Punk Wolfman

Proud Nonhuman

[were-canislupusarctos]

Introduction:

Hello. You may call me Creech, Wolf, White Wolf, Xeno, or Red. I am a werewolf. Yes, I identify physically. No, I am not human in any way. I use he/they/it/wolf pronouns. I am twenty years old.

I am also the creator of the Beastia Loqui language, though you probably have not heard of it, since it is still a work-in-progress. If you want to know more about it, feel free to @ me.

I am one of those weird nonhumans. The type that identifies physically. The type who chose to become otherlink for fun. The type with violent urges and feral shifts. The type who calls itself transspecies. The type who is into vulture culture (check @theredvulture for that stuff). I also practice physical shifting.

I have two forms if you count my human disguise. My true form is that of a large, facultative biped white wolf with yellow eyes. Sometimes I have the tail and hind limbs of a xenomorph.

I am also a melanistic red fox, spotted hyena, bearded vulture, two types of dragon (one of which is from the “How to Train Your Dragon” movie series), church grim, kaprosuchus, and deinonychus.

I am also the host of the Fractured Mirror Collective, though I am usually the one posting. The others will sign their names if they decide to post anything. Do not ask about our origins; it is not your business.

I am going to talk about things that may be triggering for some. Things like blood, violence, hunting instincts, violent impulses towards humans and other animals, and intense dysphoria. I will place the proper trigger warning tags where necessary. I will try my best to place image descriptions and to avoid typing in all capitals for the sake of those using screen readers. I will avoid posting with bright colors or flashing lights to avoid harming anyone. I will be tolerant to a point. I do not tolerate hate.

Things to note: I will place trigger warnings on posts and reblogs with words in all caps. I will also mark them as not screenreader friendly, since some screenreaders will read each letter. I may also post or reblog taxidermy or vulture culture things, but I will always tag them as such to avoid making anyone uncomfortable. I am also both physically and mentally disabled. I will also post images of my pet snake, Jörmangandr. If you do not wish to see snake pictures, be sure to block the tags that mention them. I will also occasionally post images of arachnids I find in my apartment, and I am careful to add the right trigger warnings.

Additionally, I fully support those who are age or pet regressors. Just know that my blog may not be safe while in that headspace, as some things I post will be dark, and I do say bad words.

I also support clinical lycanthropes and zooanthropes, along with physical shifters. If you have a problem with that, block me.

I am also in support of contradictory labels, including men who are lesbians. I consider myself an ally of non-binary and intersex people.

DNI: racists, pro or neutral contact harmful paraphilias (I do not believe in thought-crime, so as long as you do not act on these attractions and try to get help, you are allowed to be here), homophobes, transphobes, radqueer, anti-endogenic, zionists, antisemites, TERFs, SWERFs (sex work is real work), “thinspo” blogs (just stop. Do not glorify eating disorders. That is disgusting), AI “artists” and supporters of generative AI, transspecies haters, anyone who hates intersex people (just go away. You are not welcome here), anti-choice, anti-kink (if you do not want to interact with kink blogs, fine. But do not shame those who have such blogs)

I do not consent to anything I post being used to train AI.

The images for my profile and banner are my own. If you wish to use them, please ask first.

If anything I post is triggering and I did not put the necessary warnings, please comment and tell me so that I can add them. I do not wish to cause harm to anyone.

Personal Tags:

Creech speaks - general stuff, reblogs

Creech answers - answering asks

Creech draws - Self-explanatory; drawing tag

Creech’s flag hoard - relatively new tag for flags that I see that fit my identity

P.S. I am pro paraphilia and anti contact when it comes to the harmful ones. I do not care about shipping discourse. Unsolicited DMs will be marked as spam.

[were-canislupusarctos]

Discovered the cicada killer wasp today. Not a little guy, but a cute one nonetheless. It was indeed killing a cicada. I was actually able to hear it dragging its catch.

Also, surprisingly friendly. It dropped the cicada and flew away to get some friends to help it carry such a large prize.

[were-canislupusarctos]

In case anyone noticed, I know I have not been online much lately. This is because my mental health is falling apart and, let’s face it, the internet is not a good place to have a breakdown. So I have been avoiding social media. Please do not try to comfort me or ask if there is anything you can do. I will ignore you. I am not the type of person who likes it when people try to help me.

I will be online more often again. Eventually.

[were-canislupusarctos]

Just got my old discord account banned because someone I had friended made the mistake of using a public WiFi and got her account info stolen. The thief then reported a bunch of people, including me.

I tried to appeal to the ban, doing everything I was told and ignoring how the staff kept rushing me (he would @ me if I took more than a minute to respond, even when he sent things that took longer than that to read). I got banned anyway, though, because I refused to hand over fifty fucking dollars, which would supposedly get returned to me. But I am not that fucking stupid. After saying that I did not have that much money, he lowered the price to twenty, which is still more than I have. I pointed out that I am unemployed, and would be living on the street if it was not for my mom. He obviously did not give a shit. I guess my account was banned. It does not seem like my main account has been banned, though.

