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phantasmagoriaoriginals · 3 years ago

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Here There be Monsters: Mage Basic Intros (Part 2)

Cybele

She/her, ??? Mage.

Around three hundred years ago, Cybele wanted to help find peace between humans and Creatures. To do this, she found a way to merge with magic itself, change her form, and become something that the world would listen to. From there, with new, unheard-of powers, she formed the Organization and shaped it to work toward her goal and dream.

While Cybele started out as a remarkably kind, gentle, loving person, her passions reached heights greater than she was meant to handle. Merging with magic turned her into something inhuman, and as it is, she’s slipped into a dream-like mental state where she only sees the reality she wants to. She’s lost in her own head and forgetting the world around her.

Cybele’s magic is unique in that she can use all seven kinds with near mastery. This should be impossible, however, and the consequence of such power is the slow deterioration of her mental state.

5′6, early 30′s (physically). Statuesque, shapely build, gentle, pleasing features, and light, rosy skin. Waist-length, golden-blonde, curly/wavy hair with distinct bangs, ocean-blue eyes with a bright sparkle in them. A soft smile almost always graces her lips, and her eyes are kind.

Gisette

She/her, Blue Mage.

Born to a high-ranking Mage family, Gisette spent her youth with high expectations. She was supposed to be perfect from day one— with all the constant work that comes with that. Indeed, she grew to reach a powerful position in the Organization, but along the way, she’s become jaded to the world and the supposed purpose of making it better.

Stern, strict, and severe, Gisette is the kind of person who doesn’t need to be big to be terrifying. She holds high, hard-earned authority, and her very posture makes it clear she knows it. An outstanding strategist, Gisette has spent years with the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders, choosing“should” over any “want” she may have had.

Gisette’s magic involves bringing written messages to life. This mainly suits her work as a strategist and organizer, as she can send moving, encrypted, and physically activated text wherever she pleases.

5′4, early 50′s. Waist-length, dark brown, almost black hair usually worn in a high bun. Dark gray eyes, pale skin, a fair amount of wrinkles. Usually wears earrings. Despite being a petite woman with a fairly slight build, the way Gisette carries herself shows her status well.

Maximus

He/him, Red Mage.

Like Gisette, he was born to a powerful Mage family and experienced much of the same pressure. The two were childhood friends and held feelings for each other from a young age. Maximus was the one who could never quite let go of them, even after Gisette gave up on her personal longings in favor of what she knew she had to do.

The opposite of Gisette in almost every way, Maximus is animated, dynamic, and imposing. His physical size makes most people cower, but his boisterous nature either sets them at ease or makes it worse. While he’s more than capable of taking things seriously, a beaming smile and openly held passions get him where he wants to be.

Maximus’s magic involves augmenting his physical strength. Instead of merely utilizing his energy, he doubles it back and ups his capacity for strength and movement, giving him nearly superhuman capabilities.

6′10, early 50′s. Huge, heavily muscled, powerful build. Shoulder blade-length, curly/fluffy hair a shade of blue so pale it’s almost white, almost always restrained in a low ponytail. Tanned skin, dark crimson eyes, chiseled, handsome features, and a good few wrinkles from age.

Rosaria

She/her, Green Mage.

Aurora’s older sister. From a young age, she was considered a prodigy at Green magic and was showered in the attention and praise that followed. While she remains a sweet, caring person, Rosaria’s outlook toward the world and other people has been distorted by the way she was treated growing up. She can be quite oblivious and ignorant.

Charismatic and sociable, Rosaria is the picture of the person everyone loves. Between her gift for magic and her skills with interpersonal relations, she’s well-respected and well-loved by almost everyone around her. Rosaria is quite a friendly, cheerful, and kind person, but she struggles with considering others’ feelings properly.

Rosaria’s magic is typical Green magic— drawing from the world around her to manifest various effects. In her specific case, she augments both her physical strength and her speed capabilities.

5′9, late 20′s. Tall, curvaceous build with an hourglass figure. Short-cut, chin-length white hair worn in a bob that frames her face. Wide, deep gray eyes with a slight green tint to them and pale lashes. Her features are quite appealing and she always seems to be wearing a smile.

Adrian

He/him, Yellow Mage.

In his early teenage years, Adrian made a mistake with his magic that caused his body to stop aging. He’s forever stuck at the age he was when the incident happened, even though his mind continues to develop. He became a skilled Mage nonetheless... but life seems to never give him a break. An unfortunate incident with a girlfriend was the tipping point.

Adrian is intellectual, poised, strict, and somewhat snobby. He has the personality of s stuck-up professor, and definitely enough ego to mirror it. Despite being internally depressed and angry with the world, he’s determined to ignore his unpleasant history and pretend like he’s not miserable. He has more than his fair share of pride in himself.

The magic he uses involves bringing his words to life. When Adrian speaks a command with magical intent, it happens. He has to be quite careful with it, as the exact mechanisms are tricky and complex.

4′11, late 30′s. Adrian’s body is youthful, small, and unaging. Brown, past chin-length hair in a fairly straight cut, with bangs, and brown eyes only a few shades warmer and more hazel. Carries a near-permanent scowl and posture that conveys his pride and experience.

Gloria

She/her, Yellow Mage.

Formerly a Mage of high rank, Gloria’s magic started to affect her mind about a decade ago. From there, it’s been a slow slide into delusions and distorted thinking that have left her with a very different role. When she was younger, she loved her magic for what it could show her and the things she could experience, but now, she can hardly keep track of them.

Gloria used to be a composed, passionate woman who handled her job well and enjoyed every second of it. She was outspoken, bold, and graceful in both speech and mannerisms. After her magic changed her, though, she’s become very disorganized in thought. She has trouble telling what’s real, what’s tangible, and what’s in the present.

The magic that twisted Gloria’s mind is the ability to see into the past and future. While limited, it was highly useful, and she pushed herself too far with it, leading to her mind being unable to handle the information.

5′5, mid 30′s. Graceful, art-like build with a soft figure and not a lot of muscle. Caramel-brown hair worn in a shoulder-length style with longer sidelocks, shining, golden-hazel eyes, and fair skin. Her eyes have a vacant, spacey look in them more often than not.

Coulson

He/him, Blue Mage.

For the most part, Coulson has a normal past. He fought his way through education and training to be as skilled as he currently is, and that fight gave him an unhealthy amount of pride. He’s always been competitive and authoritative, and can’t stand others besting him in any way. He worked his way into the Organization for the sake of power.

Coulson is strict, self-absorbed, and demanding of others. In his mind, he’s almost always the most capable person in the room and he acts like it. He’s a stickler for rules (when they suit him), dismissive of other people and their opinions, and aggressively fixated on his authority in the chain of command. He takes a lot of pride in his power and abilities.

For magic, Coulson uses a variety of small tattoos self-engraved into his body to create a variety of effects. He adds new ones quite frequently as he learns new applications and methods of utilizing them.

6′0, mid 30′s. Tall, somewhat lanky build with unnerving strength for how little muscle is visible. Dark blue, curly hair slicked back on the right side and left loose on the left. Darker blue eyes, pale skin, and two silver piercings (right nostril and right earlobe) connected with a thin chain.

Rochia

She/they, Brown Mage.

A perpetual hard worker, Rochia grew up with a love of both machinery and magic. She enjoyed experimenting with everything she could get her hands on and seeing what worked. Once she joined the Organization, Rochia wound up assigned to a top-secret project that killed her optimistic view of the world, leaving her bitter and pragmatic.

Sharp-tongued, logical, and no-nonsense, Rochia is dedicated to her work— even when she hates it. She dislikes unrealistic fantasies and people who go against rules and sensible choices and favors those who devote themselves to something tangible with their whole hearts. Despite losing faith in the world, small parts of her still cling to hope.

Rochia’s magic is something of a mystery. It relates to creating and maintaining magical machines, but the exact nature of what she knows and does is kept secret by the higher-ups of the Organization itself.

5′2, mid 20′s. Petite and rather stocky in build, with few curves. Dark brown hair worn in a shaggy, somewhat messy pixie cut easily kept out of the way. Gray, brown-tinted eyes with perpetual dark circles underneath, light skin, and forming wrinkles at her brow.

#Here There Be Monsters #Cybele #Gisette #Maximus #Rosaria #Adrian #Gloria #Coulson #Rochia #Character Info

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lethargic-caterpillar · 4 years ago

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Let’s try this again (SFW)

Gender Neutral Shadow monster x Gender Neutral! Reader

I went a teeny weeny bit off script but it’s still a nervous reader that is reluctant to fall for another monster after their last rejection.

@exxo-potato

---

Your cat had been acting rather strange as of late. Keyboard seemed to be rather sad, despite treats and some snazzy new toys you could not get him away from the window. He wouldn’t even get up for your best friend, who was his best friend.

“Maybe he’s reflecting your mood,” she had said when she came over for a visit. “Like that whole thing about animals being like their owners. You have been a little out of sorts since...”

You stop her with a look, Paisley falls silent and takes another sip from her water bottle. You knew already that you were off, you just didn’t know how to stop. How to go back to normal after the whole anthropophilic naga incident.

It was pretty common for a human and a monster to be in a public relationship nowadays, but there were still some naysayers. You were alive during the protests that used to happen when the government had finally legalised monster human marriage.

You thought that your workplace was safe from that kind of discrimination, but the naga you used to crush on proved that theory wrong. Her words had stung worse than any bee, not only were you rejected, you were also insulted by the personal comments she made. The slump that the situation had put you in got so bad that your boss gave you a week off in pity as it had resulted in non-efficiency.

Of course your boss didn’t know why so eventually when you go back she’ll be there too.

"You should get a cat behaviour consultant," Paisley suggests as if it's the most normal thing ever.

"A who and a what now?"

"Oh yeah, there's this totally legit consultant that I hired when Jordan started eating socks," you snort, you'd forgotten about that whole ordeal. Paisley had never told you how the problem stopped, but a cat behaviour consultant seems as likely as anything when your cat is swallowing socks.

Paisley gives you the website as well as the business card she kept in her overflowing wallet. You look at Keyboard, who was still sitting in the window, and pull out your laptop with a sigh.

It's a pretty legit, local company. It also says that this is a side profession though, what an odd choice. This person must really love cats. The only sketchy thing was that there were no pictures of the actual consultant.

After having an argument with yourself, before going to sleep, you called the number provided in the contact section the next day. Every few minutes, you look towards the digital clock on your oven to see if it had suddenly become 3 o'clock.

"Keyboard, you silly kitty, I do these things for you and you alone." you point at your orange tabby and give him a look when you hear the doorbell ring. You aren't sure what exactly you were expecting, but this definitely was not it.

They were shorter than you by about four inches or so. At first glance, you'd assume they were a slime monster, but with a closer look, you saw that shadows were coming off of their matte skin. Definitely not slime. The little spots drifted towards the floor and disappeared immediately. Their hand was unusually warm, bordering on hot, but the shadows that transferred from their fingers to yours were cool.

"Hello! I'm here to see Keyboard?" the voice of the monster sounded like it was actually three voices. They hesitated when they said your cat's name as well, which wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

"Yes, he's on the windowsill and has been for nearly a week," you step aside so that they can walk in... or glide in? "This is embarrassing but, I don't actually know your name?" There was a name on the website, of course, you knew that you would have butchered it six ways from Sunday if you tried to pronounce it though.

The Eldritch horror like being laughed in that strange voice, and it sounds like a weird Snap chat filter. "You can just call me Chess!"

When Chess knelt down next to your stationary cat, they took off their square-framed glasses and their eyes started to glow purple, eyes that were not previously visible. You shivered a bit, feeling oddly drawn to the light.

Keyboard obviously felt it as he stood up and stretched, mewing softly. He stood on the lap of Chess, his little paws sank a little bit into the shadows collected there. The consultant puts their glasses back on and their eyes become little semi-circles. They must be smiling.

“What a pretty kitty,” Chess rubs under your cat’s chin and between his ears. “He’s giving off some very… unhappy energy. I think it’s his stomach that’s bothering him.” you nod, unsure of what to say.

“May I see what food brand you buy?” They set down Keyboard and stand back up from their position. You rush into the laundry room that doubles as the station for all of your cat's needs. The bag of food sits in the same cupboard as the kitty litter, it wasn’t anything fancy. It was the same cat food that you fed him for nearly his whole life.

You show the bag to Chess and they hum, which is just as weird as any other noise they make. “This one is quite fine, though it is dry… How old is Keyboard?” they look up at you and you look at your cat, the eye contact makes you feel warm.

“I think he’s 17? I can’t remember,” you laugh awkwardly, and Chess’s semi-circles return. They pass you the bag of cat food.

“Then perhaps it’s time to switch to a senior cat formula,” Chess says and looks towards the cat who is still purring in the windowsill, but instead of looking outside, he’s looking at you both. The grin on his face is contagious.

Chess gives you the name of a brand to try and you schedule another appointment in a week. They tell you that they’ll send an invoice, and you close the door behind them with a sigh. You sit down and pet Keyboards head when he comes to say hello. They were so nice and weren’t too bad to look at, sort of cute in a nerdy, cat-person way.

NO! No, no-no-no. No feelings. Not for a good long while. Especially not for a monster. You did that one too many times.

