#And while rn I can manage without a cane for the most part

[thefatfemme]

Shout out to fat people with chronic pain. Use that mobility aid, get yourself a tasty treat, and don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks. Your body deserves love and care no matter what!

[maydaymemer]

Hitman 3 - First Impressions w/ Spoilers

I’m posting this just after I’ve beaten Hitman 3, and I wanted to do something productive with my experiences playing it both for when I look back on my first time playing this game and also to do something more than just play video games like a degenerate

If you want my basic yay or nay opinion I think Hitman 3’s great, maybe the best of the trilogy but I might just be burnt out on replaying 2’s levels and am not thinking right, but keep in mind this is after playing thru each level once. Not to say these levels don’t make good or bad first impressions for a reason but I know not to trust myself when I say I enjoy or dislike something especially a Hitman level after only a little time with it. Keep in mind I didn’t like Sapienza and liked Colorado at first, but at the same time my opinion of Whittleton Creek and Marrakesh either haven’t changed much or only gotten more positive with time. So it’s a roll of a dice

Anyway I’ve written down my notes on every level I’ve played right after finishing it, which I’ve put below. There are going to be spoilers of elements like mission stories (which I dabbled a little bit in) and objectives and I’d recommend going in as blind as possible with Hitman. I don’t mind spoilers myself but I think you feel smarter when you stumbled on half the shit you do in these games

Dubai: very strong opener. I think that some of the shortcut design, one of the few new features of 3, kind of limits up front exploration but I still really liked the verticality and how climbing up pipes could take you up like two floors. Targets seem to have the appropriate amount of blind spots, tho I’m not sure how I’d tackle Marcus in that big open area. To me this level reminds me of House of Cards but better, out of the other first levels of the trilogy (Paris, Hawke’s Bay and Dubai) I choose this as my favourite so far. I killed Marcus by snapping his neck after knocking him out in that white room near the elevator, I got caught and killed some witnesses only for Omar to find the bodies. I killed Carl by throwing him off the building, sacrificing his waiter to do so

Dartmoor: Actually managed to SA this one, I didn’t go forward with the murder mystery just yet as I wanted to see 1) if it could be cheesed since it’s a one target mission and b) to see how well it holds up without doing that. To see if it’s just a gimmick or not. Turns out? Pretty darn well. I did encounter some of the stuff I didn’t like about the Hitman 2 AI with Alexa, namely if you have a weapon out and she gets a slight glance at you she goes into lockdown and while trying to cheese her under a chandelier when she goes to meet with you/the detective. However, it was at least consistent this time until in WoA2, she never fell for me trying to cheese it whereas if this was Hitman 2 it’d work 50% of the time and drive you mad. I did manage to get her under a chandelier, because in this game’s case personal bodyguards are easier to get rid of and there’s usually only one if they have one so I was proud of that. I love doing non-laid out kills in Hitman, one of my favourite things. I love the level design here, the mansion is big and brooding and so is Alexa’s route it seems. I loved finding out the secrets like using the cane to open doorways and using the camera to find pieces of the code for the Edwards safe. I got the 9, 7 and 5 ones and was going to brute force the code but turns it the solution was 1975. The level takes atmospheric cues from Beldingford Manor but I got real Paris vibes from the verticality which I loved

Berlin: I thought this mission wouldn’t impress me with its gimmick but it’s my favourite so far. The atmosphere and rave soundtrack gave me chills, and THIS is how you do target AI. There are a total of eleven or twelve potential targets I think, and all of them use guard AI. You have to track down and kill at least five of them, giving a unique and dynamic gimmick for this mission which I’ll love to replay. Target routes seem good too and your first playthrough where you’re winging it is even more fun here when you don’t know where your targets are really coming from. The mission is also really surprisingly massive, it might be the biggest one so far despite only having ten disguises (I don’t think we’re going to top Miami’s 29). I also loved that you could poison some fast food and have a biker take it inside

Chongqing: this is a great example of the knee jerk nature of these first impressions, not that this level will be bad but I feel like I’m speaking a little too soon when I say this might be one of my favourite levels of the trilogy. I was a little disappointed when the level wasn’t Mumbai 2.0, being more vertical than horizontal in scale but I ate my words when I experienced it. This is probably the weirdest level of the trilogy but so cool at the same time. At first I tried getting Hush with his satellite dish, and sniping him from his little area. I died. Then I became a test subject and started messing with his brain, making him take a break and killing him when he’s at his desk. I got caught however and had to make a break for it. Then I infiltrated the ICA data banks by becoming the board member, but then I had to sneak into his apartment since I didn’t know the code, but then I heard the code when I answered his answering machine. I really like the introduction of keypads and hope they stay, they reward map knowledge and let you skip having every door be locked via lockpick. Then I distracted and KO-ed Imogen’s guard and pushed her off the data core railing. What proceeds is a great bit of fan service where it shows almost every target from the trilogy as 47 deletes the info ICA has on him and then one of my favourite moments of the series (in terms of scripted stuff, I’ll always prefer stuff like sniping Rico from the jungle) where you have to escape the burning facility while avoiding the now entirely hostile guards. I’m super glad this and other story beats are confirmed optional on replays, but I’d happily replay this regularly because it was so fun to Splinter Cell the level for the last minute

