#helplessness

[fangledeities]

The Flagellation of Jesus Christ, 1491. Rueland Frueauf the Elder (Austrian, 1440-1506).

Jennifer Love Hewitt ((Since first posting, I have learned that this is a FAKE. See real image below, and if you steal my image, please label it fake. Thanks.))

Still damn sexy.

#fangledeities #flagellation #jennifer love hewitt #shock #sympathy #helplessness #goddess #gothic art #gothic painting #art history #mash up #fake #celebrity fake

[whumpster-dumpster]

Caretaker getting drugged ahead of time so when Whumper comes to recollect Whumpee, all they can do is slump weakly to the floor and watch it happen in a blur until everything fades away

#whump #whump prompt #writing prompt #drugging #collapse #kidnapping #helplessness

[super-lupus]

“From birth I was cast upon you; from my mother's womb you have been my God.

Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.” - Psalm 22

1. Velázquez, Diego. Christ Crucified. 1632, Museo Del Prado, Madrid.

2. Barbieri, Giovanni Francesco. Apparition of Christ to the Virgin. 1628 - 1630, Civic Art Gallery, Cento.

3. Sassoferrato, Giovanni Battista Salvi. Madonna and Child. 1625 - 1700, Louvre Museum, Paris.

4. Story, William Wetmore. The Angel of Grief Weeping Over the Dismantled Altar of Life. 1894, Rome.

5. Bloch, Carl Heinrich. The Crucifixion. 1870, Museum of National History, Copenhagen.

6. “Mac Finds His Pride.” It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, season 13, episode 10, FX Network, 7 Nov. 2018. Writ. Rob McElhenney and Charlie Day. Dir. Todd Bierman.

#im sure someone else has already done this #but #here's more #it's always sunny in Philadelphia #always sunny #iasip #mac mcdonald #mac sunny #mac finds his pride #there is one common theme in all the images i chose #and that is #helplessness #rob mcelhenney #rcg

[3eanuts]

April 12, 1956 — see The Complete Peanuts 1955-1958

#peanuts #comics #humor #existentialism #charlie brown #kites #kids #children #futility #depression #helplessness

[bloodandmoors]

— Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka (1912-1923)

#literature #english #dark academia #dark academia quotes #classic literature #excerpts #helplessness #september #sadnees #september 1st #franz kafka #kafkaesque #metamorphosis #diaries of franz kafka #august

[serenityquest]

#victim mentality #life lessons #helplessness #be your own hero

[diaryofadissembler]

298: It's the only way my family knows. Image description: a three panel comic with polaroid frames. The panel shows blue sky and a red brick chimney in the middle of the picture. the text on the panel reads: “We open our hearts to the inevitable. Eyes wide and ribcages broken.” Text underneath reads: “J. krupitza / inspired by asofterworld.com” end Image description

#grief #loss #cancer #love #helplessness #diary of a dissembler #diaryofadisseml #diaryofadissembler #polaroid #photocomic #photography #story #microfiction #a softer world fancomic #asofterworld #imagedescription

[stoic-whumpee]

Prompt #95

A character who has been used and exploited too many times, who has been pushed into doing terrible things without another option. A character who every single choice they were forced to make made had led to more downfall, who is never offered a second chance. They don't believe they deserve a chance to be happy anymore.

#whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #outcast whumpee #villain whumpee #villain whump #guilt #regret #emotional whump #helplessness #despair #r prompts

[howifeltabouthim]

All thoughts of revenge are born of the pain of helplessness. I suffer becomes You will suffer.

Siri Hustvedt, from The Blazing World

#revenge #vengeance #helplessness #lashing out #suffering #make them pay #quotes #lit #words #excerpts #quote #literature #siri hustvedt #the blazing world

[brumeraven]

??: The Weight of a Crown || dolls, witches, chronic illness, helplessness, fatigue, gross, cute?, too sick to know who was driving

pat pat pat pat pat...FLUMPF

Weight on my chest, somehow managing to constrict it yet further, beyond the crushing grip of phlegm and mucus. Please let it just be the demon...

