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I've dug through a couple hundred pages of SoFurry, checked through FurAffinity, InkBunny, and a couple of others and still can't find it, which sucks 'cause it was an awesome story. I hope someone here may be able to help me out.

The story went like this, best I can remember:

Hermaphrodite vixen wakes up in bed, gets off, while downstairs some Dark Stranger tells her mother that they cannot get out of their deal, blah, blah, blah, and sort of not quite rapes her (the mother) in the garden.

Main Char goes downstairs to find the mom cooking, takes her from behind and is taken from behind by the father, and then the MC leaves to go on the Quest that she can't return from. Goes and meets the Sorcerer? Magic user? Tiger? Thing.

I can't remember anything else at the moment. Sound familiar to anyone?

Sorry if this is the wrong place, I couldn't find anywhere better.

submitted by tyrynth
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submitted by STrRedWolf
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Remember those naughty little toons you used to scribble on note books or a scrap piece of paper at work while you were bored and didn’t feel like starting another game of solitaire? Well in Culver City California there is a gallery opening for a short time called “Gag Me With A Toon 5″. As in this is the fifth gallery showing of this nature. Oh my god, where have you been all my life?! Well… the obvious answer is in California.

So what are these inappropriate pieces of possible pornographic pictures? (Yes the alliteration was intentional.) Well you can read about what sorts of things have been done at earlier galleries here.

 

Seriously guys (and gals of course) lets just have chat :)

EDIT: If you don't knwo what to talk about, you could always give me tips on how to draw xD

EDIT2: Wow this thread is still alive! So many lovely people.

submitted by Phasper
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submitted by CannibalPony
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submitted by DragonNamedRed
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Hey guys, its Loque Eldenhart with another call out for all the furs that missed out on the last one, This is coming near to our one year anniversary and would love for all you interested to join!

Skype: zack_cordray

submitted by ZeldaMania1221
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submitted by SmileAndLead
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Hey, finished watching my first anime other than Initial D today, it was Spice and Wolf. That series... I absolutely loved it. Anyone got any advice on any anime that would be similar?

submitted by nsfw_throwaway7940
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Guest post by Lunostophiles.

Emotion lives out its life in poetry. It might summer in prose, it might vacation in speeches, and it may even spend a nice weekend wrapped around a pithy quip. But, in the end, emotion’s country of origin is poetry. Even before we wrote stories on paper, far before we recorded everything we created in a fashion archivists scratch their heads at, there was poetry and verse.

The fandom has been slow to adopt poetry, and it’s not without its reasons; too often these days culture equates verse with self-absorbed and self-diagnosed loners who attempt to pour their sadness onto the page in recursive stanzas. Are they wrong in choosing this course of release? Of course not, but these ‘angry emo journal poets’ have eclipsed the multitudinous and varied styles of poetry there are out there.

(There is, to be fair, a lot of blame to be laid on the poetry curriculum in schools, but that is a conversation for another day.)

With growing sub-communities devoted to writing verse, I’m confident there is a place for poetry in the fandom in the same way there is a place for prose, art, and fursuiting. There is no end to what poetry can accomplish, both within the constraints of meter and rhyme and without. If prose is the way by which we show others how we view the world, then poetry is the way by which we glean meaning from the world we view. A sunset is just a sunset until you can describe it as something else. Then it is much more.

Whiskey Sour

We cup our claws,
Our talons,
Our nubby, rum-soaked fingers round flimsy cups
Thrust high in praise of the bacchanal;
Of deities borne through chants whispered into bottle caps,
And gods reincarnated with too-loud laughter.

And we, members of a growing cult
That malingers like a skulking formaldehyde dream;
The clan of eternal headaches,
Of moist and sloppy lip-locks in bathrooms,
A brotherhood we did not know we had joined–
All hidden behind locked hotel room doors
Dangling signs to ward away housekeeping just one more day.

The tingling fingers of siren cocktails draw shadows on our eyes,
Their clarion songs promising personality,
Conviviality,
New and absent friends cast in the fires of a molotov.

The party floors reek of high-proof happiness by Thursday’s end;
A massive, sharp-toothed plague that grips us
Like beef bourguignon with the red overflowing,
And in its powerful jaws
Forces from us a vomit of glee.

—–

In my naivete, my swollen days of Massachusetts autumn,
When life was a marbled haze upon my eyes,
New to the north, new to adulthood in its bleak daylight;
It is here I was first thrust headlong into the convention scene.

The smiles of the rogues,
The shade-beings,
Frothing like the head of a fresh-poured Guinness,
With arms outstretched as great bows with no arrows.

“You’re here!” they cried, they shouted!

