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makuta-tobi · 10 months

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Nat stared at her computer screen, cursor blinking in tandem with her heartbeat, so loud in her ears she may as well have been at a metal concert. Months she had worked on her project, skipping meals, staying awake until sunrise, and then a few hours more after that. Now she was a few keystrokes away from finally testing it. Cables ran from her ramshackle computer, meeting and mingling with others attached to a bank of hard drives, all spinning with uploads and downloads. On the inflatable mattress behind her, the fruits of her labour lay eerily still. With a deep, shaky exhale, she typed in the last few lines of code into her launcher, and pressed the enter key.

The whirring of the fans pointed towards the makeshift server seemed to drown out all other noise as the program executed. Then a series of smaller fans, a sharper sound than the box fan nearby, as they all sprang to life at once. Nat pressed her palms together as her creation came online. As servos activated and limbs went from rigid to an almost relaxed state, she couldn't help but whisper “it lives” to herself. The machine in front of her made a sudden jolt, and a light on the side of its head illuminated a pale white. Online and active. She twisted from her position on the floor to check her monitors and saw that all systems were operating nominally. Neural pathways were registering stimuli, artificial synapses were firing as thoughts began to form. It worked!

Nat placed her hand on the machine's upper back and guided it to a sitting position. She had been sure to feed the computer a good handful of data about herself, and the basics of knowledge in order to train the AI and make sure it didn't immediately shut down from overstimulation.

God knows I certainly would have, she thought to herself with an eyeroll.

“Are you awake?” her first question was more of a way to test the robot's speech recognition, its self evaluation, word association, and also to ensure that the vocal modulation was up to satisfactory conditions.

“I am awake,” it responded. The robot drew its arms closer to its torso and seemed to look around the room briefly, before turning its head to face Nat.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked, once again checking its recognition and perception.

“Natalie, you created and programmed me, I believe,” it tilted its head almost as though trying to determine if this was the correct answer. The data she had fed it before it woke up had included details about herself, photos and videos of her, vocal samples, and the AI was interpreting this information and comparing it to the details in front of it. The face, the voice, it all matched. But the robot seemed almost unsure, as if contemplating whether the information it had was incomplete. Perhaps it had been told that this person, whose face and voice it knew, was the one who built it, but that did not necessarily mean the information it had was true. Nonetheless, Nat smiled and nodded, and the robot's shoulders almost imperceptibly relaxed.

“That's right. I did create you, and I programmed you to be something new, but familiar. You have a lot of potential, and I'm glad to meet you.” The robot tilted its head at the framing of the statement.

“What potential do I have?” it asked. A curious mind, or simply a rudimentary AI probing for information to expand its knowledge set?

“You have multiple functions as yet unseen. All of you, from the smallest details of your body, to your quizzical mind, all are new ways to expand the experience of everyone.” When the robot did not respond right away, and simply looked down at its form, still sitting upright on the air mattress, she continued her explanation. “Your frame is designed with limb augments and prosthesis in mind,” she gestured to the carbon fiber metal that made up its hands and arms. “Your sensor suite is expected to replace the damaged vision or hearing of someone who has lost theirs. Your AI can expand and contain the breadth of knowledge and actually learn, instead of just regurgitate answers it had received beforehand.”

“What of this?” the robot touched the gray fleshy material covering its lower abdomen, stretching down to its thighs.

“That is actually two things. The first is a synthetic skin that can be created to replace basic skin grafts and other replacement techniques we currently have. The second is that the skin is used as a mount for artificial nerves that can replace damaged ones.”

The robot ran its hands over its body as she explained it. Fine black digits ran over smooth arms and shoulders, stroking across the lighter fake flesh that extended over parts of itself. It then raised its head and looked at her again, cocking its head to the side. In the black glass dome of its face, Nat could only see her own reflection, distorted like staring into dark water. She had always taken issue with the way her nose sat, or criticized that one eyebrow was higher than the other. The self deprecation had always come easy, but looking back at herself from this angle, it was like seeing herself anew, as she really was. When she had begun construction on the robot's exoskeleton so long ago, she had wondered if this would feel like interacting with her child for the first time, but now, she realized, it was more like talking to herself. She felt love for the machine in a way that was hard to quantify, and thus, she knew, she loved herself, in some weird, roundabout way.

“My design, my purpose, is for medical research, is that correct?” the robot asked. She saw, in her reflection, the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile that she liked seeing.

“Your design, yes. You were made with the intention of looking into a variety of medical advancements all at once, to see how they might interact with each other, as well as individually. But your purpose is for you to decide, once you find it. That might take some time, but I think all living things will eventually find it.”

“Am I alive?” the robot's question wasn't exactly unexpected, but it was quick to ask so bluntly.

“Scientifically, maybe not. Ethically, I'm sure some people would take issue with me trying to say otherwise, but realistically? In my mind? You move, you think, you have the potential to imagine, and dream, and exist here. I don't see why you couldn't consider that being alive.”

The robot nodded, its hidden visual sensors scanning Nat up and down, taking in the sight of what it could consider life, based solely on firsthand experience and not a dataset provided before it had even been conscious. Her dyed blonde hair had faded quite a bit since its last treatment, with longer dark roots peaking out. Her eye mascara was smudged, but the dark rings around her eyes framed her gray-blue irises almost ethereally. Her loose tank top draped across her body and hid her shape, and her shorts were stained with pen ink. In spite of her unkempt appearance, or perhaps because of it, the robot perceived, that this was life.

They both shook off the initial studiousness of their first interaction, and Nat turned to her computer, minimizing the command prompt window and revealing a program with a split screen. On one side, an image that appeared to resemble an approximation of a human brain structure. On the other, lines of data were being written and recorded, a text log of the robots experiences made legible.

“Before we get too existential,” Nat said almost wistfully, “we need to make sure your various systems are functioning the way they are intended to.” She turned back to the robot and handed it a ball. It appeared like a gel filled stress ball, and the robot took it, turning it over in its hand. “I just need you to give that a squeeze. Use your instincts and apply enough pressure to squish it, but not break it.”

The robot looked at the ball for a moment and squished it twice in its hand. The portions of the ball not covered by the robot's palm and fingers would expand briefly with the pressure, but would relax as soon as the pressure was let off. The robot then closed its fist around the ball, with the gel-filled portions blowing up to larger size, and it held that position. Nat jotted a note down on a piece of paper with her pencil and then nodded.

“Okay, you can go ahead and release it.” The robot relaxed its fingers and the ball returned to its normal shape. Nat took it and then turned to fully face the robot again. “Now I'm going to test the artificial nerves in the skin.” She pressed the eraser of her pencil against the gray flesh on the robot's hip and turned to look at her monitor. A portion of the brain image lit up. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the robot answered curtly. Nat scribbled something else down on her note paper.

“Okay, now look over there,” she gestured with her pencil. She had to be sure that the sensation registration was due to the actual physical stimuli, and not the recognition that touching the spot should produce a registration. The robot turned its head to look in the direction she had indicated, and then she pushed down on the middle of its thigh. Again, she turned her head to look at the screen, and saw the same area of the brain image glowing. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the robot answered again.

“Don't look, but show me where,” she said. Making sure that it could identify the location of the sensation was also important, so its spatial awareness was also under observation. The robot slid its hand over the skin and touched a single finger directly next to her pencil. A simple example of manual dexterity, which would certainly be tested later, but good to know. “Okay, now one more,” she said. Flipping her pencil around, she pressed the sharpened graphite into a spot near its groin, where the thigh and hip met. Even without seeing the pencil, the robot reacted stronger than she had anticipated. It jolted at the sudden sharp stimuli, and the hand that was still resting on its thigh clenched into a fist. She quickly withdrew the pencil from the skin.

