people showed up to my funeral?”.

Jimmy’s eyes widened in horror at such a intense question “O-Oh, …Stan. Tons of people showed. Even some people I didn’t know. You made a lot of friends, Stan” he gave the once blonde, now blue-haired, ghost a friendly smile.

Stan returned the smile, but it was short lived “… M…Maybe this is a dumb question, b-but… Um…were Denise and Roy there?”.

Jimmy’s head slightly lowered, but he took Stan’s hand and looked up at him “I’m sorry, Stan.” Tears brimmed the ghost’s eyes, and he leaned against Jimmy’s shoulder, crying into it quietly. Jimmy wrapped an arm around him “Hey, forget them. They don’t deserve you, Stan. If they can’t see what an amazing person you are, ..u-um, were… well then, to hell with them!”.

Stan sniffled “B-But my baby boy…”.

“Stan. I’m… sure … Roy… loves you very much” he lied, but he knew he had to “but, you know how Denise is. You should focus on the tons of friends that attended your funeral. Kiki was there, Tyrone…, Selene, …Mel, Ziggy, … and I think I even saw Brenda!”.

Stan wiped his eyes “R-Really?”.

“Really.”

“Th-Thank you, Jimmy. That d-does actually make me feel a lot better”.

“No problem, bud. Oh! …uh, … that reminds me. I need to thank you too.”

“Hm? Thank me?”.

Jimmy nodded “Yeah. You’re the reason I’m still here”. Stan looked at him as if he had said that fire was cold. Jimmy noticed the confusion and realized that Stan might not even know his that his heart is in Jimmy’s chest “Well, Stan, when I heard the news of your… Death, I…apparently had a heart attack.”

Stan looked at him in shock “What? Heart attack? B-But, you’re not even 30 yet!”.

Jimmy nodded and rubbed the back of his neck “Mhm. It’s called Broken Heart Syndrome. My heart failed at the… Stress, I guess” he shrugged “I needed a new heart, and… You just so happened to be an organ donor.”

“That’s right…” Stan said softly, remembering when he signed up to die as an organ donor “so… That means… My heart is… In your chest?”.

Jimmy nodded “funny, isn’t it?” He commented with a bittersweet smile as he rested his hand on his chest.

“Oh, I’m so honored! Now I can be sure that my heart went to someone good” Stan wrapped an arm around his friend and pulled him into a nice side hug “so… You had a heart attack… At the news of my death?”.

“Of course I did, Staniel. You’re my best friend. I love ya, man.”

Joyful tears brimmed Stan’s eyes and he grinned gratefully “I love you too, Jimmy!”

The two just enjoyed their hug for a moment, the both of them being so incredibly grateful to have one another again “So.. You’re a ghost, huh?”.

Stan pulled his arm away and looked at his hands “Yeah…”.

“Do you have unfinished business or something?”.

The spirit stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were lost in a trance “No… No. I think, … I think I’m going to stay with you as a ghost until you die”. Stan’s words were spoken in a strangely flat way, almost like an empty demon had possessed him.

“What?”.

“I don’t know, Jimmy!” His cheerful attitude returned out of the blue “something tells me that that’s just the case. I’m sticking with you until you die. And then, we can both rest in death”.

“That’s…. The creepiest fucking thing you’ve ever said” Jimmy stated, raising and eyebrow and leaning away from his friend.

“Sorry. My gut’s just telling me that’s what’ll happen.”

Jimmy stood up “Well, how about I shower and then we can make some water deliveries! Maybe get into some trouble, I dunno. OOH! We could totally prank some assholes with your ghostly abilities.”

Warmth filled Stan’s, rather metaphorical, heart, and he smiled ear to ear. It was such a relief to see his best friend back to his old self “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Friendly J!”.

#friendlypack #stan the water man #jimmy bending #au #gifted heart #friendly j #my art #fanfic

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hyun-swoon · 5 years ago

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Statistics Angel

@heonie-ween it’s me!!! your secret santa!!! my gift to you is a fic that may or may not have gotten away from me and possibly inspired me for many other monsta x fics!!!

it’s like 2300 words so it’s under the cut so the post won’t be so long

Summary: Kihyun regretted a lot of things. Not rooming with Minhyuk and just accepting the randomly assigned roommate. Taking MInhyuk's advice for elective. Not taking the professor's advice for when to start the project.

He's not sure if he regrets ending up in the library in the middle of the night, yet.

Link to AO3 here

Kihyun stumbled into the library. It was half past midnight and his roommate sexiled him. Normally, he’d just go to Minhyuk’s room and crash on his floor but Minhyuk was a light sleeper with an early test and Kihyun was in the middle of a huge project.

It was his fault for leaving the whole project until the last minute even though he explicitly remembers his professor telling not to do exactly that. Hyungwon was in the same class and had texted him a picture of his submission screen that morning. Kihyun had simply sent the middle finger emoji and stewed in bitterness over his own poor choices.

So here he was, cursing his roommate for making him leave the safety of their room for the judgment of the library.

“No one is judging you,” Kihyun hears in the back of his head in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Minhyuk’s. “You only get judged when you play sound and don’t have headphones or when you hold obnoxiously loud conversations.” Kihyun supposes that Minhyuk would know from working at the circulation desk and otherwise spending every waking hour outside of class in the library, but he was disinclined to believe his friend who gave an entire half-hour rant before noticing Kihyun’s earbuds.

The library is thankfully empty, most classes have tests instead of projects for midterms and by Thursday night (Friday morning), everyone has either taken their exams or decided that if they don’t already know it, they won’t learn it before morning.

Kihyun picks a table and begins spreading all his supplies out. Although, once he has the file open and the printed instructions in front of him, all progress grinds to a halt. God, who needs statistical analysis anyway? Not Kihyun with his vocal linguistics major, that’s for sure. He needed an elective and when Minhyuk, a business and mathematics double major, said statistics was an easy elective, Kihyun didn’t even think to consider Minhyuk’s majors.

Taking a deep breath, Kihyun puts his earbuds in, cranks up his music and sets to reading the instructions one more time. He starts with formatting and the heading for his paper. Little by little, he begins running the analysis and organizing the numbers into a table. With the easiest part finished, Kihyun checks the time and becomes disheartened once again. It was already nearing 2 am and he still had several more analyses to run and a whole paper to write explaining it.

Saving his work, he pushes his laptop away and lets his head fall onto the table with a thunk. He’s not sure how long he sits like that, but sometime between his wonderings of if it’s too late to drop out and become a trophy husband and if a concussion would get him out of the assignment, something drums on the table. Kihyun turns his head slightly to see a hand resting near his laptop.

He had downed an energy drink and a half before his sexile and after finishing the second one on the walk to the library, he was halfway through his third but he was fairly certain he hadn’t texted Hyungwon about his plans of self-inflicted concussion.

Looking farther up the arm the hand was connected to, Kihyun realizes that it is not Hyungwon or even anyone he knows. The man is buff, certainly way more than any of his own friends, if the state of his forearms were anything to go by. He is wearing a light gray hoodie with the university logo huge across the chest. The hoodie rests halfway on his head and the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. His hair is fluffed like he just woke up from a nap and if not for his thick framed glasses, Kihyun would have put him squarely into the jock category. Still not sure if he’s hallucinating, Kihyun continues to stare before reaching out to touch the man’s hand.

When he actually makes contact, he jolts out of his stupor and nearly falls out of his chair, stopped only by the man’s grip on his forearm.

“Um,” Kihyun’s voice cracks slightly and he grimaces, “Can I help you?”

“Well, I’m working up on the second floor—” he starts.