You had stopped yourself from focusing on them until Thursday came around, you were taking back the open bag of cat food as the store you had gotten it from a program for returning opened bags. It was a nice way to get rid of unwanted or unused food.

You’re standing in front of the wall of cat toys, thinking it would be nice for Keyboard to have a new friend. His favourite had dropped it’s last feather last month and you’d meant to find a replacement earlier. You pick a green and pink mouse with a feather tail that looks durable enough and without looking, you turn around to walk to the checkout.

You bump into someone and drop the mouse. A familiar voice apologises and an equally familiar, shadowed hand picks up the cat toy. “Sorry about that!” they say cheerfully and pass the colourful mouse back to you.

“Oh, no. It’s my bad. Should’ve looked where I was walking,” you push out those words, your face feels really warm and you know that you’re ruby red. Chess wobbles and you think that that was them shaking their head.

“I’m a little hard to spot,” their hand gestures to the bit of height difference between the two of you. You chuckle, but you also notice that they seem even smaller than the first time you met. You brush it off, it must just be your imagination.

“Still though,” you shrug and Chess grins, their eyes, which are visible, becoming half circles. “Have a nice rest of your day, see you in a few days!” you let out a breath and turn on your heel, home time. It was such a long day of actively avoiding the naga at your work and the rumours about your rejection that were travelling at light speed around the office.

“Wait! I’m so sorry, and feel free to say no, but… do you think maybe we could meet before then?” Chess’s eyes dull and their shadows expand out a bit, to hide, you assume. “And not to talk about your cat, unless Keyboard came up of course then I would totally talk with you about him. Such a nice kitty,” they start to mumble, spacing out a bit. You bring them back to reality.

“Yes. Yes, let’s go out,” you smile at them, feeling a great weight being lifted from your chest.

---

They were supposed to be some sort of shy eldritch horror with an ability to attract cats (and sometimes people), and feel the energy that certain things give off (mostly just cats). I think that this does a fine job. Might just expand later.

My posting will slow down even more due to some personal problems that don’t have a real or permanent solution at the moment. However I do have some ideas and will try to get them set up for the future, perhaps as less of a short story and more like headcanons: A Worn-Out Caterpillar~

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #monster s/o #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster imagine

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kenzieam · 4 years ago

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Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter One

@jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt @badassbaker @pinknerdpanda

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

************************************************************************

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut

Word Count: 2750+

************************************************************************

Okay, so……

Lev, the serious one, is visiting her wild-child twin brother, Clint. There she meets Bucky, a tall, dark, brooding mystery who’s her total opposite in every way. Of course, she’s intrigued even as her mind screams to run for safety, but what could go wrong, right??

***********************************************************************

As the seatbelt light shut off, Lev exhaled a deep breath and stood, pulling on her plain white button-down shirt to smooth the wrinkles and drew her backpack from the overhead compartment. Slinging it on her shoulder, she waited quietly to exit, grimacing faintly as a Karen behind her began to object loudly to the order, demanding she and her little darling exit first.

Lev agreed wholeheartedly, about to push the bitch out of the plane herself, boot her offspring out behind her, but held back, taking another deep breath.

Thankfully, no one else seemed inclined to indulge Karen and she subsided with a few indignant, unladylike sounds, falling into line with something resembling humility.

And, thankfully, Karen headed off in the opposite direction once they hit Arrivals. No doubt to find someone else to pay for her inconvenience.

Jesus, that was why she’d chosen Trauma medicine as her specialty, the situations were too life-and-death for such foolishness. Shaking it off, she raised on her tiptoes to see over the crowd, looking for a certain familiar face.

“Hey, Trouble!”

Lev startled, whirling. “Jesus, Clint!”

He laughed gleefully, killing himself and Lev fought a smile, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re a bastard.” She said, by way of greeting, which only added to Clint’s mirth. Still howling, he slung an arm around her neck, giving her a close-up view of his heavily tattooed forearm.

“I missed you,” he laughed, pressing a messy kiss to her hair, roughing it up just the way he knew she hated.

The perfect definition of ‘good twin/bad twin’, Clint and Lev were alike only in a shared birthdate and parents. Even from birth it was obvious they were polar opposites; the fair-haired little Clint wild and incorrigible, the darker Levka all seriousness and calm serenity. While Clint could rock and roll for hours past bedtime, infant Lev would settle right away, ignoring the antics of her slightly older brother as he weebled and wobbled the next crib over.

The dichotomy continued throughout their childhood, with Clint deciding to refer to his serious little sister as ‘Trouble’ entirely to illustrate just how ‘un-trouble-like’ she truly was, while he happily answered to anything she threw at him, up to and including ‘you little shit’.

“I missed you, too.” Lev admitted, fighting a grin; although complete opposites, they were inseparable, yin and yang all though their shared lives.

“C’mon.” Clint pulled her towards the luggage carousel, squinting at the rotating bags. “So, which plain black bag is yours?”

Lev made a face, just because he preferred shades electric didn’t make hers plain. Reaching for the familiar case she smirked when Clint whistled.

“Whew, a silver one? Who are you and what did you do with my baby sister?”

“Shut up,” Lev laughed, dropping the case unceremoniously in Clint’s arms, grinning when he grunted under the weight. “Take me home, I’m hungry.”

Clint rolled his eyes, jerking his chin in the right direction as he turned and walked away.

“So, how’s the life of a doctor?” Clint asked as they roared down the highway, perched high in his jacked-up pickup.

Lev grinned. “I’ve just finished my residency, I’m not a true doctor yet.”

“But you will be, soon?”

Lev nodded. “Yeah, I took a few months off but I’m pretty sure I’ll be working with Dr. Hawkins.”

“That ER guy? The one you trained under?”

“He’s the one.”

“What is it with you and that ER trauma stuff?”

“What is it with you and tattoos?” Lev shot back mildly. “You never even had a tattoo until you met Nat out here.”

Clint shrugged, glancing down at his fully inked arms. Ten years ago, when Lev had been heading directly to university after high school graduation, Clint had thrown a duffel bag into his old beat-up Camaro and gone on a road trip, no destination in mind, no real plans. After a while he’d met a similarly spirited woman named Natalie and, after a whole whirlwind week of romance, married her in her hometown city hall, calling afterwards to inform his family that he was surprise! married and moving in with his new wife.

If Clint had been anything less than a Tasmanian Devil all his life, this might have surprised his family, but his parents took the news in quite a blasé way, even laughing as they told Lev during their weekly check-ins.

While Lev had met her sister-in-law a few times in the decade since, it had always been when Clint had flown home to visit, and Lev happened to be home from school as well. She’d never gone out to visit her brother, and these few months after her residency had been the perfect time to remedy that.

“You going to let me give you a tattoo finally?” Clint asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Lev leveled a glare at him. “Are you any good?” It was a joke, and they both knew it. Despite having never touched a tattoo gun until after he’d married Nat, Clint had proved himself an absolute prodigy, joining Nat’s brother and his friend as an apprentice in the local parlour and quickly becoming a startling skilled artist.

Five years ago, that brother-in-law, his friend and Clint had all gotten together to open their own shop, Blackheart Ink and Body Mod, where you could get a wrist tattoo and a nipple piercing all in the same day.

“You know I am.”

“No.”

“C’mon, get a piercing at least.”

“No!”

“It doesn’t have to be visible-”

“Clinton Derrick Barton!”

“Levka Valentina! Or should I say Dr. Levka Valentina Barton!”

“Don’t,” Lev rolled her eyes. “I still say mom was high when she named me, you at least got something normal, which is ironic, since you’re anything but.”

“Love you, little sis.”

“Love you too, ass. Are you taking me to your place?”

“Nah, I thought we’d stop by the shop first.”

Lev hesitated, she felt dirty and wrinkled, always preferred meeting strangers looking her best.

“You look fine.” Clint deadpanned. “Stop worrying.”

Lev huffed at her infuriating brother, pulling down the visor to check herself in the mirror. Frowning, she pinched her cheeks for color, making Clint shake his head and chuckle. Running her fingers through her hair she contemplated grabbing some facial wipes from her backpack, but by then Clint was slowing down, flipping on his signal light.

“Here it is.” He announced proudly, pulling up in front of a large storefront. Painted black, with the shop’s name displayed prominently you would be hard to mistake this as anything but a black hole of debauchery and Clint grinned, elbowing Lev when he saw this in her eyes.

“You’re such a snob.” He teased, laughing.

“And you’re deranged.” Lev lobbed back, sticking out her tongue.

“Do that again and one of the guys will pierce it.” Clint snickered, yanking open the glass door. “Hey assholes, I’m back! Oh, hey Spider, didn’t know you were here, getting a touch up?” Instantly Clint integrated himself into his habitat, heightening the difference between him and his sister, who stood just inside, looking lost.

“Christ, baby. You could introduce her to everyone.” Nat scolded mildly, elbowing Clint as she passed. “Hey, honey. Welcome!” She opened her arms, gathering Lev into a tight hug, pulling back to grin at her. “You look great, Lev. How are you?”

“I’m good, Nat. Thanks. What about you.” Lev replied, grinning, almost stupidly grateful.

“Oh, getting by. These guys keep me busy.” Nat gestured over her shoulder with the flip of a wrist, which seemed to be some kind of signal for Clint and a tall blond holding a tattoo gun and leaning over whom she assumed was ‘Spider’ based on the giant Black Widow tattoo on his bald head, to start hooting like monkeys. Nat’s gesture morphed instantly into the bird, which she doubled by adding her other hand when she spun to face the men. “Oh, shut the hell up!” Glancing back at Lev she grinned fondly. “See, barbarians and fools.”

“Hey.” Spider protested with a grin.

“And bikers.” Nat teased back, taking Lev’s hand and pulling her nearer. “Lev, this is Spider, as I’m sure you’ve figured out.”

Lev offered a timid smile, received a crooked grin and wave back, one gold tooth glinting underneath a thick goatee.

“And this big dickhead is my brother, Steve.” Nat continued.

Steve pulled his attention away from Spider’s tattooed bicep and nodded, a surprisingly handsome smile lighting up his face. “Hi.” His deep voice was gentle, a startling contrast to his intimidating bulk, highlighted by a fitted tank top that hugged each muscle and showing miles of velvety, inked skin. A short crewcut showed off strong, clean-shaven features and his blue eyes sparkled with good humor. “So, you’re Clint’s twin sister. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lev felt her cheeks warm; she could only imagine the stories Clint had told. “Oh, really?” She squeaked, flicking a glance at Clint, who grinned merrily back.

“Uh huh,” Steve turned his attention back to Spider’s arm, wiping carefully at a spot before speaking again. “He says you’re a doctor.”

“Yeah,” Clint broke in, slinging an arm around Lev’s neck. “She can take a look at that growth on your ass-”

“Clint!” Both Lev and Nat screeched, and he yelped as Nat connected with the back of his head.

Steve threw Clint a look, one of mild exasperation and brotherly tolerance before turning his blue eyes back to Lev. “I don’t have a growth on my ass, but maybe you can prescribe your brother some sort of heavy sedative.”

“Hey!”

Steve grinned at him, lessening the dig then winked at Lev. “Welcome, Lev. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Lev replied, feeling herself relax. He may have looked like a barbarian, as Nat had put it, but Steve seemed to be a kind soul, a genuinely benevolent person.

“I was wondering where you were hiding!” Clint suddenly shouted, pointing as if Elvis himself had just appeared from the back room. “Lev, this is the other third of the Blackheart team, Bucky.”

Lev turned at Clint’s direction and froze, her heart suddenly afflicted with tachycardia.

If she’d thought Steve was big, she was wrong, for Bucky was bigger still. Thick, corded muscles flexed as he paused, brow furrowing slightly as he seemed to be working out what Clint was babbling about. A thick but neatly trimmed beard obscured most of his face, while his chocolate brown hair brushed his shoulders and fell over a pair of startingly blue eyes.

He looks like he could pick me up and snap me in half, Lev thought shakily. She’d seen similar builds and musculature on heavyweight cage fighters, brought into the ER with some gruesome injury after their latest match and she couldn’t be sure if her pulse was racing in fear or something else entirely.

Bucky, the name didn’t belong on such a giant and Lev licked her lips nervously, feeling like she was standing in the entrance of a dark forest, able to hear a low growling from inside.

The silence in the shop was suddenly overwhelming to Lev, she could feel her heartbeat making ripples in the surrounding air and she stumbled to speak.

“Hi,” it came out little better than a squeak, broadcasting to everyone in the room that she was scared shitless of the newest arrival.

Piercing blue eyes locked on hers and a shadow passed through them, too fast for Lev to understand. He started moving again, lumbering to a workstation closer to where Lev, Clint and Nat stood. The padded stool groaned under his weight as he sat, setting a series of drawings on a light-up tabletop and he grunted, nodding once at her, before returning his attention to his papers.

“Okay,” if this was unusual, Clint gave no indication. “Let me show you around, kid.”

Lev followed obediently, saw Bucky glance up at her once as she passed, then look quickly back down and she hoped she didn’t stink from her plane ride.

