#my game crashed while taking these and I refused to reopen it so.

[simswoon]

previous // next // beginning

Theo: So… are we ever going to talk about this? Us. What this even is.

Lennon: I don’t know. None of this was part of the plan.

Theo: But do you want it to be something? Or is this all just… because of the baby?

Lennon: It’s not just that. It never was. I care about you, Theo. I always have. I just… every time I start to feel safe, I panic. Like it’s all going to disappear.

Lennon: There’s something I never told you. After we broke up… I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t even get the chance to process it before I lost it.

Theo: I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there.

Lennon: You couldn’t have. I didn’t even tell anyone. I just… tried to forget it happened.

Theo: You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Let me be here. Really here.

Lennon: I want to try. I do. I just don’t know how to stop bracing for the worst.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: The Edward Laptop saga Begins

We did get the computer Tuesday, but the set up process is incredibly enshitified. I was forced to take windows eleven and it is a nightmare. (I have been resisting the "Upgrade" since it dropped because I heard the reviews). Apparently you are no longer to allowed to set up a new laptop without a second computer and a smart phone. I do not own a smartphone that works. (I had a terrible government one for emergancies, but the Republicans killed that program). I have no idea how to use QR codes anyway.

I spent more than a hour following Edward Laptops orders for uploading Klaus to "One drive" which I've been fresisting since I was given Klaus because I do not like having microsoft own all my shit, but there was no heklping it. It was long and complicated and required many temp and permanent passwords and five tries because Klaus understandably di not want to upload things to the cloud so I kept having to start over to coax him unto uploading another section. Edward refused to sync with that.

Bonus, this force changed Klaus' open the laptop security code which I don't want or need because Klaus never leaves the house. I spent a long, stupid, frustrating time trying to break into Klaus because I had no idea which of the passwords they forced me to change was the one it was asking for. Then later I got to play the same long frutrating game with Edward laptop.

I was too frustrated and upset to sleep properly and got up in horrible pain and weepy exhausted to start wednesday with no pain resistance left and everything hurting. bonus for random sharp stabbing pains and my ankle popping out while I was hobbling about. Fun!

Goth Millenial and I did errands and normal about the house things. New Millenial showed up and was here until after midnight dealing with set up new computer enshitification, which involved multiple attempts to trick us into horrible things like A.I., fingerprint unlocking, and paid services I do not want or need and can't afford, while asking complicated questions I didn't understand. Then there was a complicated thing where we tried to get klaus' content back from the cloud and stored properly and the disabling and/or removal of shit I did not want or need. Downloading and properly setting things like Avast and real browsers, Downloading essential apps, properly setting up the thing to look right and not making it hard to use, putting things back that Windows 11 undid, convincing browsers to reopen tabs, fixing assorted settings, putting things back that Windows 11 undid again because it is enshittified, etc..

Firefox is my "real" browser, but I do some stuff where it's easier if I have a different function I'm switching back and forth to things where I don't want to log in and out, ir I'm doing things like posting the agregate, where one browser holds the version before I clean the scaffold in case there is a problem (Great cat disaster, crash, or the like) while I'm in the middle of prepping to post, so I don't get reverted as often and then spend hours reconstructing…. I've been hassled on the multple browser thing before, but it's a belt and suspender situation. It would be better with two computers so one is holding the draft in case of outage, but tavy killed Aidan Laptop, so here we are. In the period before Aidan fails for good I can do that kind of back up, but soon, I'll have to rely entirely on Edward, and I need him set up to start doing the aggregate once I spool all of this week's horrors off Aidan.

I was still sorting things out on Edward when I stopped to write this a little after 1AM. New Millenial and I will likely be tinkering.

A bright spot was discovering waterfox kept my old settings instead of defaulting. Good job Waterfox!

I would like to thank New Millenial for sacrificing so much time and energy. I remember a time I could take a computer out of the box and set it up myself in the course of an evening, much of that being automatic updates and downloads, but we live on the bad timeline, so it is absolutely impossible for me and takes a huge amount of work and patience for someone else.

New Millenial is a Superhero.

I would also like to thank the person sending me emergancy kibbles and the person who sent the extra money. The computer breaking after the glasses were ordered was incredibly expensive and I keep getting nickled and dimed and running out of things and am generally flailing about. I messed up my maths somewhere and if these two people hadn't stepped in there would be hungry cats and an overdrawn bank account when car insurance auto-withdraw hits.

You are both Super stars.

I would also like to thank the person who spotted a newsitem and commentary tag mismatch on tumblr from Sunday which was a horrifying and embarrassing juxtaposition. Thank you for saving my ass.

Last, but not least, I would like to thank everyone for being patient with me this terrible, terrible week. I promise you that I am aware. I have been mourning it. I have been working on what's next. I just really need to get things properly set up before posting properly on politics.

All of you who have been here, supporting me, reading my stuff, you matter so, so much to me. I've no idea how I could have managed the last half decade without you.

All my Love, Gwydion

[gegenji]

Shocking! A Super Solar-Powered, Sombrero-Sporting Sabotender!?

Tsunene was fairly certain that - during her entire time living in Ul'dah - she had never heard of the "Halatali Testing Grounds." Just regular old Halatali? Sure, it was an old holy place for her race when they had arrived in Eorzea all those many, many cycles ago. Then it was turned into a labyrinth of training pits, animal pens, and holding cells to hold the various attractions sent out in front of the populace for bloodsport in the coliseum.

The place had been more or less abandoned for ages as well, becoming a veritable nest of beasts that kept many away. That is, until it was more recently reopened and refurbished to once again house the various creatures that so enthralled the audiences of the Bloodsands. A movement apparently at least partially funded by her own eccentric patron: the masked Lalafell known as Hohoyahu. Which - given her own tasks to create new, greater threats for the gladiators - followed enough of an internal logic that she could believe that being the case.

And yet, when that selfsame bombastic patron so grandiosely showed off what was very obviously just a run down underground coliseum, the lady alchemist couldn't help but doubt the claim. What was there to test? You just trained up the brutes, gathered up the beasts, and tossed them all into a pit to see who won. Scientific method held little place in such barbaric practices.

That said, there was also the fact that Hohoyahu himself had either claimed - or had installed - a little stone throne that overlooked these so-called "testing grounds" like some sort of bloodthirsty emperor. With his equally emphatic right-hand man fittingly flanking to his right, and Subject C-1 (she absolutely refused to call it "Mjeowlnir") tumbling about above his head like a purring little cumulonimbus cloud. Leaving her to stand down in the musty dirt of the battlefield with her latest creation sitting next to her in a covered cage.

All of which may have played a small bit in her lingering unwillingness to take her patron's word at face value. Or perhaps "mask value" was more appropriate.

... Or perhaps not because that totally sounded like something Hohoyahu or Swyrkhan would say and Tsunene hated that she had thought of it.

"Well! I think that's quite enough glad-handing for my little test site, don't you think?" Hohoyahu barked out with a chuckle, the closing remarks of his ramblings - which had been going on all this time whether Tsunene had been listening or not - finally piercing through the alchemist's thoughts. "So, my wonderful little Tsunene, exactly what have you brought for this delightful little Show-and-Tell?"

"... I cannot compare my creation to the countenance of a self-owned coliseum..."

"Now now now!" her masked benefactor interjected with a waggling of a satin-gloved finger. "... Testing grounds."

"I cannot say it compares to a self-owned testing grounds," Tsunene corrected, hissing out the changing through clenched teeth. Swyrkhan gave an obnoxiously energetic thumbs-up to the correction, which was all the more irritating. "But I could confidently consider my creation at least... quality enough to catch your curiosity."

"Well, my curiosity is certainly piqued, if that helps," Hohoyahu stated, resting his head lazily in one hand as he leaned against one of the stone arms of his little throne. "Go on."

Tsunene took a deep breath. Even with how seemingly open and energetic the masked man was, it was remarkably hard to tell when he was being honest and when he was putting on a show. In fact, the alchemist sometimes wondered if any of it was real. And those sorts of unknowns made presenting things to Hohoyahu... difficult... to say the least. One could never be certain if he was actually entertained or simply acting like it for some manner of twisted "dramatic flair" before ultimately giving the thumbs-down. Especially with gestures and poses like those.

"Well..." she began once she centered herself, taking hold of the cloth covering her latest development. "Please permit me to present the proof from my plant-based hypotheses: Subject CR-7."

"We do still need to work on your naming conventions, don’t we? And another C, as well? No no no, this won't do. Won't do at all." Hohoyahu turned to his subordinate. "I may yet again call upon your exquisite way with words, my delightful assistant."

Tuning out her benefactor's idle commentary, Tsunene yanked the cloth away to reveal the contents of the cage: a rather small - almost emaciated-looking - cactuar that was curled up on itself on the bottom of the iron-wrought prison. A flower bulb sat atop its head, closed up as tight as the plant creature's posture. She took the time to neatly fold up the cloth and toss it over her shoulder as both Hohoyahu and Swyrkhan leaned forward to get a better look at her "show-and-tell piece."

"Well, not for nothing..." Hohoyahu began, sitting back in his throne and steepling his fingers. "But I do think I like your former ‘C-Subject’ better."

To emphasize his point, the masked Lalafell turned those hidden eyes upwards to the floating fluff-ball of a couerl kitten. Mjeowlnir chose that moment to stretch her little limbs - tiny paws appearing briefly from the cloud of fuzz, accompanied with little sparks of electricity - before returning to her nap. Her eccentric owner then turned his attentions back to the seemingly subdued sabotender at Tsunene's side.

" This one seems a lot more...

... Boring."

That word dropped like a weight, a death sentence in the lexicon of Hohoyahu. And the alchemist knew it, swallowing reflexively before moving to interject: "Stay your decision, sir, as the subject is simply sleeping for now."

"Well, wake it up then."

