#also think I might upload on Monday’s or Thursdays??? idk

[crybaby-bkg]

writing a slow burn enemies to lovers fic is. a lot harder. than I had expected.

#it’s why it took me so long to start akdhfkfjf #I’m just not used to writing slow burn!!!! #or enemies to lovers!!! lol #especially since enemies to lovers toes a very thin line #of this being too fast and all at once after a brief makeup #OR they’re too mean in the beginning and it’s like why do u have any attraction to that person at all. #so I’m trying to find the line of hesitant friendship somewhere along the line of that!!!! #even tho I’m only on chap three right now AKDHDKFJFJF #IM SO USED TO RUSHING THIS FEELS SO WEIRD!!!!!! #I’m ready for them to fugg #bc fugg is all I know I fear #but it’s coming along very well and I’m enjoying the writing process so much!!! #only downside is my wrist and back hurting #but trust and believe I’ll be back writing tomorrow ☝🏼 #I’m enjoying this so much it’s so cathartic #I think I’m gonna write about five chapters first before I publish it and then write the rest as I go #I just know I can fall behind bc of school and depression but I’m really liking this so far!!! #also think I might upload on Monday’s or Thursdays??? idk #bc I do school tues/wed and I don’t typically get on my computer on sundays #and I usually go to bed either really late or really early Fridays LOL idk #I’m rambling soooo much I’m just so excited about this!!! OH and j made a banner and I love that too!!!! #—in store chit chat! 🍫

[atalienart]

any advice on dealing with instagram’s shitty algorithm? it’s so bad for me that my posts are getting about 5% of my follower count in likes. it’s bad. it makes me want to stop using insta entirely. have you had issues with insta as well, and do you prefer tumblr over insta? i’ve never posted my art on here but i think i might start if it’s kinder than instagram is. would love to hear your thoughts on this. 💗

The answer is so long that...

Hard question. I really know the pain. At the beginning I suggest trying different days to see when your posts get the most attention. Then be consistent and post on the day you chose. I noticed the most people seem to see my posts when I upload on Monday and Thursday for some reason. (Idk why because I get to see posts that people posted two days ago or something.) If I post twice a week my second post definitely gets more attention. I don't upload too many images in one post, people usually don't swipe too many times, it's better to make a new post instead. Some people say it's better to add less used tags because it's more likely people who look for specific tags will notice you, some say it's good to use tags that big reposting accounts use because people check these more and you have a bigger chance to be noticed by more people. (I suck at tagging.) Definitely let people know that you posted something new in your story. If you don't see much activity just leave insta, don't just sit there, browse and stare at it, if insta wants to engage you it should do something to drag you back, e.g. by showing you some notifications, and to show you notifications it should show your art to your followers. Don't give it your time and attention if it doesn't give you none. You might also want to use all insta functions like reels (I still don't know if I even have this option...) Add stories often, just not too many and make them interesting, that way people who check them will have your icon always in sight.

Generally there's a lot of trash on insta, that's why it's so hard to even reach the people that follow you (half of my followers don't see my posts), there's tons of ads and reposts.

Anyway, a lot depends on the things you post. Are they consistently good? are they cropped in an aesthetically pleasing way? For example, I noticed that if I change my style a bit it affects the notes. Do you do fanart or original art, fanart gets a lot more attention, especially if you're kinda "known" for it. And you need to be okay with the fact people won't like every single post of yours. I know what would give me more notes but I just want to draw what I like. It's important to do things for yourself.

I gave up on breaking the algorithm, I just try to post on the same day (sometimes I fail xD), I post my original art so I expect people who either really like my art or my ocs will interact. And I try not to worry to much, I used to worry, now... I don't think it's worth it. It's still sad when it seems like no one cares and you want some validation but it's not something you can't live with.

As for tumblr, I'm not sure how it works for new users, I guess it's not that bad (from what I've heard). For me, well, I have a lot of followers here but maybe 1%-3% of people are interested in my content now. When I drew fanart it was much more popular. A lot of people left after the tumblr collapse xD I honeslty have no idea how many of the accounts that follow me are just ghost accounts. But it's probably a totally different experience for new artists. It might be better than insta taking into consideration it's calm here.

