#Lloyd is fed up with life

[i-m-art-ix]

People, people, I have an idea, because in Ninjago the main God that people believe in is the FSM and attention:

Lloyd meets an Atheist.

🤭

This might be interesting, just imagine it

Atheist: but what evidence do we have that God exists, we have seen him, no

Lloyd who is God's grandson, a hybrid and accidentally met him because he died a little:... I see

Ninja:*trying to hold back laughter*

Well, interesting, interesting

[ronearoundblindly]

Forgive me if I sent this ask before... I don't remember if I did 😅 but if not just know that I thought about sending it in since you started this series 🙈

For who would:

If you just hand them your baby niece or nephew or a baby you're watching for a friend (just any baby lol) who would hand it right back to you, silently hold it with a sheer look of panic till you come back and take it or be a natural and not give it back to you at all?

I love this bit of fluff and silliness for a Sunday; excellent question!

James Mace

He asks a lot of questions about what needs done or should be done. Is it changing time? How much head support should he provide? Is this a DND (do not disturb, D&D is for his own kiddos) baby ready for a nap? Is this play time? Should he be engaging the baby or keeping up conversation with the group?

Now, as to whether or not having the baby in his arms gives him any ideas: not any more than he's already had. You two have plans, you've talked about this and are on the same page, so his interactions right then have to do with that baby at that moment. He doesn't necessarily have stronger feelings when handling other people's children.

Curtis Everett

Curtis does not trust himself around babies especially. He goes extremely stiff and extremely quiet. He stares intensely. He will not do anything unless you tell him to do something with the baby. Even then he is not truly comfortable.

Babies bring up a lot of memories and emotions for him, and theoretically he knows he isn't in the same place/headspace as when he was younger, he knows babies aren't in as much danger as the old days, but he still gets so overwhelmed by it.

Yes, Curtis is even like this with his own children. He counts the days until his child is old enough to not be considered a 'baby' anymore. In fact, Curtis enjoys the memory of their infancy, pictures and videos, etc, more than he can enjoy being with them as infants.

Jimmy Dobyne

Honestly, a total natural. Small towns and rural areas mean closer-knit families, neighbors, and friends. They all help each other out. A bunch of kids shuffle around to spend afternoons here or Saturdays there. Babies get passed around to let parents get errands done or go on dates. It's not a big deal; it's just a way of life.

At this point, Jimmy has cleaned up after and fed a dozen different species of 'babies.' He's fine with it. He doesn't play much though, not with babies. Jimmy prefers when they're old enough to run around for catch or sports, etc. That's more his wheelhouse.

Johnny Storm

Fucking terrified to handle babies but LOVES entertaining them. Will do absolutely anything to make that baby laugh. To a fault sometimes because Johnny will get so animated he knocks shit over in the house or wherever you two are.

You give him credit for trying though.

Jake Jensen

Sits that baby up on his lap and continues to watch whatever screen he's focused on.

Jake isn't necessarily bad with babies, but he prefers to continue to enjoy the more adult entertainment/interactions around him. Like Jimmy, he will be more than hands-on excited once that baby can be active with their own interests (sports or otherwise) because he will participate and support 100%. Babies are just a bit too floppy and unreadable for him.

Lloyd Hansen

Thrilled to let those tiny baby fingers try to hold the grip of his switchblade. Adores how fucking angry the parents (or you) get when he plays with knives around them or has them play with the knives. Lloyd secretly finds baby facial reactions to be the funniest things on the planet--but, no, he doesn't actually like babies.

Ari Levinson

Ari is a playful papa through and through. Has more than once strapped that carrier to his chest and wondered around with someone's kiddo for whole parties. Endlessly entertained and entertaining when it comes to babies.

However, Ari really, really doesn't like when babies get grabby and pull at his hair. That shit hurts, and he hates it. Also he's oddly squeamish about spit-up and/or vomit. Technically, he is not a fan of diaper duty, like very, very, very not a fan.

Ransom Drysdale

The absolute fuck are you handing him a baby for??? Bitch, are you insane?! Be real. Seriously. Just don't.

There isn't even much improvement in this behavior when it's Ran's own child. Not a fan of the 'baby' stage, this one.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Lumping these two together because they do exactly the same things. Steve and Bucky physically treat female and male babies differently; they are sweet and cooing with girls, and then they talk about or mimic sports things with boys. They don't mean to be presumptive in this behavior, just do it be default.

Neither is afraid to roll their sleeves up and help with feeding or changing. They'll give equal attention to the baby and the group around you. They will both happily sit/stand/walk around with a napping baby in their arms--although they aren't thrilled to be unable to help with other stuff while they have no available hands.

Thank you for asking!

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[sarawritestories]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Life isn't worth living without your mate by your side.

A/N: I'm making my angsty mood everyone else's problem. 😘 I also got misty eyed writing this

Content Warning: PLEASE READ CAUTIOUSLY Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, suicide attempt, Death of a Main Character. Grief

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Title inspired by this song:

You couldn't escape him. Every where you turn, it was as though he was there. His scent, his clothes, his weapons it was suffocating. Cruel. Two years. You only had two years with Cassian before he fell in battle. Two years with your mate.

How cruel the mother was two years of stolen kisses, late night snacks, morning runs, and his constant need to have his arms around you. With him, you were safe, loved, and cared for.

You had begged him not to leave to stay home with you. He simply pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I promise to come home to you, Sweetheart." You sobbed as he pressed his lips to your and then kissed your tears away, "I am the General of the Night Courts armies. I have been to many battles and have always come home. I will come home to you sweet girl." Another soft kiss, "I love you."

With a wobbly lip, "And I love you. Be safe." You hand him the necklace that he gave you for solstice of an eight pointed star. He wrapped the chain around his neck and took to the skies.

When Rhys and Azriel returned, your eyes searched everywhere for flashes of red. Only to notice Cassian's brothers had streaks on their mud ridden and bloodied faces from where they shed their cheers. It was Rhys who held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He held your palm up and placed something cold in it when he moved his hand, the eight pointed star necklace caked in dirt, and blood stared back at you. Shock riddled your body as Rhys said in your mind, I'm so sorry, Darling

Shaking your head, you clung the necklace to your chest. You found it difficult to breathe as you reached through the bond. Calling out for him, only to find the other side empty. Hollow. Hands were on you as you collapsed to the floor and sobs overtook your body. Still pushing love down the bond, only to be met with cold, dark air where his warmth and love used to be. You screamed, "Cassian!" Over and over until your voice became dry and you ended up dehydrated.

Az scooped you in his arms and brought you to your bed where the faint scent of Cassian remained and a fresh wave of tears came. What if the smell faded? Would your memories of his smile, his eyes, his long, onyx hair be gone too. Az just sat and held your hand until your sobs turned into hiccups and exhaustion pulled you into sleep.

After two months, you were finding it hard to get out of bed. The necklace tucked to your chest, wearing one of his shirts, and you still reached out to the dulled golden string. You hoped that it was a bad dream.

Rhys and Az would alternate taking care of you, making sure you were fed and made sure you stayed hydrated they had a schedule and a pattern that you picked up on.

You had overheard them talking about trying to get you out and into society again. You barely saw the point, your mate was ripped away from you, and now, colors were dull, music fell flat, nothing was worth seeing without Cassian.

You sat up from your bed and sighed, and you wanted him hear in your arms in. You wished that he would appear again. You hung your head low because you knew that was wishful thinking and that he would never come back.

You pulled something out of the dresser on his side, trying to fight the tears as a fresh wave of his leather and Sandalwood scent flooded your nose. You headed to your bathroom, placing the Star pendant around your neck. Not noticing the tendril of black watching your movements. You whispered to the void, "Az, Rhys, Please forgive me. Mother, please take me home to my mate."

You took the knife, and pressed it to your skin, Az and Rhys hadn't noticed the faebane you stole from Rhys' office that you took in concentrated doses to slow your healing. You watched as the blood pooled against your wrist as you dug the blade deeper to drag down.

You heard the door slamming open and hurried footsteps to the bathroom, "Y/N!" Az shouted as he grabbed the knife from your hand had a shadow bring him a towel to wrap around the wound. He pressed your back to his chest and held you close whispering words your couldn't distinguish in your ear.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times and anger bubbled over. You began to thrash in his arms his strength out matched yours. "You bastard, I wanted to go home to my mate! I don't want to be here without him! Why would you do that? Let me die!" Your screams turned into cries, "I just want to die."

Rhys walked to face you, tears streaking his own face. "Darling. He wouldn't want that for you."

You sobs continued, "What about what I want?" Your voice cracked. You leaned your head back against Az shoulders. "Why did the mother have me meet my mate only to take him away. I only had two years. You both had centuries." The cries turned to whimpers, "It's not fair." Az began to rub soothing patters around your waist. "I wanted more time."

The two males had no words, so they both just sat on the floor with you and let you sob. Your constant murmuring of time stolen and wanting to be with Cassian.

And once you had cried yourself to sleep, did Az and Rhys have madja heal your arm and place you in Az's bed, both agreeing that you were not to be left alone for a while. The two males watched you sleep with a crease between your brows.

And even in your sleep, you tugged on the fading gold thread. Never knowing that somewhere in the afterlife, The General was desperately tugging back.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 15

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Well,” Lloyd stops mid step and startles you as he spins on his heel, “you’re being quiet.” 

You sign thank you and he squints. You gesture apologetically and drop your hands, pressing your lips until they hurt. He takes a breath and swallows his agitation. 

“You can have a shower. I won’t say you earned it but it will give me some peace and quiet,” he sniffs. 

What would truly give him peace and quiet would be to let you go. The solution is right there in front of him. You can’t figure why he won’t see it. Why is being so stubborn? For you? You’re annoying. Heck, you annoy yourself. 

“You know, even when you don’t say a fucking word, I swear I can hear every dumb thought behind those eyes,” he sneers and grabs your arms, “come on. Time to clean my stink off of you.” 

He drags you into a large bedroom and you can’t help the gasp of awe that rushes from your chest. Wow. This place really is nice. You could see it on HGTV. Hell, you think it’s even too fancy for that. Once more, you have to wonder what he does to make all that dough. He makes you think of a Batman villain and yet even you know that’s not real.  

Hmmmm, he does look like he could be a trust fund kid. Well, kid would be long ago, wouldn’t it? He urges you across the room and shove you into the bathroom built into the other side. 

“How is it that you’re not saying a damn word and I’m still fed up?” He puffs. 

You face him and blink, arms crossed around the blanket over your chest. He sighs and yanks it from your grasp. You teeter on your feet as he growls. 

“Shower,” he points behind you. 

Your hand tingles. You want to salute him so bad. Instead, you try to see the positive. A shower! Well, you could definitely use one of those.  

You turn and strut over to the glass door of the shower. You open it up and step inside. You’re overly aware of his looming presence. He probably thinks you’ll flood the place. Well, you can handle a shower. You twist the faucet on and yipe as you’re sprayed with cold water. You bite down on your voice and adjust the temperature. 

You ease into the downpour and close your eyes. That’s nice. You lean your head back and bask in the clouding steam. You know what, this isn’t too bad. Aside from him. It would be paradise otherwise. 

You turn and let the water soak your back. You push your hands over your face and flick away the water. A gust of cool air makes you shiver and you let out a squeak of surprise.  

Lloyd steps in through the door and crowds you back so the showerhead splashes down your face again. 

“Oh,” you catch the air in your cheeks, puffing them out guiltily. 

“Ah!” He holds his finger to his lips in warning. 

Your eyes round as the flick up and down. He’s built well. I mean, you’re not surprised. You got a good look, and taste, of him yesterday, but the whole picture isn’t too bad. Minus that mustache. You almost want to lick your finger and rub it off his lip. 

“Turn around,” he demands. 

You obey before you can break your vow of silence. You hang your head and put your back to him. He reaches past you and grabs a puffy pink scrubby. There’s another hung nearby; black and silicone. He clicks a bottle and you hear the squirt of soap. He presses the scrubbie to your back and you throw your arm out to keep yourself from slipping. 

He scours you with the soap, lathering it over your skin wordlessly. It might be affectionate, even romantic, but he’s so rough it makes you squirm. He gets down your ass and pinches you. Before you can yelp, he tuts. 

“Not a word,” he reminds you. 

You nearly tip at the force behind his tending and you find it hard to let out an ow or ouch. He grabs your shoulder and spins you to face him. Your feet slide and you crash into him, grabbing onto his sides to push himself straight. You can’t help but get a good feel of the muscle. 

Your eyes trail down and you don’t miss the very obvious erection bobbing up by his stomach. You give a sheepish grin and look him in the face. His forehead lines and his wordlessly challenges you to say anything. Instead, you stretch out your arms and posture so that he can continue cleaning you. He growls. 

He grabs your wrist and roughly drags the scrubbie down from your shoulder. He manhandles you, crossing to your other arm and wiping it down. He drags along your collarbone and lingers around chest, overly attentive as he tickles and stops to make your tits bounce. You let out a surprised squeak as he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans as if he’s in pain, “tell me why you make me so fucking hard.” 

You arch a brow and part your lips and he swiftly hushes you, the water splashing against your back and leaking down your front. You look down at yourself and back up. You’re not bad. You wouldn’t sell yourself short but you can’t really understand him or what he wants. If you were to measure his words and actions, he should absolutely hate you. 

“Come here,” he grabs the back of your neck and urges you forward as he flings the scrubbie, “you little fucking...” he searches your face as he tilts your head and his glare bores into you. His hard length presses against your stomach and his nostrils flare. 

He pushes you back, walking with you until you’re against the wall. You can only let him as the slippery tile and your shock have you in a precarious position. He moves his hand around the front of your neck and squeezes behind your jaw until you whimper. He bends slightly and reaches you feel along your thigh, lifting your knee to hook around him. 

“Think you can keep quiet, sweet lips?” He smirks. 

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 19

Warnings- Angst, kidnapping.

Flashback-

Steve and Bucky were in the middle of another argument after another one of their plans had failed. Bucky was particularly angry, pacing back and forth as he ranted.

“I had told you those guys were useless!” he exclaimed. “They couldn't even scare the kid. Freaking useless! And that stupid sheriff had to interfere.”

Steve just whined in frustration, clearly as fed up as Bucky. Every attempt they made was getting thwarted, and they were growing increasingly desperate. “I can't believe those idiots couldn't even complete the simplest of tasks.” Steve grumbled. “We need to come up with a new plan, and fast. Damn that Hansen, he won't leave her alone for a minute!”

Bucky continued to grumble, his anger and frustration evident. “Oh, yeah?” he said sarcastically. “You should see her new bodyguard, some long-haired, bearded jerk!”

