#hydrophobia cw

[wanderersoflight]

Wanderers of Light - PRELUDE (Little My)

    He's never been this late. 

    That much she could tell from the way everyone was acting, especially Moomintroll who sat by the old bridge every day since the first day of spring. It was just a day or two of absence at first, but days turned into a week, and not even a songbird tweeted a new tune to hint at the vagabond's presence. The valley was songless without its bard to herald it.

    No one wanted to humor a thought for his being this late. 'He needs his space', everyone knew. Little My was most understanding of this, knowing if he had a habit of returning in spring, he'll come back in his own time no matter when that may be. No need for fuss. Her brother, though a slave of his own inner workings, was a creature of habit.

    She didn't know him as a cruel thing, but what else could she call him when she watched heartbreak fall upon the valley folk without so much as a letter to ease their fragile hearts? 

    Abandonment. The word was never spoken, not even by the girl who spoke the difficult truths aloud. It merely crosses her mind and her blood starts to boil. She wants to scream and shout with every little hopeful light she catches when someone looks out a window for a green hat, or when a twig snaps in the woods and her friends perk up until they realize it’s not made by worn old boots.

     No. He is not a cruel thing. A satisfied cat always comes back, and they left with a smile and a promise. Which meant there was another reason for his being missing, and it wasn’t one she willed to cross their minds either. She considered it herself early on, but didn’t truly entertain the thought for another few days, and when she did, her blood didn’t boil, but turned to ice.

     He could be dead. She thinks as she watches her friends sit by the bridge today. Snorkmaiden, who understood how horrible this was making her beloved Moomintroll feel, was good enough to sit with him today. The poor couple looked shattered, even from behind she thought they looked quite small as they silently pleaded the forest to give them back their friend. They did not think the dreadful thoughts Little My did, and to her own surprise, she didn’t want them to.

                                                   --------------------

     ‘Out to look for Snufkin. --Little My’

    Her letter was intentionally brief, but she would not repeat her brother’s failings and leave them with an empty promise. She didn’t know what she would find if she does find them at all, so she couldn’t promise to bring him back with her. 

    ‘But I’ll find him.’ She thought resolutely as she tied her bag of essentials around her shoulders and tip-toed down the dark halls of Moomin House. Though night time was not the ideal time to travel, she couldn’t risk being followed. If her darkest concerns ended up being truth, then as his elder sister, she will take the burden of finding him and spare the grisly details from their beloved valley friends. Then she will carry nothing else but a message.

     When walking out onto the veranda, a warm glow caught the corner of her eye. The Moomin mother was sitting at the table with a lantern on the railing, appearing to have been waiting herself, but whether it be for Snufkin or Little My she didn’t quite know. However, the small mymble was startled all the same when their eyes met.

     “I’m going to find them,” she announced to the mother. Silence befell the two, she wondered if Mamma was looking at her like a mother would to her eldest child going to retrieve her lost sibling from some horrible doom that awaited them. She wondered if Mamma was going to ask her to bring Moomintroll along if for nothing else but to let him have some peace knowing he can help. She wondered if Mamma could see what made the little mymble tremble beneath her skin, yet made her firmly aware that this was a venture she couldn’t bring the soft hearted Moomintroll along for.

     She gulped down the sick feeling in her throat and dared to voice, “I’ll be back--” but snapped her jaw shut before daring to leave a promise she couldn’t keep.

     Moominmamma must have caught her fuddle. She rose up from her seat to  gently take My’s little black paws into her soft white ones, and the two were locked in a gaze of silent understanding. Moominmamma knew.

     “Take care of yourself, my brave Little My,” her words were soft and warm, but there was a slight betrayal of deep worry. Moominmamma knew.

     “And when you find them...” she trailed off, not daring to suggest much else. Moominmamma knew.

     Little My squeezed the fingers she could wrap her paws around. “Then I will drag them by the ear back to Moomin Valley.”

     That was her gift. Hope. Her words earned a smile and a hug from the worried mother before she was allowed on her way. They knew not what’s become of their lost vagabond, but death wasn’t certain, and she will not leave her dear Moominmamma with such sorrow in her heart.

                                                  --------------------

    From times in their lives when she lived in his hat, she remembers the path he takes through Lonely Mountains. He was a creature of habit, she thought, so why would he stray from that path if he wanted to leave the valley? She took it too.

