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by Voss Foster

“And as the mock death took over, the Hollow was gone, and he once again found himself ensconced in the Crossing, staring at the sky and waiting for more truths to be revealed in this space between breath and rot.”

Light. Beauteous, dappled light filtering through autumn leaves. SleekClaw allowed the impotent brightness to pass over his voluminous gray coat as he waited for something to appear to him. It would, in time.

There. Yes, yes, off to the right, on the very edge of that eyeless vision, the sight above sight of the Crossing. The leafy treetops parted to reveal stars, gleaming in a sky too bright to ever allow them. They danced and twinkled, and SleekClaw took their meaning, piecing it together as naturally as curling his long, bald tail around the branches of the oak trees.

The stars that were not stars played out scenes of potentiality, but SleekClaw was not a joey, had not been for some years now. He filtered the chaff and found the true meaning, the message that lay in that interstitial space between breath and the rot. He saw the jaybirds at their nest, cornflower bright and tittering over eggs… just eggs.

In a snap of the universe, SleekClaw was dragged from the Crossing, back to his true body and the sweltering heat. His pink nose twitched in the too familiar aromas of warm dust and damp decay. Yes, yes, he had returned from the Crossing once again, and now lay curled around himself in the pose of mock death, his mouth dry from hanging open.

He slowly shook himself to awareness, and the blue jays stood back, waiting for him to speak. Yet the Crossing clung to SleekClaw this time. The sorrowful prophecies always did, dragging on his fur like heavy downpour. He glanced around at the others gathered in the Hollow, the massive white oak long ago rotted away from the inside. The church of the Crossing.

Other possums—BlackSnout and MangleEye and FairWhisker closest of them all—delivered news, while some of the younger prophets still lay stiff in the thrall of the Crossing, the mock death, with serpents standing by to help interpret their visions, teach them eventually to read the stars for themselves. Tiny blue beetles off in the distance catered to tiny querants, slugs and snails and other beetles in less brilliant hues.

Finally, SleekClaw raised himself to all fours and locked eyes with the female jay. “Apologies, TornTail.” SleekClaw’s voice was weak and bristly with thirst. “Your clutch will see no sunlight this cycle.”

Her neck feathers ruffled, and her mate StoneBeak nuzzled his head against her throat. Neither said a word or made so much as the faintest twitter as they departed the Hollow.

“Are you well, SleekClaw?”

A sinuous voice raised his fur to standing, and SleekClaw turned to see a two-foot long rope of scales, onyx and obsidian and jet. He nodded slowly to the high priestess. “I am in better straits than TornTail and StoneBeak, your grace.”

What in all of creation had brought InkScale from her den to speak with him of all possums?

“The news you deliver, it is never easy. But rest easier knowing TornTail was aware of the answer.” InkScale’s forked tongue flicked in and out as she paused, and her coal dark eyes went hazy. “She came seeking a hope she knew was not there. You have told her nothing she did not know, but merely confirmed the fear she dared not face alone.”

“The Crossing reveals no lies.” SleekClaw nodded. “Did you have need of me, your grace?”

“I came simply to make the rounds. I was needed in the Hollow today as it was.” The tip of her tail waved gently back and forth, kicking up tiny, broken fragments of dried leaves. “And sometimes, even one as experienced in the Crossing as you may struggle to deliver the harshest of news. It would not be unreasonable to think you may need support.”

“Thank you for your kindness, your grace.” SleekClaw scampered to the nearby cistern and drank his fill before returning to InkScale. “If there is nothing more, your grace, I must make another Crossing.”

“Twice in one day?” Another flickering exit of the tongue as those shining black eyes fixed dead on him. “You have recently turned three, SleekClaw. Perhaps it is best to slow and allow the younger among your colleagues to absorb the brunt of the work. So many Crossings for one so old… you risk never returning.”

“My bloodline lasts long, your grace.” He failed to mention this would be his third Crossing of the day, not his second. But it was true that he likely had more years to play with than the average possum. His mother turned to rot at seven, his father nearly equaling her. “I’m far from the inevitable rot.”

InkScale hissed with what passed for a laugh among the serpents. “Well, do not be foolish. After this, please see yourself home. You are too respected and skilled and sought-after a possum to see rot for your stubbornness. There could be riots in the forest at your passing.”

“Of course, your grace.” He had no other appointments that day, anyway. But as she slithered away, SleekClaw let his mind wander: what appointment did she have in the Hollow this day? For FlameTail, king of the hawks and commander for the guard? Or for JadeEye and the other fish?

Possums spoke to the individual, to the household. They could prophecy births and deaths, fortune and famine, travel and solitude. But InkScale and the other serpents?

The Crossing revealed to them the greater machinations of the forest, and the world at large. Far too great for a mere possum to comprehend.

The arrival of SleekClaw’s next querant, a steel-gray squirrel called StormPaw, pulled him from his own thoughts. He raised his tail and flicked it to signal old MottleTail. No skill for the Crossing himself, he aided those who could venture into the realm of prophecy.

SleekClaw and StormPaw exchanged niceties until MottleTail gave the signal. SleekClaw nodded. “Please stand behind me.”

StormPaw scampered that way and, once he was safely out of the way, SleekClaw nodded and MottleTail leapt, all gnashing fangs and tearing claws.

Fear chilled through SleekClaw’s veins. It stopped his heart and made his body rigid. And as the mock death took over, the Hollow was gone, and he once again found himself ensconced in the Crossing, staring at the sky and waiting for more truths to be revealed in this space between breath and rot.

* * *

SleekClaw padded his way home after that third Crossing. He’d been able to deliver better news to StormPaw, that his mate would find her way back home within the week after being missing. She was not prey. She was not a victim of humanity. She was injured, and would require care. But breathing and heading home.

It was the heat of summer, thus the light remained bright and full up above, SleekClaw stopped at a nearby stream to wash his paws and face in the cool stream, and once more drink his fill. Tomorrow would be simpler. Tomorrow, he had but one Crossing scheduled. Tomorrow, perhaps, his thirst would not be so unslakable.

Whatever he said to the high priestess, he was more and more aware of his own mortality with each Crossing, more worried each time the jolt of fear, the threat against his person, sent him into the rigid mock death. Eventually, the death was not mock. The rot was truly inevitable for every living creature, even InkScale herself.

SleekClaw moved back from the water and went for his tree. Not far, now. He rested in a hollow twenty feet up. A comfortable, secluded home. Being as skilled as he was in navigating the Crossing, he was able to keep it secure with the odd favor to the hawks and eagles who guarded the treetops.

His nose caught something on the air, something washed in filth. And a moment later, gleaming talons swooped from the sky. Black. Sharp.

Aimed for his head.

Fear sent SleekClaw rigid on the ground, and he didn’t even have time to register the thud of his body before the Crossing faded into him. His panic was immediately buried beneath too much training.

There were no leaves here, and there was no bright sky. Endless lapis filled his vision, twinkling with a hundred, a thousand stars. SleekClaw’s eyes could not hope to follow each one through its dance. The Crossing… no, it had never done this to him before. No being ever breathing could possibly comprehend this much, could possibly piece it all together. No serpent, not even the high priestess herself. Not even the distant and fabled horned creatures, the fainting, four-legged ones to the west. Supposedly greater even than the high priestess, able to prophecy the fate of the universe all at once… but surely even they could not see the answer in this cacophony of light.

Surely… yes, yes, SleekClaw was not in the Crossing. SleekClaw was caught in the rot, for it would take the eternity only afforded by death to read these stars, to garner the truth of this prophecy.

He floated weightless for a moment, or a minute, or an hour, or a year. What was time? But slowly, surely, the dance and twinkle of those stars in the dark above began to coalesce. Could SleekClaw have cried, he would have. Could his fur have stood on end, it would have.

This was glory. At least as he succumbed to the great and inevitable rot, SleekClaw knew the forest would thrive. Ignored by humans. Allowed to flourish for… for a long time. Longer than SleekClaw could see. Beyond the rattle of his last breath.

What would have been his last breath, before today.

Finally, with the message clear in his mind, SleekClaw closed his eyes.

His bones ached. His skin was tight. His throat was ragged… yet he drew breath.

Faster than he’d moved in a month, SleekClaw scrabbled to his feet. That was the Crossing. Not the rot. Yes, yes, it was a sure thing, no other explanation even as his mind fought against it. He had been in the Crossing. He had been… not in his own Crossing. Not in any possum’s Crossing, with leaves to obscure the vision of the sky above. And certainly not in the infinitesimally insignificant crossing of the blue beetles. They could no more comprehend the vast vault of the sky than any higher creature could comprehend them.