Steve raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Her new bodyguard, huh?” he repeated, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “When did that happen?”

Bucky stopped pacing for a moment, his gaze shifting to Steve. “Couple weeks ago,” he grumbled. “Always around her, like the world's shittiest guard dog.”

Steve couldn't hide his annoyance as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah...” he said, his voice dripping with irritation. “Even Peggy was useless...”

Bucky couldn't help but join in on the mocking, amused by Steve's comparison. “Peggy?” he scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously? You can't compare her to Y/n! Peggy wearing her stupid plain red lipstick and tight dresses wouldn't even turn on a blind man, let alone Lloyd!”

Steve just scowled at Bucky, clearly not finding the humor in the situation, even though he knew Bucky was right, Peggy couldn't seduce anyone, even if her life depends on it.

“Shut up, Bucky,” Steve snapped, his annoyance returning full force. “It was worth a try. We just need something, anything that can give us an upper hand.”

“Yes, but what?” Bucky asks.

“What if she has to comply to us for some reason?” Steve suggested.

Bucky nodded, a predatory gleam in his eye, liking where Steve was going with his idea.

“We just need to figure out, how to make her comply to us.” Steve tells him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his tone turning serious. “We kidnap Peter?” his voice cold and calculated.

Steve raised an eyebrow, curious as to know more. “I don't mind the kidnapping, but why Peter?” he asked, his interest piqued.

Bucky nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I've seen how protective she was about the kid in Knockemstiff,” he replied. “I think she'll do anything to protect him.

Steve raised an eyebrow, contemplating Bucky's words. “So you think she'll come to protect him?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Bucky smirked, his confidence in his plan growing. “Oh, she'll come, all right,” he said confidently. “She won't be able to resist, not when that kid's life is on the line.”

“We're going to kidnap Peter and use him as leverage to force her to do what we want!” Bucky says, a dark glint in his eyes. “What if she refuses to cooperate? You know she's stubborn...” Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Don't worry, I've got that covered,” Bucky assures him. “Once we've kidnapped Peter, we'll make sure there are consequences if she doesn't do as we say. She'll do anything to protect him. We'll have her right where we want her...”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Steve says slowly, an eager look on his face. “Okay, let's go through with it, we'll get Peter and use him as leverage. We'll have Y/n under our control in no time...”

Bucky nodded, a sinister smile on his face, “Exactly,” she'll have no choice but to do as we say. We'll have her completely wrapped around our fingers...”

Steve gave a cruel grin, adding his own thoughts, “And when she does everything we want, then we'll have some fun with her, teach her a lesson.... And she'll have it coming,” he repeated, his eyes gleaming with malice. “That's what she gets for leaving us. She is ours! And she’ll never forget that.”

“We need a good plan and a good location,” Steve says cautiously.

“Exactly, we can't afford to make any mistakes,” Bucky adds. “We need to make sure Peter is in a place where we can easily grab him and get him out without causing a scene.

“So, what's a good place where Peter will be at ease and vulnerable enough for us to kidnap him easily?” Steve ponders.

“Hmm, that's a tough one...I need some time to think...” Bucky murmurs, deep in thought. “What if we use a place that Peter often visits? That way, he'll feel comfortable and not be on guard...”

“That could work,” Steve nods, considering the idea. “Let's think of his favorite places to visit and scout them out. We may be able to find a location that's secure and isolated enough for us to carry out our plan...”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Bucky agrees. “We can’t afford any mistakes...”

“The library could be a good option,” Steve suggests. “Peter would feel at ease there, because it's a place he is familiar with and likes to visit, after work, I had seen him going there with Y/n once. Plus, it's a quiet and isolated place, which is perfect for us to kidnap him, without causing a scene.”

Bucky nods, a devious glint in his eyes. “We'll lure Peter out to our car, and then we'll take him to a remote location, where we can keep him hostage until we've got Y/n under our control. If Peter puts up a fight, we'll use force and ensure he doesn't escape.”

“Exactly,” Steve says with a smirk. “And once we have Peter, Y/n will have no choice but to do what we say,” Steve adds, his grin growing wider. “We'll have her right where we want her, and she'll have no chance of escaping our clutches...”

“It's going to be perfect,” Bucky chuckles. “We'll have Y/n at our mercy, in exchange for Peter's safety. After all, she broke our hearts...she belongs to us and we'll make sure of that!”

Present time-

Lloyd hurried through the house, his worry growing with each step. He checked every room, searching desperately for you, but you were nowhere to be found. He kept calling your phone, only to have it go unanswered each time.

Lloyd looked around the house in a state of growing despair. He had searched every room, every corner, every crevice, but there was no sign of you anywhere.

His worry and fear grew with each passing minute. He called your name, hoping to hear a response, but the only sound that greeted him was a deafening silence.

He kept searching, his heart growing heavy with each step. The possibility that something bad had happened to you was becoming increasingly harder to ignore, and the thought frightened him to his core.

Finally, he turned to your friends and the other staff members, desperation clear in his voice.

“Has anyone seen where Sugar is?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room urgently.

Lloyd spoke to Jake, Nick, and even contacted Andy, but none of them had any information to offer. They were all just as confused and worried as he was, and none of them had any idea where you could be.

Lloyd grew more and more frustrated as he was met with dead ends at every turn. He had no idea what had happened to you or where you could have gone, and the worry gnawed at him with every passing minute.

Jake, Nick, and Andy stood together with Lloyd, their faces etched with worry and concern. They were all trying to come up with explanations for your sudden disappearance, and the fact that you weren't responding to their calls or messages only heightened their anxiety.

Jake spoke up first, his voice laced with worry, “I don't understand... why isn't she picking up her phone? It's not like her to ignore our calls. I’m getting worried now.”

Nick nodded, his expression serious, “I tried calling her too,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “But it kept going straight to voicemail. It's like she's disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

Andy looked just as concerned as the rest, his face twisted in worry, “This isn't like her at all,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “I can't think of any reason why she would just disappear without a word. It's not like her to just take off without saying anything.”

“I'll try hacking into her phone and see if I can locate her, but it might take some time...” Jake suggests. “Please, hurry...” Nick tells him.

They all fell silent for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts and fears. The thought of something having happened to you was a possibility that hung over them like a dark cloud, and the uncertainty of your whereabouts only made it more ominous.

Lloyd's voice trembled with worry as he spoke, “Something's definitely wrong,” he repeated, his eyes darting around the room. “Sugar would never just disappear like this without telling me where she's going.”

Jake looked at him with a determined expression, “I'm working on it,” he reassured him. “I can still hack into her phone even if it's off. I just need some time.”

Nick spoke up next, his voice laced with concern, “What if something bad has happened to her?” he said, turning to look at Lloyd, implying something darker.

Andy nodded in agreement, his face solemn, “I don't like the feeling I'm having either. Something is definitely off...”

Lloyd's anger flared as the implication hung in the air, “I swear I'll blew the city if those two are involve!” he yelled furiously, his voice full of rage.

The sound of a car, snapped their attention towards the driveway, as Peter arrived in your car in a state of disarray, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. Nick, Lloyd, and Andy immediately rushed over to the car, their expressions filled with worry.

Lloyd was the first to get to Peter, grabbing him by the shoulders, “Peter, what happened to you? Are you okay?” he asked urgently, his face stern with concern. “Where is Sugar? What are you doing in her car?”

Peter looked up at Lloyd, his eyes wide and fearful. He was clearly shaken up and deeply traumatized by whatever he had experienced, and his voice trembled as he tried to answer.

Nick approached Peter gently, his voice soft to avoid startling him further, “Hey, Peter, it's okay,” he said gently. “Did you see Y/n? Do you know where she is?”

Peter looked at him with terrified eyes, his body still trembling. “I...I don't know where she is,” he stammered, his voice quivering. “I'm just so scared, I...I don't know what's happening.”

Andy stepped closer to Peter, his voice calm and soothing, “Hey, buddy, just slow down for a moment,” he said. “Take a deep breath and tell us what happened. You can take your time, just tell us everything.”

Peter took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself as best he could. Then, he began to recount the events of the day, starting from when Bucky and Steve lured him out of the library. He told them of how he had been kidnapped by the two men, how they had held him captive in a dark room, and how they had finally called you, demanding that you come to rescue him. His voice trembled with fear and anxiety as he spoke, reliving the traumatic experience.

Jake spoke up, his voice tinged with frustration.

“I'm still working on the phone,” he said. “I just need another two minutes...”

Peter shook his head, his expression filled with worry. “I saw Bucky take her phone away,” he said anxiously. “I'm worried for her safety.”

The others looked at each other with concern, the realization hitting them that you not only didn't have your phone with you, but it was now in the hands of those two dangerous men, the only chance to tack you down gone.

Nick turned to Jake, urgency in his voice, “What about her exes? Do you have any way to find them? We need to get to them as quickly as possible.”

But before Jake could answer, Peter spoke up, his voice quivering, “I managed to put my broken phone in her pocket…” he said, a hint of hope in his voice. “Maybe you can track its location?”

Jake looked at Peter, a mix of surprise and determination in his eyes, “Wait, you managed to put your broken phone in her pocket? That might actually be enough to track her location,” he exclaimed.

Jake quickly set to work, checking the phone signals and analyzing the data. After a few moments, he looked up with a glimmer of hope, “With the broken phone, it may take some time to pinpoint her exact location,” he said, “But at least we have a way to find her and hopefully rescue her...”

Meanwhile, in a distant location, Steve carried your unconscious form to a bed with a strange sense of care and tenderness. Despite the circumstances, he was handling you delicately, almost as if he saw you as something precious.

He laid you gently on the bed and sat down beside you, his face etched with concern as he looked down at your unconscious form. Steve's voice was a low murmur as he spoke, his gaze fixed on your unconscious form.

“She looks so peaceful,” he murmured, a mixture of emotions warring on his face.

Bucky stood beside Steve, his imposing figure a dark and intimidating presence next to him. Both men were quietly observing you, their eyes fixed intently on your sleeping form.

Bucky's voice cut through the silence, a low, menacing tone making his words all the more sinister.

“She's finally ours,” he stated, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “We have her right where we want her, and she's not going anywhere. There's nothing anyone can do to stop us...”

Meanwhile, Lloyd excused himself, making his way out of the room. His usual calm and collected demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw fear that he had never felt before.

He found a secluded corner and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to try and steady his racing heart. The thought of something bad happening to you, the one person he loved above everyone else, was almost too much for him to bear.

He clenched his fists tightly, his mind swirling with a mix of worry, anger, and helplessness. Lloyd was afraid for your safety, and there was nothing he could do to change the situation.

Despite his ruthless image, Lloyd was a man who harbored deep emotions that he usually kept hidden. But now, as he stood alone in the corner of the room, he could feel the sting of unshed tears in his eyes.

The thought of you being at the mercy of Steve and Bucky, was too much for him to bear, and it cracked open the walls he had built around his emotions. For once, Lloyd was utterly exposed and vulnerable and he hated every second of it.

For the first time in his life, he was not in control, and the feeling was unbearable. How could he go on if something happened to you?

Part 18- Part 20

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[needlereads]

Red Pill

dark!Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Warnings: dark, non-con, sexual content, supernatural(?), 18+ only, drabble

A/N: I don't know what's going on. Lloyd is inspiring thoughts, many thoughts these days.

------

"Lloyd?" You blinked at the sight of your husband. How long had he been standing there, at the patio door? Watching you? "That's...a new look."

He had replaced his full beard with a mustache, so precisely trimmed. Along with the sides so close-cropped, he looked almost military.

Tangible, the emptiness of that moment when he would typically smile at you, all soft and ready for a hug.

A moment he spent, eyes blazing, assessing, watching you some more.

A smiled played at his lips. He raised a hand.

"Come here," he said.

Worried, you rose from your seat by the pool, gripping his hand in yours. Your fingertips barely grazed his smooth jawline, a shiver bolting down your spine.

"It actually worked. Fuck," he murmured, drinking you in. He thought landing in this neat little house had been a fever dream. (Running off after getting shot could do that. Accepting a red pill from an old lady who whispered next to his prone body, bled out and exhausted, about playing with chance -- swallowing that red pill with his final breath -- could do this.)

He drew you in closer. Your scent, your warm little body in his embrace fed the triumph rearing inside him.

The lilt of your name, purred from his lips, had you frowning. It was his same voice, and yet...

(The old hag's magic hadn't been all bullshit after all.) Lloyd snickered, capturing your lips in a hard kiss. (This called for a celebration.)

Before you knew it, he had you inside, stumbling through the kitchen. He growled, pressed his open mouth to yours, licking into you, while large hands picked you up. You couldn't break away for more than a breath, much less a word.

Finally, you managed to push at his chest enough to force space between you two.

"What's going on?" You weren't really asking him.

In the space of hours, something had stirred in the air and turned your husband into a stranger. Someone you couldn't trust, someone who would not be able to give you answers.

Your vision blurred with tears, your heart thundered with fear even as your body buzzed to be touched by this man, his physique so familiar in promising you pleasure. But he wasn't yours.

"Who are you?"

"Don't cry now, honey." He cooed at you, restricting you as you squirmed in his hold. "I'm Lloyd."

Shirt shredded, shorts and underthings torn away, you're left at his mercy.

"Such a sweet thing, and rebellious too." Lloyd's tongue traced the tattoo on your shoulder blade.

You could hear his delight, a less doting tone than when your husband -- your Lloyd -- had praised you for the ink on your body. He kept you pinned in place, playing with your clit and dragging his finger tips along your wet lips.

"I thought I had lost everything." Lloyd subdued you when you struggled up against him, winding your arm to keep your wrist at your back. "Keep still, sweetness. Won't you let your husband taste you?" He breathed out a laugh, brought his other hand up and sucked your wetness from his fingers. His lusty groan brought out a sob in you. "This will have to do for now."

"Lloyd, don't"--

"That's right. It's just me." He took in a greedy breathful of your body's scent, tanged with arousal, quivering underneath him. All of this, his. (Gambled one last time with his last breath, and won.) "Me, you, and a new life."

------------------------

A/N+: universe jumping, open-ended

[parachutingkitten]

rank how you believe the ninja cooking from “heavenly” to “forsaken from entering the kitchen”

This is a hard one.

Zane- we all know he's top of the list, no question

Wu- he's had thousands of years to practice cooking, so even if he doesn't have natural talent, that experience gives him a huge leg up

Jay- jay has a nack for weird hobbies, cooking is one of them. He prides himself on knowing a bunch of cooking lingo, what knife to use when, best practices etc

Kai- fed his little sister most his life. He doesn't have a huge catalogue of recipes, but he's good at improvising something with whatever is in the fridge that comes out pretty good

Pixal- Can not think about food in a creative way. Would be at a complete loss if you just told her to go cook dinner, but she is capable of flawlessly following a detailed recipe, so you can leave her unsupervised if she has instructions

Lloyd- behind in his cooking experience but getting better. If your average 14 year old could make it, he's fine, if not a bit slow, but anything more complicated and he's bound to mess at least one thing up.

