( open ) ❤ ❝ you're a fine girl ❞

[recoined]

CHARACTERS: kimberly hart & you!
LOCATIONS: all around the city!
WARNINGS: n/a. will warn in subject line.
SUMMARY: a variety of open starters for your enjoyment.

↪ crunches

( nearly every afternoon, just like clockwork, kimberly finds herself strolling into the well-lit lobby of crunches.

a few days a week, as the schedule allows, she can be found preparing for her zumba class. warm ups are done against the ballet barres, stretching like any good athlete should, blaring music through the room's speaker system. if she's alone (or in good company), kimberly dances to the beat, aimless enthusiasm expressed in spins and high-kicks and sways of her hips side to side. there's no real talent or trade, just boundless energy worked out to upbeat pop and r&b. occasionally, though, beats of late 2000s throwbacks will catch her attention; don't be surprised if you catch her singing along. feel free to watch, or maybe attend a class. just be prepared to work up a sweat.

if there's no class scheduled, kimberly can be found on a few different machines on the gym floor. the elliptical is her favorite, though the erg ("rowing machine, ergometer, erging") helps her build upper-body endurance. if she's feeling particularly masochistic, the lat pulldown does the trick. challenge her to a race, critique her form, whatever floats your boat.

when all is said and done, after a well-deserved shower, kimberly will happily treat herself to a post-work-out beverage. some days, it's pseudo-healthy smoothies (there's fruit in it!) from the juice bar ... and sometimes, it's just a giant cup of caffeine and sugar from deja brew. don't shame her. calories don't count after workouts, right? )

↪ blue spring pool

( what does a teenage girl do on her days off, when her friends are busy and her workouts are done? lounging at home isn't the answer — she can do that any time, and the warm weather isn't going to last forever; instead, kimberly can be found sprawled out on the grassy shores next to blue spring pool, a towel spread out underneath her swimsuit-clad frame as she soaks up the warmth of the sun. she's got to keep up her tan, you know?

while she often has headphones in, nodding and, okay, occasionally humming (or maybe singing) along to a particularly good beat, feel free to come snag a spot nearby. there's plenty of spots in the sun to lay out, and with the big trees, there's plenty of shade too for those that want it. feel free to ask what she's listening to, or just strike up a conversation.

when the sun beats down long enough and sweat starts to pool on the nape of her neck, kimberly will abandon her towel for a dip in the chilly spring water. it's seventy degrees year round, bordering on too cold, but it's refreshing after hours in the sun. come join her for a splash, or maybe just admire the view. )

↪ the deviant

( for all that clary ribs her about having a busy schedule, kimberly does have free evenings every so often, ones where she doesn't want to necessarily plan around another person or cater to anybody else's interests. on those evenings, she heads into the west side of the city, riding the trolley until it drops off just outside of a busy nightclub. she's sure there must be others, but the deviant's thumping bass had lured her in.

the music inside is loud and fast, upbeat dance-worthy hits and forgotten gems spun out by a dj on a second-story balcony; it's just right for sidling up to someone a little too closely at the bar, an excuse to linger with a grin and a pending drink order until someone catches the bartender for her. come buy her a drink, or maybe question her order or order her something else entirely. she won't complain. (much.)

and while the bar certainly offers its allure, the majority of her evening is spent on the dance floor itself, bass thumping in her chest as she lets her body move to the music. there's no planned steps here, no trained movements, just a natural rhythm. sometimes, she dances by herself, just lets the music guide her; sometimes, she reaches out, finds the first willing partner, lets them lead the way. come dance with her, or maybe just watch. just don't try to drag her off the floor before she's ready. )

↪ wildcard, etc.

( want something special? feel like dropping a starter for me? go for it, kids. feel free to hit me up via semicolons / supergirl#2740 / pm if you feel so inclined. )

Comments

crunches

[bikinimail]

[ It's not that Jen's out of shape. She did a lot of walking (a lot of walking) and other strenuous physical activity in Iorden. But she hasn't worked out in weeks, ever since she left Pennsylvania and cheerleading practice behind in a flash of lightning. There may not be a cheerleading team in Cadelle, but Jen isn't going to sit on her ass while she waits for her quota to be filled.

