#animation and gaming con

[retrogamingblog2]

Custom Nintendo Switch Joy Cons made by GameTraderZero

[juicemunchy]

[lachatalovematcha]

🌸★‧₊˚･ﾟ::･ＭＡＧＩＣ★ＮＩＧＨＴあなたに出会う以前★‧₊˚･ﾟ::･🌸

[arcadebroke]

had Cal Dodd sign my Marvel Super Heroes CPS2 board today!! Iconic voice of Wolverine in the original animated series. He voiced Wolverine & also Captain America in game.

[kiwi-koala]

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone on tumblr whose been reblogging and liking my first switch dog and mice. It means a lot and has been really cool to see. As a kind of thanks I drew a new switch dog with mice this one has my joycons from my splatoon edition switch. 💕🐶🐭💕

[syblei-art]

stop praying for the strange wizard in the tower he's gotten too strong

[honeyhillsandfrostedsun]

Israeli propaganda in video games

In Israeli schools, they indoctrinate their youth from a young age. In a video filmed inside of a classroom, a group of male students aged about 10-12 are questioned by their teacher and 3 men, presumably IDF soldiers. When asked questions like “What do you feel when you meet an arab kid?” they respond with hostility. “I feel I want to kill him.” In return of these outright violent answers, they’re rewarded with positive feedback from their teacher. She smiles and nods, affirming these beliefs. The Teacher keeps asking questions, and the answers get more and more violent. The 3 men, on their way out, praise the teacher and students for “getting their information right.”

In Various western video games, the enemies are shown wearing keffiyehs, having long beards and a darker complexion. If they don’t take this approach, they shamelessly call them arabs and make them speak violently in their mother tongue. What these games have in common is the goal; to kill the arabs.

But how does this correlate?

Can you guess where the U.S military has started recruiting their soldiers from? Comiccons. They watch out cosplayers of these games, and give them recruitment letters, advertising it as nothing more than a “free skin”.

The game “Six days in Felluja” follows american troops as they fight against Iraq. In this game, they have you loot every single house, every room, every crevice. What do you think this is preparing their players for?

All of this is pulled from This Youtube video: Gamification of Warfare, which i found too important not to share.

[stay-nerdyy]

EXCUSE ME BEAUTIFUL GLITCH??

Chucking my money at this when it comes out

[0jenna8]

“The Taste of Toxic”

(warning ⚠️: 18+content, toxic theme, aphrodisiac, dubcon, dirty talk, rough, overstimulation, piv, unprotected)

Disclaimer : This fan art is NOT my original work. Fan art credit to the original artist. I do NOT claim ownership of this work. All rights belong to the respective creators.

______________________________________________________________

You shouldn’t have trusted him.

Your head foggy with fever, limbs aching, and throat raw from coughing, you let him coax you into his dimly lit townhouse — warm, clinical, unsettlingly quiet. Baizhu is your personal doctor. Kind, skilled. Obsessively attentive. He presses the glass vial into your hands.

“For the cough,” he says gently. “Drink it all.”

You do. It’s bitter. Thicker than usual. You frown, but he strokes your cheek and murmurs, “Good girl.”

Then he locks the door behind you. Time crawls. Your skin heats unnaturally — not with fever, but fire. Your thighs tense. Breath quickens. Your heart stammers. Something’s wrong. You shift on the couch, thighs rubbing together, trying to ease the ache building inside you. A moan slips from your lips — soft, confused.

He’s there in a second. Kneeling between your legs

“Shh… It’s alright.” His voice is velvet-wrapped steel. “It’s just the medicine working.”

“What… did you give me?” you ask, voice husky. His gaze drops to your heaving chest, watching it rise and fall.

“Something to help you sleep. Something… to help you let go.”

He pulls your legs apart. You gasp. “Baizhu—!”

“You’ve been so tense lately,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your knee, slowly moving higher. “You need release. I can see it.”

Your body betrays you — hips shifting, nipples hardening under your shirt. You’re wet. Burning. “I’m your doctor,” he whispers, fingers sliding beneath your waistband. “And I will take very good care of my patient.”

His fingers are inside your panties before you can stop him, two of them sliding through the slick mess pooling between your thighs.

He groans, low and feral. “So wet already,” he murmurs, as if admiring his own handiwork.

“You poor thing… your body doesn’t know the difference between medicine and manipulation, does it?”.

You try to close your legs, but Baizhu holds them open with brutal strength, shoving your knees wide. You’re bare beneath him, flushed and panting, your shirt riding up and your breath hitching every time his fingers glide over your throbbing clit.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You don’t even know how desperate you look right now. Squirming on my couch like a needy little patient, high on heat and helpless.”

His hand moves faster. You whimper.

“And I haven’t even fucked you yet.” You want to protest — this is wrong, this isn’t you — but your body is dripping, hips arching for more. The aphrodisiac is too strong. It coils in your belly, tight and relentless.

Your walls clench around nothing, desperate to be filled.

