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passivenovember · 6 months

Text

(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag.

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington? What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away.

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up.

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?”

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image.

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #clothes sharing #fluff #love confessions

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dragonagitator · 7 months

Text

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Normally, Desmond is sent back in time to mess with things.

But what if it wasn't him?

Like, maybe Desmond couldn't go back in time himself but he could, in the split second he touched the apple, send someone else.

What if one of his ancestors went back in time? (Upon their deaths or something.)

I imagine a young Altair (who might be using a fake name) running around Italy with a tired Ezio following like a worried mother hen. (No, Claudia, he is not hovering he is just concerned) He ends up taking Altair under his wing (No, Claudia, it is not adoption.)

Or maybe Altair ends up in Bayek's time, Oh! Or Connor in Ezio's time. (Edward and Ezio would either get along badly or be too powerful if they were together in the same time period.)

These boys ruin the timeline and somehow save the world/future by simply stumbling through everything with no clue what's going on. and of course the power of friendship and really sharp blades.

Desmond and Clay are laughing their asses off in the afterlife as their ancestors destroy centuries worth of carefully calculated plans. (They might also manipulate things a little to help.)

And the time traveling ancestors for the most part, are doing the best they can in their current situation.

They are freaking the fuck out the whole time but are excellent at hiding it.

Poor Ezio.

(No, Altair, you can't kill that person because that have information we need, yes, I'm sure, Claudia don't encourage him.)

Well… How about we add some… ‘order’ to the chaos?

Desmond only had a fraction of a second to send his ancestor back in time.

And he hesitated.

He didn’t know which one to send.

Should it be Altaïr? Altaïr always felt like he would find out what to do even if he was given only minimal clues.

But Ezio was his prophet, the one he had been with the longest…

Ratonhnhaké:ton though… he deserves answers. He deserves the truth.

And when he woke up…

In that endless sea of gray…

The first word he heard were…

“’Morning. Which fucked up timeline do you want to hear first?”

Desmond sat and blinked as Clay stood before him, arms crossed with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Uuuhh…”

“Do you want to hear about how Edward Kenway managed to save his grandson and his grandson’s mother from the fires that should have killed her?” Clay asked before adding, “Oh… and he’s learned that his son’s a Templar by the way. At least, one of his old friends believe he’s actually Edward Kenway. If you think the Kenway Family Drama is bad when you were reliving Connor’s memories, then you gotta see the top tier drama that’s happening with Edward and Haytham right now.”

“Or maybe you want to hear about how Connor got kicked into Ezio’s time? He has no idea what’s happening but he got appointed as Federico’s combat instructor. He knows jackshit, by the way, about the tragedy that’s about to happen but, hey, at least Giovanni believes he’s an Assassin from another country or something. Oh.” Clay rubbed his chin as he added, “Connor doesn’t like how close Giovanni is with the Medici by the way. Lorenzo reminds him a bit of Washington or maybe he’s projecting, who knows?”

“Maybe you’ll like to know how your dear prophet is doing? Well, he’s doing badly in preserving the damn timeline that’s for sure. Let’s see… he got in touch with Alamut and managed to bluff his way into making them believe he’s the mentor of a destroyed Assassin branch from the crusader lands, he got the mentor’s permission to make his own branch in Levant, made a deal with said mentor to become a thorn in Al Mualim’s side and find out what he’s hiding, adopted Altaïr and even went as far as adopt Abbas because he believed he could ‘change’ things.” Clay was quiet for a moment before he added, “Oh and his branch is in the underground temple in Jerusalem so he has the Apple with him already.”

“Then there’s Altaïr.” Clay said with such… annoyance Desmond was actually afraid of what Altaïr had done. Clay rubbed the side of his forehead as he started, “See, they can only be transported into what counts as their past so we can’t have something like Altaïr being pushed into his future in Ezio’s time or something. And, since your only instruction to the Moraes was to ‘change the past’, they had to improvise with Altaïr considering he’s more or less the starting point. They had to pick another one of your ancestors who was important to your past and this world’s future so…”

“Altaïr’s been sent to the time of the Isu-Human war and his knowledge of the POEs and getting unconstrained access to the POEs at their full power… well… let’s just say…” Clay’s tone was drier than the desert as he said, “The Isus didn’t know what hit them.”

Desmond could only stare at Clay as he said.

“Soooo… which one do you want to contact first as their ‘patron’?”

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icanhearcolors · 1 year

Text

Close Encounter pt. 3

Hello beautiful people! I have so many ideas for a camp / long rest scene but we gotta collect the companions first so please enjoy the obligatory Gale and Lae'zel chapter.

pt 1 | pt 2

Word count: 3.8k

You must be seeing things. You blink and rub at your eyes but when you open them again nothing about the morbid scene in front of you changes. There’s a mind flayer on the ground ten feet from you.

You turn to signal as much to Astarion, who must have fallen behind on the way up the hill, and jump out of your skin when you realize he’s standing an inch away- if that.

“Good Gods you scared me!”

“You should be paying more attention. What if I were a blood thirsty vampire trying to sink my teeth into your pretty neck?” He teases.

You point to the clear blue sky with raised eyebrows. The sun is mercilessly beating down on you both. The waves of heat are visible if you squint hard enough, and sweat slicks your clothes to your skin.

“I’d say under normal circumstances that would be unlikely.”

“True. And yet,” he grins, leaning down and snapping his teeth so close to your throat you feel his breath kiss your skin. Some self preservation instinct kicks in and sends you flying before you even process what’s happening. You jerk so hard you surely would have hit the ground if he didn’t catch you by the arm, cackling with self satisfied laughter.

You rip your arm out of his grasp and glare.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Aw come on, it was a little funny.”

“Can we focus please? There’s a mind flayer up ahead.”

The amused look is wiped off of Astarion’s face, replaced with surprise and then accusation.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I’m saying something now aren’t I?” You hiss, returning your gaze to the twitching mass of purple amidst the wreckage up ahead that you believe to be a mind flayer.

“It looks injured. I’m gonna talk to it” You decide, more speaking your thoughts out loud than anything else.

“I'm sorry, did you say you were going to talk to it?! It doesn’t even have a mouth- get back here!” Astarion protests, but it falls on deaf ears.

You step toward the mind flayer, its tentacled face limp. This thing knows more than anyone how to get the worm out of your skull, and it is dying. Before you even decide to do it, your feet are carrying you forward. Astarion follows reluctantly behind.

The mind flayer is a disturbing looking creature. Purple in hue, covered in a film of viscous slime, oozing wine-colored blood. You turn to Astarion, a curious look in your eyes. You wonder if there are creatures even a vampire wouldn't drink from.

“I would rather starve.” He answers the question you hadn’t even asked yet, his nose wrinkling as he glares down at the monster.

That answers that.

You turn your gaze back to the mind flayer, and notice its one visible orange eye is rolling in its socket. You resist the urge to put your knife through the twitching pink flesh of its brain. You need information more than you need revenge. You take a few steps closer, just a foot from it now, and when you glance back at its face you see that orange eye is now focused unblinkingly on you. You can’t look away. It looks pitiful, the poor thing, mangled by wreckage and its own crushed armour. When it comes to creatures who consume the life forces of others, miraculous things can happen when they feed. Perhaps you could find someone to sacrifice to this dying creature. No- it only has minutes to live, you need to sacrifice yourself. It’s for the greater good. This mind flayer has powers beyond your understanding, and you are but a lowly mortal.

“Tav?” A voice somewhere very far away echos.

You ignore it. The fledgling that’s taken up residence in your brain would have turned you into a mind flayer within a few days anyway. Wouldn’t you rather save a life than create a new one? Your mind made up, you take another step towards its welcoming embrace.