But have patience, improve your skills, numbers really don't matter, people who follow you and their support matter. There's no point to stress about something you have no power over. And if you have energy to try new sites then do it, see what works best for you.

#I'm so sorry for this essay u_u

[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…  

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.  

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?  

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a  bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.  

But you don’t have it.  

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you  and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

#thank you all for reading oh my gosh #i know this thing is long as hell #im kinda crazy asf #but whatever!! #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes/reader #captain america and bucky #reader insert #artist!reader #fluff asf #read on ao3 #marvel fic #ongoing fic

[princessamericachavez]

so, you're posts about critical role and you're ship have got me quite interested. do you have any tips on watching it for someone who knows next to nothing about it?

Hey! So I knew next to nothing about D&D when I started watching Campaign One, but I found that most of the rules are easy to infer as you watch them play and any other stuff you don’t understand is one quick google search away. Mostly, it’s pretty simple.

I suggest you start with Campaign 2, since it’s still on-going and it will let you participate more actively in the current fandom.

You can find all the episodes on Youtube. Here’s a link to a playlist with all of them so far:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byva0hOj8CU&list=PL1tiwbzkOjQxD0jjAE7PsWoaCrs0EkBH2

New episodes air on Thursdays on the Critical Role Twitch channel and are uploaded to Youtube on Mondays.

Don’t be too intimidated by the ep count or length. You can go at your own pace and, in my experience, the stories are so compelling that the episodes end up feeling short!

You can also find all of the episodes as Podcasts, so that might be simpler if you wanna listen as you drive or work or do other stuff.

Other things you might like to know about it before you start:

The show started as a homegame between the cast, who are friends irl, and halfway through their first game they were invited to livestream it. From then, it took off at a pace that still amazes the cast. Most of them are Voice Actors or Voice Acting Directors or writers, which makes them amazing storytellers.

Their first campaign is also on YT. It’s 115 episodes long and a lot of fun! I’m almost entirely caught up with it and also really recommend it, but maybe focus on one campaign at a time for starters.

The cast, btw, are all amazing and loving people. A quick basic guide:

Matt Mercer: the dungeon master, a soft loving soul, and an incredible storyteller. He loves his friends a lot and always tries to make their game/story in a way that will make them have fun and be happy even if people online might complain that it isn’t how they would’ve done it.

Marisha Ray: his wife, a total badass, CR’s creative director. She used to get a lot of hate for her character in C1 from some terrible people online but she never let that stop her from playing her in a way that felt true to herself, she’s also a very loud advocate for stopping online harassment.

Laura Bailey: she’s another badass, literal angel with a dirty mind, she’s married to Travis and they are adorable. Her first campaign character was Liam’s twins and they have a very sibling-like relationship despite not being related irl. Legend has it, the first time they all played together, Laura was the first one to go in full on acting and making voices and stuff and it pushed the whole cast to really immerse into the experience.

Travis Willingham: a wonderful soft jock with the heart of a nerd and strong heart-eyes for his wife. He’s the opposite to toxic masculinity. Also, he used to play a dumb barbarian in the first campaign so this time around he’s trying something entirely new for him and it’s delightful to watch.

Taliesin Jaffe: the closest thing you will find in real life to a fey creature, goth dad, his air is full of magic and his heart full of love and good advice. He’s really an amazing person all around. Also, probably, immortal. Used to play the smug tortured man in the first campaign, his old character also invented guns so you’ll see the cast side-eyeing him whenever they encounter fire weapons during the second campaign.

Liam O'Brien: this man is such a wonderful actor that loves breaking all of our hearts with his storytelling, he really loves tragedy but is also kind of a trickster himself? He is “twinnies” with Laura and bffs with Sam, they and the fandom constantly joke about being married.

Sam Riegel: a chaotic trickster god. Really though, this man is a comedic genius who lives to make people around him laugh and will rip your heart out when you least expect it. People like to joke about Bards being the worst class but his C1 bard was the stuff of legend. He’s an amazing player and actor. His current character is a rogue, like Liam’s C1 character, which is why you’ll see Liam gushing with excitement about Sam rolling stealth checks.

