DANNY BIXLER ; rodeo

summary ; instead of deadites, danny unleashed some swag ass vampires ; just a little romance trope thing I thought of idk ; inspired heavily on lil nas x's rodeo music video bc holy shit ive been obsessed.

warnings ; language, blood, death, weapons

pronouns used ; they/them

word count ; 904

AN ; I'm not big into aus but shit this vampire au 🙏🙏🙏

masterlist

Danny Bixler unleashed a mass of hellion vampires from the ancient Necronomicon on the night of November 28th 2023. He unknowingly spawned an army of darkness through a passageway connecting this world to more, evil worlds beyond our own.

Vampires were still conscious humans, just with the extra effects of fangs, some serious leaping and sprinting abilities, extra strength and stamina, sharp ears, claws, and a new punk-inspired style. Thankfully, they only wander at night.

And their population was low, so far. Only some residents of The Monde.

In conclusion, Y/N L/N, Danny, Kassie and Bridget Bixler, also their mother, Ellie, had become blood thirsty creatures. Ever since that night, Beth had sworn to protect them in a way, they were still family to her. She sat with Mr. Fonda's gun in her lap during the day, just waiting it all out, making sure they rested peacefully in their rooms.

During the night, if they went out, Beth stayed awake, if not, she slept the night away. She wore heavy, dark circles under her eyes, keeping her usual style. If she could, she worked for some money for food, water, the essentials. She focused on keeping the Bixler's and L/N teen safe and protected from the men driving around the city wirh loaded machine guns.

You and Danny sit on the roof of the apartment complex after a meal of intestines, graciously donated by the slightly freezer-burned Gabriel. You couldn't help but feel bad, eating people you knew as your neighbors. It fucking sucked, but something inside you possessed you when you got too hungry, something you shared with the others.

Beth recalled that when she got the closest look at you on day one, your eyes rolled back into your skull, black ooze spilling from your mouth, acting vile and angry compared to your usual respectful and and chill attitude. It happened for the others too, Beth learned her lesson to keep you guys fed, for sure.

"Dan?"

He slowly looks at you, lips slightly parted, two scars on his bottom lip. He was still getting used to the feeling of fangs, even months later.

"Yeah?" He asks, running a hand through his hair.

"You wanna go down there tonight?" You ask him, looking down at the street below

He shrugs and nods in response, throwing himself over the edge of the roof. He lands on his feet, awaiting your arrival to the ground. You repeat his moves, joining him on the pavement. You fix up your trip pants, pulling the bottoms up a bit so you wouldn't completely trip over yourself. Danny fixes his leather jacket, fidgeting with one of the straps before you pull him along.

The luminescence of green lights and the full moon in the sky light your path, both pairs of boots stomping on the sidewalk. Not a single person in sight, no cars, no signs of life.

A dark, peaceful bliss with hues of green and blue.

Danny hands you an earbud, scrolling through one of his Spotify playlists. You accept the offer, putting the earbud on, listening to the clunking of your heavy boots beneath you.

Save That Shit, Lil Peep.

He grins, hands on his hips. You chuckle and shake your head, watching him hide his phone away in his jeans pocket.

He starts by singing the lyrics as you walk, his intense smiling showing off his new fangs. His eyes were slightly glazed over, as per the new usual, a blue glow reflecting off of them.

Fuck my life, can't save that girl.

Don't tell me you could save that shit.

All she want is payback for the way I always play that shit.

You join in to singing along, taking his hand in yours.

Do you wanna glow? Baby we could glow.

You run a hand through your hair, picking up the pace to feel the air against your face.

Wind therapy, you called it.

You giggle, accidently biting your lip with your new teeth as you quickly stop. Danny quickly looks at you, silently asking if you're okay. You look at your finger with a light sigh.

"Twinsies" You groan, hiding a smile

"Again" He chuckles

You suck on your lip, trying to suck the blood up to stop the bleeding.

"I can help you," Danny smirks

Before you can even process or respond what he's said, he smashes his lips into yours, sucking your lips into a kiss. He places his right hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He pulls away, wiping a smear of blood from his bottom lip with his index finger.

He looks back at you, stunned in silence. He giggles, looking away for a moment as he runs a hand through his blonde hair out of fear of rejection.

You're silent and speechless for a moment, trying to thing of something witty to say, although nothing comes to mind. You can only pull him in again, placing a quick kiss on his scarred lips.

He smiles, raising an eyebrow. "So... that wasn't a no...?"

You roll your eyes, "Dipshit"

He smiles, understanding your sarcasm, "Whatever, you liked it!"

"How long have you been planning that out?"

"Planning? Are you saying I'm not a natural flirt?"

"You aren't, Danny"

"Wha-! ...True..."

You shake your head with a smile, licking your dried lips.

"Wanna make some mischief?"

"Never say that again."

ive been thinking nonstop of the optimus religious feeding post from the other day im begging on my KNEES for you to write abit more about it if thats ok🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

oh my god yes

he's stuffed so often these days, and he tries sooo hard to hide it. trying to keep his armor cinched down so nobody can see the way his belly rounds out, trying to smile and be polite each time he's brought food. but when he's alone, it all comes down, and he's laying down and quietly groaning, rubbing his full belly.

and people notice that he eats a lot. instead of assuming he's too polite to say no, they assume he just has an appetite. maybe its a prime thing? so they start bringing him more food. and when he never says no and always takes it graciously, well, why not try a little more? cant have their prime going hungry, now!

it starts to show. he gains on his thighs first (much to the delight of admirers). once his hips are wide and his thighs thick, he starts to gain more in the tummy. a little pudge becomes big, soft rolls. and those big, soft rolls regularly become a round, firm, full tummy as he's mercilessly fed by dozens of bots who look at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

he worries that those looks will change with his gain, but they don't. some almost seem to worship him more.

and at the end of the night, optimus sits alone in his hab, new thick belly sitting on his thighs, running his hands curiously over his changing body...

he doesn't like to take advantage of his status. but maybe he could get used to this.

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part ii of series 

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: none! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen 

With the arrival of fall, so came the arrival of new companions. Mr. Draco Malfoy, a cousin of your Godfather, came to stay with you and your family at the estate; due to the management of Malfoy Manor, after the passing of his father. These manners having to be settled with Mr. Sirius Black, you had grown quite acquainted to each other over the autumn months.

While with each passing day, came new agreements and new events that had to be attended to; there was just one that you impatiently waited for, the Winter Ball. It was a marvelous party held by the Weasley Family, and was an invitation only event ensuring that only anybody who was anyone could attend. It was rather a charming way of making new friends.

One day, dining with your family and Mr. Malfoy, you received the invitation to the Winter Ball. Unable to hold back excitement, you eagerly stated, ‘Oh, look! Our invitation has finally arrived! Miss Ginerva and I have been at an utmost excitement for this event. Mr. Malfoy, you will come won’t you? There is music and dancing with such a marvelous atmosphere. It really is such a great way to make new friends!’

‘Miss Y/N, nothing would exhilarate me more than attending a wonderful party with wonderful people.’ Mr. Malfoy replied.

‘Splendid! As though I do wish the dreaded Mr. Diggory would not come and spoil the evening-‘

‘Mr. Diggory did you say, Miss Y/N? I haven’t known him to be in this part of the country.’

‘Why yes! He has been a resident at the Weasley Estate since the summer, doing business with Mr. Fred and George. Its unknown when he will be finished. Mr. Malfoy, pardon my asking, do you know of Mr. Diggory?’

‘Yes, my father and his were very closely acquainted. They did much business together when we were children. Mr. Diggory and I were very close friends growing up. He borrowed some money from us, quite some time ago before he inherited his fortune. However, he was unable to pay us back in a timely fashion. We had a falling out quite some time after that.’

You sunk into your seat a bit. Mr. Diggory, a man fed by pride, not abide by the rules of business, you questioned to yourself. Strange, the carelessness of men.

The next day you were expected to attend afternoon tea with Miss Ginny. Taking the pleasure of welcoming yourself into their home you went to the parlor, where tea was normally served. But rather than seeing Miss Ginny, you walked in on a reading Mr. Diggory. He caught your eye and immediately stood awkwardly, ‘Miss Y/N, what a surprise. How are you this day?’ he managed to stammer out.

‘Mr. Diggory, very well. Thank you, may I ask you the same?’

‘Fine, thank you.’ He replied. You both stood not exactly knowing what to say to each other, tensions were rising and words did not come easy.’

‘Er- Mr. Diggory, where may I find Miss Ginerva?’

‘Oh yes. She’s in the dining room. Fine seeing you, Miss Y/N.’

You nodded quietly and left the room, heading for the kitchens. I don’t think I will ever understand the brains of men, you told yourself.

The afternoon went by rather quickly, as you chatted with such a gracious friend; and you could not but help to tell Miss Ginny about the information you found out the previous night.

‘Did you know, Ginny, that Mr. Diggory had relations with my Godfather’s cousin, Mr. Draco Malfoy. A very handsome young fellow. Apparently, Diggory borrowed money from him some time ago and never paid the poor family back. Very questionable if you ask me.’

‘Very questionable indeed.’ Pondered Miss Ginny, ‘Perhaps, you also ought to know as well that Mr. Diggory had a late sister. She was very young when she passed, just shy of fourteen. I heard it was an illness that struck her.’

‘Really!’ you said shocked, ‘A Miss Diggory! How very unfortunate. How sad as well.’

You thanked Miss Ginny for the tea and began to head home. Mr. Diggory was perhaps the strangest character you were to meet.

The ball at Weasley Estate came much faster than anticipated. After dressing in a beautiful silky, white gown and having your hair twisted and plaited into an updo, it was time to go. The general splendor of the ball was much greater than it seemed to be in years prior. The entire ballroom was adorned in gold decorations, and a beautiful orchestra played in the ballroom while numerous couples were dancing in the center. You quickly found your friend Ginny. Between chatting away with her and dancing with the company of Mr. Malfoy and your Godfather, you were having the most wonderful time. While walking through the corridors, arm in arm with Miss Ginny, you were met by the tall, handsome figure of Mr. Diggory.

‘Miss Y/N.’

‘Mr. Diggory.’ You bowed.

‘May I have the next dance?’ he said staright faced.

‘You may.’ You both bowed and you and Ginny scurried to the nearest empty hallway.

‘Did Mr. Diggory just ask me to dance?’ Ginny nodded, ‘And did I say yes?’ Ginny nodded even more excitedly, ‘Well, isn’t that convenient, considering I vowed to detest him for the whole of my life.’ You both broke out into a fit of giggles.

You soon found yourself face to face with Mr. Diggory in the ballroom. The orchestra began playing and the dancing started. ‘Beautiful evening. I must urge you that I’ve never seen a ball be more mesmerizing.’ You observed to start conversation.

‘Indeed. Though I have seen more impressive in my days.’

‘You are quite difficult to please, Mr. Diggory, even more so to make out.’

‘May I ask, Miss Y/N, what you are to mean by that. Or should I expect you to keep your motives most secretive.’ He steadily responded.

‘Nothing of the sort. Just that I find it excruciatingly difficult to make out your character. As while your stature is nothing short of grand, I cannot help but to hear such terrible things about your demeanor.’ You said as you both graciously danced your way across the marble.

‘Perhaps, Miss Y/N, you are to consider that I find it rather difficult to forgive the follies and vices of others.’

‘I fear that I am in no position to mock you for that, Mr. Diggory. But I do ponder over the question as to why so many people think you as proud.’

’’It may do you well to ask yourself why others can be the most quick judge of character without fully knowing what lies beneath their outward appearance. I shall pose another question for you ponder over, said being, why when one has pride, it gives the permission for others to be prejudice towards them?’ After a mere moment of silence between the pair, the dance music came to an end.

‘Oh, and Miss Y/N. Perhaps you are right in saying dancing is a most valuable way to make new friends.’

 You turned your cheek and could not help but to feel your lips tug to a smile. Mr. Diggory was a most interesting character indeed.

(end of part twoooo! hope you guys like it. part 3 will be posted shortly! chat with you all soon!)

tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable

unexpected (iv) -Spencer Reid

Summary: everything is blurred as Spencer tries to find you

warnings: drug and alcohol use, gunfire

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

gif not mine

All Spencer could see was white, all he could hear was ringing. He’s not sure how long he was on the ground for, but as soon as he can, he scrambles to his feet. Spencer turns his head every way he can, looking for you.

~

Yesterday

You and Cameron speed away from the warehouse. You sigh, wind running through your hair as you let it down. Your face might still slightly burn from the slap Hunter had given you, but the cool air of the car makes it feel better.

You had decided to go to Cameron’s apartment before tonight, he lived with a girl, Skylar, that you were good friends with. Well, she had been your partner on a number of jobs, so you had grown close that way.

You pull up to Cameron’s apartment, he throws his keys to you, and you walk up the stairs to unlock it. The apartment was simple, nothing too fancy. Personally, you didn’t have an apartment. You didn’t want anything that could possibly be traced back to you. Sure, Cameron didn’t use his own name, but there were still other ways it could be traced.

You say hey to Skylar, her red hair was down, and she was sporting a septum and eyebrow piercing. You flop down on the couch, graciously taking a drag of the cigarette she was offering. “What have you been up to?” You ask, misting referring to ‘business’ related stuff.

