SO MANY DEM WINS

And PRO TRANS Dems too!!!

And especially in my future home state of VA. AAAAAAAAA <3

I could cry, I haven't felt actual hope in so long...

I dunno if I have any fans there who are going, but I am gonna be at Carolina Furfare this year.

Last minute decision. Gonna be handling my friend in his dragon fursuit (Finn).

So yanno, if you are there say hi to puppy and her dragon fren! ^w^

Like more than one cock? Or anus? Taurs with LOTS of boobs?

You should really look at

She does more normal stuff too, but yanno. :3

Cock cock cock cock cock cock cock <3 <3 <3 wagwagwag

I have decided to upload my very old artwork - select pieces - to my scraps. Collected to a folder called "The Before Times".

A few reasons. One, there's some OCs I am looking to re-introduce that have not been seen in well over a decade. Two, I have some important character lore art that may be very old, but is still canon and impactful to who that OC is.

There is a third reason. I am no longer censoring myself. I have reached a critical mass of tolerance with the modern internet, and I no longer care to stifle my own creativity in hope of re-gaining the massive following I once had. People today can be far too eager to fight about... nothing. That's to say nothing of parasocial relationships they build.

I have all but stopped drawing for a host of reasons, and social censorship is absolutely one of them.

My OCs can be edgy, cringe, abusive, depressing, violent, a mirror to the ills of the real world; they can have flaws and beliefs I personally disagree with as the real person behind them - and that's okay. That's my writing style, because I have had a real shit life and my art is my outlet for it. The sweet and neutral stuff will never go away, it's always been here - but I am tired of being tied up and forced to never let my brain out just because a few people will hate me arbitrarily.

I say that, because my old work more closely resembles that unfiltered approach it once had. It goes into those corners without fear.

I delivered things with a sense of respect for them, because I take it all seriously. I just know how people can be now, and I know how dead media literacy is.

Regardless - a peek into the world of long ago awaits thee.

That's a hard thing to say.

I can cook, clean, bathe, think. I can live well on the level of basic needs. I have all of my limbs. I am not, at least to my knowledge, dying of a degenerative disease.

I have a cognitive disorder. One which makes me very prone to accidents. One which gives me difficulty in myriad minor ways which all stack up to a serious problem if they compound just right. One of the most egregious for functioning is that I am numerically illiterate, and the severity changes with stress.

I am ASD + ADHD and Bipolar-Depressive. I have PTSD from childhood abuse and some unfortunate adult occurrences. I have severe anxiety, am borderline agoraphobic, and deal with many social issues as a symptom of those previous base-issues. I am also a natural introvert.

None of that had stopped me from trying to find something for years. None of that had stopped me from attempting a livelihood. Until recently. I finally gave up and admitted it, with the support of multiple mental health officials, I am disabled.

However - what eats at me is WHY I am disabled.

I am disabled, not because of who I am and my conditions. I am disabled because of the society I am living in.

American culture has little to absolutely no compensation for neuro-divergence, special social needs, the schedules of people with health issues or who aren't wholly diurnal, people who aren't extroverted, people with cognitive disorders, etc. Our society has a near total lack of empathy and sympathy for anybody not fully able-bodied and minded (ish). This is to say nothing of the severe economic and time demands it makes ON people who are able bodied to begin with.

American culture not only lacks compensation for, but is outright HOSTILE to, people who cannot drive. HOSTILE to people from poverty, which I am. I don't even have to begin touching on social issues like race, sex, and gender, again.

American society complains and insults me for being disabled. It bitches and bellows about having to support people like me. All the while ignoring that I, and those like me, are its fault.

In a better society. In a culture which valued equality and humanity and empathy. I would be able to live on my own with greater efficacy.

America makes disabled cases, and then blames the people it victimizes for the position it forces us into.

While not exclusive, a primary motivator behind me taking art more seriously when I was young was how sexually inclined I am as a person. I am hypersexual, and highly imaginative, and these things came naturally together.

In my now 20+ years of drawing furries in particular I have been happy and content to make a buttload of porn both mild and otherwise. I am a sex-positive woman and in general sex itself plays a major role in my identity.

It has not been a lone rider, however. In that same time I have made a near equal amount of comics, shit-posts, horror art, emotional pieces, and even dabbled in fantasy monster design. In matter of fact, there was a time when my sense of humor and ability to make you feel something was as renowned as my ability to make you jerk off.

