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pseudonymsys.bsky.social
Reaganomics Lamborghini: Jacuzzi salesman extraordinaire
@pseudonymsys.bsky.social
18 followers 64 following 100 posts
The bsky account for the pseudonym system
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tansy.bsky.social
describing my monogamous relationship to furries: this guy is on my one-person exclusive unlimited sex patreon tier
July 9, 2025 at 11:20 PM
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freedomofform.bsky.social
freedomofform.org/7096/septemb...
Hey folks! Sorry for the delay!
September was a very productive month for us at the FFF, and we're proud to present commentary on our freshly completed Head Anatomy video series, written by Zennith! (1/2)
September 2025 newsletter - Freedom of Form Foundation
freedomofform.org
October 7, 2025 at 12:21 AM
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servali.bsky.social
the many innovative features of the erval
October 1, 2025 at 1:35 AM
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elfreckles.bsky.social
Everyone has post-nut clarinet, obviously.

#furry #furryart #digital #comics
Digital picture. Two foxes post coitus, with the male playing the clarinet.
September 27, 2025 at 6:27 PM
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shimi.bsky.social
New zine: “Look Into My Eyes One Last Time”

A final love letter to the self I shed
A prayer for the creature. Becoming
A reckoning, a surrender. Homecoming

This is my deepest wish laid bare—needle, fur, breath, & mercy. Being held with a care I never found.

#AnimalHRT #Therianthropy #ShortStory
A hand-drawn black-and-white cover image in a sketchy ink style. At the top, large stenciled type reads: “LOOK INTO MY EYES ONE LAST TIME.” Below the title is a syringe and a small medicine vial labeled “LUPINEX – Therionyl – 5mL,” with a stylized eye logo on the label. The vial and syringe are crosshatched with vintage texture lines. Below the drawing, in handwritten script, is the phrase: “Homecoming, not vanishing” and the signature Shimi & Critter. [Art on Page] A detailed graphite drawing of a wolf’s eyes. One, the left is more formed than the right — indicating a near but not complete transition. The fur around them is dense and wispy, rendered in fine pencil lines that suggest softness and depth. The eyes are highly realistic and expressive, staring directly outward with intense, soulful focus. They seem alert but ancient—wide with instinct, watching as if waiting for something to begin. The drawing fades at the edges into blank white space, giving the eyes a floating, disembodied presence. Look into my eyes one last time Look into my eyes. Hold them close until you can see the last scrap of me — the part that counts thoughts in lists, that weighs choices against rules, that folds shame into tidy, human-shaped pockets. Watch it loosen. Watch the corners of doubt unhook themselves like small animals from a net and dart away. There is no melodrama here, no violent yanking; it slips. The human mind peels like old bark, and underneath, the thing that always was settles warm and terrible and simple. They give me the last injection in a room that smells faintly of cedar and lemon. No needles, no cold clinical lecture — only the careful hands of doctors, veterinarians and nurses who know which bones to cradle and which stories to leave untold. I breathe. I lost the ability to count days back. I let the bracing liquid be a gate, not an instruction manual. I do not want to name it; names are the thin net that caught me for years. The burn is a rumour. It goes through me sideways — a quiet rearrangement, like a convent bell that signals not death but a calling. My limbs answer first. They stop thinking of movement and begin to remember it: how to fold, to coil, to push. Tendons unlearn the polite phrasing of two-legged steps and curve toward the old, fourfold geometry of running. My hands tighten and flatten; the knuckles find a new logic. Fur prickles along my forearms as if a thousand small moths take flight together and settle again. Each hair is a note in a chord I’ve felt… no… known in my bones since childhood. Look again. See how the pupils widen, how the whites retreat like a shy moon. My last maps of metaphor — the maps that turned hunger into lists and longing into projects — dissolve. Where there had been a ledger of self, there is now only the immediate ledger of scent and sound and the earth’s exact tilt beneath my weight. I do not mourn the maps. I never used them as well as the human world predicted and as I pretended. Sound changes. Those little, trivial noises of the room condense into a chorus: the slow tick of breath in the person beside me, the whisper of fabric, the distant wet confluence of gutters. And underneath that: a low, patient life-frequency — root and soil and river. It is not music so much as an acknowledgment. I find I can hear the insect conversation inside the walls, the sap walking up the birch, the small, stupid heartbeat of a mouse two blocks away. There is an intimacy to it that is almost rude. Breath becomes work and worship at once. My ribcage narrows, then widens in ways I know but cannot name. Milk memories — a thing to shame into silence when human — rise like a tide: the cadence of suckling, the doctrinal simplicity of being called to feed and to protect. A swelling around my belly that is not fat but purpose. I think of my children who never were, of the packs I have loved in mute pieces. The notion of motherhood is larger than gender; it is a compass with teeth. My children! You are my children and you are my all! My jaw shifts. I feel the slow, inevitable rearrangement — a socket loosens, a hinge finds its voice. A tooth erupts where an organised thought had lived. The smell of iron, rain-damp soil, and sleeping bodies that have waited for me — flooding my mouth like saliva. Tears come and I do not know if they are human or creature; they taste of salt and release. There is a tenderness in my own trembling that I have never allowed before. Outside the window, someone whose scent I knew laughs and it sounds to me like a distant bell. The handlers murmur: careful, gentle, let her and her pack decide. My mouth forms the shape and bark of guttural assent I could not voice when I was wholly human. Somewhere a crate opens as if the world is taking a breath with me. They will test me further, yes. They will see whether my newness walks toward the wild or clings to the small, safe hands of fosterers who will teach me boundaries, how to pass in a world of paved things. I do not fear them. I am no longer wrapped in that ledger — of consent, of cost, of consequence. I am wrapped in appetite and mercy. The choice, if there is one, feels less like an argument and more like a direction: toward den or home, toward the kill lovingly taken or the bowl lovingly given. Look once more. There is no human drama in my eyes now — only depth, like a riverbed where stones remember every footstep. The last scrap of thought, the tiny librarian of my life who loved lists, things and order, exhales and steps back through the doorway we are leaving open. I feel it go, and where it is gone there is fullness, a pulse that answers the creature’s call without translation. This is not a loss. It is not my obliteration. It is the solving of a long, clenched equation. I am not lessened. I am finally the shape I have been learning. Look into my eyes, one last time. I am awakening. — Shimi & Critter @shimi.bsky.social
September 26, 2025 at 1:47 AM
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shimi.bsky.social
Black-and-white sketch of four wolves playing together on the far right side of the image, their bodies close and faces joyful. On the far left, there is only a patch of empty ground with no figure, emphasizing absence and separation. The wide blank space between the left and right groups heightens the sense of distance and exclusion.”
September 10, 2025 at 9:13 AM
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moynul.bsky.social
10/ The "Wolf Territory" map