So I guess it does not matter, really. I had not used that account in years. Still. What the fuck. There should not be a fee for someone else’s fuckup.

[were-canislupusarctos]

I fucking love reptiles

[status-quo-hater]

Honestly I don't think you should need a diagnosis of anything to get HRT. I think you should just be able to go buy it at CVS like it's ibuprofen.

[status-quo-hater]

"Ohhh but what if people misuse it and get sick???" They sell cigarettes at gas stations, those make you sick when you use them properly!

Put warning labels on it. List recommended dosages by body weight & desired effect. Like any other medication.

In a perfect world HRT would be an OTC medication that anybody can obtain.

[squirrelyoak]

Finding other alterhumans

I really want to find other alterhumans in my area but I'm trying to not get clocked by normies nor those really young therians that don't identify as an animal half the time.

I'm thinking about creating pin with the alterhuman symbol on it to put on my bag(s). Do yall think that'll work, or is it too recognizable?

[were-canislupusarctos]

I got the otherkin star tattooed on my arm. Only one person has commented on it specifically. Most comments I get about my tattoo are in relation to other parts of it. But if I went to an area that was more likely to have other alter/nonhumans (like a furry convention or something), it would probably be noticed.

So, the alterhuman symbol would probably be a good thing to try, is what I mean by saying all this

[squirrelyoak]

Ah ok that's pretty cool! I'm definitely going to get some alterhuman jewelry.

Also, I saw that in one of your posts, you are creating a language. Is this perhaps conlanging?

[were-canislupusarctos]

I suppose it would be, yes

[squirrelyoak]

That's so cool!! I've never met another conlanger randomly, let alone an alterhuman :3

[were-canislupusarctos]

If you search for it on my blog, there is a link to a spreadsheet with every word and definition. Some of those words were admittedly taken from Watership Down, but to be fair that was my inspiration for the project initially

[squirrelyoak]

Finding other alterhumans

I really want to find other alterhumans in my area but I'm trying to not get clocked by normies nor those really young therians that don't identify as an animal half the time.

I'm thinking about creating pin with the alterhuman symbol on it to put on my bag(s). Do yall think that'll work, or is it too recognizable?

[were-canislupusarctos]

I got the otherkin star tattooed on my arm. Only one person has commented on it specifically. Most comments I get about my tattoo are in relation to other parts of it. But if I went to an area that was more likely to have other alter/nonhumans (like a furry convention or something), it would probably be noticed.

So, the alterhuman symbol would probably be a good thing to try, is what I mean by saying all this

[squirrelyoak]

Ah ok that's pretty cool! I'm definitely going to get some alterhuman jewelry.

Also, I saw that in one of your posts, you are creating a language. Is this perhaps conlanging?

[were-canislupusarctos]

I suppose it would be, yes

[squirrelyoak]

Finding other alterhumans

I really want to find other alterhumans in my area but I'm trying to not get clocked by normies nor those really young therians that don't identify as an animal half the time.

I'm thinking about creating pin with the alterhuman symbol on it to put on my bag(s). Do yall think that'll work, or is it too recognizable?

[were-canislupusarctos]

I got the otherkin star tattooed on my arm. Only one person has commented on it specifically. Most comments I get about my tattoo are in relation to other parts of it. But if I went to an area that was more likely to have other alter/nonhumans (like a furry convention or something), it would probably be noticed.

So, the alterhuman symbol would probably be a good thing to try, is what I mean by saying all this

[strayedones-deactivated20251120]

it’s interesting to me how one system’s average switch length can be another system’s frontstuck

[strayedones-deactivated20251120]

There’s so much variety to the spectrum of plurality and it’s beautiful to me, all the differences we can have while still being a community

[were-canislupusarctos]

I have been fronting for months. Send help

[alterhuman-culture-is]

alterhuman culture is being terrified that you might be a factkin because people will hate you for it no matter what site you’re on :/

-

[were-canislupusarctos]

Factkin are cool and welcome on my blog

[status-quo-hater]

I find it very funny when TERFs/radfems see me criticize intersexist rhetoric in trans spaces and automatically think I'm on their side. Only to realize two minutes later that I think we should do away with "biological sex" entirely and stop assigning sexes & genders to infants. And then they make a post about how I'm delusional and a misogynist, as always. Anyway I think more women should have penises and more men should have uteruses and we should completely degrade the meanings of the words "male" and "female" until they are solely reclaimed in the form of self-expression.

[questionable-idea]

I love the idea of walking around with a pet snake on my shoulders, like a scarf, and it being normal like someone walking their dog.

[were-canislupusarctos]

I do this if the weather is nice enough. My girl is not large enough to be a scarf, but she can be a bracelet

[crippled-peeper]

reckless drivers don’t get enough hate

[were-canislupusarctos]

Sorry about that last post. Just feeling things tonight I guess.