“Oh my god, can you hear my music all the way up there?!” Kihyun interrupts before the man has a chance to finish, “I’m so sorry! My friends are always saying that I’m going to go deaf with how loud my music is. I can—” Kihyun cuts himself off when the man raises a hand.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” The man smiles and Kihyun nearly cries with how his face goes from stoic to adorable. “I was going to say that I was going for a walk to take my mind off my test in 5 hours when I saw your screen,” he gestures towards Kihyun’s laptop which has since gone dark. “Did you need help with your statistical analysis? Because I would love to help you.”

Kihyun is dumbstruck. He reaches out again, just to make sure this man was real. Then he pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. “God, this is due at 10 am and I would love some help.” Kihyun mutters. "My name is Kihyun."

The man smiles once again, his eyes crinkling shut, “My name is Hyunwoo. I have to grab my stuff I’ll be right back.”

Once Hyunwoo was gone, Kihyun scrambled for his phone to text Hyungwon. A gorgeous man just offered to help me with statistical analysis. I think I’m in love and I can die happy.

Kihyun stacked most of his shit to make room for Hyunwoo. Just as he is puzzling through a page that looks more like doodles than notes, Hyunwoo sets his stuff down next to Kihyun.

Kihyun wakes his screen up and from the questioning look from Hyunwoo, simply shrugs his shoulders. “I have no idea what I’m doing at all.”

“Well,” Hyunwoo switches from the spreadsheet to Kihyun’s paper, “Kihyun, you are in luck, I had this class two years ago with this same professor. The data is different but I can tell you that she won’t like the way your report is formatted at all.”

Hyunwoo makes quick work of the formatting while Kihyun stares dumbfounded. Hyunwoo has switched back to Kihyun’s spreadsheet and the data he has collected when his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Where did you get this data? No offense, but it’s kind of shitty.” When Kihyun starts to explain what he did, Hyunwoo shakes his head, “Yeah that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

Before Kihyun can question him, Hyunwoo starts walking him through how he should have generated the data.

“Now you have these price points to run a regression and you just have to interpret the equation for how the two data sets relate to each other.” Hyunwoo looks at Kihyun. “Make sense?”

Kihyun looks at the regression Hyunwoo ran and blinks, “Not at all. Where do you get an equation from that and what do any of these numbers mean?”

“How have you made it this far in the semester?” Hyunwoo mutters under his breath before he starts explaining what the different parts of the regression mean and what to do with all the numbers.

Sometime around 4 am, everything clicked and started making sense, “Alright no offense, but I need you to shut up so I can write before I lose all coherence and understanding.”

Hyunwoo nods and returns to his own notes to study for his exam. The two work in silence until Kihyun hits a wall. “Wait, can you explain this part to me again?” Hyunwoo looks where Kihyun is pointing and nods before setting into an explanation.

Kihyun is furiously taking down notes so he doesn’t forget again while Hyunwoo watches on, “Why are you in a business statistics class as a linguistics major?”

“Dumbass friend recommended it as an easy elective and I didn’t even consider the fact that Minhyuk is a double major in mathematics and business.” Kihyun mutters. “At least Hyungwon is in my class, even if he’s also a business major.”

Instead of trying to continue the conversation, Hyunwoo hums in acknowledgement and returns to his studying.

Somehow, Kihyun makes it all the way to the end of his paper without needing any additional explanation.

Hyunwoo groans at 6:30, dropping his head onto the table and mirroring Kihyun’s position from several hours earlier, “7 am is really too early for a test.”

Wordlessly, Kihyun pulls his last energy drink out of his backpack and sets it in front of Hyunwoo, barely stopping his typing.

“No, I can’t take this.” Hyunwoo tries to protest, “You’ll need it for your classes today.”

Kihyun pauses his typing, saving his work. “I only have the one class today at 10 and there’s going to be places open then on campus, I can buy another one. There is nothing open now. Just take the energy drink as thanks for helping me.” He is so focused on finishing his report that Kihyun doesn’t notice the way Hyunwoo’s eyes crinkle up into a smile again.

Hyunwoo begins packing up his study materials and Kihyun has turned his music up again with more people coming into the library at the more normal hour. When Hyunwoo leaves, Kihyun absentmindedly wishes him luck, busy proofreading his report.

Just as Hyunwoo is getting out of his test, Kihyun hits submit on his report and data, holding his breath until the confirmation screen appears. Once it does appear, Kihyun saves all his material from the project and closes each one. He looks at his phone, seeing that Hyungwon had been awake during his love declaration but less than helpful. Minhyuk texted at 6:45 cursing 7 am tests and complaining that they should get coffee together. His roommate texted only 2 minutes ago that his hook up left and Kihyun can come back to the room. Kihyun scoffs and ignores him, responding an affirmative to Minhyuk about coffee and telling Hyungwon he didn’t die and his statistics angel explained everything so he was able to finish his project with 2 hours to spare.

As he is shuffling through papers so he can pack up and meet Minhyuk at the coffee shop just off campus, Kihyun notices a smaller note with a phone number.

Text me and maybe I can explain statistics at a more reasonable time :) -Hyunwoo

Kihyun blinks and regrets giving his last energy drink to Hyunwoo because now he’s not sure if he’s hallucinating. Who knows how long he would have sat there if Minhyuk hadn’t texted him wondering where he is and why he isn’t at the coffee shop.

Immediately shoving all his notes and his computer into his backpack and Hyunwoo’s note into his back pocket, Kihyun briskly walks out of the library, letting Minhyuk know he’ll be there soon.

Adding Hyunwoo’s number to his phone, Kihyun opens a new message, Hey, it’s Kihyun. Thanks for basically teaching me the first half of the semester last night. Just name a time and place and I’ll bring my notes.

Upon reaching the coffee shop, Kihyun doesn’t see Minhyuk anywhere. Just as he’s about to text him, hands from behind cover his eyes. “Guess who?”

Kihyun turns around, “Minhyuk if you aren’t here don’t text me like you are.”

Minhyuk pouts at him, “I just wanted to make sure you would get here without making me wait too long. You’ve done it before.”

Kihyun groans, “It was one time!”

Minhyuk huffs, “It still happened.”

“If you’re trying to guilt me into buying you coffee it won’t work.” Kihyun steps up to order his own coffee before stepping aside for Minhyuk, “I do have some news to share though.”

Minhyuk nearly lights up and quickly orders his coffee and pulls Kihyun to an empty booth. “Tell me. Quickly too because I’ve got a classmate coming to discuss a project.”

“Okay so you know that hell statistics project that Hyungwon and I had due today that we weren’t supposed to start the night before?”

Minhyuk groans, “Kihyun I warned you about this!”

“I know!”

Before Kihyun can continue the story his and Minhyuk’s names are called. Kihyun rises to get the coffee because no matter how much of a hurry he claims to be in, Minhyuk always chats up the barista.

“Okay so as I was saying,” Kihyun continues, “I started it last night and then my roommate sexiled me so I had to go to the library. I got the first part done and then considered concussing myself but an angel descended from the second floor and helped me with everything and I got it done and statistics makes sense now! He gave up time to study for a 7 am test to help me.” Kihyun looks dreamily out the window, “He was a statistics angel. I think I’m in love Minhyuk.”

“Does your statistics angel have a name?”

“Hyunwoo,”

“Hmm,” Minhyuk hums. He looks over Kihyun’s shoulder, “Hi, Hyunwoo-hyung.”

The force that Kihyun turns his head should have given him whiplash. True to Minhyuk’s greeting, there stood Hyunwoo. He seems to have gone home after his and Minhyuk’s test. He’s wearing a different sweatshirt and a beanie over his hair. Most noticeable is his lack of glasses.

Kihyun feels his face heat up, “How much of that did you hear?”

“You think I’m a statistics angel?”