This… no. No. SleekClaw would not even think it out in the open forest. He scurried to his tree, all notions of the attack and the fear washing away from him in the face of some newer, greater, more insidious notion. Yes, yes he was lucky to have survived… but left with this new weight hanging from his throat.

He slipped into his hollow and allowed the shadows to hug around him… and only then did he dare to think the blasphemy, to consider… to consider that perhaps he had seen the Crossing of the serpents. The Crossing of InkScale herself.

* * *

Morning saw SleekClaw not at the Hollow, but wending his way through the underbrush toward the edges of the forest, toward the dens of the serpents. Fewer trees allowed for more sunlight to stream in so they might warm themselves in the summer sunlight, and build their dens in the softer earth. As SleekClaw rounded a smooth, speckled stone, he caught sight of half a dozen of them all sunning before the opening of the day.

Fear rose in SleekClaw. His instincts told him to flee. But instead he padded forward, careful to make as little sound as possible, until he came across the slash of night that was the high priestess.

He scratched a smooth, shiny claw against the flat stone she stretched across. “Your grace?”

Slowly, InkScale twisted her head around to face him. “SleekClaw. What would drive you into our patch of the forest?”

Her timbre and the coal-eyed stares of her kindred drove SleekClaw’s fur to stand on end. This was not a place for any possum, and certainly not one never requested. Still, he had made the journey, and to turn back now… no, no he needed to speak with the high priestess post haste. “I experienced a Crossing last night, in the wild, after I had left the Hollow.”

“Were you injured?”

“No. Sore from the fall to the ground.” He snuffled and kept his head down, hiding his eyes from the too bright glare of direct sunlight as best he could. “I needed to speak with… someone who would know better. I could think of no one more capable of assisting in my interpretation of this than your grace.”

“An unsanctioned Crossing?” Lazily, she slithered around to give him more direct attention. “Well speak, then. What was seen when the leaves parted?”

SleekClaw swallowed down a knot of trepidation so the words might have room to slip free. “Your grace… there were no leaves. There was only sky. Sky and a thousand stars to interpret.”

The hair on SleekClaw’s back stood on end once more. He felt the serpentine gaze of a dozen serpents upon him, prophet and warrior alike, and the distant rattle from one of them nearly sent SleekClaw into another unsanctioned Crossing.

“Are you not mistaken?” InkScale spoke slowly, carefully, never removing her eyes from SleekClaw. “Surely you don’t mean to imply that you saw no leaves at all.”

“Your grace, I would never deign to deceive you or any serpent in this forest.” No, no he couldn’t imagine it. Even if it meant his head between curving fangs, lying to the high priestess about what he had seen… the prophecies of the Crossing were for the good of all inhabitants in the forest.

“The possum, he speaks blasphemy.” RustBelly, a massive copperhead, whispered behind SleekClaw. “A possum is not gifted with such visions. This one has lost his touch for the Crossing, perhaps. And should be retired.”

“To say such things, RustBelly.” The high priestess slid from her rocky perch. SleekClaw resisted the urge to flinch back from her sudden closeness. There was something sinister to the slither of her tar-dark body, the constant flickering of her forked tongue, the unbreaking eye contact she held with him even as the tip of her tail finally slid free from the stone. “SleekClaw is a possum, but to suggest that one so accomplished at traversing and interpreting the Crossing would lose his faculties in less than a single day? Perhaps you are unaware of this fine possum’s history.” She whipped her head around and shimmied past SleekClaw, climbed halfway up onto RustBelly’s stone. Her tone dripped with more venom than even RustBelly’s own bite. “SleekClaw has advanced beyond the need of interpretation from the outside. At three, he performs multiple Crossings in a given day. As a joey, he foresaw the next three litters of his mother with striking accuracy.” Her tongue flickered, barely glancing along RustBelly’s snout. “There are many things in this forest. Do not be so quick to judge a… fluke as blasphemy.”

She spun back around and wrapped her tail sinuously around SleekClaw’s middle. Just for a moment before letting him go. Intended to be comforting or reassuring, but SleekClaw’s mouth tasted of bitterness all the same. She was no constrictor… but she could surely distract him long enough to sink her fangs into his flesh if she so desired.

Yet it passed, and InkScale locked eyes with him once more. “Come to the Hollow. As my guest. We will discuss this prophecy of yours.”

It wasn’t just the Hollow. No, no, SleekClaw knew from the hushed disbelief filtering through the dawn light what was meant: he had been invited to the high priestess’s own chambers in the great rotted oak.

Where fear had blossomed moments before, now pride burned bright beneath SleekClaw’s fur. “Thank you for the invitation, your grace.”

“Of course. What else to do with such a fine prophet as you?”

* * *

The chamber was large. Large enough for InkScale to stretch out to her full length and still not touch the farthest walls, even leaving room for SleekClaw’s own considerable heft. Artificial barriers had been constructed of spare bark, and various shiny human trinkets adorned the walls, gleaming and sparkling in the dappled forest light.

It was there SleekClaw recounted his prophecy for the first time, allowing the words to pass between his fangs. Sometimes in great, boisterous shouts of the glory of sunlight and food and fertility for all, but just as often in hushed whispers of safety. Safety from the threats of the past, the ravaging fires and great yellowed behemoths who tore down trees to be carted away by the humans.

The following years would be hallmarked by prosperity for all. “That is the prophecy I received, your grace. In the leafless Crossing, told by the dance of a thousand stars.”

There was silence for one too many beats of SleekClaw’s heart before she finally responded. “This is good news you bring for the forest, SleekClaw. While I cannot say for certain why the message was gifted to you above all serpents, this is heady with joy.” Yet her voice remained demure and monotone. “We will make the announcement soon.” For just a moment, SleekClaw could have sworn he saw the fringe around her head flare, but no, no. Surely a trick of the shadow against her black scales.

“Of course you understand that we will make the announcement, SleekClaw. The serpents. Myself, namely.”

What? “I’m afraid I don’t understand, your grace. It was my prophecy, and there are dictates—”

“SleekClaw. Dear SleekClaw. You are becoming wise to the burden of the serpents. In that cobalt sky, studded with diamonds beyond what one can ever hope to count… those are the forest’s prophecies. They must be revealed and interpreted for the good of the forest. No serpent, not even myself as high priestess, can claim ownership of such messages. Not in the way a birth or a death may be claimed by you and your kind.”

“Forgive my ignorance, your grace, but if there is no ownership, why would my prophecy be delivered by the serpents?”

“Who would trust such a message coming from a possum? No one will believe a word of it.” She nuzzled her snout against his and whispered cloyingly in his ear. “You are unique among possums for receiving this, but with that uniqueness comes an even greater burden than what the serpents must bear. You are alone in the world, dear SleekClaw, and that isolation is both curse and blessing.” She pulled back and, just for another moment, he caught that momentary flare around her head again. “Allow me to take some of this heavy mantle thrust upon you and deliver the news. Otherwise, you will be hounded by the forest as a whole. And I dread what your fellow possums may do to you if they find out the Crossing has favored you above all others. You have seen the damage such razor bites may inflict upon flesh. A gruesome way to end things, when you could have breathed long and been truthful.”

“They would not attack, your grace.” No, no they wouldn’t. He would be lauded. He would be the first among the possums to finally reach the highest heights. No serpent, surely… but the possum above all possums.

“Have we not seen it happen time and again, SleekClaw? Jealousy is an ugly thing. After all, MangleEye was not always called MangleEye. In his youth, he took down an invading serpent all on his own. But it was no serpent who scratched and chewed his eye from its socket. That came from the possums. Jealous, and seeking a way to deflate his ego after such success.” She unsheathed her tail from the folds of her body and, once again, wrapped it gently around SleekClaw’s middle. “I dare not imagine what they would do to you, should this get out.”

SleekClaw would not be allowed to let loose his prophecy. His body chilled at the notion, and then chilled further at his own reaction. Perhaps he was just a jealous little possum with no understanding of this great new burden. But still prophets always delivered their own messages from the Crossing.

But when he made to object, no breath would enter his lungs. InkScale continued to wrap his belly and his back, coiling tighter around him. But no… no, InkScale was no constrictor, and her tail was there in clear sight again. Bands of ivory and carnelian wrapped him. GildedSnow, a kingsnake. Yes, yes, there was no mistaking that pattern.