“You’ve made it!”

“No more are you doomed to a life
Where what you know of us are pixel silhouettes,
Spectres and creations of fervent, bored imaginations
Illuminated to life upon LCD screens.
No more will you play the most dangerous game
With mouse cursor and hyperlink,
A man on wild safari for a beast no one has caught!”

The lobby was Kublai Khan’s pleasure dome,
Husky and dense with delights:
Shrieks of absences making hearts grow fonder
And the soft hum of happy chatter.
This was the soundtrack of a grin.

And this Morphean utopia,
All swathed in furs and memetic shirts,
Laid itself before me prostrate like a lover waiting.
And somehow, despite having never charted these waters,
I spread my fingers wide, the rays of a distant star
Upon the china white body of this vast world made flesh,
Feeling blind corners and sharp elevation changes.

And in my mind, this monolithic and precise relief
Fit jigsaw-snug into the jagged-edged,
Razor-toothed pockets of the conspace–
Just like I knew it would.

—–

The size of the party means you’re having more fun!
Kiss the elbow of the man next to you
(Though you aimed for his lips
And your trajectory erred),
Caress the obliques of a stranger–
Any stranger!–
They know you in spirit.

We pack ourselves tighter into a four-person cubicle,
Sardines with no oil or water,
Just marinating for the main course.

We keep laughing, we writhe our bodies;
We roll our heads, unattached, through the marathon hallways,
Down the stairwells and across the pool chairs,
Colossal sound extricating itself from our maws thrown wide with venom;
Venom and veracity.

Keep laughing, you fools! This is of import!–
Don’t let’s talk, don’t let’s converse.
Imbibe, my comrades.

Imbibe!

—–

Acquaintences met, acquaintences made,
And now a believer in the throes of transubstantiation
I rose from the fairgrounds,
Making careful, tiptoe steps into the elevator
As if wary of nightengale floors.

Rising, rising! like the wind through a flue,
Then left in the dim hallway of an upper floor;
A babe in the clasp of some darkened bosom.

A friendly face?
There, past the ionic columns of pizza boxes,
The tenuous styrofoam skycrapers
And sunken pagodas erected in the conquest of General Tso;
There, through the chalky dark mist, I wandered,
Unaware that this was the land of the forgotten;
This was the desert Moses lost himself in for forty years,
Or a world Euclid would have wept at the sight of.

Hand-scrawled signs on the closed doors,
Effegies of animal-men in cartoon hysterics,
Voiced by a backmask reveille–
Were they speaking?
No, they were barking; mad creatures
All scraping claws on cage bars,
Aching for an exit of this perverted zoo.

A smile across the hall–
My brethren!
They ushered me from the dark and dreary path
And into their light-filled embraces,
All hearth and home.

On the desk, a lanyard graveyard,
Piles of forgeries laid waste in private
To mingle in a flat-ironed spiderweb;
And looming over us all was the altar,
The godless instrument for impassioned debauchery;
A boozy glass harmonica.

I was handed a cup.

In downcast gaze, I saw myself in the milky mirror,
An endless pit just below the surface film.
Its jaws gaped, a chasm, an abyss,
A lion awaiting the head of its master
(And I with no whip or chair).
The drink plumed personality from its depths,
Swarthy and succulent,
Sugar and spice…
…And the hooch was quite nice.

As if I had exchanged lives with a desperate man
Lost in the Sahara, carrying a dry canteen,
Upon seeing the liquid I erupted with need
And the drink disappeared in a fit of magic.
The cup hung as a red flag upon my body,
Too obvious to notice,
Waving defeat in the cold October air.

My thoughts grew hairline fractures, fit to burst at the seams;
The cup was refilled;
And I’d've rather rinsed than repeated
But is it not unkind to turn down one’s host?
The steps to a new and baffling dance snuck on through,
A sway and a hop I had hidden,
Shoved under blankets;
Sandwiched between floorboards.

I guzzled, I glutted,
I quaffed and I chugged and I drank.

—–

Deaddog, deaddog,
Come out to play.
The boy’s in the meadow,
The girl’s in the hay.

The boy’s at the toilet,
The girl’s at the sink.
Deaddog, deaddog!
Just one more drink?

—–

A name, a curse,
Scratched, tattooed in dismantled English,
Tight gypsy glyphs in thick-line Sharpie on cheap red plastic
As if this chalice of consumption,
This cup of infinite holding was mine forever.