Mendoza: Another great level. I wasn’t expecting it to be so big but even that big field you can see over the balcony is explorable. Feels more like A Vintage Year throwback than Santa Fortuna was. I quite like the kill opportunities that I saw, sniping Yates from the top of his house and finding wine to serve Vidal was what I went for. Also love that Diana is in the level physically, she even hides behind a box if you caught an alert. Yates’ house is very intimate but very well designed. Wasn’t expecting the tactical wetsuit to be here as a disguise but it was a cool thing I found

The Train: this level is simultaneously an awesome and disappointing end to the trilogy. The idea itself is great and the hallucinations that begin the level are really imaginative, but that nightmare intro gameplay wise is just you walking forward. It’s the exact opposite of the reason why I like Hitman, I like Hitman because it isn’t like those triple A “walk forward while dialogue plays” kind of games. It’d maybe work better if they had you shoot every target you’ve ever killed in this dream and then top it off with the one proper gameplay moment that’s in the real thing where you press the button that kills Diana’s parents. Then the level itself after that intro is way too linear, I know it’s a train but there could’ve been way more options with how to go about it. There is a great final moment with Edwards and I love that it encourages combat for the first time in the trilogy, but it could’ve been a lot better. Ideally this would be the seventh level after a proper sixth but I think it’d be more palatable if it was more replayable than it is. Because at the moment it doesn’t have Contracts mode, probably won’t get escalations and definitely won’t get an ET. Which puts it behind Hawke’s Bay, which is a regular punching bag for its lack of content

The Story: surprisingly, I loved it. I’ve always thought this trilogy had excellent worldbuilding but used some plot contrivances to get from level to level. This time while the worldbuilding isn’t quite as solid the story is actually pretty great and goes in a lot of interesting directions which I think would make great sequel material. 47 essentially kills the ICA and the game ends with him and Diana becoming independent agents. So they’ll be doing the same thing without the immunity a giant organisation like the ICA has, which could lead to interesting conflict in the ninth Hitman game. I also like this game’s portrayal of the ICA, they’re a lot more professional than in Absolution but it goes for a similar take of showing how brutal they are

In Conclusion: For the most part Hitman 3 is excellent and I loved it, probably about as much as the previous Hitman 2 and the Paris level of Hitman 1 in terms of first time experiences with these games. There were some downs with the Carpathian Mountains and elements of the game design but it’s still another solid new Hitman game. I can understand why the reviewers loved this one over Hitman 2, while I loved that game’s levels this game’s levels feel a lot weirder and that’d leave a much stronger first impression. Ofc being the second sequel to 2016 nothing’s really changed much. While there are improvements to the way guns feel and the fluidity of 47’s movement it’s nothing groundbreaking. The new map features, while cool, aren’t selling points IMO. If you love Hitman buy this, if you love stealth buy this, if you love mucking about in a sandbox buy this, but if you’ve never been interested in Hitman or this gameplay style of Hitman it’s best to avoid this. It’s a very good third season of Hitman, whether you like it or not. In terms of my thoughts on the levels my personal ranking rn would probably be Chongqing > Mendoza Berlin> Dubai > Dartmoor > Carpathian Mountains (AKA the Train level)

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

unlonely [michael m. x reader] pt.2

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

accidentally spends the last three hours writing this. whoops.

the good part of having fics planned out is that u dont have to sit around for nearly as long like “uGHHHH WHAT DO I WRITE” story-wise. writing wise? still hell. 

also dont expect this please sdfhkjdsfh i only managed this because its a saturday and i dont have anything else to do rn because homework??? ill do that later

warnings: sad michael. more than once. a hospital is here. cool. reader is a bitter fuck. if i need to warn for anything else pls tell me.

            Michael had the habit of talking himself through things. With you there, he excused it off as him explaining it to you. The first time you caught this little habit was during the first dissection the two of you did together, listening to him give himself a pep talk through the first few minutes before shutting up at the slightly worried glance you shot his way. During video games, you caught him muttering his plan to himself. And now? Now you had Michael Mell in your backseat, talking over the directions your phone gave you, filling you in on the same plan you’d heard for the past week. Every now and then, you’d shush him long enough to hear where you were supposed to turn, and then he’d start back up, saying how he was going to find Jeremy, go through his speech - something he spared you from, on the account of the fact it was pretty personal, which... you couldn’t lie, you weren’t complaining about that - and then maybe the three of you would go out somewhere if Jeremy saw the light and immediately shed that dickish persona he’d taken on (Michael’s dream situation) or if Jeremy realized he was a dick and figured maybe he should apologize to Michael not in the middle of a party (your dream situation). A weight stayed in your stomach the entire time you were driving to Jake’s house - and then it lightened upon seeing shifting behind you.

            Slowing to a stop at a red light, you finally took the chance to steal a glance at Michael in the backseat. And you couldn’t help but fucking stare at him, before the light flickered green and you tore your gaze away. He kept babbling, not noticing the look you’d given him. Maybe the two of you would watch horror movies when you got back to your place - that’d be dope, wouldn’t it?

