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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

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Of Lacking Spectacle(s)-Vergil/Reader

Summary: Vergil is a lot of things. Vergil is the Dark Slayer, The Alpha and The Omega, and the eldest son of Sparda. Vergil is also….in need of glasses?

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive Ending, Gender-Neutral Reader, Dante Read The Lord Of The Flies, Inspired By Vergil’s Buddy Holly Glasses Mod

Read It On AO3

Thank you @drusoona for sending me the pictures of Vergil that inspired this. The title is a reference to Gus Dapperton’s song Of Lacking Spectacle.

-Rodeo

(Picture Credits: @drusoona)

Vergil was always so precise and capable, sensing demons from distances away and predicting attacks with pinpoint accuracy.

He was intense, his eyes purely focused on the task ahead of himself. A man of pure drive and prowess. And he was your man.

It came gradually, something he tried to ignore. A few sentences of blurred lines would quickly flicker back to clarity. A small pain that flashed behind his eyes after reading in a room too dark.

It didn’t look obvious to anyone. Even to his ever-doting beloved. He was the son of Sparda, a demon that surpassed Death multiple times. There was no way he could have failing vision. Impossible, he would scoff to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

This statement soon turned from ignorance to denial of a very real problem Vergil avoided showing. His always narrowed stare hid it quite well.

An anthill turned into a mountain he could no longer stamp down. And his beloved had already watched it build up for some time, waiting for the stubborn devil to say something about it.

Which he didn’t.

So when you were cooking some mac and cheese from a recipe you found from a friend who knew a friend who knew a friend who asked her son for the recipe, you decided to strike up the question.

“Vergil.”

“That is my name, yes,” Vergil said from the couch, enraptured in a new book you bought him. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Are you having vision problems?”

“Of course not.” Hand on your hip, you pointed your rue-covered spatula at him.

“Then why is your nose literally in that book?” Vergil used to always be found with his book at arms-length as he would silently recite the words.

He stilled. He quickly readjusted himself and coughed.

Jackpot.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me in front of my macaroni.” You threaten, stirring the pot. He sighs.

“My vision is just fine.” Vergil insists, squinting at the blurred words.

“Vergil, I think you have vision problems.”

“That’s foolishness.”

“Why so?”

“My father was a powerful demon, bad vision should not run in our family-”

“Didn’t your dad wear a monocle?”

His mouth dries and his eyes widen in realization. Oh god it was genetic. You have won the tirade and you puff your chest out.

“How about I take you to the eye doctor? I can call later and set up an appointment.” Vergil has closed the book and chosen instead to look at you.

The macaroni is boiling, a u-shaped pasta you are rather fond of. Your apron is speckled with flour and you twiddle the spoon in your hand.

“Come on, it’ll be super quick. Just read some letters off a wall.” You say as you add burrata into the cheese blend. Vergil always liked that kind of cheese.

When you went grocery shopping, he really thought you wouldn’t notice him taking more than three samples of it when no one was looking before walking off like a successful sample thief.

Upon the sound of a bag of his favorite cheese opening, Vergil got up. You smile. You go to offer him a bit before quickly snatching it away from his hand. He tuts at you.

“You can have some if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” You sigh.

“Eye doctor.”

“No need. I am fine.”

You turn to stir the pot of delicious pasta before going back to lecturing this stubborn devil.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been squinting more and having headaches.” You state. Vergil scolds himself, thinking he was much more hidden about his new problem.

He is quiet as he stares off into the pot of macaroni.

“Please? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You put your other hand on his cheek. He looks at you finally, ice-blue glaciers warming at your loving and concerned expression.

God, his mate was so soft. He pulls your non-occupied hand to his other cheek-

And snatches the bit of burrata out of your fingers with his mouth. You make an offended noise at his trickery.

“Very well.” He muses.

You call up a local eye doctor after a hearty bowl of mac and cheese.

Taking Vergil to the doctor was like taking a cat to the vet. He sat in the waiting room with his arms crossed and eyes intensely out-alphaing everyone in his general proximity.

When they finally call your names, the ice was broken and people finally felt safe to breathe in his absence.

The eye doctor guides Vergil to the examination room. Vergil does not like it already. Why would you do this to him?

He waits at the door, waiting for you to come in with him.

“Sir, this is more of a personal test.” You shrug and blow him a kiss as he is ushered into the room

“How long has it been since you’ve had an eye test?” The doctor asks, Vergil taking a seat with a strange contraption before him.

“I have never had an eye test.” Vergil declares. The doctor laughs and swings the phoropter down. Vergil flinches slightly.

“Whoa now. Just set your chin here and look into the eye holes. This isn’t some medieval torture device.” He growls at the humiliation before doing so.

A series of lenses swiping through and the repeating question “which one looks clearer” later, Vergil is liberated from the examination room. He is greeted to you sitting and waiting for him.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” You ask. Vergil nods. You turn to the doctor.

“So how is his vision?” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Well, the letter Z was on the board and I asked him what he saw and he said triangle.” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Your husband is in dire need of glasses.” Vergil raises an eyebrow at that statement.

Your husband, he likes that. You don’t even correct him.

Luckily, this clinic also sold frames and Vergil is able to pick out a few while you do the paperwork.

You remember Vergil has no taste and quickly go to help him.

“No, no, well maybe, no, ew.” You respond as Vergil swaps various frames about.

“My love, I simply need the lenses. These materials mean nothing.” He argues as you deny the tenth pair of frames.

“Well, you’re very handsome and I’d like you to get a nice pair that matches.” You say. You go to make a smug face at him when you realize he has finally walked away to pick out his own.

You immediately drop the frames you were holding when Vergil places a certain pair of thick black-colored glasses upon his nose.

“We’ll take them.”

Several weeks later, Vergil is bestowed his new reading glasses. He finds his problem vanishes quickly and he can now read at a decent distance away. You seem to greatly appreciate them. Strange. On jobs, he usually takes them off and stores them in the little case he was given.

He thought of it as weakness. If his own body was failing to maintain 20/20 vision, he should be ashamed. In the demon world, any bit of weakness meant imminent death.

Yet, he told himself he wasn’t in Hell anymore. He was having breakfast with his beloved and he was safe. And he was privileged to be allowed for his body to take a break and age as it should have, his vision waning as a normal man would have at his age.

You kiss him goodbye for another day of work and you push his glasses up as they tip slightly down. His nose does the little scrunch you love so much. So much, you kiss him on the bridge of the nose. He purrs and promptly cuts a portal to work.

He walks into Devil May Cry to work with his brother. Dante is upstairs, the sounds of a shower happening.

Vergil takes to the paperwork his brother has ditched doing once more, typing on a clunky keyboard. You had insisted to pay extra for blue-light protection and he finds it is so much easier to see the computer screen.

Finally, the water is shut off. His idiot brother is done wasting work hours. Well, when is he not?

Vergil continues looking through yellowed documents as Dante passes by, smelling like strawberry soap marketed for children.

Dante walks forward but then puts himself in reverse to see Vergil with glasses on again.

“Yes?” Vergil grits his teeth.

“Those are glasses.” Dante starts.

“Yes, yes they are.”

Dante snorts and points at him.

“Buddy Holly looking ass bitch.” Vergil stops and glares at his brother.

“I don’t even know who that is.”

Dante wheezes at he keeps looking at Vergil.

“Of course you don’t, you bag of bones! You look like a college RA.”

“Dante, get to work-”

“What are you going to do? Tell the dean on me? Is that why you were gone a couple weeks ago?”

“I had an appointment-”

“I hAd aN aPpOiNtMeNt.” Dante mocks.

“That’s rich coming from someone without insurance coverage-”

His spectacles are snatched from his face. Dante puts them on.

“How do you see with these on? Damn, you’re legally blind.”

“That’s why they’re mine-hand them over!”

“You sound like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. My specs! My specs!” Dante mocks in a terrible English accent.

Vergil growls in anger.

When Vergil comes home with his glasses off, you wonder why. The blue devil comes behind you while you make some soup, hands on your waist and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

He’s quiet and in a way that is not his usual silence. He seems to have something on his mind. This time, you choose not to push it and let him be.

It isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lamp on as Vergil goes to take out a new novel. He hesitates when he reaches for his black glasses.

“My love?”

“Yes, Vergil?”

“Who’s Buddy Holly?”

Weird question but okay.

You search up the name on your phone and show him a picture. He puts on his glasses.

“Why would Dante think I look like that?” He asks himself with a frown. Upon realization, you put your hand on your mouth and fight back a laugh.

“Did Dante say that?” Vergil rolls his eyes.

“Of course he did, amongst other things.”

“Well, I think you look very nice. Like a very sexy college professor.” Vergil smugly looks at your bedroom eyes. The novel is long abandoned on the table.

Before he can pounce on you, he goes to take off his spectacles. You snatch them and place them back on his face.

“Keep them on this time.” You bite your bottom lip teasingly.

Vergil purrs.

He might get used to this.

[More Photos Of Vergil’s Mod-Credited To @drusoona]

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda #vergil imagines #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry imagine #dmc vergil #vergil #fluff #devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #gender neutral reader #rodeo used butcherknives' recipe for this fic #rodeo is lactose intolerant and a bite of mac and cheese will vibe check her straight to hell #drusoona's pictures

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

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Resurrection | 12

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: Sorry this took so long. February really is the worst month.

By the flight manifest, we’re half an hour behind Wallace, and I feel every minute of it on the plane ride from London to Benghazi. Prior to joining the team, I’d only been assigned to Libya once and it was from the comfort of the Whitney parked off the coast of Italy. This will be my first time with boots on the ground, and the history of spec ops in the country isn’t lost to me; it’s just one more reason why I’m glad I no longer have to wear a uniform.

“Ten minutes out,” the pilot calls over the comms, everyone prepping their go bags, ready to make up for any head start Wallace has.

Benina International Airport barely registers in my mind as we pick up two vehicles that were prepped for us courtesy of Uncle Sam, my mind’s sole focus being on saving the hostage and capturing Wallace. All of us want our pound of flesh, none more so than those he’s directly injured over the course of the last few weeks.

“I need everyone on their A game. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers again. His behavior is escalating and since he’s so well-connected to the who’s-who, it stands to reason, he’s going to throw everything he has at us. Above all else though, we leave no one behind. Understood?” Rick’s voice is firm but warm over our comms, making it clear that despite the gravity of the situation, he cares about our well-being first and foremost.

“Do you think he’s trying to do a shot-for-shot remake?” Jake asks as we roll into Benghazi proper, grateful for the tinted windows on the late model G wagons no doubt left over from Gaddafi’s rule.

“If you mean do I think he’s going to go to the same village we were patrolling? No. I don’t think he’s that sentimental about things. I think he’s going to pick a spot that’s overlooked by the country and blow it to high hell after he finishes reenacting his sick fantasies. Remember, had we not stopped him that night--”

“I know, he’d have committed war crimes,” Jake cuts Dom off, his sickened expression making it clear that he doesn’t need to be reminded.

“Has intel found him yet?” I ask, hoping we don’t have to waste any more time in tracking him down.

“They don’t have a lock yet, but they are tracking a BMW that came out of Benina half an hour ago. Reports of a blond woman without a hijab and a red-haired man poured in the second they landed.” Rick explains, all of us shaking our head.

“Muslim majority country and she already sticks out like a sore thumb by being blond, but he didn’t bother to make her wear a hijab? If we don’t get to him, the Libyan police will,” I snort, finding little humor in the recklessness with which Wallace treats the lives of others. Like any good narcissist, he cares only for himself and if others get hurt in the process of him getting what he wants, so be it.

“They’re going to attract attention no matter what. All of us are. Keep as low a profile as possible, and with any luck, we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow,” Rick adds, all of us hoping for the outcome that’s eluded us since we reunited.

Our hideout in Benghazi is simple, yet beautiful. Like most places, it’s heavily fortified, a solid metal gate closing behind us and men standing watch on all four corners as we make our way towards something that resembles a Roman villa of old. Outside, the heat hits me and for a second, I’m brought back to the op that nearly took my life, hoping that this time, things will end differently, at least for our team. Max’s cologne brings me back to the present, and I fall in step with him as we make our way into the blissfully cool war room.

“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do!” Jake enthuses as he takes note of the tea and finger foods laid out on the table. Shaking my head, but nonetheless pleased, I take a seat and let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding. Max’s hand smooths over my hair as he sits next to me, his gaze still eyeing my bruise with concern. It’s endearing to say the least, and not the kind of treatment I’m used to in any part of my life.

“Okay, fuel up, but pay attention. Intel has an eye in the sky and they’ve found the BMW. We’re tracking him now. Gonna let him get settled in, then we’ll pay him a house call. He’s also traveling light; only two body men and paid local team which means--”

“Which means a bunch of teenage human shields. Fucking great,” I mutter.

Stephanie Pierce had been dumped half an hour before getting to the airport. Doing her best to save face, she’d made it through security and was intent on getting a little drunk before boarding, if only so she could sleep on the flight. American by birth, she had come to London for school, and had, up until the breakup, been having the time of her life.

Now it's all spiraling into a nightmare.

“Please, just let me get back to the airport! I don’t have anything to do with this! I didn’t do anything! I’m just a student! Please!”

“I can’t do that, darling. For one, you’ve seen my face, and two...Well, you’re my insurance policy. You see, the people that I’m after, they have a soft spot for those they consider innocent. Problem is, no one’s ever truly innocent, are they? No, not even you, dear Stephanie. It only took a few moments for me to do the numbers, so to speak. Young, parents are middle class at best, no real money for school, especially abroad, but here you are in designer clothing, taking vacations whenever it strikes your fancy, and not a dime in debt. Do your parents know what you do on the internet, my darling? Didn’t think so. No, that deep, dark secret won’t be revealed until after you perish, which...will be soon, I’m afraid.”

Her screams make her captor laugh, almost as though he’s delighted by the reaction. It chills her to the bone. Now she understands that this isn’t some wannabe who hijacked a plane and has no real plan; far from it. Whoever he is, he has calculated each and every move leading up to this point.

She wishes she could talk to her mom one last time.

“Night Train to Alpha, confirm visual.”

“Alpha to Night Train we have visual. We count 12 signatures, including the hostage. You are a go.”

We’re no stranger to David and Goliath fights, and 12 is on the smaller side of some of the groups we’ve taken on, but no matter the number, we approach this one with extra precaution, only because of Wallace’s M.O. None of us are looking to be anywhere near another one of his bombs.

The compound he’s made his hideout is run of the mill for this part of the world. Like our own, Wallace’s has high walls, a sturdy gate, and a simple floor plan. It leaves us with two options; come in with a bang, or creep in with a whisper.

“There’s two gates,” I remind the boys, knowing full well that while they all prefer coming in with as much firepower as possible, it opens the door for Wallace to get away in the commotion, and I, for one, want to end this once and for all.

“Alpha, how many signatures on the exterior?” Dom asks, all of us hidden in the shadows, waiting for the deciding factor on how we proceed.

“Looks like 2 on the south side, patrolling the far gate. If you’re going in quiet, now’s the time to move.”

We all nod and immediately get to work. Strapping on my gloves, I grab my wire cutters out of the pocket on my kevlar, and wait until Flip has gotten into position. The tallest of the team, he bends over, providing me with the flat of his back to stand on so that I can cut the razor wire off the top of the wall. Carefully, I peek over the edge, relieved when I find the courtyard empty. Though there are lights on in the compound, every window is covered with an opaque blind, making this way of entering far better suited to our needs.

I cut enough wire away to allow all the boys to climb over, making sure to throw it away from the compound not only for safety, but to reduce the chances of us being heard. Satisfied that everyone has clearance, I pocket my multitool and quickly hop over, landing softly in the dirt.

Rick and Benji are quick to follow, the three of us taking up post so that the rest of the guys can come in safely. It takes less than five minutes for all of us to breach the perimeter, and after a moment to regroup, we move towards our target.

“Alpha, we need your eyes,” Rick whispers, taking point as we position ourselves flush against the nearest wall of the compound. We could clear the place blind, but that increases the chance that someone will sound the alarm as they die, and we can’t take the risk. Though they said they had to wash their hands of it, after Rome, the DOD extended their resources; while they can’t send those currently serving, they can provide a helping hand to those who are willing to risk it all to capture one of our own.

