#Sell Pixel Watch

[thebigphonestore]

SMART CASH- UNLOCK VALUE WHEN YOU SELL PIXEL WATCH

Unlocking Value: How to Sell Google Pixel Watch Quickly

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Your Reliable Electronic Upgrade Partner

You can easily traverse the world of technology with The Big Phone Store as your dependable companion. Whether you're selling, trading in, or upgrading your equipment, our website ensures a safe and comfortable transaction. Visit Sell Google Pixel Watch for more information. The Big Phone Store UK keeps you up to current on technology!

[riminiscensce]

Poor Ajaw bro😭

He will definitely go to you to snitch on Kinich, and while at it, he’ll throw in some make-believe stories that makes Kinich sound like a horrible person.

“Kinich said he’ll feed me to the saurian mountain king!”

“Kinich was going to throw me at the desert!”

“Kinich wanted to sell me to criminals!”

The only thing that makes his claim believable to you is how he was cutely trying to wipe his tears with his tiny, pixelated hands.

And one more thing to make you believe him even more:

“I-I just wanted to hang out with him, I had no one to play with and I thought that m-maybe we could’ve spent some time together as friends…”

That was an obvious lie, he would never say that.

But it works well enough to persuade you to talk some senses into Kinich.

The saurian hunter doesn’t even know what happened when you came barging into his place telling him to apologize to Ajaw, and you weren’t at all pleased to see him.

Then Kinich finds out Ajaw lied about him.

“I didn’t do anything he said—“

“Are you saying Ajaw is a liar?”

“Yes,”

“Hey!” Ajaw growled, but quickly clearing his throat to get back into his act. “I mean—It really happened!”

Then Ajaw decided to pull off one of his secret moves to persuade you:

“D-Don’t you trust me?” The dragon frowns, dots of tears still in the corner of his eyes while clutching onto your clothes like a little kid. “I-It was so scary…! I keep getting nightmares about it and—“

Then he continues to sob on your shoulder, saying how he can’t even bring himself to tell the full story at how terrified he is.

He felt an immense wave of success when you start to comfort him.

When you weren’t looking, Ajaw would sneak a glance at Kinich, quietly laughing at how helpless he has gotten.

And Kinich felt intensely mocked by it.

But before he could do anything else, you left with Ajaw, telling him that he’ll stay with you until Kinich can bring himself to apologize.

As the hunter continues to watch you baby Ajaw from afar, the dragon would always grab any chances he gets to rub it in Kinich’s face.

It was sweet revenge.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI art has no anti-cooption immune system

TONIGHT (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

One thing Myspace had going for it: it was exuberantly ugly. The decision to let users with no design training loose on a highly customizable user-interface led to a proliferation of Myspace pages that vibrated with personality.

The ugliness of Myspace wasn't just exciting in a kind of outsider/folk-art way (though it was that). Myspace's ugliness was an anti-cooption force-field, because corporate designers and art-directors would, by and large, rather break their fingers and gouge out their eyes than produce pages that looked like that.

In this regard, Myspace was the heir to successive generations of "design democratization" that gave amateur communities, especially countercultural ones, a space to operate in where authentic community members could be easily distinguished between parasitic commercializers.

The immediate predecessors to Myspace's ugliness-as-a-feature were the web, and desktop publishing. Between the img tag, imagemaps, the blink tag, animated GIFs, and the million ways that you could weird a page with tables and padding, the early web was positively bursting with individual personality. The early web balanced in an equilibrium between the plunder-friendliness of "view source" and the topsy-turvy design imperatives of web-based layout, which confounded both print designers (no fixed fonts! RGB colorspaces! dithering!) and even multimedia designers who'd cut their teeth on Hypercard and CD ROMs (no fixed layout!).

Before the web came desktop publishing, the million tractor-feed ransom notes combining Broderbund Print Shop fonts, joystick-edited pixel-art, and a cohort of enthusiasts ranging from punk zinesters to community newsletter publishers. As this work proliferated on coffee-shop counters and telephone poles, it was visibly, obviously distinct from the work produced by "real" designers – that is, designers who'd been a) trained and b) paid by a corporation to employ that training.

All of this matters, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Communities – especially countercultural ones – are where our society's creative ferment starts. Getting your start in the trenches of the counterculture wars is no proof against being co-opted later (indeed, many of the designers who cut their teeth desktop publishing weird zines went on to pull their hair and roll their eyes at the incredible fuggliness of the web). But without that zone of noncommercial, antiestablishment, communitarian low weirdness, design and culture would stagnate.

I started thinking about this 25 years ago, the first time I met William Gibson. I'd been assigned by the Globe and Mail to interview him for the launch of All Tomorrow's Parties:

https://craphound.com/nonfic/transcript.html

One of the questions I asked was about his famous aphorism, "The street finds its own use for things." Given how quickly each post-punk tendency had been absorbed by commercial culture, couldn't we say that "Madison Avenue finds its own use for the street"? His answer started me down a quarter-century of thinking and writing about this subject:

I worry about what we'll do in the future, [about the instantaneous co-opting of pop culture]. Where is our new stuff going to come from? What we're doing pop culturally is like burning the rain forest. The biodiversity of pop culture is really, really in danger. I didn't see it coming until a few years ago, but looking back it's very apparent.

I watch a sort of primitive form of the recommodification machine around my friends and myself in sixties, and it took about two years for this clumsy mechanism to get and try to sell us The Monkees.

In 1977, it took about eight months for a slightly faster more refined mechanism to put punk in the window of Holt Renfrew. It's gotten faster ever since. The scene in Seattle that Nirvana came from: as soon as it had a label, it was on the runways of Paris.

Ugliness, transgressiveness and shock all represent an incoherent, grasping attempt to keep the world out of your demimonde – not just normies and squares, but also and especially enthusiastic marketers who want to figure out how to sell stuff to you, and use you to sell stuff to normies and squares.

I think this is what drove a lot of people to 4chan (remember, before 4chan was famous for incubating neofascism, it was the birthplace of Anonymous): its shock culture, combined with a strong cultural norm of anonymity, made for a difficult-to-digest, thoroughly spiky morsel that resisted recommodification (for a while).

All of this brings me to AI art (or AI "art"). In his essay on the "eerieness" of AI art, Henry Farrell quotes Mark Fisher's "The Weird and the Eerie":

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/large-language-models-are-uncanny

"Eeriness" here is defined as "when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there is nothing present when there should be something." AI is eerie because it produces the seeming of intent, without any intender:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

When we contemplate "authentic" countercultural work – ransom-note DTP, the weird old web, seizure-inducing Myspace GIFs – it is arresting because the personality of the human entity responsible for it shines through. We might be able to recognize where that person ganked their source-viewed HTML or pixel-optimized GIF, but we can also make inferences about the emotional meaning of those choices. To see that work is to connect to a mind. That mind might not necessarily belong to someone you want to be friends with or ever meet in person, but it is unmistakably another person, and you can't help but learn something about yourself from the way that their work makes you feel.

This is why corporate work is so often called "soulless." The point of corporate art is to dress the artificial person of the corporation in the stolen skins of the humans it uses as its substrate. Corporations are potentially immortal, artificial colony organisms. They maintain the pretense of personality, but they have no mind, only action that is the crescendo of an orchestra of improvised instruments played by hundreds or thousands of employees and a handful of executives who are often working directly against one another:

https://locusmag.com/2022/03/cory-doctorow-vertically-challenged/

The corporation is – as Charlie Stross has it – the "slow AI" that is slowly converting our planet to the long-prophesied grey goo (or, more prosaically, wildfire ashes and boiled oceans). The real thing that is signified by CEOs' professed fears of runaway AI is runaway corporations. As Ted Chiang says, the experience of being nominally in charge of a corporation that refuses to do what you tell it to is the kind of thing that will give you nightmares about autonomous AI turning on its masters:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

The job of corporate designers is to find the signifiers of authenticity and dress up the corporate entity's robotic imperatives in this stolen flesh. Everything about AI is done in service to this goal: the chatbots that replace customer service reps are meant to both perfectly mimic a real, competent corporate representative while also hewing perfectly to corporate policy, without ever betraying the real human frailties that none of us can escape.

