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Streaming Again !!!!!Dinosaur and shark women stream <333Also have the mic on tonight <33
I don't know if anyone here likes Assassin's Creed but I thought I'd share a commission I just finished.
Review: ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’, by Rudolf T?snohlídek
For a moment I thought his shirt had an upvote.
Furry Movie Award Watch: December 2012
Get Excited For: ‘Summerhill’
The opening scene in Kevin Frane’s upcoming novel Summerhill features an argument between a cyborg dinosaur and a blue alien prince. And it only gets stranger from there.
Summerhill, the vaguely canine protagonist, finds himself on an inter-dimensional cruise ship filled with creatures of all shapes, sizes, and viscosities. How does one interact with a giant wooden insect, or a talking pink raincloud…
Or Katherine, a beautiful human woman with a secret, running from her past, while Summerhill is trying to find his.
Furthermore, what happens when this ship travels to dimensions where the laws of physics are changed? Space operas and jungles are exciting enough, but how about a universe where the world is actually flat?
Add on to this, Summerhill’s new friend Katherine is wanted by the Consortium, an interdimensional law enforcement agency that prevents Existential Integrity Violations (which are just as serious as they sound).
Frane has a knack for exciting adventures and thrillers, as well as a quirky sense of humor. The Dr. Who influence is certainly noticeable in Summerhill, but it is also very clearly its own unique tale unlike anything you’ve read before.
If you want a taste of Summerhill, check out the preview chapter here. It will give you a glimpse into the world Frane has created, with all its eccentricities. Summerhill goes on sale in January and is available for preorder. And be sure to check out the bigger version of Kamui’s cover here.
Every time I see an auction on Furaffinity
South African ‘sexologist’ turns to Jungian archetypes to interpret furry fandom
B-Sides: Episode 3 - It's the holidays...and people are busy and hard to reach and stuff. As such we have a nice and ...
Blood, Toil, Tears and Fur
(This is a lightly edited reprint of a column from Anthro Magazine #20)
I’ve always admired Winston Churchill, perhaps more than anyone else who ever lived. Somehow he managed to cram not one but a whole succession of lives into the span of one. He rode in the last cavalry charge of the British Army; wrote more books than most full-time authors (winning the Nobel Prize in literature along the way); became arguably the most successful columnist and reporter of his day; was a noted watercolorist; coined terms like ‘seaplane’ and ‘iron curtain’; arguably invented the tank; not only prepared the Royal Navy for World War I but also led it during the early and most crucial parts of that conflict; and sponsored key social legislation that few associate him with today. He was present on Wall Street just after the Crash of 1929, in Cuba during the insurrection against Spain, and personally fought in desperate, bloody actions in India. He remains the only person ever voted an honorary citizen of the United States, by special Act of Congress. Oh, and by the way, he also led Britain during the proudest and toughest period of her history, when she stood alone for freedom against Adolph Hitler and all of occupied Europe. Mustn’t forget that part!
He was also without question a furry, long before there was a name for such a thing.
Shocked? So was I, when I first came upon the truth while reading The Last Lion, a biography of the man by William Manchester. Unlike all the other biographies I’d read, this one was up close and personal—more about the man himself than his accomplishments. In it I learned of the troubled, attention-starved youth with a wild and vivid imagination, who couldn’t ever quite fit in and all but failed out of school because he couldn’t deal with the regimentation of rote learning. I cried with the adolescent who refused to abandon his nurse despite the fact that he was mocked for it by his peers—his parents had cast her off to live on nothing, and young Winston helped her with money from his own allowance and kept in close touch until the day she died. Later, I grew to know the brilliant young man whose keen intellect eventually became apparent to everyone, but whose poor social skills kept him an outcast. And, I have to admit, everything seemed to be fitting a familiar sort of pattern.
But I couldn’t quite put a name on it until I ran into his fursuit.
Yes, it’s true: Winston Churchill owned a fursuit. More than that, he owned a whole closet full of costumes, though apparently this was his favorite. He wore it quite frequently, it seems, playing and roughhousing with his grandchildren. As difficult as it might be to picture, according to Mr. Manchester Winston Churchill loved to dress up as a gorilla.
I blinked when I read that part, as little bells and whistles began to ring in my mind. Churchill also kept odd hours, sleeping twice a day instead of once, and did his best work late at night. In a nation noted for its eccentrics, he was an oddball. Winston loved animals deeply—his home was supposed to be a working farm, but he could never bring himself to slaughter any of the livestock and even worried for days once over a sick goldfish. More and more alarms went off…
…until finally I hit the hard, definitive paydirt, the letters between he and his wife.
