#listen...i don't think anyone's ever eyerolled him in his life

[hollowfaith]

🙄

Nonverbal RP Starters | 🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse

At the silent but scornful action, Aurelius laughs and sets down his pen, surveying Kratos from behind his desk.

"If you're ill, shouldn't you be at the pharmacy?"

"Or have you decided to seek treatment with us instead?"

Sanctus Clinic, third floor.

Taking advantage of the open window, Kratos had let himself in—much as Aurelius did on a regular day—and was now staring the angel down across the table.

"It's telling that you assume I'm sick as soon as you see me," Kratos retorts.

"Can't I now? What manner of sane decision-making would make you end up in my office?" Aurelius pauses to check his clock on the wall. "Unannounced, even. I have an appointment in 15 minutes, speak your piece or begone."

Biting back the urge to question whether the angel even had a license, Kratos takes a bottle from his pocket instead and sets it on the desk.

"A gift for me?" Aurelius raises his eyebrows. "Perhaps we really should schedule you in."

"It could be poison."

"That isn't your style."

Silence stretches on between them. At last, the angel takes the bottle, unscrews the cap, and takes an experimental sniff of the contents.

"May I add that contraband is also prohibited on premises?" Aurelius remarks.

"It's your half of the work," Kratos says bluntly. He crosses his arms and looks out the window, ignoring the angel's growing smile. "Baizhu mentioned you did him a favor last time. This is the brew he made with those flowers—it's a calming draught."

Aurelius carefully recaps the bottle and sets it aside. "I see. I don't really need this, though?" And it wasn't like he could just distribute it to the staff or patients—one bottle was too small.

"You should accept payment for favors owed," Kratos replies simply. "Now the debt is cleared."

"It's a little modest as far as payments go."

"Only if you can't see the worth of the ingredients that went into it."

Aurelius makes a little noise through his nose. “Then I should ask the good doctor to explain them for me sometime.”

“No need,” Kratos rejects him smoothly. “…it’s a secret recipe.”

“You’re awfully talkative today.” The blond observes the redhead and leans forward in his seat, hands clasped on the table surface. “All pleasantries aside, I don’t think I ever mentioned taking this little bottle in.”

Kratos narrows his eyes but ignores the first comment. “So you’re going to be rude about it?”

“There are better ways to repay a debt, Mr. Aurion.”

“As there are better ways to seek my friendship, Aurelius Vane-Tempest.”

Aurelius straightens up, his expression all business. “If it's going to be this troublesome every time, I think I shouldn't bother."

That was enough—they'd gotten to the root of the matter. In the end Kratos flies away while the bottle remains, but Aurelius can't help pulling out his phone to send Klaus one single, pouty text:

[txt] I tried today. : (

[tilebytiles]

star treatment - a.t. (part 3)

summary: there’s a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life. word count: 3.5k warnings: harassment, a bit of violence part 1 / part 2

“Are you even listening?”

Alex’s head snapped up, his gaze quickly finding yours. “Yeah, course I am.”

“What did I say, then?” Your eyebrow quirked up, your head tilting for emphasis.

He looked off at the nearby wall, then down at the table, tapping his index finger against the smooth surface. His lips were pursed ever so slightly, and it was clear he was deep in thought - you knew he hadn’t heard a word that had just come out of your mouth, but he was still determinedly scouring his mental archives, not wanting to seem rude. After what seemed like hours, but had been no more than two minutes, he finally uttered, “Um.”

You sighed, letting your eyebrow relax back down from your forehead. “I was asking how you knew Miles.”

“Ah, right,” he said quickly, acting as if he’d heard you. He straightened up in his chair. “I’ve known him since we were kids. He actually helped me plan out the hotel schematics.”

It had been a couple of days since your lunar landing, and ever since their poolside encounter, the banter between Miles and Alex had become a conversation regular. You’d initially asked Miles about it, but all he did was wink and tell you it was a secret. You figured Alex would at least be a little less mystic about it. “So … he helped with the hotel,” you said slowly, “and now he’s here to write an article about it?” Alex nodded, only adding on to the already-encroaching pile of confusion in your brain. "Wouldn't he already know everything, though, since he's seen your plans? Isn't he, like, technically a co-designer?"

"Technically, yeah," Alex said, drawing out the "yeah" in a way that tickled you, strangely. Perhaps it was just his thick Northern accent. "But he said he didn't wanna be credited."

"How come?"

He gave you a shrug. "Maybe it comes from some sort of humbleness in his heart."

That wasn't exactly the most satisfying answer, although you weren't sure it was your place to inquire any further into the matter. "But then ... why does he need to be here for a week?"

"Well, it would look a bit ... strange," he said, propping up his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand, "if he knew all the, uh, machinations, if you will, of the hotel without being publicly involved."

That made sense, now that you were thinking about it. "Oh!" you said suddenly, sitting up. "He told me about, uh ..." You lowered your voice, on the off chance anyone else was nearby. "Mr. Schwartz."

Your words earned an immediate eyeroll from Alex. "That asshole?" he murmured. "What about him?"

His reaction, although entirely justified, surprised you a little. "If you don't like him, why is he here?"

"Y/N, I'm a man capable of many things." He sat back in his chair, letting both of his hands fold neatly in his lap as one leg crossed over the other. He was back in his fancy cream-coloured suit, and as his pant leg rose up, you could make out the dark brown sock that concealed his ankle. "What I'm not capable of, though, is arguing with James Schwartz."

"Well, what would've happened if you'd just told him no?"