    Grateful was she that the valley had no dangerous animals living in its woods, for nowhere else was it this safe to walk the woods at night. These woods had no great beasts that could steal a soul from its body in a single swipe, yet she kept her senses sharp for any familiar campers that could stop her venture before treading the mountain path. Of course, there wasn’t one, so she kept moving forward.

    She searched parts of the foot of the mountain, keeping her eye on every stone that looked to have fallen recently along the path, expecting to discover green or yellow cloth spattered in red. To her relief, nothing came of it.

    Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

    Up those lonely cliffs she climbed, the waking sun at her heels as it turned in its celestial blanket, and still no sign of her lost brother. The stars were vanishing and she could hear the birds waking, so when a light graced her vision she thought it was the sun. 

    But the sun doesn’t whisper.

    A cave in the mountainside glowed bright blue from within, and even from her distance she could make out the whispers of a careful tongue. Like a moth to a flame, she tread off the path and climbed her way over.

    The closer Little My got to the cave, the easier she could make out that that was indeed a voice. Curiosity tugged at her, and she told herself that her journey could end here, or she could find a fair lead from whomever lived inside. Finding no reason to not investigate, she proceeded into the light.

    The blue glow that dotted the stone walls almost shone like crystals guiding her path safely in the cave, yet the source had yet to be found. Certainty grew in her chest the deeper she went, that this was indeed the right path to finding her lost brother. Her pace quickened as she followed the voice that seemed to call for her.

    Or, really, something within her felt called to it.

    Suddenly, her boots were splashing in shallow waters, black as the night she left home in. Her eyes spun from the ground, then to the cavern that was no longer a cavern, but an inky black abyss. The walls no longer caught the blue light that beamed just meters away, and she could no longer find the tunnel where she came from. But the call was still tugging, so she marched toward the light.

                                                 --------------------

                                         HEAR....FEEL....THINK....

    Her being shook under the weight of the words that echoed in this black abyss lit only by a crystal far bigger than the mountains she was climbing. Crystal bearer. Light bringer. These were not her names, nor the titles she carried, but her soul shone brightly at them like a dog responding to its owner. 

    Before she could forsake these names, before she could register she was no longer in the body of a mountain, before she remembered she was looking for her brother, her chest grew heavy, and the light faded beneath her. Bubbles escaped through her teeth and danced through the tendrils of her orange locks, and her body kept rising, and her legs started kicking, and Little My started wondering if she had merely slept walked to the coast and now she was drowning?

    But she MUSTN’T drown! She resolved with gritted teeth, and remembering her frog strokes, she swam far, far away from that wretched light and towards the lapping of waves above her.

    ‘I’m going to find them.’ She climbed the walls of the salted water, the wear in her limbs from the earlier travel and lack of sleep were second to the air her lungs desperately longed for.

    ‘I’m going to find you, Snufkin.’ 

[saltiecattoz]

brady bunch rant i fucking hate this show. okay so first off the theme song is fucking annoying and the visuals are so creepy. like they’re all shot from the neck up and they stare at the camera like they’re robots and they turn their heads like them too. this white-ass mom, who can’t act for shit btw, has these 3 daughters who are all blond but they say “they all have hair or gold” WRONG!!!!!!! 2 of the girl’s hair is so blond that it’s WHITE. don’t even get me started on the stupid dad character. he’s the creepiest of them all. the way he stares at the camera so intimately is so gross. more on him later but the song calls his 3 CHILDREN SONS ‘men’ those are BOYS. and it also says that they’re “all alone” NO THEY FUCKING ARENT. first of all: 4 PEOPLE ISNT ALONE, second of all: THEY HAVE A FUCKING MAID IN THE HOUSE. WHAT THE FUCK.

the show has no context on how long these people were together or if the kids actually knew each other. so i’m here questioning the morals in the dynamics. which doesn’t matter because the husband is a PIECE OF SHIT. one time the maid broke her leg so she couldnt cook it clean. the dad decides, because his wife is out of town, that his CHILDREN do all the house work. by the way: HE DOESNT DO SHIT. he put the 3 girls to cook breakfast (all ages 3–12 probably) for HIM. when they had NO FUCKING CLUE HOW TO COOK. he was just SITTING AT THE TABLE LIKE A FUCKING MANIAC AND WAS EXPECTING HIS FUCKING TODDLERS TO MAKE FOOD FOR HIM. and it wasn’t good enough. oh BY THE WAY: he has a son who’s in his teen years who could probably cook but since this show was in the early 60s NOOOO the fucking BABIES have to cook because they’re GIRLS. FUCK OFF!!!! KILL YOURSELF!!!!!!!!!!! also when their dog got missing he didn’t fucking care and almost went golfing. you won’t fuckinh help around the house but you can waste time GOLFING. DIE!!!

