#the upload quality is fucking garbage

[twovampswalkintoa]

how much trouble could three women really cause

[callmearcturus]

==> You have three doors

DOOR ONE: Reading Homestuck using the Unofficial Collection

Pro: Everything is immaculately preserved at the highest quality. Official HS took beautiful animations and turned them into 360p fuzzy horseshit. UHSC has everything in HQ.

Pro: Navigation controls. I set everything to "auto open pesterlogs" and then use arrow keys to go to the next page when I'm done. Very smooth experience.

Pro: You can fucking mod out the worst slurs from early Homestuck, which is a relief.

Pro: It maintains the browser games as well as the incredible formatting tricks of Cascade, A6A6I1 and others.

Pro: It's literally officially endorsed by the creator as The Way to read HS.

Con: Windows and Mac only, not mobile, unfortunately.

Con: No matter how many times I read the explanation for First Time Reader Mode, I'm always still a bit confused.

Con: The Troll quirks.

DOOR TWO: Experiencing Homestuck with Lets Read Homestuck

Pro: The entire comic read to you, with matching visuals, is really a fucking treat and probably the most low effort way to experience it.

Pro: CANNOT OVERSTATE HOW FUCKING GOOD THE ACTING IS SOMETIMES. OFTENTIMES. Duckum's Rose performance is more deserving of oscars than most shit I've seen get awards. Karkat's performance is always a delight but the emotional rollercoaster of Murderstuck? Holy shit. Also I did not like Terezi until LRHS, now I love her.

Pro: Sometimes, Homestuck is hard to read. Making sure you find every secret in every walkaround? Trying to figure out what the trolls are saying through their quirks? Oh my god the fucking SBaHJ interludes? There are parts of the Meenah walkaround I totally missed bc I could not parse the quirks. LRHS makes it a complete and total non-issue.

Con: In my opinion, it takes them a while to find their footing. Act One is just kinda rough. Act Two is better, but things become fantastic pretty much as soon as Duckums takes over as Rose.

Con: It's not complete. LRHS is up to the Trickster Arc deep deep deep in Act 6, so they're nearly there, but the last 15% of the comic, you have to read yourself.

Arc, what the fuck: I have all of LRHS ripped as MP3 so I can listen to it like an audiobook. Lemme know if you want the files.

DOOR THREE: Official Homestuck Website

Pro: It does work on phone and tablet.

Pro: You can pair it with the HQ upload of all HS Flashes and have an okay time.

Con: The walkarounds are removed. The entire game of Jane's land is a fucking YOUTUBE VIDEO. The special effects for Cascade and A6A6I1 and even the stupid horse segments are gone. The entire gravity of the Retcon is removed. They couldn't even fucking preserve Gamzee's dumb potion shop bit. What the absolute fuck.

Con: EVEN THE FUCKING UPLOADS THEY DID LOOK LIKE HORSESHIT. Compare the official intro of Rose's world to a reupload of the original flash. How the FUCK was this allowed?! Who OKAYED this?!

This is garbage. Homestuck is a multimedia experience of prose, text, music, animation, interactive storytelling, and Viz Media fucked it.

The choice is yours. I suggest Door Two, but I'm a podcast person before everything else. Door One is a very very good door once you get going. Door Three is if you HAVE to use mobile. but please, fuck, use the All Flashes video, I'm begging you.

OH BUT WHATEVER OPTION YOU CHOOSE: stop at Act 7 or Credits. Do not read the Epilogues or the post canon stuff.

[lastoneout]

Everyone: YouTube is such a garbage platform! It only cares about ad money and exploiting creators, and they have frankly draconian rules about what you can say or show, and sometimes even if you follow all the rules you'll either lose your money and viewerbase to demonetization, and there's basically no way to fix that unless you are a huge creator who makes a massive stink about it on Twitter, or to the algorithm just deciding your videos aren't worth promoting anymore. I hate how many ads there are too, 2+ prerolls, midrolls, and ones at the end?? Tons are unskippable and they often contain triggering content with NO warning. And like, half the sponsorships are for corrupt scams and full of lies. And ugh the switch to prioritizing short from content is fucking over anyone who doesn't want to make discount tiktoks. Plus they're trying to stop people from using adblocker in fucked up ways. And on top of all that Google is just straight up evil. YouTube really does suck these days :/ I feel bad for the creators I love who are stuck using it.

Watcher: YouTube was a good place for our shows at first, but as you all know if you want to make money here you have to compromise the types of content you want to make to please the algorithm and advertisers, and we don't want to make content for them, we want to make quality TV shows for and supported by our viewers, so we can grow and offer even more, much higher quality stuff, so it's time to open our own independant streaming service. It's as cheap as we can make it, and we also want to give our fans more control and so there's a deal if you sign up now where you get 30% off for the first year and can vote on our next show, plus we will never implement any measures to prevent account sharing, one person can share with whoever they want. We're still going to upload trailers and premiers on YouTube, and we will NOT be deleting anything that's already up here. We hope you can support us, because it's your support that matters to us more than anything else.