"He'd probably launch some smear campaign and tell everyone I'm insane or an uncooperative prick." His eyes widened a little, much as they always did when he spoke, and he ran a hand over his face, letting out an almost inaudible sigh. "Maybe I am a bit mental, but I'm definitely not uncooperative."

"I don't think you're mental," you offered, although the look he gave you indicated he didn't believe a word. You continued anyway. “I think the idea of a hotel on the moon sounds crazy at first, but now that I’m here, I admire you for it.”

He stared at you for a second or two, then looked off at the nearby wall again, nodding slowly, as if his head was stuck in molasses. “Thank you,” he finally said, glancing back at you before his gaze snapped back to the wall. You smiled a little, even if he couldn’t see it.

You two had been sitting in the café for a while, chatting about different things. It was the longest you’d ever spoken to Alex, and it almost felt like a privilege you weren’t supposed to have. Your coffee had run out a while ago, but you’d never bothered to order more. You were enraptured with the man sitting beside you; considering the only times you’d interacted with him were during your shifts, in which you were busy and had no time for proper chats, being able to sit with him and discuss whatever topics your brains conjured up was exciting, in a sense. Beyond the intangible words that you shared, though, you found yourself staring at him every so often. Although that fact greatly embarrassed you, he never seemed to notice - if he did, he never said a word. Perhaps to spare your dignity.

He lifted his arm, pulling his sleeve back with his other hand, and glanced at his watch. “I should get going,” he said. “I have to help with preparations.”

That piqued your interest. “Preparations for what?”

“Party in the main lobby.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, and you did the same; if he was heading off, you didn’t have much reason to stick around in the café. “It’ll be starting at 8pm,” he continued. He paused for a moment, staring down at the table, then looked up at you. “I hope you’ll be there,” he said softly.

You smiled at him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That made him smile, too. “I look forward to seeing you.”

•••••

Although Alex hadn’t specified a dress code when he’d informed you of the party, you knew better than to show up in the jumper and joggers you’d been wearing earlier that day. Notes had been slipped under the doors of everyone, including you, at some point later in the day. An end time to the party wasn’t specified, although you didn’t think it would help any; the only way you even knew it was getting close to 8 was the clock on the wall. The view through your window always looked the same.

There were a number of dresses in your closet, momentarily giving you decision paralysis. You’d eventually decided on an off-the-shoulder floor-length midnight blue dress. The skirt had layers of tulle, the top layer being embroidered with gold thread to form the shapes of stars and sparkles. It fit your frame nicely, but despite it having pads in the chest area, you slipped on a strapless bra beneath; you didn’t like the idea of the fabric rubbing against your bare chest the whole night. Deciding to spare your feet any discomfort, you slipped on a pair of black ballerina flats. As you examined yourself in the mirror, you felt … pretty.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your trance. You rushed over and unlocked it, pulling it open to reveal Miles. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, his white dress shirt tucked neatly into his trousers. His dress shoes clicked satisfyingly against the floor as he stepped into your room when you let him inside. “You look good,” you told him.

He grinned at you. “So do you. That blue really suits you.”

You weren’t used to compliments, so your cheeks involuntarily flushed. He didn’t comment on it, though, something you were grateful for. He lifted his arm and checked his watch, then looked back at you. “It’s about 8. We should head to the lobby.”

You nodded and followed him back out of your room, shutting the door and making sure it was locked before stepping away from it. In a playful gesture, he offered you his arm, and you linked yours around it, following him down the hall to the lift. James was already waiting there, tapping away at something on his phone - again, you were amazed you could even get service out here - but when he heard you approaching, he looked up. Registering it was only you two, he quickly looked back down at his phone.

The doors to the lift finally slid open, accompanied by a soft chime, and the three of you stepped inside. The walls of the lift were a soft red, the floor a tiled brown. Music played quietly from somewhere as James pressed the button for the first floor. He was dressed in a suit much like Miles’, except he had a black bow tie to go with it. His blonde hair was neatly combed back, and from the way it sat on his head, you guessed he’d put some kind of gel in it.

The doors opened, revealing the main lobby to you, and your eyes widened. It looked nothing like it had when you’d left it earlier; although the base furniture was the same, decorations were everywhere. Streamers and balloons had been neatly pinned up, and there was even confetti scattered almost artistically on the floor. The lights had been dimmed, music was once again playing from somewhere unidentifiable, and tables had been set up with red cloths, holding drinks and food. A few journalists were already there, but you knew there were a few more that still needed to arrive. Employees you recognised were there, too, and they were dressed as formally as the rest of you; you were glad they got to enjoy their own efforts. Alex, however, was still nowhere to be seen, a fact that didn’t surprise you anymore. He was an enigma in his own right.

Miles' arm slipped from yours as you approached the drinks table, and he reached down to retrieve a glass of red wine. As you picked up your own, you glanced out at the lobby and the sophisticated congregation that stood before you. Displayed on the TV behind the reception desk was what you were 90% sure was a screensaver; bubbles of different colours bounced around in front of a black background. For some reason, the sight made you want to laugh. "Do you know why Alex is hosting this party?" you asked, looking back up at Miles.

He took a sip of his wine and shrugged. "He didn't even tell me," he said. "Maybe as a thank-you for us all comin' out here."

The last of the journalists arrived, and as if he knew he was being talked about, Alex finally sauntered in. He, too, was in a black suit, but instead of wearing a button-up, he donned a tight-fitting black turtleneck. Even his socks were black- if you didn't know any better, you would've thought he was attending a funeral. The only drop of colour in his outfit was his gold chain. His hair looked about as untamed as it always did, and you were almost positive he was the only person who could consistently pull off the "I just rolled out of bed" look.

