#woke up early. what sin have i committed so great that this is the fate i have been damned to

[canyourlawnmowerdothis]

im full of an untamable rage that constantly seethes beneath my skin but im a real laid back dude dont worry about that

[missinghan]

broken umbrella ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 1,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : a typical day in your life starts with having candies poured over your head and ends with breaking han jisung’s umbrella. 

❖ note : I wanted to write smth dumb okay-

one.

Jisung gives his desk a harsh kick, one that does no good in releasing his inner storm, only to wince in pain later because he’s an idiot. 

Classes have been somewhat less than boring these days, partially because his mind is occupied with thoughts of you half of the time and partially because…well, more thoughts of you. Oh wait, today is a little different than usual considering the fact that you did not give him a proper response. 

To what?

Putting it simply, he woke up early this morning to go over his routine more thoroughly—styling his hair, making sure that his tie isn’t sloppy-looking, and spraying himself with his brother’s cologne. He doesn’t usually care for any one of those things until junior starts and you show up. Call him desperate, or delusional, or childish even but it truly felt like fate when you two first encountered each other. 

“Yeah right, fate,” Hyunjin snickers loudly, swirling a strawberry-flavored lollipop inside his mouth. “You meant when you fell on your ass on the bus the other day and you accidentally grabbed her collar?”

Jisung feels his cheeks heat up thanks to his friend’s less than necessary comment. “Shut the fuck up, you’re just jealous.” It was great. Not only did he fall head over heels for you, but he also left a bad impression. 

Back to the point. All of his hard work this morning is reduced to nothing because of the rain. His hair is messed up, his uniform looks sloppy, and his shoes are covered in mud from skipping through puddles. Not to mention, he showed up timely enough to be there when you opened your locker, having various candies and sweets poured down your head, scattered all over the hallway. 

Yeji should have told him you didn’t like sweet things yesterday, damn it. Because he’s never seen you giving him that look before. The look that makes him believe you will make him experience torment and pain, begging for the mercy that never comes—make his life a living hell basically. 

“How did your plan go, by the way?” His friend asks out of boredom. 

“Fantastic,” he replies under his breath when everything is, in fact, not fantastic. 

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Did she know?”

“Know what? That I’m in love with her? I mean I wasn’t trying to be subtle or anything-“

“No, did she know that it was gonna rain today?”

Shrugging, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion; forty-five minutes periods should be illegal. “Why does that matter?”

“Hey, Han!” 

Jisung turns his head to the voice and sees Felix sliding the door to his classroom open, uneven breaths as if he’s been running for his life while holding two umbrellas in his arms. He glances at his friend’s state with a grimace, head cocked to the side in confusion. Luckily, no one really spends recess in class except for loners like himself anyway. “What are you doing?” 

“Y/N didn’t bring an umbrella!” The freckled boy exclaims with excitement, only able to coax an amused hum from Hyunjin. “But you have an umbrella, and it’s still raining! Which means…?”

A comical silence falls upon the three of them. It takes Jisung approximately five taps of Hyunjin’s finger on the table to fully process his friend’s point. Realization lights up in his eyes like a candle but dies down with a pout on his face. “But she can just go with her friends?” he says with expressive hands, though a little disappointed. 

“I’m not gonna half-ass it if I plan on helping you,” Felix gives the two umbrellas, a white one and a pink one, in his hands a slight jerk, looking oddly proud. 

This time, Jisung catches on immediately; his eyes go wide in shock as though his friend has committed the greatest sin. “Yeji and Lia are so gonna kill you.”

two.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Lia asks while hopeless rummaging through her stuff. “I swear with my own eyes I saw myself putting one in my bag this morning.”

Yeji shakes her head in defeat, tugging at the straps of her backpack. “I was pretty sure I brought one too. I even used it to walk to the bus stop this morning! Someone must have taken it during recess,” she sighs, dreading the pouring rain and grey clouds. 

It’s raining again. It’s only been raining today, the weather forecast did predict that it’s most likely going to last for a whole week too (not that you bothered checking). You don’t mind the rain, though. You like the fact that they make the world appear mistier, hazier like a fever dream. 

What isn’t good about the rain is the fact that your parents won’t be too happy to see you come home looking like a wet rat. Or the fact that you’ll probably get a really bad cold, and that won’t be pretty during midterms week. Or the fact that most students are absolute idiots and didn’t bring their own umbrellas either. Everyone is shoving each other for space under the canopy at the main gate so the rain won’t soak their clothes. 

You’re not having it. At all. 

“Yeji, Lia. I’m going home,” you purse your lips together and take a breath. 

Lia frowns at your particular solution. “Already? But you’re gonna get wet.”

“My house is a ten-minute walk away. Shouldn’t be too bad,” you say lowly in faint annoyance, eyes squinted from the discomfort of lack of space; these students have no manners whatsoever, you’re getting claustrophobic. 

With a determined huff, you pull the zipper of your jacket up and throw the hood over your hair. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Shadow suddenly looms over the top of your head, warmth radiates to your clothed arm. In the corner of your eyes, a familiar face comes into view and forces a heavy exhale from your lips. 

“Hey, do you wanna go with-“ Jisung pauses midway when you take off running, shattering his fantasy of living in a drama into bits without mercy. “Y/N! Wait up!”

three.

“Come here! Or you’ll get sick!”

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Y/N, stop being so stubborn! You’re gonna catch a cold!”

“It’s none of your business.”

After walking down several blocks down the road, past nothing but empty plazas and mostly closed café, you even take an extra U-turn, going through a skeptical alley just so Jisung will get tired and stop following you. Your effort doesn’t not prevail so you give up eventually, deciding to take the proper turn to head home before it’s too late to prepare dinner. 

The poor boy can feel the rain drizzle down his black umbrella before falling onto his windbreaker, soaking through the fabric to stain his senses with a chilling sensation. He has already calmed every racing thought that ceases to ease his erratic heartbeat but no matter how hard he tries, there isn’t one second where he isn’t thinking about your well-being.

“Hey,” he calls out; when you turn around, he’s closing his umbrella and tossing it to the ground, leaving it to graze the tip of your shoes. “Take it and go home. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You roll your eyes before picking it up, mercilessly letting it flop right in front of him. “I don’t need it.”

Jisung clicks his tongue in irritation, not caring that droplets are falling from his head and his skin is crawling from the cold. Somehow, he’s starting to become baffled for no reason. Perhaps it’s because of your nonchalance about the current situation; you shouldn’t be so apathetic when he’s genuinely worried sick for your health.

His eyes are heavy with rain droplets so he blinks them away before glaring at you slightly. “You need it more than I do. Would you please stop acting irrationally, take the umbrella and head home? The rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.” His leg jerks up to kick at the innocent object; still isn’t enough to relish the turmoil hurling his innards.

He brushes past you, shoving your shoulder a little while expecting you to finally accept his offer. To his dismay, you once again grab at the poor, poor umbrella, and throw it at his leg with more force this time. When it drops to the ground with a small thud, his heart pauses awkwardly in disappointment. 

The sun is going down by the second but you can still see the faint outline of his scowl. “Go home, Jisung. It’s getting late,” you remark coldly, stuffing your freezing hands into your pocket. 

With a loud groan, he marches back to where you two were originally standing, a curse word lingers on the tip of his tongue. But he manages to swallow it back down before gently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. “Take the umbrella at least,” he voices softly, the crack more evident than anything at the end. “Look, I know I’ve been nothing but a nuisance since we first met. I just really like you and I care for you okay? Go home, Y/N.”

“Please.”

You look at him after moments, your once hateful eyes finally glinting with something else other than general distaste and annoyance. It only takes one glance of his tired eyes to pierce through your phlegmatic front, leaving your raw emotions out in the open. Before Jisung can say another word or take notice of the rare warmth creeping in your gaze, you take his hand in yours and pull him toward a nearby apartment complex to not wait out in the downpour any longer. By the time that you’ve released the grip, he’s still staring into the nothingness, eyes slightly wide in shock.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you gonna go home?” he blurts out finally after snapping out of it.

“This is my apartment complex. But I must have dropped my card somewhere. So I can’t go inside.”

A sigh. “Is anyone home right now?”

“My phone is dead.”

Jisung perks up and his hand fishes inside his pocket. “You can use-”

You inhale deeply, looking away. “Enough is enough, Jisung. Go home.”

“You broke my umbrella,” he mentions, blinking rapidly to bat the droplets away from his eyelashes. “I can’t go home like this.”

Few beats of silence later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a beige trench coat walks past the both of you, two high school students pathetically standing under the canopy like wet rats; she swipes her card against the security lock and the glass door pops open without much effort. Sparing you the last look, she’s probably thinking ‘kids these days’ before heading inside with a roll of her eyes. 

Jisung hurriedly skips over to hold the door open for you, motions for you to walk in with his head. To his surprise, you comply but bring your steps to a halt to situate yourself in front of him. His lashes are wet and heavy; that’s when you realize how soaked you both are and how terribly cold the temperature it’s getting. Your hand reaches out to brush the raindrops away softly, shaking his heart to the core. 

The silence is graceful in the wake of the moment, the rain in the background just makes everything that much more cinematic. However, Jisung isn’t in the right mind state to fanboy over the fact that his drama fantasy is one step closer to reality. He wishes to cling to this moment forever because he just can’t get enough. He can never.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you pull away calmly, thinking how cute he sort of looks when his cheeks are three shades redder. “And a new umbrella.” 

His smile has never been brighter, you notice. Even when he’s out in the brutal cold and completely drenched from head to toe. And wait...have his eyes always been so pretty?

[ryuukia]

[Translation] Tsukiuta. -if- Black Rabbits Kingdom Booklet Novel: Morning

It’s that time of the year when I go back to Rabbits Kingdom (I know, I postponed this so much ;;;;). Ruby and me agreed to split the novels, I take black, she takes white (in theory...... we’ll see in the future if we stick to this)

Anyway, the booklet has three chapters: morning, noon and afternoon. So here we have ‘morning’ featuring Kakeru and Hajime~

Special thanks to @ryota-kunstranslations and @moonlit-manifesto for assistance and proofreading.

Please don’t repost/reuse my translations! Enjoy~

Slowly, I realized my consciousness was coming to the surface.

Passing from total darkness, and little by little, flowing towards a white light.

—— Ah, it’s morning.

As a bird’s chirps started to resound clearly in the background, I opened my eyes.

“Good morninggg!”

I left my chamber energetically and the soldier standing at the corridor returned my greetings with a “morning” just as he smiled.

It’s easy for me to think that something so trivial can make me feel a little more lucky.

