Mishka Lebedev @one-more-widow - Tumblr Blog

You're not a monster.

Лжец.

Let Svetlana get taken, let Svetlana die.

Killed many. Girls, targets, people. Innocents.

I am monster.

whatarenamesactuallyhelp

You didn't let anything happen. None of us did. This whole statement, the guilt in it, proves this person right. I won't tell you not to feel awful, that's not how it works, but I will tell you that you don't need to feel that way. Plenty of people are far worse than you.

#widows answer #black widow #black widow oc #marvel oc #marvel oc roleplay #marvel oc rp #mcu oc #mcu oc roleplay #mcu oc rp

If were stronger, she would not have been taken, could have protected her.

You are not a monster. Svetlana would agree.

Svetlana would be scared of who I turned to. Am not same sister she knew.

You're not a monster.

Лжец.

Let Svetlana get taken, let Svetlana die.

Killed many. Girls, targets, people. Innocents.

I am monster.

#widows answer #black widow #black widow oc #marvel oc #marvel oc roleplay #marvel oc rp #mcu oc #mcu oc roleplay #mcu oc rp

rp-memes-cafe

Tell my muse "You're not a monster" and see how they react.

Alternately: Tell them “You’re a monster” and see how they react.

divinerpresources

Send “Rumor has it...” And a rumor about my muse

encvgh

{{ Please reblog this if you’re a mun who’s open for angst plotting. Death, pain, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, illness, misery, fighting, screaming, tears, hate, disgust, trauma, graphic gore, etc; I’m in need of threads. Thank you. }}

You should have dinner with Lerato and I at some point. The conversation will not be interesting but it is better than eating alone.

-@antonia-not-dreykov

I would like that.

#widows answer #black widow #black widow oc #marvel oc #marvel oc roleplay #marvel oc rp #mcu oc #mcu oc roleplay #mcu oc rp

How was your Father's Day?

It normal. Wish I remember father..

#widows answer #black widow #black widow oc #marvel oc #marvel oc roleplay #marvel oc rp #mcu oc #mcu oc roleplay #mcu oc rp

you’re badass as fuck. helloooo sailor!

what’s your go to pizza order? if you don’t like pizza(which, how?), or even if you do, answer whatever you want, what’s your favorite takeout to get?

- i’m a chimichanga guy myself, 🥩⚔️

I am not sailor?

I like capricciosa pizza and burritos.

#Widows answer #black widow #black widow oc #marvel oc #marvel oc roleplay #marvel oc rp #mcu oc #mcu oc roleplay #mcu oc rp #open rp

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

"Should be more careful with a knife like that" Eris said, walking closer like she owned the place.

She grabbed a piece of carrot and took a bite, "I definitely went to the wrong apartment" she said to herself, she knocked on one of the walls, "ah I see. I live close by that's why. I hate when the dimension messes up like this"

She turns to the girl, "who are you?"

Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you. Give me reason not to kill you."

"I'm Eris" she smiled, like she wasn't in a stranger's house.

"I'd say the mere fact that you can't kill me should be enough for you to not try"

"Why should I believe that?"

She shrugs, "I don't care what you believe"

She looks around, "nice place. But I guess I should be heading out"

"You think you can come and leave my house like nothing happen?" She quickly snatched the knife from the floor and threw it at Eris

Her eyes flickered dark for a second and the knife stopped mid air, Eris raised a brow, "it was a mistake. If you want to be reimbursed for the baby carrot or emotional distress I can do that"

She used her finger to tilt the knife away from her face, "seems sharp. Should be more careful with it. You might hurt somebody"

Her eyes widened in surprise when the knife stopped mid air. "What you mean?"

She took a fighting stance. "That is the purpose."

She sighed, "I'm not going to fight you. I have no reason to. Even if I did, punches aren't really my style"

A snake suddenly appears, wrapping itself around Eris's arm and resting on her shoulder, she nuzzles against it, "I could leave. Let this be a small incident" she says.