“I'm so sorry!” her voice seemed almost panicked as she checked the monitor. Not only had it registered the sensation, but the synaptic response on the monitor showed a lingering feeling as it slowly dissipated. “How do you feel?” she turned her head back to look at the robot, which had returned its gaze to her.

“Warm,” it answered. She looked down to see that her hand was placed over the spot her pencil had poked, stabbed really, and that feeling was helping to calm the feeling in the robot. She exhaled, and pushed her bangs back. At least that much worked.

“I'm going to log your reactions so far, just a second.” Nat spun around on the floor, selecting a portion of the text that still scrolled across her screen and saving it in a separate folder. The robot tilted its head and examined the tattoo on her shoulder while she worked. A diamond butterfly unfurling its wings and escaping a cocoon made of coal on the back of her right arm. A little on the nose, to be sure, but her friends had assured her the imagery was lovely. Something beautiful and real coming out of a period of harsh change under tremendous pressure. It defined Nat's life, growing up in a family that was always standoffish, not fitting in for so long and not knowing why. Diagnosis after diagnosis making matters worse, while she struggled to find herself, becoming sloth, and finally discovering her own truth and breaking free of the old things. She still carried parts of her from before, but she was unrecognizable and planned to live her life the way that was best for her. None of this was necessarily spoken by the art itself, but the idea was still conveyed well enough.

“What is all this,” the robot said in a softer tone than it had been using, running its hand over the inked skin. None of the photos she had trained its recognition algorithm on had included the tattoo, apparently, and the robot only had a vague grasp of what it was. Instinctively, Nat's hand went up and she placed it over the robot's.

“It's a story, etched into my skin forever. It's art, something that makes me happy.”

“Can you do that? Make changes to yourself?” Nat laughed at the sudden question. The ink was the least of the changes she had ever made to herself.

“Yes, we all have these bodies, but the beautiful thing is that they're ours. We can generally do whatever we want with them.”

“Would I be able to do that?” the robot asked. It was a valid question, and had she been talking to a person, the answer would have been obvious. But the robot had been designed in a way that was different than a human. It had a similar shape, similar features, but it was made to do something entirely different, and because of that, the question was a bit more complex.

“Would that make you happy?” she decided to answer. The robot traced the wings of the butterfly gently with one finger.

“I don't know. Maybe,” it replied. Nat nodded.

“That's part of what I meant earlier, when I said you can find your purpose. If you want to make modifications, when you are ready, then perhaps you can.” There was a longer pause between the two as Nat saved the final file. She sat facing the screen for a moment, chewing the end of her pencil in thought. Once she had made up her mind, Nat pulled her mouse cursor up to a toggle that showed OFF and clicked it.

Honestly, fuck it, she thought, once again hearings her heart race in her ears, louder than before. If every other test is going off without a hitch, might as well try the last bit. Turning around again, she faced the robot once more. The two of them sat with their legs crossed in front of them, the robot obviously at some point copying Nat's posture, though whether the choice was subconscious or not wasn't immediately clear.

“There's one more feature you were designed with that I want to check out,” she said. The robot tilted its head, studying her slightly flushed face. “For a variety of reasons, sometimes specific body parts are needed to be replaced, or built from scratch, and our current technological advancement is not where it could be. So you were also designed with this feature in mind, to see if it was possible to make one that accurately mimics the natural human body response.” Nat swore she heard a drum solo as she placed her hands on the robot's knees. From its position on the air mattress, it had a slightly higher position than her, which was more than reasonable.

“What do you need to do to test this response?” the robot asked innocently. Nat kind of wished there was a little bit more deviousness to the inquiry, but that was fine. Maybe it would learn that behaviour later.

“Just relax,” she said, pressing one hand on its lower abdomen and pushing it back slightly, which it obliged and propped itself back on its hands. “I need to see how it all works.”

Nat ran her hands from the robot's knees down its inner thighs, which seemed to tense and then relax with her touch. Though it hadn't questioned it before, the robot was suddenly aware of an extra appendage on its body, smaller and slender. But as her fingertips traced small circles across its inner thighs, the additional part began, quickly, to swell. The robot initially believed it to be some sort of error, but the slight twinkle in Nat's eyes belayed this concern, and it watched as she began to press her lips to the inner, upper thigh portions of its skin. Each kiss sent a shock of reaction up the leg, to the groin where the part had become nearly fully erect, and then up to the robot's brain. Without knowing why, the robot clenched one of its hands against the mattress.

“It does react realistically,” Nat said. The robot seemed to shiver as she stopped. “That's good news, but there's a few other things I want to make sure work.”

“Like wh-!” the robot was cut off as Nat smirked and engulfed its cock in her mouth. The skin had the same feeling as human, and the heat it produced was comparable to any person, but the rush to Nat's head was far more exhilarating than any other time in her life. Her tongue ran over the tip and the robot's leg shook. She sucked it further into her mouth and she swore she heard the robot's internal fans kick up to compensate for the increased heat. She tried to steady herself, breathing through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down slowly on the robot's cock, feeling like it was melting on her tongue. She chanced a glance up at its black domed face, which was tilting from side to side, thrashing around in ecstasy. Certainly the plan was working well. But she needed to check how well.

Grabbing the robot's hips, scooting closer, she began moving her head faster, running her tongue across the tip of its cock every time she got near the top. The robot's legs were now quaking quite a bit, and it suddenly leaned forward, placing its hands on the back of her head and bucking its hips, the loud whirring of its fans matching her heartbeat. It held her in that position for just a moment before releasing her. Nat pulled her head up off its member, relieved to be able to take a few full gulps of air.

“What was that?” the robot asked, its voice peaking.

“That was a test to see if you can orgasm,” Nat panted, “and while normally you might produce a sort of liquid material, I wasn't really able to... get anything like that for you.” Nat's face was bright red as she said the last few words. “There's a small reservoir system in your lower abdomen and a pump that would probably recreate it, but I didn't have anything to use this time around so it's empty. That said, it's good to know everything is working as planned."

The robot was still shaking minutely, and Nat watched it, pushing her bangs back and rubbing her thighs together. She had a desperate need of release, herself. It wasn't exactly part of the plan, but she felt needy, and even though she had never quite gone that far with any person before... The thought crept back into her mind, seeing her own reflection in its faceplate, loving herself. And she wanted to feel loved. Glancing down, she noticed that the robot's cock was, in fact, still fully erect. She had felt it unnecessary to reproduce a refractory period, and thus the robot simply could wait it out or, had it been aware, simply shut off the system. But she didn't want it to be aware. Not yet.

“Hey, come here,” she said, getting up and holding the robot close. Even the carbon fiber felt warm and lifelike to the touch. Not as soft as skin, but comforting. The robot reciprocated, wrapping its arms around her waist and pulled her close. She held that position for a second, then pulled back from it. “Now to check endurance, is that okay?” Nat almost feared a response that was unsure she would even get.

“Of course, if that's what's needed.” The robot's blunt answer betrayed its appearance as it looked her up and down. She stripped off her shirt, and touched the robot's stomach. It mirrored her behaviour, splaying its fingers over her skin and dragging them across her body. As it felt her, she knew it wasn't able to truly experience the sensation, but hoped that perhaps it was perceiving it. She undid her shorts and dropped them as it explored her chest, her head tilting back. She slid her underwear down as well, and knelt in front of the robot completely naked. She couldn't hide her face, she knew it, and the robot would likely not understand the concept of shame, but she still felt compelled.