"Certainly, sir," Tsunene stated a little more hurriedly than she intended, her usual snark tempered by that cold feeling that upsetting Hohoyahu would have rather dire consequences in this hidden locale away from any and all witnesses. "This is merely a medium to maintain a modicum of mastery over this model. And, as such, awakens as any of its ilk would."

From a bag, the alchemist produced a magitek flashlight. Clicking it on, she felt the need to wave it around for effect - a motion only done to hopefully appeal to Hohoyahu's love of flair - before pointing it at the cactaur itself. Under the rays of the device, the bulb atop the plant creature's head unfurled into a wide, colorful (and suspiciously sombrero-shaped - which went well with its little moustache) flower with surprising speed. And, like a switch was flipped, CR-7 sprung to its feet and started bouncing around the cage - forcing Tsunene to put her weight on it to keep it from crashing onto its side.

"... You've regained my interest!" Hohoyahu trilled, his ire evaporating almost immediately into amused glee. "Continue."

"Tweaks to the technique is still in test phases," Tsunene added as she clicked off the light. CR-7 immediately began to slow, allowing the lady Lalafell to lift her weight off the cage and get the door open. Once that was accomplished, she set the light back on the cactaur once more and it all but exploded out of its confinement to dart about the testing grounds at frankly ridiculous speeds.

Or it tried to, anyway. Tsunene did her best to maintain a constant beam of light on it, but it moved too quickly for her to keep it on the speedy plant all times. And as soon as the light was gone, CR-7 would begin to grow sluggish until the light was on it again. The end result being not unlike a game of tag - with the lady Lalafell "tagging" the creature with the light and it sprinting off to another spot before slowing down once more.

"Following adjustments to force the flower to flourish only under a fixed frequency, we can set similar lights to encircle the coliseum," the lady Lalafell continued as she kept trying to keep the cactaur in motion. "Keeping the creature in continuous motion until the cessation of combat. And - should it succeed - shutting off the lights shall slow and stop it, making securing the subject simple."

"A 'fixed frequency'?" Swyrkhan boomed out curiously, rubbing perhaps over-dramatically at his chin. As if he were pondering a great painting or one of the mysteries of the universe rather than a choice of alliterative phrasing. Tsunene sighed a little at the question - as it was perfectly obvious to her what she meant - but cleared her throat to explain anyway.

"This certain subject seeks sustenance from sunlight - real or simulated - which is the source of its speed and strength," she answered, clicking off the flashlight and waving it for emphasis as a provider of artificial sunlight as CR-7 slumped to the ground once more. "I seek to circumvent that, so only certain specific shades stimulate it. And solely those. For safety."

"So, to get a full demonstration of this speedy sabotender..." Hohoyahu inferred, steepling his fingers once more and sounding very intrigued now. "We require the sun!"

That got a pause out of Tsunene. "... Actually, while I admit that is accurate, I must advise that..."

"Swyrkhan!” the masked Lalafell continued, cutting the alchemist off with bombastic aplomb. “The switch!"

Moving as if he had been expecting the order already, the pinstriped Roegadyn dramatically pulled a switch set into the back of the throne. With a rumbling and grinding, the ceiling above the testing ground started to spiral open, sending a cascade of dirt and dust showering downward onto Tsunene. Hohoyahu and his assistant - of course - had an awning over their position that kept them debris-free.

What also came with the shower of silt, however, was sunlight.

And, given the expression on the lady Lalafell's face... this was a problem.

"Oh no," she murmured, quickly unfurling the cloth from her shoulder and hurrying to try and cover the creature with it. Shield it from the sunlight. But it was too far away and she knew it. "No no no."

SR-7's flower burst open once again. And - without the constraint of a mere weak beam from a magitek flashlight - the cactaur shot away from her and began building up more momentum, more speed then it had shown previously. It circled the whole of the arena once, twice, and then shot across the middle of it like a bolt of lightning. Halfway, it paused for the briefest of instances before rocketing upward and out through the surprise sunroof of the testing grounds in one single, massive leap.

... Leaving Tsunene still holding the cloth open in both hands, staring up blankly at the sky as the sabotender disappeared out of sight.

Her thoughts - or perhaps her dearth of them, being as aghast as she was - were once again interrupted by her patron, who simply let out a rather impressed whistle before giving a little bit of applause. Applause that was dutifully - and emphatically - mirrored by Swyrkhan. Tsunene slooowly turned her gaze back up to the throne.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Hohoyahu exclaimed cheerfully. "You had me worried at first, Tsunene... but that! That was simply marvelous! Well presented, well done! We'll make a star out of you yet!"

A pause.

"We will have to give it a snappier name, though. ‘CR-7′ simply will not do. Do get on that after reclaiming it."

"Reclaim...?" Tsunene echoed, looking completely exasperated to the point of eroding her usually unflappable demeanor. "To keep control, I kept it out of direct sunlight. Its top speed hasn't been tested or tabulated! It could be clear across the continent in a matter of suns, stopped only by the sunset!"

"Hm. That would be troublesome, wouldn't it?" the masked Lalafell admitted with an exaggerated and dramatic sigh - an action mimicked obnoxiously by Swyrkhan to emphasize the far more staged exasperation on display. "Very well, I will pull some strings and see if I cannot get some... assistance in reclaiming your wayward creation." He didn’t seem at all apologetic for being the one that loosed the ‘wayward creation’ in the first place, and instead leaned forward. "In the meantime, do be a dear and figure out that 'fixed frequency' of yours."

He settled back into his throne.

"... And make the next version red. It would look so much more striking in a brilliant crimson, don't you think?"

[officialotakudome]

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New Post has been published on https://otakudome.com/reviews/crash-bandicoot-4-its-about-time-review/

Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time Review

Crash is back for a third time in Crash 4: It’s About Time. Following two remakes, Crash returns in this brand new game for the first time in twelve years. Taking place after the events of Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped, (thus omitting the events of the fourth and final canonical game of the original series) Crash 4 has the titular character once again facing off against the now joined forces of Neo Cortex & Nefarious Tropy, He, his sister Coco, and Aku Aku & Quantum Mask Lani-Loli work together t0 stop them from interfering with the fabric of space-time before all of existence collapses on itself.

Crash Bandicoot 4: It’s About Time is a 2020 platformer game, it is developed by Toys for Bob, and published by Activision. It is currently available for Playstation 4 and Xbox One.

Editor’s Note: A review copy for Crash Bandicoot 4: It’s About Time was provided by Activision in support of this coverage. Near complete to complete spoilers for Crash 4 may be present in this review

Activision goes all in on Crash with a new entry for the first time since 2008.

After many, many, many (and many still) years Activision has returned to one of it’s most beloved properties in Crash Bandicoot. Having attempted a reboot in 2008 that was in fairness moderately successful enough to garner it’s own sequel, Activision gave the Crash franchise another life by remaking the first three games from the ground up as well as it’s racer Crash Nitro Team Racing. While it ignores the events of then canonical final game of the original 90s series, it’s quite clear that the Crash of old is here to stay at least for another good while. In Crash Bandicoot 4: It’s About Time you play as Crash, Coco, Cortex, and an alternative timeline version of Crash’s ex girlfriend Tawna as well as former enemy turned ally Dingodile as Crash and co. use the new Quantum Masks to control space-time to stop Cortex and Tropy from destroying existence from where it stands.

Meet the new and improved Crash in Crash 4: It’s About Time.

THE GOOD: In Crash 4, Crash and Coco are out relaxing at home before Aku Aku senses a disturbance; the return of Cortex & Tropy to their world. Going off in a nearby temple Crash discovers a Quantum Mask known as Lani-Loni who is one of several that can control certain aspects of reality such as bending time and space. Quantum Mask are essentially the elders of Aku Aku and the Guardians and like Aku Aku, Lani-Loni has several relatives. Lani-Loni decides to trust Crash and co. having seen them befriend Aku with finding his own brothers to fix the fabric of time that has been broken by Cortex & Tropy’s return. Crash and the others race through time and space against Cortex and Tropy before meeting an alternate version of Crash’s ex-girlfriend Tawna who lends her assistant while simultaneously doing her own thing. As Crash, Coco, and Tawna along with Aku Aku & Lani-Loni try to stop Cortex and Tropy, Crash’s former enemy Dingodile has reformed and opened a restaurant. Following his restaurant being burned down by a rivaling restaurant Dingodile begins inadvertently aiding Crash and the others across space time. Crash finds most of the Quantum Masks and face off against Cortex. only for Cortex to be betrayed by Tropy upon his defeat who reveals his new ally; an alternative female version of himself from alt Tawna’s universe. Cortex agrees to help Crash defeat the Trophies out of spite. With their combined forces they beat the Trophies, collect all the Quantum Masks, and save space-time. The group take a trip to the future to celebrate their victory, but Cortex plans his own betrayal taking Quantum Mask Kupana-Wa to travel back to the past of Crash’s invention in an effort to stop it. Past Cortex refuses to stop the experiment and Present Crash & the others send Present Cortex to the ends of the universe. Crash accidentally intervenes in Past Cortex’s experiment on Past Crash essentially ensuring the timeline is mostly intact. Dingodile reopens his restaurant, Cortex is on a beach, and Crash, Coco, Tawna, and the masks play games on N. Sanity Island. A dimensional rift opens in front of Cortex revealing Uka Uka who was previously thought to be dead is alive.

The Crash crew are playable again for the modern age with a new dimension jumping story.

Toys for Bob being the quality developers they are had a lot to work with by trying to make the Crash formula feel refreshing and new & damn did they nail it. From it’s humor, character direction, and insanely difficult gameplay Crash feels as good as it ever has. Even with the nostalgia Crash 4 does what many years-long sequels fail to accomplish and that’s riding on it’s past glory while also providing something new. This is mostly done through the Quantum Masks and their unique abilities, but there’s also new mechanics for it’s platforming such as wall running. Admittedly the newer aspects feature in Crash 4 aren’t many, but it doesn’t have to be and it’s partly why being a fan of a series and hoping for a new entry & getting it years later can be so frustrating. Often times we don’t get a mix of nostalgia and something new it’s either one or the other. Granted I’ve only recently become a Crash fan having missed out on the series during my childhood, but this issue applies to almost everything that takes a hiatus and comes back. And it says a lot that Crash was gone for over eleven years and still pulled it off. Crash 4’s faithfulness while also trying something new is one of several reasons why Toys For Bob have become such a fan-favorite developer.