An arm catches you around the waist. Someone pulls you backwards, away from the mind flayer. The tadpole in your brain wriggles violently in a way that causes splitting pain inside your skull. You wince and fall back into something, someone.

“It’s in your mind” They whisper, or shout, it reverberates in your pounding head regardless.

You wrestle with your battling emotions, the real contempt and the imposing compassion. The influence of the tadpole lessens now that you have been made aware of it, and you tamp it down to a dull throbbing at the base of your skull. You’re still connected to the mind flayer. You feel its disgust and hatred toward you. Similarly to what happened to you on the path with Astarion, your consciousness is ripped from your body and thrust into the mind of the dying monster. It is fantasizing about your subjugation. It wants to whip you and your companion until the skin is ripped from your backs while you bow before it. The rage you feel destroys whatever vestiges of influence the thing still had over you, and you use it to dive intentionally into the mind flayer’s intellect, searching for answers. You see through its eyes flashes of its story, its rebirth from man to monster, its care for the pool of tadpoles that now live in the brains of the ship survivors, and you feel its fear.

It is terrified of death.

You feel it’s consciousness slipping away quickly like sand through your fingers. Its brain is shutting down and misfiring. You have no idea how to pinpoint the information you’re looking for in the hurricane of foreign memories flashing before your eyes. Still, you are in control here. The mind flayer’s tadpole was meant to kill you, but as you stand over the dying illithid, holding what’s left of its life hostage in your hands, you realize that along with a time bomb in your skull it has gifted you a fraction of the power it wields. A sick sadistic pleasure fills you when you realize you could bend the mind flayer’s will to your own, just as it had done to you. The feeling terrifies you.

You let go of your grip on its thoughts and are flung back into your own body once more. The creature's eyes are unfocused and dim. With an angry shout you lift your foot and drive the heel of your boot into its squishy head.

It jerks, and then falls still- dead.

There is still an arm around your waist you realize, once you've come back to your senses.

You look down to find a pale hand, fingers splayed across your abdomen. You glance up at the owner of that hand, and find Astarion looking at the mess of a mind flayer carcass with a comically shocked expression. He glances at you, then back at the body.

“Perhaps I should do the talking from now on darling.”

You roll your eyes and step out of his hold, striding toward the path again, but as you turn Astarion grabs the strap of the supplies pack flung across your shoulder and uses your momentum to turn you back around again.

“Well hold on just a second! What was that?”

“What was what?” you bluff.

Astarion drops the strap of your bag to cross his arms over his chest.

“Oh so we’re going to pretend I didn’t just watch you offer your brain up for a snack, change your mind, practically pass out, then wake back up again moments later and squash the mind flayer’s head like a cockroach? Great. Carry on then.”

You shrug, nod, and turn on your heel.

“I was obviously being sarcastic!” He shouts, jogging to catch up with you.

“Are you mad at me for killing a mind flayer?”

“Quite the opposite, I quite enjoyed the little show you put on. I just want to know why I had to restrain you from letting that thing snack on your skull. If you want someone to take a bite out of you darling I guarantee you’d have much more fun with me.”

“I can’t imagine how being exsanguinated would be fun in any way,” you deflect. He takes the bait and smiles.

“No need to imagine it when I can show you,” his voice drips with a dark promise that heats your blood. Intrusive thoughts bombard you with images of him following through with that promise, and you dig through your pack for a bottle of water, taking several long sips. He tosses his head back and barks a laugh at your nervous reaction.

“This is fun. I’ve spent two hundred years hiding what I am, smiling with closed lips, hoping my charm or the dim lighting of a tavern was enough to distract whoever I was talking to from the fact that my eyes are crimson. There’s no reason to hide what I am with you, you already know. It’s nice to just be as I am.”

You stop so suddenly it takes Astarion a second or two to realize you’re no longer next to him. He tosses you a worried look over his shoulder and turns around to face you.

“Did I say something wrong?”

A warm feeling you’re not entirely familiar with but could get used to fills your chest. You’re honored to be the first person Astarion has been able to be himself with, even if that person is a relentless flirt with fangs. In a way, you feel the same. You have a lot of experience pretending to be someone you aren’t too, and Astarion seems to be bringing out a whole new side of you. Whether that's a good thing or not has yet to be determined. You have a feeling he wouldn't want you to make a big deal about this, so you say the first thing that pops into your head.

“They’re not crimson." You clarify when he gives you a confused look, "Your eyes I mean. They’re brighter than that, like this.”

You hold up one of the poppy-red colored health potions.

“What?” He asks in a low tone that you can’t quite decipher. The purple runes on the boulder you both stopped in front of begin to glow, but you don’t perceive any magical threat from them, so you return your attention to the vampire.

“Your eyes… they’re bright red. Startlingly so.”

Astarion places a hand on his chest. He looks absolutely devastated.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” He begs.

“I… I’m lying?”

“Oh this is bad. Really really bad.” He begins to pace a short line back and forth. You’ve never been so confused in your life.

“Do you not know what color your eyes are?”

He stops pacing and looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I don’t! I haven’t been able to see my reflection since this happened!”

He pulls down the collar of his white undershirt and reveals two perfectly spaced scars on his neck. A bite wound.

You nod, still confused.

“Right… that makes sense.”

“I can’t believe no one told me my eyes were bright red. I'm going to have to throw away an entire wardrobe.”

Your concerned expression drops instantly, and you close your eyes, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“For the love of- please tell me you aren’t freaking out right now because your eyes don’t match your outfit.”

Astarion doesn’t appear to hear you, he continues to pace, muttering to himself.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What?” You shout, and he finally stops pacing, startled to a stop.

You genuinely can’t tell if this is an elaborate bit, or if he’s being serious.

“You were enslaved for two centuries and the worst thing that has ever happened to you is that you found out your eyes were a slightly lighter shade than you thought they were?”

Astarion doesn’t break your stare, he holds your gaze and without any discernible hint that he’s lying or telling the truth he says,

“Absolutely.”

You shake your head in mute disbelief, and reach into the bag you took off one of the dead passengers from the beach.

“What are you looking for?” Astarion asks, peering over your shoulder.

“Holy water.”

“Now wait just a minute-”

“Ahem”

Both you and Astarion leap into action at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Astarion whips the short bow off his shoulder and knocks an arrow so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked.

You follow suit and pull your knife from your belt, turning to face the newcomer.

Your knife arm falls to the side, forgotten, when you take in the sight before you.

The glowing purple runes of the boulder were now spinning around a black hole, and sticking out of that void is a man’s arm.

An impatient and strained sounding voice, as if the owner is somewhere far away and has to shout to be heard, echoes out of the hole in the stone.

“I seem to be interrupting something, but I could really use a hand… anyone? Please?”

You sheathe your knife and step forward, glancing back at Astarion. He nods at the hand, his bow aimed at the swirling sigil. The unspoken message is clear. If anything goes wrong Astarion will shoot.

Comforted by that thought, you sidle up to the portal, an impulsive thought taking hold of you.

What if you gave him a high-five?

You slap the hand.

Astarion snorts behind you, and the owner of the hand wags a finger at you.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand please? I’m not sure how much time I have left before this portal closes, or what will happen if it closes while my arm is on the other side of it.”

With that in mind you abandon any notions of using magic to calm the sigil and just grip the hand in both of yours, pulling with all your might. There’s a terrifying moment when your grip slips, and you’re pulled partially into the portal as the owner of the arm falls back, but you regain your footing and try again.

This time it works, and a man launches through the portal a moment before it seals closed.

He lands half on top of you. Raising up on his arms, he looks down at you in wonder.

“You did it! I can’t believe that worked.” He laughs, sounding relieved.

“Ahem” Astarion clears his throat, much like the strange man did earlier.

His bow is trained on the stranger’s chest, his face passive, but in his eyes you see something darker than you’re used to seeing from him.