“Hunters happy with me, I've gotten a lot of Cloud Nine onto the streets. And, I found a way to increase profit with it.” Skylar says, smirking. There was a rumor Skylar was sleeping with him, but you knew that wasn’t true. Hunter was too stuck up and proper for that.

“Nice one Sky.” You say, holding your hand up for a high five, and she complies. You see Cameron go over to the fridge, searching for some form of alcohol and/or food, when his phone rings. He sighs, answering with a hello. He turns to you after a moment, mumbling a “yes.” then after a minute, he hangs up.

“We have another job.” Cameron says, closing his phone. You sigh, “What is it?” You ask, a look of disappointment on your face.

“You’ve gotta call your FBI buddy tonight.” Cameron states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You obviously didn’t think that you would have to speak to Spencer ever again. You thought that in a few years he would be a ghost of a memory, but you could still revel in the touches you shared.

“Why? What do I have to say?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. Cameron looks at you, slight regret in his eyes.

“We are going to burn down NorthGate Plaza.” He says, and shock fills your body. Noctiphany had never done something so major before. This was a huge step up for the publicity of the organization.

“Why do I have to call that agent?” You ask Cameron. “To get his team there. Boss wants a lot of cops and publicity to show how easily we can get away.” Cameron explains.

You look to Skylar, and then a smile forms on your face, “As long as we can get black out drunk after.” You say, a small laugh coming from you. Cameron rolls his eyes, and agrees, “You’ve gotta call him around 9.” He says, and you nod. You need something to do for the remaining four hours, so you spend that time watching shitty soap operas, and eating horrible, but somehow delicious food.

Your heart is racing at 9. You knew that you would hang up the disposable cell phone before Spencer could even respond, but it still filled your body with anxiety. You had what you were supposed to say written out on the table, a time and place. You dialed the number, and held the phone to your ear. You don’t even wait for a greeting before delivering the message.

“9:00 pm, tomorrow, at NorthGate plaza. Be ready, Princess.” You say, and hang up the phone as quickly as you can. The nickname had just slid off your tongue, a cursed reminder to Spencer about the times you had shared, a reminder of the betrayal he felt.

A chill ran down your spine, something that often happened before you began to cry. You set the phone down, and clear your throat, “C'mon guys, let’s go celebrate.” You say, clasping your hands together. Cameron and Skylar smile, and you all head out the door.

You have to enter the bar from a door in the back, and you must know the password. Cameron knocks on the door the specific way, and tells the bouncer the password. The door opens, and you take in the scene. The bar is dimly lit with warm toned lights. You can smell the stale beer and liquor in the air, it wasn’t necessarily the best smell, but you had associated it with good memories.

You tell Ben, the bartender that was usually working, your order of Jack and Coke. He nods, and begins to make it for you. You take it graciously, and turn back to your friends. Skylar has a slick smirk on her face, and you question it.

“I know that look Sky, what do you have?” You say, copying her smirk. She pulls a bag out of her pocket, and you recognize it as Cloud Nine.

You roll your eyes, “Just give me a half.” You say. While you did want all of your problems to float away, you didn’t want tomorrow to be all hell. In fact, you had never actually tried Cloud Nine for that reason. For the work you did, you needed your mind to be sharp. Given the events that had occurred recently though, you decided to give yourself a break.

You down the pill Skylar gives you, impatiently waiting the 15-20 minutes it takes to kick in. You stir your drink, and talk about Cameron’s latest job he was on. It was only whenever you got out of your chair to order another drink, when you realized the effects. You feel as though you are walking on nothing, and you begin to giggle.

The 80s and 90s mix in the bar makes you move and sway your hips. You feel a body behind you, and it’s Cameron. You smile, jokingly moving your hips against his, and he plays along seemingly grinding into you. You hear the people around you laughing, cheering you on as you dance.

What you didn’t know is that Cameron had actually not taken any Cloud Nine, and was completely sober. Also, no one told you about the horrible come down of Cloud Nine.

An hour and a half after you took your half of the pill, you are sitting at a table with your head in your hands, almost in tears. You were ranting about everything wrong in your life, but something specific had seemed to grab Cameron’s attention.

“And that whole thing with the FBI agent, Spencer Reid.” You said, and Cameron’s ears perked up, “I know it was supposed to be a fuck and duck, but I think I’m in love with him.” You confess. You attempt to stop yourself, but the words keep coming, “I can’t stop thinking about him, and how good it felt that one time that I slept in his arms.” You sigh, this was the only time you had really confronted your feelings on the whole situation.

Skylar held your arm sympathetically, “You will get closure tomorrow.” She says, her words slurring slightly. You nod, eyes still watery.

“Come on guys. We need to get back to the apartment.” Cameron says, pulling you and Skylar up by your arms. You follow his lead, stumbling all the way into the backseat of the car. You drift in and out of sleep on the way back to the apartment. Cameron helps you and Skylar to the door, and through the living room. You chug the cup of water he gives you, and collapse on the air mattress in the living room.

~

You wake up the next morning with an awful pounding in your head. You groan, rubbing your eyes as they adjust to the light. You hear a slight laugh from in front of you, and you open your eyes fully.

“I feel like a mom, making bacon and eggs for my kids.” Cameron says, a nervous laugh falling from his lips, He moves the pan back and forth on the burner. You laugh slightly, taking in the smell of bacon. It had been a while since you had one of these breakfasts. You, Cameron and Skylar liked to have a nice breakfast before you went on a job.

You grab the cheap paper plates off of the counter, and impatiently wait for the bacon to be done. You needed something greasy after the terrible hangover you were enduring.

You could see that Cameron was sneaking glances up at you, but you decided to ignore it. You rub your head again, attempting to remember the events of last night. All you can remember is clouded vision, feeling light, and dancing provocatively against your friends.

Before you ask Cameron what happened last night, you hear Skylar walk into the room, exhibiting the same actions as you. You laugh, “Last night was crazy huh?” You say, smirking at Skylar.

“I’ll say.” She says, returning the smile. You turn to Cameron, noting his gritted teeth. “Did you end up driving us home?” You ask him, attempting to meet his eyes, but to no avail.

“Yeah.” Cameron says, finally turning to you, “After you declared your love for that FBI agent to the entire bar, I decided to take you and Sky home.” He says, shaking his head.

“Woah.” You say, laughing slightly. “I was obviously coming down from Cloud Nine. You know how emotional that stuff makes you.” You say, making slight excuses for yourself. You put your hand on Cameron’s shoulder in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Eh, you’re right.” Cameron says, a smirk ghosting his face. You laugh, “Loving a cop? A fed no less? Come on.” You add, and that brings a full on smile to his face.

“Let’s eat.” Cameron says, “We have a lot of prep to do.”

~

Skylar was skilled with computers, but attempting to access files from the FBI and local law enforcement was still difficult. She was attempting to figure out how many agents would be at the plaza that night. She was trying to access phone and email records to see if they had called in SWAT teams.

“Let’s just assume that the whole nine yards is there. What do we do?” You ask, addressing both Cameron and Skylar.

“We need to make a threat.” Cameron says, “I say that we tell them that the plaza is already soaked head to toe in gasoline, and then we threaten them by lighting a match.” Cameron says, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Knowing that not even the FBI can help everyone feel safe will freak everyone out.” He says.

You nod in agreement, “But what if they think that we are bluffing, and they shoot us?” You ask, biting your thumbnail. Cameron throws his hands up, “We are just doing to have to take that chance.”

This back and forth goes on for a while. Cameron insists that Hunter needs this done a certain way, otherwise he could kick him out of the organization. It seemed as though Cameron thought he was in charge, when you knew it was your ass on the line. You had been in the organization far longer, and just because you, Cameron, and Skylar were in the same rank, didn’t mean quite a lot. You (in your opinion) were far more skilled at most everything.

Skylar stays neutral for most of the conversation, until you ask her, “What do you think?” She seems shocked by your words, not many people seemed to include her in conversations. She was more like a jack of all trades, master of none. You however, managed in stealth and secrecy. Cameron managed in planning, and financial gain. Skylar knew how to do almost everything, and you respected her for that.

“I agree with Cameron. We have to have a threat otherwise they won’t take us seriously.” She says, giving you a sympathetic look. Another thing you respected about Skylar was that she wasn’t really meant for this job either. She just took what she was given. She didn’t have to be in this line of work. She could have used her skills in many other places.

You nod, you always trusted Sky more than Cameron to a fault. “Alright, that’s what we’ll do.” You glance at the clock, the time being about 4. You groan, time passing was one of the worst things about this job. Having a smartphone was a big no. The police and FBI tracking that was way too easy. You had to watch TV and occasionally read books for entertainment. You had sometimes opted for different ways to sharpen your skills. Learning simple gymnastics and tumbling was one. Your small frame made it easy to slip through gaps. This aided in your speciality of stealth.

You flop back onto the couch, “Sky, any luck with getting into the database?” You ask, looking over at her, and she shakes her head, “I have to be extremely careful, because if they know i’m in they will trace it back to me.” She says, her voice trailing off as she types faster.

You nod, getting up to get another water bottle. Your nerves were still racing at the thought of seeing Spencer, but you were trying to suppress them. You kept trying to remember that you were dedicated to this organization. That relationships were not supposed to stand in the way of that. Yet your mind keeps drifting back to the way he held you. Could it have been love? The way his hands grazed you hips in the shower, the way his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. Was it love?

You coughed at the realization, forgetting that you had to actually drink the water amidst your thoughts. Cameron comes up behind you, patting and rubbing your back to help you regain breath. You furrow your eyebrows, he had never been this physical with you. It might’ve been odd, but you chalked it up to just a weird situation.

You needed to get ready for tonight, so you attempt to find something to wear. All black, but make it chic, you thought. One of the few things you enjoyed about the job was the clothes. Oddly enough, you enjoyed the ‘Criminal Aesthetic’.

You picked a typical all black ensemble. The gun holsters that you had sewn onto the pants were not to be used today. It was about burning down the plaza. While killing officers might bring fear to the public, they would cover it up. Burning down a public building that everyone felt safe in? That was a good plan.

You pulled on the tight long-sleeved black shirt, and the black cargo pants. You applied red lipstick with dark eye makeup. Were you doing this so that Spencer would see you and his eyes would go immediately to you? You weren’t sure.

You let your hair down as you walk back into the living room of the small apartment. Skylar sees you, giving a ‘Damnnn’ and you laugh. While you had told the feds 9, you knew that really meant 8:30. So at 8, you pile into the nondescript car, and you are on your way.

You park the car a good walk away from the plaza, and walk up to the center of it. As soon as you can hear cars in the distance, you expect Cameron to pull out matches. Instead, he pulls out a gun, “I’m sorry to have to do this Y/n.” He says, cocking the gun and pointing it towards you.

You freeze. Long enough for Cameron to put you in front of him, a gun pointed to your head. You see the black SUVs pull up, and fear rakes through your body. This is not how you thought you would be seeing Spencer again.

Spencer walks out of the car, putting his hands up. You attempt to warn him, but to no avail. Spencer, the hero he is, wants to save you. You hear the anger in Cameron’s voice, and you slip away once again, warning Spencer.

“It’s okay Princess.” Spencer says, and it’s hard for you not to smile at the nickname. Spencer begins to challenge Cameron, speaking about all the times you shared together.

Cameron spits out the words, “She wants me.” And you automatically attempt to yell no against his hand. Spencer looks at you, and you can tell automatically what he’s trying to tell you with his eyes. It’s interesting how you could do that with someone you hadn’t known for more than 2 weeks.

They say that Whenever your life is in danger, it seems like your true feelings about everything surface. In that moment, you knew your true feelings about Spencer. You knew that you loved him, and that maybe he loved you back.

Everything blurs together as you hear gunfire, and everything goes white for a moment.

~

Spencer is trying to look for you, his eyesight is still blurred. Finally, he sees you, your leg is hurt, and the man who was holding you at gunpoint is trying to pull you away.

Spencer doesn’t hesitate, he runs as fast as he can, trying to catch up to you. He finally does, tackling you to the ground. The man that was pulling you looks back, and seemingly decides that you’re not worth it. He runs off.

Spencer takes a breath, looking over your body for an injury. He sees that it’s your leg that’s injured, a bullet had hit your thigh. With Spencer’s limited medical training, he concludes that you will be fine. You will still need to go to the hospital, and you’ll need to have an agent or officer go with you. Spencer decides without anyone approving, that it will be him.

He does what he has to, and pulls your arms behind your back to handcuff them. He takes a look at your face, there is no smirk on your face this time. Just regret and sadness.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer says quietly, and you nod, understanding. He helps you get up, “How much pressure can you put on it?” He asks, and you groan at the feeling of trying to walk. Spencer, without hesitation, puts you on him and walks you to the ambulance that had arrived.

The medics take over from there, they ask if Spencer is hurt, and he shakes his head. He is zoned out, only focused on you when Morgan comes up behind him. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking at Spencer.

“Yeah, are you guys not chasing that guy?” Spencer asks, a harsh tone in his voice. From behind him, he hears a groan, “He had a getaway car. You’ll never find him.” You say, and Spencer turns to you.