In 2006 when I first joined Furaffinity it was a social hub for the online furry fandom (which I now prefer to call the community, but we all called it the fandom then). There was a lot of adult artwork here, sure. There was a lot of everything else, as well. Even non-furry artwork could be found in the corners. People came here to socialize. Journals were like blog posts. People and artists would talk about their lives, current events, politics, and furry conventions. Popular art pieces would become miles of comment threads. The FA forums was a very active social place branched off of the main site itself.

FA was, and still is, home to furry social groups. Regional fur meet groups (furries from X-state, furries from x-country, furries of x-identity). FA is still home to large RP groups as well.

It was not just a porn site. Nor was it just a business site. Sure artists could network here, take commissions, and eventually do YCH' and adopts- but at its heart FA was and is still a social hub. Modern furs don't largely treat it as such anymore, though. It's been relegated to... just a porn site.

I came to a discomforting realization yesterday. I was sketching some mildly grim vent art and two things went through my head-

1. I was afraid to post any of this. Ten years ago I would have posted it without hesitation, but not now. Now I worry about upsetting people... and frankly I fucking shouldn't, that is god damn exhausting.

2. I was finding fulfillment in just doing emotional vent work.

The 2nd thought lead me to the uncomfortable epiphany.

I think I hate drawing porn right now.

I feel so strangled and forced to only ever make porn. I feel so pigeon-holed and suffocated by it. I feel as though ever since 2020, little by little, I have been transformed from an artist into mere soulless content.

Not that what I make is soulless, but how I am perceived by many of the young furry consumers is soulless. I am not making art, to them. What I make is not art, to them. It is just content. And for the last two years I have almost exclusively only drawn porn. Nothing but porn. Porn, porn, porn. No comics, no emotional think pieces, no experimental horror art, just porn. When I have done something different it has flopped in terms of getting any attention. You might think that's how it has always been but NO, it isn't.

There have been times where my humorous or emotional SFW art has actually out-performed my adult work. And it wasn't too long ago, to people my age anyway.

So now I am in an odd position. I realize that the primary reason I am struggling to finish projects is because I kinda hate making porn at the moment, or I have grown to resent it I suppose. I want to do something else because the state of things around me is driving me to make uncomfortable artwork. Because I am an artist and that's what we do when we are not corporate frauds.

I do need to be mindful of making money nonetheless. I don't want to spurn the people supporting me. On the flip side, growth has been abysmal since 2023. As the economy has worsened and generative AI has taken hold of the general gooner market and artists hold less value in a more and more competitive online world of content- new people rarely support me as compared to a few years ago when things were a bit more fun.

Honestly I don't think this journal has a conclusion. It's just brain dumping frustration.

I have not become a less sexually forward person, and I haven't personally changed much. Things have changed around me in a way that makes me feel chained up and claustrophobic. I feel creatively constipated. I feel unable to express myself. It's stressing me out to a point of no longer enjoying that which I enjoyed most. Erotic imagery.

Maybe I should just be an artist and do what my heart wants to do for a while. People will abandon me, but it won't be the first time. I am not really built to be a popufur. It happened once, in Brony, and honestly I hated how hollow it felt. I was only huge because I happened to be into a trending topic. As soon as I was back to my own thoughts and creations more than half of my fans decided I was no longer interesting.

*shrug* Whatever, that's being an artist.

- a currently active Trans genocide in the United states.

Seriously. I was pointed towards a video where somebody took the time to articulate exactly what is happening, what a genocide is, and lay it all out step by step with visual resources and citations.

This video is incredibly important and I BEG you to watch the entire thing through. It is 47 minutes long, but the matter requires that time and careful attention. It is easier to lie about a people and make stupid dismissive memes like a dog dancing on a street corner, than it is to prove what is happening to a generally unreceptive public. The run time is necessary.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lE9aNijG7jg

Something they say in their argument is something I have said in private conversation. A genocide carried out by a group wishing to avoid the direct optics of military action against a people is going to be kept as invisible as possible. It will be done through constant legislative warfare, imprisonment with justification through demonization, and social bullying to the point of driving the victim group to mass suicide. To say nothing of how restricting healthcare itself kills, and the pervasive cultural narrative convincing average uninformed cis-het people that all trans women are pedophiles, and all pedophiles should be murdered without critical thought. If you can't see the intentional threading there, then I urge you to keep thinking about it until you do.