            “Michael?” You finally said, breaking him out of his endless rambling.

            “Yes?”

            “What the actual fuck are you wearing?”

            “What?” He asked, “look, I needed a disguise! I don’t get invited to parties,” he said, “no one will ever know it’s me!”

            “Michael, you could have literally put a hood up or put on a mask and done the same thing-”

            “That’s too simple!” And then, he paused. “Eyes on the road, [y/n],” he said, and you could hear his fucking smirk.

            “They are, Mell.”

            “Yeah, right.”

            For a split second, you debated slamming on brakes. The thought tempted you for another moment, and then you finally decided against it - you couldn’t risk breaking his nose or something. Besides - fate had other plans, as you finally turned into Jake’s neighborhood. If your phone hadn’t informed you that your destination was on the right, the cars lining the street definitely would have. A few houses ahead, you could see plenty of cars pulled onto the front lawn of a pretty damn nice looking house - and you sort of stare, wondering how this many people would show up to one high school party. You glanced back to Michael, the car moving at a snail’s pace down the street. 

            “I’m gonna circle back around,” you announced. He gave you a quick nod.

            Ten minutes later, you’re sitting alone in your parked car and Michael’s left you with the promise that he’ll be back in maybe and hour or two. You reclined your seat, turned up the radio, and just sort of waited - not wanting to burn your phone battery anymore, because your dad had stolen your charger out of your car earlier that night - for the next few hours. You watched people filter in and out, like Brooke Lohst finally showing up in this handmade dog outfit that looked like an attempt for a sexy dog (and, honestly, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t - but that was more Brooke than the costume); or this little group of people running back out to their car and leaving, laughing the entire way, and you started hoping that they weren’t drunk; and then you saw Jeremy fucking Heere, pulling up in a slightly beat up car (and for a moment, you’re confused - you’d never seen him drive before, had you? You didn’t know if he could) but that washed away the moment he stepped out, dressed in this fucking dorky cyborg-looking costume that made you stifle back a laugh because of how damn cheesy it was, like he was some kid in a middle school play.

            An hour later, you saw Michael crossing the front lawn to your car. That god-awful costume is discarded somewhere, leaving him just in the shirt and shorts he’d been wearing when you picked him up, and you could see him shaking as he made his way over. He pulled the car door open, sliding into the passenger seat and shutting it all in one fluid motion. He didn’t speak to you. He just sat there, plucking at his shirt or clicking his phone on and off to glance at the time - half past ten, you noted - or running a hand through his hair, already a mess from the thousands of times he’d done it before.

            You didn’t ask what happened. All you did was pull the car into reverse, and slowly eased your way out of your spot, making a quick U-turn to leave Jake’s house in your rear-view mirror.

            But after a few minutes of silent driving, you finally speak up. “My family should still be out. We can go to my room and watch movies, or listen to music or something.” You paused for a moment. “Oh, fuck, Michael - you haven’t even tried my kick-ass hot cocoa. I put mini marshmallows and whipped cream and whatever you like, I guess.” You paused once more, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. “If you want peppermint, I think I have some candy canes stashed away somewhere that I can crush up. Or we have cinnamon stll - oh shit, Michael, we have the stuff to make cinnamon rolls. That’d be fucking dope.” You stopped, keeping your eyes pinned to the road as you pull your right hand away, extending it to Michael. “We’re gonna be okay, Michael.”

            And after a moment, Michael’s hand was in yours, squeezing it tightly without a word. And when you steal another glance, that look in his eyes is back: like he’s a thousand worlds away from you. He was so distant, like maybe he fell through this reality into another - and maybe, in a way, he did. Maybe Jeremy and that supercomputer-thing and everything was a world away from you, something foreign to you - but that wasn’t going to stop you. Michael might have been up in the clouds, but you were going to try your fucking hardest to ground him again. You weren’t going to tell Michael that you hated Jeremy Heere. He didn’t need to hear that - Michael needed some sort of security, and you were going to try and give him that as best as you could then.

            Michael had never been to your house before. The lights in the front yard reflected in of his glasses as he followed you up to the house, the chirp of your car locking behind the two of you as you fumbled with your house key. You kicked off your shoes as you stepped inside, giving Michael the most general tour you could - the living room off to the right, the small dining room to the left, and the kitchen behind that - before guiding him into the kitchen. He leaned against the kitchen island, watching you gather your ingredients, throwing quick glances back to him every once in a while. You reached over the stovetop, turning the oven on before pulling out one of those Pillsbury cinnamon roll tubes, shooting him a quick smile.

            “Dad likes to make them from scratch. Mom and I don’t have the patience for that sometimes,” you said, before returning to the hot chocolate.

            Milk, brown sugar, cinnamon, a block of chocolate - which Michael watched you chop the entire time, wondering how you had the patience to deal with that shit, because he probably would have given up halfway through - and he watched you fish through cabinets, pulling out three different bottled: vanilla, ground cinnamon, and... ground cayenne pepper? He walked over to your side, leaning against the counter wordlessly as he watched you work, taking a bowl to mix all your dry ingredients together.

