#Athazagoraphobia

[chattingbs]

You ever feel like you have no choice but to reach out and talk to people, even when you feel unwanted by them?

Everything inside me screams not to message or call, but the fear of being forgotten about. That confirmation that I really do not matter, I do not cross your mind - that might send me into a whole different spiral.

That’s ultimately why I reach out, bc I crave so deeply to mean something to someone and I don’t want to leave room for them to show me how little I am thought about, loved or cared for.

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 4

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 3 Index Chapter 5

Author's Note: next chapter chumssss @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911 @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

You laid there; face pressed against the cold, rocky sea floor as you squeezed your eyes shut in a meagre attempt to block out the world around you. Each breath you took, you could feel saltwater filtering through those things on your torso. Each time you tried to adjust your position you could feel that horrendous tail moving along with you. The rough ground scraped against your new talons, and every second you spent awake you were reminded of what had happened. 

That creature – merman – had left you alone, having realized that his presence was adding to your panic. And panic you did; crying, screaming, and thrashing around like a mental case as you begged for someone – anyone – to help you. You weren’t sure how long this lasted, time simultaneously speeding and crawling by, but it continued until you were exhausted, both in mind and body. 

You were beginning to dose off now, when a clammy hand on your shoulder jerked you awake. You weren’t brave enough to turn around. 

“Please,” you said, “change me back.” 

“[Y/N]... that’s not possible.”  

Your chest tightened at his words. It was all so unfair – you never had a say in any of this. You gained control of your breathing and composed yourself enough to look at him. He had given you his name before, but until now you had refused to use it. 

Lotan. 

“Please...” 

You forced yourself to meet his eyes. They were so milky, so soulless, and you had hoped he might show you some sympathy. But the longer you looked at him, the more you noticed how he seemed to look past you.  

“It’s okay...” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I... I don’t understand...” 

“You were the first.” he said. “Not the first human I’d ever seen... I had seen many of you, you know, from a distance, but you were the first one I had ever touched...” 

He must’ve taken your shocked silence as a cue to elaborate. 

“With my people, you know... It’s forbidden. Humans and merfolk have such a bloody history. But with you... You were so sweet, back then, so innocent...” His hand reached towards your face, and immediately retracted it when you flinched. “I just had to have you.” 

You remembered the last time you had been in the ocean before this. All those years ago... when you were only a child. You remembered the way something had grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you into the water... you remembered the terror that you had felt. Your hand instinctively went to touch the scars that had been left on your leg, only to draw them away when you felt the sharp, piscine scales that now took their place. 

“...And so, I studied,” he continued, “I devoured every resource that I could, everything that could tell me how to make you one of our kind, because I knew that you, [Y/N], you were the one that was meant to be here, with me...” 

He dared to get closer.   “Don’t you understand?” he said, “I broke my people’s taboos so that we could be together...!” 

He spoke so passionately as though it were the world’s most beloved love story. And with each second that passed, you only felt more ill. You tried to push him away. 

“No, no, please, just... please, leave me alone...!” 

His hands were surprisingly strong when they grabbed your forearms. 

“No.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, at the monster that had stolen your humanity away.  

“Come now,” he said. “It’s time that you learned how to swim.” 

How pathetic you had to have looked, struggling to move your newfound tail and begging for mercy. The next few hours were ones that you would try as hard as you could to block from your memory. Of course you were bad at it – you couldn’t swim before, but now you were trapped in a foreign body, with appendages and muscles that you didn’t know how to use. You had to check out, mentally – anything to help you get through these strange exercises to the point that Lotan deemed you good enough. 

“It’s time,” he said, finally, after what felt like an eternity. “I must present you to the colony.” 

He took you, then, holding you close as he knew that you were still unable to swim gracefully or quickly enough. It was... honestly, it was disgusting, really, feeling his chest pressed against yours as he made his way to his people.  

You really had no choice in the matter. You had to let him lead you deeper into the depths of the sea, far, far away from any shore that may have lead you back to humanity. 