In the same way, the shillbots that pretend to be corporate superfans online are supposed to perfectly amplify the corporate message, the slow AI's conception of its own virtues, without injecting their own off-script, potentially cringey enthusiasms.

The Hollywood writers' strike was, at root, about the studio execs' dream that they could convert the "insights" of focus groups and audience research into a perfect script, without having to go through a phalanx of lippy screenwriters who insisted on explaining why they think your idea is stupid. "Hey, nerd, make me another ET, except make the hero a dog, and set it on Mars" is exactly how you prompt an AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

Corporate design's job is to produce the seeming of intention without any intender. The "personality" we're meant to sense when we encounter corporate design isn't the designer's, nor the art director's, nor even the CEO's. The "personality" is meant to be the slow AI's, but a corporation doesn't have a personality.

In his 2018 short story "Noon in the antilibrary," Karl Schroeder describes an "antilibrary" as an endlessly deep anaerobic lagoon of generative botshit:

https://www.technologyreview.com/2018/08/18/104097/noon-in-the-antilibrary/

The antilibrary is a generative AI system that can produce entire librarys’-worth of fake books with fake authors, fake citations by other fake experts with their own fake books and biographies and fake social media accounts, on-demand and instantly. It was speculation in 2018; it’s possible now. Creating an antilibrary is just a matter of investing in a sufficient number of graphics cards and electricity.

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/after-the-internet

Reading Karl's reflections on the antilibrary crystallized something for me that I've been thinking about for a quarter-century, since I interviewed Gibson at the Penguin offices in north Toronto. It snapped something into place that I've trying to fit since encountering Henry's thoughts on the "eeriness" of AI work and the intent without an intender.

It made me realize why I dislike AI art so much, on a deep, aesthetic level. The point of an image generator is to buffer the intention of the prompter (which might be genuinely creative and bursting with personality) in layers of automated decision-making that flense the final product of any hint of the mind that caused its creation.

The most febrile, deeply weird and authentic prompts of the most excluded outsiders produce images that feel the same as the corporate AI illustrations that project the illusion of personality from the immortal, transhuman colony organism that is the limited liability corporation.

AI art is born coopted. Even the 4chan equivalent of AI – the deeply transgressive and immoral nonconsensual pornography – feels no different from the "official" AI porn churned out by "real" pornographers. "Shrimp Jesus" and other SEO-optimized Facebook slop is so uncanny because it is simultaneously "weird" ("that which does not belong") and yet it belongs in the same aesthetic bucket of the most anodyne Corporate Memphis ephemera:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporate_Memphis

We call it "generative" but AI art can't generate the kind of turnover that aerates the aesthetic soil. An artform that can't be transgressive is sterile, stillborn, a dead end.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/20/ransom-note-force-field/#antilibraries

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Jake (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1970s_fanzines_(21224199545).jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[macabr3-barbi3]

Entanglement (Sub Vox x Reader)

A request from the lovely @jurijyuu for a tentacle malfunction Sub Vox 💕📺

Tags: Restraints; Light Bondage; Sub Vox; Teasing; Begging; Dom/sub Undertones; Tentacles? Sort of? are Vox's cable/wire things tentacles? the world may never know

💙❤️💙❤️💙

Who could have guessed that trying to do something nice for his doll could have resulted in something like this?

Vox had been waiting for you to finish up with Velvette for the shoot that was happening this evening. He knew after hours of the fucked up poses that Vel forced you into to get the perfect shot you would be sore- she had had you hanging by your knees from the fucking chandelier on one occasion, insisting that the slight sway to the fixture would result it a cool shot from your camera (it did; that wasn’t the point). Her favorite photographer, Velvette was always fucking stealing your free time away from him. It was good for business, but bad for his plan of simply keeping you naked in his room at all times for easy access.

He had been laying in the bed, lazily stroking himself just in case you showed up, when the idea struck him to run you a hot bath and light some candles around the room. It shouldn't have been too much longer before you arrived so the candles wouldn’t burn out, and you always enjoyed it when he ‘set the mood,’ whatever that meant. He could probably sell you on fucking before your bath, too- even more deep aches and sweet bruises for the hot water to soothe.

He was too lazy to get up though, so he had snaked out a few of his cables from the back of his head, long and prehensile, a few pairs of them diving into the various drawers in the room searching for the candles and matches and two slithering across the floor towards the bathroom. Had he thought to check the floor for water from his shower a few hours prior before sending two very much electrical tentacles into the room he might have had better luck.

Currently though, his luck was shit. The water found its way into his wires and shorted them out, electrical current traveling all the way through to the base and fucking up the other cables as well; they whipped and snapped across the room in wide arcs and twisting wriggles, and his attempts to grab them from the air and cease the destruction to his room only resulted in his wrists getting tangled up in the mess.

So here Vox had been for the last fifteen minutes or so, restrained by his wrists in the bed and still achingly, frustratingly hard. His cables didn’t so much as twitch when he tries to send some power to them to reverse the entanglement, or when he tugged his arms a bit. His cock does though, and isn’t that something interesting that he doesn’t want to think about right now.

And then like an angel, there’s the sound of the door opening and you coming home. “Baby,” he shouts from the bedroom, and he hears the telltale thump of your camera bag on the kitchen counter. “I could use your help in here!”

“What did you do now? If you cracked your screen off the stand again-” Your voice trails off when you enter the room and see him- he’s sure he looks fucking ridiculous, spread out like he is, and he feels the spread of pink pixels over his screen in a blush.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” he says, “and got some water in my wires. Everything went haywire, and, well, now I’m here. Be a doll and help me get loose?”

The way you’re watching him is a little disconcerting- not bad by any means, he loved having your eyes on him, just a little unusual. You slide your jacket off your shoulders and toss it on the armchair, sliding your hair out of its bun that you wear to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. When you go for the button on your jeans he clears his throat.

“I appreciate the strip tease, sweetheart, but there’s more pressing matters at hand here.” He lifts his wrists in demonstration, the wires brushing his skin in a way that makes him suck in a harsh breath, dick twitching in his boxers. “Come on, help me.”

You work your jeans and panties down your legs, his eyes trailing the whole way before settling on the space between your legs. Then your shirt comes off, perfect tits on display as you do a rotation, let him take in the visual of your body in front of him before running your hands down your skin and back up- one hand plucks at a nipple while the other dips down between your legs.

Vox’s mouth is hanging open, pixelated lines of drool coming off his mouth as he watches you, cock throbbing out of his reach. He tugs at his makeshift restraints, a little breathless when it sends a bolt of arousal through his body- seriously, what the fuck? “I am in no mood to be teased right now,” he tells you, but the words are a little reedy and almost whimpered. He clears his throat and tries again- “Seriously, help me.”