"I'd advise you to leave it alone. Dusa gets protective" she smiles

"You are strange." She stated as she willed her body to relax, but still on guard. "How you get here and what is that?" She pointed at the snake

She smiled, "a little mishap. Took a wrong turn in the shadow dimension and came out here instead of my place"

She petted the snake, "she's my snake. She tells me things" she answered briefly.

"Shadow dimension.. Your snake speaks?" She arched a brow, hardly believing it

"To me" she nuzzled against the snake, "not to others. She's a little private....also because others don't speak serpent's tongue"

"You are truly strange, Eris." She repeats, crossing her arms as she observed Eris

"I get told that way more than you might think" she says.

"You're interesting to say the least too, Mishka" she said

"I did not tell you my name, Eris."

"Didn't you?" She tilts her head, smiling.

"Well like I said, she tells me things" she gestures to the snake.

She frowned "That is no normal snake, is it?"

She gave her a knowing look, "she's special to me" was all she gave for the question

She looked around, "nice place. Could use a little decor but it looks good"

"How much your snake know?"

"My place is fine as is."

"She knows everything that others hide" she tells her.

She hums, "sure, I mean could use a little something but it's your place. You do you"

"Such amount of information come with repercussions, does it not?"

She just smiles at the question, "everything has a price"

She sighs, "what're you cooking?"

"Okroshka, it is cold soup."

"Huh, never heard of it" she says.

"well I guess I should be going? Sorry to disturb you"

"It is Russian cuisine."

"Do not come unannounced again, is all I ask."

"Sounds nice"

She nods, "and you can come by any time. I like surprises" she grins

"It is nice." She agrees "I will keep in mind, Eris."

"Well I'll see you around, Mishka" she smiles before disappearing without a trace

"See you around, Eris." She took a deep breath when she watched Eris disappear, still not used to overall magic. After a moment she returned to her cooking, not willing to waste food.

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

"Should be more careful with a knife like that" Eris said, walking closer like she owned the place.

She grabbed a piece of carrot and took a bite, "I definitely went to the wrong apartment" she said to herself, she knocked on one of the walls, "ah I see. I live close by that's why. I hate when the dimension messes up like this"

She turns to the girl, "who are you?"

Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you. Give me reason not to kill you."

"I'm Eris" she smiled, like she wasn't in a stranger's house.

"I'd say the mere fact that you can't kill me should be enough for you to not try"

"Why should I believe that?"

She shrugs, "I don't care what you believe"

She looks around, "nice place. But I guess I should be heading out"

"You think you can come and leave my house like nothing happen?" She quickly snatched the knife from the floor and threw it at Eris

Her eyes flickered dark for a second and the knife stopped mid air, Eris raised a brow, "it was a mistake. If you want to be reimbursed for the baby carrot or emotional distress I can do that"

She used her finger to tilt the knife away from her face, "seems sharp. Should be more careful with it. You might hurt somebody"

Her eyes widened in surprise when the knife stopped mid air. "What you mean?"

She took a fighting stance. "That is the purpose."

She sighed, "I'm not going to fight you. I have no reason to. Even if I did, punches aren't really my style"

A snake suddenly appears, wrapping itself around Eris's arm and resting on her shoulder, she nuzzles against it, "I could leave. Let this be a small incident" she says.

"I'd advise you to leave it alone. Dusa gets protective" she smiles

"You are strange." She stated as she willed her body to relax, but still on guard. "How you get here and what is that?" She pointed at the snake

She smiled, "a little mishap. Took a wrong turn in the shadow dimension and came out here instead of my place"

She petted the snake, "she's my snake. She tells me things" she answered briefly.

"Shadow dimension.. Your snake speaks?" She arched a brow, hardly believing it

"To me" she nuzzled against the snake, "not to others. She's a little private....also because others don't speak serpent's tongue"

"You are truly strange, Eris." She repeats, crossing her arms as she observed Eris

"I get told that way more than you might think" she says.