From across the room, he caught your gaze and briskly walked over, keeping his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. When he reached you and Miles, he nodded his head at each of you, allowing a small smile to accompany his movements. "I hope you two are enjoying yourselves."

"You've got free wine," Miles said. "This is already the best party I've ever been to." That earned him a small laugh from you and a breathy chuckle from Alex.

Alex looked back at you, letting his gaze travel down the length of your dress before it snapped back up to meet your own. "You look lovely," he said softly.

Once again, your cheeks flushed, and all you could mutter was a small, "Thanks."

He nodded and was about to open his mouth to say something else when one of the journalists called out for him. He whipped around, looking around for the source, and once he found it, his face broke out into a grin. "Matt! Great to see you, sorry I haven't spoken to you much."

He walked off to go talk to the journalist named Matt, leaving you with Miles again. You didn't mind that he'd left without warning; if Matt was one of the few people on the planet that could make him genuinely smile, they could talk for as long as they wanted to. Beside you, Miles nudged you with his elbow. "D'you mind if I step away for a few minutes? I'll just go talk to a friend of mine."

"Go ahead," you said, "I'll be fine on my own."

He nodded. "Just come get me if anythin' happens, alright?"

"Alright, mum," you joked, "now go." You lightly pushed him, and he laughed before heading off to talk to the friend in question. You stood by the drinks table, finally taking a sip of your own wine; the flavour was pleasant.

You weren't sure how long you'd been standing by yourself, but at some point, the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of the trance you had been in. You quickly looked over to your right and spotted James, who was staring ahead and drinking from his glass. When he realised he'd gotten your attention, he nodded his head in the direction of the others. "Enjoying the party?"

You nodded slowly. "Are you?"

He nodded once in response. An awkward silence fell between you two, and you were about to offer some half-assed excuse to get away from him when he abruptly said, "I know they've said bad things about me."

You knew you should have stepped away, spat out that terrible excuse anyway. But you'd always been curious to a fault, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. "What do you mean?" you asked cautiously.

"Kane and Turner." Your gaze absentmindedly found each of the men in the crowd, talking to their friends. "They've always hated me. Everyone does. They think I'm some asshole, and I just-" James sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "I can't control that I'm my dad's son. Yeah, I come from old money, but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?"

"I don't think that's what they're mad at you for," you said slowly, as if you were dealing with a wounded animal. "I've heard ... questionable things."

Another sigh escaped him. "Those are all baseless rumours," he muttered. "I promise, I'm not that terrible of a person."

“Right.” You didn’t entirely believe him, but you got the feeling he was the exact kind of person you weren’t supposed to admit that to. Deciding it was probably in your best interest to stay on his good side, you attempted to move past the awkward topic and find something else to discuss. “Do you like writing articles?”

You’d scored a hole in one with your guess, for his face lit up at that, and he smiled. “Yeah, I do. My dad had a few typewriters when I was growing up, and when one of them stopped working, he let me play around with it. I wrote a bunch of stories. They were all terrible.” He chuckled, and you laughed quietly with him. “A lot of people, when they’re expected to follow in their parents’ footsteps, get conflicted, I think. My dad’s a great guy, but even he had his strict moments like that. There were a few times where I didn’t know what to do anymore. I loved writing, but did I love it enough to make a career of it? Was I even good enough?” He laughed again, but it was quieter, more distant, and his eyes seemed to grow sadder.

He sighed and ran a hand through his neat hair. “When I decided I would write for the family paper, I was taking a huge risk. I was still so unsure of so many things … but my dad was there to support me. He’s probably the only reason I’m still with the paper and I’m not some deadbeat alcoholic.”

“I’m sure you’re a great writer,” you said softly, offering as genuine a smile as you could manage. He smiled softly in return, a silent indicator of his thanks.

A few more minutes passed, with both of you taking the occasional sip from your glasses. You were almost out of wine by the time he spoke again. “You know, Y/N, I really think …” He swirled around the wine in his glass, staring at the liquid as it sloshed from one side to the other. “I think we’d work well together.”

You blinked in surprise. “I’m only a barista,” you said quickly, “I’ve never-”

“Not what I meant,” he interrupted. He looked back at you, his jaw shifting, as if he was having to test out his next words on his tongue before unveiling them to you. He had the faintest stubble running along his jawline. “When we get back to Earth, do you think I could take you out for dinner sometime?”

Your stomach twisted into an impossible knot. “I’m sorry, James, I’m not … interested.”

His gaze remained unrelenting. “Just one night. We don’t even have to do anything afterwards.”

“Did you think we would do something?”

“If the night went well, yeah.”

The alarms in your head were blaring. “James, I’m not interested,” you repeated. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded and looked down at his glass, then back out at the small crowd of people. “Is it because of Alex?”

Your blood ran cold. “What?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He always goes out of his way to talk to you, never to anyone else. You get the star treatment.” He scoffed. “You’re not even a journalist, and he invited you here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you said carefully.

His gaze darted over to meet yours. “Don’t be stupid, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, too. You want to be with him, don’t you? Am I just not good enough for you, that you’d rather be with that fucking lunatic?”

“Calm down,” you started to say, but he was quick to cut you off.

“I bet you’re already fucking him, and that’s the only reason you’re here.”

“James-”

There was a thud, followed by the shattering of glass, and the entire group fell silent, turning to stare at you. The only sound that filled the lobby was the music.

