#hey you know who else was comming me last night?? your construction manager. it just doesnt have the ring to it

[grimlocks-noodle]

I just have a gut feeling that Rodimus would absolutely love "your mom" jokes and be torn over the fact that there isn't a good Cybertronian Equivalent

Like yeah "your conjunx" would be close, but it's a different brand of own that just doesn't capture the same energy as "your mom". It's not a one hit KO, "your mom" is in an entirely separate level of diss and Rodimus can never use it properly on account of there Not Being any moms

[thewebcomicsreview]

hussie said a thing abt the epilogues reddit. com/r/homestuck/comments/cuywff/the_homestuck_epilogues_bridges_and_offramps_new/

I also think many of the negative feelings the story creates isn’t just an urgent prompt for the reader to imagine different ideas, or ways to resolve the new narrative dilemmas. It’s also an opportunity for people to discuss any of the difficult content critically, and for fandom in general to continue developing the tools for processing the negative emotions art can generate. Sorting that out has to be a communal experience, and it’s an important part of the cycle between creating and criticizing art. I think not only can creators develop their skills to create better things by practicing and taking certain risks, fandom is something which can develop better skills as well. Skills like critical discussion, dealing constructively with negative feelings resulting from the media they consume, interacting with each other in more meaningful ways, and trying to understand different points of view outside of the factions within fandom that can become very hardened over time. Fandoms everywhere tend to get bad reputations for various reasons, maybe justifiably. But I don’t see why it can’t be an objective to try to improve fandom, just as creators can improve their work. And I think this can only happen if now and then fandoms are seriously challenged, by being encouraged to think about complex ideas, and made to feel difficult emotions. I believe when art creates certain kinds of negative feelings in people, it can lead to some of the most transformative experiences art has to offer. But it helps to be receptive to this idea for these experiences to have a positive net effect on your life, and your relationship with art.

Christ, he’s gone full Lennon. Imagine a good ending. I wonder if you can.

So, I’ve mentioned this a few times, but the most transformative art has ever been for me was a comic that actually started on the Homestuck forums

Prequel - Or - Making The Cat Cry: The Adventure - is a comic written by Kazared loosely based on the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. It’s about a Khajiit girl named Katia who moves to OblivionLand to make a new life for herself, and the comic spent years building Katia up to bigger and bigger heights so that every time she crashed she crashed harder than ever before. The second time she relapses into alcoholism is where a lot of readers give up on the comic for being misery porn.

There’s a point where she she’s solved all her problems and even gets to join the mages guild - her lifelong dream - only for the woman running the Kvatch mage guild to mild control her into giving up all her stuff, including the stuff important to Katia’s only friend.  Katia is left naked on the streets literally digging through trash in the vain hope of trying to find a solution to at least one of her problems. And what she finds is a bottle of beer.

Twice already in this comic Katia hit a really bad patch and started drinking again. The comic has twice made us root for Katia to succeed, only to jump cut to her waking up in a stranger’s bed with no memory of what happened. 

She wanders into an empty church (OBVIOUS SYMBOLISM ALERT), and alternates between trying to find some supplies and fantasizing about everything magically getting fixed, which slowly morphs into fantasizing about drinking while getting increasingly furious at barrels for not having clothes in them.

One thing. You wanted one thing and you were too much of a fucking idiot to realize it was hopeless and pointless and bound to ruin everything. Stuck on some childish idea that you could be anything, do anything, and just be some selfish bitch that’s never happy with what she has. Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re mad at anymore, you just hate yourself and everything you ever ruined for yourself and everyone and want to stop thinking about what a worthless mindless thoughtless imbecile you are. You just want to stop fucking thinking about it.

You drop onto the chapel floor and just cry. You cry and cry because you’re stupid and easy and can’t fix anything no matter how hard you try. You cry because your best is worse than everyone else’s average. You cry because your parents never loved you and you’re a disappointment to everyone, even yourself. You cry because all you wanted was to be someone and that’s never going to happen. And when that’s done, you cry a little more because you’re ashamed of being such a crybaby.

You try to get all the emotions out, try to clear your mind and maybe, just maybe feel ready to tackle the night ahead of you, feel as though this is the time you finally turn things around. But no matter how hard you try, how hard you weep and bawl and try to get it all out, you’re still just a fuckup. No matter what you try, that knowledge is still there, gripping onto your every thought and reminding you that things are never going to change.

You’re not strong. You’re not a hero. You’re not even worthy of the name Katia Managan. You’re sad and angry and nothing makes sense, but you know this is probably the clearest your head is going to get.