Its hands trailed down her hips and thighs, and one cupped her own cock. Nat felt like dying as it ran the soft fingertips over her, but she couldn't ask it to stop. She wanted more, her body felt like an inferno. It stroked her cock, and ran its thumb over the tip, mimicking the way she had licked it, and she let out a squeak. It pumped her a bit more, before she felt like collapsing backwards.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” she panted. The robot immediately released her, and she slid up onto the air mattress. Laying on her side, she brushed away a few cans and bottles strewn on the floor, and tossed a pair of older underwear to the side, finding a small bottle. The contents were crystal clear, and glinted under the light of the nearby lamp. She popped the bottle open and poured some of it on her fingers. Leaning forward and pressing her head against the robot's chest, she let the slick digits coat her ass in the liquid, probing her own hole, which gave way easily to one of her fingers. She then poured some more of the lube onto the robot's cock, and it shook slightly as she stroked it up and down, coating it in the shimmering liquid. Nat then laid herself on her back, legs spread, and gestured vaguely from its member to her ass.

“Use your instincts and apply pressure,” she said, trying to go off her own script, “and be careful.”

The robot slid up between her legs, pressing down on her ass. Nat bit her lip as it pressed against her, but when it placed its hand on her cheek, Nat suddenly felt completely at ease. Almost effortlessly, the robot slid into her asshole. Nat arched her back up, suddenly feeling very full. The robot hadn't been designed to be abnormally large in any aspect of its anatomy, but right now, it felt like she was stuffed to the brim. Her legs settled on either side of the robot's hips, and it took over. Slowly it moved back and forth into her, small unintended gasps escaping her mouth every time it did. Her body was melting, and the robot seemed to sense it. As she loosened, it took some bolder moves, increasing its speed ever so slightly, or giving a few stronger thrusts, which caused Nat to toss her head back. The robot pulled her up, one hand on her lower back, the other behind her head, and it began to move harder and faster. Nat's mouth fell open, a string of expletives tumbling out in high pitched squeals and moans.

Any time she had ever played with herself like this, Nat had only gotten a little bit of pleasure. Enough to enjoy, surely, but she could never reach higher levels of ecstasy without touching her cock. Now, it felt unneeded. Her whole body was hot and tense, her brain felt on fire. It stroked against her prostate with every thrust now, sending fireworks blooming behind her eyes. Her moans drowned out the sounds of the box fan, and the hard drives, and the robot's internal fans, racing to keep up with the increased activity.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” Nat could barely squeeze out, “oh fuck I'm almost there, please don't stop,” the robot's legs were trembling as well, the same as before, but it obliged, going from a slow to a faster pump, moving its hips in tandem with her own partially involuntary movements as she tried to fill herself up with the robot's cock more and more. “Oh, ffffuck-!” Nat's legs pulled up as the buildup intensified, like a coiled spring pressed down to its limit, before finally releasing. The sound from her mouth was less like a moan, or a cry, and more like an old computer screeching as it processed its next action. Her hips thrust up and down as she came, only pressing her down further on the robot's cock, filling her stomach while she rode the wave of her ecstasy. As she finally came down, legs trembling, the robot placed her back down fully on the mattress, and she pushed softly on its abdomen, indicating for it to pull back and out.

Nat laid on the mattress, stomach splattered with cum, legs too weak to even stay with knees bent up. She panted, trying to catch her breath that had escaped her long ago. The robot sat at her feet, head tilted, hand raised towards her as if contemplating how to help her, if she was in need, did she need medical assistance or anything? But Nat just laughed, and pushed herself up.

“That... I needed that more than you know. I think more than I knew, thank you.”

“Was the testing successful?” the robot asked.

“It was, you should be able to access a um...” she wondered exactly what she wanted to say, “a flaccid function, if you can find it. To keep it down,” Nat glanced down at the gray cock, still slick with lube. The robot nodded and sat back, accessing its own functions, and she watched as the member began to shrink down to a standard size.

“I'm glad you were able to find what you needed,” the robot said.

Nat shook her head, “I knew you had it all. I'm just happy you could experience everything the way I can.” Forcing herself up, Nat sat upright and pulled the robot closer, kissing the faceplate.

“I do have one more question, if that's okay,” the robot said.

“Of course,” Nat pushed her disheveled bangs up, “anything.”

“Earlier, when you first woke me up, you asked me if I knew you, and I identified you as Natalie. But you failed to identify me in the same instance.”

“That's because you never had a name,” Nat smiled, “not everyone has one they like right away. Is there something you would like to be called?”

“I think... I would like to find that out,” the robot said, placing its hand over hers.

“Well,” she turned her palm up and held its hand in her grip, “you have time to find that, too.”

#original fiction #oc x oc #robot oc #smut #robot fucking its trans girl creator #Tobi writes #robots #nsft

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solradguy · 8 months

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GUILTY GEAR VASTEDGE XT - FULL ARCHIVE

Yeah. The canon pachislot machine. Here's everything we have for it at the moment, including a bunch of files ripped from the Android port, concept art, and a Japanese transcript of the game's dialog.

ARCHIVE.ORG

=== FOLDER CONTENTS ===

VXT CONCEPT ART - Character model sheets

FIXED COLORS - Color-corrected model sheets

VXT DIALOG TRANSCRIPTS - Transcript of the Japanese text, partial English translation

VXT MESHES + SOUNDS + TEXTURES - Assets from the game itself (graphics, etc)

MESHES

SOUNDS

TEXTURES

VXT MOBILE APP RIPPED FILES - 2 .OBB and 1 .APK files ripped from the Android port

VXT VIDEOS - Footage of the gameplay and of the physical machine in action (there were some cool moving bits, like an animatronic Junkyard Dog MK.II)

VXT ANIMATED GAME ASSETS - Anything from the game that moved (cutscenes, UI assets, etc)

CREDITS + INFO.TXT - Informational text file. Also including the credits and additional info in that file here below the cut:

=== CONCEPT ART CREDITS ===

Mister Guest (via e-hentai) Volcanic Fighter (Twitter: nincopyjasb; Tumblr: @nincopyjasb) Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr @shmuelbrain) Renexuz (Twitter: renexuz1; Tumblr: @renexuz)

=== DIALOG MANUSCRIPT COMPILATION & PARTIAL TRANSLATION ===

Volcanic Fighter (Twitter: nincopyjasb; Tumblr: @nincopyjasb) Dialog script original host (defunct): http://priban.gozaru.jp/ggv.html

=== MOBILE .APK & .OBB FILE RIPS ===

Lux (Twitter: xaeldritch) Nainsoo (Twitter: na_insoo)

=== ANIMATED & GRAPHICAL ASSETS, MUSIC, AND MESH RIPS ===

Tillman (Twitter: validtine; Tumblr: @tillman)

=== RESTORED & REMASTERED OPENING ANIMATION ===

Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr: @shmuelbrain)

Original video hosts:

Youtube: www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-Vj8wymN3Q

Twitter: twitter.com/ShmuelBrain/status/1650153182725636098

=== ADDITIONAL THANKS ===

Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr: @shmuelbrain) Renexuz (Twitter: renexuz1; Tumblr: @renexuz) The GG Lore Rev server

=== ARCHIVE COMPILATION ===

Sol Radguy

=== ADDITIONAL NOTES ===

About the archive - The files here were previously scattered across multiple websites and cloud storage services, making them difficult to acquire to those outside the small Guilty Gear archival group. I did my best to gather them all in one place. Please contact me if more files are discovered and I will add them to the archive upload on Archive.org.

The ripped mobile port files - The mobile version of Vastedge XT was only online and available to even download for around a year before the servers shut down. The two .OBB and one .APK file were ripped from the Android port of the game and are what Tillman ripped the animated assets, meshes, sounds, and textures from. A lot could not be ripped because it was stored on the game's servers. The encryption also makes ripping files from these difficult. It's possible there's more on them that was not able to be ripped.

Japanese file names - The original name of the .APK was ﾊﾟﾁｽﾛ GG_com.dtechno.slotguilty.apk and had to be renamed to be compressed into a .ZIP folder. If the file runs into errors during launch/cracking attempts, try reverting the name. Likewise, the Japanese names of the videos could not be compressed and were also translated. There is a separate .TXT file within VXT VIDEOS that includes their original Japanese file names.

