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you can't silence my love

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Syd • 20 (6/27/93) • Genderfluid (He/She/They are all acceptable pronouns) • Minnesota, USA • Taken

• A semi-NSFW personal blog, that happens to include a lot of posts about animation, video games, anthropomorphic animals, and other geeky things • Has difficulties following organized Christianity, but believes very strongly in 1 Corinthians 13

» Game Stream: Pokemon Yellow

newfoundash:

((Hey, guys!

Over the weekend, I found a working emulator that runs on OS X Mavericks. Because I haven’t been able to find one since my Snow Leopard days, I would call this a big deal.

So, here’s the deal: I’m going to be playing Pokemon Yellow through a stream, and all y’all can watch and chat. I tested the audio, the video, and the game, and all three work great.
The stream will start around 8:00 PM CST, and go until whenever. If I need to be pulled away for a longer period (say, to eat), then I will either, A) Put on a Pokemon episode for everyone to watch, or B) Put on some Pokemon music for everyone to listen to.

While this isn’t considered NSFW stream, I will say that I swear a lot, both at video games and casually, and that I do make sexual comments and jokes. Also, Yellow contains flashing lights, which may be harmful towards those with epilepsy.
If all goes well, then I will do more of these as a side-project between RPs and drawing. And all videos will be saved.))

Cross-posting this!

robotoco:

【Promo】ディズニー・チャンネル おすすめ番組
0:46~0:55  JAPANESE WANDER IS TALKING!!!!!!!!!!!


I don’t care who the fuck you are, or what you’re doing. You can take 3 seconds to reblog this.

I don’t care who the fuck you are, or what you’re doing. You can take 3 seconds to reblog this.

(Source: hotbandimaginesandsmut)

Ñ theonetruenators:

rainbow-lick:


"Fursuiting has a certain dimming effect on one’s senses.
My senses aren’t razor sharp on the best day, so cover me in fur, take away a good portion of my hearing and vision, and I become a tad ineffectual in navigating the world around me.
Rambling up the pier on a sunny Sunday, I became aware of a  sudden heaviness in my right leg.”Uh oh,” I thought. “Stroke.”
Upon closer examination, I discovered that my difficulty walking was not caused by a blood clot, but rather this young man who had anchored himself to my side.
Relieved, I patted his head, gave him the happy paws and looked around for the camera. Surely his parents were taking pictures of their giddy son and the giant canine.
It was then I realized that he was sobbing, and no cameras, let alone parental units, were in evidence.
Dogs I understand. Children are a mystery to me. Worried that I had crushed his little foot, or smacked him with my tail, I asked him what was the matter.
"I can’t find my daddy!" He said between hiccups. "That’s OK," I said. ‘I’ll sniff him out for you." "Really? You promise?" He gripped me tighter and brightened a little. "Of course! I’m a search and rescue dog. No problem."
He grinned and held my paw and I then realized that I had better locate pops post haste or the kid would grow up not to trust talking dogs. I couldn’t have that.
We walked slowly up the pier, searching for daddy, both trying to smile for the tourists. Little Carlos related that his papa had been fishing, but had moved to a new spot on the rail. The kid had walked over to look at a seagull, and somehow lost track of  his dad’s position. I wagged. I was looking for a guy fishing from the pier, and that narrowed my search to only a few hundred blokes. Piece of cake.
"What does your daddy look like?" I asked. "He’s wearing a white t-shirt." Carlos offered. I looked around. So were 90% of the others fishing.
Sensing that I needed more information, he thought hard for a moment. “He fishes with squid!” He exclaimed, convinced that hunk of knowledge would lead us to pops like no other.
We walked up and down the pier. Twice. Carlos started to cry again, and I felt a peculiar mix of compassion, panic and failure. What if we never found his dad? I’d have to raise him as my own. Where would he sleep? What do kids eat? Kids grow up so fast. How could I afford shoes and tiny fursuits every 6 months?
Just when we were both about to dissolve into sobbing puddles,a frantic man came running towards us, brandishing a fishing rod and a look of profound relief. I’ll never forget it.
"Mijo!" He exclaimed, scooping up the kid and hugging him so tightI thought he might pop. They were both crying and smiling and a flood of relief washed over me. I wouldn’t have to worry about making pint sized DTD’s after all….
Carlos Sr. shook my paw vigorously and thanked me again and again for taking the time to help his boy. He had no idea howthey became separated, but a nice lady on the end of the piertold him that a talking dog was wandering around with a lost kiddo.At least I was easy to spot.
As father and son resumed their day of pescatory bliss, I feltlike a very good dog. Crisis averted, I continued my stroll, heading decidedly for the watering hole with the coldest beer. 
I may not be much of a search and rescue dog, but I felt like it at that moment.”
-Dogbomb

 
sweetest story ever…

THIS IS IT THIS IS THE STORY I ALWAYS TELL
THIS STORY IS PRESH AND EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW THIS STORY

theonetruenators:

rainbow-lick:

"Fursuiting has a certain dimming effect on one’s senses.