            “You wanna help?” You asked, looking up at him.

            “What’s the cayenne pepper for?”

            You only shot him a quick smile. “Baking spray should be in that cabinet,” you motioned with your elbow, “and the pans are in that big bottom drawer.” You extended the cinnamon rolls to him, “you can break these open, if you want.”

            You ignored the rough hit he took to his palm once the tear-away shit didn’t work, the pop! of the tube greeting him a second later. 

            “Do you do this often?” Michael asked, the hiss of him greasing the pan greeting you a minute later.

            “... Hot cocoa?” You asked, before shrugging. “When it’s cold enough, yeah.”

            “No. I mean... this.” He said, “the whole, uh... cheering up thing.”

            You paused, turning your attention to the milk on the stove. “I...” You started, before pressing your lips together. “No.” You poured in cups of milk, mixing brown sugar in before you put it over the heat, keeping a close eye on it so that it doesn’t burn. “I don’t.” You pressed your lips together.

            “You’re really good at it,” he said softly. Stealing a glance, you found his attention on placing each cinnamon roll, and you were glad for that. He didn’t need to look at you - not when you were starting to drop the facade you’d kept up of happy, nerdy you who just wanted to talk to him about music and video games and maybe see him smile again. 

            He didn’t need to see just how lonely you were.

            Thirty minutes later, the two of you are in your living room, watching old movies on Netflix and sharing a blanket. Michael liked to make snarky comments during movies, pointing out stupid effects or making fun of the stupider lines (which, you couldn’t lie, you’d mimic them too). Cinnamon rolls cooled on the coffee table, stacked high and iced graciously, and the hot cocoa had been drained the moment the two of you took sips - which made a warm, cozy feeling of satisfaction bubble through you when Michael practically glowed at the taste before admitting you’d been right to gloat earlier. Which one of you fell asleep first, you weren’t sure. What you were sure of was waking up the next morning, curled up next to Michael with your head on his shoulder, his arm curled around you securely. The TV screen had been shut off, the cinnamon rolls on the table a few less (and you imagined that it had been your parents coming in, not wanting to disturb you and Michael since you’d been sleeping), and Michael’s soft breathing ended up soothing you back to sleep. He’d taken his glasses off at some point. You fought back a small smile at that - he still looked nice without his glasses, which was unfair because not everyone could look nice with and without glasses. You nestled back into his shoulder, growing slightly closer to him as you shut your eyes. His arm pulled you slightly closer, and you could feel his face against the side of your head.

            It was nice. Michael was always warm, and it was comfortable since you knew that, without Michael and the blanket, you’d be freezing your ass off on the couch. Even with the way your neck and back were positioned, you were comfortable with Michael - and even though you knew that your body would be aching tomorrow, hating you for not moving, you were okay with that. That moment had been worth it.

            “Jeremy.” He looked up, the little voice in the back of his head, bringing him back down to earth once more. Jeremy couldn’t really lie - he was glad to finally have a distraction. It was cold outside, and there he was, leaning against Brooke’s car with his fingers intertwined with hers while she was deep in conversation with this guy from the swim team and his girlfriend - some art student, Jeremy noticed, as she had graphite and paint smudges on her hands - about... something. He ended up tuning them out, having lost interest in the conversation - and besides, he didn’t need to pay attention. He had the SQUIP there to fill in the gaps when he needed to speak.

            The SQUIP spoke once more. “Look at the building.” He obeyed, and in a flicker, a familiar shade of red met his eyes. Michael. One hand at his backpack strap, the other holding his phone as he stood outside. A minute later, another person walked out, greeting him before Jeremy watched Michael push his headphones down and around his neck, immediately starting up conversation with this stranger. And then he watched the two of you laugh together, chatting happily as watched both of you made your way to Michael’s car. 

            Then Jeremy recognized you. He’d seen you in his math class, quiet and always keeping to yourself - and now you were with Michael, laughing about some story Michael must had been dying to tell you, judging by how animated he grew. The two of you fit well together, laughing at the same stupid things, you playfully shoving Michael at one point before the two of you approached his car, parked close enough that Jeremy wouldn’t have had to turn around to watch the two of you get into Michael’s car and leave. The fact that the two of you got along was a sweet sight, but... he couldn’t fight the pit in the bottom of his stomach of anger, of sadness- because that was Michael. His former best friend.

            “It looks like Michael’s moved on fast,” His SQUIP said, as Jeremy watched Michael’s car disappear out of the parking lot.

            “Jeremy!” Brooke’s voice snapped him back to reality, “are you okay?” She said, worming her hand out of his, stretching and popping her fingers. “You were hurting my hand.”

            He didn’t realize how tightly he’d been squeezing her hand. But he nodded, making up some bullshit excuse that he’d just been thinking before shrugging it off as unimportant. Just as he always did nowadays.