Here’s a quote from Manchester…
Like other lovers, they invented pet names for each other. Clementine was “Cat”, or “Kat”, Winston was “Pug”, then “Amber Pug”, then “Pig”. Drawings of these animals decorated the margins of their letters to each other, and at dinner parties Winston would reach across the table, squeeze her hand, and murmur “Dear Cat”.
Or, at a later date…
“We are going to bathe in the lake this evening,” he told her in a typical note. “No cats allowed! Your Pug in clover, W.” And she would assure him that while he was gone “your lazy Kat sits purring and lapping cream and stroking her kittens.”
These were not one-offs, taken out of context. Due to Churchill’s odd schedule and frequent travels, he and his beloved Kat didn’t see much of each other, and even while living in the same house they wrote each other frequent letters. Practically all of them are full of love—and they’re equally full of what we today would recognize in a heartbeat as typical anthropomorphic on-line role-play.
Here’s another example, among many. In closing a long letter in which Churchill’s political enemies are clawed to pieces, Clementine wrote her husband:
“Good-Bye, my Darling. I love you very much. Your Radical Bristling—” here she drew an indignant cat.
It goes on and on and on in this vein. A modern-day fur, looking at this body of correspondence, cannot help but feel right at home. Indeed, he might even envy the easy and natural way that these two very-much-in-love individuals unselfconsciously communicated using the anthropomorphic symbols and language that clearly meant so much to them. Matters continued in this vein to the very end, as did their love. If any part of Churchill’s life can be described as filled with joy, this was probably it.
A lot of people seem to enjoy bashing furs. These same sorts of people seemed to enjoy bashing Churchill as well until he grew into such a historical giant that no one dared any longer. He started out life as an awkward, troubled, sickly and accident-prone youth that no one understood and who seemingly couldn’t get ahead. But he grew tall and strong, perhaps taller and stronger than any other man of his time. There’s not the slightest doubt in my mind that, were he alive today, we’d find him attending furcons and hanging around in furry chatrooms.
I’d submit that Winston Churchill’s furriness, along with the intelligence, creativity and sensitivity that so often accompany it, was an essential component of his colossal strength. Certainly, it was a major part of who he was, and how he saw the world.
Which apparently wasn’t, if you’re reading this, so very different from the way that you and I see it.
Animation: A live-action Hong Kong Phooey — I say ‘Phooey!’
Learning How to Love
Lately things in my life have been getting out of hand & I feel that I have lost myself. I have lied to my brother, my mate, my friends, then I will try to cover it with another ... then I won't speak to my brothers for days because I know he is a busy person on top of health issues ... but I received an email from him saying that his therapist had laid a “test” out for me and that I failed it, that the times I do message him or call him its to ask for something. I do have a bad habit of asking people for things constantly but it stems back to when I lived with my abusive mother, all the hell she put me through, I would lie to get out of things with her, I would ask people for things to survive cause I had nothing with her and my mate can vouch for that cause she lived with me for a year and a half at my mothers.
But for him and his therapist to talk like that about me, and him saying that it takes certain people to “like him,” really hurts considering yes I do ask him for a lot, but there have been times we have laughed and shared memories, he was in a bad car accident awhile back, when I received the call from his roommate Chris and told me of the severity of it, I cried my eyes out, I hadn’t cried that hard since I almost lost my mate 2 years ago and since I lost my grandmother. My brother is someone that I cherish and would die for... but I am so torn that he feels this way about me and has little trust in me.
A lot of people don't trust me much and wash their hands of me at the first chance they get.
People have been choosing my mate over me, saying “She’s more mature & listens to reason,” which yes I am jealous of her, because she can handle friendships and handle life a lot better than I can... but it isn’t right that people rub that in my face... least I feel that it isn’t.
I have severe trust issues & depression. I am a transgender FtM. I get lippy and speak my mind and I get defensive, depressed a lot, especially during the Christmas season cause in 2000 I lost my grandmother which in turn my family fell apart, so in time I have built a family of my own from my closest friends... I have lost a lot of them due to the way I am, my actions.
This season has really stretched my mental stability thin, to the point that I have been acting out more, and when there is no one around suicide comes into my head and seems like a nice option to me cause I have dealt with this for 20 some years growing up.... It seems that everyone around me is better than me and that I am just this monster that people are around because they feel sorry for, and that when I act out, or have one too many depression fits, they leave me behind & make up some excuse...
For a lot of people, when they loose a friend, they move on. But to me, my friends are my life. Growing up, I was made fun of and had barely anyone, I was the kid in elementary school who played by themselves and when I felt adventurous I would try to play with the other kids, only to have them walk away leaving you alone... In high school I just had my mate ... so now when I have a close friend and they wash me away, it hurts very badly and I feel that there is a hole there.