My senses aren’t razor sharp on the best day, so cover me in fur, take away a good portion of my hearing and vision, and I become a tad ineffectual in navigating the world around me.

Rambling up the pier on a sunny Sunday, I became aware of a  sudden heaviness in my right leg.”Uh oh,” I thought. “Stroke.”

Upon closer examination, I discovered that my difficulty walking was not caused by a blood clot, but rather this young man who had anchored himself to my side.

Relieved, I patted his head, gave him the happy paws and looked around for the camera. Surely his parents were taking pictures of their giddy son and the giant canine.

It was then I realized that he was sobbing, and no cameras, let alone parental units, were in evidence.

Dogs I understand. Children are a mystery to me. Worried that I had crushed his little foot, or smacked him with my tail, I asked him what was the matter.

"I can’t find my daddy!" He said between hiccups. "That’s OK," I said. ‘I’ll sniff him out for you." "Really? You promise?" He gripped me tighter and brightened a little. "Of course! I’m a search and rescue dog. No problem."

He grinned and held my paw and I then realized that I had better locate pops post haste or the kid would grow up not to trust talking dogs. I couldn’t have that.

We walked slowly up the pier, searching for daddy, both trying to smile for the tourists. Little Carlos related that his papa had been fishing, but had moved to a new spot on the rail. The kid had walked over to look at a seagull, and somehow lost track of  his dad’s position. I wagged. I was looking for a guy fishing from the pier, and that narrowed my search to only a few hundred blokes. Piece of cake.

"What does your daddy look like?" I asked. "He’s wearing a white t-shirt." Carlos offered. I looked around. So were 90% of the others fishing.

Sensing that I needed more information, he thought hard for a moment. “He fishes with squid!” He exclaimed, convinced that hunk of knowledge would lead us to pops like no other.

We walked up and down the pier. Twice. Carlos started to cry again, and I felt a peculiar mix of compassion, panic and failure. What if we never found his dad? I’d have to raise him as my own. Where would he sleep? What do kids eat? Kids grow up so fast. How could I afford shoes and tiny fursuits every 6 months?

Just when we were both about to dissolve into sobbing puddles,a frantic man came running towards us, brandishing a fishing rod and a look of profound relief. I’ll never forget it.

"Mijo!" He exclaimed, scooping up the kid and hugging him so tightI thought he might pop. They were both crying and smiling and a flood of relief washed over me. I wouldn’t have to worry about making pint sized DTD’s after all….

Carlos Sr. shook my paw vigorously and thanked me again and again for taking the time to help his boy. He had no idea howthey became separated, but a nice lady on the end of the piertold him that a talking dog was wandering around with a lost kiddo.At least I was easy to spot.

As father and son resumed their day of pescatory bliss, I feltlike a very good dog. Crisis averted, I continued my stroll, heading decidedly for the watering hole with the coldest beer. 

I may not be much of a search and rescue dog, but I felt like it at that moment.”

-Dogbomb

image 


sweetest story ever…

THIS IS IT THIS IS THE STORY I ALWAYS TELL

THIS STORY IS PRESH AND EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW THIS STORY

D 24/01/2014
Posted by rainbow-lick

Reblogged from draikinator

retrogradeworks:

hellohappylisa:

I Are Cute Duckling AWW & I Am a Cute Duck AWW

ZOMG HE GREW UP

ALWAYS REBLOG DUCKIES

(Source: kiwious)

orangelemonart:

Two artists suddenly have gotten super popular from designs based on 1) a photo of bear and a police officer and 2) gijinkas from a popular horror short series and tumblrs reaction is to give them both two happy days and then furious unending hatred for every little thing they can dig up or scrounge for this is a horrible community for artists.

l 24/01/2014
Posted by orangelemonart

Reblogged from i-need-a-shoosh-pap

prettyinpwn:

iamdefault:

taking a moment to post this yet again, for all the fan videos i hate with a burning passion, this one is not one of them… and has a measly 812 views…

reblogging for the absolute awesomeness that is this AMV.

q 24/01/2014
6 83
Posted by iamdefault

Reblogged from creeplypd
Ñ chauvinistsushi:

Thank you striped cat

chauvinistsushi:

Thank you striped cat

Aww, now they’re getting married

rufflet:

image

I love Meowth as the flowergirl

Ñ
D 23/01/2014
Posted by bubblejetpokemon

Reblogged from saint04
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