He scrabbled and gnashed, but she remained out of reach of any of his defenses. All the while, InkScale watched on, dark eyes fixed and tongue flickering.

There was no Crossing for SleekClaw to enter. Only blackness filled his vision.

* * *

SleekClaw never expected to awaken, yet he found himself in an unfamiliar, cool space. Earthen walls, no sunlight. Each breath tasted of soil and leaf mold and stale blood.

“You’re awake.”

At the sound of that voice, every memory rushed back to SleekClaw. He scampered away from the slowly clarifying head before him. “Your grace, I apologize for my insolence. The message should be delivered as you see fit, of course.” Anything to spare himself. She’d taken him to her den. No creature but a serpent entered the den of the high priestess and left intact. Perhaps he could take one singular serpent in combat. After all, MangleEye had.

But if he was forced to murder the high priestess in her den, the forest itself would be his enemy. And he was not old, but not a young possum either.

“Calm, SleekClaw.” InkScale did not approach. “I mean you no harm. My apologies for the… unfortunate events that unfolded in the Hollow. GildedSnow is a faithful guard and she… misunderstood one of my movements for a signal. She will be dealt with.”

SleekClaw believed not one syllable of those falsehoods. Not once had InkScale attempted to stop the attack. But he didn’t want to rot. “Apology accepted, your grace.”

“Are you well?”

Yes, yes she was manipulating him, smoothing the waters. And SleekClaw was happy to have them smoothed if it meant he scurried from her den with breath in his lungs. “I am, your grace.”

“Good. Please relax, dear SleekClaw. I mean you no harm. In fact… I have reconsidered my position. I have consulted with the Crossing… and perhaps it would be wise to allow you to deliver the prophecy. If you still would like to do so, of course. We are capable of keeping such a fine, unique possum as yourself safe.”

SleekClaw waited for something more to come, some other message to pass over those black scales. But no retractions. No admonishments. No prerequisites or cautions. “Is it to the will of the forest, your grace?”

“If the forest saw fit to send you this prophecy, then the forest must see fit for you to deliver this prophecy, yes? And of any message you could pass on, this is the least likely to incite trouble.” Her black form shifted in the darkness of the burrow. “Word has already spread of the remarkable possum. All who wish to hear will arrive at the Hollow at dusk to receive the word and behold… the great prophet who rose from the rabble.” She coiled herself up as she drew nearer. “And… well, those who are already speaking protest will be… handled.”

“Protest?”

“As I had warned you, not all possums are gracious creatures in the face of exceptionality. Many are already outraged at what they see as a slight by one of their own. But I assure you, you have our protection.”

No, no, it didn’t sound right. Not the possums he knew. Not BlackSnout or FairWhisker or PearlFang or any of the others. SleekClaw would not allow such belief of his brothers and sisters to take hold. Not here, not anywhere. “Your grace, if I could speak with them before visiting the Hollow, I may be able to communicate with them. Such… lowly matters are best delivered by a possum.” Deprecating his kin would be his shield against the fangs and the venom of InkScale and RustBelly and all the other serpents of the forest.

The high priestess inclined her head side to side for a long while before finally answering. “If you feel that is best, SleekClaw. But please do take care. You are very important to us. A mere possum receiving a prophecy of this magnitude… you are a beacon of hope to all the others. Even to the blue beetles. There is something beyond where they all are now, and that something is you.”

“Thank you, your grace. I will make the journey… and return to the Hollow before dusk.”

“See that you do, SleekClaw.”

* * *

The trees were all atwitter, and it took no time to hear from the birds and the squirrels and the other possums where to find the disgruntled among them. SleekClaw descended into a sinkhole and was met with a dozen of his kin… including FairWhisker and BlackSnout themselves.

But it was FairWhisker who scampered forward and spoke. “The anointed child deigns to pay us a visit.”

“I’ve come to speak to you.” With her here… it couldn’t be as InkScale insisted. “There is word that… you would all do me harm. I’m certain this is foolish.”

“Do you harm? Why ever would we wish you harm, the servant of the high priestess and all her trickery?”

“Trickery? I can assure you, I received the prophecy. I entered the leafless Crossing and saw the truth of what is to come.”

“No one is doubting your prophecy, SleekClaw.” She snuffled the air. “But you reek of the serpents. You’ve bought into all you’ve been told, even though you were seen being carried out of the Hollow limp. Not stiffly ensconced in the Crossing.” She snorted, sending up boring dust from the floor of the cavern. “We thought you would rot like the others who came before you, but come to find it’s worse.”

“What others? FairWhisker, what is this about?”

Murmuring from the other possums. She waited until they had finished before finally speaking again. “SleekClaw… each of us here has seen the leafless Crossing. Each of us has brought word to InkScale or RustBelly. And each of us was lucky enough to escape the inevitable rot.”

“Unlike the others.” BlackSnout’s deep rasp filtered from the crowd. “Twice as many as you see here before you brought word and found themselves a sumptuous feast for the serpents. Even those who could never so much as glimpse the Crossing fed upon the flesh of prophets.”

“We were spared only for convenience,” said FairWhisker. “Too many prophets disappearing all at once would push the bounds of suspicion too far.”

“I survived only because ThreePaw had vanished the day before and their bellies were too full.” BlackSnout turned back around and entered into the murmurs of the other possums.”

“Eaten or not, when all is done the high priestess delivers their messages as her own. Our messages.” FairWhisker’s voice softened, and the fine white filaments on either side of her snout drooped. “You are no better or worse than any other of us, breathing or rotting, yet here you are. You, ready to deliver a prophecy. You, already aristocratic among possums… exalted even further. Carried out by InkScale to quell any disquiet among the rest of us, to show the world that possums are equal, of course. So long as they are… socially acceptable.”

“This is not my doing, FairWhisker.” Could any of this be possible? Could the high priestess… yes. Yes, yes, SleekClaw saw it easily. Her venom could sedate, if not kill, and then the other serpents could do their own work with the unmoving body. Or GildedSnow could simply wrap the breath from their lungs. Either way, the feast remained the same. “SilverTail… was there ever a hawk attack?”

“Yes. From FireTail. On orders. She now rots for daring to reveal that the humans would come again and we would lose more of our own to their flames.”

SleekClaw squeezed his eyes shut. InkScale herself had delivered that message and been haled as a hero of the forest… again. Her warning minimized those who succumbed to rot.

But it was SilverTail’s warning.

“You understand why we can no longer remain silent?” FairWhisker’s voice was solemn, sober. “This has gone on longer than any one of us has drawn breath.”

SleekClaw looked around at them all… and he did. “What did the Crossing show you, FairWhisker?”

“Which time?” She turned around and headed back into the throng. “You are special, SleekClaw, but no more or less than any one of us. I can see you as you… but you are not unique to the serpents, no matter how sweetly they whisper into your ear. You are merely… respected… and useful.”

There were no more answers to be offered there, and SleekClaw was uncertain he would want them if they were available.

* * *

The Hollow rumbled with the gathering of the forest. Dozens and dozens of possums, hundreds of tiny blue beetles, jays and hawks circling above the felled tree, being brought news by smaller birds who could fit more easily inside the now packed Hollow.

On a pedestal of stacked twigs and branches, SleekClaw waited in silence for the sun to dip low.

InkScale twined around herself lazily. “Was your visit to the rioters fruitful?”

He didn’t miss their elevation from protesters to rioters. “I believe so, your grace.”

“Good. I hope this is peaceful for you. An announcement of such magnitude should not be marred by such disquiet.” She pulled close to him, close enough that SleekClaw could smell only the fresh blood of her last meal, and whispered so softly he could barely hear her over the sound of his own breath. “You, of course, would not be so foolish as to spread what you learned. I did tell you, the leafless Crossing comes with a burden. The good of the forest is all that is important. Sometimes, possum blood waters the roots of the trees. But to speak it… I’m certain such a fine possum as yourself can see the problem there. And remember how soft your underbelly is, and know that RustBelly’s venom is much more potent than mine… and FairWhisker much smaller and more delicate than you.”

“I am aware of all of these things, your grace.” Of course she knew what had happened in that sinkhole. Everything, even secrets, found their way back to the serpents at one point or another, and all serpents answered to the high priestess.