Kihyun puts his face in his folded arms while Minhyuk cackles. Hyunwoo taps the table like he did in the library so many hours ago. Kihyun looks up reluctantly, “Can I suffer my embarrassment in peace?”

Hyunwoo smiles and Kihyun tries very hard not to swoon. “No because I was ready to text asking if you wanted to go on a date that didn’t involve statistics.”

(“Wait, Hyunwoo-hyung when did you get so smooth? Stop asking my friend out and teach me your ways!”

“Minhyuk we have a project to work on.”)

#ps i follow from tigercallalily #mss #my gift!#i hope you like it!!!!#fun fact i definitely did exactly what kihyun did for a project #except minus the energy drinks and shownu explaining stats #i was on my own and i still don't really understand them

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pwnyta · 6 years ago

Text

Nobody ASKED for any of my shitty Pokemon character doodles... BUT IM IN A MOOD.

SO yall have to deal with it.

This is under a read more so dont come at me about it being annoyingly long. Blame Dumblr. Theres a SHIT TON OF DOODLES UNDER THE CUT.

First off I wanted to give Holly a whole classroom of friends... it wasnt GONNA be an all girls school... but I kept crankin of little girly Mons....

I dont actually have a shiny Darumaka or Eevee... but theyre two of my favorite shinies...

I drew these four after so theyre a bit different in style. Shiny Swirlex has the same excuse as the other two shinies... I just love the shiny colors

They also needed a teacher so I repurposed one of my older characters because I thought itd be funny to have a swan teacher... cuz swans are so scary but they care for their babies well.

Darla and Delilah can be bothered with threats because theyre safe with Mr Shandra.

Mikhail only takes classes that are small enough to fit under his wingspan so he can keep them all safe. And Eva and Tiffany learn from the best and just get pissed off like their teacher.

((Hes more bark than bite though... hes not a great fighter and a double weakness to Electric? Garbo. But he puts up a convincing enough front.))

And because he was a swan I gave him a life mate. The only other being that gets any softness from him.

He was an ex pirate.

Mikhail has no interest in criminals!!! So the captain gave up the pirate life and married a very short tempered bird and gained a lot of weight...because I wanted him chubby.

---

‘’Spider’’, Esi, and dear ol Dad. Despite Reds best efforts to keep Esi out of Osborns hands he still ended up an immensely shady bastard but at least hes not as broken as ‘’Spider’’.

I didnt finish their moms because I couldnt settle on a design for Spiders mum....

Now Spider works for Caedere his beloved boss who would never ever lie to him ever. (Hint: Spiders nature is ‘naive’)

---

I tried revamping Ray and Hebanon... but Ray still gay as hell for his boy.

I bullied Sparky a little. He’ll probably be fine even if Rays got a Mega evo. Its the name of the game Ray... hes supposed to knock his opponent out... you cant get pissed when ever Hebanon gets fucked up in battle.

---

Did I post these? Am I ever gonna finish these character sheets? No. And look I forgot the most pressing detail of Zippos and thats his fuckin Arbok mark on his back. IM A FOOL.

Kreetan and his mum and dad.

So many little comic things I’ll never finish because theres too many and instead of just stopping and finishing something I keep adding to my unfinished doodles instead. This is why I dont take requests or anything.

I time where Leif and Cyndy actually grow up?

THEY ALL HAVE CAT EARS.

Zippo is curious.

.....AS A CAT.

Polly is here too!! And shes ready to punch someone RIGHT IN THE NOODLE.

I also thought itd be nice to draw out some other Chars of Zippo and Crizs generation.

Theyre.. as you may have guessed are not finished yet.

Clem is a timid lad, Mira... not so much. Very brave

Addy is a modest princess type

Jubilee is a sassy lass.

And Criz. A sweet bashful boy whos never done anything wrong and certainly will not die because no one would be cruel enough to let that happen.

((EYES EMOJI))

Babby Clem, Addy, and Jubilee.

WHO’RE THESE ASSHOLES?!

---

Updated Mistletoe. One spooky righteous(in his own mind) lad.

She only looks stoic to start... but shes quite the weirdo.

She just got here and shes ready to go home. What a mood.

Now for some less polished individuals....

Meh meh meh lookit me IM OMI. Im gonna put three of the exact same Pokemon in the same group so Pwnyta has to suffer tryna come up with different designs.

...But I do like them. I imagine that they remain Ekans because they wont need the mark of their tribe so no one will no where they come from. So spooky.

I was torn between the codename ‘Sundown‘ and ‘Daybreak‘ for Crobat.

By day hes a wholesome trustworthy priest... by night he tortures people for a shady shady bug man. He’ll determine if youre truly innocent.

Doc has to deal with all these fuckin weirdos... he just wants to be a doctor... BUT AT WHAT COST DOC?!

This is a sequel to the doodle comic I was makin in a previous post... Kop and Doc develop an interesting friendship (In Kops mind. Its more a ‘stalker with a crush’ situation) But hey if Kops not being paid then hes got no reason to hurt Doc.

...Docs a fun character to bully because hes so smarmy and small.

---

AND NOW FOR SOME SCIENCE BITCHES.

A man of few words and an intense curiosity with mortal beings and his own existence.

A spooky lad who doesnt quite mean to torment his subordinates... its just his Pressure.

Id imagine his form changes are a bit like Iron Man in IW when hes fighting Thanos.

I drew some more science bitches...

Some casual clothes for the original three stooges.

Shes deaf Franz! She cant hear you.

Ya know IDK if itd be ‘canon‘ that they all met as kids... I just thought itd be cute. Little psychic babies all doofin off together... the most troublesome one being asleep 90% of the time due to being an Abra.... and narcoleptic. Abra sleep so much naturally... Geller sleeps even MORE... thats why hes so incredibly smart even for an Alakazam.

I had a whole little redo sketch comic idea of Mewtwo breakin loose and fuckin shit up.... (its never been finished)

Franz tries to put him to sleep. (it doesnt work. He needs Emanuel and Nola to save him and he gets his arm broken for bein such a cheeky lad.)

Mewtwo doesnt have too much of a problem with Geller due to his soft spot for kids and pure desire for knowledge... but if hes gonna protect the other assholes then PERISH.

Dont worry though big boss Deo wont let his subordinates die let alone the second smartest after him... and saves them all pretty easy. A sharp tentacle arm through the chest will stop even Mewtwo.

Some booboos happen tho...

But hes fine eventually and finds his ex wife home watchin the kids.

Shes promptly expelled.

Geller also goes back for Dilla and steals him. Lifes too short not to adopt an ancient fossil baby.

Emanuel isnt delighted... but he doesnt have the heart to call the authorities on a man who risked his life to save him.

Fossil Mons come in two types-- Resurrected fossils which have the skin color of the primary coloring of their Pokemon form so they can be solid black or blue or red or w/e... Ancestors of ancient Pokemon have normal skin tones.

And another comic sketch idea... where Geller and Roswell are gifted with some fancy new Mega stones... Ros? Not too keen on the idea hes seen what can happen to a bitch when they Mega Evo... he aint got time for that. Geller goes HARD for SCIENCE.

Ros: Geller I know your a spoon guy but stick a fork in that bastard cuz hes done. COOKED. If he thinks im riskin my ass for his bullshit. Lets go tell him off together (im scared to go without you...)

Geller: We experiment on living things all the time for the sake of scientific progress.... are we really too good to be subject to our own studies?

Ros: YES. ABSOLUTELY.

After seeing Geller use his without hesitation, putting his body through a world of hurt for the sake of SCIENCE!!! Ros couldnt pussy out on his boy...

His Mega is just FABULOUS and now he loves it.

I was also makin a team with the Pokemon that have the highest stats (non Legends/Psudos/Megas) but I got bored after Blissey. She has a Togekiss wife I didnt finish either... Oh well.