“Where would he go?” He asks you, searching your face. You have a small smile on your face. “I can tell you the address of the apartment we were at, but I highly doubt they’ll go back there.” You say, and the medics lift you in the ambulance.

Spencer turns to Morgan, “I’m riding with her.” He says, matter-of-factly. Before Morgan can tell him no, he’s already climbing in.

On the way to the hospital, Spencer wanted to hold your hand. Instead, he settled on putting his hand on top of yours.

~

Spencer stands outside of your hospital room. The officer assigned outside of your room was looking at him a bit weird, but he didn’t care. He needed to be in there. To everyone else, he was conducting an interview, but there were other things he needed to get off his chest.

He finally works up the courage to go in there, telling the officer that he has this. The officer walks away, presumably to take a break.

Spencer walks into the room, and you turn your head, smiling at him. “Hey princess.” You say, but Spencer sees through your behavior.

He sees the fear in your demeanor, the regret in your eyes. The way your face falls after sentences.

He can’t help it, he turns your face, and captures your lips in a soft, short kiss. When he pulls away, you nod, “I’m sorry.” You say, tears threatening to fall down your face.

The memories of betrayal and hurt go out the window whenever Spencer sees you cry. He wraps you in a hug. “It’s okay.” He mutters over and over again. Whenever he pulls away, he gives you a sweet smile.

“I have to ask you some questions princess.” He says, pulling out a notepad. He didn’t need the notepad, he just needed something to occupy his hands so that he didn’t put them on you.

He asks you many questions, and he has to assume you’re telling the truth. You were betrayed by the organization, and seemingly your best friends.

After asking all the questions he needs to, he squeezes your hand, and gives you a bittersweet goodbye. Spencer walks out of the hospital room, and he presses his back against the door.

Your trial would be very soon, and he was terrified for the results.

~

@1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio @itsarayofsunshine @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @disney-dreams-world @myfavbau @softpeteparker @chaoticsteverogers @throughparisallthroughrome @whollytaciturn @imsuperawkward @pinkprinceamjoon @spenciereiddd @pinkdiamond1016 @futuremrsdrreid @aperrywilliams @pprettyboyreid @reidswords

Dinner for Two

Hello again! Hope y’all are doing just groovy. 

Here’s another fic! It can also be found here ! 

I got some WIPs in the works so it’s back to the coal mines for me. 

Chapters: 1-2-3 

The world spun again, more forceful than before. Reaching out blindly you grasp for the closest thing to you. This time it was your friend Genji. Cool metal wrapping around your forearm helping you steady yourself as you breathe through the wave of nausea.

“Doctor! Are you alright?” His scarred brows raising in worry looking for a place to let you rest. He leads you slowly to a nearby bench and away from your workstation.

You wave off his concern resting your fevered brow on your knees taking steady gulps of air in hopes to alleviate the sick feeling. “I'm fine. I'm fine. It's just exhaustion, haven't been able to sleep well of late.”

“Hmmm.” He sat nodding knowing the feeling all to well. “Missing your bear?” Genji joked releasing his hold on you to give you some space, his tone still laced with worry.

You chuckle dryly emerging from your ball to lean back, resting on the metal wall behind you. You did miss Jesse. It would have been a down right lie to say otherwise. His warm body encased around you, shaggy chestnut hair fanning out on his pillow. The whiskey smoke smell of him, an oddly comforting scent.

He was halfway through a six month mission with Soldier, Winston, and Angie to America looking into a Talon lead. As an infiltration mission, it requires time to build trust and connections. Meaning it was a pain in the ass for everyone.

I've been missing ya somethin’ fierce doll. Can't stop thinking about ya. Bed’s too cold nowadays. I wish ta god you could have come along. But can't be puttin’ all our medics in the field. His low timbre reverberating through the tinny speaker of your phone. Everytime he called it was a double edge sword, you were overjoyed that he was alive and safe. Yet it made the miles apart feel even longer.

You look up at Genji's patient expression. “I do.” You admit accepting the ninja's help getting up, the sickness passing as quickly as it had come. Genji nodded sagely heading back to your station where you had been working on an upgrade for his respiratory system. Your work was on par with Angie's, making the head medic feel comfortable dividing her workload with you.

“Perhaps you should take a break for the rest of the day? I'm not going anywhere and the upgrade isn't critical yet. Why not join Reinhardt and myself for lunch?” Genji nudged, placing his hand between you and your work. You agreed hoping a break would make you feel better.

It did not. Instead you retired to your quiet room curling around Jesse's pillow and drifted into a dreamless sleep stomach tossing and turning . This was your day to day life for the next three weeks. But it was only getting worse. Nausea, bloating, headaches, and fatigue plagued you as sleep evaded you. You hid;  brushing off concern with the same line.

“ It's just stress .” You sigh dismissing Ana's hand on your shoulder but graciously accepting the hot mug of tea. Enjoying her company in the common room after getting fed up with sitting in the spare medical lab all day.“I don't know how Angie does this.” You sigh dramatically.

“I sometimes wonder about the both of you. If I didn't know better I'd say you and Ziegler are secret masochists.” Ana chuckled. You flush, skin darkening as Ana levels you with a knowing smirk. “Ahh~Thought that was more you and Jesse's shtick.”

“What's more my shtick?” A deep southern drawl purrs behind you. A deep purr you thought you still had another two months before you could hear it in person. You didn't get a chance to turn before two strong burly arms wrapped around you. He smelled of sweat and gun oil. The staleness of the airship hung over him telling you more than anything that he just arrived.

Ana rolled her eye at your sequel when he lifted you into his chest spinning you around to capture you in a soul stealing kiss. “I was under the impression I still had another six weeks of peace.” Ana joked, raising to pat his back as he lowered you to the floor. His attention not wavering from you.

“You know me Ma’am, can't be kept away from ya.” Jesse winked his smile damn near blinding. “But the mission went off without a hitch, got all the data we need to put a hurtin’ on the next Talon operation.”

“Good,” Ana nodded curtly, looking at her com. “Ah… Soldier wants us all at the debriefing in five. Best be heading over.”

You both watch her leave arms still wrapped around each other. Jesse breaks first brushing his lips down your throat pulling a giggle from you as his beard hairs tickle you. Your good mood doesn't last long though as your nose seems to really pick up on his scent. The pleasant sweat and gun metal smell from earlier now astringent and overpowering. You gag choking back the bile in your empty stomach.

“Damn,” Jesse pulls back watching you cup your hand over your nose and mouth. “I smell that bad doll?”

“No. Sorry I've just been under alot of stress of late. My body is protesting.” You cough forcing yourself back into his arms.

He coos sympathetically rubbing your back. “M’ sorry sunshine, let me make it up to you tonight huh? Hot bath- a few drinks. Hell I'll even sneak out an’ get us some food from town, your choice. Maybe a movie if I can keep my eyes open long enough. Just gotta get through this damn debrief,” He looks at his com cover your shoulder checking for messages. “which we are ‘bout to be late for so let's get gettin’.”

You arrived only a few seconds late. Reinhardt holding the door for you and Jesse beaming brightly at you both. You took your seat next to Angie and Ana while Jesse sat by Genji and Lucio. Nodding politely at the two women you settle in listening to the monotone drone of Winston's debriefing scrolling through the file in front of you. He took an hour before Soldier started.

“Is it hot in here?” You whisper leaning over to Ana when 76 had his back to them. Ana frowned, shaking her head noting a slight sheen of sweat gracing your dark skin.

“Not really. Do you need to step out? This many bodies in a room could heat it up.”

You shake your head thinking maybe you were just overreacting. Instead you pour yourself a glass of water sipping slowly, losing focus. Ugh, that pesky nausea was back making the room swim. You could feel it at the corners of your vision. Had you eaten today? It wasn't abnormal for you to miss a meal or two. You ate ridiculously late last night, a sudden craving as you watched Hana play video games. So skipping breakfast shouldn't have been that bad an issue. Besides Lena had needed assistance with a nasty sprained ankle.

“You are looking a little under the weather my friend!” You jump glass shaking in your hand. Reinhardt sounded so distant, like though water. How odd…

You try to speak but your tongue seems to be cemented to your mouth. The room's axis tilts dangerously as you try to steady yourself. The swimming wasn't just at the corner of your eyes anymore. A blonde blob took up your vision. The blob speaking softly trying to take you with it.

A bad choice. Your knees buckled the moment you rose, the swimming in your vision turning violent. The water in your ears turned to crashing waves disorienting you as your vision went black.

You woke in darkness a faint light to your side illuminating flat white tiles above you. Your vision was steady but blurry as you took in your surroundings. It was the medical wing. You could tell that much by the stiff mattress and scratchy sheets covering you. A pressure in your arm gives you pause. Shifting in the sheets you touch at it recognizing the tug and pull of an IV drip.

“Ah! You're awake!” Angie chipper voice emerging from thin air to your side. “Gave us a fright back there.”

“What happened?” You asked, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion trying to focus on her uncharacteristically tight smile. She hums bringing up your charts.

“Low blood sugar. Very low blood sugar. Bordering on coma inducing, you banged your head rather hard when you passed out; but it's fine. Everyone is fine.” She friendly tone turning professional and curt, her hands busy adjusting your IV and raising the lights in the room slightly. “Are you too hot? Too cold? What was the last thing you ate? You should have come and told me sooner.”

Angie helps you sit up adjusting the bed and pillows to your comfort. “Angela I'm fine. I have been just so caught up in work, you know I get stress sick sometimes. I'll be more careful.”

Your friend stopped midway into checking your vitals. “Are you- I had thought as much. It's unlike you to be so reckless.” She finishes jotting down a quick note before handing you your medical records.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You scroll through blindly feeling ill for a whole new reason. How could you have been so stupid to have not picked up on all the subtle changes. You backtrack the past months counting the days. Your period, while erratic and hard to chart was never this late.

“How…” Your voice cracks lowering the tablet to your knees. Angie waits putting a supportive hand on your leg watching you process. “I'm a fucking doctor, and I miss that I'm pregnant!” Your laugh was empty, on the verge of hysterics. Shaking in a mix of awe and panic you place a hand  against your midriff. How could you miss this?

Fat is soft and malleable when you gain it. It grows in multiple areas at once, not collecting in one area growing steadily for so long. Dread fills you. You had been foolish thinking you were eating too much, so you cut back, taking up walking with Mei and hikes with Lucio. You had been starving yourself. Your child.

“Don't,” Angie cut into your downward spiral of guilt. “I'm not the most well versed in this but I did as thorough a check as I could and everything looks fine. You're underweight for the start of your second trimester but other than that you're fine,” She squeezes you leg reassuringly. “ they are fine .”

Falling back on the bed you bury your face in your hands groaning out. “Angie how did I fuck up this bad.”

She chuckled against her better judgement, but knowing you the worst had passed for now. “I can take some of the blame. I did dump a lot on you before I left. I knew I could trust you to stay focused on our work. I guess I underestimated how focus you would get. We are much in the same on that front. Stress does strange things to the body, as we both know. I, if I was in your shoes, would probably write it off as stress too.”

You gripe folding your arms defensively over your belly remembering Ana's comments from early. Jesse. “What do I tell Jesse? Did you say anything to him?” You snap rounding on your friend.

“I have kept everyone out including him till I could assess what was wrong, as per protocol. No matter what that man says otherwise.” Angie frowned looking towards the door. “You haven't been under for more then three hours. But I doubt he has left his vigil at the door. Do you want me to get him?”

You shake your head vigorously wrapping yourself over your stomach defensively. You had never discussed children. Anything really outside of dating. How would he react? What would this mean for you in the newly reformed Overwatch? “I need some time. I have to think this over.”

Angie rose nodding in agreement. “Let me know whatever you decide. I'll be there anyway I can.” She helps you lower the bed and turns off the lights again before leaving. You hear her exit and immediately start talking with someone on the other side of the door.

It was two days before you allowed visitors deciding to spend those days cramming as much knowledge and food into you all while talking things through with Angela. You had decided to tell Jesse and go from there, notifying Winston you could do nothing but wait to see what this meant for you for work and living on base. Angie was adamant she would pressure him to let you stay on as a medic on base until you were ready to take leave. As for housing well; maybe you could find a nice flat off base if it was an issue. You didn't think your shared room with Jesse was large enough for three. If there would be three.

As if beckoned by your thoughts Jesse was there knocking softly on your door not a few minutes after Angie sent out a notice that you would be allowing guests. He flashed you a crooked smile raising a plastic bag with a little smiley face on it. “I promised ya a hot bath and food...bath might be later but I thought maybe you would like some non-Angie approved food.” He fidgeted holding back his want to dash to you, his fears threatening to overflow. Watching you just drop at that meeting almost took him down with you. You looked ill when he greeted you but he didn't think it was that bad. Angie said it was low blood sugar from lack of food and sleep. But he knew better, there was something else on top.

He waited watching you shift the massive amount of blankets around you, burying yourself further in their warmth before smiling shyly. Boots thumping loudly on the floor he approached his grin freer this time pulling up a chair and your floating tray. “Oh. Did ya already eat doll? I can come back later if you want. Ang’ been saying your still feelin’ a little green ‘round the gills.” He frowned, noticing the scraps of foods on your discarded plate. It looked like the remains of something he would eat. Fattening and full of greasy meat, a few half eaten fries were left.