No such luck; I could wiggle my fingers. Which left only...

I cracked an eye open and was greeted instead by a concerned expression, vapid and vacant. Not my work, that; girl had always been that way, despite my efforts to the contrary. Judge me if you will, but some dolls were just too doll for me.

"Do you feel better, Miss?"

Had I wished to answer, it would have been impossible with the doll perched on my chest, but at that moment, something in the back of my throat squirmed and a fit of hacking seized me, threatening to crack ribs and dislocate vertebrae.

My eyes blinked open again, bones still intact, if not where they were meant to be, mouthing a silent "no."

Mere centimeters away, the mask of concern remained unfazed, now covered in flecks and chunks of inky black sputum.

"Oh no! It hopes you feel better soon, Miss!"

The flecks had already begun to move, stretching out filopodia and creeping across its face to begin to coalesce into a dark-winged thing atop the bone-white porcelain.

"Me too." I managed to croak a response. "Wipe your face before that flies away."

It complied blandly, a handkerchief wiping the corruption, if not the expression, from its face. I suppose it had been too much to hope for the latter...

"Has Miss tried honey? That can soothe a sore throat."

I groaned. "That won't help, but thank you." I'd explained it before, but that hadn't stuck. One of the least understood properties of this ailment was that dolls simply couldn't comprehend it.

"This one will cook and clean and Miss can stay in bed and work on feeling better!"

"I...thank you, dear doll."

Flux sickness, brumerot, void consumption...we had countless names for the same thing, but any of them would just have gone in one ear and out the other.

"Maybe some medicine? It can go get you some!"

"Again, that won't help, but thank you."

"Miss...?"

"...Yes?"

"There is something leaking from your nose."

I grabbed its hand and used it as a rough approximation of a tissue, wiping away the dripping ooze on the smooth, chill surface. One pathetic breath of clean air, then I was back to blowing bubbles in oily snot.

"Miss should get some sleep!"

What exactly did it think I was trying to do, before the interruption? "There's a doll on my chest."

"That's me!"

"I...yes, yes that's you."

"It can sing you a lullaby!"

"I need silence. Peace"

"..."

"..."

"It can make you some soup! That will help!"

It wouldn't, but maybe it would keep the thing occupied for a bit. "That sounds great. You should go do that."

"Oh, but then Miss would be all alone, and it wouldn't know if you feel better..."

"I won't."

"..."

"..."

"Perhaps this one could wear the big hat, Miss? So it doesn't weigh you down so much?"

"For the seventh time, it can't be taken off."

"Oh..."

"So stop asking."

"Okay!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Do you feel better, Miss? It hopes you feel better soon!"

#empty spaces #microfiction #fiction #dollposting #dolls #witches #chronic illness #helplessness #fatigue #gross #cute? #too sick to know who was driving

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Salome Sibonex: I had that same example of adopting ideas that I was told were good for me because well, you know, feminism or like Latin American issues or whatever it might be. They're told to you as, "this is for you. This is, we're we're going to help you. We're highlighting all the ways that you're being hurt, and that's how we're going to help you."

But I found that it did the same thing [as you]. It got me to focus primarily on who's out to get me, what obstacles are around me, and it comes with this baked in notion that the real problem is bigger than you. The real problem, the real obstacle is always something that is bigger than you. And as an individual, you're kind of at the mercy of that.

And it pushes this identification with your groups as well, as opposed to this kind of like focus on our shared humanity or individuality."

--

Full video:

How Social Justice Is Exploiting Us ft. Kimi Kaititi & Salomé Sibonex

==

Victimhood sold as "empowerment."