The stranger scrambles back on his hands, standing quickly and dusting the dirt off of his robe. It looks expensive, the fabric is a thick rich purple overlaid with brown leather around his shoulders..

Astarion shifts the bow into one hand, and reaches the other toward you, eyes never straying from the man you just saved. You take his hand and allow him to pull you up, dusting yourself off as well. The man waves awkwardly at you both.

“Um. Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

He lunges forward to grab your hand for a shake, but quicker than a snake strike Astarion’s bow is drawn again and aimed at his eye. He stumbles back, hands raised, and clears his throat nervously.

“Thank you for the rescue. My apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“No need to apologize.” You place a hand on Astarion’s shoulder and he reluctantly lowers the bow.

“I’m Tav. My friend with the trust issues here is Astarion. Don’t worry, he warms up quickly. Are you okay?” you ask Gale.

“You were on the nautiloid weren’t you?” Astarion asks before he can answer, and now that you take a closer look you can see that yes, Gale does look familiar.

You study him for a moment. His shoulder length brown hair is swept back, revealing a silver earring in one of his ears. Your eyes travel down to his well kept beard, and further to a fragment of a tattoo that starts at the base of his throat and ends somewhere under his robe. He looks remarkably put together for someone who just fell out of the sky.

“I was about to ask you the same. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region were you not?”

You and Astarion both nod.

“This insertee that we speak of, the parasite - are you aware that after an excruciating gestational period it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process called ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”

Astarion side-eyes you, his eyes seem to convey a message.

I don’t like him.

You give him what you hope is an admonishing glare in response.

Be nice.

Gale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance do you? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” He asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice and a flourish of his hand.

“Oh yes, Astarion here can knit with the best of them. Can’t you Astarion?”

The vampire twirls an arrow between his fingers and levels Gale with a bored look.

“Define ‘needle’.”

Gale to his credit only eyes that arrow for a few moments before moving on.

“Well that’s not exactly what I had in mind. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

You nod and smile at the charming, if not a little long winded stranger.

“I say the more the merrier. Astarion?”

Astarion turns to you, a bit taken aback.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Astarion looks at you, then at the grinning stranger in the purple robe, and sighs.

“Fine. You can keep the wizard, but if he has an accident I’m not cleaning it up.”

Gale furrows his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean? And how’d you know I was a wizard?”

“Because you smell like a library-” You clap a hand over Astarion’s mouth and immediately regret it when his eyes light up with what you know is the urge to bite your hand.

You pull away before he can make up his mind one way or the other.

“Ignore my pale friend here, he gets cranky when he’s hungry, we should get going.” you say to Gale in an overly cheerful voice, who is now looking at you two with thinly veiled suspicion of some sort.

“You two seem close.”

You laugh, a bit hysterically.

“Would you believe me if I told you he tried to kill me an hour ago?”

Gale looks the pale elf up and down. He's still deftly twirling an arrow in his hand.

"I would actually." He says.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just prepared to do so if you didn’t answer my questions.”

“Oh okay, you should have told me that sooner Astarion that makes all the difference.”

You begin trudging along the path before you, unlikely companions in tow.

Astarion nods, his expression serious.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

Gale walks in conflicted silence for a moment before curiosity seems to get the best of him.

"So if he tried to kill you, why are you traveling together?"

Astarion addresses the wizard before you can.

"Strange times make for strange companions Gale of Waterdeep."

The sun lowers steadily in the sky as you walk. It feels like walking is all you know how to do at this point. Gale and Astarion bickered for a little while over Astarion's refusal to call Gale anything except his full title "Gale of Waterdeep" but even that had died down as the heat and exhaustion caught up with them, too. Your legs burn and the temptation to turn in for the night plagues you, but you know the wilds of the sword coast are no place to sleep, and you repeat the mantra that has pushed you along these last few miles.

One more step. One more step. One more step.

You're brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.

Astarion holds a finger to his lips and tilts his head toward the rocky hill in front of you. He hears something. Someone.

"Zorra was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly." a masculine voice spits.

"The thing's dangerous. Leave it for the Goblin's to kill." pleads a feminine one.

You reach the top of the hill. Shock freezes your blood when you see the thing they are arguing about. It's your Githyanki ally from the nautiloid, suspended in a tiny cage several feet off the ground above two tieflings. Your tadpole squirms as she meets your eyes, and this time instead of swapping minds, your minds seem to connect. She stares at you intently. Her lips don't move, but you hear her next words all the same.

You again. Get rid of them.

Well. The Gith are not exactly famous for their manners so you suppose the abrasiveness is to be expected.

"And if it escapes? How will you- oh. It appears we have guests."

The man catches your eye as you step into view.

You raise you hand in greeting and nod toward the trapped Githyanki.

"Oh she'll escape alright. The Gith are horribly tenacious creatures. Incredibly dangerous too. We have some experience with them. Why don't you leave her to us and we'll take care of it."

You lie through your teeth. Astarion and Gale nod along, but the three of you make a rather odd little group. Astarion looks the part of a Baldurian noble high elf, except his pupils are red and there's dried blood on his hands. Gale, the human wizard, would have no reason to have any experience with the Gith. And you, well you look like you just fell from the sky.

The tiefling hesitates. He's obviously suspicious of the three odd strangers who have appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to solve his problems, but the desire to no longer have the problems wins out and he nods, turning to his companion.

"She's right. Let's go. We need to check out that blast."

Your curiosity is piqued, but you want them gone as quickly as possible, so you don't ask about the blast. They take off down the path.

You turn to Lae'zel, suspended in what appears to be a goblin trap.

"Enough gawking!" She barks, "Get me down."

Maybe you're gaining some confidence out here in the wilds, maybe it's Astarion's influence, but the next words out of your mouth shock you.

"Say please."

Astarion laughs.

Lae'zel is less amused.

She rears back as if you just insulted her.

"Never."

You shrug, turning back to Astarion.

"Those teiflings looked well fed. I'll bet you there's some sort of civilization near by."

"I'll make that wager." He turns towards you, hiding his face from Gale, and gives you a devilish watch this smile.

"What say you Gale of Waterdeep?"

"If you say 'Gale of Waterdeep' one more time I will incinerate you."

Astarion winks at you before rounding on Gale, hand over his heart in mock betrayal.

"That's rather rude Gale of Waterdeep. I thought we were friends."

"Free me from this cage before I slaughter you all like the chattering animals you are!" Lae'zel hisses.

You look up at her with a frown. She sighs deeply.

"Please" She mutters.

Recognizing that's as good as you're going to get, you raise your hand, aiming for the ropes that tie the base of the trap to the rest of the cage.

"Ignis!"

Flame shoots from your hand and snaps the flimsy ropes. The bottom drops out of the frame and with it an angry Githyanki.

She lands in a crouch and stands slowly as you approach. You have to admit the move is pretty badass.

"It appears the tadpole hasn't scrambled all of your senses. Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people possess a cure for this infection. I must find a creche, you will join me."

How curious. You know a fair amount about the Gith, and you're quite sure lending a helping hand to others is not written in their doctrine.

"And what exactly is a... creche?" Astarion asks.

Lae'zel turns her withering stare to him.

"It is many things. A hatchery, a training grounds, a shelter. Githyanki protocol is clear: When infected with a ghaik tadpole, we must report to a caretaker for purification."

Gale crosses his arms.

"A simple thank you for saving your life wouldn't be amiss"

Lae'zel glares at the wizard, and he takes an intimidated step back, raising his hands.

"Or not."

She smiles, satisfied with that response.

"You might as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms. The cure I offer you will suffice as thanks."

It seems almost too easy, a solution to all your problems stands before you.

"I'm not so sure about this." Astarion mutters, and Lae'zel scowls.

