#aquaphobia

[69fartballoons]

some stuff heheee

[snail-friend]

I headcanon Billy has a fear of water.

He didn't at first, but after the amount of times he's been shot out of the air by villains into the ocean, been held under water so he can't call the Wizards name, been half drowned, waterboarded, had bad experiences helping people on boats, as Cap and as Billy-

I don't think it's unreasonable for him to be freaked by water. He goes to the pool with friends one day and he gets waist deep before he can't breathe and the pressure is too much and he just has to leave because all he can think of is the times he's nearly drowned. He's helping take down a water manipulating villain and at some point in the fight he stops smiling, stops being friendly, stops talking so he can just get it over with.

One day he's in a fight as Captain Marvel and somehow gets the flight knocked out of him over the ocean and the league learns that one of their strongest can't swim and is barely staying at the surface. it takes multiple leaguers to get him to safety. after it's over, they try to get him to agree to swimming lessons. try to help him. he never will, he's stubborn and afraid.

[chubunited]

Comm for CoffeeBunnyz on twitter!

[juliamccartney]

listening to my little scary fiction podcasts while going about my day-to-day life out in public is so funny, like i'll be calmly bagging my groceries while listening to someone getting violently murdered or having a mental breakdown or drowning in a lake

[boonalina]

Mk shows Redson the rain (spicynoodles art)

This is like if Redson had a phobia of rain and Mk is helping him through it.

----

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Inspired off of that one lumity scene:

[eepymonstrr]

quick reminder - if we are mutuals i’d really appreciate it if you’d tag your ocean/water things!! just got 3 jumpscares in a row and Sleep has been postponed 😭

[mayblossomss]

Whumptober Day 31: Therapy

"Ponyboy, I can't help you if you refuse to open up to me."

Glancing up at the sound of her voice, Ponyboy studied the woman sitting across from him. From his previous sessions, he knew that Ms. Evans was nice enough, and clearly had experience with how well she spoke to him, but he couldn't help but struggle to open up.

It had been a month since Johnny and Dally died, making it about ten months since his parents had passed as well. Ponyboy didn't like talking about them, but Darry decided that this would be a healthy way for Pony to start recovering. He'll admit it, he's been less than happy for a while now, but he wasn't ready to share his feelings. It felt anything but tough to sit in an office and chat about how he felt.

"I know," Ponyboy murmured, shifting in the cushioned seat he was appointed to sit in. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't know what to say."

His therapist smiled, crossing one of her legs over the other one and speaking gently. "It's okay. Why don't we start with a run through of the night at the park?"

Ponyboy dropped his gaze to his lap, playing with Dally's necklace that he now wore around his neck. "Okay, well... Johnny and I, he was my best friend, we fell asleep in the lot..."

"The lot?"

"Yeah, it's this area my friends and I hang out at: to play football or just to sit around at," Ponyboy explained, slowly lifting his gaze back to her. "Johnny would stay the night there often. His parents weren't the best."

Her face softens as she seemed to understand what he meant by that. "I see."

"So, we fell asleep there, but I have a curfew of midnight on weekends, so when I woke up, I knew my older brother would be upset."

"You mentioned before that you and your brother didn't get along," The woman started. "You said that you two fought a lot. Did you, going home, know you'd get into an argument with Darrel?"

Ponyboy nodded, chewing at his bottom lip. "I did, and I was real nervous. Darry's scary when he gets angry. Uh, so yeah, when I got home, we shouted at each other, and then he hit me."

His therapist wasn't surprised by the revelation as Ponyboy had alluded to it at a different session, which was a relief as Pony didn't want to get into it too much. "You were surprised by that, correct? You said he'd never hit you before, right?"

"Yeah, it was shocking," Pony said dryly. "I know now that he loves me and all that, but at the time, I thought he hated me. I decided that that was the last time he'd hurt me, and so I told myself I would run away."

"But you never really intended to, did you?"

"No," Pony confirmed, scratching his head. "I was just really upset. I ran to get Johnny, then we ran to the park where we said we'd stick around 'til I calmed down."