#Salomé Sibonex #Salome Sibonex #Kimi Katiti #social justice #social justice activism #victimhood #victimhood culture #woke activism #wokeness #woke #wokeness as religion #wokeism #cult of woke #shared humanity #individuality #helplessness #learned helplessness #religion is a mental illness #Youtube

[rrain-writes]

Rain's LU Febuwhump: Day 1

Helplessness: Four

Warnings: broken bones

Art

All Four was doing was investigating the sound in the forest. It could have been a rabbit or some other kind of animal. Now he won’t find out.

Stupid, careless. He was a Hero! He had defeated evil! He could split into four other people for Goddesses sake! He… wasn’t looking where he was going and had fallen down into a particularly large ditch.

When Four tried to move, pain spiked up his leg. If only he had brought someone with him, or at least told one of his brothers where he was going.

Four had already tried calling out, but the pouring rain and distance from the spot they had set up camp wasn’t much help. Mumbled curses didn’t help either.

Gritting his teeth, Four pulled himself up, keeping the weight off his injured leg. He reached up to grab a hold of the side of the ditch, but instead of moving upwards, the softened dirt collapsed under his fingers and sent him straight down again.

Four hissed, and said some things that would put a sailor to shame.

The others would be bound to notice he was missing by now, right? They might be searching for him right now.

“Twilight! Legend!” He called out. “Wild! Warriors! Time! I’m stuck!”

If his friends were near they didn’t seem to hear his calls. The stray bokoblin from Wind’s era however, did. The monster peeked over the edge of the ditch, mouth wide. Four gaped at the monster, and grabbed the nearest weaponish thing to him, a stick.

Four yelped as the bokoblin jumped down and started towards him.

“Get away you stupid thing! Stay back!”

His back was pressed against the wall of the ditch now.

“Help, somebody!”

Four grabbed a rock which sat to his right and threw it, striking the bokoblin in the eye. All it did was make the monster angry.

The teen cried out as the rock was sent sailing back to him, arms coming up to cover his face.

If Four knew one thing, it was that he hated being helpless.

#four #lu four #fan fic #linked universe #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #whump #febuwhumpday1 #helplessness #Rain's LU Febuwhump

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Crossroads

Chloe Grant saw stars.

Their blind leap of faith rewarded her with a coppery taste of blood in her mouth. It was, as is said, not the fall that kills you, but the landing. In their case, the landing itself didn’t serve to kill anybody, though, it just hurt like hell. The kind of fall that would cover you in green and blue spots.

To escape the living tide of a swarm of dog-sized insects surrounding them, they had backed up and ran through the blinding light of the Anomaly. Mischchenko gasped in surprise, Ruiz shouted in pain, and Grant herself felt the world spinning all around.

The Anomaly, connecting two different points in time, failed to offer them stable footing on the other side. In the Appalachian mountain woods of 2024, the glowing orb of light had been hovering inches off the forest grounds. On the other side, the Anomaly must have been hovering several feet above the ground, because their combat boots found no solid footing after their leap of faith, and the three field operatives from Future Proof immediately tumbled down a grassy knoll.

That’s why Grant saw stars. Bit the inside of her cheek. Black-gloved fingers tore up loose earth and turf where she grabbed the ground in a futile attempt at braking her fall.

The bright spots and blinding light refused to subside. She not only saw stars, but something far more breathtaking.

Light. Everywhere.

All around them, orbs of light shimmered… scintillating, glittering, blinding. Spinning, hovering, glowing, flashing, flickering. Some of them flared up, growing brighter. Others dimmed. One of the Anomalies flickered and vanished, and another opened seconds after, like an exploding sun.

Dozens and dozens of Anomalies surrounded the agents. So many Anomalies that their combined light engulfed the world around them.

The trio had landed on some kind hilly grasslands. Something resembling a blue sky almost shone through the brilliant curtain of anomalous luminescence. The light drowned out anything beyond their immediate environs.

Even their black body armor and jumpsuits looked bright gray under such brilliance.

