#drowning incidents

[townpostin]

Body Found Near Dobho Bridge in Seraikela's Kapali Area

Unidentified body recovered from Subarnarekha River; police begin investigation. A body was discovered under the Dobho Bridge along the banks of the Subarnarekha River in Seraikela’s Kapali area, causing a stir in the locality. JAMSHEDPUR – A sense of unease gripped Seraikela’s Kapali area when an unidentified body was found near the Subarnarekha River under the Dobho Bridge. Upon receiving the…

[alwaysbewoke]

[hellothisiskiko]

[akinchi]

SOMEONE made Anya cry again and Ken is comforting her... but SOMEONE is feeling a little jealoushh~~ ✨️✨️✨️

[purecommemasolitude]

There’s something very fitting about how Darry’s struggles and actions are presented through water metaphors (“I keep treading water/but I sink just like a stone”, “I don’t know what we would do if you were not around/the one to keep the ship afloat when it’s going down”) and then his little brother almost drowns, indirectly because Darry is in fact struggling and doesn’t know how to act

[theoakleafpancake]

Crowley Meratyn was the first person Halt traveled with since his departure from Dun Kilty. And sure, while the Ranger was a welcome relief and perhaps annoyingly cheerful distraction from the memories, it took him a while to feel at peace.

The first night, Crowley had suggested they sleep in shifts. And of course the Ranger had taken the first shift. Halt, of course, had demurred, not wanting to cause unrest, and he had indeed turned his back to his new companion, but he didn’t sleep.

He didn’t trust this Crowley, plain and simple. There was almost a glimmer of Ferris from their younger years. Back when the responsibilities of the throne had been a fleeting whisper, back when their parents had left them to the care of their nurses and tutors. Back when he could laugh and smile and not worry about the future. Ferris had been happy, then. And so had Halt.

And then over time, things had changed. His brother had kept the front everywhere else, but when they were alone, he was distant and cold. Halt knew himself to be a fool for not seeing it sooner, or perhaps he had simply been willing to turn a blind eye. After all, Ferris was his brother. His friend, his confidant. He would never betray his kingdom, let alone his own blood.

Halt had learned that lesson the hard way. And he was determined to catch Crowley’s facade the moment he saw one slip up. He would not be taken in this time.

He would not be betrayed a second time.

[ethosiab]

dnd party in which characters dies over the course of the campign, spread out, during seperate events, leading to the party technically being the same group, with the same name, but none of the original members persist

[viric-dreams]

Death by Water is a recurring dream for Ockham, and dreams hit differently when you're a creature of Parabola. Nothing in the waking world feels anywhere near as real. How can it, without the myriad of subtle hues of each object brought out by the cosmogone sun? Where the wind feels visceral and crisp against bare skin, sensation no longer dulled through that filter of London haze. Dreams are bright. They are vivid.

The dream always starts the same way--with Ockham plunged into the sea, the blistering heat and deafening drone of chaos and cannon fire suddenly doused into a dark, frigid silence. The cold hits like a slap, echoing in the blackness. Every time, it plays out the same way, with Ockham willing, begging hishertheir body not to flinch from that icy shock, not to give into instinct and open hishertheir mouth in a yell and let out that precious air--that air critical to getting back to the surface, and not to let the saltwater that stings the inside of Ockham's nostrils in any deeper.

And every time, Ockham loses.

The yelp draws forth, unbidden, spilling bubbles into the phthalo-stained darkness. They're gone before Ockham's stinging eyes can even track their direction. Ockham's lungs burn. There's something bright in the darkness. Hishertheir chest spasms, trying to force a breath where there is none to be had. Something so bright, so full of life. Ockham's limbs are iron, hardly able to move against the mass of the water. The moment to strike. The desperate motion to draw anything into hishertheir lungs, even that foul, icy water, is blocked by the mass of the serpent slithering its way down Ockham's throat. With each passing second, feeling more alive, more real. Ockham's pulse pounds like war drums in hishertheir head, sparks of colour douse Ockham's vision. Hishertheir world takes on colour, life, sensation. Ockham's world becomes black. Ockham's world becomes bright.

Ockham wakes up.

[avnasace]

(spoilers for fontaine aqs and 4.2)

childe really experienced a bad breakup, went on a wild goosechase around inazuma, then tried to go on vacation, instead got falsely accused of serial murder he couldnt have committed, humbled by a divine machine, humbled by a dragon, got sent to prison, became part of an ancient prophecy, fought an abyssal narwhal for at least 45 days, and then met his teacher, who ignored him for like 10 years and immedietly yeeted him through a quantum abyss portal back to his homeland with (supposedly) no answers.

and after all that, instead of relaxing, like he shouldve on holiday , he is probably going to have to sail his way back to fontaine to drop neuvillette an abyssal message from his estranged teacher that couldve been an email...