[ladyviren]

Xion…

(Drew this in a certain mode. Like the character herself, certain emotions are ripped from me. But happy endings are possible aren’t they?)

[novafire-is-thinking]

Round Two in memes and gifs

Morning, everyone! I know this is a bit late, but better late than never, right?

^ We survived. Barely.

^ For those who had multiple accounts, it was more like “vote 25 times” (okay, probably not that many, but you get the point)

^ Look, I get it. But have you considered [insert personal explanation here]?

Ngl, I was surprised Rung was in the lead almost from the start. Great job, honorary Lost Lighters.

Sorry, Blurr fans. Misfire’s just so…Misfire. :)

Putting the last one below the cut. Only continue if you’re okay with guns (no blood/gore):

I have yet to find a more perfect depiction of the Scavengers’ dynamic.

[jay-whyy]

Athazagoraphobia.

"The fear of forgetting and of being forgotten..."

You look at those who lived before you.

You wonder who they are before they died.

You look at someone you love.

You wonder when they'll fade from your mind.

You look ahead at your future.

You wonder who you'd be then.

You wonder when you'll lose memory of the current you.

You wonder when all your memories fade from your mind.

You look at someone you love.

You wonder when you'll fade from their mind.

You look at those who lived before you.

You wonder when you'll hope for someone to spare a thought for you after your death.

You wonder if your existence even meant something, if you won't be remembered.

[leafing-charm-eb]

another fucking headcannon.

i think some people might agree on the headcannon timmy turner has Athazagoraphobia, atleast i do so my headcanon is he leave notes everywhere and writes a journal of everything and i mean everything even the nicktoons unite with every single detail (so much detail that he seems like a writter) and keeps it with him everywhere and brings like atleast 3 spare notebooks a pens with him (i also like to think that whenever he gets startled while writting hes just gonna accidentally stab what startled him with the pen hes using) (Athazagoraphobia is the fear of being forgotten and forgetting someone/something incase yall didnt know)

[whumpcloud]

Hands

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @gala1981 @whump-in-the-moonlight @ohwhumpydays @morning-star-whump

content: creepy/intimate whumper (REALLY creepy and intimate, please heed this), defiant whumpee, references to and threats of choking, discussion of workplace harassment, whumpee extremely briefly afraid of noncon but there's no real threat

Nicolas thumbs the collar of Derian's shirt. Rubs it between his fingers. Almost absent-mindedly. Is it second-nature to him, to constantly be touching something, someone?

The fingers flutter over Derian's collarbone. The indents are growing deeper. Though it isn't as though Derian pays attention to how much he's eating. He just eats whenever they - mostly Nicolas - remember they're supposed to feed him. They keep the kitchen locked, even if they let him wander the house, now.

Except when Nicolas wants to sit Derian on the counter or the floor as he cooks, and ruffle Derian's hair every so often just to prove what a condescending bastard he is, and no matter what he's doing keep a watchful eye so that Derian doesn't unexpectedly dive for the knives.

"Don't you ever get sick of touching me?" Derian snaps suddenly.

Nicolas chuckles. "Nope. I like the way you flinch."

"I'll get used to it one of these days."

"Eventually, and then maybe I'll get sick of you." Nicolas grips Derian's jaw, but most of his hand is on Derian's neck. Derian's breath stutters. "But I don't see that happening any time soon, do you?"

"I hate you," Derian hisses.

"You keep saying that over and over again." Nicolas presses his cheek to Derian's, in some mockery of intimacy. "It's losing its punch."

"Did you get hugged enough as a kid?" Derian asks. He can't push Ophelia, but he knows Nicolas, at least, will warn him. With a laugh, a smile, a split-second pause before that hand around his throat tightens again.

"No, did you?" Nicolas doesn't hesitate. "Because I think you like sitting in my lap, pretty boy."

Nicolas' other hand, once sitting loosely against Derian's stomach, now curls into his waist. Would it be worse, if Nicolas didn't touch him at all? That Derian even wonders it says more about him than he'd like.