While walking in high spirits down the corridor illuminated by the bright morning sun that passed through the large windows, I suddenly remembered my partner's words.

I prepared my outfit, and by the time I left my chamber it was still early.

The astonished pink haired male asked me, “How did you do it so fast!?” and even added “Have you properly washed your face?”. Such impolite words deserved the light step I dropped on his feet as an answer.

(Was I that quick? For me it felt like the usual though)

The time it takes for me to crawl out of bed and actually leave my chamber is around 15 minutes.

If that is quick, how long does it normally take for someone else to do it?

I continued walking while thinking to myself and before long, I reached a remarkably fine…... giant door, one that’s so huge it seemed to almost touch the ceiling.

This door adorned with black luster and reflecting the morning sun’s rays is made of magical morion (black quartz), and its curse prevents those who possess wicked hearts from opening it.

Fortunately, I’ve always been able to open it, and the maids, too, can open and shut it with even one hand despite it being made of stone, which only confirms there’s an unusual power flowing through it.

On the other side of this magical door, the master of this castle is in a deep slumber.

“......”

Unconsciously, I stretched my back and straightened my neck from the respect and fear that rises up inside me as if by instinct as soon as I feel the presence from beyond the door.

And yet, each morning is the same.

“...... haa……”

I took in one deep breath.

The moment my eyes gaze up at that black door, I see an expression of nervousness reflected on it. I slap my cheek because I think that I shouldn’t show that kind of face.

I have to smile, be lively, and face forward.

That’s always been my motto and something I desperately wished I could do right in that moment.

I try to compose myself again and place my hand on the door.

(——Well then, I’m going in!)

“Good morning! Hajime-san, it’s morning!!!”

No answer!

Nevertheless I step inside the room without concern. That is my job after all.

I approach the giant bed placed in the middle of the room and set my sights on the mountain of sheets by the window.

From that position, the morning sun hits my face directly. Maybe from the front the light is not that strong?

Whenever I think about that, it’s enough to merely see his pleased sleeping face and the answer is already obvious, thus I never question further.

He looks like a cat basking in the sun……While thinking of whether I was to commit a disrespectful sin, I reached out my hand towards the mountain of sheets and… gently placed it on the sleeping person’s shoulder.

“Hajime-san! It’s morning~?”

“...... nn……”

His ears twitched. The same ears that belong to this exceptional rabbit. Glossy, black, and covered by a splendid layer of fur. Yes, those very ears.

I’m a little jealous…… but I try not to think about it.

At the end of the day, my ears are renowned for being cute. Probably.

(...... Also, praising him is only natural)

Despite being somewhat of a cat person, this man…… the owner of this room, is the ‘king’ of this Kingdom of Black Rabbits.

This black rabbit ought to be praised more so than anyone else. That includes his fur too. And his figure.

As I huffed and puffed without even knowing why, I called out to the king that doesn’t want to be called king.

“Hajime-san, please wake u~p”

“...... Ka, keru……?”

“Yes, Hajime-san. It’s Kakeru, your personal attendant, and the one in charge of waking you up in the morning. I’m sorry to disturb you from what seemed like a pleasant sleep, but you have a meeting to attend this morning. Please wake up soon.”

“......”

“...... No, no, no, please don’t go under the……”

Sometimes, his sleeping is so vulgar…...No, even with his love for sleep, he’s a gentle yet strong king, and I love him.

There isn't anyone who could dislike such a person who rules over towns filled with smiles and liveliness, someone who makes the soil brim with life, among other things.

I heard a bird’s voice as if it were supporting the very idea I was thinking of.

It’s the same bird that woke me up in the morning, isn’t it?

The one who taught me that those chirps could only be heard in the spring when the birds are falling in love was the fearsome, and very wise, Prime Minister.

There’s no mistaking it, right now there must be piles of documents in his room.

I know I’m not supposed to be saying this, but seeing the king opposing resistance just like a child, I ended up smiling unwittingly.

“It’s useless to keep going on like this, Hajime-san. Today’s meeting will be all about the budget for the next fiscal year, remember? It’s the prime-minister’s…… Haru-san’s favourite topic. You cannot run away.”

“......”

I could hear a sigh coming from the mountain of sheets.

Hajime-san eventually gave in, thus I couldn’t help but smile again and smooth my chest with a hand as a reluctant expression made its way across his face.

I took a clean and fluffy pure-white towel from the top-most drawer and embedded some of my powers into it.

‘A small blessing’

That is my ability.

May this small fortune bless the busy you even just a little.

It’s a rare, and if I must say, cool ability that can tap into the Wheel of Fortune.

Realistically speaking, this ability’s effects don’t really stand out in daily life.

For instance, you could find your favourite flowers when you go in the courtyard.

Or the piece of pie you receive for lunch could be slightly bigger.

People say that just having this ability is lucky enough, but if it’s something that I can use for the king, I wish that it could’ve been a more practical or useful skill.

However, for some reason, the king seems to like it that way.

I can prove it now too, just look.

“If I may, I shall wipe your face now.”

“You’re going to place a good luck charm while you’re at it, aren’t you? Thank you, Kakeru.”

His amethyst-like eyes narrowed a bit.

I knew better than anyone that his eyes weren't such a big charm point, but somehow I still got embarrassed.

So I changed the topic as fast as I could.

“Haru-san is expected to rush in carrying official papers at any moment. I’m sure you know he’s extremely eager when it comes to these kinds of things. Today, during tax collection in the city, we got into a fight with some merchants since we found out they’ve been evading their taxes…… No, it was more like they got angry when we came to collect their taxes. That sort of huge commotion seemed like something that could only happen in dreams, but he seemed to be happy about it.”

“That guy is really…...well, good grief.”

It seems Hajime-san here, who is murmuring under his breath, and Prime Minister Haru-san have been acquaintances since childhood. During Hajime-san’s sixth birthday, it was revealed that Hajime-san was to become [King] and so, he was taken to the castle.

After that, on Haru-san’s 13th birthday it was revealed that Haru-san would be named prime-minister and soon enter the castle.

Although the two of them were already friends before they were taken to the castle, it appears that both of them moved around rather independently and rarely did anything together.

Actually, Hajime-san only knew Haru-san’s first name.

The moment they accepted their roles as [King] and [Prime Minister], what they knew to be their last names disappeared, and only their first names were retained. In any case, that seemed to be enough.

“When we heard a mysterious voice from Heaven, we lost our [individual selves] and in turn, we became [a part of the earth] and it seems that we were given special powers.”

The words Haru-san said one day in the middle of chatting with him have become strangely etched into my mind.

‘......Aren’t you lonely?”

I feel like I remember asking that question.

(......and what did Haru-san answer?)

Just as I was recalling the good old days, a warm hand stroked my head gently and I was suddenly brought back to reality.

“What happened to your lively partner? Is he oversleeping today?”

“Ahaha, no no. Koi’s been working hard since early this morning. Haru-san has entrusted him with the summons for the meeting I mentioned earlier. It’s an important task, so he was enthusiastic to meet the merchants face-to-face.”

“I see.”

He quickly withdrew his hand but, in its place was left a strange warmth, and I knew then that a calming power was flowing inside me.

‘Great Blessing’

It’s the higher-ranked version of the ability I possess. It’s a type of blessing with a higher range and effectiveness, similar to a goddess’s blessings that affects even the strings of fate itself as well as natural phenomena.

To think that I used my abilities on the King’s face while I received the same kind of blessing was enough to make my face light up.

It’s ‘cause I knew that this kind of ability I used on Hajime-san was the type that’s activated unconsciously.

The power that I use always seems to affect the people around me, albeit doing so unconsciously. Nevertheless, it appears they’re happily satisfied.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this proudly happy before.

That's why, in order to support the king as best as I can, I take into consideration everything from everyday tasks to various other things……but that is not such a big deal.

I kept quiet and admired his profile as if I were in a daze.

“The weather is nice today.”

“Yes. According to the meteorologist, it’s going to be sunny the entire day. The sunshine is nice and warm, perfect for going outdoors.”

“Outdoors, huh? And here we are shutting ourselves inside because of a meeting.”

“That’s right…… Ah, but I’m certain there’s nothing scheduled in the afternoon. If that’s the case, let’s have a tea ceremony in the courtyard! I can ask Aoi-san to bake that delicious pie that Hajime-san like. With lots of fruits stuffed in it.

“Kakeru…… you can’t use the ‘prince’ as a replacement for the maids.”

Hajime-san smiled bitterly, and for a tiny moment his magnificent ears seemed to tighten up, something a capable personal attendant such as myself cannot miss.

In that moment I decided with all my heart to finish my morning duties as early as possible and persuade Aoi-san to bake that pie more than anything.

“However, Haru must be really serious if he dragged Koi out of his room in the morning for the sake of this meeting. Koi is a sleepyhead after all. He…… truly loves this kind of work, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed. To him, it seems like it’s a natural choice to force an unwilling person to give up what’s supposed to be… No, he’s told me that it’s quite a daunting task to collect the taxes but… from my perspective, it looks like he’s enjoying the process to the fullest.”

“...... I can’t…… disagree with that.”

“Right?”

Hajime-san and I smiled bitterly almost as if both of us were remembering the same image of a smiling Haru-san.

“U-um… I think him showing mercy is impo-- Has he always been the dependable type?”

“You don’t have to correct yourself all the time, you know? 'Has he always been…’ Huh…”

Hajime-san’s gaze looked distant for a while.

I don’t know what that gaze means, but it certainly must be from a gentle memory.

That was the kind of expression he was making.

“I wonder. I feel like he had a much more lovable nature back then… But, in any case, it was a memory from when we were kids. It might sound glorified but I’m not confident about it.”

“Ahaha, it’s strange for Hajime-san to be unsure about something.”

“When I look at him now, I lose my confidence.”

Hajime-san got off the bed and onto his feet.

As he stood there in a dignified manner, the glowing rays of the morning sun that illuminated his form made the king seem like he was part of a grandiose painting.

When you see that form of his, even if you don’t want to, you just end up sighing unconsciously.

Maybe that’s the reason why the king is the king.

I just showed an expression that makes it look like I’m not aware. And just like when I first entered the room, I unconsciously placed my hands on my hips.

“Well then, Hajime-san, please enter the next room before Haru-san comes in. Your change of clothes is prepared!”

“I get it, I get it. … … sigh……”

“Enough already, I asked you to wake up!”

The person that people will follow without hesitation is the strongest, noblest, and gentlest king this country has ever had.

I am the personal attendant of that person.

I reflect once more about the joys of being able to work for him today.