“Two at 3 o’clock, in the first room. There’s two at the back gate you’ll want to handle first.”

Nodding at one another, we split up. Rick and Dom position themselves at the first room, Flip and Benji take up post across the villa in front of another room, while Max, Jake and I edge around to the back of the compound, intent on taking out the two men guarding the rear gate as silently as possible.

With Jake on one side, Max and I move around to the other side, all of us needing to get eyes on the men. As I predicted, they’re young, but I find cold solace when I see that they’re not teenagers, bought out to act as human shields. Checking my gun, I make sure the silencer is on tightly before leveling it into place to look through my scope. At less than 50 feet, it’s an easy shot; it just has to be timed correctly. Max counts us down using only his fingers, and when the time is right, both Jake and I take double-tap shots, killing the men before they have a chance to make a sound.

Over comms, I can hear Rick and Dom breaching their first room, and as we move back towards the center of the villa, Benji and Flip do the same. My relief grows with every room that’s cleared, the body count growing as we approach the spot where Wallace is holed up with the hostage.

“Last room has the prize. Good luck, and godspeed.”

The room in question lies at the heart of the villa. Protected on either side by anti-rooms, We have to work our way through two more sets of men before finally being able to come face-to-face with Wallace once again.

A bright smile is the last thing we expect when we finally level our guns to his head.

“Nice of you all to finally join me. Thought it would take much less time for Uncle Sam to track me down. No matter, you’re here now, we can get to it. In your haste, I’m afraid none of you noticed...” Wallace’s gaze goes to the floor, and as my own eyes follow, I can’t help but feel my heart sink. My eyes dart quickly to Max and Dom, nausea overcoming me as I find that every single one of us has stepped on a trip wire.

“It’s like Russian Roulette, except I’m the one holding the gun.”

Wallace’s laugh will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life.

#henry cavill #pablo schreiber #henry cavill x ofc #pablo schreiber x ofc #resurrection #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years

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The Lost Boys: Exhale

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 3,384

Summary: My attempt at a sad, spooky fic featuring Dwayne, key word being attempt. I hope I was able to do him justice. Partially inspired by Stephen King’s writings.

Ocean waves lapped at the sandy shore, coaxing you to try and open your eyes. Despite knowing you needed to get up, you struggled to keep your lids from fluttering closed again. They felt heavy, like they were caked with cement.

You cleared your throat and tried again.

When you finally managed it, you propped yourself up and took in your surroundings. The moon was full and luminous, sitting high in the sky. A few bits of shadowy cloud drifted by in tangled clusters.

Obviously, it was late into the night but you had no clue what the actual time was which made you nervous.

How long had you been passed out here?

There wasn’t anyone around you at the moment, the next closest bonfire was a small spec in the distance, but that didn’t mean it had been that you had been alone the whole time.

You checked yourself and didn’t feel any injuries, nor were your clothes ripped, so you breathed easier knowing that you likely had not been assaulted. However, you did discover that you were missing our wallet. You cursed and got up on shaky legs, brushing the sand off of you.

So, it was nighttime, you weren’t sure how you got the beach, and your wallet was missing… great.

Crossing your arms, you walked towards the sounds and lights that beckoned to you from a ways down from the part of the beach you found yourself at. As you got closer you saw a set of stairs that led up to a bunch of shops and rides.

The Santa Carla Boardwalk sign was lit up nice and bright. Everything on the boardwalk, shop and ride alike, was decked out in spooky-themed décor.

You spied a large banner that read, “Halloween Monster Bash / OPEN LATE / Sat. Oct. 30th” and a lightbulb went off in your head.

That explained how you probably ended up passed out on the beach—you probably partied too hard for the bash and wandered off after you had had too much to drink. Not a bright move on your part, but plausible.

You promised to try and be on your best behavior for the foreseeable future. Given that it was a Saturday night, and a Halloween promotion at that, the boardwalk was teeming with people who kept bumping into you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had some bruises tomorrow.

You ended up by the carrousel, which had a much calmer surrounding crowd compared to the other areas, and sat down on a metal bench, watching the lights on the ride as it made its slow revolutions.

Suddenly, a group of long-haired boys muscled their way onto the carousel. One in particular caught your attention and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his leather jacket. A big, yellow cat with bared fangs and claws was stitched on the side of it.

The cat, and by extension the boy wearing it, was rugged, yet sleek, dangerous, yet beautiful.

He must have sensed your focus on him because his head snapped in your direction, his soulful eyes making your throat itch and close up. With no other reaction besides the eye contact, he left his group, gliding to the edge of the moving ride and smoothly stepped off.

He sat quietly next to you on the other side of the bench, neither of you willing to speak up. It turned into a battle of wills to see who would break first. After an extended period of silence, he gave in and accepted his defeat with a snort.

“What’s your name?”

Nervous, your hand crept to your neck and his intense stare followed the movement. “Y/N,” you answered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dwayne.”

“I like your jacket, Dwayne. The stich work is stellar.”

His lips curled upwards into a slow, easy smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You opened your mouth and froze when you suddenly remembered. “I’m meeting a friend. His motorcycle broke down and I told him I would give him a lift home.”

“Hmm. So where is he?”

“I’m not sure. I-I was on the beach for a while,” you admitted more than a little embarrassed. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him—I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

“Let’s take a walk. I’m sure we can find him together.” He stood up and offered his hand to you.

You were conflicted. On one hand, you had just promised yourself to make smarter decisions; on the other, there was something about this boy that drew you in. He gave you another small smile that sealed the deal.

You placed your hand in his and he led you around the boardwalk, the picture of a perfect gentleman. If gentlemen wandered around in public with their toned chests and abdomens exposed.

Dwayne and you kept your eyes peeled for your friend, but he also persuaded you to stop at a few booths along the way and brought you some food to try. You took a bite of the soft pretzel he handed you. You chewed thoughtfully before giving your review.

“It’s okay. The flavors aren’t out of this world though.”

“Not possible,” he said stealing the pretzel back. “This is the best snack this place has to offer.”

He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re not feverish, so I guess that rules out being sick. But you do feel chilled.”

Dwayne stared you down, his eyes looked like they were searching for something. You weren’t sure if he found what he was looking for. The two of you slowed down and you leaned against a wooden rail near the entrance to the boardwalk. As much as you wished your friend would turn up or that you could continue walking with Dwayne, you recognized that it was incredibly late and decided to call it a night.

He also seemed reluctant to let you go. “Will you be back tomorrow?” he murmured. “You can keep me company for Halloween.”

You nodded enthusiastically, glad that he had enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. The two of you made plans to meet back at the carousel again the following night. Halloween night. He stroked your wrist and bided you good-night.

You turned on your heel, feeling the energy within you pulsing as you walked away.

_______________

The next night, you found yourself sitting on the same metal bench near the carousel. This time you felt more grounded and much less flustered. You jokingly thought to yourself that you must be channeling strength from Halloween.

Dwayne joined you on the bench a while later, this time coming without his friends entirely.

“Hi,” you said lamely when he looked at you. “Would you rather sit or walk?”

He chose to walk and you were eager to see where he would take you this time. He shouldered his way through the throngs of people and you followed closely behind, gripping his jacket tightly. The crowds thinned out significantly as you walked down to the beach, the noise further drowned out by the ocean.

Dry sand crunched under your shoes as he moved further away from public view. Eventually, Dwayne came to a stop by a low burning fire which he stoked back to life.

You looked around in surprise. “Hey, this is where I was last night. What a crazy coincidence!”

His dark eyes peered at you from where he sat opposite of you on the other side of the bonfire. But he didn’t comment. Instead, he asked you questions.

“Did you ever get ahold of your friend?”

“No,” you admitted, feeling uncomfortable. “He probably hates me right now. Something was wrong with the bike engine, which is why he needed the ride.”

“That’s cool that he rides.”

“His bike is pretty cool. The body is dark red, and he has wheel covers on it, plus there’s an antenna on the back end.”

Again, he didn’t say anything. He just stared. The mood turned uncomfortable once more, so you tried changing topics to bring back the fun you had the previous night.

“I’m actually passing thru Santa Carla on my way to L. A. More specifically, Englewood. To pursue my dream,” you revealed, splaying your fingers in a jazz hand fashion. That seemed to perk his interest and his lips twitched slightly.

You drew up your legs and rested your chin on the tops of your knees. A happy tingle started in your chest and ran down the rest of your body as you remembered back to another time in your life. Back when you were a small child and made a friend.

You told Dwayne the story of how your grandmother used to be involved with one of the local food pantry groups in your home city. And how you often used to tag along with her when she volunteered because your parents worked a lot. One day you were sitting under the tables and bored out of your mind, you started to doodle on the filed floor. You were not expecting another kid to join you and you jumped when they introduced themselves.

You guys were around the same age and started to seek each other out whenever you went with your grandma while she volunteered. Soon, you were even hanging out when you weren’t at the food pantry.

“People used to freak out when they saw us together in public. It was so stupid,” you ranted. “It wasn’t their fault they were on the streets. Most homeless are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judged my friend for doing what they had to do to survive—”

Next thing you knew, you were knocked backwards onto the ground, your head taking a particularly hard hit.

In a miraculously fast move, Dwayne had launched himself across the fire to tackle you. It happened so fast, you hadn’t been able to track him. He moved like a menacing shape, striking with the accuracy and speed of a viper.

Your body locked up from where you were pinned and you gasped for air.

Dwayne crouched above you, his knees dug into your thighs to keep your legs spread apart and his claws gripped into your wrists like a vice. He had taken you by surprise and made sure you were completely immobile and unable to fight back. But that wasn’t even the most terrifying part.

The once smooth planes of his face had changed into raised, sharp angles along his brow and cheeks. His hair hung down over you, like a black curtain, so you had no choice but to look at him. Light from the nearby fire casted shadows where it filtered through the strands of hair, making him appear even more menacing.

He leaned down and clicked his fangs right in your face.

Your heart, which had been hammering like a freight train, stopped beating entirely. The jarring stillness within you made you think that you were having a heart attack.

“Quit playing games, Y/N,” he said darkly, his lip curled up in a snarl.

You were so frightened that you couldn’t respond even when he shook you.

“You’ve been toying with me for two nights now, just give it up. We both know you are not what you claim to be.”

You tried to articulate your shock but you couldn’t must a single sound. He growled gutturally and time slowed down. Was this how you were going to die?

A blinding pain ripped through your head, robbing you of all your senses as everything turned white.

_______________

You hummed and bopped your head to the song that was playing on the radio in your aging car. The sun had set some time ago, so you read the green road sign with help from your headlights.

Santa Carla, ten miles.

That should be a good place to spend the night to spend the night. According to the map you were consulting, Santa Carla seemed like a decently sized city that should have your choice of motels to pick from.

You entered city limits and as you turned a corner you noticed a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. A boy with dark hair sat crouched next to it. Debating with yourself, you ended up slowing down and rolling your window.

“Hi,” you called from the driver’s seat. “Do you need any help?”

He turned and you instantly saw how attractive he was. He stood, wiping his hands on a rag that was tucked into his pocket.

“Something’s wrong with the engine. I don’t want to drive it, in case it gets worse.”

No stranger to car troubles, you felt empathetic.

“Get in. I can take you home, or to a mechanic, if there’s a garage still open.”

He accepted the offer and settled into the passenger’s side. You apologized for not having room to bring the bike with and he reassured you that his friends would take care of it. He asked you to take him home, but first he directed you towards a place called the boardwalk so he could buy you dinner as a thank-you.

Your empty stomach couldn’t refuse food.

When you got out of the car you noticed his jacket for the first time. “Stellar stitching,” you complimented.

He ordered tacos to-go from one of the food stands. “Come on, I know a better spot on the beach where we can eat in peace.”

The spot was isolated, which made you pause with doubt, but the food smelled delicious and Dwayne had been nothing but nice, so you ignored the little warning bell.

Having good food after being a car for most of the day was satisfying and you moaned when you took the first bite of taco. To fill in the silence you explained to him that you were moving down to L.A.

“Just passing through?” he questioned.

“Just passing through.”

You told him about the job offer that had convinced you to leave home and how excited you were to work with the homeless women youth there. “Most of them are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judge them for doing what they have to do to survive.”

Dwayne looked at you with surprise. “You mean that?” He sounded almost conflicted.

You assured him that you most certainly did.

The next hour or so passed quickly, you chatting away with Dwayne jumping in here and there. Despite not being talkative, he did a good job putting you at ease even though you barely knew one another. When you yawned while in the middle of a story and realized you needed to sleep.

You told Dwayne it was time to get him home so you could sort out your motel situation. He turned away from you and grew even more quiet. He didn’t move nor make a single sound which worried you.

“Dwayne?”

Then he whispered, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He turned around and his face looked monstrous with his protruding forehead and blazing eyes that swirled with red and yellow. You covered your mouth.

He flew at you, pinning you into the sand. You fought your best to dislodge him, screaming shrilly, but it would have made no difference had you not fought at all. You were no match for his inhuman strength.

He wrenched your chin back, his hands clawing into your face to expose your neck. By that point you had defensive wounds all over and one of your forearms had brittlely snapped.

Dwayne reared back, his fangs on full display. The last thing you saw as the beautiful boy with the cool jacket tore into your throat was the wide expanse of black sky dotted with twinkling stars overhead.

_______________

You came back to the present with a terrible moan rattling from your lips. You were still supine on your back, but Dwayne was no longer on top of you. He sat a few feet away with his face still in its vampiric state, somberness radiating from him.

Numbly, you reached for your neck and felt wet, mangled flesh under your fingers. And you knew that if you looked down you would see your blood-soaked shirt and your crippled arm. You dragged yourself into an upright position which was a shaky process as one of your arms did not match the other.

“You did this to me,” you whispered. Dwayne nodded once.

“What—” your voice cracked so you tried again. “What am I?”

“Something was different about you from the start. You didn’t have a pulse, your skin was cold,” he said matter of factly. “But I wasn’t sure exactly until you started talking about your job.”

“What am I” you said more strongly.

“We met for the first time in February…”

“Am I like you?” you asked.

He shook is his slowly denial. You tiled your head upwards and took in the sky, moon, and stars. There was only one other option, the option that was the hardest to admit out loud.

“I’m dead, then.”

“You’re the only person I’ve killed that’s ever come back,” he said unsurely.

Now that you remembered everything, and your ghostly status was brought to light, other things started making sense too. How your sense of taste was dulled at the boardwalk and you weren’t sure where you slept last night, if you slept at all.

It seemed that your earlier joke about drawing strength from All Hallows Eve was too far off from the truth.

“You’re the friend I was looking for. Was your bike even really broken back then?” Trails of thick blood leaked from your open wound.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze which was all the answer you needed. “It’s a con I use to lure in meals sometimes,” he finally sighed.

“I never made it to L.A. either… Oh, Dwayne. There was so much I wanted to do.”

You started choking up and he inched forward awkwardly, which you allowed.

“It won’t change things, but it wasn’t personal. I needed to feed and you were the first one I found.”

His candid confession unleashed your tears (looks like ghosts were still able to cry) and the moaning returned. He eased you into his lap and hugged you. His hands rubbed up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

You accepted that you were dead and you didn’t hate Dwayne for what he had done. That didn’t mean you didn’t mourn what you lost. You cried miserably for a long time before the tears ran their course and dried up.

What a mess you must have looked like with your swollen eyes and fatal wounds, your hair likely littered with sand. That got you thinking: how come you didn’t look like this until now? Hmm. Maybe you had could control our appearance. Or you had to remember the truth first.

And another thing, “What happened to my stuff?”

“We scrapped the car for metal and parts. We kept the cash and trashed the rest.”

That was a little annoying. “Donate next time you need to get rid of belongings. I’m sure there’s a lot of people who could use it.”

“Noted,” he promised.

“How much time do you think I have left?” That was an unpleasant realization, especially since you weren’t sure where you would go next.

He gently lifted up the arm that was broken. You gulped. Your fingers were flaking off into bright blue pieces, drifting in the air before fizzling out. You were slowly disappearing.

It started in your hands and creeped up your arms and legs. Dwayne watched it happened alongside you. You weren’t in any pain, but you were glad that he was there with you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Will you hug me as I go?”