Enemies become friends in Crash 4.

THE BAD: Just like the originals Crash 4 is am extremely difficult game so if you aren’t prepared for patience and turbulence then you’re probably going to be in for a very bad time. I honestly can’t stress enough how hard this game actually is and there are times when deaths feel cheap often coming out of nowhere, but you get the hang of your landings and such fairly quick. In regards to the story I personally think time travel has been done to death the last half a decade. but I will admit that for the continuation of Crash that Activision & Toys For Bob are going for it makes. Clearly, they want to reboot the series without alienating fans of the original nor abandoning the original plot so to work around this without too much plotholing or a full on reboot time travel actually works fairly well to circumvent the direction.

New powers and abilities prepare Crash for a grand comeback for years to come.

OVERALL THOUGHTS: Crash 4: It’s About Time brings a classic flavor to a modern aesthetic with a blend of old school platforming and time-bending level jumping. While the story does have a bit of redundancy it’s done so in such a way that still respects the original trilogy while given a ton of options for Crash’s full-fledged revival in the near future. Co-op, secret tapes, unlockable costumes (for free) and multiple endings provide tons of hours of replayability and in most cases you’re going to want to experience everything the game has to throw at you.

[childoftimeandmagic]

Prompt! Klaus is returning a Christmas gift at the store where Caroline works and she feels the need to share her opinions.

Christy!!!!! Here you go and I hope you enjoy it. @misssophiachase

AO3

After the holidays was the most bizarre mix of slow and hectic that Caroline ever dealt with. Rolling her shoulders she glanced around her store front. She hadn’t seen a soul in hours, not since Elena Gilbert had walked in complaining about the status of men in the world. Flicking her wrist up to place the bill back on the door she sat back down. Opening a bookstore wasn’t considered a normal pursuit for a witch; but sitting in her store the candles lit and gently filling the air with sweet perfume of winter nights. Caroline couldn’t imagine something she’d like to do more.

Shrugging and reopening her book she leaned back in her chair. As she allowed her mind to be reabsorbed into the adventures of Nancy and Ned, the bell  above the door went completely unnoticed. Sighing happily into her book she refused to be pulled from the chapter for even a paying customer. After all what was a single customer who was probably just going to browse and leave to a good mystery.

As she turned the page she took the opportunity to sneak a peek at the person who’d entered her store from her vantage point by the counter. He was beautiful, tall, blonde and stylish. Something about him was dangerous though. A monster in human form. Now this wasn’t super helpful because he could just be one of a hundred supernatural creatures who called this town home. So it didn’t bother her.

Unlike Bonnie or Elena who were considered more powerful. Running one of the most popular supply and herbalist stores in the City of Mystic Falls, Caroline’s powers were more passive. Pointing out to her what someone desired most, or what they were hiding from themselves and the world. So the coven had left her to run her business without requiring a tax. Magic users were required to pay a percentage of their profits to the Coven which went to protecting and managing the local magic school.

Still her powers were passive enough that she was able to run a very nice business making sure that her customers got exactly the book that they needed. Not always the one they wanted, or thought they’d enjoy, but they trusted her and took the book that she found them. Hidden desires and empathy were her greatest assets in the store so she trusted them implicitly.

As the door closed quietly behind the man who had just entered a rather peculiar used book shop. The books were arranged alphabetically, by date, and genre. The oldest books were on display and honestly they were worth more. As he turned around the store opened up to reveal a grand room with a single counter in the far back with a fireplace and a ring of chairs next to it. The space was filled with even more shelves. No one seemed to be in the store except probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Her hair hung in a way that almost belied what she’d look like laying in his bed. Clearing his throat he moved

His assistant had bought him a book from here about his least favorite artist. He could appreciate abstract art, but he was not about to read about Kandinsky. He liked obscure and odd focuses for his art work, but he liked people to be able to understand some part of it. he was hoping he could exchange it. With his siblings running a major city a piece, he’d grown bored and wanted to spend more time on his art.

So he’d left Marcel in charge of New Orleans, and he’d returned to the first home he’d ever known and opened up a small gallery. Going under a shortened version of his name Nik Michaels he’d thought that he would begin to enjoy life again. Occasionally committed a few murders. Instead he’d found himself irritable, museless, and in a city infested with magical and supernatural creatures which made for more challenging patience. Patience he wasn’t famous for having much of in the first place. Walking up to the counter he looked around and felt his anger rising. Who was this woman while beautiful to ignore him. Dropping the book onto the counter he growled, his eyes flashing gold.

“Excuse me, you have a customer,” he snarled, his voice low and rich.

“I also am at the climax of the book, so why don’t you take a walk around and I’ll be with you in a moment,” Caroline huffed, not looking up at the angry gentleman.

“I don’t want to purchase a book, I would like to exchange a book,” he said, his anger rising with each insistence of defiance.

“Sir, on the counter in front of you is a sign. If you can read well enough to be in a book store I assume you can read it as well.” She said waving her hand dismissively towards a small plaque on the counter next to him. In a delicate hand, and decorated with a gold painted frame stated.

                                      Welcome to Perfect Find Books                                Where you always find what you need.                                      No Returns or Exchanges.                                              No Exceptions.

Caroline for her credit, didn’t let the very attractive man distract her from finishing the chapter. When she heard a crash she flicked her wrist and the damage was reversed. While her powers might not be mighty and all powerful like many of the witches in the city, she could hold her own.

“That will cost you fifty dollars, each time you break something I’ll tack on another hundred, think of it like Yahtzee. First one is fifty and the rest are hundreds,” she said, chuckling to herself at the joke about the board game.

“Just take your shity book back, I didn’t even buy it. It was a gift from a coworker, who is unable to return it herself,” he sneered, slamming a vase to the ground again. Only to have to reform in front of him.

“You are the most impatient and entitled man I’ve ever met,” Caroline sighed, standing up from her comfy armchair by the fireplace. Placing her book on the seat, bookmark in place she looked at him arms akimbo.“I will not take the book back nor will I be bullied into changing my company policy. So please take it, your awful attitude and leave.”

No was not a word that Klaus was used to hearing, refusal or defiance. Who did this little witch think she was. Growling he flashed forward grabbing her by the neck slamming her into the stone and brick wall behind them. “Maybe to live you’ll change your policy.”

She for all her credit looked bored, her hands were holding his arm but made no move to push him off or cause an aneurysm. Instead she met him dead on and then blinked a few times. Growling he pressed her harder into the stone, causing gravel and dust to fall along the ground. Still no real fear, like she’d accepted that he’d kill her. Oddly her bravery and refusal to cower eased his anger.

Once he’d released her she stepped about six feet away and rubbed her neck. She then walked over to the counter and wrote something down on a business card. Klaus watched her, eyebrow raised when she took the book from the countertop and the business card.

“Take the book and bring it to this used bookstore across town. They’ll take it. I won’t break my company policy.” She offered him that odd look again. Eyes unblinking then two quick blinks and pursed lips. “When you’re ready to actually buy a book come back and I’ll find you the one. Till then my number’s on the back of the card. Now that’ll be $250 for the tantrum.”

“Are you asking me out?” he asked, eyes bulging. He almost kills her, threatens her life, and she gives him her number. What kind of witch was this. Most would be calling him undead, and abomination and yet she didn’t seem to really care.

“No I’m giving you my number so you can ask me out,” Caroline said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

“Let me get this right,” he said, slowly taking the offered items. “I just tried to kill you, I threw a tantrum and broke your vases, and a picture frame. Instead of fighting me with magic, or banishing me from your store. You’re charging me for the broken items which you already fixed, and giving me your number.”

“I’m a witch who specializes in passive magic. I own a bookstore where the desires, wants, and needs of a customer bring me to their perfect option. You didn’t kill me Niklaus Mikaelson, which I am taking to mean you don’t want to, and since I’m still standing with a business and policies in place, it seems foolish to cower now.” She shrugged and looked around her bookstore then back to him. “Will that be cash or card? Oh and since I have to also fix my wall now, I’m adding an additional two hundred dollars.”

Klaus Mikaelson grinned for the first time since he’d opened his own gallery up. She was smart, quick-witted, and brave, all on top of being beautiful. He hadn’t met anyone with those qualities who also knew who he was, and didn’t care in…ever. He would be remiss if he let her just pass him by. “If I’m going to take you out miss, I should probably know your name.”

“Caroline Forbes, and I’m not joking, will you be paying cash or card for the damage?” she asked her cash register already queued up. Klaus laughed and handed her a black Amex. “Charge what you like, I have more money than I can spend in my entire life regardless.”

Caroline chuckled and handed him back his credit card, adding another two hundred for the bruises she could feel forming on her neck. In total she’d taken 650 dollars from the most dangerous man in the world. Winking she walked over to the wall and waved her hand over the body imprint. Klaus watched as it shimmered and then put itself back together, when it was finished there wasn’t even dust on the carpet.

“Come again, Mr. Mikaelson,” she said, picking her book back up from the chair. Without another look at him she reopened her book. As clear a dismissal as anything.

“Have a very nice day Caroline,” he said, his mood higher than it had been in centuries.

Caroline smiled as he walked out of her store, and if someone asked if she liked the view of the oldest most powerful man walking away from her, well she’d never tell. Though for being a person in his thousands, he had a great ass.

