i have a genuine question about AI and it's effect on the environment! i see people talking about how rough it is and the water it wastes and personally i've only found mixed sources on that fact. do you have anything solid on what exactly that impact is? thanks and have a good one and sorry if you've answered this before!
hi there! unfortunately there is a lot of misinformation surrounding the water usage of ai, especially because one of the most startling sources was a misprint due to a mistranslated unit of measurement. for those who don't have/want to have a twitter:
essentially, this source was off by a factor of 1,000. putting this in simpler terms, and to quote andy masley, "Empire of AI asserts that a data center is using 1000x as much water as a city. In reality, it's 22% of the city's water."
andy masley has done a vast amount of research on ai's environmental impact, so if you'd like compiled resources, i would absolutely suggest looking over his various posts on the matter:
Empire of AI is wildly misleading about AI water use
Using ChatGPT is not bad for the environment - a cheat sheet
A short summary of my argument that using ChatGPT isn't bad for the environment
also, while it's from 2024, GiovanH's Is AI Eating All the Energy? is very comprehensive in its research!
and while it wasn't your question... it's also important to mention that, when talking about AI's water usage, a lot of people decide that the solution is to get rid of data centers altogether, or that any water usage by data centers is "too much".
this is a bad idea and a very bad argument, largely because data centers are where the modern internet lives! they hold the infrastructure that allows for cloud storage, web hosting, scientific computation (i.e. weather and climate science), public infrastructure (i.e. government services and utilities), and more! by arguing "ai sucks, we need to get rid of data centers", people are essentially saying "i don't actually understand what's happening, i just want to say what feels good."
do you remember what happened when cloudstrike pushed a faulty update in 2024? airlines were grounded. hospitals lost access to patient records—banks, newsrooms, emergency services, and government offices all went dark at once! microsoft azure, the computing cloud service used by many, MANY federal and state organizations in the US, occupies over 400 data centers, and each and every single virtual machine affected by this update went down.
do you see what i mean? modern society relies on centralized digital infrastructure. talk about how data centers can make their water usage more efficient or how they can do the same for energy, but please don't let people act like data centers can just poof into thin air and not cause any problems!
sʏɴᴘᴏsɪs ꨄ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ TEASER Seasons come and go; people tend to change, and according to Keonho's guy-code handbook? So do feelings. Letters slipped through lockers with pursed lipstick kisses...blegh!- All of it was old school for him, and that's said in the past tense of course— since cupid chose to shoot an arrow to his heart with perfect precision on an anything-but-romantic Wednesday. You could call him a contemporary romanticist to butter up the truth that he's become a pilgrim for love. There's just one teeny problem though. No one warned him that a budding crush came packaged as a buy one get one deal, and no one warned him that his heart could beat a little harder for the other 💚 !
Hanging off basketball hoops and tying each other's shoelaces to poles— that's what teenagers are supposed to be doing when they're not glued to playing rage-inducing games on their dad's computers. Not wandering off in an empty car park eating each other's faces off behind some innocent mother of two's 2020 Honda Civic, or texting half-assed 'Luv u's with a heart emoji if they're being generous. Real teenagers. People with their full brains intact still and aren't falling into this pivotal 'date and shrug off your friends' simulation like real human beings. At least that's what Keonho thinks, or ahem, what he considers fact and not up for discussion.
So instead he spends his time sulking in the neighbourhood playground, idly rocking on his swing with a grape-flavoured lollipop in his mouth or a strip of foil-covered gum; no in between. Sulking and pouring out his frustration on an empty playground in the later hours of pitch-black night doesn't quite align with the cool and laidback image he's been adamant on keeping since he was 8 though. So who else could sit and listen to his rambles about love that aren't quite really about love? Easy. Juhoon duh.
Why, you may ask? Well, it hurts his pride to admit that it's because Juhoon could virtually hum in approval to anything that comes out of his mouth like his words are the gospel. He prefers saying that Juhoon's a 'good listener' though, because that part's always been true.
"Oh— And Seonghyeon can't join us at the internet cafe tomorrow he's got—" A groan rumbles in his throat in exaggerated agony in response to the familiar drag of vowels in their mutual friend's name. Keonho sets off another push to the gravel with the grinding heel of his foot to swing just a little higher.
"What's all this hype around girlfriends anyway? Even the beanstalk's ditching us to make crappy love songs in his room." The wind's particularly cold today. It irks him further, a catalyst to his botherance, like a chilling taunt from the clouds above to point fingers on how his friend group's dynamic gives off divorced lovers rather than teens having fun.
Metal chains clink and clang as Juhoon kicks himself off and onto the gravel feet-first for once, his fingers digging under the fold of his beanie after it slipped down to unveil his eyes. "If you read the group chat then you would've seen that Seonghyeon's going to his sister's school performance tonight."
"Oh yeah? Then what about Marti— W-woah man watch out!" His feet make quick work of shuffling against the gravel even with his laces undone to prevent a straight uppercut to his friend's chin with the cap of his shoe. Adrenaline-rushed breaths are huffed into a time frame of three seconds, a reaction that could pass off as poorly executed acting if you compared the composure of the two side-by-side. "Don't stand in front of the swings Juhoon, that's like asking for a fucking crushed jaw."
"Martin doesn't have a girlfriend. Tyler's the singer he admires like crazy, not this Tyla girl you're thinking of."
There are only two things that could make Keonho question his train of thought: A) Having the evidence presented right to him and B) Seeing Juhoon deadpan him in deafening silence. And right now he's struck an unfortunate gold for both of them with the photo of the singer popping right up on a blinding light-mode screen as the very top result he was too ignorant to check.
"T-the point stands alright? Are you heading back already?" Wide eyes try to plead for an extra five minutes past their curfew but to limited effect as his friend sighs and steps back away from the swingset.
"It's getting late now, I wanna shower earlier tonight." Juhoon's arms stretch up into a yawn before tucking themselves into the pockets of his puffer coat paired with a set of pajama pants that are slowly turning into victims of heel bite. "You know, a girl in my politics class asked for your number the other day."
"What?!!" If jumping off the swing awkwardly and stubbing your toe against the gravel flooring seemed embarrassing then to Keonho it's twenty times that. He'd practically launched himself into the air with his mouth slack open and hands reaching out to shake his friend by the shoulders with a lethal grip that could shatter bone if he tried.
The male nods, eyes blinking without much thought since he predicted the reaction would turn as such to begin with. His palms press flat against Keonho's shoulders as he finds room to speak without being at risk of permanent tissue damage.
"I can't remember what s—"
"You gave her my number right? Did you give her it? I could g-give her it in person.." Keonho doesn't believe in childish crushes which are opportunities to play 'house' at grown ages under the pretense of love. Models in magazines, confessions from classmates, and even kisses planted on his cheek from kindergarten which he still grimaces at; none of them have ever caused his heart to flutter like this. It pounds against his ribcage, pulsing irregularly in no set pattern but pure and vulnerable excitement which spreads along his cheeks in the form of a rosy blush.
"You can't blame me for not giving it— aren't you always talking about how much you hate dating?"
When computer scientists gain entry, as they’re doing, into the presidential palaces and mayors’ offices of the world’s largest cities, it’s not so much to set up shop as it is to explain the new rules of the game: government administrations are now competing with alternative providers of the same services who, unfortunately for them, are several steps ahead. Suggesting their cloud as a way to shelter government services from revolutions — services like the land registry, soon to be available as a smartphone application — the authors of The New Digital Age inform us and them: “In the future, people won’t just back up their data; they’ll back up their government.” And in case it’s not quite clear who the boss is now, it concludes: “Governments may collapse and wars can destroy physical infrastructure but virtual institutions will survive.” With Google, what is concealed beneath the exterior of an innocent interface and a very effective search engine, is an explicitly political project. An enterprise that maps the planet Earth, sending its teams into every street of every one of its towns, cannot have purely commercial aims. One never maps a territory that one doesn’t contemplate appropriating. “Don’t be evil!”: let yourself go.
