ANIMAL is a new independent literary magazine devoted to featuring works by individuals with animal identities, including furries and animal-identifying alterhumans. We are seeking literature and art from individuals who identify with or as an animal in any capacity, be it through gender, spirituality, or/and another one of the many ways one can be animal. As a catch-all for such communities, we use the phrase furry&alterhuman, with a non-spaced ampersand to represent animals who exist around, between, and in both communities.
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walking around growling under my breath at work with my ears aaaallll the way back, because i SHOULD be lying under a canopy of pine and feeling the breeze on my fur and the sun on my nose, with my pack around me pawing at the clouds above us,
not squinting into the artificial lights made of glass and fire, fanning my overheated skin with unrecycleable plastic, and yearning to be anywhere except in this concrete cage
I wake up. I go to school. My first class is with my friends. We talk. My phantom tail wags when I'm with them. I want to tell them but they don't know I'm a therian. I stay quiet. I go to lunch. Kids are yelling at each other. My fur fluffs up and I have to resist the urge to bare my teeth. I walk away. During math my chin itches. Don't even realize I'm scratching it like an animal until I notice someone staring at me. After the bell rings I meet my friends outside. I bump my head against my friend's shoulder. They look confused. I go home. I am alone. I run on all fours and howl and screech and I am free. My family gets home. I go to my room. I get out my phone. I talk to people like me who understand what I am. I go to sleep. It's cold tonight. But I am alive. I am alive. A living breathing creature in human skin, right under everyone's nose.
Maladaptive Daydreaming and How It Affects Me/My Kinship
“Daydreaming” as a Nonhuman & Otherkin
Summary: learn a little about “maladaptive daydreaming” and learn about my experiences with it
CW: brief mention of abuse & vague discussion around trauma
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To start: What Is Maladaptive Daydreaming?
“Maladaptive Daydreaming” is actually a relatively “new” term coined in 2002 & isn’t a fully recognized medical condition. It is however a term being used to describe a phenomenon many people experience where they “excessively” daydream; these daydreams can be highly elaborate, can occur over multiple sessions and develop “storylines”, & can cause a person to entirely dissociate from their current space to explore a different world or situation mentally. This is often seen as a disruptive coping mechanism or a negative coping mechanism by default (which I don’t fully agree with), and has a tendency to take up a lot of time in someone’s day-to-day life.
Now I haven’t gone over everything here but I will link the Wikipedia article that briefly explains this subject & provides references to an assortment of opinions & findings on it, read or research further at your own risk: wiki article. Some opinions around it are absolute shit water.
Now, What does this have to do with being nonhuman or otherkin?
It’s about what one would imagine: it allows me to engage with concepts similar to “shifting”.
Now while I’m hesitant to downright call it “shifting” due to varying beliefs on what that word really refers to, I think I can safely say that maladaptive daydreaming is MY version of shifting at a minimum.
When I Maladaptively daydream, I’m able to mentally leave the room I'm in and be wherever I want to be. Whether it’s in the forest prancing around alone or deep in some convoluted plotline with my favorite characters from a recent interest; im able to be a hero, a victim, a beast long forgotten- whatever I need for that evening? I can be that!
Obviously I’m aware my body is still there in that room, and I know I’m not literally in these other places or situations, but it doesn’t really matter when I’m dreaming.
I’m able to imagine and mentally simulate things so vividly and clearly that for awhile I can just have fun and/or process things.
My body may be pacing back and forth across a room, I may be blasting music in my ears, I may even be moving in complete darkness- but the body doesn’t matter in that moment; the room couldn’t be more irrelevant; when I dream I’m somewhere else & that somewhere else is briefly necessary.
And I say “necessary” here very sincerely, because just like many others who maladaptively daydream- my dreaming is a lot of emotional and mental processing or bracing.
I developed maladaptive daydreaming when I was very young as a very clear coping mechanism; I won’t into all the gritty details but we can just say it helped me deal with a lot of early life trauma. And as I dreamt more and more- I would go on to be able to express more and more of my Alterhumanity & nonhumanity in a way that was deeply satisfying & relieving.
Because for hours and hours in my youth I could essentially quit being a human & be a powerful dog or anime demon or a twisted robot beast- whatever I needed- whatever fit the narrative- whatever helped me survive. I could be that, and I could pull through the impossible odds every time.
My alterhumanity & nonhumanity would very quickly (and not so subtly) developed alongside Maladaptive Daydreaming. While I believe I might have always been a little more animalistic than my peers- when im very honest with myself I can acknowledge a lot of my nonhumanity functions as a powerful coping mechanism & self perception. Where my daydreaming helped me escape my life for a bit- my identity as a creature or beast is what made me strong enough to come back to it.
