Not Ship - Tumblr Posts
Just a sweet wholesome art of these two (or rather three) because why not. Witch’s heart is a great game and I honestly love it. Expect more art of it from me in the future!!
Oh! And also, I thought I’d try my hand a lil but of writing, so please enjoy. Apologies if it’s OOC in any way.
“I’ll keep you company while you study!” Claire had said with a bright smile. It was a sweet offer, and while he’d said she would probably find it boring, she still tagged along. He had to give her that.
However, he was only a bit surprised when he felt a weight fall on his shoulder. A head of blue hair ruffled against turquoise fabric. Ashe paused at the soft smile on her face. The similarities just continued to rear their heads. That soft smile brought back far too many memories.
Thinking harder as he tore himself away from the textbook, he realized something.
“Let me keep you company while you read!” Lilia would huff, even as Ashe told her she’d be bored.
It wasn’t exact. No, that would be too much of a coincidence. He frowned for just a second. Tears pushed at his eyes, a long intake of air all it took to clear them. He looked back down at Claire, her face still stuck in a soft smile.
If he scooted just the tiniest inch closer to her, none would be there to see. None but that with golden eyes like his own. She would smile at the two.
He’d found a new family of sorts, she thought. And maybe he would be alright.
Yes. The soul was sure of it. Especially if it meant she would get a sister!
Ashe could swear, for a moment, that he heard a giggle float past his ears. A breeze tickled his face. He shook his head fondly. Just his imagination, Ashe turned back to his book. Claire’s soft snores brought a smile to his face as he turned to a page about blood cells.
She really did make for good company.
Now, despite the fact that I haven't watched Ninjago in gods know how long, I always like to imagine Nya and Zane hitting the town on their own like a sort of best friends' night. Sometimes I like to add PIXAL into that scenario, but as stated earlier I haven't watched the show in a long time, so I don't know what characters are even still around. To me, Nya and Zane hanging out with each other as best friends is just such a cute concept. That's just my opinion, though.
fym this isn't their dynamic
click for better quality / original reference under cut
credits to vez rby on pinterest :3
quick novelization of the 3 days left scene with basil and sunny in grandma's room. i wrote this because... i saw another one, got annoyed, and decided to do it myself. oops. anyway bpd!basil rights
word count: 1k
tw: suicidal thoughts
He’s in Grandma’s room, isn’t he?
Basil tries to open the door gently, but it always makes the loudest screech and no one’s ever fixed it. He cringes internally as his presence is announced. Realistically, Grandma is deaf to the world and she won’t realize Basil is beside her… but that thought is worse.
Looking up, he sees that Grandma isn’t alone. Basil’s intuition was right - in front of the egret orchid stands Sunny. The stiffness of Sunny’s stance is akin to a statue; he’s just as well gone as Grandma is.
Sunny makes no acknowledgment of Basil’s entrance. Regardless, anxiety trickles up Basil’s twitching fingers, and he finds himself stuttering out a greeting.
“Oh, Sunny… I didn’t expect to see you in here… Haha…”
Basil bites his lip. Of course Sunny would be in here. He had circled Basil for five minutes, staring at every piece of the living room, searching for reality. When he couldn’t find it there, where else would he go?
Basil had listened to the doors open and close while he stood on the carpet, lost. He’d realized what Sunny was doing before long. Basil has known this feeling before. He’s performed the same dance, stumbling around his house, desperately trying to catch onto something, anything that will ground him, anything that will clear the fog-
“H-How are you doing, Sunny?” Basil blurts. “Is everything okay with you?”
Sunny turns to Basil, stares at him blankly. Unresponsive. Blind. Basil’s finger taps faster, faster on his leg. Why are you looking at me like that? Are you mad at me?
“...Okay.” Basil’s brow sets. His mouth curls into a frown. Even him? Sunny won’t even recognize him? “N-Nevermind, then.”
Something inside Basil needs to scream. Something inside Basil yearns to weep. Basil does neither. He matches Sunny’s eyes, almost threatening him to say something, anything. What is logical thinking with a glare like that? How could Sunny, even as untethered from reality as he is, look at Basil like this if he doesn’t hate him?