She doesn't get a chance to respond, however, before the sound of pounding footsteps somewhere further in the distance has you all pausing to listen.

That's when you hear the screaming.

--------

Tag tiiiime

If you asked me to be tagged and I didn't include you please let me know, and if you didn't asked to be tagged and you are ~ You're stuck here now and I'm not sorry :b

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

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@y2cade

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@kamartsu

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #reader insert

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year

Note

I found a goth speakeasy/coffee shop by my school that does a Thursday tabletop night where you can bring and run your own games and I was wondering if you had any recommendations for games you'd feel comfterble running with a table of strangers / mostly strangers? Thank you!!

THEME: Games to Run with Strangers.

Hello friend, fall comes upon us and I finally get around to answering your ask. Thank you so much for your patience! I’d definitely recommend bringing some safety tools to any of these games, since you’re playing them with strangers. That being said, I tried to pick games that were easy to pick up and quick to learn considering you’d probably want each session to be a standalone one.

I often run games with groups of people who don't know each-other beforehand, and I'd recommend allowing silliness to blossom when possible, even if you're running a spooky game. Let’s see what we can find!

Wizardry and Bureaucracy, by Oh Little Moth.

You are a member of the National Parks Service. You and your team would do just about anything to protect your national park. Also, you’re wizards. But all the magic in the world can’t save you from the slog of paperwork you have to endure as a civil servant. Your mission is to preserve your park and all creatures living in it, promote a love of nature and the environment, and also keep park visitors from seeing through the curtain separating the magical from the mundane.

Like most Lasers and Feelings games, this has quite a bit packed into one page. Easy character generation, a standard list of gear, an introduction where you collaboratively design your park, and the classic Lasers and Feelings mechanic that makes you automatically better at one thing and worse at another. The game is also set up to be raucously silly. This game includes the very good piece of GM advice that I adore for improv: ask questions and build on the answers. You don’t have to come up with the entire story yourself! Give your players the chance to tell you how exactly magic interacts with the local National Park.

The Children of Saturn, by Dan John Crowler.

The people of Petrikstein are tormented by a blood craving beast prowling the night. Players take the roles of parish appointed investigators on a mission to find and slay this alleged Vampyr, before it claims even more lives. Will they be able to find out the truth in web of lies, myths, and fear fueled superstitions? Play to find out!

The Children of Saturn is a neat little game that combines the Keys mechanic from John Harper’s Lady Blackbird with the graded 2d6 roll of Powered by the Apocalypse. You can accumulate dice to roll depending on whether the action in question is in line with your character, and failure increases the chances of success the next time you roll. The characters are pre-made to some extent, but the players will be able to make them unique through names, descriptions, and how they decide to role-play. This game also come with a small hex map for your characters to explore - and everything fits on one page! If you want something spooky and quick to prep, this is definitely worth checking out.

2400, by Jason Tocci.

2400 is lo-fi sci-fi. It’s centuries in the future, and it’s a decades-old modem that screams like a dying robot when it connects to the net. It’s a space ship with an FTL drive, artificial gravity, and a flickering display you gotta tap a few times to see the jump coordinates. It’s hacking something together with whatever cheap materials you have on hand, ignoring the rules until you need them, banging out something that might not sound finished, but definitely sounds fun.

The 2400 system is a stripped-down ruleset inspired by the OSR that has been used to create a number of hacks in different settings. Every time I’ve run a 24XX game, the session lasted about 2 hours, so it definitely has the ability to play quick. The original page for 2400 currently has over 20 different settings to choose from, so if one of them really hits off, you could come back with a different setting each week for your friends to play through!

The Great Soul Train Robbery, by Cloven Pine Games.

On the road to hell there was a railway line. An express train to the infernal city of Dis, crewed by furies and carrying treasure and souls to damnation. You’re going to rob it.

The Great Soul Train Robbery is a tabletop roleplaying game for 2–6 players and 1 gamemaster about Desperados robbing the train to Hell. Spin an allegorical Weird Western yarn as your sharpshooters, fiddlers, homesteader widows, and other Desperados attempt a Hellish train heist. Will you claim your prize from the train, or be overcome, damned, or broken by the heist?

This is probably the biggest Honey Heist - inspired game that I’ve seen to date. It’s a solid pitch, with very little background needed in order for your players to grasp what exactly it is they’re doing. If players aren’t sure what kind of character they want to make, all of the options have d6 roll tables to give your group a goal, your train some complications, and your character a name and a special item. There’s quite a few pages of GM advice in this, which is probably a big boon to anyone running the game, as it allows you to construct a more complex train than what you might have created out of the top of your head. I’d probably even just steal the train construction section to use for other similar games!

Hold Your Own, by Sharkbomb Studios.

It's a time and place, not unlike the one that you, the players, grew up in. A dark mirror of the decade of your youth. You play as a group of friends at the cusp of adolescence and life is hard. You're unpopular and unwanted. All you've got is each other.

But it comes worse: A strange menace threatens to devour everyone you know. And nobody wants to believe you, not the teachers, not the parents. It looks like it's up to you to save your home.

Fans of It and Stranger Things will probably like this game. This game uses small dice pools and four basic stats. You’ll be facing off against an antagonist called the Menace, a threat that the rest of the community believes doesn’t exist. The Menace will always be strong enough to provide a challenge, and as you play, you’ll learn more and more about what it is exactly that you’re fighting against. This is a great game for fans of suspense, and it’s also small enough to learn it within the few hours that you’d have at a coffee shop.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Something is Wrong with the Chickens, by Elliot Davis.

Koboldly Go, by CoffeeSnake Studios.

Faewater, by A Smouldering Lighthouse.

The Station, by pidj.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #games for strangers #quick games

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regular-gnome · 7 months

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HIII! The ask box finally decided to work for me- 😭 I have a few questions....again.

Have The Archivists faced any dangerous threats? (Not including the Titans)

Can Archivists been born from a Gamma ray Burst and not just a KiloNova?

Have the Archivists ever considered the existence of other Cosmic beings from different dimensions?

Does The Wayfarer still have the skull of the extinct species?

How old is The Anatomist? (Are they in the 100 thousands or maybe in the 1 million range)

Would they attempt to help Climate change, deforestation, humans driving animals to extinction, just planet destroying stuff in general on Earth?

All lot of questions- Sorry about that. 😓

I have no clue what the issue with the inbox is. Some of the asks also disappeared when I know for a fact I got them and was planning to respond later. But glad this one survived. Gotta say, it's a rapid ask fire, so I'll short-answer them

1. So yeah, there aren't many things that can hurt them, but celestial beings can damage each other. Encountering other children of the stars is rare, but if that happens, and it's difficult to predict what a semi-conscious mass of magic decides to do or another far more unstable collector, but they havent seen them for a long time. As for non-physical threats, at this point, they are mostly desensitized to mortals, but that's also something they found out: how bad people can be when they are scared of someone, like Belos with no remorse throwing Collectros disc to be forgotten. I'm pretty sure if he could ensure more to control a pretty powerful power source he would even if that powersourse was a kid and I dont belive he was the only person to ever have this approach

2. Maaybe? In my version, children of the stars are born from events where a big release of energy and magic occurs. Kilonovae typically release energy of 10^41 to 10^43 joules, GRBs typically release something around 10^44 to 10^48 joules. I think it would create a celestial being, but I'm not sure if it would really be a collector or rather some other celestial creature that is simmillar but not the same. I'd like to think that collectors are all born from the same astronomical phenomena, especially given how rare they are (and it plays a little bit into siblings motive), but I dont really have a good reason why it cant be Gamma Rey too

3. They are aware of other realms, but traveling between them is bit more tricky and they already try to keep up with everything that goes on in the galaxy they are currently in. I think there is some quirk to titan magic that makes the travel between dimensions really possilbe or at least more controlled