You come closer to the bed, climb onto it and settle yourself between his legs. “Come on, Voxxy,” you murmur, and the low, dangerous tone to your voice goes straight to his straining erection despite the use of that fucking nickname that he hated. “Tied up all pretty for me and not even going to say ‘please?’ That’s not how you get what you want.” Your hands run up his calves, up his thighs, and your thumbs brush into the dip of his pelvic bone. Your touch sends electricity crackling through him, static sparking between his antennae. “That’s what you always say anyway- you wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would you?” You drag the waistband of his boxers down, and he’s half-mortified when his hips automatically cant up to make it easier for you, his dick slapping heavy onto his abdomen when it springs free.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He can feel the manic grin on his face- confused by the turn of events, by his sweet, perfect doll not simply doing what you were told and, what? Trying to get him to beg? As if- even if it was hot as fuck (and it was, Christ). “Baby, I- ohhhh, fuck-” 

Your head ducked down to lick a stripe up his cock, tongue curling around the head- his hips buck up, try to sink into the wet cavern of your mouth but you pull back with a soft smile. “Say please.”

“Fuck you.” Vox says this affectionately- he was the one in control in the bedroom, this was cute and all, but he wouldn’t plead with you for it.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t be,” you snap back with a wicked grin on your face. And you’re gone again, bent over to lick and suck at the hard length of him with your ass in the air, just the way that he likes.

Again, when he tries to thrust into your mouth you pull off, and he tugs uselessly at his restraints, head falling back against the pillows when you bring a hand up to cup his balls, thumb running gently over the sensitive skin. “Haah- you’re going to fucking kill me.” He’s a little embarrassed by that whiny moan that had escaped him, but you’re not even looking at his face, head resting on his thigh to gaze lovingly at his fucking dick while you stroke and kiss and generally tease him.

Vox thinks he might be losing his mind, just a little. But fuck does he want it, want to lose himself in the wet heat of your mouth, sink deep into your slick cunt and watch you bounce in his lap. He could still do that with his hands restrained, right? He wouldn’t be able to grip your hips the way he wanted to, or get his fingers on your clit and revel in the way that always made you clench tighter around him- but he could make do if you wouldn’t release him.

And there’s the thought that does him in- that maybe you wouldn’t let him go, would keep him tied to the bed with his own goddamn wires to tease him endlessly, unable to do anything about it himself, evidently unable to convince you to do anything for him. He was at your mercy here, the thought making him dizzy with arousal and an unprompted whine falling from his lips when he notices you working your fingers between your legs while you finally let the head of his cock slip past your lips, suction on the tip that makes him see stars.

“P-please,” he breathes out, and you release him with a pop, such excitement lighting up your eyes that he wishes he had given in sooner- you were so beautiful when you were pleased and excited, what would you look like when he gave in to you like this?

You move up the bed, legs on either side of his, and slide your drenched folds against the length of him. Leaning down so your face is next to his, you press a deep kiss to his mouth, slipping your tongue alongside his before you pull back and whisper, “again.” Your hands press into Vox’s chest as you slot him against you, rub the head of his prick against your clit and groan in ecstasy.

His hips jerk at the sensation. “Please, baby,” he says darkly, “let me fuck you.”

“Hmm, not quite what I’m looking for.” You lift off of him, slide back and out of reach again. “Try again?”

“What? Come on, I can’t-” He pulls at his restraints again, and the way your eyes go half-lidded at the sight gets the message through. “You wanna keep me trussed up, is that it?”

“Is it so wrong for the photographer to want to keep a pretty picture on display?” Your fingers twitch between your pretty thighs, grinding tiny circles into your clit while you wait for him to give you what you want. “I wish I hadn’t left my camera in the kitchen; I would love a shot like this. I’d have to get some different lighting…” Your hips stop moving for a moment as you look around the room. “Maybe candlelight would work? I think that would cast a nice glow on your skin, so pretty- fuck, should I go get my camera?”

“No!” The word breaks past the dam of his lips when you use one of his own tricks against him- the threat of ending the pleasure when you’re so fucked out and cock drunk, on the brink of cumming. “No no no, doll, don’t leave- fuck, please, alright? Please touch me, fuck me, ride my cock. I’m fucking begging, I need it-”

A shudder rolls through your body, and finally, finally you sink down on him, a slow, delicious slide that has his fingers clenching uselessly where they’re held, wishing he could hold you, dig his claws in like he usually did.

“I didn’t say stop,” you moan, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Come on, Voxxy, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop fucking t͖͖̠̬͛ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅi̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ me-” Your hips slow and Vox bites his tongue, rephrasing- and this time, to his chagrin, the stream of words doesn’t fucking stop. “Please, baby, don’t stop- f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, so fucking good, I w-want- I wanna cum, please, keep going, you f-feel so f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓-” An honest to God whimper comes out of him, so invested in both of you cumming that he can’t even find the sense in him to be embarrassed by what was happening. His screen is glitching out, his vision broken when he goes full static every couple of seconds, but the glimpses he’s getting in between of you with your head thrown back are going to fuel his jerk-off sessions when he can’t spend the night with you for the rest of his afterlife. You felt fucking perfect around him, your swollen pussy walls squeezing him just right as you rode him.

“Say please,” you command, fingers working between your legs, the back of your hand brushing against his abdomen and causing the muscles to flutter under you. “Ask me to make you cum- ask for permission and I’ll let you cum in me-”

And didn’t that just sound like the perfect end to the evening? He doesn’t even question it, couldn’t stop his traitorous tongue if he tried. “Please, doll, oh my fucking- please please p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, let me do it, cum with me-” He feels the tension in his entire body, from his suspended arms to the tips of his goddamn toes- he might actually fully fucking short out, he thinks deliriously, processors overloading in his brain at the sights and sounds and the feel of you sucking him into your greedy body. “- p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ��͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ let me, baby- oh f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, I’m gonna-”

You hit the peak of your orgasms together, your body jerking in his lap like you’ve been electrocuted while your cunt wrings him like a fucking towel, tensing and rippling around his cock as he spills into the slickness, long pulses of cum as far inside of you as he can get and its not enough- he can never be close enough to you to feel complete so he settles for filling you with everything he has to give.

Vox doesn’t black out, but its a near thing- the explosion of sudden voltage to his circuits actually jump-starts the core of his cable tentacles and they spring to life, his wrists finally coming free and falling to the bed so he’s spread out like some fucked up crucifixion. They’re numb, he realizes, but before he can get to doing anything about that you shift, reaching for them and massaging feeling back into his limbs. There’s some light bruising, but nothing crazy, not any worse than you had whenever the pair of you occasionally delved into bondage. 

The heavy breathing of you both evens out, and you bring his hands to your mouth to press light kisses to them. When you’re satisfied you release him, and his arms wrap around your back. You press a gentle kiss to his screen and rest your head on his chest. 

“You know,” you mutter into his skin, “technically I didn’t give you permission to cum. That’s gotta count for… something. I’m not sure what.”

He snorts into your hair. “Doesn’t count for shit. You cheated, waiting until I was right on the brink to say that shit.”

You hum, and snuggle closer. “You liked it though? Maybe a repeat in the future?”

His instinct was to say no, but he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it- you were a dangerous force in control, something he would maybe have to mention to Velvette so she would let you direct your own goddamn shoots. “We’ll talk about it,” he settles on, still a tad embarrassed by his reaction to the whole thing. “I do think you should have to draw the bath now, though- for both of us, since I think you rode me so hard my thighs have bruises.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh into his chest, but you still roll off of him and disappear into the bathroom- the sound of running water fills the room while Vox tries to remember how to make his legs work.

“I better not see that camera in here, either!” He shouts, and your responding giggle brings a smile to his face.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56081230

[jymwahuwu]

Jing Yuan is the kind who likes to customize you and him in the game world, and arranges you to marry him… 🫣💕

CW: yandere, non-con (in game), harassment, customizing your avatar without your consent and doing lewd things, forced marriage

Every era has some retro trends. The so-called trend is the waves on the beach, changing but repeating.