“I'm not good with mornings.”

“You always say that.”

All right, another day has begun.

[klarkkent71]

TRAGEDY & VERSATILITY

September 8 2019

I still have more content about places to visit and other experiences but these will be my last set of poems until after vacation

TRAGEDY SERIES

 HELL(Dedicated to the victims of mass shootings)

I hate it for you and in the back of my mind I’m feeling bitter yet so numb

Thinking to myself what has this world become to where we cant control those with the guns.

I want to write to my congressman and let out rage but he won’t listen because the lobbyist pay him funds

One shooting after the next more parents crying over a loved one

And to those committing the acts, my only question is why

Hatred, mental illness, jealousy, to understand I can’t try but to express my anger and say we do need change is a fight where I won’t be shy

Just know that I’m tired of innocent angels gaining their wings from others may they rest in peace in that place pass the sky.

 PAIN

I look up to the sky and ask God why do the weather he gives add pain

Strong winds and natural disaster leads to another life that changed.

And what I’m discussing is beyond the times of Noah and the boat

But more on modern-day horrors such as seeing dead bodies of victims who just float

Or these fires that just burn through the western parts of the state.

I can only wish grace and mercy and pray for others and their fate

To lose everything in one instance I can fathom the weight

 CUPID TEARS

I dreamed at night that we were together and woke up and nothing was there

I put you on my mind and fell back asleep thinking I don’t have a care

In the midst of it all I played everything in the back of my mind

One memory after the next of when you used to be mine

But now I’m just an empty shell sitting sad and alone wishing you were here.

I felt myself crying at one point and letting it all out thinking to myself this must be Cupid tears

 BLACK HEROES

United we stand and divided we fall

An era of great leaders once chosen to answer the call

But with hope and courage comes a threat to their way of life

We preach to love your fellow man at times and do what’s right

Unless that man comes from a different creed and get singled out

You stand up and fight for your freedom that’s what it’s about

But to see the vision come true was something you kept in your head.

They say you were a threat and wanted to make a change by any means now you’re dead

And now the vision you fought for happened but the people divided

Trapped in the constraints of Willie Lynch with no guidance provided

We off the plantation now though and back in the hood

Thinking to ourselves life is good when in reality we’re trapped.

None trusting of our own so we stay strapped

We have colored skinned but we divided by color

You wear red or blue you now an enemy even though you’re my brother

Let's talk about the impact now that drugs had

Shit, Sad.

 QUESTION 2

Will the world ever be at peace

 TRAPPED(dedicated to those who afraid to be who they are)

Because we live in a traditional society you feel belittled for who you love

Bible goers tell you your actions will get you sent to hell when it says in the book of Mathew not to judge

Those with a closed mind will shun you and not try to understand how you feel

Just tease you for being different and want you to think you’re mentally ill

So pressure builds up and now you feel all alone

Questioning the way you were born to feel and think that everything about you is wrong

So you see death as an escape from it all

The thoughts grow stronger you thinking of multiple pills or blowing your brains on the wall.

I get sick of society and the pressures that others get to where they can’t be themselves

I pray that you find peace before it’s too late.

 INTERLUDE

Love hurts but I’m grateful and feeling something and that’s alive.  I'm feeling hopeful that I can be torn and put back together.  In some instance even stronger than before.  I honestly think that beautiful things can happen when others get completely torn down at times

 VERSATILITY SERIES

Untiled

I look into your eyes and just get lost

Your chin is on my chest and you’re looking at me like I’m everything in your world

When it comes to spending time with you no matter the distance I’ll pay the cost

Our hearts beat as one and you’re my dream girl

Though the love will always remain the time of being in love been came to end

No titles or constant communication, in reality, we’re not even friends

And now I just hold on to the memories.

I look down at my phone wishing it was you

Wishing one last time I can hug and kiss you

I’ll tell you deep down inside how much I truly love and miss you

But I don’t

I just stare at a blank screen and smile at the notification from you accidentally liking something

 A PAGE

I go hard for my last name so grinding to get after my dreams is nothing

I was motivated from the start my whole life I been grinding and hustling

Early on I was placed in special classes until it was discovered that I couldn’t hear.

So many years achievements later and I'm more than what they thought and I’m still standing right here.

The crazy part about it is that I haven’t fully stepped into my potential and what I can really be

The vision is still clear and I’m still chasing one more degree

I’ve done others wrong in the past and apologized and let go

Thanking God for the changes and maturity along with the growth.

I ‘m proud of who I become

Once wanted to fit in until I learned to march to my own drum

I lived seasons where people came in and out my life to where I grew numb

I had those close to me steal funds when I would‘ve fed them a meal and ate the crumbs

But here I am remaining humble

BLUE WATER

I’m staring out thinking what’s beyond my vision

Blue water, calm waves, to see past it is my mission

Thinking just how freely and smooth what you have just flow

Easily in just many directions, you can just go

I honestly admire the vibe

Being in your presence I feel the high

 MY VIEW

I don’t care what your religious text says deep down this is how I feel

You claim your actions are saving souls from being killed

But the choice to me is with the beholder and not with the traditions they keep in Saudi

I’m stating this right now that a woman should have control of her body

It’s crazy we’re all birthed and come from a womb

 VOTED FOR THE DEVIL

On the night I found out the devil won I wasn't surprised at the outcome or what the world has become.

I just know that a nation which was built of sins of others found their chosen one

The fact we constantly divide makes the beast strong

I keep telling myself that it’s just temporary but the days keep getting longer

And to those with brown skin instead of providing help we build walls.

Lies after lies I’m not even shocked or appalled

Really I’m entertained by those so simple to believe the lies

Draft dodging, fornicating, grab her by the pussy, Russian meddling, and spies.

I’m gone wait to really unleash in the future

Frames

I found pictures and it immediately made my mind jump in the past

Still frames of happiness of when I thought everything we had would last

I saw a birthday cake with candles with you wearing a white coat standing on a chair

Memories ill keep forever in my heart they will always be rare

I see beaches, balls, and baby showers along with pictures at my parents after church

I thought these were memories ill never get back but found on my laptop during a random search

I found a random jump drive and placed every picture on it so they will be in one spot

Im forever grateful that I have a passion for photography because they bring back memories we all forgot

Even flashing back from the good to the bad the mood will be remembered by the faces and emotions in the frame and over 80% it’s smiles

This is the closing of one chapter of poetry and the introduction of the next my next set of poems that will be pulled directly from my heart will called simply “NATALIE”

Whenever I post “NATALIE” it’ll cover many poems but i wanted some of the intro posted

Intro to NATALIE

All black, I feel it’s the color that represented me for years

Now im stepping out on faith thinking to myself I cant believe I showed up and right here

I felt like rock bottom to be honest I’m out the house and stepping out from fear

Sitting here faking like I know the culture but let’s be real what black person drink beer 🤔

[wunderlass]

Smoke & Mirrors Chapter 33: Aftermath

His captors think him defeated, but even Odin doesn’t know the secrets Loki holds. Before long, he’ll be free, events set in motion by Frigga’s best intentions and Loki’s worst instincts. He’s seen his future, and nothing is going to stop him from stealing it. Loki/Darcy, M rated

You can also read on AO3 or FFNet.

My aim is to get this story finished by the end of this month i.e. before Ragnarok comes out, as I think that will be a game changer (not that the MCU hasn't shifted completely since I started writing this story). There is one full chapter left after this one - likely to be another long one - and an epilogue, which is already written. So I think I'm going to meet that aim.

Shall we begin?

Stark Tower was still quiet when they returned to Tony's apartment. Jane greeted them, letting them know that most of the Avengers were down in the war council. Pepper had arranged an impromptu buffet, as it was hours since anyone had eaten. Loki took himself to rest. Jane and Darcy grabbed a plate of food each and returned to the helipad, to get away from the stifling atmosphere. Darcy was practically vibrating with exhaustion, but she wasn't ready to sleep yet.

New York was dark, for the most part, the electricity not restored yet. Only Stark Tower, and a few other buildings with their own generators, were lit up. And yet, it was far from silent now, the familiar noise of sirens and the horns of impatient drivers a welcome sign that the city was coming back to life already. With the war council's involvement, clean up would begin.

No doubt camera crews had already gotten back into the city—that distant buzz a helicopter or two—and would now begin a rolling news cycle. She wondered what the official line was going to be, since Thanos had vanished with relatively few witnesses.

The blood was gone from the surface of the helipad. Someone had taken the time to clean it up.

Darcy told Jane all about Hela while they calibrated the portal machine, and Jane listened sympathetically.

"Maybe I'm overthinking my relationship with Thor, but is going to make me her step-aunt or something?"

Darcy laughed, a tired and brittle sound that didn't really encapsulate what she was feeling. "Or something."

"I guess we can't dismantle this yet." Jane patted the machine. "The Asgardians are helping with the clean up."

"Does that means Thor's staying a little while longer?"

Jane only sighed in response. If Thor had a throne to worry about, there was every chance he'd return to Asgard and not give Earth a backward glance.

They went back downstairs, to the labs this time, where Erik was still lurking. He refused to share space with Loki, even now, and was still mostly clueless about what had actually happened during the battle.

They filled him in, and then Darcy went to fetch him some food from Pepper's little buffet. When she got back to the apartment, no one seemed to be around, but she could hear voices from the kitchen: Thor, definitely. His voice carried even when he was trying to be quiet.

Unsure how he would react to her, she crept closer, until she could make out the other person's voice as well.

"You must be pleased that my mother was able to plead your case and stop SHIELD from disciplining you."

"I owe your mother a lot," replied Nat. "We all do."

"This is true."

"Besides, I've been through worse. SHIELD would only fire me, or lock me up. I can always find work elsewhere, and I never stay locked up long. My previous employers tended to be more thorough in their discipline."

"I heard tell of that once. I am sorry." He sounded sincere.

"Thank you. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful to Frigga, but there are worse things to endure. Losing a friendship, for instance."

There was a moment's silence before Thor responded. "You are not as subtle as I have been led to believe."

"Right now, I'm not trying to be."

"You think I have been too harsh on Darcy." He didn't sound as defensive as Darcy expected him to. Maybe tired, and that was to be expected.

"You don't think these last few days—hell, all the months since Loki arrived—have been rough on Darcy? She's not like you. She's not even like me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. God knows, I've done my best to mold Darcy into a weapon we could use against Loki. I hated it doing it, but I thought it was necessary. Except now I realize what it's cost her. And you don't understand that."

"Don't I?"