Suicide for me has been haunting my head lately... I’d least be back with my grandmother whom I lost in 2000, the one person who would love me and be there for me no matter what.
I know the repercussions that it would leave behind for my mate and few friends I have, but it’s a thought that has been drifting in and out of my head lately...
My brother, My mate and 2 of my friends who are my neighbors and are furs as well, along with an adopted sister I have in southern WV... I would kill for them Papabear, they mean that much to me. But when people constantly want you to change, and to stop beating yourself up, so they try to “help” by pointing out your wrongs, so you go to fix them and yet you get no acknowledgement for it.... It makes you back peddle...
I don’t know what to do anymore... I'm at my whit’s end with this... I'm seriously becoming scared that I will do something drastic...
What should I do.... help me Papabear.
Cadaver
* * *
Hi, Cadaver,
Oh, my, I hope that is just a name you used for this letter and not, like, your fursona name. Anyway, Papabear finds your letter a bit self-contradictory. You begin by admitting that you lie to a lot of people and then you complain that people don’t trust you. You say you have trust issues and jealousy issues and can get “lippy” etc., but you don’t like it when people say your mate is more mature than you are and easier to deal with. You say that you have tried to fix “your wrongs” but your letter doesn’t explain anything you’ve done toward self-improvement. Then you get upset when people try to “help” you and “constantly want you to change,” yet you sound like you are acknowledging you do need to change. A perfect example of the disconnection you are experiencing is how you don’t call your brother just to say “hi” out of a supposed consideration for the fact that he is busy and dealing with health issues, yet you have no problem calling him to ask him for things, then you get upset when he and his therapist point this out to you. I am merely rephrasing this to make sure I understand the situation, not to berate you.
Probably, as you point out, some of your problems can be traced back to your abusive mother and your struggle to survive as a child (my sympathies). You don’t offer much detail there, but the emotional damage done to children of abusive parents has long been measured by psychologists and psychiatrists. Your brother is going through therapy; have you done so yourself? You could likely benefit from it. A good therapist could help you get over anger for your mother and help you deal better with others in social settings, learn how to accept help, and learn how to not be so easily offended by others. I can understand how you might get upset when others clumsily criticize you, perhaps without enough regard for your feelings. This is why a professional can help. They are trained to address such issues in ways that do not make the client withdraw even further into himself.
What you need to do, Cadaver, is not only recognize that you have issues, but take steps to try and alleviate them. You also need to learn how to take criticism. That is not easy, especially in your emotionally vulnerable state, but it is something that mature people do.
Papabear sympathizes with the loss of your grandmother, which led, apparently, to the dissolution of your family. I also applaud you for building your own family. That is a wonderful thing, and something I have always recommended to furries who have had little luck with blood relations. Family is not necessarily about whom you are related to; family are the people who stick by you and care about you no matter what.
But being part of a family requires your participation as well. It is not enough to cry for someone, nor is being willing to “kill” for someone very helpful or very appealing, especially since the likelihood of your coming into such a situation is rather slim, sort of like promising to rope the moon for someone you love, not to mention it would likely land you in prison or worse. No, what really matters are the small, everyday deeds. Being caring and considerate and helpful to your new family and friends; helping them with little tasks, especially those that aren’t so fun to do. When you endear people to you by being a kind and loving friend and family member, you will soon find that you don’t have to ask for their help. Instead, if they see you in need, they will offer that help before you even have a chance to ask for it. That is what real family does.
Now, Papabear is going to ask you to do something: take some deep breaths and calm down. Nothing in your letter is cause for drastic actions on your part. I can tell you from personal experience that suicide is an incredibly unpleasant and selfish act (my mother—a wonderful person—hated me for a long time after my attempt, which is how I learned a painful lesson on how not to treat loved ones in my life). Life is worth living, you just need to learn how to live it. If you truly feel suicidal, then you need to call a suicide hotline, such as (800) 273-8255. There are many many other sources on the Internet you can find easily.
Papabear suspects that many of your problems stem from a deprived childhood leading to stunted emotional growth. If you can, I strongly recommend therapy. Do not take this as a form of being stigmatized. Many people benefit from therapy, and it doesn’t mean you are “crazy,” just in need of a little professional counseling.
Furthermore, you need to refocus your life into one of giving, not taking. That doesn’t mean you have to donate a kidney or give all your money away. As Mother Theresa said, “It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.”
Loving others is not about weeping for their troubles. Loving others is not about being willing to kill for them. These are not giving acts. Loving is about freely giving of your time, your friendship, your companionship, your sympathy and empathy. When you give of yourself, your life has value, and when your life has value, your spirit will soar, your depression fades to a dim memory, and your heart knows joy.
Be comforted. Love your life by loving others.
Papabear
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