But it’s never quite ours forever, though;
Never just quite.
When all the rum, all the gin, all the mixers run dry
And down to the floor we descend in a daze;
When corpses of bottles are strewn on the desktops,
Under beds,
Across suitcases unpacked;
When we have constructed mass graves and catacombs to coquetting
which overflow the trash bins;
Tremendous and terrific mountains to excess
Unfit for us to scale–
More appropriate, as knackered as it is,
To set it aflame like a phantasmagoric funeral pyre,
And let acrid smoke curl through the room and asphyxiates us.

When this death waltz has begun,
We stare from the valley of drunken stupor,
Cross-eyed and infantile,
And we gurgle out our sorrows, intoning our distates,
And the once-bright laughter falls pallid and flat;
Fetal fallen angels neck-deep in Hell’s detritus.

It is possible to reverse transubstantiation–
In those moments, it is possible to eat your own halo.

The spark of newness rubs away quick,
Like the silver ink on a fresh credit card.
Deep in the cavities of the room parties,
Shadowed under the awnings and eaves of hedonism
(May Dionysus his name be praised into the porcelain shrines!),
And the towering she-wolves we suckle from–
Romulus and Remus ad infinitum–
Inside these wounds we lose the virgin edges,
We claw our way into the light of day
And hiss at the sun.

I do not want to become a parody of intelligence.
I do not want this to be our brave new world
Filled with the vapor trails left by regret,
Bitterness smothered in cold flame.
I will not be baptized into the Church of the Dead Soldier:
Not by mother vodka.
Not by father whiskey.

Yet still, I raise a toast–
In a smaller, finer glass–
To friendships forged in the fandom’s smithy;
A fandom sought out by outliers and outcasts–
Those without names and those with too many.
I will laugh a real laugh,
A room-filling sound that is never too loud,
Fringed with the fragile lace of mirth.

And high above us, the dirty angels of the rooms
Pray to their patron saints to let them see the afternoon.

For unlike we folk awake and alive,
They have not learned how to hide their halo
Just behind their backs–
Just out of reach from the cold and clammy hands
That still crush the plastic party cups into cadavers.

No, they have no place for their goodness,
And hide their glow in the bottoms of cocktails;
Just around the far side of the martini olives
That gaze upon them and despair.

And in that moment,
With the very eyes of their consumption cast outward?
Just smile back, take a sip,
And make it the last.

At least for the night.

submitted by timetinytim
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Papabear,

How do I deal with a "friend" with which I recently wants to break up my relationship with my mate (of 2 years)? I don't know how to deal with her because she is so immature on so many levels and I have had other problems with her before.

I first met this friend about a year ago via my mate. At first she was a really cool person, until she started to take advantage of our generosity. We would drive hours to see her because "no one would come visit her." On these visits my mate and I would pay for just about everything we did; on occasion she or one of her parents would pay for pizza. She started to blame others for all of the issues that were happening to her, like her depression coming back because her mate broke up with her. She loves to mooch off of her friends, using them for free rooms at cons that she has no money to afford to go to. She had one friend drive 7 hours to pick her up for a con and never paid her for any of the drive to or from the con. I stopped helping her with money after seeing how she treated a friend whose room we all stayed in for a con. My mate and I have tried to tell her to just save up for one or two big cons a year instead of going to all of these little cons, but she doesn't listen to us. 

My mate and I have been together now for almost 2 years, we met while in college. We have had our ups and downs but we have been able to work through them and have become closer because of them. He has always been there for me, especially when I decided to change my major and my career choice. This was really hard for me as it moved me 8 hours away from my family and friends back home. He has been my rock in these stormy past 9 months. He has been there for me and has stood beside me on all of my choices.

I first started noticing that she has wanted to be with my mate a couple of months after getting to know her. She would flirt openly with him in front of me and her (now ex) mate and many others. One night while at her house my mate asked me to check his phone for any calls and messages and I found texts from her saying "miss you sexy" and "when are you gonna come see me again (alone) hon." Needless to say, I called her out on it and, like always, she denies all of it. Ever since I have never trusted her alone with him because she can manipulate you into doing things that you normally wouldn't do without you knowing it. My mate also doesn't trust her, but it still doesn't stop her from doing this. The most recent thing that I found out is that she wants him to sneak off to see her, take her virginity, and at some point get her pregnant. I told my mate about this and he said he would tell her to back off. However, I still feel I need to address her about it but I don't know how to approach her about it.

I have never been in any sort of relationship with her (besides friendship) because I am not attracted to women in that way, whereas she claims to be bi/pan(?) sexual. My mate doesn't see how she can be attracted to him because she has never been in a serious relationship with an guy, she’s only been with women. So, if anything, she wants to be with my mate and not me. He has told me time and time again that he doesn't like her and there is no way that he can be attracted to her, but it still really bother me that she would continue to do this even though she knows he doesn't and will never be attracted to her.