[jazelthegentle]

Sweat, Gold, and Tears Pt 1

The gangway stretched out over the pier before dropping onto the wooden platform with a heavy smack. A chorus of footsteps rocked the old galleon as a hundred Kaldorei stepped out from the darkness. Still covered in the ashes of their beloved home, and kin, they shuffled down the gangway with barely a word spoken among them. Stormwind residents gathered to stare at the latest batch of refugees being corralled down the docks. Displaced, starving, and in mourning, the Night Elves kept their eyes on the ground, their voices in hushed whispers, and their faces soaked with dirty tears. All but the Tideclaws.

Sayuune looked no better off than the rest of them, but she kept her head held high. A month at sea didn't do her any favors; it had been days since she had access to drinkable water, and nearly a week since she had something solid to eat. Her exhausted eyes were bright with hard headed determination, and her face was as still as stone, yet she staggered and stumbled with every other step. 

Her daughter Nodas was faring better, but not by much; her stomach growled loudly and often, while her hungry gaze was fixed on the bands of mercenaries and sellswords who otherwise ignored the flood of incoming refugees. They went about their business in gilded armor and glimmering steel, with swollen coin purses swinging freely from their waists. Surely a few of them wouldn't notice if some of their riches went missing.

"Hello! Hello hello!" Humans descended upon the shuffling crowd pushing or pulling large empty carts. One such creature approached Sayuune and Nodas with an uncomfortable twinkle in his grin. The opulent rings adorning his hands could only mean one thing - merchants seizing an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate. "You need gold! I need moon elf items my collection! We trade be happy!" His Darnassian was awful, but clear enough to understand. Sayuune saw other refugees trading in what little rags they had for copper and silver coins, desperate for a bite to eat and drinkable water. 

The last thing Sayuune wanted to part with was her bramblestaff; not only was it a priceless family heirloom, it was one of the only things she had left of her husband. Reluctantly she raised the staff for the merchant to inspect. "How much will this get me?"

"Mom?!" Nodas hissed, her eyes flaring. "What are you doing?!" She squeezed her daughter's hand to get her to quiet down. 

"We need food."

Unsurprisingly he ripped them off. A staff easily worth twelve thousand gold was traded for less than three."What choice do I have…" When they reached the front of the line, Nodas was relieved to find a fellow Kaldorei sitting behind the desk, but Sayuune wasn't so easily pleased.

"Ishnu-alah, sisters." His dull yellow eyes scanned them both with a most unusual scrutiny. "My name is Lieutenant Armin Ashquiver. I'll need your names."

"Sayuune and Nodas Tideclaw." The mother proudly stated; they could take her home, her belongings, even her family, but their names would forever be theirs. He scribbled down their names in silence, adding them to the long list of poor displaced souls now forced to live in this strange and hostile city.

"There's a soup kitchen at the camps you'll be staying in. Courtesy of His Majesty." He looked up at Sayuune. "Plenty of jobs out there for a steady income, but they're filling up fast. I know you're tired, but I'd recommend looking before nightfall." He pulled out a piece of paper and planted a red stamp on the bottom. "Enjoy your stay in Stormwind City."

The goopy slop poorly masquerading as soup was a grievous insult to the Kaldorei people, but it was still the best meal she's had since Teldrassil. Nodas ate more than her fair share and fell asleep before their tent was even made, but that hardly mattered to her mother; she was just happy her daughter was finally resting. Sayuune, however, couldn’t rest. Once the tent was built around her snoozing daughter, she departed to the streets of Stormwind to find work.

Shop by shop, street by street, she was hit with disappointment again, and again, and again. Day in, day out, sunset to sunset.

"Sorry we're not looking for applicants right now!"

"I'd love to give you a job but I'm full already!"

"I can't hire you right off the street!"

"A buddy of mine across the city might be interested in extra help."

"Sorry, but we can't - what will my wife think hiring a woman like you?"

"Can't hire an elf around here. I got my reputation to uphold… you understand, right?"

"Yeah babe I can hire you, heheh… how much for the night?"

"You're filthy! Beat it vagrant!"

Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of asking. Two weeks of nothing. 

Every time she was turned away, the fake smile and forced persona was whittled down. Nightfall came and went, leaving her exhausted in the Mage Quarter courtyard. Her feet were screaming for rest and she could no longer ignore them; she found the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it with a well-earned sigh of relief. The gold she earned selling her most prized possession was almost all gone; determination was turning into desperation, and if she didn’t find work soon, her daughter would begin to starve. For now her search would have to be put on hold until the shops reopened in the morning.

A woman eased herself down onto the bench beside Sayuune. Her fragrance was alluring but she couldn't recognize the scent, her silk clothes looked as expensive as the jewelry covering her hands and fingers; her painted nails were quite long, almost impractically so. She made Sayuune feel like a vagrant more than anyone else she's met in this abysmal city. "Hard time finding work?" The stranger asked with a seductively soothing voice. Sayuune was compelled to meet her gaze, but her words caught in her throat the moment she was confronted by her striking beauty; if she wasn't a Highborne, she could fool Sayuune.

"I…" Her timid mutter stirred the stranger to smile, her dark purple lips grinning from ear to ear.

Sayuune didn't notice the woman's hand until her nails traced the base of her chin. "Stunning, aren't I? There isn't a man alive that can resist my delectable charm. The dead ones aren't immune to it either." Sayuune wanted to pull away from her grip, but she felt paralyzed… mesmerized. "But look at you… these high cheekbones… these full lips… these glimmering eyes. You're quite the looker yourself, honey. How long do you plan on wandering these streets like a beggar when you can rule the underground scene like a queen?"

"What… do you…" It was difficult to speak when she gazed into her eyes, almost feeling like she was lost in a sea of swirling quicksilver.

The stranger's smile only grew. "I want to help you get back on your feet. I help run a little organization that's in serious need of gorgeous and flexible women like us. Interested?"

"An escort service?" That was enough to pull Sayuune out of her trance to rise to her throbbing feet. "I can't do that. To even approach me like… I can't. I have a husband I'm waiting on to return from the war… a daughter that looks up to me…"

"A shame." Her tone suddenly changed, as did the frigid expression on her face. "While you wait on your doting man, you and your daughter starve." She rose, towering over Sayuune in her jade heels. "Should you come to your senses, seek out the ugliest worgen you come across in Old Town." An uncomfortable grin spread across her lips. "Tell them Momma sent you." Before Sayuune could speak, Momma tossed a coin purse at her chest. "That's how much my girls can earn in a night. Sleep on it." 

Sayuune watched as the elegant woman turned and strode off, presumably to another potential recruit. She waited until she was gone before opening the coin purse. "Impossible!" Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred gold?! She's lying…!" With that kind of income most of her problems would be over. Her and her daughter would eat better than they ever did; her husband would bring back two to three grand every two months… she could out earn that within weeks! Within days!

"No…" Sayuune closed her eyes and shuddered. "To betray Vilaron like this… I couldn't! How could I look him in the eyes if I… sold my body...?" 

The journey back to the refugee camps was unbearably long. Her imagination played cruel games by asking her questions she didn't want the answers to. "What if Vilaron doesn't make it back in time before we starve to death? What if this woman already approached Nodas? What if she is being used by one of her 'clients' at this very moment?! What if she refused and they killed her?!"

Sayuune ignored the burning ache in her feet from sprinting back to the camps, darting through alleyways and ducking through corridors to get back to her daughter as quickly as possible. The soft glowing campfires down the hill only hastened her steps until she was almost gliding down the path to reach her tent.

She swung open the drape with an audible gasp, and her fears were put to rest; Nodas stirred in her hammock and mumbled under her breath, her feet blackened and calloused from wandering the streets as well. Yet her face was still wet with tears from crying herself to sleep. As Sayuune caught her breath and quietly approached her, she noticed the crumbled scroll still in her grip. Gently she wiggled it free from Nodas' hand, pulled it taut between her fingers, and read the distinct Darnassian letters neatly sprawled across the parchment.

To Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw,

I regret to inform you the Sentinels recovered the body of one Vilaron Tideclaw. He will be delivered within the month so you can send him off properly.

Elune will grant us justice. 

-L. Armin Ashquiver

Sayuune only made it halfway through the letter before she was blinded by her tears. The shock of this news hit her in waves, crashing against her composure like the tide against the cliffside; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, wishing he left with them when Teldrassil burned. Wishing she could go back in time and save him.

Wishing she was dead.

Yet Sayuune endured - she had to. With a sharp inhale and a weak sniffle, she swallowed her anguish for her daughter's sake, stepped out of the tent, and wrapped her arms around herself. Others receiving similar news took it worse than she did; their screams carried across the farmland and over the pointed tents, filling the air with sorrow so palpable she could taste it every time she licked her lips.

Nodas is all she has left of her beloved Vilaron. She is willing to die for her, now more than ever; if she can lay down her life for her daughter, surely she could lay down her dignity as well. What choice did she have? Every day she spends wasting her time looking for honest work, her daughter goes hungry. "For Nodas… no price is too great…"

With a slight grimace on her face and a shiver up her spine, Sayuune braced herself for the hardship she would endure in the unknowable future. 

[expensiveminimalist]

Fight Night - Kasperi Kapanen

Authors Note: I’m back again! So this fic is a lot longer than what I’ve previously shared but I’m quite proud of it. I feel like I’m slowly getting back to the way I used to write, so I hope you all enjoy it! Special thanks to my lovely @squilliamnylander for all the support while writing this! 

Word Count: 2.4k approx. 

Warnings: Swearing (a lot), mentions of cheating 

“Can you turn the music down?”. “Why?”. “Because it’s annoying”. “Deal with it”. “Are you fucking serious?”. Date night was going well. “Kappy if you don’t turn that music down right now, I swear to god”. “Go ahead cause I’m not turning it down”. How mature. You rolled your eyes and gazed out the window, deciding you would ignore Kappy for the remainder of the ride home. And then he started clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. With each click you flinched in anger. You could actually feel the rage bubbling inside of you, the remnants of your restaurant fight igniting and clambering to be released. Take a deep breath, just pretend you’re on a beach by yourself, the only sound is crashing waves and… click…“WOULD YOU STOP CLICKING YOUR FUCKING TONGUE”. You’d yelled so loud you gave yourself a fright but it had the desired effect as Kappy stopped making that obnoxious noise. You couldn’t believe how terrible this night was turning out to be. What was supposed to be a night for the two of you to treat yourselves had turned into a full-blown disaster, thanks to your little friend called insecurity. That bitch was always ruining everything. 

