#like really help

[idiotwithanipad]

A Candle To Light You To Bed

(A reoccurring nightmare that Humphrey wakes up from set in my Gore Au. In my Gore AU, all the ghosts memories and mental states are warped due to trauma and time. They're constantly in the mindset they were in moments before their deaths)

Humphrey's ears had grown numb to the sound of the droplets of water trickling through the cracks and gaps in the stone blocks comprising the cell. The clanking of the heavy chains around his wrists didn't bother him anymore. The scurrying of the malnourished rats in each corner sniffing for any flesh to feast on didn't concern him, even as they tested their bravery and scampered over his shoes.

Less than ten hours ago, things seemed as normal as ever, until the guards arrived. Sophie had fled, and he remained. He settled with taking refuge in the priest hole up inside the chimney breast, but as he pressed one foot forward above the hearth, ready to hoist himself up into the tight channel of uneven brick, a tight hand clamped around his ankle.

A fighting frenzy had resulted in Humphrey being wrestled into the back of a horse drawn carriage, and into a cramped steele cage hanging by chain from the roof. He wasn't alone in the cage; he recognized in the dark, each of Sophie's acquaintances, hands and feet bound painfully behind their backs.

The air inside the carriage was stale and damp, soaked with condensation and rainwater which leaked through the wood. Each stone the wheels rolled over, each dip in the road, each slight jolt of the carriage sent the cage crashing into the sides of the carriage, crushing the fingers of whichever poor idiot tried to steady themselves inside the cage by gripping the bars.

No room to stretch, not high enough to stand, barely any elbow room, any jostle of the carriage would have the person beside you plunge their elbow into your ribs painfully and suddenly, knocking the wind from your lungs. This was essentially a mobile 'Little Ease'.

The journey seemed to go on for days, leaving the countryside and entering the big city. Onlookers outside the carriage chattered and parted in the roads to allow the carriage to pass, the booming shouts of the guards at the seat announcing their authority and reason for taking up the roads.

Before long, just as Humphrey's eyes dropped shut after his body had succumbed to numbness from hours of being twisted into an untold amount of uncomfortable positions, the carriage came to a stop. The weight of the guards above them leaping from the carriage caused the cage to sway one final time before the small doors at the back were pulled open quickly, flooding the occupants with the bright sunlight of a new day.

Seemingly, they had traveled all night to reach their destination.

One by one, each occupant was carelessly dragged from the steel cage and down onto the cobblestone path beneath the wheels, before being frogmarched into a towering building. More darkness, more dripping, more chains, more bars. Except these cells were a far cry from the one they'd spent the last night in, cramped and unable to move.

It remained this way till late in the afternoon, when only Humphrey was left in the tiny cell. The echoing clunk of a hefty key startled Humphrey from his dazed slouch, and the pounding of shoes from along the dark corridor made his blood freeze.

A dim flickering light began to spread thicker and brighter against the damp stone walls until a figure emerged from the side of Humphrey's cell. A hooded man holding a candlestick in one hand and a ring of large keys in the other. Roughly and angrily, the man unlocked the cell and stepped inside, holding the candlestick higher so that Humphrey could finally see his face.

Pitch black eyes.

"Right. We've just dealt with that lot, now it's your turn, come with me" The man's cruel voice droned in his thick city accent, his hand swooping behind Humphrey to grab the back of his cloak. As he was forced down the narrow hall, Humphrey's eyes scanned briefly into the empty cells where Sophie's comrades had sat just moments ago.

He could only focus on them for a mere second before a rough hand shoved his head forward causing him to stumble.

"Keep movin'!"

Soon, they ended up outside, through another heavy locked door, and out into a courtyard. The evening mist and smog of the city filled the space with an eerie cloud of uncertainty and dread. As Humphrey focused his eyes on the mist for just a moment, he saw through the rolling coulds, the silhouette of a set of gallows, three ropes, and attached to the end of each of these ropes were the dead bodies of Sophie's acquaintences.