She seeks out the gym, and is intrigued to find they offer zumba classes. Lackawanna couldn't spell the word zumba if you gave them a dictionary. (Is the word zumba even in the dictionary?) It sounds like fun, so Jen signs up. She arrives to class, wearing black leggings and a tight fitting red tank top, and sets about stretching. ]

[recoined]

( technically, it's more of a trademark than an actual word, but kimberly's not really the person to have that kind of conversation with. the only thing that matters is that an hour of high-energy movement gives her the peace of mind to eat an unreasonable amount of piping hot french fries. or donuts. or ice cream. or whatever terrible cheat foods she decides she wants to indulge in.

a girl she doesn't recognize comes in a little early, before the majority of the class arrives, and actually manages to sink into something that looks like a real stretch. consider her a little impressed. )

Hey, ( a #casual greeting as she adjusts a thin pink band of stretchy elastic against her hair. ) There's a lot of kicks today, just FYI.

[bikinimail]

[ Jen looks up from her lunging when she's spoken to, thinking maybe she recognizes the other girl from the cuddle app. ]

Good to know. Kicks I can handle. [ Kicks are easier than swords, anyway. ]

Are you--? Do you teach the class?

[recoined]

Yeah, ( a nod, approval and agreement in one. ) I teach Zumba here a couple days a week. It's something to do, you know?

( kimberly likes zumba. it's like cheer practice without the pyramids and the mean girl antics. her focus goes into pushing her body to keep up with a faster rhythm, and while this class is primarily geared towards beginners, she's usually well worn by the end of the day. )

If you want to stick around, I have another one a little bit after this too. I think it's listed under advanced or something, but it's just faster, really. Less kicks, more high step.

[bikinimail]

Right. [ Something to do. Jen needs to find "something to do" or else she's going to go out of her mind. That's part of why she's here today. ]

Good to know. I think I'll see how the first class goes before I decide whether or not to stay for the advanced class. I've never done Zumba before.

[recoined]

Well, you've clearly done something before... ( as evidenced by stretches that show some kind of experience. you don't just start doing properly aligned lunges out of thin air. )

So what's your thing? Soccer? ( probably not volleyball, maybe dance? ) Mine was cheerleading, as... whatever as that sounds. Used to be, anyway.

[bikinimail]

No, that doesn't sound-- whatever, at all. Cheerleading was my thing, too. Is my thing, whenever I get to go back home.

[ She's been stuck in Iorden so long, she doesn't want to think about how many cheer practices she's missed. ]

at the deviant/

[dedikated]

( Kate's an equal opportunity drinker when it comes to location. She can appreciate a pub as a way to unwind when the day's been so long that her muscles ache and her mood's shot to the state where all she wants to do is bitch with a few friends. But when her body's still buzzing with energy and she craves something more, crowding around a sticky table with too many pints of beer doesn't quite cut it.

The Deviant calls out with music that can be heard down the street, and she queues - because she is still British, no matter how many strange worlds she jumps through in order to get her wishes granted - until she slips past the bouncers with a nod. A quick detour to the bar to pick up a drink - a whiskey based cocktail, not her usual fare, but served with a flourish and dry ice that rolls smoke along the bar. Pretty impressive all the same.

It doesn't take long for Kate to find the dancefloor, with alcohol humming pleasantly through her veins and in her mind. There's something freeing about being alone tonight, in a city where almost no one knows her, not really. No expectations, no need to worry about the city now the effects of the earthquake are all but gone. It's easy to forget that she's here for any other reason when the music's so loud, carrying her steps with it. Dancing like this is just another easy way of letting her body take over, letting it do its thing like it does when she sprints across the rooftops.

Of course, on a crowded dancefloor, it's easy to bump into someone when you're not paying attention. Even easier to spill the dregs of your drink on yourself. )

-Crap!

( Kate looks across at the girl she bumped into, one hand - rather uselessly - trying to mop up some of the liquid from her shirt. )

Did I get you?

( It's sort of meant as an apology if she did. )

[recoined]

( kimberly's default reaction to being shoved around on a dancefloor is to plant her feet, to let that unexpected strength root her to the ground, core tight and legs locked. it's a great strategy — especially when coupled with a disgruntled glare, brows knit together — when you're dealing with drunk guys unaware of their own size and strength. it's less great when it's a girl who's just a little tipsy, who really didn't mean to slosh into you.

at least whatever she's spilled hasn't gotten on her. that's a small miracle, right? a miracle that manages to make kimberly feel even more like a bitch for no reason, but hey. at least her shirt's survived. with a bit of a sheepish smile, she runs a hand through her hair, a little damp at the nape of her neck from sweat by this point in the evening. ) No, no, it's — I'm good, honestly.