Anyway, he lays it all out to bare with undeniable evidence and arguments. Please. Please watch and listen. ESPECIALLY IF YOU ROLLED YOUR EYES at the suggestion- the video is for YOU.

I am not allowing comments on this journal because... I don't want to. To my fellow trans folk who are fighting this battle with me, to our allies, spread this with me. Awareness can help, and solutions are offered at the end of the video.

Since there's so much talk from the right wing about how trans youth aren't real and it's all a big delusion, I think it's important I finally tell my story in detail. Because it flies in the face of all that, and I want it heard in whatever small capacity I can muster.

I carried a lot of shame about what I was going through and what I felt, for many years- and I regret not coming to terms with myself much earlier. I am saddened that I did not have support, younger. Moreover, I am regretful that in my period of denial I spouted opinions against my own interests out of some complex feelings of inadequacy and longing for acceptance. For normalcy.

I feel awful for the trans youth of today now that they have had the chance to be themselves, only to have it ripped away mid-process.

So here's my story. I must preface it with- I was raised Christian, conservative, and rural. Bear that in mind. It did me no favors.

I still vividly remember the first time this happened, because it was a shock to my system in a profound way. I was 13, it was somewhere around 2 in the morning, and I had gotten up to pee. I was half asleep and disoriented.

When I stumbled into the bathroom I experienced a total panic meltdown. Why? I could not find my vagina. What the hell was on me?

That sounds funny, maybe, but I am not exaggerating. At that moment, half asleep, groggy, I was terrified of my anatomy. It was wrong, and I was confused to a point of severe anxiety and a fear reaction.

I don't know how long actually passed before I stopped panicking, but eventually I woke up a little more and of course it all cleared up. I peed, and then stood there for a while pondering what the hell just happened to my brain.

The memory of that night is burned into my brain. I can remember it to insane levels of detail. That was late 2000. Autumn.

Before that had happened I liked to wear girl's clothes- and nobody forced me to do it. Nobody suggested I should. I did it in private. In secret. I felt comfortable in them. This went back as far as 9 years old to my ability to recall. I liked wearing dresses. The only person I let know was my sister, who then enjoyed dressing me- but it did not come from her.

I hadn't thought about it all that much, until after that night when I was 13.

From that point until around 17 I had moments like that night recur. I would wake up, be in a sleepy stupor, and have a momentary panic about why my body was not how my brain expected it to be.

As I got older it wasn't just happening when I went to use the toilet, it would also happen if I felt like masturbating. As a teen, I often did. I'd touch past what I had, and wonder where what I thought I had was.

Over time I got accustom to my brain doing this to me and for many years I wrote it off as me being insane.

When I was still in public school I hated the locker rooms. I was bullied a lot, but that's not actually why I hated them. I hated the locker rooms because around that age my sexual feelings had begun to make themselves known, quite forcibly, and I wasn't looking at girls. Even though I was sure I should be.

That, coupled with something else I was grappling with. Something I did not understand then, but I understand now. I was ashamed of my body and did not want to show myself, because I did not feel male. Being exposed around other nude or mostly nude boys, whom I was attracted to on top of it all, while feeling as though I were not meant to be there- was a horrid feeling.

I would get written up over and over for not changing. I would find a corner, and literally curl up and hide until everybody else left.

The school I went to was very old, and the locker rooms were somewhat like a dungeon, even partially underground. There were corners to find.

Throughout my teens I would often be mistaken for a girl from behind, or over the phone- and it always felt good. I wasn't upset about it. It confused me a little, but it didn't upset me.

As I navigated my 20's I decided I was just a gay man, and an effeminate one, to boot. A femboy, if you will. I lived that life for a while, with my first boyfriend- who had driven all way up to the mountains from Baton Rouge, to take me back south with him. He did, and we lived together for many years, in Louisiana.

The south was a bad place for me to be. There was an overwhelming influence of religion and normative pressures. I was still very impressionable and had not gone through therapy to deal with the abuse I had been through, being Autistic or Bipolar, and I had never let anybody in on what I now know to be gender dysphoria.

I was still a lost soul, essentially. It got to me at some point.

Living as a femboy, I got closer and closer to that realization that I was, in fact, a woman. Just at the last minute, before I made that breakthrough- I had what I call a total religious meltdown.