[rabiddogjournal]

the world was never meant for someone as beautiful as you, as beautiful as you, my melancholy man

[tabbedtabby]

somethin’ stupid

johanna mason x reader

summary: A couple of months after the ending of the war, you make grounds in your relationship with Johanna, but 3 simple words may have ruined it all for you.

a/n: inspired by “somethin’ stupid” by frank sinatra. i wrote most of this a month ago and then forgot ab it so if the ending seems like completely different from the rest or i repeat stuff mb 😭 gonna try to post more i just broke up with my gf that’s why it’s been a sec but i’m locking in now trust

cw: some angst but it’s pretty tame

words: 3.5k

——————————————————————

You feel Johanna’s fingers begin to find their way to the hair at the base of your neck as your lips effortlessly glaze across one another’s. The gentle tug at the sensitive hairs at your nape sends what feels like electricity down into the pit of your stomach. Like driving over a hill, it makes your insides twist and turn with that high, out of wordly feeling. The kind of kiss that consumes you and makes your body ache for more. The feeling she sends running through you is tangible, the contact of her hot and glossy wet lips consuming your own makes you feel feverish and like you’re on some sort of high. Like you’re not laying in her bed, but in another world entirely. So far up into the sky that it would be impossible to pull you back down from this.

Your heart almost can’t handle it. It pounds so violently in your chest that you hear it in your ears. Not new to this longing, but to her lips. It feels like the careful worship of something sacred, taking the utmost care as to not shatter the glass altar. Johanna is your altar. So easy to get it wrong with her. It takes major precautions to not let those walls come back up. That block you out and away from her heart. Away from the feelings and the ghosts that she carries with her, pushed out with wolfish scowls and screams and that anger you have grown to know so well from her. But after 7 long months of trying, she’s finally let you in. Not all the way just yet, but she’ll let you help her through a nightmare some nights. She never wakes you up herself, but you’re working on it.

You pull your lips away from Johanna’s, enamored by the taste of her still lingering on you like strong perfume. It feels like there’s a cloud cushioned around your head, not letting you think rationally. A million thoughts flood your brain at once. How happy you are that your relationship, although not official, is finally progressing, how she’s been more comfortable with you. She finally trusts you with those deep wounds that she tried to bury so long ago. And now she’s trusted you with her lips.

“Wow, brainless, you really are terrible. But you look like you’ve never kissed anyone before anyway,” Johanna says, her voice playful and light. Those dark green eyes glitter with the same teasing look, and you’re afraid your heart may stop right then. You’ve never heard her voice so gentle. Was this tone really reserved for you? Was this really your Johanna laying in front of you, with her lips curled up into a playful smirk and strands of her hair falling over her face? It didn’t seem possible. This couldn’t be the same woman you saw rescued from the Capitol only a year ago. Spiteful and filled with so much hatred towards the ones who took her life from her and tortured her into deep hydrophobia. You remember those malicious, dangerous eyes at the voting for the symbolic Hunger Games when the war first ended. It seems impossible that those are the same eyes that stare at you now, pupils dilated with excitement, the warm light of the lamp behind you making her face glow a dim golden. Your throat is completely dry, only vaguely remembering her saying something to you. Someone would have to whop you under the head to get words out of your mouth right now. You stare frozen under her gaze like a deer in front of headlights.

Your lack of response doesn’t bother her; in fact, it only seems to spur her on. Her smirk grows larger and a humored laugh rumbles in her throat. You’re not sure why, because you’re sure you look pretty stupid staring up at her like a dog begging for a bite of food. She’s so beautiful. You can’t stop staring at her with that ever so dim light reflecting off her face and into her eyes. Her hair’s grown out enough now to form dark, wavy strands that end just under her ears.

“I love you,” you blurt out, not really thinking about anything except what’s in front of you. But it’s not like you were lying. It’s the only thing you can feel right now, that you have been feeling, and something about this moment makes it pulse so strongly in your chest that there was nothing you could do to keep it from coming out.

But whatever woman was just in front of you with the frivolous smirk and the sparkling eyes is gone. Her expression is flat, but her eyes are glossed over with true horror. Even that doesn’t last long as you watch her walls come right back up in real time. Johanna’s face hardens, and her eyebrows knit together to form that angry glower you know all too well. She’s already pushing herself off of the bed before you even have the time to form another thought.