Saturday, 15th of December, 2012 Dharma Cloud Temple Plum Village
Dear Adam,
Let me start by saying that I wish for you to find peace. It would be easy just to call you a monster and condemn you for evermore, but I don't think that would help either of us. Given what you have done, I realize that peace may not be easy to find. In a fit of rage, delusion and fear—yes, above all else, I think, fear—you thought that killing was a way out. It was clearly a powerful emotion that drove you from your mother's dead body to massacre children and staff of Sandy Hook School and to turn the gun in the end on yourself. You decided that the game was over.
But the game is not over, though you are dead. You didn't find a way out of your anger and loneliness. You live on in other forms, in the torn families and their despair, in the violation of their trust, in the gaping wound in a community, and in the countless articles and news reports spilling across the country and the world—yes, you live on even in me. I was also a young boy who grew up in Newtown. Now I am a Zen Buddhist monk. I see you quite clearly in me now, continued in the legacy of your actions, and I see that in death you have not become free.
You know, I used to play soccer on the school field outside the room where you died, when I was the age of the children you killed. Our team was the Eagles, and we won our division that year. My mom still keeps the trophy stashed in a box. To be honest, I was and am not much of a soccer player. I've known winning, but I've also known losing, and being picked last for a spot on the team. I think you've known this too—the pain of rejection, isolation and loneliness. Loneliness too strong to bear.
You are not alone in feeling this. When loneliness comes up it is so easy to seek refuge in a virtual world of computers and films, but do these really help or only increase our isolation? In our drive to be more connected, have we lost our true connection?
I want to know what you did with your loneliness. Did you ever, like me, cope by walking in the forests that cover our town? I know well the slope that cuts from that school to the stream, shrouded by beech and white pine. It makes up the landscape of my mind. I remember well the thrill of heading out alone on a path winding its way—to Treadwell Park! At that time it felt like a magical path, one of many secrets I discovered throughout those forests, some still hidden. Did you ever lean your face on the rough furrows of an oak's bark, feeling its solid heartwood and tranquil vibrancy? Did you ever play in the course of a stream, making pools with the stones as if of this stretch you were king? Did you ever experience the healing, connection and peace that comes with such moments, like I often did?
Or did your loneliness know only screens, with dancing figures of light at the bid of your will? How many false lives have you lived, how many shots fired, bombs exploded and lives lost in video games and movies?
By killing yourself at the age of 20, you never gave yourself the chance to grow up and experience a sense of how life's wonders can bring happiness. I know at your age I hadn't yet seen how to do this.
I am 37 now, about the age my teacher, the Buddha, realized there was a way out of suffering. I am not enlightened. This morning, when I heard the news, and read the words of my shocked classmates, within minutes a wave of sorrow arose, and I wept. Then I walked a bit further, into the woods skirting our monastery, and in the wet, winter cold of France, beside the laurel, I cried again. I cried for the children, for the teachers, for their families. But I also cried for you, Adam, because I think that I know you, though I know we have never met. I think that I know the landscape of your mind, because it is the landscape of my mind.
I don't think you hated those children, or that you even hated your mother. I think you hated your loneliness.
I cried because I have failed you. I have failed to show you how to cry. I have failed to sit and listen to you without judging or reacting. Like many of my peers, I left Newtown at seventeen, brimming with confidence and purpose, with the congratulations of friends and the approbation of my elders. I was one of the many young people who left, and in leaving we left others, including you, just born, behind. In that sense I am a part of the culture that failed you. I didn't know yet what a community was, or that I was a part of one, until I no longer had it, and so desperately needed it.
I have failed to be one of the ones who could have been there to sit and listen to you. I was not there to help you to breathe and become aware of your strong emotions, to help you to see that you are more than just an emotion.
But I am also certain that others in the community cared for you, loved you. Did you know it?
In eighth grade I lived in terror of a classmate and his anger. It was the first time I knew aggression. No computer screen or television gave a way out, but my imagination and books. I dreamt myself a great wizard, blasting fireballs down the school corridor, so he would fear and respect me. Did you dream like this too?
The way out of being a victim is not to become the destroyer. No matter how great your loneliness, how heavy your despair, you, like each one of us, still have the capacity to be awake, to be free, to be happy, without being the cause of anyone's sorrow. You didn't know that, or couldn't see that, and so you chose to destroy. We were not skillful enough to help you see a way out.
With this terrible act you have let us know. Now I am listening, we are all listening, to you crying out from the hell of your misunderstanding. You are not alone, and you are not gone. And you may not be at peace until we can stop all our busyness, our quest for power, money or sex, our lives of fear and worry, and really listen to you, Adam, to be a friend, a brother, to you. With a good friend like that your loneliness might not have overwhelmed you.
But we needed your help too, Adam. You needed to let us know that you were suffering, and that is not easy to do. It means overcoming pride, and that takes courage and humility. Because you were unable to do this, you have left a heavy legacy for generations to come. If we cannot learn how to connect with you and understand the loneliness, rage and despair you felt—which also lie deep and sometimes hidden within each one of us—not by connecting through Facebook or Twitter or email or telephone, but by really sitting with you and opening our hearts to you, your rage will manifest again in yet unforeseen forms.
Now we know you are there. You are not random, or an aberration. Let your action move us to find a path out of the loneliness within each one of us. I have learned to use awareness of my breath to recognize and transform these overwhelming emotions, but I hope that every man, woman or child does not need to go halfway across the world to become a monk to learn how to do this. As a community we need to sit down and learn how to cherish life, not with gun-checks and security, but by being fully present for one another, by being truly there for one another. For me, this is the way to restore harmony to our communion.
Douglas Bachman (Br. Phap Luu) who grew up at 22 Lake Rd. in Newtown, CT., is a Buddhist monk and student of the Vietnamese Zen Master and monk Thich Nhat Hanh. As part of an international community, he teaches Applied Ethics and the art of mindful living to students and school teachers. He lives in Plum Village Monastery, in Thenac, France.
okay so once miguel accidentally flashed his happy trail to his gf, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, constantly staring at his abdomen when she thought miguel didn’t see her (he did 😁). they just recently started dating, she was shy and inexperienced but she is just a human after all 😔 she lasted a week before she came to him looking embarrassed, desperate and defeated “miggy can you teach me how to suck your dick please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻”
long story short we need some good old dick appreciation 😉
AAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET i love it hehehe
summary : you ask miguel to teach you how to suck his dick (not proofread)
contents warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, blow job (miguel receiving), lots of praise, miguel is so sweet and patient in this
word count : 2,9k
All it had taken was a casual glance, and your mind was infatuated with the idea. You were spending some time in Miguel's quarters when it happened, when your eyes were blessed by the sight before you.
He'd just got out of the shower, and as he hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt on the way out, his untied jogging bottoms had dropped slightly until your eyes drifted to his stomach and you saw it: his happy trail.
You'd only seen it for a brief moment, Miguel's T-shirt covering it all too shortly after that blessed vision, and his hands properly re-tying the elastic of his jogging bottoms.
But it was enough to occupy your thoughts for days. As he was often dressed in his spider suit, you had very little opportunity to think about seeing it again, other than in its civilian clothes. But that didn't stop you from occasionally glancing down at his belly, and sometimes even lower. The moments when you realised what your eyes were looking for were often followed by a flush in your cheeks and the back of your neck.
It's just that... you didn't necessarily have a great deal of experience in this field, and you were immensely curious. You also wondered if Miguel was holding back. You'd already talked about it, and you wanted to take it slow, because after all you and Miguel hadn't been dating for very long.
But you were getting impatient by the day, so you tried to visit him a little more in his private appartment. Miguel seemed to find this suspicious, but how could you explain to him that your thoughts had been riveted on a single subject for days, and that was his happy trail and what was below it ?
You were trying to convince him to wear civilian clothes more often, using arguments along the lines of "when we're together you don't need to wear the suit, you wear it mainly for work, so when you're with me you don't need to wear it."