Sunny’s chest rises and falls. The movement is so small that it almost looks as if he isn’t breathing. Basil feels like he can’t breathe, either.
The room is so, so quiet.
Basil forces himself to walk before his feet become his hands and the floor becomes his face. Something drips through the walls. Teeth gleam at Basil, hungry. Basil threatens them with a broken photo album and Polly’s garden salad.
Across the sludge lies Grandma. Something wraps around Basil’s ankle and nearly trips him. He chooses to stop moving. He stares straight at Grandma’s bed, unwilling to see how far Something has covered Sunny.
“Grandma can’t hear us, you know?” Basil’s speech is hollow. Grandma may never hear him again, certainly won’t ever reply. Less than a month. That was what the doctors said. Less than a month before the cancer completely overwhelms her. Can he tell Sunny how long she has? No, that’s more of a reason to hate Basil. “She hasn’t been feeling very well lately.”
Basil tears his eyes away from Grandma. She’s just making him feel worse, too. Everything makes him feel worse. The photo album burns in his arms.
“It’s already been four years, hasn’t it?” I never expected to live this long. I won’t live much longer. I don’t think you will, either. Sometimes I wish we were both already dead.
His glance shifts to Sunny, he can’t help it. Why aren’t you dead already? Do you plan for it, like I am? Is that why you’re here? Will you clean her grave, too, apologize to her? Or are you just here to tell me how much you hate me before we both kill ourselves? “It’s nice to see you’re still around… even if it’s only for a little while.”
…Will Sunny forgive him if he proves how much he cares?
There’s only one reason why he wanted the photo album back, anyway.
With agonizing steps, Basil approaches his friend. He tries not to throw up. Basil can’t be near Sunny without feeling blood dripping through his fingers and Something choking his neck. He shoves out the photo album. Just take it. Please, take it. Please, please, forgive me.
“Here. Take my photo album… I want you to have it.” But if Sunny’s killing himself, too, or if he still hates Basil after this, won’t Basil’s gift mean nothing? “...I’m trusting you with it, okay?” Basil tries to meet Sunny in the eyes, get his silent plea across. Sunny’s irises are vacant. “I just think… you could use it more than me.”
Sunny cracks the book open. Finally, his face flutters with the smallest sliver of recognition. Basil wishes that he was already dead. His mouth is dry.
He tries to sound chipper as he says, “A lot has happened since these pictures were taken.” Sunny flips through the photos. Basil’s pathetic attempt at optimism drops. “...Sometimes, it feels like it was all a bad dream.”
It’d be better if they never met. It’d be better if Basil was just dead already.
Sunny shuts the album with a soft thump, and his vision catches Basil’s. Does he, does he forgive Basil? Do you hate me? Don’t you hate me? Could you please just fucking tell me!?
“It’s hard to remember now, but…” Maybe if he explains himself… “I think… at the time.. I took photos of what I was most afraid to lose.” Why is he doing this? Why does he open these wounds larger, when he already knows Sunny will never stop hating him? “Flipping through this album, you can still see the good times… Maybe one day… things can go back to the way they were before.”
Once he’s gone, they’ll all be happy. If nothing else, he hopes Sunny will forgive him then. He hopes Sunny will appreciate Basil’s sacrifice enough to excuse everything else.
Basil continues to stare at Sunny. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m going to do for everyone?
And Sunny stares, and it’s agonizing. He hates this, he hates this so much. Something is blocking out his face. Something makes the world turn to eyes and jet-black ink. Please, just understand. Please-
Kel calls them both for dinner. Basil practically sprints away, tearing himself from Something’s grasp. His head pounds. He feels as though he’s bleeding, about to pass out, but only one of those is true. So, Basil forces himself into the hardwood chair, and he waits.
Soon. Soon, he’ll do what’s needed for everyone to be happy.
Soon, everything will be okay.
Stop ima go cry now(I love this fucked up traumatize family)
mamas boy? ? ?? aka i dont pay attention to any of the official lore they drop n i make up my own
We both loser baby!!!
I would have a question.