“Well, I don’t,” she scowls, practically stomping towards the door. You have no idea what just happened or what to do, but you’re already scampering after her.

“Johanna, wait,” you plead as your hand shoots up to grab her wrist, “What happened? I’m sorry if I upset you, I wasn’t thinking, I—”

“Don’t touch me!” she spits, and you can almost see the cloud of anger that surrounds her when she rips her arm away from you as if your touch had burned her. The same eyes that were staring at you like you were the only thing in the world less than a minute ago glare at you with what you can only guess is hatred. You just stand there, completely stunned, as Johanna storms out with the door slamming shut behind her.

This is just how she reacts when she’s hurt, you know that. But what did you do? Tell her you loved her? Isn’t that what she wanted? She’d been living in this house with nothing but her family’s bones for 4 years before she met you!

You don’t follow her. The tears well up in your eyes as you slump back into the bed you share with Johanna. Or probably that you used to share. It’s been a long time since she’d lashed out at you that intensely. Probably not even since she’d just gotten rescued from the Capitol, and at least then it was understandable. She had just been tortured ruthlessly for over a month, you could see why she was so angry even to you. But you never gave up on her. Not once. Not once did you leave her side, even when she would scream and throw and break. Eventually, you wore her down enough to get her to trust you with some things. And then more and more as you began to wear her down. She was getting better, you both could tell the difference by a longshot. This outburst she’s just had has set her back months.

You so want to be angry with her, but all you are is dejected. You don’t even know what you did wrong. You’re always so careful with her. Careful not to let the wrong words slip out. You can’t sound like you pity her. You can’t mention Snow. You can’t talk or ask about her family. You can’t mention the hospital in District 13. You can’t ask about her time in the Capitol, either. You can’t bring up how she voted for the symbolic Hunger Games with Capitol children. You can’t talk about Katniss, because she broke her promise to Johanna that she would kill Snow. All of these things will set her off like a ticking time bomb. You know all of the rules to handling Johanna Mason. You follow them like clockwork around this house to ensure she heals properly from her wounds that run so deep. You’ve done everything you possibly could to prevent those walls that shut you out and as far away from her as possible.

Should loving her be added to the list? That was what had made her so angry. But you can’t shake that image of her eyes, wide and terrified, before she had taken on the look of rage. Before she covered up whatever had frightened her with her barriers of writhing anger. You slump down further into the bed, trying to wrack your brain of anything you could have done to scare her in that moment.

Was an “I love you” too much for someone you had kissed for the first time right then? Probably. But you and Johanna were more than that. You always thought that to be a mutual understanding. You hold her without question before bed each night. Her hands find yours when you take your sunset walks in the forest behind Victor’s Village. You have tried as hard as you possibly could to get it into her thick skull that you were never going to give up on trying to help her. And you see the way she looks at you, even if she doesn’t think that you do. The way her eyes burn with that same hunger that had ached in your own chest when you said those three stupid words.

That really was stupid of you, wasn’t it? Your lips quiver a bit as the tears run freely down your cheeks now. You can’t believe you fucked this up. After 7 months of progress. Of helping Johanna heal. Just for your big mouth to blurt out something stupid in the heat of the moment and mess up whatever sort of halfway relationship you had with her. What makes it worse is that you meant it. You really have fallen in love with Johanna. And that just makes it sting all that much more.

You sigh heavily, wiping the cold, wet stains off of your cheeks with one hand as you slowly let yourself sink down into the bed. It’s not warm enough without her. Without her face tucked into your neck, her body draped over yours. You’d become so accustomed to it since she’d started letting you get closer. Well, you guess those days are over. You doubt you’ll get any sleep, but you need to try anyway. Being sad and exhausted is a killer combo you don’t care to experience tomorrow. That alone is the only reason you squeeze your eyes shut, burrowing your face solemnly into the pillow that you pretend is Johanna’s warm body next to yours.

-

Johanna’s hands grip so tightly around the axe that she is almost certain there are already a handful of splinters embedded in her palms. But she doesn’t care; the pain is nothing compared to the kind she carries deep inside of her. She grits her teeth as her axe dents another slit in the wood in front of her. Johanna’s had this little spot for a long time. Since she’d won the Hunger Games at 17. The only place she could truly be with her thoughts, to take her anger out on something. Just Johanna, an axe, and a myriad of trees stretching in every direction. Here, she was alone. The only place she truly ever felt safe after she became a victor. Even after Snow’s death, he still haunted her like a spirit, following her even so far into her dreams.

