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"Thanks again for coming out to the photo shoot, Emerald." The hyena behind the camera smiled rather slyly at the raccoontaur, enjoying his chat perhaps a little too much. His tail was wagging like crazy with every word he spoke. Odds were, he was a rookie photographer gushing over the chance to interview a collegiate star.
"Um, that's 'Merill,' Mr. Landon," came the reply. Despite the scowl on his face, Merill was doing his honest best to maintain an aura of civility and respect. He didn't like being called by his full legal first name. "And again, no problem. I don't usually deal with cameramen and reporters outside of basketball season, so it's a bit strange for me to be here. Still, with the draft on the way, I guess I can't really hide from y'all." His tail twitched to his left, and he shrugged his shoulders. Even in the seasons at college he was uneasy around the press, but he did a good enough job of hiding that feeling that no one preyed upon it.
"Right, right... I forgot you already asked me not to say that, sorry." The hyena chuckled and shrugged back at the young taur. He noticed his rampant tail and took a few moments to settle down. "And call me Joseph; no need to be so formal. So, we went through most of your life story already, Merill.; now tell me about the jersey you're wearing today. It looks really close to the authentic ones we sell at the fan shop in Biloxi..."
"The jersey?" Merill blinked his green eyes once and blushed softly; it appeared that it had a sort of sentimental value to the young male. "Oh, mom made that for me as a graduation present. She's always been great with crafts and handiwork, hmm? It's so close to the real one, that if you didn't spot the absence of the FBA logo you'd swear it was one of the real things." His feet shifted underneath him, as he yipped gently. "Bless 'er soul, she's been such a huge role model for me, and one of my biggest role models."
"Go on."
"She says that after our team lost in the Final Four, she began to whip up the jersey back at the house in Texas. It's not made of the same fabric or anything; really, she just made a white tank top with the traditional cotton and all, then designed it after the Mudpuppies jersey. Made it from memory, too, breaking it down as she watched the games. She had it ready graduation day, and I don't think I've ever hugged anyone harder than I hugged her that day. We never bought the fan clothing because we just wanted to stick with the pennants and signed basketballs. Got one with Barton Rouge's signature two years ago, even have a Vanhorn in the case from their '91 title year."
"So, you weren't bluffing about being lifelong fans of the team."
"Of course not." Merill chuckled softly. "My first game with the father was the Mudpuppies' last title-clincher. Pretty much gonna be fans of Biloxi for life, regardless of the team I'm put on. Dad salivated when he saw Vanhorn on the cover of Furballer recently, so the Mudpuppy fire still burns in his heart for sure. Mom, I think she follows after my dad because she's a super-supportive vixentaur, there for us at every step our raccoon-paws take."
"You're a lucky taur, having such great parents to look up to. I bet most kids would be envious of your relationship with your folks." Joseph's eyes began to tear up; this young raccoontaur was humble and soft-spoken. Fear began to well up along with that respect though... he hoped Merill wouldn't become an egomaniacal superstar like many great ballers before him. "Sorry, I just-"
"It's okay, Joe. I've had to rise above a lot of hate and bias on my way up the ladder. I know in my heart I can avoid the egotism that a lot of our superstars succumb to. My dad used Healey Davis as an example of a well-seasoned, good-mannered player, showed me lots of the Healer's old game tapes in middle and high school. He wasn't a Mudpuppy, but he's one of my favorite players, personally. Dad always said that you learn the most from team players like him, and I'll stick by it for as long as I breathe. His advice hasn't steered me wrong yet, so..."
Joseph got up and nodded during the taur's pause, walking him through the pose he wanted to capture. It was just then that the hyena brought Merill a basketball, and wondered if he'd like to use it in the pose. Merill accepted it gracefully, but requested a permanent marker first. Though he was curious as to why Merill would want one, Joseph still gave the coontaur his marker. Merill scrawled "PC31" on an open section of the ball, then added "FF" on the next section over.
"Um, kid, those aren't your initials..." Joe barked hesitantly. Merill walked over to the hyena and patted his head, whispering, "I know." They both exchanged a curious gaze, before shrugging in unison as Merill adopted his pose. It was confident, but not smug, with the ball tucked under his arm, the writing facing the camera. He looked... to be simple, ready to play a game of pickup. Joe snapped the photo, and proclaimed it such a good shot that he didn't need to shoot any more pictures.