[were-canislupusarctos]

Long post. Just venting about my time in a psych ward as a 5150 when I was sixteen. Trigger warning for hospitals, medical malpractice, swearing, SH, and general depressing stuff.

Thinking about the old days, just a few years back. They were not good days, not by any stretch of the imagination. They were awful, terrible days, and I hated every moment of them. And yet, I still dream about those days. Perhaps because of how much those times shaped who I am now. How I see myself based on the way I was treated back then. Looking back at the things I learned in those places, the things doctors taught me with their cruel indifference.

It is funny, really, how little I remember of those years. I often joke about how, with all of the meds they had me on, keeping me half-sedated constantly, saying could have been done to me and I would not remember. Sometimes I wonder if it is a joke. I will never know.

I think about all the people I met in those so-called hospitals. People I still call my friends. But I never spoke to them again. It is likely many of them are gone now. But I cannot grieve people I barely remember. Vague pictures in my mind. Cards being shuffled. Jokes about shitty food. Making up bullshit escape plans that we knew would never work. Little things, like handwritten notes and voices. Voices probably belonging to the dead.

It is not a nostalgic feeling. More of a bitter taste. I do not have a word for how it feels. Like an empty hole in my chest where a childhood should be. But all I have are bits and pieces, like a wineglass that fell and shattered. I can pick them up and try to put them together, but they will never be whole, and in the end all I get is bloody hands.

So many pieces. So many days and nights where I could not tell if I was awake or dreaming. Weeks gone by where there was no real difference between the two. Pacing. Cards shuffling. Staring out the window. Watching the clock, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow. Singing the songs I know, having no way to listen to them. Exercising nearly until I passed out on several occasions, just to have something to do. Pacing, pacing, pacing, in that tiny room. Four steps forward, turn, four steps, turn, four steps. Rock-hard mattress with a paper-thin sheet. Blanket that did nothing against the hospital cold air. The scent of sanitizer and medicine. The hard plastic furniture with screws to hold it to the floor. Grippy socks with no shoes. Hoodie with no strings. Punching that thick plastic window until my hands dripped red. Screaming until I had no voice. Crying until I fell asleep, only to wake and repeat the process again. Day after day. Reading the same books over. Finish the book, go back to the beginning. Tally-marked days on a chalkboard. My only way of seeing the time going by. I know it was at least one hundred days in that place. Calloused hands from shuffling cards. Solitaire for six hours straight is not something to brag about. Drawing in a sketchbook, asking for my pencil sharpened. Unsupervised use of erasers was out of the question. The buzz of the fluorescent lights still makes me shiver.

I spent so long in that place that I could never tell if I was awake or dreaming, nor did I care after a while. Time no longer existed. Quarantine in a tiny room will do that. I stopped thinking of the people in there with me as other patients, but as inmates. We were prisoners, after all. To attempt escape was to be restrained, sedated, and forced to stay longer. But I was not like the other inmates. They came and went quickly enough. One showed up, left in a couple of weeks. Sometimes they came back, but they always got to leave. I remained there. Against my will, no trial, no courtroom. Just little plastic cups of pills I had to take. And if I refused, I would simply have been pinned down and the medicine would be injected into me. Because refusal of treatment made me look worse, I had no choice but to take whatever they gave me. No matter how sick it made me.

The worst part was not knowing. I had no way to know how much longer I would be there. What would happen when I left. Would I go home? Would I be sent to a juvenile detention center? Would I go to another hospital? Would I be taken to a courtroom to stand before a judge? Or would I simply never leave? Would I stay there and rot inside the building’s concrete walls, my only view of the outside world being through a bulletproof window stained with my own blood? Would I forget what it felt like to go outside? To feel the sunlight on my skin? To smell the wind Regardless of what would happen to me, I lost my sense of time. I spent so long living in a world inside my mind, just trying to stay sane, at least on the outside. The lines between that world and reality became blurred, and they never truly cleared up. The helpless dread of waiting for a phone call to tell me what my future held. Sometimes I wonder if any of it was real, but I look at my scars and know that it is. I doubt that it was legal, but there is no way to prove anything.

I would rather die than go back to that place. To the best of my knowledge, I was there for three or four months, much of which was in quarantine, where I was not allowed to leave my room except to use the restroom.

When I look back, it is not with fondness. It is with a feeling that has no name. Not one I can think of, anyway. The feeling of falling down a deep, dark pit, with no visible bottom. Of being alone in the dark, but feeling eyes on you. Of staring straight into the sun, no longer able to care if it blinds you. A sensation like a scream building up in your chest, making its way to the back of your throat, only to be swallowed down again. Knowing that if I ever let that scream out, I would probably never stop.

[were-canislupusarctos]

Back on my bullshit (listening to Linkin Park while playing solitaire at midnight and contemplating life)