Everyone: Oh my god you guys are such assholes who hate poor people, what the fuck is your problem!! How dare you abandon us, here's a huge paragraph about how your shows are the only thing that makes my life worth living because [xyz systemic issue], just so you know you're actively ruining our lives by trying to get rid of ads, make better content, and focus on what the viewers want. Why didn't you switch to Nebula or something?? Idc if that's not how it works. Fuck you all, I'm going to go review bomb all your videos. This is so evil and scummy. Also, I'm pissed because people are claiming this isn't avaliable in the rest of the world, even though no one has offered a single source to back it up. Anyway back to watching Dropout, a service you have to pay for, which I'm not mad about at all.

Me:

[momo-no-tane]

Peach-Pit Artbook Scanning Project - Complete!

On August 1st, 2015 I made the first post of this artbook scanning project to provide high quality scans of Peach-Pit’s illustrations, because there was barely anything available online, or if there was the quality was absolute garbage. 7 artbooks and 648 illustrations later, the Peach-Pit Artbook Scanning Project is finally complete... really, really late.

I was supposed to finish this project in April 2018. I finally uploaded the last illustration yesterday - July 8th, 2023. Unfortunately I was never able to finish it back in 2018 like I wanted to. Life got really busy, I had gone back to school, my computer battery died, I started getting lazy... when I only had 5 illustrations left to post. I’m so sorry it took so long to finish. I really hated myself for not finishing it back then. I was constantly beating myself up over it. I really wanted to get it done this year though. Thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs over the course of this project. You can find each of the artbooks below.

Artbook 1 (Peach-Pit Artworks DearS)

Artbook 2 (Peach-Pit Artworks Sui Mitsu Kyo)

Artbook 3 (Peach-Pit Artworks Zombie-Loan)

Artbook 4 (Shugo Chara! Illustrations)

Artbook 5 (Peach-Pit Artworks Rozen Maiden)

Artbook 6 (Shugo Chara! Illustrations 2)

Artbook 7 (Rozen Maiden Illustrations: Rose Maiden)

Now for something really annoying... Tumblr’s recent bullshit is another reason why I finally forced myself to hurry up and post those final 5 illustrations.

Tumblr has decided to be completely and utterly stupid, getting rid of the legacy editor and replacing it with a garbage new post editor that makes posts look absolutely hideous on desktop. I initially made this post with the new post editor, but I was so disgusted at how ugly and awful it looked I deleted it. For some stupid reason, all posts automatically become text posts even if I specifically select the photo option. It makes no fucking sense. I realized that all the posts I had saved in my drafts still had the legacy editor, and thankfully I had a few photo posts still in there. So I was able to repost that news post.

The problem was that I only had less than 10 photo posts saved in drafts. If I had known Tumblr was going to be fucking stupid and get rid of the legacy editor, I would have saved dozens of posts to prepare. But I only had enough to make a few news posts and those last 5 illustrations. Now I have nothing but text posts left in drafts. I’m behind on some posts already (Nagi’s birthday post, new SC! Princess Cafe goods, new RM SOLWA goods), and I can’t make a post about them because Tumblr fucked everything up and I’m trying to figure out how to fix the posts on my theme so they don’t look like shit.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve been giving them grief almost daily on their change blog and support section. So many other people are also upset. I don’t want to get too backed up with news posts because there’s so much information that comes out monthly lately. Does anyone know how to fix this? Any code I could add to my theme to make my posts not look like shit because of the new post editor? It pisses me off that I have to waste time and energy focusing on this instead of the project I plan to do next - high quality manga caps. How can I even make nice looking manga cap posts when the new post editor will just destroy it? It’s so frustrating. I’m sorry this post turned so negative, I really needed to rant about this.

[melonba11s]

A Tempting Offer (Re-Upload)

Strade receives a message from a fan!

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

Contains: Strade, mentions of Asphyxiation

If Strade was asked to be honest about the reason he truly streamed on the dark web, he would have to admit it was not for the fun of entertainment. It merely provided him a way to obtain an income whilst doing what he loved. And hey, they said if you loved what you do for a living, you’d never truly work a day in your life. 

He lived by that rule, though he couldn’t deny that sometimes it annoyed him how his viewers saw his “guests” as just a piece of meat to torture. How rude they could be to the shivering college girl or the loud mouthed trust fund brat. He put up with as much as he could though. He depended on that money after all. And some of them donated very generously to see him gut a poor sucker.