4. yup! they took more keepsakes but the skull is preserved in Way's corner of the archive

5. It's closer to billions in range. For collectors to be able to look over evolution, stars coming into existence, millions of years isn't enough. Anatomist was one of the younger collectors when the first archives were established and everyone split to their own, but it was still a long time ago. I imagine it takes a very long time for immortal beings to grow up. At the point of the story, they aren't even really mature

6. I know it's currently still a theory, but there are articles about Earth currently experiencing 6th mass extinction, the previous one being that one that took out the dinosaurs. The archivists' goal is to preserve life, and if it's dying, that mission is sabotaged. So yeah, they would probably try to stop it, but I don't think they'd take kindly to the one species that caused it so the earth after their interference wouldnt be the same

#ask #toh #toh archivists #c:i wayfarer

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whitebookposts · 2 months

Note

*skitters towards your ask box autistically* do you have any teth headcanons :3

OH MY GOD I JUST REALIZED ITS BEEN A FEW WEEKS AND I STILL HAVEN'T ANSWERED THIS. I AM SO SORRY I LIVE IN SHAME EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Anyway, Teth! Our deeply beloved forest cryptid. I have to be honest, I don't have as many headcanons about her as I do about some of my other fave elders, which is a thing I should work to change because Teth is awesome. But here are some I do have for now:

CAAAAT I think my good buddy @krillking has already spoken about Teth having cat traits in his animal elder post, but yeah. While in my headcanons, the animal traits are less defined, Teth still very much has cat behavior, like her irises widening or narrowing like a cat's, and she likes to sleep in the sun (which is trouble because. Forest is 90 percent clouds and rain. Thankfully she has the yard behind her temple and the sunny forest segment, though due to the whole thing happening in the kingdom, she could visit those comfort places less and less :<) and most importantly - purring. Which she is a bit shy about, so she rarely does it. If you get to catch her purr, it means that she trusts you enough to do it next to you, though she will still be embarrassed if you mention it out loud. (Also do not leave her anywhere near fancy furniture she will try to rip it with her claws. Yes, lamed learned it the hard way.)

TRANSGENDAAAAAAAAA Idk how to explain it but Teth is just so transfem coded. Goes by both she\her and they\them. It just makes so much sense that I don't even need any proof to know that, she has told me this herself. Gotta give @dogedepan for this one though since I stole this idea from her (like many others. Can't help it Chi your headcanons are awesome)

BEEFCAKE Let's be real, TGC is a bunch of cowards for making her slim. How can you look at this woman, who is a blacksmith, and can catch a giant flying hammer with one arm like it's no big deal, and not think that they have some impressive muscle? If you draw Teth buff I am forever in your debt. PLEASE I WANT TO SEE MORE BUFF TETH ART PLEA-

BESTIE Teth and Ayin are literally fated besties, be they platonic or romantic. Even in early concept art, Ayin was described as "Teth's friend" and held the key to her realm, just showing the level of trust between them. Their realms also work with each other really well, with Ayin being the main supply for Teth's factories which is what allowed her realm to grow. I like to think of them being childhood best friends, and that they have been by each other's side through the good and the bad. Remember that headcanon about Teth enjoying sleeping in sunny places? Prairie is perfect for that, and if she decides to take a nap while visiting it is no rarity for her to choose Ayin as a bed for that (soft). I don't really see em as romantic because I already ship Teth with someone else, but as an aromantic person, it's important for me to show intimacy like that even between friendships. Ayin is always there to lend an ear to Teth, being there for her through her worst, and Teth is Ayin's "EXCUSE ME THEY ASKED FOR NO PICKLES". Although, if we go to the sadder territory, their friendship did suffer a falling out during the turbulent era of the kingdom, with Teth closing off from everyone, including Ayin, too caught in her work and darkstone production to meet the ever-growing demands, and that led to Ayin also drowning in work to keep up the light supply. That is not to mention the different world views about light creatures and how worthy they are of preservation.

CRYBABY I just like to think that despite appearing cold and serious, Teth is a very gentle soul underneath the hard facade she forced herself to create due to her position. But if you get to know her you will find a very soft, shy, and caring heart that makes it easy for her eyes to water, be it a happy or sad occasion, even if she is trying to hide it. She is also a pretty big introvert and starts getting nervous during events with big crowds, esp if they have to do a speech as an elder or something. This gentleness and softness hidden behind a cold surface is one of the things that attracted Priestess to her, which leads me to the next point:

LESBIANNNNNN You may know this already but I'm a big PriesTeth truther, which is the ship between Priestess (the original elder of the Valley from concept art, never made it to the final game but there is a pretty popular fanon that she is the mother of the twins) and Teth. Again, I was enlightened about this ship thanks to @dogedepan she is literally the CEO of this ship god bless. I know it's a bit silly to ship her with an elder who never even made it to canon, but I fell in love with the dynamic of the "serious and cold at first glance but soft and gentle on the inside x extroverted, energetic and mischievous but deeply caring and kind" that exists between them. Priestess was Teth's firework, the bright and colorful in the grey and cold of her life. Never had the elder of the Forest loved someone like she did this bright, giggly, and open girl who managed to always make Teth smile. And it hurt all the more when Priestess was lost. After the death of her partner, Teth closed off completely, lost in her work, just to not feel the pain because the grief was overwhelming. She couldn't make herself go to her backyard anymore, because it was the connection between Valley and her forest and where the two met most of the time, being there was just too painful. Some ancestors say that the rain became much more frequent after this loss.

Milf As I ship priesteth, I also headcanon that Teth is the other parent of Sah and Mekh. Unfortunately, their relationship is very rocky. Priestess died when the two were very young, and due to Teth being too lost in her grief, she simply couldn't care for them, causing the two to be raised by other elders (mainly Tsadi, who is their uncle) and kicked around from temple to temple until they were old enough to live on their own. This caused feelings of betrayal and neglect in the two, and it came to the point that they rarely acknowledged Teth as their other parent anymore. And she feels too guilty before them to try and get them back because she believes she deserves this for her mistakes. But perhaps not everything is lost, and some of this relationship can be salvaged if she finally gets brave enough to reach out.

WORSTIE She and Tsadi have a beef. That's it that's the headcanon. It's not anything serious, it's literally a "cat and dog" type of beef, the two can't even tell when it started, it's just that both will use any opportunity to roast each other. Why do I have this headcanon? Because it's funny.

INSANE SITUATIONSHIP Let's just say that the situationship between Teth and Nesting guide still left the latter one staring at her pictures every day for hours.

Hobbies Other than being a blacksmith, Teth enjoys all types of crafts, like sculpting from clay or woodworking. Girlie doesn't need any IKEA, she can make all the furniture herself (I mean, the Nesting guide had to learn this from someone)

Anddddd.... That's all for now! There's probably more headcanons but I can't remember them all rn. I hope these were written good enough and sorry for any grammar mistakes! AND SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT SO LONG I PROMISE I DIDN'T IGNORE YOU DJHGDJGDJ Teth is best forest mama, and I really should put more thought into her, thank you for sending me this ask so i can brainstorm about this gal.

#sky: cotl #priesteth #priestess x teth #priestess my beloved #teth #priestess samekh #ayin #tsadi #sah #mekh #samekh #samekh twins #forest elder #wasteland elder #valley elder #valley elders #valley twins #prairie elder #valley priestess

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sneakyparsnipslicer · 8 months

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dude help please! This twink kidnapped me!? And he is wanting to swap bodies with me since I’m so huge and muscular and hairy!

Hmm, this is a tough situation. Guessing the twink won't take no for an answer?

You'd met him on a night out right? Out clubbing with the mates and that was where you saw him, at the bar as you were getting the round. Pretty sure that's where you introduced him to me and the others. I was worried since you hadn't texted letting us know you got home safe. But whatever ropes he bound you with you broke free of. You must have, that's how you managed to text me right? Good to know you haven't lost your touch Houdini!