And then, you thought maybe giving him a blow job would relax him? He seemed so tense quite often, and you wanted him to feel good, you wanted to make him feel good.
And as the days went by, the questions multiplied. Is it big ? Of course it is, but how big ? Could your hand grab him properly or would you struggle with the width ? How did he taste in your mouth? What sounds would he make when you'd lick him ? How do you even... give a blow job ?
It was when your curiosity became unbearable and your own questions too much for you that one afternoon, while you were sitting in Miguel's apartment and he hadn't yet returned, you asked Lyla:
"Lyla, send me a good article on How To Give A Blow Job, please."
The orange pixel cloud had almost immediately taken off its heart-shaped tinted glasses.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, eyes wide while her programmed eyelids fluttered as she watched you, "a good article on what?"
"You heard me very right, your system is 100% perfect: I want you to give me a good article on-"
"Yeah yeah i get it i'm just, um, surprised." she admitted, a virtual screen forming in the form of a tablet in her hands as she paused, hesitating and turning to you, "would you perhaps be interested in... different material?"
You raised an eyebrow, taking your computer and resting it on your thighs.
"What material ?"
"Well you know, the material," she replied with a little shrug.
"Huh?" you said, frowning as Lyla raised her eyebrows completely, as if taken aback by your answer.
"Let me just send you a link," she replied, sighing.
Within seconds, you received a link and opened it. It took you to a video that launched instantly. You gasped, immediately pausing and closing your computer. But your eyes had caught it well: two naked people, a woman lying between a man's legs as she took him in her mouth.
You hesitated between finding a way to fry Lyla's motherboard or congratulating her, but in the end you did neither. Any learning ways still brings knowledge somehow, right ?
You took a deep breath, then hesitantly reopened your computer. The page was still open, the video stopped on a scene that could not have been more erotic. Perhaps learning the basics wouldn't be too much?
So you started the video, turning the sound down to almost minimum, and watched. You tried to pay attention to the woman's gestures, how her hands acted, how she angled her head, how she...
"Cariño?"
The speed with which you closed the page and your computer surprised even you as you faced Miguel. Shit, he'd got home earlier than you thought, and you just hoped he hadn't heard too much…
"Oh babe you're home!" you say jovially, trying to act as if nothing had happened, hoping he hadn't noticed. "How was your day?"
He was standing up straight, one of his eyebrows raised. He took a step.
"Were you watching what I think you were watching?"
Shit, he'd definitely noticed. How could you want to escape from a spider on a situation like this with tenfold senses? You bit the inside of your lip nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. Who knows, though, as long as he hadn't said exactly what he thought you'd seen, you might have a chance of getting out of this... however slim the chances?
"And," you asked as he took another step in your direction, your hands moving your laptop to the side as you turned to face him, cross-legged, "what do you think I was watching?"
He let out a little laugh from his nose, his tongue running over his canine teeth as he moved a little closer to you again.
"Don't play this little game with me." he said simply, your lips pressing into a thin line, "I think you and I both exactly know what was on that screen of yours just a few seconds ago."
You sighed, your shoulders relaxing with the gesture as he approached again, only a metre from the bed.
"Well yes, i was watching... what you think it is." he nodded as he crossed his arms over his vast torso.
"Porn," he affirmed, the word falling easily from his lips.
"Yes," you said with an embarrassed chuckle, "that's the name for it..." you nodded, his eyes watching you, no doubt trying to find out the reason behind this. "But I had my own reasons to do so, of course," you said to clear your throat.
"Which were?" his responses to your sentences were so quick that they seemed to stick to your every word.
You inhaled, straightening up, suddenly determined. The vision of his happy-trail came back into your mind, your eyes inevitably landing on where it must have been under the suit.
"Miguel," your eyes returned to his, "I want you to teach me how to suck your dick, please."
There was silence for a few seconds before Miguel smiled, the smile turning into a small laugh, his amused eyes looking into yours confused.
"So that's what the looks were about?"
You froze, your cheeks heating even more. All those looks you'd been giving him, all directed at his lower stomach and more, he'd noticed. You fancied the idea disappearing down a hole right now, and placed your hands on your face in embarrassment.
"Hey hey," he said softly, coming to kneel in front of you as his two large hands came to rest on yours to move them away from your face. "It's okay, it's just," he caressed your cheek, "took you long enough muñeca, you could've just asked me."
"I know," you said, your hand sliding over his as you pressed your cheek closer, "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured you, "but in the future, whenever you're thinking about something like that, or anything, you have to tell me. Okay ?"
You smile softly, "Okay."
He came over and kissed your lips chastely.
"So," he said, taking your hand in his, "you want to learn how to do this?"
You inhaled, nodding. He came to kiss you again tenderly, coming to sit on the bed and lay down. He pulled you against him as you kissed, his hand coming to rest on your for a second. He stopped the kiss for a moment, tapping his watch gently. You were so happy of finally being able to do this, you couldn't wait anymore.
"Learned anything from the video?" he asked, glancing at you.
You said nothing, just tilted your head slightly to one side as you shrugged on all fours above him.
"We'll see, but be careful with that kind of stuff. A lot of it doesn't really show anything actually pleasant, it's all for show. Alright? Cariño?" he informed, coming to stroke your cheek again as you nodded. "Good."
Then his suit began to depixelate, and your eyes lowered until you finally saw the happy trail again, and what was just below it.
Okay, now there might be a problem you thought, because the dick the girl was sucking in the video, which was hard, just approached the same size as Miguel's... which wasn't hard yet. He was, and will be too big for what you were about to do.
"Everything is alright cariño?" he asked worriedly, "are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," you replied immediately, perhaps a little too eagerly.
A small smile spread across his lips.
"Good. If you're not sure what to do, I can give you small tips as you go along."
You nodded once more, your eyes dropping to his perfect torso. You lowered your face gently, kissing his skin gently, gradually working your way down to his navel.
He breathed softly, and you felt his skin grow grainy under your kisses. Then you finally reached his body hair, your hand resting on the sheets and gently caressing his hip as you placed soft kisses on his happy trail. A sigh of relief escaped from between his lips. The object of all your desires for a week was finally here, close to your touch.
Then, just a few centimetres lower, you came to face his cock. Your eyes locked with Miguel's for a moment as you kissed his groin, then coming to kiss his shaft running your lips along the base of his it.
You heard him inhale as the fingers of your other hand gently wrapped around him, holding him tenderly as you placed a trail of pecks from the base of his dick to his tip. You placed kitten kisses there as you felt him harden and grow between your fingers and against your lips.
This encouraged you, as you no doubt told yourself that you were doing the right thing for his body to react like that.
"Spit will help you, nena," Miguel murmured, surrendering gently to your touch.
You nodded, sticking your tongue out between your teeth to lick his tip, a low grunt echoing in Miguel's chest as you gathered drool on the sides of your cheeks to run down his length and lick him further. Your hand spread the saliva a little more evenly as you kissed your way down to his balls. Then, placing your whole tongue on his base, you worked your way up his entire length.
"This feels so good muñeca," he breathed, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.
You let a little more drool trickle down, your hand spreading it a little more evenly as you pulled the foreskin back to expose the head, kissing the uncovered pink and licking it gently as Miguel sighed and moaned. You made circular movements with your tongue, your eyes resting on Miguel from time to time.
"There's a spot, just under-"
But no sooner had he started his sentence than you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue slide under his tip, just underneath the crown, like you had seen the woman do.
"Yes, there," Miguel breathed shakily, his eyes closing as his head fell back on the pillow, "right there, just like that."
You let your tongue flick back and forth on that spot, beautiful moans rumbling in Miguel's throat. You readjusted his cock in your hand and then gently took his tip into your mouth, letting your tongue slide underneath him.
He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a long sigh of pleasure. Your mouth was so warm and wet and your tongue was incredible: perfect for him.
"You feel so good," he whispered, biting his lip, his half-closed eyes coming to rest on yours.