Cole- he's got like 2 dishes he's perfected. Anything else, and you do not want to try it. Also, the kitchen is always so messy after he's done. Like no way you needed this amount of dishes to make this. He holds the record for most injuries while cooking as well.

Nya- only allowed in the kitchen for snacks, and maybe a pb&j. She has a habit of burning absolutely everything, mixing up ingredients, and confidently winging measurements that ends horribly.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Title: Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader (Sunshine)

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: You lived your life on a schedule. Everything is planned out from sunrise to sunset. But what happens when you go out on a limb and out of your comfort zone? Will it have dire consequences?

Chapter Summary: Lloyd draws you a bath and prepares brunch.

Warnings: dacryphilia, fingering (f receiving), gun, implied/referenced stalking, oral sex (m receiving)

A/N: I barely edited this one. If you catch anything, tell me, please! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Lowering your restrained form, Lloyd’s upper body strength is on full display. As your back is finally flush with the ground, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You close your eyes and relax your breathing as you feel Lloyd’s hands roaming over your body before beginning the meticulous work of untying knots and working rope around your sensitive flesh.

As each limb is freed from confinement, you can feel the blood rushing back through your veins. You stretch out each muscle from your thighs to your toes, then again from your biceps to your fingers. Lloyd stands up to tie up the long lengths of rope while you sit up and finally get a good look at the state you are in.

You trace along the rope burns on your body. Trailing down to a purpling bite mark and a swelling “LH” on your inner thigh. You keep your face neutral as you examine your war wounds, careful that Lloyd may be watching. 

Speak of the Devil as he shall appear.

Lloyd crouches next to you, running a hand over yours before looking down at his work. “I bet that hurts like a bitch. But, it is hot to see my initials taking up space on this beautiful skin of yours. Come on, Sunshine,” His arms scoop under your knees and behind your back, standing up to his full height, “What say we get you fed and watered, huh?”

You didn’t like how small you felt in his arms. Too small, too close for comfort. “Sir, I…I can walk. You don’t have to carry me–” 

“I know, Sunshine. But if you think I’m gonna trust you to walk on your own, you’re dreaming,” He walks toward the steps and begins the climb, “First off, I don’t trust you not to run off just yet, forgive me. And secondly, I don’t want your blood getting everywhere.” As he gets to the top of the steps, you can see brightness coming from under the door. He turns the knob and the bright mid-morning sun makes you cover your eyes.

How long had you been here? Where is…here?

You are being put down on your feet, the plush rug is soft underneath your toes as you look around the lush bathroom. You weren’t expecting such a pretty display after being in that basement, but here you are as Lloyd turns on the water on the vintage claw-foot tub. He tests the water temperature and adds a generous amount of bubble bath from a bottle you recognize.

“Is that African black soap? I use that…at home…” Your words die as you realize the shelf is full of the same brands of toiletries you use at home. Shea Moisture shampoo and conditioner, Native Coconut and Vanilla body wash, Venus razors. The only way he could know what you use is–

–if he’d been inside your apartment.

If you freak out, he will freak out. Stay calm, and he’ll stay calm.

“Yeah, I know everything about you, Sunshine. Come on, get in the tub,” He holds out a hand and you take it and step slowly into the relaxing bubble-filled bath water, “How is it? Too hot? Not hot enough?”

“Sir…,” You trail off, sinking back into the soothing bath, “It’s so perfect. My entire body needed this.” Closing your eyes, you don’t notice the moan that escapes you as your muscles loosen across your body.

“Watch it, Sunshine, or I might get in with you making sounds like that,” He stood above you, reaching for the body wash and a fluffy bath sponge, before grabbing a stool and sitting on the side of the big tub. He shoves the scrubber under the water to soften it, then pours a generous amount of body wash onto its surface. 

Massaging in the gel, he pulls your left leg out of the water and begins to bathe you. Taking care to get every inch of skin he can reach, he moves to your left arm and then the right side of your body. He’s most attentive with your right thigh with the bite mark and initials. For a second, it looks like he wanted to spend more time fingering where the warm water opened your cut but he decides against it.

He slowly washes your back and neck, reaching around the front to cup your breasts. Dipping his hand under the water, his nimble fingers find your clit. Your swollen ignored button finally getting attention perks you up. Your hands go to the sides of the tub and water splashes onto the floor. 

Lloyd moves to kneel at the edge of the tub, the hem of his sleeve getting wet as his arm sinks further into the water. For someone so immaculate, he didn’t seem to mind his shirt getting soapy. He seems to only give a shit about getting you off at this particular moment.

“Relax, Sunshine. Just focus on coming for me,” Quickening his pace on your puffy nub, he groans as unshed tears appear at the corner of your eyes, “You gonna cry for me, Sunshine? Be a good girl and let those tears fall.” 

His other hand, suddenly at your neck, pulls you forward into his personal space. Looking into his bright blue eyes, the sliver of control over your body that you once had is now floating off into space. 

Your breathing picks up and fat tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm takes you over. You want to lay back but the hand around your throat pulls you even closer. Your moans of ecstasy are swallowed as Lloyd’s lips slot with yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, unsure if you wanted to press into him or push him back.

As your hands move from his shoulders to his neck, you realize that you want him so much closer. Your orgasm settles as he breaks the kiss, your foreheads touching as you both catch your breath. Your brain is still foggy when you speak.

“Sir? What was…that for?”

He just pulls back and smiles at you, but it wasn’t his normal asshole smile. It was almost…sincere?

“Come on, you must be starving. Think you can stand?” You nod and he helps you up, rinsing off what soap clings to your skin. As you step out of the tub, Lloyd grabs a fluffy white towel and dries you off. As he gets to your right thigh, he takes great care in dabbing the towel on the “LH”.

You watch as he lifts your leg and puts your foot on the stool he was sitting on. He moves to the medicine cabinet and comes back with a first-aid kit. He grabs a tube of what you assume is antiseptic cream and spreads it over the lines of his initials. When you wince at the stinging, Lloyd smiles and bends down to blow on the skin. And that feels so good.

This means he knew it would sting and he could have let you be in pain, but he didn’t. Which is…nice of him?

He applies a couple of gauze pads across the lettering and uses the bandage tape to hold it in place. He packs away the first-aid kit and comes back to stand in front of your nude body. He puts a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to look into your eyes.

“Sunshine, as much as I love looking at your tits and pussy, I don’t want my men to see it and get…distracted,” He grabs your hand, leading you into the attached master bedroom’s massive walk-in closet, and motions for you to sit on the bench in the center of the room. He walks over to a portion of the closet with obviously feminine clothing and you watch as he pulls out a long simple yellow silk dress with a slit up the right side, “I’d like you to put this on. Should fit perfectly.” He hands you the dress and he walks around you back to the bedroom.

Just like that, he left you alone to dress, as if he hadn’t seen every part of you already. You stand and pull the hanger off the dress and put it back on the clothes rail. Touching the dress, you realize it’s real silk, and you don’t recognize the name of the designer. Putting it over your head, you pull the material down your body and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Fit perfectly? No. This dress fit like a glove. As if it was tailored specifically for you. You push down the thoughts of how and when your measurements were taken and brush it off as just a lucky coincidence. You take one last look and then walk into the bedroom.

Lloyd sits at the foot of the bed and looks over when you clear your throat. By the facial expression, he thinks you look pretty good. By the sound that escapes the back of his throat, he thinks you look phenomenal. But it’s the words that come out of his mouth that cement what he really thinks of you.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” He gets up from the bed and meets you, “You are perfection.”

You can’t stop the genuine smile that appears on your face. It’d been so long since someone complimented you. “Th-thank you, Sir. I love my gift.”

“Oh, Sunshine, this isn’t your gift. You’ll get that later. As long as you’re a good girl, that is. Can you be a good girl for me?”

If this designer dress wasn’t the gift then what was it? You shook the thought out of your head to answer Lloyd.

“Yes, Sir. I can be a good girl.” 

Taking your hand, Lloyd leads you out of the bedroom and through a long hallway to the kitchen. Your feet are cold on the tile floor and you are ushered into a seat at the island counter. Just after you notice the time blinking on the oven, 10:19, you feel a presence behind you. Turning around, you see a tall, stocky man holding a very big gun. You can tell he can handle himself and you can see his finger is near the trigger. You slowly turn back around when you hear Lloyd speaking.

“Don’t worry about Tiny, Sunshine. He’s just here to make sure you don’t go running off while I have my back turned. You understand. Anyway, what do you want on your omelet?” There it was, the asshole smile. It was back.

For a moment, you were upset. But then, you thought about it. You’d been alone with him most of the morning and he had been in a calmer mood. Around his men, he had to appear to be the Boss. The asshole smile was just a front, hiding the genuine smile you caused.

“Peppers and onions, please Sir.” You answered carefully, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. You decide to keep them on the counter, lacing your fingers together.

“Coming right up.” Lloyd turns around and gets to work on cutting the vegetables, cracking and whipping the eggs, then combining the ingredients to pour into the pan. The smell of the omelet cooking causes your mouth to water, even though you weren’t all that hungry. 

Once the food is plated, Lloyd sits it in front of you. Your eyes light up and you go to take a bite but you don’t have cutlery. Looking up to get Lloyd’s attention, you notice that he is holding a fork and knife in his hands. But he’s not giving them to you. He’s bringing them around the counter and sitting next to you on a stool and pulling the plate closer to himself.

“You didn’t think I was going to give you a knife, did you?” He begins to cut off a bite of omelet and blows on it before holding it out to you, “Come on, eat up Sunshine.”

You debate putting up a fight, but instead, open your mouth and accept the bite of food. Once it hits your palate, you’re surprised that it’s so tasty. A funny thought hits you and you snicker to yourself.

“What’s so funny, Sunshine?” His face is calm, but you know it’s only a matter of what words you use that will make him sway into smiling or scowling.

“I was just thinking if you didn’t want to be…whatever it is that you are, you could always go to culinary school and be a world-class chef.” You smile at him and you see a glimmer of the man from this morning in his eyes.

He only squints before cutting another piece and feeding you. Once you take the offered bite, he studies as you close your eyes and savor the flavors within. Opening your eyes, you notice him watching you. You slowly dart out your tongue to lick your lips and witness as his jaw does ‘the thing’. Biting your bottom lip, you look up into his eyes.

Nothing but fire and desire in those bright blue peepers. He pushes away the plate and grabs your hand, walking before you even climbed down from the stool. He pulls you through the doors of the kitchen that open into a courtyard area with a big fountain. You don’t even get time to look around as you are coming back inside the house on the other side.

You enter what looks to be Lloyd’s office. He lets go of your hand and walks behind the big wooden desk in the center of the room. While he goes about his business, you look around the room at various knickknacks scattered on bookshelves and end tables.

You pick up a ceramic kitten with its tail in the air. It was a dead ringer for the one you had lost weeks ago. Putting it down, you notice a rhinestone hair clip on the corner of the desk. You would know this hair clip anywhere because it’s one-of-a-kind. You got it at the flea market from an old woman who handmade them. But you remembered picking out the iridescent rhinestones because you like the extra shimmer they gave.

You held the hair clip in your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see any more of your lost items in this room. And you knew that you would see more if your eyes were open. A hand at the small of your back has you going rigid in an instant.

“Sunshine, I have your gift,” He smoothes his hand over the curve of your backside and you yelp at the smack he delivers when you don’t turn around, “You really gonna make me ask you twice?”

You turn around, eyes downcast. Lloyd puts a hand under your chin, gripping you tight with his thumb and forefinger, and jerks your head up.

“Are you seriously this upset that I took a fucking hair clip?”

“It’s not the hair clip, Sir. I just, I thought we had a…moment. But since then, you’ve been nothing but mean to me. And I know you have to be a certain way around your men but I–”

You’re cut off when Lloyd’s mouth attacks yours. He sucks on your bottom lip, nibbling ever so slightly, eliciting whimpers from you. Lloyd licks into your mouth, tickling your nose with his mustache. When your moan turns into a giggle, you pull away to try and stifle it. But Lloyd feels you pull away and growls before conquering your mouth again and biting at your bottom lip just to the point of pain then stops and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Nothing but mean to you, huh?” His thumb glides over your bottom lip, your tongue snaking out to taste it, “Look at you, you can’t get enough of me even after I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Sir…you’re all I have.” You try and blink away the unshed tears in your eyes but they have a mind of their own and trickly slowly down your cheeks.

“I know,” Lloyd uses the back of his knuckles to wipe away your tears and puts on a small smile, “Let me give you your gift.” He pulls away and picks up a wide flat jewelry box, opening it to reveal a gold choker that read ‘Sunshine’ in pretty writing.

“It’s…beautiful, Sir. Can I put it on?”

Instead of answering, Lloyd takes the choker out of the box, putting it around your neck when you turn around, and securing it with a hex key. He puts his hand on your hip, turning you back around so he can look at you wearing his collar, so to speak.

“As long as you wear this, you’re mine. You won’t be able to take it off without the key. And I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes, past the hunger and the urge to rip your dress off and take you over whatever surface he sees fit.

“What would make you take it off?” Your tone held fear, even if you did get all the words out.

“Well, if you disobey me, I’ll just punish you. But if I get the feeling that you’re against me in any way, I’ll not only take the choker off, but I’ll kill you too. That answer your question?” A different kind of fire brewed in his eyes then, and you didn’t want to push him further.

“I understand, Sir. I’m yours. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” Instantly, you feel like you’re lying to his face. But when he smiles down at you, you smile back. You have no intention of non-compliance.

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you show me how grateful you are for my gift, Sunshine?” You don’t have to be told twice. You’re kneeling before he even finishes the sentence. 

His hands on your face as he cums down your throat scream romanticism and ownership all in one. When he pulls you up, he slides a hand into the slit in your dress and fingers his initials on your thigh.

“Mine.” He says as his other hand slides around your throat.

“Yours, Sir.” 

Maybe one day, you’ll reconcile the double-edged sword of being his. But for now, you can just relax and breathe in his Earthy scent while he claims you.

Part III

A/N: Good grief, this chapter took me so long to finish. Hope you enjoyed it!!! I think I still have more in me to give to this fic.

**Tag List**

@motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Crossroad Blues

Masterlist

"So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database." Sam said as we sit at a table in a diner and Sam was looking through his computer. "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." Dean said, grinning. "Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now." I said to him and he shrugs.