In the back was a supply room, large break room and three private rooms. All three men, Clint explained, had a private room for quote ‘nervous’ customers or ‘intimate’ piercings, in addition to their spaces out in the front and the customer was free to choose where they wanted to be, however most decided to stay out front to be a part of the varied conversations that flowed like cheap beer.

“So, you all do body piercing too?” Lev clarified, eyeing a clearly sterilized and sealed tray in what Clint had said was Bucky’s room.

“Yeah,” he answered, peeking over her shoulder. “Bucky does the most of the three of us, but we all do a fair bit. Why, you thinking about one?” He elbowed her and snickered, then grabbed the side of her head and pressed a loud kiss to her temple. “Shit, I missed you little sis. It’s been too long!”

Lev agreed, for all their differences, there was nobody Lev loved more than her infuriating twin brother and smiled at him, leaning in for a quick hug.

Clint squeezed her bone-creakingly hard for a moment then released her. “You want to go? You’re probably tired.”

Relief washed over Lev, she’d kill for a shower and nap. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“So….” Lev began, then wished she’d kept her damn mouth shut. Steve, Nat and Spider had bid her goodbye with friendly calls and waves, while Bucky had continued to glower, like a toad on a stump, Lev thought sourly and it had continued to bother her, even as they left Blackheart in the rear-view.

“So?” Clint asked leadingly, cocking a brow in question as he kept most of his attention on the road. The truck rumbled underneath them, the obligatory air freshener, in the iconic silhouette of a Trucker Girl, swinging from the rear-view mirror.

“Is Bucky always that talkative?” She gritted her teeth, hating herself instantly for asking. Clint could take this as anything from a dig at his friend’s personality to a thinly veiled show of interest and, with her luck, he’d assume the latter.

“Yeah….” Clint drew out the word, as if considering what to say next. “Just be careful around him, little sis.”

Lev jerked her head to stare at him. What was he talking about? Had he opened a business with a convicted murderer or something?

Clint chuckled, reading her horrified gaze correctly. “Nothing like that, kid. Buck’s just…. intense. He parties hard, lives hard. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet if you’re a friend, but I’ve never seen him with the same girl more than once or twice.”

Oh. That was crystal clear. Hands off.

“I didn’t-”

“No judgement,” Clint interrupted. “But we all know he’s a handsome guy and you wouldn’t be the first to get burned if you tried to touch him.”

Sometimes, a completely different side of Clint appeared; a stable, rational man and Lev knew better than to waste that guy’s wisdom by not listening the rare times he did surface.

“Don’t worry, though. He’s alright. He won’t, like, try anything with you. You’re not his type.”

“Oh, really?” The sand in the Sahara was wetter than Lev’s voice.

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, signalling to turn down a residential street, waiting until an old lady hobbled slowly through the crosswalk. Lowering the window, he leaned his head out. “You need a hand, Sylvia?”

Sylvia peered upwards to see the speaker then smiled. “No, dear boy. I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Clint sat back upright, completing the turn and glanced sideways at Lev’s surprised look. “What? She’s a nice old lady, asks us to fix little things around her house, brings cookies by the shop.”

Lev grinned, warmed by her brother’s sudden display of heart then remembered their earlier conversation. “Not his type, huh?”

“Nah,” Clint took the change of subject easily, turning into the driveway of a modest little Craftsman. The only hint that someone like him lived there was a ‘Tattoo Gods Only Parking’ sign above the garage door. “You’re too buttoned-up, too serious. He dates girls that can twist cherry stems into knots with their tongues and deep throat like a porn-star.”

“Ewww!”

Clint shrugged before gesturing out the windshield. “We’re here!”

#bucky barnes #bucky #au bucky #au bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky romance #au bucky smut #au bucky drama #bucky and lev #bucky x lev

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shaperouter06-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Skin Tag Removal surgical Procedure ₤ 175.

111cryo.

Content

Can Skin Tags become a Problem?

Cavitation therapy Is Great.

It's Called stubborn Fat For a Factor!

Free 15 minute female general Practitioner appointments available throughout Our ladies's health Clinics.

See Our solutions.

Can Skin Tags come To Be an Issue?

When taking into consideration whether facelift surgical procedure is best for you, it is very important to have as much information as possible so you can make an informed choice. You'll be able to review the details at your assessment, but right here are some of one of the most often asked questions regarding facelift surgery. We have totally free cosmetic surgery details events running routinely, click herefor more information, dates and also to book. Your face will certainly still remain to age but should always appear younger than if you had actually not had surgical treatment. Complying with facelift surgical procedure, you can expect to remain in hospital for one to 2 evenings. frequently for younger women, this lift is made use of for individuals with small jowling as well as drooping skin. These facelifts are much less intrusive with smaller cuts as well as minimal scarring.

Do you lose weight after fat freezing?

Fat Loss with CoolSculpting Fat loss is the removal of the fat cells from the body entirely; but, this doesn't result in significant weight loss. This is because fat doesn't actually weigh very much in people with a normal Body Mass Index (BMI).

What you feel are the tiny amounts of ultrasound being provided listed below the surface of the skin. Great deals of individuals say this treatment can be a. bit unpleasant, however the dazzling Dr Diana at Dr Sebagh's facility made it entirely acceptable with no medicines in any way. Plus the pain is an indicator that the collagen-building process has actually been started - so it's worth it. It feels a little bit throbbing afterwards-- a bit like after having a filling up at the dental professional.

Throughout skin and also neck treatment sessions, the patient's skin ends up being a lot more strong and also youthful as new collagen grows.

HIFU facials are most reliable around the nose and also mouth location, the jawline, and also cheeks.

Each cartridge is made to merge ultrasound at a specific skin layer depth.

Commonly a single treatment can lead to quick results that will remain to enhance as your body creates new collagen and elastin.

HIFU new looks attend to all areas around the face or neck which have skin laxity problems, and also this extremely efficient treatment is renowned for offering people with new meaning after simply one therapy.

The current in medically verified innovation, the HIFU facelift is facial cleaning without the surgery.

The procedure lifts and tightens up the face as well as neck for an overall younger looking look.

This warmth is used to ruin targeted cells during an outpatient procedure, separately personalized for each and every individual's prostate cancer cells treatment.

The onset of the new collagen generation occurs in the very first three months or so following the treatment and also persists for around one year.

MACS encounter lift includes much less surgical treatment but the outcomes may not last as long as an SMAS facelift. SMAS facelift -Your specialist will certainly make an incision on both sides of your face in the hairline around your ears. They will certainly reduce under the much deeper layer of tough tissue (shallow musculo-aponeurotic system or SMAS layer), lifting as well as tightening it. Your surgeon will after that tighten the skin towards your ears and also eliminate any excess skin. A facelift is a procedure to tighten up and lift skin and soft tissues. This will certainly lead to a tighter and smoother look and also even more younger appearance. If you are not happy with the outcomes of your facelift, or you assume the treatment was not accomplished correctly, you need to occupy the matter with your cosmetic surgeon via the hospital or facility where you were treated.

How many cycles of CoolSculpting do you need?

How Many Coolsculpting Treatments Will I Need? Good news: In general, most patients only need about one CoolSculpting treatment to see results. That's because one hour-long CoolSculpting procedure is enough to treat about 24% of fat cells within the targeted area, leading to exciting results.

Preferably, you should have some flexibility in your skin, also if you are experiencing sagging effects. An excellent bone structure assists as well as, whilst the majority of patients are in between 40 to 60 years old and also effective facelifts have been carried out for people in their seventies giving they are in good health. It is best to discuss this with a consultant that will certainly analyze your viability. You will obtain a short training course of anti-biotics to stop infection at the time of surgical treatment. Ought to infection take place later, it is conveniently treated with antibiotics. If you believe infection then a punctual go to back would be the first step. The post-operative instruction sheet will certainly inform you what to look out for.

Cavitation therapy Is Great.

Sometimes, clients locate the wanted impact was not achieved and also feel they require one more operation. The latter is the most cost-friendly alternative by a long means, as well as is a less uncomfortable procedure with much less healing time, something to think about if you're thinking of obtaining your face lifted. However, in a tiny facelift bio-compatible cables are threaded under the skin and also tightened up to raise the face and Botox is made use of on specific locations of the face. A complete facelift's effects will last around five to 7 years. There are threats associated with the surgical procedure, and you should check out the NHS suggestions very carefully before making any kind of choice. A facelift, likewise known as rhytidectomy, is an operation aimed at tightening up the face and also lowering drooping skin.

https://herefordshire.lipo-sculpt.co.uk/ , skin-transforming therapies (plus a tried-and-tested old favourite) for skin-tightening, training as well as luster increasing. Or, as an additional friend put it, "the Valencia Instagram filter genuine life". You will certainly be entrusted to visible marks adhering to surgery, however they will progressively soften as well as fade over numerous months. Occasionally, individuals establish a haematoma - hemorrhaging under the skin - causing more swelling and pain. In rare cases, better surgical procedure is required to get rid of the haematoma and quit the bleeding. Your surgeon will certainly discuss the treatment, anaesthetic demand and recovery thoroughly with you ahead of surgery as well as will more than happy to respond to all of your questions.

It's Called persistent Fat For a Reason!

What does FemiLift treat?

So what is FemiLift? It is a non-surgical, quick and safe solution for various common feminine issues, such as Stress Urinary Incontinence (SUI), vaginal laxity, vaginal dryness, recurring infections, and more.

Relying on the treatment, clients might stay in healthcare facility 1 or 2 nights. A medical facelift, additionally referred to as rhytidoplasty, tightens skin around your face, jawline and also neck.

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If you have sagging brows and wrinkles on your temple, your surgeon may suggest a browlift. Loosened skin with great wrinkles, blemishes and harsh areas will certainly benefit extra from a chemical peel or laser resurfacing, which can be done with a facelift, browlift or necklift. As component of the aging process which occurs to all of us quicker or late, our skin progressively loses its flexibility and our muscles tend to slacken. The stresses of every day life, impacts of gravity and exposure to sun can be seen on our faces. The folds and also smile lines deepen, the corners of the mouth droop, the jaw line droops and the skin of the neck ends up being slack. Around the eyes, the brows sag and the skin of the eyelids gathers in loosened folds up. In the skin the very first sign is fine creases creating around the lips, at the external corners of the eye as well as lines of expression.

Free 15 min women general Practitioner appointments offered during Our females's health And Wellness Clinics.

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See Our solutions.

As a matter of fact with The Harley Medical Group you hold your horses forever. Find out more regarding our treatments and also therapies, for a totally free no commitment assessment and to meet a registered nurse please contact us on orclick through to publication online. Our distinct Facial Treatment Overview tool will certainly aid you learn more about the skin care items, therapies or procedures that are right for you. MACS facelift- The MACS face lift includes a smaller sized cut getting rid of any scarring behind the ear. Your surgeon will tighten up the SMAS layer with special suspension stitches to avoid cutting below it.

What is the best procedure for neck tightening?

Top 4 treatments to lift, tighten and rejuvenate your neck 1. Thermage® or Ultraformer III – to tighten and lift skin. 2. Laser Genesis™ – to smooth wrinkles. 3. Chin sculpting injections – to reduce a double chin. 4. Anti-wrinkle injections – to reduce platsymal bands.

Any type of hemorrhaging generally happens promptly after, or soon after, surgery. Little areas of blood loss can cause irregularities in your skin, which usually clear up in the months after the operation. Before the surgical procedure your cosmetic surgeon will go over any kind of medicines that enhance your threat of bleeding, as well as it is essential to manage high blood pressure. Renovations and also necklifts do not alter the structure and also look of your skin, though treatments such as laser resurfacing or chemical peels might help with this. Often, fat grafting or lipofilling can be carried out instead of or along with facelift, to make your face and also skin look more youthful.

In this case, a browlift, either on its own or with a facelift or necklift, may aid to tighten up the skin on your face. If you mean to reduce weight, you need to do so before the procedure. This allows the surgeon to eliminate more skin therefore accomplish a much better result. You must avoid taking tablets containing pain killers, in addition to non-steroidal anti-inflammatory medications, such as Voltarol as well as Indocid, for at the very least 2 weeks before the procedure as they boost the threat of bleeding. A facelift enhances the lower fifty percent of the face, particularly the jawline.

Does body contouring really work?

Yes, body sculpting gets rid of fat cells and reduces the appearance of fat on targeted areas of the body. Whether using heat, cooling, or ultrasound, body sculpting treatments kill fat cells that are then excreted over the next couple of months, which is when you'll see full results.

A facelift in surgery is an operation where wrinkles are tightened up to provide the individual a younger-looking face. When speaking about cars and trucks, a facelift is a term that encompasses a host of layout, inside and technology upgrades to a cars and truck in order to keep its allure. Exeter Medical is a state-of-the-art therapy centre in the South West for aesthetic assessments, therapies as well as laser solutions.

Fat Freezing prior To & After outcomes At Light Touch facility.