"You're interesting to say the least too, Mishka" she said

"I did not tell you my name, Eris."

"Didn't you?" She tilts her head, smiling.

"Well like I said, she tells me things" she gestures to the snake.

She frowned "That is no normal snake, is it?"

She gave her a knowing look, "she's special to me" was all she gave for the question

She looked around, "nice place. Could use a little decor but it looks good"

"How much your snake know?"

"My place is fine as is."

"She knows everything that others hide" she tells her.

She hums, "sure, I mean could use a little something but it's your place. You do you"

"Such amount of information come with repercussions, does it not?"

She just smiles at the question, "everything has a price"

She sighs, "what're you cooking?"

"Okroshka, it is cold soup."

"Huh, never heard of it" she says.

"well I guess I should be going? Sorry to disturb you"

"It is Russian cuisine."

"Do not come unannounced again, is all I ask."

"Sounds nice"

She nods, "and you can come by any time. I like surprises" she grins

"It is nice." She agrees "I will keep in mind, Eris."

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

"Should be more careful with a knife like that" Eris said, walking closer like she owned the place.

She grabbed a piece of carrot and took a bite, "I definitely went to the wrong apartment" she said to herself, she knocked on one of the walls, "ah I see. I live close by that's why. I hate when the dimension messes up like this"

She turns to the girl, "who are you?"

Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you. Give me reason not to kill you."

"I'm Eris" she smiled, like she wasn't in a stranger's house.

"I'd say the mere fact that you can't kill me should be enough for you to not try"

"Why should I believe that?"

She shrugs, "I don't care what you believe"

She looks around, "nice place. But I guess I should be heading out"

"You think you can come and leave my house like nothing happen?" She quickly snatched the knife from the floor and threw it at Eris

Her eyes flickered dark for a second and the knife stopped mid air, Eris raised a brow, "it was a mistake. If you want to be reimbursed for the baby carrot or emotional distress I can do that"

She used her finger to tilt the knife away from her face, "seems sharp. Should be more careful with it. You might hurt somebody"

Her eyes widened in surprise when the knife stopped mid air. "What you mean?"

She took a fighting stance. "That is the purpose."

She sighed, "I'm not going to fight you. I have no reason to. Even if I did, punches aren't really my style"

A snake suddenly appears, wrapping itself around Eris's arm and resting on her shoulder, she nuzzles against it, "I could leave. Let this be a small incident" she says.

"I'd advise you to leave it alone. Dusa gets protective" she smiles

"You are strange." She stated as she willed her body to relax, but still on guard. "How you get here and what is that?" She pointed at the snake

She smiled, "a little mishap. Took a wrong turn in the shadow dimension and came out here instead of my place"

She petted the snake, "she's my snake. She tells me things" she answered briefly.

"Shadow dimension.. Your snake speaks?" She arched a brow, hardly believing it

"To me" she nuzzled against the snake, "not to others. She's a little private....also because others don't speak serpent's tongue"

"You are truly strange, Eris." She repeats, crossing her arms as she observed Eris

"I get told that way more than you might think" she says.

"You're interesting to say the least too, Mishka" she said

"I did not tell you my name, Eris."

"Didn't you?" She tilts her head, smiling.

"Well like I said, she tells me things" she gestures to the snake.

She frowned "That is no normal snake, is it?"

She gave her a knowing look, "she's special to me" was all she gave for the question

She looked around, "nice place. Could use a little decor but it looks good"

"How much your snake know?"

"My place is fine as is."

"She knows everything that others hide" she tells her.

She hums, "sure, I mean could use a little something but it's your place. You do you"

"Such amount of information come with repercussions, does it not?"

She just smiles at the question, "everything has a price"

She sighs, "what're you cooking?"

"Okroshka, it is cold soup."

"Huh, never heard of it" she says.

"well I guess I should be going? Sorry to disturb you"

"It is Russian cuisine."

"Do not come unannounced again, is all I ask."

