#belcvas

[bobrvynolds]

Wire - morning texts with @belcvas

[kaijuukid]

✇ [ one lakeside encounter for @belcvas ]

Rain pattered on the roof of the RV, steady and dull as a leaky faucet. The mattress was uneven, air tinged with the smell of damp fabric, and her back ached. She pushed herself upright nevertheless. What else was there to do? Habit moved her through the motions-- boots on, jacket zipped, step outside into the moss and mud.

They walked the perimeter first, same as always. Round and round. The trees didn't change, they never did, but she traced the loop because it gave her a sense of control, however small. If something crossed their line, she'd know. (Or at least they'd tell themself they would.)

The pond came next. The water here was still, murky, until it shifted with a low ripple-- Todd lingered, hulking just beneath the surface. She crouched at the edge, talking low to him about her plans, her grievances, the names she hated today. He never answered, not anymore, but a single slow blink of his monstrous eye was enough to steady her. Enough to keep her from disappearing completely. See ya later, alligator.

Then, out to town. A ferry ride where no one looked at her twice. Odd jobs scraped together-- deliveries, janitorial shifts, cheap work that paid in crumbs. She scrolled Fiverr in the grocery store line, listened to the police scanner in the car. Anything to fill the hours before the dark rolled back in.

Back to the woods before nightfall. Back to the RV that groaned like it wanted to fold in on itself. Back to pacing the same tracks through the mud and checking the locks once, twice, three times. The routine was miserable, but it was theirs, and it kept the seams from splitting wide open.

She stopped by to toss a few frozen slabs of tilapia into the dark water, talking softly to the air as she watched them disappear. After 'while, crocodile.

Tonight was different, though.

Tonight she'd left breadcrumbs through the city, scraps of evidence just convincing enough to lure an assassin into the trees. She settled by the shore, patient and still, the fresh blue glow of her veins threading beneath her skin like cracks in porcelain.

Yelena was close now-- Katie could hear the crunch of her boots on wet ground, steady and certain. Cocky. Just like her brother.

Her jaw clenched, sharp little teeth grinding until the taste of iron and ozone spread across her stained tongue. Her eyes burned, a sickly Cherenkov blue, two will-o'-wisps in the mist.

Katie rose from the lake's edge and waited.

[daemonsdaed]

drop this sunflower🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy ! lets spread a little sunshine☀️

i never know what to say to these things, so here is a little cherry and yelena hand heart 🫶

thank you for making me feel so welcome, always. we might not have spoken much, or even interacted much outside of wire, but like i said before, i am so excited to see how the two of them develop together! cherry's so stunned by yelena's constant support, it makes me laugh? it's like, "why are you acting like you think i'm cool? no, i think you're cool!" but she'll internalize it eventually 💖

[drcarpenterinthehouse]

[@belcvas sent: [10] Sender discovers receiver crying alone]

Lunch break. Cigarette. Open air.

This seems to be a reoccurring theme for the redhead; sitting on the barricaded edge of the balcony and simply gazing over the cityscape, draining his third pack of the week dry. Only today his cigarette dwindles between his thin fingers. His face is buried into the sleeve of his sweater, tears bleeding deep into the wool.

He's not even sure why he's crying. Okay, well, he knows exactly why—he's just not sure why now. Ten years. Of course, he's aware of how much that number hurts. A decade living with some type of void chipping away at him, exposing the deep wounds he's worked so hard to fix—or at least, shove down.

As he brings himself up for air, eyes pink and puffy, Elijah can't help but notice the silhouette to his left. Quieter than last time. His brows twitch.

"We making a habit of meeting up here?" His voice is strained, like there's a lump in his throat refusing to move. "Not exactly good company right now, Belova."

[babaykc]

is your muse attractive? — @belcvas: 👀 <3

‘ surely, you’re messing with me. if you have to ask, people are inherently blind. but, since you are asking me ... yes, i do find you attractive. i'd be crazy not to, lil widow. ’

[antipersonal]

✱ @belcvas asked:

» "you were never going to do anything i said."