A full facelift that raises the much deeper tissues and not just the skin can last for approximately 15 years, whilst less invasive techniques, like mini facelifts or S-lifts, commonly last from two to 6 years. Your cosmetic surgeon will re-suspend deep face cells with these much shorter cuts as well as lift as well as tighten up a moderate quantity of shed skin. Lax as well as sagging skin is a clear indication of the passage of time and also is particularly visible in the face; in numerous clients, this can trigger a complex. Hence, the goal of a total facelift is to reduce laxity as well as to restructure the affected areas. The facelift, or face restoration surgery, is a treatment that fixes one of the most visible indications of face aging, by tightening up face muscular tissues, lowering fat, rearranging skin as well as removing excess tissue. Adjustment of the colour of skin After the surgical treatment, a lot of clients will obtain some adjustment in the colour of their skin where the procedure was executed. Bleeding Heavy bleeding is uncommon yet feasible, as well as you may require a blood transfusion or an additional procedure to stop the blood loss.

Yes, dermal fillers are a great non-surgical short-lived alternative to deal with the indications of face aging without having plastic surgery. The size of time a facelift lasts will depend upon the kind of facelift.

What does ThermiVa feel like?

There is virtually no pain involved with ThermiVa. In fact, most patients say it feels like a warm massage. There are other feminine rejuvenation treatments on the market. Those treatments use a more aggressive ablative laser and are said to be uncomfortable to the point of being painful and often require downtime.

This is due to the fact that we want you to be really pleased and certain with your decision. Plastic surgery can be a life-enhancing choice and we're right here to aid you make the ideal one. We have actually developed a facelift overview, which has comprehensive guidance about what you need to think about. Our skilled cosmetic surgeons will also guide you every action of the method.

After your facelift procedure, you will certainly need to stay in hospital, typically for one night. Utilizing these cuts on both sides, the skin as well as much deeper tissues are remodelled, raised as well as repositioned with numerous solid yet liquifying stitches. Tiny drains pipes are positioned under the skin, below the jawline, at the end of the operation. They exit through the hair behind the ear so there is no mark and are eliminated the adhering to day. The microneedling and also superhigh frequency waves provided to the skin cause tiny micro wounds to the skin, which after that boost the production of collagen as well as elastin. Like the Ultralift, this procedure is additionally tightening however is especially helpful for boosting the general look of the skin - making it smoother, brighter and much more radiant. A few days later you look like you have actually had the very best face you've ever before had-- however with longer-lasting results.

Does tightening cream really work?

And many solutions on the market , yes, certain firming creams and serums do tone and tighten your problem areas, Manhattan board-certified dermatologist Dr. “Any cream or serum is a temporary fix. That said, they can work well. If the skin is dry and lifeless, a good moisturizer can help firm it up.

The price at which this takes place differs from a single person to another and also is probably figured out by our genes. Aging of the skin of the face does not necessarily reflect the price that the rest of our body and mind is aging and also many people feel aggravated that the face they see in the mirror is not the one they really feel need to exist. Considerable weight management can generate similar changes in facial appearance to those of the aging process. You will have your own particularly experienced cosmetic surgery registered nurse to assist you with your treatment and also aftercare.

During a facelift procedure your specialist will certainly make cuts across your hairline, past the front of your ears as well as often under your chin. These cuts enable your doctor to eliminate excess skin as well as fat, tightening the muscular tissues. You may know a person that has had a facelift without even understanding it. An excellent one makes a noticeable difference to your face without it being apparent. This reasonably simple procedure raises the skin, deeper cells and bordering muscular tissues aiming to make your face tighter and smoother, providing you an extra vibrant appearance. You ought to speak with your surgeon concerning the feasible threats of facelift surgery to assist you make an informed decision.

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pertinax--loculos · 5 years ago

Text

Encounter

|| it’s lonely where you are / come back down / and i won’t tell em your name ||

[WIP: Hellbent]

Words: 1380

POV: Raleigh

Content Warnings: vague allusion to drug use | cursing, always

Context: Raleigh meets Dash for the first time

Notes: basically the last half of the chapter one I finally wrote. The first half is setup and doubles the wordcount so eh. However! I do like a lot of this. So. Enjoy!

***

"Try the drawers."

Raleigh yelped and spun, his light swirling around the room as he frantically searched for the source of the voice. His heart felt like it was going to break out of his chest, the warm flush of adrenaline surging through his limbs, breath coming in panicked hiccups as he wondered if he'd somehow imagined-

There. A figure, sprawled in the corner nearly opposite the door by the low table. Raleigh wasn't sure how he'd missed him, even with the dark clothing.

He managed to steady his hand enough to get a good look at him, too breathless to say anything yet.

His eyes were blue. It was a weird thing for Raleigh to notice, but they were vivid even in the low light, their colour so intense they hardly seemed real.

The second thing Raleigh noticed was his smirk.

That actually served to calm him down a little, and he set his jaw. He stepped forward in order to throw more light on the stranger.

"Oh, okay," he said, managing to keep his voice steady despite the fact his heart was still banging against his ribcage. "I get it. Is this Peter's idea of a joke?"

The stranger narrowed his eyes, raising a hand to block the light. "Who the hell is- wait. You think I'm fucking working with you fundie dicks? The fuck gave you that impression?"

Raleigh had to fight not to splutter. Between the cursing, the casual use of the insult for Members, and the denial of being in on the test, his nervousness was abruptly back full force.

The smirk on the stranger's face intensified. "Take your time. And get that fucking light out of my face."

Raleigh lowered his phone without thinking, still struggling to come up with an appropriate course of action. Just ignoring the stranger was probably the best one, though it didn't account for the curiosity he could feel starting to creep through the shock.

"But- then, why'd you tell me to look in the drawer?" he said before he could help himself.

The stranger leaned forward; Raleigh flinched as there was a slight hissing and a couple of clicks and then light flooded the room. He blinked in the relative brightness; the guy had lit some sort of lantern that was sitting on the low table.

Raleigh glanced over his shoulder at the window, wondering what the guys outside would make of the sudden light.

"Relax, Pretty Boy." The voice and the form of address made Raleigh look back quickly, narrowing his eyes in disapproval. The stranger didn't seem to care. "They'll just think you found it and lit it yourself. You'll probably end up getting extra points for ingenuity."

The curiosity surged to the forefront again. "What- how do you know so much about this? I mean, you're obviously not a Member..."

"Obviously." He seemed pleased by that, smirking again. Raleigh waited, but he didn't elaborate.

"So then how-"

"Because once a year, every year, you fucks come tramping all through my house on some moronic fucking induction assignment, and I've kinda been forced to observe what it involves." The stranger leaned over to the table once more, swiping up something that Raleigh only identified as a packet of cigarettes when he removed one. "So like I said. Try the drawers. I recommend the bottom one." He winked.

Raleigh stared at him for a beat. He was pretty good at keeping a straight face, if he didn't say so himself, but that was under normal circumstances. Listening to someone refer to the induction process of one of the most prestigious organisations within the Church as moronic was not normal circumstances. He was dimly aware that his mouth was open.

The stranger lit the cigarette and then looked back at Raleigh. He arched a single eyebrow, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Problem?"

Many and varied. All Raleigh said was, "This is your house?"

The smirk returned. "I live here. That makes it mine, doesn't it?"

"You live here?"

"Contrary to what your cult might be telling you, opportunities for those that don't subscribe to your insane beliefs are fucking few and far between. Needs must."

Raleigh snapped his mouth shut at the word cult, his anger only building as the guy kept talking. He whirled around, stalking back over to the vanity. He wasn't even going to dignify that with a response.

"Ah, I've upset you. Sorry, Pretty Boy. Just calling it like I see it."

That name again. Raleigh opened the bottom drawer with unnecessary force. Despite the stranger's confidence, he was still somewhat surprised to see the coil of rope.

He snatched it out of the drawer and turned on his heel, planning to march straight out of the room and not even hesitate until he reached Jasper and the others outside.

He made it three steps before he stopped, looking back to the blue-eyed stranger in the corner.

"Thanks," he said stiffly.

The stranger's head jerked up. Raleigh's course towards the door had brought him closer than he had been, and their eyes met.

"No problem," the stranger said, almost cautiously.

He was genuinely surprised to have been thanked, Raleigh realised. He wondered how many times the guy had done this; helped out Brotherhood Inductees, allowing them to complete their first assignment quickly and efficiently, and if any of them had acknowledged the assistance. Probably not, if he'd spoken to them the same way he'd spoken to Raleigh.

His curiosity won out once more and he took a small step closer.

"You really live here?" he said. "I mean, like all the time?"

The stranger shrugged, then looked away as he ashed his cigarette straight onto the floor beside him. "Rent's cheap."

From here Raleigh could get a better look at him. He had dark hair and the shadow of a couple days' stubble; it highlighted his cheekbones and his jawline, which were already pronounced thanks to the skinniness of his face. He was wearing a hunter green jacket, the sheepskin lining visible where the collar was turned down.

Abruptly he cut his eyes back to Raleigh. "You a student?"

Raleigh blinked, startled. "Uh, yeah. Second year. I'm studying psychology."

That got him another eyebrow raise. "Wasn't aware they offered anything other than theology."

Raleigh shrugged, unable to stop the automatic defensiveness from bleeding into his voice. "I've been studying theology my entire life. Maybe I'd like to broaden my horizons. And, y'know." He couldn't stop his eyes flickering away. "Help people."

The stranger's gaze was like a physical weight, and Raleigh shifted underneath it. In the back of his mind he knew he should get out of there, hurry up and get back to the others, but he couldn't quite convince his feet to move.

"Good for you, Pretty Boy," the stranger finally said. There wasn't any sarcasm or scorn or disbelief in his voice, and when Raleigh looked at him even his face looked genuine. He stubbed out his cigarette, continuing without looking back at Raleigh. "You ever wanna broaden your horizons to include those outside of your little cult's bubble, feel free to drop by."

Raleigh scowled at him, any charitable feelings he might have been starting to develop evaporating. He shifted the rope on his shoulder, lifting his chin a little.

"I doubt that'll be necessary. Thanks again for your help."

The stranger smiled, pulling something from his jacket pocket. "Sure."

Raleigh started back to the door, trying to ignore the rattle of whatever it was the guy was doing. But his steps slowed as he approached the doorway, before he found himself turning back once again.

"Um," he said eloquently.

The stranger looked up from where he was tipping something into his palm. "Forget something?"

"It's just..." Raleigh had to force himself not to shift his weight. "I'm Raleigh. Just to- just so you don't have to call me... anything else."

The grin the stranger gave him was borderline dazzling. He threw whatever it was in his palm into his mouth and swallowed it down with a mouthful from a bottle he produced from nowhere.

"Good to know, Pretty Boy," he said. "I'm Dash.”

***

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed): @adie-dee @bogbodybitch

#WIP: Hellbent #excerpt #original writing #writeblr #writing

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newtospnfandom-blog · 6 years ago

Text

I'll Never Hear The End Of It (A Soulmate AU)

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader.

Warnings: bit of angst, vamp attach, language (but not really, just dammit).

Inspired tlby the saying "I'll never hear the end of it" bolded in the fic. Thank you to @the--blackdahlia for betaing this for me. I'm on mobile so no other tags until the reblog. I'm sorry. Gif isn't mine.

Stories. The greatest way to learn about someone. Their history. Their passion. Why they are the way they are. They also happen to be the only way to know when you've met your soulmate.

Until the fateful day that each person met their perfect match; their better half, the love of their life; they would never be able to listen, watch or read the end of any story unless their the ones telling it. Spoken works would become jumbled gibberish, and movies or written words would become blurry and unrecognizable. Some people never met their soulmates, living their entire lives in a state of confusion. Others were lucky enough to find theirs as children, playing innocently on the playground.

Then there was Dean.

At the age of 36, Dean had still never heard the end of a story. That had made school hard. Sure they had special schools for people who hadn't met their soulmates yet, ones with lower requirements that make you less likely to get into college but school nonetheless. For Dean though, not knowing the end of the lessons combined with always moving around with his dad for cases Dean struggled with school. Somehow Sam had excelled and even made it into Stanford without ever meeting his soulmate. Colleges never offer 'SF’ classes, as they were called, Soulmate Free. How depressing. But when Dean went to get Sam to help find his dad he was shocked when Sam got his full message. Sam had found her, his soulmate. Jessica was a wonderful girl. It's a shame what happened and Dean blamed himself every day for it.

That was ten years ago.

Now Dean was waiting on a double bed in some cheap, dingey motel in the Midwest where he was pretty sure a nest of vamps were racking up dead bodies left and right. It had been two days, and several witnesses later he still didn't have a clue where the nest might be.

“It'd be easier if I could hear everything” Dean grumbled. He was getting frustrated that he couldn't do his job properly. Having to leave a majority of the interview work to Sam. “Sammy hurry up! I want to hit the bar tonight.”

“Alright alright, I'm ready.” Sam said, emerging from the bathroom in his fed suit.

Later that night

“Dammit!” Dean threw his suit jacket across the room with all his weight, it not damaging the wall as he wanted, or shattering the way a beer bottle would have.

“Dean calm down. We'll get them. I promise.” Sam tried to console his brother but he knew this wasn't just about the vamps’ newest victim.

“I can't calm down! We talked to that guy less than two hours before the vamps got there! They know we're here and they're taunting us Sam! And you wanna know the worst part? I CAN'T DO A DAMN THIS ABOUT IT!!!” Dean yelled at his brother, “I can't do a damn thing Sam because I can't hear the end of the witness stories where the most clues may be hiding. I can't hear the end of the statement that could save their lives, and I'll never hear the end of it!”