"Well, what do they got on you two?" He asked Sam looks through the computer. "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." He mutters. "No accessory? Nothing?" Dean asked. "Shut up." Sam growls and Dean starts to laugh. "You're jealous." He said. "No, I'm not!" Sam said, angrily. "Uh-huh. All right. What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" Dean asked and I roll my eyes and shake my head.

Sam shuts his computer, annoyed, and pulls out several pages of research. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed." Sam said as Dean and I look through the pages. "Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?" Dean said. "Two days earlier." Sam replied.

"Did he actually say Black Dog?" I asked him. "Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive." Sam replied.

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" Dean asked. "Well, maybe." Sam said, shrugging. "What's the lore on the Hound of the Baskerville?" I asked and Sam chuckles a bit at this as he passes some pages to us. "It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but...some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty..." Sam said as Dean flips to a picture of a large black dog.

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" He said as he holds up the picture and smirks. I let out a snort while Sam glares at us, making Dean's smirk slip. "What? They could." Dean said.

In a posh, well-lit room, the boys and I were wearing suits and interviewing a man about Sean Boyden. "So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked him. "That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?" The man said, suspiciously, before I talk over him. "A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest." I said and the man laughs.

"This funny to you?" Dean asked him. "No, it...it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind...well, he gets another tribute." He said. "Right. Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Sam asked. "I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life." The man replied.

"How so?" I asked him. "He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I...and it wasn't always that way, either." The man replied. "No?" We said, questionable. "You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive." The man said.

"Right. So what changed?" Sam asked and the man shrugs. "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing...he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart..." then the man cuts off abruptly.

"What?" Dean asked him. "It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why...why just throw it away?" The man asked us.

Later, Dean exits the Animal Protection Agency, still wearing the suit. Sam and I were waiting in the car and DeN gets in the driver's side. "So." We said. "Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real." Dean said and Sam let's out a sigh as I flick Dean's ear. 

"Ow!" He exclaimed and I glare at him. "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?" I asked him and he holds up a page. "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh..." he said as he pulls off a Post-it note. "I don't know what this thing is." He said.

Sam takes it, reads it, and laughs then glances at Dean "You mean Carly's MySpace address?" Sam said, smiling, while Dean and I look at him, confused. "What the hell is that?" I asked and Sam laughs again. "Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?" Dean asked with a smile. "Is everything in your world linked to porn?" I asked him, annoyed. Dean looks up, thinking, then said. "Yeah." I shake my head, annoyed, while Sam chuckles.

Afterwhile, we approach another white suburban door and knock. "I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard..." Dean grumbles. "Aw, don't worry, I'll protect you from the big, bad Pomeranian." I said in a mocking voice and Dean glares at me as the door opens to reveal a young woman.

"Afternoon, ma'am." Dean said as we pull out our ID. "Uh, Animal Control." He said. "Oh, someone already came yesterday." She said to us. "Oh, we're just following up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" Sam asked and the woman let's us in.

"The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago." The woman said to us. "Okay. And you are...?" I said, curiously. "I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid." She replied. "So where did the Doctor go?" Dean asked. "I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?" The woman asked.

"Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?" Sam asked her. "Well, no. I never even heard it." She said as I look around and take a photograph off the wall: it shows a woman, presumably Pearlman, at a bar with two friends. "I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so..." the woman said and I turn to her.

"Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job." I pointed out. "Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position...ten years ago?" The woman said and I give a surprised noise.

"Huh. An overnight success. Ten years ago." Sam said as he and Dean come up to me. "Yeah, we know a guy like that." Dean said and I look at the photo closer. "Oh, look at this." I said and I hold up the photo and flip it over to show writing on the back. "Lloyd's Bar." I said.

We pull up outside Lloyd's Bar and get out. As we walk towards the bar, Dean looks to the side and stops in his tracks. "Hey." He said and Sam and I stop. "Yeah?" We said. "That's weird." Dean said as he points at the yellow flowers that are growing on the sides of the road.

"What?" Sam asked Dean. "Think someone planted these?" Dean asked. "Middle of all these weeds?" I said, disbelief. "These are, uh, what do you call 'em." Dean said as he looks at the flowers. "Yarrow flowers?" Sam said and Dean nods. "Yeah. Used for certain rituals, aren't they?" He asked. "Yeah, actually. Summoning rituals." Sam replied.

"Heh. So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's." I said as I look around to see that we were in the middle of a crossroad. "Where there just happens to be a crossroads." Sam said then he turns to us. "You think?" He asked. "Let's find out." Dean said.

Then he walks to the center of the crossroads and looks around, measuring. "This seem about the dead center to you?" Dean asked us and we nod. He digs a few inches into the hard soil and hits something solid. He stops. "Yahtzee." He said and he drops the shovel and digs with his hands, pulling out an old rusted box.

He opens it, revealing that it contains several small bones, a picture and a small stoppered jar that Sam takes out. "I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone." Sam said. "That's serious spellwork. I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff." I said. "Used to summon a demon." Sam said.

"Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good." Dean said. "They're seeing dogs, all right. But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls." I said and Dean nods. "Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough." Dean said.

"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?" Sam said and we nod. "Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music." Dean said to us. I nod but Sam shrugs. "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs?" I asked him and he shakes his head.

"Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?" Dean said and Sam frowns, then Dean rolls his eyes and I sigh. "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs." Dean explains. "And now it's happening all over again." Sam said. "Yeah." Dean and I said.

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here." Sam said and Dean scoffs. "Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal." Dean said, annoyed.

"So what, we should just leave them to die?" I asked Dean. "Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?" Dean asked me. "Dean." Sam and I said, exasperated. "All right. Fine." Dean grumbles. "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive." Dean said, holding up the picture, and we head inside.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked as we walk up a set of wide, wooden stairs to the fourth floor of an apartment. "George Darrow. Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's." I said while Dean looks around. "Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?" He said. "Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made..." Sam trails off. "Wasn't for cash. Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis." Dean said and Sam and I laugh.

"No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun." Dean said as we reach the landing and stop in front of apartment 4C. The floor is dusted with a fine black powder.

"Look at that." I said and we crouch down, fingering it. "What is that, pepper?" Dean asked when the door opens to reveal a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a grimy t-shirt and open button-down. 

"Who the hell are you?" He asked us, in a threatening tone. "George Darrow?" I said. "I'm not buying anything." He said as he starts shut the door. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Heh. Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt." Dean said to him as George looks between the three of us.

"I don't know what you talkin' about." He said. "Talkin' about this." Dean said as he holds up the small picture. "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?" He asked and George stares at us. "Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes." Sam said to him. George looks at us for a moment then opens the door to let us in.

George shows us in and pours himself a glass of whisky. The studio apartment is filled with paintings, completed and half-finished, and a table holds painting supplies. "So what is that stuff out front?" I asked him. "Goofer Dust." He replied and we look at him, blankly.

"What, you three think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?" George asked us and he tosses Dean a brown sack, tied close with twine. He catches it. "Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous." Dean said to him.

"What is it?" Sam asked, nodding at the brown sack. "Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons." George said. "Demons we know." Dean said. "Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good." George said as he walks over to a chair. "Four minutes left." He said.

Dean glances at us then Sam takes the lead. "Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble." Sam said. "Yeah, that you got yourself into." Dean said. "But it's not hopeless, all right?" I said, half-directing that towards Dean. "There's gotta be something we can do." I said as I turn to George. "Listen. I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place." He said.

"What'd you do it for?" Dean asked. "I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just...I just never thought about the price." George said. "Was it worth it?" I asked him. "Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst." George said, angrily.

"Go on." Sam said. "Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?" George said. "How many others are there?" I asked him. "Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous." George grumbles.

"Who else, George? Come on, think." Dean said. "One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for." George said. "No. No, there's gotta be a way." Sam said. "You don't get it! I don't want a way!" George yells.

"Look, you don't--" 

"I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." George said then he starts to get up, interrupting Sam. "Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help." He said.

"We can't just —" 

"Get out! I got work to do." George yelled at me. "You don't really want to die." Sam said, firmly. "I don't? I'm...I'm tired." George said as he turns to his painting. The boys and I share a look before we leave George to his painting.

The boys and I approach Evan's front door and I go and knock on the door. A moment later, a man opens the door. "Yes?" He answers. "Evan Hudson?" Sam asked and he nods. "You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago." Dean said. Terrified, Evan slams the door and latches it. 

"Come on, we're not demons!" I said as we hear him run then Sam turns to me and Dean. "Any other bright ideas?" Sam asked us. Dean steps back, sets himself, then kicks the door down in one go. "Well, that's one way." I said and we enter the house.

Once we make it to the back room, Dean prepares to kick down that door too but I catch his leg, stopping him. "What—" Dean start to say but I look at him pointedly. Then Sam turns the handle and pushes the door open gently. The room is quiet as we enter.

"Evan?" Sam calls out and Evan jumps out from behind a bookshelf. "Please! Don't hurt me." He pleads to us but Sam and I hold our hands out, pacifying. "We're not going to hurt you, all right? We're here to help you." Sam said to him, kindly. "We know all about the genius deal you made." Dean said, angrily.

"What? How?" Evan asked. "Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it." Dean said. "How do I know you're not lying?" Evan asked us. "Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy." Dean said and Evan swallows and starts pacing.

"Can you stop it?" Evan asked us. "Don't know. We'll try." I said and Evan looks over at us, with fear. "I don't want to die." He said, tearfully. "Of course you don't, not now." Dean sneered and Sam turns to him. "Dean. Stop." He said, quietly.

"What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?" Dean asked. "My wife." Evan replied and Dean laughs. "Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for." Dean said and I grab his arm. "Dean, stop." I said to him, firmly.

"No. He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that...woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but...I don't know how to—I was desperate." Evan replied. "Desperate?" Sam and I asked, confused.

"Julie was dying." Evan said and we stand there in shock. "You did it to save her?" Dean asked him. "She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying...a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot." Evan said and I give him a sympathetic smile.

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked him. "I did this for her." Evan replied and Dean advances on him. "You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?" Dean asked, angrily, and Sam and I put a hand on Dean's chest, pulling him back.

"Okay, that's enough." Sam said and Dean turns and walks away. I sigh then turn to Sam and Evan. "You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out." I said to Evan then I look at Sam. "Stay here with him, I'll talk to Dean." I said and I follow Dean into the hallway.

"You all right?" I asked him, concerned. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea." Dean said and he pulls out the Goofer dust. "You and Sam throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you guys can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon." Dean said and my jaw drops.

"Summon— are you nuts?" I asked as I look at him like he was insane. "Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent." Dean said to me.

"Yeah, but how much time?" I asked. "I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine." He said and I shake my head. "No. No way." I said. "You're not allowed to say no, (y/n), not unless you've got a better idea." Dean exclaims.

"Dean, you can forget it, all right? I'm not letting you summon that demon." I said. "Why not?" Dean asked me, angrily. "Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not." I shouted.

"What are you talking about?" He asked me. "You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why." I said and he rolls his eyes. "We don't have time for this." He said and he brushes past me.

"John." I said as I turn and see that he stopped in his tracks. "You think maybe John made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you and Sam have been thinking it too." I said and Dean lowers his head. "It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved." He said, softly. "What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?" Dean asked, quietly, as he turns to me.

Before I could say anything, we hear Evan shouting. "I think I hear it! It's outside!" We look towards the door as Sam said. "Guys!" Dean and I look back at each other then Dean said. "Just keep him alive, okay?" 

"Dean..." I said, worried, but he shakes his head. "Go!" He said and I frown, slightly, then I walk up to him and kiss his cheek. I pull back and I could see a shock look on his face then I placed my right hand on his cheek. "Be careful, okay?" I said. He nods and leaves then I head back into the office room.

After explaining Dean's idea, Sam and I started sprinkling the dust in a line before the windows. Then we start making a circle of it around Evan, who stands in the middle of the room. "What is that stuff?" He asked us. "Goofer dust." Sam replied.

"You serious?" Evan asked. "Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe us, don't believe us, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, all right?" I said to him and Evan nods then hugs himself.

He stands in the middle of the circle that Sam and I just finish as I shake the bag to get out the last grains. "That's the last of it." I said then we stand there and look around until Evan whirls around, like he could hear something.

"What?" Sam and I asked him. "You hear that?" Evan asked us, fear etched all over his face. "No, where?" Sam asked then Evan looks at the door. "Right outside the door." He said then the doors begin to rattle violently. Sam and I then step inside the circle.

Side by side inside the circle of dust, Evan, Sam and I stare tensely at the rattling door. "Just don't move, all right? Stay where you are." I said to Evan. The rattling became louder, and more violent, then suddenly it stops. 

Sam and I exchange a look before we, cautiously, look around. "Do you still hear it?" Sam asked Evan. "No. Is it over?" Evan asked us. "Don't know...maybe." I said when rumbling sound comes from  the wall. The three of us whirl to stare at the grating just as it bursts outward, kicking dust into the room. 

"It's here!" Evan screams as we see a visible wind coming through and surrounding us. "No! Back inside the circle!" I shout and we gathered close together in the middle of the circle.

Deep claw marks gouge into the floor in a path towards the circle; they stop just before the edge. We back away slowly, while the wind started to eat away at our protective circle. "Circle's broken. Come on!" Sam shouts and we pull Evan out of the room and down the hall.

We dart into a storeroom and slam the door behind us. Sam and I braces ourselves against it while the Hellhounds start to pound it down. Dean, hurry up! I thought, frantically, as the pounding on the door got more and more violent. Suddenly, the pounding stops and Sam and I look at each other then over at Evan, the three of us panting.

After making sure Evan was okay and Dean returned from the crossroads, Dean drives us down a dark road as he explains what happened. "Demons lie all the time, right? Maybe she was lying." Sam said to Dean, referring to the demon telling Dean that John made a deal to save his life. "Come on. That really what you think?" Dean asked Sam and Sam looks down.

"How could he do it?" Dean asked, disappointed and angry. "He did it for you." I said to him. "Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him...wherever he is right now. I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that...yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy. You know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this." Dean said, angry.

"How many people do you think Dad saved? Total?" Sam asked. "That's not the point, Sam." Dean growls. "Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us. That's his legacy, Dean. But we're still here, man. So we gotta keep going, for him." Sam said to him and Dean stays silent.

"Dean?" I said, softly.

"Yeah." He replied and I swallow, nervously, fearing for the answer to my question. "When you were trapping that demon, you weren't...I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?" I asked him. Dean told us that the demon would let Evan live if Dean would trade his life for Evan, ten years of course he would get but after that....he would be gone.