He tucked your head into his chest, his hug comforting. Soon your limbs had completely gone and all that remained was your center. A final release of energy that felt like the final exhale let you know that this was it.

“I forgive you, Dwayne,” you said softly. You smiled and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Dwayne watched as the last of you floated off and dissolved into the night air.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured.

I hope that I was able to make Dwayne threatening, but compassionate, like I was aiming for. The Umbrella Academy gif is what I had in mind with the scene at the end. I’m actually a little nervous to post this, so thanks to anyone who takes the time to read!

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #imagines

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rose-ellis · 4 years

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They Will Rise Again

I think I may start posting some of my writing on Tumblr. Here is a little piece (~1500 words) that I wrote for a fiction workshop last fall. I sort of had a gender neutral Crowley and fem Aziraphale in mind when I wrote this, but the general story itself has nothing to do with Good Omens. I didn’t have a solid idea when I started it so I kind of just put down whatever came to mind, but I actually like how it turned out.

I love getting feedback, so let me know what you think!

Title: They Will Rise Again

Type: Angst/Fluff? (I honestly have no idea)

Warnings: None

Word count: 1480

~~~~~

There are several things that one can do in the English countryside that the streets of London simply do not allow. Breathing, for example – rather important, that one. Another is sitting in near-complete silence in the middle of the day.

A young woman of some twenty years sat alone in a small cottage in the north of Oxfordshire, taking advantage of both of those simple pleasures. The town in which she resided is not important; very few apart from the locals would recognise the name. Surrounded by sprawling fields of wheat and corn, it was the sort of place that was easily passed through without sparing it a glance, and so unremarkable that those who did take note usually forgot about it soon after leaving the town limits.

This meant that apart from the cattle and chickens belonging to the family next door, and the occasional yelling from Mrs. Simmons across the way when she forgot to turn on her hearing aids, there was very little outside the cottage to disturb the peaceful quiet that usually settled over the property.

This was not to suggest that there was never trouble in the village. Those who move from the city to the country should not be (yet invariably are) surprised to learn that people, regardless of where they live, are human. And quite often, humans are assholes.

That morning, however, had passed with no apparent trouble as far as the young woman was aware. The sun had risen as it is wont to do, and the birds that had nested in the eaves (despite many efforts to relocate them) had sung their tune to their hearts’ content. Breakfast had been made and eaten, and the woman now lounged in the kitchen, where the only sounds to be heard were the rumbling of the electric kettle and the rustling of paper as she flipped through the weekly news.

It had become a Saturday ritual – get up late, read the paper, drink tea, stay inside, and pray that no visitors came. So far, everything had gone to plan. She was still dressed in her pyjamas from the night before with no intention to change out of them. Tight, frizzy curls protruded every which way from where her dark hair was piled messily atop her head.

She hummed to herself as an article caught her attention. The legs of her round-framed glasses were just slightly too long, causing the specs to slowly slip down the arch of her pointed nose. Every few moments she would nudge them back into place, her eyes never pausing as they roamed across the pages. She was so engrossed in the words that she hardly noticed the way that her lips moved silently as she read – a habit that she adamantly denied having, even after catching herself on more than one occasion. She sighed in content.

The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly broken a moment later when the outside door was violently flung open. It swung back on its hinges until it collided with the wall, banging loudly upon impact. Another dent was added to the ever-growing collection left behind by the doorknob. The young woman had given up trying to fix them long ago, knowing that more would appear soon after.

Just inside the door there stood a rather striking individual. They were tall – so much so that they had needed to stoop to enter the cottage. Their slender figure, clad in all black, only emphasized this further. A deadly looking scowl hung on their lips and they muttered complaints and vague threats under their breath.

It was hardly the first time that the figure had burst in, impassioned by some unknown source. So regular an occurrence was this that the young woman did not even flinch at the noise. Her eyes never strayed from the print before her, nor did she acknowledge the slew of words that would have made poor old Mrs. Simmons want to turn off her hearing aids for good. She simply turned the page of her newspaper, continuing to read the article on the other side as she waited for the explanation that would inevitably come.

Despite their sudden appearance and apparent eagerness, they took their time to close the door and saunter over to the table. There was such a swing to their gait that it led most to believe that they had either been seriously injured or had become well acquainted with the contents of the liquor cabinet. Both were incorrect, but only one person had ever been brave enough to ask.

The woman rose from her seat as the kettle shut itself off, intending to fix herself some tea. Instinctively, she reached into the cupboard to retrieve a second cup. Her companion slipped by her on their way to the table, dropped the post from the box on the counter, then dramatically threw themselves down onto a chair.

“If I ever get my hands on those bastards, I’ll tear their heads clean off their bodies,” they seethed, white-knuckled as they slammed their fists onto the wooden surface. Their dark eyes blazed with untamed rage.

“That’s called murder, dear,” the woman reminded them patiently, pouring hot water into the pair cups. “Quite frowned upon, I’m afraid. Tea?”

Her partner grumbled in response and a moment later, a dainty porcelain cup and saucer were placed before them on the table. Their long, boney fingers tried clumsily to pick it up by the small handle, nearly spilling it in the process. Upon successfully lifting it to their lips, they found that the correct amount of sugar (two heaping spoons) and a splash of milk – not one drop more – had been added.

“You think they cared about it being bloody frowned upon?” They shook their head. “Murderers – beasts, the lot of them. Didn’t even hesitate, ripping them apart and throwing their heads in the mud.”

As she settled back into her seat, the woman’s gaze wandered to the nearby vase. In seconds, realization dawned over her. “I understand that you’re upset, darling, but don’t you think you’re being tad bit dramatic? It’s probably just the children, after all.”

Her companion narrowed their eyes at the accusation. “That’s hardly an excuse – they’re hellions, I tell you! Savages!” Impassioned, their hand came down onto the table once more, their cup roughly clanking onto its saucer.

“You’ve gotten yourself all in a tizz. Now, calm down and finish your tea.” When they tried to protest, the woman pointed a stern finger in their direction. “And if you break one more of my teacups, those ‘hellions’ will be the least of your worries.”

“Yes dear.” The cup was gingerly returned to its saucer.

Unbeknownst to them, their conversation had not been private. A delivery man, new to the job, had chosen a rather unfortunate time to drop off a package. He stood outside their door, slack jawed as he tried to process what he had heard. As far as he could tell, there had been multiple murders in the town – committed by children, no less – and someone inside the cottage was more concerned about their teacup than the fact that people’s heads had been ripped off and thrown in the mud.

He quickly retreated to his lorry, his eyes darting mistrustfully to the two young boys who skated past on the opposite side of the laneway. The package was still clutched in his hands. Some other unlucky sod could be the one to deliver it.

The couple inside the cottage was unaware of the vehicle as it sped away. They sat in silence as they continued to sip their tea. The woman observed as the tension slowly retreated from her companion’s shoulders, leaving them to sag dejectedly. A pout had replaced the scowl on their lips, and sorrow had drowned out the last embers of rage that had burned in their eyes.

Reaching across the table, she rested her hand atop her partner’s, holding it carefully as she caressed it with her thumb. “I know you loved them, darling,” she said, “I did too.”

“It’s not just that.” They slouched forward to rest their chin on their crossed arms.

“Then what is it?”

“They were for you,” her lover replied, a sad smile passing over their face. “And those little bastards just threw them aside like they were nothing.”

“Are they still out there?” She received a curious nod in reply. “Then we shall lay them to rest.”

That Saturday, they left their cottage, hand in hand, to approach their flower garden. Dozens of sunflowers had been uprooted, their stems torn to pieces and their heads discarded in the mud along the side of the lane. Tenderly, they cleaned up the site of the massacre, evened out the soil, and buried the dead. Soon enough, they would rise again.

#writing #one-shot #imagine #short fic #fluff #angst #I don't know how to tag this #good omens inspired #good omens #genderneurtral!Crowley #fem!Aziraphale

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lastoneout · 5 years

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I really do hope that the people who are insisting and implying that the current Supreme Court case about LGBTQ rights is only about same-gender attraction and gender expression understand that this bill will affect ALL queer people regardless of specific attraction or gender identities.

Time and time again Straight society has proven that the cis-hetero-patriarchy cares little for what your exact identity is. Bi, gay, ace, aro, pan, trans, genderqueer, agender, intersex, ect. It's all 'gay' to them, and when they decide to fire someone they will not care to make a distinction between identities. They wont think, oh this person is ace so they arent really gay, I'll keep them on. They'll think oh theres another filthy queer and I want them gone.

There is no nuance, there is only Straight and not Straight, and ALL queer people fall under the 'not Straight' definition. It hurts all of us, and we should all stand together and fight it, and not let our identities divide us. Now more than ever solidarity is important. Now more than ever TERFs and Exclusionists need to acknowledge that there is no distinction to Straight people. Now more than ever we need to come together as a community, our community, and stand strong.

And the cis-heteroromantic-heterosexuals need to stand up too. Allyship is important now. If your boss fires a coworker for being queer, fight back, make a huge fuss, organize a strike, tell the local paper, quit if you have to. It's time to put your money where your mouth is and stand with the queer people you say you support. Because the bigots have shown they wont listen to us, but you can use your privilege to make them listen to you.

(And before anyone starts saying 'oh well a-spec people and bi/pan people in opposite gender relationships can just shut up about their sexuality' ANY queer person can 'just shut up' about their identity. We can all refuse to talk about our partners at work. We can take the pride stickers and keychains and phone cases and put them away. We can dress as the wrong gender and use our deadnames at work. We can make a separate FB with a different name to make sure our bosses never see the real us. We can avoid pride events and beg our relatives to keep quiet when they come by and keep PDA to a minimum just incase. We can silence ourselves in so many ways, and for some it might be easier, and for some it might be harder, but the point truly is we shouldnt have to silence ourselves AT ALL. It hurts all queer people to be forced back into the closet, no matter the logistics of our identity, and none of us should have to do that.)

#supreme court #lgbtqa+ rights #queer rights #lgbt rights #lgbt+ rights #all hateful note on this post will be replied to with pictures of yotsuba

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klaineharmony · 5 years

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Sweet and Right and Merciful

“sweet and right and merciful, i’m all but washed in the tide of her breathing”

Thanks to @rum-on-fire for the Hozier lyric, in one of their posts. :)

This isn’t any of the WIPs I’m supposed to be working on for the 300x3 challenge, but . . . *shrugs*. I was inspired. :) 1295 words.

Jack woke to the rosy light of dawn spilling in the bedroom window. His eyelids were heavy, but he felt warm and content, rested after what had been a long week of late nights and early deadlines.

He rolled over slowly to face his sleeping partner, and he caught his breath as he took in Sarah’s face in the morning light. She was always beautiful, and he never got over feeling awed by her, but there was something sacred about this. Seeing her asleep, knowing that she trusted and loved him enough to share her bed, to be so completely vulnerable with him, made his chest ache with painful happiness.

It wasn’t new. They had been friends since high school, when Jack had impulsively started a strike among the newspaper staff. When the administration and then the school district had tried to censor the paper’s articles on sexual education, HIV and AIDS prevention, and climate change, Sarah (who was the paper’s editor, the first in the history of the high school) and Davey (who was the lead feature writer) had been furious. Jack had heard them talking about it during the lunch period and had boldly walked over to their table and proposed the idea of a student body strike against the administration.

Sarah had scoffed at him, and David had immediately given him a laundry list of reasons why it was risky, since there was a mandated number of school days, students were minors and didn’t have a union, and parents could theoretically punish their kids for taking part. It would never work if it was just a few of them, he had said, and what were the chances they could get the entire students body on their side?

Jack had smirked at David’s naivete, and he proceeded to call over his entire group of friends and have them sit and listen to Sarah and Davey about the administration's censorship of the paper. Incensed by the unfairness (as he had known they would be), Crutchie, Blink, Mush, Specs, Skittery, Smalls, Boots, Racetrack, and Dutchy had immediately appointed themselves ambassadors to the rest of the student body, and within two days had most of the school on board. Spot and Plumber’s crew had been the hardest to win over (as Jack had known they would be), but he appealed to them himself, and they came in after the rest of the student body staged a day-long sit-in in the halls.

Mr. Denton, the paper’s advisor, had been incredibly skeptical at first, and shared Davey’s worries over the repercussions of a strike, but after the first day of the sit-in, the local media caught wind of what they were doing (thanks to some highly-circulated social media posts from Sarah and Davey) and the coverage brought support flooding in from local free speech groups and even the ACLU. Denton was all in after that, and did everything he could to support the striking students and advocate for them with the administration and the media.

They had won the fight, two weeks and one furious and humiliated school administration later, and Davey and Sarah had become Jack’s best friends from the strike forward. Jack had asked Sarah to junior prom at the end of that year, and they had been together ever since, six years and counting.

Jack had, at first, been floored by Sarah and David’s complete acceptance of him and his friends. He was a foster kid, and his adoptive mom and siblings, Medda and Crutchie and Smalls, were the only family he’d ever really had. The Jacobs were the complete opposite of what he had known as a little kid - stable, with two great parents and their obnoxious but cute younger brother, Les, who was one of the freshman during the strike. But despite their initial doubt, they had embraced Jack as an ally and a friend, and had trusted his friends to do their part when they said they would. Jack had been staggered by their level of trust, when they barely knew him, and staggered even more by his own trust in them, which went against every bit of common sense he had.

And with Sarah, Jack had found himself telling her things - about his parents, about his childhood in foster care, about how he had come to Medda and she had slowly, slowly broken through his defenses - that he had never told anyone. Sarah accepted each little bit of him with kindness, and only seemed to love him more with every new thing she learned. She had given him back that trust, fully, telling him about her own childhood, her fears of not being good enough, of wanting to be more than just a pretty face and a good daughter, and Jack came to understand that she was driven not only by her fierce intellect, but by the need to prove herself, to be more than most people expected her to be.

She gave him peace, and compassion, and loved him fiercely, and Jack tried - oh, he tried, with everything he was - to give those same things to her, every day.

He knew in his bones, in the very deepest part of his own heart, that the sweet ache of loving her would never go away.

Jack had been watching Sarah sleep while he thought, and now he reached out and gathered her against him, putting one arm and a leg over her body and pulling her close. She sighed and nestled her head against him, winding her arm around his before her eyes drifted open.

“Morning, Cowboy,” she murmured, smiling, and Jack smiled back, leaning over and kissing her eyelids and the tip of her nose before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he said.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” Jack said quietly. “Maybe ten minutes. Just enjoying being in our bed with you. Thinkin’ about how much I love you.”

Sarah’s eyes grew brighter and somehow softer, and she reached up and cupped his cheek. “I love you, too. Always, Jack.”

Jack kissed her again, soft and slow, and Sarah responded in kind, her mouth tender against his. When they finally broke apart, needing to breathe, Jack leaned his forehead against hers and spoke what was in his heart.

“Sarah,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”