Ms. Evans smiled faintly. "Johnny went along with you when you said you were running away? Why do you think he did that?"

"I think he knew I wasn't really gonna do it, but was gonna go with me anyway," Ponyboy shrugged, unable to fight the small smile growing on his lips. "He was a really good friend, he'd go anywhere I went, and as would I with him."

Nodding, Ms. Evans let her smile drop, but kept her soft tone. "Can you tell me about the fountain?"

Ponyboy cleared his throat, mind flashing with memories that he quickly suppressed. "The Socs got to the park after we did, and I said something to the ringleader, Bob, which pissed him off. He threw me in the fountain and drowned me until I passed out."

"Do you think he wanted to kill you?"

"No," Pony said adamantly. He'd thought about this a lot, and decided a long time ago that Bob wasn't trying to kill him, but was only drunk. "I think he just couldn't figure out where to draw the line."

She hummed, writing something down in her notebook which made Pony fear that they'd be circling back to that later. "Your brother tells me that you've anxious around water lately. Can you tell me a bit more about that?"

Ponyboy hesitated, not having expected that question. For a moment, he thought about it, then sighed and nodded. "Something about water just... brings me back to the fountain, if that makes any sense. When I go in the shower, it's like the second the water touches me, my mind makes me believe I'm back underwater, even though I know I'm not."

"That makes perfect sense," she smiled reassuringly. "You've experienced a traumatic incident involving water, it's normal to develop an overwhelming fear of it."

"But it's water," Ponyboy said, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Why would anyone be afraid of it?"

"The human psyche is very complicated," The woman responded, still with the easy smile on her face. "Scientists continue to study why our brains do what they do, but as for phobias, they are usually caused by bad experiences. Being held under water, and likely believing you were going to die, explains why now, even slight contact with water can make you panic."

Ponyboy nodded, still a little hot in the face. "Will I ever get over it?"

"Of course, it's possible," she responded. "You'll have to work for it, but I know you can do it. Are there any other intense fears you may have?"

Chewing at his inner cheek, he nodded. "Fire, I guess. Trains too."

"Fire... Well, I assume that would be from the church fire you were involved in," After Pony nodded, she continued. "But can you elaborate on why trains scare you?"

"It's not that trains scare me," he says slowly, testing the words he's never said to anyone before. "But whenever I hear a train horn, I jump a little, I guess. But not in the way you do whenever something loud sounds, it's more... panicked."

"Am I correct when I say that your parents were killed in an accident involving a train? Your friend, Dallas, too?"

Ponyboy sighed, his leg starting to bounce up and down. "Yeah. I guess whenever I hear one, I think of them. I also in general kinda get anxious around them."

"That's only normal after three people you know have been in accidents involving them," Ms. Evans told him, writing it down quickly into her notebook. "I suppose it's made you more aware of how dangerous they can be, making you less likely to want to be around them."

Nodding once again, he sighed. "That makes sense."

"Now, Ponyboy, we are almost out of time, but I was hoping to ask you one last thing before you leave," she said softly, her eyes softening to match her smile. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

She leaned forward in her seat, speaking gently. "Do you feel guilty when you think of what happened to your friends?"

For a few beats, Ponyboy couldn't find the words. Of course he did, but he's never admitted that to anyone. What was the point in admitting he was guilty when everyone already knew it was his fault? "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do," she pushed easily. "You don't need to say anything, but I would like to hear why you feel guilty."

Ponyboy picked a scab on his hand, sighing and giving in. "I ran into the fire first, then Johnny followed. If I hadn't ran inside, Johnny wouldn't have, and then he'd still be alive..."

"Maybe he would've still ran inside," she countered. "And, say he didn't, what would've happened to those kids?"

Pony's stomach sunk at the concept of leaving those kids inside the burning church. It didn't feel right at all. "They'd have died, probably."

"Right. Do you think Johnny would've wanted that?"

"No way." His therapist smiled at his words, so Pony continued. "But I could've stopped Dally. If I'd ran faster and got to him before the train did, or if I didn't let him leave the hospital to start, or..."

"Ponyboy, that wasn't your fault."

