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Hey guys I'm pretty new to all this and would like to know more about the community since I would say I'm significantly interested in it.

1)are there any major "celebs" in the furry community like a particular artist everybody seems to love or a popular fursona (I think I'm using the term correctly) that everyone seems to know of and want to meet? 2) What stereotypes do non-furries have about furries that you really want cleared up 3) I know this one varies from furry to furry. But what is it that draws you to the furry community? Is it the connection you feel with a particular animal? Do you just enjoy becoming your fursona, sort of like a hobby? Is it the open and more accepting feeling of the community? Your attraction towards anthropomorphic art? Maybe a mixture of these things, or something else? 4) I know there are different types of say "sub-categories" of furries, such as baby-furs. What other types are there? and what sets them apart (or doesn't)? 5) what are your experiences/feelings with yiff? from what I researched this seems to be controversial and differs among furries.

Thanks,

-Possible panther (like I said, I'm new!)

submitted by kuriouskat301
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Today I was stalking browsing the FA pages of other lions that commented on a submission an artist had posted with a lion as the subject, and I came to the realization that there is a split between users in their favorites:

Some lions had favorites predominantly filled with lion works, while others had more scattered samplings of lions, but still the most common species that came up in their favorites were lions.

Then of course some favorite galleries were more tailored to the tastes (read: kinks) of the users. But none the less, it posed an interesting question to me:

How many furries fit into these different categories? Which one of these styles of submissions is most prevalent?

So this is where I need YOUR help!

I would like to do a blind study of the favorites of FA users prior to my knowing what species you are or what tastes you have! To do this, I require your help in two things:

• If you are interested in volunteering your favorites gallery please message my alternate account:

/u/MOONBASE_LSD_FARMER

or

My FA page.

with a direct link to your favorites gallery

• Please spread this on FA; the larger a sample size I have the smaller the possibility of a botched sample size. The journal has been posted here Thank you all for your time!

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submitted by TailwindsFoxy
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submitted by VaginaChapStick
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Hello Papabear,

I need some relationship advice. I've been seeing this guy, who I'm keeping anonymous for his privacy and he has a lot of drama going on in his life. Recently something happened to him where he sent me some text messages saying that his two (I believe now) former friends (who's names I don't want to give out at this moment) had a friend of theirs do something to him that he won't tell me. Apparently from what he told me they were apart of. The worst part is I tried my best to calm him down because when he gets upset he really gets upset but he said something about me being attached to my friends and how I don't want to be with him. Now I'm currently enrolled in a community college and he lives about 30 to 40 minutes away from me. To see him I have to drive 30 miles both to and from his house and I'm currently unemployed so I don't have a source of income to go towards gas money. I love him very much and I try to visit him when I can but I'm completely out of ideas and I don't know what to do in order to make him be more confident with himself and bring up his self-esteem. Any advice. 

Thanks for reading this.

LuciusTheBat

* * *

Hi, Lucius,

You sound like a lovely, caring person, but there is only so much you can do. The problem here is that this guy you are seeing won’t tell you what the problem is, so how are you supposed to help?

This sounds like a total overreaction on his part, and, as you say, he overreacts to things very easily. My first instinct, then, is that this person might be suffering from Asperger’s syndrome, an illness that seems to affect a lot of people these days, or possibly some other form of mild autism or ADHD. If that’s the case, there can be many causes for this, ranging from genetics to childhood trauma to diet. But I’m in no position to make a diagnosis, especially since I’m not a doctor. It’s just a guess on my part.

The questions I have are whether this sort of behavior has happened before and what is this “drama” he is suffering from? If he suffers from some sort of behavior problem and is undergoing a stressful home life, then perpetrating some sort of cruel act upon him (if his accusations against these other people are true) would be especially cruel and heartless and you should be there to support him. If, on the other hand, this “drama” is largely exaggerated by him in its seriousness and the “offense” against him really minor, then you are dealing with a drama queen and might want to reconsider spending too much effort on him.

As with you, I cannot determine the case here, so I cannot advise you on how to proceed in detail.

In a follow-up email I sent to you about this (concerned as I was that some sort of violence might have happened) you replied, “Nothing violent [happened]. I met these 2 friends of his before and they seemed very nice. He's pretty sensitive to things and he gets jealous easily. Like I said he's not telling me anything.” This indicates to me that the “drama queen scenario” is the most likely.

At present, you’re just in the dating mode of the relationship, and it doesn’t sound like it has gotten terribly serious, though you must like the guy or you wouldn’t be concerned. He must have some worthwhile traits. Therefore, here’s your next step: tell him that you want to help him and be there for him, but if he doesn’t tell you openly what the problem is then you can’t be of any help.