The sights were stunning and invited Grant to ponder what this meant. Mischchenko cut those ponderings short as she yanked at Grant’s arm, helping her back up.

The three operative scrambled.

Just like the light, noise also surrounded them. Even through the helmet, the Anomalies sounded like they were singing. Like a choir of wind chimes. Amplified by their numbers in close to proximity to one another, and… eerily pleasant to the ear.

Through that soundscape, the skittering and scuttling sliced through. The swarm of mutant insects poured through the anomaly atop the hill down which the agents had tumbled. Chitinous bodies with flightless wings scampered and poured out like pulsating waves of black tar, flowing down the hillside.

Acting on instinct, Grant and Ruiz fired more shots. Their futuristic EMD rifles hurled bright blue electric blasts at the small creatures—and the Anomalies reacted. Lightning arced between the blasts and Anomaly orbs, crackling and flashing ever brighter. A pulse of pure pressure pushed the agents and insects both backwards, away from the reactions, staggering and stumbling the agents and dispersing the front rows of the living flood of insects.

Then the mad chase continued.

Ruiz swore.

The dog-sized bugs hit by blasts immediately fell, only for the living tide to wash over them and sweep them up in pursuit of the three human agents.

The volley of shots had accomplished nothing but a strange chain reaction—

Mischchenko yelled something at them; something about conserving their batteries, though her words were otherwise incomprehensible—static crackling and fuzzy clicks almost eclipsed the speech Grant heard in her headset.

The agents turned tail and ran.

They ducked past another Anomaly, swerved past yet another, and the tide chased them. The humans had no idea where to go, avoiding the Anomalies on instinct. They were just trying to outrun the insect swarm. Its horrid buzzing mixed in, tainting the pleasant chimes of the Anomalies.

The coppery taste of blood only grew in Grant’s mouth, coating her tongue in a terrible film. She wanted to spit, but couldn’t because of the helmet. And she suppressed her instinct to unload her EMD’s battery for more suppressing fire against their pursuers, as another survival instinct kicked in. Having seen the chain reaction between EMD discharge and the Anomaly cluster was almost like…

Touching the stove. She still had the scars to show from touching a hot stove as a kid.

The chain reaction now resembled that hot stove, so she wasn’t going to place her hand on it.

She was going to keep her hands off it. And like that, she stopped her finger from squeezing the trigger.

Ruiz and Mischchenko must have shared that sentiment. Their run took them outside the cluster of hovering, star-like orbs, though black spots remained in Grant’s vision, long before and after she screwed her eyes shut.

The grassy hills sloped down to a wide and serene beach of bright white sands, with no signs of humanity or life otherwise.

The mutant insect swarm chased them from the cluster of Anomalies. Their hundreds over hundreds of black bodies glistened in the broad daylight of this age—wherever, whenever they were now.

The creatures looked like a crossbreed between locusts and wasps. Sleek, deadly, and with snapping mandibles, their flightless wings glistened in beautiful rainbow colors. Had they come from the future to feast?

Once they had gained distance from the cluster of Anomalies, Ruiz decided to belay Mischchenko’s previous order. He took more potshots at the swarm, downing another handful of insects. It wasn’t even close to making a dent in the unstoppable onslaught on their heels.

All those snapping mandibles, working together, could probably strip the armor from their bodies in seconds, then eat the flesh from their bones even faster.

Mischchenko shouted, “What the hell did I just say?”

Ruiz stopped firing.

“This way!”

The team curved away from the Anomalies, running for the beach.

Without mercy, without stopping, the insects changed direction in perfect harmony, like a well-drilled army. They honed in on the three agents without fail. The living tide curved in the exact same direction, giving relentless chase.

“Water! Get… get in the water,” Mischchenko shouted, losing more and more wind as they ran and ran from the unyielding swarm.

Grant didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question it. Her mind was too busy imagining the swarm, all around her, suffocating her. Eating her alive. Thus, she ran. Mischchenko’s orders were as good as any others to secure their survival now.