After his outburst, Dean went over to the mini fridge in their room and pulled out two beers. Opening one and downing it as fast as the glass bottle and his body would allow, then opened the second and took another long mouthful. Sam could see that his brother was hurting but had no idea what he could do. Just as he went to speak his phone rang.

“Agent Sixx,” Sam answered, “uh-huh. Okay, we'll talk to her tomorrow see what really happened. Thanks sheriff.” Placing his phone down Sam turns to his brother, who's almost done his third beer already. Where'd the second go so fast? Sam wonders to himself but decided to table it for another time. “That was the sheriff, -”

“Well, no shit Sherlock. Let me guess, some chick said she saw something and he doesn't believe her so now we gotta go talk to her? Sound about right?”

“Dean the sheriff said she claims to know where there's a place full of vampires that she found because she ogodbsofje kdoej djjfidk dnekd.”

“Well I didn't hear the end of that but I heard the important part. Finally a good lead. I mean so long as she ain't crazy,” Dean said, his mood visibly improved, “so wait, why can we talk to her tonight?”

“Sheriff said she's unavailable at the moment since she's so shaken up but will talk to us tomorrow if we go fjdi jdownfdk jfksnduek ssdj disksb.”

Dean sighed, “Dude, you're really good at putting the important info at the start of your story, and I thank you for that, but I didn't hear where we are going or when. Tomorrow just tell me to get dressed when it's time and then you can drive.” Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise, Dean's mood was much improved by the possibility of a lead.

The next day Sam told Dean when to get ready and then they drove to the witness’ house.

“Hello?” You asked when you heard a knock at the door. Towering over to you was a huge man with long (at least for a man) brown hair and kind eyes.

“Y/n Y/l/n?” The tall man asked and you nodded in reply. “I'm agent Sixx, FBI, and that,” the giant pointed to another man with shorter, lighter hair closing the trunk to a beautiful black car, “is my partner agent Niel, this is ufksjdbd jfdks jejejf.”

“Sorry I didn't catch the last part.” You blushed, knowing he would know you hadn't met your soulmate yet.

“ Oh, no problem. The sheriff didn't tell me you hadn't met the one yet, keep up hope, he's out there. Or she… no judgment.” Now it was the agents turn to blush.

“He.” You stated, feeling better and more comforted. “Please, come in.” Agent Niel had just arrived at the door when you gave the invitation and followed the taller man in. As he passed you noticed the beautiful shade of green in his eyes, mesmerized momentarily.

When reality caught up with you, you closed the door and joined the agents to the living room. “So,” agent Sixx started, “tell us about the incident last night if you could.”

This man was really good and giving instructions that told you why they were there instead of stories, knowing you'd hear him then. But that didn't change the way they were going to react. “You'll think I'm crazy. The police do.” It wasn't a story so you knew both men would hear you. You didn't know if either had found their soulmates, though Sixx gave you the impression he had, so you figured being as short as possible was best.

“How about you tell us, with as much detail as you can, what you saw,” well that confirmed it, Sixx had definitely already found his soulmate. Agent Niel, on the other hand, looked really annoyed, so you were guessing he wouldn't be hearing the ending. “Leave nothing out.”

“Well, yesterday when I was leaving work to come home I passed by the Town square like I do every time, but while I was at a stop sign I heard a noise coming from the park. It sounded like someone yelling for help so I pulled around the corner onto Maple Street and turned my car off. Then I quietly made my way over to the park. I'd had years of dance and Tae Kwon Do training so I'm incredibly light on my feet. Plus I made sure not to step on any sticks. When I got closer to the park I started hiding behind trees so as not to be seen, and what I saw will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.” At this point you noticed agent Niel starting to tune out, and so you focused solely or relaying the encounter to his partner. “I heard a gurgling noise, like someone trying to clear the toothpaste from the back of their mouth, and couldn't understand what it was. Then I saw three people crouching around a third body, it's leg was jerking around so I thought maybe he was having a seizure and the other three were trying to help. Since I know first aid I decided to try seeing if they needed help… but as soon as I moved to approach them one man sat up. He had blood dripping from his mouth and chin. Then I saw his fangs.” You started getting emotional remembering everything that happened less than 24 hours ago.

“Hey, it's alright, it's a lot to get through. Take your time.” The taller man comforted you.

Agent Niel leaned over, “take her time?! Dude it's already going to be a long story why do we want her to take longer with it?"

“Because I want to be able to understand what she's saying… Wait. What do you mean it's going to be a long story?” Sam asked his brother.

“I mean it hasn't become nonsense yet so she's got a lot more to tell. Way to go, we are probably going to be here all day.” Dean complained. Listening to stories he would never be able to correlate with an ending annoyed Dean beyond compare.

“He's right.” You had surprised both men with your statement, “I should just get through this so you can move on with your lives. I was lucky that I was able to hide in the shadows because it meant that thing didn't see me. But I know what I saw. Those three guys were vampires. Not like the ones in the movies, I think that's why the cops didn't believe me. The sun hadn't fully set yet when I heard the call for help, which meant these guys were chasing that poor man in sunlight. Plus their fangs were like a second row of teeth in front of their normal human ones rather than elongated canines.” The two men shared a look.

“Then what happened?” The taller, and you guessed younger, agent questioned.

“I stayed there until they finished and when they got up to leave I went back to my car. I followed them to where they're staying and they were greeted by more vampires. I mean I didn't see their fangs but I just assume they wouldn't keep a human around for no reason, you know? Anyway, it turned out that almost the entire place was filled with them. I went from there back to the park but the place was already a crime scene so I went to the station to give my statement. I told the police I saw the murder, that it was vampires and that I knew where they were, but they didn't believe me. They brought in a psychologist to examine me, see if maybe the effects of watching someone die has made me go off the deep end, but he cleared me. I came home and went to sleep. When I woke up I knew it hadn't been just a dream and now with you both here that confirms that something is really going on.” You finished.

Agent Sixx finished writing something in his notebook then spoke, “alright thank you so much for your time Y/n. I know how hard seeing what you did must have been on you. Now I'm going to tell you something and I don't want you to freak out. I want you to trust that what I'm telling you is the absolute truth.”

“Okay.” His tone scared you but you were ready for him to tell you're not crazy.

“Vampires aren't real. It was dark and I think you may have just seen the effects of a new drug that's just hit the streets, turns people cannibalistic.”

Rage boiled in your stomach, you couldn't believe that after all that he had just called you crazy.

“No,” the other man spoke up. “That's a lie, vampires are real. You did see an attack and you may be in danger just for talking to us about it.”

“Dean! What the hell are you doing?!?” Sam asked, shock evident on his face and in his voice.

“Trust me, Sam.” Dean's face was blank, giving nothing away as to what was going on in his head. “Y/n, I'm going to tell you something I have never told anyone in my entire life. When I was four years old and my brother Sam was 6 months old a bad thing came into our house and into Sammy's nursery. My mother found it there and the thing killed her. My dad grabbed Sam from his crib and put him in my arms and told me 'Dean, take your brother outside. Go, now’ before going back in to look for our mother. The house almost burned to the ground that day. We lost our mom and may as well have lost our father. He spent the rest of his life trying to hunt down the thing that killed our mom. He found him and lost his life. A little later I killed the thing that took both our parents. That's how we ended up in the life we are in. We aren't FBI agents. We are brothers and we hunt monsters. Like demons, vampires, and werewolves. We caught wind of a case in this town that sounded like vampires. That's why we are sitting in your living room. You are the only one who has seen where they are hiding out and we, I, need your help.”

“Dean, what the hell man. Why would you-”

“I heard it.” You said, almost a whisper tumbling off your lips as tears welled in your eyes. “I heard it! I heard all of that story!” You were almost laughing with joy as your tears streamed freely down your face.

“And I heard all of yours too, sweetheart. Now, can you please tell me where the vampires are staying?” Dean asked, a smile spread widely on his face.

“Of course. Anything. They're staying at the motel.” You said matter of factly, no big deal to you.

“Okay, which one?” Sam asked.

“There's only one motel in this town. The one in the East end of town, on the main road.” You said noticing the change in their demeanor. “What?”

“Sam, go to the car.” Dean said. Sam listening, standing and heading to the door of your house.

“What’s going on?” You questioned.

“We are staying in that motel. They've been under our nose this whole time. I have to go. I think you should come, we can keep you safe, but only if you're with us.” Dean said, clearly avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Sure, then after we can talk about how you're my soulmate.” You said, walking past him to follow Sam.

#spn #dean winchester #supernatural #spnfandom #sam winchester #spnfamily #dean #dean x reader #reader insert #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #writers #soulmate

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tcm--holland · 7 years ago

Text

cool ✧ peter parker

summary: ...

wc: about 1.5k

a/n: warning for rape themes, cursing. no tag list for this one.

___________________

“What kind of lame-ass name is Spider-Man, anyway? What a loser.”

These are the words that come out of your mouth after school on Friday, cold and unforgiving. Your friends laugh loudly despite what they really think, because you’re cool. You run your fingers through your hair, smirking at their laughter as you spy someone out of the corner of your eye.

You turn to spot Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, and in an instant, your so-called ‘friends’ are abandoned. You walk to catch up with them, sliding up the sleeves of your hoodie. “‘Sup, Peter, Ned,” you mutter.

“Y/N!” Peter grins widely at the sight of you, but his expression looks a little off. Ned smiles in greeting, but he doesn’t look quite right, either. They both adjust their backpack straps in awkward silence. You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“What happened?” You ask, reaching into your pocket for gum. You offer a stick to both; you’re denied twice. This strikes you to be even stranger. You pop a piece into your mouth, the sugary peppermint starting to give you a headache.

Peter side-eyes you. “Hm? Oh, noth-”

You’re quick to cut him off. You don’t put up with things like this. “I said, what happened?” You say, through gritted teeth. More often than not, you come off as angrier than you really are. Either people get used to it and stay friends with you, or they get pissed off themselves and leave. But for some reason, Peter seems to get frightened every time you even raise your voice. So you try to cut down around him.

“Peter just wants to know what your deal with Spider-Man is,” Ned says, noticing that Peter is starting to lose his confidence.

“My deal with Spider-Man?” You raise your eyebrows. It’s blazing hot, the sun punishing as ever. But this doesn’t stop you from wearing your hoodie. You have an aesthetic to maintain, after all. “He’s just annoying. Like, we have the Avengers in case anything really bad happens. He’s not even an Avenger, so what does he do? Oh that’s right, he stops petty crime. As if a policeman couldn’t do the same thing, with a lot less bravado.”

You pause and look over at Peter. He looks conflicted, like he’s trying very hard not to say something he might regret. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to get in the way of your schoolboy crush,” you say, but you don’t sound as apologetic as you really are.

“I don’t...it’s okay,” he replies. He’s even more distant now. “I think I’m gonna head home now. See you.” Without waiting for a response, he and Ned make a sudden departure. You open your mouth to call after him, and then close it, sighing.

You can almost make out their conversation as they turn the corner.

“...Don’t get it...who hates Spider-Man?” That must be Peter.

“...See...she’ll...do it!” Ned.

None of this makes very much sense to you. Annoyed, you spit out your gum into the nearest bush. It’s only been a few minutes since you starting chewing it. What a waste of a good piece of gum.

You start walking homeward, sliding your earbuds in and scrolling through your phone. Yolanda’s yelling about her cat again, Mark’s ranting about some girl who left him on read like the blockhead he is, Ashwini wants the world to know about her crush on some actor in a movie that came out two months ago...nothing new. You double tap without thinking, scrolling through Instagram mindlessly. Everyone thinks you should pay more attention when you’re walking, but it’s not a big deal to you. People move around you, so it’s fine.

You stop to grab something to eat, and then you sit in a park for a while. You don’t really feel like going home, honestly. Going home means being forced to do homework by your overbearing parents. So you sit at the edge of a fountain and watch the sun dip towards the horizon, scrolling through your phone for a while. When you get bored of that, you read a little. As you shoulder back on your backpack, you take pictures of the sunset to post with deep quotes.

You continue your walk home, your music turned way up so you can’t hear anything. In fact, you don’t even hear the footsteps behind you. You register the breath on your neck as the warm breeze of the fading day. You don’t even notice anything wrong until you’re suddenly dragged into the alleyway, a firm hand over your mouth. Your first instinct is to scream, but no sound escapes the hand. You feel your arm being forced into a position where your veins are visible, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the flash of a hypodermic needle in the darkness. You start struggling as hard as you possibly can, kicking and shoving and doing everything you possibly.

The woman holding you groans when you elbow her, but her grip only tightens. Your throat hoarse, glistening tears start slipping from your eyes. You can feel an uncomfortably warm, pervasive hand slide underneath your hoodie, palm against your bare stomach as fingers begin unbuttoning your jeans. The needle gets closer to the crook of your elbow.

You don’t know what to do. One wrong movement, and they could shove the needle in. Or worse. You suddenly remember something from your sex ed class at school. Ketamine is a colorless, odorless drug that is often used in date-rape situations. Maybe if they’d told you how to get out of those situations rather than giving you useless facts…

Your breathing is getting shallower and shallower as they finish unbuttoning your jeans, reaching for your zipper.