GPS tracks show how wolf packs in Voyageurs National Park avoid each other’s range.
March 9, 2025 at 10:53 PM
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bobskunk.bsky.social
I got an emergency situation where I need to get a Canadian friend into ANY other living situation

He's in Alberta with a family of brain-scrambled nazis bleeding him dry of sanity and finance and the only work is some shitty unsafe car parts warehouse that isn't paying but it is breaking his body.
July 23, 2025 at 8:12 AM
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bobskunk.bsky.social
I'm really nervous. Can someone get to me with anything at all?

I fear extremely, explicitly imminent suicide. The talk is getting extremely alarming and he has absolutely no support structure of any kind.

If I don't find some arrangement, anything, he is going to die.

Please.
bobskunk.bsky.social Bobcariboose @bobskunk.bsky.social · Jul 23
I got an emergency situation where I need to get a Canadian friend into ANY other living situation

He's in Alberta with a family of brain-scrambled nazis bleeding him dry of sanity and finance and the only work is some shitty unsafe car parts warehouse that isn't paying but it is breaking his body.
August 11, 2025 at 4:10 AM
pseudonymsys.bsky.social
Seattle!!!! traffic...
car. Seattle.
August 10, 2025 at 1:51 AM
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squeedge.bsky.social
💓😿 I need help affording my darling kitty’s medication and cat food/litter this month ;-; health issues have left me really behind on funds- I’m out of human food too but she comes first
-
anything helps! boosts appreciated 💓
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☕️ Ko-fi.com/squeedge
✅ $squeedge
💙 PayPal.me/squeedge
Photo of a grey fluffy tabby cat laying on the ground with her paws curled up in front of her Photo of a grey and white fluffy tabby cat sitting in window Photo of grey and white tabby cat looking excited and insane Photo of grey and white tabby cat on floor, looking upside down and making a silly face
August 5, 2025 at 12:11 AM
pseudonymsys.bsky.social
wrrff gfff hhhhh
August 7, 2025 at 5:59 AM
pseudonymsys.bsky.social
Montana is beautiful
moon awooo awooooo
August 7, 2025 at 5:50 AM
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catcoded.lol
Found this on TikTok and it made me emotional ❤️

Artists create universes from nothing.

Being an animator is an intimate understanding of life, environments, physics, what it MEANS to be alive, and the ability to convey the beauty within our world in seconds.
July 27, 2025 at 2:56 AM
pseudonymsys.bsky.social
HOLY FUCKING SHIT GUYS SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP AND FUND NUCLEAR POWER. WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO ARGUE ABOUT THIS IF EVERYONE WASN'T A FUCKING DUMBASS.
acyn.bsky.social Acyn @acyn.bsky.social · Jul 25
Thiessen: Just so people understand wind and solar only work when there is wind and sun. We don't have technology to store the energy from wind and solar…
August 1, 2025 at 12:17 AM
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doggymove.bsky.social
They're saying your ass failed the harkness test on feralsky
July 31, 2025 at 4:03 PM
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avislime.party
if you do not defend the right for art you find disgusting to exist you are part of the problem. i dont care that you "dont care about fandom discourse" if you spout fascist bullshit at transgressive fiction all the same
July 30, 2025 at 6:42 PM
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hearthfox.bsky.social
A thread of art that @slimyswampghost.bsky.social has drawn onto photos I've sent as offerings.
July 25, 2025 at 2:06 AM
pseudonymsys.bsky.social
I am convinced WWIII is coming soon now.
July 24, 2025 at 7:06 PM
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deathcvlt.bsky.social
July 15, 2025 at 8:06 AM
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wolf.moda
this takes 5 minutes, please fill this out.
July 23, 2025 at 1:48 AM
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hearthfox.bsky.social
I saw my body as a structure. A house that didn't accommodate the creatures inside. We threw our bodies against the walls and painted them to look like us. We learned all the secret pathways. We slept in a pile by the fireplace. A circle of animals, all with their own place.
hearthfox.bsky.social HearthFox ΘΔ @hearthfox.bsky.social · Jul 22
A few years ago
Something happened to me
And my soul
Was ripped apart
And I was rebuilt
Piece by piece
Till I knew and loved
every dark corner
Of myself
July 22, 2025 at 11:24 AM
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sarahcatfursuits.com
I need help, please. :[
A pipe in my studio shattered, the entire area is flooded. I'm out of work until further notice. It's $3k for them to come replace it on Monday MINIMUM as we don't know how far the damage extends.

I have multiple brand new partials I am open to offers on
July 17, 2025 at 6:39 PM
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wolf.moda
being this way (θΔ/☉∇) is transformation in some way
July 17, 2025 at 12:34 AM