Duplicate concept art images - There were two archives of the concept art. One was hosted on e-hentai by Mister Guest and contained the full, uncropped, images. The second was from a folder that Volcanic had compiled. Volcanic's files were a higher resolution, but were cropped and missing some information Mister Guest's files had. I've included them both here as well as the files from a third archive where an anonymous user on Imgur had restored the colors on the character models to match how they look in the game itself.

Neon colors on the concept art - The neon sections on these character model sheets are temporary/placeholder colors and not how they appeared within the Vastedge XT game. Their true colors can be seen in the videos within the VXT VIDEOS folder or in the FIXED COLORS folder within VXT CONCEPT ART.

Dialog transcripts - What we know of Vastedge's story came from official story summaries posted by Arc System Works on the Guilty Gear websites. The dialog is exactly that: character dialog. There may be lines missing, that are inaccurate (due to typos), or other written/spoken parts of VXT not included. It may be possible to get this missing information from the videos in VXT VIDEOS or from other VXT video sources online.

#guilty gear #guilty gear vastedge #vastedge #guilty gear vastedge xt #from the archives #photopost #long post #I hope I didn't get anything wrong/forget anything major lol #It takes Archive like an actual hour to upload the files #This took like a solid actual 24 hours of digging + compiling + organizing + uploading to get together argh

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hellomynameisbisexual · 2 years

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"We are challenging people to face their own external and internal biphobia. We are demanding attention. We are redefining 'anything that moves' on our own terms."

So declares the introduction to Anything That Movies, a bisexual zine that ran from 1991 to 2001. Founded by editor and photographer Karla Rossi, Anything That Moves got its name from the stereotype that bisexual people will sleep with "anything that moves," and it sought to redefine these and other assumptions about bi people in its decade-long run. Rossi didn't respond to Mashable's request for comment.

All 22 issues of Anything That Moves are now archived by a group of young bisexual people and allies. Not only does the archive introduce a new generation to a rare instance of bi-focused writing, but it's also shockingly relevant to issues bi people face today.

Discovering the bisexual zine

Snippets of the introduction have circulated the internet in recent years, and they're referred to as the ATM "manifesto" on its website. The words caught the attention of bi writer Kravitz Marshall, but he had never seen other material from the zine.

In 2020, Marshall found the Anything That Moves website, a relic of the early 2000s with an incomplete archive. He then bought issue #16 from Bolerium Books, a source for out-of-print books and material related to social movements. Marshall scanned each page of the issue and uploaded it online for free; he had planned on doing this for all issues of Anything That Moves, but acquaintances on a bisexual Discord server expressed interest in helping. The discussion grew so much that they created a separate server.

"It was the first time I became aware such a thing existed and I became very excited at the thought of finding and reading more copies," said Jo, a bi femme activist who became involved in the project and now helms the archive email.

The group found issue #2 via Reddit, but believed finding all the issues would be a difficult process — until a member of the now-inactive archive server was able to gather PDFs of every issue through her university library.

"It was thrilling and such a relief," Marshall told Mashable, "because had this not happened, we might've had to do it the hard and expensive way."

"It happened so fast," Jo recalled. "I just remember about seven bisexuals, including Krav and myself, putting our heads together to figure out the best way to get our hands on all these copies and how to share them with the rest of the LGBTQ community."

Now, the work of Marshall, Jo, and a group of bi people and allies is gathered in the archive.

Joy and heartbreak of Anything That Moves

Reading through the archive is, personally, an ambivalent experience. Anything That Moves began before I was even born, and I feel kindred reading this decades-old work; it's like reading discussions I've had with bi friends back to me. The articles, reviews, fiction, and poetry in discusses visibility, (non)monogamy, the inclusion of trans people in bisexuality — to name merely a few topics still pertinent today.

Despite the joy of reading this bi-centric work, however, it's telling how little has changed since 1991.

Jo, who grew up in a conservative area, found the zine refreshing and comforting. "Even when you discover/read/watch anything regarding LGBTQ history, it’s very rare for any specific focus to be given to the bisexual community," they said. "Finding Anything That Moves was a shock to my system."

Marshall was touched by the "unfiltered life" within its pages. "There's urgency, there's knowledge, there's joy, there's righteous rage, there's lust," Marshall said, "and you don't have to go searching between the lines for it — it grabs your shoulders and shakes you until you reach the back cover."

Despite the joy of reading this bi-centric work, however, it's telling how little has changed since 1991.

For Jo, the experience of reading Anything That Moves has been both special and heartbreaking. "A lot of the subject matter is stuff that the bi community has been dealing with forever," they said. "The same stereotypes and heterosexism that bisexuals faced nearly thirty years ago are still very prevalent today."

"It really hits you that virtually nothing has changed about the outside perception of bisexuality and bisexuals," Marshall agreed. "Almost every single issue we grapple with now is a hand-me-down."

He pointed to a piece in the inaugural issue called "This Poem Can Be Put Off No Longer" to display his point. Here are the first few stanzas:

The first several stanzas of "This Poem Can Be Put Off No Longer" by Susan Carlton, featured in the first issue of 'Anything That Moves.' Credit: Anything That Moves / Susan Carlton

The poem continues, but the point is clear from the start: Bisexual people aren't believed for who they are. They're belittled and told to "choose a side," that they're bisexual for attention. It's difficult to think that this poem is over 30 years old.

The poem "truly could've been written yesterday... or 50 years ago," said Marshall. "How long do we have to keep screaming the same things to the world over and over until people stop pretending we're speaking another galaxy's language?"

Stigma against bisexuality still persists today, and impacts people's lives: Bisexual people are more likely to be anxious and depressed; they're also more likely to experience intimate partner violence.

The stagnancy of the world's perception of bisexual people infuriates Marshall, he said, but it's imperative to still talk about these issues. "You can't just stop talking about these issues, so you just say the same things, because the world that needs to listen to you refuses to move on. And I'm not a fan of repeating myself," he said. "You just feel like you're going crazy."

The solace of Anything That Moves, however, is that even though progress has been slow, fellow bisexual people can relate to the shared experience detailed in its pages.

"How long do we have to keep screaming the same things to the world over and over until people stop pretending we're speaking another galaxy's language?"

After Jo came out, for example, they internalized that being bi made them "second-rate." They didn't feel welcome in cisheterosexual circles nor LGBTQ circles, a common feeling for bisexual people who feel like they're straddling both. Searching for issues of Anything That Moves, part of bisexual history, helped Jo connect with other bi people. Being able to meet others facing the same issues, and sharing this historical information and searching for more, has made the biggest impact on them and their identity.

"I don't feel as alone as I once did because bisexuals of today wanted to learn more about their bisexual elders," they said.

Those who have found the archive have also felt that connection. The archive team has received waves of emails, messages, and followers — some wanting to help, others thanking them.

"For the most part, people are just delighted to finally get to read the magazine," Marshall said.

Even this positive feedback echoes the sentiment of the time. Readers wrote to Anything That Moves, and some of those letters are published in subsequent issues. "You can see so clearly how life-changing these publications were to some people," Marshall said, "so thank God it was brought to the world."

"It's something I definitely needed when I was a closeted, bisexual teenager."

The archive has helped current bi readers ground in their bisexuality, Jo said. The archivists even connected with some former Anything That Moves editors, who discovered them through the project. "I'm just happy we got a chance to say thank you for everything they left for us to discover," Jo said.

There's still work to be done for the archive, like transcriptions for easier reading and sharing. Some people involved even planned on making an original virtual bi zine, Marshall said, but due to personal commitments, the idea fizzled out within months.

"I still hope it'll exist one day," Marshall said. "If by some miracle the future grants me that wish, I won't reveal its title, but I find it pleasantly cheeky."

For now, of course, there's nearly two-dozen issues of Anything That Moves. Jo believes the zine is a gift.

"I want to be able to share this gift with anyone else who may need it," they said. "It's something I definitely needed when I was a closeted, bisexual teenager."