In his “office”, he cracked open a beer as he booted up his computer, sipping on it slowly as it slowly turned on. Thus was the cost of being so entrenched in the dark web. Special software in order to access it was quite bulky. Devices that moved his IP to some other random place in the world often, making him untraceable. Especially useful for his line of work. Couldn’t have someone tracking him down. A heavy stack of RAM, SSD, and other type things so that he could host a stream on his own network, not tied to the garbage low quality that many of these sites offered. 

B3GCRY knew his way around computers, and he knew how to keep himself anonymous. He didn’t exactly go out of his way to seem approachable on streams, which was for the better. He didn’t need people bothering him “off the clock” for silly requests. Or dick appointments which they naively thought would not end in them being eviscerated. 

Which is why seeing a little red number pop up on his host site. A direct message. A rarity, but was probably spam. He hovered over it, expecting to see a “Fuck a HOT MILF today!” or “Buy Drugs” type message, instead, it started simply. 

“Hello :)” that little emoticon seemed to stare into him. Narrowing his eyes, Strade sighed, taking a deep swig of his beer now. He clicked on it, ready to block them at the drop of a hat. Something he usually did with anyone who messaged him. It was better for them if he blocked them. 

He was met with a quick, yet to the point message. 

“Hello :), Uh, I stumbled across your stream the other day. I have this fantasy of being on camera in that kind of situation. I could pay you. I just kinda wanna die, lol.” 

Now, that was something he hadn’t seen before. He had the odd silly girl saying she was into freaky stuff, asking him to cut her, choke her, etc. Or that one weirdo who’d asked for a sperm sample. But someone coming to him asking to be killed? It intrigued him. But it could also be another silly person, thinking it would be a kinky little game and they’d be able to go back home. He could never let anyone who came into this house leave alive. 

He pulled his keyboard close, setting his beer down and typed a message back. 

“What did you have in mind?” he asked simply, leaning back. He was surprised to see them begin responding almost immediately. 

“Oh! You replied! Oh, well. See, I’ve always been into hangings… I’ve never seen you do one, closest thing was when you choked out that one guy while you fucked him. Let me get to the point. I’ll offer myself as a sacrifice. You can torture me on camera for money, and then hang me at the end.” 

Strade had to read that several times over, what kind of masochist had he found? He watched as they began to type another message. 

“No one else knows this about me. I’m living a lie, it feels like. So I may as well go out being true to myself and my desires. My life savings would be yours, I can convert them to whatever crypto you prefer.” 

Strade’s mind was racing, as he thought it over. This could be a fun victim to play around with for a while. See how they’d react to different stimuli. Maybe he’d bring down Ren to suck him off while they perished. He sat up though, as reasoning came into play. 

This would mean telling someone where he lived. Having them drive or book a flight out here. Telling others where they were going. 

He had spent too long covering all his tracks, ensuring he was untraceable, moving out of his home country, to be caught like this. 

His mouse hovered over the block button again.

[separatist-apologist]

I feel you so hard on these bad book recommendations… you know that picture of Keanu reeves smoking a cigarette and he just looks so fucking done? That’s me. I freelance edit for work and I edit fanfiction and manuscripts alike… I would say 85% of the fanfiction I edit and read personally (ESPECIALLY YOURS) is more profound, well written, and flows better than the majority of popular book tok recs. The manuscripts I’ve edited have all been so wonderful. I am so genuinely lost at how books like Zodiac Academy and King of Battle and Blood get so much hype and recognition. I respect that it is a lot of work and takes courage to share stories but come on man. I feel fried to a crisp! I am one more bad book away from hypnotizing myself into forgetting how to read. It’s cathartic to see a fellow hater in the midst.

First of all, an editor you say? I might need to hit you up in a month or two and find out your rates.

Secondly, I think my issue isn't that people like the books. It's the toxic, near weaponized positivity of "We can't say anything bad/everything is a 4 star review" instead of "this book was dogshit BUT i liked it anyway" which is more honest. Especially lately, I've been seeing a lot of push back of like, telling people you don't like books/they're bad prevents people from reading them and like, YES THATS THE POINT OF A REVIEW. A review is NOT FOR THE AUTHOR, I don't care about the authors livelihood/income and the expectation shouldn't be that I have to prioritize their desire to write books over being allowed to say "This book should have been edited", ESPECIALLY when it comes to indie authors.

ESPECIALLY when it comes to indie authors, like given how inexpensive and almost easy it is to write and upload to KU, people should be demanding quality over quantity and they're not. Instead they're asking readers to just say "this was not for me but other people might like it" and that's an assumption. I've read books based on 1 star reviews before, and I've read books that people don't like as a group, but like, falsifying reviews in order to keep authors from having hurt feelings or not having a lucrative career is just...its not it for me.