The evening hadn’t started off like this. You’d raced home from work, wanting every spare second to wow your boyfriend on your first date night (that didn’t involve the couch) in months. You shaved, shampooed, conditioned and moisturised, infatuated by your own silky skin as you danced around in your light pink, lacy bra and panties, pondering which outfit you were going to wear to knock his socks off. You settled on a sleeveless, pale blue wrap dress, patterned with light coloured flowers that was cut on an angle revealing your left thigh, while the V-neck allowed you to expose a cheeky bit of cleavage. You took your time putting on your makeup, making sure you didn’t resemble a clown, and spritzed yourself with your favourite Dolce & Gabbana perfume. You ducked into the wardrobe to grab a pair of nude strappy heels as your phone lit up with a message from Kappy saying “on my way x”. You ran a brush through your hair, deciding to softly curl the ends as Kappy let himself in and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You look fucking hot” he spoke into your cheek, his breath leaving a tingling sensation on your skin. You turned around, back pressed against the sink, and pulled his face close to yours. “You don’t look so bad yourself” you said as you leaned in, nibbling on his lip playfully. You loved his lips and you loved what he could do with them. Kappy squeezed your ass, causing you to leap up in surprise, “so we can stay in if you don’t want to go out for dinner?” he teased. “Oh no, no, no” you replied, “we are going out for dinner, I did not dress up like this just to sit on the couch”. Kappy laughed, “well we better get going then” and you lead him out to the car but not before receiving another complementary ass grab.

Kappy had made a reservation at your favourite Italian restaurant, knowing full well that the way to your heart was through pasta. You walked in hand in hand, and were taken to your table almost immediately. You browsed over the drinks menu, choosing a boring old lemonade for yourself while Kappy decided on water since he was driving. When the waiter left you and Kappy began a friendly game of footsie under the table, with you enjoying every chance to make him squirm as you slid your foot slowly up his leg and nudging his inner thigh. You continued to rub your foot back and forth against his thigh while he attempted to order you both dinner, the waiter bemused at Kappy’s sudden inability to be able to produce a coherent sentence. “We’ll both have the chicken carbonara please” you interjected, winking at your boyfriend who now resembled a beetroot. The second the waiter walked away, Kappy pushed your foot away and tried to regain his composure. “You’re such a tease” he hissed, “takes one to know one” you retorted. While you waited for your meal to arrive you went through several glasses of lemonade, and your bladder felt like it was going to burst. “I need to use the ladies room” you said, excusing yourself. Once you had relieved yourself, you touched up your lipstick and headed back into the dining room. You faltered as you opened the door, stunned by the sight of two gorgeous, tall blondes standing with your boyfriend. One had her arm on his shoulder, caressing it, while the other was acting as if Kappy was the most hilarious guy in the world. What really got your temper flared, was the look on his face. He was loving it. He was laughing along with them, lapping the attention up. Had he forgotten that he was here with you, his girlfriend? You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, and marched towards your table. You ignored Kappy and the girls, focused only on your pasta and keeping your mouth shut in case you said something you’d later regret. Sensing your animosity, Kappy wished the girls a good night and they went back to their table. “You know the polite thing to do would have been to say hello” Kappy spat. You dropped your fork with a clatter and hissed back, “you know the polite thing to do would be to not flirt with random girls while on a date with your girlfriend”. Kappy rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t flirting with them, they just came over. Fuck, Y/N I couldn’t just tell them to leave”. “Yeah you really looked like you were suffering” you replied sarcastically. Kappy looked you dead in the eyes, “are we actually going to do this now? Do you really want to ruin the evening?”. Now he’d done it. “Me!? Ruin the evening!? You were the one shopping around for your next bit of meat, since apparently I’m not enough for you”. “Y/N what the fuck? You’re reading way too much into this. Seriously we were just talking”, “Funny, I didn’t know you had to have physical contact to be able to talk to someone” you snapped back. You knew you were overreacting. You felt like you were having an outer body experience, just watching yourself create an entire scenario that was completely fictional. But this was your past coming back and rearing its ugly head.

Your last relationship had destroyed all sense of trust you had in anyone you got close to. You’d found out that your ex-boyfriend, the one you’d foolishly been planning your forever with, had been cheating on you for five months. He had a whole other life that you were oblivious to but once you found out about it, you felt like yours was over. He said that she was better than you in every single way. Better looking, better in bed, better at giving him what he needed. You believed him. You let him convince you that you deserved this, that you asked for this. You should’ve payed more attention to him, sacrificed more for him. For so long after your breakup, you berated yourself for everything he said you’d failed at. You tore your own character apart, refusing to see that none of it was your fault. After six trying months, you’d managed to fix yourself up and get on with life. That’s when you met Kappy. He was everything that your ex wasn’t, and he treated you the way you’d always wished a man would treat you. He proved time and time again that you could trust him, and you knew you could. But your past was always there, keeping a close eye on your happiness. Maybe you hadn’t fixed your insecurities. You’d merely put a bandage over them.

You continued your dinner in silence. No eye contact, no conversation. Best date night ever. The waiter returned, “would you like to see our dessert men … ” “No, can I have the cheque thanks” Kappy interjected. You were taken aback but not surprised he wanted to get this evening over with. “I’ll be in the car” you huffed, grabbing your purse and storming out. The air had gotten cooler and half way to the car you realised you didn’t have the keys or a jacket. You refused to go back to Kappy so, your stubborn ass defiantly lent against the car and befriended each and every goose bump on your arms. After cursing under your breath for what felt like forever, Kappy finally arrived at the car and you were able to get in and defrost. As you stepped into the car, you slammed the door as a reminder to him that you were still fuming. “Can you not slam the door?”. You took one look at Kappy, reopened your door and slammed it as hard as possible. Yeah, you were a petty bitch.

And, that’s why you were now suffering through the longest car ride home ever. Funnily enough, the journey felt like it was taking an eternity. To make things even better, you were now being overtaken by every car in sight. You could walk home faster than this. “Why are we slowing down?”. “If I knew I would tell you” Kappy replied, his sarcastic tone evident. You rolled your eyes, and as you went to lean your elbow on the door you noticed a red light on the dashboard. This was not happening. “Hey genius, do you know what that red light next to the fuel gage means?” you chirped. Kappy glared at you before quickly turning his flushed face away, realising that he’d completely forgotten to fill his car up with gas. He pulled off the road and parked up, knowing it was safer to stop here than in the middle of the road. You opened your mouth to have another crack at him but he stepped out of the car and got on the phone before you had a chance. Your ego couldn’t resist the opportunity to dig at him mercilessly for his mistake, so you stepped out into the cold night and leant against the car. Kappy got off the phone, mumbling something about a tow truck and sat on the hood of the car. You looked at him, expecting more details but he didn’t say a word. This was going to be fun.

After five minutes of standing in the cold, you snapped. “What idiot lets their car run out of gas?”. “Oh, I’m the idiot? Because you’re the one that is that much of an attention seeker that you decided that I was cheating on you with two chicks I’d never even said a word to before tonight”. “Did you seriously just call me a fucking attention seeker? After all I went through with Scott, do you really think I’d enjoy seeing that happen to myself again?”, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes as it dawned on Kappy what had set you off. “Shit” he mumbled. You turned your back to him, not wanting him to see how much your insecurities had broken you. The tears were now steadily flowing down your face, and you were shivering so much that anyone driving past would have just seen a blue blur. Kappy walked over and wrapped his arms you, holding you tight and trying to warm you up. “Don’t touch me” you said, but you felt yourself sinking further into his body, relishing the warmth he was radiating. For a few moments you just stood there together in silence, watching the traffic go by. You felt Kappy shift his head, resting his face against your cheek. “You know that I love you, and I would never take you for granted like that dick did. You are incredible, and you’re the only one that can’t see it. You’re crazy intelligent, you have the biggest heart, and you’re fucking beautiful. You don’t deserve what he did to you, and you don’t deserve to still feel how he made you feel. I want you to know that you can trust me, that when I’m away on road trips all I’m thinking about is when I get to see you next”. You were hooked on his every word but your fears refused to vanish. “But that’s just it. We’re always so busy and you go away so often, and that little voice in my head is telling me that you’re off with some girl that just wants a good time and not all my baggage. You deserve that, you deserve better than a paranoid girlfriend who blows everything out of proportion” you tearfully replied. Kappy turned you around and held your face in his hands, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. You have every right to be scared after what you’ve been through, you are not paranoid. You are not crazy. Everyone has their own shit that they have to go through and sometimes it takes a while to overcome. I want to help you get through that so you can enjoy what we have. I want you to learn to trust me, I’m not going to make you because that’s something I have to earn. You mean a hell of a lot to me and I love you”. He wiped away your remaining tears and pressed the gentlest of kisses to your lips, warming your insides. You’d felt like you were falling but when he kissed you he caught you, he brought you back to reality. The look in his eyes told you that everything he said he meant and, for once, your heart and brain were on the same wave length. You rested your forehead against his, taking a moment. “I love you, Kappy”. You snuggled into his chest, feeling at home in his arms because you’d finally found someone that got you. “Not to ruin the moment”, you laughed, “but how far away is that tow truck? Because my legs are starting to resemble icicles”. Kappy squeezed you tighter and smiled, “should be any minute now but I know for certain there’s a hot shower for two on offer at my place”. You looked up at Kappy with a smirk, admiring his gorgeous face in the dim lights of the approaching tow truck. “Can’t wait” you sung.