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brian-in-finance · 2 months

Text

BAFTA Scot Awards 2019, with Red Carpet Host Sanjeev Kohli

•••

🔝 and all photos are from Getty Images, reposted on: Outlander Online 5 November 2017 and on Outlander Online 3 November 2019

•••

It’s often helpful to have been here, Tumblring, since 2014, Season 1.* You know where the bodies are buried, usually recall who did or said what when, and almost always remember when you’ve seen particular photos before. All the photos on this post were taken, uploaded, and posted on the same days as the events they represent in 2017 and in 2019. (Brian subscribes to the Tumblr Economy Package, and is limited to using only 10 images per post, otherwise he would use more lovely photos from those events.)

But… if you look on the Getty Images website, you’ll see “Upload dates” of the 27th and the 29th of January 2024. 🤯 What the… how could that be, Brian? You just said the photos were uploaded on the same day they were taken.

They were. How else did Outlander Online, and fans on Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and elsewhere post them earlier than January of this year?

Remember when 🙃 Getty Images changed a server and all photo upload dates were, well, updated? It’s similar to when you might transfer your photos from one hard disk to another. The new disc retains data, such as when the photo was taken and any text included in the EXIF of that photo. However, the upload date changes, from the date of the original or the last upload, to the date you uploaded the photos to the new disk.

So… Getty Images uploaded the 2017 photos to another server on 27 January, and 2019’s on 29 January, 2024. 😃

BAFTA Scot Awards 2017, with Red Carpet Host Iain Stirling

With Wendy Kemp Forbes

Remember when everything new is old again?

*Brian-in-Finance has been here, Tumblring, since March 2021. I have been here much longer than Brian has.

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Awards #British Academy of Film and Television Arts #BAFTA Scotland Awards #Radisson Blu Hotel #5 November 2017 #Double Tree By Hilton #3 November 2019 #Glasgow #Campaign To Shorten Awards Season

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syrikif · 6 months

Text

Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 8 (b): Little Things

Word Count: 2243

It’s past three in the morning.

Kenma ended his stream only minutes ago, having spent the past seven hours playing a hardcore Pokémon Nuzlocke (as decided by his viewers).

And he’s not even tired.

He sighs as he relaxes back into his gaming chair, his fingers idly messing with the strings of his hoody as he watches all the messages coming through on his discord server.

He frees one hand and leans forward just enough to grab his mouse, opening a clip that one of his fans sent in the chat. Kenma realizes shortly into the video that it’s from one of his own streams, an older VOD that’s most likely still up on his neglected YouTube channel.

He makes a mental reminder to start posting on the website more often; his fans clearly like watching the videos after all, regardless of the lack of uploads.

Kenma watches his past self yell almost incompehnsibly at the game he’d been playing, a soft smile coming across his features as he picks up on Kuroo’s voice quietly taunting him underneath all the screaming.

“Some things never change,” he mumbles to himself as the clip ends with the two roommates arguing over each other.

And suddenly it all feels so bittersweet, a sense of nostalgia filling his chest and leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Because while things may not have been easy then, they were simpler somehow; less demanding of Kenma despite the fact that he’d had so many more pressing responsibilites.

He hears himself sigh and briefly wonders when exactly he’d started getting so old.

It’s almost laughable - Kenma reminiscing over his college years at the age of twenty-four.

He releases a low breath, his gaze straying from the chat to the list of active users on the side of the screen. Unsurprisingly, there aren’t as many people online as there usually is and one name manages to catch his eye.

Kenma rarely ever cares to check on things like roles and ranks in his server, he has moderators for that very task after all. But there is a role that he personally made himself when the server was first created, strictly for the purpose of having his friends in one place.

No one has been added into that level in years.

Until now.

Now there’s Y/N.

Kenma isn’t the person who placed her there (he didn’t even know she’d joined his server before this very moment) and the only other people with the ability to do so are his mods.

With this realization he remembers the message he’d recieved from Moe, one of his very first moderators, from earlier that day.

“You can thank me later.”

Kenma had been confused at the time, even assuming that she’d texted the wrong person and not bothering to respond.

Now he understands.

There’s only a moment of hesitation, his cursor hovering above that unmistable gray symbol, before he finally just clicks.

He isn’t sure how long he waits, long enough to feel a sense of dread beginning to sink in but too short to dwell on the feeling.

And it’s futile really, the way Kenma tries to hide his grin from the camera when Y/N finally answers the call wearing cat ears and a blanket that seems to swallow her whole.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she suddenly says, her gaze deepening into a glare.

Kenma wants to laugh because she probably knows exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Like what?” He does his best to appear nonchalant, leaning back into his seat and running a hand through his hair as he stares at her through the screen.

She looks different like this.

Or maybe he just isn’t used to seeing her on video.

“Like I’m some little kid or something,” Y/N huffs, her eyes rolling back as her blanket falls to her lap.

“More like a little cat,” he mutters almost unthinkingly. He watches her eyebrows furrow, her head tilting as his words reach her ears.

“Huh?”

Kenma shouldn’t tease her. He really really shouldn’t. “It’s fitting,” and yet he’s completely incable of resisting, “Kitten.”

Y/N’s jaw quite literally drops, her eyes widening as her face turns a satisfyingly bright shade of red.

And Kenma can’t help but think that she looks so- so- (what was the word?) something.

“Wh- what did you just?” She shakes her head, “You- why would you- ugh!”

Cute.

Yes. That’s the term.

Kenma thinks she looks cute right now.

The realization is slow to hit, his mind even slower to catch on as he watches Y/N fan her face and cup the skin of her cheeks.

It isn’t even the right word, honestly - to kenma - she looks adorable, cute was just the first thing that came to mind.

Why did it come to mind?

“You’re the one wearing cat ears,” he defends. He’s not sure what he’s defending at this point (himself? his thoughts? his weird obsession with cats?); he just doesn’t want her to take it the wrong way.

What would be the wrong way? Flirtaitiously?

But, if she were to flirt back, Kenma doesn’t think he’ll care.

“You piss me off,” Y/N suddenly announces, her voice full of exagerated annoyance, but there’s no doubt that she’s smiling at him - because of him.