Pony shook his head, fighting back the burning feeling of impending tears. "And then my parents. If I had picked up the icing for Darry's cake, they would never have crossed those tracks and got stuck. But I forgot, and they got hit, and it's my fault."

"No, Ponyboy, it isn't," She told him in a voice that was a mix of soft and stern. "None of their deaths were your fault."

"But..."

"Ponyboy, it wasn't your fault. I know that it's hard to understand, but I'm telling you as your friend, it isn't your fault."

He turned his head down to his lap, head spinning and tears brewing. She must've noticed, as she stood up, put her notebook down, and sighed. "I think we should wrap it up for the day, wouldn't you agree?" Too scared to speak, he nodded his head silently and stood up, inching toward the door.

"Ponyboy?" she called to him before he opened the door. "Ponyboy, you've been through so much. I hope you continue to see me, because I want to help you."

He looked at her, fighting his tears. "Thank you,"

Ms. Evans smiled, walking over and opening the door for him. "Of course. Have a good rest of your day."

"See you next time," Ponyboy said, turning away and scanning the waiting room, spotting right away both of his brothers. As much as he wanted to hate therapy, Ponyboy realized that maybe it wasn't too bad. Maybe it could help him. Maybe.

[whumperofworlds]

Love it when a Whumpee has a fear, but they face it to save someone.

A Whumpee is aquaphobic, and Caretaker is drowning? Even with their fear of water, Whumpee dove in to save Caretaker.

It shows that despite their greatest fears, if it's important, they'll face that fear.

[diesfortunae]

several guys from several mods (and one official guy)

[diy-fire-water-pups]

Hey Rocky, why DO you hate water? Is it because you just hate the feeling of being wet, or is there something more to it?

The sensation has always been just... Very icky for me, ever since I remember.

Also not fun to hate water and be a stray puppy without shelter during a storm. I never forgot that and it surely didn't help matters...

[deeranon]

Aquaphobia ~ A Furina Story

Chapter: Special

Warning: badly written angst and identity issues, that’s really it

@idkfitememate hope you’re ready because I think I flopped halfway through—don’t know how proud I am of it but at least it’s out? I’m proud about getting it out at least!

Hope you like it, at least :)

___

Furina loved the people of Fontaine deeper than any ocean on Teyvat. But she could not say the same for herself. Five hundred years of acting was bound to corrode the girl that Furina once was into little pieces eventually.

And so, Furina sat in her dull bed like a doll left to its thoughts while the owner was away.

Because that was truly what she was when you looked at it, wasn’t it? A doll in a body that was never supposed to be her own. Sure, people said she was human. But they didn’t know what Furina knew.

Her body wasn’t her own.

It never was. And probably never will be.

A trail of shattered mirror shards led from the bathroom and onto the stone tiled floor, but Furina didn’t bother to pick up the pieces. White hair with natural blue streaks that faded to an ever-present dim glow was scattered on the cold bathroom floor.

Furina bled from hands that did not feel like her own. Furina never had a reason to take the gloves off for the first few years of her act, but ever since the day curiosity overtook her, she wished the gloves could have been glued to them like there was nothing underneath.

The hands were like the hair that Furina had cut off.

Fading to two different hues of blue, the left one a blue so dark it was reminiscent of the midnight zone in the ocean, while the right faded to a soft icy blue like the sky and clouds had blended together. Thick and thin streaks a shade lighter than the blue of each hand reminded Furina of rock patterns swirled around the fingers,giving the hands an already unnatural glow that seemed to hide just under the skin where the patterns lay.

Furina wished she could cut off the hands just as she did the hair. As if in retaliation for Furina not being the true owner of the body, the wounds on the hands stung like millions of small needles set on fire. But Furina did not bother bandaging the injuries obtained from breaking the mirror. She simply sat on the bed in the new apartment and stared at the waning moon.

Because what else was there to do? Go outside when the sun rises and act as if everything is okay and totally normal? Ha. What a joke. She was sure to be a living embarrassment. If Furina could even call this life. There would be pointed fingers and eyes and she would become a laughingstock. And absolutely no one would or will take her seriously again after what happened at her trial. So what was the point?