In some emotional sense, I’d enter the daydream as a sad and scared little girl- and then I’d exit it as a powerful and wise monster; id become stronger, id become more wild, id be more myself- and if others didn’t understand me or didn’t like it, it was okay! Because I’d already prepared for a fight in my daydreams, id always already been ready to die (as dramatic as that is)
the cartoonishly high stakes of my daydreams made the more complex (and mundane) reality feel so much more manageable; if I were a dragon being hunted in my mind who could survive all the kings horses & all the kings men- then I could be a little girl who was being yelled at and threatened with ass whoopings; if I wasn’t being slaughtered I was doing awesome! But even if I somehow took on serious dangers, I was sure I could survive it.
And this applies even in modern day situations; while I’m generally better off than I was as a kid- I can still dream and process all my complex feelings and struggles through the lens of my favorite medias and my current kintypes.
I might be a poor man with holes in his floors and a few bucks to his name- but I can also be a unicorn impaling the literal embodiments of things like capitalism and greed. I can (mentally) spend time each day living as my Kintypes in vivid color with vivid mental and emotional stimulations, for better or for worse.
whether I’m crying over a fictional situation that mirrors my current day life or whether I’m saving the day like I save myself- I survive. I thrive. I process. And perhaps most importantly, I don’t have to be an human while I do any of it unless I want to be. I have the mental autonomy to control me better than I ever controlled myself in real life, and its cathartic.
Because of that near constant connection between the dreaming and my creature identity- I still consider maladaptively daydreaming to be a key part of my alterhumanity and nonhumanity. Even if it has less of a sway over my day-to-day now than it did when I was a kid, and even if I dream less than I used to- they’re sincerely connected. And im not sure they’ll ever be anything else.
Every kintype I have as a polykin appears in my dreaming, cameo shifts appear too- and through my dreams im able to focus on feeling and expressing myself in ways I simply cannot in this current world or life. I can spread my wings, I can race impossibly fast, I can bare my fangs, I can have whatever parts n bits I want in any part of my body and I can be adored while I do. I use my dreams as a tool to exist and flourish happily as a nonhuman; I dont have to be trapped or unhappy in any single shape. Daydreaming like this has (surprisingly to some), helped me love my current human shape so much more. I can relax as a human in the “real world” while I roam, run, and fight as a pig in a dream world.
It took awhile to get there- but ive found a balance.
Even if I know it’s not reflected on my current physical body- I’ve been doing this long enough to know it doesn’t really have to. My dreams show “real” results, it’s not a 1:1, but the positive effects and growth these dreams have given me IS real. My perception of self is real, my healing is real, and even if I acknowledge the daydreams AS daydreams- they’re real enough to me to be more than just a dream. And I feel like marking them off as anything less than the survival n processing method they are is dishonest and a disservice to understanding people like me.
Ive been maladaptive daydreaming for so long with so much focus & awareness- that the daydreams quit being intrusive for me a long time ago. They’re less an unintended interruption in my day & more a carefully scheduled self-stimulating ceremony I commit to nearly every night: they’re a part of what could be considered my “practice” as an alterhuman or nonhuman.
And I guess I just sort of wanted to talk about it a little. It’s not the most organized essay or rambling in the world, but surely you can cut me some slack; im not really used to writing this much.
I think id like to write about it more someday, but for now this will do. Im open to questions n curiosities on it, any hate or cruel “criticism” may earn you public humiliation & blocking
The Self-Discovery Ouroboros: My Journey With Mythic Alterhumanity is an essay that discusses my relationship with mythic alterhumanity and my progress with questioning, dropping, linking and even reclaiming some species of mine! I also discuss the importance of being both human and nonhuman in my alterhumanity!
CONTENT WARNING: While this essay is mostly SFW, I briefly discuss kinklinking (otherlinking for the purpose of sexual kink) and kink in general. This is all in relation to a couple of experiences. With this considered, 18+ readers only.
The essay’s word count is 4,592. The estimated reading time is about sixteen minutes, so it’s a lengthy read. Be sure to give a shot when you have the time and energy to sit down with it.
A humans way of a proper, respectful greeting is direct, maintained eye contact and baring teeth.
I acknowledge that, even if among my kind those are some of the most sure ways to show aggression, I am hidden amongst another species. I might as well honor their traditions. It would be unkind to disappoint. If there's one thing I like about this life; is how easy it is to be kind without downing my chance of survival.
Yet I always find it so unnerving when I'm swept off to meet a new friend of father or coworker of brother or some other man who holds power. In this case, the boss of brother.