I don't suppose you remember where he took you do you? Can't really send the police if we don't know where you are. Keep your wits about you and do what you can to stall him. You've got this

You read the text and sigh, it's reassuring to know that someone knows you're in this predicament. You pocket your phone and look around the dimly lit room. It's gotta be a basement right? You haven't seen that creep since last night, pretty sure he spiked your drink, the bastard.

In the distance, up the steps you hear the sound of footsteps and the turning of the key in the locked door. The twink was coming to check up on you! You quickly place your hands behind your back and sit patiently as you hear him steadily walk down the steps. You watch cautiously as he arrives at the bottom of the stairs. The two of you stare for a moment and he swaggers towards you.

"Good to see you're awake" he says calmly, walking into the moonlight shining from the window above you. He's cute, but by God do you hate him and what he wants.

He looks like a TikTok fuckboy, but something about him makes your skin crawl. There's more to him that meets the eye and with his earlier proposal of making you into a bodysuit, you just know you're not his first victim. For a twink, he's quite intimidating.

"Have you considered my proposal?" he asks softly. You clear your throat, indicating that you can't talk due to the gag in your mouth. He approaches and unties the gag. You take a deep breath of musty basement air and cough.

"Catch your breath" he says as he walks over to sit on a nearby box. Your breathing calms, you lick your dry lips and look to him searchingly. He sits there unphased.

"Why are you doing this man?" you ask croakily. The twink looks to the window and sighs.

"It's become a passion of mine, collecting bodysuits of men I admire, I've been collecting for quite some time now. Once in a while I see someone so drop dead gorgeous and get the urge to just BE them, you know?" he said, romanticising the idea.

"So you just bag us and wear us? What the hell? What about US? I want to live man" you say sadly, tears begin to well in your eyes.

"I understand the sentiment, but consider this; all that work you put into that godly body of yours, eventually it'll age and wear and that'd be such a tragic waste" he says, shaking his head disapprovingly. You look at him shocked. He only cares about how you look now?

"So what? You kill me and wear me like clothing and somehow that's better than me continuing on with my life?" you ask. He considers this but still doesn't show any notion of reconsidering.

"Beauty is a fleeting thing, but I can preserve it for all of time" he gloats, smiling cruelly at you. You want to get up and shove him off that box but you remember your hands are meant to be tied, so all you can do is glare.

"Oh come on now, don't scowl! You'd be the pride of my collection! Those arms, your muscles, and oh that ass of yours!" he whistles and laughs. He looks off to the side. It's then that you look to the stairs and notice me sitting up there. Our eyes meet and I press a finger to my lips. Don't give us away!

You hang your head sadly.

"Fine, just get it over with" you say. This snaps the twink out of his laughing fit. He looks at you surprised.

"Is that a yes?" he asks excitedly. You nod.

"You'd better make it worth it" you say, spreading your legs. He smiles and jumps off the box, walking over to you.

"Believe me, my Bear friend, I will" he vows, crouching and holding your jaw in his hands. He looks deeply in your eyes and locks lips with you. At first it's kissing with tongues but then he moves his hands down your neck to your burly shoulders and holds on to them tightly. Suddenly he breathes in sharply like a vacuum cleaner. He's sucking your soul out! It doesn't last long mind you, he soon falls off when I whack him over the head with a shovel.

"Sorry about that" I say, panting. You look to the unconscious twink.

"Ah, it's ok. He sucked" you chuckle. I shake my head, grinning and offering a hand so you can pick yourself up.

"Did it take you long to find this place?" you ask as you dust yourself off.

"I tracked our texts, turns out he's about a mile's drive from the nightclub. Not very smart. Let's get out of here so we can go make a statement to the police" I say as you hurry up the stairs, me following close behind. Whoever this guy is, he's getting justice for his past victims and you get to keep your skin fitting tightly all over.

#bodysuit #gay

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sulky-cabbage · 3 months

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AU: Where Sukuna Wins

Part 2

Part 1 here

This au makes me go crazy I had to make a part 2

Especially after reading your tags @fortunatelyenchantingtaco

I couldn't write this post until now cuz I was kinda busy but OH MY GOD

Yessssss you get it

I'm having trouble imagining what would Sukuna be thinking after all those centuries though...

Would he realize that he's in love and that he got it bad?

Or would he deny it and make excuses?

(both options are sooo good but I prefer the latter, since he's a curse and all that... he's constantly cursing himself; this man is doomed, he can't have nice things. his worst enemy is himself)

I also wonder what would the people make of this. Like, why is Sukuna protecting babies with blue eyes when doing so would surely lead to his demise??? They must find that strange. They must believe he is suicidal or that he is looking for a worthy opponent (they are not that far off), or that he is incredibly arrogant and believes he can defy fate and crush their hopes by killing their symbol of hope.

And yes, imagine Satoru hearing all of that... his perception of Sukuna will undoubtedly be influenced by hearing all of that while growing up.

And I wonder what Uraume has to say about this... They must think that Sukuna lost his mind due to boredom, they gotta be a little worried...

God, oh god Imagine the day of Satoru's rebirth. (Make it nighttime for a more dramatic effect.)

As Sukuna gets ready for bed, he senses the shift in the universe, and then Uraume sees Sukuna bolt out of the window and sprint frantically in the direction of the closest village. He burns it to the ground while laughing maniacally. (end of ep 1 style)

(Bonus points if he shouts some dramatic, unintentionally romantic shit with the fire burning all around him, as we hear the screams of the villagers)

He was feeling ECSTATIC.

It's like he's the one being reborn

He hasn't felt this way in centuries...

His last memory of experiencing anything remotely similar was from a few centuries ago when he was ravishing a village and he heard a villager shout at him about a powerful person with blue eyes that shall be born soon to free humanity from his curse.

That had surprised him...

After all, Gojo Satoru had been forgotten for hundreds of years. All those who knew him were already dead. It was only he who was preserving Satoru's memory.

You can only imagine his astonishment upon hearing a random peasant bring up gojo Satoru after hundreds of years.

He abruptly stopped what he was doing, approached the man, and inquired as to how exactly he had learned about this. The man, who was obviously terrified, informed him that he wasn't meant to tell. Sukuna answered that if he tells him, he will spare his life and the lives of his family; if not, he will kill him and the rest of the villagers.

The man informed him that it is a prophecy that the elder shamans at Jujutsu High had predicted. He said that it was meant to be kept a secret because they were worried about what Sukuna would do if he found out, but somehow this information got leaked (probably because people are desperate and needed some solace), and now this villager blew everything out of frustration and anger.

Sukuna was in a VERY pleasant mood after that so he just left him alive and left the village alone.

He may or may not have gone to Shinjuku after that

The prophecy became even more widespread, he began to hear about it more frequently, and it lifted his mood every. single. time.

He gets even more excited as the decades pass by, Now that there are mentions of Gojo Satoru around him (even if he isn't mentioned by name), he feels as if Gojo Satoru is actually alive.

Gojo Satoru isn't just a memory anymore.

He's a prophecy

He's a threat

He poses a danger

He's a promise

He's an assurance.

From the cosmos itself.

A universe-given gift to him.

This promise is what makes his days worthwhile. He now has something to anticipate.

So yeah back to present time..

Sukuna just felt the shift in the universe and just finished destroying some village, including blue-eyed babies, he doesn't need to spare them anymore..lol

And now...

he's at a loss about what to do.

Should he go and find the whereabouts of Gojo Satoru to train him? (calm down, Sukuna, he's still a baby omg) Or Should he leave it to fate and wait for Gojo Satoru to come for his head?

And How long would that take?