( a better look at the girl strikes a bit of recognition in her. that hair is hard to forget, after all. )

Have we... oh, you're the girl from the work site, the one that gave Robbie shit for his... ( wannabe chippendales show? ) ... the water thing, yeah?

( jesus, kimberly. show your #priorities a little more. )

Your hair is ridiculous. ( wow. rude. ) Like, in a good way, I mean — pink's kind of my thing?

[dedikated]

( It won't be the first or last time someone's recognised her by her hair. Not that many people anywhere take the time to bleach and dye waist length hair bright pink. A step to the side that's far smoother than the movement that got them talking gets Kate out of the way of a couple of other dancers before she's reminded of that... entire disaster. But, unfortunately, no bells ring in Kate's mind about the girl's identity. To be fair, for most of the rebuilding effort she was just a little bit crabby about her apartment yet again being a no-go zone, this time because of the rubble and destruction.

But before Kate can say anything about that, she gets the strangest compliment of the week. Well, at the very least, she doesn't seem offended by the word ridiculous, so you're safe for now, Kimberly. )

Kept hearing that I were too easy to lose.

( Is that a joke? Who knows? It sounds like it may have been one, though one with a kernel of truth to it. She did hear that a lot, when her hair was brown and she liked to find odd places to sit, dashed around and spent too much time tucked away in corners of the garden or on a rooftop. )

[recoined]

Well, you clearly solved that problem.

( taking a better look at the other girl, kimberly finds it hard to even imagine what she might have looked like with traditional hair. was she a blonde? a brunette? maybe even — god forbid — a soulless ginger? the last one seems a little unlikely, though, given that she's not sporting deathly pale skin and an unreasonable number of freckles. more small miracles.

she's not sure what to say next, but figures a little standard politeness couldn't hurt. )

I'm Kimberly, by the way. I don't think we've, you know, actually met yet.

[dedikated]

( If they weren't under the flashing lights of this club, it'd probably be easier to notice the dark roots that she hasn't looked into fixing up since she got here, but the constant shift of lighting hides that problem quite well. Like it hides the stain she'll probably find on her shirt in the morning.

Well. It's not like she can do anything about that right now. She came out to get rid of some energy, rather than worry about clothes which can be washed. )

Kate.

( The introduction's clipped, short. Not the friendliest of greetings, but not exactly... rude. More like she doesn't know what else to say about that. She has a name. It's not very weird. And she doesn't know if this meeting is going to be a nice to meet you meeting yet or not.

Instead, Kate settles on the one thing which always seems easy to fit in: )

Need another drink?

( She does, anyway. )

[recoined]

( does she need another drink? probably not. kimberly's not entirely sure what her tolerance is, really; she hasn't had a chance to have more than one or two at a time since leaving angel grove, and while her body seems to heal pretty rapidly now, she isn't sure how much that extends to drinks at the bar.

but what the hell. of all the people in this club, she feels pretty confident that the clumsy girl with bright pink hair isn't the one she needs to be worried about when it comes to her own personal safety. if she gets a little too buzzed, she'll just call a friend, ask them to pick her up. no harm, no foul.

so... ) Yeah. Yeah, why not. I promise not to spill one on you this time.

the deviant

[recruited]

[ He's been duped. He should have known that the minute Natasha told him to meet her here that she wouldn't show up. She's more invested in Steve's love life than he is sometimes. Always has been. He could just leave. He could pay for his drink and he could hit it. It's not like he can really get drunk. Not unless this place learned how to get him liquored up. But maybe a part of him just wants something like this. Something normal. It's not his scene, but this is what the world's like now. Loud clubs. People having a good time. It's supposed to be fun right? It's certainly not a dance hall, but it's still nice.

Steve's finished his drink and opted not to order a second. Instead he watches the dancing. It's not what he was used to. Then again he has no room to talk. He hasn't exactly learned how to master most of the dances from his own time period. He can't really judge these too harshly. Through all the moving bodies he spots her. Fluid. Full of rhythm. More than Steve's ever had. Then again he supposes you need a certain rhythm to fight. Right?