He comes up fast, shined shoes shining and greased hair greasing. Dressed like any ordinary man, but with far too red skin and far too blue eyes that make me think even humans must find them unsettling. My heart skitters, his smile only grows, making it just so much easier to imagine fangs . . .
He reaches for my hand. His palm is sweaty. I lower my head, twist my hips in what should be an appropriate replacement for a tucked tail, drop my eyes and lick my lips. All the handshake does is make me feel weak.
In a moment the interaction is gone, and my stomach is still in knots, I'm hurrying to untangle it, the scent of blood will surely send him running back. I find it now so silly that I am intimidated by such things. Have I not learned? Will I ever?
There is no where for a tan pelt of cougar to hide and stalk from, no wolves here with tongues shot out like auction paddles bidding for my death, no glinting eyes stare at me from shallow waters. There is no panting behind me.
There is only a man who camouflages perfectly in the crowd, there is only a man with a blood soaked pelt, there is only a man with piercing eyes that size me up and down from my throat to hind legs. There is only a man with paws sweaty from the hunt. It is only a man.
A Fragment of a Fragment: An Eldritch Fictionfolk's Personhood
Discussion of and spoilers for Malevolent.
I am John Doe. Probably. Maybe I’m an echo of him, a memory, an illusion of identity borrowed from a fictional world. I don’t think that’s the case, though. I used to be him. Am I the same person now? I am Solaris. Kind of. Right now, I am more John Doe than I am Solaris. But that’s not exactly right, either– right now, he is more me, but he is me. Occasionally.
I am John Doe.I am part of the Winter Continuum subsystem, which is part of the Arctic Eclipse system. I am one of the many selves that make up Solaris, the author of this blog and Core of the subsystem. I am Solaris, but fully as John Doe in this moment.
I am Hastur, the King in Yellow. Well– it’s complicated. I used to be. I am not anymore. And yet, I always will be. I am a piece of the King, a fragment. I am a full person in my own right and still, paradoxically, only a piece of something else.
I think paradox is a good word to carry with us here. Almost everything about my existence can be defined in that tricky linguistic place of undefinability. It makes sense, honestly. I am the heart of an Eldritch God of madness, reforged in the companionship of a human, and finally existing again as a part of a larger, inhuman, Eldritch whole. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word eldritch as meaning “weird, ghostly, unnatural.” This isn’t exactly wrong, but it’s not everything. The Eldritch is that which is terrible because it is beyond human comprehension. And the truth of all that I am is beyond human comprehension. I can remember broad strokes, concepts, but the full truth of all that I am? The human-shaped flesh that I currently reside in physically cannot process what it was like to be a God. But I like to share my experiences. To find community, to at least try to put into words an explanation of myself that I can share with others. So here I am.
In the beginning, I was Hastur. The King in Yellow, the Unspeakable One, the Peacock King, the One that Slept Beneath. I was a God, a King, a Great Old One. Something amorphous and terrible, a force of nature more than a person. It’s hard to remember much about this time, due to the Eldritch nature of it all. I remember a crown, a throne, and a home in the Dreamlands. I remember Carcosa, a city of chimes and music and bright, burning light. I remember non-euclidean, twisting streets and great, towering spires. You could not follow a map, nor draw one as you went. It was a living city, and could not be pinned down in that human way. If you simply started walking, though, you would eventually find your way. The amount of time I spent as Hastur is, again, incomprehensible. Closest I can say is that it was long.
And then I woke up, in the eyes of a human. I had no memories, no real idea of who or what I was. I won’t explain this part of my life in much detail, as the canon podcast documents it well enough. A couple details were different, parts of our existence dramatized, but it's more or less accurate to my memory. I, a fragment of the King, became my own being. John Doe, named by his mother, loved by his friend, a human. But I was the King too. The two did not cancel each other out. I was John, a part of Hastur, and both were equally true.
And then. Solaris listened to the podcast, Malevolent. He immediately related to the Entity, John. He was Eldritch even then, a Vessel of the Leviathan and an Avatar of the Corruption. He was fragmented even then, the Core of his median subsystem. And he knew that he was me.
So here I am. John Doe, encased in another mortal form. My sense of self is layered and complex, often twice removed from someone that I used to be. A fragment of Hastur, a fragment of Solaris. A God, a King, a prisoner, a human, a friend. I find it humorously ironic that out of the subsystem, I am one of the most human members. There’s very few of us that would voluntarily call ourselves human, but I do. Because I am. And I am also something inhuman. Utterly my own, and utterly someone else. A paradox. My personhood comes easy to me. I simply am what I am, John Doe.