            Fridays were always your least favorite school days - purely because it was an countdown to the freedom of the weekend for you. Mondays also sucked - but Fridays? You’d fucking kill for a school day to be over already. But you were glad to confirm your plans with Michael tomorrow to just sit around and binge Queer Eye on Netflix at your house - because at least that gave you something to look forward to on Saturday - and make your way home, so that you can lie down and die a bit internally in peace. The heavy thump of your backpack made you frown, as you threw yourself onto your bed, falling face-first into your comforter and letting out a soft groan of oh thank god when you heard your bedroom door open, and the familiar chuckle of your father sound out.

            “Tough day?” He asked, and you let out a grunt of confirmation, not bothering to move. He chuckled again. “I made some cinnamon rolls earlier.” You snapped up, looking to him. "Save some for Michael, [y/n].”

            You beamed, rolling over and sitting up. That’s when you noticed he’d dressed up nicely, redoing his tie for what what probably the tenth time. “Where are you going?” 

            “The Murphys invited us out for dinner tonight,” he said, “thought I’d take them up on the offer. I’ll let them know you wanted to be there,” he shot you a quick smile. “Thought you could use the rest, kiddo.” He paused, lowering his voice. “But if they offer, I’ll bring you back something.”

            Sometimes you were glad that your family had rich friends. That was definitely one of those moments. He made some other comment, talking about how they’ll probably get back late so don’t worry or wait up for them or anything. The door shut behind him as he left, and you fell back onto your bed, debating whether you should go get a cinnamon roll or to take a fucking baller nap that you deserved because high school sucks. 

            And then you woke up a few hours later, the sound of a car horn blaring outside. You grabbed your phone, expecting maybe your dad had texted and called you and upon not getting any response, figured that maybe that would have woken you up - but you were greeted with nothing. So you made your way to the front door, pulling the door open with the expectation of yelling at some asshole that other people live in this neighborhood, only to be greeted with the sight of a familiar P.T. Cruiser in your driveway. No wonder it sounded so loud.

            “Michael, what the FUCK-” You yelled out, only for him to sort of lean out his window.

            “I’ll explain on the way!” He called out. You scowled slightly and hoped that this was something important enough to literally disturb the entire fucking neighborhood, and snagged your keys, sliding into your shoes before leaving your house and hopping into the passenger side, narrowly avoiding smashing into Michael’s bag in the floorboard.

            He barely had pulled out of your driveway before he started talking. Jeremy’s dad had ended up at his house, talking to him about how Jeremy had basically disrespected him and he realized just how absent he’d been as a father - causing him to seek Michael’s help, because Jeremy would listen to Michael if he tried harder to talk to him. So he launched into this whole talk, about how if maybe he tried to be a better friend to Jeremy, he could get through to him - and the whole thing stung. Jeremy abandoned him, not the other way around, and there Michael was, talking about how he needed to try harder and reach out to him again. Mountain Dew Red was supposed to deactivate the SQUIP, according to some dude that Michael played Overwatch with, and he had managed to get his hands on a case of the stuff a few weeks back, and he luckily had a bottle left in his bag - so maybe if he talked to Jeremy before the play, he could help him-

            You finally spoke up, having watched Michael run out of breath while speaking a thousand miles an hour. “Woah, shit, Mikey, slow down.” He barely had a chance to glance over to you, before you spoke again: “eyes on the road, Michael.” He looked away, giving a single nod. “So. Why am I here?”

            He didn’t answer immediately, flicking his turn signal on long enough to change lanes. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

            “I don’t have any money on me, dude-”

            “I’ll pay for you!” He said, cutting you off, "or you can stay in the car if you want, I just - I need you there.” He breathed, before finally tacking on a soft, “just in case.”

            Upon reaching the school, the two of you were lucky enough to snag the two seats closest to the backstage door. Michael talked to you idly, his leg bouncing restlessly as he kept debating going then or waiting until the lights went down for the show. Eventually, you watched him reach down to the floor beneath his seat, grabbing his bag and sliding forward enough to throw it over one of his shoulders. When you reached for his hand to stop him, he reassured you it was just so that he could get back there faster when he needed to. Maybe it’d be better if he waited until after the show to see Jeremy - give him a chance to maybe not fuck up the show and have Christine Canigula angry at him.

            So he relaxed, the lights going down as the two of you watched Christine come to the edge of the stage, giving some announcements about how it’d been a hard few weeks for Middleborough and how important theatre is to bring everyone together for basically what’s supposed to be a good time. As if on cue, you and Michael glanced at each other the moment she made a comment about what Rich would say - cracking a small smile at each other before listening to her final comment about the costumes from Hobby Lobby. The show started, the lights on stage letting up as you watched a couple students fumble through their lines a bit, before... changing. Newfound passion flooded into them, the show rivaling Broadway plays - and you leaned back, looking to Michael, who’s grip turned vice-like on his bag’s strap.

            “This... is way too good for a school play,” he whispered to you, before realization hit. “Oh god. Oh fuck,” he started, “I need to get in there.”

“Wait, Michael-” You placed your hand over his, “hold on - I don’t know if that’s a good idea since-”

            “I’ll be fine, [y/n].” He shot you a quick smile, “I’ll be back. Just... stay here.” 

            “Michael, they just started the show,” you whispered, ignoring a shush from behind you. “If you go now-”

            “I’ll be fine!” He said, voice raising slightly. He stared at you, and then - all in a quick moment - he leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours for a split second before dashing away, leaving you dumbfounded by the sudden move.