Shes a bold lass and prefers double battles with her support wife. She doesnt like using dangerous moves as its in her nature as a Blissey to heal.

---

(I forgot his whiskers... OH WELL)

I wanted to give Flaminio some people who missed him after he got spirited away by his Ghosts.

After he disappeared people looked for him but he was never found and years and years went by and people stopped looking. Even Clove and Ceto had to move on.

Koban is a loyal bitch though and he never let it go. He still wants his friend back. Hes an old boy now... so old people probably call him ‘Nekomata‘ and wonder when his tail is gonna split.

#PKMN fanarts #RIP Omi if you get through all of this...#Pwny Gijinka mon fanarts.

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alicenpai · 7 years ago

Note

Hello ^^ Ur art is amazing! I was wondering if u can give me some tips on establishing an online presence? Things like networking and getting my art to be known

Ah hello!! thank you so much ;o; I’m not sure if I’m really qualified to answer this, IT TOOK ME REALLY LONG. AND TBH I DON’T EVEN THINK I FOLLOW MY OWN ADVICE, but *mario voice* HERE WE GOOOOOO –

Just a disclaimer before we start: some (all?) of these tips are specific to my personal experiences, and they may or may not work for you. I have been posting art online for a little over 10 years, and my experiences may not be the same as yours/other artists (I grew pretty slowly!!). Please keep that in mind. I think I kept this tutorial pretty fair, however. If they did help you I would honestly love to hear your story! ^^

1. First off, consider: what are you passionate about? What do you want others to see when they stumble on your page?

For me I love games, so I’ll try to draw a lot of that (despite being slow at drawing), and I’d like to focus more on my OCs in the near future. I’m not saying you should limit yourself to labels, but, know where your passions lie! If you like cartoons, draw a lot of cartoons! If you like bgs, draw bgs! You like originals? Go wild! My message is that everyone has a thing or two that they really like! Show what you’re passionate about! There is always a community for your interests.

About fandoms: just remember that if you switch fandoms due to changing interests, lack of time etc. - some people may unfollow or express negative feelings, that’s normal. For me, when I completely stopped posting shounen anime content, my engagement went -WET FART WHOOPIE CUSHION SOUND- down. But hell you can’t please everyone! so just do whatever makes you happy (as long as it’s not harmful to others obviously)

—

2. HAVE A CONSISTENT SCHEDULE. REMEMBER THAT YOUR HEALTH ALWAYS COMES FIRST.

“Algorithms” (I dislike that word sometimes, it gets thrown around more often than the first slice of bread, you know?) will never cater to creators, so don’t beat yourself up if you can’t make 9000 shitty instagram reels a week just because the CEO says so. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO POST 1 DRAWING EVERY WEEK.* And remember that we are in a global pandemic (AT THE TIME OF WRITING) so it’s okay to take breaks, long breaks are cool too.

Being consistent means maintaining a schedule - uploading every other day, 1x a week, 1-3x a month, etc. - however many times as you want. It doesn’t necessarily mean be “active”, but I think people appreciate knowing how often they can expect work from you! Because they love to see your content and they’re excited for it!

For me personally - I find that uploading 1 piece of artwork per month is usually a pretty good schedule (for a full time post-secondary student/working adult). And I know that may be shocking HAHA. but time really does fly and 1 month can go by in the blink of an eye! Many artists I know abide by that, and so do I - I don’t find that my audience dips too much, and if 5-10 people leave, it doesn’t really matter. In high school with a lighter workload, I might’ve posted 1 drawing a week (or like 3-4x a month) but as my workload grew, I had less time for personal artwork, so 1x a month is already quite good IMO! If you think 1x a month isn’t enough to grow an audience - in the meantime you can join communities and hang out with other artists, or just chat with a close group of artist friends ^^ (see #4)

* You don’t have to post 1 drawing every week, but I know other artists recommend posting text posts in between art so that people know you’re still online! Shitposts are cool (just don’t like.. spam so much that twitter bans you?)! You can talk about that new game you played during your downtime! You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. Some people don’t really like to type at all. Some artists prefer to just post, and that’s okay too.

In a previous version of this post, I said being “active” is important. Trying to adhere to other people’s advice destroyed my sense of self-esteem and productivity. Bad 2017 Alice! Bad! I’ve always struggled a lot with “being active”, because I draw slow, I often felt like I had to “catch up” to my peers, and that’s a toxic attitude to have for myself. I’d occasionally crank out shitty doodles that no one really reacted to, so it made me feel worse. I burn out, I delete posts, I produce nothing. Feel awful about myself as both a person and artist. A vicious cycle.

In regards to being concerned over people unfollowing: my honest opinion is that people follow so many creators nowadays, that they can always look at another creator in the meantime while you’re busy (even if you’re someone’s favourite creator… most people are decent human beings and understand you need time off). It’s normal to get unfollows when you’re not posting every other day, or if you switch fandoms. Heck even for me I’ve lost like more than 100 followers in an inactive period. It’s normal. Your productivity and follower count have nothing to do with your worth as an artist.

—

3. Join communities and be nice to others! Twitter is best for networking because of the nature of the platform (i.e.: more conversational), but obviously don’t be a pushy salesman or constantly follow and unfollow to get someone’s attention and stuff like that - use your judgement. Join art discord groups, even a LOT of fandom discord servers have an art channel too! (join one of your favourite anime or etc, a lot of them have the links posted publicly on reddit), join dA groups, drawing/theme challenges (e.g. you wanna try traditional art? get inking! your favourite ship is doing a themed week? sink with them! people love ships!) Look out for redraw memes, 60/69 min challenges, current topics, etc etc.

I think nowadays it’s easier to join communities as a young artist than when I first started posting art online ^^; (LOL I just had dA) You guys should take advantage of that!

TRY OUT NEW DRAWING SITES! Artfol, Pillowfort (NSFW?), and Sheezyart are some new sites that I’ve seen floating around. Getting involved helps attract eyes to your work. Art platforms may not get you as much attention as tumblr, twitter, or instagram, since they will likely be used by more artists and less non-artists, but art sites cannot grow ant thrive unless people sign up right? I’ve tested Artfol (briefly...) and I think it’s definitely worth trying out!

This is a given, but always tag your work according to the platform. Know what tags work depending on the platform (e.g. 4378548754875 tags on 1 tweet tend to be abused by spam bots, so the more tags on twit the more suspicious the post looks IMO). Very different culture depending on the platform. On instagram and tumblr go crazy. Twitter is good with just 1 with the series, e.g. “#persona5″, or you can just mention it in the post caption, e.g. “Haru is my favourite character! (persona 5)”, because content is still searchable that way as well.

---

4. Be patient - don’t worry if you don’t get noticed overnight, or in a couple months… or years even. Don’t panic. Sometimes your work is just not ready for a larger audience. EVERYONE’S EXPERIENCE IS DIFFERENT, no one’s experiences should be discounted - look at each artist’s experience/art growth individually. And this isn’t meant to be discouraging or insulting, sometimes it really is just luck that will get you noticed.

For me personally, I’ve been posting art online since late middle school. I think it took me about SIX whole years before my art started to go somewhere (conventions helped me too), but even then it took me another TWO years AFTER to break my first 1000 followers (at least on twitter, tumblr I kept no records of as far as I know). So yes, it took me almost EIGHT years online to go somewhere. But I did start posting art when I was quite young, and I would NOT even say that my art was good until the last few years. In fact, let’s roast my old art now:

My friends gifted me a tablet for my birthday and I took to that shit like how kids inhale sugar. I’m really grateful for them. As a teen I was frustrated as to why my work wasn’t getting eyes, I considered myself “pretty good” because of the insane improvement I made in just 2 years’ time. But I think this work just wasn’t technically very strong, or appealing to others yet.