[busterblackcherry]

what will saint peter say to gackt when his time comes

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 16: Necrosis

Swamp (pond) + "No, I can't feel anything"

3271 Words; Coleverlord, 7 and 2 years pre-canon

TW for drowning, attempted filicide, near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, repeated use of bugs as symbolism

AO3 ver

“Lilly, what were you thinking?”

The words were spoken in a low hiss, almost inaudible to Cole as he approached the kitchen. He came to stop just before the doorway as his mother’s voice filtered out into the hall.

“That’s not—I’m only doing what I have to.” She said, sounding strained, and Cole shuffled forwards nervously. He leaned around the frame and peered through the doorway.

+=+=+=+=+

The rock overturned, shedding light on the creatures below.

The afternoon sun shone bright overhead, while the soil beneath the mud was soft and damp. Cole stared as a particularly large roly-poly crawled along the underside of the rock. A centipede scurried away from the light to another rock to hide under, and Cole shoved his hand into the dirt—there!

Cole yanked the worm out of the dirt and held it, looking it over as it wriggled. The eight year old left the rock upside-down as he stood to go find his mom, intent on showing her his prize.

+=+=+=+=+

The waiting room smelled vaguely floral, in a way that Cole wasn’t sure was from perfume or cleaning products. There weren’t many other people here besides him and his dad—just another visitor talking quietly with the receptionist.

Cole wasn’t entirely sure why he was even here. It was a weekend, and he had dance practice in two hours, and there wasn’t really much to do here in the waiting room—which added up to one bored thirteen year old. Still, his dad had insisted, and there wasn’t much else Cole could do; it got him out of the house in a way that his lack of friends couldn’t do.

(The garden pond had been empty for years now.)

Eventually, a nurse came along, standing before them with a warm smile. It scrabbled at the back of Cole’s mind, and the nurse twitched before sliding their eyes away from Cole and onto his dad.

“She’s ready for visitors, right this way.”

+=+=+=+=+

She had been acting kind of… different, lately, though Cole couldn’t really pinpoint when the changes started. But it felt like she looked at him less, or kept ending conversations early. She was going on more of her trips, too, and telling him less about her adventures when she got back. It felt… Cole frowned, then shrugged, leaning to look around one of his mom’s prized rose bushes.

(It felt cold, like a whisper in his mind. But when Cole reached out for his mother so she could banish that shadow creeping up his back—

She turned away.)

+=+=+=+=+

Both of his parents were backlit by the setting sun through the window over the sink, casting shadows that reached the door. They moved like a dance—constantly responding to each other, movements made in tandem. Cole had never seen his parents dance like this, though, all tense and angry.

(And he was the cause of that, wasn’t he?)

“By trying to drown our son?!” His dad’s voice was low, trembling, on the verge of spilling out to a yell. Cole had seen his dad upset, and disappointed, and worried before—but never quite like this, never quite so unsteady.

+=+=+=+=+

There she was, kneeling by the pond she had dug a few years ago. She was wearing that sunhat dad had gotten her for her birthday, the one that Cole had helped him pick out, with the shiny fake beetle settled among pretty fake flowers along the band. She was humming, a tune Cole recognized from one of dad’s songs, and Cole grinned.

“Momma, look!” Where a year ago Cole would have run right up to his mom without hesitation, now he approached more carefully.

His mom’s gaze snapped up from the dandelion she had been carefully digging out to him, eyes wide for a moment before they narrowed. “Cole.” She greeted, not unkindly—she hadn’t called him her little Pebble in a while. Cole was sure it was because he was almost nine—his mom must have thought him too old for baby nicknames. She smiled, but made no further movement towards Cole. The dandelion in her hands twisted slightly.

+=+=+=+=+

The halls of the place had the same vaguely floral scent as the waiting room, but with a more chemical undertone. So probably cleaning products. Ants marched a spiral under Cole’s skin, cobwebs at the edge of his vision. The nurse picked up the pace.

Finally, with his dad’s hand on his shoulder, they made it to room 424. The nurse scurried off, and Cole’s dad took the first step through the doorway, to the room beyond.

After a moment, Cole followed, shadows thick around his ankles.

(Cole still hated going out to the garden if he could help it.)

+=+=+=+=+

“Look!” Cole proudly showed off what he had managed to find, opening his hand so his mom could see the worm in full. “That’s another one for the compost bin, right?” He wasn’t sure why it felt like his mom was drifting away, lately, but she was still his mom. She’d always love him—of that he was sure.