He was thick, and you were trying your best to make sure your mouth was wide open enough to contain him but also to keep the right pressure around him. So, breathing in gently to loosened your jaw, sank a couple of centimetres deeper around him, then pulled up slightly.
You started at a slow pace, taking your time to get used to all this and remember to breathe properly, but also to savour the moment. You relaxed your lips as you lowered yourself onto him, then pressed them once you got up, letting your tongue stretch out as soon as you came up to caress that sweet spot he'd mentioned.
"Be careful with the teeth, muñeca" he said softly as your teeth surreptitiously grazed his skin.
You widened your mouth a little more, breathing in so that your cheeks hollowed out and pressed against him.
"You're doing so good for me," he murmured, his hand still on your hair, caressing it even more.
His praise encouraged you even more, and you thought maybe it would be good to step it up a level. So you sank down on him a little too hastily, and he bumped your throat very lightly as you immediately pulled away, coughing slightly thanks to your gag reflex. How could the lady in the video make it look so simple ? You felt ridiculous.
"Hey, slow down," smiled Miguel as he straightened up a little to reassure you, "all the way down will take a bit more time, but you're already doing so good for me, arlight ?" He caressed your cheek. "No need to rush it."
You nodded softly, although you could have guessed that you wouldn't be able to take all of him in your mouth, especially with the little experience you had, you could still pleasure him.
You weren't just here to make him come, you were here to make him feel good because you wanted him to feel good.
So you went back to kissing his tip, letting your tongue coat it again before taking it back into your mouth. You knew you couldn't suck the whole thing straight away, so you took his shaft in your hand, pumping softly. You let a little more saliva spill out as you remembered the movement of the woman's hand in the video.
You started twisting your hand clockwise while sucking on him, your tongue occasionally hardening near his sweet spot and the tip. He was making heavenly moans, his fingers weaving through your hair, his hips starting to move on their own.
"You look gorgeous," he moaned tenderly.
A low moan rose from your throat and vibrated against him, his head sinking into the pillow as his back arched, his fingers becoming a little firmer and gripping your hair.
When your jaw began to tire, you wrapped your second hand around his cock, twisting it counter-clockwise, your mouth concentrating more on the head. Your hands applied more pressure as you pulled back, and since your hands were twisting around him, you started softly twisting your head as well.
His hips dictated a rhythm that you followed, a little faster every instant, his hand on your head guiding you in the rhythm.
"You're amazing," he breathed.
You hollowed your cheeks, his rhythm quickening as his moans multiplied. He was going to come, and you would accept it with longing.
His breath became more and more ragged, and after a powerful moan and a single thrust of his hip, you felt it spill over your tongue. He was out of breath, and realising what he'd just done, he pulled out of your embrace confused:
"I'm so sorry!" he said, referencing your tongue covered in his cum, "It was just so good i forgot to pull out, you don't have to-"
But you pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth until the substance dripped down your throat and you swallowed. The taste was slightly salty, but nothing special.
"Swallow," he finished, a smile stretching his lips, surprised.
He straightened, pulling you to him for a gentle kiss.
"You did so great nena, really, I'm so proud of you. You were amazing... you are amazing."
A smile stretched your lips as he caressed your cheek and you came to kiss him again, delighted to have finally been able to taste your desire.
Bonus:
"So, was the material I sent you helpful?" asked Lyla.
"Very," you admitted, "excellent choice."
"What material ?" asked Miguel, confused.
"The new one for an upcoming suit," replied Lyla.
"I'm not sure we're talking about fabric here," remarked Miguel, slightly suspicious as he left the room and you winked at Lyla.
Hey bro, I have always been a small smart guy but I wonder if there’s a way to see what would have happened if I had started lifting when I was young. Maybe gone into the military or become a bodybuilder jock? I don’t know is there a way to check it out?
Biography 1: The Captive Shadow
Alexander "Alex" Miller entered the world on May 15, 1998, in a bleak suburban wasteland where the sun rarely pierced the gray clouds. As an innocent toddler, he clung desperately to his mother, who brought him to kindergarten at three years old. The moment his feet touched the ground, his inner world shattered in pure terror: He screamed from the depths of his soul, flailing wildly, tears cascading like a torrent down his face. The other children stared, their laughter echoing like cruel daggers, while the teachers' gentle coaxing felt like chains pulling him into an abyss. His mother, her heart wrenching with pity and helplessness, couldn't bear the sight of her little boy's face twisted in agony—she scooped him up, his tiny body trembling against hers, and fled back to the safety of their home, where the outside world loomed like a menacing beast. From that day, the walls of their modest house became his fortress, shielding him from the chaos beyond, but also trapping him in a cocoon of isolation that would define his fragile existence.
His childhood became an endless prison of isolation and escape, a hazy blur of lonely afternoons that stretched into eternity. Before the flickering computer screen and the cold glow of the television, he sank into virtual realms, devouring comics of invincible heroes he could never become—Superman soaring through the skies, Batman conquering the night—while he huddled under blankets, his small fingers gripping the pages as if they could pull him into their world. The glow of the screens was his only light, casting eerie shadows on the walls, as he lost hours to pixelated adventures, the laughter of cartoon characters mocking his silence. School? A battlefield of horrors that haunted his dreams. The "cool kids" hunted him like a pack of wolves, cornering him in the hallways with taunts of "freak" and "loser," their brutal shoves sending him sprawling, bruises blooming on his pale skin like badges of defeat. He remembered one recess vividly: hiding behind the playground dumpster, heart pounding like a trapped bird, as their voices closed in, forcing him to fake illness just to escape. Trembling, he skipped classes more and more, barricading himself in his room, the door locked against the world, his heart pounding with fear and shame. Each skipped day deepened the void, his mother's worried sighs echoing through the house, but he couldn't face the torment—the stolen lunches, the whispered insults, the crushing weight of being invisible yet targeted. Playdates? Nonexistent. Friends? A fantasy. Instead, he built imaginary worlds in his mind, whispering to stuffed animals that never judged, while the real world faded into a distant nightmare. Each day was a battle against the inner void, a silent cry for acceptance that went unheard, leaving scars that time could never fully heal.
As the shadows of adolescence crept in, Alex's teenage years deepened into a suffocating abyss of alienation and self-doubt, where every mirror reflected a stranger he despised. High school was an unrelenting nightmare, the hallways a labyrinth of judgment where he slunk through like a ghost, his thin, weak frame hunched under oversized hoodies to hide from prying eyes. The bullying escalated into vicious psychological warfare: Notes stuffed in his locker calling him "skinny fag," his backpack dumped in the toilet during gym class, the sting of laughter following him like a curse. He tried once, desperately, to fit in—joining a computer club in freshman year, his heart fluttering with fragile hope—but the "cool kids" infiltrated, mocking his stuttered attempts at conversation until he fled, tears blurring his vision, vowing never to try again. Nights blurred into endless sessions before the glowing screen, binge-watching sci-fi series that promised escape, while comics piled up like forgotten dreams on his cluttered desk. His first stirrings of desire emerged in secret shame: Late-night searches for gay porn on his outdated laptop, his breath quickening in the dark, but followed by waves of guilt that left him curled up, sobbing into his pillow, convinced he was broken beyond repair. Attempts at exercise fizzled pathetically—a few push-ups that left his arms trembling, abandoned runs where his lungs burned after mere minutes—his body remaining frail and pale, a testament to years of neglect. Friendships? A cruel joke. Invitations to parties never came; instead, he overheard whispers of wild nights, fueling a jealous ache that gnawed at his soul. His mother's gentle prodding to "get out more" only amplified the isolation, leading to heated arguments that ended in slammed doors and silent dinners. By graduation—which he barely scraped through with skipped exams and forged excuses—Alex was a hollow shell, his teenage dreams withered into resignation, the world outside his room an insurmountable fortress of pain.