But it's Kimberly he focuses on. Watching her move among the crowds. With a partner. Without a partner. He's not sure how long he watches her. But he does. Eyes glued like he's watching some sort of film. ]

[recoined]

( the crowd on the floor catches the majority of her attention. it's hard not to focus on the people around her, the heat and energy of their bodies pulsing to the beat of the music, and to surrender a little of her control to the ever-changing partners that sway and press against her. dancing — really dancing, like this, uninhibited and free — has always been a way for kimberly to let go, release all her pent-up energy, and just exist for a few hours.

but while her attention primarily remains on the floor, it's hard not to notice someone's eyes from across the club focused on her. maybe it's self-preservation, some feminine instinct kicked in after too many years of being trained to avoid the worst possible scenario, or maybe it's just her own heightened senses, but as her body swings around, her gaze catches his, recognition dawning after a moment. steve rogers, she thinks, a decadent grin curving across her face.

while she knows he won't be able to hear her from the bar, she has a feeling he might still be able to read her lips, starting with an exaggerated hi and a raise of her brows in his direction.

come dance? )

[recruited]

[ It's a little freeing to watch her move. Steve only ever really gets to have moments like those in a fight. Which is both sad and strange at the same time. Captain America didn't have time for dancing and dance halls. By the time he got out of the ice the whole dance culture had changed. It was no longer a guy sidling up to a girl to ask her to dance. It was a lot more about body movement and somehow communicating over the loud thump of beats that seemed rather foreign to Steve when he heard them. Sounds cobbled together that didn't really back a rhythm he was familiar with.

When she spots him he feels a little strange. Like maybe he was watching something he wasn't supposed to. Steve doesn't look away though. Because he's not a teenage boy. He's not going to get shy and head for the hills. He just feels his stomach twist itself because the way she smiles at him is confusing even on his best days. Decipher signals has not been Steve's strong suit. Even long before he got out of the ice. He struggles sometimes unless he somehow hits a grove and manages to roll right through. She looks at him a little like Sara. It's scary.

He could probably hear her to be honest. But he does make out the way her lips move. The greeting that's followed by her encouraging him to come dance. Which would be fine if he thought that he could move well. He could just insist on not going out there or he could push away from the bar like he's doing right now and move onto the dance floor towards Kimberly.

Doesn't take long for him to reach her. For his body to tense up and a slight smile to appear. He leans in so she can hear him. ]

I'm not really a good dancer.

[recoined]

( that initial lean-in, the careful adjustment of his body to enter her space without quite committing, is all the invitation she needs. this is a dance floor, after all, and whether he's a good dancer or not, saving space for jesus between them isn't going to cut it here. her hands make quick work of reaching out, wrapping around his wrists and tugging him with barely repressed strength until he's nearly flush against her front. )

That's a start, ( murmured as her face tips up to his, a mischievous glint in her eyes as hands loosen their grip on his wrist only to smooth up the front of his shirt, looping around his neck to rest. ) Normally you'd be behind me, but... we can work up to that.

( if steve has been watching, he'll know the arrangements she's referring to. hands held over hips, the careful sway of bodies complementing each other. this is no less close, but it's a bit more forgiving. )

Don't overthink it.

( she'll help, a little, nudging him in the right direction here and there, but kimberly's got faith he can make this work. )

[recruited]

[ No one ever taught Steve the save space for Jesus rule. They certainly weren't spelling it out in dance halls. He knows for damn sure he saw Bucky cheek to cheek with more than a few women during the right song. But spending all his time on the sidelines didn't give Steve the practice with rhythm and movement. But these days he does tend to pick things up a little faster. Which is mostly the serum at work. Retaining information in large quantities becomes less of an issue. So, if Kimberly does choose to instruct him on the right movements she might find herself a very fine teacher.

Which she does. He shouldn't have thought otherwise. She's never seemed to back down from anything since he met her. She pulls him into her space and suddenly they're a lot closer. Not a bad thing. Just a sudden surprise. She's got a damn good grip too. He would comment on that, but there are more important things at hand right now. Specifically the way her voice seems to float past all the music and seep into him. His brows go up when she announces that normally he'd be behind her, but she seems to be starting him off easy. He's a little grateful.