Some people are more lucky than others, but honestly don’t worry if you struggle with your online presence. A lot of other artists are in the same boat, even if they don’t post about it publicly! Even I struggle to find the right time & content to post. Sometimes you can just blame the “alg*r*thm” (derogatory). And remember, large follow counts don’t mean the artist is rich……

—

5. Closing thoughts: don’t forget to have fun! (No this is not a threat). Your personal art is all about self exploration and fun (art for work is different). You should draw what you like, but it’s... not... a horrible thing to try and draw popular stuff either. I draw fanart for series that I like, because it makes me happy, but it’s also awesome to bring a smile to others’ faces too, right? I think it’s important to maintain a balance and not go overboard/sell out, you know? Don’t forget to explore your boundaries as well! Hope you can find this useful! And if any of these tips helped I’d love to hear it!

#ask #anonymous #tutorial #updated for oct 2021

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itsclydebitches · 8 years ago

Text

Preacher Summer Secret Santa Gift: A Three Flower Bouquet

Title: A Three Flower Bouquet

Summary: Jesse's said before that their lives resemble the start of a bad joke: an ex-preacher, a rich wedding planner, and a foul-mouthed bum all walk into a flower shop...

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 4,574

Warnings: None (except maybe cursing, but if that bothered you you wouldn’t be watching this show lol)

Pairings: Jesse/Cass/Tulip

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

A/N: Hello, @homelygrantaire!! I come bearing a gift! Just so you know I had a blast writing an OT3 flower shop AU, so I really hope you enjoy this little present. Happy Summer Secret Santa!

A Three Flower Bouquet

Week One

Jesse had once read in National Geographic that there were only six degrees of separation between him and every other person on Earth. A friend's colleague's niece's kindergarten buddy grew up to be the wife of the barista who once served the President a cappuccino, that sort of deal. He'd never put much stock in that kind of science-y nonsense, though it might go a long way towards explaining how the hell the three of them kept ending up in here together.

A former preacher, a bum, and a renowned wedding planner all walk into a flower shop...

"We're the beginning of a bad joke," Jesse muttered, hefting his watering can like a pistol. He aimed it at Tulip's head. "What can I do you two for?"

"I need BIG flowers," Cass said promptly at the same time that Tulip went, "The Montoya order." They turned to glare at one another. Jesse just shook his head.

And so the day began.

***

The first time Tulip walked into his shop she was all figurative fire and brimstone—except for the literal fire at the end of her cigarette. She'd commanded the small space with all the ferocity of an army general, laying out a series of rare and rather large orders that she'd need from him within the coming months. At no point did she give her name—which, Jesse would come to learn later, was because she assumed everyone should already knew it—and paid him no heed when Jesse insisted that this was too large a job for his small, out of the way establishment.

She needed tulips, dammit, and she needed them now.

Jesse had been wrist deep in soil at the time and he’d felt is oozing between his fingers, this woman already grating on his nerves, spine, and driving a steak straight through to the back of his skull. He had to take a deep breath and deliberately release his fists, lest he crush the fragile roots just a hairsbreadth below. Jesse turned with a smile.

"I've got some," he said, probably sounding less amiable and more like he was constipated. While passing a kidney stone. God he hated these richie-rich types. "I've also got a contact an hour out who can make up the rest, but it'll take a bit. Really, ma'am, you're better off hitting a larger store."

The look she'd turned on his was pure in its intensity. Jesse's shop was filled with a color and life that didn't belong in Annville's desert, but this woman didn't belong in his shop, not with that sharp tailored suit and three-inch heels. She'd torn the sunglasses from her face and for the first time Jesse got a look at searing black eyes.

"I'm Annville born and bred," she drawled. "I'm loyal."

Jesse couldn't help punctuating her words with a disbelieving laugh. "You're Annville?"

"Fuck yes I am, you got a problem with that?" And one hand curled into a waiting fist, actually rearing back in preparation.

Oh damn. She was Annville. Alright.

Jesse had raised his muddied hands in surrender and went behind the counter to clean up, getting the order forms ready as she prattled on about her work as a wedding planner, her name in the magazines, how the flowers had best be fresh despite the climate because the Livington's were not an easygoing couple.

Jesse weathered her prattling about wanting whites, or maybe pinks, no, wait, maybe something two-toned, and each time she changed her mind it was another scratch out with the pen. By the time he actually got to flip the order around for her to sign it Jesse had determined that small town pride and stunning good looks didn't make up for this kind of nonsense.

Except then she signed Tulip O'hare and suddenly Jesse's day was fantastic.

"You're a Tulip," he said slowly, "in need of tulips..." Jesse looked up with a stunning grin and Tulip, bless her, just rolled her eyes instead of decking him good.

"Yeah, like I've never heard that one before." She threw his pen back on the counter. "I'll be here next Thursday. You'd best have my flowers."

"You doubt me?"

"Oh good god yes."

He'd laughed because yeah, their 'good god' had doubted him too and Jesse had eventually decided that growing things was better than sticking a dead, white collar on his neck every morning. He'd shed his chain like some kind of dog, mangy and still a little bit feral. But now Jesse had bright colors, heady scents, and the picture of someone like Tulip O'hare just begging that he come through for her. Jesse let his eyes follow the sharp lines of her bodyand thought that he could get used to this kind of clientele.

"Thursday then," he agreed. "It's a date."

"It's definitely not."

Tulip had put her cigarette out in his potted iris and honestly? If it had been anyone else Jesse would have had them leaving his store in pieces.

But she was something entirely.

***

Cass was something else too. Holy shit.

Jesse rubbed at his forehead, unconcerned that he was smearing soil over his skin. What had begun as a headache had blossomed (ha) into a migraine of epic proportions, all due to the skinny little twerp half sitting on his counter. Cass had come in for the first time exactly 69 minutes after Tulip left—a fact Jesse only knew because he was that obsessed with when he could close shop—and if that number didn't encompass the man's entire being, Jesse didn't know what would.

He'd known Cass for a handful of seconds. It was one handful too much.

"Back up," Jesse said. He sighed. "You want a cactus?"

"Yep."

"But mine are too pretty?"

Jesse gestured to the small collection of cacti sitting over by the windowsill, most of them in teeny-tiny pots that people found cute and not too intimidating to take care of. They still weren't overly popular though. People could see dry, prickly brush on their way to work everyday, or outside their bedroom window, free for the taking. No, they came to Jesse for the lush and the colorful, things he either had to import or that he grew himself, so slow that sometimes it was hard to part with them. No one in Annville wanted to buy a freaking cactus.

Except this asshole.

"Look at 'em!" Cass said. His voice held enough indignation that Jesse did look again, half expecting the view to change. "They're stupidly pretty. All fuckin' green an'... an' small." Cass pushed his hands palm to palm to demonstrate their smallness, looking pretty angry about it.

Jesse just stared. "...thank you?"

"It won't do. How they hell am I supposed to give Laura somethin' like that? She'll think I actually like her." Cass shook his head despairingly. "The fuck am I supposed to do now?"

That day had felt like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. Jesse was a small town boy with a small town business and he'd gotten used to his routine over the years. That routine sure as hell didn't include a stranger than normal customer, let alone two back-to-back... and yet, let it never be said that Jesse Custer couldn't roll with the punches.

"One sec," he said.

Jesse's backroom was a mess of tools, soil, and vegetation. On his bench was a pot of very dead petunias, the poor things all shriveled and brown. It wasn't his fault the damn things were finicky in this weather and honestly Jesse wasn't bemoaning the loss of those pink flowers, not when they were that cheap to come by. The plan had been to take back the pot and move on. Now Jesse snagged the whole thing, a few dead leaves trailing behind him.

