The Burden of Proof

(A somewhat improved version of a somewhat outdated poem from before I accepted this human body and life)

You see my subjective experiences as a set of beliefs; a cloak that covers the root cause of my actions and emotions. To you, they are falsehoods held tightly against my human heart. I see reality, my reality at least, differently. These stories I tell about myself were not born of daydreams nor escapism nor mental illness nor neurodiversity. They festered underneath the muscles of my heart, beating and tearing louder at the most confounding of times that wouldn't have relevance to my human life. These feelings so intense that they are impossible to ignore, near impossible to deny, crawled out of the values; traveled to every vein in this vessel; and reached my brain and eyes, ripping off the foggy veil of my existence that I couldn't tell apart from ordinary human experience until that fundamental truth washed away the arrogant and ignorant assumptions force fed to me throughout my problematic upbringing to reveal my connection to my reflection has always been one of disconnection. The true escapism was my half-hearted yet stubborn attempt to free myself from the pain of this embedded cage of a body by desperately against common sense trying to persuade myself into believing I was human until I was so. Months of bashing my heart with a rusty hammer smelted from baseless assumptions about how healthy and sane people are, what they allegedly believe, only further pumped the innate feelings around my nervous system while damaging an important part of myself. These feelings are not only real, not only sane, not only important - to amputate this core part of my soul would be to destroy me and leave behind a husk; a mere imitation of my true self collapsed on the floor. Can you see now how your casual remarks, so seemingly innocuous from your human-centric perspective, were a volley of wrecking-balls launched at me from within the walls of what I thought was my sanctuary, surrounded by those, yourself included, that I consider family? I know nothing from my recounts can account for the need for solid evidence; there's a tragic reason why I "joke" about being insane. I guess I shouldn't have let my guard down. The oasis of acceptance was a mirage. My companions on the edge of the Earth's collapse can't, won't, see me for who I really am. In my place, their rationalization of me in the form of an insane furry. The crawling under my skin is still here; and it will never go away until either this vessel or I break. I hold desperately onto hope for a third option, of physical liberation and expression through the authentic resculpting of the flesh-costume. Until then... my curiosity drags my lethargic prison towards tomorrow.

"A King's Mane" Originally posted: June 8th, 2019

After escaping the Shadowfell, the Favored Few went their separate ways. Raijinto found his calling to return to his homeland of Oboro. After the unrest and calamities that befell the island nation, he felt it his duty to help rebuild. It would turn out however, as the sole survivor of the attack at Castle Oboro, the duty of "King" fell upon to him. He accepted the position, feeling he needed to be a central figure to restore order to the continent. As a royal guard, Raijinto kept his 'hair' short- but in his new position, he thought it appropriate to grow it out.

Average nightmare sequence

Reference under the cut

Drawing is a reference to this HAHAH

I struggled to spell Charbonneau for a good like 2 minutes btw on god

All the above

Oops🤭

It's my life and I decide how to cope with cinematic traumas with crossovers

@heropartnerweek day 1- shiny

cyndaquil and chikorita's shinies together gave me fall vibes :]

ii drawing requests from twitter ^_^

Happy pride 🏳️‍🌈❤️

Render Warm-Up

Unassuming Siren of Ink

I reach past my clutter on the top shelf of my closet and grab a book that for a while I've been meaning to start. I'm trying my best to live this life to the fullest despite my emotions being pumped with only half a heart.

Mildly amused, I flip the pages through the hazy apathy of which I've become so used to; unfazed by my days blending into stew.

One unassuming panel was a spike-laced tunnel, an embrace uncommon to humans tore apart my plans.

Staring, agonizing, pulled in by longing. Missed opportunity to be true to me.

Affection withheld without any intention, a childhood endured given the wrong attention.

I see what I've been missing, not just my body that is missing nor my home that is missing. This panel, unintentionally, caused my pain to sing.

A breath that has quickened informs me of an infliction that I've been stricken. I know where this will end but it's already too late.

A siren of ink hidden in a sanctuary, the panel wraps rope around my eyes, pulls me closer, I need to stop! I don't want to stop. MAKE IT STOP!

The siren pierces the armor that is my rib cage and pulls out my heart, exposing the truth I keep hidden under primate flesh. Exposed to air, the pain leaks out for all too see, were I not alone, fortunately.

As if rolling into a brimstone ravine, my breath quickens against my will. I hope for something to gleam as my lungs become anything but still, but there's no point. Pain like the point of a knife this is needless strife, when will I be alright? Haven't I already suffered enough in this life? Rolling faster, burning, engulfing, forcibly unveiling the endless night I spend my days trying to ignore. Tell me definitively what this pain is for!?Faster now, deeper now, my lungs like caverns to accommodate the pain that healthy breaths can't sate. Stop, STOP! I try to grab onto something to regain my senses but the siren pulls harder on the rope, the world shatters the last of my hope… but only for a moment. This will pass but that's the last thing I'm thinking about during this torment! The siren's symphony is unwanted company. With a rising tempo, my lungs are reaching a crescendo!

Matching my lungs, the symphony's tempo is rising; heartbeat, rising; Anxiety rising! I can't do this! Not again! It feels like the end! This fleeting moment is agonizing! Please, make it stop! I shouldn't even be feeling this way! This isn't how I wanted my day, or any moment I endure of this life, to go. Ripped apart by the dismay, If only I could have stayed, not here but there, where I belong; My home that's long gone! My fur stripped off my flesh with nary a knife, instead I, me, the true self, not this… never this! Never this human body of the wrong sex!.. I…

I was born into a body that could never be true to myself…

Even worse still, as my breath starts to still, with the book, having been shut firmly and quickly, sitting still on the floor next to me as I lay still… I never got to experience the affection of a loving parent rubbing their face into me like a felidae would.

"Fancy Anna"

A Commission I did a while back, in mid 2020.

No girl don't delete me off your puter hahahaha I'm your best and only friend ever

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