By Burçin Esin

unhinged thirty days of otherkin challenge, day 4: if your kintype suddenly opened their eyes, what would they be looking at?

the forest, and some friends to play with <3

✦Flower Sword✦

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Moorland Sheep by Kosen

talking about my fictionkintype these days is... well, "difficult" isn't the right word for it, but i'm blanking on a better one.

the fandom aspect is the biggest part. this isn't fandom for me - it's a part of my identity, and i don't want people outside the alt-h community getting misled or twisting it into a roleplay thing. it's difficult to talk about a fictionkintype if you're censoring every other word and name to avoid the fandom.

but also...

that life isn't a happy one. many of the noemata i have for it are of being afraid, sad, or lost. it ends young. it's a tragedy retold as a heroic adventure.

there's a part of me that says i should just move on. this 'type is a part of me, of course, but not a part i need to dwell on.

maybe it's better this way.

Do you miss all your old selves?

no they are inside of me i hug them everyday and say u did such a good job

Nottingham, England

Exploring My Mouseness

The nonhuman community has a habit of only discussing and focusing on therianthropic identities, but I'd like to share how prevalent my rodent kithtype is in my life and to me (sometimes in ways more important than my theriotype).

Growing up, I was often left to my own devices due to a dad that came home late and a mother who could care less for my existence. My activity of choice was being in the yard from the moment I woke up until the moment it was dinner time. Laying on the concrete one summer day, I heard rustling in the window well which would unknowingly change my life.

On hands and knees, I moved towards the well and peered in, where my eyes met a scared mouse's beady black ones. It couldn't get out of the well it had fallen into and would surely die. My parents didn't like rodents, so I tip toed into the basement and got a long poled duster and a roll of duct tape. I put the duct tape along the slick pole and dropped it down into the well which the mouse quickly gripped onto and skittered up. It hopped off and, while I expected it to bolt immediately, it didn't. It stared at me for a moment standing on its hindlegs before finally leaving, and that would be the end of a mouse saving saga... Or so I thought.

The next day, a mouse was moving under the wooden step on the patio. Seed by seed, grass blade by grass blade, the mouse I affectionately named Mr. Kibbles would make a home poetically at the entrance of my own human home. I tossed out scraps of food, a cap full of water, fluffy bits of fabric or hair, and soon enough, Mr. Kibbles brought a Mrs. Kibbles.

Seemingly in a few weeks, I had gone from saving one mouse from the well to saving several mice which all lived throughout the rocks and dirt. Even as a kid, I had the intelligence to cover the well and so I did. All was well and my parents didn't mind, until one made it into the basement one day. That's when the mouse traps started, but I was cunning. I'd sneak the mouse traps into the trash when no one looked. If more appeared, I'd sabotage them by breaking them apart. My parents loathed me, but I was persistent and knew how to exhaust them. If I had to, I'd go into the basement and open the spider web infested well window and reach my hand in, grabbing mice myself and putting them in a box to bring back outside. It all began there that for once, I felt I had a family. A real one, even if it did no providing for me... Sort of.

Mice provided me life skills applicable to an abusive home. I observed every survival skill these mice had to offer. How to sneak and move quietly. How to store food. How to hide. How to make a safe den. How to hide weakness. How to turn a trashed box into a home and scraps into a meal. The rats in cities showed me how to thrive in a heavily populated environment. Capybaras showed me how to relax and enjoy life. Hamsters showed me the domestic side of rodenthood, of living in an artificial world and remain enriched. The squirrels showed me a world above the ground. Even in movies, rodents took a precedence in my mind and taught me things. Ratatouille taught me how to cook and I became quite good at it. Arrietty, who reminded me so much of a mouse, showed me how to be small and resourceful in a world that felt bigger than me. The Tale of Desperaux helped me be myself and Willard was incredibly relatable.

My biggest life teachers and what really raised me were often rodents of many, many kinds. The "pests" and "scum" that mice and rats are seen as taught me how to be seen as good for nothing, and yet survive. Even thrive. As an adult, the skills and lifestyle of rodenthood still helps me stay happy. I still love cooking and learned how to essentially be a chef because of Ratatouille, so I am always eating well no matter what I have. I can identify dangerous people because I analyze who moves like a predator and who moves like a mouse. You will find cups shaped like flower heads in my cabinet as an homage to my family of a million individuals, each unique even in a colony. I also feel that I am more compassionate because I could find such great value in something so small and unwanted by the majority, and yet I am capable of standing up for myself just as the mouse who stands off with the cat.

At times, I consider if I identify myself as rodent or if rodent is merely my imprinted family, but I value them no less regardless. If you have a kithtype, definitely share it with the community as they can be just as important, if not more so, than even a kintype.

re: cat otherhearted type

the matter is not as settled as i wanted to believe orz. i think it's time i accepted it as a para-type instead of trying to stuff it into one label or the other. ✌️

I’m done with all the shippable packages! Here’s my little bonus thank you for my backers!