In his anger, James had shoved you against the table, sending both it and you toppling over. Most of the glasses were now broken, their contents forming red puddles in the carpet. You’d hit your head on the edge of the table on your way down, and the glasses closest to the edge had fallen in your direction, staining your dress and getting a couple of loose shards into your arm. Blood slowly began to well up and trickle down from the wounds.

Alex approached, followed by a woman you’d never spoken to but recognised as one of the journalists. It was the first time you’d ever seen Alex mad, and although you knew he wasn’t mad at you, you were still a little scared of him. His eyes were wide as he looked between you and James, his gaze flitting back and forth a few times before stopping on the latter. “Alexa,” he said slowly, “take Y/N to my suite. Help her clean up and get changed.”

The woman named Alexa rushed forward, giving you an apologetic look as she bent down and helped you up. You felt a little unsteady on your feet, likely due to the anxiety and embarrassment now coursing through your veins, and she kept an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders as she guided you to the lift. Miles, despite not being called upon, rushed to catch up with you two, stepping into the lift with you. “Are you alright?” he asked as soon as the doors closed.

“How do you know where his suite is?” was the only thing you could coherently manage, looking over at Alexa.

She smiled warmly at you, and you instantly felt comforted. You’d known her for less than a minute, but you already knew you’d get along well with her. “I’m an old friend,” she explained. “I helped with the hotel.”

“Did all of his friends help with the hotel?”

“Just a select few.” She winked, then her playful demeanour faded as she gently gripped your arm, inspecting the shards lodged into your skin. “I’m gonna fucking kill that prick,” she muttered under her breath.

“What happened?” Miles asked.

“I rejected him,” was all you could manage. Miles and Alexa exchanged knowing glances.

Miles sighed. “I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, although everything suggested it wasn’t. Your ride in the lift was uncomfortably silent, save the music that always came from somewhere.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @not-a-big-slay

[wiredaughter]

Outbreak

××

allison cameron×robert chase ☆ zombie apocalypse ☆ 1008 words ☆ ao3

@augustwritingchallenge day 4: zombie apocalypse @aug-kissed week 1: blow a kiss

Doctor Allison Cameron squints at the whiteboard in House's office. Extending ecchymosis, low grade fever, rash. It doesn't entirely seem like a case but House is, if to be believed, consulting with the federal government; which makes it a case. Of course, he's not around to explain why the patient is at PPTH instead of some blacksite if that's the truth. She exits the room, it's not her job to know why anymore.

The ER pulls her from her job trajectory considerations easily, there seems to have been a highway wreck involving at least six vehicles and she spends the morning up to her elbows on life altering injuries and advanced life support. She doesn't think about the diagnostics team again until she chats with Foreman in the lift to the cafeteria and learns the patient went after a phlebotomist with teeth and nails, making House wonder whether they should add aggressiveness to the list or the patient is just a bit of a prick.

She thinks about it, vaguely, during her lunch with Chase but ultimately doesn't bring it up until they're walking back to their respective stations. Good choice too, going by his general disinterest in the matter.

‘It's irregular, is all, to have the patient here, don't you think?

There's resignation mixed with admiration in the look her boyfriend gives her, and a hint of selfdeprecation in his smile. ‘How is a government consult meant to compel me more than a gun to his head, again?’

Cameron shrugs, stops to kiss him quickly. ‘It just seemed interesting. I’ll see you later.’

As she walks away, she turns in time to see him blowing her a kiss. Yes, her life's changed ever since resigning from the diagnostics department and it hasn't always been easy, but she's excited to let someone in again. Doesn't mean everything's got to change, she thinks, back in House’s office, this time with most of the team assembled. There's more symptoms now, hyperpyrexia, necrosis, erythrocytosis, battle sign. Transmissible = BITES is underlined several times. They've quarantined the floor the patient is being held in, and have anyone who's been in direct contact with him in isolation.

‘Polycythemia vera,’ she suggests, more to get the ball rolling than as a real answer, being that she hasn't seen the patient at all.

‘No hypertension,’ Kutner objects. ‘It's dropping steadily, actually.’

‘How's his spleen?’

‘We're waiting on the test, but palpation suggested no abnormalities.’

‘How about a different neoplasm. Essential thrombocythaemia?’ Thirteen checks the file. ‘Plateletes were high too.’

‘It could fit, but there's no cyanosis…’

She trails off when House looks ready to rule on it, but the door opens before he can, to reveal a harassed looking Chase, still on OR scrubs holding his pager up. ‘You can't page me, House, you're not my boss.’

Instead of answering, House raises a brow as he feels for something on his desk. On cue, Chase's pager goes off. Cameron exchanges a look with Foreman, who looks ready to go back to the differential. Following their cue, Chase looks at the board, almost involuntarily, frowns at what's written there. ‘If you have to page me, can it be for something other than Resident Evil roleplay?’

‘That's your diagnosis?’ House sounds exasperated. ‘Our patient is a zombie?’

‘It's how it always starts, the outbreak. Fever, necrosis, head trauma… Biting.’

‘Thank you, for illustrating exactly why I fired you.’

Chase gives Cameron a look that questions her willingness to listen to this before setting his pager down on House's desk and making for the door. Later, she mouths, and he gives a short nod before exiting. He's back before anyone can comment, wide eyed oh shit expression replacing his previous eyeroll in progress. ‘Tell me Taub is in on the joke?’