Sarah went still underneath him, and drew back from him just a little, so that she could see his face. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been so serious about anything in my life,” Jack said, caressing her face with his hands. “I love you. I want to be yours forever. I want us forever, Sarah. I want to love you, and learn with you, and grow with you, as long as we’re both breathin’. You make me so happy, and I can’t imagine life without you in it.”

Sarah’s eyes had filled with tears as he talked, and she gave a little sob as he finished and then leaned up and kissed him.

“Of course I will,” she said, her voice choked. “I love you with all my heart, Jack. All you had to do was ask.”

Jack kissed her back, deeply, and Sarah put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, cradling his body against hers.

“I didn’t mean to ask like this,” he murmured between kisses. “I’ve had a ring for you for weeks - those reservations we have for this weekend? I was going to ask you then. But I just - couldn’t wait anymore.”

Sarah smiled against his lips. “We’ll just make that our newly-engaged dinner,” she said. “This was perfect, Jack. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful, and I love you even more for asking because it felt right. I love you.”

“Nothin’ feels more right than this,” Jack said, kissing her again. “I love you, too.”

After that, neither of them needed words for a long time.

Tags:

@queenofbrooklyn, @icouldwritebooks, @rudeflower, @whatstheproblembaby, @coffeegleek and anyone else who likes my little bits of writing or Jack and Sarah. :)

#Newsies #Newsies 1992 #300x3 #Jack Kelly #Sarah Jacobs #Klaineharmony writes #fic

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deltaengineering · 5 years

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Winter Anime 2019 Part 3: High on Concept

If you wait long enough, you’ll find something good to say.

Doukyonin wa Hiza, Tokidoki, Atama no Ue / My Roommate is a Cat

What: Misanthropic mystery author picks up tough stray cat, both get healed.

✅ The cat acts like a cat, the misanthrope acts like a misanthrope.

✅ The approach of telling the same simple story from the perspective of two characters that can’t really communicate effectively is interesting.

✅ This is very basic, but it works. I like both characters, and it's generally inoffensive. Pretty much Barakamon with less of a focus on telling you exactly what to feel. Might watch more of this.

❌ I see we’re now at the point where shows get localized titles that sound like lazy translations of bland Japanese names even when the Japanese title is not that bland to begin with. Lovely.

Dimension High School

What: A bunch of kids press XXX and YYY and are sucked. Wooow.

✅✅ The wraparound segments look extremely realistic. If there was more lensflares and shots of feet I’d almost say someone has finally beaten KyoAni in making anime look like a cheap, egregiously overacted J-Drama.

❌❌ Sadly, the puzzle dimension they end up in just looks like homemade MMD animation, because it is. I mean, at least it’s mocapped, but apparently with a Kinect.

❌❌ E.g., they make jokes about clipping and they kinda have to because everything clips into everything else all the time.

❌❌ Did I mention that all they actually do is solve lame puzzles and fail to be funny about it? It’s really getting to the levels of the dreaded “barely animated voice actor improv podcast” at these points.

♎ Suwabe’s in it, and that’s never an outright bad thing. He’s voicing the quizmaster, in the process proving he’d do anything for a paycheck. I wonder if he has a fiverr acocunt.

Domestic na Kanojo

What: Highschooler loses virginity to one night stand, finds out that it was the sister of the teacher he has a crush on. Incidentally, the mother of both also just married his father. Zany!

✅ This is presented like a low-key, slow drama, and it’s not even bad at that. Some good directing going on here, at least in the beginning.

❌❌ Really just too bad that it’s impossible to take seriously with a setup as contrived as this, not to mention taking it as seriously as it apparently wants to be taken. It’s also not exactly original.

❌ I’m not gonna say that sketchy relationships can’t work (it worked fine for KoiAme, for example), but embedding your suddenly also incestuous pupil-teacher affair in the setting of a harem comedy, complete with other sister walking in on attempted drunk blackout kiss, is not giving me confidence that this has the chops to pull it off.

❌❌ The show this reminds me the most of is Love and Lies, and that’s a real bad calling card to have.

Girly Air Force

What: Girl-shaped fighter jets fall in love with a dude.

❌❌ It’s just another military-hardware-is-cute-girls-actually show in the vein of Strike Witches, the kind where they think that having a few plane CG models is already thrilling content.

❌❌ But then it doesn’t even turn out to be that in practice, because most of the episode is taken up by lame “worldbuilding” (i.e., coming up with excuses for why your fanservice show has to be the way it is) and trying to make your bland harem lead interesting, which is a futile endeavour.

❌ The most interesting part is still the CG dogfighting, such as it is. It’s not great either. Also, girly planes are pink.

♎ Honestly got a laugh out of them randomly picking a Gripen as heroine unit in addition to actual JSADF hardware, because that’s a sleek-looking plane. The biggest prank the JSADF ever pulled on the otaku industry is buying the chubby F-35, which is nowhere to be seen here.

Go-toubun no Hanayome / The Quintessential Quintuplets

What: Empoverished highschooler is hired as a tutor for some rich quintuplets with large breasts.

❌ This is a blatant harem setup that would make a 2003 bishoujo VN blush.

✅ However, in practice it’s much better than it sounds. It knows it’s a wacky romcom with a dumb premise and it does not pretend otherwise.

✅ So it’s lighthearted, but it’s also surprisingly classy. In fact, it’s classier than Domestic no Kanojo, which is a show that’s actually trying to look respectable and failing.

✅ The relationships are also very feisty, with an energy that a comedy needs. There’s a lot of sass to go around here. Probably the best of these I’ve seen in a while, so I’ll give it three eps.

Kemurikusa

What: After getting pulled off the sequel, the Kemono Friends crew made their own version. Presumably there are blackjack and hookers in this show’s future.

❌ If you are a fan of KF’s “charms”, fear not, you would not be able to tell these people made another anime before. It's still total amateur hour.

❌❌ It’s not even the “looks”, though those certainly are not a highlight. The design is okay and the animation is bad, but I’m not incapable of enjoying shows with bad animation. What really kills it is the editing. I usually don’t comment on editing because that’s almost always competent and only very rarely great, but Kemurikusa has uniquely lazy and badly timed editing. Every shot being seconds longer than it needs to be is already an annoyance in low-key dialog scenes, but the alleged action is laughable and allows you a long, unblinking stare at every frame of bad animation. I really do wonder why they even bother with it when it’s so terrible.

✅ The setting seems alright, even though it’s just a reskinned Kemono Friends. At least it’s not gijinka nonsense this time (which makes one wonder where the gimmick characters are supposed to come from, but I digress), and it’s more upfront about what it actually is too. I’d call it mildly intriguing.

❌ I don’t mind mystery and certainly prefer it to exposition bombs, but instead of that this episode quickly establishes the most basic facts... and then repeats them over and over and over some more. Combined with non-editing, this makes for horrible pacing.

♎ I had no opinion on KF’s longer-term qualities, because the first episode was so boring I never got any further. I won’t have an opinion on this show’s long-term qualities for the same reason.

Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka

What: Magical girls are tragic, shoot gun’s.

❌❌ Yo bro, what if magical girls but dark? Surely such a thing has never been attempted.

❌ The particular source of grim here is that these girls are war vets and fight with semi-realistic weaponry, so there’s a fair bit of the ol’ milwank in this one as well.

❌ The best part of the entire show is that the enemies they originally fought looked like cute teddy bears. Of course, this is dropped in favor of just slicing and dicing some random terrorists in the main narrative. I guess “dark magical girl” is still too outlandish a concept, gotta go with ripping off The Punisher again.

❌ The characters so far are nothing special, you got your PTSD Rambo and the generically cute tomodachis she swears to protect. Such contrast!

❌❌ If you must make these 80s action movies with some otaku gimmick pasted on top, would you mind making the action look good at least? Because I don’t care how many gallons of blood you paint in your dramatic but conspicuously non-moving pans.

Meiji Tokyo Renka

What: Spiritually sensitive lonelygirl gets kitsuned to the Meiji era, which is full of delicious beef and some handsome men too I guess.

✅ This isn’t an outright comedy, but it goes all in on everyone’s fabulosity level to a degree that it’s really already three quarters to Dame x Prince.

✅ Similarly, the lead is not quite as unimpressed with these hams as Ani was, but she certainly has a lot more interest in roast beef than in these guys always trying to pull her into sparkly chin-holding poses &c.

✅ Meiji Tokyo Renka doesn’t seem to be anything special, but it gets the tone right and is expressive enough to not become boring.

♎ While certainly watchable right now, with these there’s always the chance that it decides to launch into real drama in the long run, which in turn almost always goes wrong.

Yakusoku no Neverland / The Promised Neverland

What: An orphanage’s happy daily life gets upended by the realisation that they’re just pizza rolls for some demonic entities.

✅ I watched this right after Kemurikusa and let me tell you, it sure helps if you’ve got professionals on the team. This is a highly competent show as far as cinematography and editing is concerned. While there isn’t any reason to go all out on the action sakuga, this show looks real good.

❌ I’m not feeling the character design, to be specific I think everyone’s chin is too big. This sounds like a real assholy nitpick, but be aware that this will impact around 90% of the time you watch this.

✅ The premise is workable for a shounen manga, even if hardly original (remember Owari no Seraph?) At least it’s not kids with superpowers spamming beams at each other while discussing the nature of heroism, and seems to be going for a more mindgames-based approach in the vein of Death Note. The characters are just barely good enough so far. In the end it’s not so much the premise, but how well the production values are able to sell it. And that’s what Neverland is good at.

❌ It’s specifically a Weekly Shounen Jump manga, and that is huge red flag. Sure enough, while the visuals and mood deliver, the dialog writing justifiably assumes the reader is a moron. Almost every line in this is either straight universe exposition or someone reading someone else’s character sheet back to them. It’s insane and not even necessary because their actions establish all of this just fine, but hey, WSJ readers amirite?

❌ Also, since it’s a successful WSJ property, don’t expect an ending or be prepared to watch this show for years. Most likely both.

♎ This seems like it could be entertaining once the exposition is out of the way and the real meat of the narrative starts. Then again, at that point pacing would come into play, which is yet another achilles heel of WSJ-style shounen manga. Against my better judgement, I’ll probably have a look how this develops, but I don’t expect much.

#anime #winter2019 #impressions #meiji tokyo renka #yakusoku no neverland #the promised neverland #Doukyonin wa Hiza Tokidoki Atama no Ue #My Roommate is a Cat #dimension high school #domestic na kanojo #girly air force #go-toubun no hanayome #the quintessential quintuplets #Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka

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spaztronautwriter · 6 years

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Arrow S7 Spec Fic

A/N: I'm so !!!!!! about that BTS picture of Felicity with the pink hair that I actually wrote a thing. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Read on AO3

###

Felicity was having flashbacks to college. And not only because of the dyed hair and nose ring she was sporting.

When she was eighteen and trying to support herself while at MIT, Felicity had taken a part time job as a barista. Her love of coffee aside, it was a pretty sucky job, so the fact that she was serving coffee, once again, at twenty-eight? Yeah, not exactly a step forward in her career.

Just another pitfall of being in witness protection.

With a sigh, Felicity pushed back a strand of long blonde hair that faded into a brilliant pink, and finished up the espresso for the guy waiting patiently at the counter. He’d been a regular since Felicity started working at Radu’s Coffee and she knew his order without even having to ask.

“Thanks.” The guy smiled as she placed the cup in front of him and then took a sip. The froth left a little mustache behind and Felicity grinned.

“You have a little...” She gestured to her upper lip and the guy’s eyes went wide. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and she grabbed him a napkin out of one of the holders.

“Thanks,” he repeated, his smile a little embarrassed. “I’m Justin, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself.”

Felicity bit her lip. Whenever they introduced themselves they were about to hit on her. It had happened several times in the past few months and it never got less awkward. But this guy had always been nice, she reminded herself. And they’d hit the midday lull, so he was the only customer currently sitting at the counter. Maybe he was just making polite conversation.

“Stephanie.” She’d almost said Felicity. She always almost said Felicity. It had been nearly five months since she’d been handed a brand new identity, you’d think she’d be used to it by now.

Justin smiled, and he had a really great smile she couldn’t help but notice. For just a second she let herself consider what it would be like if things were different, simpler. A cute guy smiles at her and maybe it’s the start of a coffee shop meet-cute. But things weren’t different, and despite how sucky everything had become in the past six months—and they were sucky. Her husband had gone to prison, a psychopath had all but certainly put a hit out on her and her stepson, and she was now living under a false identity and getting hit on by strangers she served coffee—she still couldn’t say she’d change a thing.

The bell above the door chimed, followed by an excited, “Stephanie!”

The grin overtook her before she’d even fully turned to see the newcomer. “Did you do it?”

William hurried over to the counter, hopping up onto the stool beside Justin and handing her a sheet of paper. “First place!”

A quick glance at the paper told her it was an award for first place in the Hope Springs Middle School science fair, written out to Clayton Anderson. Felicity had requested William’s new name, hoping the familiarity would make the transition easier on him. She’d also wanted him to be able to retain something of his mother, since she had no idea how long they’d be forced to live under their new aliases.

“That’s awesome, buddy.” She grinned, handing him back his award. “My shift is almost over, so why don’t you grab a table and start your homework and I’ll bring you over a hot chocolate.”

William agreed eagerly and, choosing a table near the front window, he pulled a few books out of his green backpack and got to work. A pang shot through her at the sight. He’d been wearing a lot more green recently, she’d noticed. It reminded her of how she used to cuddle with her dad’s old MIT sweatshirt every night after he’d left her and her mother.

“That your little brother?” Justin asked, pulling her back from her thoughts with a warm smile.

“My son, actually.”

His eyes went wide for just a moment before he composed himself. She couldn’t blame him. She was far too young to have a nearly thirteen year old. In fact, she would have had to have been fifteen years old when she had William, the exact same age her mother was when she had her. Just another one of the striking similarities her new identity had to her childhood.

Justin shook his head. “He calls you by your first name?”

Forcing a smile, she said, “We’re a… progressive family.”

To be fair, Justin’s was one of the more tactful responses she’d gotten to introducing William as her son. In contrast, their neighbor—Old Lady Cramer—had given her a dirty look and said, “I bet now you wish you’d kept your legs closed and gone to college?” Felicity may have hacked into her bank account later that night and donated a hefty sum to a charity focused on helping single mothers afford college. It was a lot kinder than what she’d been tempted to do.

Justin went back to his espresso as she started foaming the milk for William’s hot chocolate. “He seems like a good kid.”

“He’s the best,” she said with a nod.

“And his father?”

It was another question she got a lot. Something she should be used to answering by now, but it still gutted her every single time. “He’s... not in the picture right now.”

That was the nicest way to say it that would get people to back off. She’d started off saying he was away, but that left open too many questions about where and why and when he’d be back. This way people assumed he’d left her or she’d left him or whatever and that she was just in denial or embarrassed about it. She didn’t mind, as long as she didn’t have to say that he was dead or that she was never going to see him again, because he wasn’t and she was.

She’d been in near constant contact with John and Lyla since Oliver was sent to prison. They’d discussed a lot of scenarios, including staging a prison break. The problem was, she knew Oliver wasn’t interested in becoming a fugitive, which meant they had to work the system until they found a legal way to get him out. Her husband was nothing if not stubborn. The fact that he was in prison at all attested to that fact.

Eventually, they’d find a solution that worked, they just needed to keep looking.

“That’s a shame,” Justin said, snapping Felicity out of her thoughts. She glanced back up to see his smile had turned sympathetic. He nodded toward William. “I bet he misses him.”

The back of her eyes prickled with tears as she looked over, watching William hunch over the table writing something in his notebook. “He does,” she said, her voice carrying more emotion than she would have liked. “We both do.”

As if he felt her staring, William glanced back over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. She threw him a big smile, motioning that she’d be over with his hot chocolate in just a minute. She grabbed a to-go cup and got to work, not wanting to keep him waiting.

“Thank you,” Justin said just as she was fitting the lid on William’s drink. She looked up to see him pulling out a few dollar bills to leave on the counter. “And… I know it’s none of my business, but...” He paused, hesitating just a moment. “For what it’s worth, I hope he comes back into the picture soon.”