The soaking sensation inside her combat boots immediately turned her socks into sponges, while water splashed up to their waistlines. In a frenzied charge into the ocean waves, the agents sloshed and splashed, all holding their EMD rifles up high to secure them from exposure while backing up from the swarm. Even so, even with how useless the weapons seemed against this menace, they all aimed at the big bugs.

The ocean afforded them time to breathe. They panted in their helmets. And their labored, winded breathing still fizzled with static.

This swarm would not follow them into the water. The living tide had stopped just short of entering the watery waves where they lapped against bright white sand. The locust-wasps scuttled up and down the beach, searching for a way to reach or find their prey, and always shying away, backing up from the wet waves like frightened animals.

The tide shook Grant, but its waves weren’t strong enough to sweep any of the agents away.

Against the coppery taste in her mouth, she had never been so glad over the stinging scent of saltwater, burning in her nostrils.

Still, the insects refused to wade into the water like the humans had.

The three field agents waited. Watched.

The insect swarm flooded up and down the beach, visibly confused over having lost their free lunch.

This finally afforded Grant some glimpses of the Anomalies. So blinding was their combined light, and so erratic their patterns of flaring up, flickering, and dimming, that Grant gave up on counting after thirty orbs.

One of the Anomalies flickered, then vanished entirely. Grant suppressed the urge to swear out loud, in case that had been the one they fell through to get here—potentially stranding them in a time millions of years ago. Or thousands of years in the future? Who knew?

Yet the many Anomalies remained.

Where did they all lead? How was this even possible?

None of the records she had pored over at Future Proof could have prepared her for this. And Grant sensed the same air of fascination from her colleagues, who, like her, stood in stunned silence.

They stood in the ocean waves of this alien beach, waiting as minutes passed them by like the elements, and the briny water soaked them, while the mutant-insect swarm slowly changed direction, dispersing, turning, and eventually leaving. They had given up on their prey.

The flood of creatures poured back uphill, heading towards the Anomalies. Were they responding to the sounds?

Only once the swarm was far out of sight, did anybody speak up.

“Good thing they don’t like water, huh?” Ruiz mumbled into their radio intercom.

Mischchenko cackled. Without doubt a stress response. Grant followed up with her own: a litany of profanities without rhyme or reason, just venting into the void of their closed radio comms, as they were stranded somewhere in another era of Earth’s history, or somewhere in Earth’s future.

The swarm crawled its way back up the grass hills, pouring into an Anomaly at the edge of the cluster, until the last ones of them vanished. Even the ones that had been stunned by EMD shots were gone, dragged along by the living avalanche. Perhaps devoured.

Hard to tell.

“I hope one of you got an idea which Anomaly we just exited from,” Grant grumbled, “because I sure as shit can’t tell them apart.”

Ruiz said, “On the bright side—sorry, pun not intended—those bugs went in a different one, right there at the edge of the Anomaly… crossroads? This is like a crossroads, huh?”

Mischchenko emitted a shuddering sigh.

“We better not waste any time—get back to those Anomalies—start knocking on different doors till we find the one back home. I don’t know about you two, but I am not getting stuck here, wherever ‘here’ is. I got family to get back to.”

Dripping with oceanwater, they slowly marched back up the beach, then the hills. Their advance started cautious, slowed by the weight of their drenching. Then courage or fear drove their pace, swifter steps into the blinding jungle of light.

The rest of the landscape around them looked so familiar and yet so alien. So untouched by mankind, so distant, yet so vibrant—its grass glistened bright green in the sunlight and the light of Anomalies.

Grant’s mind reeled with the possibilities, as to what time they had wound up in. What if there was a way to navigate these wormholes?

And she wondered how it was even possible for so many Anomalies to appear in a single spot like this. Connecting different eras, bridging disparate worlds that had existed and would exist on their planet. Crossing all through time.