"You've always had Mjolnir and your strength to rely on. Women? We don't usually have that. We know, when we're up against men, that we have to be faster, smarter, better armed. There are methods women have to use in war to survive, things you've never had to consider. Things we get punished for, things we get labeled for. Even Sif knows that, though she'll deny it. So Darcy did what we needed her to, and she'll suffer for it."

Thor did not respond, and Darcy retreated back downstairs, to lie to Erik about the food being all eaten up.

Darcy found a quiet sofa in one of the rooms in the apartment, and napped. She didn't dream, for which she was thankful, because she was sure her imagination would only offer up nightmares.

She woke with a crick in her neck and her exhaustion levels barely touched. The hazy light from outside suggested it was a new day. She wanted a shower, and a change of clothing, but even with her rooms only floors below here she doubted she'd be allowed to return to them.

That was a fresh batch of things to worry over, along with the old. Darcy was technically a fugitive from SHIELD, Loki was a wanted criminal on at least two worlds, and Odin was dead. Thor would be taking over the throne of Asgard, and there was no telling what his attitude would be like towards Loki. Plus, there was every chance he was going to break Jane's heart by leaving.

She went looking for Loki, hoping she wouldn't bump into anyone else at this early of an hour. Doors that were shut, she left closed, and she wandered until she found him in the same position she'd been in: curled up in a too-small chair.

He looked so peaceful like this, even though she knew the peace was temporary. His grief would return when he woke up, and all of his troubles too. Back into captivity, with his reduced lifespan, none of the sacrifices he had made enough to outweigh the sins he had committed.

He had to run.

The thought had her moving again, crossing to the bed so she could shake him awake, gently as she could manage.

"Loki," she murmured, snatching her hand away when he roused, murmuring her name in return. When he opened his eyes and blinked he didn't look fully awake, flashing a beatific smile. But it melted away as he came around properly, the relaxed, easy happiness turning to sorrow.

"I thought—" he said, then shook his head. "What now?"

"Loki, you have to leave."

He surprised her by shaking his head and settling back down with a sigh.

"You have to! This might your only chance. Otherwise—"

"Otherwise I will be kept in captivity, judged and sentenced. I am aware."

"Then why aren't you moving?

"Because I have earned it." He propped himself up on one elbow with a wry twist to his mouth. "I do not know exactly what I have done to merit this concern from you—or I would have done it sooner—but I know what fate awaits me, and I have decided to face it. For once in my life, I must take responsibility for my actions. It is a lesson my brother learned more readily than I."

"But you did what you could to make it better. You went to Mistress Death—"

"Who is not a judge or executioner. What she took from my was not meant to wipe my debt to the universe, and thus it still stands."

"So you'll live what—fifty years? Sixty years? In a cage?"

He rolled back onto his back, shrugging. "It sounds more bearable than five hundred years. And perhaps I will be granted privileges this time, for the wrongs I have righted." That wry twist returned. "Or perhaps my sins will be great enough to carry the ultimate sentence this time. My actions did lead to the death of the king, and I suspect many will view it as treason."

"Not just the king. Your father."

"Yes." It was a simple acknowledgment, one Darcy doubted they would have got out of him before today. "But king first and foremost to those who will pass judgment on me." He glanced at the door. "Has Thor returned from the war council?" he asked.

She nodded, remembering the heavy thud of Thor's steps waking her not long ago. Her heart was unwilling to let go of the notion of Loki's escape, even if she wasn't sure why. She still didn't like him all that much, but now she felt like she was the only one who understood everything he had been through. Thor and Frigga had heard about Thanos' torture, but it wasn't the same as seeing it, of being forced back into that moment and living through it with him.

"Then I must make my continued presence known," Loki said, pushing himself upright. "Lest he begin to wonder if I have fled." He said it in jest, but Darcy could see the set of his shoulders as he climbed off the bed and headed for the door. He was expecting to face a battle of his own, or at least a cold shoulder. Plus his grief must still weigh on him, fresh as it was.

Darcy followed him back towards the room where Odin lay. Thor acknowledged their entrance with a nod of his head. Darcy didn't see Jane, but Frigga was on the other side of the bed, mirroring Thor. She still didn't let her gaze stray to Odin.

"Have you slept?" she asked quietly.

"A little," replied Frigga. "The council did not disband until a few hours ago. When we returned, I must have drifted off but there is so much to arrange…" Frigga paused, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "I would rather return to Asgard as soon as we are able."

"I'm sure you can go whenever you like."

Frigga's smile was wistful. "I would like to say goodbye to the people I have come to know properly. But I believe I shall be able to do that quickly. When I am home, I shall rest."

"You will accompany us, of course," Thor said, only his cadence suggesting he was asking Darcy rather than commanding her.

"I—I will?"

"Yes. Jane will need a companion when I am too busy with preparations, and Mother told me she has already promised you a chance to really see Asgard."

"I know, she did that, but—"

"But you did not expect me to honor it," he finished, kindly. "It is the least I can offer you, Darcy, after the way I have treated you of late."

"Are you sure?" Her words sounded tiny, even to her own ears.

"Very. I have had sense talked into me by the fiercest women I know. And beyond that, the events of the last day have changed me. It seems to become a regular thing, that I am forged anew by circumstance and hardship, but I hope this is a change which will bode well for the throne I will be claiming." He glanced at the bed, where his father lay. "For a long time, I have felt numb—as frozen inside as I was when you turned your Casket on me, Loki. All I was capable of feeling was anger, which was hot enough to melt to the chill away, at least for a little while. But now, I am feeling again. It is not pleasant, not at this moment, but it gives me hope that I shall feel happiness again."

"I'm sure you will," Darcy said earnestly. "You'll finally get your coronation, right?"

"I will, and I want you to be there for it."

Darcy was pretty sure she had emotional whiplash, but she'd take it. She managed a tentative, watery smile.

"And Loki—" Thor continued, "brother, I intend to plead for clemency when you are tried again."

If he was hoping for relief, and gratefulness from Loki, he'd misjudged. Instead, Loki went stiff beside Darcy.

"How can you say that?" he spat, his face had contorted into a snarl. "If it weren't for me, none of us would be here. My choices, my actions—leading you to Jotunheim, having you cast out—this is what it led to." He gestured towards the bed. "All because I was a brittle, pathetic wretch who craved his attention. But now I'll never have that, nor his forgiveness."

"But you had his love. No matter what," Frigga replied softly.

Loki scoffed.

"It's true," said Thor. "I have no doubt our father hoped you would find a way to earn his forgiveness. Nevertheless—you have mine."

"No." Loki turned away, spinning so he had his back to them, and his voice quavered as he spoke. "You mustn't."

"I must. If I only have a mortal lifespan left with my brother, then I will not waste it hating you."

"You should hate me." The words were so soft they were barely audible.

"I won't."

"And you cannot shoulder all of the blame," said Frigga. "The Tesseract was here on Midgard all those years, and Thanos knew that. One way or the other, we would have needed to defend this realm and all others. A battle was inevitable."

"Father's death was not." Loki turned to face them again, though his fists were balled at his side, his stance remaining defiant.

"No. But I kept secrets, and I tried to push you towards the future I wanted for you, which set this all in motion. Am I not as culpable?" It was clear from her face that she believed she was.

"What has happened cannot be undone," said Thor. "I would rather cherish the family I have left, instead of letting us tear ourselves and each other apart through fractiousness and regrets."

Loki's eyes glittered, though he didn't let the tears fall. "I once mocked you for your lack of wisdom, and yet now it appears you were the wisest of us all along."

Thor smiled, then went back to being sombre. "I cannot make any promises about the fate which awaits you. It has already been agreed that you may never return to Midgard, on the understanding you will be judged under Asgardian law instead."

That jolted Darcy. Once they went back to Asgard, Loki would never come back. And yet Hela had seemed very clear that they were both in her life. How was that even possible unless Darcy abandoned Earth as well? For a man she still held so little affection for?

"I understand," Loki replied.

"Well, the other inhabitants will be rising soon," said Frigga. "Time to make ourselves presentable, and then do what we must."

Returning the Asgardian contingent from whence it came turned out to be as big a strategic mission as the battle they'd fought in. Using the helipad on Stark Tower wasn't feasible, especially not with Tony getting antsy about so many people to-ing and fro-ing close to his penthouse, even if the army was currently shacked up in the empty quarters of the tower. They refused to go anywhere until their fallen king returned home, though plenty of them were enjoying the spoils of victory in a jubilant Manhattan. The comrades they'd lost were also kept in the tower, waiting to be ferried home and reunited with the families they'd left behind.

SHIELD commandeered an old airstrip outside the city to house the new portal in, and setting it up required astrophysicists. Astrophysicists required assistants. Darcy was the woman for the job: no one could deal with the idiosyncrasies of Jane and Erik quite like she could. They got offered more hands, they got offered more brains (specifically, Tony's), and they got offered more equipment, but they worked best with what they'd always known.

Darcy didn't have much time to think or brood; it was like old times, for a few precious days—the three of them cobbling together a semi-permanent portal with parts from the upstate facility, and chunks from the device they'd used on the helipad.

The weather wasn't as nice as it had been those months in New Mexico, and the addition of Men In Black rejects watching their every move dampened the mood a little, but it was a thrill to have something to work on without the impending threat of the world ending being the primary motivation. And being in the vast aircraft hanger, practically alone, put Darcy in a better mood than she had been in a long time. No pressure, no looming catastrophe, only work and endless tubs of Red Vines.

Things improved further when Nat replaced the suits as their primary security detail. She was off Fury's shit-list and back on duty, which meant she spent almost as much time stopping Jane from electrocuting herself as Darcy did.

Darcy didn't know where Loki was. With his family, she hoped. They wouldn't have time to grieve together once they got back to Asgard, not with all the pomp and circumstance she'd got wind of. A state funeral, a state coronation…and probably a state trial.

That thought became more sober at the first whirling surge of power from the new portal, a shimmering chunk of the air churning between the metal posts they'd set up wide enough to pass a truck through. They'd done it, but even as she and Jane exchanged high-fives, they knew they stood at a threshold in every sense of the word. They could cross to Asgard, but whether they stayed there or came home, their lives would never be the same. Though wherever she went, Jane was determined to claim the Nobel Prize she was entitled to.

"No one's pulling a Rosalind Franklin on me," she vowed.

The first time Darcy saw Loki again, or indeed any of the Asgardian royal family, was on the day they departed. She and Jane had been outfitted in chic black ensembles, designers falling over themselves to dress anyone associated with the event. They waited in the hanger, watching it all unfold on live television: a massive procession out of Stark Tower, weaving through Manhattan, then the outer boroughs, and towards their semi-secret location. Just about every horse from the tristate area—and beyond—had been borrowed to allow the warriors to ride, though some had taken Chitauri speeders and refurbished them to shining glory instead, replete with new runes and chrome modifications. Better to carry the bodies of their lost brethren home on.