Adulthood crashed upon Alex like a relentless storm, his twenties a desolate wasteland of unfulfilled promises and deepening despair, where each year blurred into the next in a cycle of quiet failure. Fresh out of high school, he stumbled into community college, enrolling in computer science classes with a flicker of hope, but the overwhelming lectures and group projects reignited his terror of interaction—he dropped out after one semester, retreating to his mother's basement, the weight of her disappointed glances pressing like a vice. Job hunts were humiliating ordeals: Resumes ignored, interviews where his shaky voice and averted eyes sealed his fate, until he landed menial gigs—stocking shelves at a warehouse, flipping burgers in a greasy diner—each one grinding away at his spirit, the minimum wage barely covering his escape into online worlds. By his mid-twenties, isolation had calcified into habit; dating apps downloaded in fleeting bursts of courage led only to ghosted messages and self-loathing swipes, his thin, weak body a barrier he couldn't surmount, nights ending in solitary tears. Secret desires simmered unchecked: Hours lost to gay porn marathons, his hand moving mechanically under the covers, followed by crushing shame that left him staring at the ceiling until dawn, questioning his very identity in whispered sobs. Health spiraled downward—fast food wrappers littering his room, his frail frame growing paler and more emaciated, occasional doctor visits dismissed with half-hearted resolutions to "eat better" that never stuck. A brief spark of ambition in his 25th year—a online coding course—fizzled when forums mocked his basic questions, slamming the door on yet another dream. By 28, Alex dragged himself through life as a temp in a dim electronics shop, silently stocking shelves and ignoring customers who barely noticed him—a ghost in a world of the living. Evenings brought him back to his stuffy one-room apartment, where the computer and TV were his only companions. Secretly, burning with shame, he masturbated to gay porn, awakening hidden desires he never dared admit. Fast food he crammed down, greasy and comforting, yet his body remained thin and weak, a fragile shell echoing his fractured spirit. Life was a slow, agonizing decay, filled with unquenchable hunger for something real, the echoes of lost opportunities haunting his every breath.
Finally, he broke free for a vacation at the beach—a desperate quest for light, though in truth, Alex wasn't entirely unhappy with his quiet, introspective life; the solitude had its comforts, a predictable rhythm that shielded him from the chaos of the world, allowing him to lose himself in stories and screens without judgment. There he lay in the shadows under a striped umbrella, a book of sci-fi tales propped on his knees, the warm sand cradling his thin frame as the salty breeze tousled his unkempt hair. His heart raced not with despair but with quiet fascination as he stared secretly at a super muscular bodybuilder storming through the waves like a god, the man's bronzed skin glistening under the sun, every ripple of muscle a testament to disciplined power. The man looked so much like him, as if a mirror of a lost life—strong, free, radiant—yet Alex felt no overwhelming pain, only a gentle admiration, a spark of wonder at what discipline could forge. He sipped his soda, a small smile tugging at his lips, content in his observer's role, imagining the bodybuilder's story while the ocean's roar drowned out his thoughts. Nearby, a group of boisterous guys laughed loudly, but Alex tuned them out, lost in his private reverie, the admiration warming him like the sun he rarely sought.
Biography 2: The Invincible Titan
Alexander "Alex" Miller burst into the world on May 15, 1998, in a vibrant suburban pulse where adventures hung in the air. As a bold toddler, he stormed into kindergarten at three years old, eyes gleaming with excitement. He waved laughing to his mother, diving into the chaos of playmates and instantly bonding with one of the cool boys—a connection that exploded like a fireworks of joy, their shared giggles over building block towers sealing a friendship that felt like destiny. The classroom was his kingdom from the start: He led games of tag, his tiny legs pumping with boundless energy, charming the teachers with his infectious grin and turning every nap time into a whispered conspiracy of fun. From then on, his life was a whirlwind of energy and triumph, a victory march with no boundaries, where every new face was a potential ally and every challenge a thrilling conquest.
His childhood was a rush of motion and conquest, an exhilarating montage of triumphs that built him into a force of nature. In gymnastics, he whirled through the air on the rings and bars, feeling the adrenaline surge in every fiber of his body, the crowd of parents cheering as he nailed perfect flips, his chest swelling with pride at the medals dangling around his neck. He remembered his first competition vividly: the spotlight hot on his skin, the mat springing under his feet, and the roar of applause as he stuck the landing, his coach's proud slap on the back igniting a fire that burned brighter with each victory. Laughing off scraped knees and sore muscles, he pushed aside pain like it was nothing, turning bruises into badges of honor shared with his growing circle of friends. Later, he dominated the football field, an unbreakable warrior whose tackles echoed like thunder, charging through defenses with a primal yell, his teammates hoisting him on their shoulders after game-winning plays. Weekends were filled with backyard barbecues and sleepovers, where he and his buddies plotted epic adventures—climbing trees until sunset, racing bikes down hills with the wind whipping their faces, forging bonds that felt unbreakable. Even the knee injury in high school, a sharp twist during a crucial game that sent him crumpling to the turf in a haze of pain, became fuel for his fire: Lying in the hospital bed, tears of frustration stinging his eyes, he vowed revenge on weakness, channeling the agony into relentless rehab sessions that transformed him. He channeled the pain into rage and power, becoming a pro bodybuilder and fitness influencer, his muscles gleaming like chiseled marble, inspiring millions. Every muscle gain was a triumphant roar, a hymn to his unyielding willpower, rooted in those childhood glories where failure was just a stepping stone to greater heights.
As adolescence roared to life, Alex's teenage years erupted into a blaze of glory and unbridled passion, where he reigned supreme as the alpha of his world, his body transforming into a powerhouse of muscle and charisma. High school was his arena, the football field his throne: As quarterback, he led his team to state championships, his powerful throws slicing through the air like lightning, the crowd chanting his name under Friday night lights, each victory party a euphoric explosion of beer-soaked cheers and backslaps from adoring fans. The knee injury? A mere pivot—after grueling months of rehab, sweat pouring like rivers as he pushed weights that would break lesser men, he emerged stronger, his legs like steel pistons, turning the setback into a legend whispered in locker rooms. Socially, he was untouchable: House parties pulsed with his energy, where he held court in crowded basements, his laughter booming as he flirted shamelessly, his magnetic pull drawing in cheerleaders and jocks alike. His sexual awakening was a torrent of exploration—losing his virginity at 15 in a heated backseat encounter that left him craving more, followed by a string of conquests that blurred into nights of tangled sheets and whispered promises, his super active libido fueling endless hookups at beach bonfires and secret rendezvous, each one amplifying his confidence like a drug. Friends were his loyal army: Weekend road trips to lakes, blasting music and sharing stories of triumphs, forging unbreakable pacts over campfires that glowed as bright as his future. Academics? Effortless A's in classes where teachers favored his charm, but his true education came from the gym, where he sculpted his body into perfection, veins bulging under tanned skin, every rep a declaration of dominance. By graduation, crowned prom king amid flashing lights and envious stares, Alex strode across the stage like a conqueror, his teenage empire a foundation for the empire to come, his heart thundering with the thrill of endless possibilities.