Dean stares straight ahead, then turns his head towards the window. He reaches forward and turns the radio on full blast and doesn't say a word. Sam and I flinch then Sam looks over at me with a worried and nervous glance.

I bite my lips then let out a sigh and lean back in the seat and look out the window at the passing scenery.

[plazsma]

quickkkk dragons rising thoughts but the authority roles we got to see were honestly so ?? well done?and i need to like actually air out these things guys okay

lloyd took these kids in, cared for them, trained them whilst still trying to make sure they have a clean and safe place for them to live in, much like a father- probably things he didn’t get when he was younger so he wanted to make sure sora and arin felt loved

nya was like a big sister to sora, and wanted to guide her- much like her brother was to her. it’s interesting as well how nya had to unlock her own power and find her element within, not without insecurity, and sora is going through the exact same thing- nya being her mentor is so fitting

kai is, again, a big brother to yet another kid he’s picked off the side of the street. kai automatically gravitates to the older brother role- he’s like the older brother of the team at this point- and cares for wyldfire and keeps her in check exactly he did with lloyd. kai now having three little siblings to keep an eye on means everything to me.

zane with frohicky is also a great dynamic, because just like zane felt different and was unable to do/understand things like his human brothers, frohicky feels incompetent despite trying really hard to be helpful. zane guiding him and helping him navigate life post merge is what the ninja did for him when he was establishing his identity as a nindroid and it shows just how much he’s grown with himself.

and cole. we know cole is always just like a father- in the same way i spoke about how lloyd didn’t have a safe and caring father figure, cole’s was distant, cold and rude to him and makes him feel bad about himself. but with these two little kids and their skeleton teen, he is so gentle, he keeps them safe , makes sure they’re fed, has built this entire little home for them even tho their situation is less than perfect.

our ninja are all grown up now. they’ve grown up with us :’)

[long-lost-mcguffin]

how will morro react when he finds out who the green ninja is...

basically the five stages of grief LOL

first he’s in disbelief. like there’s NO way this bratty child is the green ninja. then he’s pissed, because he spent basically his entire life searching for a worthy vessel crew mate and it turns out to be lloyd of all people. bargaining, he tries getting rid of lloyd because he’s fed up and captain morro is NOT a babysitter. depression means he gets really pouty about it for a minute, but the preeminent(who’s more of a demon/siren in this than a physical form of the cursed realm i’ll explain it later) persuades him to kidnap lloyd again for her own reasons. this leads into acceptance, where morro realizes that the preeminents plans maybe aren’t what he thought they were…hmm……

[umbry-fic]

A Survey from the Goddess

Summary:

Congratulations!

You have been chosen to partake in a survey from the Goddess.

For seven days starting from tomorrow, an angel shall accompany you, asking you a question per day.

Please think carefully about your answers - there is much the Goddess does not know.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia

Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel

Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving

Rating: G

Word Count: 9018

Mirror Link: AO3

Original Post Date: 14/06/2024

Notes:

A modern AU which started as a crack fic and gained a plot by the end :) Original concept from A Survey From God by rerulili!

~~~

DAY 0

"What in the...?" Lloyd stared at the card that had been slotted between two mundane letters. It was surprisingly fancy, the material sturdy and staying firm beneath his fingers as his thumb swiped across its texture. There was a golden seal stamped on the front, tickling at a long-buried memory at the back of his mind. Were those wings?

“How in the world did Zelos get into my mail?” he muttered, furrowing his brow as he flipped it over and found that the other side spouted nonsense. This had to be a prank. There was no other explanation, but this was a lot of effort to go to for a simple prank.

Tossing the card onto a corner of the tiny dining table in his dim dorm room, he pushed it out of his mind, opting to return to his bedroom and catch up on some assignments before the start of summer proper.

DAY 1

Massaging his temples as he stepped out of the dingy lift that groaned behind him, he headed towards the door to his room. It was late enough that he was the only one shambling down the corridor, though most of the doors he passed still had light spilling out from beneath them, revealing that most of his dorm mates were still up, burning the midnight oil in this city that never slept.

Hopefully he could stave off the pending headache. Zelos had been a pain for the entire evening, refusing to admit any part he had to play in breaking into the dorm’s mailbox and claiming that was impossible. Then he proceeded to get drunker and drunker, leaving Lloyd to deal with his increasingly insane antics while Sheena laughed at his expense and didn’t lift a finger to help. Tonight's only saving grace was Sheena being the one to take Zelos home. If he’d had to do it he might have murdered his friend on the way, fed up with his laments on the woes of love. Knowing his luck, he'd have been haunted by Zelos' annoying ghost for the rest of his life, nothing able to shut him up.

Fumbling with his keys and being very grateful that he’d decided to stop drinking once Zelos had started clinging to him like a particularly depressed koala, he swung open the front door.

And froze with one foot in the room, eyes widening as he stared at the tiny attached balcony. Most nights it was empty, not a soul occupying it. On other nights, when he failed to find the solace of sleep, he might spend an hour or two sitting there, shoulders hunched as he stared out at the city skyline, hoping the chilly night air would clear his head. Tonight, however, there was someone already there, another soul encroaching in his residence.

“Oh, you’re here!” A girl with hair like spun gold clapped her hands together, blue eyes sparkling. “We can finally get started!”

Slam.

At some point, he’d managed to get his whole body into the room and closed the door behind him, but even the deafening banging sound didn’t dispel the image before him. There was still a girl that he had never met before in his life standing on his balcony, her unearthly beauty illuminated by the countless lights of this sleepless city.

Neither was it making the wings that extended from her back, covered in feathers that ruffled in the slight breeze and bathed in soft shadows, vanish from sight.

Darkness was beginning to creep into the corner of his vision as he continued to stare, unable to tear his gaze away.

Alright. So maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d thought. Maybe both he and Zelos were passed out cold and Sheena would kill them tomorrow morning after giving them a rude awakening.

“Here’s the first question: do you like animals?” she asked cheerfully, oblivious to the thoughts that were rattling around in his head at top speed and crashing uselessly into each other.

“Yes,” he answered faintly, before crumpling to the floor.

DAY 2

Consciousness came to him slowly, in bits and pieces, his surroundings constructing themselves around him as his senses came back to life. A familiar melody floated through the air, hummed softly by a gentle voice that tugged at the strings of his heart. His head rested against a comfortable surface, and there was a hand running through his hair, soothing his anxious heart as the faint scent of spring embraced him.

He didn’t feel like waking up, not while he rested so peacefully, the nightmare that was last night having passed. But a persistent feeling that something was wrong hounded him. Sheena wouldn't let him sleep in - she'd have murdered him if he didn't wake up to help her with breakfast, most likely with a pillow to the head with all of her strength funnelled into her arms. And she certainly never hummed.

He opened his eyes.

Periwinkle blue eyes blinked innocently down at him, a hand stilling in his hair. “Good morning,” the girl from yesterday whispered, her golden hair falling around his face, almost close enough to tickle his skin, forming a veil that shielded him from the first rays of the morning sun.

He would forever deny the screech that left his throat at that moment as he scrambled out of her lap, moving so abruptly that he slammed his head against the wall. Slumping with a groan, he rubbed the patch of skin that would most certainly bruise in a few hours, squinting at the intruder.

Did alcoholic delusions last till the next morning? Or had he finally snapped, losing the battle against the many stresses of university?

“Are you alright?”

“W - who are you?” he croaked in a wholly unflattering voice, his throat terribly dry as he tried to inch further away. It would've been a relief to declare her wings nothing more than a tacky Halloween prop, but one glance at them was enough to dispel that notion - they shifted together with her in a way that couldn't be described as anything but alive, flapping anxiously and causing feathers to peel off and flutter through the air in a shower of white.

“Did you not get the letter? I’m your assigned messenger from the Goddess, here to give you the survey!” Her wings drooped, lips drawing into a disappointed pout.

“A… a letter?” And a survey? This was one of the most absurd things he had ever heard! (Why did it ring a bell? And why did she seem so strangely familiar?)

“Wait. This thing?” he yelped, grabbing the forgotten card still balancing on the edge of the dining table. Its vibrant colours had not faded over the span of two days, still giving off the same sense of grand decorum.

“Yes!” She perked up again, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see it reached you. This is my first time doing this, and I already arrived late yesterday, so I thought I might have forgotten to send it.”

“You mean Zelos really wasn’t lying?” he whispered in mounting horror, rising in his throat. That meant all of this was real, somehow. Which meant that angels were real, which would mean -

He pushed himself to his feet abruptly, refusing to let that train of thought run any further, knowing it would only result in a cataclysmic crash. “It’s too early in the morning to deal with this. I’m going to make some breakfast.”

~~~

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I don’t need to eat!” The girl protested as he slid a plate of toast in front of her, even as she stared at the food with the expression of someone who had been starved for days, eyes sparkling like she was looking at the world's greatest delicacy.

“Just take it,” he grumbled, settling down with his own plate of charred toast, the black bits flaking off. It had been his standard breakfast fare ever since he'd started living here in this dorm alone. Not particularly appetizing, but good enough to propel him through the day.

“Thank you so much!” She proceeded to scarf it down like she was a famished wolf, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

“So, you're really a…” He gave her a once-over, taking in her attire. At first glance, one might mistake her for a schoolgirl. She was dressed the part in an outfit reminiscent of a girl’s school uniform, a messenger’s bag slung over her shoulder and pressing against her hip. Her long golden hair was neat, a tiny braid dangling next to her right cheek, secured with a blue ribbon.

That illusion could only hold if one ignored her wings, which in the light of the sun were even more breathtaking than they had been yesterday, covered to the brim in downy white feathers that he couldn't help but yearn to touch. They were tucked behind her now, giving a little shiver with each bite of toast she took, but if she were to stretch them out to their full length, they could likely fill the entire corridor.

“Angel?” She pushed her now emptied plate towards him, bowing her head in gratitude. “Yes, I am an angel! I will be with you for the following six days, and every day I will ask you a question, as mandated by the Goddess. Thank you so much for the food. It was delicious.”

He marvelled at the fact that she could utter those words with a straight face. She probably didn't even realise that her very presence had torn his world down to its foundations and was now reshaping it, piece by jagged piece.

“It's just burned toast…” he mumbled in confusion. “How did you even get in here?” Unless he had forgotten to lock his door on his way out yesterday afternoon, which was highly unlikely, there had been no way in apart from somehow passing through solid wall. At this point, he wouldn't even be surprised.

“I flew up to your balcony!"

Choking on his next bite, he barely managed to catch the spew of crumbs with his hand. Flew up to his balcony? Wouldn't that mean everyone had seen -

“Don't worry! You're the only one who can see me!”

His shoulders sagged and he buried his face in his hands, groaning in agony. Scratch the morning, he'd never be ready to deal with any of this. But if she was going to be sticking around for a whole week, which seemed likely given she was still not disappearing no matter how hard he blinked, then he'd just have to find some way to handle all of this. Might as well humour her and complete this strange survey and hope that would have the promised effect of getting her out of his life.

“Alright. What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one!”

“Uh…” He scrambled for something else to say, slightly afraid that if he offended her, she'd smite him with lightning or something equally ridiculous. But she didn’t appear upset, her smile just as serene as before, her hands remaining calmly in her lap. “What… What’s today’s question?” He gathered their plates and practically ran to the sink in a bid to escape the awkward cloud hovering over them that it seemed only he could sense. Only to be met with the stack of dishes from yesterday that he had yet to deal with, a tiny tower wobbling precariously that threatened to topple and leave him with a pile of shattered porcelain at any time. With a sigh, he readied the soap, continuing to keep an eye on his “guest”.

“Hm…” She bit her lip, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a roll of parchment that she slowly began to unroll - only for it to keep going and going, until the end of it nearly hit his feet. How had that even fit in her tiny bag? Why was he even bothering to think about this? “Day 2, day 2, day 2… Ah! Here it is. Are you sleeping well at night?”

Nearly dropping the plate in hand and introducing his feet to the sharp bite of porcelain, he turned to fully face her, incredulous, soap suds sliding off his hand. “That’s a random question.” He was expecting something more along the lines of ‘What are your personal beliefs on reincarnation’. Then again, she'd asked him about animals last night, hadn't she? What was even the goal of this survey?

“There is much the Goddess doesn’t know and that she wishes to learn." The angel beamed, once more clapping her hands together. "Take as much time as you need to answer!”

Returning to running the plate under the sink, he pondered the question for a moment. He still didn’t get it. Why would some hypothetical Goddess, sitting on her grand throne up in the untouchable sky, want to know about something as mundane as sleeping patterns? “I’m just like most people. There are some nights when I can’t sleep, but for the most part, I do just fine.”

Some nights he lay flat on his bed and blearily stared at the ceiling, thoughts running tired laps in his mind and refusing to dissipate. Thoughts about the choices he had made to find his way to this very point in time, about the dreams he was trying to chase, about the many encounters and farewells he had experienced. The refuge of sleep would evade him, even as exhaustion blurred his vision.

But that was neither here nor there, tiny moments that would go unnoticed, buried by the rapid flow of time in this city that stopped for no one, charging onwards forevermore like a runaway train. By the morning, he would not be refreshed, but he would keep trudging onwards, for that was all he could do to avoid being left behind.

Pulling out a slip of paper, she procured a feather pen out of thin air to rapidly scribble on it before throwing it into the air. It vanished in a bright explosion of light, leaving blue sparks to fizz out.

He barely flinched, his limit for absurdity having well and truly been met and overtaken. Rushing off to his room, he shot her one final glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be in my room. You can just… stay here, I suppose.”

Closing the door on her face as the smile dropped from it, he heaved a sigh of relief when he was met with the normalcy of his messy bedroom. Stationery and papers were scattered everywhere, his bed pushed into a corner, and his laptop buried under a sweater that had been haphazardly thrown over it. There were no signs at all of magically-appearing angels.

Perhaps if he kept his contact with her to a minimum, he could pretend that everything was the same as it’d always been, forcing down the strange traces of recognition that flashed through his mind whenever she smiled at him that made his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Each time he passed the living room to grab a drink, he spotted her on the balcony - leaning against the railing with her hair caught in the wind, sitting cross-legged with her head resting against the wall, padding across the floor as she ran her fingers across the narrowly-spaced grills. It appeared she had found her retreat, staring down at the streets below and the people passing by with undisguised longing on her face.

In the fragile quiet, he was no longer able to ignore that there was something familiar about her, an invisible thread tied securely around his heart that found its other end around her wrist, relentlessly tugging him towards her. An itch came alive under his skin whenever he gazed upon her visage, an echo of something that was no longer within his reach.