The tears were back, this time even going so far as to catch in her eye lashes. “Me too,” she breathed, caught off guard by the kindness in his voice. “Thank you.”

Justin gave her one last smile and headed out, the bell above the door chiming as he left. She set William’s hot chocolate down and collected the money on the counter, smiling at the generous tip he’d left her. Sadly enough, she actually needed the money. Lyla had gotten them new identities and some cash to get them started, but it was up to Felicity to make ends meet. At least until Diaz was off the board.

She sighed, wistfully, wishing she wasn’t stuck here in this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. Her hands itched to have a keyboard in front of them, but she’d been told more than once not to try to track down Diaz on her own. She doubted he’d be able to track her location—she was so much better than Lyla gave her credit for—but she’d agreed nonetheless. It was one thing to risk her own safety—however little risk it actually was. It was another to risk William’s, and that she wouldn’t do, no matter how much she longed to go home.

Forty-five minutes later, after stopping at a local burger place that just made her miss Big Belly Burger that much more, she sat down to watch some tv and decompress. William sat beside her on the couch, quietly watching the newest episode of Doctor Who. He’d never been the most talkative kid—she couldn’t blame him with all that he’d gone through in his short life—but tonight was different. She thought he’d be rambling away about the science fair with the way he’d been going on about it all week, but nothing. Just a sullen expression and closed off body language that reminded her way too much of Oliver when he was brooding.

“Alright,” she said, pausing the show, “what’s wrong?”

His reply was as instantaneous as it was shocking. “Are you going to divorce Dad?”

Felicity’s mouth fell open and it took her a moment to process what he was asking. “What? Why would…? Why would you even think something like that? No, of course not.”

William nodded, but he looked unconvinced. “I saw you talking to that guy at the cafe before. You were smiling a lot and you haven’t smiled a lot since we moved here and I know you’re mad at Dad for leaving—”

“Oh, William, no,” she said, cutting him off before he could spiral any further. “Yes, I’m mad at your dad for leaving, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. And it doesn’t mean I would ever… leave him.”

She thought back to the split second in the coffee shop where she’d imagined how much easier things would be if she’d just been a girl flirting with a cute boy over coffee. Guilt rolled over her, causing her gut to clench. She’d never cheat on Oliver, and she’d meant it, what she’d told him after their wedding reception last year. She’d wait for him, for as long as it took.

“Your dad, he…” She sighed, still trying to make sense of Oliver’s decision herself. “He thought he could protect us by making that deal with the FBI. It didn’t work out the way he meant it to, but he did it because he loves us. You know that, right?” William nodded, wiping his palms on the legs of his jeans. “The thought of losing you, of losing us, scared him and he made a really stupid decision. And I’m mad at him because he didn’t consult me about it, but I think I understand, at least a little, what he was thinking, because I would do anything to protect you. Just like I will do anything to get your dad out of prison. So don’t worry so much, okay? Your dad and I… we’ll work it out, we always do.”

William nodded, but still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you, too,” he said, quietly.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she dipped her head, forcing him to look at her. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

“That’s what he said.”

William was watching her with the expression of a boy that had lost everyone he’d ever loved. A boy that was petrified of losing the only person he had left. In that moment, Felicity could truly kill Oliver. If he wasn’t already locked away in a prison cell he would wish he was by the time she got through with him.

“Listen to me,” she said, tightening her grip on his shoulder ever so slightly. “I love you. That’s why we’re here. If it was just me I never would have agreed to protective custody, but I have you to think of now and I will do anything to keep you safe.” She moved her hand up to cup his cheek. “You are my whole world and I am not leaving.”

There was a brief moment of complete silence as they looked at one another, quietly processing the full scope of Felicity’s words. And then William shot forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her shoulder. He’d shot up like a sprout since they’d left Star City, so the position caused him to hunch over awkwardly, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I love you, too,” he murmured into her shirt.

She ran her hand over the back of his head, swallowing back the lump in her throat. They’d get through this. They had each other, and she’d make sure it stayed that way. And when she finally got Oliver back, she was going to make sure they never lost him again either.

#olicity fanfiction #olicity fanfic #felicity smoak #william clayton

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papercrane · 6 years

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Eredar Lord of the Trifling Gnome: Cracktober 2018

Cracktober was made by @wolfandwild for the warcraft hell discord, where we got a randomized pairing and had to create a Hallow’s End themed fic for em!

I got gelbin mekkatorque and JARAXXUS, EREDAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION. I played it straight!

“Nissa?”

“High Tinker?”

“When you can wrap up, how about you go on down to help get ready. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve stayed nearly an hour later than we agreed on.”

Gelbin Mekkatorque poked his head out of the siege tank he was in the middle of repairing, looking over at one of his top engineers of the Tinkers Court, Nissa Brightgale. She returned the pointed look right to him. Nissa was a bit younger than him at 94, but an accomplished tinker, and he recognized some of his own stubborn streak in her. Setting her wrench aside, she sat back, hand on her hip.

“I could say the same of you!”

He was caught, and he knew it, chuckling sheepishly. It was the first night of celebrations for Hallow’s End, and there was a feast in Ironforge that night to kick things off. As High Tinker, he’d agreed to represent his people at the event.

With some reluctance.

“I promised I’d make the festival, not the preparations. …And I’ll keep that promise!” He added hurriedly.

Nissa sighed good-naturedly, beginning to collect her things. “I believe you. Just don’t be too late, or the others will have my head!”

The ‘for not watching over you’ went unsaid.

She picked up her bag and looked at him again. “The big dinner starts at seven, ok?” “Seven.” Gelbin repeated duitifully, and Nissa departed with one last firm point in his direction, eyebrows raised.

Gelbin watched Nissa go until she’d disappeared over the rise of the hill, then dropped back inside the hull.

He knew that his poorly-hidden lack of interest in public appearances was talked about in some circles, even if it wasn’t much of a problem in gnomish society. His own people worried about him for other reasons. Since the destruction of their capital, he was hardly ever alone while working in strange or open places if any of his top engineers could help it. Or any of his novice engineers. Or any Tinker’s Court members. Or anyone who happened to be about. Unless he was holed up in his office or at home, there was, not always but often, someone helping him, asking for help, or just puttering around nearby. Anywhere that could possibly be dangerous (or just especially lonely) tended to come with some watchful eyes.

He swore they had to have some sort of chart or calendar on who’d be the one to have a reason to watch him for special nights like this. Gelbin didn’t think he deserved the protective attitude, but if anything that seemed to encourage his citizens’ watchfulness. An official guard might fix the problem, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of hiring one.

Nissa must have really wanted to go, actually, to have left like that. He wished he’d sent her off sooner.

As for him, he’d make his promise, but not yet. He had work to do, and this year’s events had made that work especially important.

There was a goblin saying that war was good business, and Gelbin didn’t wholly disagree- save that he made his business protecting as many of his people as he could.

This siege engine would have every failsafe, and be better than ever before!

Gelbin was situated in the internal workings of the main engine with his glasses balanced on the tip of his nose, adding redundancies to the cooling lines and lubrication valves for the pistons. Zealous pilots had a habit of trying to push all their machines farther than the specs said was possible, so Gelbin had made a habit of making his machines capable of a bit more than he would write into the specs. The left side was the last side, and he’d be done for the night after that- with any luck he’d be able to keep his promise plus some, and be early.

Gelbin smiled, humming to himself as he measured, fed, and secured the new line.

It was times like this with his whole mind and body focused cleanly on work- good work, that would benefit and protect others, when the guilt that never truly went away was the quietest. If he had his way, not a single soul more among his people would meet an end in war, but as it was.

Well.

Gelbin tightened a bolt on the input valve that would remain closed unless the extra line was needed, running eyes and hands over it to ensure that it was solid.

Suddenly, he was broken out of his little reverie by a racket. It had been so quiet at first that he hadn’t heard it, but now, the ground all but shook with what seemed to be the footfalls of some large creature that was far off but rapidly approaching. A two legged one, by Gelbin’s estimation.

Now, that was odd. Some kind of enemy? He seriously doubted any denizen of the horde could get this far into dwarven territory unhindered, nor be so large. An ettin?

Gelbin figured it was worth a look. As he began carefully extricating himself from the machinery of the tank’s main turbo, the footfalls abruptly came to a stop, seemingly not too far off.

Before he could even come out to properly look, Gelbin heard the call.

“TRIFLING FOOLS, NOT EVEN BUILDING A STRONGHOLD IN THIS STRANGE LOCAL CAN SAVE YOU!”

There was a pause as whoever it was (and who was most certainly not an Ettin) apparently caught his breath, then the yelling continued at an even greater volume. Gelbin could not help but think that this would have been easier on him if he hadn’t stopped so far from the actual gates of Ironforge.

“YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!”

“FOR THIS FORTRESS”

“WILL FACE”

Ironforge’s would-be assailant then paused for one last breath. While he’d been yelling, Gelbin had gotten a good look at him. It was a man’ari: bright red and half naked, wearing little more than a leather skirt and some decorative armor. When he’d gasped for a second, hands on his knees, he leaned back up to holler at absolute max volume:

“JARAXXUS, EREDAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION!!!!”

Gelbin was familiar with the name, and the man. He’d been there the last two times this particular Man’ari had been summoned. The only casualty the first time had been the summoner himself, but there’d been a team of 10 or so decent gladiators on hand at the time. The second time, he’d been one amongst the sea of demons they’d faced on the broken shore, and Gelbin had only seen a horde force strike him down early in the fight from afar. Neither time had he faced civilians, and never only one person.

His thoughts had turned first to all his people behind them in the city, preparing for the celebration. Then, they turned to the tank he was still standing in. It could not yet be driven, but many of the weapons were operational. He took a mental inventory of all of them, how close they were, and how easy to activate.

He was glad Nissa had gone on. Assuming a cheerful, pleasant tone, Gelbin spoke.

“No need to yell. No one can hear you around here, not on a night like this.”

“WHO SAID THAT! SHOW YOURSELF, COWARDLY INSECT!” the Eredar lord snarled, looking around furiously.

Gelbin waved cheerfully from where he was standing, completely unhidden, in the cockpit of the tank.

Jaraxxus looked down at him, almost cartoonishly shocked.

He looked haggard, and had early snow covering his legs nearly to the knee. Gelbin wondered what poor sod had summoned him, and how far he’d walked to get here. And how he’d managed to walk here at all without being intercepted.

He hoped the summoner hadn’t been another gnome. Wilfred Fizzlebang had been a criminal and a thoroughly unpleasant man, but he’d been one of Gelbin’s citizens, and as such his responsibility nonetheless.

As Gelbin had been thinking this, Jaraxxus had been looking at him, in turn. For the fel lord… sensed something. Gelbin looked a lot like the trifling gnome who’d summoned him before, and yet…

Something was different. There was power in this tiny man.

Jaraxxus could sense the aura of a man who’d soldiered on unending hardship. Despite being forgotten. The aura of a man who’s model hadn’t been updated in 14 years. A man who, while all the other leader’s fancy models were at level 93 in Siege of Orgimmar, was a 123 elite. Instinctively, Jaraxxus knew that no matter where he went and found this gnome, he’d still be a level 123 elite.

Gelbin saw the look on his face and raised his eyebrows.

The fel lord stammered, still yelling. “IS. ARE YOU THIS PLACE’S ONLY DEFENSE?”

Why not? Gelbin nodded cheerfully. “I am.”

“I. I SEE.”

Jaraxxus looked around. He looked at the tank. He looked at Gelbin.

“Would you like to come into the workshop? It’s a cold night.”

“IF. YOU. WOULD LEAD ME WILLINGLY INTO YOUR STRONGHOLD, I WOULD INVITE SUCH A FOOLISH ERROR.”

Gelbin hopped down from the tank and began walking briskly towards the workshop (and importantly, not towards the city). Jaraxxus gave a look to all the guns that Gelbin just cheerfully abandoned as if they gave no advantage at all and followed stiffly, clearly completely at a loss of what to do besides obey.

Gelbin kept his pace normal as his field workshop came into view, and confidently strode in first.

And as the door opened, Gelbin stepped to the side and onto one of several buttons just behind it.

Immediately as Jaraxxus came in behind him, one of the security systems he’d developed kicked into action. In mere seconds, the prototype legion operative trapping device (or P.L.O.T. device) sent fel-guided restraints around his legs and arms with legendary dwarvish precision. There was even a gag! Jaraxxus fell to the ground with a furious (but muffled) yell, and wiggled around to no avail.

Gelbin put his hands on his hips. Worked perfectly, first time! Pays to be prepared. He thought with satisfaction.

He kneeled beside Jaraxxus, who glared daggers at him from where his face was squished against the floor, continuing the muffled tirade.

“Sorry about that, but I can’t have a Legion invasion in my city. Wait here.” Gelbin said, then hurried off towards Ironforge, ignoring the muffled threats from behind the door.

He had to get help for this, and he knew just who to ask.

Gelbin wound through the crowded square, dodging groups of gnomes, dwarves, and alliance races of all kinds without too much difficulty. He was stopped several times, but with a little small talk, slipped away.

He found the queen near the announcing stand. She was kneeling beside her son, Dagran, fixing a piece of his costume that had fallen loose. Gelbin wasn’t entirely sure what the lad was supposed to be- part of it looked like armor, but he also looked to be on ‘fire’ with some paper flames. Finishing fixing it, Moira patted Dagran on the head, and he ran off with the other children. She stood and looked to Gelbin.

“He couldn’t decide whether to be a paladin or the new fire-lord, so he did both. Made it himself, ‘cept for the armor.”

“He’s a creative one!”

“That he is.” Moira turned to him with a smile, then noticed his expression. She was immediately alert.

“Has something happened?”

“In a manner of speaking. It’s under control, and I don’t want any commotion, but… I could use your advice.”

Moira nodded. “Let’s be discreet, then. We’ll talk more outside.”

Gelbin followed behind her as she strode calmly, but with purpose, out towards the gates. This time, there were fewer questions. She was a true statesman, Moira. Her very presence always seemed to communicate exactly what she intended it to. It was a shame how dwarvish prejudice had limited her.

Once they were outside in the crisp autumn air and, after nodding to the guards, had made their way out of earshot, she turned to him again.

“Alrigh’, what’s the nature of this emergency.”

“Well, we’ve had a bit of an invader.” Gelbin began. “He was pretty easily caught, but… well. I think you’d better see this one for yourself.”

---

Moira squinted at the bound demon. Said demon wiggled around, yelling something unintelligible behind the gag.

“Kinda’ skinny, fer eredar.”

Gelbin looked at ‘Jaraxxus’ again. He had a hard time thinking of any of the hulking draenei as small, but on closer inspection, he was indeed kind of scrawny compared to some warriors of his kind Gelbin had seen.

“I think he was a summoner, mainly, unless he was holding back for some reason the previous two times we encountered him.”

“And you don’t know when he was summoned, or by who, or where he came from?”

Gelbin shook his head. “Didn’t really wait. And I have a feeling he won’t be quite in the mood to tell us, at the moment.”

Jaraxxus wiggled angrily again, spitting what was probably curse-words (whether just rude or a literal curse) through the gag. Moira regarded him for a moment, then turned and smiled exaggeratedly unpleasantly at Gelbin, winking once out of Jaraxxus’ line of vision. He nodded back, affecting an especially careless attitude.

“And it can’t escape?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. This P.L.O.T. device is specially designed for fel-containment.”

“Then I think, High Tinker, that you ought to leave him here and enjoy the feast. We can have some of his ex-compatriots tell us all about him later, I think.”

Gelbin smiled at the title. “Well, that sounds like a plan, Queen Reagent.”

“Wonderful.” Moira drawled almost comically maliciously. “You shouldn’t let something so… small spoil the night.”

“Of course. “

And they shut the door on the now furiously wiggling fel lord without further discussion.

At the feast, Gelbin couldn’t quite forget their captive demon, but Moira was the same as ever, a master at acting as if nothing at all was amiss. He tried his best to emulate her. They’d had a more serious talk outside, and determined that there really was no risk in leaving him a bit longer, so he knew he shouldn’t worry, but it felt strange to say the least. He was sure some of his friends could tell he was nervous.