People lined the roads, holding out flowers and gifts for the ones they saw as their saviors. Many of the Asgardian soldiers took teddy bears and bouquets with open delight. Darcy supposed they didn't have stuffed animals in Asgard.

Odin lay at the head of the procession in a covered litter which kept him shrouded from the world—especially from the helicopters competing for space above. Fandral commanded the horses pulling the coach. Thor and Frigga rode behind on matching white mounts, their faces somber and effortlessly regal. Between them, Loki steered mighty Sleipnir with a blank expression—all in black on his equally dark steed, though nothing hid the cuffs binding his hands and ankles and linking him to his brother. He had the freedom to steer Sleipnir but not to flee. Not that he'd get the chance—Hodun, Volstagg, and Sif were close behind, grim-faced and alert.

The procession reached the hanger, the first place out of public view where even the helicopters couldn't peek into. They entered through one end and rode into the portal, which would spit them out the other side. It was already up and running, its stable thrum now controlled by SHIELD scientists, with Jane and Darcy waiting with their heads bowed respectfully at the approach.

Erik was long gone. He didn't want to get anywhere near Asgard or its royal family again.

The litter passed through without a hitch, and Darcy felt Jane sag with relief beside her. Then they glanced up to watch the rest of the family pass—and Darcy caught Loki's gaze, his attention on her in the moments before they breached the barrier. What she was meant to read in his eyes, she had no idea, beyond the shuttered grief and despair.

The pair of them weren't traveling on horseback—to Darcy's relief—and were beckoned into one of the open-roofed carriages carrying the chosen ambassadors of Earth. It meant they found themselves sharing with the Avengers, and she couldn't imagine more comfortable company for these weird next few moments.

"You've been to Asgard?" Steve prompted her. "What's it like?"

"Golden," was all she could think of, right before the pressure in her ears grew fiercest and they slipped into the tunnel through space. The universe streaked past them in streams of blurred light, before it all came to an abrupt halt and they tipped out onto the Bifrost, the shining city in front of them.

"Oh my," Jane murmured beside her, and Darcy understood the feeling. Asgard in the day was completely different to the shadowed, hushed city she'd experienced a few nights ago.

She knelt in her seat for a better view at all the glittering, golden towers—the palace still the most visible and most prominent. The Bifrost was empty except for the procession, but far ahead as it turned from bridge to road she could see the crowds lining the route towards Odin's resting place. Word had already spread courtesy of Heimdall, so this wasn't the shocking blow it might have been immediately following the battle, but Darcy suspected hearing it and seeing the evidence were two different things.

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet in his seat, though his appraising gaze suggested he'd be asking to speak to the local architects for ideas. Between his hands, he carried the Tesseract in its little cage.

Not the real Tesseract, of course. That was somewhere on Earth, buried somewhere only Tony knew, deposited there in his flight suit. Few people knew that, though, the illusion crafted by Frigga and Loki standing up to scrutiny. As far as the universe was going to be concerned, the Tesseract had been returned to the weapons vault in Asgard, under Thor's protection. No one would come knocking on humanity's door for it any time soon.

Up ahead, Darcy had a good view of horse's tails, and the stiff postures of the royals. Water surrounded the bridge, small islands breaking the surface here and there, but the city itself crowned cliff-tops at the end of the Bifrost. Somehow, the bridge shone even despite the sunlight, in a way that wasn't just reflecting it, but gleaming from itself. They moved at a decent pace, passing onto land within minutes, where the population lined the streets, many straining for a first glimpse of the safe return of their loved ones.

The atmosphere in Asgard couldn't be more different to the world they'd left behind. The city was whole, unlike the battering Manhattan had taken, but the crowds were as ashen-faced and weary as if they'd lived through a battle themselves. Though there were no open tears, only bowed heads for the procession as it passed by, and more than a little curiosity at the Midgardians among its number. That would probably change as the full swell of the warriors passed by and the identities of the dead became known.

They went straight to the palace, ushered out of the carriage and into what had to be the throne room. It was a vast space, matched only by the ancient cathedrals Darcy had seen on her travels, with a full wall given over to rising as steps towards a dais. Columns rose around them, disappearing above to hold up the roof so far away she could barely see it, with the lamps aimed at shrouding it in darkness and casting the light downward. The rear wall didn't exist at all, open to the rest of the city, and a path led all the way to the throne, with an almond-shaped area of the polished floor empty and cordoned off. Odin's litter was placed carefully in the center of that space, the fabric covering him removed so he lay open to the room.

No one sat on the throne, though Frigga was already ascending those steps, gown trailing behind her. Someone had fetched a crown for her because it now adorned her head, and when she reached the top she turned to face the hall, her head dipped towards her husband. The two princes knelt at the foot of the steps, bodies turned so they were still half-facing their father.

Darcy's party was brought to stand with the warriors three and Sif, at the edge of the cordon, and around them the rest of the warriors returned, filling out the hall, while other people filtered in from the city as well. This was the cream of Asgardian society, judging by all the finery on display. All was quiet and orderly, though the first sobs could be heard at the edges of the crowd. How many families had lost somebody in New York? More Asgardians had died than humans, in the end.

Darcy shuffled nervously, this close to Sif. They hadn't seen each other since Darcy's arrest and she half-worried that she'd end up with a dagger at her throat, but instead Sif offered a gracious nod of her head.

"I must offer my respect," she said, and there wasn't a note in her husky voice which suggested she was doing so begrudgingly. "To have walked into the realm of Death herself and emerged unscathed is a noble feat indeed."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Darcy replied with a wry smile. She wasn't sure how much respect she'd earned when she'd had no idea where she was going at the time, but she'd take this warmth from Sif over continued hostility any time. The warrior woman reached out her hand for Darcy's, clasping it in an approximation of a hand shake, before they returned their attention to the proceedings.

The crowd kept coming, but Frigga wouldn't stand there forever, no matter how much it seemed like she had turned into a statue, carved into a impression of endless grace and patience. Instead, once all the warriors were in the hall and only civilians were the new entrants, she raised her chin. Darcy could see the faint pathway of tears on her cheeks, but it wasn't audible in her voice when she spoke.

"The king is dead. Long live the king."

"Long live the king!" Everyone echoed that last phrase back to her—everyone except Thor, who rose to his feet and turned to face the crowd fully. It looked like he had the weight of the world on those shoulders. Multiple worlds. If anyone could bear it, Thor was the most capable, but it was a lot to face. He'd need a good support structure around him.

This wasn't the funeral; that would take place under cover of darkness in a few days time. For now, Odin would lie in state, allowing his people to pay their respects one last time. Frigga left the dais and her sons followed her, through some side door into their own personal world. Darcy found herself watching Jane watching them leave. So much was up in the air now that Thor was king, and Darcy hadn't been the only one burying herself in their work over the last few days. Poor Jane might be facing a final separation from Thor.

Tony departed with some of the warriors down the vault, to put the 'Tesseract' back where it came from, while the rest of their group was rounded up by attendants and taken to the quarters they'd be using during their stay. It turned out to amount to a wing of the palace, interconnecting suites with incredible vistas over the grounds and water. The crowds still thronged the streets, leaving Darcy with little desire to go out and explore. Instead, she sat cuddled with Jane on a little balconette, basking in the sunshine and marveling over the details of the city together.

"The amount of energy required to keep it up like that," Jane said of one of the floating buildings. "And it has to be just because they can—there's no real purpose to it being above ground level like that. It's impractical to get in and out of, and it still has a footprint, so they haven't gained any extra space from doing that."

"Does Tony have Asgardian cousins? That's the kind of thing he'd do—build something to prove he could."

There was a knock at the door, then one of the attendants sweeping inside. "His Majesty the king," he announced with a low bow.

Darcy shared a startled glance with Jane. Neither had expected to see Thor so soon. They scrambled to their feet but had no idea whether to bow or not, both doing an awkward shuffle until Thor strode towards them with a broad smile. "Sit, please, there is no need to stand on my count."

Darcy wanted to do that, but once glimpse of the nerves on Jane's face told her she needed to give them space. "Actually, I think I might go check out my own rooms. Apparently you've got the fanciest plumbing going and it'll take me at least an hour to work out how to get the shower going."

"Will you seek Loki?" Thor asked, and Darcy blinked at him in confusion. The thought hadn't even occurred to her. "He is confined to his quarters, with guards at every entrance and countermeasures in place to stop him leaving by magical means. Though he has promised me he will not try to."

"No, I don't think he will." She shrugged. "But I'm not going to go looking for him."

Instead, she spent the afternoon in the company of the Avengers; the little band of fighters she'd spent all those months in hiding with. They picked at the spread of food which had been laid out for them, reminiscing over their months in the facility now they had better lodgings, and catching up on the threads of their lives while they'd been separated. Darcy haltingly recounted her escape with Loki and the other worlds she'd seen. This time, they offered only comfort, not judgment, though she suspected Nat's persistent stink-eye in their direction had some hand in that.

When she returned to Jane's room, her friend was crying tears of happiness. Thor had vowed his commitment to her, mortal lifespan or not. With the Bifrost repaired she'd be able to come and go between the worlds as she pleased.

The next day, and the one after that, they explored the realm, wandering until Darcy thought her feet were going to drop off. More than anything it felt like she was wandering through a dream, rather than the waking world. Sometimes as they left the palace, or drew close to it, she thought she could feel a gaze on her from one of the towers, but when she sought it she couldn't find whoever it belonged to among all the windows.

On the third night Odin's funeral was held: a sombre gathering of the crowds at the edge of the city, as he was dispatched over the waterfalls in a flaming vessel. It was a moving ceremony, especially the lanterns everyone let drift into the sky as his casket disappeared among the foam of the water. Then a city-wide feast was held, with the Avengers and company as guests of honor in the palace's banqueting hall.

Decisions had been made in the past few days. It would take some time for Thor's coronation to be arranged, though he was already king in name. As for Loki, he would be tried—a proper trial this time, instead of a swift judgment from Odin. Thor had decided he owed it to his brother, for the good and bad he'd done since Thor was banished to Earth. Someone else would look at the balance of his deeds and decide on the appropriate punishment.

Only as Darcy walked back to her rooms, in the stillness of an early hour, was she approached by Frigga.

"My son wishes to speak with you."