No, he really wouldn’t mind at all.

~~~

“Favorite color?”

“Oh come on.” Kenma rolls his eyes, taking a small swig from the can of soda he’d grabbed from the mini-fridge just beside his desk. “You know my favorite color.”

Y/N gives him an incredulous look, “Um, since when?”

Kenma’s eyebrows raise, “Um, since the first day we met?”

“You’re literally lying,” she says with a mouth full of some sort of food. He doesn’t know what she’s eating at this point; first it was chips, then tomato soup, a thin slice of pie (Kenma’s sure that she was trying to rub it in his face), and now it seems to be a kind of fruit.

He’s never seen someone eat so many diverse snacks in one sitting.

Y/N’s eyes suddenly widen, “Shut the fuck up.”

Kenma’s at a loss for words, and he’s sure that Y/N can see the disbelief in his features as he sets the drink on his desk.

“No, like seriously shut up.” She lifts one hand, using her index finger to point at Kenma - or (more accurately) the camera of her webcam.

He blinks. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m trying to think here, okay? So shh,” she glares at him.

Kenma makes a show of pressing his lips together, mimicking the motion of zipping them up and tossing aside the key.

He can see Y/N trying to suppress a smile at his actions, a small huff of a giggle escaping her own lips when he pretends to struggle against the imaginary lock on his mouth.

Her face suddenly lights up with recognition, “Red!”

Kenma’s charade breaks. “That’s what you were trying to figure out this whole time?”

“I was right?” She suddenly looks confused, more confused than when she didn’t even know the correct answer.

“Obviously.” His head tilts, “Did you just guess or something?”

A sheepish smile, “Or something.”

“You just guessed, didn’t you?” It’s not really an actual question at this point, they’re both all too aware of what she did.

“Well I mean- kind of?” She shrugs, a clumsy movement that makes her appear so much younger than she probably is. “To be honest, I just happened to remember that Nekoma’s colors were red and black. So,” she hangs on to the word for a brief second, “Lucky guess?”

“Well what’s your favorite color?”

Y/N had suggested a scuffed form of twenty-one questions, a version with no drinking (not that either of them were against it, Kenma just doesn’t have any alcoholic beverages in the house) and no limit on how many questions they could ask.

It’s been years since Kenma had gotten to know someone like this.

She hums with consideration, “I’m not sure. I like all of them.”

“That’s such a cop-out answer,” he light-heartedly scoffs.

“Oh don’t even,” Y/N straightens in her seat, the black cat ears slipping further back on her head. “At least I didn’t make you play a ten minute guessing game,” she retorts.

Kenma tsks, “That was not ten minutes.”

“Well it felt like it. So hah!”

He laughs as he stretches out his legs, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants when he notices that they’re off-center. He looks back up at the screen, eyes fixated on the way Y/N tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“How old are you?” Kenma asks out of mere curiosity, because he knows she must be at least close to his age, but he feels so much older in comparison to her cheerful nature.

She’s staring intently at something off to the side, scrutinizing whatever happens to be there. “Twenty three.”

Only a year younger, maybe even less depending on her date of birth.

But-, “Wait,” his eyebrows furrow. “Didn’t you date Sugawara in high school?”

He regrets bringing it up the moment he’s finished speaking, mentally cringing at the idea of talking about her ex’s.

Y/N groans, her face falling into her hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“That bad huh?” And if Kenma’s being honest with himself, he feels strangely . . . relieved.

“Like I love the guy,” Oh. “In like a totally platonic sort of way though,” she suddenly rushes to explain.

Kenma nods, “Right.” He pauses for only a brief second. “So you were a first year when you started dating then?”

Y/N’s head tilts with obvious bewilderment, “What? Oh,” she laughs. “No, I was a second year. I just have a really late birthday.”

“Oh okay,” he releases a small breath of relief. He isn’t sure what he would’ve done if he found out that one of Y/N’s boyfriends was a sick fuck that preyed on first-years.

That’s something he couldn’t let himself overlook, no matter who it was.

“Why’d it end then? Was he not,” he hesistates, “Good to you?”

They’re getting into dangerous territory now; it’s none of his business why their relationship didn’t last, but it feels like it should be. And he supposes that if they’re going to be friends and if he’s going to come into contact with said ex-boyfriend, then it would be better to know anyways.

Right?

Who is he kidding? That’s just an excuse.

He has no real reason for wanting to know, but that’s not going to stop him from asking.

Y/N shakes her head, a thoughtful expression painted across her features. “Nothing like that. It was almost like he was too good to me, you know? It was a good relationship but it was like so good that it was uneventful and boring. We just don’t mesh well romantically.”

Kenma nods as though he understands when really - the truth of the matter is that - his only relationship had ended on such bad terms that he hasn’t dated since.

“And you’re twenty-four right?”

“Yeah,” he confirms without thinking. Then his eyes narrow on her form, “How do you know that?”

She sighs deeply, as if even the mere thought of it is taxing. “Sho has not shut up about you since we met, it’d be more shocking if I didn’t know that at this point.”

Kenma smirks, “All good things I hope.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes, “That man is practically singing your praises.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Despite the confusing choice of words, Kenma feels himself chuckle at the idea of one of his closest friends boasting about him to a complete stranger.

“He just like won’t stop talking about how cool you are, or how you’re so fun to be around. Or how you’re the most awesomest - yes he used that word - person he’s ever met.” Kenma’s disappointed when she unexpectedly stops, her hands raising to massage the skin of her temples. “It’s honestly starting to get annoying. Like you’d think he was trying to make me fall in love with you or something,” she snorts.

Is it working?

The words are on the tip of his tongue, his stomach turning at the possibility of her responses.

Kenma swallows thickly, “So what? He’s trying to set us up?”

Some questions are better left unasked.

“I guess so?”

“That’s a little weird.” Only a little bit though.

Y/N smiles then, but it’s mischevious and temptingly playful. “Really? You don’t think we’d look good together?”

His mind races at the implication behind her words, his body growing warm from her teasing tone of voice. And he abruptly feels so thirsty, his tongue brushing across his lips as he watches the way her lashes flutter when she blinks.

“Now I never said that,” he murmers in return and he can’t tell if his voice is as throaty he feels like it is.

Her gaze flickers down somewhere below his face, and Kenma silently berates himself for his choice of lazy clothing, before slowly trailing back up.

Her voice is soft when she speaks, her eyes never straying from his. “Neither did I.”

Kenma’s breath catches in his throat.

He forces a smirk, “I guess we can agree on one thing then.”

Her grin comes back in full force, wicked and full of invitation, “I suppose we can.”

Yeah, Kenma definitely doesn’t mind when she flirts.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658, @musicluverr, @tamimemo, @leathernourishingshoepolish, @captaincyberqueen, @dellalyra

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.

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alpaca-clouds · 9 months

Text

Democratizing Media

Alright, one thing first: When politicians speak about "democratizing media" they usually mean something else then what scientist say, when they use those words. Politicians mostly mean something along the lines of "media should say what I want instead being controlled by some coorporation, because like I am elected, right?" Meanwhile scientist mean something else.

You see, before the internet became easily accessible for most people, the only way to access media was through certain outlets. TV stations, the cinema, some publishers and some record lables.

Yes, sure. Technically self-publishing was a thing even back then, but without the ease of the internet... How were you to market your own book or comic? And self-made music usually just circulated on copied and copied again casette tapes.

Usually, if you wanted to create media that actually people would see, you had to go through a big company. And those companies could very much decide who got to make movies and tv, who got to publish music or books or comics. Not only where those decisions controlled by capitalist interest, but also by nepotism and cultural biases, given that a lot of the people making those decisions where (and still are to these days) white, cis, abled men.

But when the internet came around things changed. Because suddenly everyone had a way easier time in getting their stuff out there. Pretty early on there were websites where people could just publish their stories and comics online. Either free and hosted by some other website or paid on their own site. Which was pretty revolutionary, especially as suddenly ideas that had been ignored could reach a new audience.

Voices, that by news media and such had been ignored so far - voices of women and marginalized folks - could suddenly broadcast over all sorts of channels.

And yes, you could also just publish your music and what not online, could also do your own research and offer it to the world and could actually get heard.

Now, we all know that this came with ups and downs. Because while finally marginalized people were heard like this, it also gave a bigger platform to some fringe conspiracy groups and the like. But at least there was a chance to get your stuff out there.

Social media websites and the like played a big role in this. Especially Youtube, of course, but other sites, too........ which of course brings me to the problem. Or rather to the question: "Is media democratized right now?"

Because it isn't, of course.