After the feast concluded, Moira found the remainder of the council to let them know, and Gelbin set about contacting Velen to see if they could arrange for someone who knew Jaraxxus to come and advise them. He supposed it was lucky that it had been him who’d found Jaraxxus first. All the leaders of the allied races of the Alliance had some form of contact, he could contact Velen without delay on his magic missive sendulator (or MMS). He felt a bit bad, though. It was generally understood that the Prophet and his people were on a sort of vacation after finally being freed of the thousands of years of being under the legion’s shadow. But it had to be done. The three hammers were already scrabbling a bit on whether to keep or kill him, and Moira had to firmly remind them that Jaraxxus was Gelbin’s prisoner, not theirs.

They’d all gone together to the office only to find the fel lord sound asleep on the floor, snoring noisily. After Falstad woke him with an all-too-gleeful kick, a small group of Dwarvish and gnomish mages and guards who had been gathered to escort him confiscated his armor and transferred him to the Ironforge prisons used for high-profile and political prisoners.

Since this was bound to alert the city, Gelbin and Muradin had been tasked with announcing everything. As such, there was a sizable amount of onlookers by the time the furious fel lord was taken through the city, but the extreme restraints seemed to satisfy, and besides assorted congratulations (especially from gnomes) and one scolding from an understandably worried Nissa, the transfer went on without a hitch.

Once he was in, his bindings were removed with a bit of magic, and he immediately began shouting again. The “YOU FOOLS, YOU’VE ONLY BROUGHT ME INTO YOUR STRONGHOLD” and “YOU WILL FEEL MY WRATH!” and such were stoutly ignored as everything was secured and prepared.

“Now, we’ll treat you humanely, you wretch, despite the trick of leavin’ ya in the office for the feast.” Moira told him, after rapping on the bars to get him to shut up.

“You’ll have dinner, and tea. We aren’t monsters like your lot.”

In protest of Jaraxxus’ outfit, which was truly miniscule when his armor had been taken from him, Muradin had also had someone go and find him the largest shirt they could- a flannel made for a very fat dwarf. The result was that it was wide enough, but still far too short for him. The pants they offered were rejected with disdain.

The sight of the eredar lord in a plaid shirt that barely covered his ribs and a leather miniskirt miserably eating a bowl of soup was almost enough to make Gelbin laugh, and Falstad didn’t even try not to, rolling with mirth as soon as he saw him.

What a night.

After only two days, Velen arrived at the city with an artificer he’d found that knew Jaraxxus on Argus and had agreed to come named Aayel, and three of his guard. The unique situation had lent itself to expediency, and so they’d traveled to Stormwind via portal, then taken the tram. Also in attendance were Gelbin and the Council. They all met in the royal hall of Ironforge, not the prison; something that was made possible by Gelbin’s busy work over the last few days. He’d been making magical restraints specially designed for man’ari, and the result was a sour faced Jaraxxus seated before them with one of Moira’s teacups, frowning but otherwise unrestricted except for relatively unobtrusive bands around his ankles and wrists, and a collar.

(Nissa had suggested putting a ring on it, but Gelbin had flatly denied on principle.)

He was wearing a different shirt today, and that first one had apparently been truly hard to find in girth, because this one was even smaller. The effect when combined with the suppressor bands and the same leather skirt was enough to make Falstad collapse in laughter a second time. Gelbin was sure the image would be seared on his eyeballs for at least a week.

“I can see why you asked us to bring clothes.” Artificer Aayel sneered as the envoy entered.

When they were all settled and had been awkwardly served tea, Moira nodded at the artificer. “So you know this so called Eredar lord Jaraxxus?”

“Jarasum.”

“Jarasum?”

Aayel nodded. “His name. I won’t humor that disgusting man’ari foolishness.”

Jaraxxus scowled at her. “Jarasum is no more!”

“His hair is no more, that’s for sure.”

“YOU INSOLENT TRAITOR!”

“Silence!” Velen said firmly, and both fell quiet. “Please, artificer, tell us what you know about him.”

“Easily.” Aayel nodded. “This traitor was Archimonde’s lapdog. A grand Vizier of the Augari, who specialized in summoning and teleportation.”

“My skills are NOT so limited, you wretch!”

“Oh, right. And some pretty shit fire magic.”

Jaraxxus- or should it be Jarasum?- scowled at her, but said nothing more to defend himself. Muradin and Velen nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Who summoned you, and where are they now?” Velen asked next. Behind him, Aayel scowled and gestured threateningly.

Jarasum leaned back nervously, suddenly quick to answer.

“A vile wyrmtongue who was left behind on this planet missed its leaders so that it summoned me to help it, or perhaps to suffer here with it. I do not know. I killed it immediately after summoning, of course.”

“That seems to be typical for you.” Gelbin remarked. “Of course it is! I am the summoner, not the summoned! It is an ultimate insult!”

“A suitable one for you, you worm!” cried Aayel. “You’ve become more demon than man, no better than your pets!”

This time, Moira interrupted them, with a sharp “OY!” Then (after a withering, matronly look) she turned politely to Velen.

“We have some questions of our own.”

“Of course.”

“We didn’t have much trouble catching him, but can you tell us anything about the risk, or what you think should be done?” Gelbin asked.

“Well.” Velen said calmly, “I do not think he is any more risk than what you have seen. He can come back with us… or he could remain here.” Privately, Velen didn’t want to deal with this, and hoped his offer would be accepted. “He could work here, instead of being our prisoner. A form of community service, maybe.”

Gelbin looked around, then nodded. “Fine with me. I don’t want to burden you at a time like this, and I suppose we could use the extra hands about now.”

”Do you have a way to ensure safety?”

“I’ve clearly been restrained.” Jarasum snarled, waving a hand.

Velen turned. “This reminds me. What is the nature of these restraints, High Tinker?”

“Ah! Made those myself for this. Well, they’re first and foremost silencers of magic.” Gelbin adjusted his glasses. “But there is also a security protocol! If he tries and takes one of those off, the rest will shock him with what I estimate to be just about three times as much power required to destroy his current physical form. And if he gets any ideas and, through whatever means, my own heart stops…”

Gelbin flicked his eyes to his captive, catching him looking at him. When their eyes met Jaraxxus’ eyes widened, ears flicking back. Gelbin addressed him.

“It’ll be just about four-point-five times as much. Got it?”

“Maybe the ugly blighter wants that!” Cried Falstad. “So he can pop up somewhere else, free!”

Artificer Aayel shook her head. “No, I think not. The legion is disbanded. Returning could take millennia now, and there’s no way to know.” She gave Jarasum a hard stare. “He got very lucky, and he knows it.”

“Maybe it was fate.” Velen added serenely.

Aayel didn’t even glance at him, maintaining her glare. “Even you aren’t stupid enough to try that. And if you are, it just means we’ll likely never have to deal with you again. You’re lucky to have been summoned at all, but even luckier that it was nowhere near Azuremist, or you’d be back in the nether right now.”

Velen put a hand on her arm. “Still, it’s better to have him unquestionably under watch.”

She relented immediately. “Of course, Prophet.”

“And things often happen that are unexpected, but important.” His calm gaze turned to Jarasum, who met it, although suitably cowed. “Don’t think I don’t remember you, Jarasum. You were a good student, and loyal. That loyalty led you astray, but all is not lost. I have seen many things, in the past few years. There are ‎Nathrezim‎ in the army of the light.”

Velen turned towards Artificer Aayel somberly. The whole room was quiet. The prophet had the sort of aura that made people serious when he spoke.

“Aayel is right. You are very lucky. Do not let this chance go to waste. It is your choice.”

Jarasum looked at the floor sourly. “I will… not attempt escape.”

“More than I expected to hear.” Velen said, rolling with the lackluster statement as if he had expected it, actually. He looked at Gelbin.

“Tell me if he’s too much trouble.”

“I don’t expect he will be, Prophet. Thank you for coming all this way, and for your guidance.”

“Of course.”

And having given a satisfactory verdict that would keep Jaraxxus out of his hair, Velen nodded, and Aayel and their small guard of three immediately began preparing to leave as if he’d given a signal.

Falstad piped up again. “Wait, now. We keepin’ him? Where will the big lug sleep?”

Everyone paused for a moment.

“I have a spare room.” Gelbin said.

Jaraxxus shrugged. “I have no objections.”

“Are you confident in those bonds?” Aayel said sternly.

“I am.”

“And I’m even more confident in the guard of the city.” Moira added.

“Then do as you will.” Aayel shrugged.

And with that, the Draenei envoy set off, headed by Velen. It was time he took his leave to return to his vacation, happy with the outcome. He had some parties to get to of his own.

Gelbin led them to his house, flanked by a squad of tinkers.

“So I am no prisoner?”

“Nope! Although I suppose if you didn’t want to stay with me you shouldn’t have agreed to. I can’t imagine the council will just let you go harass someone else at home.”

“And if I decide to conquer this whole wretched place?”

“Then I’d imagine you’ll have some trouble in the city. I think it’s safer for us that you’re in here, instead of the opposite.”

Jarasum only grunted.

After getting him set up, they ended up with the fel lord sitting stiffly at the table while Gelbin looked awkwardly at him, wondering if he could leave him here and go work tomorrow, and if he’d want dinner, and if the 3 or 4 gnomes he estimated were currently outside would knock soon.

“Why keep it up?” Gelbin finally had to ask.

“What do you mean.”

“The whole…” he waved a hand vaguely. “’Eredar lord of the burning legion’ business. Why not just… give it up? The legion was destroyed.”

“I would not ‘just give it up’. It was the path and title I chose.”

“It doesn’t seem like it got you anything worth holding onto. You went from being a respected, well liked vizier to. Well, no offense, but...” Gelbin gestured again.

“I was never well liked.” Jarasum replied flatly.

“Oh. Well then. From a respected, disliked Grand Vizier to a disrespected, hated, and subjugated failure of a demon, then. Suppose trying to pick the winning side didn’t exactly turn out for you.”

Jarasum sat bolt upright, smacking his fists petulantly on the table.

“I was NOT picking the winning side!” he cried, suddenly angrier than Gelbin had ever seen him in his interrogation. He stood, hands still in fists, although he made no moves towards Gelbin.

“I served Archimonde, Master of the Augari! I was a prized student! He demanded the best, and I gave the best! He did what he did for knowledge, and I followed! I was unwavering! I did- I did not CHOOSE the winning side! I AM NO SPINELESS, OPPORTUNISTIC WORM!”

Jarasum looked down at him with a truly indescribable look on his face. Gelbin wasn’t sure if he was going to try and set him on fire or burst into tears.

“I WAS LOYAL!”

He stamped a hoof on the floor petulantly and flung himself back in the chair again, head in his hands.

“I WAS LOYAL TO HIM! I NEVER FALTERED!”

Gelbin watched this outburst, for once at a complete loss. He could almost understand it, which frightened him. Loyalty. Where had loyalty to a man he’d trusted gotten him?

Gelbin tried for a second to imagine how things might have turned out if Thermaplug was the boss, but the thought was so terrible that he immediately backtracked, shuddering. He looked up again at Jarasum. The man had never looked so pathetic, worn and small.

Gelbin sighed.

He had to stop wishing to give people second chances so easily.

He leaned back, putting his head in his hand. “You haven’t messed up half as much as me, I assure you. I had a hand in my whole species’ near-extermination.”

When he only got a glare, he laughed. “What, don’t believe it? We’re going to need coffee for this.”

“What is coffee?”

Gelbin’s eyebrows raised. “Cream and sugar in yours, then.”

Gelbin served them both and sat at the table, and then followed a candid explanation of the whole saga of Sicco Thermaplug. Jarasum listened like he couldn’t believe Gelbin’s candidness.

“And this really happened as you say?”

“Ask anyone. Or several anyones- better sample size.”

“Hm.”

Jarasum headed off to the guest room uncharacteristically quietly.

The next morning, Gelbin woke before dawn, as always. On his way to the kitchen, he paused by the guest door, and was met with cacophonous snoring from the other side. Well, it was only four AM. Grabbing some toast and coffee, he wandered out the door… to find two members of Gnomish special ops seated on either side of it. He recognized them immediately as Jarri Sparkflight, 38, and Fredrik Lockbolt, 72.

“What is this?”

Jarri saluted. “Third watch of the night, sir. Don’t worry about our health!”

“I’m not- I mean, I’m glad, but that’s-“ Gelbin rubbed his nose, sliding his glasses up his face. “How long do you intend to be here?”

“Until he leaves, sir!” Fredrik chirped.

“Then we’ll follow him.” Jarri added.

Gelbin sighed. “I’ll just go get him now, then.”

Unfortunately, he got no respite when he’d gathered Jarasum and headed to the yard. There was a cloud of Gnomeregan citizens waiting as Gelbin, an irate Jarasum and his new chaperones rounded the hill. Jarasum was fully dressed, for once- but barely. He seemed to have an allergy to weather-appropriate clothing, and had somehow arranged the robes he’d been left with to show most of his chest.

The watch continued as he oversaw various projects, as he held meetings, and then even as he started on work projects of his own. In fact, he wasn’t sure, but the number of people around them might have increased throughout the day. And through it all, Jarasum stood awkwardly by, watching everything with a frown. He was told several times by both Gelbin and other tinkers (much less politely) that he wasn’t required to stay, but he refused each time. Gelbin kept catching him staring intensely at him as he did things.

Gelbin decided to ignore him as he worked on assembling a prototype mechanostrider. He could feel eyes on him, but refused to be deterred, and eventually became so engrossed in the task that he forgot that Jarasum was even there.

That is, until a red face appeared on the other side of the machine. Gelbin glanced up, lifting his visor, to find Jarasum kneeling so he was at Gelbin’s height and eyeing the gun.

“What is this.”

Gelbin could almost appreciate the blunt request. “A vehicle of my own invention! Thinking of adding a flamethrower option.”

“Arcane fire?”

“No, just propellants.”

Suddenly, Jarasum lifted the strider a little with one hand. Gelbin looked over in surprise, then turned back- the angle was better.

“Arcane flame lasts longer.”

“It requires a certain kind of user, though.”

Jarasum nodded. “The worthy.”

Gelbin sighed. “I think I’ll stick with the lowly chemical methods, for now.”

And so began their new arrangement. Virtually anywhere Gelbin went, especially at first, there was a whole entourage with them. At work, in public, and even at home- although he tried multiple times to convince them it was un-needed. Jarasum himself was dismissive at first, but eventually began to help more, even (although Gelbin suspected it might have been a ploy by his tinkers to get him away from Gelbin) working on his own.

In spite of himself, Gelbin was also learning more about Jarasum. He had no real ‘inside voice’, for one, and even when inside his words tended… to carry. He was also a truly voracious student. The only time he’d ‘escaped’, being nowhere in sight when Gelbin left a meeting, Gelbin had been pointed to the archives of Ironforge. There he’d found Jarasum reading, gnomish guards in tow. How he’d been permitted inside was unclear, but he’d managed it, and returned there often afterwards to read about a dizzying array of subjects. Magical theory was a clear favorite, but Gelbin still wasn’t sure if there was a theme to his interests beyond that. He’d read anything. Eventually, he’d managed to convince the librarians to let him take some books home.

The spare room was kept spotlessly clean, but Jarasum had a habit of setting the book he was reading down and then leaving it there, then starting another and leaving it, until there were half read books scattered throughout the house. Gelbin wasn’t sure how he kept up with them all. Gelbin noticed that for some reason, almost all the books left sitting on the tables and counters were engineering manuals, and Jarasum’s comments on his work had improved in both relevancy and depth surprisingly quickly. Gelbin found himself explaining things as we went, and found to his surprise that Jarasum’s unique Augari perspective actually helped him think of a new solution to a problem on several occasions. Soon, they were something approaching partners in builds. Jarasum even began to have similar interactions with other engineers who could look past his ‘unique’ manner of speaking.

It had also become apparent that the getup they’d found Jarasum in was not just assigned by the legion. He eschewed pants of all kinds, and Gelbin suspected that he’d only switched to long skirts and robes over short ones because of the fast-approaching Dun Morogh winter. Whenever there was a possibility of making his outfit more revealing, Jarasum took it.

There were constant complaints from Jarasum that he couldn’t use magic, and only slightly less constant grandstanding, but overall, things weren’t as chaotic as they could have been.

Things changed suddenly for the first time a few weeks later, while a team was working on a siege tower further from the city than usual. Gelbin had been welding, Jarasum had been messing with a gun, and and Nissa had been glaring at Jarasum, when an engineer had called out in alarm.

Off where they were pointing was the offending creature- a yeti! Their scout aimed their gun, but before they could shoot, they were interrupted by:

INFERNO!

Everyone looked in the other direction to see Jarasum, posing as if casting a spell. Nothing happened. He snarled at his bracelet, then… tackled the yeti.

The scout was first too shocked to shoot, then collapsed laughing as an angry eredar hoofed the Yeti in the head, sending it scrambling off into the hills in fear.

After that, things became easier with his tinkers, though Gelbin couldn’t tell if the change was from increased trust due to the intent of Jarasum’s actions, or good humor from how ridiculous they were.

The second time that things changed suddenly was the beginning of December. Gelbin was going to check in with his team in Gnomregan, and he was bringing a special headlight for one of their vehicles while he was there. Jarasum had tagged along, and Gelbin found he didn’t mind. Jarasum had definitely taken a shine to him, and things had become eerily comfortable over the last few months.