That night, sleep claimed him after hours of fitful tossing and turning, plunging him into dreams that were nothing more than quick dashes of colour against a canvas, lacking details. A girl, face blurry as she held her hand out to grasp the moon, her shining eyes the colour of the lazy summer sky they had become friends under, her brown hair pooling around her head where she lay on the grass. Beneath the weight of that muggy summer night, they had talked of dreams, the words flowing out of him as easy as breathing. He had shifted closer as the moon rose higher, drawn in by the shy, sweet smile on her face as his hand had found hers, their fingers tangling together.

He awoke to rays of sunlight falling gently on his face, tears stinging in his eyes as he reached blindly for things he had lost long ago.

DAY 3

When he stumbled into the living room, she was already seated on the sofa, once more reading diligently from that long roll of parchment. In his sleep-addled state, it took him a few scans of the room to discover what had mysteriously changed overnight. The separate piles of mail scattered around had congregated into a single neat one, the floor entirely bereft of feathers and every surface spotless, devoid of dust.

“Did you clean all of this up?” he asked, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes, thoroughly impressed. “You didn’t have to.”

“I had nothing better to do,” she answered, blue eyes raising to meet his. “I don’t need to sleep.”

Guilt slammed heavily into him, shame burning in his stomach for having ignored her for a whole day and for his plans to continue doing so for the rest of their time together. From what she’d said, it’s not like she’d asked to be assigned this job either, and anyone with eyes could tell she was lonely. The least he could do was not shut her out and make this any harder than it needed to be.

“I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Oh.” It was almost impossible to catch the flicker of disappointment across her face that was quickly covered up, but her drooping wings betrayed her true emotions. Faced with such a sight, how could he possibly refuse reaching out a hand to her to answer her silent plea? Besides, it would give him an opportunity to try and confirm his suspicions.

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed, averting his gaze to the practically sparkling floor. “Do you… want to come with me?”

In an instant, she had shot right next to him in a blur of feathers. Jumping on the balls of her feet in infectious enthusiasm, her wings flared, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Can I? Can I really?” Her face was pushed dangerously close to his - at this distance, he could count every fleck of darker blue scattered among her eyes, strikingly familiar.

“Yes!” he blurted out, taking a hurried step back to put some much-needed space between them, heat flooding his cheeks. “Come on.”

~~~

It appeared that she had spoken nothing but the truth - nobody could see her. Even in the middle of the day, the streets were still fairly packed, passersby ranging from cheerfully chattering students to working adults rushing to their destinations. Regardless of who they were, they parted around her like a river would part around a boulder, not even sparing her a second glance. Not even when she exclaimed at the top of her lungs, her gaze flitting from location to location a hundred miles a minute. Even the most mundane of sights like a simple traffic light captured her full attention, and he didn’t have the heart to drag her away, simply watching in amusement as she ran in circles around the pole, eyes glimmering in wonder.

She was also incredibly clumsy, constantly tripping over uneven parts of the pavement, stray cans, or empty air, instantly shattering the image of the graceful angel she had been trying very hard to maintain this whole time. He constantly had to catch her before she thudded face-first into hard concrete, her thanks spilling out of her as her wings twitched in embarrassment, trying their very best to hide her flushed face.

From observation, her wings seemed like an extension of her. They flapped erratically whenever her heart soared with happiness, drooped when sadness weighed on her shoulders, tucked into small shapes behind her when pale red dusted her cheeks. To be honest, it was rather… cute.

“Here.” He sat down on a wooden bench, patting the spot next to him until she took it, giving her wings a little shake. The trees in the park were starting to show the first signs of autumn, orange and browns beginning to overtake fresh green as a faint chill began to fill the air. “Have this.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to!” she parroted her words from yesterday as she accepted a little paper bag containing a piping hot potato croquette, steam still rising from it. From experience, he knew it was delectable, and the tempting scent wafting off it was enough to make his mouth water.

“It’s better than burned toast,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. But he couldn’t help but break out into a smile as she took a big bite and then let out a squeak of “Hot!”, blowing on her tongue. Adorable.

“So what’s today’s question?” he asked into the silence that had fallen, watching the wind rip leaves from branches, depositing them on the dirt, which was rapidly being smothered by layers upon layers of trampled leaves.

“Hm… Do you get along well with your family?” she asked between tiny nibbles, peering at him.

“Uh…” His fingers curled in his lap, his tongue suddenly stiff in his mouth. Where was he even supposed to begin with that question? There was so much to say, but his feelings regarding this matter had always been a complicated tangle that he’d never really been able to make heads-or-tails of, not for lack of trying. “I… guess? It’s just been me and my dad for a long time. Honestly, I don’t know how to describe our relationship. We’re not the closest, and there are a lot of times when we don’t see eye-to-eye.”

There was an awkward distance between them, a chasm that had seemed to widen over the year since he had come to this city. Whenever they met, his father never seemed to know what to say, leaving nothing but empty silence broken by stilted conversation as they struggled to understand each other, leaving him drained by the end. It had been that way for as long as he could remember, ever since illness had taken his mother when he was young, leaving his father to take care of him alone even as he travelled from place to place for work. Their circumstances had resulted in more than one heated argument stemming from the desperate anger that welled up within him as he continually uprooted himself from every life he ended up building for himself, even if he’d known deep down that it had never been his father’s fault. Perhaps grief had forced them both to withdraw, and when they were ready to emerge from the protective fortress they had built for themselves, they’d forgotten how to connect with each other.

But at the end of the day, he knew his father did care, even if his ways of doing so were sometimes hard to pick up on. He had always done his very best to provide for him and give him a good life. Even still…

“At this point, I’m not sure we can patch it up,” he admitted with a heavy heart. It seemed such a hopeless prospect, not with the yawning abyss that would need to be bridged.

“Well…” She chewed on her nail, having devoured the croquette, disregarding the way it burned her tongue. “You still have a long life ahead of you, don’t you? That’s all the time in the world to get to know each other better. It won’t be easy, and sometimes it’ll feel like pulling teeth, but it’s possible. So you don’t have to give up now.”

“That’s… surprisingly good advice.” He squinted at her, slightly confused that those words of wisdom, delivered with such an encouraging tone that he was beginning to sway towards the notion that it truly was possible, had emerged from someone who gave off the impression that she had never experienced human nature before.

“That’s just how I feel. If it helps you, then I’m glad.” Shrugging, she flashed him a sheepish smile, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he answered, picking at his jeans, the warmth of her hand sinking into his body and gradually finding its way to his heart, wrapping it in a soft blanket. “Maybe I can try.” All the walls between him and his father were daunting, but perhaps with the memory of her words, he might find the strength to overcome them someday.

“So, um… Is it alright if I give you a name?” He broached the subject carefully, unsure if it was some kind of taboo for angels. For all he knew, it could be.

“Why?”

“I’d feel bad to keep referring to you with no name,” he mumbled, face aflame. Especially when she kept helping him, intentionally or not. It was the least he could do to repay her boundless kindness, fitting of a benevolent angel.

“Sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly, blue eyes curious as she waited with bated breath.

“Uh, well…” He took a deep breath, remembering another girl from a lifetime ago that he’d thought he would never see again, not after her untimely departure. She’d been much the same as the angel before him now - always cheerful, reaching out a helping hand without a second thought, endlessly dedicated to her faith. Perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree, attempting in vain to keep the candle flame of hope alive that he should have snuffed out ages ago, unable to muster up the strength to abandon the promise they’d made together. But there were so many similarities that it was starting to drive him mad trying to keep his thoughts from running wild, even if he could no longer remember her face well enough to match it to the one across from him now. Familiarity pooled in his heart, so much of it that it threatened to force its way through its walls and spill out onto his trembling hands. It was like the ghost that had haunted him for much of his life from the corners of his vision - the sway of her hair, the sound of her carefree laughter that had long since rusted in his memory - had been given a flesh-and-blood form once more.

He could recall her name, written in a child’s messy scrawl on a crumpled piece of paper he still possessed, holding the final remnants of a heartfelt dream he was still incapable of giving up. “How about Colette?”

When she wrapped her arms around him, her wings reaching to embrace him as well, the breath left him in a slow exhale, the tension leaking from his shoulders. The two of them fit together perfectly, and he relaxed into the hold that his very soul recognised, the imprint of it having never faded.

“I love that name,” she whispered as his cheek pressed against her shoulder, her hand coming to rest comfortingly on the back of his head. “Thank you.”

DAY 4

“Do you need any help with that?” he asked over his cup of warm milk, perfect to relax his mind before turning in.

“Hm?” Colette’s reply was delayed, distracted as she was, attempting to contort her arm to pluck a feather that was frustratingly out of reach. She’d been grooming her wings for the past thirty minutes and growing increasingly more frustrated as she failed to reach some out-of-the-way spots, the frown on her face becoming more and more pronounced as her wings lashed out, liable to break something. “Uh, sure.”

“Tell me if I’m pulling too hard, alright?” He sat down next to her as she turned to give him unfettered access to her wings, stretching them out as wide as they would go. Suppressing his awed gasp at the full length of them, he was finally able to see exactly how they could support her weight. The sight of her soaring through the skies must be something indeed, and he yearned to see it - would her clumsiness carry even into the Heavens, or would she be the very picture of elegance?

“Thanks,” she mumbled as he got to work, something bright blooming in his heart knowing that she trusted him with what was clearly a vulnerable part of her. Running his hands over her wings, he could feel the hard bones that lay beneath as he tugged gently at old, grey feathers to pull them out, adding them to the growing pile by the sofa, and smoothing out feathers that were out of alignment. “I usually have someone help me.”

“I can imagine.” Her feathers were soft, his fingers getting lost within their endless sea of white - he almost wanted to never leave. She was practically melting beneath his touch, once more humming that same tune she had when he had first woken up with his head resting in her lap. It almost seemed like she’d fall asleep, for even if she didn’t need to, surely she still needed to rest. “What’s today’s question?”

“Are you doing the things you want to do?”

He froze mid-way through pulling out a feather, a tremor racking his hand. Swallowing, he completed the motion, slowly backing away from her. It felt like ice had grown over his heart, brittle and about to crack.

“I… I think so. Honestly, I… I don’t know.” He smiled a little bitterly, worrying at the feather in hand, avoiding her curious gaze. “Sorry that I don’t have the definitive answer.”

He was here, in this massive city which he had once called home with his mother, unable to recover the easy joy he had once felt in faded memories that he could barely dredge up, back when things used to be much simpler. Working himself to the bone for the sake of a dream that may not grant him a future, chasing the stars like a child that had yet to grow up, reaching desperately for those glinting, inhuman lights. Surrounded by throngs of people that didn’t know his name, feeling nothing but tiny and insignificant.

Some days, he felt like a fool chasing nothing more than a mirage, the ashes of his dream falling between his fingers as he questioned whether any of this would be worth it. But there were spots of bright happiness, moments when he reaffirmed his determination, deciding that he couldn’t give up. He would make his dream come true, for the sake of the friend that had been left behind in happy summer days.

“That’s alright,” she answered gently, turning to face him and placing a hand on his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, taking a shuddering breath as her voice washed over him, soothing his weary heart. There was no judgement, only a kind understanding that thawed the ice, chasing away the chill. “Nobody holds the answer to everything, even about themselves. There are no right or wrong answers. It’s like I said before - you’ll have the time to figure it out. I’m certain that you will, whether it be tomorrow or a year from now.”

Blinking away the tears that were suddenly pricking at the corners of his eyes, the words of thanks he wished to express stuck in his throat, he hid his face in his arm as her hand found its way to his back, giving it a comforting rub. Her appearance had granted him a miracle, one that he clung to with utmost gratitude, her encouraging words a shining beacon of light in a sea of uncertainty, saving him from drowning.

She said nothing more, only squeezed his hand, keeping him company.

DAY 5

“Lloyd! Wow, it’s been a while since I last saw you.” Sheena waved, peeling from a group of students and bounding over with a cheerful stride. She completely ignored Colette, who stared at her with wide eyes. “Did Zelos piss you off that badly? If he actually did cross a line, just tell me and I’ll take care of him for you.” The wicked grin on her face and the cracking of her knuckles sent a shiver down his back, and he quickly sent Zelos his prayers.

“No, it’s fine! All that wasn’t his fault.” Frantically, he waved his hands in denial. Hopefully, that would be enough to deter Sheena from murder. He would not be held responsible for that.

“If you say so. So, what brings you to campus today? Summer classes as well?” Sheena returned his nod in commiseration. “Hey, are you free next week to come over to my place? Zelos will be joining. We can compare assignments on our common mods and play a few rounds of Smash.”

Next week… He mentally checked his schedule, counting through the days. “I should be free, so sure.”

“Great.” She grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll send you more details later, I’d better get going. The professor for my next class will skin me alive if I’m late. See you later!”

And just like that, she was off, blending into the crowd of students headed into the school building before he could even blink. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but compare her to a whirlwind, never stopping and always on the move.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he told Colette, moving off towards his own destination. She followed behind him, a small smile on her face.

~~~

Colette kicked her feet back and forth, her face pressed against the library’s wide window. It afforded a wonderful view of the university courtyard, which even in autumn was filled to the brim with a myriad of flowers, painting colour into the drab environment.

Staring hard at the mathematical equations he was supposed to be deciphering, he found that the various symbols were starting to get mixed up in his head. “Ugh, that’s it, I need a break,” he groaned, massaging his temples and tossing down his pencil, which rolled until it was hanging dangerously over the side of the table. Joining Colette by the window, he pressed his shoulder against hers, her right wing giving him a friendly nudge. “How about you ask me your question now?”

She turned to look at him, blinking. “Alright. When you need someone to talk to, is anyone there for you?”

An invisible grip loosened from around his heart. He’d been anticipating a question on the same level as the previous two days, but this wouldn’t require the same level of soul-searching that had left him wrung out and emotionally exhausted, her presence the only thing grounding him.

His first instinct would have been to answer no, but looking even a little bit deeper instantly told him that this wasn’t true. While he’d never revealed most of the thoughts that simmered under the surface to his two friends, the time spent with them - playing video games, lamenting over homework and occasionally getting drunk together never failed to cheer him up. The two of them had been the ones to approach him and invite him to hang out with them, again and again and again, refusing to give up until they'd successfully battered down the walls he had erected. They picked up when he was feeling down and always tried their best to make him feel better - acting as anchors, keeping him from getting lost in the rapids.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was a simple answer, but it was the comforting truth.

She smiled silently, and returned to peering out the window.

DAY 6

“I win!” Colette cheered as she dropped the controller into the cushion resting in her lap, her wings flaring wide and smacking him in the head.

Rubbing the side of his head, he congratulated her once more, having long since lost count of how many times she’d claimed victory over the past thirty minutes. He’d suggested playing a few rounds of Smash to introduce her to video games, and tied a wager into the game - the loser would have to reveal something about themselves.

