#⸻🌕wolf.talk.txt

[werevyote]

┊ Coyote . it/they ++ . adult in its early 20's

┊ pronouns.cc ... nonhuman site ... kinlist

┊ I follow / interact from @werecoyotl

—— Hello!! I am an indigenous adult nonhuman who uses Tumblr sometimes to express my animalself online and to explore it more with others who also are curious / are a part of the topic. I've been in and out of the community for about a decade now, maybe a newer blog but undoubtedly not new to the community or topic... Alterhumanity in itself has been a special interest of mine since I discovered the topic years ago <3

I am a (were)coyote first and foremost, this blog is mainly meant to focus on this aspect of my identity. However I also express other aspects of my identity here, though usually through reblogs. Such as being a disassembly drone fictionkin and tornadic conceptkin

I best identify with were, holotherian (holothere + therian), nonhuman, fictionkin, and transspecies —— other labels being koyanthrope/koyanthropic, shapeshifter, robotic, and draconic. I refer to myself as biomechanical at times as well which holds to both my less mechanical and mechanical identities

Gender wise, maybe maverique, maybe an intersex male feragenus. Outside of internet spaces I'm simply just male, though not a man if that makes sense. A male coyote. Sexuality wise I'm still in the depths of questioning but butch lesbian seems to fit best ... “Male lesbian?” explained my experience here!(link)

—— keeping it simple, this blog mainly consists of rambles and reblogs that are related to my nonhumanity in some form or way. Often enough I also reblog things related to the community's history or things I like to keep note

—— I do not really have a DNI, I will block for whatever reason, but ofc to state ; the "proship" discourse makes me extremely uncomfortable, bigots of any kind get blocked (including queer exlus, zionists, anti-black lives matter, anti-land back, etc etc. I am a punk who does not gaf on how someone identifies or lives as long as they're not a bigot or harmful. "What's your stance on-" if it's not hurting anyone idgaf, I'm an adult with a job)

—— My tagging system is a little messy but otherwise pretty straightforward, instead of making my pinned anymore messier I slapped each tag in the tags for you to press and explore, whatever you want

Welcome to the nonhuman blog, enjoy your stay 🎉 or don't. Who am I to tell you what to do?

[werevyote]

I often feel like a wild animal who is in the care of a private collector ... I was born under a roof with heating on a cold winter night, I was born in a soft blanket and taken care of well,

I was to be raised under a roof with tender care, medicine, and food ... I was raised to be a good dog, I understood this. I have no illness towards those who saw a dog and took care of my fur and made sure my stomach was full,

Yet, one day as a growing pup, I was allowed outside for the first time, I no longer was under that roof and I was able to lock eyes with the moon, stars, and vast black sky,

I would sharply inhale and feel how it tasted like the cleanest water I ever had the pleasure of breathing, how vapor danced when I exhaled, painting the scene. That's the first time I felt a true spark underneath my paws, my heart raced, I yearned so deeply to explore ... but I knew the warnings of the wild. I am a good dog I did not run away

Yet, nothing was ever the same for me again.

It became a routine. I would step outside, breathe the freedom presented to me, and go back inside. Each daydream, each urge, each feeling felt stronger, more vivid, more wild as the days passed,

I remember one night I would sit down and watch the stars, clouds illuminated by the moon's light slowly pass by, I would think,

The wild is wild. I am not. I know the dangers of illness and disease that'd put me on the spot. I know of the claws, the teeth, the fight, and yet I still can't ignore the way my heart begged me to run, to disappear into the night. I knew of the bloodshed, the hardships, the hunger and drought, and yet I could still imagine myself being out there, under nature's mercy, devout. Despite knowing I would die in the winter's brutal cold, I still yearned to suffer, to fight, and to live, to be bold.

Then I knew. I understood. That's when I would walk inside and take a real look at myself and look myself directly in the eye ... I knew I was no dog. I grew up as such, raised well, yet directly looking back at me was a wild beast,

I was plump with warm food and my fur was well groomed, I had rested eyes, and I was warm in the winter's air. I had everything anyone could ever need and yet, why do I still yearn for the worse of the worse and hardships that carry out in the woods? In the mountains?

Why am I more content with the thought of dying in the grass, bleeding out after a lost fight, dying to illness, dying alone under the stars over dying in a warm wooden house? Why do I yearn for the chance to die outside over living inside where I'll be safe? Why can't I be happy with what I got instead of wishing I had less of a luxury of humanity but more of the natural brutality of beast?

Why is it when I look at my reflection, my eyes are the wildest attraction of the house?

[werevyote]

I've genuinely been having a lot of feelings with my identity lately and I think I should write it down here, but I may be more wolf than expected and I'm still figuring out a proper way to explain

I'm a coyote and possibly a wolf, not quite a coywolf in itself but I think for simplicity, coywolf rolls off the tongue well