As he hopped off his strider, the air was cold and still.

It was… still?

Gelbin stopped in his tracks, dropping the bulb. Luckily it didn’t shatter, sinking into the deep winter snow without a sound. He felt Jarasum stop beside him, hoof-steps coming to a halt when they were in line with each other.

No one was with them! But he’d not been left alone in a trip to Gnomeregan’s halls since the city fell. Which meant…

Gelbin looked up at Jarasum in shock, pushing his glasses up his nose a bit. The gaze was met, then broken, as his apparent bodyguard shuffled in confusion, looking at the bulb, then at Gelbin again, then at the ground.

“You dropped that.”

“You’re my guard!”

“What?”

“Haven’t you noticed? We’re alone! I suppose my tinkers trust you.”

Jarasum looked down at him imperiously. “I don’t care what they think.”

“Well, I do! Come here a second.”

Obliging despite his tone, Jarasum leaned down to Gelbin’s height. This maneuver put him nearly prostrated on the ground, but he’d gotten it down pat by now, kneeling on his long skirts in the snow.

The inquisitive look he gave Gelbin quickly turned to shock as he reached over and, with a click, undid one of Jarasum’s magical dampeners.

“If they trust you, I do.”

One by one, Gelbin removed the rest of them from the shocked man, then started gathering up the bands from the snow. Jarasum remained kneeling there, frozen in place.

“Honestly, I already did, but I didn’t want to have anyone freak out and fire at you, cause a scene, you know-“

Gelbin was interrupted by a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looked up just as an eredar face moved down, and ended up head-butting him on the forehead. After a beat Jarasum quickly backed away, falling back to sit in the snow and…. blushing. He turned a deep plum color when he did, Gelbin noted.

“Thank you.” Jarasum said, finally, scooping up the bulb as he stood up.

“Of course. I trust you won’t betray my, well, trust?”

Jarasum just shook his head furiously and began marching abruptly up the way, still blushing.

Gelbin put the bands in his pockets, a little confused, and followed.

“I made a mistake earlier.”

It was later that same night, and they were sitting in Gelbin’s tiny living room. Gelbin was picking at some biscuits and reading a new proposal for a type of jet propulsion system, and Jarasum had been in the middle of a book of magical theory that he’d begged from one of Ironforge’s more lenient magic-practitioners. He was still looking at it even as he spoke.

“Or. Well. I didn’t make one. It was not the time. Not that I ever had any issues with power balance before. But it would be in poor taste, still. I think.” His tail swished agitatedly.

Gelbin sat up. “Wait, wait. What was this mistake?” He couldn’t think of anything evil that had happened since officially (if a little prematurely) releasing Jarasum from parole, but he’d never heard him ramble like that. Not so quietly, anyway.

Jarasum looked at the book with an unreadable expression for a second.

“Headbutting you.”

“Oh. Well, that was hardly an issue. You didn’t hurt me a bit.”

“No.” Jarasum’s face scrunched, frustrated.

“No?”

“Come here.”

“Alright,” Gelbin chuckled, slightly bemused, and moved to hop off his chair, but was stopped.

“No. Wait. Stay there.”

Gelbin stayed. Jarasum sat up and came to sit before him on the floor, so their faces were at about the same height. He stared at Gelbin for a moment with intense focus.

Then he kissed him on the nose.

He leaned back again almost immediately, and there was a long moment in which neither man moved. Slowly, Jarasum’s face grew more and more plum colored.

“WAS THIS AMENABLE.” he shouted abruptly, directly in Gelbin’s face.

Gelbin blinked a few times. “Yes. Uh. It was.”

They looked at each other for a minute, Gelbin taking and losing bets with himself of how purple Jarasum’s face could become.

“Do you need some time to process this?” he offered after a minute.

“YES I DO. GOODNIGHT.” Jarasum bellowed again, and then stood up and scurried to the guest room.

What a night.

Gelbin had some thinking to do as well.

The next morning involved several heartfelt talks, lots of heartfelt yelling, and in the end, both men were late to show up to work.

It was a cold evening, and the first feast of Winter’s Veil was set for that night in Ironforge. But outside in the machine yard, two people were not quite yet ready for the festivities. A large, bright red man’ari, slightly under-dressed for the weather, was fiddling with a gun attachment, occasionally handing tools to the other man, inside the tank. They’d made a promise to show up, but not quite yet. The air was crisp and still, broken only by their voices from time to time.

Yes, all was peaceful…… until, suddenly they were disturbed by a sound. A sound of encroaching chaos. None other than an inquisitor demon was cackling its way up the path leading to the city, and monologuing to itself in such a way that neither man could miss it.

“Aha… the fools.. as they have grown fat and stupid in celebrations… I have waited. Their souls will be my feast. I see them all. Every man woman and child will-“

“TRIFLING, INSIGNIFICANT CREATURE.”

The inquisitor demon sensed a fel presence, confusingly very faded but still noticeably eredar, almost as soon as it heard Jarasum. It looked a bit confused as it saw him- he made quite a figure in two separate layered plunging neck robes, welding gloves, and an enormous and obviously home-made knitted scarf- but quickly perked up.

“Jaraxxus! Lord! We have found each other! Join me in desecrating this place and we will work together to take our new place over these-“

The demon was cut off again, by some familiar, absolute max volume bellowing.

“INFERNO!!!”

When the inquisitor had been satisfactorily incinerated, Jarasum looked down proudly from where Gelbin’s head was poking out of the tank, watching the embers of the demon fade from this plane with interest. He was blatantly hoping to impress.

“Nice shot. I can only take one occurrence like you, I think. Pass me the spanner?”

“As if that hideous creature could take my place.” “You have me there.”

Jarasum returned primly to his seat on a stack of tires, passing the spanner. He got a kiss on the knuckles as payment before both men returned to their tasks. If they hurried, they wouldn’t miss the banquet, as promised, and would be allowed to join in the drinking afterwards with friends.

I already have a new place, thank you very much. he thought smugly to himself as he picked up the attachment again.

POST SCRIPT (SLIGHTLY NAUGHTY)

On a beach in Tanaris, the sun shone warmly as waves lapped softly at the shore. Seated on a beach chair in a colorful robe and swim trunks was Prophet Velen himself, and several other draenei were relaxing or playing in the water nearby.

He was awakened from the nap he’d drifted into while laying there in the sun by a little chime. He lifted his Gnomish Magical Missive Sendulator (or MMS), and with a press of a button, the High tinker’s nervous voice came tinnily through the speakers. He seemed to be shouting.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOUR FOLK GO INTO HEAT?!?!”

“Why would I tell you this?” Velen asked in confusion, sitting up and pulling down his sunglasses. “Do you not?” “OF COURSE I DON’T! WHY WOULD- …Hm, that’s an interesting discussion for later, actually.”

There was only one situation Gelbin could be in to warrant this conversation. Velen took advantage of his distraction to cut in. “You can ignore him if you’d like. He won’t die if left lonely for it, no matter what lies he told you.”

Velen could almost hear a dismissive hand-wave through the gnomish device. “No, no, he hasn’t been coercive, Rather the opposite, actually. Just a little…..…. loud.” Gelbin finished awkwardly.

There was a short pause.

“About how long will this last?”

“Around two days. Slightly more when alone, but it should not make much difference.”

There was another pause. Velen could almost feel Gelbin thinking through the line.

“Slightly?”

“Do not worry yourself over it.”

“Well. You know. …Efficiency.”

“Are you asking if it would be more efficient to aid him?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” Velen allowed himself a slight pause before adding, impishly: “Slightly.”

He waited smugly through one last silence.

“Any tips?”

“He doesn’t have to… I think you say, be on the top?” Velen explained, masterfully hiding his amusement.

“U- Understood.”

The sound of someone furiously scribbling something.

“I have to go. Thank you for the… help, prophet.”

“Of course. Happiness in the joining.” Velen replied, then hung up before Gelbin could react, chuckling to himself.

As he set aside the MMS, a lightforged woman walked up with a strawberry daiquiri in each hand. She handed Velen one. “Is everything alright, Prophet Velen?”

“When one has faith, everything is.” Velen sighed happily, taking the frilly drink.

#world of warcraft #jaraxxus #gelbin mekkatorque #cracktoberfest2018 #fanfic #im so sorry #dirty joke at the end

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blevinsblevins68-blog · 5 years

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fibula-rasa · 6 years

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August 2018 in Review

I have a weird memory. It’s highly pattern-driven and very visual. This means that my memory of films I’ve watched is based on images and series of images that made an impression instead of plot points. It’s why I rewatch movies so often. Even though I’ve been tracking my movie viewing habits for two and a half years, that doesn’t mean I’ve created strong memories for all those movies. That’s why I’m gonna start doing monthly roundups of the new-to-me films that struck me, one way or the other.

[If you wanna know all the films I’m watching, I keep full lists on letterboxd and imdb.]

The reviews below are essentially transcriptions of the notes I took right after watching the films. Because of Summer Under the Stars and my cosplay challenge, this month was pretty TCM heavy for me.

Full Roundup BELOW THE JUMP!

Teen Titans Go to the Movies (2018)

27 July 2018 | 84 min. | Color

Directed and Written by Aaron Horvath and Peter Rida Michail

Starring Greg Cipes, Scott Menville, Khary Payton, Tara Strong, and Hynden Walch

I’m already a fan of the show and the movie kicks it up a notch with its humor and style. [If you liked the original series, give TTG a chance already.] TTG to the Movies is a great superhero movie for anyone who’s down for superhero stories but is fatigued by the current spate of offerings. Grain-of-Salt warning here because I think Superman III (1983) is great.

Fun that they included some gags here and there for the parents out there who’ve had to hear the Waffles song a few too many times. Also, one of the best ending gags for a kid’s movie ever.

Where to Watch: Still in theaters, but I’d imagine Cartoon Network will be playing it soon.

Doctor X (1932)

27 August 1932 | 76 min. | 2-strip Technicolor

Directed by Michael Curtiz

Written by Earl Baldwin and Robert Tasker

Starring Lionel Atwill, Lee Tracy, and Fay Wray

I made the statement that Darkman (1990) is the most comic-book movie that isn’t adapted from a comic book. I hadn’t seen Doctor X yet though.

The set pieces are phenomenal. Each shot is artfully constructed and the way the shots are strung together makes the most of the production design. If one were to do a comic adaptation, it would take some imaginative work to not just mimic the film. The 2-strip technicolor is particularly effective in the laboratory scenes in creating an eerie aura. Sensational.

Lee Tracy is playing, as usual, a press man and he’s doing so perfectly. Tracy is so underrated.

Where to Watch: Looks like the DVD is out of print, so maybe check your local library or video store. TCM plays it every once and a while and, since Warner Bros has a deal with Filmstruck, I wouldn’t be surprised to see it pop up there eventually.

The Half-Naked Truth (1932)

16 December 1932 | 77 min. | B&W

Directed by Gregory La Cava

Written by Corey Ford and Gregory La Cava

Starring Frank Morgan, Eugene Pallette, Lee Tracy, and Lupe Velez

You might very well think Lee Tracy was a featured TCM star this month. (Maybe next SUTS? Pretty please.)

Lupe Velez is so talented and natural it was nice to see her in a film where her wits were matched. I’ll be honest, I’m a big Lupe fan but, for most of her films, she’s the only good reason to watch them. This wasn’t the case here! There are a lot of wonderful moments with small movements and gestures that make Velez and Tracy’s relationship feel very real, as if they’re actually that caught up in one another. Eugene Pallette, Franklin Pangborn, and Frank Morgan round out the ensemble. The running eunuch joke might not be all that funny, but it’s a masterclass in not saying what you mean. Also, very cute chihuahua.

Where to Watch: The DVD is available from the Warner Archive. (So, once again, local library or video store might have a copy.)

The Cuban Love Song (1931)

5 December 1931 | 86 min. | B&W

Directed by W.S. Van Dyke

Written by John Lynch, Bess Meredith, and C. Gardener Sullivan

Starring Jimmy Durante, Lawrence Tibbett, Ernest Torrance, and Lupe Velez

Lupe is wonderful in this. She plays a Cuban woman who sounds an awful lot like a Mexican woman--which might be something you have to overlook to enjoy the film FYI. Lawrence Tibbett has a shocking dearth of charisma in the lead, but Jimmy Durante, Ernest Torrence, and Louise Fazenda take the heat off him well. It’s a little hard to root for Tibbett’s character and the ending is disappointing. (Spoiler: privileging of the affluent “white” couple.)

The songs are great. I love the habit of placing people in musicals so that they are singing full force directly into each other’s faces. I don’t know why I find it so funny, but it’s not a mood ruiner for Cuban Love Song. The editing is fun and energetic. Until the war breaks out, there’s a lot of solid humor.

After watching so many Lupe films this month, I’d love to sit down with people who do and don’t know Spanish to talk about her films. There seem to be some divisions on social media and across blogs about Lupe’s films that might be attributable to whether or not one understands Spanish. I myself understand Spanish reasonably well and I think knowing what Lupe and others are saying makes almost all of her films funnier. And boy, does Lupe like calling men stupid animals.

Where to Watch: This one seems kinda rare. Looks like there may have been a VHS release, but you may just have to wait for TCM to play it again!

The Night Stalker (1972)

11 January 1972 | 74 min. | Color

Directed by John Llewellyn Moxey

Written by Jeffrey Grant Rice and Richard Matheson

Starring Carol Lynley, Darren McGavin, and Simon Oakland

and

The Night Strangler (1973)

16 January 1973 | 74 min. | Color

Directed by Dan Curtis

Written by Jeffrey Grant Rice and Richard Matheson

Starring Darren McGavin, Simon Oakland, and Jo Ann Pflug

I loved that these films are exactly like the Kolchak TV series. My SO and I have been watching the show weekly as it airs on MeTV and so he surprised me by renting the movies that kicked off the series. Honestly, watching backwards may have made the movies even more entertaining. How is Kolchak still working for Vincenzo in Las Vegas?? The answer is in Seattle.

The TV movies were intended as a trilogy, but after the success of the first two films, it was developed into a series instead. It’s cool to see how every piece of the Kolchak formula was in place immediately and how firmly Darren McGavin had a hold on the character. His chemistry with Simon Oakland (Vincenzo) is spectacular--a great comedy duo TBH. If you like their shouting matches on the show, Night Strangler has a humdinger to offer you.

Night Stalker is a pretty straight-forward vampire story, written by Richard Matheson, one of the great spec-fic writers of the 1960s and 1970s. Matheson also wrote one of the best undead novels of all time, I am Legend. What elevates the film over the basic mythology, aside from the great performances, pacing, and editing, is that the story’s really about how suppression actually goes down--how mundane and frustrating it can be even in the face of the supernatural.

Night Strangler is a little more creative with its monster. They integrate the nature and landmarks of Seattle in fun ways. The stripper characters are delightful. Jo Ann Pflug gives a truly funny performance and feels like a natural contender for Kolchak. Even his romantic relationships should be affectionately combative. The ditzy lesbian, Charisma Beauty (Nina Wayne) is hilarious and Wayne’s timing is impeccable. (BTW: they don’t explicitly call her a lesbian but it’s still made very overt.) There’s also a wonderful cameo by Margaret Hamilton.

As far as I can tell, it’s easier to get access to these films than the series. They’re worth seeing even if you haven’t seen the Kolchak TV show. They’re also a good pick if you’re a fan of X-Files, as Kolchak is the mother of that show. Even though I’m an X-Files fan and grew up watching it, Kolchak is edging it out for me lately. Maybe because if you’re telling a story about fighting for truth against the suppression of information, you undercut yourself by making the protagonist a fed.

Where to Watch: Kino Lorber is releasing restored editions of the films on Blu-ray and DVD in October!

The Mask of Dimitrios (1944)

1 July 1944 | 95 min. | B&W

Directed by Jean Negulesco

Written by Frank Gruber

Starring Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, and Zachary Scott

This was great! I loved Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet together. If you’re looking for a mystery story that flows and escalates well and presents a parade of interesting characters and locales, Dimitrios is for you. It’s also always nice to see Lorre in the lead.

Where to Watch: The DVD is available from the Warner Archive. (So, once again, local library or video store might have copy.)

Strait-Jacket (1964)

19 January 1964 | 93 min. | B&W

Directed by William Castle

Written by Robert Bloch

Starring Diane Baker and Joan Crawford

I mentioned in my Joan Crawford CUTS post that I’d been meaning to see this for years. My enjoyment of the film didn’t suffer a bit from that length of anticipation.

I like William Castle’s movies a lot. I like the campy humor and quirky stories. This one is campy still, but not as heavy on the humor--unless you have a real weird sense of humor. That’s not a strike against Strait-Jacket though. Castle builds so much tension that by the end of the film, you feel like anyone could be axe-murdered at any moment, which becomes absurdly fun. The ending might be a little predictable, but it’s fun to go along for the ride. I didn’t particularly like the tacked on ending but I guess every JC movie needs to end on JC?

Largely unrelated, but if you’re a Castle fan, have you checked out his TV show Ghost Story/Circle of Fear? The first episode, The New House, in particular is top notch.

Where to Watch: It’s on Blu-ray and DVD from Sony (your local library or video store might have a copy) and it’s for rent on Amazon Prime. It’s also still on-demand via TCM for another few days.

One I didn’t write up: Cairo (1942). I brought up in my Jeanette MacDonald post that I was hoping to find a MacDonald film I enjoyed watching on her Summer Under the Stars day and I did!