He set the pot down in front of Cass. "This Laura of yours... she the one down at the auto-shop?"

"Yeah! One in the same."

"That woman's a piece of work."

"You're telling me."

"So how about giving her this?"

It was surreal to be presenting that run-down plant like it was something actually worth selling, but sure enough Cass' eyes lit up at the prospect. In that moment Jesse saw the whole situation clearly, how a man like Cass might think that breaking things off with a shitty gift—rather than just some good, old fashioned honesty—might be the way to go. Decked out in a whole collection of ratty clothes, Cass looked like the kind of creative asshole you only ran into once in a blue moon. He wore at least three torn shirts that as a whole nearly succeeded in covering his chest. His jeans were colored over in marker, like a freaking middle schooler's, and that was definitely weed doodled down on his left knee. The only reason Jesse knew his name was because Cass had a "Hello! My name is ____" sticker plastered on his stomach and he could only guess where he'd picked that up. Maybe one of the church's monthly events. It would fit. Jesse was pretty sure the guy was homeless. He kinda smelled homeless.

"I had my heart set on a cactus," Cass sighed. "But I guess a dead thing is better than just a looks-dead thing. Here," he rummaged in his jeans and pulled out three super wrinkled dollars, jellybeans, and a nearly empty packet of Camels. "Does this cover the shit you weren't even planning to sell?"

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he slid the offering across the counter. He left the jellybeans. "How were you gonna pay me if you wanted the cactus?"

"Duh. Was gonna pay you with a kiss. Gotta move on sometime, don’t I?"

Cass winked, grabbed his dead plant, and sauntered out the door with what he probably thought was a seductive strut. Despite the absurdity, Jesse did find himself staring at Cass' ass.

"Aw hell," he said.

***

Week Five

In the two years since he'd chucked the collar, beat up a few old contacts, collected their funds, and started up his shop, Jesse hadn't seen anyone of particular interest come through the door. Emily often came in on the church's behalf, asking for whatever was fresh and cheap to put up front. Jesse honestly didn't know if she did that because they really didn't have the funds, or because she couldn't stand to look at him long enough to actually choose something herself. Probably both. She'd taking his defrocking worse than most.

Others mostly picked up flowers on their way to and from service. For their windowsills. Their gardens. Local weddings, funerals, stupid boys looking to make up with their girls (of which Cass was in the obvious minority). Jesse had resigned himself to a life of flower mediocrity until those two assholes had plowed through at sixty miles an hour.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't keep showing up together.

"I thought you ran a clean establishment, Jesse."

Tulip said it with all the rancor he'd come to expect of her, looking none too subtly at Cass’ grimy attire. A month had passed since she'd grudgingly complimented the tulips he'd provided and in that time she'd no more warmed to Cass than she had to dressing down. Today was a blue, pleated skirt; bright yellow top; killer heels and jewelry fine enough that it could probably feed Jesse for the rest of his miserable life.

Tulip kept a healthy distance between her fine clothes and Cass' scruffy self.

"It's a flower shop," he said. "These things grow in dirt." Cass shook a nearby plant for emphasis. "Manure, luv. Or does your fancy little life not cover some literal day-to-day shit? If you do go is it on a porcelain throne?"

Jesse slowly and carefully leaned his head into his palm. It wouldn't do for Tulip to see him laughing.

He had to hand it to her though, she was a master of manipulation. Tulip kept scrolling through her iPhone, occasionally holding up some pic or another against one of Jesse's flowers, typing out some notes, took a pic of her own... it was only after three long, agonizing minutes had passed that she looked up and said blandly, "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Jesus fuckin' christ."

"Better question." Jesse raised his hand like a schoolboy. "Are you two assholes actually going to buy something?"

"I like your orchids," Tulip said, for the first time actually taking her eyes off Cass. "But I think they're a little classy for the Taitts. They're humble folk, you know? They need something bright with those white table cloths, just nothing that's going to distract from Laura's dress—it's not a very nice dress, can't afford anything more eye-catching. I do worry about the bridesmaids upstaging her—so maybe those sunflowers. Yeah, over there..." She completely missed Cass 'yapping' with his hand behind her back.

"I've only got enough for five vases," Jesse warned.

"That's fine. Humble, like I said. They've only got enough people for five tables anyway."

As Tulip rummaged for her credit card Cass slipped to the floor (he'd been sitting on the table with the lilacs, a smudge of pale brown amongst all the purple) and sauntered up behind Tulip. Like a kid faced with a dog, too stupid to know he'd get bit, Cass curved his hands around her waist and leaned into Tulip's back. He pressed briefly there before peeking out over her shoulder.

Except miracle of fucking miracles, the pretty doggie didn't bite.

"Uh," Jesse said.

"You better be cleaner than you look," Tulip muttered, still shifting through her purse. Cass waved his arms in demonstration and wow. He was clean. Relatively, at least. Jesse was still trying to re-boot his brain when Tulip said, "Ah!"

"No, no." Cass pushed her wallet back down. "This is on me, luv."

Tulip scoffed. "You can pay for five bouquets?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, but Jesse and I have got a tab going, don't we?"

They most certainly did not. Cass' 'tab,' established after his first dead-plant purchase, consisted of promises he never kept and a pair of lethal puppy-dog eyes he wielded with precision. Over the last few weeks Jesse had given the man not perfect, but still serviceable flowers in exchange for all sorts of stupid trinkets and words. He liked to think that he gave Cass lilies and irises because he felt bad for the freeloader. It probably had more to do with Cass' obscenely pouty lips.

He was pouting right now, clearly begging Jesse to help a guy out. His arm moved numbly and somehow (dammit) Jesse ended up signing over the month's largest order for free.

"Enjoy," he said automatically, still staring at Cass' hand wrapped just under Tulip's breast. There were 'thank you's and sly glances and when they finally left the shop, Jesse followed them like the scoundrel he was. An apron, muck boots, and pollen dusted t-shirt sort of ruined his look though.

Still, Jesse could move silent when he needed to and what he found in his spying were his two favorite customers hoofing it to Tulip's Fiat 124 Spider, a car so fucking immaculate that it had no place on Annville's dusty streets. It seemed a shame then for the two of them to immediately start defiling it, both literally and figuratively: Tulip hiking Cass up onto the hood of the car, straddling him as he kept them balanced, the kiss that sent flecks of spit down to sizzle on the paint job, Cass' muddied boots leaving streaks on the tire. It wasn't any voyeuristic guilt that finally turned Jesse away. Just the disappointment that neither of those figures were him.

Of course, all that changed when Cass came back twenty minutes later.

"Crush my sunflowers in your enthusiasm?" Jesse muttered, forgetting for a moment that good, respectable businessmen didn't follow their customers out of doors and watch them going at it like bunnies on a sheet of hot metal. He ducked his head over seed packets and thus missed Cass turning the little sign from 'open' to 'closed.'

In fact, Jesse determined not to notice Cass at all until he was making himself at home between his legs.

Cass dropped to his knees and looked up with a rakish grin. If there was a god in this world maybe he wasn't so disappointed in Jesse's career change after all.

"Told you I'd pay you back," Cass said. He pinched a mouthful of jeans between his teeth and tugged, running hands up under apron and shirt. "Just didn't say how, now did? Think this'll clear up my tab?"

The answer Jesse gave was tangled as a vine because by then Cass was pulling down the zipper, palming the wet spot on Jesse's jeans, breathing deep like he enjoyed the scent of both of them together. Jesse gave up on words entirely and when he looked up there was Tulip standing just outside the storefront, watching them with a cigarette between her lips. There was a sunflower in her hair. She caught Jesse's eye and winked.

"Fuck you both," Jesse muttered, tugging hard at Cass’ hair.