General Jing Yuan needs to pay attention to the business trends in Xianzhou, and found that many adults in Xianzhou have bought a game console. It was an electronic pet game console that was popular in various galaxies hundreds of years ago, and it has been packaged by capital and sold in a new form now. The game company uses new technology and beautiful pixel art compared to previous consoles, and targets adults. Virtual pets are fully customizable, and players can feed, care for, and even talk to them (of course, no voice, just text and options, but pets respond based on player-customizable personalities and stats). The selling point of this console is porn, with the ability to choose the level of sexual encounters and orgasms of pets in the simulated universe (lots of free and randomized sex events).

Jing Yuan immediately ordered his assistant to buy one. It was an exquisite game console with the cartoon designs of fluffy kittens and birds that the general wanted. He couldn't wait to customize… you, using technology to customize a virtual pet in the game that is exactly like you in reality. You stand on the grass in pixel art style, looking at him with a pout. He customizes your character and stats, and starts the game. He's obsessed with your little pixel figure sleeping and being fed by him in the game world. You are really adorable when you sleep in the clouds. Your little pixel avatar eating your favorite food at the restaurant. It's just that he can't accept you being groped by tentacles and other mysterious alien species in the virtual universe.

So, he customized a small avatar of Jing Yuan and lived in your home. The General watches with satisfaction as your virtual pixel avatar gets fucked by tiny Jing Yuan, rocking your waist back and forth and sobbing, with white seeds all over your face and private parts. You look exhausted and have a lot of orgasms… <3 Begging little Jing Yuan to stop doing this. In the restaurant, your avatar also can't enjoy the food because his avatar keeps groping you under the table. You even had a little wedding in the game! Your avatar keeps pleading with text messages not to get married, but gets rejected. How can you be so cute… <3

One night, you received a mysterious game video from a general who harassed you. You click and watch in bewilderment to see a tiny avatar very similar to you being fingered and nipple stimulated, and the one doing it is an avatar similar to Jing Yuan!! They are doing lewd things with the cutest art. You are flustered and crying, how can that person do such a thing in the game world without your consent. Jing Yuan even sent this for you to watch…?

"hey baby, they work so hard. let's get married as early as possible just like them<3"

[blackbirds-on-the-marsh]

Heads up folks, tumblr’s got a new flashing ad.

[ID: a screenshot of an ad sponsored by WordAds, with the title “When I learned to sell books…” and the subheading “Young authors are outselling old authors with this sales training course. Watch this free video sample!” End ID.]

Below this is an ad that on tablet covers the whole screen, and is nothing but blurry, grainy flashing colors. It not only flashes in waves of colors, but large pixels of different colors pop in and out. On my tablet, it took me about eight or nine scrolls to get past.

[twstthing]

[Bake Bread] 1/2

Minecraft Single Player! Yuu AU

Summary: Yuu baked(?) bread for Azul.

Part 2/2

Yuu has insanely fast-growing wheat on their farm located at Ramshackle grounds. Azul has been so, so shifty about wanting to own the property, but he has continuously and fabulously failed at acquiring it.

But what kind of business man is Azul to give up on such an opportunity? Wheat can take up to 2/3rds of the year to grow, but the wheat this abnormal student plants takes approximately 1 and a half days to be completely grown! Not only that, it is beautifully, so beautifully consistent in its quality.

Yes, sure, there are PLENTY of magic agriculture brands that sell amazingly consistent produce, but this wheat? This wheat is terrifyingly accurate to the industry standard. Azul had to confirm to his two associates that no, he was in fact not tripping balls ("You are MALDING over overrated grass, Azul. You sound just like Jade.")

Just to confirm that he wasn't insane, he had gotten his hands on some legally obtained samples of the wheat (He politely asked for a bundle of wheat from Yuu with a contract where he promised to not commercialize nor generate defamation/slander associated with Yuurmom because of the wheat.) and had Jade take it to his Science Club to study it.

Even according to that Heartsyabul Clover, he was thoroughly impressed at the remarkably consistent quality of the wheat.

Trey had kindly indulged Jade's questions about the wheat, explaining one of the most business-booming, profit-generating, game-breaking facts about this produce

This wheat does not expire.

It doesn't expire? Are you kidding? No preservatives, no drying processes, no water rot, none? None at all?

As Clover explains, "Uhh, yeah. It doesn't go bad even when carried around for months. Yuu gifted me some, but I don't exactly know how to process wheat into flour, so it's been sitting in the pantry for some time now. I've been wanting to put it to use though, so this week I'll be meeting with Deuce, Epel, and Jack to help me process it."

So yeah, Azul is definitely NOT crazy for losing his mind over this farm that Yuu has going on. If he can have Yuu make a contract with him to exclusively sell their harvests to Mostro Lounge, he'd be booming! Fast crops, no preservatives, no need to watch for shelf life, do you even understand what kind of miracle crop this student has?!

When Azul comes knocking at Yuu's door once more, he is greeted with the expected presence of the Ramshackle Housewarden, but also a basket of... Flatly stacked pixelated bread?

"Why, Yuu, I wasn't aware you enjoy my company so much!"

"Come in. Bread, eat."

Azul is slightly surprised by the sudden hospitality, but accepts it to see if he can further his advances in getting his hands on those crops.

Upon being seated in the common room, Yuu takes one of the breads from the basket and begins to eat it in their really loud and strange way. Crumbs are flying everywhere, yet not one speck actually makes it onto the couch or floor. Azul wishes he could forget the way Yuu tried to eat the food at Mostro Lounge for the first time.

Jade sets the plate down, and gives a simple smile, "Please enjoy your food." Deuce and Ace usher various forms of a curt "Thanks." before digging in, but Yuu continues to stare at the plate in front of them. Ace raises an eyebrow, but before he got to make a snarky comment, Yuu grabs their Sirloin Steak with Mushroom Sauce and Stir-Fried Vegetables with their bare hand and proceeds to begin ripping at it.

Ripping is not a strong enough word to describe their eating process, Yuu's mouth was barely open yet there were steak shreds and mushroom sauce flying everywhere. The two little card soldiers were trying to fend themselves from the food splatter onslaught, Jade was collapsed to his knees trying to hold in his laughter, Floyd dropped the food he was supposed to serve in opt of releasing howling laughter, and Azul felt like crawling into a ditch.

.. Maybe this was a more prominent memory for Azul than he initially thought.

But! Azul has persisted through worse, really strange eating mannerisms do not compare to the Leech's impulsive personalities. Therefore, this is nothing.

"So, Housewarden, how do you fare? I can see that this place has recently been cleaned well, was that your doing?"

The sounds of disconcertingly loud bread munching fill the room for a solid 4 seconds. Yuu is staring straight at Azul, and Azul stares back. Azul dully notes that their pupils are square-shaped. He's aware of slit eyes and horizontally slit eyes, as evidenced by goat beastfolk, but he's unsure if a person with square pupils is simply born like that or had an extreme cosmetic surgery.

Yuu audibly gulps and burps after finishing their loaf, the bread vanishing from their hand with the blink of an eye.

There are a lot of things running through Azul's mind right now, but his goal was not forgotten. Get closer with Yuu, get that wheat, make business boom. Thus, he slightly extends his hand out to the basket of pixelated bread that is stacked upon each other like cards, "Mind if I have some?"

Yuu nods, so Azul reaches out with his gloved hand to take one of the reasonably sized hard-as-rock pixelated loaves of bread.