Crossroads.

On cue, halfway back up the hills, an Anomaly flared up brightly. A man ran from it.

He wore armor. Ancient armor. In his hand, he clutched a sword, and sandals clung to his bloodied feet. Cloth on his body was dyed in a bright blue, while the rest of him was covered in a slick, dripping crimson. Whose blood it was would have been impossible to say, leaving no space for examination, for this stranger from the past ran headfirst into the next Anomaly, vanishing as abruptly as he had appeared.

A monster followed. Chased him.

Its appearance froze the blood in Grant’s veins. And all three field agents from Future Proof froze where they stood, standing rooted to the grassy grounds like statues.

At the size of a horse, the terrible creature chasing the ancient warrior featured four long, stalky limbs, all ending in deadly claws. Its upper torso was hunched and the silhouette of its gaping mouth revealed long, jagged teeth that could mangle and entrap their prey. This predatory beast crossed the hills in frightening, leaping bounds. It vanished into the next Anomaly that the ancient man in armor had run into, gone again as fast as it had appeared.

A streak of crimson amidst the blinding light, from the blood that had coated its gray and slender body.

“Holy what the hell?” Grant blurted out.

“My word,” Mischchenko said with trembling voice, “my cue. Let’s get the hell outta here!”

Neither Ruiz nor Grant needed to be told twice.

With EMD rifles raised, ready for any threats to leap out at them from the Anomalies, they waded into the maze of glowing orbs, seeking one atop a hill.

The eerie singing chimes welcomed them like a heavenly choir. Now, though Grant’s heart pounded like a drum, she sensed a deep resonance between these Anomalies.

A hum. A thrum, resonating with her own pulse, all the way down to her very bones.

It was both menacing and soothing somehow. Awesome in the original sense of the words. Like standing in the presence of something divine—something that could wink you out of existence by accident, and very prone to such mishaps.

“This one, I think,” Ruiz said.

“Wait,” Mischchenko answered.

Too late. Ruiz walked into an Anomaly atop a hill.

“Shit.”

They followed him in.

No crossroads awaited them on the other side of the blinding light. The resonance also felt weak here.

Fierce winds howled all around them, strong enough to shake them in their boots, and cold as ice. The sky was red and bleak, drowning in clouds of dust on the wind, and ominous thunder rolled in the distance.

Only a desert of rock and sand yawned all around them.

A monstrous shriek echoed across this wasteland.

Mischchenko shook her helmeted head and was first to back right out, returning through the Anomaly to the crossroads. The others followed.

“One down, huh,” Ruiz muttered, “how many more to go, now?”

“Shut up,” Mischchenko said, leading them to the next hill, with confidence and dread alike in every stomping step of her stride.

EMDs still raised in anticipation of the worst, they walked into blinding light.

Grant’s heart fluttered. She stifled a shuddering sigh of relief at the sight of Solomon’s new Anomaly Stabilizer, the upgraded Anomaly Locking Device.

They were back in the foggy Appalachian woods. The generator attached to the ALD chugged with merry rhythm. And no insect swarm in sight.

“Shit, I can’t believe it,” Ruiz said. “Holy shit.”

“Stay on your damned toes,” Mischchenko said. “Ruiz, you and me, quick sweep. Grant, you lock that Anomaly now.”

Wait—

Something inside of Grant screamed to rebel, to resist. She could barely believe what she herself was thinking, yet it couldn’t be helped.

They had stumbled upon something incredible. If Future Proof’s R&D department—or really anybody among humanity at large—if anybody could study all of what they had just experienced, who knew what revelations awaited them?

Grant finally gave her protest a voice. “Wait, wait, what—what about—what about the pterodactyls, putting them back, or stabilizing this Anomaly? I mean, we got everything recorded on helmet cams, but I think R&D should investigate this place.”