‘He went in for an NCV, I told you there's no jo-'

House's words get drowned by gunfire. Cameron moves to where Chase stands, pulling him out of the most direct line from the door to House, guessing whatever this is it's probably House-related. Again. The uniformed men that barge in after a blood splattered Taub don't shoot at anyone, though. The leader pulls down his mask.

‘Doctor House?’ It's not really a question, as he continues speaking directly at him without giving him the chance to direct his attention anywhere else. ‘Your assistance is required on site now, until the situation is handled. This your team?’

House nods, eyes burning holes through Chase’s head like he's jinxed him somehow. The man, who still hasn't introduced himself, talks into his comm to coordinate an extraction as his men exit. Cameron takes the chance to peek out the door, to see twitching, bloodied bodies strewn across the floor. She steps back, horrified, to take Chase's hand. The words zombie outbreak play on her head in his voice.

‘So,’ House leans forward on his cane, holding Chase’s pager up looking entirely too satisfied for someone who just dismissed what seems to be the working theory. ‘In the team, or out?'

Chase squeezes her hand, gives House an unimpressed look and snatches it back. ‘Unless you know someone else with over sixty hours in Deadly Silence, in.’

‘I have 100% completion in Deadly Silence’ Cameron lets her calf slide against Chase's in the chopper after an incredibly short briefing by phone, her words made private by the noise around them.

‘Your government is actually bioengineering zombies and your move is proving my expendability?’ He holds his chest in an exaggerated fashion, pressing their knees together.

‘Competition breeds progress.’ Her tone is too affectionate for her words to have any meaning.

Chase leans in, like he's going to kiss her but thinks better of it, considering their surroundings and the ongoing ‘situation’ that spans half the continental states if the information hasn't changed since they took off. Instead, he settles for an air-kiss. Not her, not now. She pulls him by his improbable tie, locking their lips for what might be the last time if the zombies are really at the gates.

[rockofeye]

And what now?

I accidentally became a bit of a hermit. It certainly wasn't intentional or even really desired, but life moved in and sat squarely on my chest for the last few years. The load has lifted and shifted a bit, and so it is time for me to stretch out the places that became a bit atrophied and find my feet again.

For just over three years, most of my energy and mental effort went towards battling US immigration on behalf of my husband's visa. I tend to keep the things that are hard private, but...boy, the battle of a life time. It wasn't that there was something to do every day (more of a hurry up and wait situation), but more that trying to balance two households in two different countries with jobs, spiritual responsibilities, and generally trying to remain a person versus a screaming wraith on top of the creeping horror that is processes with the United States government was about all I could handle.

Dealing with USCIS and the National Visa Center and their general lack of fucks for the lives of US citizens and their families was way more than I could ever have imagined it would be. I would wait months and months for an acceptance letter, and then months and months for another acknowledgement, and then almost two years for the interview that would give approval for my husband to come live here. I spoke with senators and representatives and lawyers and advocated and basically anyone who would listen, and the reality is that USCIS and the National Visa Center operate extralegally and are not held accountable by anyone.

Double down with that the US has a real shitty mindset towards Haiti and Haitians, COVID, and the rapid crumbling of infrastructure in Haiti, and it took me taking my case to federal court to get them to give me the goddamn date for the interview that, by the time they gave it to me, was a formality. We've been married for just over 5 years and the stacks of proof of our relationship go past my waist, and he went into the interview with a suitcase full of receipts and photos and documents so they could not say no.

Alongside all of that, Haiti has suffered. There's no electricity, no water, sometimes no phone signal, the price of food skyrockets, hospitals had no doctors, and sometimes there was not even money to be found to fulfill transfers sent to support the people you care about. I'm honestly impressed that I made it to the other side, because there were times I really didn't think I would and where I spent a lot of time on the proverbial floor unable to do more than propel myself through my daily responsibilities.

However, in June, I spent a few weeks in Haiti while my husband went to the embassy, got his visa, and then folded his life in Haiti into a suitcase and got on a plane back to Boston with me. Another type of work unfolded as we both begin to adjust to new life; him to a new country and new culture and new language and new weather, me to having a new physical presence in my life. It's something that I wasn't sure would ever arrive, honestly, and it's arrival gave me the opportunity to fall on the floor in a new way: I don't have to hold everything up anymore. I spent the first few weeks looking at my husband and occasionally poking him because none of it seemed real.

My lwa are the only reason this became a reality. I pushed them hard to resolve the situation how I wanted. There were a lot of barriers (A LOT) and working up against an government juggernaut is fucking hard as hell, but they did it. I wasn't great about it all and there were more than a few times when my prayers started with 'listen, I am tired of bringing this to you' and yet they still entertained my exhaustion and frustration with not too much eyerolling.

I won, and I am grateful.

I recently sat with my lwa and told them it's time for something new. I finished this work, and there are some new things on the horizon, known and unknown. I have the mental space to create again and there is renewed studio space in the room where my lwa and his lwa live. I get to read books again. I get to plan for a future that I wasn't sure would arrive.

There are new things almost ready to come to fruition. There's a website getting built and there will be a SubStack and classes coming. While all of this was going on, a new book was published with one of my pieces in it, detailing my religious history and conversion to sèvis lwa. It feels good to journey back to my Self and to journey to what my Self will be.

[lungsandlips]

skinned knees and gapped teeth

"Nobody's seen dad in, fuck... I don't even know how long."

Reed was fighting down nerves as he listened to Silas talk. Planted in a chair across from the couch where his apparent half brother sat. Curled up into himself, looking over his knees on the far end of the same sofa was the kid from the diner - Izzy - who hadn't said a word the entire time he'd been there.