            “... What the fuck?” You mumbled, sinking back into your seat before turning your attention back to the play as best as you could, ignoring the burning in your cheeks. Eventually, the scene ended, the lights doing down long enough for actors to slip off stage. You watched the lights come back up, Brooke coming on stage and completely blowing everyone else away with nothing but raw energy. And then you watched as the stage slowly fell empty.

            That was when you moved, slipping to the backstage door, barely getting a hand on it before a screech rung out. You threw the door open, letting it slam behind you as you head up the steps to hear several thumps hit the floor, and then you saw Michael, letting out a scream as he stepped back, staring at all the bodies unconscious before him. Something inside of you jumped to action, as you found your phone and immediately called 911. Holding the phone between your face and shoulder, you found Michael standing there in shocked silence, and guided him over to somewhere to sit - him practically falling into the chair you found. 

            Later, you stood beside Michael, a orange shock blanket draped over his shoulders as the two of you watched a teacher and your classmates get wheeled out on stretchers, a paramedic standing with the two of you. Her questions felt lost on Michael, because while you tried to help him answer, you didn’t exactly know what was going on. She knelt down beside him, trying to comfort him, slowly dropping her questions before finally the police arrived. You were permitted to leave before Michael was, because while you didn’t know much, you still sort of counted as a witness. Leaving Michael alone in there was tough, because you could see how shaken he’d been, but you found yourself sitting on the curb next to his car. Your mind fluttered back to that kiss, as quick and impulsive as it was, and you started to wonder whether you should bring it up to Michael - in the end deciding that yes, you should, but not that day. Too much had happened to just casually approach Michael and ask about what the fuck that kiss was about.

            Eventually, footsteps approached you, and you were greeted with the sight of a slightly more calm Michael. His hands still shook slightly, and he fumbled with his jacket and his bag and everything he could get his hands on, but he wasn’t as he had been inside, no longer on the verge of tears or a panic attack. You stood to greet him, about to speak when he stopped in front of you.

            “I’m gonna go to the hospital,” he said, voice quiet. “Y’know, uh... wait with Mr.Heere, I guess. I’ll drop you off-”

            You didn’t hesitate. “If you think I’m not staying with you, you’re an idiot, Mell.”

            He cracked a small smile at that, insisting he was okay to drive as you reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat. Taking the chance to call your mom, you explained everything you could: that you were going to stay with Michael at the hospital after something happened at the play and he was worried about his friends, saying that he needed someone else there for support and you wanted to be that someone. For a moment, you thought she was going to say you had to come home - but then she agreed, understanding as always, and asked if you needed anything. You rattled off a list of general stuff - water, maybe a phone charger or two if they could bring them - before thanking her. She told you she wouldn’t be able to bring it immediately, since they’re at dinner - although saying she was willing to leave early if it was needed, and you coaxed that away. You didn’t need any of this stuff immediately. You only thanked her again.

            You’d never seen Jeremy’s dad before - and, well, you never had a reason to. But... he wasn’t like what you expected. He looked like he was slightly taller than Jeremy, but heavier and more tired. He had this thick, ginger beard, and a balding head, and you noticed how he had soft, gentle eyes. He greeted you and Michael with a small wave, a cup of shitty hospital coffee on the table next to him. Michael introduced the two of you, and part of you felt guilty for hating Jeremy all of a sudden. His dad treated you so kindly, as if you were also one of Jeremy’s friends. As if you were here because you were worried about fucking Jeremy Heere, and not because you wanted to make sure Michael was okay and had some extra support.

            An hour later, you received a text from your mother saying that she was waiting outside. So you told Michael where you were going, and you wandered your way out of the hospital, taking note of everywhere you went so that you could get back to where you were without wandering like a lost puppy without Michael. Your mom handed you your bag, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead, saying that she was always a phone call away if you wanted to go home or talk or needed anything else. Your heart swelled in your chest, and you fought back tears as you hugged her and told her you loved her, before you left her and your dad to return to Michael.

            Exhaustion hit you on the way back, and you plugged in two chargers for you and Michael’s phones. Eventually Michael fell asleep, head on your shoulder, and it’s just you and Mr.Heere and a few other people in the waiting room, questions filling your heads. You watched Jeremy’s dad stand, offering to get you coffee if you wanted, and you politely refused. Your head fell against Michael’s, as uncomfortable as it was for your neck, and eventually, against all the discomfort of that day, you fell asleep.