Someday, things are going to get better. Someday, you are going to fight and persevere and everything will feel great. You think.But for now, you know what you have to do.

And at the very least, there is no way you could possibly make yourself feel any worse.

Katia, for the first time, manages to avoid drowning drinking. She overcomes her issues. And you know what happens next?

She accidentally sets the church on fire, because this is still Prequel. She passes out from smoke inhalation, and then there’s….

this, and then she wakes up and reflects on her managing to stay on the wagon.

Honestly, you just feel… kind of numb.

You fucked up. You lost everything you earned, were discarded by the people you looked up to most, gave away the package you were supposed to be delivering to pay your friend back, completely lost control of your powers, and after passing out naked in a church have probably ruined any chance you might have had at a good reputation in Kvatch. You were a wreck last night when this was all happening, but now… you guess it just feels like you’ve run out of sad. You’re just confused.

Personally, I think this stuff is way darker than anything that happens in the Homestuck Epilogues, which is mostly just over-the-top Warhammer 40k grimderp. This shit got to me, man. And around the time this is happening in the comic, I lost my job. And as the storyline continued past this point, I kept applying for jobs and getting turned down, and it started to really wear on me, I felt I had no useful skills, since my old job was supporting software that only that company used because they made it. Much like Katia got into great positions only to fail, I walked out of interviews thinking I’d aced it only to get turned down, while Katia kept making two-steps-forward-one-step-back advances and not really getting any closer to solving any of her issues. And one day, about six weeks into joblessless and starting to get into serious depression over it, I got two “Thanks but no thanks” calls from places I was feeling good about back to back, and I was just done. 10am and I was going to go into my room and lie down on the floor all day but first Prequel updated so I guess I’ll check it real quick oh hey a flash

This puzzle took me like 20 tries, I’m no good at them. Aggy ran out of inspiring dialogue and started looping. And if you’re not in the right mindset, in the right place, this probably doesn’t seem like much. But right there, a month and a half into unemployment, doing that stupid fucking jumping jumpy peg thing while a ghost cheered me on was life-changing. I was so fucking jazzed when I got it, I was fired up! I was so fired up I tabled my “lie on the floor all day in despair” plan, and started applying for a bunch of jobs. A few of those jobs called me back. One hired me. I still work there now. I always liked webcomics but Aggy Extrapolate is the reason I make them. Because good art is powerful. Good art changes lives, maybe even saves them. And it doesn’t need to be happy to do it, Katia still hasn’t succeeded at her goals (in part because Prequel updates at a rate Dresden Codak would make fun of).

What the hell did the Homestuck Epilogues do, by comparison? What’s the positive net effect on my life, or my interaction with art? “Sometimes things you like are bad”? Shit, man, I already knew that, I’m into wrestling. How is “John recognizes Terezi’s jizz on his dad’s car” supposed to make me a better person, exactly? Do you really think the problem with fandoms is that they’re not angry enough? Are you high, Andrew Hussie? 

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (7/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary:  The day after  the  rooftop.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings for this chapter: angst, cursing, canon physical violence, actions that could be interpreted as suicidal thoughts.

 A/N: Thanks @nedthegay for helping me with this chapter! Please, let me know what you all think. Links are ruining posts, so you can find the the masterlist link on my description. 

  Steve has his full Captain mode on, pointing and explaining the strategies for next mission.  The details of the it mimicked in the 3D holograms hovering over the round table. Something about alien guns and dealers based on an abandoned construction site. Bucky couldn’t tell exactly. Always the same old shit. Whatever Steve’s says falls on deaf ears. His thoughts are somewhere else. Or better, someone else...

His attention is fastened on the vacant seat between Nat and Tony. As far as he remembers, you were never one to be late for briefings, especially the ones right before missions. The team should be those Natasha and Tony, alongside Steve, himself and you, but it’s been at least 20 minutes and you haven’t shown up yet.

Drifting off to the last night events he can’t believe he let that happen. When you got to the roof he thought that maybe that would be the opportunity to finally talk to you, come clean to whatever there might still lingering between you two. But like the damn coward he is, he chickened out, only for two seconds later, to fuck your brains out against the wall.

Jesus… he swears he can still taste you in his tongue, feel your velvet touch around him, the softness of your lips against his… He has no idea what came to his mind. He wasn’t really thinking. All he felt was the desperate need for you, like an addict who finally gets a taste of their drug of choice after a long time of abstinence.

Now, after the relapse, he has to deal with the hangover.