Have you ever wrote a 1P! character and a 2P! character meeting? For example, England getsto know 2P! England.
If not, maybe you could try it.
I had not before receiving this, so thank you for the ask!
I took your example literally because why not, plus it made the most sense to rationalize with magic, so here ya go.
"Foils"
Feat. The Magic Men
The first thing that Oliver noticed was that he was not in his world. The buildings looked wrong, the trees looked different, and the streets were entirely empty except for one man. This man, however, was the one he had been seeking, so maybe it wasn't all wrong after all.
"Oh, lovely! Hello there."
The other man whipped his head around, standing from the bench. The green eyes and sand-blond hair were unsettlingly similar in texture and shape to Oliver's, but that was alright. That was a sign that he had the right man.
"Are you alright there? You're not unable to speak, right? That'd be rather unpleasant."
"...just who are you?" The man finally spoke, approaching Oliver cautiously. He adjusted his own leather jacket a bit.
"Oh, y'know, only a simple kitchen witch. Oliver Kirkland, it's a pleasure to meet you!"
"Uh- Arthur, here." The man looked around, then back at the bright blues that were trained on him. That, plus the unnaturally pink blond of Oliver's hair made him wary. "Just where are we? I mean, besides just outside the tower of London."
"This is what your tower of London looks like? Hm... It's a bit, well, dreadful."
"Who are you to call this place dreadful, you look like you've dressed yourself in stale cotton candy!"
"Well that was a bit rude. I thought you would be more of a, what was it... gentleman?" He tilted his head and gave a cheshire grin.
"God damn it. So I see we look similar to each other, bar the clothes. Is that the only reason you're in my dream?" Arthur scowled. He had no choice but to hate it all.
"Nope!" Oliver grinned even wider, somehow. "I've actually come to get your advice on something. See there's a small problem I'm trying where I'm from, it's quite the bother."
"Well, go on?" How could Arthur refuse when this strange near-doppelgänger had contacted him in his mind.
"Do you know how to make people happy?" The question was the first of Oliver's words in this exchange laced with any sincerity. "The people where I live are always such dreadful pessimistic downers, and all I've ever wanted was to lift their spirits. Some of them, however, tend to call me insane for thinking so positively. Can you believe it?"
"Oh." Arthur looked dumbfounded. "Hah, figures you're an optimist. Let me guess, they all say that the world is awful because nothing good ever happens to them?"
"Yea, it gets a little depressing!" Oliver giggled.
"Well, that's how I think most of the time..." Arthur sighed, wishing he had something to think about that was even a little positive. "While I try to be nice for others, all I can think is that the world hates me. Which is bloody terrible, because I'm connected to it."
"Aha! We really are opposites!" Oliver leaned into his personal space. "I'd figured you might give me some marvelous insight about yourself, if you're supposed to be my direct foil!"
"Just how did you contact me anyways?" Arthur chuckled to himself, finding Oliver's constant schoolgirl-giggling infectious.
"Oh, just a little potion I put in my tea."
"...Maybe we're not complete opposites. That's exactly what I do with my own potions."
"Well, you know what they say! A spoonful of cinnamon-"
"I beg your pardon? It's sugar."
"Well, I could have sworn it was cinnamon. A spoonful of cinnamon helps the poison go down?"
"Well- I mean- Are you telling me that in your world, Mary Poppins is a murderer?" Arthur looked even more dumbfounded than before.
"Why, it's one of my favorite horror films. Howcome?" Oliver couldn't help his own confusion, wondering what Arthur's 'Mary Poppins' film was like.
"Bloody hell... Two sides of the same coin indeed."
"Yea, foils, like I said."
A moment of silence passed, the foils sitting on a bench.
"You're not a murderer too, are you?" Arthur asked quietly.
"Well, only when I need to be." Oliver replied. "Such as when a poor mortal disrespects something I value!"
"Ah... I don't have such loose criteria, I'm afraid."
"Oh, don't worry, poppet. Not all of us need to be monsters."
"I realize that, but I don't think you're a monster. You've proven to be kind. Flawed, and maybe a little trigger happy, but optimistic. That has to mean something if you live in a world of pessimistic arseholes like myself." Arthur let himself relax into the bench.