Ashley Johnson: Yet another badass lady. You might have seen her in that old movie What Women Want or more recently in Blindspot. She has the face of an angel but is a real undercover agent for chaos. She comes and goes because her show is shot in NY but you can tell how much brightness she brings to the table when she’s home. Her old character and Travis’s were bffs and this time she’s playing a Barbarian, so you’ll see Travis going wild whenever he gets to see her fight.

Brian Foster: He interviews the cast every Tuesday about the latest show, he’s incredibly funny and charming. Also, he and Ashley are engaged! People joke that he smells like cabbage (idk why?) but he’s amazing all around and part of the family. He doesn’t play in the campaign but has appeared in a few of the one-shots.

Dani Carr: An angel that works with the team, gushes over ships and banters with Brian during Talks Machina. She’s wonderful and sweet! Also she runs a preshow recap of last week’s episode to refresh everyone on the important stuff or fill in anyone who might’ve missed it. 

The characters, well, I could speak forever about them but the real joy is getting to know them yourself. Here’s a quick line-up of them, though:

I hope you have fun watching! This is all I could think about for now but let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to know about!

#critical role #sofia's nonsense #Anonymous

[mcjour]

ahhhhhhhhh

ok so i’ve been applying all over for jobs which is such a horrible process. hate writing cover letters and filling in employment history and then having to talk to strangers and bla bla bla

SO

anyway i had TWO interviews this week!

the first one was for the district in the next town over. i didn’t apply to any jobs that i wouldn’t be happy at, but honestly it’s probably a last choice in the sense that it pays significantly less than anywhere else in the area. Just $15/hr. which isn’t the WORST i’ve seen, but still... not great.. at all...

but i went and interviewed with an assistant principal and she was very nice and made her schools seem really great! like i walked away being like ok i kinda wanna work here LOL. 

i think the interview went well overall. but... in retrospect there are definitely some questions i could’ve answered a lot better than i did. maybe some cringey answers. BUT also nothing i would consider BAD either, if that makes sense. Like certainly not the best job I could’ve done, but overall felt satisifed. I mean, I also need to be fair to myself that this was my first interview in years, and after (well, during) a freaking pandemic, and after leaving my last job in such a traumatic way. And like just anxiety in general! So like, yes I definitely could have done a lot better, but considering I left feeling satisfied, like I am proud of myself for how it went really. 

Plus, she seemed responsive and interested in what I was saying, which seems like a good sign? But like she totally just could’ve been a nice lady with a poker face LOL

Do I think I will get an offer??? Ehhhhhh..... I guess it depends on how many other applicants/ open positions. Like, I could see it going either way. I definitely didn’t bomb the interview, so I wouldn’t say an automatic no. But I could definitely imagine other people could have interviewed much better than I did. And if they were only looking to fill one position, well, I’m out. 

And so, like I said, since they pay the least amount of money, like, I wouldn’t be super hurt if I didn’t get the offer. Like I hope to get a better position so like I’m hoping I wouldn’t end up there anyway! But, if I did get the offer, maybe I’d take it....

Anyway, the interview was Monday and she did say they were aiming for this week ~either way~ and now tomorrow (today) is Friday, so I wonder if I will hear back (either way) today

My second interview...... 

So after my first interview, I made sure to practice extra hard. I mean, I did practice for the first interview a lot too (meaning coming up with different stories/ scenarios for frequently asked questions), but after that one I was like “oh I could’ve said something better for that question” sort of a thing.

So I had all these great stories lined up and ready to go and I was so ready to use them and make me sound great

But.... she didn’t ask any questions like that!!!!!!! 

They were really such flat questions like “what do you do if 8 students need your help?” “you might be pulled to sub is that ok?” like HUH????????????