If he continues to clam up, tell him that you’re there for him when he decides to talk, and then go about your business. That is, refuse to listen to his drama until he tells you the full story. If he never tells you, my guess is that it was all over nothing and he’s just seeking attention by whining because he feels slighted somehow by your other friends. He needs to grow up. If he DOES tell you, then once you have the information you need, you can better judge the next step. Or, if you would like more advice, write to me again once you have the details and we’ll do a follow-up.

Good luck!

Papabear

* * *
Hello Papabear,

Thanks for replying to me. Since the last replied to me he has calmed down and he said that it was an online friend that came to him and said that they couldn't be friends anymore for what reason I don't know and frankly he doesn't know either, prior to this incident they were online friends that would roleplay over Skype. He looked into the problem and determined that these 2 former friends of him must have been apart of it, as said before. He has told me that this sort of thing (him getting really upset from something happening from someone) has happened more than once, I believe 3 or 4 times. He says that when he gets close to someone they "turn on him," and hurt him emotionally. So I try to be as patient as possible with him when he goes through something like this but it's getting rather old. Besides me he has one other person that he sees that lives relatively closer to him but he doesn't see him as much, another that lives 17 minutes away but his car is in the shop, and someone that lives farther away from him than me that is more of a friend-with-benefit kind of thing. So when he was friends with these two people they were closer than all of us and now that he isn't friends with them anymore he doesn't really have someone to see him regularly. 

Now what you said about him wanting attention from me is something that he does, intentionally I don't know since he has a few issues. He sends me messages saying like "Why am I always so miserable?" and those types of messages really bother me because not only does it put a damper on my day it seems like he might be in a state where he continues to be miserable (I can't really say for sure because we are still learning about each other). Now I told him that I don't like it when people intentionally start drama to get attention and he says that he doesn't intentionally start drama and I believe him since he's a good guy underneath his exterior. I believe i mentioned before he's a bit clingy and I don't really like people who are clingy but I try to compromise with him but it seems like it's getting to me.

Hope to hear back from you soon,

LuciusTheBat

* * *
Hi, again, Lucius,

There is a certain personality type that Papabear has come across many times in his life. It is the person who is basically a nice guy or girl but who has serious self-esteem issues and is quick to take offense when anyone says something the least bit critical. Those who meet people like this at first like them (because they tend to be sweet and gentle) but if they say anything that is less than complimentary, they get such a backlash of drama and “why are you treating me like this?” crap that it is very off-putting.

This personality type is always miserable, as you say, and the reason is that they are creating their own misery. They become so pathetic and whiny that they lose friends, which then creates an endless feedback loop of misery, drama, reinforced misery, and so on that is inescapable until they realize they are doing it to themselves.

Is he a good guy underneath? Sure, probably. But he is a high-maintenance type of person, the type who needs constant reinforcement and praise and validation, an endless pit of need that can be very tiresome. If you don’t mind that sort of thing, if you don’t mind constantly having to reassure this person that they are a great guy, if you have that sort of time and energy in your life, then you could probably maintain a friendship. If you do it long enough and are patient enough, you might even eventually break him out of this self-pitying loop he is in, but I warn you it could take years, if ever.

Of course, it is easy for me to write things like “you create your own misery, so buck up.” But I know it’s not so simple. I myself struggle with depression and sometimes need friends to cheer me up. It could be that he suffers from clinical depression, in which case he might benefit from therapy.

I suppose what I am saying is this: your friend is high maintenance and, whether justified somewhat or not, is causing a lot of his own misery and that is probably driving away people who could have been his friends. You need to decide, then, whether you feel his friendship is worth a lot of work and emotional support on your part, or whether you just don’t have the energy and emotional investment to continue trying to help him.

If you decide to back off, I wouldn’t blame you. It can be very hard to be that kind of friend and it doesn’t make you a bad person if you don’t feel you can do it. After all, you have to take care of your own sanity, too. BUT, if you believe you can do it and care a lot about this guy, then it would be super awesome of you to be there for him.

Your choice.

Hugs,

Papabear

submitted by druidscomic
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Author: Sonious Fur the ‘More, Baltimore’s first furry convention, took place on the first week of April. April is known for its rain, and whenever it rains, it pours. It was to be my first small convention, but it was certainly not as small as many other new conventions. My own experience, compared to other [...]

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

The story went like this, best I can remember:

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

Skype: zack_cordray

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

submitted by nsfw_throwaway7940
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Guest post by Lunostophiles.

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

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

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

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

Whiskey Sour

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

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

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

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

—–

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

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

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

“You’ve made it!”

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

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

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

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

—–

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

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

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

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

Imbibe!

—–

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was handed a cup.

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

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

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

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

—–

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

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

—–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least for the night.

submitted by timetinytim
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