He'd been getting pieces of the puzzle filled in since he'd arrived, Silas' surprise that he existed not really all that great. He said he figured their dad was out there somewhere living a normal, quiet life but that he never expected him to abandon a baby. There was a suggestion that perhaps he didn't even know - that maybe Reed had another parent but since he didn't know any of that information himself it was all open ended. What felt the most strange was that Silas didn't doubt for a second that they were siblings.

"Felix should be here soon and I called Pops but he didn't answer, so I had to leave him a couple text messages. It's probably best he shows up later though."

"I didn't come here to cause anyone problems."

"But you will." Izzy finally spoke up but got cut off before he could continue.

"Isaak!"

The younger man visibly cringed before shooting Silas a dirty look and continuing what he was going to say. "I just mean that all of this is going to have some kind of effect on Dimitri and none of us knows what that will be. It's not really your fault."

"That's your other dad, right?" Reed spoke up, face a little red but understanding that there were circumstances he had no control over. "And his brother."

"They were twins. This is not uncommon in our family."

"Izzy, you are not being helpful."

"No, I know already."

Silas sighed, ready to further explain the situation. "Dimitri always wanted more kids. He tried to do it himself but either he can't or it wasn't meant to be. Probably best he didn't. Our dad really broke his heart. Broke him. They were together for a really long time and dad kind of blindsided him, told him he wasn't in love with him anymore. It totally shattered Dimitri. So anything that has anything to do with my dad is a sore subject for him and you... might just be the sorest subject."

"Oh." Reed said softly. It sounded complicated and heartbreaking and he hated to think showing up here would cause someone pain. But hadn't he been through enough pain having no idea who he was all that time?

It wasn't much longer after that and a little more conversation that Felix arrived, looking concerned. But after Silas quickly explained what was going on he immediately moved to hug Reed who found himself crying before his grandfather had ever let go.

"I had no idea," Felix spoke softly. "I would've taken you in. We all would have." Silas just nodded and Izzy hugged his knees to his chest again. "I am so sorry."

Learning that Felix had no memories for awhile and that he was just coming back to his family weirdly put Reed at ease. He hadn't been found not just because no one knew where to look but because even the ones planted firmly in the human world were not themselves. These people hadn't neglected him because they wanted to but because he was lost and no one knew they were even supposed to be looking.

"How did you pass through a human agency that young and not be found out sooner?" Felix questioned after he'd made them all a cup of tea with Silas' help. "The twins were all over the place. Silas too."

"Not me, I was neglected." Izzy interjected with a hint of humor in his voice that earned a soft laugh from Reed and had his newfound nephew lighting up.

"Me too," Reed piped up which only earned an eyeroll from Silas.

"My god there's two of them."

"I'm assuming you mean the physical characteristics you all share."

"Yes," Felix spoke up to keep both Izzy and Silas silent.

"I don't have them," he supplied quietly. "They took them from me."

Izzy went to open his mouth only to get a sharp look from his dad. He thought for a moment but just shook his head and said it anyway. "You win."

This caused Reed to actually laugh. As heavy as that story was Izzy talking to him like that was just light enough that it was keeping him from losing his absolute shit over even being here.

In the midst of their laughter the door opened and another man entered. Everyone looked up at once, earning a confused look from Dimitri. "... I got your text message?"

All at once Reed witnessed everyone stand, save himself and Izzy, and rush Dimitri toward another room. He still looked confused. The two left behind sat in awkward silence while hushed whispers came from where everyone else had disappeared to.

"I saw you at the diner," Izzy spoke to fill the silence. "I was working and got busy and then when I came back both you and Finn were gone."

"Finn's a friend." Reed chose not to explain how he'd gotten close to Finn, how comfortable he'd become in his presence. This wasn't the time or place for it. "A new friend. He helped me find all of you. But, to be fair, at the diner - he thought I was going to hit on you and was just trying to look out for you."

"Gross." "Mega gross."

When the others returned Felix had a hand clamped on Dimitri's shoulder and the newest of their group looked a bit panicked. He was clearly trying to hold it in and Reed felt terrible.

"I hope my boys were making you feel comfortable." Dimitri addressed Reed. He was just as nice as Belladonna said he would be, even in his discomfort.

"Everyone except Izzy," Reed responded in hopes to keep this as light as possible.

"He's not wrong." Izzy added with a grin, picking up on what Reed was trying to do.

"I really didn't mean to come here and cause anyone problems," Reed spoke again but it was Dimitri who shut him down this time.

"You're not him. So you haven't caused any problems." It was incredibly clear that Dimitri was trying his hardest and Reed knew this wouldn't be the last conversation he had with the man - his uncle - about the subject. "Silas, order a couple pizzas. I think we all just need to hang out here and talk for awhile."

"Are you sure? I can go... I really just wanted to meet you all at least once."

"We insist." Felix added. "You're one of us, kid. And it's time you got to be who you're meant to be."

[pet-genius]

Amor Fati - Tom, Harry, Severus, Determinism and Choice, Duty and Freedom and Stuff

A vary bombastic title, for a post I am sure is to be somewhat incoherent and wildly inaccurate, but please bear with me (and listen to the song in the link!).

The HP universe (and arguably, ours) is clearly deterministic in some sense, since the existence of prophecies and time turners assumes this. So, we must accept that there's such a thing as Fate, even if "our choices show what we truly are." (Dumbledore seems of the mind that character is destiny, and I agree).

This, Fate, is something Tom Riddle had rebelled against as soon as he found out he was a wizard if not before, in his denial that everyone - even wizards - must die.