Furina slumped into cushy pillows and blankets that made her sick as she remembered the knave’s words. Standing idle. Doing nothing. Failed.

Furina had been furious at the younger woman for her behavior, and had almost completely lost her mask in front of the Traveler and Paimon, who Furina wished to never see again.

Now, Furina just felt blank thinking back on it.

What was the use of getting angry? That wasn’t even her Arlecchino was talking to. It was her masked act, focalors.

If Furina was so insistent about being free from her act, how come she couldn’t seem to let it go?

Was this what other humans called a hypocrite?

Maybe it was because she didn’t truly feel like…whoever she was supposed to be if she wasn’t acting as focalors.

The little girl living her first day of life, innocent and kind, had been oblivious of the pain to come. Maybe that was the true Furina. Who she was. Not “focalors” or the god of justice. Her.

But deep in Furina’s unowned heart, she knew that little girl had been killed by her own hands just to sell the part of god of justice. The girl, wide eyed and curious about life, now laid dead. Torn to shreds by the demands of humanity and the expectations of the true Focalors.

But Furina knew she had been the one to choke the girl to her end.

It was all for Fontaine. Furina thought as she stood over the girl’s body. Yet she did not realize how the body that held her lacking human mind cried without her knowing once again.

But the act is over now, and there is nothing left of you. You are unneeded. You have completed what you were solely made for. Now what? Furina’s mind echoed in the silence. Her brain could not give her an answer. It was simply too tired to think straight.

Five hundred years of meticulously planning every step, every smile, every reaction, every answer, wore her mind down until it turned numb to the needs of true emotion. The only emotions that remained above the tides were fear and exhaustion.

All Furina wanted to do was rest, yet she had always been terrified of the thought of letting her mind sink beneath the waves for so long. At some point in her act, Furina had dubbed sleep overrated and used the cold nights to plan the months and years ahead as she struggled to stop the ever-present prophecy. A prophecy she was told to prevent by the reflection in the mirror, when the reflection knew it couldn’t be prevented at all. The reflection that had lied.

Now, Furina wanted to sleep without fear on the second day of her life. But her mind still raced with unwanted thoughts of terror. And probably from the pain of wounded hands.

Furina knew she was going to have to get rid of the now bloody sheets in the morning, so Furina might as well get it over with now, right?

She stood on shaky ombré blue feet and yanked the thin bedsheets stained with blood off of the mattress, scattering pillows and crumpled piles of blankets everywhere. The wounds screamed in protest as she carried the sheets without even a single wince as the cloth rubbed against open skin.

Furina walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, feet already numb from the chilly tiled floor. She headed straight for the sink and dropped the crumbled ball of bedsheets into the basin before reaching for one of the faucet handles, only to pause the moment before skin touched metal.

The sound of rushing water filled her mind, and she stepped away from the sink with a sharp intake of breath.

Furina gagged as bile rose in her borrowed throat and rushed to the bathroom, uncaring for the glass shards digging into the soles of dark and light blue feet but fully aware of the sound of cracking glass. The sound echoed in her mind, reminding her of that day like a movie film stuck on repeat.

Whatever little food Furina had consumed the day before emptied itself into the toilet as Furina hunched over with tear blurred vision. Soft white hair brushed against a leg and only made Furina gag harder as she tried to control the sobbing. She wretched into the toilet once more. The sound of crunching glass only made her cry harder.

No.

No.

No.

Not again.

Furina’s mind screamed as its thoughts looped over and over again. Stuck in a never ending cycle.

Water.

Flood.

Prophecy.

Fake.

Water.

Flood.

Prophecy.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Furina closed off her sense of vision in a desperate attempt to calm down while she quaked. Body trembling like a flower in the middle of a windstorm. Furina knew she was supposed to do something to calm down somehow. But what was she supposed to do again? Furina couldn’t remember. Just like she couldn’t remember anything from before her single magical meeting in this world. Why was she so forgetful? Why can’t she remember?