Before the horrified cry could even leave his lungs, another door appeared before him, which the guard unlocked and hauled him inside once more, back into the darkness, but not as dark as the last; this one sat alit with many candles, and was much cleaner than the rest.

A sizeable square table sat in the middle of the room beneath a podium.

A courtroom.

The aggressive guard kicked the back of Humphrey's knee, causing him to drop down onto a stool beside the podium, where a judge arose with a quil.

"Sir Humphrey Ignatius Bone?"

Humphrey gulped and turned his gaze away from the judge towards the table - which WAS empty only seconds ago - now surrounded by occupants holding rolls of parchment and quils of their own. Each of their faces were painted the same; each glared at him with a mixture of malice, disgust and betrayal.

"Such a crime to commit, sir. Treachery to the queen and crown?" The judge's voice rippled from above him. Humphrey pulled his eyes from the jury and looked up, imploringly to the judge.

He opened his mouth to speak, to plead innocence, but no voice came. Just a vacant exhale of breath. No voice remained to plead with.

"So you plead guilty?" The judge spoke, his tone that of a man in complete shock, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Humphrey could only shake his head and stutter out more gusts of breath as he shot his eyes back towards the jury.

Each of their eyes had turned a deep obsidian black, their mouths contorted into vengeful sneers, except for the individual now sat at the end of the table, though she still stared at him with the same hate as the rest.

She spoke, in her heavy French accent, pointing a sharp finger right at him.

"He did it"

Before Humphrey could implore for her help, even if he felt he didn't deserve it, the judge's booming voice erupted from above.

"We find you guilty of high treason against the queen and crown, you will die like the rest!"

The echoing of the gavel stricking the stand shook Humphrey to the core, before two iron tight hands clamped down onto his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, before spinning him around and throwing him forward.

Bracing himself for impact, Humphrey screwed his eyes shut. Yet, as he felt ready to peel his eyes open, expecting to see floorboards beneath him, instead, what he saw was a crudely woven basket. Beyond the basket where cobblestones and mist. The courtyard again.

His neck and head wedged in the stockade below the blade. There was no crowd, no noise. Only the mist and the executioner behind him holding the rope that would, in moments, release the blade.

Humphrey screwed his eyes shut and didn't know whether or not begging for mercy or praying would get him anywhere; nobody was here to hear it.

Behind the basket, a shoe came into his eyeline, a large, thick, black shoe with three distinct inch long metal spikes, which looked to be from another time entirely. But he recognized it, somehow he felt all too familiar with the appearance of that shoe, and it's wearer. As his eyes drifted upwards past the legs and stomach of the individual shrouded in the rolling mist, he recognized her face.

His little girl. His sickly, voiceless child, Amy. She stood before the guillotine, trembling and crying, a stiff hand pinned around her forearm. Humphrey's gaze lifted some more, following the other hand higher until he saw the other individual who belonged to this hand. Sophie. Sophie again. She scowled at him and took her other free hand, pressing it over Amy's lips, silencing her.

The woman's French accent rose again in a grim whisper, almost like a warning.

"She is mine"

Slowly, both Sophie and Amy were dragged backwards by the mist, disappearing into it like two dead leaves sinking beneath clouded water. Before Amy's form could be swallowed completely by the mist, her unclamped arm shot out to Humphrey, trying to reach him before the blade fell.

He jolted awake. The East Wing was the same as it was when he last saw it. The wallpaper as drab and untouched as always, the floorboards creaky and neglected, the candle no longer flickered from that leaky hallway.

Being careful not to rock his head from his shoulders again, he spun to face to bed. Amy, still there, slept curled up on her side. Her eyes, rendered unclosable, glimmered slightly in the moonlight beyond the window, her hood pulled up over her head, her arms crossed around her chest, her knees curled. As she usually slept.

She was still here. The guards didn't arrest him. He didn't get the sentencing, and Sophie didn't hate him. Not really. It was their situation she hated, not him; they were both powerless in their father's decisions to wed them. Sophie didn't want him to die. She never meant to keep her pregnancy a hidden secret for as long as she did, she was just frightened of persecution or harassment from the public.