He pulls his fingers from you and holds them up to your lips, glistening. “Taste yourself.”

You shake your head.

He slaps your thigh — not hard, but sharp enough to sting.

“Taste. Yourself.” You obey.

He watches, pupils blown wide, as you suck his fingers into your mouth. His jaw clenches.

“Fuck. You’re going to be perfect wrapped around my cock.”

He stands and unbuckles his belt slowly, deliberately — like he’s unwrapping a gift. You. His patient. His toy.

His cock is thick, flushed, leaking — and when he strokes it in front of you, your mouth waters despite yourself.

“You’ll take every inch,” he growls. “I want to feel you cry on it.”

He climbs onto the couch, forces your legs over his shoulders, and presses his cockhead against your soaked entrance. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t ask. He thrusts.

One savage stroke — too deep, too much — and you scream, eyes wide, back arching off the couch.

“That’s it,” he grunts, hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make your vision dance.

“Tight little cunt. Drugged-up and dripping just for me.”

He pounds into you mercilessly, the slap of skin obscene, your slick coating his thighs, his cock stretching you, splitting you, ruining you.

“You feel that?” he growls, biting your collarbone. “That’s what medicine does. Makes you obedient. Makes you mine.”

Your orgasm hits like lightning — uninvited, uncontrollable — body shuddering, clenching down around him. You cry out, broken and soaked, tears streaking down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release, whispering filth into your ear: “I’m going to come inside you. Fill you until you’re dripping. And you’ll beg for more.”

You lie there, ruined. Legs trembling, chest heaving, your body still fluttering from the orgasm he forced out of you.

But Baizhu is not done. His cock is still hard — slick with your arousal, gleaming with his own spend as it leaks from between your thighs. And his eyes? They’re darker now. Hungry.

He slaps your thigh again, rougher this time. “Turn over.”

You don’t move fast enough. He grabs your waist, flips you like a doll, and drags your hips up until your ass is in the air, your cheek pressed to the couch cushion.

“You came,” he snarls, lining his cock back up to your dripping pussy, “but I didn’t finish with you.”

He slams into you again, no warning. The force of it knocks the air from your lungs.

Your fingers claw at the couch, but he grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back with one hand.

His other hand grips your hair, yanking your head back as he fucks into you with savage thrusts — deeper, harder, like he's punishing you for something you can't remember doing.

“You like this,” he growls into your ear. “All drugged up, body begging even when your mind says no. That little cunt of yours is soaking me.”

You sob — part shame, part pleasure, all heat.

“Please,” you whimper.

You’re not sure what you’re begging for anymore.

Baizhu laughs — dark and vicious — and pulls out of you just to slap your pussy, hard.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Please keep using me? Please fill me again? You don’t even know anymore.”

Then he pushes in again, this time slower — grinding against your cervix, watching your back arch like a bow.

“You were mine the second you swallowed that drink,” he growls. “And now?”

His thrusts grow erratic, rougher, his hips slamming into your ass.

“Now you’ll never leave.”

He comes with a deep, guttural moan — pressing in, holding you there, twitching as he spills himself inside you for the second time. It’s hot, thick, and so much that it drips down your thighs as he slowly pulls out.

But then… his fingers spread your folds again. Still hungry.

“You’re not done,” he murmurs. “Not until you’re full enough to feel me for days. Not until you can’t walk.”

And just like that, Baizhu slides his fingers into you again — two, then three — while his cock hardens against your thigh, ready for round three.

[mamiotakew]

100th post worthy

[retrogamingblog2]

[the-gamer-land]

Cosplay by Jenfoxx

[lachatalovematcha]

ଘ♡ଓɞ ｡∴回り☆🍮∴｡∴☆🍮 ｡∴☆ ｡☆🍮 ｡∴☆∴☆🍮 ｡∴ɞ ଘ♡ଓ

☘️🍎🐱⭒˚.⋆ . ݁₊恋はいつだって遠回り⭒˚.⋆ . ݁₊☘️🍎🐱(๑╹ω╹๑)🍮🎀⭐️時間の魔法*:･ﾟ❤⊹🎈⭐️🌈ＦＬＯＷＥＲ☆ ＫＩＳＳ🥕🎀🌈指に力入れて立て！(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧:･ﾟ☘️☀️🎀🎈⭐️🌈ＷＯＷ

ଘ♡ଓɞ ｡∴☆🍮｡∴☆🍮 ｡∴☆ ｡☆🍮 ｡∴☆∴☆🍮 ｡∴ɞ ଘ♡ଓ

[beedragony]

the real question is should i include jean’s full protective gear in my animation or should i say fuck it to canon and do my own thing, and if so, which piece of gear (if any) do you think it’s important to include?

[doodlebethel]

ōkami

[the-fab-fox]

IDK if any of my followers and moots were at Sakura-Con in Seattle this past weekend but if you saw me...

Shhhh. 🤫 No you didn't. I'm not sus (I promise).

Amogus Life Hack: When life gives you tasks, use air vents to betray some crew mates instead. Works every time.