How am I supposed to make myself sound good with questions like that LMAOOOOOO

(and... how is she supposed to make a decision with questions like that LOL)

But honestly, I did do a good job, I think. Like I think I gave solid answers to every question, don’t think I said anything too cringey or anything. The pulled to sub question could easily have been a flop if I was just like “yeah” (LOL) but I told a story about how my partner teacher would disappear and i would take over the class on the fly. that kind of a thing. was proud of that.

so i walked out feeling pretty confident.

okay plus she started interviews on wednesday (mine was that day). she said she had two more the following day (which made it seem like mine was the last of the day). and then would hope to get back to people on friday. (AHHHHH! I FIND OUT TOMORROW/ TODAY).

and so i was kinda doing the math where i was like okay... my interview was at 1:30pm... she couldn’t have had TOO many before me....  she must’ve allowed herself a lunch break at some point, and when i got to the school she was finishing up a completely unrelated math meeting online. so she must’ve not just been doing interviews that whole time. i wanna say maybe max 6 other interviews that day if she started around 9, went to 12, one every half hour. but i am doubting that she packed them in like that, like i said. but that would make 9 applicants MAX, probably less. And she said there were 3 open positions across both her schools. and she asked if i wanted to be considered for both schools. So that gives me a 1 in 3 chance (or better depending on the actual number of applicants! maybe 1 in 2 chance lol. or if any of the applicants did not want to be considered for both jobs, but one vs the other). so i was feeling pretty good!!!! like decent ratio and a good interview things are looking good! (i mean you hear about jobs that get hundreds of applicants for a single position! these odds are p good!)

BUT still like i wish she asked me different questions. i don’t feel like i fully really expressed who i am to her. like if she had asked me more than i would’ve felt more confident that she would have seen more of my strengths and stuff. like i said, the questions she did ask were kinda flat, and while i think i answered them well, i wasn’t given a lot to work with. that said, i assume she asked the same questions to everyone, so i assume everyone else kinda had that issue, so idk how she is making a decision based off that!

especially given this: i gave her a copy of my resume and she said she really appreciated that because the website the district uses for the applications like is hard to use or messes things up or somehting. which, okay. that worries me a little bit... because i hope she can access my cover letter, my references, etc... because those add a LOT to the picture. like LMAO if she went off of my interview and resume alone...well...ew. i really hope she logs back in and reviews the WHOLE application.

So i’m kinda thinking ewwwwww maybe there was more I could’ve done somehow idk

LOL maybe print out my entire packet HAHA

jk would that have been weird? I would’ve felt weird. but maybe she would’ve liked that haha

the first interview lady actually had all of my stuff printed for the interview (i offered her a resume copy and she’s like oh i actually printed it myself and she had like this thick packet of ALL the stuff)

idk i really loved this school. like on paper it seemed perfect for many reasons, and then when i spoke to the principal it still seemed great, maybe even better than i thought. so like UGH this is my dream school. i want this job so bad! but like, i’m afraid to allow myself to get excited about it. like ... i don’t want to be disappointed. also like just in general there is no need for me to romanticize a JOB 

okay right after the interview i felt so confident like omg yes i am so excited and i am going to get this job!!!! but now the next day i am like... ugh... no way will i get this job... i never get anything i want, so the rejection is inevitable... like... can there really be no healthy middle thinking for me jfc. 

i will say there was one red flag in that i was like oh it seems like you have a very tight knit community here and shes like oh yes we are like a family! and like !!!! those are some red flag words honey!!!!! don’t say that. but like.... idk how to describe it. it felt genuine and not exploity? not that you can tell that from an interview. but like it seems like everyone has been working there forever and loves it kind of a thing. i mean, if i get the job, i won’t let my guard down on that shit. but it’s not concerning enough to stop me either.

one thing i am a LITTLE worried about is that idk when this lady planned on checking references (if at all). like did she do that thursday or is she planning on friday? because part of me secetly hoped that she would call my references today and they would’ve texted me being like omg! but they didn’t. and so that is kinda like “...oh.” But like i said, she very well could be calling tomorrow. ALSO worth considering is that two of my 3 references actually uploaded letters into the system. So she really doesn’t even ~need~ to call them unless she had specific questions (or wanted to talk to the 3rd reference LOL). so like... i really do not need to be stressing out about this specific thing at all... and yet....

