#not a fursuit but nice try silver!

[pinkbeam]

her name is cassie and she is a good girl

[solivagusdraco]

From the Depths of a Lab: Boundaries Between Nonhumanity and Creativity through the Journey of a Potential Silvally 'kin

I'm a dragon.

That's a fact I've known for over a decade at this point. It was pure chance that I ever even learned of otherkin - somewhere along the line, one of my best friends mentioned being a therian, and so I asked what that was. If I ever had any doubts about my draconity just being something developed because I heard this new fascinating thing… the fact that I still feel my wings and get sense memories when I search for them, even after this long, would eliminate those… we'll call them worries. Perhaps a poor choice of words, but it's what fits in my experience - I'm firmly in the spiritual otherkin camp.

And perhaps that, and my continued journey to understand psychological 'kin, is part of the "problem" that spurred this essay.

Again, perhaps a poor choice in words.

This isn't some discussion about facets of the community, or debate on origins. My experiences aren't another's, just as theirs aren't mine. This is an essay on personal exploration, and the adventure of trying to confirm or deny a kintype whilst sifting through muddy water, years after I've last done any serious introspection on such topics. But if you're still interested in the personal ramblings of this dragon, then I welcome you and will pull up a nice rock for you to sit on. All I ask is patience, for words are hard for me. Talking about myself is even harder.

I awakened as a Dragon in 2010. I found a hearttype in Painted Dogs in 2014. Both of which were… simple.

I found my dragon in meditation and introspection, finding memories of both sense and the more traditional kind. The senses persisted, and still persist. Perhaps one day I'll wake and realize I'm not a dragon, but that doesn't change what I am now, nor how I feel. I am a dragon, and I found that through soul searching.

I found a home in painted dogs during a chance trip to the zoo. They had just recently finished a new exhibit for those fancy canines, and for some reason I just felt so excited to go see these creatures I'd never heard of before that moment. And then I saw them and while I didn't feel like looking in the mirror… It felt like looking through a photo album. I'm not them, yet still they're so familiar.

But this isn't an essay about dragons or canines. Or perhaps it's an essay about them both, just in a different, chimeric form.

Pokémon has always been a part of my life. As of writing this, I'm 27 and the franchise is 25 - the only part of my life without Pokémon are years I don't even remember. I learned the TCG, my first video games ever were Gold and Silver, I had plush and played pretend with my friends. I had favorites… but I never made a character. Not a trainer, not a Pokémon. Rather, it was literal decades before I made a proper Pokémon OC.

Sev the Silvally was made out of a desire to try and run a Pokémon ask blog as a means to improve my art skills through regular practice. I don't even remember the thought process that made me choose a Silvally over any of the other hundreds of Pokémon - I just knew that I'd started drawing and suddenly I had a crime against Arceus with a broken RKS Drive. Granted, Type: Null and Silvally had been my favorite Pokémon of that generation, and my inspiration for the blog was a Type: Null blog.

Later on, Sev would become something of a comfort and coping character for me.

I had been abused by someone I considered one of my best friends in high school, and while I had since recognized it as abuse by the time of Sev's creation… It still bothered me. So I decided to have Sev's escape from the Aether Paradise be that he was stolen by an abusive trainer, and his evolution happened when that trainer turned her abusive hand to a Rockruff pup - an evolution not through love for his trainer, but rather through a desire to protect. Sev escaped his abuse and got the chance to learn how to live without the shadow of his trainer looming over him, just like I hoped to do. Escape that shadow. Let Sev be my guide through the nightmares and hate scrolling that still persisted.

He stopped being just a character.

But what does this all have to do with otherkin?

As I mentioned, Pokémon has been a part of my life for effectively my whole life. Yet despite that… There's never been a Pokémon that gripped me with the intensity that Silvally has. I've hungrily looked for merch, official and unofficial. I'm in the midst of making a fursuit, complete with electronics. One of my Tumblr usernames is multi-attack, and oftentimes now when making an account on a website, the first thing I check is if 'Silvally' is taken as a username. The design I painted on my mailbox is of my dragon and Sev, in a sort of "coat of arms" reminiscent style. This chimeric Pokémon latched on to some part of my mind and refused to let go.

And yet it wasn't until this past year that I even considered that Silvally could be something other than a "mere" favorite character.

Perhaps it's a hearttype. Perhaps it's a kintype. Perhaps it is just a mere favorite character. Introspection is the answer, regardless. My way to find just what Silvally is to me. But then there comes another question. Another problem.