He had had no self-restraint. He was so fucking harsh on you…and you let him. He had you bare and vulnerable under his demanding touch and you let him do whatever he pleased, giving yourself fully to him, driving him fucking crazy.     

You don't deserve this… the way he's been treating you ever since you came back. No matter what happened two years ago, you're not to blame for his own insecurities. You’re not to blame for how unstable he becomes when it comes to you. It's all on him.

Regret weighs on him over the way he left you there, wrecked and alone. But why the hell did you have to go and tell him you loved him? The moment he heard you saying that, holding him between your arms, sounding so fucking sincere… his heart thundered and swelled inside his chest, begging his dazed mind to believe you, to give himself to you the same way you had just done. But in his head, the reality of what you were saying mingled with flashes of the complete abandon he felt when he realized you were gone, and then him begging you to hear those same three words years ago that day in London. If that's the truth, if you truly love him, why did you run from him the way you did?

The sound of opening doors in front of him takes him out of his own thoughts.

“Hey, hey. Look who finally decided to grace us with her Director of SHIELD’s ass,” Tony exclaims, giving you a teasing smile.

As you walk to Tony with a tired smile and bend down to put your arms around him, Bucky can’t avert his stare from the dark circles around your eyes, which you clearly have tried to conceal with makeup. His stomach flips with shame, replaying in his head the way he left you the night before.

“How the hell did you manage to keep Pepper in a thousand years long honeymoon, old man?” You pat Tony’s shoulder wearing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes by a long shot.  

“Oh honey, I could tell you how, but Cap here would choke on his own guts, and you don’t want me to break America’s favorite toy soldier, do you?”

Nat and you chuckle and, as Steve rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond, Tony adds, “By the way, I heard last night was girls night, huh? A wild one, sugar?” He winks after giving you a once over.

As Bucky’s eyes widen, your hand flies to cover your neck in a clearly unconscious act and embarrassment etches in your face, which you quickly try to hide with tight lips.

“Ok, ok. Enough with the chit chat. Sit down, Y/N, I don’t have all day for this shit.”

Bucky thank the Gods for Natasha Alianovna Romanoff. Always saying the right thing at the right time.

Answering Tony’s grimace at her with a similar one, Nat pulls the chair beside her and in front of Bucky for you to sit, which you promptly do, delicately running your hand over your neck and not even once glancing at Bucky, switching your attention to Steve, instead, who pick up from where he’s left off.

His fists clench under the table, gripping the jeans over his thighs. The embarrassment you’ve shown at Tony’s comment feels like a punch in his guts.  He’s disgusted at himself. He’s been that rough, if not rougher, with you during sex before, but this is completely different. Before, there was solely lust, desire and love behind his possessive, demanding actions. Last night there was desperation and even a twisted wish to somehow provoke harm, like some sort of retaliation… He feels like shit, like he’s taken advantage of you, like he’s truly hurt you. And hasn’t he done exactly that?    

He’s a goddamn moron, that’s what he is. Fucking you like he did, instead of acting like a grown ass man and talking to you like Anna had told him to…

Anna...

Is what you said the truth? Is Anna really in love with him? Is he really so blind?

“Are you listening, Bucky?” Steve’s voice is stern.

Bucky blinks and look around, all eyes on him.

Except yours.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He lies and nods at Steve, before his eyes seek yours again, only to see your distant gaze fixed on your hands over the table, as your fingers swiftly tug at one another.  