What is Nicolas humming now? It's more recent than all the other shit he sings, a fifties swing to the rhythm. Doesn't matter. Nicolas sways back and forth. Tilts so that his lips just barely brush Derian's neck.

"You wanna kiss me that bad?" Derian asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Nicolas laughs. "Not in the slightest."

"What do you get out of being such a creep, then?"

"It really should be obvious, pretty boy." Nicolas rests his head on Derian's shoulder. "I like the way it feels."

Derian squirms a little, and Nicolas only holds him tighter.

"You know, I work for a magazine," Nicolas mumbles. "Photography. All the models hate me too."

"I wonder why they haven't fired you," Derian spits.

"I haven't done anything wrong," Nicolas shrugs, and Derian feels his smile. "Never touched anyone in a way that was inappropriate."

"You're just being a dick and you know it." That was too far. Nicolas only applies a little pressure to his throat, but it's warning enough. "T-This isn't inappropriate to you?"

"Maybe a little too close and personal, but what could you really say I'm doing to you, pretty boy?" Nicolas is too close, far too fucking close, but Derian knows better than to move. "Violating your personal boundaries isn't a crime. Besides, I'm only like this with you, really."

"Because I can't go to HR?"

Nicolas pauses, then laughs. "You're funny, you know that?"

Derian can't help noticing Nicolas is avoiding the question. In some twisted way, he's… helped. Nicolas gets someone he can freely take it all out on, and everyone he works with breathes a sigh of relief that they won't feel Nicolas' hands on them again.

"All I'd do was pose them," Nicolas murmurs. "Shift an arm. Adjust the waist. Normal enough. Linger a little too long."

"You know exactly what you're doing," Derian says.

"Of course." Nicolas' fingers hover over the waistband of Derian's jeans. There's always a moment where Derian is sure he'll cross the line, but he never does. Only curls his fingers around a belt loop and tugs gently. "It's about power, pretty boy. As everything is. And I don't need to do anything more than hold you to feel that."

Derian's skin crawls under Nicolas' touch, and he's sure the man can feel it. It's exactly what he wants, after all. Derian would rather Nicolas beat him than hold him like this.

"Stop it," Derian mutters, when Nicolas' hands shift again.

"Or what?" Nicolas teases.

"Just hit me."

Nicolas laughs again. That fucking laugh. Derian wants to rip out Nicolas' vocal chords and clutch them in his bare fists.

"It's no fun if you're asking for it." Nicolas half-sings the words.

Derian slams his elbow into Nicolas' ribcage, but Nicolas only softly grunts in pain and fully wraps his arms around Derian.

"You can do better than that, I know you can," Nicolas whispers, and Derian feels the breath on his ear. "But how about you just sit nice?"

"Fuck you."

Nicolas taps his way up Derian's chest, and Derian hates that he flinches.

"Keep pushing those buttons, pretty boy," Nicolas grins. "I'm sure you'll make me mad someday."

[xeonn6269]

"Doesn't anyone recognize my true face? Who tore me away from those precious memories?"

“who is Gaster?”

Underphobias Gaster art finally

Phobia : Athazagoraphobia (fear of being forgotten)

[thecouncilsinsideblog]

__Lonely__ 05/22/2024

Shadows creep at the edge

Of consciousness.

They curl around corners and

Never fully dissipate

In the light.

The shadows formed years ago

When all that existed

Was the deep dark abyss

Of dormancy.

They are bright

They are so very bright that

I forget the shadows

Exist at all.

But they're still there.

Creeping and curling,

Waiting to pounce

The second I'm alone.

It's funny,

A Demon haunted by fear.

But I am afraid.

I am so afraid.

I hate being alone.

I don't want to return to the abyss.

I don't want to be forgotten again.

The shadows are so lonely.