With my dragon, the hunt for memories was clear cut. I had no existing thoughts to sway the hunt, and what memories I eventually found… They had little comparisons to various dragon media I'd consumed. But I start this investigation with Silvally at a disadvantage - I've made a character with crafted backstory, and consumed what little canon information exists on the species. There's no blank slate for me to start from - whatever search I do will always be colored by Sev and his tale.

So then I have to ask myself:

Is Sev his own character, or is he me?

I've never had a character that I was able to just write. Perhaps it's akin to soulbonding, but what I've read on that experience just doesn't quite taste right for the circumstance. I'll create a path for my characters, a baseline for their personality to grow on… but all too frequently, they end up bucking those guidelines and becoming their own person, as it were. They don't keep me company in my mind, but they still make their own minds clear should I try to direct their story or actions in ways they don't agree with.

Where does one find the boundary between self and other, when those "others" make their own decisions yet aren't their own entities?

To say nothing of my tendency to dole out my flaws and traits to each of my characters. Each little facet of myself being the seed from which a character will grow. Sometimes as the simple fact that the familiar makes creation easier. Sometimes as a means to work through a problem. But regardless of reason, it doesn't change the fact that almost every character I've ever made has had some piece of me in their core.

But… When every character you make is a facet of yourself, the moment you consider that they might be more than just a character gets muddy. Is it a hearttype, born from a facet of yourself that your subconscious decided you needed to care for more? Or is that facet just a part of you that recognized what you were, long before your consciousness connected the dots? And if kintype it is, then how do you determine what memories are real? Were the plot points and character biology you designed mere fabrication of the mind? Or were they flashes of another life, fleshed out, recorded, and/or adapted in the name of writing?

As if the discovery and determination of memories wasn't already complicated enough.

Sev's name was the only decision I consciously made whilst creating him - shortened from 'severance', as his creation was for the partial purpose of finally separating myself from old memories. Everything else just… happened. There was no rhyme or reason or choice to anything. Not his color, not the reason he and the other Silvally of his world were created. Every plot point, every musing on his biology was a simple moment of "Oh, so that's how it happened".

In what way is that different from how I found my dragon, with her quiet nights of meditation and introspection until the memories and feelings fell into place?

Now don't misunderstand - this isn't me saying that discovering a kintype is nothing more than making a character. That couldn't be farther from what I'm saying! Rather, I'm musing on the question of where the boundary is between the creative process and the discovery process. If Sev (or just Silvally in general) isn't a kintype, then it's still fascinating to me that his creation was so similar to me discovering my dragon. And if he is a kintype? Then is that particular creative process something to be mindful of when contemplating "original character" kintypes?

Perhaps this question would be easier to find an "answer" to if I knew what Silvally was to me… but I don't! That's almost the point of this essay - a vague attempt to knock some solid feeling thought loose from my mind.

It just happened to lead to a fascinating line of thought.

[rayadraws]

Originally inspired by this wonderful post, @gofancyninjaworld indulged me in brainstorming what some of the OPM characters might smell like and here are the results of that discussion...

(This is just for fun, so don’t take it too seriously!)

Gold Tier (smells nice):

Fubuki - Wears a wonderful perfume, in sensible amounts Metal Bat - Flawless presentation Lightning Max - Between his perfect hair and A+ eyeliner game, making sure he smells good is no skin off this guy’s back Tatsumaki - Fubuki would not accept anything less Spring Mustachio - This one’s a given Pineapple - Pineapples smell nice Bonus: That men’s beautician Saitama told to stop stalking him also smelled nice

Silver tier (not bad, but room for improvement):

Amai Mask - Wears nice perfume, but too much of it Mumen Rider - He’d be up there in the golden tier, but he’s always muddy, or wet, or bloody, or all three, which loses him points Darkshine - Take it easy with the body oil Bang - A lowkey shaving cream smell, but mingled with too much sweat to make top tier Genos - Would score higher if he didn’t always smell faintly of smoke Mizuki - Mostly just smells of antiperspirant

Bronze tier (doesn’t really smell like anything at all)

Saitama - Uses the cheapest unscented soaps Sonic - Goes through lengths to avoid smelling like anything at all for Ninja Reasons Flashy Flash - Same as Sonic Drive Knight - Unless he has his fancy box with him, he’s basically odour-free Child Emperor - At most a faintly sweet candy smell Blast - ???