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” His mom agreed, then, “but the compost bin has enough worms.” She gripped the stem of the dandelion a little tighter, and added, “Why don’t you put the worm back where you found it? We wouldn’t want it to dry out.”

+=+=+=+=+

“That’s not my son!” His mother argued, gripping the counter with enough force to crack it. “That—that’s not Cole.” She repeated, her whole body wound up like a spring. “That—that thing—can’t you see our son is gone?”

(What had Cole done wrong?)

“Lilly…” Cole watched as his dad reached out, hand ghosting over his mother’s shoulder before retreating. “My love, you’re not well.” He sighed, muttering something Cole didn’t catch.

Cole flinched back as sudden pain spiked in his head. The shadows creeping into the hall seemed to melt, something clawing its way towards his parents. They didn’t notice the motion, didn’t react to the creeping crawling clawing in their shadows—

+=+=+=+=+

“Oh.” Well, it was still a cool worm, so it wasn’t like Cole had really wasted his mom’s time. “Okay.” He turned around to go find that rock, worm in hand. His mom watched him go, and her gaze felt like a shadow scurrying up Cole’s neck.

Cole returned to the rocks to find most of the revealed critters had either gone further into the dirt or under other rocks. Cole hummed as he scraped out a small depression in the soil with his fingers, then he gently set the worm into it. “Eat lots of dirt and keep the soil healthy, okay?” He covered the worm with loose soil, patted it for luck, then slowly reset the rock so that the spot was covered again.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother smiled warmly. She looked different than Cole remembered, much of her strength lost to illness. She also seemed… shorter.

You’ve gotten taller, Vessel.

Oh, yeah that.

Cole glanced at his dad, who nodded towards Cole’s mother. After a moment, Cole approached, something squirming in his chest. His mother opened her mouth to speak—

Only to be cut off by a cough that made her shoulders heave and shake. Cole’s chest itched, a little like a burn but not quite.

How far the mighty have fallen.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole wandered around for a bit, poking at the soil between the rocks and looking for weeds to pull, dirt on his hands and knees getting smeared onto his arms and shins—somehow. It wasn’t like he was trying to get covered in dirt, it just sort of happened. Much to his dad’s chagrin and mom’s amusement—though the last time Cole had unthinkingly tracked mud into the house, his dad fretting and asking him to please go wash his hands before dinner, his mom hadn’t said a thing.

As Cole wandered around, he ended up somewhere behind his mom, who had moved on to inspecting her roses while Cole began to dig at the soil where he was sitting. After digging and covering a few holes, his mom had ended up standing by the pond again, bending down to look at the water while Cole hummed.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother pulled back sharply. “I’m fine.” She said, harsher than Cole had ever heard her talk to his dad.

(Why didn’t his mother want him anymore?)

“Lilly,” His dad was speaking through grit teeth, “I came home to find you drowning Cole in the pond.” He grabbed at her arm. “You’re not well.” His expression softened, for a moment, and he stepped forwards. “My love—”

“Don’t call me that.” Cole’s mother snapped, shadow clawing up her back. Cole’s head pounded.

+=+=+=+=+

“Cole?” His mom’s voice floated over to where Cole was, soft and… nahh, Cole was just imagining that uncertainty. His mom fought dragons; she could never be uncertain!

“Yeah?” Cole asked, looking up from the hole he’d been digging—and then moving to put the soil back real quick before standing up.

“Can you come here?” His mom wasn’t looking at him, instead staring at the water. Cole stared at the floral print of her shirt—old and faded from time; she’d had that shirt for as long as Cole could remember and often wore it when gardening—at the sunlight on her back. It looked much warmer than the shadow he could feel clinging to his—even though the sun was beaming down onto Cole all the same.

+=+=+=+=+

His dad’s hand on his back prompted Cole to shuffle forwards, close enough to the bed for him to see his mother clearly. There was a chair there—one of his dad’s jackets was slung over the back. It was the only chair, but Cole took it at his dad’s prompting.

The shadow in his mind raised Its hackles. Cole stared at his mother—he wasn’t sure what else to do. He hadn’t seen her since…

(rough rock against his shins cold water around his chest and head and arms face pressed into the mud chest burning—)

Shh, hush now.

The memory fled to the back of his mind. Cole shifted in his seat as his mother and dad greeted each other.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole stood as his mom’s words registered. The shadow at his heels hissed, cold around Cole’s ankles. For a moment he felt held in place, before he shook it off. “Yeah, Momma?” He walked over to stand at his mom’s side, a thin line of stones separating him from the pond. “What’d you need?”