“I could always eat more. That's why I'm in here.” You laugh reaching for the bag while Jesse placed his hat and wrap on a nearby coat rack. You groan loudly pulling out a take out box of sweet and sour chicken, sticky rice and dumplings. Jesse watched shocked as you dove in stuffing a dumpling whole into your mouth only noticing his stares after you crudely stuffed another in your mouth “Wha?”

“Nothin’ sugar. Glad you're eating. Though I didn't think you would take my box. I got you a healthier one… you and Angie always watch what ya eat.” He smiles fishing out the other box. “But I guess we can switch every once and awhile.” He winks toying with you not expecting the look of horror on your face, a stock of broccoli halfway to your lips. “It ain't a big deal! ‘sides you are always on my case about eating better. Eat up! Can't have my sunshine starving. ” He jokes taking a bite out of the baked fish in front of him.

“Ya.” You chuckle nervously lowering your fork. Turning your face from his. You spoke so softly he barely heard it. Your words slipping out like a ghost.

Since I'm eating for two…

It caught him like a sucker punch, the world moving at half it’s normal pace. Surely you didn't mean… “I- I don't think I'm getting the joke doll.” Jesse muttered mind reeling for an explanation for your comment, other than the obvious one. Because that one didn't make sense. Right?

You turn back fist gripping your blankets, knuckling white and hands shaking. “Every symptom has a cause. I fainted and I thought I was suffering from just exhaustion and fatigue. Turns out they were just symptoms too.” Brushing aside the quilts you touch your stomach gently refusing to look at him.

“Are… how long?” Jesse asked voice no louder then your ghost like whispers.

“Angie said four months give or take a few weeks.”

Jesse leaned back quietly. “How long have you known?” Why didn't you trust him to tell this? Had he done something to make you think otherwise? You never brought up children but never talked negatively of it either. His heartbeat ecstatically thoughts flashing a mile a minute.

“When I woke up. I didn't realize until then,” You finally turn trying to fight back the tears of panic threatening to break free. “I swear. I would never have been so foolish if I had known. I would have told you.”

Jesse rose whipping a stray tear from your cheek and wrapping you in a tight hug, shoulders trembling from unshed tears himself. “I know, I trust ya. Jesus baby meeting you was the blessing I never deserved.” He kissed you then, peppering little kisses all over your cheeks, your nose and lips never settling for one place for long.

“You want this? Jesse I won't force this on you.”  You ask, starting to realize your fears may be unfounded.

“Whatca’ mean ‘if I want this’? I love ya, every bit I can get! I mean I would have done this a bit different. A cute little house with a cute little dog.” He paused licking his lips debating for a moment before continuing. “The nicest damn ring I can afford… But what's life without a few curves?” He smiles warmly a soft flush gracing his cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh in shock. The words warming you completely making your heart flutter. It was a sweetness that made you feel good, feel safe when he pulls you in tighter murmuring hopes and promises into your ear. You smile snuggling in close, kissing his cheek and rubbing his broad shoulders wondering why you worried in the first place. This could work. You knew he would try and you wouldn't back down either. You loved him too much to not at least try.

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News..: Chapter 4

 Monday morning, six am sharp and I am awake and ready to go, a little giddy with nervous and excited energy, but ready for the day. I had a small bag packed with my notes and laptop, along with an Emerald Pendant. I saw it yesterday and picked it up, I figured I could carry it with me when working with Loki.

Tony was pretty laid back on dress code rules, I was able to wear casual clothes as long as I had my doctors coat and my badge. I made my way to the small hospital wing, coffee in hand, and excitement buzzing through my veins.

Stepping into the wing I greeted the one nurse on staff and literally ran into Tony, “woah, sorry Doc.  Loki is making progress so he’s pretty snarky, but you’ll handle it. I need a stiff drink and possibly a vacation..  He’s officially yours!” At that Tony stepped past me and was out of the wing before I could blink or comment, alrighty then. I knocked on the door to Loki’s room and entered, “hello Loki, my name is Doctor Julie Stirling, I will be your personal physician for the time being.” I smiled pleasantly and picked up his chart, all his vitals were in a healthy range, no complaints for pain, just a feeling of restlessness. I looked up at Loki and was surprised to see thoughtful green eyes staring at me, he titled his head, “what is it about you that feels so different from the other mortals?” I beamed at him, “It’s probably because I’m way smarter, and prettier.” I winked and began to wash my hands and prep for an IV, “I did some reading and I’m thinking that you are more than strong enough to raise the dose of your medications, I’m also going to combine the pain killers along with your strange Asgardian antibiotic-curse stuff. This, I think, will very much speed along your progress. You are due to change you bandages so I’ll take a look to see how your wound is healing as well, Thor brought a balm from Asgard that will also speed things along. Then I think we’ll do a quick X-ray to see how healing is going internally. But judging by how quickly everything else is progressing I’m sure I’ll have you up and moving pretty soon.” I hung the bag on the IV rack and applied a tourniquet and cleaned the area before searching for a vein, I found one and quickly inserted the needle and allowed the medication to flow into his arms. “So, Loki, this is going to sound weird, but you’re different than from when you were in New York, and I’m not saying physically, or like, you’ve become a “changed” man. It’s your.. I don’t know how to word it.. Aura?” Loki blinked and looked at me quizzically, “How so,  Elaborate?” I chewed my lip, “Well.. So I’ve always been able to kind of pick up on auras, I can always tell how someone is doing emotionally or spiritually. I guess I’m more observant? I can’t find a reasonable explanation for this strange talent.. Or gut feeling? Anyway in New York you felt off, like you weren’t sure of your actions, maybe you were drugged or blackmailed? I could almost see another aura coming from you, but not quite a second one. Just there was a lot mixed in with you that I don’t feel right now. It also seems a lot like you kind of let yourself lose.” Loki’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. I continued, “and there is a physical change that I don’t know how anyone hasn’t noticed, or chosen not to bring up. But your eyes in New York were blue, and not blue like my eyes. But a weird sickly blue color. Your eyes are green right now.” The god frowned for a moment, clearly at war with himself, I sat on a stool and scooted up close to his bed and titled my head, he met my eyes and I stared back trying to read him, finally he said. “I was tortured, when I let go at the Bifrost I fell. I don’t know what I expected or hoped to happen, I had given up. I was okay with whatever was going to happen and assumed I would perish. I fell into this disgusting alien camp, I was in pain, every bone broken, every nerve on fire, I was bleeding and really hoped for an end then. No, The Other found me, Thanos knew he could use me as a pawn in his quest for a soul stone, he knew I could get what he sought. At first I refused, I wasn’t someone’s weapon, not a tool. But I.. He..” Loki cut off and closed his eyes, “He dug into my head, tormented me through physical and psychological torture I knew not possible. He weakened me greatly, then offered me a scepter, with that scepter was the mind stone. I hadn’t realized it at the time but the stone was effecting me.  It fed off the rage I had. The rage for Thor, Odin, Earth. Everything, I was consumed, on top of it I knew that if I tried to flee Thanos or purposely back out he’d find me and make me beg for pain, for pain would be a relief from what he had in store. I realized if I were to be defeated then I had a chance to escape Thanos to make it look like things were out of my control. Turn his sights away from me. And I was right. He is still out there, but I am no longer under his power. I never wanted Earth, I don’t care for humanity, such a weak and stupid race of people. I did want to make Thor hurt, and Odin too.” Loki fell silent and tore his gaze away from mine, glancing at his hands.  I took a deep breath and looked away from him and stared at the ceiling, the room was silent before I could feel the anger bubbling off Loki, “You wretched women, taking advantage of me in a weakened state. You knew I couldn’t stop you, damn silver tongue. How long have you had this magic?” My attention snapped back to  Loki and I  raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me what? I asked you a question and you answered, I don’t have magic, I didn’t put a spell on you what are you talking about?” Loki bared his teeth, “do you truly not understand what you’ve just done? Now I know why you are so different. You aren’t entirely human. What are you? You are not Aesir. And you don’t appear to be of light elf heritage. Yet you do posses Elvish qualities..” Loki hesitated and closed his eyes briefly, I could tell he was wearing himself out. “Where are you from? Do not take me for some petty fool.” Loki had all but growled at me, my jaw dropped and for a moment I was stunned, “I don’t know what you are talking about! I’m from earth! I have lived here my entire life! I bleed like everyone else, I don’t have any kind of superpowers! I’m observant that’s all!” I huffed briefly losing my composer, “I’m sorry for what you went through, I understand and can see you are feeling vulnerable and maybe you are but-“ Loki cut me off and snapped, “Alright enough! We will continue to discuss this another time. Get on without your silly tests!” I blinked then looked away from the fire in his eyes and cleared my throat, “alright, I will need you to remove shirt please..” Loki had healed well enough to be wearing a loose button up T-shirt and slacks, apparently when he was able to be awake for more than a few minutes a hospital gown was absolutely out of the question. Nimble fingers made their way through the buttons and Loki leaned forward and removed his shirt. I noticed he had regained quite a bit of color since I had first seen him, although he still had pale skin, I believed he was back to his normal complexion. I moved to a set of cupboards and gathered my supplies, fresh bandages, the balm, gloves and scissors.  I would be removing his stitches today. I set the supplies on a table next to Loki and carefully removed the bandages. It’s incredible how quickly he was able to heal, I carefully cleaned the area around the wound then began to remove the stitches. A staggering 36 stitches later and I applied the balm to the healing tissue. Loki was silent the entire time, he said nothing as he replaced his shirt then as he followed me to get x-rayed, as he settled back into the bed I removed the IV. “Hey, Loki. Everything is healing very well. Feel free to wander around the medical ward, it isn’t very big. But I will just be in my office. Come speak to me whenever you feel. I will leave you with a pager so you can reach me whenever you need.” The god nodded, “very well, thank you doctor.” Loki stood and stretched, “Do you mind if I actually join you now? For a stroll, I would like to know more about you.” I hummed softly and began tidying up the room. “Yeah! If you are feeling up for it that’s great! But the second you feel tired or in pain we will head right back and you will rest.” Loki chuckled and moved out of the bed, “I assure you I am very much okay. You mortals worry too much, I’ve been through worse, this was merely a flesh wound.” I laughed at that, “Uh-huh, I guess I still have a lot to learn about you gods. That flesh wound would have killed any human immediately.” Loki grinned and opened the door and held out his hand, “Well I am no human. Lets go, I have grown so bored of this dreary cell.” I walked out and shook my head, “I guess it might feel like a cell if you’ve been trapped here for so long.” We walked around the wing for a short time, I stopped by my office and grabbed a bag of mixed berries and offered one to Loki, which he graciously plucked and plopped into his mouth, “You’re not really as scary as I was lead to believe” I said as I took a berry from the bag. Loki snorted, “I am as frightening as the others have warned, don’t get too comfortable with me already.” Loki smirked and said “do not forget I am a god, and a cunning one at that. Never let your guard down when you’re playing with fire.” I leaned against a wall, “Note taken, but look, if you plan on murdering us all, will you at least save me for last?” I was surprised to hear a bark of laughter, “no promises.” I folded my arms and lazily looked out the window to the New York skyline, “Hey Loki, I think we might have more in common than you think I-“ I was cut off as the door to the hospital wing swung open and Tony marched in, he saw me and grinned, then made eye contact with Loki and stiffened. “Well would you look at that, Reindeer Games is out and about! Has he been a good supervillain Doc?” Loki sneered, “Do not call me such silly names you bumbling dit.” Tony turned to me with a hand on his heart, feigned hurt. “Did you hear that? He called me a dit! Some Shakespearean burn, how will I ever recover?” I scoffed, “Easy there Tin Man, this supervillain is making incredible strides. I very much see him being out of here in the next week or two.” Stark blanched, “first of all, excuse me? Tin Man, that cuts deep Doc. Secondly, are you really feeling better Lackey?” “Loki” Loki spat, “And yes, I feel my strength returning. I no longer feel much pain and I am able to feel my Seidr returning. Which is why Thor is here, am I correct?” I furrowed a brow, “Why would Thor come if you’re feeling better? Are you going back to Asgard already?” I was cut off by Tony who snorted, “no, actually we have been blessed with Loki’s presence for much longer! See he owes us. He spent his time in Asgardian prison, fought along side Thor, so his brother convinced Odin to allow Loki to come here and work with the Avengers and do his best to ease the wounds he’s caused on our planet. Loki is correct, Thor should be arriving any second to place an Asgardian Seidr sealing device. It’ll throttle a lot but not all of his power. Thor can adjust how much is allowed for missions, but other than that if Mr. Mischief goes over his limit he gets a little jolt.” I have never seen so much sass and annoyance from one person but the God of Mischief was radiating irritation, I could feel his eyeroll in my soul.  “That sounds a little cliched, but if you insist.” Tony and I rambled on for a few minutes more until I noticed Loki begin to sway, he clearly wasn’t as energized as he claimed to be. I reached out to steady him and bade Tony farewell, “I have a patient to take care of, now if you’ll excuse us Mr. Man Of Iron” Star, gave me a finger salute and a very dramatic and, I don’t know how it’s possible, but bowed sarcastically to Loki before making his leave. I could feel Loki’s irritation and exhaustion as we walked back to his room. “I find Tony hilarious but I can see how he could maybe annoy you from time to time.” Loki huffed and straightened, slightly embarrassed that he came off as weak and tired, shrugging my hand from his arm he replied, “yes I have yet to find his ramblings amusing. Fortunately for him I am too weary to reprimand him for taunting me. And yet people claim I am not a benevolent god.” I let out a low whistle and sincerely hoped his was kidding, but I knew better. “Alright Loki, rightful king of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, here are your chambers” I hovered nearby as Loki carefully slid himself into bed, he plucked a book that had been sitting on a small table beside his bed, opened it and began to read. Apparently he was done with interaction for the time being so I awkwardly made my exit, “if you need anything you can page me, I’ll respond as soon as possible. We do have an on staff nurse who will help you as well. Play nice, she’s too old for Godly mischief.” I saw Loki’s lip twitch into the tiniest smirk, then he flicked his wrist and I took that as a sign to take my leave.  