But here she was always safe from him. From the Hunger Games. From her house in Victor’s Village, where the ghosts of her family still roamed even after all these years. From you and your wide eyes and that stupid grin that was constantly on your face. Just the thought of you makes Johanna’s eyes sting, and a scream pierces her throat as she sends the axe flying over her head. She watches as it swings down into the mutilated jumble of wood and bark, sending smaller cuts of the tree flying just from the impact of her blow.

This was just what was for the better, Johanna decides. It was never going to work, you and her. You were too kind. Too patient with her. So insistent that it was almost annoying the way you wouldn’t give up. She could scream and yell until her throat was raw, and you still wouldn’t leave her side. How could Johanna deserve something like that? A person so willing to take the time to wear her down. To burrow deep below her layers of burning anger and hatred, to get to the person she was underneath all of her bluster. It was new to her. No one had ever tried before you.

So it scared her. To have someone care about her like that again after it had been so long. Johanna became afraid of your gentleness with her, how your eyes craved to care. But what frightened her more than anything was the fact that she felt it, too. When she caught herself staring for too long when the sun reflected off your skin just right. How wrong it felt to slip into bed alone those nights you were in District 4 visiting Annie and her son. How every time she wakes up screaming and thrashing from those macabre images stained in the back of her mind, the only thing in the world she wants is your warmth. She hates it. She hates that stupid feeling in her chest and the way she can’t hate you, no matter how hard she tries.

Johanna knew how you felt about her. And she knew how she felt, too. But it being spoken into words had made it all too real. Because loving Johanna came with too many risks. It was dangerous. Or, at least, that’s what Johanna has always thought. But with Snow dead, could it really be as much of a risk? There was no one to take you from her as punishment for her actions; although, her actions pose a risk of their own. How long would it be until Johanna lost her temper with you? Clearly not long at all, considering the only reason she isn’t warm in bed with you is because she screamed at you. But that was just her way of forcing you out. To keep you from realizing how afraid she was of letting herself love you.

She wasn’t a good person. That was obvious enough. Johanna had treated you like garbage more times than she could count. Yet you still came back. Insisted on helping. Sat there silently as she screamed and screamed and screamed. Quite frankly, she didn’t deserve someone like you. That’s why she blocked you out the moment those words left your lips. It wasn’t fair to you to love someone like Johanna. You deserved better.

Johanna destroys the lot of trees surrounding her, screaming until her throat couldn’t produce any more sound, her yells of triumph dwindling into pathetic whispers. Her hands clutch that axe like it’s her lifeline, her ticket out of this hellhole she’s dug for herself. The old wood presses into her skin, leaving it calloused and bloody when she finally throws it into the grass. Sunlight had slowly begun to trickle into the clearing, leaving a golden glow on the destroyed hunks of bark and wood. Even the most rotten things are turned beautiful in the light of the rising sun.

Johanna knows she needs to go home. With all of her released anger, her bloody hands, and her throbbing head, Johanna just accepts this. Her fingers are cold and numb. She doesn’t have a single idea of what she’s going to do when she gets back to that big, nearly empty house if it weren’t for you still waiting there. So much runs through her head but it feels like nothing at all. There should be apprehension, maybe even fear. But her sleepless night has rendered her exhausted.

When Johanna steps through the back door, the sun has already risen enough so that the orange light shines through the blinds of the windows in the living room. The birds chatter incessantly outside. It would normally peeve her, but now, she sees it as a new beginning. The birds sing to signify a new day, a fresh start to the constant fight for survival.

She sees your figure in the kitchen and she knows she can’t hide forever. Your back’s to her, your body pressed against the counter as you stare up into the window above the sink. The dawn light casts through the glass in intricate, majestic beams that illuminate the kitchen tile with a golden glow. Johanna watches the way the sunlight bounces off of your hair, giving you a ring of light around your head from where she stands behind you. Johanna slowly sucks in a breath and steps into the kitchen beside you.