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

Mod clears his throat to get Mishka’s attention.

“Are you ok?”

"I am fine." Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you."

“My name is Mod. I could swear I heard you say something though.”

"You heard nothing, Mod."

“Are you sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

"You heard nothing" She repeated as she snatched the knife from the floor

Mod knew when to back off so he relented. “Alright alright, it just seemed like you were upset and I wanted to see if everything was alright.”

"I do not know you, I will not share problems with you."

“Understandable. I wouldn’t either.”

She observed Mod, and after a moment, she set down the knife on the counter behind her "How you get here?"

“I was told to meet someone here. I suppose I had the wrong address.”

"You know anything about who you have to meet?"

“No. I really should read more into jobs before I take them. My apologies, I will get out of your hair.”

"Yes, you should. It is fatal mistake to not know what you are doing. Apologies accepted, Mod."

“Well, I shall make my leave. Wait, is that Okroshka you are making?”

"Hm? Yes, it is. You know Russian cuisine?"

“Yes. One of my favorites. It’s been quite a while since I have seen someone making it. I haven’t had it since I left Russia.”

"I also not have it since I was kid. Wanted to learn to cook it now that I can." Her expression softened

“That is a wonderful idea. I am not much for cooking myself. I tried making borscht but almost set my kitchen on fire. So I will leave it to the professionals.”

"I am not great cook either, but it is edible. I have not tried to cook borscht yet, maybe next time."

“Perhaps. I do miss the food sometimes. But I left Russia for my own reasons. I do miss it though.”

"I transfered to Budapest, not on own accords. Then came to America because I feel I can not return to Russia."

“I share a similar sentiment. That chapter of my life is behind me. Going back would only reopen old wounds.”

She nodded "... How you do it?"

“I stowed away on a ship. I didn’t have any money so that was my only option.”

"I see. Glad you got out."

“I am as well. I’m glad you managed to leave as well. Strange how your home country doesn’t feel like a home anymore isn’t it.”

"Do not think there is place I can call home since."

“I can understand that. Nowhere feels safe for long.”

"I am guessing you were in HYDRA?"

Mod tenses up hearing the name. “How did you know?”

"There is only 2 organisations in Russia I know of. I know you were not in Red Room."

“Then I suppose you were in the Red Room.”

"Yes, I was."

“How did you escape?”

"Did not exactly escape, but was freed by widows who did."

“I see. I aim to help those still stuck in hydras clutches. I don’t want any more people to be hurt by them.”

"I understand, I want to do the same. Could not help free other widows because of Blip. If you need help, I am here."

“As am I. Anyone who is an enemy of hydra is a friend of mine.”

"I am Mishka, if we are going to be friends, you should know my name."

“Yes I suppose so. It is very nice to meet you.”

"It is nice meeting you too, Mod."

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

Mod clears his throat to get Mishka’s attention.

“Are you ok?”

"I am fine." Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you."

“My name is Mod. I could swear I heard you say something though.”

"You heard nothing, Mod."

“Are you sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

"You heard nothing" She repeated as she snatched the knife from the floor

Mod knew when to back off so he relented. “Alright alright, it just seemed like you were upset and I wanted to see if everything was alright.”

"I do not know you, I will not share problems with you."

“Understandable. I wouldn’t either.”

She observed Mod, and after a moment, she set down the knife on the counter behind her "How you get here?"

“I was told to meet someone here. I suppose I had the wrong address.”

"You know anything about who you have to meet?"

“No. I really should read more into jobs before I take them. My apologies, I will get out of your hair.”

"Yes, you should. It is fatal mistake to not know what you are doing. Apologies accepted, Mod."

“Well, I shall make my leave. Wait, is that Okroshka you are making?”

"Hm? Yes, it is. You know Russian cuisine?"

“Yes. One of my favorites. It’s been quite a while since I have seen someone making it. I haven’t had it since I left Russia.”

