#Fictionkin vent

[creaturemoment]

Anyone else feel dysphoria at your own thoughts?

I shouldn't be so worried, shouldn't be thinking like this, shouldn't be in this situation at all...

[naturalharmoniia]

Any other fictionkin have dysphoria over roleplayers & cosplayers? I tend to have a weird inferiority complex towards roleplayers cause it feels like they act MORE like me than I do. It sucks :(

[lluvioscatniptea]

hooray lets end the world!!

[fiction-venting]

Welcome to fiction venting!

We're a safe place for fictionkin and fictives to vent about their source, their mems, sourcemates, or really anything related to their fictional identity.

We are a SAFE PLACE. We won't judge you for what you need to vent about. You are welcome here.

We currently have one mod, Mod V. I use she/her and he/him pronouns. I am not personally a system, and would like to stay out of syscourse. I am, however, fictionkin.

For most submissions, unless I already know you or you specify for yourself, I *do not know* if you are a fictive or fictionkin, and thus will tag your ask as both.

[feathereddragonkin]

I remember our first flight together. We had escaped the Nemesis together in the wake of you learning the truth about the demise of your brethren. I remember how confused I was when you ushered me onto your back, how terrified I was when you began running towards the edge. The weightless feeling when we took off, the warmth emanating from your frame, the smoothness of your horns as I grabbed them for purchase.

It was so terrifying, and yet so electrifying. We hardly knew each other, and yet as we soared through the sky it felt like we were one.

I remember hiding in the caves, I was exhausted from my wounds and collapsed. When I awakened, pressure surrounded me on all sides; you had curled your frame around me and rested your head on my lap. I remember tracing the curves of your horns, and thanking you for trusting me. For believing me. For saving me. I never felt safer than I did when you draped your wing over me like a canopy while we rested in the darkness.

I remember you; gruff and irritable, but a spark of gold. It took time for you to trust my family, but you trusted me enough to try. I'll always be grateful for that. I hope to somehow reunite with you, Predaking. Wherever you are, I hope you don't feel alone. Just know that I'm here.

[bloodstainedden]

I need something to lower dysphoria. I'm having dysphoria over not being physically Dazai. I miss everyone from there. I'll never see them in this world. I don't look or act like myself. I want someone to view me as Dazai so badly though. I want someone to call me Dazai. To view me as me. But I know it probably won't happen. Mmmm..

[thatbasictherian]

Fictionkin struggles

I’m upset. I see all these wonderful fictionkin talking about an amazing other character they miss or their favorite memories or all their friends from the same source. I don’t have that. I was the villain in my past life and I was completely alone. I’ve never met anyone from the same source as me and my memories were pretty darn horrible. Every memory is either angry or hurt. I want to be one of those fun happy fictionkin you see in TikTok comps or something but I’m not. It seems every other fictionkin had someone. Their best friend, their partner, their family, their pet. I had no one. Unless he was fighting someone, Gmork was always alone. And even though this is a different life, it makes me feel alone. I want the sense of communication other fictionkin have but I just don’t.

[hooligankloobian]

i miss randal : (

i miss when he was my best friend (and really my only friend). it feels weird how attached i get to people now. it’s like how i was with him. idk what im saying really, i just miss him

at least i have him in this life too <3

- 💀🎩 (julian)

[s1llymultifandomfreak]

I’ve made this mood board mainly to reflect on my ex-artist memories as a Klaus Hargreeves fictionkin.

A bit of a Fictionkin vent/rant???

sorry gng gulp feeling kinda depressed lately due to alterhuman shit 🫩

(cw: mention of substances, talking about abuse, mention of manipulation, mentions of vomit)

No one can deny that in my life as Klaus Hargreeves I had it rough as a kid. The abuse, my powers.. it was all so overwhelming. Dad would lock me in the mausoleums for an extended period of amount of time until I was covered in my own sweat and vomit and pronounced dead, the frequent tests, the manipulative behavior, it was all just a horrible childhood. No one asked to be in that house and forced to be so-called ‘superheroes.’ Our childhood was taken away from us and we were forced to grow up at a very young age. We all wanted out of that house.

This trauma had caused me to rely on substances such as alcohol and drugs to cope. I relied on them to numb the pain and make me fully forget about everything. It was a terrible habit, yes, but substances were there for me when I was at my lowest. They made me feel better, even if it meant I was never fully sober all the time and if every memory is vague.

Another hobby I had to cope was drawing/painting. I wasn’t the best artist, but it did help me. Sir Reginald discouraged it and would tell me things such as “it’s a waste of time” or “this will solve nothing” and would often throw my art away. But drawing and painting helped me forget about everything for a split second. Putting my thoughts and feelings onto a piece of paper or a canvas helped me to express my emotions correctly. But soon, being an artist wasn’t just about coping, it had turned into a competition. I remember frequently asking myself “who’s a better artist?” “Why can’t I be more like them?” “I wish I could draw as good as them.”.