I genuinely think some of these books are so disrespectful to the people who DO like them. Where is your care? Where is your passion? Churning out books that aren't edited (SCARLETT ST CLAIR) and then going back to edit if they sell well is horseshit. Not paying for an editor at all and then publishing a book riddled with problems only to then turn around and say "you shouldn't be so negative, I'm an indie author" is horseshit. Writing a book so egregiously racist/sexist/homophobic that it's harmful because you didn't want to find sensitivity readers (or worse, rewrite the issues they found) is horseshit (especially given how many people do this accidentally).

I think about my own job and like, probably most of our jobs where we can't just drop garbage into the world and say, "well this is my dream" okay so what? You wrote a genuinely shitty book at bare minimum, I should be allowed to say so. It's written badly. Your plot is poorly developed. So I'm a hater who can't be nice, and I'll never be nice about it.

And like, to finish this rant, my director always tells me, "[insert person]'s opinion of you is none of your business." And that has been so freeing to me, as someone who craves the approval of people around me and never wants anyone to be mad. Not everyone is going to like you. Authors should learn this and grow up about reviews. It's not personal- I'm not saying you're a bad person. I'm saying you clearly took very little care with your book and it shows.

[rainydayladybug]

Hey crypto terf I get off to fanfiction: BOO!

Gotta love how “TERF” has conveniently become so detached from the core transmisogyny/intentional exclusion + violent demonization of trans women.. to the point that people think that calling trans people, especially trans women and other TMA people, “TERFs” is a morally superior action. And tangible form of trans allyship.

And it’s somehow NEVER due to stances or topics related to radical feminism, or the core pro-trans women’s exclusion, that would even warrant the mention (or accusation) of “TERF”. Somehow even the hate groups that target us become weaponized against us, with the vague claim that it’s for our own good and our protection.

And for anyone who wants to know what this stemmed from.. I mentioned on a post that hypothetical incest/rape/abuse/CSA survivors are always thrown in the faces of those who criticize the public eroticization + normalization of these topics in fan fiction (somehow always written in the most tacky, immature, harmful ways), because “maybe the author and everyone jacking off to it is coping with trauma!!”.. but that no one seems to care about the actual victims of these traumas who express discomfort (or even just ask for trigger warnings or have a DNI). Instead these survivors get called fascists and, in this case, TERFs. Because our existence as survivors is only allowed in these circles if we comfort, support, and sexually feed anyone who jacks off to our abuse.

And, since no one on this site can grasp any nuance or form their own thoughts, and they think all complex social justice issues / issues of morality are sorted into “PRO” and “ANTI” or “INCLUSIONIST” or “EXCLUSIONIST” (because that’s the only complexity that their still-forming virgin brains can comprehend) criticizing this toxic behavior within fanfiction circles somehow means you’re against all forms of erotica, and loathe + exclude all trans women from your activism. even if you’re a trans woman yourself. not sure how trans women got inherently linked + embedded in your right to *checks notes* write an online novel about Dora and Diego fucking, without criticism.

And for the record, I also have controversial/“problematic” kinks that have formed due to years of sexual abuse. But I don’t stomp my feet like an angry toddler denied fruit gummies when other abuse survivors express discomfort with kinks like mine, and the endless (tacky and horribly-handled) erotica + porn that fetishizes our abuse, and normalizes it and becomes a tool in grooming the kids/teens that have full access to the platforms they get uploaded to.

This site is full of children (who’ve been bombarded from incredibly young + formative ages with violent, unrealistic porn in this digital age) and self-admitted adult virgins who either think sex is “yucky” and talk about it in incredibly immature ways, or their concept of sex revolves around terribly-written + unrealistic erotica created by other adult virgins.. like I really don’t expect to have mature, informed conversations about sex or trauma on here. Like I’ve had more nuanced, mutually-critical discussions about this on fucking Fetlife and in BDSM dungeons. It’s incredibly on-brand for me to be accused, with barely any context and no justification, of being a TERF and a fascist (as a trans Jew) on this performative faux-leftist site, all because I’m not applauding whatever low-quality fictional garbage y’all spend hours every day hyper-fixating on.

And I hate how I can’t even tell you to log off and finish your algebra homework or something, because I can’t tell if you’re a 14 year old just trying to be edgy, or a 35 year old white queer from Portland who fights for the rights of “pro-shippers” more than they fight for actual minorities.

[welcometogrouchland]

Also 90% of my good doodles lately have been in the fucking. iPad notes app and I'd have to screenshot them at garbage quality to upload them here and also they're very messy but like I said I like them, they're good and it frustrates me that if I share them they'll end up looking like dookie

[d3f3n3str4t10n]

I'm scrolling through my YouTube tab and I'm just seeing a deluge of the same fucking shit. Rant videos everywhere from 5 minutes to 2 hours long about some piece of media that sucks, and has actually always sucked this whole time, or how it's the embodiment of everything that's wrong with society for X and Y and Z reasons, but it's all the same shit.