He has so it's not difficult for him to grasp. Her gentle nudges are nice and they help Steve find the real rhythm in the song. The way their bodies are supposed to sway and move. It takes all of four minutes for Steve to start moving with her without the aid of her gentle nudges. ]

You're really a good teacher, Kimberly.

[recoined]

( he's not a bad dancer. granted, the middle of a nightclub isn't exactly the place to judge technique, but kimberly's not looking for anything complicated. just the warmth of his body against her own, the complementary movement of his hips and hands as they move to the rhythm; it's about space, giving and taking, and he's excellent at that. dancing like this isn't technical, it's all instinct — and steve's instincts are, as far as she can tell, right on the money.

he tells her she's a good teacher, and she can't help the smile that curves across her mouth. the hands splayed out against the nape of his neck give way to fingertips that brush into his hairline, a calm, gentle motion set to the drumbeat in her ears. ) You're not so bad yourself, you know.

( normally, she'd encourage him to shift, to spin her around, let himself relax into a more possessive stance, but there's something oddly reassuring about the way he holds onto her. wanting without demanding, sturdy and sure; she might just like it enough to stay like this a little bit longer. )

But I didn't think this was your kind of scene...

errbody in da club getting...

[acuerdo]

[tonight's music at the deviant isn't exactly what robbie would consider danceable, not by his standards. but that doesn't stop him from pulling on some dark jeans, a snug henley, and boots and joining the throng of people out on the dance floor. he's nodding his head along to the sound of some remix of some radio friendly hip hop/r&b artist — jason derulo or is it neyo? — when he spots a very familiar silhouette bending, twisting, and shifting along to the music.

while it may not be his sort of thing, he falls in line, just a few steps behind her. his hands aren't yet resting anywhere on her body, but rather hover just above.]

Wasn't expecting to see you out tonight, babe.

...safely home #drinkresponsibly

[recoined]

( on the floor, with the music louder than the echo of boots hitting the ground with each step, kimberly doesn't pay much attention to the come and go motions of other dancers. it's an unchoreographed dance; people switch partners, separate to move on their own, slip out of the crowd to get another drink or just to get some air.

she might have noticed, had he approached her from any other angle, but slipping between dancers to slide behind her means he manages to surprise her this time. not that she minds too much. the familiar sound of his voice is a welcome interruption, the warmth rolling off his body in waves a comforting sensation as she steps back, moves a little closer in response. )

You don't sound too disappointed to be wrong, either...

[acuerdo]

[they haven't exactly done this before. bodies pressed tightly against one another? sure. but dancing? not so much. he's not complaining in the least though, as his hands finally come to rest on her hips and he inches forward until his front is plastered to her back.

the bassline drops and all around them the swarm of bodies picks up in their movements. robbie murmurs, breath hot, into her ear.]

Not at all. Best thing I've seen all night.

[recoined]

( luckily, this isn't the sort of dancing that requires much experience. it's about listening to the beat, letting your body rock back and forth, releasing any inhibitions or discomfort in order to just be; it's no surprise, then, that kimberly feels at home on the dance floor, partially anonymous in a sea of other bodies.

he steps up into her, body nestled flush against her back, and his hands find easy purchase against her waist. the motion pulls at the too-short hem of her dress, one stolen from izzy's too-large collection of black and mesh — not that she makes any attempt to adjust it. )

Mm. ( is she a little tipsy? maybe more than a little. ) Hope you plan on doing more than just watching.

[acuerdo]

Do I ever just watch?

[it's a rhetorical question, answered by the immediate thrust of his hips against her. he trails a hand from her hips to the exposed skin of her thigh.

robbie looks around, carefully cataloging the crowd. everyone else is lost in their heads or focused on their dance partners. no one's paying any heed to the two of them.]

If I wanted to, I could take care of you right here. Nobody's looking.

[recoined]

That... ( is a terrible idea. even in her drink-fueled haze, kimberly recognizes the red flashing lights of danger, danger, will robinson in her peripheral. not that she doesn't want him to — she very much does, as easily evidenced by her own flushed grin, the hard swallow as she lets her head lean back against his shoulder.

but wanting to, enjoying the thought of it, even fantasizing about it a little... it's all very different from doing it. )

You could... might get caught, though.