also.... ugh... there are stuff that are just about me that i worry about. like ok, i am visibly queer with a shaved head. while i’d hope that an interviewer would not be prejudiced.... they easily could be. there really aren’t enough queer people in education, it’s a very homogenous field of straight, often wealthy, white women. i do have white privilege but otherwise i really don’t fit the image, so idk. also one of my references did use they/them pronouns in their reference letter and i feel like that could be a huge red flag to someone. granted i suppose i wouldn’t want to work for someone like that, and i also don’t care enough to asks my friend to misgender me, but still, it’s something i wonder about. another thing is that i talk with my hands a lot, and i am sure i did even more given that i was nervous......... i don’t think that is an issue necessarily but i was definitely self conscious about it like geez i hope i wasn’t waving my hands out of control LOL. and then another thing is that i HATE eye contact, like i just can’t do it. And I think I did a great job of holding eye contact, all things considered. but I definitely did look away a bit, particularly when i was thinking. I think it was fine and not an unreasonable amount of looking away, but now i am getting paranoid like oops maybe i looked away too much or something!!! i mean, i would hate if a job offer came down to something trivial like that, but... idk

another thing i wonder is the other applicants. like i said before.. it doesn’t really matter if i am a great applicant, it doesn’t guarantee anything if there was someone even slightly better. doesn’t mean i suck or anything. of course, that still wouldn’t take the sting off. ANYWAY the part i wonder most about though is where are these other people applying? by that i mean like what if my first choice school is actually someone else’s last choice school? do the other applicants also have other interviews and offers to weigh? So like, what if she offers someone a job but they are like sorry no thanks (for whatever reason, whether they accepted another position elsewhere, saw a red flag in the interview, or whatever it may be). like what if i was 4th choice for the 3 positions or something. would the job go to me?? when would i find this out? like, it’s weird to state that you will find out friday ~either way~ when i feel like you would need some time for the other people to accept (god forbid the call goes to voicemail even!). like i feel like most jobs wouldn’t be like “you’re waitlisted” LOL (i will say i did get a job off a waitlist once so i know it’s possible, but that doesn’t seem likely here LOL). maybe she didn’t say friday either way, and just ~friday~. maybe friday is for acceptances and flat out rejections and if you don’t hear friday you’re waitlisted LOL. or maybe she said she would make the decision fridayy but that doesn’t mean she’s actually reaching out friday? (ok i doubt she said that LOL)

plus are we talking like oh first thing friday she’s making the calls or is she gonna pull at 4:59pm thing like a lot of places do LOL. I don’t think that makes sense but maybe? I mean, when she offered me an interview, the time stamp on the email said like 8:39am or some shit, so i think this lady is on the ball in the mornings. but like i said, maybe she is still tying it all together friday morning, after all, she is moving through this very fast. 

hopefully i hear good news today but i guess we will just  wait and see.

if it’s only bad/no news, there are still some schools i haven’t heard from, and some more i can apply to. i just want to wrap this process up sooner rather than later.

lastly, i need to remember if worst comes to worse, i could always apply to my old school (meaning the one i worked at before, not the one i attended lol. although i guess i could also apply there, i just don’t like the position they have open right now). i am pretty dang sure they would take me (they always need somebody!) plus i know the ropes, know i would be happy and fit in there (not to mention my friends are there LOL). i hope it doesn’t come to that, after all the pay SUCKS lol. but it’s not world ending if i don’t get the jobs.

[remembermemorablememories]

Thursday, August 16, 2018

post #220

main points:

- refactor screenshot PR to remove android tests after discussing with roberto

- investigate potential system settings solution that works...?? but turns out it didn’t

- lunch by meself

- cleaning up screenshot PR

- working on functional test PR

- start minor label PR fix

- gym (ran 2 miles)

- got takeout dinner (got a burger)

- ubered home

- watched the office and youtube

- last hanging out with damien and karl

- digging around about music again after being inspired by odesza (of course)

today i:

- woke up at 8:30am and only snoozed until like 8:50am. then i went to take a dump. while i was sitting on the toilet, i decided to try out my project on the staging server. when i was trying to go through a simple workflow, i was brought into the system settings... o_o i was really thrown off because i thought this wasn’t supported by the framework yet. i realized that something inside of the RPC must’ve been remotely calling it. that got me really excited and really interested in whether i could dig around and figure out how this worked

- ubered with damien and karl to work. it was my turn to call it this time. we got in, ate breakfast and then i went to my desk, really excited