[minijenn]

ONE MORE Crystal Falls Preview Thingy

AND THEN I’M FUCKING DONE GIVING AWAY PARTS OF THIS BECAUSE FUCK THIS SHIT IS HURTING ME TO WRITE LIKE I AM GETTING HEAVY JAILBREAK/SOCK OPERA FLASHBACKS RN ONLY THIS IS WAY FUCKING WORSE AND AUGH DAMMIT WHY DID I DECIDE TO WRITE THIS THING IT IS KILLING ME IN ALL THE WORST WAYS FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK ENJOY ALL THE ANGUISH AUGHGHGHGHGHG

“Well, well, well… looks like things just got a lot more interesting…”

Dipper gasped as he found that the very first thing he was met with upon pulling himself out of the crashed ship’s wreckage was the pitchy voice of the demon who held domain over the entire Earth and all its vast empire. The very demon he had risked life and limb to escape from during his flight from that chaoitc planet, who should have been back on Earth seeing as how he had merely just sent two of his cronies to do his work for him. Yet now, Pacifica was nowhere to be found while Gideon simply stood by, fuming at how Bill was apparently ignoring his proposal to make a deal to take out the Pines family, as well as Steven and Lapis, who had been unfortunate enough to get caught up in all this. But instead, the demon’s singular eye now held focus on Dipper, who couldn’t deny the flash of terror that struck him as that imposing triangular form cast an oppressive shadow over him.

“Hey there, Pine Tree! I was wondering where you ran off to. Guess my hunch about you crawling back to this boring ol’ hunk of rock was right, huh?” Bill began quite effervescently, though as he noticed Dipper attempting to back away, he was quick to reposition himself right behind the boy in a flash. “Whoa, not so fast, kid! You don’t wanna miss out on what could very well be the best deal you’ll ever make, do ya?”

“W-what?” Dipper asked, not having the context to really know what the demon was talking about.

“Hey!” Gideon shouted in sudden outrage as he sent Bill an appalled glare. “I was the one who summoned you here, Bill! I thought you were gonna make a deal with me!”

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna do that,” Bill shrugged nonchalantly. “Until a much better alternative came along.” The demon’s tone dropped low and sinister as he pointed his cane over at Dipper, who was still completely lost amidst this unknown turn of events. “So… see ya, Gideon!” With another flick of his cane, Bill managed to completely take control of Gideon’s amulet, resulting in his own telekinesis being used against him to fling him far away from the Kindergarten crash site and  freeing the demon up to get back to business. “Now, Pine Tree, where were we…?”

“L-Leave him alone!” Mabel shouted as Bill started circling her brother almost threateningly. The only reason she hadn’t ran over to pull Dipper away herself was because of the steady hold Stan had on her arm, keeping her held back just as much as she had been held back the first time he had been stolen away from her seven years ago. Only now, with a threat so much more dangerous and unpredictable as Bill Cipher, her complete inability to do anything to help Dipper felt so, so much worse.

“So listen up, Pine Tree, cause I don’t like to repeat myself,” Bill said as casually as ever, ignoring Mabel’s fearful cry. “You may not know this since you’ve been all blind and buried for so many years, but back on Earth, I’m pretty much the most powerful guy around. Time manipulation, the ability to change anything and anyone with a blink of an eye, endless amounts of magic your feeble human brain couldn’t even hope to comprehend, you know, the works! But here on silly old Homeworld, things are a bit… different. This planet’s outta my hands, which is something I plan on changing pretty soon, but for now, to even interact with this place physically at all without a vessel. So I need a little… help, if ya catch my drift…” s on edge as he already was by the dream demon’s mere presence alone, Dipper slowly shook his head, finally realizing just how fast his heart was pounding as he tried his hardest to reconcile his complete and utter terror. Still, Bill simply sighed in exasperation and rolling his eye before he explained. “My drift is this: you let me possess you, let me take the reins and sit in your control seat for a while, so I can finally get rid of what’s left of your stupid, annoying family! Heck, since you’re so un-Pines compared to all the rest of them, I’ll even let you walk away with your life when it’s all said and done as my way of saying thanks! Sounds like a pretty good plan, doesn’t it, kid?”

For a moment there were no words that Dipper could find to describe just how absolutely appalled he was by this incredibly gruesome idea. The fact that Bill Cipher, of all the beings in the universe, wanted to use him as a tool to destroy his own family, that he wanted him to agree to let such a thing happen? It was beyond twisted and cruel. In fact, he was so shocked by it that he couldn’t even properly express anything but absolute dumbfoundment at it when he finally did manage to respond to it. “I… I don’t understand…” he choked, shaking his head once more. “W-why… what makes you think I would ever say yes to something like that?”

“Why wouldn’t you say yes to something like that?” Bill retorted calmly. “Think about this for a sec, Pine Tree. These three?” he threw a hand out towards Mabel, Stan, and Ford. “They let a bunch of Earth squares steal you away when you were only 5 years old. And then what did they do? What did they do while you were beaten and battered almost constantly for weeks on end? What did they do when someone ran a knife over your eyes until you were completely totally blind? What did they do when you were left for dead in that empty cell for seven years with nothing but a bunch of dumb old rocks and your own pathetic, unfulfilled dreams to keep you company? Oh, that’s right! They did nothing!”

Dipper shuddered at this, hating to admit that every single thing the demon was saying was true but knowing in his heart that it was. He had languished, suffered, hoped in vain for so long that they would come for him, but they never did until after all the hope he had left in him had long since died. And even then, they had only managed to stumble upon him on accident. Stan and Ford had even said so themselves that they had stopped looking for him only a year after his disappearance. This was something he had thought about frequently, ever since he had been set free, and every time he did, it only made him ache with the belief that his own family had cared so very little about him that they had just given up on him completely. And really, it was a large part of the reason he had already given up on them.