He begins to wonder if the prophecy got influenced by the people's desire for salvation. Perhaps the original prophecy was about someone who would be comparable to him and cause him problems in battle, and people simply took it and ran with it, believing it to mean he would be overthrown...

Surely, it is quite a rare enough occurrence for someone to match his strength, so much so that it warrants a prophecy.

After all, Gojo Satoru lost to him last time, Why should this time be any different?

(He will not get his hopes up)

In the end, Sukuna is and always will be the strongest. Satoru would need to receive training directly from Sukuna in order to have any chance of surpassing him.

So yes... he will train Gojo Satoru to make sure he becomes the strongest version of himself...

(yeah that's the only reason... And definitely not because he missed him and wanted to see him right now even if he was still a freaking baby)

(Sukuna bringing Satoru to his house is also very Pharoah-ish)

But there would be a little problem...

If Satoru lived with Sukuna he wouldn't experience loneliness nor would he know the depth of people's suffering.

Sooo yeah... I kind of want them to not meet that often, because I want Satoru to live amongst regular people, and feel the depth of their suffering (and witness the precise harm that Sukuna is causing to everyone), while also feeling lonely and different from regular people.

So maybe the night that Sukuna goes to snatch baby Satoru, he ends up making some kind of deal with the Gojo clan regarding Satoru...

he agrees to let Satoru live with them and and in return they will name him Satoru (omg) and teach him the clan's secret techniques to make him stronger, and send him to Sukuna from time to time after he becomes an adult to train with him and see if he's ready for the fated battle...

Imagine Uraume's reaction upon learning that "Sukuna-sama" is actually instructing the strongest human sorcerer how to murder him 😔

Now What if Sukuna handles Satoru a little more cautiously during training? And attempts to teach him ways to avoid the world cutting slash...

He vows to himself that he will not use the world cutting slash against Gojo Satoru, he has to find another way to defeat him.

If he killed him in the same manner, it would be boring (yeah, that's definitely the reason; it has nothing to do with the trauma of missing Satoru for centuries and being so bored that it could drive a man insane. Yup, nothing to do with it AT ALL... even if It has gotten so bad to the point of making him completely unable to kill Satoru again. He suspects his brain will NOT allow his body to move and do it. But all will be more clear during the real battle so he just doesn't give it much thought)

And Satoru...

oh dear..

Imagine living your life with everyone expecting you to defeat the king of curses that has been looming over Japan for centuries, and he's also expecting you to defeat him and is training you himself????? Like??? Helloooo???

And the insane elders of his clan are clearly only using him for power; everyone keeps calling him Satoru Satoru, they keep saying he's this Satoru guy, they EVEN NAMED HIM SATORU??? (he's Unaware that it was Sukuna's request).

And he would definitely deny being Satoru due to his rebellious nature T-T

But they keep telling him that when he grows older, he will unlock limitless, have purple, and so on...

So as he gets older and everything unfolds exactly as they predicted, he begins to doubt himself...

And if his "Satoru" identity is the only reason he has this much power; This elevates the question: "are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest" to a whole new level 😭😭

(It seems that he will experience an identity crisis in every universe, huh?)

Given that Satoru would be quite young and undoubtedly beneath Sukuna in skill, it would be only natural for him to look up to Sukuna, who would essentially be his teacher, teaching him how to kill him. Which would leave Satoru bewildered as hell.

And After training with him for years Satoru starts to sympathize with Sukuna and feel like he's the only one that understands him, (his savior complex begins to take hold)

and Satoru's like: uh oh am I falling for the king of curses??? I've been training all this time to kill him, I don't want to fail everyone... (This man will never be free)

So he's torn between saving humanity or saving this curse (by reaching to him and teaching him love and oh boy here we go again history is repeating itself)

So he tries to reach Sukuna in his own way, and Sukuna clocks him right away😭😭

(And he's like you really haven't changed... Albeit he seems pretty pleased about it)

And then he starts monologing about how worthless love is, etc. etc. (He doesn't sound as convinced as before🤭)

Bonus points if we have Uraume in the back staring at the camera like in the office.

So Satoru figures out that Sukuna is too far gone and can not be fixed, but he will continue trying to reach him anyway. (There will be some cracks in Sukuna's walls but he's stubborn as hell)

Nevertheless, he's made up his mind to kill him if necessary. However, he made the decision that he will die along with him. (the prophecy would come true after all; it's fate; there's no avoiding it; Sukuna will die.)

And he doesn't want to remain alone after Sukuna dies.

Now would Satoru inform Sukuna about this plan of his?

Probably not, I want them to have communication issues because it's more fun that way🤭

I'm at a loss for what words they would say to each other before they die...

Especially when Sukuna realizes that Satoru is gonna die with him💔

My mind simply goes blank...

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo Satoru #ryomen sukuna #sukugo #gosuku #my post #They are both crazy your honor #I feel like I could talk about this au for days I have so many ideas #Hell I might even make a part 3 someday #And yet I can't write this into a fic smh #hashtag wish i could write #had to write Gojo Satoru every single time Sukuna mentions him he always calls him by his full name idc #i think it's cute as hell #it pains me not to give them a happy ending #it's ok i'll just imagine an au with the same concept except that gojo manages to reach Sukuna and they live a happily ever after 🤝🏻

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truepsychicbedtimestories · 2 months

Text

How to Play Old Flash Games From Your Childhood!

If there's one great thing that came with being a kid who grew up around the 2000s, it's all the Flash games from all sorts of websites. However, with Flash becoming obsolete by 2020, Flash games eventually fell into obscurity as more and more websites decided to use HTML5 rather than Flash, and more importantly, older Flash games risked becoming lost to the sands of time.

However, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's the Flashpoint Archive! The Flashpoint Archive is a program and community project aimed at preserving games and animations from all over the Internet. It's also a great way to reminisce about all the nostalgic kids' games that have luckily been archived over the years. This post will serve as a simplified explanation of how to install Flashpoint for the anyone wanting to play Flash games from their childhood.

Some things to note: the minimum system requirements for Flashpoint are Windows 7 or higher, although there are workarounds available if you have a Mac, Linux or Chromebook. As my laptop is a Windows 11, for the sake of conciseness I'll just go over the installation procedure for Windows devices.

Step One: Go to the Flashpoint Website

A quick Google search will helpfully redirect you to the Flashpoint Archive website.

I'd recommend going through the FAQ, manual, and Wiki before proceeding further if you're a little more curious on how Flashpoint works or if you're a little confused.

Step Two: The Downloading Process

On the home page, you should find a big button that says "Download Flashpoint", so make sure to click on it.

Alternatively, you can click on the "Downloads" button on the menu on the left-hand side, but both redirect to the same page, so I wouldn't worry about it.

Here, you can find the download page for Flashpoint, and you'll be presented with two options to download; Flashpoint 13 Infinity and Flashpoint 13 Ultimate.

Infinity is generally recommended for casual users, as Ultimate is primarily used for archivists and data hoarders (plus, Infinity will have a lot less strain on your computer's space).

All you gotta do is click on "Download Installer", and you should be smooth sailing from there! The Zipped copy is also an option just in case the installer isn't working.

Step Three: The Installation Process

Go to your downloads, and click on the installer.

There, the installer tutorial will quickly go over the basics, such as what you want to download as well as where.

The installation process will take a while, so in the meantime, feel free to kick back and grab a snack while you wait.

Once it's all done, TA-DA! You got Flashpoint now!

Make sure to update it once you're done installing, though. Flashpoint adds all sorts of new games all the time, so it's a good idea to double-check when you need to update every now and again.

Once you're done, that's about it! Enjoy your walk down memory lane!

(Heads up! This is by no means a defacto tutorial on how Flashpoint works. The wiki, manual, and FAQ will have better answers to any questions you may have. This is just a simple guide made for those who're not familiar with the program.)