"I also not have it since I was kid. Wanted to learn to cook it now that I can." Her expression softened

“That is a wonderful idea. I am not much for cooking myself. I tried making borscht but almost set my kitchen on fire. So I will leave it to the professionals.”

"I am not great cook either, but it is edible. I have not tried to cook borscht yet, maybe next time."

“Perhaps. I do miss the food sometimes. But I left Russia for my own reasons. I do miss it though.”

"I transfered to Budapest, not on own accords. Then came to America because I feel I can not return to Russia."

“I share a similar sentiment. That chapter of my life is behind me. Going back would only reopen old wounds.”

She nodded "... How you do it?"

“I stowed away on a ship. I didn’t have any money so that was my only option.”

"I see. Glad you got out."

“I am as well. I’m glad you managed to leave as well. Strange how your home country doesn’t feel like a home anymore isn’t it.”

"Do not think there is place I can call home since."

“I can understand that. Nowhere feels safe for long.”

"I am guessing you were in HYDRA?"

Mod tenses up hearing the name. “How did you know?”

"There is only 2 organisations in Russia I know of. I know you were not in Red Room."

“Then I suppose you were in the Red Room.”

"Yes, I was."

“How did you escape?”

"Did not exactly escape, but was freed by widows who did."

“I see. I aim to help those still stuck in hydras clutches. I don’t want any more people to be hurt by them.”

"I understand, I want to do the same. Could not help free other widows because of Blip. If you need help, I am here."

“As am I. Anyone who is an enemy of hydra is a friend of mine.”

"I am Mishka, if we are going to be friends, you should know my name."

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

Mod clears his throat to get Mishka’s attention.

“Are you ok?”

"I am fine." Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you."

“My name is Mod. I could swear I heard you say something though.”

"You heard nothing, Mod."

“Are you sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

"You heard nothing" She repeated as she snatched the knife from the floor

Mod knew when to back off so he relented. “Alright alright, it just seemed like you were upset and I wanted to see if everything was alright.”

"I do not know you, I will not share problems with you."

“Understandable. I wouldn’t either.”

She observed Mod, and after a moment, she set down the knife on the counter behind her "How you get here?"

“I was told to meet someone here. I suppose I had the wrong address.”

"You know anything about who you have to meet?"

“No. I really should read more into jobs before I take them. My apologies, I will get out of your hair.”

"Yes, you should. It is fatal mistake to not know what you are doing. Apologies accepted, Mod."

“Well, I shall make my leave. Wait, is that Okroshka you are making?”

"Hm? Yes, it is. You know Russian cuisine?"

“Yes. One of my favorites. It’s been quite a while since I have seen someone making it. I haven’t had it since I left Russia.”

"I also not have it since I was kid. Wanted to learn to cook it now that I can." Her expression softened

“That is a wonderful idea. I am not much for cooking myself. I tried making borscht but almost set my kitchen on fire. So I will leave it to the professionals.”

"I am not great cook either, but it is edible. I have not tried to cook borscht yet, maybe next time."

“Perhaps. I do miss the food sometimes. But I left Russia for my own reasons. I do miss it though.”

"I transfered to Budapest, not on own accords. Then came to America because I feel I can not return to Russia."

“I share a similar sentiment. That chapter of my life is behind me. Going back would only reopen old wounds.”

She nodded "... How you do it?"

“I stowed away on a ship. I didn’t have any money so that was my only option.”

"I see. Glad you got out."

“I am as well. I’m glad you managed to leave as well. Strange how your home country doesn’t feel like a home anymore isn’t it.”

"Do not think there is place I can call home since."

“I can understand that. Nowhere feels safe for long.”

"I am guessing you were in HYDRA?"

Mod tenses up hearing the name. “How did you know?”

"There is only 2 organisations in Russia I know of. I know you were not in Red Room."

“Then I suppose you were in the Red Room.”

"Yes, I was."

“How did you escape?”

"Did not exactly escape, but was freed by widows who did."

“I see. I aim to help those still stuck in hydras clutches. I don’t want any more people to be hurt by them.”