[charzeewrites]

Athazagoraphobia

People ask each other all the time, "What are 5 words you would use to describe yourself?" I've always been pretty basic with my answers. Creative, smart, kind, ambitious, bold, brave and so many other boring words. Never in my life did I think I would find one that really fit me. Athazagoraphobia. I saw the word on a list of a bunch of different words and phrases that described unique feelings. It was a huge list, but for some reason, that word stuck out to me. Now truthfully my first thought was "How the hell do you say that?" But then I clicked on the word to read the description. "Athazagoraphobia is a fear of forgetting someone or something, as well as a fear of being forgotten." The word stuck with me for a few days. In the back of my mind, I kept replaying the word and the definition. It just kind of floated around for a while. But then it clicked. Sure, creative, smart, kind, ambitious, bold, and brave could describe me on a surface level. But if you really looked at me, and my person, and my soul, and my purpose, it's athazagoraphobia. Everything I do in life is to not be forgotten. I do these crazy things with my friends, I write journals about every detail of my life, I mean hell, I study flowers so I can open my own flower shop one day. But why? As to not be forgotten. I do stupid things so I have stories to tell, I write journals to give to my kids so they know what my life was like, and I hope to open a flower shop that will be owned by my family for years. I do all this for a legacy. For something to remember me by when I pass. Something to make sure I'm not forgotten. Yes, I experience athazagoraphobia on a day to day basis. I feel it when I'm scared my friends will forget me. I feel it when I'm preparing to leave the house and fear I've left something. But most importantly, I feel it in my core. At the very base of my existence. I cary the burden of needing to be remembered. The fear of being forgotten.

[solroswaslost]

..Fun fact about my boys

Retro has Athazagoraphobia and Autophobia / kenophobia

While Disco has Emetophobia and Autophobia

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 6

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 5 Index Chapter 7

Author's Note: this muse is impossible, i've rewritten this way too many times 😭 @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911.  @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

For the next few days, the colony of merfolk consumed your every thought. You dedicated countless hours to studying them, clumsily maneuvering through the water to get as close as possible without being noticed. They spoke in a melodious language that echoed through the currents, a symphony of sounds that both intrigued and frustrated you. Several times, out of sheer curiosity, you approached Lotan, hoping he would teach you a few phrases. Each time, however, he deflected your request with a mixture of reluctance and dismissiveness.

"No, my love," Lotan would say, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. "You're not ready for their language yet. I can translate for you, and show you how to hunt instead, what prey to pursue."

His insistence puzzled you. Why was he so unwilling to share this fundamental part of his world? Hadn't he eagerly guided you in every other aspect of mermaid life? You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling you—a hidden truth beneath his placid surface… Your unease only deepened from there.

Despite Lotan's attempts to distract you, your fascination with the merfolk only grew stronger. They really were strange creatures - you’ll never be able to look at their more human halves without seeing waterlogged corpses - but the way they moved through the water was undeniably elegant. Beautiful, even.They moved through the water with effortless grace, their tails swaying in rhythm with the currents, a stark contrast to the clumsy, unwieldy form you now inhabited in comparison. 

Your observations were accompanied by a mounting sense of dread. The colony’s matriarchal society was evident—the larger, more powerful females presiding over the smaller males, commanding respect and taking their fill of food first. The dynamics you observed confirmed that the females held authority over the less dominant position of the males. But it was odd - Lotan, you had noticed, was much smaller than the other males. Scrawny, one could say. You hated to look at him, but the bone structure in his face was much less defined, his muscles much more subtle, his hair even was kept short in comparison to the others. These realizations only heightened your apprehension, as the societal structure seemed both alien and intimidating.

Lotan's discomfort with your burgeoning interest was palpable. Whenever you expressed curiosity about the colony, he would subtly redirect the conversation, his passive-aggressive remarks hinting at his disdain for their ways.

"You needn't concern yourself with them," Lotan insisted one evening, his tone edged with bitterness. "Once we reintroduce ourselves, they'll see our worth. Right now they're too traditional, stuck in their ways. They won’t know how to properly respect us."

His words struck a nerve. "But Lotan," you protested, bewildered by his sudden hostility, "aren't we learning their ways to join them? To be accepted among them?"