This is it. This is the end. You’ll never get to kiss anyone, or grow up, or go to Asia like you always dreamed. Your parents will blame it on themselves, and all your friends...well, maybe they won’t care that much. Peter...you wish you could go and apologize to him for talking shit about Spider-Man. Ned, too. They matter a lot more to you than they might think. Especially Peter. In this moment, you find your heart aching for one more look at his face. At his soft lips and his excited eyes that sink when he’s upset, at his hair that always smells like that cherry blossom shampoo his aunt buys him, at his laughter that makes you feel alive again. You shut your eyes tight and imagine, hope you’ll be alive long enough to tell him how much he means to you.

And then...nothing happens. You hear a few thwips and thuds against the wall behind you. You’re too frightened to open your eyes, and then you hear a soft, quiet voice. “It’s okay.” Carefully, you open your eyes and stare up at Spider-Man, your gaze untrusting and frightened. He turns to look at your attackers, who appear to be unconscious and affixed to the wall with webs.

You can’t help yourself. The first thing you do is hug him, tight as you possibly can. You’re hiccuping from sobbing so hard, chin digging into his shoulder and cheeks wet. You don’t know why, but he’s holding you just as tightly. You stand there for what must be an eternity, and then you pull away, quickly wiping away your tears and buttoning your jeans.

You watch him for the longest time, cheeks flushed deep red and eyes bloodshot. You sniffle, and then you speak. “Don’t come near me again.”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can take them back. Your hostility for Spider-Man used to be so strong, and now you’re confused. You’re angry at him for confusing you. You’re so angry that you push him away, and he stumbles, caught by surprise.

You run the whole way back home, constant fear petrifying your mind. You can’t stop looking over your shoulder as the pitch black night takes over. You’re late; your parents are definitely going to kill you now. You don’t even care about how your shoulders complain from the weight of your backpack, or how you’re starting to sweat even though it’s getting cold.

You don’t know what to think. You lock yourself in your room, hand fumbling. You shut your window and close the blinds, but you can’t make your thoughts go away. It’s on a constant loop: the hand sliding to the waistband of your jeans, the glint of the needle inches away from your skin. If Spider-Man hadn’t been there...you don’t even want to imagine what would have happened. You feel sick just thinking about it.

But most of all, you feel twisted inside for ever saying a mean word about him.

The next day at school, Peter is nowhere to be found. He’s not at your normal meeting spot, so you reluctantly walk over to your clique. As soon as they see you, they start making fun of Spider-Man, like you normally would. You suddenly regret coming to school today.

At one point, you can’t handle it anymore. “Shut up,” you snap. And you walk away.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #mcu imagine #mcu #tom holland #spider man #spider man imagine #spider man: homecoming imagine #spider man: homecoming #peter parker

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leaughrilke · 7 years ago

Text

heavy wings grow lighter pt. 1

your world has no love to give

find it on: ao3

From: Troy Bolton To: Trini ?? 1:41pm hey do u want to study with me? I grabbed one of the back tables

1:57pm T

2:08pm are u here today? if u ditched it would have been polite to invite us u know

2:09pm also do u need a ride to the mine

2:14pm Trini??

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:16pm hey have u seen Trini

2:16pm she’s usually in the library during free but I haven’t seen her since before lunch. she’s not answering her phone either and I need to know if she needs a ride to training

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:16pm i havent seen her

2:17pm did she seem ok to u when u saw her? she’s been really quiet lately

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:17pm she’s always quiet

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:17pm quieter than normal. like even with me

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:18pm shit

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:18pm class lets out in a bit, i’ll skip next and look for her

2:18pm text u when i find her

From: Fighter Pilot Barbie To: T 💛 💪💥👊👭 2:19pm where are u, jason’s worried

2:20pm on that matter, im worried

2:20pm did u skip bc if so bring me donuts

2:28pm u better be lying in a ditch somewhere

2:29pm actually i take that back but im still worried please call me to let me know ur alive or something

The bell rings just as Kimberly locks her phone, and it doesn’t so much as startle her—a feat that’s become increasingly hard to accomplish thanks to freaky Ranger skills (Trini’s term, of course)—as it does spur her to shove her books into a stack and head for the door.

Someone from the other side of the classroom—Harper, maybe, or Rebecca—laughs, says something ugly that Kimberly no doubt deserves and that she is absolutely meant to hear. Kimberly’s hands curl into fists, one wrapped tight around the strap of her bag, and, in another life, she probably would turn and throw something just as terrible back. But there’s this awful, uncomfortable feeling in the very center of her chest that took hold when Jason texted her and that alone is enough to double her self-restraint.

Trini’s locker is on the other side of the main building, towards the gym, but up on the second floor as opposed to Kimberly’s newly assigned one near the front entrance. Kimberly has to use a fair amount of evasive action to get there, especially once the second bell’s rung and the vice principal is prowling the halls trying to catch kids without hall passes—it’s not as if she’s not already stuck in Saturday detention, but she’d rather not add after school ones to her roster.

Because of training. Not because she has a standing donut date with Trini on Tuesdays, before they head to the mine.

When she rounds the corner of the stairwell, the girl in question is there. Back to Kimberly, standing on a stack of books and scrubbing at her locker. She freezes when Kimberly steps into the hall and Kimberly’s heart clenches at the tension held in the narrow line of her shoulders, at the way she seems to fold in on herself, making herself even smaller than she is. Some of that goes away when Kimberly calls out, “Hey, I’ve been trying to text you,” but not all of it, not enough of it for the unease to slip away from Kimberly’s sternum.

“Huh,” Trini hums, still not turning around. That’s red flag number one. “Haven’t checked my phone in a while.” Red flag number two, considering that if Trini’s not with the rest of them, she’s all but glued to her phone. And, Kimberly notes with a little pride and with growing apprehension, even if she’s avoiding other people, she never ignores Kimberly’s texts.

“Are you okay?” Kimberly steps further into the hallway, pauses when Trini visibly flinches. “Hey, T, I’m worried about—.”

Trini straightens, rolls out her shoulders like she’s squaring up even with her back still to Kimberly. “I’m fine,” she drawls, like everything isn’t completely wrong. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Narrowing her eyes, Kimberly fires back, “You’ve missed three.” Her tone is so much sharper than she’d intended, but sometimes to cut through Trini’s bluffing, Kimberly’s found you need a knife.

“Zack’s missed the entire day.”

“Zack’s…Zack.” Kimberly steps closer, crosses the remaining space between them in a couple long strides. “You usually give me a heads up if you’re planning on skipping.”

“Can you drop it? I just forgot, okay?”

Kimberly doesn’t flinch at Trini’s tone, ignores the way her words sting, lodge in the space between her ribs. The shorter girl is actually Kimberly’s height with the help of her textbooks underfoot, but she’s still not turning to face her, keeps shifting her weight—it hits her then that Trini’s trying to block her view.

Trini’s faster than her on a normal day, smaller and lighter on her feet than Kimberly can ever dream of being, even with years of gymnastics and cheer under her belt. But Trini seems off-kilter now, doesn’t react fast enough to catch her before she can step just to the side to peer over her shoulder.

“Who—,” Kimberly starts as Trini finally turns and says, “It’s not that bad—,” reaching out with her free hand like she’s going to push Kimberly back.

Kimberly gets why she’s been avoiding the rest of the rangers now. Trini’s blotchy, red nosed, and there’s blood smeared along her hairline and her full bottom lip—not that Kimberly’s noticed her lips or anything—is split down the side, purpling and swollen. When Kimberly steps a little closer, she can see the smudge of a bruise along her cheekbone, the redness around Trini’s eyes, like she’s been rubbing at them too roughly. She probably has.

The sight of her makes Kimberly’s blood boil, the sight of it, the word behind Trini, makes her face feel hot—four ugly red letters, taking up the entirety of Trini’s locker door, top left to bottom right.

“Who the fuck did this?”

Kimberly tries to keep the fury out of her voice, she truly does, but if Trini paling is any indication, she’s failing miserably. In her defense, it’s taking every bit of Kimberly’s self-restraint to not reach around the other girl and rip the door off its hinges, crush it in one move, maybe two if she ripped it in half first—a move that she is very seriously considering. It’d be nearly poetic, maybe, she thinks.

She doesn’t though. Not when she notices how Trini’s chin is trembling, how she’s gripping the paper towels she was using to scrub at the word, white knuckled and fingertips ripping through the damp material. She pauses, softens. “Trini,” she breathes. “Did whoever write that do this,” she gestures to Trini’s face, “to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Trini’s free hand drops, goes back to press flat against the wall of lockers.

“Trini. It matters.” How could it not? How could Kimberly ever—jesus, how could she ever not care about this?

The metal creaks, groans beneath the smaller girl’s hand, the door of the locker kitty corner to hers crumpling under her fingers. She doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes unfocused and somewhere far away—Trini doesn’t flinch when Kimberly reaches out again, gently pulls her hand away from the lockers. She doesn’t flinch, but she stiffens at Kimberly’s touch, her eyes darting around the hallway as she shrinks back just the slightest.

Right.

Kimberly’s never—she’s been incredibly lucky. She knows this. She’s never had the same bone-deep fear that Trini has, never had the same self-doubt. When Kimberly was fourteen, she googled what it meant to want to kiss your friend, found a word for it and, quite frankly, never thought about it again. She isn’t out at school necessarily, nor to her parents, but she’s never feared what it would mean if she was, never really had a reason to. Even now, after her fall, that confidence is still held in some quiet place inside her.

But when Trini was fourteen, she told a girl she liked her and got laughed at, cut off—there’s more to the story, Kimberly knows, uglier things that Trini’s keeping close to the chest, but the bare bones are enough to put together an altogether heartbreaking picture.

“Come on,” she murmurs, hand at Trini’s wrist, not quite touching her. “You need to get cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Trini’s frowning even as she steps off her textbook stepstool, eyes settled somewhere just past Kimberly’s shoulder. She crosses her arms—it’s the first moment that Kimberly notices the blood on her collar, dried brown against the yellow of her shirt. “You don’t have to help me.”

Kimberly stares at her openly, pressing her lips into a line. They’ve all—Kimberly knows that Trini is slower to trust than any of them, they all know that. They’ve adapted, figured out the best ways to make her feel safe, whole, cared for. But this—after as much care that Trini’s shown for them, for her, she should be able to know. Be able to trust that they all would do the same for her. That Kimberly would do the same.

She’s trying not to take this skepticism personally. This isn’t the time for her feelings—not that she has feelings for Trini, because they’re teammates and Trini’s her best friend and—yeah. Anyway.

“You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to,” Kimberly says firmly, stepping back and raising her hand to the small of Trini’s back but letting it hang in the air just a hair away from touching her. “You’re my fellow ranger and my best friend and I—.” And I’m probably in love with you. “And I care about you. Let me help.”

Trini doesn’t protest after that. She lets Kimberly half-guide her to the nearest, quietest bathroom—Kimberly’s got a fairly useful ranking system for every bathroom in the school. Which are the nicest, which are the quietest, which don’t echo if you sob, which are the least likely place any of her old crowd would be. She steers Trini towards the bathroom near the chemistry labs; someone told the incoming freshmen a couple years back that it was haunted and the rumor stuck, even if no one wanted to admit to believing it.

“Hop up.” Kimberly taps the counter space between sinks lightly, turns away to grab a few paper towels and wet them. When she turns back, Trini’s glaring down at her hands, twisted up in her lap, her legs dangling over the edge of the counter. “You’re not going to like me very much in a minute,” she tells her, wringing out the paper towels so they’re just damp enough.

“Doubtful.”

Kimberly shrugs off a little of the anger that’s still curled in her fingers, flicking off excess water as she flashes Trini a smile. “Is that a compliment?”

The corner of Trini’s mouth quirks up, the closest she can come to a smile without pulling at the split in her lip. “Take it how you want it,” she murmurs after a quiet moment. Then she lets her eyes close, tips her head back just the slightest.

Kimberly’s kind of lost for a second—she doesn’t mean to get distracted by Trini’s insane lashes or the smooth edge of her cheekbones or by how soft she looks or by the thought of how her skin would feel beneath Kimberly’s lips and the pads of her fingers. But then she blinks fast in the harsh fluorescent lights because Trini’s just knocked Kimberly’s shin with the toe of her sneaker and has her head cocked to the side, eyes open again as she studies her.

“Space case much, princesa?” Trini teases when she catches Kimberly’s eye, her brow lifting. It must pull at something, because her smirk is dropped in a flash, pain flickering in her eyes before she carefully hides it away again.

Kimberly frowns. “Sorry,” she mutters, starting to wipe at the blood on Trini’s chin. “Just wondering how someone so small could bleed so much.”

She’s aiming for a joke, but it falls flat—partly, she’s sure, because Trini’s feeling like shit right now, but also partly because all Kimberly really wants right now is to somehow ensure that Trini never, ever feels like shit again. And she’s—well. She has no fucking clue what to do with that thought.

Trini doesn’t respond, just lets her eyes close again. She winces when Kimberly nears her lip so Kimberly works faster, tries to minimize the irritation. She tackles the blood at Trini’s hairline next, startling when she discovers a gash hiding among her dark roots.