Stank Tier (keep your distance)

Watchdog Man - Owns one (1) fursuit, which he wears 24/7 Zombieman - A combination of cigarette smoke and eaue de formaldehyde Garou - Doesn’t need to be down here, but currently requires ten showers. In a row. Tank Top Master - AXE. Bucket loads of it. Death Gatling - Try taking that arm off sometimes. Or at least cleaning it. King - Well, to be fair, on a normal day it’d just be anxiety sweat, but between dried hot pot stains and crapping his pants after meeting Elder (as per Murata’s stream comments), you’re down here right now big guy.

[serpentinescreamqueen]

NOT AS MACABRE (Werewolves)

Let’s start off with these sloppy – I mean, so-called “man-eating hounds.” 

If you don’t know what a werewolf is, I’m…surprised, but I’ll tell you. Basically, they’re people who can shift into these wolf-like beasts (yes, wolf-like, not that crap you’ve seen on Twilight). Most times, they don’t have any control over it. Transformations often happen when they’re under a full moon. 

The earliest werewolf story I can recall was some dude who was turned into some sorta dog monster after meddling with magic he didn’t understand (obviously don’t touch suspicious glowing things). He lost control, went totally feral, and…well, mauled a buncha people. 

Next one I remember is that story ‘bout some dude named Gilgamesh. Apparently some goddess was into him or something, but he rejected her ‘cuz she…well, she straight up turned one of her admirers into a wolf. Who does that? Imagine simping for someone and they turn you into a dog, thus you get killed by your friends and your own dogs. What a dick. 

There’s this other story about a Greek king. Lyacon was his name, I believe. Oral tradition tends to garble up stories, so the best version I could remember was this one; Lyacon wanted to see if Zeus, of all people, truly was who he claimed to be, or just a man. 

He conducted a little experiment and did what any sane person would do, and, well…served him human meat during a meal. He also planned to like, try and kill Zeus in his sleep, so y’know, things obviously wouldn’t go well. 

Long story short, Zeus, of course, knew that he was being served human pot pie, so he transformed the King into a wolf as punishment. Oh, and I think he also ruined the dude’s house with lightning bolts & stuff, so there’s that. 

I mean, in my opinion, I’d kill you for trying to kill me in my sleep instead of for serving me human meat. You can have me eat a dead man, sure, but nobody gets in the way of my beauty sleep. 

Ever.

 Of course, you got the other legends about how this whole shebang started, like old warriors who wore animal skins and were just as fearsome as the animals they wore (the very first fursuits, yes), or those people who’d put on wolf skins like cloaks and belts, thus gaining the power and the feral mind of one. 

There was this one tale about some dude who apparently had like, a magical wolf belt? A sash? An accessory made of wolf pelt, whatever it was. He’d put it on and he was able to transform into a wolf, and he devoured his neighbors, something like that. Sounds crazy, I know. 

Some of these people are probably just insane, enchanting a wolfskin accessory takes years of practice. Some of ‘em are just plain old, unshaved, unkempt cannibals. 

Or who knows? I’ve heard of humans being able to enchant things like that, perhaps I’m just jealous.

Now! Why aren’t they so bad? 

Well, for one, most of these myths are just that – myths. Legends. Made-up stories. The human world is boring, why not jazz it up a bit, right? 

Adding to that, the real ones are, like I said in the beginning, “man-eating hounds.” HOUNDS. They’re dogs! And what do you do with dogs? 

Train them, that’s what. 

Okay, before I get into this I’ll just say, no, I do not mean to sound racist towards werewolves out there, y’all are…great & all, but you don’t wanna go feral either, right? Yeah. 

I once dated a werewolf. He wasn’t feral, but he was a pretty huge dick. He was nice to me at times, and pretty sweet when he tried, but he was also just a straight-up douchebag to me. Werewolves, by all means go feral, just don’t be a prick, please? Relationship ended after a few months, when he was…well, he died. 

Oh, don’t feel sorry for me, I had him killed. Turns out some cheap hunters really do the job well. 

Anyway, the next time you see a werewolf, think of it this way – s/he’s a person who’s turned into a wolf-like monster. Put the silver bullets away, jeez! It’s a weapon, and the human side is aware of that. Clearly, when a weapon’s pointed at you, your instinct is to defend yourself by fighting, or running away. The wolf side, however, often loves to fight. Basically, weapons are a no-no. 

Again, you’re gonna wanna train that hound. Grab a stick and throw it! Or tell them to sit. Or maybe next time, pack some raw meat, just in case. Regularly offering meat to a werewolf tames them a lil’ bit, maybe even begin seeing you as a friend, like any other dog. 

Then again…anybody you offer food to will probably always see you as a friend. 

I know I will.