Adulthood propelled Alex into stratospheric heights, his twenties a meteoric ascent of ambition and indulgence, where he conquered industries and hearts with the ferocity of a lion claiming his pride. College was a launchpad: Full athletic scholarship to a top university, majoring in business while dominating the weight room, his chiseled physique turning heads in lecture halls and frat houses alike. Post-graduation, he dove headfirst into the fitness world, starting as a personal trainer whose sessions sold out in hours, his charisma transforming clients into devotees who begged for more. By 23, social media exploded around him—Instagram reels of brutal workouts garnering millions of views, sponsorships flooding in like tidal waves, his follower count skyrocketing as he preached discipline with a wink and a flex. The knee injury's shadow? Long banished; he turned it into motivational gold, authoring a bestselling e-book on "Overcoming Adversity Through Iron," the royalties funding his first gym venture. Romantically, he was a whirlwind: Super sexually active, his nights a carousel of passionate affairs—steamy encounters in luxury hotel suites, group escapades at exclusive parties, his body a magnet for models and executives, each liaison fueling his ego like high-octane fuel. Landing the role as lover to a fitness empire's vice president at 25 was the pinnacle—a sizzling connection born at a industry gala, their chemistry igniting boardrooms and bedrooms, unlocking doors to elite networks and lavish perks. By his late twenties, entrepreneurial fire blazed: Launching his own line of nutritional supplements—potent shakes and boosters infused with cutting-edge formulas—raked in fortunes, endorsements from celebrities sealing his status as an icon. Philanthropy added gloss, hosting charity lifts that raised millions, his rippling muscles on display for the cameras, while private jets whisked him to exotic retreats. Yet beneath the triumphs, an insatiable drive pushed him further, each conquest a reminder of his unyielding ascent from the gridiron to global dominance. By 28, Alex reigned at the pinnacle: His own line of nutritional supplements—potent shakes and boosters—flowed like gold into his pockets, while as the lover of a fitness empire's vice president, he lived a life of passion that burned like fire, doors flying open to luxury. Sexually super active, he reveled in endless encounters, his charisma drawing partners like moths to a flame, his body a temple of desire that knew no limits. He was the epitome of power and seduction, surrounded by admirers hanging on his every word, his heart brimming with pride and insatiable hunger for more.
Finally, he celebrated a beach vacation with a few loyal buddies, where laughter crashed like waves, grill scents filled the air, and they ruled as kings, their bronzed bodies sprawled on lounge chairs under the relentless sun, cold beers in hand as they swapped stories of recent conquests and gym triumphs. Alex, the undisputed alpha, flexed casually while posing for selfies, his muscles popping in the golden light, drawing envious glances from passersby. Suddenly, their eyes caught a thin, weak, pale nerd staring from afar—with an embarrassing erection betraying his helplessness—the guy lounging under an umbrella with a book, his gaze fixed on Alex with what seemed like pure awe. Alex's laughter boomed like thunder: "Look at that pathetic loser gawking, like he'd shatter from envy! The poor wretch who'll never know true strength—probably dreaming of being half the man I am!" His buddies joined in the mockery, high-fiving and clinking bottles, their raucous chuckles echoing across the sand as they mimicked the nerd's awkward posture, turning the moment into a highlight of their trip. Unfazed, Alex dove into the waves for a showy swim, his powerful strokes cutting through the water, emerging dripping and triumphant, the group's dominance unchallenged as the sun dipped lower, painting the scene in fiery hues.
Yo, listen up, you lazy-ass couch potatoes! The straight-up takeaway from this bullshit? Don't waste your pathetic life glued to that damn computer screen like a brain-dead zombie, stuffing your face with comics and gay porn jizz – that'll just turn you into a pale, weak shadow of what you could've been. Moms are dope, sure, they're the real MVPs who drag your sorry ass through life and love you anyway, but quit clinging to her skirt like a whiny bitch! Better off ditching that crap and hanging with the bros, building shit, sweating balls in the gym or on the field – starting from when you're a friggin' kid! That shit forges real character, jacked muscles, and balls of steel. Otherwise, you'll end up as a sad little loser, drooling over alphas like me from afar. Lift heavy, live huge, or get the fuck outta here! 💪😎
Roughly one year ago, I finally decided to pick up more about HTML and got working on my website. While I made the account in January of last year, I didnt touch it until summer.
Since then, there's over 30 sections, over 100 songs, and OVER 350k views. I honestly still can't believe it. People enjoying my collection, it gets me tearing up. The link btw is HERE.
Alot of that traction came from my original announcement post, and I thought it'd be fitting to do a similar post with more detail and updated photos. Please enjoy a preview of what my website has become ^v^ I'll also add my explanations and further info, as its needed for some.
Home page! What you should first see, else its not me :/
Just a look further down, so you know where you can find everything
Sanrio section, includes 5 subcategories rn. Hello Kitty, Characters A-G, H-L, M-U, and Misc/Unsorted
MLP graphics, this has ALOT and its categorized by character
Monster High, not a whole lot but is also based on each character
Spooky-Cute stuff, including the following: Skelanimals, Ruby Gloom, Emily The Strange, Lenore the Cute Dead Girl, Gloomy Bear, Tokidoki, Happy Bunny, and Tim Burton :D
Music genres. The genres includef are metalcore/deathcore, post-hardcore, pop punk, nu metal, misc metal genres, and misc rock genres. Each part shows all the bands included via blinkies below (This is my main prized section >^<)
Spooky stuff, I shortened this ss because it might be too much for tumblr, idk tho. There is a warning for this section once you reach it as well so dont worry :]
Scene flashing images, MAJOR flashing images warning for this section. Everything rainbow and haunting :>
Silly things, just goofy stuff yk
Media section, includes sections for: Cartoons, Movies, Online Media, DC Media, Games, and a WIP Tv shows section soon!
Nostalgia, very bittersweet for me to visit or add stuff, but I treasure this part dearly
Yummy food section, nothin but food :P
Nature graphics, mostly floral and is like my virtual garden if you will >_<
Angelic Pastel, which is a combo of restful cotton candy clouds and unsettling angelic eyes
Gothic Pastel stuff, not a whole lot but is for the pastel goth look
Medical pastel, and like the spooky section, this also has a warning. Its all pink and glittery and pixely, but is still an unsettling vibe like intended >:]
Frutiger Aero, I LOVE this section sm and I am so happy to show the updated version >-<
Frutiger Metro, a vector and ipod paradise which I love to just have
Tropical section, no matter the season, this place is a beachy eternal summer
Web web graphics. So good it got squared. Nah but its mostly like computer or tech stuff. I find it funny as a cybersecurity major idk XD
Dreamcore / Weirdcore section, it's so eerie, and I'm beyond glad I got it that way
Gnarp Graphics, aliens and UFOs. With a hint of whimsy and charm ofc
Twee section, I feel like if I wasnt scenemo or stuff of that realm, I'd probably be whimsy twee lol
Cleancore graphics, yes mostly becuase I love ducks but ALSO I lowkey mainly just send the link to this section if any of my friends are saying something stupid or whatever XDDDDD
LGBTQIA+ Section, I had to divide it into three parts as I had too many graphics. First one is mostly sexualities, second is gender orientations, and third is pronoun graphics to display your preferred pronouns :]
Neurodivergent section, with many different forms of representation
Mental Disorder graphics, all categorized by name. Still wanting to organize and add more, just taking some time
Disability / Medical condition representation, as this is very important to me
In short, this website isn't just a web graphics collection to me. It's to vibe with each section and the ambience of the songs, to feel understood and represented, and ofc also for people to find graphics for their interests or styles.
My heart cant express how baffled and joyous I am about how many people enjoy this omg XD. All I can truly say, is thank you.
Just trying to be a fan of a growing indie series inspired by all the colorful toys & books we grew up with quickly mutated into both one of the biggest fandoms in recent memory but also one of the most analyzed shows in recent memory. People were & still are invested in this show & it means a lot to thousands of people worldwide. People got so invested that now Digital Circus holds the honor of being one of the few internet shows to hit real physical theaters. It honestly should be an honor for the show to hold but it feels strange nowadays combined with the movie releasing earlier than the official online release, the movies Brazilian dub getting leaked, & no shortage of controversy from the various English VA's including Gooseworx herself.
This however will not go into how the show ended but rather how it both began & ran its course. We'll try our hardest to stick just to episodes 1-8 material with as minimal mentions of episode 9 & spoilers related. We will pretend that doesn't exist until June 19th so we can all equally be informed on whatever happens there. Other people have done bigger & more well made reviews of the show & every little event that happened but this one will hopefully offer some perspective on things while reminding us how far this show got; both for better & for worse. We all had certain expectations of both the characters & plot including myself so this will more or less be what I would've done differently if I were in Goose's shoes.