In 2008, I had this day where I completely collapsed in on myself. I threw away everything feminine I owned. I went hard-line Christian, rebuked everything about myself, shaved my head- the whole nine yards. I lost my fucking mind.

I just could not accept being one of those "crazy trannies".

My ex was upset, rightfully so. To his credit he stayed with me, and tried to get me through whatever I was going through. I owe a lot to him for that, regardless of the stupid shit that went down later on.

I had some bad influences egging me on through that religious phase, but by 2011 I was finally out of it. Looking back, raggedly. I slowly started to reassemble the pieces of who I was before that day, re-embracing my femboy traits, little by little.

It was in 2012 that in private I told my ex that I thought I might be transgender. He just said, "I could see that." We shared a chuckle. I asked my personal friends in a Skype call that same night, that if I had been a woman the whole time would it have surprised them. They unanimously said, "no."

The gears started turning again.

I still had a long way to go before I finally came out and just owned myself. Because just as I was about to- the tumblr era fell upon us.

Now, bearing in mind that- politically, I was still in a Christian, rural isolation tank and we simply did not live online then as we do now, I was more centrist than left back then.

I wanted to come out, but the community I was seeing via stuff like Buzzfeed and the worst of Tumblr, and then ofc I started falling into the alt-right pipeline with Amazing Atheist, ShoeonHead, and Sargon of Akkad and all that shit- I would remain closeted for another 9 fucking years.

In that time I had accepted internally who I was. I finally came to accept that I was trans around 2012, 2013. I was just terrified to say anything about it. VERY few people knew, mostly trans friends I had.

Then finally we hit the 2020's. The moment that finally pushed me over the "I just can't live in secrecy anymore" hump, was a man calling me ma'am and talking to me as if I were a woman, because he thought I was one, in a grocery store parking lot.

By this time I was far further left, politically. I cut ties with a TON of outed neo-Nazi bronies. I had been going to therapy for many years. I had quit smoking. I was back in the north. That alt-right crap was getting exposed and I was over it. I was finally ready.

I finally came out. You know what my sister said to me?

"Yeah, duh."

I have regrets. I knew, when I was 13, that I was transgender. Even though I had not heard of the concept at the time, if I had had somebody to talk to about what I was going through, when I was a teenager, I could have been spared many years of pain and internal chaos.

I could have been spared two suicide attempts.

I could have possibly even been spared 150 pounds of stress eating.

Nobody suggested I be trans. Nobody groomed me to be trans. I did not even know what it was when I experienced Dysphoria.

Trans youth are real. I was one.

For context- https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/11007033

Puppy wishes to open this with a disclaimer- YES, PLEASE still call me Carol, if you need/want to refer to me by irl name. :3 However, to clarify, calling me puppy, Skoon, or even Cookie, is still also entirely acceptable! Cookie is my nickname, puppy is how I often refer to myself, and Skoon is my pen name and former fursona species. So these are all fine. <3

The primary reason I am making a follow up journal though is to address my stated guilt and unwell feelings about not picking the name I truly wanted for myself (Carol), as my first name. Instead puppy relegated it to her middle name and went with a gender neutral version of her dead name.

Puppy got to thinking though, late last night, and somebody accidentally stumbled into it thus prompting this journal. I believe I have reasoned my way into comfort with my new name. Although, again, I still prefer to be called Carol in context.

Here's the plot-

My legal first name is now Chris. Just, Chris. As in Christine. Puppy stuck with the neutral version because she has never been able to get the people around her where she grew up to stop calling her Chris, so it was an unfortunate self defeatist attitude- we're past that now- moving on.

Puppy, in her fursona form, has always had red and green eyes and a white, snowy mane. Even when she was a Skoon! Before the Eeveenroc change.

Her name is now Chris Carol.

She has Christmas colors.

Have you put it together yet?

By complete blind coincidence puppy has made herself Christmas themed. Which is even more apt considering she LOVES winter. Climate change has been very hard on pup.

Puppy is legally Christmas Carol. That is adorable.

After realizing I had done this puppy suddenly felt far more at ease about her decision. kehe uwu

What a fun coincidence!

So puppy's nickname is still Cookie. Most everybody online still calls her Skoon or puppy which is fine! :3 This is about her real name change!