Darcy knew Frigga didn't refer to Thor. They'd healed that rift already.

"I don't know what else there is to say."

"There is goodbye, at least."

Frigga was right. She owed him that. Darcy trailed the queen through the palace to what had to be the royal wing, judging by the increase in gilt—and the areas she'd already seen weren't exactly lacking in it. Darcy worried she was being taken to Loki's own rooms, but instead Frigga led her out into a sheltered garden, to a secluded bench under the shade of an immense oak tree. The garden was actually on a balcony or terrace, because the land dropped away not far from the bench, but there were no other balconies with a view over the area. It was private, with only one entrance, no doubt designed for the royals to have some outside space away from the watchful eyes of their subjects. In the darkness the night wrapped around them like a cloak of shadow, making it feel even more cloistered.

Loki waited for her under the boughs of the tree, chained as he'd been during the procession, and when Darcy turned to say something to Frigga she found they were already alone. Darcy ignored the bench just like Loki was and instead took up a stance on the other side of it, staring out at the Bifrost in the distance.

"You've heard I'm to be tried," he began. It was a neutral statement, his voice and body carefully measured so she couldn't read him.

"I have. By Norns, whatever they are."

Loki made a non-committal motion with his hands. "They're as fair as any judge can be. They're not interested in justice so much as the truth, and the balance of ones deeds."

Now that could get interesting. But it would be rude to point out to a consummate liar that he might not fair well in front of that sort of judge. "And a death sentence is off the table, so I've been told. It could be worse."

"You'll be returning to Midgard, of course." And here was the first sign of real…anything from him. Interest, concern, something that wasn't his practiced air of aloofness.

"Yep." There was no point fluffing around it. She'd enjoyed her time in Asgard but there was nothing keeping her here—not even Jane. Loki's distance made it easy to cut that cord and walk away.

"You will not think more on my offer of courtship?" Was that a crack in his voice?

"No."

Frigga had never confirmed if the future was determined or not, though she had once called the mirror vision "a possibility". And after all this time in her company, Darcy thought she understood better about Frigga's own magic and her ways of manipulation. Loki was her son, in ways few people would ever fully comprehend: they couldn't see past Frigga's regal air and calm demeanor. She was the source of his ruthless streak, even if she wielded it in other ways, and knew Loki in ways he probably didn't even understand himself. So when she showed him that vision, she'd picked what he'd respond to, what she knew would stir him, even if he thought it was for different reasons. The glass had reflected his deepest wishes—it had reflected what he wanted to see in it.

Sometimes a mirror was just a mirror, more or less.

When he turned to face her, she gasped at the expression on his face. The mask hadn't just slipped—he'd torn it off completely, so for the first time she saw him, raw and open and naked in his desperation. He was black and white in the darkness, and it highlighted the lines of his face, bringing out the starkness of his feelings.

"After everything, you would walk away from this?" It was even in his voice, the strain and the despair.

She took a deep breath, sinking onto the bench so she didn't have to look him in the eye. It took everything not to squirm in the presence of all that exposed emotion, and to focus on gathering the words she needed to say to him.

"My dad always said that the root of a good relationship is trust. Doesn't matter what kind: love, friendship, business—if you don't trust each other, it won't work." She paused, glancing up to make sure he was listening, before looking away just as quickly. "I don't trust you. I can't trust you. You bury what you're feeling so far down that I'm not sure you really understand it—maybe Mistress Death got a good sense for it when she went rummaging around in your head, but I don't have that ability. Worse, you don't trust anyone, least of me. How am I supposed to know where I stand when you won't ever risk letting me know?"

"There were things at stake," he rasped. "There have always been things at stake before. Not anymore."

"Then maybe it's a little too late. You've spent months doing nothing except hinting and then covering it up by insulting me. You know what I want? I want something peaceful, and solid, with somebody who respects me."

"You don't think that's me."

She huffed sharply. "None of that describes what we've been through. And I can't deal with a relationship that's just about intensity. You know what Thor used to say your best quality was? Your sense of humor. But you've never made me laugh. Not once, not because something you said or did was actually funny."

It was such a cliche, that requirement from the old lonely hearts: good sense of humor. Yet Darcy understood why people placed such value in it. Laughter would go a long way to make anyone's company bearable. Whereas Loki…he made her feel things, alright. Confusion, attraction, occasional terror, consternation, but few emotions she could classify as positive.

"That's fair," he acknowledged, and she thought he was creeping back into his shell, drawing the shattered pieces of it around him to hide away from her once more. It didn't matter if she was leaving—she accepted his need for emotional armor around everyone else. "I suspect the work I would need to do to win your hand would take the rest of my life. Making you laugh, I am reasonably sure I can accomplish, but making you feel safe, earning your trust, learning to trust—these are not easy at all. However, no one has ever accused me of backing down from a challenge."

She felt him take the bench next to her, and that motion brought her full attention back to him. He sat, face dipped towards hers, with the most earnest expression she'd ever seen on him. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I will admit that I'm willing to use every skill I possess, every dirty trick I know. I've never been particularly interested in playing fair." His lips twisted in an uncharacteristic show of self-deprecation. "But perhaps the best place to start is in placing my trust in you. If I show you my heart, and everything I am, you can do it with it what you will."

He held out a hand towards her, resting, upturned, between them.

She shook her head. "What—"

"Take it, and I'll give you the ability to rummage around just like Mistress Death. For a moment or two only, but that ought to be enough to begin with."

"I don't think—"

"Don't." He leaned in ever closer, so his breath ghosted over her skin. "Don't think. For once I am offering you power over me, power I will never offer to another living being. Feel what I feel, and then use it to crush me, if you choose."

"I wouldn't do that," she protested, and he inclined his head, a nod. Yes, I know. See? I trust you.

When his pleading gaze didn't lighten, and his hand didn't move, she did as he asked, and she took it.

The effect wasn't sudden. It wasn't the falling motion of Mistress Death ripping into her thoughts and taking what she wanted, smashing them together. Instead, it was closer to them being two drops of ink dropped into the same pot, slowly blending together. She opened to him, and he opened to her, and then she was within him, feeling what he felt.

For the first breath, it was fine. Intense and unsteadying, but under control. Then it swelled up, until there was too much for her to contain. Too hot—bruising and feral, a wave of desperate longing and the violent eddy of unrequited emotions. There was a note of tenderness underneath it all, but the torment swallowed too much attention, writhing in the pit of her stomach and deep within her chest like she was bleeding deep within. Ferocious enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

She jerked away from his touch, pulse pounding, heart in her throat.

"You see?" he asked, his voice low enough that it crept along her like she was still buried in his emotions. "Nobody will ever love you like I love you."

She turned to him with wide eyes, still fighting to control her breath, and he met her stare with the same vulnerability. He loved her. Somewhere along the way, in his pursuit of her and despite the way he guarded his heart, he really had fallen in love. She'd had no idea—Mistress Death's casual hints didn't come close to feeling it like that. It wasn't a simple love, either, but one built from layers that went bone deep, uglier strands of possessiveness warring with softer tendencies.

Some of that pain she'd felt wasn't about her at all, echoes of the torture he'd suffered at Thanos' hands bitter on her tongue, but most of what he'd revealed was about her. Except he wasn't triumphing in revealing this to her; instead her own dismay was now reflected back at her.

When he spoke he was despondent, as if in bearing himself to her had made him examine his emotions and he'd not liked what he'd found. "My love is not a noble thing. It is untamed, and fierce, and searing."

"I know." It still rang through her blood—how could she not know?

He reached up to cup her face and she flinched, expecting to be pulled back into that boiling morass once more, but it was only skin on skin. He rested his forehead against hers but did not close his eyes, even while she let hers drift shut, still too raw to hold his stare. Moments passed, time measured in heartbeats and heavy breaths, until he spoke again. Darcy forced herself to look at him as he did.

"No one should have to suffer such a love," he decided, as determined as she'd ever heard him, "but I can bear it well on my own, and I would not want to inflict its worst excesses on you. For that reason—" He sighed, a brittle, shattered sound. "You should go. It is the only act of tenderness I fear I am capable of: to let you walk away and be happy away from me, when I cannot guarantee you anything of the sort with me."

He withdrew his hands and slipped away from her, resuming his place in the shade of the tree, while she blinked at the space between them. It was as good an offer as she was going to get—the one time Loki had agreed to let her go since they'd met, and she was sure he'd change his mind before she actually set foot on the Bifrost, even if it would be too late to do anything about it.

She should seize this chance while she had it. Run from Asgard and never look back.

So why wasn't she moving from this bench?

Because even with the space he'd put between them, the intensity of what she'd felt within him hadn't ebbed away. She'd felt his loneliness, the deep ache inside of him, twice. Before, when Mistress Death had laid bare the worst of his life, and now, as Darcy had brushed past the little boy he'd been, so different to everyone else in his world, so distant even to the brother he adored. That little boy still lurked within the man, even if that man had every right to expect lifelong isolation from this point forwards. She couldn't abandon either of them. Not yet.

She lifted her chin and spoke carefully. "Someone needs to vouch for you in front of the Norns. If it's about the balance of your deeds, they need to know the best of you."

He turned, surprise glinting across his features. "That's more than I have any right to ask of you."

"You aren't asking. I'm offering it." With his growing, tentative smile, she grew in the knowledge that this was the right thing to do. "I will stay."

[purplekimberly]

lightning before the thunder (i was alive until you pulled me under)

Words: 4748

Warnings: Depression and PTSD mention, I guess. Kim’s whole blog is one big depression and PTSD mention tbh. And some paranoia and anxiety. Also, very, very slight drug misuse. Kimberly Hart is a human disaster.

Notes: Writing Prompt #1 - the SF Rangers finding their soul crystals.

Boston, Massachusetts - 5:28 AM

Her eyes are closed. Warmth surrounds her, someone’s arms under her back and legs, carrying her.

“Kim-” She recognizes the voice and struggles to open her eyes, trying to find the speaker. Kat’s face drifts into view, momentarily, but her eyelids are heavy. Her head is pounding. “Kimberly, I’m sorry-” Kat sounds… choked. Distraught.

Kim desperately wants to open her eyes, find out why Kat’s sorry, why she’d ever be sorry for anything, why she looked like she’d just committed the greatest sin, but everything hurts too much. She’s warm, too warm.

She hears a siren, loud and blaring, in the distance. An ambulance, coming for her. Coming for her because she’s wounded, because she was exhausted and fell and Kat found her. Kat under Rita’s spell, Kat with a golden heart and a tragic stroke of fate- no, wait, that’s not right. She doesn’t know that yet.