One moment he was standing next to the river-smooth rocks lining the edge of the pond, his mother kneeling next to him. And then he was under the pond water, his legs folded under him as a heavy hand pushed him down by his shoulders.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole stumbled back, away from the door and the way his parents were moving together like a dance except wrong, away away away until he was in his bedroom and the kitchen felt like a distant memory.

Light from the setting sun filtered in, hazy through the thin curtains. Cole flicked the light switch, but it did nothing to banish the shadows dancing at the corners of his vision. His head swam, and he swallowed hard.

(What was wrong with him?)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole sputtered, palms smacking against the mud at the bottom of the pond as he tried to push himself out. The hands on his shoulders only pushed harder, impossibly heavy against his back. Cole squirmed, holding his breath as he tried to—to wiggle free, or push himself up—

The mud at the bottom of the pond was very soft, and very slick. Tiny fish scattered away from Cole’s thrashing, and he couldn’t breathe—

Momma where are you come help—

Cole struggled, but the hands on his back pushed down harder, his nose inches away from the mud at the bottom of the pond. Why wasn’t—where was—his mom had just been right there, how was he—

Momma, I’m scared.

+=+=+=+=+

“And how have you been?” It took Cole a moment to realize his mother was talking to him. Something about her words made him uneasy, isopods scuttling around his organs. His dad had stepped out of the room at some point, though Cole had no idea why.

“Fine.” Cole answered, not sure what else to say.

(She’d said he wasn’t his son.)

“That’s… good.” Was his mother getting nervous? Well, that wasn’t unusual—Cole had that effect on people.

(“You’re a freak.” An upended milk carton soaking into his hair and shirt—)

“Are you… doing well in school?” His mother asked. “I…” her lips pursed, “heard you got into a fight.”

“They started it.” Cole responded, pulling his legs up and folding them in front of his chest, resting his chin on his knees. Worms wiggled up his spine. “I finished it.”

(Between talking to classmates and being left alone, Cole preferred being left alone.)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole gasped, water rushing in as he inhaled against his will. He tried to kick his legs, but couldn’t quite manage it with how they had buckled under him. Cold water rushed down his throat, burning into his lungs—

Cole choked. The hands on his back leaked cold shadows that crawled all over his body, whispers slinking around behind his eyes like roly-polys under the rocks. He was too tired to thrash, now, his chest burning burning burning as cold spilled out from his core. The hands on his back pulled back, for a brief moment, then shoved down with such force that Cole’s face was pressed into the mud, cold water crawling up his legs towards his ankles.

Momma, I ‘ m      s c   a      r e d—

.

.

.

The heavy shadows at his back shifted. Cole drifted, not quite aware as something burst into the water and grabbed his shoulders. The new hands yanked, and Cole came up out of the mud and then the water, hair plastered to his forehead.

Cole stumbled backwards, warm arms wrapping around him. Someone was talking, but Cole couldn’t quite hear it through the rushing in his ears and the shadow clawing up his chest and the whispers in his throat. Something inside him seemed to shift—

Cole vomited, hacking up water. His chest burned, muddy pond water dribbling from his lips down his chin onto the rocks before him as he coughed and coughed and coughed.

+=+=+=+=+

His head hurt. The shadows swirled, cascading across his room. It sounded like whispers. It sounded like too many ants marching along, every footstep magnified so that he could hear it. Cole rubbed at his arms, brushed still-damp hair away from his forehead—it wasn’t enough. There was something creeping up his back and arms and neck and chest, something clawing at his ribs from the inside.

Cole stumbled back, legs catching on his bed. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, at the way the shadows interlaced with the light of the setting sun.

The shadow creeping up his back curled around his shoulders like a blanket made from the twitching legs of a thousand house centipedes. Like a spider, something crawled along the inside of his head as whispers blinked in and out of Cole’s vision.

There is nothing wrong with you, Vessel.

Cole blinked. He glanced around, looking for the source of the voice—

His head wrenched to the side as if pulled by some invisible hand, locking his gaze on the mirror on his closet door.

+=+=+=+=+

The smear of colors that was the world started to resolve itself; Cole’s dad was staring at him, hair ruffled and chest heaving.

Cole’s head hurt. Water had soaked into all of his clothes, cold and heavy. His mom said something sharply behind him, and Cole’s head twisted to look back at her of its own accord.

Her hands were soaked, and her shirt must have been splashed at some point, splattered with wet spots. There was mud on her knees, and her sunhat had fallen off at some point, some of her hair having fallen loose from its bun.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother smiled. It was clearly strained. Cole stared at her, a million ants marching around in his skull. Shadows clung to the walls like cobwebs, slowly dripping down and reaching for his mother. He wondered why his dad had stepped out of the room—was his mother really doing that much better, now that she didn’t have to look at him?