He goes in with two hands to rip the bread in half, but finds that it is rock solid. Of course it is. It is a physical slab of a pixelated graphic of a loaf of bread. Azul feels a bit stupid. ("Of course you are, normie! You should've expected that!")

Despite the failed first attempt, Azul tries to rip at it once more with more force. Fingertips pressed into the slab, he pulls his arms away from each other horizontally in a final attempt.

rrrip

Rip? Azul looks at the now split pieces of bread in his hands, and the previous rock-solid pixelated graphic has turned into actual bread.

Azul blinks. He looks at the basket of bread, and the pixel graphic was still there stacked neatly. Bringing his arms back, he observes the bread in his hands that looks to be an ordinary, warm, freshly baked loaf of bread that bore no resemblance to what he initially held in his hands prior to tearing it.

"You ever eat bread before?"

Azul nearly whips his head up to look at Yuu, who's unconcerning gaze never left him.

Pushing up his glasses, Azul speaks, "I assure you I know of bread, Housewarden. I was simply wondering.."

There are a lot of questions Azul wants to ask, those related and unrelated to the current situation, but he pulls through and selects a question that would give him more insight to the Housewarden's stranger properties.

"I was thinking about how you made this. It's still fresh and warm after all. I didn't know the oven in here was operable, no offense to you and your skilled craftsmanship."

Yuu shrugs, "Just 3 wheat, bread made."

Azul blinks.

"Do you mean 3 pounds of wheat? That's quite a lot of crop to process."

"No. 3 wheat makes 1 bread."

Azul Ashengrotto is one of the youngest genius businessmen to enter the world. His thorough work and sound words carry his reputation as smoothly as sea currents, letting all know of his benevolence and charm. However, such skill was not born from nothing. The young man had persisted through harder times, fought his way to the top, wrangling only the best of deals and people to keep his position rising, an experienced businessman as he is no stranger to challenge.

However, interacting with this abnormal Housewarden has somehow managed to shake the reality and logic of such a esteemed man more than thrice.

".. Do you mind explaining what that means, Housewarden? I feel that you might be referring to a unit of measurement from your home, which I'm unfortunately not familiar with."

Continued in Part 2

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #85

Oh to live in play a pixel art Pokemon farming sim. You have a cute lil house you can decorate to your liking. Every day you get to take care of your berries and apricorns. You get to feed and pet and take care of your pokemon. There's minigames where you get to bath them or play stuff like hide and seek or tag or tic-tac-toe or with them. You can pick one pokemon to follow you around. When you reach a high enough friendship level with one pokemon they'll sometimes bring you gifts and you can ask them to help you with some chores around the house or the farm. You use the wool you get from Mareeps and Wooloos to knit sweaters and socks and blankets. You make cheese and butter with the milk you get from Miltank. Once you progress enough in the game you get to open a cute lil store in the town where you sell all your homemade wares to the townspeople and also items to visiting trainers such as the pokeballs you make from apricorns. Every couple of months you turn on your tv and hear about a ten year old saving the world and half the time you know the kid because they've been to your store. Sometimes you'll find wild pokemon you can approach and befriend. No combat mechanics, you feed the pokemon or pet them or offer them shinies and they usually leave you alone except sometimes they'll follow you home. The cute lil town you live in has a ton of festivities and charming npcs. You can ask npcs to be your (platonic or not) roommates, you can marry npcs, you can have kids or adopt them (without being on a relationship) or stay single. There's no limit to how many pokemon beds you can place inside your house. You can place pokebeds, food and water bowls anywhere in the world. You can also fish and dive and mine and forage. If you leave a bunch of berries in an ancient hidden shrine to Groudon/Kyogre you can ensure that the next day is rainy or extra sunny. One time you ran into Palkia and Dialga and offered them some really tasty pokepuffs so now you have the gods of space and time at your beck and call and you can basically time travel and teleport as long as you give them treats first. You like to stay up late on the nights when the tv says there's going to be Minior showers to watch the colorful falling stars with your pokemon cuddled at your side. Life is good.

Similar games that actually exist: Stardew Valley, Pokemon, Moonstone Island, Ooblets, Monster Harvest, Critter Crops, Ova Magica

[princess-of-the-corner]

Sorry but "Not mean just rude" AU musing regarding Lady Wfi:

When Nino rounded the corner, he was surprised to bump into Adrien who seemed just as surprised to bump into him. Evidently they'd both been stomping in a state.

It was Adrien who recovered first though, normally placid expression marred by real anger.

"Nino, what is this I ear about your & Alya breaking into Chloe's locker?"

"Dude, you're seriously mad about that!? Chloe got Alya suspended over it!"

Surprisingly, Adrien just folded his arms, expression unchanged, "I'm amazed she didn't push for expulsion."

"Are you playing me right now man?" He'd thought Adrien was cool, much cooler than this!

"Why wouldn't she?" Before Nino could speak, Adrien let out a deep, pained breath, "Look, Nino. Dude. Chloe & I have been having reporters, strangers, co-workers and 'friends' doing everything from breaking into our homes, going through our trash, selling literally 'anything' we might have once worn online and even try to plant things just to make a story. So like..."

Nino only realized now that Adrien didn't have his arms folded, he was hugging himself, and doing so tighter.

"So yeah, I'm not at all angry with Chloe for snapping when two of her classmates, one of whom is a reporter broke into her locker. Or that the principle just told her to get over it. Why shouldn't we be mad?"

Nino had, had something to say, none exactly a bullet pointed list, but a strong general vibe and through line about horrible behavior and how much it hurt others.

Unfortunately, even as he opened his mouth, a single digit raised as if to begin counting off he found no sounds coming out.

He tried again, Adrien's eyebrow arching up as he watched Nino try & fail to form words.

"You... Yeah I guess its fair you're upset man."

"And Chloe, I'm just angry on her behalf, she's the one who's got reason to be upset."

"She didn't seem upset-" Nino cut himself off as Adrien started hugging himself again and looking ready to run. "But hey, what do I know? We don't talk."

"We all get upset differently, Chloe... She can't explain things to you like I just did, or barely can and I... I'm not good at being angry, Chloe usually did that for both of us. Its always been like that, we look out for each other."

Anger tabled for the moment, Nino was, honestly stumbling around in the dark, this was the most Adrien had ever said about himself that seemed so... Vulnerable.

Well, on purpose at least. The boy did not realize just how messed up some of the stuff he thought was normal was, and this only drove the point further home.

Shrugging, Nino floated a thought the blonde's way, "Chloe's not a famous model, did she really get as much attention as you?"

"Her dads in politics and she's around celebrities all the time, and actually had a public profile. Plus, she did model with me for a year or so, but then her baby fat came off at twelve so she had to stop."

"Stop?" Nino was pretty sure most models wanted to be skinny right?

Adrien shrugged, "Dad said she was too razor edged and gaunt to appeal to anyone and her mother said she looked like a shrew and should stop wasting pixels. So yeah, she stopped."

Adrien said that with the same banal tone he always delivered these little nuggets or negging nightmares with.

It left Nino with little more to add than an, "I... See..."

'What the hell is wrong with these people?' It certainly put some things in a slightly different light. Slightly.

"So, I did my part, why am I meant to be upset for Alya & not angry at you both?" Adrien asked, this time his tone was more searching and genuinely flummoxed.

"You're asking?"

"I am, we're friends, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, and its like I said. Chloe's the fighter, I'm the chatty one," he said with a slightly forced smirk.

YEAH GET THEIR ASSES.

Like I love Alya and Nino but GOD they were in the wrong this episode.