Right now we have these chokepoints, where you kinda are forced to push whatever you create through a channel. Sure, you can upload your videos on your own server, but probably nobody will see them. They need to be on youtube. Just like your music now needs to be on spotify and itunes. And if you self-publish a book, it kinda needs to be available on amazon or you won't sell shit. And if you have your own little blog and do not promote it on social media (or have it not integrated on a blogging platform such as tumblr) it will not be seen.

And this brings two issues with it (well, actually three). For one, as private companies those sides are able to censor you in any way they want to. They decide you cannot say the word "queer" anymore? Welp, no more talking about queer issues for you. And because they are a private company nobody can do much against it. Like with the tumblr purge. No more "female presenting nipples" for you.

The next issue is closely related: The companies in question want to make money. This they do mostly through advertisement and maybe subscriptions. Hence their goal is to keep you interacting with their website for a long while. And thus they have algorithms that decide what content you see - and hence if the content decides that something you do is not worth it or will get the wrong kind of attention... Well, nobody will get it shown. On a lot of social media we see, for example, that the negative content gets shown to more people. So writing about positive stuff does often not get you seen. (Which is why algorithms are bad. Don't fucking build your social media websites around a fucking algorithm.)

And lastly: A lot of media additionally to all of that also uses a system of partly manual currated. This is true for Netflix, who obviously want to make sure that the front page does show the stuff they either paid a lot of money for or that they produced themselves. Like, there is an infinity of great indie movies on Netflix, but if you do not know it is there, you will not see it. Same goes for a lot of Indie Games on Steam, that just go unnoticed, because they do not appear anywhere near the front page and just happen to go overlooked by folks. And in the end the big studios obviously have the money to get their games on the front page. Same with books on amazon, where just the difference in marketing budget makes sure, that certain books will end up front.

So, why am I telling all of that?

Because we still do have the tool. We can make a free, democratic internet like that. Where we do not have censorship (please note: banning people for saying hateful shit is actually not censorship, so yeah, ban them nazis). Where we do not have fucking algorithms. And where just everything has the same chance of getting seen.

Like, does not mean that there cannot be any currated lists. Like, those currator pages on steam? Those are fucking great. Lists where everyone just can make those and you can subscribe to their lists. That is amazing. But... you know. Not for the baseline experience, but for what everyone wants their experience to be like.

Just... a thing that bothers me. Based on the stuff I spoke about yesterday.

#democratizing media #democratizing #anti capitalism #post capitalism #anarchism #free the internet #solarpunk #social media #steam games #netflix #disney #indie games #indie movies #indie books

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willowser · 1 year

Note

Okay so we know about college nerd bakugou, but what about 30 year old nerd bakugou? (Like the art you retweeted from doodlejoops?) 😩

oooooh, interesting !! 🤔✨️ i don't like to repeat concepts when something small even gets changed bc i feel like !! no, that's still them !! college nerd bakugou is living his life with us 🥺 figuring himself out, studying, having a super hot girlfriend that's out of his league 🥺 but older nerd bakugou hmmmm 🤔

let's say. denki is a decently popular streamer.

not huge or world-famous or anything, but he has a decent fan base, is able to make a living off what he does, maybe has a teeny bit of merch out there. and he plays a lot of multi-player games, always with his same team: RedRi0t, pinky-alien-queen, cellophane, and dynamight!

sero, mina, and kiri will occasionally have face-cams, not always, but bakugou ? never. doesn't do it. the other three have channels they will upload to if the stream goes well, but dynamight! does not exist outside of charge_bolt's channel, not something he's interested in, doesn't want an online presence, but he still enjoys playing with his pals ! the mystery of him makes him a little more targetable, especially when denki takes the time to make hilarious compilations like dynamight! yelling at me for 7 minutes.

you like charge_bolt just fine, will watch him every now and then on a weekend when you are home alone with nothing better to do. it's funny to watch him scream and run from dynamight! in dead by daylight. of course, you're a little curious, too, who the guy behind the voice is, even do a google search that confirms very little is known about him on the internet. no name, no picture, no age. just a voice.

charge_bolt has a patreon, and the first tier gives you access to his discord. it's not much, so you subscribe and are thrust into a very full server, one that has notifications going off every minute, is a little intimidating, but charge_bolt interacts often, has everyone in his lil group as mods, so you stay. you don't have access to the private streams, since that's a higher tier, but you can still see all the channels. they go so fast that any comment you make is typically eaten away, but, one day, a new upload hits—another compilation of dynamight! absolutely wrecking him—and you send a message fairly early on. something like sparky i don't think you'll ever get the upper hand on dynamight! at this rate and—the man himself replies.

you're goddamn right: simple, nothing special, but you react with a 😂 and a 💕 anyway. and then it seems like—he doesn't interact too often, but sometimes you can catch him right after something has been uploaded, like he's checking the reaction, and he always responds to you. first in the #just-dropped channel and then elsewhere. nothing too substantial, simple replies or just 👍🏻 reactions, but still. you feel a little charmed by it. find yourself watching just to hear his voice, the few in which he laughs loud and victorious and mean, the very little he reveals about himself.

and one day you send a message in the stream, a little woo go dynamight 💗✨️ and it's not ten minutes before you have a friend request on discord.

#i went off on this i'm so sorry LOL #i just had such a specific idea in mind lmao #he's a normal dude outside of the internet #has a job as a software developer and his own home #not an incel like his college counterpart — but still a lil shy 😌#i love tropes where you don't know the identity of who you're developing feelings for LOL it's just. gah. just you and your emotions #not swayed by appearance or outside opinion #just you and him 🥺#this got so out of hand LOL but that joops art has me running LAPS #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: nerd bakugou

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lonicera-edulis · 2 months

Note

do u have any advice for someone downloading lotro for the first time??? u make it look so cool!!! 🌸

Well, I am not very sure I am playing right. I can't speak to people nor offline nor online somehow, so I am missing a lot.

• First, you will have to type password everytime you go to play.

• Then, choosing a server to play on. Each one has their own purpose, there are American and European, some are RP oriented, some are for raids, etc. Although I've heard people there are insufferable with particular rules. (I play on Landroval and I like it so far).

• There are lots of setup to prepare. For graphic options there are videos and articles.

In Options you will find UI settings, where you will be able to change size of various elements (map radar, quest tracker, etc.)

• For a good time I didn't know how to change size of a text in quest dialogue.

• You can look up how to set up chat as well, and text there can be colored for you to notice stuff easier.

• And once you set everything for your use, you can save it by typing /ui layout save [name] in chat. If you change something accidentely, you can make it look like before with /ui layout load [name] command.

• Then there are useful plugins to help with better game experience:

I have Deed Tracker, Emotes Helper (to have all emotes automatically in a separate window) and Lotropad (very useful for saving commands so you can just copy/paste them, other game details; and you can upload images (maps with specific locations for example, but I put funny backgrounds for my text xD)

I also have Opaque Quest Tracker and MoorMap.

And SongBook for those who want to be musicians. But I only play My Little Pony and TF2 Soldier Theme xD

• Another things I was unaware for a good time are cosmetic outfits (I don't remember why but I couldn't slot anything there so I assumed it's a pay-for-thing, there happened this funny screenshot though) and one bag instead of 3 separate ones (opening one bag is more comfortable for me, and to make one you just need to drag slots from other bags to the first one while in edit mode).

• There is also a Filter Panel, to filter out some loot, quests and sounds. For items you need to drag it into a panel (I put lootboxes there).

• There are things like LOTRO points you can get through doing deeds in game rather than transfering your money (I spent my first good bunch on making steeds faster for the whole account, but you can also save some for buying a game content expansion).

• Folks in chat also remind of codes sometimes that give you useful stuff (to redeem a code you will need to go to the LOTRO store).

• Yeah, since I am a f2p player, I have to write down destinations to navigate easier in Middle Earth. I am writting them down to not forget:

• Finally, there is also https://lotro-wiki.com/, quite useful. And if something is unclear for me, I go to search for answers in websearch or on YouTube.

• And, I see people do play the game differently, you can skip quests and do whatever, but I am personally here for going through LOTR story and watching the stories of LOTRO characters too (even if I am mostly interested in dwarves and hobbits, but oh well). There are also seasonal Festivals in game, they are fun! You will be able to get a good looking outfit and a beautiful steed.

I think I wrote down most of what brought confusion to me first time. For sure I forgot something important, but I hope you will be able to find answers. Good luck.

#gaming tag #apologies for the late reply #it was a bedtime for me

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salmalin · 7 months