“Good.” She pulled back, her tongue flicking the air. “Then let us begin.” She slithered to the front of the pedestal and the Hollow immediately quieted. “I take it word of this event has spread far enough, the circumstances need not be explained: a possum has ascended to new heights, to new revelations from the Crossing. This is hope for all among us that we may improve beyond what could ever be thought possible.” She paused to let her own echo fade. “SleekClaw… devout and true and skilled SleekClaw… he has seen things of the forest that equal what I and the other serpents are known to deliver. And as is tradition, he reveals his prophecy from his own lips.”

The crowd erupted in noise again as she slipped back, and SleekClaw padded forward. But this time, the crowd did not stay quiet. There in the back, the other possums had gathered, and they shouted and scampered and made as big a cacophony as they could manage.

FairWhisker was not among them.

SleekClaw raised his voice as loud as he could manage. “Quiet, all. News of the forest is important… and it is good. For years, the forest will thrive.” But not the possums. Not under InkScale. Not under the serpents. “Fertile. Well-fed. Happy. Undisturbed.”

The other possums had quieted now… in no small part due to the presence of constrictors flanking them. Including GildedSnow herself, seemingly no worse off for her “mistake.”

SleekClaw swallowed everything he wanted to screech to the crowd, the truth in all the deception. There was no fighting this power, the sinuous shadow of a priestess behind him.

Not today… and not ever if he made a fool of himself and got FairWhisker eaten.

“This is my prophecy: we will prosper. We will prosper even after I rot in the ground… praise be to her grace InkScale, for surely she will lead us down this path.”

The crowd lapped his words like sweet honey from the hive. SleekClaw turned to leave.

The high priestess blocked his exit with her tail. “Well done, dear SleekClaw. I trust you will… work alongside me.” This time, it was no mistake or trick of light. Her head flared out, and it stayed flared. “Close.”

Close enough to be watched. Yes, yes, he saw her unspoken words. “Of course, your grace. Where else would I belong?” He could not fight this power. No one could fight this power.

But that was not a prophecy. That was not marked out in the dance of the thousand stars. Perhaps a thousand more possums would have to rot before it happened. Perhaps his very next Crossing would reveal the truth, that they could never leave the scaly grip of the serpents behind.

But for the moment… SleekClaw knew the reality of the Crossing. And he was palatable. By the grace of the high priestess, he was regal enough for the forest to accept, so long as she never rescinded her praise.

Acceptance was survival, and survival was the only chance for rebellion one day, should the Crossing permit.

For the moment… yes, yes, there was possibility in his newfound place among the venomous. Perhaps he would never utilize it. Perhaps he would take his last breath soon in an embrace of carnelian and ivory.

But perhaps not. And ‘perhaps not’ was all that remained to cling to.

 

* * *

About the Author

Voss Foster lives in the middle of the Eastern Washington desert, where he writes science fiction and fantasy from inside a single-wide trailer. He is the author of Evenstad Media Presents as well as the Office of Preternatural Affairs. His short work can be found across the internet, including Alternative Truths, Vox.com, and Flame Tree Publishing’s Heroic Fantasy. His work often focuses on issues of diversity and inclusion, and always with a lyrical bent. When not writing, he can be found cooking, singing, cuddling the dogs, and of course, reading, though rarely all at the same time. More information can be found at http://vossfoster.blogspot.com.

We churn through a chunky bit of news just before MFF 2019.

This episode is sponsored by Twin Tail Creations. Use coupon codes REDWOLF or BLUEFOX to save 15% on silicone products during checkout.

Download MP3

Link Roundup:

• Eurasian internet registry runs out of IPv4 subnets
  • Related Tweet
• Twitter to remove inactive accounts
• Cow VR
  • Tweet 1
  • Article
  • Tweet 2
• Logo publishes guide on how to be a gay pup
• Ash Coyote releases trailer for The Fandom 2019 Documentary
• Cards Against Humanity announces AI cards
• Defcon talk about cloning Telegram sessions
• Tweet meme about professional fields mentions furries
• Newly raised 12-4 bridge still opens cans
  • Crash Azarel Visits Bridgesona
• Stanley Parable puts out a new trailer blaming fans for a delay
• Cows don’t have fingers and can’t insult Devin Nunes

News:

• Dorsai Leaves Anthrocon
• Blucifer is Vandalized in Denver
• Murderer Says he Served his Life Sentence when Died in Hospital
• Jesus Phil Collins
• Arizona man charged with robbery for burrito heist
• Florida man tells police wind blew bag of cocaine into car
• Wild boar discover and snort £17,000 of cocaine in Tuscan forest
• Psilocybin As “Breakthrough Treatment” For Severe Depression

Emails:

• “An interesting question” – Voltage Lynx

[Live] Voreclosure

First off, our belated Thanksgiving gratitude to YOU, our readers. We hope to keep informing you for years to come! Now then… do you remember when we covered a graphic novel called Fuzzy Baseball, written and illustrated by John Steven Gurney? Well he’s back again in full color with Fuzzy Baseball 2: Ninja Baseball Blast. “Talk about away games! The Fernwood Valley Fuzzies will fly to the far side of the Foamy Sea to take the field against the Sashimi City Ninjas. This will be the first time any Big League Baseball team has faced a team from the mysterious Manga Baseball League.” The fight of many centuries is out there now in hardcover from Papercutz.

image c. 2019 Papercutz

Bandit follows up from the last montage with takes from BLFC ’17! SEE MORE AT: http://www.TheRaccoonsDen.com FACEBOOK: http://www.Facebook.com/TheRaccoonsDen TWITTER: http://www.Twitter.com/TheRaccoonsDen FURAFFINITY: http://www.FurAffinity.net/user/TheRaccoonsDen INSTAGRAM: http://www.Instagram.com/TheRaccoonsDen #TRDs8 #BLFC2017 #FurryFandom

Art by Alterkitten (Furaffinity / Twitter)

It’s right after Thanksgiving, and have you had enough stuffing? Want more?

Until 2014, there were few or no openly advertised, public-access furry fetish parties in the world. Then San Francisco got Wild Things at The Citadel, a BDSM dungeon club. (Wild Things is now Animal Farm.) It’s an opportunity to visit a licensed, safety-minded, full-time venue in the middle of the city. Any curious visitor can have a healthy, nonjudgemental experience of an often-hidden layer of the furry community. If the media ever mentions it, it’s either “Gross! Consenting adults are having sex!” Or, they collaborate with furries to spread coy PR and euphemisms to deny it exists. If it existed of course THEY don’t do it!

That meant no access unless you score a private invite from the right people for the special convention room parties. If you don’t know them, or you’re shy or worried about that setting, you just have to feel left out. But now you can visit a safe club for it. The popularity of it shows how unreal the PR can be.

So, what really happens here?

Everything. Got a murrsuit with a hidden SPH? Bring it and hide nothing. Have a partner whose kinks align with yours? Bring them, or come find a new one. Or, just come casually and enjoy the lounge part of The Citadel where nothing naughty is happening — just chatting, a counter full of snacks, and maybe, making friends with the person(s) you want to drag into the dungeon on a leash for a frisky good time.

Shy newcomers welcome! People who think they’re too clean-cut, you can come too, but don’t be surprised if you leave with stories of things you never thought you’d be caught doing!

Party like this:

• A dungeon full of gear and toys.
• Murrsuiters, pet players, and any animal costuming or gear are encouraged, with lockers and headless lounge.
• Safety supplies provided (house rules discourage going raw dog unless with your SO.)
• Lounge has lots of couches and chill space, with a full kitchen serving snacks.
• A light-up disco floor with DJ.
• Volunteers are needed for setup, cleanup, kitchen, and more. Want to help run demos?

Get involved, find friends, and volunteer:

• Animal Farm Telegram Chat
• Fetlife call for volunteers — free entry!
• Fetlife event page

Happy spanksgiving everyfur

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) November 29, 2019

Remember All! We have an upcoming party!