[blazehedgehog]

Why do newer pokemon look so offputting? Older games had tons of diverse designs but newer ones look unfinished/not well thought out.

They might be. I dunno. There's a lot people have said about Game Freak's competency at handling the Pokemon franchise and how they've added too many new Pokemon to some of these games and are basically running the well dry on good ideas.

But I also just see it as, like, an extension of the Mighty No. 9 problem. I remember when we were still all starry-eyed and hopeful about Mighty No. 9, Inafune revealed the design and mentioned it had "increased detail to suit HD displays."

So he's got all these colors and patterns and grooves and slots, when Mega Man was basically just a kid in his pajamas and three solid colors:

Light blue, dark blue, and skin tone. That's it. That's all you needed.

And Inafune further explained that was because Mega Man had to be this tiny little 24x24 NES sprite. I'd have to look it up, but it wouldn't surprise me if the sprite came first. I know it definitely did with Mario.

So this is like designing a character with the rawest, most basic building blocks you can get. You are not adapting the above character art into this sprite. Instead, you are making a character that has arms that are a separate color from his body, you are giving him pants to denote where his waist is, and you give him the biggest eyes on earth just so people can tell that's his face.

You have the smallest canvas imaginable and have to make sure people can understand they are not only looking at the shape of a human, but watching it animate in various different poses, all when it's run through somebody's crusty old RF patch cable on their 12" CRT TV:

Whereas, in theory, Mighty No. 9 is going to be played at its native resolution in crystal clarity on a 40" flat panel display, potentially allowing you to see and understand a lot more detail.

So now we circle back to Pokemon, and a lot of those first Pokemon look like this:

They had a box, 56x56 pixels wide, just over double the size of NES Mega Man, and four colors of grey to work with. When viewed on a Gameboy screen, these monsters weren't even two inches tall. Those limitations meant they still had to keep things simple.

Whereas now, increased resolutions and screen clarity allows designs like these:

Now the point I'm trying to make here is that simplicity and limitations give birth to clear, highly focused designs created to be instantly identifiable and recognizable at any distance or resolution. More detail does not necessarily make for a stronger character. You can absolutely get caught up in adding detail to compensate for a bad character design.

...At the same time, let's play devil's advocate here. Pokemon is a very different creature now than it was 25 years ago. A single new Pokemon design probably goes through this huge insane iteration process where all kinds of departments touch and approve the design so it can appear in the anime, it can appear in spinoffs, it can appear in merchandise, so on and so forth. We're miles away from the days where one guy comes up with all the Pokemon just because he thinks it would be funny to have a fat duck with a headache.

Maybe as much as anything, you could blame the increasingly complex production machine on why these Pokemon look like this. After all, even by the second generation of Pokemon games, they were constantly chasing the dragon of trying to find "the next Pikachu."

Everything has to be polished and smoothed down, while also showing the increased capabilities of the hardware, while also staying appealing to Pokemon's core demographics (there are multiples), while also being something they can sell toys and shirts and hats of, while also being noticeably new and different from existing Pokemon, so on and so forth, on and on and on again.

Having so many Pokemon in each new game probably gives them some leeway to experiment, but I'm sure some of these characters get beaten with creative hammers in the search of their next superstar.

On top of whatever qualms people might have with the state of Game Freak as it stands today.

[dokidokitsuna]

...I just remembered I wanted to make my own statement on the AI thing. ^^;

So you've probably heard, but in case you haven't: Tumblr just sold out everyone's data to the AI trash compactors, they probably did it long before they gave us the option to opt out, and even if you do opt out they're probably still taking and using your work anyway (telling people to opt out instead of actually asking for their permission is already scummy business practice, but when it comes to AI it's functionally meaningless. :/ It's always "well, we're telling them not to use these people's data and we're hoping they'll be nice and go along with it" with no regulations or consequences if they decide to just steal everything indiscriminately...)

Despite that, I am not leaving Tumblr anytime soon. I'm looking into other sites*, but at this moment in time, I have nowhere else to go. ^^; Besides, I still like it here. When I left DeviantArt I was already getting sick of the place, having my art stolen regularly by "fans" and paradoxically getting less and less interest in my work over time. By the time the devs turned the website into eye-blinding slop with Eclipse, I was more than ready to move on.

But I still enjoy using Tumblr. I like writing long text posts that no one would bother to read anywhere else, I like answering asks, and I like the unique sense of humor and style among the users here. ^^ It would take a lot to force me out.

Also, I can take a little solace in the fact that AI-bros do not value "low-quality" art like mine. ^^; If messy cel-shaded sketches with visible pixels ever become popular, then I'll worry, but for now I think it's highly unlikely that anyone will want to wholesale regurgitate my art. If anything, I think prioritizing it in their datasets would only make them worse...and on that note, if you do have "high quality" detailed/painterly/semi-realistic art that would be targeted, I'd recommend 'poisoning' it with Nightshade/Glaze. Although I heard a rumor a while back that AI is "building immunity" to Nightshade and already learning to work around it, but I'm really hoping that was just a wishful lie from the trash compactors themselves. I haven't heard it repeated since then, so I think it's still worth a shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So anyway, like the post I reblogged said, I think the best thing we can do now is to make it clear that WE DON'T WANT AI ART. We don't care how easy it'll be to instantly generate thousands of hours of mindless 'content' to look at; we don't want it. Since regulation is lagging so far behind (wanna know why Disney's copyright hounds didn't shut this down on sight? Most likely, they're hoping to profit from it down the line) the only way to fight this right now is with individual litigation and consumer demand.

Don't support projects made with AI**; don't hate-watch them or spotlight them. Focus your energy on the millions of human artists who are still here, and need your support now more than ever.

*I've heard people mention moving to Twitter and/or Artstation: fam, you're jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. ^^;;; IIRC, Arstation was one of the FIRST art sites to start flirting with AI, and Twitter has been selling off its users' data for several months already. Go there if you must, but don't go under the impression that it's "safer".

**Please keep a cool head when discussing AI art, and keep in mind that it used to mean something other than "mass theft". Artists have and still do create AI tools that are built on limited data sets with permission/compensation, that are used to aid them in their work and encourage human artistry (Vocaloids and DAW's, for instance) rather than stamp it out. Until a specific word evolves into popular use for exploitative AI, we're kinda stuck with this confusion, so remember to get the facts before you speak out.

P.S. Praying every night that this is a dumb fad that will soon die and go to the same hell as NFTs. >_< Praying every morning that the influx of AI art into its own datasets will eventually corrupt itself and make it useless. >_< >_< Praying every afternoon for both at once! >_< >_< >_< Like to charge, reblog to cast, all that

[tezuze]

So, I didn’t make any art for Odaiba day because I’m a procrastinator, but I thought I’d tell my story of how I got into Digimon because I think it’s kinda funny and personally I like reading stuff like that so I thought at least one person might get a kick out of it.

Obviously gonna put this below the cut because it's a lil long

I had very very passing awareness of digimon before getting into it, like I knew Agumon but didn’t know its name, and I watched part of a random episode as a kid and didn’t like that they talked for some reason, and that’s as far as my knowledge went. But I had a friend who really liked digimon and really wanted me to get into it.

My first real experience was that friend showing me episode 4 of adventure and I was very alarmed that Biyomon was a digimon and not a Chocobo like I thought.

The episode didn’t really sell the series to me, so I didn’t touch the franchise for another couple of years. I gained more passing knowledge through my friend and loved random digimon I thought were funny, mostly Togemon and Bakemon which I lovingly referred to as the “punching cactus” and “teethy ghost”, respectively.