"I understand, I want to do the same. Could not help free other widows because of Blip. If you need help, I am here."

OPEN RP

In the last couple of months, Mishka had been fired from multiple average jobs, most times due to 'workplace disruption'. She calls bullshit. She just speaks the truth when Karens, as she learnt Americans called this kind of people, make her job more difficult. But apparently she's too blunt and can't treat costumers like that. No matter how awful they are.

Mishka has lately been reconsidering getting back into the assassination business. She's good at it, and nobody could complain nor fire her for how she talks.

It's also the only thing she seems good at.

Handling weapons, gathering information, killing.

She looks down at the Okroshka she's preparing, currently just chopped vegetables. Her cooking isn't remarkable. Just decent, edible.

She's been meaning to pick up hobbies or anything to keep herself entertained, and cooking, in a way, does the job. She takes her time, doesn't rush any step, while simultaneously, she looks back to when she enjoyed these dishes as a child with her sister.

Svetlana.

мой маленький соболь.

Her hands were shaking, the knife she was using to chop the vegetables slipping from her hand, making a clinking noise when it reached the floor, at the memory of the little girl she couldn't protect. Tears threatened to spill.

Who was she kidding? She had never gotten over her death, she should've fought harder when they were taken away.

Her little соболь didn't deserve to be taken away when she was only 4.

Maybe cooking wasn’t the ideal thing to use as a distraction.

"Это должен был быть я." Mishka muttered to herself, holding back tears as she grasped the counter.

Mishka was so deep in her self-hatred that she didn't notice someone coming into her kitchen.

Mod clears his throat to get Mishka’s attention.

“Are you ok?”

"I am fine." Mishka quickly straightened her posture and dried her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Who are you."

“My name is Mod. I could swear I heard you say something though.”

"You heard nothing, Mod."

“Are you sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

"You heard nothing" She repeated as she snatched the knife from the floor

Mod knew when to back off so he relented. “Alright alright, it just seemed like you were upset and I wanted to see if everything was alright.”

"I do not know you, I will not share problems with you."

“Understandable. I wouldn’t either.”

She observed Mod, and after a moment, she set down the knife on the counter behind her "How you get here?"

“I was told to meet someone here. I suppose I had the wrong address.”

"You know anything about who you have to meet?"

“No. I really should read more into jobs before I take them. My apologies, I will get out of your hair.”

"Yes, you should. It is fatal mistake to not know what you are doing. Apologies accepted, Mod."

“Well, I shall make my leave. Wait, is that Okroshka you are making?”

"Hm? Yes, it is. You know Russian cuisine?"

“Yes. One of my favorites. It’s been quite a while since I have seen someone making it. I haven’t had it since I left Russia.”

"I also not have it since I was kid. Wanted to learn to cook it now that I can." Her expression softened

“That is a wonderful idea. I am not much for cooking myself. I tried making borscht but almost set my kitchen on fire. So I will leave it to the professionals.”

"I am not great cook either, but it is edible. I have not tried to cook borscht yet, maybe next time."

“Perhaps. I do miss the food sometimes. But I left Russia for my own reasons. I do miss it though.”

"I transfered to Budapest, not on own accords. Then came to America because I feel I can not return to Russia."

“I share a similar sentiment. That chapter of my life is behind me. Going back would only reopen old wounds.”

She nodded "... How you do it?"

“I stowed away on a ship. I didn’t have any money so that was my only option.”

"I see. Glad you got out."

“I am as well. I’m glad you managed to leave as well. Strange how your home country doesn’t feel like a home anymore isn’t it.”

"Do not think there is place I can call home since."

“I can understand that. Nowhere feels safe for long.”

"I am guessing you were in HYDRA?"

Mod tenses up hearing the name. “How did you know?”

"There is only 2 organisations in Russia I know of. I know you were not in Red Room."

“Then I suppose you were in the Red Room.”

"Yes, I was."

“How did you escape?”