You don’t look at her when she approaches beside you, your brows furrowed only slightly but all else expressionless. Johanna watches you like a wet dog who came in from the rain. Almost begging you to say something. Ask where she’s been all night. Hell, she’d even take it if you told her to go fuck herself and leave. Anything but this silence. You always knew just what to say, always bringing light into an awkward or dark conversation. Johanna hated to admit it, but she was thankful for those stupid comments and that lighthearted laugh that always accompanied your lofty grin. The one that always made Johanna smile and roll her eyes like some lovesick imbecile. She hates whatever this is now. This uncomfortable silence that’s so unusual from you, the distracted look in your eyes as if trying to sort a puzzle in your head. Johanna’s never wanted to take a look at your thoughts as much as she does now. She purses her lips and comes to the conclusion she may have to be the one to start the conversation this time, although she hasn’t a clue on what to say. Sorry for ditching you? Aren’t you gonna ask why my hands are bloody? I love you, too? God, this was pissing her off. Pissing her off that she can’t say anything and that you have this effect on her. A sigh leaves her mouth as she leans against the counter, dropping her burning gaze from you finally almost in defeat.

Minutes must pass before a single word is spoken. Johanna stands there next to you, rotating between staring holes through you and glancing back down at the counter. She can’t talk, she doesn’t know what to say. She fucked this up and has no way of fixing it, apparently, because she doesn’t even have the grace to get a single word out. After everything you’ve done for her. The shame burns hot in her throat as she stares angrily down at the counter now, until she hears just the voice she’s been listening for.

“I’ll wait for you.” When Johanna hears those words leave your mouth, it’s like a crushing weight is removed from her chest. If she didn’t love you now, you would wait until the ends of the earth until she did. You were always so persistent, so hard to shake. Johanna’s never been grateful for it until now, when you finally lift those eyes from the window to her own. With the morning sun making your skin glow, every color in the rims of your eyes exposed and even more beguiling than Johanna could have ever imagined. She realizes everything at once. She does love you, and that’s what scared her. She loves the crease by your eyes that accompany a smile, how you always try to lift her up even when she’s adamant on wallowing in her own anger. You were the second half that made her whole. A perfect balance to contain her fires, but not completely put them out.

It will take Johanna a long time to say these things. It will take her even longer to process the complexity of her feelings, to delve deep into every crevice of her heart she’s swore she locked up a millennium ago. But she knows, deep down, that you’ve always had the keys to understanding her. To find even those dark corners and shine your light into the worst parts of her without judgment. She is broken, but you are, too. You have a lifetime ahead of you to patch these wounds together, and eventually, rid yourselves of the scars. Peace was sorely won, but that’s what you were promised. A life of stargazing and laughter in the kitchen while baking cookies. Finally teaching yourselves how to enjoy a world that has brought you nothing but anguish and loss. This house would become more than a swamp of grisly memories, but a place of simpler things. The pleasure of finally healing.

[antlered-angel]

CW: gore, disturbing imagery, mentions of violence, mentions of child abuse

Disclaimer: this is for fun! I’m not doing this to “fix” the stories or designs, these are mostly headcanons of mine. Quick reminder that this character is a child, I better not catch anyone being weird towards them.

Here’s Ben Drowned! the research into this story was probably the most shocking since i was so used to seeing fanart of Ben looking like an older teen or adult. It turns out he’s 12 years old in his original story. The fandom acted/still acts too weird (in a bad way) and creepy towards him. As a result, i wanted to keep him a child in my redesign. I imagine him being autistic with a special interest in video games, specifically the Zelda series. I wanted his design to reflect that so i put him in the Majora’s Mask iteration of Link’s suit. I had him wear Majora’s mask not only as a reference to the original story but also as a way of hiding his face and what happened to it. He’s very introverted so he also wears the mask whenever he has to socialize, it’s a comfort object. EJ understands, also being autistic and in the same boat.

Ben is best friends with Sally, the two of them enjoying playing video games together as long as Ben promises to not use his power to mess with technology to win. It’ the best way the friends can interact as Ben does not have the ability to make himself physical that Sally does. He looks like a hologram, a flickering form in the shape of a blonde boy in a Link costume.

His story has left Ben eyeless and with hydrophobia, refusing to go anywhere near large bodies of water. His eyes float beside him like the Navi companion from the games he loved so much. Sally invites him to the “Fucked Up Screwed Up Eye Club”. Thanks so much @ghostlysundae for the idea to make the eyes into a representation of Link’s Navi from the original games. I’m personally not into the Zelda series, so thanks for helping me out with ideas for this design! Ben can see out of the eyes but they’re very fragile so Ben keeps them out of sight most of the time.

Hope ya’ll like this!

[avishabilis]

Halloween Month Movies, Part the Third

Just a couple more to wrap up the season.