He pulled off only for a moment. “Pretty sure that’s the point, eh?”

***

Week 13

So. Those two showing up at the same time—probably not a coincidence after all.

"Do you even like each other?" Jesse asked one Saturday morning, re-potting a Peperomia. "Do you like me? I'm honestly curious."

"You're serviceable," Tulip said as Cass licked his finger and made a sizzling sound. Right. Jesse didn't know why he bothered. It wasn't like any of them were built for straight answers, the kind of lovey-dovey declarations you got in the movies and on TV. Besides, didn't actions speak louder than words and all that shit?

If they did, their actions told Jesse that they were both complete and utter assholes. Also that they had nowhere better to go.

"This place is awful on my allergies," Tulip moaned, pulling a Kleenex from her purse. "And I was supposed to Skype with a potential client an hour ago." She checked her phone and shrugged, too lazy to move from the tiny chair Jesse had dragged out from the back room. Tulip flapped her hand at her face in a sad attempt to start up a breeze. "And your air conditioning sucks."

"Non-existent," Jesse countered. "Its been busted for weeks. The hot house stuff likes it, but..." He trailed off, staring at Cass who'd scrounged up an ancient GameBoy. He leaned against Tulip's legs and periodically peeled her skirt off of his bare back. It was that kind of heat. "Hey. You could fix the damn thing. Earn your keep if you're gonna hang out here all day."

"No," Tulip said. She kept fanning her face, eyes closed.

"Maybe," Cass said. Which meant 'no.' Dammit.

"Excuse me?"

The three of them turned as an older woman snuck in through the door, opening it so slow and careful that the bell barely rung. Her nerves didn't seem to ease when she spotted Cass and Tulip. If anything, she looked like she wanted to sneak back out.

"Welcome to Flowerworks," Jesse said, hurrying up to the front. "Sorry. Ignore them. They're just friends of mine."

"Is that what we are?" Tulip murmured and Jess flipped her the bird behind his back. The client latched onto his arm as Jesse carefully guided her away from his two fools. Her hand was brittle and fluttered like a bird against his arm.

In fact, the entirety of her looked frail, too thin and breakable for a place like Annville. Hair that was white and thin as cotton candy waved about her shoulders, and her dress—powder blue with a sensible belt—hung on her awkwardly, too big despite the 'XS' tag Jesse could see peaking out from the collar. She looked like a good breeze or a decent curse would send her topping to the ground, and Jesse hurried her over to the remaining chair next to the chrysanthemums, lest she fall and break something here where awful things like suing might get involved. Jesse then took a healthy step back once she was settled. Old people gave him the creeps.

"It's good of you to come in, Mrs...?"

Her mouth worked silently. The woman looked up at Jesse and her expression told him that he'd said something unexpectedly shocking, crude even. Finally, she smiled, but it was a small, awful thing.

"Sawyer," she said. "But I suppose it's 'Ms.' now. My husband died last night."

Behind him, Jesse heard the strangled noise that Tulip made and Cass' tiny "...aw shit." Mrs. Sawyer didn't seem to hear. She reached out a bony hand and gripped the edge of Jesse's apron, the parody of a small child and her mum.

"Howard needs white lilies," she said urgently, gaining some energy. "Although, yes, he never expressed any interest in flowers. Said they were commercial gimmicks. What's the point in spending money on something that's just going to die?" Her voice broke hard on the last word. "But they're coming for him later and I can't leave his grave bare I just can't I—"

"We have lilies," Jesse interrupted gently. He gripped her hand." Plenty of white."

"I woke up next to him," Mrs. Sawyer said. "I've done that every morning,” and all at once she sobbed and put her head between her hands.

This wasn't the first time Jesse had dealt with a distraught customer, but usually they were more composed than this: just slight, hiccupping cries or silent tears that slipped down the cheeks. He was used to anniversaries and useless birthdays, not the immediate aftermath. He floundered, turning to Cass and Tulip, only to find that their support was already underway. Tulip left at a brisk walk to the café down the street, returning with tea and plenty of chocolates. Cass filled the silence with any sort of prattle that seemed to soothe her. As Jesse bundled his best lilies in a black bow, he heard him telling Mrs. Sawyer that he'd once been a preacher. When she looked up with a disgusting amount of hope Jesse couldn't meet her eye.

Mrs. Sawyer left with their awkward condolences. She didn't pay a cent.

"Fucking hell," Cass said. He leaned into Jesse's shoulder as Mrs. Sawyer shuffled out of view.

"Yeah," Tulip agreed.

"What a mess she is. Like a broken doll or somethin'. It's fucking awful." He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and for once Jesse didn't yell at him for getting smoke around his flowers. Cass took a draw, passed it to him, and Jesse next passed it to Tulip. Cass blew the smoke up at the ceiling, nice and slow.

"Think that'll be us someday?" he asked.

"Can only hope so."

***

Week 27

Flower shops felt like they were always standing still. There was something about the slow growth of the plants, the heady scents that added a dream-like atmosphere, and the contrast to the outside world that made it all... removed. Despite flipping the 'open' sign to 'closed' each evening, Jesse had the distinct feeling that time never actually passed here. Maybe it was a quality that all stores possessed. Maybe it was just his.

Or maybe it had something to do with Tulip kissing him.

"Hey, hey, hey," she pulled back and pinched Jesse's side, merciless. "Don't fuck up the hair. I've got a video call at 2:00."

"Plenty of time to fix it," Jesse murmured, starting in on her neck instead.

"You obviously know nothing about hair care."

"I know some other things though..."

Tuesdays were always slow for some reason and Jesse felt no guilt in dragging Tulip to the back room, especially not after she'd been gone two weeks, supervising a wedding in Oklahoma. She's brought back a sweat-stained invitation and a piece of stale cake that Cass had still eaten with relish. He'd gone out to 'work' (hustling the locals at poker) while Tulip had remained.

She was something to behold now, stretched out across his table, her skirt hiked up and her shirt pulled down. Cass was quick blowjobs behind the counter and late night secrets he’d never admit to in the morning. Tulip was slow and worshipful. She gave you nothing but absolute focus. It was rare for any of them to end up in an actual bed.

Jesse slid off the end of the table so he could put his mouth to work below. Tulip's thighs were the color of his soil, stretch marks pale like veined leaves, she trembled as gently as a petal.

He stupidly wanted to tell her that she was prettier than any flower in this store. Jesse knew she'd kick him for it.

Panting, Tulip propped herself up on one elbow and grinned. She reached behind her, fumbled, and snapped off the plant nearest to her. It was a little spring of aster.

"Got you a flower," she whispered.

"You stole it from me."

"Do you care?"

He really, really didn't.

***

Week 52

Six degrees of separation. They couldn't brag about knowing the president or the pope, but fate had certainly brought three distinct people together. More importantly, it refused to let them go.

"We should go on a trip." Cass said it with all the enthusiastic optimism of a toddler. "Just fuckin' drive outta this joint for a while. You know, see the sights, take in the open road, go all the way to the sea." He raised his hand and squinted, the horizon just beyond his reach.

Jesse snorted. "And who's paying for this idiotic romp?"

"Don't need no cash. You just drive an' shit. Take whatever you're given."

"Just drive," Jesse said. "With that gas you can't pay for. On the food we can't buy—"

"Don't be a shit spoil-sport about it."

"I'm rich," Tulip offered. She looked up from her phone when the room was silent too long. "What? I am. So if we're going anywhere it's in something nicer than whatever beat-up trash you're picturing."

"A camper."

"Absolutely not."

"Where would we go?" Jesse asked, because suddenly it all seemed possible, in as much as the three of them ever planned for anything. Not just the trip either, but that they'd be around each other long enough for more trips. Vacations. Growing old. Life.