“Jesus,” she hisses, pausing because she doesn’t trust herself to be gentle in the moment. “Trini.”

“Hm?” The smaller girl blinks up at her slowly.

“I—,” Kimberly starts, stops. Exchanges the dirty towel for a clean one before she starts again. “Who did this?”

“Kimberly—.”

“Because I just need to have a chat with them, you know?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you can, but you don’t.” Trini glares at her then, but it’s true. Trini takes hits she can dodge if she wanted to, stays quiet when shit like this happens; Trini is fully capable of taking care of herself, Kimberly knows. But Kimberly also knows that Trini doesn’t think she’s worth the effort.

Which—maybe that’s what’s making Kimberly so angry? The idea that the girl in front of her sees some warped version of herself in the mirror, some version that doesn’t deserve basic respect. Because fuck that, honestly. This is—

fuck, this is the girl that sits up with Jason when he’s having a panic attack and doesn’t want to let anyone know, the girl that spends nights over at Zack’s when the fear of waking up alone overwhelms him, the girl that is the only one out of them that can keep up with Billy when he starts getting into specifics on his newest project. The girl that, after a handful of days of knowing her, ripped off Kimberly’s defaced locker door and landed herself in detention for it.

Jesus, Kimberly can hardly breathe from the thought of it, from the idea that Trini doesn’t see what the rest of them see. That she doesn’t know that they’re all just as worried for her, just as protective of her as she is of them.

The air between them is thicker than it was before, heavier in a way that Kimberly can’t figure out how to fix, not now, not with Trini looking at her like this, like she’s tired, like she wants to fight but can’t bring herself to. And Kimberly—she doesn’t want to drop it—knows she can’t, not really.

But she can bury it for right now.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

Trini turns her glare down to her hands and Kimberly feels the air go out of her lungs when she sees—no, she fucking feels it. Feels all the hatred that Trini’s turning inward, feels all the guilt and disgust and doubt and anger. Kimberly’s never been so equally grateful and horrified by the psychic link that holds them all together, that connects them all to the morphing grid. Because this—this peek into Trini’s head? It feels like an invasion of privacy, leaves Kimberly twisted up, twisted around because god, all she wants to do is punch every fucking tooth out of the mouth of whoever did this.

But it’s good to know. Good to be able to recognize the way ebb and flow of Trini’s self-hatred, good to be able to know how and when to step in. Like now.

Kimberly steps closer, cups Trini’s chin in her hand and gently urges her to look up, hold Kimberly’s eyes. “Hey,” she says. “What I said was uncalled for.”

“It’s not. You’re right.”

Pursing her lips, Kimberly lets out a little sigh through her nose. Tries to figure out a neat way to agree with her without feeding into Trini’s cycle.

“Maybe,” she responds finally, gaze falling to the paper towel in her hand and the little drop of water that is snaking its way down her wrist. “But you didn’t need to hear it right now.”

There’s no response from Trini. When Kimberly looks up, the other girl’s cheeks are wet.

Kimberly can count on one hand the times she’s seen Trini cry—it’s a grand total of four, not including today, and three occurred during times when they all thought they were about to die. The fourth was when Kimberly had had the dumb fucking idea to watch The Fox and the Hound, but honestly if Trini hadn’t cried, Kimberly would have been convinced she wasn’t human.

But she’s crying now, in front of Kimberly, and if her appearance was anything to go by, she’d been crying earlier, and Kimberly can’t help but wonder how long this has been going on, how long Trini’s been hiding this from the rest of them. Is this where she disappears to when she ditches out on math with Jason or history with Zack? Scrubbing her locker when the halls are empty? She’d always figured Trini bailed to go and spend time at the quarry or at home, without having to deal with the heavy, burning gaze of her mother, watching every move she made.

“I—,” Trini hiccups, leaning into Kimberly’s touch when she drops the damp towel in favor of brushing the other girl’s hair back out of her eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to see.” She sucks in a shuddering breath, forces out the rest of her words slowly, painfully. “I don’t want it getting back to my parents.”

That—god, that hurts. Hurts to hear, hurts to see; Trini looks incredibly small sitting up on this counter, even more so than normal, and her fear is a real, tangible thing that fills the space around them and between them with ease.

The rush of protectiveness that surges through Kimberly isn’t entirely new, not towards her fellow rangers, but the acuity of it is. She wants to place herself directly between Trini and anything that makes her this scared. She wants to wrap herself around the other girl and keep her warm and safe until she stops shaking like this or—hell—maybe even forever and that thought alone terrifies Kimberly.

She shoves the feeling aside for now—there’s time to unpack that and all that it means later. Right now, Trini’s still crying, her shoulders hunching as she tries to make herself even smaller, tries to take up even less space and Kimberly’s aching at the sight of it, at Trini—sardonic and kind and stubborn Trini—looking so fucking small.

“Can I—,” Kimberly starts, unsure of how to phrase her question but knowing it has to be asked. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Trini looks up at her, her dark eyes wet and wide and then she’s leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Kimberly’s waist and sobbing into her neck. Her fingers twist in the fabric of Kimberly’s shirt, pulling her closer, so Kimberly steps between Trini’s legs and slips her arms over Trini’s shoulders, tucking the smaller girl securely underneath her chin.

She doesn’t say anything deep, anything meant to do more than soothe because—because what could she say? There’s nothing to make this all better for her, to take away the deep-seated fear that lives in Trini’s bones, born of nearly two decades of her mother’s vitriol and others’ cruelty. Kimberly can only hold her and—

well. Now that she thinks about it, there is one other thing she can do.

She fleshes the plan out a bit while Trini cries herself out on Kimberly’s shoulder. When her sobs give way to sniffles, then a few deep, shaky breaths, Kimberly figures out the right words. “You deserve so much better than this,” Kimberly tells her, because she feels like it’s something Trini’s not told enough and that’s—it fucking unbelievable, honestly, and it’s a wrong that Kimberly’s setting out to right. Trini sucks in a breath like she’s about to dispute the statement, so Kimberly doesn’t give her the chance. “You are a kind, loyal, loving person,” she whispers, “and you shouldn’t ever be made to feel ashamed over who you love.”

Trini manages a gross, mucus-y sort of laugh, her breath hot against the dip just above Kimberly’s collarbone. “Sorry I cried on you,” she mumbles sheepishly when she pulls away; she doesn’t get far, because Kimberly keeps her arms around her.

“Trini.”

“Your shirt’s kind of gross now. I got snot all over it."

She really did. Kimberly can’t be fucked over it. “Yeah,” she sighs. “But it’s worth it.”

“Kimberly—.”

“It’s worth it.” You’re worth it, she wants to say. More than.

But Trini’s got this look like she might start crying again if Kimberly says something like that and honestly? Kimberly’s maybe just reassigned making sure Trini never cries to, like, Priority Number One.

She swallows the words that are threatening to choke her now, says instead, “This one’s going to need a stitch, I think.” She smooths her thumb over the skin just below the cut behind Trini’s hairline, careful not to apply too much pressure. “I can probably manage it back at the ship,” she adds, even though she knows that by the time they make it to the ship, the gash will be long healed.

“I should change your name in my phone from Fighter Pilot Barbie to Paramedic Barbie at this rate.”

“Jesus,” Kimberly groans. “Why am I still Fighter Pilot Barbie?”

Trini flashes her a small, lopsided smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but it brightens her face a little and Kimberly watches with something akin to hope flaring in her chest as Trini’s shoulders relax, loosening under Kimberly’s arm. “Because you didn’t like my other nicknames for you,” she retorts.

The air feels lighter now—Kimberly feels like they’ve slipped out of the darkest timeline, or they almost have, even if Trini’s face is still bruised and Kimberly can’t forget the word written on the girl’s locker down the hall. Trini’s joking and smiling a little and so Kimberly finishes cleaning her up, moving quickly and distracting her with idle chatter about what she’s missed during the day.

When she’s done, she tucks Trini’s hair behind her ears and steps back to survey her work. “Well,” she says. “You still look like Rocky from the final act of Rocky—.”

“I should be so lucky,” Trini deadpans.

“—but you’re as patched up as I can get you at school.” Kimberly drops her hands, one resting on Trini’s knee and the other trailing down Trini’s arm to lace their fingers together. In the safety of the bathroom, out of sight, Trini doesn’t shy away from her touch, but rather tightens her hold on Kimberly’s hand and nods. “Do you want water?” Kimberly offers. “I think there’s a vending machine around the corner.”

“Water’d be good.”

“I’ll be right back.” When Trini’s grip steels and her eyes widen, Kimberly tells her, “Lock the door behind me. No one uses this bathroom, but I’ll knock when I come back, okay?”

When Trini nods and drops Kimberly’s hand, she—quite frankly, Kimberly doesn’t know what comes over her, but then she’s leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Trini’s forehead; it’s light, barely a brush of her lips over Trini’s skin, but it’s new and Kimberly’s close enough to smell Trini’s shampoo and she can’t—god. She can’t handle this.

As soon as she’s out in the hall and has heard the deadbolt slide home, Kimberly pulls out her phone.

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:57pm found her

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:57pm is she okay??

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:57pm not really

2:57pm like she’s safe and alive

2:57pm but someone wrote on her locker and roughed her up and im going to fucking murder them

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:58pm shit can I do anything

2:58pm like does she need anything

2:58pm do you need anything

2:58pm don’t kill anyone Kimberly

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:59pm no fucking promises

2:59pm but i do need u to take her to the mine for me. i wanna get her locker cleaned before class lets out and shes not up to staying thru the day

2:59pm and can u text zack bc she’ll probably want to head to the train car

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 3:01pm done and done. just left class, I’ll be in the parking lot whenever she’s ready

3:02pm and seriously Kimberly, don’t kill anyone

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 3:02pm [image attached]

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 3:02pm who the fuck

3:02pm let me know if you need help burying them

3:02pm but seriously who the fuck did that

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 3:02pm shes not saying and im not abt to push her rn

Her phone buzzes again, but she doesn’t check it until she’s bought Trini’s drink and started walking back to the bathroom—it’s only Jason again, agreeing with her decision not to push for answers today. Kimberly knocks three times, a familiar pattern, and slips in when Trini opens the door for her.

“Jason’s going to take you to the mine,” she tells her after cracking open the bottle. Kimberly hands it over and adds at Trini’s questioning look, “I’ve got a couple things I need to handle before I can leave, but I’ll be there soon.”

“What things do you need to handle?” Trini narrows her eyes at Kimberly, peering up at her with one hand planted on her hip. She sips her water with a slightly raised eyebrow when Kimberly hesitates for a beat too long before answering.

“I’m supposed to meet with my history teacher after school today,” Kimberly lies easily. “I just need to check in with her and let her know I can’t make it.”

If Trini doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t call her on it. She drops eye contact and starts shrinking the moment they step through the door back into the open hallway. Kimberly steers Trini away from the stairs by her locker, pulls her towards the elevator by the vending machines instead so she can be sure Trini doesn’t have to see it again.

Jason’s idling in the parking lot as promised, his truck newly declared road safe even though it still bore the physical evidence of his bull escapade. He leans over to open the passenger door when he spots them, nodding in greeting.

“Zack’s going to meet us there,” he tells the girls. “And I’m picking up Billy from the field.” Jason shifts his attention to Kimberly, asking significantly, “When do you think you’ll be done here?”

“Before school lets out.” She squeezes Trini’s hand as she climbs into her seat. “Probably in twenty?”

Trini’s withdrawn again, staring blankly ahead even as Jason nods, calls out a goodbye as he pulls away from the curb. Her eyes flick to Kimberly once as she lets go of Trini’s hand before they’re trained back ahead.

Kimberly stands at the curb until Jason’s truck disappears out onto the main road and makes the turn that takes them away from town and out towards the quarry.

It’s still quiet when she heads back into the school; the halls are still empty when she raids a janitor’s closet and collects cleaning supplies.

She stinks of bleach and her fingertips are raw by the end of it, but there’s no trace of the slur anymore and that alone is a triumph. Kimberly entertains the idea of moving Trini’s stuff into her locker briefly, but Trini’s so careful with her boundaries, draws them out so clearly and Kimberly feels like moving her shit without her express permission probably kicks through every line Trini’s drawn and she refuses to do that.

What she does instead only kicks through a few lines, she thinks.

Really, it’s dumb fucking luck that she quite literally bumps into Amanda and Rebecca—she should have been expecting it, because bad things come in threes and so far, she’s only at two for today.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch,” Amanda hisses when she and Rebecca stumble back.

Kimberly fakes it, taking one large step back and pretending to be unsteady on her feet. She’s just about to duck her head and slip away quietly, to attempt the path of least resistance, but then Rebecca’s taunting, “How’s your girlfriend, Kimmy?” and everything sort of goes out the window because it’s so obvious and Kimberly can’t believe she didn’t realize it before now.

Kimberly surges forward, hauls them both up by the collars of their shirts and shoves them back against the lockers that line the hallway. “Fuck with me all you want,” Kimberly snarls. “I deserve it and I know that. But leave her out of this.”

“We were only stating the obvious, Kimmy,” Amanda spits back. “Letting the rest of the student body know that she’s a d—.”