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templehumphries32-blog · 5 years

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Native Piano Movers, Piano Moving Providers Firm Tampa, Orlando FL

Local Piano Movers, Piano Transferring Providers Company Tampa, Orlando FL

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Our shipping containers are authorised for worldwide shipping, and you can keep your belongings in our secure warehouse facility for so long as you should. Most international transferring firms price such a relocation by density and measurement and that may mean you’ll need to make some difficult selections as to whether items advantage the value of their transport. The way to Make your small business Simpler? Wirefly's licensed and insured office transferring companies have the movers who know the best way to take down cubicles, move high tech gear, and even convey crates to safely transport those smaller, extra delicate office items. That's how come we didn't know the bookshelf wouldn't actually hold anything till they had left. A malfunctioning air conditioner, nonetheless, can deliver downside, particularly when left unattended for a long time frame. Due to the aforementioned shopper/design agency relationship, however, this isn't the case. As I searched for the right strawberry air freshener he mentioned particular particulars surrounding the make and model of the automobile I drove up in.

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We are an awesome Orlando moving company that may make your move as easy as doable. Going with ORLANDO MOVERS! Many Persons are going to meetings everyday in Sophiatown and Alexandra. The individuals are knowledgeable, undertook full concern with all the appliances parceled up and coated all for the move. As one among the most important and most experienced moving firms within the nation, you can trust Beltmann’s dedicated teams of local movers for the Orlando space to deliver one of the best experience on your upcoming house move. From there, you’ll be assigned a transfer coordinator who will reply your questions and handle issues throughout the means of shifting to Orlando from Chesapeake. Relocation is a long drawn out process that requires careful thought and action. This turns into all of the extra essential if you find yourself nearly to take up a new job whereas it nonetheless makes sense for older/existing workers to review the policy in detail just so if it could require a corrective motion. We notice that our clients have numerous wants and we proceed to honor those differencesby offering an entire choices menu and a spotlight to every element.

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The even higher news is that (as is customary in schools) I might be in a position to keep my The Cop Doc LLC business working albeit with a while constraints. Airboats are flat-bottomed and have no beneath-water transferring elements, so they are ready to go into very shallow areas and even journey over frozen lakes. Right here at MoveWise we imagine and have seen that the smarter way rules the roost. You possibly can come here on a picnic that shall be a perfect day out for the entire family. I cannot inform you ways comfortable we had been with the level of service, onerous work and friendliness we received before and on shifting day. Level three is an ultimate service package deal of 15 steps. We're also known to supply glorious customer support. Our Skilled Movers and Labors can be found throughout Florida to move something like your Automobile, Piano, Furniture, small or big home and every thing you need.

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uniquedonutfest · 3 years

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Os X Simulator For Windows

Windows 10 Simulator

Mac Os X Simulator For Windows

Mac Os X Emulator For Windows 7

Mac Os Simulator

Flight Simulator X Windows 10 Compatibility

The multi award winning Microsoft Flight Simulator X lands on Steam for the first time. Take off from anywhere in the world, flying some of the world’s most iconic aircraft to any one of 24,000 destinations. Microsoft Flight Simulator X Steam Edition has updated multiplayer and Windows 8.1 support. Take the controls of aircraft such as the 747 jumbo jet, F/A-18 Hornet, P-51D Mustang, EH-101 helicopter and others - an aircraft for every kind of flying and adventure. FlightGear Flight Simulator 2020 X Flight Sim Plane & Helicopter Including 500+ Aircraft DVD CD Disc For Microsoft Windows 10 8 7 Vista PC & Mac OS X by PixelClassics 3.4 out of 5 stars 101.

Microsoft Flight Simulator soon wraps its lengthy absence with an ambitious next endeavor, shaping up to be the premier playground for virtual aviators. This cloud-powered entry maps every inch of the globe with striking accuracy while injecting real-world data to spring its backdrop to life. The result promises unmatched scope and authenticity, with real potential to disrupt the simulation scene. It's a technical marvel — but more than just a pretty face.

Here's what you need to know about Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020, headed to Windows 10 PCs later this fall.

Jump to:

Source: Microsoft

Microsoft unveiled the latest Flight Simulator iteration at E3 2019, coupled with a brief teaser spotlighting its cloud-powered virtual world. Xbox Game Studios and partner Asobo Studio continue to target availability later in 2020 for Windows 10. The exact launch window remains unclear, but with its closed beta scheduled to arrive in July, sometime later in the year appears increasingly certain. While working from home introduces new variables for any developer, Flight Simulator appears relatively on track.

Flight Simulator has only talked Windows 10 PCs, but with Microsoft recently committing to bring its future titles to Steam, it appears the title could also ship outside the integrated Windows Store. The project also targets Xbox One consoles, likely extending to the next-generation Xbox Series X. However, Microsoft has been keen to stress that Flight Simulator 2020 is developed as a PC-first experience, with the console release likely to come later.

Expect additional news surrounding Flight Simulator availability later this year, potentially during Microsoft's July Xbox Series X event.

Latest Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 news

Microsoft Flight Simulator Alpha 5 releases July 9

The Microsoft Flight Simulator team has dropped its latest development update, confirming plans to release the fifth major iteration of its alpha preview builds on July 9.

While we're yet to receive a full changelog overview, Alpha 5 is likely the final major release ahead of the closed beta. Microsoft has reaffirmed plans to drop its closed beta later this July, with a firm release date to be unveiled on July 9.

How to play Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 alpha test

Microsoft Flight Simulator alpha tests remain underway, with its first publicly-available builds distributed to select participants in October 2019. The development team continues to trial new features among closed testers, tied up with a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) to prevent discussions, screenshots, and footage on the web.

The Microsoft Flight Simulator Insider Program hosts the alpha, providing a platform to filter out the best testing candidates while providing clear channels for user feedback. Those looking to access early builds must register via the Flight Simulator website, while also using the Xbox Insider app for Windows 10.

While current world events and working from home pose new challenges, Flight Simulator testing appears on track. Microsoft plans to release its first Alpha 5 build on July 9, which marks its last alpha milestone ahead of launch. The transition into closed beta will follow, anticipated for a release in late July. The closed beta debut should see more players jump onboard while adding fewer new features, and moving to final polish.

What's new with Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020

Microsoft Flight Simulator falls among Redmond's classic franchises, even predating their now-fundamental products like Windows and Microsoft Office. The mainline series has now sat dormant for over one decade, with its last full-fledged simulation, Microsoft Flight Simulator X, released back in 2006. Microsoft did experiment with a more accessible, free-to-play experience via the ill-fated Games for Windows Live, but it's been a long time waiting for Flight Simulator fans.

This return isn't a simple iteration. Instead, Bordeaux-based talent, Asobo Studio, reinvents its approach by reworking gameplay fundamentals around the company's cloud strengths. Its lifeline is a globe backed by Microsoft Azure, leveraging satellite data and artificial intelligence (AI) to portray unparalleled accuracy and fidelity across its locales. The title parses numerous datasets in real-time, creating an experience set to disrupt the simulation space.

The core of Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 is its mapping data pulled from Bing Maps, enhanced with photogrammetry, converting 3D scans of the environment into the game world. Other applied sources include terrain data for landscaping, foliage density mapping billions of trees, real-time meteorological data, and air traffic updates. The team has also bundled 37,000 manually edited airports, with their own air and ground traffic. These allow Microsoft to recreate environments down to the individual tree — a feat impressive even to the casual onlooker.

That 1:1 global representation makes visual flight rules (VFR) a viable reality, allowing pilots to navigate the globe by-eye.

Where Microsoft Flight Simulator advances world fidelity, it also pushes improved weather. The in-game climate now influences all corners of the globe, helping depict accurate real-time conditions, with an impact on flight. While you can fine-tune the weather around preferences, it also provides the capability to fly according to live data.

Microsoft's partnership with weather data firm Meteoblue powers those weather models, leveraging its legacy in prediction and historical records. The temperature, wind speed, humidity, pressure, and other data all factor into the simulation, visualizing the climate, with corresponding aerodynamics. There's also the traditional day-night cycle, spotlighting new lighting systems to better represent cities after dark, and a seasonal rotation from blazing summers to heavy snow.

Windows 10 Simulator

We've seen Microsoft keen to boast its new cloud systems, fully conveying shape, density, and fluffiness through 32 volumetric layers. That considers different cloud types, and once again, their aerodynamic influence.

We've also received insight into the accompanying aerodynamics system, considering air mass, airflow, and the impact of the surrounding terrain. The reworked systems fully account for the environment, with hills, trees, and buildings all filtering into backend physics.

The latest aircraft models also subdivide into thousands of surfaces, each affected by pressure, humidity, and speed. Real-time three-dimension calculations help the plane handle realistically, with Microsoft detailing examples of per-wind turbulence, or support for more advanced aerobatics.

Mac Os X Simulator For Windows

These are just some of the systems that culminate in Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020, both an impressive technical showcase, and one of the most innovative entries in the genre for years.

Mac Os X Emulator For Windows 7

Check out Microsoft Flight Simulator's latest trailer

The successor to its initial E3 2019 reveal, our latest Microsoft Flight Simulator trailer debuted in November at the Xbox 'X019' event. The two-minute montage spotlights the sheer diversity in its cloud-backed environments, transitioning from forests, deserts, through oceans in various aircraft. It also served as our first look at the classic Boeing 747 airliner in Microsoft's upcoming title.

But that's far from our only footage, with a wealth of teasers hosted via the official Microsoft Flight Simulator YouTube channel. The videos show all aspects of the title, including its ongoing 'Feature Discovery' series, a deep dive into the sandbox, and the scale of its new simulation.

Does Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 have multiplayer?

While Microsoft has primarily focused its efforts toward authentic solo flight, multiplayer also plays a crucial role in its vision. Virtual pilots can join an online game populated with players from all backgrounds, or configure private sessions alongside friends.

The new Flight Simulator experience comes divided across several modes, with its 'live players' setup representing the full realism you'd expect. Those lobbies recommend players to abide by all rules and regulations, with real-time live weather and air traffic reflected at all times. There's also the choice of more casual free flights, with precise control over conditions and flight variables.

Microsoft has also discussed various technologies to ensure multiplayer handles as expected, including smooth flight animations that eliminate any form of judder. The game servers automatically optimize to only show planes with 200 kilometers, limited to the 50 closest pilots.

Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 system requirements

The sheer scale of Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 demands some impressive technology behind-the-scenes, but its PC system requirements aren't too dissimilar from your average release. We've already received the likely specs you'll need, amid ongoing alpha testing for select participants.

Microsoft has provided its overview of minimum, recommended, and ideal, spanning entry-level hardware through to the latest flagship combinations. While low-spec PCs should be capable of streaming its hyper-realistic world, its 'recommended' or 'ideal' builds will best represent its visual fidelity. You also need to consider the bandwidth requirements to stream the world in real-time. The full Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 requirements follow below.

Minimum SpecRecommended SpecIdeal SpaceCPUAMD Ryzen 3 1200 Intel i5-4460Ryzen 5 1500X Intel i5-8400AMD Ryzen 7 Pro 2700X Intel i7-9800XGPURadeon RX 570 Nvidia GTX 700Radeon RX 590 Nvidia GTX 970Radeon VII Nvidia RTX 2080VRAM2GB4GB8GBRAM8GB16GB32GBStorage150 GB150 GB150 GB (SSD)Minimum OS versionWindows 10 Nov 2019 update (1909)Windows 10 Nov 2019 update (1909)Windows 10 Nov 2019 update (1909)Internet requirement5 Mbps20 Mbps50 Mbps

When is the Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 closed beta?

Microsoft Flight Simulator remains on track with its development roadmap, still committed to delivering its first closed beta build in July. The closed beta marks the next milestone ahead of launch, winding up the addition of new features for release, and instead shifting efforts toward final refinements. While the closed beta won't be too dissimilar to the later alpha stages, expect a broader pool of testers with further polish to gameplay systems.

With our first Alpha 5 build scheduled for July 9, we're also expecting more details on a firm beta release date. With Microsoft hosting a dedicated Xbox game showcase this July, the final week of the month is probable.

Will Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 support VR?

The immersion granted by titles like Microsoft Flight Simulator understandably draws the inevitable question — what about virtual reality (VR) support? The project introduces substantial advancements in visual fidelity, even down various gauges and the leather grain lining the cockpit.

While VR represents a fraction of the simulation community, the development team has previously implied interest in delivering support to the growing userbase with headsets. Speaking with Windows Central back during its gameplay reveal, key figures suggested that VR remains on the radar for after launch. But it's a matter of priorities, with no formal announcements made as of mid-2020.

Will Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 support modding?

Microsoft Flight Simulator will support mods from release, bolstering its broader efforts to embrace community-created content. Third-party expansions have become the lifeline of many leading simulators, with Microsoft already pitching its 2020 title as a platform for future mods.

Head of Microsoft Flight Simulator, Jorg Neumann, previously stated it hopes to bring an integrated marketplace to the project. The storefront aims to provide one-click installations for various content, providing a seamless experience to franchise newcomers. 'I'm coming more from games. It's kind of weird,' Neumann tells Windows Central. 'I need to go to a website and drag stuff into a folder, like odd. I'm not used to that anymore.'

The Microsoft Flight Simulator software development kit (SDK) is already in the hands of over 150 third party companies according to the team, with many targeting the product's launch. That's a vastly different approach to past titles, where the SDK often releases alongside the game, and immediately delaying future mods.

Is Microsoft Flight Simulator coming to Xbox One, Xbox Series X?

Microsoft treats the latest Flight Simulator as a PC-first experience, tailored to its more faithful 'simmers' that crave authenticity. Our last update on the Xbox console release suggested its arrival after the Windows 10 version, which currently targets late 2020 availability.

The promised Xbox One version will condense its elaborate control scheme to the traditional gamepad, although also likely to support a limited number of third-party peripherals. We expect Microsoft to ship the title on its next-generation Xbox Series X, although we're yet to hear official word on its future console plans.

Expect additional details on Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 for Xbox One over the months ahead, as its final PC release nears.

Is Microsoft Flight Simulator coming to Xbox Game Pass?

Yes, Microsoft has confirmed plans to bring Flight Simulator to Xbox Game Pass, its Netflix-style subscription service for Xbox One and Windows 10 games. The title will hit Xbox Game Pass to PC at launch, currently priced at $5 per month �� with a $1 trial month for newcomers. While Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 will also ship as a traditional buy-once title, its Xbox Game Pass debut requires the smallest upfront investment.

Prepare for take off

The next Microsoft Flight Simulator still appears to be targeting late 2020 availability, first shipping to Windows 10 PCs, and bundled within Xbox Game Pass too. What do you hope to see from Microsoft's latest? Let us know down in the comments section.

Mac Os Simulator

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Holy Moly

Teams is raising the bar to 1,000 participants in interactive meetings

Flight Simulator X Windows 10 Compatibility

Microsoft Teams will soon give users the ability to hold massive interactive meetings. The company is upping the participant limit of interactive meetings to 1,000. Further, presentations will soon be able to hold up to 20,000 viewers.

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