Generic baity titles and thumbnails with bland narration that I'm sure are informative in some way but it's just so repetitive. The worst part is that I used to like that stuff, but it's become so oversaturated and the quality has gone so far down that none of it feels genuine anymore. Feels like everyone just wants to throw their hat in the ring just for the sake of it.

I should start uploading videos about how the sky is blue and how that's bad. Or why Bears shitting in the woods is everything that's wrong with the Lumber industry or some garbage.

[saintarmand]

i really want to read the vampire chronicles (I’m halfway through book one) but whenever I find snippets or pdf files of the sequels, the writing seems…bad.

Are these just bad uploads, or are the books actually written like??? it seems unlikely AR wouldn’t have had an editor but the writing just seems very hard to follow after book 1.

lmao... yeah those are not fake uploads the quality of her writing varies WILDLY not just book to book but chapter to chapter. she is very much capable of amazing writing but also just doesn't do that a lot of the time. this is also a series where fucking anything can happen (jesus AND aliens) some of the buckwild shit in there is the stuff of legend. the general wisdom in the fandom is that the first three are the ones you have to read if you wanna sit at the table and the rest only if you're really dedicated.

the vampire lestat is mostly good although also very cringe at times and i personally don't give a fuck about the parts with marius towards the end lol. if the first chapter is too unbearable to get through (shut UP lestat!!!) you can just skip to the next one where it really picks up as he gets into the "real story" meaning his backstory, cause the beginning is just an intro that won't matter until it loops back at the very end. i do think this book is very much worth reading! the best stuff in it i like more than the best stuff in the first book.

with the queen of the damned, that's the one that actually made me question if i was reading a first draft at times but then it does also include one of my favorite parts of the whole series which is the story of daniel aka the devil's minion it's sooooo fun and known to make ppl go crazy AND because part 1 of the book is basically an anthology you can read it separately as a short story if you want! my other fav from that book is the story of baby jenks and the fang gang which can also be read separately. the rest is take it or leave it for me, there's some cool fun stuff but it was a huge chore for me to get through the whole book... so if you wanna take it on be warned!

the rest of the series similarly also does have some good stuff in it but you kinda do have to sit through a Lot of garbage to find it 😔 and some of the garbage is garbage in a fun way and some is not

and yeah she did actually fire her editor is the story i've heard so that explains that

[girlmadeof-stars]

I don't wanna let go, I know I'm not that strong I just wanna hear you saying ‘let's go home’ Yeah, I just wanna take you home

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

what you don’t know is that getting castor icing and two goths to upload through mobile while letting the file limit took three fucking hours and involved:

more than one online file resizer, abandoned as they’re fucking useless garbage

A swift reminder of why I personally despise jpgs

Imgur, also useless at preserving quality

Approx 1700 minor resizings of the files in question on my laptop

Emailing the files to myself bc I remembered back in the day it asking if I wanted to change the file size before I downloaded attached pictures

Why isn’t the email coming through

I misspelt my email address

Ok email is sent

The email fucking increased the image size

Further resizing

Another desperate attempt at an email

Fuck it let’s just grab the file from the ‘sent’ rather than the mail box

….that worked?

[outsidetheknow]

Smart TVs suck and are totally worthless. via /r/technology Smart TVs suck and are totally worthless. The idea of a smart TV is genius; being able to have streaming apps built into your TV so you never need another device hooked up to it should be fucking awesome.

[squiddlysquoo]

This Just In: Sad Trans Guy Finally Experiences True Joy

Based on that one vine about ketchup (at 19:01 here)

[star-spangledstud]

THE CURE KEEPER - two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (female!)reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even like pool. The team gets back from their mission. 

Word count: 3100-ish. 

Warnings: none

A/N: I don’t have an upload schedule or anything, I just post whenever a new chapter is finished ;) I also don’t have anyone to proofread for me, so there might be a few mistakes here and there (of course I do my best to check my spelling/grammar). English isn’t my first language!

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 13 May 2018, 3:23 a.m.

He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until he’s woken up by the sound of his voice spewing profanities and pleas in Russian hidden behind a thick, American accent. There’s heavy breathing to break the deafening silence of his room that causes his chest to rise and fall in irregular motions, and his fists are curled around damp sheets as if he’s afraid he’ll fall deep into the abyss if he lets go. He’s sweating profusely and his entire body trembles as he tries to remember where he is.

Bucky turns over in his bed, twitching eyes falling on the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s nearing 4 am, which means it’s nowhere near a respectable time to be awake, but he can’t help it. Most of the events that occur within his dreams he can’t remember ever taking place, but he knows they’re real because he’s been told what kind of person he used to be. The things he used to do remain inside him as stories, narrated by the people that judge him for them. 

Bucky’s dreams are flashes of people donned in clothing from different periods of time and weapons of varying intricacy, one as dangerous and deadly as the other. He surely doesn’t remember the bow, but it was there in his hand, the rope tight against his cheekbone and ready to wreak havoc. He woke up moments before letting the arrow fly to its target, but didn’t need to see it. He knows even in his current state of fighting between sleep and being awake what the aftermath would look like.