Saturday, November 30, 2019
8:00 PM – 1:00 AM  

Location: SF Citadel – 181 Eddy Street, San Francisco

Cost: $25 cash at door, $26 credit card

We hope to see all you pet players, furries, trainers, and anyone that enjoys a fun night! pic.twitter.com/BiVXN1FhD6

— Animal Farm party (formerly Wild Things) (@AnimalFarmSF) November 7, 2019

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

Our thanks to Changa Lion over at Furry.Today for letting us know about this: Mooneye Studios have recently released the game Lost Ember for the PS4 system. “Go on a journey as a wolf able to possess any animal you meet and [make them] her companion. Experience the contrasting stories of the fall of mankind and the lush life in the world that nature reclaimed.” Check out the preview over at the official Playstation web site.

image c. 2019 Mooneye Studios

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

Here’s Part 3 for yesterday’s article, which asked: If you could do a furry travel tour, where would you go? When I got invited to the Adult Swim Festival in Los Angeles for their second animation/comedy/music event, I added a side trip to the nearby Prancing Skiltaire house. That’s a shrine to cartoon animal art made by the founders of the first furry con, who open it to fans by the hundreds. It was all started by an invite from “Dr. Girlfriend.”

Fan video screening at the Prancing Skiltaire

House resident Changa showed parody videos where he recut Disney’s Zootopia to emulate iconic TV show openings. There’s a channel of them that goes with curating videos for Furry.Today, one of many projects run from the house including The Confurence Archive, InFurNation and the Ursa Major Awards.

What Dr. Girlfriend says about visiting:

Going to the “iconic” furry house was interesting. Rod gave Patch & I the “nickel tour” which was awesome! What stood out to me was the vast collection of animal characters, including: ceramics, plushies, anime, drawings, zines, videos & so much more.

They told me that they have furry parties every month that have gotten to around 300 people! Whoah. Also that the local In-N-Out restaurant banned the furries from congregating there because their patio was so small. Hehe. I know a little about being kicked out of venues (public spaces?) as someone who helps organize Bike Parties, which sometimes get into the thousands of bicycle riders having a dance party on the street.

Anyways, everyone was super friendly and they even had Christmas furry art up (before Thanksgiving, but who’s counting?) These guys are immersed in the culture, and there’s even a documentary coming out about the fur-dorks that I got a mini sneak peak of! Look forward to The Fandom in 2020!

The self-proclaimed “dorks” and originators of some of the first furry cons and Prancing Skiltaire house gave us an interesting and informative look into the heart & love & art that goes into a fandom. Also we got dinner together and it was delicious and full of great conversation and good vibes.

Director of ‘The Fandom’ Ash Coyote talks about visiting for a video shoot — look for a trailer launching this week on Black Friday!

Dr. Girlfriend mentioned that we got a look at the documentary that co-director Eric Risher, Chipfox and Ash Coyote have been at work on all year, after a successful $32,000 launch on Kickstarter. Ash is excited to have a trailer almost ready to show. She sent a few words about visiting the house before us, plus photos from the video shoot of Rod and Mark. Ash says:

When we first approached the story of our community’s history, it was a little hard to find a “ground zero” for the birth of the fandom. As with many subcultures, the concepts from which they are built tend to occur in unison and then coalesce into something bigger. This was very much the case with the furry fandom.

Starting in the late 1970’s, Mark and Rod played a pivotal role in the shaping of our early community, and laid the framework for a lot of our community as it exists today. They hosted furry parties at science fiction conventions since the mid 1980’s and put on the first furry con in 1989 (Confurence 0).

Mark and Rod are the grandparents of the furry fandom. They take center stage in our project, and help us to explore our origins in animation, art and community set to the backdrop of the Skiltaire House.

After-travel chat with a few good furs

Patch: Just did an awesome pilgrimage to the holiest shrine of furry.

Chipfox: They wanted shirts from us and I felt bad that we didn’t print extras >.<

Patch: I think they have enough furry stuff though i still brought them more. Maybe enough shirts will be demanded to make more.

Aris: Where is this??

Changa Lion: Oldest furry house that started in the 80s. Prancing Skiltaire in SoCal.

Arrkay: If someone had the funds to do a travel blog, what would the stops of the “furry pilgrimage” be? Prancing Skiltaire is the obvious place to start. At least one major con per continent? Japan’s fox themed new year or cat festivals?

Cosmo: You’d have to include Anthrocon as the oldest con still running. MFF as the largest. Eurofurence for the oldest in Europe. Japan cat festivals, Chinese New Year festivals might be a good shout too.

Arrkay: Are there major art installations of anthro statues or artwork hung in galleries?

Cosmo: Actually JMoF would be a good one to hit up on the way. I’d chuck the Greyfriars Bobby and Hachiko statues on for the feels angle.

Arrkay: Corporate vacation hellscapes like Disneyland?

Cosmo: See I was about to say that, but at the same time… while they’ve had an influence on furry, they’ve had enough exposure IMHO.

Arrkay: Are there any mascot museums?

Cosmo: The Mascot Hall of Fame? I’d like to see someone do a tour of old-guard furry artists and writers, the Terrie Smiths, TaniDaReals and Olvens of the world. Fandom history’s a big thing for me, I find it fascinating.

Dralen Dragonfox: I think that right now, there would have to be a visit to Toronto during a Kerfluffle or a Howl.

Arrkay: So far the furry pilgrimage would roughly be:

• Prancing Skiltaire
• Anthrocon (oldest running)
• MFF (Largest)
• Mascot Hall Of Fame (Indianapolis)
• Disneyland/costume heavy themepark
• Furry Gathering of China
• Furry Japan
• FurDu (Australia)
• Eurofurence
• South Afrifur
• Fox Festival New Year in Japan / Cat Festival Japan
• Alternative venue furry party (Toronto’s Kerfluffle or similar)
• Plus any cool statues/art installations or relevant museums.

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

Roo and Tugs are joined by Peter New (voice of Big McIntosh on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), FableCharm, and Sonyalynn to discuss the conclusion of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and the future of the MLP fandom. Will Bronies merge with furries, continue on, or both?





NOW LISTEN!

 
SHOW NOTES
LINKS
Listen to Voyage of the Oeverwal! Catch Oeverwal on your favorite podcatcher or on Twitter! You can follow Peter on Twitter using @ActorPeterNew.



Register for BABSCon! It runs April 10-12, 2020.



Use the promo code TUGS or ROO for 15% off! (Pssst, that's way more than they normally offer!)

Use the promo code FAP to get 5% ON.

 
SHOW BONUS
Wondering where THE GAME went? It's right here! It's in FLAC format, so download and play!
SPECIAL THANKS

Peter New, voice of Big McIntosh and creator of Voyage of the Oeverwal. Catch Oeverwal on your favorite podcatcher or on Twitter! You can follow Peter on Twitter using @ActorPeterNew.
FableCharm, Chair of BABSCon
SonyaLynn, Director of VIP Relations at BABSCon
JakeFoxxx
Ichi

PATREON LOVE
The following people have decided this month’s Fur What It’s Worth is worth actual cash! THANK YOU!

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Rifka, the San Francisco Treat and Baldrik and Adilor

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Lokimutt and Guardian Lion and Dusky and Katchshi and August Otter

Plus Tier Supporters

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McRib Tier Supporters

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MUSIC

Opening Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Century Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Space News Music: Fredrik Miller – Orbit. USA: Bandcamp, 2013. Used with permission. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Fifty Sheds of Grey: Kevin MacLeod – Spy Glass. Licensed under Creative Commons: by Attribution 3.0. Visit Incompetech for more.
Patreon - The Tudor Consort, Inflammatus, Creative Commons, 2010
Closing Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Chill Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Chill Out Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)

  S8E20 – Friendship is Over - Roo and Tugs are joined by Peter New (voice of Big McIntosh on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), FableCharm, and Sonyalynn to discuss the conclusion of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and the future of the MLP fandom.

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

Here’s Part 2 of yesterday’s article, which asked: If you could do a furry travel tour, where would you go? It could include conventions, mainstream destinations, and special stops that a non-furry wouldn’t think of. When I got invited to the Adult Swim Festival in Los Angeles for their second animation/comedy/music event, I made it a mainstream AND fandom mini-tour, with a side trip to the nearby Prancing Skiltaire house. That’s a shrine to cartoon animal art made by the founders of the first furry con, who open it to fans by the hundreds. It was all started by an invite from “Dr. Girlfriend.”

Till next time, LA pic.twitter.com/oUvm6I1x0U

— [adult swim] (@adultswim) November 17, 2019

Festival review from Dr. Girlfriend:

The Adult Swim Festival in Los Angles was sooo much fun! I went with Patch (who was in fursuit) as Dr. GirlFriend from the Venture Brothers cartoon. I had a blast! He was the only one among thousands of goers who was fully fursuited, in his punk-rat suit, and much to my delight and laughter he got a lot of people asking if he was Chuck-E-Cheese (more like Chuck-E-Cheese’s evil twin).