I Drink Your Blood (1970) - I'm probably not the first to point this out but, uh ... nobody actually gets their blood drunk. Plays fast & loose with how rabies works. On the other hand, ends with a pretty accurate depiction of police response - four cars roll up, everyone jumps out & as soon as their feet hit the pavement they shoot until they've run out of bullets. Much better acted than it has any right to be, at least by some of the cast. Abysmal dialogue but what do you want from a picture literally distributed by Grindhouse Releasing? Literally the last thing that happens in the movie is that following the massacre, a cop we've never seen before this moment declares, "Well, what can you say? At least the poor bastards have been put out of their misery, because death by hydrophobia is agony!"

The Beast Within (1982) - The poster was way more intense than the actual movie; probably far from the first time that's been the case. I would say CW for a sexual assault at the beginning but the lighting is so terrible you have only the vaguest idea what's happening. Turns out to be a sort of swamp-Lovecraftian joint with a boy's monstrous ancestry turning him into a man-eating creature by inches. They've even got characters named Eli, Herbert, Dexter Ward & Curwen, for crying out loud.

[jennathearcher]

introducing my ocs inspired by my hero academia (7/?)

Calypso

Name: Kaori Inaba Alias: Calypso Age: 16 (upon initial introduction) Birthday: December 29th Star Sign: Capricorn Hair Color: Dark blue Eye Color: Blue Height: 5'7" Alignment: Hero-in-training Occupation: UA Student Quirk: Tsunami -- the ability to conjure and project water from the air or even from her own body, however her powers weaken when she becomes dehydrated Combat Weapon(s): The water she conjures, martial arts Bio: Kaori is the niece of Shion Amano, and thus got into UA on a special recommendation. She is a member of the hero course, where she excels due to not only her powerful quirk, but her quick wit and analytical mind. Despite her future as a Pro Hero practically being secured, Kaori is even more intrigued by a member of the general studies course, Hitoshi Shinsou. As the two of them become closer over time, her aunt Shion begins to worry about the possibility of history repeating itself...

[siontual]

he’s the right amount of graceful and goofy.

[dori-artz-blog]

//CW CLAUSTROPHOBIA AND HYDROPHOBIA

Day 13 + 14 + 27 — Locked, Sinking and Phobia

[hawstar]

The Bolton Strid is a testament to the depravity of mankind. It’s a goddamn nightmare. Have you seen that cringe fail body of water? Bad, everything about it is bad. If there’s one thing I hate it’s two faced bastards, and The Bolton Strid is a liar first and foremost.

Scientists don’t know how deep The Bolton Strid is, but I’m only willing to measure that thing by how far away it is from me. There is no bottom to The Bolton Strid, it leads straight to hell. And when you enter hell and tell the Devil what bastard river sent you there, the Devil will weep. For even the Devil fears the Bolton Strid.

It’s bad, I hate it. If you gave me the choice between starvation or going within five feet of that affront to god, I would grab your hand and I would plead for you to never bring me a scrap of food ever again. The Bolton Strid is, without a doubt, the worst body of water to ever curse this blight of a planet.

[nohydro]

@sunhalf said: ❛  we’ll get through this together.  ❜ from lili!

Raz is tired of this stupid hand messing things up for him, tired of the ‘exposure therapy’ route, wanting to just get it done and over with -- and so he had the brilliant idea of making himself try to learn how to swim. Just jump in, hope for the best, paddle a little bit. How hard could it be!?! He’d ventured out to the lakeside without telling anyone, of course. It was too embarrassing to ask for help with this.

And it had gone well! For about thirty seconds, until the Hand wormed its way out of his subconscious and started batting him around underwater like he was the ball in a game of polo, and for a moment there Raz had thought maybe the curse WAS actually real and then he got it together and wrestled the panic down and then -- well, then he got spat back onto the lake shore right in front of Lili, because of course he would.

Before Lili can say anything, Raz quickly demands: “Can you please not tell anyone else about this?” His gloves scrabble at the pebbles of the lake shore while he scrambles back to his feet, clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortably.  “It’s really embarrassing.”  Raz wriggles his way out of his coat (still on loan from Sasha) and wrings it out, once, twice, over and over again, watching as the excess water drips onto the pebbles below, looking wryly at it while he does so. His thumb goes to lift the lip of his goggles, watching as water pours out of them.

Back still turned to Lili, he starts explaining himself. “I just thought, y’know -- ‘how hard can it be?’ I mean, if I could learn how to shoot things with my mind in one day, maybe I could do that with the water thing.”  Coat sufficiently wrung out, he turns to face Lili, hesitant to look her in the eye. With a toss, he throws the coat over his shoulder like a towel, then pops his helmet off of his head -- only to shake his head like a dog, droplets flying every which way, hair going to stick on end.