Open your eyes, she thinks. You have to tell Kat that it’s gonna be okay, that you forgive her, no matter what.

You have to-

The siren comes closer. Louder. Help is coming. For her, for Kat, even though she doesn’t know it just yet.

It screeches, almost like a-

Kim jolts awake in bed, heart racing, her breaths coming in heavy sighs. The thermostat in her house is set to a chilly 60-something degrees, but she’s so warm. Her bedsheets are tangled around her body, smothering her in heat, so she struggles for a few minutes, shoving them aside.

The cool air stings her skin like needles but does little to help how hot she feels. Grumbling to herself, Kimberly gets out of bed, putting on her slippers and padding to the kitchen in the dark. The motion-sensor lights she has set up in the hallway from her bedroom to the dining area burst on as she drags her feet past them. It’s a good security measure that she installed during a particularly paranoid few months of her life, and now, it’s practical for her early morning sleeplessness.

She flips on the kitchen lights as she enters and grabs a glass out of the cabinet, filling it with water from the fridge. For so many long seconds, that’s the only sound in Kim’s ears as she bores holes into her fridge door, eyes sleepy and unfocused. The flowing water as it fills her glass.

Her jaw clenches as she strains, forcing herself to focus on something more. Something that she heard earlier in the silence of the morning, something that woke her up.

Something that sounded like a demon she never killed.

Kim almost misses stopping the pressure on the water dispenser, and her hand jolts as she quickly moves to avoid spilling water all over her floor. “Shit,” she mutters to an empty house, sighing and taking herself and her glass to the kitchen counter.

It’s early. A few hours before she has to get ready for work. Kim takes a sip of her water; it does nothing to calm her nerves or the buzzing in her ears, but it makes her feel slightly less hot. Only slightly.

At her feet, T.K. sidles up to her, pressing against her ankles. Kim stoops down and picks him up, holding him against her chest; he purrs, satisfied, into her shirt.

“Yeah, I’m really warm, huh? It’s weird,” she raises her eyebrows at him; he studies her with no response, “Kinda like talking to my cat is weird. Don’t judge me.”

Kim closes her eyes and breathes, trying to find a sense of calmness that she knows exists somewhere in her head. She stands there, in her kitchen, holding T.K. for what feels like another hour before he jumps out of her arms, scrambling off into another room, and she takes that as her cue to move.

The microwave clock says it’s only been three minutes. Kim sighs.

It’s gonna be a long ass day.

She takes a long gulp of water, sets her glass down for later, then goes back to bed. There’s still time for a power nap before class.

__________

Cambridge, Massachusetts - 10:52 AM

The light buzzing in her ears hasn’t stopped, even after she took a nap, woke up, took her meds, and tried drowning it out on the drive to work with obnoxious dance music.

It annoyed her all throughout the exam she administered for her French feminist history class, only adding to the unnerving sounds of exam silence like clicking pens, tapping feet, and someone’s Fidget Cube.

Well, her Fidget Cube that she’d been messing with in her lap, hoping she could muffle the sounds with her dress and not bother her students. Not that anyone complained about it. (Not that she’d really care if they complained.)

She’s packing up the finished exams into her folder and throwing that folder into her backpack when her phone rings. Kat’s smiling face stares up at her from the caller ID, and Kim nearly drops her bag.

The way she fumbles with the talk button is so embarrassing that Kim’s glad all of her students left only minutes ago.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kim! How are you?”

The buzzing in her ears dies down.

She takes a breath.

“Uh, I’m… good, I guess. Just finished up a class. You?”

This is awkward. For her. Or, she supposes, she’s making this awkward in her head. They haven’t talked in a long time.

And, the time before that, there wasn’t much talking being done.

Kim blushes at the thought and thanks God that Kat didn’t FaceTime her.

“I’m doing great, which is, actually, what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She makes an “mhmmm” noise and waits for Kat to continue, sitting back down in her chair. There isn’t a class in here until noon, so she’s good for awhile.

“I’m gonna be in Boston in a few weeks with the kids, and I thought, maybe, if Tommy could get some days off, we could… drop by and spend some time with you.”

That’s… not what she expected Kat to say. 

Well, she hadn’t really been expecting anything at all.

“Uh.” Kim swallows and thinks about the million ways those particular few days could go wrong.

Kat takes her hesitance as polite rejection and keeps going, her words turning into rambling, “I mean you don’t have to say yes. I know you’re pretty busy with your classes and this time of the semester, and it’s gonna be a handful for me because we’re going for a competition but, I don’t know, I just thought it’d be nice, you know, just to see each other again.”

Somehow, Katherine gets that all out in one breath, and Kim has to take one of her own to process it all.

“I- yeah, sure, I mean…” She has no idea what she means. Where the hell was that sentence going? Nowhere. “Uh, just lemme know? Like, I don’t know, maybe as it’s coming up and stuff, so I can clear my schedule? Or not since you’ll be busy, too, but. You know what I mean.” Does she, Kim? Does she really? God, get over yourself.

“Great! I’ll let Tommy know for sure. I have to go now, but it was nice to hear your voice again.”

Oh, God, that was a very specific choice of words. “It was… nice to hear your voice again, too, Kat.” There’s silence as Kat hangs up; Kim sets her phone back down on her desk.

“What a fucking day,” she sighs.

__________

Boston, Massachusetts - 11:10 PM

The buzzing comes back sometime around three in the afternoon, and after a few hours, Kim just tunes it out. She’s not sure what it is - could be any of the shit that she deals with - but whatever it is, it doesn’t go away after she takes her second Zoloft for the day after dinner. She really shouldn’t and knows she shouldn’t, especially because she’s already had the one in the morning before work and a second one is over her daily dosage, but also because taking Zoloft in the evening always makes her unable to sleep and wake up anxious as hell.

Kim’s already feeling the effects by the time she sits down to start trying to make a dent in her exams late in the night. She turns on the TV, flips around on the channels until she finds a rerun marathon of Bewitched, and goes to town.

She doesn’t move for a long time, long enough for P.C. to come and lay on her lap, effectively ensuring that she wouldn’t get up for another few hours after that. The words on the pages are starting to blur together with the red marks she’s making, a definite sign she should stop. So, Kim takes a break, setting her exams aside on her coffee table. Her eyes drift to the fireplace, underneath the TV, where a few pictures line the mantel. She knows those faces, but she stops her thoughts before they go any further.

She’s zoned out, her gaze focused on a picture of her and the gang before Tommy’s White Ranger days, when she hears it again, unmistakably loud and piercing in the night.

The call of a firebird.

Kim bolts up from her seat on the couch, startling P.C., who gets unceremoniously dumped on the floor with a hasty apology falling from her lips as she runs to her front door. Her hands fumble clumsily with the lock on her door, and she finally throws it open, stepping into the night, eyes searching the skies.

"I heard you," she whispers to nobody, but if it's out there, it'll hear her, too, "I'm here... I'm listening."

She waits for it again but sees nothing in the darkness, hears nothing in her heart.

“Come on-” Kim hates herself for the edge of desperation that’s in her own voice. It’s like she’s seventeen again, riding around on the streets of St. Moineau, guilt tumbling around the inside of her skull, sickness in her stomach. She wants something more, and she shouldn’t.

A bright light zooms into her line of sight, coming down from the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, zipping over her shoulder and through her doorway. She whirls around, instinctively slamming the door closed, and turns to face the thing in her living room.

It’s small and violet in color- no, lavender- no, hot pink- The wisp seems to fluctuate in various shades of purple - Kim tells herself it’s her imagination that some of them look pinkish - as it glides around the living room, evading P.C.’s attempts to swat at it.

Well.

She grabs her phone from the coffee table and pulls up her contacts list, clicking on the home number for an old friend. She gets on her knees and, with her free hand, she yanks P.C. into her grasp and holds her close to her chest, muttering, “Oh, no, you don’t - I don’t need you breaking something right now.”

After two rings, someone picks up.

“Kim? Is that you?” Tommy. Her heart skips a beat, and she swears on her life that the wisp flashes hot pink for a second, but when she blinks, it’s violet again.

“Uh, yeah, it’s me.” She suddenly remembers the time difference and sputters, “Wait, shit, sorry- I didn’t interrupt dinner, did I? I’m sorry, it’s nothing-”

“No, no, you didn’t interrupt anything.” Tommy’s reassurance rings clear through the phone; Kim breathes a soft sigh of relief; her heart feels slightly, only slightly, lighter. “Are you okay?”

“Um, that’s debatable,” she says, her eyes following the wisp as it keeps zipping around, noticing how it gravitates to the pictures she has on the fireplace mantel, “There’s... a ball of light in my living room, and it’s freaking my cat out.”

“What?” Her reaction, exactly.

“That sounded better in my head.”

“What’s going on, Kim?”

“I have no idea.” P.C. squirms in her arm, so she reluctantly lets her go and watches her hop up to the top of the couch and glare at the floating wisp.

“Start from the beginning.” He sounds like a leader again, like the Tommy Oliver she knows, taking charge.

“Uh, well, this morning. I woke up this morning, and I- I heard...” She can’t say it, can’t get the words out. It sounded more real in her heard, but now, saying it to Tommy... God, it sounds insane. It sounds like a lonely, desperate woman who lives with two cats and wants to be young again.

“What’d you hear?”

“No, it’s stupid,” she mutters, waving the notion away with her free hand even though Tommy can’t see her, “Forget it. I just- I took too much Zoloft today, and I’m probably hallucinating. It’s nothing.”

Well, that was definitely the wrong thing to overshare.

Tommy’s voice becomes worried, laced with too much concern that has Kim thinking this was a terrible idea. “How much have you taken?”

“I- uh, two. One in the morning before work and one a few hours ago after dinner.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, unsure as to why she does it, but it just feels right, like a secret between the two of them, “Tommy... I heard the firebird.”

“What?”

“I heard it,” she repeats, the conviction behind her voice getting stronger; God, Kim sure as hell hopes she isn’t hallucinating, “It woke me up this morning, and then, I heard it again just now, before this... light thing flew into my house. It looks kinda like Navi. From Zelda. Just, you know, for your imagery reference.”

There’s silence as Tommy processes her words, so she continues.

“I know it’s real, Tommy. P.C. sees it, too. I’m not... I’m not going crazy.” For any regular person, it’d sound exactly like she’s going crazy, but Kim’s not just anybody. She’s talked to a floating head in a tube for three years of her life. And a few times in her mom’s living room in St. Moineau.

Not to mention the whole Power Ranger thing.

“I believe you.”