"Just one question, Merill." Joe's tail wagged; he was proud of the way this session had gone. Still, something lingered in the back of his mind.
"The writing, of course." Merill smiled heartily and then took in a deep sigh. "You know about Phil Crota passing away, right? Well, the family and I have long been a supporter of equal rights and same-sex marriage. When we learned about Phil and Joey getting married, we were overjoyed for them both. It was a great thing, to see love in any form like that. I teared up when I read about Phil's last words."
"But what does the writing mean?" the hyena queried.
"Oh, sorry, got on a tangent," the taur admitted, before clearing his throat. "Well, 'PC31' basically means 'Phil Crota,' and his age at death. 'FF' means 'Fly Free,' which is what I'm sure the spirit of that brave bird is doing right about now. And I bet that with each ruffle of the wind against his feathers, Joey's gonna smile and know that Phil's right there, wings beating as strongly as ever. The body may die but love never truly perishes."
And with that, Joe stepped away from his camera. Merill proceeded to sign his autograph on the ball and tossed a bounce-pass to the hyena. He then padded over to him and gave him a friendly hug, ball cradled between their stomachs. And after a few seconds they parted ways, tears in both of their eyes, but a wide smile on both of their snouts...
I'm going to start my credits section by saying that I adore the hell out of this picture. Jailbird and Lupe did an excellent job collaborating on this piece, and I had the pleasure of watching it made. Both were very workable with the details, and I'd recommend them to anyone who can afford their work.
Now, Merill's a potential draft pick in the FBA (Furry Basketball Association), owned by Buckhopper. I love the idea and shamefully have only -just- started to get into it. Wish I'd done so sooner.
Love this image? Give love to the original here!
Art ©
and 
Thumbnailer ©
and 
FBA, Biloxi Mudpuppies, Jeremiah Vanhorn, Healey Davis, Phil Crota, Joey Cox ©
(feel free to correct me on any of those if I got them wrong)
Biloxi Mudpuppies jersey design ©
Story, Merill Providence and Joseph Landon ©
"Um, that's 'Merill,' Mr. Landon," came the reply. Despite the scowl on his face, Merill was doing his honest best to maintain an aura of civility and respect. He didn't like being called by his full legal first name. "And again, no problem. I don't usually deal with cameramen and reporters outside of basketball season, so it's a bit strange for me to be here. Still, with the draft on the way, I guess I can't really hide from y'all." His tail twitched to his left, and he shrugged his shoulders. Even in the seasons at college he was uneasy around the press, but he did a good enough job of hiding that feeling that no one preyed upon it.
"Right, right... I forgot you already asked me not to say that, sorry." The hyena chuckled and shrugged back at the young taur. He noticed his rampant tail and took a few moments to settle down. "And call me Joseph; no need to be so formal. So, we went through most of your life story already, Merill.; now tell me about the jersey you're wearing today. It looks really close to the authentic ones we sell at the fan shop in Biloxi..."
"The jersey?" Merill blinked his green eyes once and blushed softly; it appeared that it had a sort of sentimental value to the young male. "Oh, mom made that for me as a graduation present. She's always been great with crafts and handiwork, hmm? It's so close to the real one, that if you didn't spot the absence of the FBA logo you'd swear it was one of the real things." His feet shifted underneath him, as he yipped gently. "Bless 'er soul, she's been such a huge role model for me, and one of my biggest role models."
"Go on."
"She says that after our team lost in the Final Four, she began to whip up the jersey back at the house in Texas. It's not made of the same fabric or anything; really, she just made a white tank top with the traditional cotton and all, then designed it after the Mudpuppies jersey. Made it from memory, too, breaking it down as she watched the games. She had it ready graduation day, and I don't think I've ever hugged anyone harder than I hugged her that day. We never bought the fan clothing because we just wanted to stick with the pennants and signed basketballs. Got one with Barton Rouge's signature two years ago, even have a Vanhorn in the case from their '91 title year."
"So, you weren't bluffing about being lifelong fans of the team."