Shaky hands released the rim of the bile filled toilet to clamp around arms that were trembling just as much as the hands. Like all those years ago.

Everything was so cold.

Where was the warmth? It’s so cold here…

So cold…Furina was cold. The body she inhabited gave no warmth, it was like the iciest depths of the ocean personified. Furina hated it. Furina hated this body. It was so cold, why did it have to be cold? Why?

Why couldn’t it feel warm? Like a normal human that everyone claimed she was? Even when Furina knew she was anything but.

All Furina wished for now was for something in this world to protect her from the eternal cold, even for a single minute. Was that so wrong?

Yes, a shard of her mask whispered. Because you are the one who gives up your warmth for others no matter the cost.

Furina wished for something to share its warmth with her, for something to ward off the empty feeling where a heart was supposed to be. But in the end she knew this was all wishful thinking.

Limp hands brushed against jagged shards, but Furina did not wince. For she could not feel. Her borrowed body was wholly and completely cold. Fingers subconsciously reached out and gripped a shard of mirror, testing if she could feel as already open wounds deepened enough to scar. But there was no reaction.

Furina felt numb.

The glass started to crack as the grip on it tightened.

Furina felt cold.

New trails of blood seeped from a dark blue hand littered with wounds.

Furina felt willing to accept that she had no protector to shield her from the cold, from her fears, and from herself.

The shard dug into a midnight stained hand slicked with blood. But the longer the mind ignored the pain the harsher the grip on the dagger-like piece of mirror became.

The hand held on tighter.

And tighter.

And tighter.

And then, there was nothing.

Furina felt something wrap around the left wrist that was now covered in blood and reopened her vision to find out what it was. Because it felt warm.

Furina almost didn’t know what she was staring at. It looked like a boy, but at the same time it wasn’t a boy at all.

It looked like a boy made of some kind of water; soft pink and gentle purple and blue liquids sloshed together with glitter floating in the water in clusters like stars at night, making it nearly opaque but not quite.

The thing cradled the shard-embedded hand like it was made of glass, tilting its faceless head down to somehow stare sadly at the wounded appendage. It rubbed gentle circles into the dark blue skin before looking up at Furina and staring into heterochromatic eyes.

Furina stared back, noticing how its uneven bluish-pink water hair fell over its face while the rest was pulled into a long shoulder ponytail that shimmered with a dark blue bow also made from glittery water.

But none of that really mattered to Furina, because she wanted to know who it was and why it was here. Did it want something from her?

“Who are you?” Furina whispered hoarsely. There was no verbal reply.

The thing simply leaned forward and wrapped its arms around shaky shoulders in a hug filled with such tenderness Furina completely froze. She did not pull away and scream, nor did she push the water-creature back and run for the front door to escape from the supposed intruder. She just sat there, frozen as the thing carded its watery but somehow firm fingers through short white hair.

Because this was the first time Furina had ever been given a hug. And she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

Furina felt safe in the entity’s embrace, she felt warm. Like sunlight was streaming through a window and straight into Furina’s soul.

Furina felt protected, for the very first time in her life.

And so, Furina unknowingly started to cry. Not from sadness, but for joy.

Bloodied hands moved on their own and gripped at the entity’s shoulders as tears streamed down to the even bloodier ground. The thing didn’t seem to mind and only held Furina tighter, rubbing circles into shaking shoulders with one hand while the other continued to card through messily cut white hair. The thing couldn’t speak verbally in common tongue, or really it couldn’t speak verbally at all, but Furina could feel as it shushed and consoled her in a language all its own.

And in that moment, Furina thought of a name:

Jamarie.

The prince that protects others with the soul of a warrior.

Yes, that name fits it well. Furina thought as the world grew blurry and she welcomed sleep with ease while being cradled in Jamarie’s warm arms.

And for the first time in more than five hundred years, Furina dreamed peacefully.

[moonyfr]

The crimson Rivers brain rot is so real, it's raining where I am, and all I can think of is "Wow, Regulus Black in Crimson Rivers would absolutely HATE being outside right now"

[akumaii]

Thalassophobia

.・。.・゜★・.・☆・゜・。.