The rebellion against death extended to thinking he could even use death as a tool for his own ends in making Horcruxes, using Inferi, and… Imma just assume, being liberal with threats of murder and publicly using murder to make a point.

Then, when the prophecy came, he rebelled against it too (or maybe he thought Destiny had singled him out to win by giving him fair warning), by setting out to murder an infant. Not to give him too much credit for this, but on his way to do it, he did resist the urge to kill a Muggle child, so I can't imagine he had slaughtered defenseless babies left and right for the hell of it. At least, not too much.

And thus, the absolutely ordinary baby got a Fate of his own and became the chosen one.

The importance of choosing what had been decided is discussed in HBP, and Harry is proud that he understands it. It’s committing to and choosing the fait accompli that turns it all around,  and Voldemort loses repeatedly for his failure to understand this. He uses and punishes others instead of looking inward and understanding some things are beyond his power, and that it might even be a good thing. He uses his own people as human shields and they lie to him; quite possibly, in murdering Severus in front of Harry he had done the only thing that could make Harry want to see what Dumbledore’s killer (and his parents’ killer, in his mind) had to say. And Harry makes the only choice available to him, fully understanding the consequences.

And then we have the man who chose to live the worst version of his life, and then chose death when he could have saved himself, the opposite of what nearly anyone - but especially Voldemort - would have done. He wasn't a human shield, he was a willing protector. The man walked on a razor’s edge for his entire adult life, always plausibly good or plausibly bad to outsiders, but fully cognizant of the truth internally.

Severus had once unwittingly condemned his only friend to death and then was forced to pull the trigger on his other only friend, in a horrifying variation on the theme. Eternal Recurrence, anyone?

But… you have to mean the Unforgivables, or they don't work. You have to mean it, or it has no meaning. Ultimately, no one could force Severus to do anything. He recognized his own wrong choices and he chose every step of the way to make amends.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” - Shakespeare, because why wouldn't I invite the comparison :eyeroll:

I’ll argue that Tom was born great and that Harry had greatness thrust upon him – and Severus was all three.

I like to think that he lived up to the Nietzschean ethos of Amor Fati - never delusional about his reality or his prospects, and all the same, he lived his life by his values and embraced the consequences. What a stark contrast with Voldemort, who seemed so desperate to style himself as a Nietzschean Uber-mensch, striving and not realizing that denial of reality, selfishness, and abject cruelty are not the hallmarks of great figures but of children.

Voldemort constantly demands recognition and service from others, like a child, unknowingly living out his trauma of infant abandonment in the process of being revived by Peter Pettigrew. He lacks self-awareness and reflection to the point that you have to wonder how free he ever was. Severus is a servant, and constantly referred to as such. As Voldemort’s true servant, he gets the plot going – but from the moment he makes a genuine choice and is no longer merely a vehicle or vessel, he succeeds and ascends his “servant” status (think "Dumbledore's pet" versus Dumbledore's man"). I love the idea that Voldemort died thinking Severus’s last words were “My Lord,” when in truth they were a request to be viewed as who he was.

And the last memory he gave ended with: Don't worry. I have a plan.

This exemplifies that choice and duty are absolutely not opposed.

To make up to you for this post, here’s a beautiful song that I think conveys the message well.

[writingwhimsey]

My Pirate Lord and Our Life Ch. 33

Chapter 33

It was a few days later that our plan was put into motion. The Oda forces had departed and we were now on the ship sailing out of Aki. I stood on deck, Misa beside me. We were both looking out over the ocean. "So, what are you thinking?" I asked her. I could tell by the look on her face that something was bothering her.

"Just thinking how strange all of this is." She answered.

"What exactly do you mean?" I asked.

Misa smiled at me. "Just that we are actually five hundred years in the past. I mean when you told me when we were back home...I believed you. I knew you wouldn't lie o me. And yet... it's just different actually being here and seeing it. Not to mention how well you fit in with all of these crazy warlords."

"You seemed to be fitting in rather well, too Misa." I teased her.

"Well, I mean...they honestly kinda reminded me of when we all used to get together with the guys from the boys home."

"A bit." I agreed.

"I'm also amazed at how well you've adapted to the life here." She said, her smile soft. "I mean, everyone here seems to adore you. Not that I can blame them really."

I shook my head. "I don't know if I'd say they all adore me."

"Please, Hideyoshi freaking calls you his little sister. Masamune can't stop himself from battling Motonari over your taste-buds. Nobunaga calls you his lucky charm. Keiji and Mitsuhide both seem to enjoy teasing you. "

"Alright, I get your point. I am well loved here by a very large family." I said blushing.

"Of course we can't forget the way Motonari's crew falls all over themselves to help take care of you." Misa added with a grin.

"That's probably just because they're afraid of Motonari." I replied.

"I can see him threatening them within an inch of their lives if something were to happen to you." Misa agreed.

"While he did threaten them, the crew does adore you, Lady Mouri. " Hiroyoshi said as he came to join us.

"Were you listening to us, Hiroyoshi" Misa asked, a teasing smile on her face.

" I would never, my Lady." He replied. "I just happened to be walking by."

"Please stop it with that my lady stuff. I do not have a title." Misa told him.

"You are my Lady's sister. It would be improper " He replied.

"This old geezer won't ever be informal with anyone." Motonari said, coming out of a meeting with his crew. He came up to me and placed another haori coat over my shoulders before wrapping his arms around me, from behind.

I turned my head and smiled up at him. "It's not that cold you know." I teased him.