"Of course not." Merill chuckled softly. "My first game with the father was the Mudpuppies' last title-clincher. Pretty much gonna be fans of Biloxi for life, regardless of the team I'm put on. Dad salivated when he saw Vanhorn on the cover of Furballer recently, so the Mudpuppy fire still burns in his heart for sure. Mom, I think she follows after my dad because she's a super-supportive vixentaur, there for us at every step our raccoon-paws take."
"You're a lucky taur, having such great parents to look up to. I bet most kids would be envious of your relationship with your folks." Joseph's eyes began to tear up; this young raccoontaur was humble and soft-spoken. Fear began to well up along with that respect though... he hoped Merill wouldn't become an egomaniacal superstar like many great ballers before him. "Sorry, I just-"
"It's okay, Joe. I've had to rise above a lot of hate and bias on my way up the ladder. I know in my heart I can avoid the egotism that a lot of our superstars succumb to. My dad used Healey Davis as an example of a well-seasoned, good-mannered player, showed me lots of the Healer's old game tapes in middle and high school. He wasn't a Mudpuppy, but he's one of my favorite players, personally. Dad always said that you learn the most from team players like him, and I'll stick by it for as long as I breathe. His advice hasn't steered me wrong yet, so..."
Joseph got up and nodded during the taur's pause, walking him through the pose he wanted to capture. It was just then that the hyena brought Merill a basketball, and wondered if he'd like to use it in the pose. Merill accepted it gracefully, but requested a permanent marker first. Though he was curious as to why Merill would want one, Joseph still gave the coontaur his marker. Merill scrawled "PC31" on an open section of the ball, then added "FF" on the next section over.
"Um, kid, those aren't your initials..." Joe barked hesitantly. Merill walked over to the hyena and patted his head, whispering, "I know." They both exchanged a curious gaze, before shrugging in unison as Merill adopted his pose. It was confident, but not smug, with the ball tucked under his arm, the writing facing the camera. He looked... to be simple, ready to play a game of pickup. Joe snapped the photo, and proclaimed it such a good shot that he didn't need to shoot any more pictures.
"Just one question, Merill." Joe's tail wagged; he was proud of the way this session had gone. Still, something lingered in the back of his mind.
"The writing, of course." Merill smiled heartily and then took in a deep sigh. "You know about Phil Crota passing away, right? Well, the family and I have long been a supporter of equal rights and same-sex marriage. When we learned about Phil and Joey getting married, we were overjoyed for them both. It was a great thing, to see love in any form like that. I teared up when I read about Phil's last words."
"But what does the writing mean?" the hyena queried.
"Oh, sorry, got on a tangent," the taur admitted, before clearing his throat. "Well, 'PC31' basically means 'Phil Crota,' and his age at death. 'FF' means 'Fly Free,' which is what I'm sure the spirit of that brave bird is doing right about now. And I bet that with each ruffle of the wind against his feathers, Joey's gonna smile and know that Phil's right there, wings beating as strongly as ever. The body may die but love never truly perishes."
And with that, Joe stepped away from his camera. Merill proceeded to sign his autograph on the ball and tossed a bounce-pass to the hyena. He then padded over to him and gave him a friendly hug, ball cradled between their stomachs. And after a few seconds they parted ways, tears in both of their eyes, but a wide smile on both of their snouts...
I'm going to start my credits section by saying that I adore the hell out of this picture. Jailbird and Lupe did an excellent job collaborating on this piece, and I had the pleasure of watching it made. Both were very workable with the details, and I'd recommend them to anyone who can afford their work.
Now, Merill's a potential draft pick in the FBA (Furry Basketball Association), owned by Buckhopper. I love the idea and shamefully have only -just- started to get into it. Wish I'd done so sooner.
Love this image? Give love to the original here!
Art ©
and 
Thumbnailer ©
and 
FBA, Biloxi Mudpuppies, Jeremiah Vanhorn, Healey Davis, Phil Crota, Joey Cox ©
(feel free to correct me on any of those if I got them wrong)Biloxi Mudpuppies jersey design ©
Story, Merill Providence and Joseph Landon ©
Category Artwork (Digital) / General Furry Art
Species Raccoon
Size 1265 x 1280px
File Size 99.8 kB
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