Lili encouragingly clasps his hand between hers, and while she looks grave as ever, says, “We’ll get through this together, Raz,”  and Raz feels his face heat up as usual -- something else he needs to work on -- but he smiles at the notion anyways, trying not to look as awkward as he feels.

“I appreciate it! But...I mean -- you’re not the one with a deep subconscious fear of water because some old guy convinced your fake grandma your entire family line was going to drown.”  Even while he speaks he can tell by the look on her face that he’s messing up and saying the wrong thing and that she’s just trying to help while of course knowing it wasn’t actually her problem. Oops!  “I mean! Not that your help is unwanted! Obviously! I just. Well. Uh! Thanks. Is what I’m trying to say. I think. It’s just difficult.”  He squeezes her hand back as best he can, then shivers, the air biting at his skin beneath the layer of thermal knit.

“Hey, could you do that air heater thing you do? I’m...brrr... pretty cold.” 

[runewriters]

RUNEWRITERS 5.21

Runewriters update!! In which decisions are made.

🌟 Click for the page! 🌟

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[jennathearcher]

@suchanadorer

[chaoxfix]

relationship: sonic & tails

word count: 3.8K

chapters: 1/6

cw: hydrophobia

summary: Tails cares about Sonic. A lot. But he doesn't always get to show it in the big ways, because Sonic's usually so calm, cool, and collected. But in the rare moments he's not -- Tails is there. Or: 5 times Tails reassures Sonic around water, and 1 where he doesn't need to.

[leggerefiore]

You mentioned Emmet probably having a case of agoraphobia I'm genuinely curious if the twins have any concrete phobias you've thought about minor or major

my brain fucked up agoraphobia and autophobia please don’t look at me.

cw: phobia discussion, probably don’t read because going into detail about what caused them

Both twins have a mild case of autophobia, as they were constantly together growing up. When they are left on their own for long periods of time, they tend to grow extremely anxious and uncomfortable, often seeking out another person they know or each other. Emmet’s seems worse than Ingo’s case, but that is only because he more outwardly emotes. His discomfort is apparent and able to physically observed with hunching over slightly, eyes darting back and forth, and a grimace growing across his face. Ingo is subtle, and it goes unspotted unless you know exactly what you are looking for. The older twin becomes silent and unresponsive while nervously pacing about. They both can’t handle long periods alone, so they decided to live together as adults. At least, until they meet their own partner. (Though, there is discussion about if only one of the twins has a partner whether or not they can live together still.)

Ingo has a mild case of hydrophobia, because Emmet was a terrible sibling and dunked him underwater. It was never for any decent amount of time, because the younger would quickly grow to feel bad as the older struggled. It was just the right amount to make him terrified of drowning. Emmet feels awful about causing his brother such trauma, but Ingo forgave him. It’s not like he’s often near a deep body of water within Nimbasa, anyway. (No one in Hisui understands his aversion to water, including himself. Warden Ingo often ponders what caused him such a phobia, but finds himself in tears.)

Emmet has trypophobia because of those lotus flower edits that went around the internet and now he can’t even look at Combee’s without feeling intense fear. Trainers do notice how he flinches whenever the tiny bee pokemon opposes him in battle. If it’s a multi battle, Ingo attempts to removed the poor bee as fast as possible.

Both are getting ephebiphobia from teenagers doing riskier and riskier things around their station. How many Emmet alone has caught just standing on the rail tracks in enough to keep him awake multiple nights in row. Ingo has seen many standing in the doorway on the train playing chicken with their friends. The twin can’t remember if they were like this as teens, but they don’t believe they were ever that daring. (Also multiple have roasted the poor men on their clothing choices whenever they spot them having a free moment. A few adults do it too, but the teenagers are always so much harsher.)

Both have atychiphobia as they hold themselves to very high standards, so they often grow quite depressed when they fall short of them. Ingo used to study endlessly for tests with the fear that he would fail on a technicality for some unknown reason. Emmet feels like people will not take him seriously unless he constantly proves he’s the best. Thankfully, both are slowly growing out of it.

(Ingo had arachnophobia for the longest time when he was younger. Well, until Emmet decided spiders were his best friend. It’s hard to be terrified of something when your identical twin keeps covering it in kisses and hugging it like a plush toy.)

[jennathearcher]

stimmyturt:

favorite colors stimboard #2 - icy lavender

sources: | x / x / x | x / x / x | x / x / x |