"It's gettin' colder. And you know it only gets colder at sea." He replied. "Gotta make sure you stay warm." He then kissed the top of my head.

"I swear I'm going to throw up from listening to you two one of these days." Misa quipped with an eyeroll.

I reached over and playfully swatted at her. "Oh come on you know you're happy to see me happy."

"Doesn't mean your happiness isn't going to make me barf. "

"If ya do, just make sure ta get it over the ship. Yer cleaning up Yer own mess." Motonari replied.

"Don't worry, I would handle it, my lady." Hiroyoshi assured Misa.

"It's alright. A little puke never deterred me. It's my job to deal with a lot worse body fluids."

"What do ya mean by that? " Motonari asked.

"You'll find out when the baby is delivered." Misa answered.

"You plan on being in the room during the birth my lord?"Hiroyoshi asked, seeming surprised.

"He better be." I found myself saying. I honestly hadn't thought about the possibility of him not being in the room. Nor did I think I could do it without him there.

Motonari laughed. "You givin' me orders now, Flower Girl?"

"I mean... " I began flustered.

He laughed again as be reached a hand up to muss my hair. "Course, I'm gonna be there. I ain't missin' it fer nothin. " He assured me. "I'll always be there for Ya . "

I let out a relieved sigh and relaxed back against him and smiled. "Good."

"Hopefully, Kimi and Asuna will be here by then, too." Misa said. "Get the whole family together."

"Okay, but me giving birth doesn't really need to turn into a show." I said. I know that we had all been there for Kimi when she had Kotoro, but that's because she wouldn't have had anyone else otherwise. I kind of really only wanted Motonari there. Of course Misa would be there since she was my midwife.

"You act like we all haven't seen each other naked a million times." Misa teased me.

"What's this now?" Motonari asked. "Should I have been worried about that slumber party you girls had?"

I laughed. "We grew up together sharing a bedroom and bathroom. Privacy was really nonexistent."

"At least if we wanted to get to school on time." Misa agreed.

"And even though that is all true, you know...maybe I don't need the whole world witnessing me give birth." I replied.

"Whatever makes you comfortable." Misa replied. "Of course you may also not give two shits once you're in labor."

"Well, we're still months away." I said. "So, plenty of time to talk about all of that."

"True." Misa agreed.

"So, when should we reach our first port?" I asked Motonari.

"In just couple of days." He answered. "And don't you worry about a thing. When we get there, you just go enjoy yer shoppin' like ya always do. Six guards'll be with ya, while I go to my meetin's and make it easy fer Kicho ta find me."

"You know telling me not to worry isn't going to make me not worry." I remarked.

Motonari kissed the top of my head. "It's all gonna be just fine. Ya know the only plans I've ever had fail were because you started spreadin' yer flowers and makin' 'em grow in my head, too."

I laughed. "Hey, I know if anyone can pull this off, it's you. I don't doubt that...I just have a general nervous feeling about everything and you know worry for you."

"It'll all work out. I swear to ya." He told me.

"Is it bad that knowing the plan, I hope we don't find him in the first port?" I asked.

"Nah...it'll be just as hard fer me, flower girl." He assured me, gently squeezing me tighter.

"You know, I just thought of something I needed to do." Misa said. "Excuse me."

"I also have much to do. Pardon me, my lord, my lady." Hiroyoshi said, bowing before he and Misa both walked away.

I turned around in Motonari's arms to face him, placing my hands on his chest. "And you're sure there's no other way? No better plan?"

Motonari leaned his forehead down against mine. "I wish there were a better one." He said. "But I gotta find out that bastard's plan, make sure he hasn't already set things in motion."

"And you have to get him to trust you to do that." I said with a sigh.

"I'll take care of this as quickly as I can." He assured me, his blood red eyes meeting mine. "I got my you and this little one countin' on me."

I smiled up at him. "Pretty sure there are other people counting on you, too."

"That may be, but you two are the only ones that matter." He replied, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my lips. "I swear to ya, I'll make sure plan goes off without a hitch and get it wrapped up quick."

"If anyone can do it, it's you." I agreed.

The next couple of days passed by too quickly and we were soon arriving at port. When we disembarked, Motonari walked with me so far into town, Misa and our six guards with us, though they were a respectable distance away. Misa was chatting with the guys. They'd all already taken a liking to her.

"Alright, here's where I gotta part with ya." Motonari said, as we stopped outside of a merchant house.

I nodded and did my best to keep the frown from my face. I wasn't sure why, but I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was the day we were going to find Kicho.

Motonari removed both of his gloves and tucked them into a pocket before cupping my face between both of his hands. "Hey, don't look so worried. I told ya, I'd get this all taken care of. And I'll get it done quickly." He was then crushing his lips to mine.

I pressed myself closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. Though we had just spent last night and this morning making love, as if it were our last time, I still couldn't help but to want to keep him close. I wished we could just stay in a world just the two of us and not even have to worry about all of this...but considering what Kicho was up to, I knew what we had to do.

Motonari deepened this kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips, tracing the lines of my mouth, memorizing my taste. I tangled my tongue with us, savoring his taste as well. I wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted before we were parting, both of us panting.

"I love you, Ava." He told me.

"I love you, Motonari."

We kissed once more before finally parting and going our separate ways. It killed me knowing what was coming. I sensed it in every fiber of my being that it would be today. That it would be here that Kicho showed up. That this would be the last time I would get to see my beloved for a while.

Check out the drama and action in the next chapter below!

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/671846698487791616/my-pirate-lord-and-our-life-ch-34