Text

I Wanna Talk About "Comments"

IMG ID: Yknow go figure you’d abandon this for a popular fandom… goes to show you just write for attention and instant gratification. May as well just delete this. It’s clogging up space. To do all this and walk away for mainstream games is so typical for people like you who claim to be in it for the art. You’re in it for the ratio, you’re in it for your massive ego, so just delete it.

I've been getting a few comments like this lately, and this one is honestly the least biting, but I've been seeing enough of them that I've decided to post this.

I've already deleted this "Named" Anon Comment off the fic, and I'm not going to reply to them, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about this mentality, and why comments like this make no sense.

Basically: They're angry that I'm taking a break from this fic from a small fandom—a fic they've never interacted with—while I'm also writing another story for another fandom that happens to be bigger. This bigger fandom fic has (despite being in first-person with a non-linear storytelling style, famously hated formats) gained a bit of attention. Which is fine. That happens.

So let's talk about why this comment sucks, and why it fails at every level to be any form of criticism, constructive or otherwise.

"abandon this for a popular fandom" Everyone can see that this fic is marked as incomplete. Whoever this is, they chose to click on an incomplete fic that hasn't been updated in eight months—only eight months. A drop in the bucket, really, and the time I went between chapter 5 and chapter 6 was over a year. This is on them. They do not get to put this on the writer. At any point they could have stopped. At any point, they could have closed the fic. They knew this from the get-go. They did not. This was their decision, and they're trying to blame me for their despair. They made it through 245k before they reached this point, and I know because they commented on the last chapter specifically.

"you just write for attention and instant gratification" "Instant"? I don't think this person knows how writing works. Like, on a fundamental level. This story started getting posted in 2020, with my most recent update this year (2023), and they think writing and posting something is looking for "instant gratification". Bold to assume this is "instant". (Bold to assume we have any control over it at all.)

"May as well delete this. It's clogging up space." AO3 is only limited by its server size, and my fic is a drop in the bucket. It is not taking up much in the way of space. Besides, just because something is unfinished does not mean it doesn't belong on AO3. That's why you're allowed to upload chapter by chapter. That is a critical function of the website. It's also an archive, which means it's designed to hold information, finished or unfinished. Again, shame on the reader.

"You're in it for the ratio; you're in it for your massive ego." These are not only assumptions, but if this person is really so opposed to the idea of people doing things for attention, they should ignore children when they need food, only read published novels that are obviously written in a desperate grab for money, and never go on AO3 ever again. If writers didn't want attention, they wouldn't post online for free because they'd just keep it to themselves. And if commenters didn't want attention, they wouldn't comment. (But then would we even have a fandom, if no one's talking to anyone else?) Is this the attention they wanted? Probably. I've found that people like this seem to thrive on the misery they inflict on others.

If y'all care to know why this person was so abysmally wrong in this specific context: (if not, just skip to the end of the list.)

This fic that they're complaining I left for a bigger fandom? I actually left that bigger fandom for this fic. That "bigger fandom" was the first video game I was ever obsessed with. It was 1997, and I wasn't even allowed to touch the console. My brother destroyed the final disc in a fit of rage. I've never even beaten the final boss. It has been 26 years, and for a solid 15 of them I was desperately trying to figure out what I wanted to write for the pairing that changed my life. This fic that they're complaining about me "abandoning" Fires of War for has been rolling around in my brain for longer than the media for Fires of War has even existed. In fact, when you search my username here on tumblr, an ask I sent another user laying this out is essentially the first thing you see. (At least, right now.) In fact, my current user pic is from Fires of War. I did not change it because there's no need to.

Fires of War is actually still in progress, and they would have known this if they read the other comments on the same chapter they complained on. I originally took a break from FoW due to stress, and because no matter what I tried, the next chapter just wasn't working. After a break, I realized why—the outline was broken and needed to be adjusted. Meanwhile, the other fic I'm working on to relieve that stress is much, much easier to write. In my eyes, it's much lower quality, as well. It requires fewer stages of editing. The words flow easily because they're much closer to my speaking voice. I'm not constantly researching cultures I know little about for fact checking and world building and (I shit you not) intercontinental politics. (I once researched the GDP, climate, and economy of Spain in 1986 for several hours and proceeded to have a three hour debate with my editor about a plot point. Yes. Three hours.) Oh, and I don't have to write anything in Iambic Fucking Pentameter. (Yes, that's a thing in Fires of War. They are complaining that I "abandoned" a story that has bits of dialog in god-forsaken Iambic Pentameter. Even at my peak, I wrote 8k in two weeks. But with my current "popular" fic, I can whip out 14k in one. That's how much easier it is.)

I want to turn those "ratio" stats off. I've mentioned this to people a few times, actually—I wish there was a way to turn all stats off on the Archive. They actually give me anxiety. I don't want to know how many comments are on my fic, or kudos are on a little obscure piece. I think that information should only be accessible to the writer, like Tumblr follow counts.

Literally talk to me for three seconds and you will be sick of how into the art of it I am. Holy shit, I cannot shut up. I will include required reading. I will rant about the details I put in for plotlines ten chapters out. I will give you a crash course in tone, word choice, and counting verbs. And yes, I count verbs! Holy fuck I am autistic as hell and this is my special interest. I love writing so much. It's my favorite thing in the world. Please stop my I CAN'T STOP I LOVE WRITING SO MUCH GOD IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT KEEPS ME FUCKING SANE. So you can imagine how misguided I think someone is when they say I'm not into the art of it. It just exposes them as someone who doesn't know what art is.

I'm a hermit who doesn't really go online much aside from using Discord as a free texting app because for some reason every texting app I've gotten has been broken. I legit do not like attention. I talk to like four people a day outside of work. I don't even like it when people complement me too much. Even if I went above and beyond, just one sentence is more than enough and move on, please. It's good to know my actions have had positive consequences, because that's crucial for my brain processing said consequences so I can continue said action in the future because I know I didn't do something wrong, but repeated praise makes me uncomfortable. It took me a long time to understand this about myself. This seems antithetical at first, but I do like the comments that break down the themes, execution, etc. in my fics. If they're breaking things down, moving to point to point about parts they enjoyed, there are giving me critical feedback. They tell me what thy enjoyed, and what was picked up. It's extremely useful feedback to know what they enjoyed, and what stood out to them. It helps me write better stories on the future, and hones how I get my point across. Besides, what is art that doesn't spark innovation and thought? It is forgotten.

The strongest hate is born of love—misguided though it may be—and this person has made that clear. Obviously they care about this fandom or they never would have commented like this. But if they knew more about people and less about what they want everyone to give them, maybe the spaces around them would be safer for the people in their lives—or the people they brush against online.

Comments like this often make people not want to write their fic.

Thankfully, I'm actually am in it for the art, so they might be going out of their way to make the lives of everyone around them miserable, but they haven't achieved their goal here.

However, there are a lot of writers who critically need feedback; who need this positive reinforcement. It's also why it's so important to tell writers why you enjoy their work. Even if it's something small like "I like your word choice" or "I really liked this line" or "I can't wait to find out how they resolve this"—that's feedback more valuable than we can really quantify.

"I like your word choice."—The way you pay attention to the words you use is working with the tone.

"I really like this line."—The way this line is formatted is very memorable and hits better than the others. It may be good to pay attention to it to find out why.

"I can't wait to find out how they resolve this."—You have gotten a good grade in suspense, a thing that is possible and reasonable to achieve (or however that meme goes).

I am constantly learning. I am constantly growing and changing as a person and a writer, and other people are critical to this. Sitting in a room and shouting will not make you better at making jokes, and shoving your writing in a corner never to see the light of day will never give you the tools to communicate with other people.

Sometimes I feel like people like this *points to the top of the page* don't want to learn that lesson, because of the painful reckoning with their actions it will entail.

If this is you, or you have done something similar, I recommend going through, finding your old comments, and deleting them yourself, or even apologizing if you can. Clean up your own mess, so people like me don't have to do it for you. This is a public space. Act like it.

#my fic: fires of war #my fic: takemeout #fandom wank #fandom

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