The anger that courses through Kimberly isn’t entirely new, but normally she’s alone when she feels it this intensely. Normally, it’s self-directed. Kimberly shifts, presses up with her forearm at the base of Amanda’s neck and growls, “Don’t you fucking dare.” She presses harder, hears the fabric of Rebecca’s shirt tear in the clenched fist of her other hand as she repeats, “Leave her the fuck out of this. Got it?”

Amanda’s still glaring at Kimberly, but there’s fear in her eyes too, just enough that Kimberly feels she’s done her job. There’s no doubt in her mind that she deserves whatever Amanda throws at her—there never was and there never will be, honestly, and Kimberly will take anything and everything that the other girl decides to put her through—but her team is off limits.

Trini is off limits.

She drops the other girls, stands resolute as they glare and stalk away, throwing insults as they go and threatening to go to the principal—they won’t, Kimberly knows, but it’s a good effort on their part.

When Kimberly gets to the mine, they’ve already migrated away from Zack’s train car. She heads to the gorge, throws herself off the cliff face and tries really hard to regret throwing Amanda and Rebecca into the lockers. Because that’s—that’s fucked up, right? Not her place?

The cool water does little to help clear her mind, but what she’s greeted with when she finally wanders onto the ship centers her.

She checks every one of their favorite spots to hide out in first—Trini’s, the few Kimberly’s shown her, the ones that everyone on the team knows about, all places somewhat shielded from Alpha-5 and their alien wall dad. The term was something Zack picked early on and that had stuck, much to Zordon’s chagrin and the rest of the rangers’ unending amusement.

Kimberly finally finds them in the makeshift den, the atrium down in the living quarters that one day Billy had asked if they could build a fort in and they just never took it down afterwards, even going so far as trawling second hand shops to find a battered but incredibly comfortable couch to make the center of their Ranger Roost (again—Zack’s term).

She nearly doesn’t see Trini, she’s so smothered by their boys. Kimberly only spots her by the little bright spot of yellow that stands out next to the deep red of Jason’s sweater where he’s got her wrapped up in his arms. Her legs, she realizes, are thrown over Zack’s lap and he’s got one of her hands covered in his own. Her sneaker clad feet are tucked up on the couch beside her, Billy’s hand resting on her leg, his thumb circling the jutting bone of Trini’s ankle. He’s the first to notice Kimberly, looking up and greeting her. “Hi Kimberly,” he says, his free hand raised and his voice splitting perfectly between worry and relief.

“Hey Billy,” she responds, stepping closer. “How’s our girl?”

“She hasn’t said anything.” Billy’s thumb doesn’t still on Trini’s ankle, even as he looks between Kimberly and where Kimberly thinks Trini’s face is worriedly.

Kimberly nods, squeezes the couch by Billy’s shoulder and murmurs, “Thanks, B.”

She comes around to the front of the couch, greets Zack by nudging the back of his head. From this side, she can see more of Trini—just a little, but enough to realize that the other girl is out cold.

“She dozed on the drive,” Jason explains quietly. “Barely made it in here and then was only up long enough to yell dogpile at us before she knocked out.”

Kimberly bites back a laugh partly because Jason’s got this calm resignation in his voice, like he knows and accepts the fact that he probably won’t be getting up from his seat until Trini’s napped herself out, but also partly due to the fact that Trini voluntarily called a dogpile when normally she rolls her eyes and has to be dragged into it.

Regardless—Zack nods in agreement with Jason. “Who do we need to bury?” he asks after a beat.

For half a second, Kimberly thinks he’s joking, trying to lighten the mood, but then he turns his face just a fraction more towards her and he’s not smiling, not even a little. Kimberly should probably be worried, but honestly? She’s just so damned pleased that she’s got at least one accomplice for when she tries to convince Billy to help her blow up Amanda’s car.

“Who do you think?” Kimberly answers quietly. They fall silent then; the only sound in the room is their breathing and Trini’s occasional soft snores and each one twists Kimberly’s heart, makes her soften. “Scoot,” she demands finally, pushing at Zack’s shoulder with gentle insistence. “I want in on the dog-pile.”

He moves without protest, which surprises her less than it did at the very beginning, when they were all still learning how to handle one another. Zack’s incredibly caring, Kimberly’s found, particularly when it comes to the tiniest, angstiest ranger and he generally cools it with the jokes when Trini’s well-being is on the table. He shoves Jason and they shuffle down in tandem, shifting Trini to rest against Kimberly seamlessly when she slips onto the couch to join her friends.

In her sleep, Trini curls into Kimberly, seeking out her warmth—Kimberly’s not surprised by it anymore; they’ve had enough sleepovers at this point that she’s become well-acquainted with the smaller girl’s tendency to wrap herself around whatever proves softest, warmest, and most accepting of her weight. It left Kimberly flustered and blushing on far too many mornings, but eventually she noticed how much easier Trini seemed to sleep with human contact and learned to compartmentalize for her sake.

Right now, though, Trini’s wounds are healing already and she lets out a little sigh as she settles against Kimberly, her face relaxed and her near constant scowl nonexistent for the moment. Kimberly wraps her arms around Trini, earning another pleased sigh and causing Kimberly to flush in response. There’s no immediate shit from Zack over it, but when Kimberly looks up, he’s smirking at her like he knows something; lucky for him, Kimberly’s got a lapful of a napping Trini and can’t quite bring herself to give a shit about whatever Zack may or may not know.

Jason falls asleep next, his head falling back at such an awkward angle Kimberly’s sure he’ll wake with a crick in his neck. Billy follows him shortly, but not before snagging one of the pillows off the floor and propping Jason’s head up on it.

For a while, it’s just Zack and Kimberly still awake; Kimberly’s playing with Trini’s hair when Zack asks seriously, “So what do you want to do about them?”

It’s no mystery who he’s talking about. Kimberly takes a moment, a breath, before she answers. “Dunno,” she says honestly. “I mean, I know I want to take a baseball bat to Amanda’s BMW, but I’ll just follow her lead on it.” She dips her chin towards Trini, who’s started snoring lightly, her exhales coming in warms puffs of air against Kimberly’s collarbone. “However she wants to handle it, you know?”

Zack levels her with a look that tells Kimberly exactly how much he’s buying her answer, but nods just the same. After a minute, he says, “Didn’t peg you for property damage, princess.”

Kimberly chucks the nearest object she can lay a hand on—in this case, Jason’s phone—and grins as Zack easily dodges it. “Hey,” she warns lightly. “Only one ranger gets to call me that.”

“You’re so whipped,” Zack laughs. He laughs even harder when Kimberly blushes; she knows she deserves that quip, knows she brought it on herself, but it still makes her defensive, just a little.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am—.”

Trini shifts in Kimberly’s lap, twisting her fingers into the hem of the other girl’s shirt as she grumbles, “You’re both stupid. Let me sleep.”

Zack shoots Kimberly a shit eating grin when she immediately snaps her mouth shut, her hands busying themselves with Trini’s hair again. Shut up, she mouths at him.

Go to sleep, he throws back.

Whatever. Kimberly’s not whipped just because she does actually settle down, leaning back against the arm of the couch and bringing Trini with her, head on her chest.

She closes her eyes to avoid Zack’s raised eyebrows.

/ /

“Hey,” Kimberly greets the next day, swinging up and through Trini’s window in the early morning light. “I have a proposition for you.”

Trini snorts and throws Kimberly a surprised smile, one that makes her throat tighten, her heart turn with how bright it is. “Kimberly Hart,” she gasps, “are you literally propositioning me?"

Rolling her eyes, Kimberly rights herself and straightens. “I am, I guess,” she says. “I think you should move into my locker.”

“Little early for that, hm?”

Kimberly pretends to not notice the way Trini’s voice cracks; she also pretends not to notice the little flare of warmth, of hope that takes hold in her chest when she considers what the break in the other girl’s voice might mean. Instead, she nods. “Maybe,” she agrees, “but how many times have you had days like yesterday?”

For a second, she thinks she’s finally said the wrong thing, finally gotten Trini to shut down, shut her out completely, because Trini’s expression flattens, goes dead in the blink of an eye. She doesn’t still, though, just ducks Kimberly’s gaze as she keeps shoving things into her bag for detention.

“Trini,” Kimberly presses, desperate for some sign that she hasn’t just fucked whatever their relationship is to high hell.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says in a tight voice. “It’s not your problem.” She reaches for the beanie on the corner of her bed and Kimberly, knowing it’s the only chance to get a real answer, steps between to block her.

Trini looks up finally. Her eyes are still a little puffy, still a little red; with ranger healing, her bruises and cuts have faded and her eyes should be back to normal by now, which only confirms what Kimberly worried about through the night—that after they all went home last night (or, more aptly: after Alpha-5 and Zordon forced them all to go home), Trini spent the night crying.

“Just drop it, okay?”

Trini’s voice breaks a little on the request and she’s watching Kimberly with narrowed eyes, like she doesn’t half-trust her to be in her space right now and that sort of breaks Kimberly into a million pieces. That Trini still expects that her lot in life is to suffer alone, to deny any care before it can be denied to her has Kimberly wanting to hurt any and every person that has ever hurt the girl in front of her; she wants to track them down and demand why they would hurt a person so kind, so intensely caring.

Kimberly won’t drop it—can’t drop it, because Trini has always deserved more than this and to think that she doesn’t know that is almost too much for Kimberly to handle. She softens a little more, reaches back to grab the beanie and hand it over to Trini before she perches on the edge of the other girl’s bed. “Hey,” she says softly as Trini shoves the beanie over her hair. “I’m sorry I upset you, I didn’t—I should have phrased that better.”

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass,” Trini snaps. “I’m not going to break.” And at least—at least this is familiar? Kimberly’s used to this, used to Trini trying to provoke a response that she feels better suited to handle—annoyance or anger or teasing, anything other than heartfelt care.

“I know,” Kimberly says simply. She lets the statement rest between them for a moment. Then, she begins again. “But I also know that you shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, Trini,” she sighs, “and you really shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. I just want to be here for you.”

Trini’s scowl had been softening a little with each passing moment, and, with Kimberly’s last declaration, it disappears entirely, replaced with a carefully constructed neutral expression instead. “You’re really willing to risk shit like this happening at your locker again?” Trini asks flatly, as if expecting Kimberly to rethink her offer suddenly.

It’s as good as an agreement though, and Kimberly nods quickly. “Of course,” she hums. “I thought I made it pretty clear that you’re more than worth it.”

The statement slips out without her meaning it to, but then it’s there, settling between them and for a split second, Kimberly’s sure Trini’s about to cry again—her eyes start shining and her jaw tightens and guilt sits heavy in Kimberly’s chest. But then her expression clears, her mouth twisting into a smirk that seems to brighten the whole damn room even as her eyes still shine.

“Sap,” Trini accuses lightly. “But yeah, whatever, if you’re so desperate to deal with me twenty-four seven, I’ll move into your locker.” She moves to shoulder past Kimberly, head for the window and Kimberly can’t explain this either, can’t reason why her hand whips out to grab Trini around her wrist and pull her back, into a hug.

“Sorry,” Kimberly mutters into Trini’s hair.

She can practically feel Trini roll her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away; in fact, she leans into Kimberly a little more, brings her arms around her waist. “If you ever tell anyone about this,” Trini grumbles into Kimberly’s neck, “I’m going to throw you into a wall or something.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” The shorter girl lets out a little sigh then, her breath warm against Kimberly’s collarbone. “But seriously. Zack’s gonna give me shit if he knows I went down without a fight.”

“You know he won’t,” Kimberly hums. “Not about this anyway.”

Trini huffs out something that sounds an awful lot like an agreement and pulls away slowly, like it pains her. “You’re sparring with him today if he does, though,” she tells her.

“I thought we could spar together,” Kimberly says quietly, biting back a smile at the way Trini’s cheeks redden.

“You—uh,” she stammers. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to get hurt and you know you’ll pull your punches.”

“Not at all. I’m gonna kick your ass, like always.”

Trini narrows her eyes, her mouth twisting up into a smirk even as her blush deepens. “You’re so full of shit,” she says, the tips of her ears turning red. “And we’re going to be late if you keep making me all sappy and whatever.”

“When have you ever been on time to detention?”

“Well, princesa,” Trini drawls. “I’m there temporarily, so my tardiness doesn’t really matter, but I’m guessing you’re also here to insist on driving me? And your tardiness does matter. Therefore, we’re going to be on time today.”

“You’re so bossy,” Kimberly whines, pulling a face and biting back laughter as Trini shoves her towards the window. There’s some grumbling behind her as Kimberly launches herself out the window, catching herself on the sill and twisting to grin at the other girl. Trini’s still red-faced and Kimberly can’t help but add with a wink, “I think I like it.”

She drops her hold on Trini’s windowsill and falls to the ground with grace, landing lightly on the still dew covered grass, but not before she hears a strangled squeak of a response above her.

#power rangers 2017 #trimberly #trini #kimberly hart #blood cw #wounds cw #wound care cw #self loathing cw #homophobia cw #bullying cw #internalized homophobia cw #its angsty but cute i promise #fun story this was originally going to be my first trimberly fic #but them prompts happened and the deleted scenes were released and i had to revamp the whole damn thing #*glares at lionsgate*

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