Stone Shadows | Chapter VI

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

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As always, I appreciate any and all feedbacks. Comments would really help me keep going especially since my blog is pretty much dying due to the new Tumblr guidelines. I’ll be posting on Ao3 too; here’s a link to the series there.

SIX | THORIN

Thorin woke on his back. Despite soaking in the hot spring, his shoulders had tightened up in his sleep; his fur-trimmed cloak his only padding atop the stone. He rolled onto his side with an involuntary grunt. He was growing tired of the smell of dirt and stone; he couldn’t fathom how the small woman could live thus for so long. He couldn’t even guess at how long she had been in the caves.

He looked across at her as he sat up, trying to stretch the aches from his back. She was curled up atop her thin bedroll; it was barely thicker than his cloak. Most of her clothing was patched and well-worn; her hide jacket couldn’t be much solace against the chill of the caverns, he thought. He fiery red hair stretched out in curly flames around her head and she breathed rhythmically in slumber.

Enezra claimed to be a greenling, but he still couldn’t be sure for himself. A halfling so long in solitary among the depths was want to go mad. She could as easily be a lunatic leading him to his demise. Yet, she had done nothing to earn his distrust, only that she had treated him with her own. Standoffish and wary of him, she kept her distance, held her tongue. Even so, she had fed and sheltered him and while the circumstance was less than cozy, it was a mark of integrity. Were she a dwarf, she would be honoured for showing such hospitality, especially towards a king.

Thorin pulled his boots closer and shoved his feet inside, carefully lacing them before he rose. His joints didn’t crack as they did most mornings but he felt the strain nonetheless. In the few years since his return to Erebor, he had sensed his age, felt it creeping up on him. Ever since he had stopped moving, he had notice the small changes. Others couldn’t count the new greys or feel the softening of his muscles, but he did.

He was still strong but there was a new layer of flesh formed from extra servings of roast beef and an excess of dwarvish ale. And the remnants of his wounds lingered; the scars left by Azog. He had traced the raised skin along his chest just the night before where the orc’s curved sword had nearly taken his life. He should not have been alive. He had been content to bleed out on the ice for all his sins. But he hadn’t.

He searched in the dim of the cave, trying to push away his tragic memories. The fire hadn’t been fed for the warmth of the spring next door. He searched out the pail left beside the pit and took it quietly, careful not to bother the sleeping woman. He walked as if he were stalking his enemy, slowly dislodging the door so that it did not scrape and grind so loudly.

At first, he had gone the wrong way and had to turn back. He eventually did find the well and filled the pale, careful not to break the thinning rope. He carried it back to small cavern, a skittering greeting him from within. It was not the rats he had expected but Enezra packing away her bedroll. She was rarely the last to wake.

“Had it not been for the cloak,” She nodded to his cloak still strewn along the stone, “I would have thought you gone off to find your own way.”

“I haven’t any hope of doing so,” He set aside the pale to replace the door before carrying it over to the pit. “I am patient and…” He mulled his words as he knelt beside the fire, assembling kindling beneath a tent of sticks, “I do appreciate you showing me the way out. I’d be lost without you.”

She stood straight and looked over her shoulder at him, her red hair standing out wildly around her head. It was thicker even than Thorin’s, her curls had a mind as enigmatic as her own. She began to tug at the knots hidden among her locks and watched his hands as he started a fire. She secured her hair as best she could with a hide tie and turned to retrieve a pair of cups from her pack. She took out the small tin of grounds from the front pocket and prepared them for brewing.

“We won’t be so lucky today,” She said as she set out the cups, “We’ll be heading to colder corners. It would be best to be alert; there are beasts there which do not abide the passing of time. Always awake, always hunting.” She filled the kettle with water and hung it over the fire, “Thank you for fetching the water.”

“Not at all,” He sat on his cloak, bending a knee before him and leaning his crossed arms over it, “I didn’t get too lost.”

“Good,” She commented evenly as she searched her pack for their morning rations.

She did not have much to offer but Thorin accepted it graciously. He took the handful of nuts and dried fruit she gave him, a sudden thought seizing him. He was so forgetful. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid the medley atop it before he reached for his haversack. He took out the small sachet within and smiled at the bulk within.

“I have some dried venison,” He loosened the drawstring and took out a thick strip of salted meat.

“Keep it for yourself,” She bit into a nut with a crunch, “You need it more than I.”

“Nonsense, you have fed me thus far, let me return the favour,” He insisted and she shook his head as she popped another nut into her mouth. “Enezra,” He said boldly, “Take one.”

He stood and crossed to her, holding out the sachet. She looked up at him and to the bag of jerky. Slowly she relented and her small fingers took a strip from the bunch. “Thank you,” She said quietly, examining the venison as he sat back down. She spun it in her fingers and inhaled its gamey scent. “It’s Ez,” She corrected him gently.

“My apologies,” He said. “Ez.”

She nodded and bit into the jerky, her eyes on her boots. They were marred with dirt and scuffs; the remnants of fur barely hanging onto the hide. The laces of one were long gone and the sole of the other had been sewn and re-sewn many times. Thorin looked down at his leather boots, their fur mantle thick and silver buckles reflecting the flames of the pit. If they were to venture into colder corridors, he wasn’t so worried for himself.

“We shall leave once we have finished our breakfast,” She instructed, “I would recommend you ready your sword, we cannot know what we may run into.”

“My sword is always ready,” He returned, “And what how should you ready yourself? Surely that dull knife does little to scare off predators.”

“It kept you at bay,” She shrugged as she removed the trembling kettle from over the fire, “And it is not my only weapon.”

She poured the hot water over the mesh strainers atop the mugs and the scent of walnut rose through the cave. Thorin watched her closely, trying to spot another means of defense upon her person. All he could find was the knife in its leather sheath. Its worn handle foretold of its chipped and aged blade and his eyes strayed to her large pack.

She had prepared well for the journey but he wondered if she had girded herself against him. He could not blame the small woman. He felt overgrown next to her, though she was not entirely a waif. Beneath her jacket, she was curved as any of her sex was, and she was much stronger than her appearance would suggest. He witnessed her strength himself.

He pushed his hair out of his face and she removed the filter from a mug before passing it over to him. “Do you have gloves?” She asked, “If not, you should wrapped your hands else you should lose a finger.” She warned as she took her own coffee in hand. Thorin squinted and slowly looked away from her. She was the most peculiar creature he had ever met.

Side Effects

chapter 19: 2 weeks

If Uraraka felt trapped in the Bakugou home before giving birth, she definitely felt trapped now. But she was glad that she wasn’t thrust into the chaos of the outside world and that she was wrapped up with this tiny bundle of joy who just so happened to cry and whine half of the day.

Uraraka would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying it.

She liked having somebody being dependent on her and  being able to take care of somebody. She had been told in the past that she has a motherly quality about her but she didn’t see it until she actually became a mother. It still didn’t feel real. Uraraka felt like she would be giving the baby back to somebody.

It was also nice that Masaru and Mitsuki believed in her parenting abilities. They didn’t hover, only lent her a hand when she asked for the help. They were always ready and willing to assist, Mitsuki more so since she was home most of the time unless she was running errands or having lunch with old friends. Masaru still worked, coming home late but always making time to say hello to his grandchild.

When Uraraka had asked them if they wanted her to leave, Mitsuki had looked at her like she was insane.

“Where are you gonna go?” Mitsuki had asked and truthfully, Uraraka hadn’t even thought that far. She had just wanted to get out of their hair. “You’re welcome here for as long as you like. Better you than my son.”

Uraraka had laughed but it was greatly appreciated. She finally belonged somewhere.

She just wished that Bakugou had stayed with them too the past few weeks.

She understood completely; school was still the most important thing to Bakugou. He still was driven to become a hero and having a baby didn’t affect him as much as it did Uraraka. She was still recovering, the pain mostly gone but her emotions still off kilter. Uraraka wanted to start shaving off some of the excess baby weight but she had to wait until she was all healed. Bakugou’s life didn’t have to slam on the breaks; he was just able to keep on going like nothing had happened.

Uraraka was thankful that he kept in constant contact, asking about Kazumi and how both she and the baby were doing. He was making up for the time he had lost during the pregnancy and that was all Uraraka really wanted. It would just be better if he was actually there with her.

He had come home the first weekend and with this next weekend rapidly approaching, Uraraka couldn’t wait to see him again. She just wanted a little help and a little bit of family bonding time. Because that’s what they were. A family.

Friday before Bakugou was due home Uraraka was sitting on the couch, holding Kazumi close to her chest. Kazumi was sleeping, had fallen asleep in her arms after drinking from her bottle, and Uraraka couldn’t find it in herself to put her baby girl down. Just two short weeks after she had given birth she was head over heels in love with her daughter. She understood what some new mothers said when it was the best feeling and experience in the world.

Uraraka felt her phone buzz against her leg and she made sure Kazumi was secure in one arm before opening the text.

>> these asshole wont leave me the fuck alone

Uraraka smiled as she read the text. She had gotten similar texts from Bakugou over the course of the week, him complaining about how their classmates wanted to come see the baby and how they hovered asking for pictures. She didn’t mind if they came over to meet Kazumi, she just didn’t want to overwhelm the infant with too many people and if the whole class came over it would be a lot . But she didn’t mind a few people coming over.

Bakugou was pretty adamant about them not coming over though. In fact, he said they were never ever allowed in his house again.

<< why?

>> they wanna fuckin come over even tho ive told them 100000000000 times hell fuckin no

<< maybe it’s easier to just say yes?

<< i wouldnt mind it if they came over

There was silence from Bakugou now and she knew he was pissed that she had disagreed with him. She just shook her head and let him fume in silence, putting the phone down beside her. In that moment Masaru sat down on the other side of the couch with the newspaper. He smiled gently at her and then glanced down at Kazumi through his glasses.

“How is she?” Masaru asked as he settled against the back of the couch. His voice was gentle, quiet so he didn’t wake the sleeping infant up.

Uraraka shifted Kazumi in her arms and the baby twitched, making a purring noise in the back of her throat and shaking her head. Uraraka rocked her a little bit until she settled down and was lying still in her arms again.

“Sleepy.” Uraraka smiled softly and rubbed her thumb across the back of Kazumi’s hand. She could already see growth in her baby and she thought it was amazing.

“Mm.” Masaru unfolded the newspaper. “And how are you doing?”

“I’m also sleepy. But happy. Much happier than I was when I was pregnant.”

“I told you Katsuki would come around.” Masaru sounded so proud of himself and Uraraka couldn’t even be mad. He was right and there was no denying that. Uraraka wished she had a little more faith when he had initially said this to her but everything that happening at the time led her to believe otherwise. Bakugou was being really rude and just downright awful. Uraraka didn’t think she was going to have a happy ending.

The future was still uncertain but for now, she was living the happy ending fantasy.

“I’m glad he did.” Uraraka whispered. She checked her phone again but there was still no message from Bakugou. She let it go, knowing this was nothing to get upset about. He could not respond to her and she would be fine with it. She spent a little more time with Masaru, talking about Bakugou and Kazumi and a little bit of Masaru’s job. He was still a fashion designer and he did in fact create some hero costumes. They weren’t worn by super popular heroes by any means but it still made him feel good to know that there were young heroes out there wearing the clothes he designed.

Uraraka told him maybe she would get her clothing reworked by him, but Masaru reminded her that technically she and Bakugou had matching designs as they were made by the same designer. Their costumes had predicted their love perhaps.

She carried Kazumi carefully upstairs and laid her in the bassinet beside her bed. She didn’t know when she was supposed to move Kazumi to her crib but she figured she had a couple of months. She wasn’t ready for her baby to grow that big yet. She liked rolling over in the morning and seeing Kazumi sleeping peacefully surrounded by the baby blanket her friends had made.

Uraraka fell asleep pretty quickly that night, having been up early that morning with her little girl. Kazumi woke her up once or twice in the middle of the night and Uraraka was still getting used to that. Hopefully Bakugou could come relieve her in the middle of the night tomorrow. However, the two still weren’t allowed to sleep in the same room and there were no chances that Bakugou would hear Kazumi in the first place. Bakugou was surprisingly a heavy sleeper, but so was Uraraka. She wondered when that would catch up to her. When there was a baby screaming two feet away from her though, it was hard to miss.