I would snap at any mistake I had made on my art. I’d constantly criticize myself and I would often find myself frustrated. This wasn’t about coping anymore, this was about who was better.

I then just quit and fully relied on drugs and alcohol. I had just fully gave up. I threw away all my art supplies and art in a fit of rage. It was useless. “What’s the point of doing something if you’re not even good at it?” I would often think to myself. “It’s pointless. What’s the point of trying if I’m just shit compared to everyone else.”

I sometimes wonder that if I would’ve kept that hobby, would I have turned out the way I did? who am I kidding. Of course I would’ve.

[kittyrainsmeow]

Guys,its so me and my core.Its just me,i feel this photos

[lluvioscatniptea]

Vent art-

Animated below

[fiction-venting]

I hate how I died twice ,once in my tattoo parlor when I fell in a pile of fire ,then again when I got hit by a truck ,I wish I could go back and change everything

- Erik Campbell from final destination

🌱

[reigning-kingof-ithaca]

Not part of this universe.

A void in my chest, equivalent to a black hole.

Life comes in, it’s all lost to me.

What purpose does it serve?

I know nothing of it. 

This body.

An empty jar that I’m trapped in.

I want to get out—

I need to get out, this can’t be healthy.

I bang my head into the walls of the glass,

But it only makes the experience more suffocating.

The container is clear, but my vision is fogged up with memories I never experienced.

A change.

Trying to make things better for myself.

“Maybe,” I tell myself, “Maybe if I try hard enough, I won’t screw up again.”

“I won’t lose everyone. I won’t let my efforts go in vain.”

But it’s hard, because I was supposed to have my happy ending already.

I pulled through. I was ok again.

Why am I back at the start?

I thought it was over…

An opportunity.

I could move on.

This new world and body gave me a fresh start.

An agonizing one— but a fresh start nonetheless.

An uphill battle.

Sometimes I pause and let my tears fall,

So that maybe I won’t fall myself.

I sit sobbing, mourning the happiness I was supposed to have,

And I curse the struggles keeping me from it again.

It’s like a game I accidentally restarted.

I don’t want to do this, it’s so exhausting.

But what do I have to lose?

All I can do is hope there’s a light at the end of the tunnel;

Something that makes this worth it.

How can I be so sure?

What if my previous chance was my last one?

So many questions. 

Too much hope—

Or maybe none at all

[aspenonpawzzz]

little vent cause the dysphoria is bad rn

sometimes i just…

don’t want to Exist..

not in a “suicidal I want to die” way, in a, I wish to not be confined to a single physical form, and not have one at all. I also don’t wish to be perceived or known, but at the same time I want to have friends. I am FEELING the feelings rn

I miss Darius and my friends, and my pack, my paws my power…. I just wish that I would wake up and it was all a dream…. Please any deity listening… send me back. Put the human that used to inhabit this form back.

I am not the person that was born in this body. Do not perceive me as that. I wiggled my way in, ate the human inside, and slid in like gloves, socks and other things

I am a parasite.

[renfieldrenrat]

I wish people would perceive as a timelord or literally anything else I am. The only thing seen is but the very smallest part of me. It is so frustrating. I wanna be seen as all I am, not just a tiny fraction. Nobody sees the marvelous and wonderous about me, only I can see it, internally.

[bugsb1te]

I like to read fanfiction of myself. Reading fanfiction of myself and Erik makes me happy, it makes me feel soft, warm, relaxed and feel as if I don't have to worry about how our relationship really is. The way we are always going to be trapped in the cycle of hurting each other, and it never matters if it was intentional or not, it still happens. An endless loop of being unable to admit when I'm wrong, my heartstrings being tugged at every time Erik leaves, and even though he always comes back it hurts me every time. It's as if he never learns that leaving me cold and alone has an effect on me. Reading fanfiction reminds me that in my memories of the X-Men films, his heart aches too, and that we were connected from the moment we met. That when he leaves, he feels the thread that is tied to our hearts become thin, only a few fibers twisting together to create a delicate bond that is so easily broken again and again. And even when we grow old, we are still just out of reach from each other, our arms outstretched, fingers brushing against the other's. So many years that I could never have with him, so many years where he loved someone else, and even if I liked a woman she was never him. Nobody was ever Erik. But how could I want him when he constantly betrays mankind, betrays me. But I felt his mind, I have touched every corner of it, and yet I still can never know why he always chooses violence and isolation over the warmth of my heart. Reading fanfiction fills the hole that he left, and feeds into my dream of me and Erik ever being together. When in reality, I am not really Charles, and he is merely fiction. And even when I have a friend who is Erik, it's not the same.

So I write and read stories.