He frantically searches for five items in his room to calm himself down, five random objects to help him shift his focus from the hellish images of people dying at his hands to tangible objects. It’s a trick he’s learned from Sam and although the guy gets on Bucky’s nerves, he has some good words of advice, because it works every time. 

Cream-colored curtains, dresser filled with clothing, dirty t-shirt on the floor, coat hanger on the doorknob, just one more.

When he’s calmed down his breathing enough to remember his name, he hears something that draws his attention. It’s strange, because for one, it’s the middle of the night, and two, everyone’s still gone. Everyone except for you and Bruce, who’s most likely sleeping in the lab. The sound, soft yet unmistakably clear to his overly sensitive ears, is that of a record player, which quietly elicits jazz music from its speakers. It sounds old, he can tell from the static and the poor quality of the recording, but it’s younger than he is because although he might recognize the artist’s name if you were to tell him, he surely doesn’t remember hearing this song before.

Lampshade. That’s it. Breathe. 

He’s up in an instant, covers swept carelessly to the side as he rises, and he doesn’t bother with fluffy socks to keep his feet from chilling against the hardwood floors or to keep himself from sliding across. He knows the sound is coming from you, because the wall that separates you from him is also the wall that separates him from you, and it's coming from the other side. The hallway is dark when he sets foot in it, but a small slither of light is coming in from underneath the crack beneath your door. That’s when he’s sure you’re the source of the sound. 

He knows you know it’s him who’s at your door because who the fuck else would it be, but he knocks anyway, waiting impatiently until he hears the unmistakable sound of feet clad in Adidas slippers shuffling to the door and you, yawning twice in a row, stand before him moments later. You’re not so silent now, but he decides to give you a break. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and it’s not at all what he expected to come falling from your lips, “did I wake you?”

A fuck you, or a what the hell are you doing at my door at 3 in the morning sounded more appropriate in his head, but an apology didn’t even make it near the top of the list of things he expected you to say to him. You notice he doesn’t respond, and once again have the urge to wave your hands in front of his face. He zones out a lot, you think. 

“No,” he says finally, peering into your bedroom in search of the music, “no, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it?” you ask, hands with red painted fingernails holding the door frame through which you peeked at him.

“The music,” he points out, “can I listen?” 

You frown for a moment, searching his face for emotion. Anger, maybe, because you’re convinced you woke him up after all, or laughter at your expense, but you find none in his words and you find nothing of the sorts on his sweaty face. You let go of the door and step aside, allowing him inside your room for the first time.

It’s nothing and everything he expected at the same time. It’s cozy. A plush, white rug comforts his cold feet, and several fluffy pillows are stacked on your bed, leaning against the headboard. Fairy lights are strung up on the wall and serve as the only source of illumination, the same light that flooded out from underneath the door. You don’t say anything when he sits down at the foot of your bed, hands clasped in his lap, and his eyes on the ground. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, or Bruce Banner for that matter, to figure out something’s wrong with him. You’ve heard the screams. You know the stories, the myths that surround him. 

“It’s early 60′s Frank Sinatra,” you explain, “the next song is my favorite.”

“What’s it called?” He asks as silence between tunes fills the room, before soft drums queue the next song. 

“All I need is the girl,” you reply, smiling as you sat down next to him, “it’s underrated in my opinion.” 

He appreciates the fact that you don’t bring up his disheveled features, or the frown that seems permanently etched into his forehead. It’s not what he needs right now, a lecture, or words of advice. He needs distraction from what’s going on inside his mind and the one person who truly understands him is currently 5000 miles away fighting a battle Bucky himself wasn’t allowed to join. 

“I like it,” he replies, “it’s better than most of the music Tony’s been showing me.” 

Laughter erupts from deep within your chest. It’s a sound Bucky’s never truly listened to before, not even when you snicker next to him as Natasha’s secretly making funny faces at you during meetings that last for hours. It’s warm and makes his heart thump. It makes him feel human. 

“That’s because Tony only wants you to hear garbage,” you smile, “there’s plenty of good music nowadays, you just have to look for it.”

“I didn’t peg you for a jazz-enthusiast, Y/N.” He says bluntly. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, James.”

He doesn’t respond, because why would he? You’re right, he knows absolutely nothing about you, nothing other than your first name and that you like to read and can sneak up on people when they least expect it. This realization makes him get up, afraid to think he’s over-welcomed his stay just as the song comes to a soft end. 

You look tired, purple circles make your eyes less bright, and even though it appears you’re a night owl, he remembers even owls need to sleep sometimes, and so do you. 

“I’ll remember that,” he says, and with one last look back at you on the bed wearing pink pajamas with kitty cats on them, he leaves to return to his room, which suddenly doesn’t feel so homely anymore.