Kazumi woke her up at around eight and she was fed and changed, put into a cute baby blue onesie with clouds on it. Uraraka had specifically told Masaru and Mitsuki that she didn’t care about color of clothing for her daughter and didn’t want her daughter to be subjected to the gender dichotomy at two weeks old. Colors didn’t have gender and she was going to dress her daughter up however she wanted.

Kazumi just so happened to look very cute in blue.

Uraraka was just lifting Kazumi from her playpen when the front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thud. She blinked wide eyes in that direction and a fuming Bakugou emerged, one fist clenched tight at his side and the other palm flat on the door. Uraraka could see his fist trembling in fury from her position in the middle of the living room.

“Katsuki?” Uraraka’s eyebrows pinched together.

“Uraraka-san!” That did not come from Bakugou, as Bakugou would never be that formal. Instead, it came from three distinct voices, each belonging to Kirishima, Midoriya and Iida respectively.

Well, that explains why Bakugou was so annoyed.

Kirishima, followed by Kaminari, bounded in around Bakugou who seemingly had been trying to block their entrance. He was no match for Kirishima’s mass of muscle though and the two came forward, Iida, Midoriya and Tsuyu following right behind that. Uraraka was still a bit shocked and looked at the familiar faces.

“Oh, hi guys.” It took her a moment to compose herself but when she did she smiled. Kazumi was secure in her arms, awake and blinking big eyes up at her mother. Uraraka let her baby put her tiny hand around one of her fingers but kept her attention on her friends. She had undone the paws on the onesie she was wearing, her other hand still covered so she didn’t scratch herself in her sleep or when she was just wiggling around.

Uraraka was definitely surprised though to see so many of the faces she missed. She hadn’t had much interaction outside of Bakugou and his family, their family. Seeing her friends from school made her light up and feel warm inside. She could have only predicted how the train ride over to their house had been, especially with Kirishima and Kaminari coming along.

“We have come to see how you’ve been doing.” Iida said, glancing from her to Kazumi and then back to Uraraka’s face. She thought it was amusing, knowing he wanted to hold the baby immediately.

“They fucking stalked me here.” Bakugou gruffed and sat down on the couch, holding his arms out for Kazumi. Uraraka graciously placed her in his arms and Bakugou held the baby possessively against his chest, glaring at the faces of their classmates.

“You said we could come!” Kaminari shouted and Bakugou bared his teeth, holding Kazumi closer when she started squirming a bit.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou spit.

Uraraka felt an incredible amount of pride seeing Bakugou being so protective over their daughter. It was almost surreal, him being so gentle when he was always so brash. He held Kazumi like she was delicate china and really, she was. “Be sure not to squish her.” Uraraka reminded and Bakugou shifted his grip on her, no complaints.

It was amazing how parenthood could change somebody, even if that parent wasn’t around as often as the other.

Kirishima poked his head real close to Kazumi’s. “She’s so small.”

“She’s a baby you fuckwit! Don’t get too close, if you breathe on her she’ll die.”

“She will not die.” Iida declared and began rummaging in his bag. “It is very important that we clean our hands before we hold the baby so it doesn't get any illnesses we may be carrying.”

“Who the hell said I was going to let you hold her, Four Eyes?!” Bakugou barked but it seemed like all of them ignored him as they squirted hand sanitizer into their hands. Uraraka didn’t have any gripes about letting the five of them hold Kazumi but her boyfriend looked like he was about to snap at anybody who came in a five foot radius of him.

Uraraka placed a hand on his shoulder and Bakugou jolted at the soft touch. “They can hold her.”

“They’re all fucking idiots, they’ll drop her!” Bakugou argued.

Tsuyu ribbited and placed a finger to her lips. “I thought fatherhood might mellow you out, Bakugou-kun, but looks like I was wrong.”

“A-Asui-san….” Midoriya said nervously.

Bakugou looked like he wanted to lunge but the baby in his arms kept him seated. He never had any problems picking a fight with any gender.

“Katsuki, they came all this way to see her.” Uraraka didn’t want to have to wrestle Kazumi out of his arms but would if he didn’t give their friends a chance to hold her. They held each other’s eyes in an aggressive gaze for a couple of beats before Bakugou sighed and relinquished his short hold on her. Uraraka lifted her and rounded the couch, bringing her to the center of the little semicircle their friends had created.

“This is Bakugou Kazumi.” Uraraka introduced with a soft smile. All of their mouths dropped in awe as they stared at the tiny wrinkled creature in her arms. Kazumi’s eyes were half open and she couldn’t decided who to focus on, so many new faces beginning to overwhelm her.

“Who wants to be the first to hold her?” Uraraka asked, ignoring the sharp intake of breath coming from the blonde behind her.

“Me, me, me!” Kirishima was bouncing excitedly.

“You better sit the fuck down.” Bakugou warned, spreading out on the couch so Kirishima had no choice but to sit in the armchair. “If you drop her it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Kirishima pouted but sat down in the chair, holding his arms out. Uraraka instructed him on how to properly support her and laid her in his arms, watching Kirishima’s face morph from excitement to nervousness.

“I can’t do this.” Kirishima said immediately, looking down at her face.

Uraraka laughed and kneeled in front of him. “Don’t want to hold her anymore?”

“No, I’m gonna drop her, please-” Uraraka lifted the baby from his arms and Kirishima fell back with a dramatic sigh. “That was too much pressure.”

“Fucking piss baby.” Bakugou mumbled under his breath.

“I would like a turn!” Iida raised his hand high and then placed it tight by his side when Uraraka rose onto the balls of her face and walked over to him. She repeated what she had told Kirishima, saying the same thing to both Kaminari and Tsuyu after they were done holding Kazumi. Bakugou had put up a strong fight about Kaminari holding Kazumi because of the nature of his quirk. He didn’t want her to accidentally zap her and in all honesty Uraraka was a little nervous about that too.

“I have perfect control of my quirk!” Kaminari sniffed and Uraraka sighed, allowing him to hold her. There were no shocks present and it seemed like Kazumi enjoyed being in his arms most, eyes widening as Kaminari blew raspberries at her. She couldn’t smile yet but Uraraka had no doubt that if Kazumi could, she would be the smiliest baby ever. Uraraka couldn’t wait to see her baby girl smile.

Things boiled over when Uraraka went to place Kazumi in Midoriya’s arms.

“Absolutely not.” Bakugou stood and got in between them. Midoriya blinked up at Bakugou and Uraraka sighed. She knew Bakugou would be childish over this.

“Katsuki-”

“I’m not going to let my daughter be tainted by this fucking nerd.”

“Kacchan-”

“If the only insult you can come up with is ‘nerd’ then I think your opinion is overridden.” Tsuyu said matter of factly.

“Did I ask for your opinion you goddamn toad?” Bakugou said, not even casting her a glance.

“Hey!” Uraraka frowned and bounced Kazumi a little when she noticed her face scrunching up, getting ready to start wailing. “If you’re going to be nasty then you leave. You’re not the only one who gets to make decisions about my daughter. And since you didn’t even want her in the first place, you shouldn’t even get a say!” She knew that she was playing dirty and the hurt that flashed through fiery irises made her chest clench. But all Bakugou did was turn around and stomp up the stairs.

With an exhale, Uraraka turned once more to Midoriya with her usual gentle smile on her face. “Do you still want to hold her?”

Midoriya nervously glanced at the staircase. Uraraka knew he was waiting for Bakugou to pop back out and start screaming at him, but it didn’t come. “Oh no, no, no, I don’t think th-that’s such a good idea.”

Uraraka smiled and kissed Kazumi’s head. She had calmed down, no waterworks, only curious eyes scanning the room and landing on Midoriya’s face. The two shared a look and Midoriya squared his shoulders like he was preparing for an epic battle.

“I’ll hold her.” Midoriya decided.

Uraraka gently laid her in his arms and Midoriya was clearly nervous but he cradled her as he had heard the others be instructed. Supporting her head, supporting her bottom, holding her securely but not too tight. He was a natural. Again, Uraraka wondered what he would be like as a parent. But he wasn’t the one who held her heart. The one who did was sulking upstairs, trying to control his emotions.

“She looks like Kacchan.” Midoriya mused.

“Well she is his daughter.” Uraraka stated with a little laugh.

“A miracle, truly.” Kaminari mumbled and Kirishima elbowed him in the ribs, telling him not to be a dick. Uraraka was kind of grateful for that. She knew she made a poor choice though it was the right choice for her. She and Bakugou fit together like two puzzle pieces; perfectly.

Midoriya held Kazumi for a little while before returning her to Uraraka’s arms. She started crying a little, fake tears, tears that said she didn’t want to leave the warmth of Midoriya’s embrace. Uraraka placed a pacifier in her mouth and wiped her tears, cooing at her daughter. When she looked up, all five of her classmates were looking at her with a strange expression on their faces.

“What is it?” Uraraka asked nervously.

Iida cleared his throat. “You have changed, Uraraka.”

Uraraka’s smile was wavering. “Is that good or bad?”

Iida shook his head. “It is very good. You are happy and that is all that matters to us. You deserve happiness.”

Uraraka’s brown eyes watered and she closed them for a moment, regaining her composure. “Thank you.” She was glad somebody thought so.

Iida returned her smile and the five of them stayed for a couple more minutes before departing. Uraraka took to spending more time with Kazumi for the rest of the night and put her down after they all ate dinner. She pumped some more breast milk (that was uncomfortable) and made up three bottles before she finally confronted Bakugou in his room.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She said, standing in the doorway.

Bakugou looked up from his phone and nodded. “You better be.”

“Don’t be like that.” Uraraka’s shoulders slumped.

Bakugou stood and walked to her slowly. Uraraka knew better than to back away; she had nothing to be afraid of. His warm, blistered palms came up to cup her face gently, red eyes meeting hers like they had hours before. “Deku makes me so fucking mad.”

“Why?” Uraraka whispered. “Why couldn’t you just put aside your differences? Don’t you want me to be happy? Iida does. They all do. You constantly go out of your way to provoke me or somebody else. Or get a reaction out of us.”

“I know.” Bakugou spoke through clenched teeth. “God I fucking know it. I just… I can’t… Fuck.” He always had a hard time putting his thoughts into words. Uraraka was patient, she always was.

“I don’t want Kazumi growing up without you. I don’t want her to grow up with her father being angry all the time and yelling at me and us arguing. I want this to work. But you have to work on yourself first.” Uraraka explained.

Bakugou’s brows creased. “Are you dumping me?”

“No!” Uraraka shook her head quickly. “I want to help you. For us. For Kazumi. Let go of that anger. Tell me about your worries. I was the only one talking in the beginning, I think you owe me the same.”

Bakugou released a trembling breath. “Fine.”

They moved to Uraraka’s room where Kazumi was sleeping just in case she woke up and needed them. They leaned against the pillows facing each other, Bakugou taking her fingers in his hand, pressing on fingernails and the pads of her fingers. The whole time he spoke quietly of his nightmares and his PTSD to every single shitty thing that happened in their first year of UA that were still affecting him.

It was the closest they had been in a while. Uraraka felt like she learned more about Bakugou in those couple of hours than she had in their entire relationship. And it was wonderful . This was what Uraraka wanted, to feel closer to him, to feel like they were an actual couple.

Falling asleep with their fingers twined together, their sleeping baby girl in her bassinet beside them, things were definitely starting to piece together quickly. All the puzzle pieces surrounding theirs were coming together, beginning to finish the picture.