One thing that stands out in my mind is when we both went to the bathroom, he was taking a whiz and someone told him, while he was in suit, “Nu-uh, we aren’t doing this in here”. Hahaha. Such a stigma with fursuits.

Another person said and pointed, “oh hell no!” , to which I quickly took out my laser gun from my garter belt and blasted him away. Other then those two haters, the festival was SUPER receptive to the giant furry rat. Multiple people came up and said they were furry too! There were even several people who recognized Patch from his blog (jeez, soooo popular… what? ever!) I’m not gonna lie, I spend hours upon hours on my costume and he still got more requests then me for pictures (jealous, not jealous).

The highlight of MY night was when someone had asked me where I bought my hat? Biiiiiitch – I made it!!  And that is one of the things I love about the furry community, that people put so much time and effort into their fursona/costume/cosplay/outfit/whatever you call it, that it is truly a work of art.

I loved dancing to music and getting to see a few of the creators of my favorite animations, like Dethklok/Metalocalypse, the new season premiere of Rick and Morty, and some Squidbillies live in action. Overall, it was a total success and we even got a picture together on the official Adult Swim twitter feed!

Posing with LA flavor, Drab Majesty band tee

Next stop: the holiest shrine of furry fandom.

The festival covered Friday and Saturday, then there was a full Sunday to visit the Prancing Skiltaire house, 40 minutes away in Garden Grove, CA.

Pure windows-down balmy-weather SoCal driving needed some vintage 1980’s New Wave tunes, like Missing Persons — Walking In L.A. (Fandom vibes: to break out on early MTV they booked their own shows and made their own outrageous Day-Glo makeup and clothes.)

Our hosts were Changa Lion, Rod O’Riley, and Mark Merlino (Sy Sable). This is Old Guard fandom — and I have to say after being at a high profile media event with attention on fursuits, these founders prove YOU DON’T NEED A SUIT TO BE FURRY.

Their front door led in to an Aladdin’s Cave of treasure. Shelves, bins, statues, and framed art of anthropomorphic creatures were stacked and showcased from floor to ceiling in every media imaginable, including dead ones that haven’t existed since the 1970’s.

They didn’t need more, but that didn’t stop me from bringing gift DVD’s I got in Prague of The Little Mole (AKA the Mickey Mouse of the Iron Curtain.) The foreign toons were received with gratitude and shock at the prices written in Czech crowns, until I said “that’s not US dollars!” I hope they join the rotation of animation played at their monthly house parties.

Changa showed us his elaborate fan parody videos, where he recut Disney’s Zootopia to emulate iconic TV show openings, like the X-Files or Moonlighting. The 2010’s CG graphics were copied onto VHS tape and back to digital, and dubbed over with vintage audio for a mind-bending Mandela multiverse effect. The same was done for Zootopia VHS tapes in clamshell cases with carefully simulated labels and stickers — artifacts fit for a Museum of Furry. The Confurence Archive is the closest thing online, curated by Changa from the treasures all over their house.

After a nickel tour by Rod, 5 of us kept talking into the night, including a walk for dinner at their nearby mainstay diner. For a future article, I got to ask Mark about how Second Life accommodated furries years ago (Linden Labs recently engaged me about new outreach for 2020.)

Some of the best talk was about the house’s place in fandom.

Their monthly parties had brought 300 people in the past. It became important to limit couch crashers when things got out of hand with 8 or more long-term stayers, and cars blocking driveways or bringing late night talking and drinking on the sidewalks. Now they say attendance may be closer to 65, give or take.

Mark had been told that the house was a long-time LGBT safe space that helped launch careers for dozens of past furry roommates including animators and tech pros. He said, “That wasn’t the point, but now that I think of it, that’s true!” They weren’t chosen to live there because of identity, but shared interest; the conscious interest just aligned with their nature. Just like when that nature is strong in the whole fandom.

The old label “lifestyler”, sometimes said negatively, was just people being themselves like you can see in how their nest is put together. I’m so grateful they open it this way for monthly partygoers and our visit.

• In the main room with Changa (he’s camera-shy) and Mark. Something jazzy was playing.
• Their collection has games, movies, fanzines, comics, guidebooks, science fiction paperbacks, and Manga sets since some were rare imports in the 1970’s.
• The plushie corner is full of things left after parties for years.

• Rod poses with Mark’s art of a critter on a 1982 Subaru (rainbow background is washed out.)
• Rod showed 1980′-90’s multi-genre guidebooks that worked like a “phone book of fandom”, where you could find which shops dealt “funny animal” goods, get mailing lists that were sold to fund the guides, or network with others before the internet.

• Look up above Mark: those are bins stuffed with furry comics. Every corner is set up for the treasure hoard.
• Rod occupies the executive command center for his In-Fur-Nation newsletter run since 1991.

• No space is left un-furred. I dug the Robin Hood figures (top right). Not shown: Mark’s Otter collection that won a prize at a fair for collectible displays.

• In Changa’s room, we watch a private work-print trailer for The Fandom documentary, in progress from Ash Kries, Eric Risher and Chipfox.
• Mark and Rod pose by video shot at the house for the movie not long before this visit.

Changa, Mark and Rod reminded me of about what furry fandom is about. Those roots can inspire new watchers with The Fandom documentary, which just finished its last shoot and is going to post-production for release soon. Look for news about it here soon. Tomorrow: more about furry traveling.

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

From 2009 to 2019, this wouldn't have been possible without the support from all of you! To celebrate and give thanks for helping us reach this milestone, we've put together a quick video featuring a reunion of our cast! See more at: http://www.TheRaccoonsDen.com FACEBOOK: http://www.Facebook.com/TheRaccoonsDen TWITTER: http://www.Twitter.com/TheRaccoonsDen FURAFFINITY: http://www.FurAffinity.net/user/TheRaccoonsDen INSTAGRAM: http://www.Instagram.com/TheRaccoonsDen #TheRaccoonsDen #TRDs8 #FurryFandom

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

If you could do a furry travel tour, where would you go? Try some big conventions and mainstream destinations like Disneyland or the Mascot Hall of Fame, and some special stops that a non-furry wouldn’t think of. California has ones like the Prancing Skiltaire house, a shrine to cartoon animal art made by the founders of the first furry con, who open their house to fans by the hundreds.

A travel story wasn’t my plan when I got an invite from… let’s call them “Dr. Girlfriend”, to go to the Adult Swim Festival in Los Angeles on November 15-16, 2019. The opportunity just fell on me, so I made it a casual mini-tour including a stop nearby in Garden Grove, CA to visit the Skiltaire friends.

Dr. Girlfriend had tickets to the second live festival for Adult Swim, a now almost 2-decades old TV programming block for absurdist comedy and alternative animation. Cartoon Network hosts it at night while young audiences sleep, unless naughty kids are sneaking it (like I used to do for MTV Liquid Television). The leading show is Rick and Morty and it rarely has anything furry. But the show creators definitely know about us, and festival goers gave fist-bumps to a 6-foot rat scurrying among them. As “Patch Packrat” (I’m usually a husky dog) I was the only fursuiter in sight at the 22,000 capacity Banc of California Stadium.

Festival concept:

I’m not a huge fan of all Adult Swim shows (I’ve seen all Rick and Mortys and sampled others) but this multi-media mutation had me saying MORE PLEASE. The lineup had music acts tied to the TV shows, with rap, heavy metal, DJ/house, and the dancy, synthy, or darker side of indie rock. Live comedy sets had talent from their own shows and voiceover artists for animation. Animation screenings mixed with creator Q&A panels like you’d see at Comic Con. The live experience included games/rides and stadium-sized sound and lighting.

The geniuses behind it created more of a rock show/carnival vibe and top-down organizing, compared to furry cons with their focus on fan-led panels, small dealers, dances and dance comps, room parties, and personal art.  Even if this much larger event was media-centric, it was full of energy you don’t get from a film fest or animation industry event. And how much would you expect furries at a rap or metal show? This hybrid event is a killer place for a furry meetup!

I was surprised to be the only one strutting my stuff in fursona, although several stealth-furs high-fived me for being bold. Here’s what I got into.