"Anywhere." Cass skipped around the room until he found the oxeye daisies. He plucked one and not for the first time Jesse marveled that he wasn't run out of business by these two.

"Who'd watch the store?"

Tulip shrugged. "Wait it out. Cancel orders for a while, sell what you have, give a few things to Emily. She can keep them in the church..." For once Tulip wasn't smirking or glowering his way. "It'll be here when we get back."

"Suppose it will," and just like that Cass knew he had won.

He slid back onto the counter, messing up papers and knocking the poor cash register nearly off the side. Cass twirled the daisy between his fingers before plucking off a petal.

"Hey!" but before Jesse got indignant, Cass spoke.

"He loves me, he loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not..."

Oh. Alright. So the three of them watched, confident in where they'd finally land.

#Preacher #AMC Preacher #Preacher Secret Santa #Jesse/Tulip/Cass #Preacherfic #yay posting gifts!

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themjinterviews-blog · 6 years ago

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26. no promotion (like a boss) 5th of vodka (like a boss) shit on Deborah's desk (like a boss)

Do you wish your culture was different? I don’t know, what would it be instead?

What do you love most about fall? The smell…that crisp air, leaves burning, cider-donuts baking in the distance kinda smell.

Have you watched any of those videos on youtube where colorblind people see color for the first time? Isn’t that cool? I haven’t…sounds cool, though.

Are you angry about things currently? Why does my dude need to listen to stuff so loud on the truck stereo? It’s like comedy special and the laughing and clapping is obnoxious at such high volume.

What career do you wish you could have? Graphic design, maybe college philosophy professor, therapist, writer…donno.

Do you want kids? I’d be equally fine with having kids as I would not having kids. I was born without a biological clock and my happiness and quality of life isn’t dependent upon whether or not I have kiddos. If it happens, yay. If it doesn’t, also yay.

Do you want a spouse? I don’t want to die alone and I value love and companionship, I'd love to grow old with someone… but none of those things are attainable strictly via marriage. Weddings are formalities, marriage licenses are paper, real feelings and love exist with or without them. People think getting married ensures some permanence of the spouses affection…however in all reality, if feelings are going to change, they're going to change whether you’re married or not. I'm not object to or against ever getting married, you see, it’s just not essential or necessary.

Who do you want to love and care about you? I don’t know, my family, friends & boyfriend.

Do you have anyone who loves and cares about you in the world? Sure, probably a few people.

Do you wish you could trust someone? No. I trust all people to some degree.

If you’ve been tempted to give up, what is stopping you from giving up? Give up what? I mean, I’ve been trying to give up cigarettes.

Do you wish someone cared about you? Ouch, burn. People care about me.

Do you find it hard to let go of someone who disrespects you, even though you know you should? It’s always hard, usually by that point there’s some degree of involuntary co-dependence and it’s very hard to stabilize the turbulent emotions generated in very toxic relationships. Leaving is not as simple as people who haven’t been there think it is.

Do you wish you were an alien? Certainly not. No offense to aliens, or anything, I just don’t want Giorgio A. Tsoukalos (the crazy hair guy from Ancient Aliens) to write a thesis about me.

Could you be a contortionist? Hell no. I’m neither graceful or flexible.

What careers are you considering? No idea. Always wanted to do graphic design.

Do you trust church leaders? Neither trust nor distrust them…it’s selective and circumstantial. I’m sure a lot of them are inherently decent individuals who try to live their lives in accordance with their beliefs and values. I wouldn’t trust that everything they say is true, but I would say the same thing for every single person, so.

Have you ever been hurt by a church leader? The Pope punched me in the throat in a mosh pit once.

Does nature make you feel alive? It makes me feel refreshed and at peace.

Do you love to paint? I like painting but I prefer doodling with markers, crayons or calligraphy pens.

What is it that you love to do? Write, make beats, color, read.

What are you passionate about? Philosophy, psychology and understanding the human subconscious.

Are you living your dreams? If not, are you working toward it? Wouldn’t say I have any “dreams”, per say.

Are you someone who never gives up? I give up on stuff plenty…paying back student loans, arguing with ignorant people, running up hills, trying to put a fitted sheet on the bed. No shame in knowing when to fold.

Would you consider yourself a free spirit? Why or why not? I don’t really know how you define ‘free spirit'…I don’t run in meadows, barefoot and sing to local wildlife…but I suppose I’m a bit of a gypsy and I don’t necessarily buy into everything society insists upon.

…And if not, do you want to be? Literally don’t care.

What would you have to give up in order to live the life you want to be living? I’m already living the life I want to be, but I did have to give up my job that I also loved.

What are you missing right now? (keys, phone, library card, love, etc.) I have no idea where that Panera Bread gift card went.

Do you have anyone in your life who wants you to go after your dreams? Assuming I actually had dreams, yes. I’m sure there’d be folks rooting for me.

Are you thankful for what you have? Of course.

Do you wish you had more? There’s absolutely no point in doing so.

Are you making the most of what you have? Whatever that means, sure.

Pick a country to visit for a three-week vacation: England, Japan, Morocco, Mexico, Australia, Russia, or Greece? Greece. I’ve always been fascinated with the Mediterranean and I love Kalamata olives.

What do you want more than anything? It’d be nice for spring weather to hurry up.

What do you want for your next birthday? No idea, nothing in particular.

Do you have plans for your next birthday? I do not, it’s much too far in advance for that.

How old will you be turning? 31.

How many months until your birthday? Don’t know, whenever September is.

Who’s birthday is next? My momma's.

Have you made any new regrets this year? No, can’t say I have any regrets. If you can find purpose & value in everything even the crappy things it becomes less likely to regret them.

Did you make the most of your summer? Or did you waste it? Neither. I didn’t do anything spectacular. It was my first few months after my abusive relationship ended and I was essentially just working and enjoying my independence.

Pick one: time travel, mind-reading, or invisibility. Time travel is cool in theory but I there’s so many rules and precautions I'd need to be mindful of so I don’t fuck up the world. Mind-reading is also out of the question... ignorance is bliss and I can’t even imagine the anxieties associated with knowing everyone’s thoughts. So, invisibility it is. I could be an international spy, paparazzi, a bank robber or a peeping tom with great ease.

Are you supernaturally gifted? Definitely not. There’s usually some rational explanation for potentially supernatural occurrences. I'm not saying they’re out of the question, but I’m not jumping the gun without a healthy amount of skepticism.

Are your eyelashes long or short? Didn’t know there was an option. My eyelashes are normal.

Do you like waffles? Who doesn’t like waffles?

Does chocolate give you chest pains? Odd, no.

Do you wish karma were real? It’s real in the sense it’s a widely accepted concept but in all reality, it’s likely attributed to our human tendency to look for patterns and reasons in things that explain other things in our life. There likely is no correlation. The shitty things that happen to people who do shitty things are possibly manifested by their own guilt – that is, to say anything is ‘shit karma' is also subjective. Many people are shaped and transformed by their struggles so, is it truly bad karma? Or is that just what those who have been wronged by them say to feel justice has been served? None of it matters, because it solely depends how you chose to see it.

Do you own footie pajamas? Yeah, I used to…had a unicorn and a cookie monster pair.

Are you creative? In some aspects. Most of my ideas are usually parodies of other ideas.

Do you have a church family? I don’t do the whole church thing.

Have you ever dreamt about getting revenge but felt fine once you awoke? No, I don’t see any point to revenge…and in my experience the best revenge is not giving a fuck and not letting someone's hurtful actions get under your skin. It inadvertently seems to piss people off more when you don’t sink down to their level.

Have you ever worn a birthday crown? I’ve worn a Burger King one?

#survey #questionaire #about me

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