I just don't know what to do. Should I drop it or should I confront her about it??

Thank you in advance for your time Papabear!!

-- Eva de Wolfsbane

* * *

Dear Eva,

I must say, if everything you have written to me in your letter is true, then this “friend” of yours is just the sort of person who gives furries a bad name. She’s selfish, a moocher, contributes nothing to your friendship, lies, tries to break up a loving couple, isn’t good with money, blames other people for her own problems, and is apparently using sex as a weapon to hurt people. I don’t think she was ever a “cool” person, even when you first met her. She just pretended to be cool so as to lure you into the trap of a user. And that’s just what she is, a user. 

This type of parasite makes Papabear sick. I’m sorry you and your mate have gotten sucked into her machinations, mostly because you are kind people who tried to help (i.e., the perfect targets for a user). This is how users operate: they prey upon the good will and good intentions of their victims, sucking them dry, even while they make YOU feel guilty for not giving them what they want.

Papabear would rather face Darth Vader than her type because at least with a Sith lord you know your are dealing with evil. Users are backstabbing, weaselly, snakelike abominations that are highly skilled in pretending to be good people and that "everyone is against them" and they "don't understand why you have betrayed them" yadda yadda. They can make your life miserable, but only if you let them.

Should you “drop it” that she is a pain in your ass? Absolutely not. Should you confront her about it? Well, you could, but you already talked to her about her extremely inappropriate phone messages and she just denied it. Confronting her again would likely lead to more denial.

No, at this point, Eva, there is only one way to deal with a leech like this. Ignore her, stay away from her, both you and your mate. If she calls you and asks what is going on, tell her you are uncomfortable with her sexual advances on both you and your mate and have decided that it is best if you don’t hang out together any more. When she protests, stand your ground. This person is not your friend, so don’t feel guilty about telling her to go away. You don’t have to use swear words, just be polite but firm. “My mate and I really are uncomfortable with hanging out with you and we don’t want to do it any more. Good-bye.”

Ignore any further attempts on her part to call you or see you. The best way to discourage such people is to ignore them because if you continue to talk to them, even angrily, you are just validating their nasty parasite existence. She will likely play the “I hate you card,” even start spreading rumors about you and doing other such nasty things. Never acknowledge any of it. 

Dark shadows only exist if you give them a spotlight.

In the meantime, enjoy and treasure something that is an important part of your life: your loving mate. You are very lucky to have each other.

Hugs!

Papabear

So this made it to the first page of /r/WTF today, and I was pleasantly surprised that there were a lot of people defending her for being a furry, and saying it wasn't that WTF worthy.

Is it me or is the internet social stigma of being a furry letting up some?

submitted by doubtingwhitedragon
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Author: Smokescale Aquatos Greetings and welcome once again, to… whatever this is! Our first podcast after switching officially to the new recording schedule! Next show will be on May 8th (we said the second in the show, sorry about that!). This week’s show, Kyo dives into his recent drag experiences, live, not-live, and everything in [...] Episode 82 – Just Say It!

submitted by feilen
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What are your dreams? Not dreams and hopes of the future – but feel free to share those too! – but what happens in your mind when your head hits the pillow for the night. Join us for an animated discussion of the WagzTail crew’s dreams in this episode.

Metadata and Credits WagzTail Podcast 2.0 Episode 70
Runtime: 30m
Cast: Crimson X, JWingy, Levi, Spenser, Wolfin
Editor: Levi
Format: 128kbps ABR split-stereo MP3
Copyright: © 2013 WagzTail.com. Some Rights Reserved. This podcast is released by WagzTail.com as CC BY-ND 3.0. If distributed with a facility that has an existing agreement in place with a Professional Rights Organisation (PRO), file a cue sheet for 26:00 to Fabien Renoult (BMI) 1.67%, Josquin des Pres (BMI) 1.67%, WagzTail.com 96.67%. Rights have been acquired to all content for national and international broadcast and web release with no royalties due. Podcast image belongs to sue_r_b, used with permission. Episode 70 – Dreams - What are your dreams? Not dreams and hopes of the future - but feel free to share those too! - but what happens in your mind when your head hits the pillow for the night. Join us for an animated discussion of the WagzTail crew's dreams in this episode.

Author: Fred Back in March 2012, Flayrah had a post about the “Gag Me With a Toon 4” art exhibition at the WWA art gallery in Culver City, California. Now the WWA gallery has “Gag Me With a Toon 5” coming up, on May 4–June 1, 2013. Over fifty artists will be represented with their tributes [...]

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