It's been great out here! I would've suited if I could! @DogpatchPress #AdultSwimFestival #furryfandom pic.twitter.com/6vE0moQaGn

— jax (the only) (@the0nlyjax) November 17, 2019

Whee! pic.twitter.com/aSnEGH2Z81

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) November 16, 2019

The music:

HEALTH was my main draw besides Dethklok because I like industrial rock, but it wasn’t a great start. It was early on Friday and the crowds were nowhere near the size it got later on Saturday. They filled a small corner of the stadium without much movement, while the band thudded on stage to try filling the void, but the emotionally-distant singing felt lost in the racket.  It wasn’t bad and made me bop a little but I’d prefer to see it in a dark cave instead.

DETHKLOK killed it. They made maximum use of the venue for their first show in 5 years. Brutal gore-toons splashed across jumbo video screens and blasted my eyeballs with shock editing. It included a couple of comedy breaks and super helpful read-along lyrics so you could laugh at the blurts of blasphemy from the singing. I only like small doses of death metal (Pungent Stench <3) so words and cartoons filled in what I’d miss by just having my ears pummeled. “Impeach God” had a hilarious live debut. The crowd wasn’t the most active, but it was OK with the 110% effort on stage.

RAPSODY was a rapper with good danceable beats and conscious lyrics that charmed the crowd. The LA crowd was different from who I’d mingle with in the SF Bay. The music made it feel good to be there, and other people must have felt the same with the air getting smoky. I barely listen to rap but this won me over.

JAMIE XX did a stellar DJ set of dance/house music that made me do a beeline to the front to make it my personal furry rave. Here too the crowd was lower energy than a fur con, but it was packed for the peak of the festival and they loved a giant rat jumping like a kangaroo. I got hugs and gave piggyback rides to people who surely wouldn’t have done it without a furry invading their ranks.

RockNYC has a festival review mostly for the music.

No really my neck is messeded up. But furries don't get old, they just get new fursonas, lol

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) November 16, 2019

jfk and jackie? more like @DogpatchPress and this bitch and this time HE LIVES pic.twitter.com/eUGbEcPuzQ

— jamieloftus (@jamieloftusHELP) November 16, 2019

Panels, screenings, and interactive stuff:

ROBOT CHICKEN had a panel with the writers and makers. Writer Jamie was on stage after she got a pic with me at the afterparty on Friday night when I just thought she was a random fun person. Seth Green took questions about the show and how to get work at Adult Swim (make your own shit to get noticed.)

SQUIDBILLIES had the show cast doing live dirty comedy country/rockabilly songs, and one doing off-kilter puppeteering of Granny Squid, dressed head to toe in the same fuzzy pink as her puppet. And a standup comic named Connor O’Malley seemed perplexed at a furry in his crowd, then did a bit about his ancestors being “ratters” who would chase the vermin in their fields.

RICK AND MORTY Season 4 episodes were on par with previous ones, but LAZOR WULF disappointed. It’s a show based on a Tumblr comic with some talking animals. I wanted to like the nifty vaporwave/future funk vibe (it has a predominantly black voice cast) with graphic objects floating in animated space, but the “so random” humor got few laughs.

Those used smaller screens, but ERIC ANDRE LIVE used the same stadium stage as the music acts, which made certain stunts so… extra(!) like pulling a random guy from the audience and making him call his ex-girlfriend live to the world.

For interactive fun there was a “bull ride” with a hot dog, and cat-jousting. I avoided that and the giant inflatable slide in fursuit… wouldn’t want another hole knocked in my ear or get tossed and have my tail caught. The “Meatwad dome” was very worthwhile for trippy animation projected across the inside, and there was an elaborate rig to 3D-scan your dancing and add it to a scene of Rick and Morty doing the “Show Us What You Got” dance for “Get Schwifty.”  They said they would try the extra high-def scan for my fursuit but it didn’t seem to scan that well and the app won’t play on my phone. Get furries to test it next time?

Squeezing out high street value furry sweat from #AdultSwimFestival pic.twitter.com/7w3Sa8rc0U

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) November 17, 2019

Location, crowd, and fursuiting:

The LA weather was as mild as could be. The stadium entrance level was a ring you had to circle to reach the stairs for access to the lower field level, sending you past all the vendors for merch and food with festival prices. If I was a poorer rat, for $14 beers I might fill up on cheese before the show or scurry in through the sewer (don’t do that, the entry cost was nice). Decent choices though. I like trash, but a grilled chicken sandwich felt healthy. That vendor had no line and was sympathetic to my sweaty costuming, handing me free beers for both paws.

To know where to go, the festival app had super useful multiple views by time, place, a visual view, a “favorites” list and an RSVP list for panels with limited capacity. The stadium seating always had space for breaks. A fursuit lounge could have been nice but at no point was I ever pressured by crowding. Attendance started slow but by late Saturday everything was raging.

The crowd was half normies in street clothes, and then nerd/comic/anime types with only moderate cosplay, like casual Ricks. Staff was abundant in standout color. There wasn’t a fursuit everywhere you turned, so anyone like Dr. Girlfriend stood out nicely. It wasn’t nearly as queer/misfit/young as fur con goers, and there was some funny side-eyeing at my fur but not enough to get ugly, and appreciation too. There was fandom magic. Shoutout to the nice woman who called me brave and said she was too shy to come in partial suit!

I lied a little about this trip being casual. Making news means eye for opportunity, so I asked ahead to the festival’s media/partnering contacts about interviews or backstage access. Of course they don’t care about a mere furry blog when big Hollywood people do their thing there every day. This fandom is the size of a flea on a dog to them. Something else worked: being there.

They didn’t answer when I tried asking for a little face time, but they kind of made us the ass of the fest. I’m so honored!

Till next time, LA pic.twitter.com/oUvm6I1x0U

— [adult swim] (@adultswim) November 17, 2019

Can’t wait to go again! Tomorrow in Part 2: A review from Dr. Girlfriend, visiting the Prancing Skiltaire, and more about furry traveling.

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

Here’s one from last year we somehow missed, but we’re glad we found it now: Atomic Frenchie, a full-color graphic novel series. “When Kirby, a French Bulldog with a serious Napoleon Complex, moves to a new home in the quaint New England town of Strasburg, Massachusetts, and stumbles upon a forgotten secret laboratory, he realizes that his dreams of Planetary Conquest are finally within paw’s reach. But, suddenly, Kirby realizes he isn’t alone. Seemingly out of nowhere, a strange group of people appear, exhibiting what Kirby can only describe as superpowers! Kirby must rise up against all who stand in his way to emerge victorious in this ultimate quest for world domination.” We’re up to Volume 2 by now, written by Tom Sniegoski and illustrated by Tom McWeeney. (Look, we don’t make these things up…) Both volumes are available now in hardcover from Insight Comics.

image c. 2019 Insight Comics

We run through a decent bit of news, then Fayroe and Aureo have a Taco Tantrum.

Download MP3

Link Roundup:

• SonicFox wins esports award for console player of the year
• Chik-fil-a ending donations to anti-LGBT organizations
• Conservatives melt down after Chick-fil-A says it will stop donating to anti-LGBTQ orgs
• Half-life Alyx announced
• #FurryAndProud trended for a while
• Dragons won’t fuck the tesla cybertruck
• Furry version of Saturdays are made for dads
• Pizza Hut brings back knots
• Ronnie’s sinkhole selfie near Anthrocon
• BBF livestreamed his EF video

News:

• British Man Attempts Robbery
• Florida dog drove in circles in car in reverse
• Terminally-Ill Scientist Aims To Become “First Full Cyborg”
• Zootopia is Zootropolis
• Arizona Man Narrowly Avoids Bullets due to Taco

[Live] Taco Tantrum

Bandit shares a montage of his adventure from FC ’17. SEE MORE AT: http://www.TheRaccoonsDen.com FACEBOOK: http://www.Facebook.com/TheRaccoonsDen TWITTER: http://www.Twitter.com/TheRaccoonsDen FURAFFINITY: http://www.FurAffinity.net/user/TheRaccoonsDen INSTAGRAM: http://www.Instagram.com/TheRaccoonsDen #TRDs8 #FC2017 #FurCon

Posted by a friend: “Marked all my videos as unlisted — Will delete them later — I’m sorry to disappoint everyone but the voice acting video is canceled due to the new law.”