Untitled: Opening

The day of release…spaciousness. A cavernous window I’ve been pointed towards that lives nowhere else but in me, with certain eyes which I can choose to put on. This experience, being here has changed me, is changing me, from both inside and out. It’s like as if by some perfect alignment I am exactly where I need to be and given exactly what I need to sustain myself, to work through the muck that I’ve held on to, and to heal, wholly, fully both interior and ex. I’ve been putting together pieces all along, and here I am feeling full. Feeling the space that exists in feeling but in holding space for that entire spectrum. I am inside of my fear and see that it is my fear and is here, and allowed just as is my joy. But here, I’m completely overtaken by the sense of hope. The hole of hopelessness that many of us carry is evident, once which has at one time or another held us down by its metastatic evolution. But here, that hole is continuously being given light. Being fed with hope and healing and we are eating it breathing, drinking it into our veins and spitting it right back out to one another. I am so grateful for this place, for this experience, this little heavenly cloud in the northern Mexican sky has pulled me to another dimension of self. One lighter and freer, and almost entirely new. I have no way to know what lies on the other side of this experience, and that partly injects me with fear, but the hope I have acquired has become so abounding that I also feel like it may just be a part of me now, too. Perhaps hope and the hole live together in unison. The hole still itself, and hope, herself. But together, at the same time, allowing that some day, at some point hope will become it. They will fuse into one creature, and my truth will be that hope carried me, and led me to more. Hope let me know that within me there is space, abounding. And though many things may pass through, they do not have to become me. People think that you’re sick and then you get better. But perhaps i might prefer to say you get sick, and that means you feel a lot of things. “How do you feel?” A lot of things. From many angles. I mostly feel grateful to be alive and to feel love for myself and for you. I also might feel pain in my head face jaw teeth lips neck shoulders elbows arms wrists hands nails chest ribs heart stomach left side right side back side lower back hips thighs pelvis knees shins heels ankles toes feet and their soles. It’s likely my abdomen has a certain amount of pain at most given times, but it’s also likely that after feeling that, a few minutes later I summon a smile and feel genuine joy, anyway. I often feel nauseous in waves that ebb In their necessity to either adore or avoid food entirely. My heart hurts randomly, in pulses of pain and I try to remember that it’s probably not a heart attack, and anyway feel it’s warmth in the presence of another beautiful soul. Being here has changed me. Being here has allowed me to see the beauty and the graciousness that coexists amongst sadness, and pain, and despair. Being here I am engulfed in love. For eachother, for ourselves, for life itself, for our breath and the sky and the air and the sea and nourishment and a good day and a good second, minute, hour. Being here I’ve lived gratitude. Ive not simply felt it but it has inhabited me. As if another organ, it pumps itself throughout me uninhibited, living here alongside all the other parts, pumping even when my stomach writhes in acidic knots, and my colon cries, gratitude swirls throughout me. I am alive and gifted this pleasure of another day, another moment to feel both the pleasure, and the pain, and whatever else might find it’s way in between. And all is okay. It’s all here. It’s all love. I am changed. And I am endlessly grateful for it. Bless this place and the beautiful people who together, we come and we heal. Together, we rise. I wondered why it’s been difficult for tears to fall here, and I realise that I thought there was only this room for one emotion in the process of healing and recovery, but joy is a feeling I needed to find again. I’ve found that here. And now my hope, and love, and joy, and pain, and sadness, and fear, they all live here, free to move to shrink to grow. I am the sea, ever rolling, ever deepening, ever changing. And just as I am rooted, I am a forest of feeling and being.

[The author, being informed of a design to accuse him of high-treason, makes his escape to Blefuscu. His reception there.] Before I proceed to give an account of my leaving this kingdom, it may be proper to inform the reader of a private intrigue which had been for two months forming against me. I had been hitherto, all my life, a stranger to courts, for which I was unqualified by the meanness of my condition. I had indeed heard and read enough of the dispositions of great princes and ministers, but never expected to have found such terrible effects of them, in so remote a country, governed, as I thought, by very different maxims from those in Europe. When I was just preparing to pay my attendance on the emperor of Blefuscu, a considerable person at court (to whom I had been very serviceable, at a time when he lay under the highest displeasure of his imperial majesty) came to my house very privately at night, in a close chair, and, without sending his name, desired admittance. The chairmen were dismissed; I put the chair, with his lordship in it, into my coat-pocket: and, giving orders to a trusty servant, to say I was indisposed and gone to sleep, I fastened the door of my house, placed the chair on the table, according to my usual custom, and sat down by it. After the common salutations were over, observing his lordship's countenance full of concern, and inquiring into the reason, he desired "I would hear him with patience, in a matter that highly concerned my honour and my life." His speech was to the following effect, for I took notes of it as soon as he left me:- "You are to know," said he, "that several committees of council have been lately called, in the most private manner, on your account; and it is but two days since his majesty came to a full resolution. "You are very sensible that Skyresh Bolgolam" (GALBET, or high-admiral) "has been your mortal enemy, almost ever since your arrival. His original reasons I know not; but his hatred is increased since your great success against Blefuscu, by which his glory as admiral is much obscured. This lord, in conjunction with Flimnap the high-treasurer, whose enmity against you is notorious on account of his lady, Limtoc the general, Lalcon the chamberlain, and Balmuff the grand justiciary, have prepared articles of impeachment against you, for treason and other capital crimes." This preface made me so impatient, being conscious of my own merits and innocence, that I was going to interrupt him; when he entreated me to be silent, and thus proceeded: - "Out of gratitude for the favours you have done me, I procured information of the whole proceedings, and a copy of the articles; wherein I venture my head for your service. "'Articles of Impeachment against QUINBUS FLESTRIN, (the Man-Mountain.) ARTICLE I. "'Whereas, by a statute made in the reign of his imperial majesty Calin Deffar Plune, it is enacted, that, whoever shall make water within the precincts of the royal palace, shall be liable to the pains and penalties of high-treason; notwithstanding, the said Quinbus Flestrin, in open breach of the said law, under colour of extinguishing the fire kindled in the apartment of his majesty's most dear imperial consort, did maliciously, traitorously, and devilishly, by discharge of his urine, put out the said fire kindled in the said apartment, lying and being within the precincts of the said royal palace, against the statute in that case provided, etc. against the duty, etc. ARTICLE II. "'That the said Quinbus Flestrin, having brought the imperial fleet of Blefuscu into the royal port, and being afterwards commanded by his imperial majesty to seize all the other ships of the said empire of Blefuscu, and reduce that empire to a province, to be governed by a viceroy from hence, and to destroy and put to death, not only all the Big-endian exiles, but likewise all the people of that empire who would not immediately forsake the Big-endian heresy, he, the said Flestrin, like a false traitor against his most auspicious, serene, imperial majesty, did petition to be excused from the said service, upon pretence of unwillingness to force the consciences, or destroy the liberties and lives of an innocent people. ARTICLE III. "'That, whereas certain ambassadors arrived from the Court of Blefuscu, to sue for peace in his majesty's court, he, the said Flestrin, did, like a false traitor, aid, abet, comfort, and divert, the said ambassadors, although he knew them to be servants to a prince who was lately an open enemy to his imperial majesty, and in an open war against his said majesty. ARTICLE IV. "'That the said Quinbus Flestrin, contrary to the duty of a faithful subject, is now preparing to make a voyage to the court and empire of Blefuscu, for which he has received only verbal license from his imperial majesty; and, under colour of the said license, does falsely and traitorously intend to take the said voyage, and thereby to aid, comfort, and abet the emperor of Blefuscu, so lately an enemy, and in open war with his imperial majesty aforesaid.' "There are some other articles; but these are the most important, of which I have read you an abstract. "In the several debates upon this impeachment, it must be confessed that his majesty gave many marks of his great lenity; often urging the services you had done him, and endeavouring to extenuate your crimes. The treasurer and admiral insisted that you should be put to the most painful and ignominious death, by setting fire to your house at night, and the general was to attend with twenty thousand men, armed with poisoned arrows, to shoot you on the face and hands. Some of your servants were to have private orders to strew a poisonous juice on your shirts and sheets, which would soon make you tear your own flesh, and die in the utmost torture. The general came into the same opinion; so that for a long time there was a majority against you; but his majesty resolving, if possible, to spare your life, at last brought off the chamberlain. "Upon this incident, Reldresal, principal secretary for private affairs, who always approved himself your true friend, was commanded by the emperor to deliver his opinion, which he accordingly did; and therein justified the good thoughts you have of him. He allowed your crimes to be great, but that still there was room for mercy, the most commendable virtue in a prince, and for which his majesty was so justly celebrated. He said, the friendship between you and him was so well known to the world, that perhaps the most honourable board might think him partial; however, in obedience to the command he had received, he would freely offer his sentiments. That if his majesty, in consideration of your services, and pursuant to his own merciful disposition, would please to spare your life, and only give orders to put out both your eyes, he humbly conceived, that by this expedient justice might in some measure be satisfied, and all the world would applaud the lenity of the emperor, as well as the fair and generous proceedings of those who have the honour to be his counsellors. That the loss of your eyes would be no impediment to your bodily strength, by which you might still be useful to his majesty; that blindness is an addition to courage, by concealing dangers from us; that the fear you had for your eyes, was the greatest difficulty in bringing over the enemy's fleet, and it would be sufficient for you to see by the eyes of the ministers, since the greatest princes do no more. "This proposal was received with the utmost disapprobation by the whole board. Bolgolam, the admiral, could not preserve his temper, but, rising up in fury, said, he wondered how the secretary durst presume to give his opinion for preserving the life of a traitor; that the services you had performed were, by all true reasons of state, the great aggravation of your crimes; that you, who were able to extinguish the fire by discharge of urine in her majesty's apartment (which he mentioned with horror), might, at another time, raise an inundation by the same means, to drown the whole palace; and the same strength which enabled you to bring over the enemy's fleet, might serve, upon the first discontent, to carry it back; that he had good reasons to think you were a Big-endian in your heart; and, as treason begins in the heart, before it appears in overt-acts, so he accused you as a traitor on that account, and therefore insisted you should be put to death. "The treasurer was of the same opinion: he showed to what straits his majesty's revenue was reduced, by the charge of maintaining you, which would soon grow insupportable; that the secretary's expedient of putting out your eyes, was so far from being a remedy against this evil, that it would probably increase it, as is manifest from the common practice of blinding some kind of fowls, after which they fed the faster, and grew sooner fat; that his sacred majesty and the council, who are your judges, were, in their own consciences, fully convinced of your guilt, which was a sufficient argument to condemn you to death, without the formal proofs required by the strict letter of the law. "But his imperial majesty, fully determined against capital punishment, was graciously pleased to say, that since the council thought the loss of your eyes too easy a censure, some other way may be inflicted hereafter. And your friend the secretary, humbly desiring to be heard again, in answer to what the treasurer had objected, concerning the great charge his majesty was at in maintaining you, said, that his excellency, who had the sole disposal of the emperor's revenue, might easily provide against that evil, by gradually lessening your establishment; by which, for want of sufficient for you would grow weak and faint, and lose your appetite, and consequently, decay, and consume in a few months; neither would the stench of your carcass be then so dangerous, when it should become more than half diminished; and immediately upon your death five or six thousand of his majesty's subjects might, in two or three days, cut your flesh from your bones, take it away by cart-loads, and bury it in distant parts, to prevent infection, leaving the skeleton as a monument of admiration to posterity. "Thus, by the great friendship of the secretary, the whole affair was compromised. It was strictly enjoined, that the project of starving you by degrees should be kept a secret; but the sentence of putting out your eyes was entered on the books; none dissenting, except Bolgolam the admiral, who, being a creature of the empress, was perpetually instigated by her majesty to insist upon your death, she having borne perpetual malice against you, on account of that infamous and illegal method you took to extinguish the fire in her apartment. "In three days your friend the secretary will be directed to come to your house, and read before you the articles of impeachment; and then to signify the great lenity and favour of his majesty and council, whereby you are only condemned to the loss of your eyes, which his majesty does not question you will gratefully and humbly submit to; and twenty of his majesty's surgeons will attend, in order to see the operation well performed, by discharging very sharp-pointed arrows into the balls of your eyes, as you lie on the ground. "I leave to your prudence what measures you will take; and to avoid suspicion, I must immediately return in as private a manner as I came." His lordship did so; and I remained alone, under many doubts and perplexities of mind. It was a custom introduced by this prince and his ministry (very different, as I have been assured, from the practice of former times,) that after the court had decreed any cruel execution, either to gratify the monarch's resentment, or the malice of a favourite, the emperor always made a speech to his whole council, expressing his great lenity and tenderness, as qualities known and confessed by all the world. This speech was immediately published throughout the kingdom; nor did any thing terrify the people so much as those encomiums on his majesty's mercy; because it was observed, that the more these praises were enlarged and insisted on, the more inhuman was the punishment, and the sufferer more innocent. Yet, as to myself, I must confess, having never been designed for a courtier, either by my birth or education, I was so ill a judge of things, that I could not discover the lenity and favour of this sentence, but conceived it (perhaps erroneously) rather to be rigorous than gentle. I sometimes thought of standing my trial, for, although I could not deny the facts alleged in the several articles, yet I hoped they would admit of some extenuation. But having in my life perused many state-trials, which I ever observed to terminate as the judges thought fit to direct, I durst not rely on so dangerous a decision, in so critical a juncture, and against such powerful enemies. Once I was strongly bent upon resistance, for, while I had liberty the whole strength of that empire could hardly subdue me, and I might easily with stones pelt the metropolis to pieces; but I soon rejected that project with horror, by remembering the oath I had made to the emperor, the favours I received from him, and the high title of NARDAC he conferred upon me. Neither had I so soon learned the gratitude of courtiers, to persuade myself, that his majesty's present seventies acquitted me of all past obligations. At last, I fixed upon a resolution, for which it is probable I may incur some censure, and not unjustly; for I confess I owe the preserving of mine eyes, and consequently my liberty, to my own great rashness and want of experience; because, if I had then known the nature of princes and ministers, which I have since observed in many other courts, and their methods of treating criminals less obnoxious than myself, I should, with great alacrity and readiness, have submitted to so easy a punishment. But hurried on by the precipitancy of youth, and having his imperial majesty's license to pay my attendance upon the emperor of Blefuscu, I took this opportunity, before the three days were elapsed, to send a letter to my friend the secretary, signifying my resolution of setting out that morning for Blefuscu, pursuant to the leave I had got; and, without waiting for an answer, I went to that side of the island where our fleet lay. I seized a large man of war, tied a cable to the prow, and, lifting up the anchors, I stripped myself, put my clothes (together with my coverlet, which I carried under my arm) into the vessel, and, drawing it after me, between wading and swimming arrived at the royal port of Blefuscu, where the people had long expected me: they lent me two guides to direct me to the capital city, which is of the same name. I held them in my hands, till I came within two hundred yards of the gate, and desired them "to signify my arrival to one of the secretaries, and let him know, I there waited his majesty's command." I had an answer in about an hour, "that his majesty, attended by the royal family, and great officers of the court, was coming out to receive me." I advanced a hundred yards. The emperor and his train alighted from their horses, the empress and ladies from their coaches, and I did not perceive they were in any fright or concern. I lay on the ground to kiss his majesty's and the empress's hands. I told his majesty, "that I was come according to my promise, and with the license of the emperor my master, to have the honour of seeing so mighty a monarch, and to offer him any service in my power, consistent with my duty to my own prince;" not mentioning a word of my disgrace, because I had hitherto no regular information of it, and might suppose myself wholly ignorant of any such design; neither could I reasonably conceive that the emperor would discover the secret, while I was out of his power; wherein, however, it soon appeared I was deceived. I shall not trouble the reader with the particular account of my reception at this court, which was suitable to the generosity of so great a prince; nor of the difficulties I was in for want of a house and bed, being forced to lie on the ground, wrapped up in my coverlet.