❱ [ 'this is the last straw' prompts ] ❰

John stared out the jet's window, jaw clenched tight enough to make his head throb. The hum of the engines was steady, almost soothing, but nowhere near enough to ease the tension bleeding off his shoulders.

"I was listening," he said finally, voice low, not quite meeting her accusatory gaze. "I just didn't think every move needed a damn play-by-play."

It came out rougher than he meant. He ran a hand over his face with a wince, fingers dragging over the edge of a bruise he hadn't bothered to ice. This wasn't how he wanted their first duo mission to go. He trusted her more than anyone else on the roster, if he was being honest. But the way she'd rattled off instructions over the comms --clipped, surgical-- had gotten under his skin. Not because she was wrong (she never was) but because it felt like she didn't trust him to get it right.

(Still, he hadn't followed orders. And that wasn't like him, at least not with her. John decided he had too much on his plate to unpack that.)

He glanced at her across the cabin, where she sat poised with the same steady stillness she always had after a mission-- unreadable, but quieter than usual. With them both seated, he didn't have to crane his neck down to see her face. It twisted something low in his chest.

"I wasn't trying to undermine you, I just thought--" He cut himself off with a humorless laugh, arms crossing. "I don't know what I thought. Whatever. Guess I fucked that one up."

[perilousxrealm]

❛ If you want me to go, then you have to tell me to leave. ❜ for Kate. // accepting. @belcvas

Street light casts the shadow over Yelena's face in Kate's loft; an unfortunate fact because she wants to gauge her mood. Kate Bishop is only aware of her own, envy mixed with grief mixed with god knows what that makes her heart thud so hard against her own ribs. Did Black Widows have enhanced hearing? She didn't know, but hoped not— otherwise things would get embarrassing enough for her, very fast.

It's not like she wanted Yelena to go; she only didn't want her to see the surprise slash disappointment over being an Avenger before Kate was. It was childish, sure, and made more confusing by how happy she felt for Yelena. There's nothing more than the Widow deserved; the recognition and an opportunity to do something more.

Her own team was yet to be assembled, and while she trusted that Kamala Khan can lead an impressive team of her own; she's always dreamed of something else. Of being something else.

None of it was Yelena's fault, though, it's what her therapist would say, so reluctantly Kate takes a big breath and closes her eyes- hand running through dark curls that fall down her shoulders.

(Yelena has barged in right after her own shower, ready for bed. The thought is now completely abandoned).

"I don't want you to go." Kate speaks softly, scooting a little on the couch; a silent invitation for the other to join her if she wants. When she speaks again, her voice is back to playful, a peace offering, considering just how many times Yelena has done this exact same thing in the last couple of years.

"But I'd really like to know what an Avenger is doing in my apartment at this hour."

[oxentrate]

@belcvas sent: ❛ I swear I’ve seen you before, probably in a dream, or a mugshot. ❜

The voice comes from behind, much a shock to the previously occupied man. Every ounce of focus he had been pouring into his book—more so the same sentence over and over—is now fast tracked into sitting up straight. His back slams taut against the chair, brows shooting upwards as he stifles a throaty cough.

Atlas squirms, hands waving in absent-minded surrender as he turns to the blonde. How long has she been standing there? How did she even get back here? This staff room is only available to the MHD. It's practically an invasion of privacy for her to even be—

okay, the irony isn't lost on him here, actually.

His head shakes, wide brown eyes darting to anywhere she isn't standing. A form he's memorized. Watched too many times in her weaker moments. After a deeply exaggerated exhale, Atlas shrugs.

"Uh—face." He waggles his pointer finger all around his features. "Brain. Dreams put in faces from memories... neurological—uh. Science. It's science."

Smooth.

"You're in this room for...?"