#old web #2000s #nostalgia #agere #sfw agere #age regression #age regressor #agere blog #agere community #agedre #age dreamer #age dreaming #sfw age regression

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gooch-cancer · 2 months

Text

Steven Meeks x (GN!) Piano Player! Reader

In which: You are a church pianist for the Welton church whose gentle melodies caught the attention of Steven Meeks

A/N: AGGHHHHH IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY. I'm so exhausted but I love this story so I've been writing during any piece of free time I have. I love being in control of when yall kiss muehehehe. dw i'll probably cap it at around 9-10 bc I also have school coming up and i'm taking so many aps this year. In this chapter it's just some good ol yearning! prev chapter here:

Chapter 3:

That Friday morning Meeks was an anxious mess, as pure usual. If it couldn't get any worse they had to orally present their poetry to the class. He felt sweat run down the back of his neck as he looked out amongst his peers. He felt their eyes on him, staring, mocking. He looked over at Todd who often felt the same as he did, Todd just gently nodded. He glanced over at Mr.Keating who just gestured him to continue.

He cleared his throat, almost a death grip on his paper as he read out the poem. His poem to you,

"When I am kissed by you

It's like life grows around us

Giving us both breath and light

The plants grow

It's natural amenities preserve us

Our bodies will never rot"

By the end he was shaking, he looked out at his classmates, a lot of them were giggling at the thought of Meeks having a crush. Mr.Keating raised his eyebrows, "Interesting..." he slowly walked toward Meeks. He turned his body back to the class, "Does anyone want to guess at what Mr.Meeks's poem is about?" One of the boys raised his hand, he was large a football build with a buzzcut, he snickered before answering, "So like basically you guys made out till you died?" Keating nodded, "Yes I suppose that's a rather simplistic way to look at it,"

As Keating spoke Steven couldn't even pay attention. He was so embarrassed he just stared at a spot of the wall his face pink until he heard Mr.Keating telling him to sit down. He sat down and took a breath, he heard a whisper and turned around to see Pitts giving him a thumbs up from across the room. He smiled but he still held his head in his hands while his classmates presented their poems.

At dinner that night Steven was mostly silent, picking at his food. His friends conversed around him. Pitts, who was sitting beside him, noticed the look on his friend's face and leaned forward looking at him with worry. "You doing alright Meeks?," he raised an eyebrow,concerned for his friend. Meeks sighed and shook his head, smushing the peas on his plate with his fork, "Wish I can say yes Pittsy,"

Pitts turned his body toward his friend, giving him his full attention, "Well what's the matter? If this is about english then-," Meeks cut him off, "No- no it's not that..." Pitts looked at him confused for a second before realization dawned on him, "Ohhhh," he replied his mouth in an 'O' shape, "You miss them don't you?" Steven nodded without looking up, still absentmindedly picking at his food. Pitts let out a low whistle and smiled, "Meeks got it bad don't he?" Steven glanced up at him, he wanted to lie and say it wasn't true but there was no denying the growing blush on his face.

The next day came, just this one more day until he could see you again, he thought. He lazed in his bed daydreaming of you, of holding you, of laughing with you, and which in the back of his mind he desired the most, kissing you. Charlie, Todd, and Neil wandered into his dorm, Pitts was nowhere to be seen, something about a chem test. Steven laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling while the three boys looked down on him. "Meeks...," Charlie chuckled, "C'mon...," Steven turned his head and squinted at him, he didn't even bother to put his glasses on. Neil shrugged, "You gotta get up man," he smiled at Meeks, not like the teasing smile Charlie had. It was friendlier like he was trying to encourage him.

Todd remained silent but even in his facial expression it was apparent that he agreed. Meeks sat up in bed frustrated, "I can't stop thinking about them," he ran his fingers through his hair, "I- I feel nauseous," Charlie widened his eyes, his smile growing bigger, "Woah...Meeks got bit by the love bug, and we get to see it finally happen!" he exclaimed. Meeks glared at Charlie, "Shut up..." he muttered and fell back into his original position. It was by then that Neil was having none of it and he grabbed Steven by one of his legs, trying to pull him out of bed. Steven shouted in surprise and he began clawing at his bedsheets,desperate to hang on.

Unfortunately, this only gave Todd incentive to help as he grabbed Meeks's other leg and Charlie his torso. Eventually Steven was on the floor his blanket on him as he fell on his back, his face twisted in shock and horror. He looked at the three incredulous, "Wh- why would you-" Charlie cut him off, "Cmon don't make us pull you to your feet as well..." In response Steven quickly stood up and smoothed out his pajamas. Neil laughed, "We're having a meeting tonight in the cave, that is if you're not too lovesick to join us,"

Steven grabbed his glasses and put them on before shaking his head, "No of course I'm able to," Neil nodded approvingly, "Good we're leaving at 9, now go get ready, you can't just be looking like that all day," He gestured to Meeks plaid pajama set earning a snicker from Charlie. Steven nodded and waved his hand, "Ok ok now get out," He ushered them out of his dorm room and slammed the door behind them. He stood in the middle of his room holding his head as he plotted his next move, he missed you so much it was sickening.

Later that night, Meeks was there with the others flashlights in hand as they trekked through the forest. He mindlessly followed his friends to their meeting spot, dazed. The night was bitter and he could hear the leaves crunch under his feet as he walked. His mind went back to you, how beautiful your hair was, the way you laughed. He absentmindedly smiled at the thought, his face heating up despite the frosty atmosphere. "Meeks!," he heard someone hiss, he turned toward the noise. The boys were now outside their cave and Pitts was gesturing him to come on.

He nodded and followed them in, sitting in their respective spots. Neil stood up and cleared his throat, "Welcome to The Dead Poets Society," he opened his book and began to read the excerpt he always started the meetings with. Steven stared at Neil whilst he spoke, he soon came to the realization that Neil always had quite the flair for the dramatic. It was impressive to him, the confidence and how suave he was. He would be so perfect for theater, and then his thoughts back to the conversation he had with you.

There really was no arts department at Welton. Not even a simple drawing class. It disappointed him when he thought about it because what would he be like if he had access to such things? Would he be any good? He sighed and frowned, the thought began to get to him as he daydreamed what could've been. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Charlie, "Hey..." Charlie smiled at him, "Put your jacket down for the picnic," He gestured to the ground, and Meeks shook his head, taking it off anyway. "Wh-what why does he have to be mine?" he complained as he put it on the ground.

Charlie shrugged, "You were sitting the nearest to me," When the jacket was smooth on the ground the boys began to contribute their offerings. Various pieces of stolen dining hall fruit, cookies, and a singular Milky Way all thrown onto his jacket. He stared down at it and groaned, "I'm gonna have crumbs for days," he looked over at Charlie, "If I get ants because of you..." Charlie shook his head, "Relax!" he chuckled,"It's all in good fun, it's your turn to read anyway," Steven turned to his other side as Knox handed him the book. He flipped through the pages and found one that interested him, 'Love Philosophy' by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

As he read it out, his mind again jumped to you. He gradually got louder and louder until he shouted the final line, jumping up from his seat ,and throwing his arms out, "IF THOU KISS NOT ME?" only to be met by cheers and whoops and hollers. He panted, his heart beating with passion as he handed the book to Charlie still standing. He ran his fingers through hair and swallowed before sitting back down. His heart rate slowly decreasing. When he shouted that final line he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. His mind unclouded as an idea began to form, he looked around the cave as Charlie read out his part eager to share the idea and to get some opinions on it.

As Charlie finished out Steven took the opportunity, blurting out the idea he'd been keeping,"What if I gave them that poem I wrote for english class?"

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passivenovember · 1 year

Text

When Billy Falls in Love

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“--Right--”

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #fluff #clothes swapping #love confessions #idk what this is #i'm just feeling very In Love

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