“Let’s go, then.” Steve commands, switching off the holograms and leading the way to the jets after everyone promptly got up to follow him.

~~~

Everything happens so fast. The place where you busted the dealers is a construction site, huge and open. The team needed to disperse in order to deal with the unexpectedly large number of hostiles, who were heavily armed with all kinds of alien weaponry and tech.

You face each one of them who dare to cross your path with all you got. You are reckless,  and don’t listen to Cap’s orders or anyone else’s words of warning through the coms.  If they said there was too many hostiles at a certain spot, there would be; you don’t wait when they tell you to, don’t listen when someone told you need help and can’t do what you’re doing alone. All you see is red. From the enemy’s blood or yours, you can’t tell. This is what you do best, this is you. And right no all you can be is you. And all you can do is fight without anything else in your head and your heart.  

You only stop when you finally hear his voice calling your name. He is shouting, calling for you, desperately, pleadingly, angrily. You turn around just in time to witness what happens next.

One of your opponents were right behind him as Bucky runs to you. You’re quick to take the man down with a single perfect shot from your gun, but not quick enough to stop him before he used a blaster to tear a thick piece of concrete from the construction. Your blood freeze as you see it crashing down towards Bucky’s direction. You sprint to him, screaming and calling his name, taking down whatever blurry figures that come between you and him.

You finally remember to breathe again when you finally get to him and see he has somehow managed to block the concrete, but his metal arm is stuck under the heavy block.

“We gotta get you outta here,” you pant, kneeling in front of him and pointlessly trying to move the block.

“It’s worthless, even I can’t move it.” He’s trapped with his side to the floor, holding his machine gun securely against him with his flesh hand, “There’s more coming, you gotta go,”

“Tony, Steve, where are you?  Bucky’s stuck, we need you here,” You ignore him, shouting through the comms.

“I’m a little stuck myself, darling, gimme a minute.” The answer comes from Tony.

“I spotted you two, I’m coming over,” Steve replies.

And that’s when a buzzing sound catches both you and Bucky’s attention. You spot the shooter up in the building roof before the small red device attaches to the top of the block trapping his arm. Through the small screen, the countdown started: 15, 14…

“Get the fuck outta here,” Bucky screams and pushes you making you fall backwards.

You ignore the desperation etched on his face and in his voice to favor your own, as you get back up and bolts to the device, trying to pull it out of the rock, to no avail. Some damn alien shit...

10, 9…

“Steve, Tony…”

“Almost there,” Steve shouts back.

“It’s gonna fucking explode. I might be able to take it, you certainly can’t! Get the fuck out of here.”  He gestures with his arm for you to go.

“I won’t leave you,” You cry out, still trying to unattach the small explosive.

7, 6…

“You’re gonna die, Y/N.” He desperately begs.

“And do you think I fucking care?” You snap, locking your gaze with his. Silencing him completely.

5, 4…

The ticking of the countdown in the background is all you can hear as you keep  staring at each other.

His blue eyes are terrified and his parted lips are speechless.

3, 2…

“Back off.”

Tony’s voice makes you step back as he jumps to the device, easily hooking it off with a blast and tossing it to the sky just before the loud thunder of the explosion booms.

“Do you have a fucking death wish, Y/N? You were gonna blow the fuck up,” Tony yells at you at the same time he pulls the block off of Bucky’s arm.

You don’t answer. Steve, who has just arrived, gives you a concern expression, offering his arm to lift Bucky up who remains astonished and wordless, staring at you.

Terror still haunting his eyes.

~~~

The rides back home from missions are never cheerful. Even in victory, there’s always the regret, the feeling that more could’ve been done, the heavy weight of the casualties, the collateral damage, and the darkness that inevitably came with a fight.

However, you can’t remember ever feeling the way you feel now. The whole team is quiet; each one busy with their own demons, but also trying to digest what had almost just happened to you.

He’s sitting right across from you. You can feel the fire in his eyes burning into you.  But you don’t dare to look at him.

The jet lands and you’re the first one to rush out, only nodding when Steve says he wants to see you in his office the next day.

You run to your room, leaving the door unlocked behind you. Breathing heavily, you sit on your bed and stare at the door. He will come, you know this.  To scream and yell at you. Call you crazy and reckless. You know what you said and how it sounded. You’re not sure what it really meant for you, though.

But you know he won’t let this one go.

You wait for him.

~~~

It’s hard to contain the tremble on his hands as he rushes past the elevator and hurries over to the stairs, hoping the physical exertion would at least ease down a bit the hurricane inside him.

You were going to die. Right there in front of him. And it seemed like that was all you wanted at that moment. His throat is tight and he feels sick. So utterly sick at the thought. The way you came back, last night, the mission… This is not ok. You’re both a couple of fuck ups and it needs to end.

Right now.  

His heart hammers with every step as he climbs up to her floor. He needs to see her, talk to her, listen to her voice.

He needs to calm the fuck down.

Bucky’s rushed pace halts completely when he meets the door in front of him. He takes in a deep breath and runs his hand over his damp locks before bumping his fists to the wood repeatedly.  

A few seconds pass before the door opens and startled eyes meet his.

“Bucky?” She takes in his appearance, “Are you ok?”

“Is it true?” he ignores her questions, his eyes frantically analyzing her face, “Is it true that you’re in love with me?”

A small gasp slips Anna’s parted lips and her eyes widen even more while she takes an unconscious step back. He can tell she’s struggling with her mind before her jaw clenches and she straightens up her posture, keeping her gaze on him.

“Yes, it is,” she answers, simply, in a soft, yet full of resolution voice.

Bucky doesn’t even let the words sink in before he crashes his lips on hers.

~~~~