At first, he’d learned much about her, doing his best to quietly gather information. She’d been born nine years ago without any recollections of her past life like every other angel, and had finally been deemed ready by her mentor, a grumpy senior angel who held no love for humans, to take on her first assignment. Every word that fell from her lips only further confirmed his suspicions - the timeline matched up perfectly. Still, he found that the truth was too difficult to say aloud, getting lodged in his throat. To do so would be to open himself up to the possibility that he truly was delusional, desperately clutching onto a mirage that threatened to dissipate at any moment, unable to face the painful truth. For now, he was content to keep it close to his chest, the knowledge like a ball of warm light filling the void of grief he’d been carrying around for almost a decade.

He'd laughed out loud when she’d picked Pit to play, but she’d gotten terrifyingly good at the character and was now solidly beating him in every match. So he’d told her, detail by detail, about the friend he’d once made who had meant everything to him. The day they’d met by the river that ran behind the sleepy countryside town that she called home, an unflinchingly kind girl saying hello to a boy who had closed off his heart, not wanting to be hurt again. The nights they’d spent together as he taught her the names of the stars painted across the canvas of the night, and they confided in each other about their dreams, finding in each other the strength to make them come true one day. The promise she’d made to meet him again on the day he’d moved away, holding strong to the belief that it would happen regardless of the years that would pass and the distance that spanned between them, and the letters they’d exchanged until it had all come to a tragic end.

She absorbed it all with a thoughtful expression, her face betraying nothing of what she thought no matter how closely he watched it. It was infuriating, but he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from blurting out something stupid.

Searching for another fact to give out, he was interrupted by her clapping her hand over his mouth. Sputtering in shock, he did his best not to blush to the tips of his ears.

“How about you answer today’s question instead?” She smiled sweetly, removing her hand.

“Sure thing…” He eyed her suspiciously - did today’s question warrant such an action?

Her smile didn’t waver at all as she asked the next question, the words she uttered growing wings and crashing straight into his heart. “How do you define love?”

“Wh - what? T - that’s…” Words fell clumsily from his lips as he turned into a stuttering mess, tearing his gaze away from her, his previous efforts for naught as he felt his whole face grow hot. Surely he was red as a beet by now, embarrassment settling firmly in his chest. Had she purposely lowered his guard just to spring this question?

“It’s… something warm and encouraging,” he mumbled, the words coming to him easily with those halcyon days fresh on his mind, even if those memories were a decade old and faded at the corners. Regardless, she still shined bright no matter how many details about her got smudged, a light that never dimmed in a world that wouldn’t have hesitated to put it out. “It pushes you to be a better person. It carries you through your worst days, and makes your best ones all the better. But…”

Acrid doubt pooled on his tongue. “I was so young back then that I wouldn’t have known what it was, and it was only a year, so maybe -”

A firm finger on his lips forced him into silence, her wings forming a secure cocoon that enclosed them. Slicing a space out of the universe just for the two of them, and narrowing his world to just her.

“If you believe it to have been love, then that’s the most important thing, isn’t it?” she whispered, so close that he could feel the brush of her breath against his cheek. His heart racing, he could do nothing but stare into her vibrant blue eyes, drawing him in, her beauty otherwordly and stealing the breath from him. If he wanted to, he could reach out and run his fingers through her golden hair, he could press the palms of their hands together, he could lean his forehead against hers. There were so many things he could do, that his soul cried out for him to do, to press closer until there was no space between them at all.

He was acutely aware that tomorrow would be her final day on this earth before she returned to whence she came from, her assignment complete. It would be like saying goodbye, all over again, not knowing if he would ever see her again, for what reason would she have to descend again? That knowledge, cold and sharply piercing the vulnerable walls of his heart, held him back from all that he yearned to do. But even then…

Grabbing her wrist before she could pull it fully back, determination burning in his veins and driving him forward, he extended an invitation to the angel before him, who had guided him with a gentle touch, re-alighting the embers of hope in his heart.

“Would you like to go somewhere with me tomorrow?”

DAY 7

“Two tickets for the Ferris wheel, please.”

The bored attendant searched behind Lloyd, trying to find the mysterious second person, before shrugging and handing the tickets over, clearly deciding this puzzle wasn’t one worth solving.

Struggling to keep a straight face over the mistake he’d made, Lloyd made his way to the end of the queue. Colette wasn’t even trying to stifle her giggles, making his ears flush red as he scowled. Joining him, she hugged the plush puppy he’d won from the ringtoss close to her chest, hiding a smile behind its brown fur as a wing brushed against his back.

They had spent the entire day at the amusement park that this city boasted, exploring the attractions it had to offer. They had played the games, his eyebrows raising higher and higher as Colette had somehow managed to win every single one, even though he swore they were rigged. They had gone on the thrill rides, Colette giggling maniacally while he’d done his best not to throw up afterwards. They had even gone to the haunted house, which she’d found hilarious, managing between bouts of laughter to mention that demons did not look this cute and sending his thoughts into another panicked spiral about the logistics of hell.

They had laughed and yelled in unison over games won and lost, the looming deadline that crept closer with every second that ticked by conveniently forgotten. And now here they were, standing before the Ferris wheel, lit up in dozens of purple and blue LED lights, flashing in patterns that cast the ground around it in the same colours. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a few stars to twinkle in the sky, high above, ready to act as witnesses to the ending that was soon to come.

He could vaguely remember riding the Ferris wheel once with his mother, who had picked him up by the waist to show him the sights when they’d reached the apex, her warm laughter as his tiny fists had swung through the air sticking with him through the years.

It was a place he’d once promised to bring another girl if they were to ever reunite, sealing their vow by wrapping their pinkies together. Her eyes had lit up when he'd described his blurry recollections of the park, blown away by what was, to her, a technological marvel that she'd never had the chance to set her eyes on before.

The angel by his side stared up at the Ferris wheel with wide eyes, tracking its circular motion.

The queue cleared in no time, and before he knew it, they were seated in the carriage, rising at a leisurely pace. The people below them gradually disappeared into colourful dots, the entire city spreading out before them - a veritable maze of buildings with lights that burned bright throughout the night.

Colette was staring out of the window with an unreadable expression on her face, her fingers tracing nonsensical shapes in the mist her breath left behind. Her wings were tucked close, so much so that she seemed smaller than she usually was, the dog plush lying forgotten beside her.

In the silence that had fallen, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands, his stomach twisted into knots. There was so much he wanted to say, needed to say, even, but as always, he found himself hesitating, terrified of what letting the truth slip could do. What if she didn't believe him? Or worse, what if the truth hurt her? He didn't want to burden her with something that might chain her to the ground with its immense weight. She had no responsibility to carry it - being born without memories had freed her from beneath its shadow, even if he owed her the truth of who he was.

Of course, she beat him to it. She’d always been much braver than him, her courage the force that pushed him to be better.

“You know, I think the odds of me getting assigned to you was one in a million,” she mused, her words sending an electric jolt straight to his heart.

He could scarcely believe his ears as she put to rest all of his fears, easily speaking the truth like it was no big deal.

“I've always dreamed of a boy, even if the dreams fade once I awaken.” Her smile was sad, her eyes downcast and melancholy as her wings wrapped around herself, her voice carrying with it the years she had grieved for something she hadn't even known was missing, cradling her bruised heart and unable to find the source of the never-ending ache. "The melody of your heart called out to mine, and it wasn't hard to put your face to the boy in my dreams. I’m... really sorry for breaking our promise.”

“Don’t be,” he snapped automatically, finding his way through the feathers that formed a shield around her to place his hand in hers, hoping the tender emotions he held in his heart could reach her and take away at least some of the pain. He had never blamed her, not once, not even when he'd curled into a tiny ball in the sterile room in the new location he had moved to, tasting salt on his tongue as his heart shattered. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’re here now, aren’t you?”

It was cruel fate that had stolen her away and forced them apart, and yet she had found her way back, against all odds. He would carry all those years of grief with him for the rest of his life, feeling their weight pressing on his shoulders forever. But he wouldn’t give up the chance to have met her, nor the miraculous way she had re-entered his life, keeping their promise in her own, wondrous way. She had always encouraged him to continue believing, no matter what, the memory of the curve of her warm smile enough to keep him going even during his bleakest days.

“I… suppose I am.” She stood, leaning over him with the plush resting in the crook of her arm, her wings catching the silver light of the moon as they arced over him, blocking his view of the sky. All at once, he could truly see the angel in her in its full glory - not just the steadfast guardian but also the holy avenger, something fierce burning in her eyes and keeping him pinned in place, unable to move even a single muscle. “Hey, Lloyd. Tell me. Do you… believe in the Goddess?”

He understood, that this was the final question. And thus, he owed her the truth, and nothing but the truth, just as he'd hesitantly told her his views on faith so many years ago. It mattered not if it was painful - it was still what he owed her.

“You’d think I would say yes with you standing in front of me, but… No. I would like to think I have the strength to achieve my dreams.” With the help of those around him who cared for him, tangible and real, he would keep moving forward towards his own goals regardless of the obstacles that he would have to overcome. It would never feel right to put his faith in a deity who lived up in the sky, even if she did exist, completely disconnected from the lives people led on the ground.

“Good.” Her expression softened, the tears shimmering in her eyes making his heart clench painfully in his chest. He yearned to reach out and grab hold of her, draw her close and never let go, but he forced himself to remain still, knowing it would be selfish of him to do so, to make their inevitable parting all the more difficult. “Hold onto that strength, and I’m sure you’ll be alright. I… I really am sorry.”

I’m sorry that I have to leave you again.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” It was his turn now, to reassure her with the faith he would grasp onto and never let go of, as she once had, pouring all of his heart into his words as he ran a comforting hand down a wing, shivering beneath his touch. “Besides, I believe that…”

“No matter how far you go…” There were tears swimming in her blue eyes, but she didn’t shed them, her round cheeks puffed up as she clenched her fists, her brown hair swaying with the force of her determined motions. “So long as we believe it’ll happen, then surely…”

“...someday, we’ll meet again.”

A small smile spread across her face, her expression doing its best not to crumple. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice wobbling as she pressed her lips to his cheek. Tying her heart to his with a thread that would never come undone, even as she vanished into stardust that scattered into nothing, marking the end of a transient, most beautiful dream.

Leaving him with a single soft feather lying on the metal floor of the carriage that he retrieved with trembling hands, the imprint of her warmth against his skin, and the tears streaming down his cheeks that he’d finally let free.

DAY 8

“You free next week for some bar hopping?” Sheena asked off-handedly as she trounced both him and Zelos in Smash, letting Zelos’ increasingly annoyed complaints at always being the first one to get booted off the platforms go in one ear and leave out the other.

“Can’t,” he mumbled, not tearing his gaze off the screen as he did his best to avoid getting caught in Sheena’s wrath. “I’m meeting my father.”

That earned him both of his friends’ attention, their gazes contemplative. “You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve said that with no dread. And the first time you haven’t tried to weasel out of it,” Zelos commented.

“Ha!” he cheered as he took advantage of the distraction to take another stock off him.

“Hey! Why me again?”

“You know, Lloyd,” Sheena said as she flopped onto her stomach, her fingers rapidly punching inputs into her controller, once more contributing to Zelos’ demise as he wailed. “You seem different.”

“Do I?” he answered, nearly dropping his controller in shock, surprised that she picked up on it. He certainly felt different after the week he'd had, that he still wasn't certain was anything more than a particularly vivid hallucination brought on by stress. But the feather on his bedside table said otherwise, and he’d clutched it close to his chest that very morning, smiling at the warmth it evoked.

“Yeah. Happier, maybe?”

His heart felt lighter, like the shackles fettering it that he hadn't even known had been there had been broken. “I guess I met someone.”

Zelos perked up instantly, a smirk crossing his face. “Woah, Lloyd met someone? Is she pretty?”

“Shut up,” he groaned, smacking Zelos in the head with a pillow before the three of them burst into collective laughter, helping to chase away the persistent cloud of melancholy that still hung over his head.

He carried a new sadness with him, tucked into a corner of his heart reserved just for it, the events of the past week weaved into the tapestry of his life. But he was also freer than he'd ever been, ready to try and soar with the wings she had gifted him, gathering strength every day. There would be bad days when his determination would wane and grief would grip his heart once more, and there would be good days when he could laugh out loud with his friends and grin and feel like he was at the top of the world. And every day, he would do his best to work towards making the many dreams he held come true, whether his progress be a mile or an inch, trying his utmost to be a better person as he cradled the memory of her close.

Just as he’d promised her he would, waiting patiently until the day they would meet again.

[askthatoneanacondraikaiguy]

Do you have any headcanon about Kai?

I'm assuming you mean the show version of Kai and not Permanent Anacondrai Kai. And honestly not a whole lot of solid ones rn, but I do have enough to share here;

He definitely likes spice. That boy loves it when his food is spicy.

A little bit of projection; Kai is not good at emotional regulation when he's younger. Idk if I HC him with ADHD (which is what I have and is the biggest cause of my emotional disregulation) but the stuff he went through when he was young and the fact he wasn't really taught how to regulate his emotions would've resulted in that.

Wu giving him the opportunity to express his anger and other feelings in physical training was the healthiest outlet Kai had really ever been shown by someone else when he was young. Living with Zane and Cole also definitely helped.

I like the idea that Kai and Nya were supported by the village they grew up in. A lot of people like the headcanons that Kai had to work really hard to keep him and Nya housed and fed. While I do like those HCs, I personally like the idea that the village kind of collectively helped out, bringing the children meals or babysitting/teaching the kids. They probably didn't worry too hard about Kai and Nya covering the costs to keep their parents' shop or house around.

In my HC, Maya and Ray were important members of the community and their disappearance was concerning and upsetting. They were elemental masters and war heroes. They provided the village a sense of security just by being there along with providing weaponry. With them gone so suddenly and without explanation, that sense of security was gone.

There was a period where the entire village was waiting for them to come back somehow. None of them wanted to tell Kai and Nya their parents were never coming back. But Kai figured that out on his own as he grew older. Once Kai was old enough to do chore work but not man his dad's shop, the villagers would've offered to pay him for that, because Kai would've begun to feel like he needed to 'grow up' and be responsible. I personally follow my friend's HC that Kai was around 14 or 15 (Nya being around 12-13 and Jay being about 13; youngest of the Ninja before Lloyd) at the time of the pilots. He definitely worked really hard before becoming a ninja but I don't think he had, like, five jobs at the time to support them both. He likely did odd jobs around the village and then the blacksmith shop once he was tall enough to use the forge.