Definition: Thalassophobia is an anxiety disorder that is characterized as the intense and irrational fear of large bodies of water, such as the ocean, sea, or large lakes. This fear is often triggered by, but not limited to, the vastness, depth, aquatic creatures, and the unknown it holds within large bodies of water.

.・。.・゜★・.・☆・゜・。.

Etymology: The word thalassophobia comes from the Greek word thalassa, meaning sea, and the word phobos, meaning fear

Requested by: no one

↩︎ request info

.・。.・゜★・.・☆・゜・。.

(term coined: N/A) (flag made: 08/29/2023)

[isamajor]

Whumpril day 21 to 25

More whump drabbles with Skyrim Custom-voiced followers ! :D

21 . « Just hold on. »

It was pouring rain, as if they weren't already wet enough. Wading with difficulty by the light of torches in the Drajkmyr Marsh, the party tried to outrun the hostile fauna who lived here. Night had fallen and there was no suitable surface on which to set up camp, so they were doomed to always move further.

Caryalind's teeth chattered loudly, and his torch flickered, so cold he felt. His thoughts even seemed to freeze in place and his feet moved forward on pure instinct. Taliesin placed his hand on the prince's shoulder.

“Just hold on, your Highness.” (100)

•

22 . Stoicism break

Xelzaz sat alone, hunched over. His body screamed in protest as bruises bloomed across his scales, bones grinding together from fall he suffered a few hours ago. Pride prevented him from showing the extent of his pain, even amongst closest comrades. But each movement, each breathe hurt. Struggling not to betray his agony despite ingesting a numbing potion, Xelzaz maintained a calm demeanor all day. Now, safe within his tent, his defenses lowered and his stoicism dissolved. Sobs rose in his throat. He kept them completely silent, except for sharp inhalations that tore through his chest, the pained moans of which he quickly stifled. (104)

•

23 . Presumed dead

Several had fallen down the mountain, but Lydia had not been found. She did not respond to calls and despite searches, her body was not found. They stayed several days looking for her and waiting for her, but she never came. Xelzaz ended up expressing what everyone was thinking and fearing. "She is probably dead. May she have gone to Sovngarde."

A silence dotted with sad sighs answered him. The mountain was cruel and its frozen slopes dangerous. After a final farewell carried by the wind, and some montain flowers thrown in the abyss, they ended up continuing on their way. (101)

•

24 . No Time to Rest

The exploration of this ruin had been trying and it was with a certain joy that they had come out with the prospect of a well-deserved rest to heal their wounds. But they didn't have time for that. Sensing their weakness, a pack of wolves pounced on them, lips curled. Exhausted, weapons fell heavy in their hands. Kaidan groaned every time he swung his sword. Auri struggled to catch her breath after each shot. Inigo's reflexes were no longer as good. Lucien stayed behind to try to heal his comrades with the little Magicka he had left. Rest had to wait. (104)

•

25 . « Brace yourself. »

“We have no choice, we have to cross.”

Taliesin looked at the Dragonborn in horror, shaking his head. The river was in flood, the bridge could no longer be seen. He wouldn't go any further.

"Without me."

Kaidan sneered. "Brace yourself.", he just had time to say before suddenly grabbing the terrified Mer and throwing him over his shoulder. Without waiting, he entered the river, firmly holding Taliesin who suddenly stopped struggling as soon as the water soaked his robes. With gritted teeth, soaked and terrified, shaking uncontrollably, he clung helplessly to Kaidan, forced to trust in his abilities. (99)

[spaghettimakesflags]

aquaphobia flag

[16woodsequ]

I just realized Steve would probably have a hard time with baths

That wouldn't surprise me. Trauma can manifest in different ways, and sometimes expected triggers don't happen, so he could very well be fine with baths.

But he could also just as well get anxious from the sound of water as he moves in the tub, the feel of water on his body, the thought of putting his head under the water, and bath water getting cold/feeling cold when drying off. On the same vein, he could also get triggered by water on his face during a shower. Or by having his eyes closed while washing his hair.

It's really interesting thinking of the different triggers Steve might have after the ice.