[lordrethandus]

The Wayward Son Pt 3

Finding his Alucieus would be easy. For better or for worse, his stalwart brother was always reliably predictable in that regard; it was wearing him out and luring him into the trap that Areus was having a problem with. Would Alucieus see through his tricks, like so many times before? How could he be so sure that arcane prison Syrahn’s sister was preparing could even hold him? They say Tirion Fordring was offered to become a High Justicar, but he refused; if Alucieus could truly hold a candle to the late Highlord’s power, Areus would have to be in the best shape of his life to face him, if his brother was even capable of striking him.

The Western Plaguelands is and always was his favorite forest; he could no longer look upon the greenery like he once could, true, but the crisp air and the heavy musk of pine always lifted his spirits. The roads were empty now that the Scourge was completely eradicated, and the Argent Crusade gone. The beautiful forest was now as quiet and peaceful as it once was for countless centuries before the first humans or elves settled in these lands.

Except for Alucieus. He hammered away at his dented and rusted armor, patching hole after hole, but the once rhythmic clashing did nothing for him now. Despite his escape from Dalaran the High Justicar’s head was still swimming; it was a terrible burden that prevented even a wink of decent rest, but it was his burden to bear.

“The Oathguard has abandoned you.” The familiar voice returned in the cold black of the decrepit smithy. Once again his father, Lord Augustus Sun’rael, stepped into the dim light wearing the tattered uniform he died in. Alucieus shot him a quick glance, but otherwise ignored him. He knew his father was long dead. He knew fel corruption often invoked hallucinations. He knew he couldn’t trust anything he saw, or anyone. Yet the voice was too real, his face too recognizable; when he looked upon his pale face and his sunken eyes, he could swear he was back in the old Sun’rael estate again, centuries ago. “My granddaughter has forsaken you.”

Hearing his father’s ominous voice filled him with grief and anger, like an old scab was suddenly reopened and bleeding again, but Alucieus was compelled to respond. “You never had the chance to meet her. I wish you and mother lived long enough to hold her in your arms. You would have fallen in love with her... as I did.”

“Everything you’ve built. Everything you’ve accomplished. All for nothing.” The furious disapproval in his voice struck Alucieus like nothing he’s felt before; it made him feel like a child again, desperate for his father’s praise. “Your compassion has made you vulnerable. Now our enemies close in around our legacy, our family, and you are powerless to stop them.”

“Have I not laid waste to our enemies?!” Alucieus lost himself, throwing his smithing hammer at the ethereal shadow; it passed through his body just as he expected, slamming hard against the crumbling cobblestone wall behind him. Areus perked up at the sound of the distant strike, and began to pick up the pace to reach the Bloodsworn Vanguard ruins. “Every house that’s risen against us has been crushed! Every threat to our family has been destroyed! Have I not done everything you’ve asked?! What more do you want from me?!”

“Truth, and justice.” These were words Alucieus heard a million times before. To the uninitiated, truth and justice were one in the same, but the heir to House Sun’rael knew better than that. They meant whatever needed to be done, needed to be done, no matter how cruel, or merciless, those actions might be. Everything his father did was justified, and in time everything Alucieus was commanded to do was justified as well. Whenever he would begin to doubt the reasons for his actions, he would mutter those three simple words, and all doubt would leave him. “Those who wrong our family deserve nothing but death.”

“No one will lay a hand on Kaevia.” Alucieus pushed the words out from the back of his dry throat. His father’s unnaturally cruel laughter filled the smithy, causing Alucieus’ blood to run cold.

“Because of your failures, someone already has.” Footsteps echoed from around the corner, followed by his sole brother stepping out of the darkness.

“Brother…?” Areus recognized his aura, and the familiar shape of his silhouette against the shadows behind him, but something was terribly wrong; he could hear Alucieus’ labored breathing, as if he was gasping for air. His soul was stained by his fel corruption as well. “Alucieus… it’s me. Brother. It’s Areus.”

Alucieus remained silent. His chest was lit aflame with hatred he had never known. Their father’s ghostly form stood beside Areus with that all-too familiar look of disappointment in his scowl. “Areus is a traitor to our family. He must be punished.”

“Why are you here? Everyone has been looking for you… yet you’ve been hiding in the shadows. This isn’t like you…” Areus rasped cautiously, a hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped on the small of his back; he noticed the gladius resting on the anvil beside his brother, but he wasn’t yet willing to risk going for it.

A simple question with a simple motivation.

A light laugh echoed in his forge. The basement of his home in New Hearthglen lit up with holy light emanating from his blade. “Preparing… little brother. For the war that’s here.” The depravity clinging to his rumbling voice let Areus know the extent of his fel corruption; he needed to get him back to the Amber Glade to be healed before it was too late. “Everyone has taken arms up against the Legion, but no one is here readily protecting my little girl… I’ll do the honors.”

“She’s not a little girl anymore…” Areus responded gruffly, “She’s… whether we like it or not, she’s been a woman in her own right.”

“He is jealous of your power. Of your birthright. He wants the family legacy for himself.” Their father reappeared sitting beside Alucieus, with his words drilling into his firstborn’s forehead. “Sooner or later Whitstan will kill Kaevia and her children in their sleep, and he is to blame. Unless you stop him.” Areus flinched when he felt the fel flicker in his brother’s soul.

“In her own right?... Is that why you let the very essence of undeath hover over her? If the little mage with his dominance over the arcane was not worthy of her, why would something as appalling as the undead be worthy of her? You all are fools. We’re setting precedences by allowing such foolish unions when we know they’re doomed to fail. Isn’t Kaevia worth more than that?”

“My niece is worth making that choice herself.” Areus raised his free hand in a disarming gesture. “Come back with me to the Amber Glade, brother… we have people that can heal you. We can fix this.”

Fel corruption coursed through the veins along Alucieus’ temples, while his simmering hatred began to boil over uncontrollably. “Where were they when I was bedridden in Dalaran for months? You think Syrahn and all her boundless wisdom can fix anything? Empathy has clouded her judgment and made her weak. It has made you weak too.”

“Listen to yourself… do you even hear what you’re saying?” Areus began furtively inching forward, hoping he could disarm his brother before this conversation took a turn for the worse.

“Kaevia invites Whitstan into her chambers, into her bed, because your brother let him live.” Alucieus almost choked on the words of his father. “Your enemy pleasures your daughter with impunity because people like Areus will it.”

Alucieus charged through the wooden table before him like a blade through parchment, gladius in hand. Shadowy tendrils leapt from the floor and stopped the blade from piercing Areus’ chest, but the brute strength from Alucieus alone was enough to push Areus back until he crashed into the decaying stone wall; he held the blade with the living shadows and both hands, gazing deep into the sickly green aura that now demanded his utmost attention.

Areus gasped out, “Alucieus…!” Get a hold of yourself…!” Alucieus saw his brother’s writhing shadows stretch over his face and armor, and although he saw his lips moving, he could no longer hear him; only the taunting laughter of his father rang loudly in his ears, further bolstering his fel-induced fury. With a wild surge of strength the High Justicar drove the blade home with the intent to kill, but Areus vanished in an evanescing cloud of shadow energy.

“He mocks your efforts with every breath.” His father was unrelenting. “He is holding back, toying with his big brother like this is all just a game to him.”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up shut up!” the High Justicar bellowed as he ripped his gladius out of the wall. Areus reformed on the opposite end of the smithy with his bloodied right hand wrapped taut around his dagger.

“Fight it, brother! Fight the fel corruption!” He managed to take a single step forward before Alucieus whipped around and charged at him again, but this time he was ready. The shadows cowering from the light radiating from Alucieus sprung to life, lashing out at his limbs like a thousand tiny hands. They grasped and clawed at his arms and legs, ensnaring and entangling, but not stopping. Ignoring them soon proved to be a lapse in judgment, and before long they were dragging him down and forcing him onto his hands and knees. “Look at me, Alucieus!” Areus started again, hoping he could even hear him. “This murderous hatred… this isn’t the Sun’rael way! This isn’t you!”

“Is this the way my firstborn dies? Tangled in the magic of his traitor brother?” Lord Augustus Sun’rael knelt beside Alucieus and placed a ghostly hand on his shoulder. “See how easily he defeated you. Pathetic.” The High Justicar forced one of his knees off the ground and planted his boot down to anchor himself. He could feel the burning cold grip of the enveloping darkness tightening around his body, including his neck; if Alucieus wouldn’t yield to reason, he would have to yield by force. “Once he’s done with you, Kaevia will be next.”

Alucieus’ eyes opened wide at the sound of her name on his father’s lips. The Holy Light surged forth from every pore of his skin, creating a blindingly violent explosion that both ripped him free of the shadows and decimated what was left of the smithy. Areus was sent flying through the wall and tossed out into the fading sunset like a misbehaving pet; he hit the ground hard and rolled a few feet more before stopping flat on his back.

The Holy Light robbed him of his magical prowess and left him dizzy and crippled in the soft grass and sparse rubble of the ruins. The pain shooting up his arms and legs certainly wasn’t a good sign, but he could still feel his toes and fingers. Getting the wind knocked out of him caused his lungs to burn, forcing him to cough up dust and spittle while he struggled to regain himself. A shard of wood was buried in his side, just above his kidney and likely through his liver; he must have landed on it during his flight. “Auuugh….fuuuck…” he managed to mutter in between labored breaths, and shortly before groaning loudly while he pulled that blasted piece of wood out of his side. Slowly but surely the world slowed its disorienting spinning, but Areus was quickly running out of time.

A solid chunk of cobblestone wall was angrily sent airborne as Alucieus pushed himself up onto his feet. Areus glanced over to see his silhouette flicker and dance in the crackling flames behind him.