Yikes! That’s not a nice thing to post, and plenty of others are feeling afraid of being fined under the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act (COPPA.) The law is around 2 decades old but was recently used for major action about violation by Youtube. It seems to threaten a growing scene for furry Youtube creators:

• Furries are winning Emmys and Youtube Creator Awards.
• More Furry YouTubers You Might Not Have Seen
• Furry YouTubers You Might Not Have Seen

Sadly I might have to say goodbye to youtube. The new COPPA laws may put a lot of furry youtubers under fire and possibly a $45,000 fine for each video from what I understand. :*(

— Ino89777 (@TheInodog) November 19, 2019

About the law and changes to Youtube, PCGamer reports:

YouTube is changing significantly in January, and video creators are afraid they may lose income and even be fined by the US government for making videos about, among other things, videogames.

The Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act is a federal law in the US which forbids the collection of data about children under 13 without parental consent. Generally, that’s simply meant that social media sites like Twitter ask for your date of birth when you sign up, and boot anyone who says they’re under 13. A kid can lie, of course, but the Federal Trade Commission allows for that reality.

Starting in January, however, it won’t allow “content made for kids” on YouTube to include targeted advertising or employ YouTube’s social features.

There’s several problem here. First there’s the idea of the government coming after any average creator.  But not so fast: that probably isn’t going to be a worry for anyone on the small and personal level, or furry fandom level. If you aren’t running a huge network that does shady things for money, you’re probably OK:

Heard about new COPPA rules for Youtube? Don't panic! Many Youtube furries are upset, but may not understand the situation. Don't delete your channel — the COPPA panic may be Youtube's own creation. This video explains. (Tip: @sturmovikdragon) 1/https://t.co/HSalqdYrDZ

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) November 22, 2019

Next, is the issue of how to comply with this law, with creators being held responsible for notification about if their content is for kids. That can be a VERY murky condition to meet. Furries know that animation is often treated as kid stuff by default, even when loved by grown-ups.

The Verge reported:

Some of YouTube’s most popular categories falls into a gray area for the policy, including gaming videos, family vlogging, and toy reviews.

Lastly, apart from what the government expects, Youtube is putting in more automated flagging of videos that will surely create a lot of false positives. This isn’t what the government asked for; it’s something Youtube is doing to benefit itself more than its creators.

For those final two problems, and the fallout on creators with Youtube making it hard to monetize and support themselves, we can only wait and see how things go. But the idea that the government could fine you may not be a reason to stop creating on the fandom level.

UPDATE: this lawyer’s video confirms it. The problem isn’t the FTC — the FTC recognizes “general audience” content that appeals to either kids or adults. The problem is Youtube is not giving an option for creators to put their content in this category, to protect themselves.

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

Online registrations may be over, but if you still crave to be part of the robot apocalyptic war, or the guest-of-honour Uncle Kage’s story times and drinking moments, Malaysian furry convention Furs Upon Malaysia has got you covered. For the first time, they will be opening a limited walk-in registration for the furcon. The details […]

Is your identity a stretch goal?

On Flayrah, Sonious wrote two articles about Artworktee, a popular furry t-shirt company with many happy customers. In May 2019, he wrote a positive story about their charity benefit campaign. Now in November 2019, a shirt selling campaign is not so positively covered. The difference — no charity this time.

• Flayrah: ArtWorkTee’s T-Shirt Campaign and the Selling of Identity.

After being asked to write, Sonious felt conflicted about giving them “blatant advertisement” as news. It could have been turned down, but wait; there’s more. He found reasons to criticize their campaign launched on October 22: “Furry and Proud Shirts! Show your furry pride with ArtworkTee’s new line of LGBT+ shirts!” On Kickstarter as I write, it has 396 backers pledging $24,758 — likely in the top few percent of furry crowdfunding.

The article digs into the ethics (and sincerity) of selling things to special communities, and who reaps the rewards. The problem is, the campaign sorts sexual identities into money tiers/stretch goals, letting popularity rule who is included. Demand gets more and more divisive the more obscure the identity is.

Imagine sorting by race, or other legally protected class (a specific list that excludes politics) and leaving out the least numerous. Many places in life need separation from market demand — what if this was dividing LGBT medical care by popularity? Luckily it’s just shirts, but it’s a jump-off point to bigger topics.

Of COURSE discrimination isn’t the intention of Artworktee (assume good faith). But arguably, it shows a profit motive that isn’t about identity or pride at all. They could be selling flavors of soup, or rare Pokemon cards just the same, and who likes being a token?

Fursona Pins: “Your identity is not a stretch goal.”

Sonious will be interested to see the angle he found has been taken seriously by other businesses.

That’s the case with Fursona Pins. In February 2019, I was asked to do a news article about the business; and I also avoided advertising by reposting their own story, and did an informative Q&A instead. (Business news is news.) Fursona Pins went on to launch an LGBT furry themed Kickstarter campaign in June 2019.

Pride Pins became “the #1 most funded enamel pin Kickstarter in history, and the most funded LGBT project live on Kickstarter right now.” During its open month, 5,304 backers pledged $249,610. Whoah!  (I’m shocked I hadn’t noticed this already when I talk about high fursuit auction prices being a sign of fandom activity.)

Notice: the campaign unlocked tiers for animal mascots, not identities. They just got recolored to represent whatever identity is wanted with no limits on 15 flags. It came with a repeated promise:

Now I’m wondering if Artworktee saw the huge pledges to Pride Pins with dollars in their eyes, and rushed to get in the same game, but missed the point of it. A mistake… or part of a history? Sonious only touched ONE Artworktee campaign, not even getting to a lot of extra context behind it. That’s why I made a ANOTHER response on Flayrah, with another article’s worth of info (read on).

There’s nothing wrong with shirts, cool art, furries, or being LGBT of course. Some of Artworktee’s supporters and shirt models are friends I really love. My response isn’t a “beware” to tell you to stop getting shirts or supporting the company now. Please don’t cancel anyone; it’s to just make you think and look ahead, and ask, what business will you support in the future? And why does it matter? You can ask them to improve, and vote with your dollars.

• On Flayrah, my other response covers a lot more than one sale campaign — read it here.
• This updates my August 2018 article, ArtworkTee issues and the heart of the furry economy.

In short:

1. Furries have a history of going independent from the mainstream to be a subculture that resists commercializing. Instead it acts like a collective project, and a real community (not just a consumer group) where people pitch in together, and capitalizing on it too much is kind of cheating.
2. Artworktee isn’t like other fandom projects, it uses aggressive tactics that look like bootstrapping, growth-hacking, or SEO targeting you’d expect from mainstream startups. Before it was Artworktee, it was “Drawponies,” an art operation involved in a scandal of tracing to crank up production. That was rediscovered and they did PR effort to fix things.
3. Then Artworktee kept using shady tactics to farm followers, boost traffic, and push merchandizing with other accounts (Furrymemes, Awoonews).
4. It’s a problem because of Part (1). This fandom isn’t just business, and what about hard work of small creators who don’t use those methods? Talking about commercialism can help them when there’s a market grab.

Commercializing of the fandom worries some because of the risk of outsiders coming to make a quick buck, while not caring what it’s about, grabbing market from those who do. It’s a good idea to watch out for the tactics here if you see them again.

WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED THIS? Artworktee/Furrymemes/Awoonews ripoff issue.

Background: in 2015, an artist who aggressively monetized brony fandom was caught tracing. https://t.co/pw94VgnfKI

In 2018, furries learned the artist was aggressively monetizing them as Artworktee. 1/ pic.twitter.com/PFYHsY8boC

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) March 23, 2019

Good news sites are welcome, the more the better. Mine has years of sharing original content no matter what size of audience. Isn't news for reporting, not building audience by shady methods? There will be promises to do better, but why multiple times? @EquestriaDaily

— Dogpatch Press (@DogpatchPress) March 24, 2019

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, please follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon.

So how did we miss this one… And, what is it?? It’s the first black & white issue of Cerebus Woman, that’s what. “Epic-length all-in-one 24-page issue! Ever wonder what the illegitimate daughter of Batvark and the Whore of Babylon would be like? Gosh! Who hasn’t? Get ready for Cerebus Woman, the tyrannical queen of Real Amazon.com Island and her legion of Mason-Dixon Greek Man O’Horsies! First appearance of her invisible robot bulldozer! First appearance of the ancient Greek Real Amazon.com national anthem! Jingles, everyone’s favorite CGC-dog comic collector, as Cerebus Woman’s interspecies love interest! Don’t miss Cerebus Woman tied up with her own magic lasso!” Have you… got all that? It’s written by Dave Sim (of course) with art by Mr. Sim and Gustave Dore. Published by Aardvark-Vanaheim (also of course), it’s available now.

image c. 2019 Aardvark-Vanaheim