Kai didn't make as many friends in the village as he probably would have otherwise, because between the abandonment anxiety and grief that came from losing his parents so suddenly, taking care of his sister, and also being just generally more stand-offish because everyone treats him differently (not cruelly; just differently, and kids are very good at noticing those things), he just had a hard time developing new relationships on his own. Especially in the shadow left behind by his parents' disappearance.

He wanted Nya to enjoy being a kid and that meant he wasn't super willing to let her help him in the more dangerous part of the shop, which definitely annoyed her. Kai was well-meaning there, but he didn't exactly convey that super well to Nya all the time cause he was a young teenager and she was a 12 year old who wanted to be seen as just as capable as her older brother.

The above bit is definitely inspired by that one exchange in the pilot; "I can handle this myself!" "No, you can't, stupid!"

I have a little brother who's 14, but in my brain he's still 12, and I definitely HC that Kai sorta sees Nya the same way. Not that she's incapable, just that she's also baby and it's his responsibility to provide helpful life advice to her, which is kinda funny when she has shit more figured out than he does.

[reasoningdaily]

Life Without Black People

A very humorous and revealing story is told about a group of white people who were fed up with African Americans, so they joined together and wished themselves away. They passed through a deep dark tunnel and emerged in sort of a twilight zone where there is an America without black people.

At first these white people breathed a sigh of relief.

'At last', they said, 'no more crime, drugs, violence and welfare.'

All of the blacks have gone! Then suddenly, reality set in. The 'NEW AMERICA' is not America at all - only a barren land.

1. There are very few crops that have flourished because the nation was built on a slave-supported system.

2. There are no cities with tall skyscrapers because Alexander Mils, a black man, invented the elevator, and without it, one finds great difficulty reaching higher floors.

3. There are few if any cars because Richard Spikes, a black man, invented the automatic gearshift, Joseph Gambol, also black, invented the Super Charge System for Internal Combustion Engines, and Garrett A. Morgan, a black man,

invented the traffic signals.

4. Furthermore, one could not use the rapid transit system because its procurer was the electric trolley, which was invented by another black man, Albert R. Robinson.

5. Even if there were streets on which cars and a rapid transit system could operate, they were cluttered with paper because an African American, Charles Brooks, invented the street sweeper..

6. There were few if any newspapers, magazines and books because John Love invented the pencil sharpener, William Purveys invented the fountain pen, and Lee Barrage invented the Type Writing Machine and W. A. Love invented the Advanced Printing Press. They were all, you guessed it, Black.

7. Even if Americans could write their letters, articles and books, they would not have been transported by mail because William Barry invented the Postmarking and Canceling Machine, William Purveys invented the Hand Stamp and Philip Downing invented the Letter Drop.

8. The lawns were brown and wilted because Joseph Smith invented the Lawn Sprinkler and John Burr the Lawn Mower.

9. When they entered their homes, they found them to be poorly ventilated and poorly heated. You see, Frederick Jones invented the Air Conditioner and Alice Parker the Heating Furnace. Their homes were also dim. But of course, Lewis Lattimer later invented the Electric Lamp, Michael Harvey invented the lantern, and Granville T. Woods invented the Automatic Cut off Switch. Their homes were also filthy because Thomas W. Steward invented the Mop and Lloyd P. Ray the Dust Pan.

10. Their children met them at the door - barefooted, shabby, motley and unkempt. But what could one expect? Jan E. Matzelinger invented the Shoe Lasting Machine, Walter Sammons invented the Comb, Sarah Boone invented the Ironing Board, and George T. Samon invented the Clothes Dryer.

11. Finally, they were resigned to at least have dinner amidst all of this turmoil. But here again, the food had spoiled because another Black Man, John Standard invented the refrigerator...

Now, isn't that something? What would this country be like without the contributions of Blacks, as African-Americans?

Martin Luther King, Jr. said, 'by the time we leave for work, millions of Americans have depended on the inventions from the minds of Blacks.'

Black history includes more than just slavery, Frederick Douglas, Martin Luther Kinbg, Jr., Malcolm X, and Marcus Garvey & W.E.B. Dubois.

PLEASE SHARE, ABUNDANTLY

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 51

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Trapped in another holding pattern. That's all that life seems to be. Phases. Dull and prolonged. Waiting but for what?

Your days aren't much different than before Lloyd's return. He may as well have stayed gone. For you, he's not there. He's nothing. He doesn't deserve to be anything to you.

Your routine once more stagnates; sleep and feedings and some crying. Between it all, you see Harlan or Dottie, sometimes both. Your mother-in-law has grown quiet, even evasive, since her son came back. You know why but you won't argue with her or her precious Marion.

You get your walks in, looking forward to the escape from the suffocating walls. Andy passes you often, waving or saying hi. He doesn't try to talk again, not with your father around. They barely acknowledge each other. You ignore his texts. You're still trying to figure it all out.

When you're at home, Harlan holds Luna as you catch up on your reality TV. You whisper back and forth about your most hated personalities. It can never be what it once was, or what you wished it could be, but it's manageable.

That day, Harlan and Dottie go into town to do some shopping. You haven't seen Lloyd but you don't mourn his absence. Not like before.

You have Luna downstairs in her rolling bassinet. She's fully fed and sleepy. You might do some cooking. You're finally feeling up to it.

You shiver and watch your daughter dozing peacefully. Why is it so cold in here? You hug yourself and notice the draft freezing in from the kitchen. You find one of the french doors slightly open and push it shut. You can guess who did it. You should lock him out but you'd rather not provoke a confrontation.

You go back to the front room. Something feels off. You don't know. Maybe it's just the empty house. You check the thermostat then the bassinet. Luna is tucked against the side. She must feel it too.

You make sure the wheels are locked before you flit out to grab a quilt from the nursery. You pant as you get to the top of the stairs. Whew, you still got work to do before you're anywhere close to back to normal.

You snatch the sewn pink blanket and come back down, catching your breath as you sweep through the doorway.

“Lulu,” you say quietly, “gonna swaddle you up–”

You notice the angle of the bassinet. It's not how you left it, almost parallel to the sofa instead. You rush over and nearly scream as the bottom stares back at you empty.

You drop the quilt and spin, searching for any sign of the culprit. You storm back into the foyer and stomp a foot.

“Lloyd!” You bellow, not caring if you wake the babe, “where the fuck are you? Give me my baby!”

Nothing. Just the echo of your anger. You snarl and holler again. Louder.

“LLOYD! I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND!”

You stride forward and go down the hall. Not in the kitchen. Nope, not in the dining room either. You go through the first floor, yelling, then ascend the stairs again. There's no way he could've snuck her up there.

“You motherfucker. Lloyd!” You stop at the top, “it's not fucking funny.”

“Jesus Christ!” You hear a door swing open, then another as he comes out of his bedroom, “what is it now? Wanna call me more names? Push me around?”

He has a towel clutched around his waist as his feet slap on the floor. He glistens, his hair slick and dripping the noise of the shower still buzzing. You gulp and your heart drops.

“Lloyd, give her back.”

“What?”

“Don't. Give me Luna.”

“Luna–” he grimaces, “what the fuck? You serious? You won't let me see her and now– wait, where is she?”

You stand silent in horror. He's a loar to the bone but dammit, he's convincing.

“You took her. I know… I went to get her a blanket and you…”

“I've been in the shower for twenty minutes, sweetheart,” he sneers, “I… she's… gone?”

You croak. It's all you can do. You spin and hurtle back downstairs. You near the bassinet again and squeal. Gripping the sides as panic floods your chest.

“She's gone! Lloyd! My baby! Where is she?!”

You hear him come downstairs and his footsteps rush across the floor, searching everywhere you did. He appears from the kitchen, barely hanging onto his towel. You look at him as he stares at you palely.

“The back door was unlocked.”

“I know, I thought you were out there–”

“Peaches,” he utters as his eyes dilate, “call the police.”

🍑

You're still sobbing as the red and blue flash on the other side of the window. You told the story a dozen times over. It's 2am and you haven't seen Luna in thirteen hours. You feel her absence heavy in your chest.

Your baby. You failed her. She's gone and it's all your fault.

Why didn't you just take her upstairs? Why did you want to cook? Why weren't you watching her? Why didn't you lock the goddamn door?

“Honey,” Harlan clinks down a mug and his weight dips beside you on the couch, “they'll find her. She can't have gone far.”

“No, no, no,” you bawl, head throbbing, “someone took her. Someone– it's all my fault–”

“Shhh, shhh, it's alright. It'll be alright. She got everyone lookin’, they'll find her.”

“I fucked up!” You fold over your lap, “I was selfish--c-c-carlessssss.”

He hushes you again and rubs your back. You can hear the police milling around outside, a few inside still investigating every nook and cranny.

“Ma'am,” an officer approaches, “we're doing what we can but these things can take a while. You know, we got a few volunteers from the neighborhood too and some statements–”

“I don't care! I want my daughter back,” you snap.

“Sorry, officer, she's just…scared,” Harlan slings his arm over your shoulders.

“Understood,” the officer says, “we're doing all we can.”

You sniffle and bury your face in your palms. This can't be real. It is and it's all on you. You wished so many times that Luna would just go away, you didn't want her, you remember that, and now that wish came true. You are a monster.

“Breathe,” Harlan coos as your breath turns shallow and suffocating, “honey, please, you needa–”

“Let me look!” You sit up, so dizzy you nearly keel over, “I wanna look for her.”

“Dear, you already did. You needa rest.”

“No, no!” You shove him away and stand, slippers slapping as you stomp around the couch, “she's my baby, I can find her! I know I will.”

“You won't help. Lloyd's already out there–” Harlan calls after you as he follows.

You hurry through the entryway and burst out the front door. You hear your father swearing as he scrambles for his shoes. The snow crunches under your thin soles as you jog past the cruisers and the uniformed figures.

You turn down the street without a thought. The streetlights flash over you, yellow, then darkness, yellow, dark…. You don't know where you're going. Maybe you want to disappear too.

You hear Harlan calling your name but he's getting further away, not closer. You slow down and cough, lungs burning. You lean on a fence post and bend to collect yourself.

“What are you doing out here?” A drawl brings you straight up.

You squint. You think it's Lloyd at first, you haven't seen him since the police got there. Andy steps into the soft hue of the lightpole.

“I… what are you doing?” You throw the question back at Andy.

“I'm a volunteer firefighter. Heard there was a missing baby so I've been helping. I'm sorry to hear about Luna. I don't know who would do this.”

You shake your head and snivel, “I don't know.”

“I know what it's like to lose a child but… I think… she's out there. It'll be okay. You'll see her again, I know it.”

“I hope,” your voice cracks and wipes your eyes as your grief spills anew, “I should go back.”

He says nothing. You back away and turn, dragging your feet down the pavement. You see the sirens lit up and the distant beans of flashlights. Suddenly, you're caught around the neck, a hand smothering your mouth.

“Do you wanna see her?” Andy whispers as you kick out, “Luna needs her mommy…” he wrestles you out of the cone of light and behind the fence, “so do I.”

You thrash, clawing at his sleeve. Your slippers fly off in your struggle as he squeezes tighter. No, it can't be him.

You were wrong. Again.

[petervintonjr]

"True emancipation lies in the acceptance of the whole past in deriving strength from all of my roots, in facing up to the degradation as well as the dignity of my ancestors."

As we come to the end of Pride Month 2023, I wanted to devote a little time to the remarkable life of Rev. Anna Pauline "Pauli" Murray --civil rights attorney, Episcopal priest, scholar, and advocate. Born in 1910 Baltimore, their mother tragically died when Murray was only four, and their father succumbed to depression and was later murdered in a mental hospital, and so Murray was raised by an aunt and grandparents, in a time when the threat of violence from the Ku Klux Klan was never too far away. Murray later moved to New York City and graduated from Hunter College in 1933 (as Columbia College did not at the time admit women). Throughout the 1930's Murray grappled with sexual and gender identity --this is in fact when they took on the preferred male-identifying name of "Pauli." A gifted photographer but an even more prolific author, Murray worked as a teacher with the New York City Remedial Reading Project, which offered a great deal of opportunity to write and publish. Among other publications, Pauli's essays and articles about civil rights would regularly appear in The Crisis and in Common Sense (both publications of the NAACP).

Pauli took the unusual (and risky!) step of petitioning to apply to graduate school at the University of North Carolina (current events alert!) --at the time an all-white institution. Such a prospect was considered sufficiently unobtainable that even the NAACP declined to actively support this effort. Pauli had in the meantime cultivated the acquaintance of then-First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, as well as A. Philip Randolph (see Lesson #68 in this series); associations which would later carry consequences. Pauli is listed as one of the founders of CORE (Congress of Racial Equality), along with Bayard Rustin (see Lesson #5 in this series), and James Farmer (Lesson #17). In 1943 they published a hugely important essay: "Negroes Are Fed Up;" and also a poem, Dark Testament, both of which spoke to the Harlem Race Riot of 1935.

In 1944 Murray graduated from Howard University Law School --while largely identifying as a man but still presenting as a woman, Murray famously coined the expression "Jane Crow" to describe the experience. They then applied to Harvard Law for an advanced degree on a Rosenwald Fellowship but was turned down --reportedly not due to racism (exact same current events alert!) but definitely due to sexism. They instead opted for the University of California Boalt School of Law; their graduate thesis was titled "The Right to Equal Opportunity in Employment." In 1945 Murray was named deputy attorney general for the state of California; the first African American to hold that post. In 1951 Pauli published States' Laws On Race and Color, a book that would later be described by Thurgood Marshall as the "Bible" for civil rights litigation, and was conspicuously referenced during Brown v. Board of Education arguments.

In 1952 the scourge of McCarthyism caught up with Murray and cost them a number of prestigious posts due to affiliation with "radicals" like Marshall, Randolph, and particularly Ms. Roosevelt. Unbowed, Pauli went on to publish the gripping biographical account Proud Shoes, which led in turn to a job offer in the litigation dept. of Paul, Weiss, Rifkin, Wharton, and Garrison (as in, Lloyd), where she would meet lifelong partner Irene Barlow. In 1960 Pauli was appointed by President John F. Kennedy to the Committee on Civil And Political Rights, but the issue of intersectionality was never far from their priorities; notably in 1963 Murray took Bayard Rustin, A. Philip Randolph, and Martin Luther King to task for not including a single woman speaker at the March On Washington. Perhaps the most fascinating coda to this remarkable life comes in 1977, when in the wake of Irene Barlow's passing, Murray became the very first African-American woman Episcopal priest. Pauli died in 1985, having never come out publicly.

For a comprehensive listing of Pauli's writings, visit the Pauli Murray Center for History and Social Justice: https://www.paulimurraycenter.com/paulis-writing