“Really, kid, it only makes sense,” Bill continued, fighting rationality upon seeing that his manipulation was seemingly working. “I mean, you don’t even wanna be part of their family anymore anyway, so why not just do yourself a favor and lighten this whole ‘rebellious legacy’ load off your shoulders? At least then, you wouldn’t have to keep running away all the time.”

“Dipper! Don’t listen to him! Please” Mabel cried once again, pulling against Stan’s grip, though it held fest, lest she break free and throw herself into the same danger her brother was in.

“Seriously, kid, he’s lying to you!” Stan shouted adamantly, wanting to believe that, despite all of the abuse he had been through in his young life, that his nephew was smarter than this. “You really think he won’t off you the second he’s through with all of us?! Because that’s not how that psychopath works, believe us.”

“Stanley’s right,” Ford agreed, the immense worry in his otherwise tight expression. “Dipper, you can’t trust him, he only wants to-”

“Hey, how about you three butt out for a sec and let Pine Tree decide here?” Bill cut their pleas off sharply before turning back to Dipper. “See what I mean, kid? The only thing they care about is saving their own hides. That’s exactly why they never bothered to look even ten minutes outside their own backyard for your. Guess they just didn’t think you were worth the effort.”

“No, we did think you were worth it, Dipper!” Mabel protested fiercely, though she kept at it as Dipper finally glanced over at her, clear conflict filling his expression. “I never wanted to stop looking for you! I always hoped that you were still alive and out there somewhere and I was right. A-and I know you’re mad at us for taking so long to find you, but you can’t do this. Please, Dipper… I-I can’t lose you again, not like this…”

Dipper could still scarcely even think of what to say amidst being pressed on all sides, but for what seemed like ages he kept his frightened, anxious, uncertain gaze on Mabel, who could only meet it with tears after she finished her appeal. She desperately hoped that it would be enough to sway him against such an awful deal, that he’d staunchly turn Bill down and finally come to stand with his family once more. Yet… it really didn’t seem to be enough, for instead of keeping his sights on her, he gradually glanced over to Lapis, who had simply been standing along with Steven in tense silence this entire time, neither of them having the faintest clue about what to do to stop this. As Dipper made eye contact with her, the most the blue Gem could do was softly shake her head, her eyes wide with unabridged terror at the thought of losing the boy she had just grown so close to like this. And yet, it was only as Dipper saw that terror that he realized what would happen if he said no to the demon’s twisted aspirations. Even if he refused, then Bill would always be able to find someone else, someone much more willing even, to carry out his sadistic plans. And then, none of them, no one on Homeworld at all, would be safe, including his family, including Mabel, including Steven, including Lapis. No one would be able to stop the insane demon from doing whatever violent, demented thing he wanted, including destroying anything and anyone who stood in his path of conquest and chaos. If he said no, then there would be no telling what might happen.

Which was exactly why he had to say yes.

“So, kid, have you made up your mind yet?” Bill asked with faux boredom. “Because I’m a very busy demon, what with ruling my own intergalactic empire and everything, and I haven’t got all-”

“I’ll do it,” Dipper spoke up, squaring his shoulders and putting on his bravest face as he thought about exactly what this would entail for him. Even so, he had a plan, one that was only really tentative at best and one that would only really lead him to even more suffering than he had already known, but at least this time, it would all be on his own terms.

Needless to say that the reaction to his staunch agreement was intense. Mabel was the first to lash out, finally pulling herself out of Stan’s hold as a loud scream of protest tore from her. Lapis wasn’t far behind, her wings summoned as she rushed forward, tears forming in her eyes as she hurried to try and stop this deal from going through by any means necessary. Unfortunately, while Bill didn’t have much power on Homeworld, he did have enough to erect a blue fiery barrier, one that easily barred Mabel, Lapis, and anyone else from breaking this arrangement while still giving them a front row seat to it all.

“Yeesh, so much drama with you rebels!” Bill rolled his eye caustically. “I gotta admit, I’ll kinda miss that about you chumps… but not for long! So, Pine Tree, are you finally ready to get even for all those long years of abuse and abandonment? Cause if you are, then all it takes is just one simple handshake…” At this, the demon held his hand out, blue flames sparking over it as he presented it to Dipper, who simply looked between it and Bill himself with cold acceptance. He was ready for this, whatever it was, he told himself. He had spent seven years in blinded emptiness, how could this be much worse than that?

And yet, he still looked over at the pair who had rushed forth in vain to try and save him, both of them looking to him tearfully and still begging him not to go through with this. His resolve nearly crumbled upon meeting Mabel’s miserable expression, but it came back to him when he saw Lapis’. For seven years he had dreamed of nothing but freedom, and now, he was going to give that freedom up, more than likely forever, just to save the two people he was still absolutely certain he cared about.

It was probably the most worthy sacrifice he could think of, if he was perfectly honest with himself.

So, with a deep breath and closed eyes, he took the demon’s hand, allowing his own to be pulled down in shake that locked everything in place. And from there, everything seemed to happen all at once.