Regardless, Amy was under his protection now, Sophie would return soon, but until then, he'd have to find new ways to put out the candle which lights him to bed.

[clownfuckthenikolaikinnie]

😼

Hi. Idk wtf I’m gonna post on here or how posting works but yk.

ao3: Ihaveaobsessionwithbungostraydogs

wattpad (barely used): Gaypanicxoxo

Genshin:

main- 634860382

alt-644223949

roblox: cupcake_kitten9

bsd:totl: 356244033420

Spotify: Homosexual

I usually use the name Ivan or nicholai

age range is 14 to 16 lol :3

I know I kin Nikolai but I may kin more of those mentally ill gays

Maybe I’ll post hc maybe I’ll post theories! Who knows!

[puppppppppy]

filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

as an aroace person with limited sexual experience, no interest in watching porn, and poor sex ed as a teen, there IS something simultaneously funny and vaguely tragic about being 28 adult years old and realising how extremely tiny your frame of reference is for genitalia and deciding you should expand this to better understand bodies (yours and others). and then you're just there like "okay so what the fuck do I even google right now, anyway"

[queermania]

i think before you marry someone, you should sit down and go through the AITA subreddit with them and see what their take on those situations is

[merrigel]

Everybody do the wenis!

Gif alt:

[aluminumneedles]

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

[spaceistheplaceart]

thinking about what mabel and ford have in common <3 sweaters, diaries, and bad breakups.

[nooling]

LOOK I JUST REALLY ENJOY THEIR FRIENDSHIP OK?? You can't tell me they wouldn't hang after their respective personal quests (spawn ending ofc)/emotional breakdowns over their own mortality

EDIT: I forgot to watermark these so now more than ever PLEASE don't repost

[chloesimaginationthings]

The day FNAF Charlie Emily was shut out..

[telltaletypist]

the beatles are an infuriating band to me as a relentless contrarian. liking them is cliche, hating them is cliche, being indifferent towards them is cliche. it's impossible to have an novel or interesting take on the beatles in current year. like how am i supposed to win here?

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[exilley]

I do sort of wish western anime fans would analyze anime and manga from a framework of japanese historical and cultural context. Specifically a lot of works from the 90s being influenced by the general aimlessness and ennui that a lot of people were experiencing due to the burst in the bubble economy and the national trauma caused by the sarin terrorist attack. I think in interacting with media that’s not local to our sociocultural/sociopolitical sphere it’s easy to forget that it’s influenced and shaped by the same kinds of factors that influence media within our own cultural dome and there ends up being this baseline misalignment of perception between the causative elements of a narrative and viewer interpretation of those elements. It’s a form of death of the author that i think, in some measure, hinders our ability to fully understand/come to terms with creator intent and the full scope of a work’s merits

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[lunewolf13]

Tim and Jason were munching on Batburgers mid-patrol. Entirely out of the blue Tim says: By the way, I'm bi.

Jason pauses, then swallows his burger: Uh, okay?

Tim: I just wanted to tell you. In case, you know, you think no one would accept you.

Jason: ...Huh??

Tim: Yeah, there's a reason why I brought this up. What I'm trying to tell you is that B told me to tell you that you can bring your boyfriend over for dinner whenever you want.

Jason just stares at Tim, wondering if he's experiencing a fever dream because what??

Jason: What boyfriend??

As far as he knows, there is no boyfriend. Why does Bruce think there is a boyfriend??

Tim being understanding but for a completely different context: It's okay, Hood. I'll tell him you said no. No need to deny it.

Jason continues to be baffled: Thanks. But I don't have a boyfriend.

Tim does not believe him: Sure, sure. So, when's the next time Arsenal plans to visit Gotham?

Jason goes back to eating his burger and pretending he's not totally confused by the change in topic: Uh, this Thursday. I'm gonna help him with Lian's birthday cake, and brainstorm gift ideas.

Tim: Uh-huh. Hope you have guys have fun :)

[miwkchii]

I can't help but wonder ☆

Obligatory outfit change for telemachus 🤺