Cut to my friend finds a V-pet at our local game store, so I bought one too because I always wanted a Tomogachi and thought it’d be fun to make our guys fight.

I loved my little guy! I thought little pixel Pagumon and Garurumon were so cute but had no idea what they actually looked like!

Later still, I had an itch to play a monster collector but wasn’t interested in replaying any of the Pokémon games I already owned, so my friend offered to borrow their copy of Next Order. I thought I’d give it a shot especially since I liked some of the V-pet guys.

Oh boy was that a learning curve. The only other monster collector I played was Pokémon so digimon not being exactly like Pokémon confused my small brain. (Wait, so digimon can evolve into whatever, but they also can’t?) (They have canon evolution lines but they also don’t?) (Turuiemon was just made but Lopmon has been around forever??) (MY SWEET PUNCHING CACTUS EVOLVES INTO A WOMAN WHAT.)

Anyway I enjoyed the game but didn’t really interact with the series much, until my friend and I were bored and threw adventure on in the background because I was like “Oh I know some digimon, it’d be cute to see them animated!”

I did think adventure was cute, but didn’t give it much credit at the time. It wasn’t until we moved on to 02 and I was actively sobbing at the end of Ken’s arc that I was like “Wait what, this is actually good????” And insisted we watch every installment of the franchise.

And now we cut to modern day, I’m sitting with my same friend, sweating and violently scribbling on my tablet with a deranged look in my eye, and they’re asking if I’m drawing Ruli’s friends again.

Oh yeah, and happy Odaiba day!!!!

As always I would love to hear everyone else's stories of how they got into Digimon if you would like to share!!

[lovelythief]

𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍

𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚠; 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗/𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚌𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷,𝟿𝟹𝟺

You sighed and adjusted your tote filled to the brim with herbs, fruits, and vegetables across your shoulder. You felt heavier than usual; your steps slow and breath ragged, and you briefly wondered if you somehow caught some illness with rapid-onset symptoms. Your thoughts began to feel fuzzy as you stumbled to a stop in front of Otose’s Snack House, staring up at your home with a strange expression. Maybe you really were sick, you thought as you forced your feet up the stairs.

But where could you have gotten this? You went out into town for just a few hours to restock the fridge with actual food for once. It’s true that the pollen in Edo today was particularly bad—which was strange for this time of year—but stranger things have happened in the world of Gintama.

You rubbed your temple with the heel of your palm, your throbbing headache only getting worse. Maybe you should take a nap... You opened the door and announced your return with a grumble, sliding off your shoes and setting the tote down on the sofa.

“You look like shit,” Gintoki greeted while sucking lazily on a lollipop, “did you get sick again or something?”

You shrugged half-heartedly and opened the door to the bedroom, ignoring the pull in your chest to cuddle up to Gin. If you really were sick, you shouldn’t let him catch it too. “I’m going to take a nap, please turn down the TV.”

“Okay,” he drawled, returning his attention to the news broadcast as you shut the door behind you.

Gintoki leaned back into the couch, crossing his legs widely and hanging his arms over the back as he stared mindlessly at Ketsuno Ana—his long-time celebrity crush—only for the broadcast to be suddenly and very rudely interrupted by today’s breaking news. He reached over to grab the remote, but his fingers faltered on the button as the reporter on-scene began to speak in a muffled panic into their gasmask.

“We’re getting reports of a large alien flower that fell into Edo this morning and the pollen that has contaminated the entirety of the city’s air.” Gintoki watches as the pixelated censorship surrounding the reporter barely concealed the (explicit) truth behind what’s taken over Edo. “Please be cautious as you exit your homes today, as interaction with this pollen can cause insatiable lust and—”

Gintoki’s wide eyes turn from the television to the closed room door, and he shakes his head furiously. “No, no, this is ridiculous. It’s some bad marketing scheme to sell more condoms,” he reasoned, “besides, it’s a cheap trope! There’s just no way!” but his faltering voice could not hide his concern.

He shuffled up close to his bedroom, put an ear against the shoji and held his breath.

 It’s too hot. There’s no way you could sleep like this.

Frustrated, you shoved your heavy clothes off your feverish body, hoping that the breeze would cool you down, but quickly found that—even with your entire body freed from the oppressive cloth—you were still sweating. Still uncomfortable.

Your thighs were sticky, and you reached down to wipe away at the sweat, but as your fingers brushed against your inner thigh, you realized two things: the sticky feeling against your thighs wasn’t sweat, and if you stopped touching yourself, you might actually die.

The pounding of your head stopped for brief moments as you, with as much embarrassment as someone high on aphrodisiacs could have, pressed your hand more firmly against your aching cunt and gasped. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against your fingers the moment you made contact.

The relief from the stimulation made you throw your head back. It was hard to keep yourself quiet when everything outside of your current field of vision faded when contested with this high. You keened as your fingers caught your clit.

You didn’t notice Gintoki slide into the dark bedroom, his eyes shaded by his bangs and his dick hard against the strain of his pants. You only opened your eyes to see his expressionless face staring at you as you pleasured yourself when the comforters shifted as he knelt above you.

“T-Toki,” you choked, the sudden attention mortifying and dizzying. Your cunt clenched against nothing, arousal gushing against your fingers as your addled mind began crying out for Gintoki, “why’m I—?”

“Are you an idiot? How did you let yourself get hit by an alien aphrodisiac?”

Your hand reached out to grasp his clothes for support as you finally slipped your fingers inside, your eyes never leaving his. “Dunno,” you slurred, clutching his yukata and tugging it uselessly, “need—I need—oh!”

Gintoki clicked his tongue and leaned down, offering you a quick and chaste kiss to see if something simple would snap you out of it already. Your eyes, blown wide, stared past him in pleasure, and it only took a moment before you lunged your body up to crash your lips to his again. “Mmf—” Gintoki pressed his hand against your clavicle and pushed your body back down as your lips broke contact. “—damn it, woman!” he cursed, “don’t throw yourself at me like that!”

You arched your back, the skin-to-skin contact of his warm hand on your chest electrifying your brain and making you pant like a dog. “—kissing won’t work,” you spoke in a rush, “need... need you to—to—fuck me!”

Gintoki’s throat went dry, watching you helplessly cry out for him while you tried to get yourself off with your small fingers. The news really didn’t prepare him for the reality of how desperate this pollen made people—but at least it told him one important thing. Sexual relief, huh?

Gintoki wordlessly stood up, ignoring your whine from his absence, and pulled off his belt, tossing it to the floor. His clothes followed, landing in a puddle beneath him, leaving himself naked before he settled himself at your feet. Your fingers squelched every time they entered you, picking up speed as you watched Gintoki strip, your eyes glued to his dick as it sprung from his pants and rested with a curve against his abdomen.

It was too much for a man to take.

“Agh, fucking fine! I’ll make you cum again and again until that stupid pollen is out of your system!” Gintoki growled out, forcefully pulling your hand from between your thighs and grasping your hips to flip you over onto your stomach with ease. Your legs spread apart naturally and he knocked them the rest of the way with his knees. “I don’t want to hear a single goddamn complaint from you about this, got it?”

Entranced, you could only plead and wiggle your ass as you clutched the comforters tightly between your fingers, turning your head over your shoulder and looking up at Gintoki with large, glassy eyes.

Chest heaving, Gintoki stroked his dick with a few furious pumps, digging his nails into your hip to keep you still as he nudged his length inside your pussy, slipping in quick and easy with how much slick dripped from you. “Shit,” he hissed as he bottomed out, irritated by your constant squirming as you tried to get him to fuck you because he was too stimulated from the way you squeezed around him, “calm down.”