“Grant,” Mischchenko sighed. Shades of disappointment, grief, and despair turned her next words sharp, sharper than Spencer had ever spoken to her. “Are you out of your damn’ mind? Do you realize how dangerous that place is?”

A crossroads of Anomalies.

“Yeah,” Ruiz butted in, “you wanna hear my two cents, I say we send the big birds to containment, get this bad boy locked up. I’m with Mischchenko on this.”

“Thank you,” she replied to him.

Grant shook her head. She was torn. She agreed with them, and every fiber, every survival instinct in her was screaming at her to just lock up the Anomaly.

Yet she could not help but wonder what they might lose by losing their connection to that crossroads.

She turned to stare at the Anomaly. Much fainter than with the resonance amplified between the many of them hovering together in a cluster, the one’s solitary presence here still emitted an eerie, pleasant chime, nearly inaudible, though Grant now almost felt more sensitive to it.

A nervous laugh escaped Mischchenko’s throat. Then she said, “Shit, whatever, I know how you’re feeling, Grant. I wanna know more, too, even if it’s just so we can deal with these things more safely, hell, save more lives, maybe. And, hey, like you said, we got it all on headcams. Trémaux’s going to have a field day with it, let’s—”

Burch had warned them about the pterodactyls.

That it might only be at the last moment when the beating of their wings heralded their presence.

In line with the warning, a huge flap echoed across the mountain woods like a thunderclap, and a winged beast descended upon them.

Mischchenko was the first to react, but her EMD’s shot missed, hitting only a pine tree.

The pterodactyl screeched in response.

Right when it pounced on her.

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #literature #spooky #fiction #mystery #thriller #scifi #science fiction #Primeval #Future Proof #fanfic #Chloe Grant #Ruiz #Mischchenko #crossroads #Anomaly #time #phenomenon #strange #insect #swarm #ocean #unknown #stranded #isolation #helplessness

[blueeyesfilledwithpassion]

"We Must Laugh In The Face Of Our Helplessness Against The Forces Of Nature - Or Go Insane."

- Charlie Chaplin

#charlie chaplin #nautre #laugh #laughter #quotes on life #life lessons #life quotes #comedy #words of wisdom #words to live by #im going insane #connection #passion #desire #spilled words #passionate #intimacy #beautiful #spilled thoughts #helplessness #mental health

[desnos]

after everything goes wrong but before it's all over, you get one moment of clarity--almost peaceful. it stays with you.

#uncaptioned series #mine #helplessness

[savebatsfromscratch]

No.15 Can’t Keep a Bog Burglar Under Bars and Bark

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50863048

Words: 1,096

Cws: Being trapped, helplessness.

Notes: I tried to write it a bit like the books. :3 Camicazi is a really fun character to write.

Prompt: No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.” Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

Camicazi stretched her arms out to either side of the hollow tree, fighting that first sting of fear that came with finding herself trapped somewhere. Far above her, the door to the tree trunk prison slammed shut, cutting off the Berserker’s unpleasant laughter right as it started. But though she knew that that meant she probably couldn’t be heard by them, she screamed insults anyway.

“Come back here and fight like GIRLS you ugly tear jerking Gronkle necks!” She had to admit that her insult game wasn’t what it normally was, but it made her feel better, so she kept at it, “I’ve met HOOLIGANS with better prisons than this, you chain covered poor excuses for warriors! What is this, the Isles of the PEACABLES?! I’m almost GLAd you threw me in here, it’s going to be so easy to get out you’ll be THANKING me for helping you find the flaws you- You…”

Suddenly, Camicazi became rather aware that the only other sound in her tree prison was the echoes of her own screams, and she faltered, a brief spike of doubt piercing her heart as she tried to peer nervously through the darkness. She was, of course, unable to do so, but she tried not to let it get her down. She tried really, really hard.

…But her efforts weren’t nearly as effective as she told herself they were, and the second time she started up her insults, it was clear even to her that they were pretty half hearted.