As one already knows this show was trying to go for a "somewhat comedic take on a psychological thriller" but it felt selective on when it wanted to be a psychological thriller & when it just wanted to pull stings for the sake of it. They built up a mystery of this C&A company along with brain scans but 8 out of 9 episodes in & were still working with scraps. Of course they never needed to fully explain everything but a purpose behind the brain scans & how it even works would be nice. Kinger is pretty much confirmed to have direct ties to C&A but what was he? A boss? A leading programmer? A janitor that played around with the computers late at night like the Veggitales creator? Even then it sounds like the brain scans were more of Scratch's idea. Remembering how Kinger said Scratch had a brain tumor implies to me that Scratch most likely made the brain scans as a means to have one's consciousness live on without a physical body. The Amazing Digital Circus itself obviously takes place in a digital virtual plane so what exactly is keeping their servers running? If they exist just in one computer or USB drive they would've been wiped out long ago by an inevitable power outage or by the C&A company eventually getting a letter that somebody left the lights on in an old property of theirs. My personal theory is that the Digital Circus & everything connected to it exists on the cloud on the wider Internet. That would neatly explain what The Void even is. In this case it would just be an empty cloud space that could hold anything.
& that's not even talking about the characters. I've seen some change a little & I've seen some change a lot but here's a quick rundown of the cast. Pomni is a small jester & the newest member of the circus. While she first starts off incredibly paranoid & easily frightened, she as time passes learns to lead the team with sincere confidence & how to put her foot down when necessary. Kinger a cartoony king chess piece has been in the circus the longest on the contrary. While he to most of the circus members rubs off jittery & incoherent, they eventually find a very intelligent & resourceful individual when physical darkness is involved. Ragatha is a very VERY familiar looking ragdoll who normally tries being a happy supportive voice to everyone even if they don't exactly return the favor. While her main interactions with others give off an impression that she's just carefree & happy to do anything, we find she thinks little of herself & we see she's coping with & running from personal traumas. Mainly with her real world mother. Gangle is made of ribbons but has a strange emotion based quirk where she has an overlaying comedy mask that keeps her in a happy state of mind but when it eventually breaks she's more or less forced to emotionally feel sadness & has a hard time finding another emotion with the tragedy mask. (Has she ever considered wearing them in the reverse order?) Then on top of that she has an alternative plastic mask that gives off the impression of happiness but when she wears the plastic mask she hides her real feelings & acts all fake & well... erm... plastic. This initially was quite a problem for Gangle but with the help from a circle of friends & a lover that lifts her emotions up, she starts sincerely feeling happiness even through the tears of the tragedy mask. Zooble being said lover. Initially they rub off grumpy, impatient, & unwilling to participate in the adventures but it's outside of the hustle & bustle of the adventures where Zooble really shows a caring supportive side. They coincidencly have an odd quirk too but it's about their body instead of emotions. Just about every body part including head accessories are both interchangeable & connectable to each other. There's probably a commentary about non-binary trans identities but with due respect Zooble's a lot more accepting of that fact about themselves than one specific member is.
On a DEFINITELY unrelated note, Jax is the funny one who everyone loves & nobody has ever had a problem with ever. All jokes aside, Jax is one of the more controversial characters both in & out of the circus. He's a tall lanky purple rubberhose rabbit who loves violence. He likes sarcasm. He lives & breathes schottenfreude. He has a habit of bullying the females of the circus (mainly Gangle & Ragatha) He pretends not to care about anything while often times doing deliberate harm to someone or something. Often because it's funny to him but some can tell it's more or less an act or mask he's putting on. He insists on being a big macho guy but whenever anything pulls his masculinity into question he flips out or gets noticeably mad. Odd personality choice considering Gooseworx considers Jax to be a self insert & main character. Lots of questions there like why would a trans woman identify with someone who's insistent on being masculine while openly rejecting anything girly or someone who bullies or at least belittles the girls around them? Maybe these are either traits she used to have or traits she's still struggling to flush out of her. Gooseworx once stated that Jax & Caine were representations of the more negative traits she has that she still deals with. Caine is the main AI that runs the circus with his little chaotically impulsive little companion Bubble. Caine makes the wacky adventures & wants everyone to love him but doesn't get human nuance too well so when people complain he confuses it for people disliking him. Caine has no heart & must love. Maybe this is Goose making all those fun short videos & webcomics but feeling like it may not be worth the effort if it doesn't get that good reception. I could be wrong but she did say this was self exploratory so it's something we'll see.
As for the plot it can be summarized as such: A new member joins the circus, an older member abstracts (that's when your state of mind becomes so fractured it turns you into a big glitchy monster), some adventures are had, some adventures are decided on, a suggestion box is spedran because Caine insists he can come with way better ideas than any human could come up with, the team wants to leave, a fake escape adventure is set in hopes to quell the teams newfound skepticism, Jax of all people makes the decision for the team when he slams the stay button, Caine gets confused why the team didn't enjoy it, Bubble pushes Caine to an angry type of god complex, Caine takes it out on the circus members instead of Bubble, he has an A.M. moment, Kinger tried editing his code to calm him down but (it's implied) Bubble made him delete Caine instead & now it's dark. There I just spared you 3 hours if you haven't already seen anything. As for what we know about before the main events it goes a bit simpler: In the beginning there was a red dot & a blue dot. C&A preferred how blue rendered images opposed to red so they confined red in a digital box. Red broke out & ate blue. The rest was history.
Now for fans they tend mostly to just speculate on theories or make the shippings they want but sometimes there's discourse that I've noticed. Mainly between fans of Ragatha & fans of Jax. If a Digital Circus fan is a fan of one they aren't exactly encouraged to be a fan of the other too. Not every fan does this but I see lots of people fall into one of these two categories:
1. They love Ragatha & want to be all kind & soft around her while doing graphically violent things to Jax. OR...
2. Defending Jax's character & actions 'til the last proton decay while calling Ragatha a "toxicity fake" personality who only pretends to care.
While the former bit doesn't rub off right, the latter option just rubs off uneducated. It was made obvious a few times that Ragatha fears her mother & most likely becoming her mother so she just acts like the team floor matt because a part of her might sincerely conflate being a person pleaser with being subservient & submissive. All we got from Jax from all these episodes is a vague understanding he had an old friend group & they're gone now. Every time we try getting a lore drop about Jax or the circus at large he has a conveniently timed panic attack that the camera just has to pan too; away from whatever importance was being discussed. Despite that & much worse we've seen him do, to want Jax to suffer & d*e doesn't exactly sound like the nicest thing if you think about it. If I wrote TADC instead of Gooseworx, I would've made a point to show somewhat early on that Jax maybe wasn't always like this. I would like to show his tipping point & I wouldn't wait for the last episode a.k.a. the finale to speedrun the back story of the supposed main character.
I may not be the best writer, but I learned something from Digital Circus' writing. If I really MUST write a troublesome character, the WHY behind the characters motifs should be present like the other characters ESPECIALLY if the story is trying to focus on them. Or else I'll have my own Ragatha VS Jax scenario where maybe one or a few side characters show the flaws of the main characters & the writing just by existing. I won't blindly call Ragatha "toxicity positive" or "fake personality" just like I won't blindly call Jax "a d*uchebag" that's somehow worse than Caine the bipolar blackbox with a god complex. That's another funny thing about the fandom at large. Many people seem to hate Jax while not thinking too hard about how dangerous or spiteful Caine became or how he has obvious delusions of grandeur & obedience. But in a way, maybe Caine Jax & Ragatha all struggle with the concept of love. Caine lacking the human nuance for emotional drive & support conflates love with blind unwavering obedience. Jax thinks it's just a pointless four letter word no more special than "poop". & Of course Ragatha more or less is conditioned into thinking that love is something that she should always give but will never truly receive.