Oliver stared at him, the baby blue of his eyes welling up with unnecessarily tears. He blinked and wiped his face on his sleeve after a moment.
"Are you alright-"
"I really needed to hear that! Haha! Thank you, honestly." He didn't bother going into the complexity of it just yet. He wanted to appreciate being told he was kind for now.
"Well, you're a nice chap, so... you're welcome." Arthur smiled awkwardly.
Oliver almost wanted to talk about how cutthroat his world was. He wanted to talk about the suffering he endured, or the way he spited his world with a smile. He wanted to talk about the pain he watched others go through, just to make him feel like an idiot for trying to smile.
The alarm clock by his bed interrupted him, though.
"Seems I'll have to go soon." Oliver muttered. "So long, Arthur! Have a nice rest of your dream!" Oliver's cheshire grin returned, and he waved to his counterpart happily.
"Yeah, alright, I'll try." Arthur offered a smile in return. "You go and live your life, alright? I'd rather not make it a habit to peer into the life of my sparkly doppelgänger."
"Sparkly? I'll have you know that this is pastel!"
"Hah. Foils after all..."
It was at that moment that Oliver walked-no, skipped-away, fading into the horizon.
"..hah. He's bonkers."
...
Oliver woke up in the embrace of soft cushions he had made, along with the feeling of paper by one of his hands.
"Ahh... Good morning, my world. Magnificent day we're having already, hm?" His voice was soft, as it usually was in the morning.
It was at that point, James wandered into his room.
"Can I help you?" Oliver offered, smiling in spite of his disheveled state.
"It's three PM... What the fuck are you doing in bed?" He adjusted his sunglasses with an annoyed expression. The classic RBF of this particular Canadian.
"Well, since you've asked, I'd be delighted to tell you."
...
Arthur felt someone tapping his shoulder as he began to wake up, light flooding into his vision. It was startling enough to recall the odd dream, and even more startling to see that he'd fallen asleep at his desk. All in all, just an incredibly weird experience.
"Agh, what in god's name-" Arthur finally whipped around to see he whom had disturbed his slumber.
"Sorry, you just... It's three in the afternoon." Matthew, from behind him, pulled away. "I was just doing a wellness check."
"Right." Arthur forced himself to stand, stretching a bit. "Well, anyways... I had the most peculiar dream."
"Really?" Matthew blinked a bit, curious. "What was it about?"
"Well, there was quite the colorful character, that's for sure."
so my current TAV, Quiltrinn'eyl, met Halsin as a child when he was trapped in the Underdark. He honestly thought he imagined him until they met each other again during the main story. But he never did forget all of Halsin's stories--nor did he forget the hope that he gave him that perhaps there was a life for even someone like him on the surface.
Original: @creeps-and-pasta
I was playing a game with my younger brother and our characters loaded up like I was kissing him on the forehead, hehe TvT
(If anything, I played the role of Goob, and my younger brother Toodles)
A moment before DISASTER
A moment before DISASTER
A moment before DISASTER
SORRY THAT I'M LATE BUT REEEEEE I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP THEY ARE THE SILLIEST ON PLANET EARTH FLOWEY AND PAPYRUS BEST DUO EVER
Flowey and Papyrus.
Their relationship is…complicated.
Earth and hers ✨MODEL✨
*cough cough* Eclipse best woman *cough cough*
so im finally playing portal and i just beat portal 1 and am abt 6 hrs into portal 2 and this is what i have gathered so far
urghhh imagine gordon freeman and GLaDOS being able to relate to eachother because they were both put into situations they never wanted to be in and theyre both very traumatized and they both lowkey highkey cannot process death.
like if you know anything about GLaDOS you should be able to see that she doesnt process others dying like she's tried to kill chell so many times but yk if her ass actually died she'd be waiting there for her to respawn or some shit.
anyways ik GLaDOS would never ever have anything nice to say to gordon😓 but she doesnt even have anything nice to say to her wife (who doesnt know they're married) so Yeha idk goodnight tho
Something quick 👍🏼
(Not ship⚠️)