- i started digging around the code base on the RPC call for about 15 minutes. when i sort of had a rough grasp of it, i brought my phone to harvy to ask him what he thought. i felt like it wouldn’t fully work, because the RPC call was able to launch the system settings but didn’t necessarily have a way to listen to the system preferences, which is the real problem. i reached out to someone internally and they confirmed that there needs to be a client side implementation (still) to be able to properly listen to system settings. i was like dang :/ but it was itching at the back of my head. my notifications were disabled, so in order to know to launch the system settings in the RPC call, certainly something must’ve been listening... right...? idk, i had to push it off for the time being to focus on QA testing

- looked into the android issue with roberto. he said that adding it as a separate file worked for him. so i gave that a try, but unfortunately it didn’t work :’( i was still getting weird Android execution issues. harvy and roberto decided it might just be better to move out the Android screenshot tests for now and just have an iOS version

- i moved the code out for Android and then realized my iOS tests weren’t actually even running... somehow they weren’t included in the execution. i later realized that i needed to specify this in the metadata/blueprint. so i added that and then got another round of reapprovals

- grabbed lunch by myself around 12:30. it was really quick, very efficient. i finished by like 12:50 and went back to work. i wanted to get started on the functional tests. also briefly chatted with lydia cause i saw her cmb profile in discover today and she’s also an infj!! :o

- went back to my desk and started working on the functional tests. i was having a lot of trouble trying to get the actual tapping action mocking to work. eventually, after wrestling with it all afternoon, i was able to get it to a working state. however, i still have some issues. 

- first, i needed to make another label PR (minor fix). this should’ve been included in yesterday’s PR but i thought i had already accounted for this. made it very quickly and will hopefully get that submitted tomorrow morning

- second, the functional test seems to fail when i add my new function to the test file. i dug around in the evening and pinpointed that it was because of a function call i was making to a helper private function. for some reason, making the call twice was throwing off the ordering of the functional test... i don’t understand why

- third, the final row in the dialog is missing for some reason. i dug around and i think, because the functional test is based on some generated resource, and that resource doesn’t have the correct data, it’s not properly displaying the last row...? idk... i’m a bit confused by it and need to look into it tomorrow

- so many things to tackle tomorrow. all related to testing :’( i feel like it’s just infrastructural issues, like the logic for testing it should be really easy to write. sigh

- went to the gym around 7 and ran until like 7:30. put in an order for the burger place for take out and went back up to my desk (where i did the pinpointing for point number 2)

- went to pick up the burger around 8 ish. ubered back home and got back around 8:30

- i ate the burger and watched two episodes of the office S8E14 and E15. dwight’s taking some peeps to florida for a corporate special project. at the end of episode 14 there was some spicy stuff going on with kathy and what she said on the phone (ooOoOooOo). also the actress for kathy is really cute omg

- watched some youtube videos. cinema sins on karate kid

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QeHFYe_HZxg&t=0s

new rocket jump video sponsored by mile 22

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtILuFhe6v4&t=0s

other shtuff

- karl and damien got back around 10pm. we just kind of chatted for a while until 10:30-10:40pm. we talked about durians, duty free taxes and other stuff. it was probably gonna be the last time i see damien :’( he’s leaving on saturday and i won’t be around tomorrow after work/saturday. the summer flew by so fast. sad reacts. damien’s cool

- just chilled in my room from 11pm to now. i spent some time looking into music making software. got sucked into that briefly (again) after i was uploading the odesza videos from outsidelands onto google drive. i think i’m gonna try to give an attempt at making music this semester. i tried to last spring with garage band that one night, but i think i should give it a real try with actual software. i’m pretty sure i blogged about it...? maybe. idk.. 

anywho

i’m showered. ready to sleep. i hope i can wrap up the functional test tomorrow and have a fun weekend with friends from new york!!!!!!!111!!1!1

okay good night

edit: wow i found the post from when i made the garageband thing. i just happened to find it on page 20 (which i was searching on arbitrarily)

https://remembermemorablememories.tumblr.com/post/170297222081/monday-january-29-2018

reading through that post was surreal. i’m glad that i’ve been doing this every day. it’s cool being able to document everything. but also the stuff about the dish washer foaming and leaking, that felt so recent. was that really in febrary/late january?? holy shit

okay i can’t keep my eyes open good night

#post #august #2018 #music