Puppy has mixed news about her name change. On one paw, it was successful, and it was extremely thrilling and validating to go through with. <3

On the other paw... puppy realized after the fact that she picked her first name more for the sake of other people and not really for herself... not gonna lie, the regret has been stinging. Her first name is a gender-neutral version of her dead name. Puppy strongly regrets not fully embracing the name she really wanted, but she is a cowardly push-over who keeps ruining herself for the opinions of people who don't care. It's a vicious cycle from decades of mental and emotional abuse. YEY! To make matters worse, despite being unisex people still associate her first name with men more often, and overall puppy is just wracked with self loathing over picking it.

ANYWAY, puppy's new middle name, is the name she truly wanted to be her first name. Carol. :3

It was my grandmother's name. As much as most of my blood family was and is awful and puppy doesn't associate with them anymore, grandma Carol she loved dearly. The name is extremely comforting to me, and with my Christmas colored eyes and snowy mane, the name Carol just feels right anyway. kehe

In the future, puppy may go through the name change process a second time to rectify her mistake. Really get these god damn family shackles off of me, emotionally, and ACTUALLY make decisions JUST FOR MYSELF for once. But until then- middle name it is. uwu

Why do you like my art?

I'm trying to figure out what my appeal is so I can amplify it. I'm feeling so lost lately, and I want to do too many things at once. Thus, I end up doing little to nothing.

What can I specialize in? What is it the majority of you actually like about my body of work? What is it puppy does that she can triple down on and really brand?

Last weekend I helped my father empty out storage units. He always struggled with hoarding, and it was a hell of a chore. During the job we found a stack of papers from when my sister and I were in elementary school. So I took them.

At first, the stack relating to me was old drawings and paper projects and trinkets of that nature. Then it soon became clear that the majority of it was disciplinary reports, notes to my parents, and various complaints about me from school staff. Things I had never seen before.

My curiosity took me through it, and I made several important discoveries. Overall though, was the realization that every sign of being Autistic, every sign of abuse I was suffering, and every sign of needing help was going ignored and misinterpreted. Repeatedly. I was denied access to special needs because my Autism symptoms (including a speech impediment) were deemed "intentional disruptive behavior" and not signifiers of a condition. I was consistently punished for stimming habits, I remember that quite clearly. I was consistently punished for how I spoke. I was shamed for near every aspect of my personality.

A very aggravating trend to look over as an adult was how many times I was written as, and punished as, the antagonist of a conflict between myself and another student. Now, I remember some of these things. As an adult I can say uninterrupted what would normally happen. I was bullied because I was weird. I was a hyper active, neuro-divergent kid with sexual and emotional abuse trauma. When I would get upset enough to fight back, I was loud and obvious, and the adults in the room would notice. To their perspective, I had started it. The problem was- they'd never listen to me. I was never allowed to explain the situation. I was either spoken over and stopped outright, or called a liar. They loved calling me a liar. "Excuses" was their favorite word.

I have several report cards. I excelled in art and music, but failed miserably in everything else (especially math, which I am still horrible with- I am effectively numerically illiterate). Over time I also begin to fail with art and music, though. I was giving up. That was around the time I was becoming the monster they kept telling me I was. When I got into my teens I really was becoming violent and eerie, because I had spent my childhood being told that's who I was. Tell somebody something enough, as they say. I was eventually pulled out of public school and that was absolutely for the best. I could have ended up a very violent person, instead I am a docile puppy girl. What a deceptively swift course correction that was.

This stack of paper brought a lot of memories back to me. It brought a lot of feelings back to me. It brought a lot of hurt and frustration, but also vindication. I am not crazy. These people really did treat me poorly. The system truly did fail me. I have on-going struggles to this day because of how these people failed me as a child.

I can source my distrust of authority, my paranoia, my defensiveness, my lack of confidence and self esteem, and my shame in my natural idiosyncratic body language all to these school years. I now have papers backing up my claims.

I am absolutely taking this stuff to my therapist, because this opened a lot of doors.

As much as I sorely distrust paypal...

puppy is so damn broke ;w;

Enabling shinies.

I don't mind people RPing as my OCs, I know I can't stop them anyway. As long as they don't STEAL them.

But PLEASE stop RPing as my fursona. She IS me, and she is very personal. Also you are confusing people into thinking they were actually speaking to me.

If you RP'd with Cookie, it was not me.

The F-list profile for her IS actually me, though, just for the record.