“Oh~,” She sang, feeling along the unrelenting walls as if she would find any flaws in their construction, “If you boys knew the tricks a girl can think up to get out of your jails, you’d be pretty embarrassed I’d say,”

She attempted to climb the smooth walls without her climbing boots, but only managed to get a few feet before sliding back to the slimy ground, landing with a very un Bog Burglar like grunt. She hopped right back up to her feet, continuing her sing songy teasing, even though she was struggling to fight an encroaching darkness on her mind.

She had been searching for a way out for several minutes now, and she hadn’t even found a singular flaw to exploit. Usually it only took her a few minutes to get out of a cell, so, though she hated to admit it, this was getting scary.

The last time she’d been in such a secure prison, she’d actually needed someone’s help to get out, maybe she couldn’t- No. She refused to admit it. She was a Bog Burglar! The most slippery of all the slippery tribes in the Barbaric Archipelago! (And she was even more slippery than most… or so she liked to think.) No, of course she didn’t need help! She could do this all by herself, just as she always had before.

…But it probably wouldn’t have hurt to have Hiccup with her right then.

Cammicazi stopped her taunting.

“What am I thinking?” she muttered, angrily wiping away some annoying little tears that had threatened to fall from her eyes, “I’m the daughter of the CHIEF, I don’t need some… some boy to come and save me! I can get out of here myself!”

With renewed vigor, she scrambled up the wall again, digging her nails into the tough wood until she lost her grip and tumbled back down to the rotting floor. No matter, she could try again!

She took a higher leap this time, actually running up the wall for the first several feet, and then carrying that momentum into her climb as she went back to scrambling. This was fairly effective, and she managed to get her thin fingers around a small ledge after a decent distance traveled. She hugged the wall as she caught her breath.

In the darkness of the tree, she could not see how far she had climbed, but the optimistic part of her brain did a happy little flip at the idea that she might be near the door she had been thrown in through. (Ha! She would like to have seen those Berzerkers pull off THAT little trick!)

However, her optimistic side did not seem to be right. Or, at least, whatever door there had been up there seemed inaccessible to her now as she reached the top of the hollowed out prison. In a panic, Camicazi reached a shaking arm out from her safe hold, trying and failing to reach the other side of the tree in the weak idea that it might be close enough for her to investigate by touch. 

How was that possible?! The door just… wasn’t there.

She reached back to the side of the wall, feeling her hold slipping from her shaking hands but unwilling to give up her search that easily. She felt along the hollowed out woods, feeling for any semblance of a crack that might suggest an opening for a door. Panicked, she traced her hands over lumps in the wood, the scratching skins of spiders that must have once been alive, and so much else, but a keyhole or an outline to a door was nowhere to be found.

And, of course, that was when her fingers finally gave out, throwing her through the musty air until she hit the ground with a painful crash. Camicazi fought back a sob, she knew she was lucky that she hadn’t severely hurt herself in the fall, but she couldn’t help but feel unlucky overall.

How could it be that this prison was getting the best of her? She was CAMICAZI! Master escape artist and heir to the Bog Burglar throne! She couldn’t let some stupid tree make her lose her touch! There had to be a way out! There wasn’t a way to make a prison that was totally unescapable without killing her to get her there! After all, she had gotten out of the Roman fort, why couldn’t she get out of here?!

In the whirlwind of emotions that she was feeling, she did her best to lose the small voice that reminded her of exactly how “well” her attempts at escaping the Romans had worked. She didn’t need that right now. She didn’t need to think about the clear and obvious fact that she had already long missed her chance to escape.

As far as she knew, she was never getting out, not without help, not without Hiccup.

She grit her teeth, sat up, and squared her shoulders. Even though that was true, it didn’t mean she couldn’t stop trying.

#whumptober2023 #no.15 #lyric #fanfic #helplessness #trapped #httyd books #httyd #camicazi #my art #my writing #actual post