“Caaaan’t!” you whined, biting your knuckles. Tears pricked at your eyes as the overwhelming need to be railed within an inch of your life—and being so close to getting what you wanted—drove you crazy. You weren’t sure how much of it was the aphrodisiac speaking, and how much of it was yourself.

Gintoki fucked you with slow, full strokes. His hands squeezed your hips and controlled you, forcing you still despite the way you tried to press your ass back into him every time he pulled out to the tip. He could feel your cunt flutter in a messy rhythm, trying to keep his cock nestled deeply inside and crying out when he only gave you the bulbous tip.

You were louder than usual; babble spilling from your lips as Gintoki’s tip knocked against your cervix with each powerful thrust. Normally, it would take a while to break you down and get you to be this shameless, but you gave it to him freely now, crying out your affections and desires, begging him to fuck you deeper, fuck you faster, make you cum.

Voice mocking, Gintoki asked you, “are you really trying to order Gin-san around?” He bent over your back, wrapping one hand around your neck and the other arm tucking beneath your breasts, pulling you up onto your knees to mercilessly pound your gummy walls with shorter, faster strokes. Gintoki huffed and stared at the blissful expression on your face. “Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

“Yesyesyes,” you threw your head back against Gintoki’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with untampered pleasure. “More.”

“How greedy are you?” Gintoki grunted, flexing his forearm, putting slight pressure against your throat while he rubbed your clit with two large fingers. “Making me do all the work”—he snapped his hips against yours and shuddered as you wailed—“when this was supposed to be Gin-san’s day off?” his voice raised over the wet slaps from your slick dripping down his balls.

“’m sorry, ‘m sorry, please!” you held onto Gintoki’s biceps for dear life as your legs shook with the force of his quickening thrusts. You gritted your teeth as he pinched your clit, drool escaping the corner of your lips as your orgasms indistinguishably blended in with the buzzing of the pollen and waves of pleasure. You didn’t know how many times you came; if you came once or four times in a row, it didn’t matter, not when Gintoki kept drilling his hips into you.

Gintoki relentlessly fucked you through your spiraling high and quickly started chasing his own orgasm with each clench and squeeze from your cunt. Gintoki threw his hand back up from your clit to your breasts, fondling them roughly, pinching and tugging your nipples, his dick twitching as you choked back a yelp. He buried his face against your shoulder and bared his teeth, biting down hard enough to get a scream of his name in the darkness of his room. Gintoki lost himself in shallow thrusts, enveloped tightly by your warm, wet pussy, until he flooded your senses with his cum.

He stayed buried inside of you for a minute, tired and sweaty with the unexpected exertion. Gintoki pulled out with a low groan, momentarily entranced by the dribble of his cum following him and sticking to your thighs.

You collapsed onto the futon—gross with the mess of fluids—and sighed out with relief. “T...Thanks, Toki,” you mumbled despite your dry throat. You felt a little more normal now, but you could still feel the dull throb of your cunt was not entirely satisfied yet despite already dripping with Gin’s semen.

Gintoki rolled over next to you, his arms tucked under his head. He looked at you with some concern, wondering if he pushed you too far despite your ailment. “Better?” he asked.

You sat up and mindlessly rubbed your bitten shoulder. “Mmm...” you half-heartedly replied, your eyes trailing from Gintoki’s face down his chest, to his dick. He watched you silently as you crawled over him and sat on his thighs, your face red as you shamelessly glided your cum-soaked cunt against his dick.

“I think I could... go for a little longer... please, Gintoki?”

[mercy-misrule]

One of the limitations that games have with mechanics and storytelling clash is of course, violence.

If I have been killing hundreds of sentient creatures as an every day occurrence, you cannot sell me on the horror of someone being a murderer. If your character is struggling with a violent past and that's what the story is but to get from part one to part two of the story it's been non stop killing, it becomes a farce.

Just undercuts everything because I'm being asked to engage with storytelling but completely ignore what gets me to the next leg of that story, to buy into it

In a similar fashion, persona 5 wants to talk about the horror of abuse and sexual coercion and specialising and objectifying women

And then turns around and does it for comedy in the next scene and it's like. ATLUS. My dudes. Why.

They don't even give me a 'shr breathes through her skin's style explanation.

Ann's costume sucks on a meta and an aesthetic level and her ass first waiting to fight pose is garbage.

Idgaf about sexy video game costumes, it's just pixels. But I do care about stories and it's mindboggling to me to watch them undercut this powerful moment where she frees herself from her abuser's grasp, destroys the creepy sex mannequin version of herself and stands strong.

Only to have the cat be weird and horny about her and her to have comedy shame about what she's wearing.

I'm still enjoying p5r. But this was something I hated in the og P5 and I'm still hating it here

[someg0yguy]

Gameboy Camera "Deluxe" edition

(creepypasta)

Back in the day, there was this strange GB camera copy called the "Deluxe". It was a very eerie copy where you could not take pictures, as the photo would come out all jumbled up(though there is a later exception). You could play the minigames though.

but the cryptic messages did not make the unease go away. Not to mention that the images already in the album were just… unsettling. Deformed bodies of all ages, incomprehensible pixelated mess. That's not the main thing this game was known for, though. It was the Real-time search part in the shoot menu.

Said option would activate the camera again, but you are then given the prompt to look around for something. And in real-time, a humanoid-looking person comes out and stare at you, of which you shoot them and engage in a rudimentary RPG-style fight.(this is the exception).

You have to defeat two of these things in order to reach the mastermind; The Miss or Miss Deluxe, as she was nicknamed. You accept her request and fight her. Despite your best effort, however, it would end with her taking a picture of you and the surreal credits rolling in.

A new photo is then added to your album; a face gasping in the void.

The photo is named "YOU:>"

I heard there were many rumors' of this game's origins (much like the creator), despite some copies existing and the rom being dumped online. The usual "haunted by ghost game, advance government experiment" and so on. Can't believe those if I'm frank, but I can imagine being terrified as a kid if I were to play this game.

The rumors say that the creator was this Miss Deluxe but only due her constant appearance all over the game, and her holding a GB camera much like the player.

It is certain the creator was expert in programming, as well them going to Nintendo space world convention in the 90s-20s to sell these(given some witness testimony).

I do wonder, for what purpose the creator was doing all of this, marketing & promotion?, becoming a game designer? Who knows…I do know that they may be watching after all these years, knowing they became a lil strange legend in gaming history…

[satoshi-mochida]

Legendary Classic Life-Sim Boku no Natsuyasumi 2 Gets English Translation Fan Patch from HilltopWorks

Noisy Pixel Source

After announcing it almost a year ago, fan-translation collective HilltopWorks have released their full English translation patch for Boku no Natsuyasumi 2, the 2002 entry of the long-running cozy game franchise that originally launched on the PlayStation 2.

The Boku no Natsuyasumi (“My Summer Vacation”) titles follow a young boy being sent to live with his aunt and uncle in rural Japan over summer break and all of the low-stakes situations he might find himself in over his relaxing trip. They’ve been widely acclaimed in Japan for accurately capturing the feeling of childhood adventure and positive nostalgia, but the series has, with the sole exception of a Crayon Shin-chan spin-off title, never been officially released worldwide.

Boku no Natsuyasumi 2, as with the rest of the games in the series, requires no knowledge of the other titles to enjoy, as the biggest difference between it and the first game is simply that it’s set in a different small Japanese town, this one is on the coast. It was originally released on July 11, 2002, and received a 33/40 from Famitsu, selling over a quarter of a million copies in under twenty days.

You can watch the trailer for the release of the patch below and download it from HilltopWorks’ Patreon for free here.