“He spared Whitstan, and look what happened.” Augustus sneered, walking alongside Alucieus. “Zerethel was murdered. Your most loyal friend.” One by one his heavy and encumbering steps lead him closer and closer to his weakened brother. “Zaldrannar was destroyed. Hundreds of innocent lives were lost. Countless more put at risk.” Alucieus grimaced as he stared down at Areus, who was struggling to crawl back away from him. “Without the Black Judge you had to invade Highmountain on foot. Men and women starved to death and suffered.”

“Brother… get a hold of yourself…” Areus waved his hand at him in an attempt to utilize the dancing shadows again, but thanks to the Holy Light wracking his body, the tendrils writhed along the floor like headless serpents.

“When you made your final stand against the Burning Legion, Areus, your only brother, was nowhere to be found.” Alucieus looked down at the tendrils beside his feet for just a moment before returning his hateful gaze to Areus. “When you were clinging to life in that bed, did he ever visit? Did he do whatever it took to save you? No. He wanted you to wither away and disappear.”

“Alu…!” Areus reached for the ring on his finger; if there was ever the right time to teleport him into Miriam’s arcane prison, it was now. Like a flash of lightning Alucieus flung his gladius at Areus, catching him at the wrist and impaling his arm into the ground. His younger brother shrieked in agony, but as much as he clawed at the hilt of the sword, he lacked the strength to free himself. Alucieus reached down with his right hand and yanked his blade out of the ground, causing Areus’ hand to twitch and fall limp into the grass; with his left hand he closed his fingers around his neck and lifted him high above his head. “Don’t… do… this…!”

“This has to be done.” Alucieus hissed through clenched teeth, but the gladius trembling in his grip told a different story.

“You would spare this traitor? After all that he’s done to our family?” His father’s voice was booming. “It’s too late to turn back from this now. Finish what you started.”

“Hauuugh….!” Alucieus’ colossal grip on Areus’ throat tightened, but Areus managed to get a firm hold on his thumb. “I-t’s… not… too… hng?!”

A gentle crunch whispered in the cool breeze.

“...why…?” he dryly rasped out as blood trickled down his lips.

Tears began to roll down the High Justicar’s emaciated cheeks. “Justice.” He turned the blade around with a flick of his wrist, and drove it upwards into Areus’ ribs.

Collab Commandos: @alucieussunrael @ijirothehero

Mentionerinos: @k-sunrael

[court-of-forever-undone]

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV Chapter 2

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude's early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can't help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jurdan, Jealousy, Mild Angst 

Read on AO3 

When Cardan showed up at Vivi’s house after Madoc took Jude, thinking she was me, the distress was clear on his face. Vivi tried to stall him at the door, while I ran to hide; my heart almost burst at the thought that Jude had been caught and he was there to arrest me.

Cardan pushed through and entered the small apartment. I could hear muffled voices from where I was hiding in the bathroom. Vivi’s voice was more clear than the others. I pushed my ear against the bathroom door to eavesdrop, until Cardan called to me by name.

“Taryn, please come out. I know you are here and you are needed as well.”

I froze. I thought of a million courses of action. I could run but I would not get far. He likely brought protection. I would be sliced down before making it out of the complex. Running, or fighting for that matter, was a Jude plan, one that I would be unlikely to succeed at.

Before I could try a futile attempt at escape, he continued, “I don’t care about what did or didn’t happen with you and Locke. I promise when this is over, you will be found not-guilty of all charges. But right now, your sister needs you.”

Impatient as ever, Vivi came to the door and led me out before I could fully dissect his words for a trick. For the first time I noticed the disheveled look of his clothes. The dark color under his eyes told me that he had not slept well in sometime. He was accompanied by a gruff-looking goblin who stood silently in the corner.

Cardan explained what had happened: He played along with the switched twin charade, but when he took Jude to his rooms so they could talk, Madoc decided to launch an attack to save “me.” Jude was knocked out and taken somewhere.

Cardan’s jaw tightened as he recalled how he tried to stop Madoc from taking her. I recognized shame on his face before he turned away from us, angrily pacing in the cramped space.

He had hoped that I would know where Jude was, but I didn’t. Madoc had not contacted me for most of Jude’s exile, likely to protect me in case a letter was intercepted by Cardan’s spies.

The conversation only lasted mere minutes, leaving me with little time to process everything Cardan had revealed. Not only had Cardan recognized Jude from the moment he saw her, he kept her identity a secret and then tried to protect her. She had broken her exile, that he imposed, and yet he was desperate to save her from Madoc.

It made me wonder who Jude considered to be a bigger threat to her, the High King or our foster father.

My sister and Cardan agreed to contact each other if either of them learned anything. I wasn’t sure what sort of news we hoped for. The only thing we could hope was for Jude to keep up the act until she could rescue herself. But she couldn’t pretend to be me for long. If her missing finger hadn’t given her away already, her attitude surely would. A court is easily fooled, Oriana and Madoc not so much.

When it was time to leave, Vivi slipped out the door behind Cardan and the goblin, who I heard Cardan refer to as “the Roach.” I crept to the window in the living room that faced the front of the apartment. From my spot I could hear her lecturing Cardan.

“I know what you both did. I know what she is to you,” Vivi said leaning back against the building. She was turned away from me, but I could hear the smirk on her face. Cardan’s face revealed nothing other than exhaustion. The king turned to walk away, when Vivi reached out and gave his arm a light squeeze. Only Vivi would dare to touch the king, in front of his bodyguard no less.

“You might want to try being more explicit about your feelings the next time you have the chance. Or at the very least, stop giving her more reasons to distrust you.”

Cardan pressed his lips into a thin line. He nodded once before quickly descending down the stairs.

The following days were a blur. We had gotten a letter from Oriana about Jude. It looked like a trap, but it was our only hope. We hired Grima Mog, which apparently Jude had beat in combat, and the three of us, plus Cardan and the Roach went to save Jude.

The Roach had insisted that Vivi and I’s presence were a liability, while he also threw a few unimpressed glances at Cardan, who expertly ignored them. Without his crown or regal attire he was almost unrecognizable, still I can understand why the Roach wouldn’t want the added risk of protecting the High King during a rescue. I imagine Cardan had already played the king card to silence any further opposition to his presence.

Vivi had asked me if I wanted to go or not to save Jude. I said yes without hesitation, but as we traveled to the camp my thoughts were riddled with conflicting feelings as I played out possible scenarios. Jude was the one who sided against Madoc, so any fury he still had towards her was from her own doing, but Jude was in Elfhame because of me. My foster parents were my family, but if it came to having to pick my sisters or them, I would pick my sisters. I had hoped it would never come to that.

When we arrived, Cardan and the Roach went ahead, insisting that the lot of us could never sneak in undetected. The minutes felt like hours as we waited, listening and watching for any sign of Jude and the others.

I chewed a hole in my cheek as the time went on. I was thinking about what I would say to Jude when I saw her again when the loud clashing of metal had us all on our feet and running.

We were still too far away when I saw Madoc plunge his sword into Jude. My scream caught in my throat, as Grima Mog barked at us to keep running. We needed to get there before he delivered the final blow. If we could intervene first, maybe we could heal her. It wasn’t until I was at her side that I saw how deep the wound was.

I can still remember the heavy metallic smell of Jude’s blood pooling on the white snow. I could see the blood seeping out of the wound on her stomach. The color was disappearing from Jude’s face as she began talking deliriously about packing her wound with the earth and being accepted as the true queen. It was alarming to see the life fading from the face identical to my own.

My head spun as Vivi confirmed Jude’s nonsense and admitted that she was in on another of Jude’s secrets; Jude had married Cardan. The High King. Making her High Queen.

Suddenly, Vivi’s words on the porch clicked.

If Jude wasn’t minutes from dying, the sting of being left out again would have hurt more. But at the time, I could only deal with the absolute shock that my sister was the High Queen of Elfhame and we were relying on a miracle that the land would save her life.

I wouldn’t allow my thoughts to wander to the idea that if Jude died that night, it would be my fault. My fault for helping Madoc get his army. My fault for asking Jude to come to the palace in my place. My fault Madoc stormed the palace and brought her back here. I didn’t want to think of it then, but I certainly have thought about it since.

I regret trusting that Madoc was looking out for us. He taught us to look at everyone as pawns to use to win at our own games. I should have realized I was also a pawn of his. A pawn that helped him get an army that answered to his command. Jude was a disposable pawn as soon as she refused to obey him.

It was one thing for Madoc to make his move against Cardan, but another to be willing to kill Jude. But after all, he is our parent’s murderer.

Jude, of course, lived. The earth saved her. Through the red stained snow, bloomed the most beautiful flowers. I watched them grow around her as the blood flow slowed from her wound. I continued my stitches, trying to keep them as neat as I could given the circumstances. Slowly, life came back into her eyes, even though she was still in critical condition.

When she flew off into the sky on the ragwort pony, my legs trembled under the weight of my emotions crashing down onto me.

Fear. Guilt. Jealousy. Anger. Sadness.

All at once.

Less than a year ago, we both had been sitting in our lessons. We both had fears we didn’t talk about, but life was good. There was trust between us, even though we didn’t always see eye to eye. We ate our lunch on our blanket and joked and teased each other. I spent my free time practicing my needlework and Jude trained to be a knight. We had our family and each other.

Then everything started to change and Jude had climbed higher than any of us could have ever imagined. The High Queen of Faerie. It still seems impossible to think about.

And after nearly dying in the snow, Jude’s only thoughts were of protecting Cardan.

When did she begin to care about him? I am not sure even Jude knew the answer.

When we finally arrived at the palace, we found Cardan next to Jude, his face paler than normal. He didn’t bother to let go of her hand as we entered. Jude’s blood was stained into his tunic.

Cardan insisted Jude stayed in the royal chambers until she woke up; moving her would have risked reopening the stitches and likely caused her pain, still it felt wrong leaving her alone in Cardan’s bed.

Although, they are married after all.