God Who Gives the Growth

"God Who Gives the Growth" A sermon for St. Martin's-by-the-Lake Episcopal Church, Minnetonka Beach, Minnesota Final sermon of my tenure as Byrd Curate Deuteronomy 30:15-20 | Psalm 119:1-8 | I Corinthians 3:1-9 | Matthew 5:21-37

I'm grateful to be with you this Sunday, preaching what will be my last sermon here at St. Martin's-by-the-Lake. I’ll be here for the last time next week, and after that we’ll have a few weeks to pack before we move and I become rector of Trinity Church in the city of Baraboo, WI. Over the last three years, I’ve spent a little more than two of them worshipping with you at St. Martin’s. Serving as the inaugural Byrd Curate has been a wonderful experience, one that has shaped me and prepared me well to be Trinity Baraboo’s rector. Even this building is a special space for us: we were married here in 2013, and a year ago I baptized Miriam here.

And yet, when the Bible talks about church, it's not talking about a building. In our New Testament reading this morning, St. Paul tells us that "we are God's servants, working together; *you are God's field, God's building." The church is not a building, because *you are God’s building, *you are God’s church. I am grateful for the many of you who spend time caring and being cared for at St. Martin's and I'm grateful for those of you who have helped our family feel welcome here. I have felt your love and appreciation everyday, and it has been a pleasure to serve Jesus with you, and I hope to be able to say goodbye personally to as many of you as possible over the next week.

It's a bittersweet move. Some of you have shared stories of your hardest pain, your worst fear, this car accident and that broken relationship with me, and I've often carried those situations with me in prayer long after you told me about them. Others have welcomed me into rooms in hospitals and nursing homes to be with loved ones dying, welcomed me into the hardest days of your lives. It has been such a privilege to minister with you in those moments, to say prayers together, to honor the Lord Jesus Christ at those pivotal times in this life. Thank you for the trust that you have shown me. It has made me a better Christian, a better pastor and a better human being. 

I.

Our New Testament reading this morning deals with pastors, pastors leaving, and what happens to the church when they go. Paul is writing his first letter to the church in Corinth, which we call First Corinthians, and they are dealing much less well with pastors coming and going than you are here at St. Martin’s.

Paul had founded the church there and then moved on, leaving the church in the care of other leaders.  We can tell from this letter that now some of the people in the Corinthian church are telling everyone else how spiritual they are, how God is telling them about what will happen in the future. God has blessed them with wisdom and knowledge because they are elites. Everyone else is less valuable, less spiritual. This spiritual ranking quickly devolves into cliques. Some of the church starts making a disturbance during worship, chanting “I belong to Paul” and others chant back, “I belong to Apollos,” another prominent leader in the congregation. If this happened today, text messages would be flying back and forth, people would be asking one pastor to do their family members’ funeral and totally ignoring the other pastor, phones would be ringing off the hook gossiping about what all of those unspiritual people were up to.

And all the while, these people think that they are the ones who are spiritual. They will tell you all about their own faith; they are the fastest people to tell you how long they have been Episcopalian.

But Paul writes to them to tell them: they aren’t spiritual at all. “I could not speak to you as spiritual people,” Paul says. “You are infants in Christ, so I fed you with milk, not solid food.” Imagine the insult: the super-spiritual people being told they aren’t hardly Christians at all. How does Paul know? Because of all the fighting in the community.  

II. 

A common criticism of preaching in churches like ours, where we teach from the lectionary and from Scripture rather than on specific topics, is that preaching isn’t relevant to daily life, or that people don’t know how to connect what we do in church with their daily lives. Well, here’s a simple one: if you claim to be a Christian and turn up to worship God on Sunday, and then you turn around and fight with people about your church, you’re not as Christian as you say you are. Because of my age, I get asked a lot why there aren't more young people in churches generally. One big reason is that there are lots of churches who fight about unimportant things and don’t seem to care about the gospel at all. They might be God’s field, but you’d never know it. They get behind one pastor or another, and when Father Apollos finally separates from Father Paul and goes to another church, they take their checkbook and their attitude to Father Apollos' new church. Or, more often I've found, they just stop going to church anywhere at all. 

And yet, in this passage this morning, Paul is clear about two things: First, the church is a community of people who need each other, who are interlocked in a communal system. If one person is absent from the community, the entire community is weakened. Christian faith is not a private faith, it is not a faith that is only between us and God. Our absences, our self-absorption, our lack of spiritual understanding, our focus only on our own feelings: they don't just miss the point, they actually detract from the community of Christians we worship with. Second, the church does not belong to us - not to the person who gives the most each year, not to the clergy, not to the person who comes when they feel like it hoping that worship will be just the same as it was the last time they were here three years ago. The church - and this church - doesn't belong to any of us. The church belongs to God. The church is God's field, the church grows towards God’s purpose. When we worship God Sunday by Sunday, we do it for God, not for ourselves. We thank God for his work in our lives and for this community of people with whom we live, love, cry, serve, witness, bless – this community of people called the church.

III.

The church belongs to God.  Paul’s church in Corinth struggled with jealousy, with quarreling. With members ranking other members on a scale by their wealth, by their perceived value to the community, by what pastor they liked best, the church was immature. But thanks be to God, immature churches can grow up – they can learn to eat steaks instead of drinking milk out of a bottle. For Paul, part of this growing to maturity meant that the Corinthians had to stop holding up the Christian leaders they followed. “What is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. Neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”

Paul’s words here don’t just apply to clergy, they apply to all of us. Whether your ministry is salting the sidewalks on Sunday morning, encouraging people at a Fireside Dinner, or something else, we take no personal value form the ministries we are involved with. We are not better people, or more valuable people, because of the ministries we do. We are planting and watering and taking care of God’s field, working so that God can meet each person with his mercy and his love. God has already instituted his new government in our world through Jesus, but “we are graciously called and moved to be participants in what God alone is able to create.”[1] 

And yet, even though we are workers in God’s field, God blesses those who minister in this way. I think of the Eucharistic visitor who went to take communion to a parishioner who is living in a nursing home and who doesn’t remember much anymore, and how the visitor teared up as she described a “sweet moment” of taking communion with him. I think of the high school student who went out of their way to invite a disabled friend to a youth event and the joy that our youth leaders witnessed as the group spent the day together. Paul says that the one who plants and the one who waters will receive their wages, and I think this is what he means. The Lord helps the work of ministry to help us feel fulfilled. The Lord meets the servants working in his field.

IV.

As I have taught and preached here these last three years, I hope that I have consistently pointed you to the fact that the gospel matters for our relationships. Because Jesus has conquered the power of evil through his crucifixion and because he has come to life again in the resurrection, the hold that all sin – including jealousy, quarrels and gossip – has over us has been broken, and our relationships can be transformed.

What does living like that look like? “Elaine came home late one night after some sort of youthful troublemaking, the details of which I forget and are of no importance. Her mother met her at the door with a facial expression that every child fears to receive from a parent - tight, hard, judgmental, cold. As Elaine tells it, the mother took one look at her ashamed and exhausted daughter and her whole face softened. Every hard line relaxed. The look of judgment transmuted into a look of unconditional love. Just as in the story about the prodigal son coming home to his father, before Elaine even got a chance to say, “I know I’ve been bad, you don’t have to tell me,” the mother said, “You go get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” Many years later after her mother had died, the daughter related that story as a turning point in her life. As she told us, “Mother did talk to me later” – but she did so out of the new situation that had been created, one of love and not of condemnation. Thus we see that the grace of God is mediated into human life, by simple … acts of love from mother to daughter, wife to husband, friend to friend.”[2]

I want my life to be transformed by those simple acts of love and I suspect that you do too. I want my life to facilitate those acts of love for other people, and I suspect that you want yours to facilitate those acts too. That is what being a Christian is all about, and though I will depart from you after next week, the mission of the gospel will go on: the field belongs to God, and God will be faithful to grow that field up into a bountiful harvest of faith, hope and love.  

[1] Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion, 222.

[2] Fleming Rutledge, The Bible and the New York Times, 181.

letters to

my mother:

my mothers boyfriend: i’m not going to villainize you. you graciously opened up your home to my mother and i. you provided shelter, fed us, sacrificed your personal space for us all while quietly dealing with grief and the loss of your wife of 40+ years. i will always remember and appreciate that. this was never going to work out. do you remember two years ago when you drank a little too much gin and tonic at the new years event at the davenport hotel and took it as a pass to display inappropriate behavior towards me, a seventeen year old at the time? and when i told my mother, she dismissed the idea and to not be so harsh on you because you were just drunk and didn’t mean it and was going through a death. i think it’s inexcusable. i think it’s fucked up how my own mother didn’t defend me. i let a thirty-two year old touch me the same year. it was consensual at the time but i regretted it weeks later and would feel nauseous and anxious every day for a few months, accompanied by flashbacks to what happened. when i tried to tell her i wanted to see a therapist about it, she shut me down again and said i shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. since i wanted it.  anyway, what you did to me was before you started dating her. and when she told me you were seeing each other, i felt betrayed. how could you attempt to love someone who made your daughter uncomfortable and feel violated and objectified? how could your standards be so low? i didn’t say anything, though. i kept it inside. because so far, what i’ve been taught, is that nothing i feel fucking matters.  i told my mother that i didn’t have respect for him, that he would have to earn it. and it got worse when i moved in.  you are the epitome of white middle america! you embody structural and institutionalized white supremacy and the patriarchy. you are close minded, sexist, racist, and problematic in so many ways. let’s start with how you treat me. you are constantly making inappropriate remarks and “jokes” that i am verbally uncomfortable with but you continue doing. telling me to bend over so you could spank me isn’t funny. you don’t think my education is important. you belittle me for always staying in my room, but is it really my fault when i don’t feel comfortable around you? you treat my mother a hundred times worse. you try to control her. like shes your little asian object/property. you’re constantly silencing her, telling her to shut up or be quiet or shush. you invalidate her feelings and make her feel like her feelings don’t matter. you try to whitewash her. you lied to her about who you really were. i think you’re using her to cope with your grief. even though she speaks clearly, albeit with a heavy accent, you tell her to speak english and that you have no idea what shes saying. thats so wildly racist and heartbreaking. she studied english (its funny when you try to correct her because you cant spell for shit and dont have an education past elementary school) moved to the country when she was 25 and communicates just fine. you dont let her use the kitchen, which is so therapeutic for her. you dont pay attention to her. you’re not caring. you’re condescending and rude. you don’t love her.  i wish you would look at yourself. i have no idea what you’re going through inside, but through my lens, it looks like you’re depressed. it must be so fucking hard for you, losing your life partner, your world, your rock. the only thing you knew to be steady and consistent. and i have no right to judge you for ways you choose to cope. but i have my concerns for potential dangers. you start sipping R&R at 11 in the morning and continue until you decide to sleep at around 8:30. you try to hide the fact you’d been crying when we come around. you tinker around in the garage, smoking cigars, for a couple hours. you come back inside. you glue your eyes to the television in the dark. i can tell you try to lose yourself this way. the way you stare at the screen and talk back to it is unlike anyone i’ve ever seen. as if you’re looking beyond the screen. 

sometimes i have concerns about our safety. you took my mother out for dinner the other night and drove even though you’d been drinking all day. you clipped a car trying to cross a lane and thankfully, nothing happened. it was your fault. but you refuse to admit it. don’t try to tell me it wasn’t because you were drunk.   i’ve been thinking about death an unusual amount. you’re not an aggressive drunk, but you’re careless. ive seen you snap at my mother. you’re depressed. i don’t exactly know what your mental state is and what buttons pushed could lead to something volatile. but cases of whiskey, mixed with the amount of guns in the house you boast about, mixed in with my  mother’s provocative nature. i think a percentage of my restlessness at night is me trying to cope in advance, in case i hear gunshots one night. or come home to cold bodies. 

my father

my brother:  the only people i would die for are you and my unborn children. 

my ex lover

my lover

my best friend

me erratic sleeper, emotional compartamentalist, procrastinator