tux, local queer cryptid!

ferretaur time

that's me!!! :3c

I went to the feral kickz art market today and I DIDNT KNOW @tuxedodragon.bsky.social WAS THE ARTIST WHO MADE THIS IMAGE LOL. I remembering seeing it forever ago in a random discord server and thinking this was the funniest thing ever! Such a small world out there! Wish i brought money to buy stuff!

rainbow dragon from my sketchbook 🌈

A brightly-colored poster showing Tux coiled around a utility pole, slapping down a sticker amongst several other stickers and flyers.

hey critters!! are you in PDX this coming weekend? come check out the@feralkickz.bsky.social furry art market this saturday at the Q Center (4115 N Mississippi Ave)! ;3
i've got a table, and you can buy my silly stickers, buttons, and a few more odds and ends i've put together~

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

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

plushie✕pooltoy 4ever!!

k i t s u n e c o f f e e

Illustration of little mice surrounding a soup pot making soup! The text reads “do not disturb.. I’m busy making soup”

It’s soup season!
#art

A mini traditional commission for Hazel with her sona as a plushie :3

10,5*6,5 cm watercolour + coloured pencils

#furry #traditional_art #commission

When will they make a new Pokemon Mystery Dungeon game!

Sneak peak of hornet

Eurasian jay! got to see one irl for the first time recently which was a pretty neat experience

#traditionalart #watercolor #birdart

A shapeshifter character in pooltoy form swimming through an endless pool in the backrooms; it gazes off down a dark alley between white-tiled pillars

The shapeshifter is swimming up to a flight of stairs in a small rectangular green room. A ladder to nowhere sticks up out the side of the pool, and tree leaves grow from the ceiling.

The shapeshifter floats in a small curved pool in front of a hole in the wall that leads into blackness. The pool is surrounded by raised walls with a railing and bushes on top.

THE SYMBOLIC, THE SENSORY, AND THE AUTISTIC
A 6-part story (part 2 in replies)

#furry #furryart #liminalspace

A painting of an inside of a car looking out into a green field. Instead of a reflection, the side mirror depicts a dark figure burning in a swath of flames.

There's No Going Back

if that ain't the mood X'3

I feel so fulfilled when I remember to eat and DO THINGS!!!

Those That Inherit the Earth Vol. 1 is live on Kickstarter!

If an episodic tale of an opossum and an astronaut living in a sword and sci-fi world sounds like your thing, this book is for you

Interest Check for Sticker Preorders - Click to view on Ko-fi TuxedoDragon added a poll on Ko-fi

hello bluesky critters! i just posted a poll on my ko-fi to ask a very important question: would you be interested in sticker preorders, if i offered them?

if you like my stickers and plan to buy any in the future, i'd super appreciate your opinion and vote! 💛

ko-fi.com/polls/Intere...

thank youuu <3

If you see a strange animal in the woods, steer clear. You never know what diseases or virus' they may have. Steer clear of restricted zones. Check your local maps and guides for more information.


#amphimorpho #transformation #amphimorphotransformation

Do YOU want to be an Amphimorpho??? let me give you a lick and you can be! :3c

I want to have some quick simple things to draw as timed warmups I can pick up whenever between bigger projects. So this offer stands till otherwise stated!

My first victim is @photts.knot.gay <3
#ApolloKalarArts

Photo of a mini Wormbo plushie

Photo of a rainbow assortment of rainbow Jammy the clay dinosaur plushies.

Photograph of two pastel pink Jammy the clay Dinosaur plush

Howdy, Howdy! I made another Wormbo plush, restocked all the Jammy plush, and included a new Jammy color: Pastel Pink!
Can find them all here:
ko-fi.com/zuccnini/shop
[ #oc #plush #art ]

Watercolor artwork of Wormbo and Goobi looking outside a apartment window

Nosy worms
[ #art #oc #watercolor ]

ah!! it's been ages, but i'm still very happy with how this one turned out! ^^

QRP with something watery

This gif is still one of my favorites that involve my OCs. (It's my only gif involving my OCs, but it is also my favorite)
Animation by @tuxedodragon.bsky.social from a few years ago.

#tf #transfur #transformation #otter #furry

Do you remember the lantern deer painting? It is now dry and varnished. I stupidly bought this nice (and expensive) frame for it even though I have no use for the painting. For now It comes to my pile of unused paintings until I have an idea what to do with it.
In the meantime enjoy the view :)

blue raspberry flavored mecha beast (speed design)
#furry #furryartist

A fullbody drawing of a four-armed amphimorpho looking at the viewer. She has purple highlights on her eyes, pawpads, tail and the inside of her ears and mouth. Her fur pattern resembles that of the Dutch rabbit, with brown and cream colored fur.

Woah an actual Kyro artpost, that's new
Amphimorpho species by @tuxedodragon.bsky.social

My full illustrated depiction of Pokemon Square from Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Blue and Red Team

Middle Close up of the illustration. includes Mudkip, Torchic, 2 Magnemites and Snubbull

Right Close Up of the illustration. Includes Kecleon Brothers, Spinda and Lombre.

Right Close Up of the illustration. Includes Persian, Wynaut, Wobbuffet, Wigglytuff and Munchlax

Welcome to Pokemon Square! ❤️🌱💙 #Art #Fanart #pokemonmysterydungeondx