#m.w.

Welcome to @fictionfolk-culture-is, a blog run by Mod P, Mod W, and Mod M as an ask and/or submission blog, similar to @alterhuman-culture-is, @plural-culture-is, and @fictionkin-culture-is :-)

Anon tags are allowed, and will be tagged as the emoji combo, or whatever hashtag you would like to request :) Disclaimer: Mod P, W, and M is not responsible to check if a tag is claimed or not

Our fictionfolk flag here

This blog was created to be an ask blog for anyone fictionkind in any way, with asks and submissions always open under some ground rules listed below. 🎉

If a submission, please start any asks/submissions with "Fictionfolk culture is," "[Character] culture is," or anything similar that's inclusive to fictionfolk identities

Any respectful questions are also welcomed, tagged under "#not a submission"

Properly warned NSFW / dark content is allowed, although use your own discernment on when to not go too in-depth🤙 Trigger warnings will be added under "#tw ____"

Discourse under any asks will not be accepted, and will be removed.

Anti-endo / anti-willo

Askbox / submission status: Open :)

FAQ / Frequently Asked Questions here

Plain text / image credits under cut

There her son was, asking the questions she knew someday she'd have to answer, questions that could change his life.

And she panicked, answering that no, she's never had a vision. It wasn't completely a lie, she hasn't had a properly called vision (and even then, they weren't really her strenght) since he was just a little baby. Her little baby.

The first thing she did then was talk to Evelyn, so that she could explain things better to Ethan when she had her talk with Benny.

The second thing was telling Ross. He comforted her, reassuring her that she did her best, it was okay if she couldn't tell Ethan yet.

She expected Ethan, or maybe even Benny, to come tell them about it.

But no one did, except for Evelyn. She tried to kept them up in the kids' shenanigans.

Sam dropped hints here and there sometimes, nothing really obvious. Ross and her decided that when the kids felt it was the time to talk about it, they would.

It was amusing sometimes, watching the boys trying to make some excuse on the spot for something clearly magic; sometimes it was concerning.

M.W.: Volunteer, Retrograde Amnesia, Genuine

Yep there’s a word for it. It’s called a Kardiatype

I've been recently contemplating the fictionkin/fiction folk label but I'm not sure if I can.. all of this is really new to me and all the resources I've found online only confuse me more sigh

I don't want to be a different species and I don't relate to a character... but I've recently realized that it would make me really happy to live as my oc.. like buy clothes they would like and act or talk like them too.. really different how I normally am ig. I still have to be the current 'me' like around my family or whatever but changing my entire identity sounds really nice.. does that count as fictionkin? It's my oc not like an actual character ig so I'm not sure.. and it's not like I relate to them I just really want to be them, yk? I don't know if this is just me wanting to be trans but like I don't want to be a different gender I just want to be my oc.. ig

Sorry if this is not the place to vent my frustrations! Just want to see some other perspectives and maybe if there are any resources I should check out? Thank you!!!!!!

hi anon 👋 I think that the most important thing to say here is that you are totally free to explore any labels in the community. you're welcome here, you shouldn't have to feel like you're not able to ponder stuff 🙌

The movie seemed good enough so far- when someone knocked on the door.

Della didn't know who it could be. Her parents were out and wouldn't come until later, and her baby brother asleep already. It was her night off from her part-time job, and all she wanted was to watch that new movie everyone was going on and on about. So who would it be?

Maybe her parents forgot something.

Why didn't they open with their own keys, though?

Maybe they just came home earlier tonight.

They would've told her first.

The girl paused the movie. There were more knocks a moment after, louder and faster, growing impatient.

"Who's there?" she asked.

Della wasn't an idiot, alright, she wouldn't just open the door without knowing who it was. Too many weird things happened in this town, and even if not it would've been a dumb move.

The knocks stopped suddenly.

She waited if they started again or if anyone answered. It was unnervingly quiet.

Figuring it must've been a prank, she went back to her place, and just when she was about to take a handful of popcorn and press play, she heard it-

knock-knock-knock

Groaning, she got up to go check again (and possibly tell whoever it was to freaking stop it already) when she heard it again- surprisingly closer than before.

knock-knock-knock-knock-knock

It took her a moment to realize it seemed to come from the t.v. in front of her, and another one to make sure- no, yeah, pretty sure.

Static filled the screen and something seemed to make the damn noise from the inside.

By then she was tired already.

She grabbed the remote, and with equal parts annoyance and satisfaction, she changed back where she wanted it to be.

It's not like he needed them, really, but it had become an habit after the first time; back then he was still getting used to it- the whole not being alive thing.

He dusted himself off with practiced ease, and made his way out of the graveyard.

He would need to find yet another place to not-quite-live, now that everyone thought he was two feet under in this one.

And he had the perfect little place in mind- after all, it was about time for him to come back to his beloved Whitechapel, as they had decided to name it. Poor choice, if you asked him, but there would be time to fix things later.

And it came from a baby so small, so fragile.

Her baby.

Her sweet little Samantha.

It made her proud... And it scared her- not fear of her own baby, never her little child, no, but scared for her.