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 15 May 2018, 11:10 a.m. 

After he’s done with his daily morning work out routine, Bucky Barnes heads back to his room to take a well-deserved shower. He hasn’t seen you in two days, which slightly worries him, although it’s not that hard to disappear in a building as large as the tower. You could be anywhere at any given time. Just because you share a room on the same floor, doesn’t mean that’s where you are. Besides, he’s had his fair share of keeping track of people’s whereabouts. He doesn’t want to do that anymore.

Despite this, he finds himself looking for you, keeping an ear out just in case you decide to once again sneak upon him. He wants to ask you if he can borrow the record you were playing earlier, but the question that’s been heavy on his tongue gets swallowed down his throat when he finally does see you again.

You’re seated on one of two wooden benches by the pond out back, legs dipped in shallow, murky water while you’re reading yet another book. He begins to wonder if that’s all you do because he can’t recall ever seeing you not holding at least one in your hands. You have red heart-shaped sunglasses on to shield your eyes from the sun, which brings its powerful rays down on your bare shoulders without mercy. You’re enjoying it, he can tell because you have a smile on your lips that’s so small he’s sure you don’t even realize you’re smiling. You enjoy the heat, it brings an airiness out in you that’s not there when it rains. 

He’s looking out the window now, praying to whatever god is listening to him that you don’t see him lurking in the shadows of the compound’s game room. 

After what feels like hours of eyeing you from across the yard, he turns back around, taking the pool cue between his fingers and twisting it mindlessly. He’s playing a game against himself, so he can’t lose. Still, he has a favorite side, the winning one of course. He doesn’t even like pool, even after three rounds of winning games he literally can’t lose, but he also doesn’t have any better ideas, so he begins to once again line up all the balls for a fourth round. 

“You winning yet?” 

He jumps, dropping the pool cue to the floor and three balls with it. They roll across the wooden floor, the sound so loud it reminds him of gunshots before all of them disappear from view.

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaims, placing his hands on the pool table to steady himself, “you scared me half to death.”

“I’m not Jesus, sorry,” You, looking up from your book, smile gently, “you were very concentrated.”

“I’m a bit of a sore loser,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck before picking up the wooden stick he lost moments ago, “even against myself.” 

You hum, before skipping past him to the bookshelves on the wall. You see him watching you intently, which causes you to turn around slightly so you can see his face.

“Glad I didn’t join you, then. I never lose.” 

He remains silent, wondering for a moment if you would’ve played with him had he asked. Probably not. 

“I read this one already,” you explain, motioning to the book in your hand, “twice, actually. It was better the first two times. I can’t get myself to finish it a third time. The ending’s too sad.”

The only plausible reason for the sudden increase in conversation on your part is that, well, you’re just as bored as he is staying alone in a house big enough to accommodate well over a hundred people, but that instead of playing a game of pool against yourself, you chose to read. Apparently, even reading gets boring to you, or maybe reading the books available to you has become boring. Bucky’s not sure.

“Would you mind putting this back for me?” You ask, holding the book in your hand out to him.

He sees the empty spot at the top of the shelf almost immediately and realizes quickly you’d never be able to reach it without a ladder or at least a chair. 

“Sure,” he mumbles, placing the pool cue on the table and walking towards you. 

“Steve usually does it for me,” you explain, “but he’s still gone.” 

His heart twitches slightly, and he’s not sure why. Jealousy, probably, but he refuses to give in to the idea of being jealous of his best friend just because he gets to be the one to help you reach for something so stupid as a book. He doesn’t even know you, and he sure as hell doesn’t know what type of friendship you have with Steve. He’s never studied your interactions before and he doesn’t keep tabs on his best friend’s acquaintances. 

He reluctantly takes it from you, lifting it by the spine with just two fingers as if it’ll crumble beneath his touch if he applies even the smallest amount of pressure. He puts it back without much effort, only required to stretch his body a little to reach the shelf. His shirt hardly rides up. 

“Can I have that one?” You ask, pointing in the general direction of the highest books. 

“Which one?” he replies, looking at the spines lined up in perfect alphabetical order. 

“The green one,” you say after some thought, “I’m not sure if I’ve read that one yet.” 

He picks it up and hands it to you, allowing you to quickly scan the back cover before shaking your head. You give it back, he puts it back on the shelf. This continues for quite some time until finally, he grabs one you surprisingly haven’t indulged in. You open it up on a random page, nodding to yourself when you indeed confirm the word patterns are foreign to your brain. It’s thick, the heaviest one out of all of them, there’s a large crack in the spine and the pages are frayed. The title, which was previously painted on in gold letters, faded so much Bucky can’t quite make out what it says. He wonders why on earth Tony has so many books anyway. The guy doesn’t even read. 