“Thank you.” The relieved sigh that falls from her lips and the tension that drops from her shoulders leaves her feeling the most refreshed she’s felt in some time.

Suddenly, the wisp starts circling itself in one spot, so Kim stands, taking a wary step toward it. That must be the right thing to do because it zips off, disappearing down the hallway.

“It wants me to follow it,” she narrates to Tommy, although she’s more focused on the following than actually talking to him at this point.

“Is it still in your house?”

“Yeah,” Kim rounds the corner and spots a purple glow coming from her open bedroom, “It just went into my bedroom.”

“Be careful,” he warns.

“What’s it gonna do, blind me?” Tommy’s disapproving silence has her smirking, if only a little. “I’ll be careful, cowboy.”

One of her nicknames for him slips out so easy; neither of them comments on it.

She walks into her bedroom and comes to a full stop. The wisp is floating over her bed, circling itself again; Kim raises her eyebrows.

“It wants me to take a nap?”

“What?”

“It’s over my bed,” she explains.

“Maybe it’s looking for something?”

Kim doesn’t know if the wisp can hear Tommy or even understand him, but at that, it stops and zips under her bed, coming out on the other side and repeating the process until it’s just circling her bed from top to bottom.

“Under the bed...” Her heart skips a beat again, and she almost drops her phone trying to get it out of her hand. “Tommy, hold on for a sec; I’m putting you on speaker.” She hits the speaker button and tosses her phone on the edge of her bed, getting on her knees as fast as she can.

The wisp has stopped moving and now is just floating there, beside her, waiting. She knows exactly what it was looking for. Kim reaches underneath her bed, blindly, until her hand hits a box and she grabs it by the handle, dragging it out into the open.

It’s a long, black case, secured by a lock; Kim puts in the combination easily. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she murmurs. 

The lock clicks, and she pops the case open, her breath catching like it’d been yesterday when she’d shoved all of this away under her bed.

A sleek black and pink bow sits in the mold of the case, its companion arrows strapped to the top of the case.

And, right underneath, in a corner, her pink morpher and the emergency communicator Zordon had given her years ago.

She glances at the wisp, her hand hovering over her morpher, “This? Is this what you want?”

Almost comically, the wisp bounces up and down. Yes, it seems to say.

“Kim? What’s happening?”

Oh, right. Tommy.

“Uh...” she pulls her morpher out of the case and sets it on the ground beside her, “My morpher. It... it wanted me to get my morpher?”

This is ridiculous.

“I- This is dumb. Impossible. There’s a- a floating ball of light in my bedroom and- it’s just a stupid coincidence.”

Tommy’s silent for a long moment, and she has to glance at her phone to make sure he didn’t hang up. “Kim, coincidences are impossible. And, in our lives, being Rangers, nothing’s impossible. Therefore?”

“Therefore, coincidences don’t exist,” she finishes.

“You heard the firebird and you were led to your morpher. That means something.”

“It means I’m not just some pushing-forty cat lady who’s delusional and misses being superhero.”

Tommy sighs, “You’ve always been more than that to me.”

There’s that specific choice of words again.

Kim’s snapped out of her thoughts when the wisp ducks down to her eye level and reaches out with surprisingly warm tendrils, wrapping them around her pinky and tugging gently but urgently.

Something stirs in her heart.

“Tommy, I have to go,” she says, picking up her phone, “I- I have to do this alone. I’ll call you later.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Just... be careful, okay?”

“Of course. Thanks for...” She doesn’t know what she’s really saying thanks for, actually.

But, Tommy understands. He always does. “You’re welcome.”

She hangs up and throws her phone back on her bed. The wisp floats, slightly impatiently, at her side. Okay. She can do this.

Kim takes her communicator, just in case, and clasps it shut on her wrist. It doesn’t work anymore, she thinks, it wouldn’t since Zordon’s long and dead and he was the one who gave it to her. But, it’s a precaution.

She springs into motion after that, running over to her closet and stripping off her pajamas for more comfortable jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket. As an afterthought, she loops a belt around her jeans and grabs her morpher from the floor, attaching it securely to the back of her belt and hiding it with her jacket.

“Okay,” she eyes the wisp, “If you wanna take me somewhere, let’s go.”

Great. She’s talking to a ball of light. Not the weirdest thing to ever happen, though.

The wisp zips out of her bedroom, and Kim follows it to her front door, where it bumps furiously against the window, wanting to be let out. “Alright, alright,” she mutters, opening the door, “Don’t break my door down.”

She steps out onto her porch, closing the door behind her and making sure it’s locked and that P.C. and T.K. didn’t follow her out. In her driveway, the wisp waits by her car, lightly bobbing in place. Kim briefly wonders if anyone else on her street can see this: her standing in her driveway and a weird, purple ball of light in front of her.

Kim gets into her car and straps herself in, pulling out onto the street. Hovering over her hood, the wisp floats a little ahead of her car, a tendril jutting out and pointing her in the direction it wants her to go.

It’s probably - no, definitely - a road hazard to be driving while a ball of light shines in her eyes, but she manages to not get into any accidents leaving her neighborhood. The wisp leads her into the night; the streets are relatively quiet, very few cars on the road, so Kim doesn’t feel too awkward or nervous about being seen. She drives until the wisp stops, abruptly in front of a shop.

The street itself is illuminated by lamps but completely dead, save for a 24-hour McDonald’s at the next traffic light, so Kim pulls off by the curb and parks, getting out of her car, curiosity pumping in her veins.

Her wisp - she supposes she thinks of it as hers, now, since it, well, won’t leave her alone - bounces in front of a thrift shop, one Kim’s never been to before. Inside, the lights are off, and the neon sign over the door informed that it was closed for the day.

“It’s closed,” she states, feeling much like a mother telling a child they can’t go get ice cream because all the parlors are shut for the night.

In front of her eyes, the wisp flashes hot pink, unmistakably this time, and she freezes as a sharp screech sounds out through the night again. She flinches, covering her eyes with her hands.

“I’m here,” Kim bites out, glaring at the wisp, “What do you want from me?”

The wisp returns to its violet hue, circles itself twice, then takes off down the street.

“Okay, fine,” she huffs, “Don’t answer me. It’s cool.”

She gets back in her car and briefly considers just going home and sleeping. Immediately, the wisp zips back to above her hood, as if it sensed her thoughts, and rocks from side to side. Its way of saying ‘no,’ then.

Resigned, Kim starts up the engine and pulls back onto the street, back to her task of following a ball of light that she really hopes isn’t leading her to her death.

She drives and drives until the streets that the wisp is leading her onto start to look really familiar. She’d passed by Park Street Church when she realized where she was.

“Hey,” Kim taps on her windshield to get the attention of the wisp (which she’s sure wasn’t necessary but still), “Are you taking me on the Freedom Trail?”

Obviously, the wisp doesn’t respond but Kim takes the bouncing in place that it does to be a ‘yes.’

So many Boston landmarks later, the wisp comes to a full stop, so abruptly that Kim instinctively slams on her brakes, thinking that she missed something.

“Fuck,” she grumbles. Thankfully, there weren’t any other cars around to witness that. She parks next to the curb and gets out, looking up at the building she’s been brought to.

Old North Church, one of the last landmarks on the Freedom Trail.

“Okay, now what?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at the wisp.

It zips forward, so she follows, checking the street for cars before she crosses and heads for the door of the church.

The night is so quiet, so when a howl echoes in the air, Kim stiffens, her hand instinctively edging towards her morpher. It’s her last line of defense, even if she’s not sure if it still works after fighting the Armada.

Were there even wolves in Massachusetts? She’d heard of some up north in Maine and some reports of not-coyotes-but-not-wolves on the news, but not too many.

The wisp wraps a warm tendril around her pinky again and pulls her along. “Yeah, you’re gonna protect me if I see any wolves, huh?” It lets go when they come to the church door. 

Kim frowns. “So...”

She doesn’t get a chance to ask what she’s doing here. The wisp abruptly shoots up into the air like a rocket, flying until it reaches the steeple of the church. At the end of its trajectory, it circles around the weathervane at the top then zooms back down to her, bouncing expectantly.

“You... want something up there?”

A shorter bounce like a hop. Yes.

“Well, how the hell do you expect me to get up there? I don’t see any 200-feet ladders or any- AHHH!”

She’s cut off by her own scream as the wisp zips behind her; something grabs the collar of her jacket, something hot and gross that feels like teeth grazing the back of her neck, and suddenly, she’s being lifted into the air.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” Kim closes her eyes, not wanting to see how high up she is. With the rate at which the wind is whipping around her hair, face, and body, she’d guess she’s going up pretty high.

Be careful, Tommy had said.

What’s it gonna do, she’d mocked, blind me?

No, as it turns out, it’s going to drop her to her death.

Kim loses her breath with a thump as she’s haphazardly deposited on the top ledge of the steeple; she clings onto the brick under her hands and makes sure that she has a tight grip before opening her eyes.

Don’t you dare look down...

She looks down.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna die.”

Falling from a church no less. She finds that ironic, but it’s not quite as funny right this moment.

Beside her, the wisp bobs casually like it didn’t just get her stuck on top of a fucking building in the middle of Boston. 

“I hate you.”

In response, it floats up to a part of the steeple above her, but under the weathervane, where the brick has been weathered away. Something glints inside of the stone, catching the shine of the moonlight.

Kim squints at whatever it is. “Something’s in there... You want it?”

She gauges the distance if she reaches up and stands on her tiptoes. It’s doable, and she doesn’t really have a choice at this point. “Alright,” she sighs, “I can’t believe I’m doing this... Didn’t even give me a chance to finish grading my tests.”

Leaning up on her toes, Kim holds on tight to the steeple, pressing her body against the brick as close as possible so she doesn’t fall, and reaches with one hand, fingers scrambling for the object stuck inside of the stone.

Her hand brushes against whatever it is, and it briefly flashes a deep purple. “Looks like a gem or crystal or... whatever,” Kim murmurs.

“Wait, you dragged me up here for a fucking rock?”

The wisp bobs out an affirmative then tugs on her hand with another warm tendril. It really wants that rock.

Sighing, Kim reaches up again, straining and mentally cursing her height and short arm span, and her hand finally closes around an edge of the crystal. It’s stuck in the brick pretty solidly, so she tugs on it until it starts wiggling in place.

“Almost there...”

One last yank has the crystal coming out into her hand, reflecting violet in the moonlight, but the force of her pull throws her off balance. “Shit-” Her free hand scrambles for a handhold, but the bricks on the steeple aren’t made for holding onto.

The last thing she hears before she loses her footing on the ledge is the howl of a wolf.