Likely anticipating Vivi’s demands, Cardan ordered the guards to let us in any time we wished so we could visit her. Vivi, Heather, and I spent most of the day watching over her and only left when it was time to sleep. We had made residence in Jude’s old chambers since they had remained untouched since she left. It didn’t seem okay to have a sleepover in the king chambers, even if Cardan was never anywhere to be found at night.

Cardan made a point to visit whenever he was in between official kingdom business. Apparently, when Cardan publicly declared Jude his queen, it had created an uproar among the advisors and the lower courts were demanding meetings. He never stayed in the room long, but a few times he took a spot in the chair next to the bed and whispered to her so quietly that I couldn’t make out his words from where I sat across the room.

I thought it was a pointless endeavor until I heard her mumbling his name a few times as she drifted in and out of consciousness. An unmistakable blush spread across the king’s cheeks. A few moments after she slipped back under, he made an excuse about being needed elsewhere.

Once he was out of the room, Heather and Vivi burst into giggles. I wanted to join them, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Seeing Cardan so affectionate soured my stomach. It hadn’t been very long since Jude and I had been very keen to avoid crossing his wicked path. He may love Jude, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. At least, that is what I told Vivi when she raised an eyebrow in question. The real reason was too painful to acknowledge.

Jude’s lies and bloodshed brought her love and power.

Mine left me as a pregnant widow. It hardly seemed fair.

The thought sickened me more as I thought about my sister who remained unconscious, healing from what should have been a fatal wound. Both of our choices had led us to this moment, but while Jude dreamed of serving as a knight, she became a queen who could command armies. I dreamed of marrying and having a happy home full of children, now I am alone except for my tiny bump. Cardan promised to declare my innocence in Locke's death, but what future do I have? I cannot return to live with Madoc and Oriana. I could live with Vivi, but what life could I make for me and my child in the mortal world? If I could be granted ownership of Locke’s estate, I might have hope to provide for us.

Jude will wake up with the world in her grasp, while my future is more uncertain than ever.

The night Jude finally woke up, Cardan had invited us all to dine with him. Oak blatantly refused to go anywhere that would require him to dress up, so Vivi agreed to leave him behind with Tatterfell.

Together, Vivi, Heather, and I made our way to the banquet hall where we found Cardan sitting alone at the head of a small table, built for eight instead of the typical 12 foot long tables that normally occupied the space.

Heather broke the silence first, thanking the king for the invitation and complimenting his choice of decor. Vivi joined in the conversation as the first trays of food were brought out. Heather happily entertained all of Cardan’s inquiries into mortal life. For the first time since Jude's was taken, a spark had returned to his eyes as he listened intently to Vivi’s description of human holidays.

By the time dessert had been served, I could not hold my tongue any longer.

“Why did you marry Jude?” I blurted out.

The silence was interrupted only by the sounds of Heather suddenly becoming very interested in scaping all of the pudding from her bowl.

Cardan met my gaze with a daring smirk. “Sorry, we didn’t invite you. It was a bit of a last minute thing.”

His face remained unreadable. I tried again.

“But, why did you?”

Cardan leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh as if wondering why he did give a mortal girl the status of High Queen if not simply on a whim.

“Jude learned a lot about running a kingdom as my seneschal. It only seems fair she got recognized for her work too.” Cardan said with a shrug.

“Why did you exile her?” I could feel my face growing redder with every question. Oriana would be disappointed to know that both Jude and I had seemingly forgotten all her lessons. Here I was interrogating the king. Brother-in-law or not.

I could feel the air shift in the room. Suddenly I found myself clutching tighter at the shawl covering my shoulders.

When Cardan spoke again, his words were slow and deliberate. “I am sure you heard Jude dearest killed my brother.”

I flinched as a memory of my own bloodied hands pushed into my conscience. I looked down at my half-eaten plate. My words slip out no more than a whisper, “You love her though.”

I dared to glance up enough to see Cardan go rigid. All three sets of eyes were on him, waiting for his response.

“Your sister and I seem to make a habit of misunderstanding the other’s intentions. I hope to remedy that as soon as she wakes up." After a pause, he added, "We all do questionable things now and then, as I am sure you would agree Taryn.”

At that, Cardan rose from his chair and excused himself.

[theliterateape]

Uncertainty of Purpose in 2020 Las Vegas

by Don Hall

Gabrielle is a single mother in Las Vegas. She’s twenty-eight years old, has three children, and works as a cocktail waitress in my small Off-Strip casino. She’s bubbly and pretty so her tips usually make up for the dismal hourly wage (less than $10.00 an hour) but then the virus descended, the country tanked the collective response, and Nevada shut things down for a time.

Gabrielle has been clinging to the the fact that the corporation that owns the casino, while defiantly non-union, opted to pay its employees consistently throughout the 78 days of hard shutdown (sans tips, of course) but with the opening and subsequent bar shutdown, business has been limping forward.

Now the schools in Vegas are going to be online only. Her daycare person is no longer comfortable watching her kids because of the virus.

She used to be a nurse but like so many who come to Vegas, her prior experiences meant next to nothing. That’s something they don’t tell you when moving out here — your work experiences, education, and resume don’t mean much. You’re a tourist until you aren’t and stripping down and starting from scratch is the required path. The smaller industries in Vegas circle the wagons and block those who come in from bigger cities from access. It isn’t so much snobbery as a protective measure because most people aren’t looking to make a life here but to strike it rich and move on.

Gabrielle has been paying her dues for a few years. When the state slowly reopens casinos yet still has the bars closed, she makes her money but looks for ways to game the system. She takes a COVID test without symptoms because she knows that the results will take ten days and she can’t come into work until she brings in the paperwork. Thus two weeks of figuring out the bizarre Zoom home school situation.

At forty-seven, white, shaggy in that Wayne Campbell still living in his mom’s basement sort of way, Del Mar is what is called a long-term hotel resident. He has been squatting at the Days Inn off of Tropicana and I-15 for twenty-five days. His room looks like a dorm room from the 1980’s — he even has posters up on the walls.

Del Mar was sacked from his Reno-based truck driving gig. No long-term contract, no unemployment benefits, no medical. He hitchhiked down to Vegas after a couple of months doing pick up handyman work despite statewide shutdown protocols. He figured he’d take his meager savings and gamble some of it to see if he could strike some gold. He did because he was smart enough to play conservatively and has been using his winnings to pay his hotel bill.

He confesses at one point that he may having a drinking problem as he spends every day sleeping and watching television and every night playing slots and drinking comp’d liquor until early the next day. He asks me for resume tips and assures anyone who will listen that he has a job in Reno that will pay him $87,000 a year but he has to get there first.

He gets temporarily banned from the casino because one night he brings his electric guitar and amp into the Sportsbook and starts playing for tips. The graveyard manager squashes that but he decides to ditch his amp and walk around the slot floor playing acoustically until the manager has had enough. He almost gets evicted from the hotel when he hooks up his amp in the pool area and does the same.

Despite the moratorium on home evictions in Nevada, Lisa and her boyfriend Rick are homeless. Knowing that the couple didn’t have the money or education to fight the eviction, their landlord of three years waited until they were out one evening, had a crew clear out their one bedroom apartment and changed the locks. They came home to everything they owned on the sidewalk with some of the more pawnable items gone.

With nowhere else to go, they loaded up Rick’s pickup with what they could salvage and book a week at the hotel. She tells me a week is all they can afford and hopefully will give them time to fix their situation. Rick is fixated on the landlord and has so much anger at the eviction he spends most of his time ranting on his phone and drinking Michelob Ultras in cans.

Lisa drinks, too, but tells me that this is new to her. She never used to drink. These days, she relates, she can’t afford her anti-depressants so booze will have to do. I tell her that alcohol is a depressant and she shrugs. Before things were shut down, she worked as a blackjack dealer at MGM. Rick has been between jobs for a year and change. They walk across the street to the gas station to buy their beer — they don’t gamble and the prices at the casino gift shop are marked up too much.

Gabrielle recognizes that the corporation took care of her during the shutdown but, with three kids, she is wholly focused on her family. She decides to apply for FMLA (Family and Medical Leave Act) benefits to carve out another paid two weeks at home. She’s healthy so she decides to get her six-year old son circumcised as a medical reason. Both her doctor and HR approve but her vacation time is used to pay the two weeks.

When she returns, the bars are open again but the schools are still closed. She hasn’t paid her rent in four months. Rock meet hard place.

Del Mar, on Day 28 of his stay, is told that he has to vacate the property for 24 hours. He has to take all of his belongings and leave. He can come back and re-book but Nevada law states that if the hotel allows him to stay 29 days, he becomes a legal tenant and cannot be evicted without court intervention so he has to go temporarily. He doesn’t have a car so he loads up what he can carry, stashes the rest behind a dumpster off-property (which will almost certainly be picked through and then trashed before his day is finished) and decides to go spend the night on the Strip.

He doesn’t come back.

After the week is up, Lisa and Rick load up his truck. They have no plan. They have little money. Rick swears he can get work up in Utah but the look in Lisa’s eyes say that she’s heard that song and dance before. Without many choices, they decide to drive to Utah and see what happens.

The world at this point has been in pandemic for 205 days with 215,000 Americans dead from the virus. This is over 1,000 COVID deaths per day. This is just slightly worse than if two fully-loaded 747’s crashed into the sea or a mountain every day for 205 days.

For Gabrielle, Del Mar, Lisa, and Rick things weren’t gravy before having to wonder if a random encounter with some idiot who refuses to wear a mask in public will result in infection and potential death. Combining the hooded figure of the Corona Reaper with the sudden lack of economic possibility has created an uncertainty of purpose, a lack of clarity, and an impenetrable fog through which to navigate.

Will things get back to normal? Doubtful. For these three, normal wasn’t so hot to begin with and I’d hazard a guess that an awful lot of people would agree. Will the new normal feel…normal? Who can say but the most and least adaptable among us. We will go on. That’s what we do. Move forward, one step at a time, one decision after another.

At least that will seem normal.