You don’t even say thanks as you begin to skip away from him, leaving Bucky wondering what the hell just happened before he realizes you’re out the door. Then, he glances at the pool table, a groan erupting from his throat when he realizes he’s lost at least three balls he now has the privilege of trying to find. It takes him nearly an hour.

You’re not sure what compelled you to seek him out in the first place. You were perfectly content sitting outside basking in the sunlight, enjoying the scent of fresh grass and blossoming flowers while frogs and birds made their presence known in their funny ways. As such, it takes you a while to realize you’re curious. Curious to know what the infamous Winter Soldier is really like. You’ve lived with the guy for months, but have never so much as spoken more than a few words at any given time and it bothers you because something is lingering just behind the facade that draws you in more than you’re willing to admit.

Maybe it’s because his hands tell stories that go further than any book you’ve ever read. Their actions could fill novels, yet he doesn’t know how to put a single word on paper because he doesn’t remember any of it. It fascinates you beyond comprehension. 

You tried to stay away from him because you know it’s what’s best for everybody, but the screaming and howling at night, and the depth of the ocean in his eyes spike your curiosity and suddenly you find yourself wandering the halls in search of him, wondering what a man like him could be up to on a beautiful day like this. 

You really did not expect him to be playing a game of pool against himself. 

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 16 May 2018, 1:44 p.m.

A book is in your hand when the others finally make it back the following day. To everyone’s relief, none of them are seriously injured, but Natasha needs an x-ray to make sure she doesn’t have a cracked rib, and you find it in yourself to leave the book - a new one, with a bird on the cover this time - you were reading before they arrived behind just long enough for you to accompany her to the medical bay. 

Bucky hugs his best friend close to his chest, glad to see he’s made it back without any major injuries. He knows Steve has the same serum coursing through his veins that allows him to heal in a very short amount of time, but he can’t help but worry nonetheless. It’s in his nature to take care of him, just like he used to do when they were in the previous century. Habits die hard.

“What have you been up to?” Steve asks as they follow each other back inside the compound. 

“Not much,” Bucky says nonchalantly, “relaxing.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He knows Bucky doesn’t typically relax but chooses not to question his answer. Instead, Steve watches you skip gleefully after Natasha, telling her in grave detail how your last book, the one Bucky handed you, ended with a horrifying plot twist that left you shivering and shaken to your core. The redhead nods in your direction as Sam, who’s clearly not amused by your need for storytelling, uses his arm to support her weight. She’s intently listening to your expressive story, simply happy to be near you again because you offer normalcy in her crazy life.

It doesn’t take Bucky very long to realize Steve’s looking at you in the same way. Even Sam, whose teeth are gritted and whose lips are pursed in a tight line, has a twinkle in his eyes that Bucky’s never noticed before now. 

He realizes at that moment he can no longer push away his curiosity. There’s something buried deep inside him that’s nestled within his core, something that compels him to know more. He decides he’s going to ask Steve about you but closes his mouth the second he opens it because he knows now is not the right time for such questions. Steve’s tired, he can tell by the way his eyes droop and he’s dirty and smells like sweat and gunpowder, and Bucky can only imagine how badly his friend wants to take a shower. 

“What?” Steve asks with his eyebrow raised as he watches Bucky’s mouth move like that of a fish on land.

“Nothing,” Bucky says, “Just glad you guys are back.” 

“That bad, huh?” Steve jokes, punching him lightly in the shoulder. 

Bucky begins to follow him inside. 

“It’s been quiet, that’s all.” 

“Admit it pal,” Steve grins through his tiredness, “you’d be lost without us.” 

--

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@justine-en​ @meghapillai

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Spent a good bit of time last night waiting for HorribleSubs to upload Assault Lily, since, my laptop being garbage, I didn’t want to waste the time torrenting other uploads that probably wouldn’t have ran well. But they were taking a fucking real long time, right, so I go on the website and see that Assault Lily’s not on their current season page. Weird, but then that page also had a bunch of shit that’d long finished airing, so I just assumed it was out of date. And I was correct, because their schedule page had Assault Lily on it, though it didn’t hyperlink to its info page like every other show on there. Getting impatient, I decide to join their Discord server and ask about the show. I don’t get a response for a few hours, so I go to sleep.

This morning I woke up to the news that HorribleSubs themselves are ending. Hence the lack of an Assault Lily upload. Well, that explains that. And fuck, that bums me out. HorribleSubs definitely lived up to their name, but they’re like the only uploader who consistently releases encodes that run on my shitty ass laptop. I mean other than Erai-Raws, who’ll probably just be my main squeeze from now on, but they’re so slow! HorribleSubs are fast and better quality than whatever gets uploaded to like gogoanime and shit. And I just won’t have that luxury now.

For now I’m torrenting some rando’s upload of Assault Lily, it’s 1080p which is sort of a red flag for my laptop but there’s still a chance, we’ll see.