Lotan scoffed, a forced laugh escaping him. "Accept - no, we don’t want to be accepted by them! The mermaids, they're troublesome - all too high-strung, and too domineering. The mermen are worse… they’ll only ever mistreat you. They'll never accept us as equals. But the two of us… we’re going to show them the future of our kind!"

That… was incredibly strange to you. You couldn’t help but feel as though you had been dropped into a horrible situation - well, one that was worse from the one that you were currently in. But you had to remain optimistic - this was only strengthening your resolve to escape.

—

One mermaid in particular had caught your eye. She was a softer presence amidst the more imposing figures around her, interacting with her young in a manner that spoke of genuine care. Her gentleness stood out in a society where dominance was often displayed with harshness. Watching her, you felt a pang of longing, a deep-seated yearning for the familiar comforts of your past life.

As you observed her nurturing behavior, the memories of your own mother surfaced, vivid and poignant. You remembered the long nights spent huddled together in the small apartment you once called home. She was undeniably a flawed woman, but despite the frequent arguments and instability, there was a profound, undeniable love between you—a love that had been a source of both comfort and pain. The realization of how much you missed her, despite everything, hit you with an overwhelming force.

The contrast between your current life and those memories was jarring. Your new form, so different from the human body you had once inhabited, felt like a constant mockery of your past. Each glance at your reflection in the water brought a shudder of disgust. The once-familiar shape was now misshapen and alien, a grotesque reminder of the life you had lost. 

In the dim, cool light of the underwater world, the weight of your homesickness and the revulsion towards your current situation were almost unbearable. The simple act of remembering your mother, of longing for the warmth and security of your past, only intensified the bleakness of your situation. You felt trapped between two worlds, neither fully belonging to the one you had known nor fully integrated into the strange, cold reality you now faced.

As you prepared to leave the safety of the shadows and approach her, the uncertainty of your situation loomed large. The risk of drawing unwanted attention or provoking hostility from the other merfolk added a layer of tension to your already fraught emotions. Each movement, each breath, felt fraught with potential peril, and the fear of the unknown made your heart race with a mix of dread and hope.

But you had to try. You were never meant to be trapped down here, living like an animal at the mercy of some crazed beast who had kidnapped and distorted you. You knew it in your soul.

You knew that she knew it, too.

[shanxy180]

Character Concept

(The Amazing Digital Circus edition)

A sort of "Abel" to the "Cain", name's Belle. She's this giant eyeball headed lady who's moreso the mechanic and backstage person to him, inspired by strongmen in a circus too.

This is simply a concept, not an OC that I'm particularly attached to. If you wanna steal her then go ahead ✨ maybe message me first if you want to.

[more below "read more", beware of more psychological fear related things.]

Maybe something happened to her, depends on how you view Caine [Whether he's a built in program sorta helper like the Infomaniac (lego island) or someone in charge of the game itself, what have you.]

it also depends on how you view him if he's a good person, a bad one or someone who's morally grey [the fun kind].

But the main idea is that she used to be around, but she's not! No one knows why, barely anybody remembers her, it's not known how but it also plays on the slight uneasiness and fear that "what if when we're gone no one remembers us".

[oidyre]

FEARtober

Day 2 - Athazagoraphobia

Also the fear of forgetting, but I want to keep it to one line.

[eastcoastfallout]

Athazagoraphobia

The fear of forgetting is a fear that has been weighing incredibly heavy on my mind as of late. I spend hours upon hours dwelling on what life would look like if one day, those I care most about become complete strangers over time. Familiarity becomes unfamiliar and the shocking familiarity that unfamiliarity seems to have are overwhelming. I want to believe that I won't forget

but that would be a lie

As it stands right now, I have severe memory loss issues, severe enough that I should probably see a neurologist. I'm losing more and more important memories, important dates, important conversations. Everything significant that should be front and center in my mind not being there leaves me with the question;

"How long until it stops being about information, and I start to lose memories of people I once called my own" i don't want to forget

[brilliantlydimwitted]

“Sadly, one day I’ll just be a memory.”

— Hunny Hemlani