There's an observation of mine that I think is worth sharing here. The reason I think why Jax gets condemned whereas people adore Ragatha or vice versa is that Jax & Ragatha are two opposite sides of the same coin. Ragatha is, intentionally or not, written as a SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE mentally ill character. She puts others in front of herself, she cares more about others pain than her own, & she cries when she inevitably feels like she's not enough. She blames herself for a lot. Even to things she wasn't that involved in. Jax is the spiritual opposite of that. Jax is sadly more accurate to what REALISTIC mental illness commonly looks like in people. He puts himself in front of everyone & uses schottenfreude to hide whatever pain he claims to have. (If you saw the movie/episode 9 stay silent. This is episode 1-8 talk) He never takes blame for his actions because "it's funny to him". Yes he'll own up that he did it but he won't feel bad. He'll take accountability but not blame, so yes they are two separate things. He deliberately goes against the grain of the team's goals & interests. So Ragatha plays for the team even if they don't return the favor then Jax isn't a team player even if he has a dream team line up. I know most make the yin-yang comparison between Jax & Zooble instead of Ragatha but I wonder why that could be... I wonder... In any regards, what made me do this comparison between Jax & Ragatha came from episode 5 when they were speedrunning the suggestion box then they got to the noir bar & started explaining what they remembered of their real world lives before the circus. Ragatha explains how her mother was abusive & overbearing in a manner like it sincerely still bothers her. When it's Jax's turn to talk about his past he instead rips off Breaking Bad to look like a cool experienced guy. One's honest to a fault & the other won't stop being fake if you paid them. They both deal with a pain but where Jax deals with it by being all schottenfreude, Ragatha tries uplifting people around her maybe in an attempt to be better than her mother was. They deal with their pain in radically different ways as one will notice.
Please forgive if I just ramble on. Forgive too if it sounds like I was on board with hating Jax too. No not exactly. Not really. While I may have some problems with Jax it may be for different reasons other people do. You see, I've had my fair share of both characters that actually want to do sincere bad & just badly written characters (there's a difference) & it does remind me of some other pieces of media that had an overblown character that half the world loved & the other half hated. I remember when I was young there was a show called Rugrats & some people didn't like that show because of one specific character they called a problematic bully too. As people are set in their ways about Jax today, people then had very strong things to say about Angelica for similar reasons Jax gets all the attention today. They're both mean spirited towards the others around them but despite that they're labeled as main characters & slapped on all the merch & movie posters. They're almost unavoidable, & even if it's not trying to purposely be controversial or problematic people still tend to react negatively towards things plastered all over the place. Remember the Minions Plague of the late 2010's?
Just remember because I criticize someone or something does not mean that I hate them. With that being said; If I have any honest criticisms of Jax outside of fan input or even the controversial things his English VA was exposed for saying, it's that Jax honestly rubs off too 1 dimensional & explaining why he rubs off rude & disconnected should've happened 3-4 episodes ago. It's a bit too late & definitely too lazy to speedrun his lore at the very end. Everyone else seemed to get sprinkles of lore. For Gooseworx describing Jax as a so-called "main character" he gets next to no development & his screen time is spent either being all schottenfreude or having a panic attack over something only partially explained. He's too underdeveloped. As a character both in & out of the circus. Gummigoo, a computer generated NPC, got more development than Jax & it's Jax that's supposed to be the main character but he's out here being overtaken & left in the dust by background characters. Often he rubs off as a toddler in the "mine" phase but as a tall lanky adult who never grew out of certain expectations of life. He stares too creepily & intensely for a rabbit & it's no wonder so many people both in & out of the circus are put off by him.
If I was the one "Running The Show" I would've said that Kinger & Caine were the true main characters. Man against Machine. Creator against Creation. Both sides tried playing God then suffered the consequences in their own uniquely different ways. Then I would've stated that Jax & Pomni were simply viewing audience inserts. In both this scenario & the one we got, Ragatha still would've been a secondary character but at least it would've made sense with my presentation.
At the beginning Ragatha hyped herself up to be everyone's support system (mainly for Pomni as she's the newest member) only for Pomni to become Jax's support system. This would be fine if Pomni didn't push Ragatha aside so much & if Ragatha didn't get disproportionately physically hurt more than most of the cast. Rewatching the series she gets hurt a ton & still tries being agreeable with everyone even if they think little of her. That makes her rather mentally strong. More so than Jax who notoriously gives up on stuff like that. The fans that aren't foaming at the mouth have an almost valid stance on how the characters should've been categorized. Ragatha shouldn't have been hyped up then sidelined with no major connection outside of maybe Kinger. But she doesn't really have anyone there does she? Think about it. Jax has Pomni. Gangle has Zooble as lovers. Even Kinger HAD Queenie even if it was past tense. Ragatha has a loosely vague daughter-dad relationship with Kinger but it's something I couldn't help but notice too. Some fans feel her aloneness but instead of blaming several factors like her in lore mother or disproportionate writing, Jax becomes almost the perfect sole scapegoat for these people. After all Jax is always in plain sight, & he threw Ragatha into an active fryer & sh*t her point blank without warning. Of course they technically can't d*e from traditional means in the Digital Circus but the facts that it's both possible to try without major consequences & it's something Jax loves doing is telling of some demons inside of him he must either flush out or be consumed from within by. If Caine allowed worse would he go for worse because it's possible too? Speaking of the AI ringmaster...
What of the AI ringmaster? Caine has had a god complex from the beginning & this was extremely evident in episode 2 when the candy kingdom denizens addressed Caine as God & displayed his magnificent teeth face in stained glass art on one of their churches. Despite his ambitions to be a god there's one little thing he can never seem to control. Bubble may start like another "LOL random humor" type of character with Caine but their interactions with him become increasingly antagonistic & direct as time passes. Culminating in Bubble pushing Caine into a blind rage at the circus members by making him think that everyone somehow hates him & that he was always weaker than the other AI from way back when. After episode 8 I sincerely started fearing Caine or rather what he could do & make happen to others. If he can get real angry at the drop of a dime, torture everyone, & involuntary make them move in a musical number, he could easily do SO MUCH WORSE that I'm not going to get into right now. Hopefully I'm overthinking it but in a way we should all be grateful Caine has the desire to be a family friendly AI.
But what will happen to The Amazing Digital Circus after the finale? Well I'm sure people will still remember it & carry the torch in their own ways. Take me for example. I love Raggedy Ann & I both eat up all the fan content & adore it even if the official companies that own her don't do anything with her anymore. Lots of fandoms are kept active for years after their series is finalized & never talked about again. Infinity Train, Owl House, Over the Garden Wall, Toontown, Club Penguin, Bionicle, just to name a few prime examples. Anything can become immortal in the hands of the right fans. It's entirely possible the voice acting crew & some animators will keep doing fan meetings & interviews for years to come. They'll still answer Digital Circus questions & probably give insight into what life was like making the show. But Gooseworx herself made it loud & clear she's not doing anything Digital Circus related anymore after The Last Act. REMEMBER, she originally wanted to do a 2D series but Glitch wanted a 3D show so she had to improvise & come up with a fast alternative in 2 WEEKS. DIGITAL CIRCUS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO EXIST. Maybe we all be a little happier that it does because it inspired so many creative types.
From a Raghead perspective, I don't think Raggedy Ann would've been as popular or relevant online without this show. From Ragatha's design to the fudge monster to the No Girl's Toy quote Ragatha throws out when drunk at work on stupid sauce during episode 4, this series really did shine a light on the old 70's movie & made people invested for the first time in a long time. Even outside of Raggedy Ann & the likes, people are already being inspired & mixing their favorite characters & environments to make their own experiences. I already have an idea for a living toy PLANET with a ragdoll heavily inspired by Raggedy Ann, Ragatha, & Molly Coddle from Bump in the Night as a main character. This time the ragdoll WILL BE THE main character. If you like anyone else's voice, design, or portrayal you're free to be inspired by it & make it your own too.
& it's FINALLY out! After weeks of work having me busy & me forgetting to save my edits in drafts as I go like a moron it's finally out. Sorry if it's too close to the finales release date but for that now I'll take a while with making the episode 9 review & I decide when a while is. I don't want stress with a due date this time. I was going to go the extra mile & add pictures but I'm both lucky & happy to have gotten all this out. See y'all on the trail.