Well. Better being a relative term—she was still sick and slowly dying, but at least she could look at him without wanting to shove him in the nearest body of water.

His mother looked away, her breaths coming in stuttered and shaky. So… not doing better, then.

Of course not. Get away from her, Vessel. She will only bring you to ruin.

His mother grabbed for her panic button, shadows clawing at the bed from all sides. Cole’s head pounded in a distant sort of way, millions of skittering spiders creeping under his skin. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling up tighter as though it might somehow save him from the crushing pressing in on all sides—

And then his dad’s hand was back on Cole’s shoulder, and Cole was being led out of the room while his mother struggled to breathe through painful-sounding coughs and her own panic. Cole let himself be shuffled down the hall, chest wound tight the entire way to the waiting room.

His dad looked pained. “She had been doing so well…” he mumbled, not quite low enough for Cole not to hear.

Cole grimaced. His head stopped throbbing, the ants and the spiders and the centipedes and the worms and the isopods and the bees and the flies coming to a rest, shadows receding to the very edges of his vision.

It clawed at his brain, hissing reassurance while Cole sat in the waiting room. His dad had gone back, leaving Cole alone except for the receptionist, who was busy with her computer and didn’t really count.

(He preferred to be left alone—though, in truth, Cole was never alone.)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole’s dad gave him one more smack on the back, and Cole coughed up spit and water. His dad’s hands were also wet, but they weren’t heavy against Cole’s back.

Something tickled at the back of Cole’s head. His eyes slipped closed, the world blurring around him as shadows danced across his vision. His parents were—they were saying stuff to each other, but Cole couldn’t make out the words. His father’s tie became a smear of color against his suit.

Cole slumped forwards, shadows filling his vision.

+=+=+=+=+

His eyes looked… funny. Not quite right. There was something fuzzy in Cole’s head, something slithering around inside his skull, leaching out from his eyes to cradle his head. Cole tried to look away, but his head wouldn’t move at all.

(Cold mud against his face and water in his chest—)

Shh, hush now.

The memory retreated back to the eves of Cole’s mind, hidden under crawling shadow as Cole continued to stare at his reflection. The voice in his head crooned, a lilting melody filling Cole’s ears.

You have done nothing wrong, Vessel.

The voice… it sounded right. It felt like flies buzzing inside his skull, but—

Cole’s head pounded, but the pain was distant, now. The lingering burn in his chest faded, and Cole watched, disinterested, as the shadows in his reflection shifted into a smiling face. His worry melted away.

The sun had set to the point where barely any light was filtering into Cole’s room, now, and he could hardly see his reflection in the gloom. But two glowing points in the mirror grinned at him, shadows carding through still-damp hair.

Cole’s eyes slipped closed, shadows filling his vision.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

it's unjustifiably stupid but man, I have always wanted a WWII or Vietnam era/style parachute rig.

[rjam9]

“he did i pulled him from the waters” bo katan out here dragging Din’s ass like girl. yeah he stepped in and immediately drowned. yeah he sank like a rock. yeah it probably has to do with the million pounds of armour he’s wearing and didn’t think to take off. he’s just like that.

[lemonsweet]

I think it's rly funny how some creepypastas are like murderers and some are just some ppl that died bens like damn why am I here what did I do

[jadeanon]

Hello, i have to get this off my chest. After lurking on tumblr for a few years after the incident took place and now seeing these “people” be brougt to justice i need to say my peace. I, Jadeanon harley was once in a kindating discord with Dave @doomedideas and zee @mikasacus . We were not close but we ended up going to comiccon san deigo in 2018. I, jadeanon cosplayed as my highest kin and namesake jade harley whilst the other two had their own corrisponding cosplays. Throughout the trip they made jokes and such about former presidents and i am ashamed to say i agreed. But this isnt about joe biden or ronald regan, or my own bill clinton loving nature (he is my husbando) but rather about an event that took place the monday after. They both cornered me and asked for my dave and busters card- at the time i worked there and had amassed a huge number of rewards points.

I refused initially until they brought out their (now what i assume to be fake) ikea brand steak knives. They then explained that they were to have their kinwedding there and use my points in order to buy their way into it. I again, refused. They then said i “wasnt truly jade harley” and that “i was fakekinning in order to get closer to them” which. No.

Here is the badge as receipts (name is edited out for doxx)

[18pearshapedpeas]

one thing about me is that i love love LOVE a good water motif in the media i consume